Chapter
24 Glasgow, 6 July 2004
I had a call early this morning from one of the demon bar
owners I've been cultivating for information. Well, I cleared out some
trouble-makers for him a couple of days ago, and he agreed to keep his ear to
the ground for any information he thought might be of interest to me. Can't say
I was pleased to have my mobile ringing that early, but he was convinced I'd be
interested, so I went out. Got here by ten, but it turns out he wants to
introduce me to someone who wants to hire me. I'm just starting to consider the
possibility that I've got out of bed for a red herring when the potential
employer turns up - Bloxar demon. They're pretty scary-looking to your average
human but they're not exactly known for their aggression. In fact, finding one
of them in the middle of Glasgow
when they normally avoid contact with humans is a sure sign of desperation.
Now Bloxar demons have this whole code about going through
the niceties before getting down to business. If I was another Bloxar, it’d
mean eating some things I’d rather not think about, but out of sensitivity to
my feelings, he settles for beer and he’s paid for a private room upstairs,
complete with access to the pumps up there. We go through a range of toasts,
wishing good health to all our living relatives, before he finally gets to the
point. And you’d better believe he’s got lots of living relatives. Anyway, it
turns out my informant was trying to casually get information on Fyarls, and that, coupled with
the rather embroidered story of how I dealt with a couple of unruly vamps,
travelled north of Glasgow, to somewhere in the hills above Loch Lomond.
Apparently, some Fyarls have moved into a Bloxar clan’s home turf. Now there's
no way a Bloxar's going to challenge a Fyarl – especially at this time of year
when there’re lots of young around. But he's either got to get rid of them,
move the clan somewhere else, or just wait around while they're murdered one at
a time. So, he's offering me good money to clear out the nest. But if there's a
whole nest of them, then I’d kind of like back up. In fact, it occurs to me
that it might be an ideal job for Buffy and me if she’s interested. Dangerous
enough to get the blood pumping but still something we could take care of. I
take some contact details and promise to get in touch.
Once he's gone, I sit a while longer, wondering whether to
do a round of some of the other bars I frequent, or just go back home for a
sleep. In the end, the suggestion of a mug of blood followed by sleep sounds
unbelievably welcome. And there's another thing in favour of that decision too.
I might just run into Buffy.
It's after noon as
I approach the final tunnel before Moira's cellar. And that's when the smell
hits me. Fyarl. Unmistakable. Also unmistakable is the fact that it’s coming
towards me.
I get myself up, out of sight, and wait. It's not that I'm
scared of Fyarls. Wary, yes. You'd be stupid not to be wary of them. Then I get
another scent - one I'd welcome under most circumstances, but not right now.
Buffy. Every instinct tells me to attack, but I'm not on a suicide mission
today - the stakes are too high. If Buffy's in danger, then I've got to take it
carefully.
When I spot them, I know there's no way I can attack just
now. They've got Buffy, and it looks like she's been drugged or something.
She's slung over the shoulder of one of them, but she's too vulnerable if I
start something. Apart from anything else, Fyarls don't have good night vision,
and when they start to get violent they can be pretty indiscriminate. There's
no way I can get to her fast enough to make sure she's safe. So, I do the only
thing I can - I follow.
At least that's not difficult. Like I said, Fyarls don't
have good night vision, and they're not exactly known for their stealth, so I
can creep along behind them without being spotted. And I do, for the best part
of an hour.
I'm having to guess where we are now - I haven't used this
part of the tunnels before. In fact, by the look of them, these tunnels aren't
used by anyone and haven't been for years. The Subway doesn't extend very far
south of the river, and we've come further than that, out of the service
tunnels and into what I can only assume are for nothing other than sewer
access, unless Glasgow has had a demon Lord Provost to match the Mayor of
Sunnydale.
And then, without warning, they pass through an archway to
the left and quickly disappear from sight. I follow, and there's a staircase
going further down, apparently hewn out of rock. There's a noise here too, a
humming sound, and it's getting louder as I approach.
Round a bend, and I can also get occasional flashes of light
reflecting on the wall ahead of me, so I hold back a bit further, listening all
the more carefully. And then, there are voices. The Fyarls didn't gossip on the
way, I'll give them that much. Couldn’t bloody creep up on a deaf man, but idle
chatter's definitely to be avoided if they want to be inconspicuous.
They're talking in Fyarl, and the voice that replies is also
speaking Fyarl, but it's human.
"Took you long enough. Any trouble?”
Their reply isn’t directly translatable, but let’s just say
it wasn’t very polite. The human’s answer, though, shows he’s either extremely
thick-skinned or he’s only got a very basic grasp of the language.
“Good, I’ll just finalise the portal.” There's a sizzling
sound, and the humming becomes louder, and the light brighter.
"That's it. Take her through and make sure she’s
settled. Once that’s done, get the Rynkets to send you back. I’m expecting
another major consignment soon, and I’ll need all of you for that."
There are grunts of agreement at that, but I don’t wait to
hear. I lunge towards the source of light, just in time to see Buffy, still
slung over a shoulder, disappear into the portal. There's only one thing I can
think to do, and so I do it, throwing myself at the portal after her, as I hear
it fizzling out of existence.
Conscious that my best weapon will be surprise, I'm on the
alert as I emerge, my hand already on one of the two silver knives I’ve taken
to carrying lately, and I’m relieved to find that the two Fyarls are only met
by a wizened little imp-like demon I don’t recognise. I get rid of him with a
single kick before the Fyarls have even spotted they were followed. I launch
myself at the one carrying Buffy, managing to down him quickly and snatch Buffy
out of the way. The fight is pretty brutal after that, but desperation's a
wonderful thing. And desperation's what I feel when it comes to keeping Buffy
safe.
Once I've dispatched the Fyarls, I rush to Buffy. She's
unconscious, but her heart's beating strongly, so I gently try to rouse her.
I'm relieved that I haven't been disturbed so far, but there's a door at the
end of the room we're in, and I've got no idea what's behind that. There's no
obvious means of escape in this room - whatever mojo created that portal, I
suspect it was done at the other end, so we’re going to have to take a look
around here, and I'd rather do that with the Slayer able to pull her weight
rather than being carried.
It takes a while, but eventually, she rouses, blearily
looking at me with what seems to be a soppy grin.
"Spike," she murmurs before closing her eyes
again. "Wasn't a dream."
She seems to drift off again before waking properly, sitting
up and taking in her surroundings.
"What wasn't a dream?" I demand, curiosity getting
the better of me.
"Dream? Nothing. No dreaming. Where are we and where's
Phillip?"
"Phillip?" I demand, unreasoning jealousy emerging
despite the situation.
"Phillip. Watcher-guy. Spencer-Kidd. All high-wattage
smiles and expensive clothes. He …" she reaches round to rub her arm.
"He stuck me with a needle, it made me all weak, and then I passed
out."
"We're going to have a chat about you letting blokes
close enough to stick you with needles," I growl. At least that's what it
sounds like even if it's not what I intended. "But for now, we've got
trouble. I spotted you being carried by a Fyarl through the tunnels under the
city and I followed. Didn't get a chance to do anything then, but they got to a
place where there was a man - maybe your Phillip, I was in too much of a hurry
to notice - and he'd opened up a portal. They took you through, and I followed
just before it closed. Sorted the Fyarls once I was through, and that little
thing,” I point out the imp. “He was the welcoming committee, but he might also
be our key to getting back. Haven't had any visitors since we arrived, which is
surprising, but it could be the only way out of here is out there. Anyway,
assuming this is the same outfit that’s been nabbing Slayers, maybe the others
are here too."
She takes that in, then goes to take a look at the
unconscious demon on the floor.
"We should tie him up," she suggests. I agree, but
don't have anything obvious with me. A check around the sterile-looking
atmosphere of the room we're in doesn’t suggest anything either, so I go
through what the Fyarls were carrying, and eventually manage to find some cord
that should do it. There's a heavy-duty pipe running from floor to ceiling in a
corner of the room, and I tie him securely to that and when I turn back to
Buffy, she's looking concerned.
"What's up?"
"Look, Spike. I don't know how much use I'll be to you.
I hit Phillip, and he didn't even wince, well, not too much."
"Demon, do you think?"
"No. That stuff he gave me … it felt like when I did
that test for the Council when I was eighteen - crucia - something. Giles said
it was a muscle relaxant - took away my powers. The same but different. That
didn't knock me out, but it lasted for days."
"Ok," I say, working out our best move from here.
"Maybe we should just wake up his wrinkliness there and persuade him to
send you back. I'll go and see if there are any other Slayers here."
"Not on your life. I passed that test the Council set,
even without the extra strength. No. We're going out of here together. Don't
worry, I won't get in your way."
And she gets up from where she's been sitting on the floor
and makes her way to the door.
I learned a long time ago that there's not a lot of point in
arguing with Buffy when she's determined. So, I make up my mind to make the
best of what we've got.
"Ok, you're coming. Won't argue. But I'm going
first."
She looks at me, ready to disagree, but then she thinks
better of it.
"Ok, you go first."
The door's heavy and made of metal. It isn't locked, though,
and after listening carefully for a moment, I open it a crack. There isn't a
lot of light out there - unlike here where it's almost clinically bright. Can't
see or hear anyone though, so I open the door fully, ready to react to any
threat. Nothing.
We're in a corridor, apparently towards the end. Turning
left, we make our way along, ducking down at the first door we reach. I listen
carefully at the door, but don't hear anything. I risk a look, and I'm
disappointed to find it's just an office - complete with desk and filing
cabinets. In fact, the only odd thing is that I don't see a phone or computer
or whatever.
There's nothing else for quite a while, and by the time we
reach the next door, my skin's crawling with the effects of magic. I'm almost
scared to look into the next room, but I do anyway. Visible through a glass
panel in the door is a huge crystal. It's basically clear like a diamond, but
it's throbbing with wisps of colour following each other around its depths.
It's beautiful, and I feel drawn to it, but my good sense reasserts itself in a
moment. It's magic and magic's dangerous. Therefore, I'm going to leave it well
alone. One glance at Buffy and it's obvious she's got it worse than me. I put a
hand on her arm and try to bring her back.
She seems confused for a second, and about to argue too, until I remind
her that our priority is to find any other Slayers there might be around here.
After several backward glances, she reluctantly follows me.
The only option now is a staircase going down, so we take
it. At the bottom is a short corridor, with just one door and another staircase
leading down. The door looks like one in a prison cell, with a peep hole which
I use. Inside is an array of cages, and in each of the cages, is a sleeping
girl.
I break down the door, and we go inside. The noise seems to
rouse the girls, and soon, I'm faced with dozens of Slayers all looking at me
like they wish they had a stake in their hands.
Buffy's scanning the various faces, as if looking for a
familiar one, when one of the girls shouts out.
"Buffy?" The voice comes from a girl in one of the
closest cages. Buffy seems to recognise her too, rushing towards her.
"Angelique?"
I decide to stay close to Buffy. What can I say? I'm not
averse to taking a tumble with a Slayer, but I draw the line at that many of
them at once.
It's then that I feel something hit my back, and I turn to
spot an improvised wooden stake lying on the floor behind me. Buffy spots it
too.
"Who threw that?" she demands.
A mousy-haired girl in another cage raises her hand.
"He's a vampire," she says by way of explanation.
"Yes, he's a vampire. And the only reason I'm not in a
cage like the rest of you is him. You leave him alone or you answer to me, got
it?"
That's not enough for our stake-wielding Slayer, though.
"And who are you to be giving orders?"
"Stella," Angelique intervenes. "This is
Buffy Summers. You know, The Slayer. The one who defeated the First. The one
whose idea it was for us all to get our Slayer powers."
But even that's not enough for Stella. "Oh, and I
suppose the vamp's Spike. Oh, wait, it can't be. He burned to dust when he
closed the Hellmouth at Sunnydale."
"Well, actually," I say, sauntering over to her
cage. "That's exactly who I am. Glad to see that the Council of Watchers
isn't afraid to tell the truth these days."
"But …?"
Whatever she was going to say is overwhelmed by a sudden
chatter from the various cages. They all want to say something, all want to
know what's going on.
"Quiet!" Buffy yells. "Now, Angelique, can
you tell us what's happening here. Why haven't you escaped? Are there any
guards? What are we up against?"
Again, several girls try to talk, but Buffy yells at them to
be quiet again, and this time they do.
"Well," Angelique starts. "As for escaping,
believe me, we've tried. These bars are just too strong. Can't budge them.
There aren't any guards, at least, not as such. There're a few demons around -
little scrawny-looking things - but we think they must be drugging us somehow.
We're all spending a lot of time asleep, and when we wake up, there's food in
each cage and everything's been tidied up. I don't think the food's drugged,
though, 'cos some of us tried not eating it, and we still fell asleep pretty
quickly."
"So, why are you here? Some of you have been here for a
while, I'd guess."
"Over a week," Angelique agrees. "Linda was
here before me, though."
She points to a blonde girl towards the back of the
room."
"Other girls were here before that. Some of them have
gone, though. You wake up sometimes, and some girls are gone and we don't know
what happened to them."
"Anyone here called Fiona Walker?" I ask,
remembering Gus' description of her and the photos I've seen.
"Fiona?" Linda answers. "Yes, I think her
name was Walker. Scottish girl. I
made the mistake of calling her English and she told me off about it. She was
one of the first to disappear."
I feel that sinking feeling as I imagine telling Gus that
news, but push that out of my mind.
"So," I continue. "Is this all of you?"
"Right now? As far as I know," Angelique answers.
"Most of the girls don't ever come in here. I was one of a dozen or so
girls taken at the same time. I was just snatched by … I don't know what, and
found myself in a huge room somewhere. They sorted us - most staying there and
I was brought here and locked in. I don't know what happened to the others. Are
they … dead?"
"Probably not," Buffy answers. "Most of the
Slayers have been sent back, minus their powers and their memories, but
otherwise ok. As far as we can tell, it's only the active Slayers that have
been held."
While Buffy was speaking, I've been having a go at
Angelique's cell. Contrary to what the girls have said, the bars are a long way
from being Slayer-proof, and it only takes a couple of minutes for me to bend a
couple far enough to let her out.
"Well, that answers that," I comment. "Now,
what do we do?"
"I wonder how long until you're due to be fed again?
Any idea?"
There's a general muttering at that, but it's Angelique who
finally answers.
"I'd guess not long. We don't tend to wake until after
they've been, so we must be just about due or I suspect we’d have slept through
your arrival, too. I assume we woke because we sensed a vampire - I know that's
the first thing I knew - that there was a vampire near."
"Ok, so here's what we do. Spike, you bend enough of
those bars to let the girls out. Remember, Spike's with us in this, so don't
let your Slayer instincts get the better of you. With any luck, there'll be
demons for you to fight later. We'll take you to a room upstairs where you can
hide out for a while - should be fairly defensible too, given your numbers,
even if you aren't as strong as you should be. I'm hoping that you'll soon
recover your strength, but I honestly don't know. We left our welcoming
committee up there, unconscious and tied up. If he comes around, you can try to
persuade him to open a portal back again. If you can get out, then go. We'll
see what else we can find."
There's a general cacophony of disagreement at that, but
Buffy holds up her hand.
"Look, Spike and me? We … we work well together, and
we're used to each other. We’ll be better off alone."
There's still disagreement, but Buffy just turns to me.
"Ok, Spike. Plan B. We'll leave the girls here and let
them out when we've checked out the rest of this place."
We both turn to go, but we're met with reluctant agreement
to our terms. I leave Buffy to chat to Angelique while I set to work on the
rest of the cages. In no time I'm surrounded by maybe fifty Slayers, among them
the ones who Giles sent to meet me in London.
Most of them are eyeing me warily, but there's been no attempt to do worse.
After checking out the corridor, we lead the girls back to
the first room which appears to be as we left it. We leave then, moving
downstairs, only to find a reason for the lack of any resistance so far.
There's nothing apparent at the bottom of the second set of
stairs, so, still in the lead, I go on, only to hear a muted squeal from Buffy
a second later. I look back, and there she is, sitting on the lowest step.
"What's up, Love? Enjoy your trip, did you?"
She glares at me as only she can.
"No, there's a barrier there." She gets up again
and puts out her arm to demonstrate. Sure enough, it's like a vamp without an
invitation.
"Looks like it's been Slayer-proofed," I agree.
"I suppose that explains why there isn't any security up here. Can't get
out the way we came in, can't get down here. They seem to be pretty sure of
what they're doing."
"Yes, but that doesn't exactly help, now does it?"
"No, but listen. I'll go on alone. Maybe there's a way
to turn off the field. If there is, I'll come back and get you. If not, then
I'll just have to see what I can do on my own, won't I?"
Another glare, but this time there's sadness there too.
"Spike," she says quietly. "Be careful. I … I
don't want to lose you again."
"Know the feeling, Pet. Don't you worry. You know me.
I'll be back like the proverbial bad penny."
With that, I turn around and leave her watching until I go
round the corner out of sight.
It doesn't take too long to find the rest of the resident
demons. There are six of them – same species as our welcoming committee. I try
to remember what that human called them – at least I assume it’s the same ones.
Something like wrinkle. They're working on some sort of magic, that much is
obvious. Either that or they're into some fairly involved chemistry.
Fortunately, even six of them don't present much of a
problem, and it's not long before I've knocked all but one of them out, and the
final one is cowering in a corner.
"Right," I say, trying to maintain my threatening
appearance when in reality, I'm trying not to laugh. "Want to tell me
who's in charge of all this?"
He shakes his head, apparently in terror.
"I'm going to have to hurt you if you don't, so it
really is in your best interests to talk."
"I believe you. But I think he'd hurt me worse if I
talk, so …"
"You really believe that, do you?"
I take a look around the room, spying a particularly wicked
looking knife that's already spotted with blood - Slayer blood by the scent.
"See, I know how this knife's been used. And you know
how that makes me feel?"
He shakes his head, apparently not getting the point.
"Slayer blood. I'm what you might call a
connoisseur. And I take it personally if
someone spills some of it."
"But … you're a …"
"Vampire? Yeah. But, I'm kind of unique."
"Angel? I thought …"
"No, not Angel. There's more than one vampire with a
soul, except there isn't any more, but maybe you're not up to date with the
news."
He shrinks further back into the corner.
"So, are you going to tell me what's happening
here?"
Another shake of the head.
"Ok, for now, let me tell you what I think. You've been
kidnapping Slayers. Most of them, you're sending back, minus their Slayer
abilities. Some, though, are being kept here. Not sure why. Some are going
elsewhere. Again, not sure of the details, but …"
He's looking worse than ever, and I'm just wondering how
much he can take when suddenly, he crumples, and seems to turn to smoke in
front of my eyes. I spin around, and the others are gone too, but I'm not
alone.
He looks human but I know he's not. Tall, blonde, tanned,
dressed in a navy business suit with white shirt and bluey-green tie. If I
didn't know better, I'd say he looks like a Wolfram and Hart employee. Then
again …
"Spike, Spike, Spike," he says in a tone of voice
guaranteed to irritate. "You really are a surprise. You know that? Every
time we think you're gone for good, up you pop. Irritating, but not really
important enough to do anything about."
"Well, real irritation's an art, isn't it?"
He ignores that.
“So, who are you? I mean, you know my name – seems only fair
if I know yours.”
“My name? I’ve got more names than you’ve got deaths on your
conscience. But in this time and place, I’m known as Hatton.”
“So, Hatton. This your show? You’ve been running it, have
you?”
“Lately, yes, it’s my show. Not my idea, though. You know,
for really original ideas, humans have got demons beaten every time. We just
decided it was too good an opportunity to miss.”
“We? So you’re not alone.”
“Spike, you’re a bright chap. I thought you would’ve guessed
by now. You and the rest of Angel’s merry band may have survived the hordes we sent
against you when you destroyed the Circle of the Black Thorn, but the Senior
Partners are as strong as ever. Yes, it’ll take a while before we get others of
that calibre into place on earth, but all that means is that people like me
have to step into the breach.”
“So you’re with the Senior Partners, are you? At least I
know who I’m dealing with. Can’t say I think a lot of your security here.”
He actually laughs at that. Got to say, this bloke knows how
to make you feel small. Just as well I learned how to ignore another master of
that art – bloody Angelus.
"I've been watching you since you arrived. There's no
need for security. There's no way in or out of this dimension unless you know
how to set up an inter-dimensional portal which, I'm assuming, you don't.
What's more, since you don't know anything about this dimension and its
relationship to your own, even if you could, you could end up anywhere, and so
many of the alternatives are actually much, much worse than this one."
I roll my shoulders. It's the sort of body language that
annoys pillocks like this one, and it helps my readiness for the fight I know
is coming.
"So, you're telling me to just give up. Nothing I can
do. Might as well just let you carry on with what you're doing. Next you'll be
offering me a job. You know, switch sides."
"Well, in some circumstances, you'd be right. But you?
Too much the maverick. I'd never be able to trust you, so no, I won't be
offering you the chance to switch sides. You're just too human, and I mean that
in what humans would see as the best possible sense. You care about others too
much, you know? People who work for the Senior Partners really need to only
care about themselves. That's how we get the results we need. Take me, for
example. I don't care how much I have to hurt you before I finally dust you.
And then I'll release some more gas upstairs, knock all the Slayers out, and
send in some minions to tidy up."
"Making some assumptions there, aren't you?"
"Let's just say I'm confident of my abilities. And, when
you're dust, then I can see to the disposal of our most recent acquisition. She
was specially requested, you know that? In a different dimension to the one you
inhabited, Drusilla killed Willow Rosenberg before she could return Angelus’
soul. He killed his Slayer. It took a very long time, but no one can take that
much abuse forever. He was rather disappointed she didn’t last longer, and he’s
willing to pay a great deal for a replacement. I may be wrong, but I’d suspect
that this version of Buffy Summers will last longer than the other one.”
That's it. The idea of Buffy being sent to Angelus … used
like that. I launch myself at him and bounce right back. For the first time I
consider the possibility that this might just be harder than I thought.
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