Chapter 8: At least it's not Shawshank
 

 2 months later, the Summer's residence...
 

             “GOD I am SO fat!” Buffy whined as she waddled down the stairs and into the kitchen.

             “Good morning to you too.” Dawn giggled. “You want some eggs?”

             “Sure. Do we have any chocolate syrup?”

             Dawn grimaced but fished it out of the fridge and set it in front of her sister, along with a plate of scrambled eggs.

             “Have we heard from Giles yet?” Dawn asked as she sat down with her own plate of eggs.
 

             A month ago Giles had announced that his contact had found Spike and had a plan on how to rescue him, but it would take time. Lots of time.

            Then last week Giles received a call from his contact telling him it was time to set things in motion. Giles was to fly back to England and wait there for further news. Giles had called Buffy to assure her he had arrived in England safely, but not to expect another call from him for a few weeks. None of the Scoobies knew what was going on, but the Watcher assured them he would call as soon as it was safe to do so.
 

             “Not yet.” Buffy sighed as she took a bite of her chocolate syrup covered eggs. “I’m so sick of just sitting here doing nothing. If I don’t hear something soon though I’m going to fly over to England and rescue him myself.” Buffy unsteadily got out of her chair and started rooting around in the refrigerator for some pickles.

             “Right, like that would happen.” Dawn rolled her eyes. Buffy threw her a glare over her shoulder.

             “Angel called though. Wanted the non-update. Color me surprised that he actually sounds concerned for Spike.” Buffy said as she opened the jar and started stabbing at the pickles with a fork. “At least I get to stake these little guys.” She muttered to the pickles.

             “Buffy! They’re pickles, not Vampires! Sheesh.” Dawn took the jar of mangled pickles and delicately speared one with a fork and handed it to Buffy. “He probably just wants to kill Spike himself for telling Xander all of those stories about his sordid past.”

             “Hm, your probably right.” Buffy shrugged and ate her pickle.

             “So how is Angel anyway? Not getting smoochy with Cordelia I hope?”

             “Nah. Cordy and I had a little chat before they left, and she wasn’t too keen with the idea of getting murdered after giving Angel a happy, so they’re cooling it.”

             “Oh good…’Cause I was wondering…notice the nice segue, I talked to Angel and Connor the other night…Angel already said it was okay if you said it was okay…can I spend the weekend up in L.A. with Connor?” Dawn asked hopefully.

            Buffy gave Dawn a flustered look. “Weekend? L.A.? Connor? With the sleeping over and the not being here???”

             “Buffy please? Can I? It’s just for two days…come on, what could possibly go wrong?” Dawn pleaded.

             “Well…I guess it’s okay…” Buffy reluctantly agreed and Dawn squealed and hugged her sister.

             “Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!!” Dawn said as she ran up stairs to start packing.

             “He’s picking you up right?” Buffy yelled up the stairs.
 
 

 

London, England...

             Giles paced his flat, telephone pressed tightly to his ear. “You can’t be serious…” He said into the receiver. “Are you positive that will work? No, no, I’m not questioning your tactics Celia…It’s just…No, no, I see. I suppose you’re right. How is he doing? ….That bad then? So when do we move?  Oh…I see. Yes, I will be prepared. Give me a call when the time is right. I trust you will remember to call on a secure line again? All right then. Good night.”

             Giles set down the receiver and walked over to the bar, pouring himself a generous glass of Scotch. He quickly drank the glass’s contents and took off his glasses, rubbing his eyes wearily.

             “It’s a damned crazy idea, but it might just work.” He muttered out loud to himself, throwing his glasses down on the counter. He filled the glass again, and promptly emptied it.

             “At least they wont be expecting it.” Giles sighed as he set down the glass and turned in for bed.

Sunnydale, California...

             Buffy, Willow and Xander walked out of the Grocery store, all three of them carrying two heavily loaded bags in each arm.

             “Thanks for helping me with the groceries tonight guys. Dawn usually helps, but she bribed me into letting her stay in L.A. with Angel and Connor.” Buffy pouted from behind her two bags as they walked toward Xander’s car.

             “Hey no prob. I mean, we kinda had a different idea when Xander and I said, “hey lets go do something, just the three of us”, but this is fun too.” Willow said as she struggled to carry the bags in her arms. They came to a stop in front of Xander’s car, and Willow gladly set her bags down on the pavement.

             “Well between buying food and Slaying, food gets my vote.” Xander said as he set his bags down so he could unlock the trunk.

             “Hey, I miss Slaying.” Buffy pouted, still holding her bags as if they weighed nothing.

             “You heard Giles. No Slaying until after the baby is born.” Willow softly chided her. Xander unlocked the trunk and started piling in the grocery bags.

             Buffy groaned in frustration. “I’m going to be horribly out of shape.”

             “Well you’ve been training a bit, and going to those Lamaze classes, right? That should help a little.” Willow said.

             Buffy flushed a bit. “Well actually…I stopped going to the Lamaze class.”

             “WHAT?! Buffy!” Willow shrieked.

             “It was a waste of time…besides, I don’t have a partner.” Buffy added meekly.

             “Buffy, you could have asked us! Xander or I would have been happy to go with you. You need to go.” Willow said, resolve face set.

              “What? Me? Lamaze class?” Xander looked pale.

             “Buffy, you’re due in a little more than a month! Why hasn’t your doctor asked you about it?” Willow asked.

             “Um, cause I haven’t seen him?” Buffy said like a little girl who knew she was in trouble.

           “Buffy!!” Willow shrieked in dismay. Buffy opened her mouth to make an excuse, but a familiar growl of a Vampire cut her off. Buffy sighed at the interruption.

             “Sunnydale is the only town I know that has a supermarket and a Graveyard right next door to each other.” Buffy muttered and pulled a stake out of her pocket.

             “Buffy! No Slaying!” Willow rushed forward with her own stake, while Xander fumbled for his.

             “Guys! Hello! Slayer here! Stupid destiny and all that!” Buffy sighed in frustration as she watched her friends fight off the Vampire for entirely too long by her Slayer standards. She crossed her arms and watched with a scowl.

           One… Buffy counted. Willow was trying to stake the Vampire in the back while Xander was fighting it.

           Two… Xander got in a good punch, and Willow almost staked it, but it dodged out of the way just in time. Xander got hit, and Willow was trying to fight it on her own while Xander recovered.

           Three…Oh bugger this!

             “Willow! Duck!” Buffy called out, and Willow ducked down quickly on her friends command. Buffy had a clear shot. She threw her stake expertly into the Vampire’s heart, dusting him. Willow coughed a bit from some inhaled dust, but stood and dusted her clothes off.

             “Buffy, you Slayed.” Willow blinked in surprise.

             “Yeah well…you two were taking too long.” Buffy said lamely.

             “We were only fighting him for a minute!” Willow put her hands on her hips.

             “Oh that was SO more than one minute…more like five…” Buffy said, but Willow was giving her a look. “…Three? Okay fine! It was only one minute…but I didn’t fight him or anything, I just threw a stake! No danger there!”

             “Just get in the car.” Willow sighed and they all three piled in the car, Buffy with a perpetual pout.
 
 

 

L.A...

             “You’ve GOT to be kidding me.” Dawn grimaced as she climbed down the sewer latter and dropped down into the tunnel. “Oh gross. I don’t want to know what I just stepped in.”

             Angel had climbed down first, Dawn second, Connor third, Fred and Gunn last.

             “You’ll get used to it.” Gunn told her as they headed down the tunnel.

            “Are you sure Buffy said this is okay?” Angel asked.

             “What, the walking down a dark, dank, smelly germ infected sewer tunnel…or the Slaying?”

              “The Slaying.” Angel said.

             “Oh, yeah, totally. As for the sewer part…not so much.” Dawn curled up her nose as she noticed some green slime coating the wall next to her.

             “Looks like our demon went that way.” Fred said, pointing down the tunnel with the green slime trail. The group took the turn and continued walking.

             “So…ever killed a kvortak demon before?” Connor asked Dawn conversationally.

             “Uh, no. I usually just get vampires…and the occasional demon.”

             “Kvortaks are really kind of interesting. They’re a parasite demon- it feasts on the host from the inside and wears its body like a shell.” Connor said.

             “Okay, eww. Not liking the imagery.” Dawn curled up her nose.

             “What, it’s educational.” Gunn said.

             “Yeah, that’s what I came here for. The education.” Dawn said wryly.

             “Don’t worry, we’ll get to kick some demon ass too.” Gunn said reassuringly.

             “I’m thinking right about now would be a good time to start.” Angel whispered drawing their attention to the group of Kvortak demons fifty feet down the tunnel. The demons were human looking enough to pass at first glance, but if you looked closer you would notice their skins were slightly translucent and their eyes were pure black.

             “Oh god, they stink.” Dawn covered her nose with her hand.

             Just then the four Kvortak demons turned and snarled at her.

             “Did I mention they have *really* good hearing?” Angel sighed.

             The demons appeared to have a quick conversation amongst themselves in their own demon tongue- which sounded like a combination of screeching and whimpering.

             “What are they saying?” Dawn turned to Angel. The Kvortak demons quickly started lumbering toward them.

             “I don’t know, but I’m guessing it was something like ‘Kill them’.” Angel said as he rushed forward to start the fight. Connor was seconds behind him, grinning at Dawn as he passed her.

             Gunn hefted up his ax and glanced at Dawn. “You should probably sit this one out. There are a lot of them.”

             Dawn raised her broad sword. “I can hold my own.” She said with a gleam in her eye as she joined the fight. Gunn looked after her incredulously, and turned to Fred.

             Fred just shrugged and patted Gunn on the arm. “Five against four, I think she’ll be fine.”

             “Whatever.” Gunn said with a shrug and the two of them raced into the action.

             “Angel duck!” Dawn shouted, and Angel crouched down. Dawn expertly sliced off the head of the Kvortak that was sneaking up behind him.

             “Thanks kid.” Angel said in a bit of awe as he slammed his fist into another Kvortak’s face.

             “Don’t mention it.” Dawn replied as she turned to fight another Kvortak that Connor was already fighting. He kicked it in the stomach, kneed it in the jaw when it bent over in reflex and did a sweep kick to its knees, sending it splashing into the sludge on the floor.

             “Oh yuck.” Dawn grimaced as some of the sludge splashed onto her jeans. The Kvortak got up quickly and turned to Dawn, forgetting about Connor. The demon screeched and lunged for her, unaware that she was just as good of a fighter than the rest of them.

             She slammed the heal of her palm into it’s nose, bloodying it, kicked it in the ribs with a loud crack, breaking it’s ribs and making it screech out in pain. Connor joined back in the fight and kicked it in the back, grabbed it by the back of the shirt and slammed its forehead into the sewer wall. It screeched again and lashed out with it’s arm, catching Dawn in the stomach, making her drop her sword and sending her flying into the opposite wall.

             “Dawn!” Conner rushed forward at the demon, pulling out a hidden blade in his boot and stabbed the demon in the back, twisting it and pushing it down, making a deep and jagged fatal wound. The demon screeched so loud everyone covered their ears, and Angel was sure he’d be deaf for a couple of hours.

             Dawn had recovered by then and with an angry glint in her eyes she quickly picked up her sword and decapitated the demon in mid screech, ending its cry in a bizarre gurgle/squawking noise.

            There were only two demons left, Gunn and Fred quickly dispatched their demon by slicing it in half, while Angel snapped his demon’s neck.

            They all just stood there for a minute looking around at the gory mess they had made.

             “See, what did I tell you? Educational.” Gunn said to Dawn, breaking the silence.

Watcher's Headquarters, deep underground...

             Celia had her timing right. Quentin Travers, along with almost every other Watcher in the headquarters were off on their little Watcher’s retreat, leaving only the underlings and the essential staff to run the place. Luckily Celia qualified as one of the ‘essential staff’, so no one was suspicious of her presence.

             She and Rupert had been good friends while they were training to become Watchers. After his ‘Ripper’ phase she had helped him with his emotional traumas. Nothing romantic had ever transpired, but Celia couldn’t help but think about it sometimes. Quentin was one year their’ senior, and he took macabre pleasure in taunting Rupert daily. Quentin’s father had been something of a legendary Watcher, and Quentin demanded the same kind of respect and worship without ever earning it. It was a well-known fact that Rupert despised Quentin and vice versa, but no one except Celia ever knew the real purpose. It all boiled down to the fact that Quentin was a fascist, over-bearing, gloating, tyrannical prick. The two of them butted heads more times in a single day than rams ever do in a lifetime. Quentin had made it impossibly hard for Rupert to recover from the whole Eyghon experience in his youth. He kept bringing it up and rubbing Rupert’s face in his guilt, goading him into scuffles. It was all a game to Quentin, to see how fast he could get Rupert kicked out. Unfortunately, Rupert was so hot-headed at the time, he usually fell for Quentin’s tricks and resorted to violence. Rupert got suspended regularly, but because of Quentin’s high position he often got off with no more than a slapped wrist. The two of them acted like immature teenagers, really. Celia tried her best to keep the two apart, but the day that Quentin was appointed to be Head Watcher produced the nastiest fight the pair ever got in. Celia hadn’t been there when the fight took place, but she had been there for the aftermath.

             Grimacing at the memories, Celia shook them off and continued down the dark stone spiral staircase until she reached the dungeon. It smelled foul; the air here was thick and dank with dust and mold. No living person could stay alive down here for very long without falling deathly ill…which is what made it ideal for imprisoning a Vampire. Celia frowned at that thought. How much of the dust on the ground was Vampire dust? How many more cruel games had Quentin played? True Vampires weren’t exactly an innocent lot, but doing what Quentin was doing to Spike was quite inhumane. Besides, from what Rupert had told her, Spike was different from other Vampires.

             Celia was quite reluctant to believe Rupert’s story about the Vampire at first. A Vampire falling in love with a Slayer? Absurd! Her Watcher instincts kept screaming: Vampire= Evil. Period!

             But the more Rupert told her about Spike, the more she believed him. And maybe the tiniest bit of her hopeless romantic self wanted it to be possible.

            Regardless, what Quentin was doing to Spike was wrong. It was cold hearted and cruel— something that Quentin seemed to excel in.

            Celia was just a regular Watcher, not high up enough to know what Quentin’s motives were for keeping the Vampire locked up instead of just killing him—but Rupert had divested as much information to her as possible. She hadn’t asked him to explain anything more, she had the sneaking suspicion that if he told her it would only make her wish desperately to drown herself in a bottle of scotch.

            For a week.

            Rupert had that way of dropping huge end-of-the-world crises’ on her.

             Celia walked further down the darkened passageway, her eyes adjusted to the dark and she could see the heavy steel door at the end of the passage. She unbolted the huge bolts and swung the door open.

             “Spike? It’s me.” She announced into the eerily dark room. The room was *completely* devoid of light.

             She heard Spike moan in the corner. “Spike, are you okay? I brought you some more blood.” She told him as she took out three bags of blood out of the pockets of her coat.

             “Buffy?” Spike moaned in a half-dreamlike state.

             “No, Spike, it’s Celia. You’ve got to wake up. It’s time… I’m going to get you out of here.” Celia told him as she sliced a small hole in the packet of blood with her pocketknife and pushed it in his general direction. It had the desired affect. His demon smelled the blood and it woke him up instantly, snatching the bag from her hands. He quickly drained it and she handed him the other two. She sat there quietly and waited while he drained the bags.

             “Celia?” He asked when he was finished, sounding in more control of himself.

            “Yes. It’s time to go home.” She said simply.

             “You mean…I didn’t make you up? You’re real?” Spike asked, sounding a bit like a lost child.

             “Yes Spike, I’m real. It’s time to go home, back to Buffy.”

             “Buffy…how do you know about Buffy?” Spike growled, suddenly on the alert.

             “I’m a friend of Rupert Giles. He’s contacted me to rescue you.”

             “So you know… about me. Why should I trust you?”

             “Because this is your only chance to escape. If you want to get out of here, you’d better do as I say, or you can just rot in here. What’s it going to be?”

             Spike sighed and agreed, but then grimaced. “I’m not going to have to crawl out of a sewer pipe or something, am I?”

Sunnydale, Summer's residence...

             Buffy sat on the couch, trying not to cry. The house was empty. It was a beautiful day outside, but Buffy was stuck inside. She had laundry to do. The house needed straightening up. She was hungry but she had already eaten everything they had bought the day before. Her shoe was untied but she couldn’t reach it to re-tie it. And last but not least the stupid phone wouldn’t ring.

             Buffy glared at the offending object, and just for good measure, she stuck her tongue out at it as she stubbornly crossed her arms over her over-inflated boobs. She also cursed Giles’ name just because she felt like it.

           God I feel disgusting. Buffy thought as she looked down at her body. It’s like a parasite has taken over my body. It’s not mine anymore. Like those stupid Kvortak demons Dawn was telling me about when she called earlier. Note to self, KILL Angel.

             Buffy sighed and decided to get up to and do something, but when she tried to get up, slayer strength or no, her over-sized stomach wouldn’t allow her move like that. Normally she had Dawn take her hands and pull her up, but Dawn was up in L.A until later tonight. Buffy tried again, but only succeeded in making herself off-balance, so she had to pin-wheel her arms to try and correct her balance, sending her crashing onto the sofa once again. Buffy whimpered in despair and tried a different approach. She lay down on her side and used the armrest for leverage, pushing herself up to her feet. She swayed for a moment, her balance threatening to send her tumbling back onto the couch again, but her feet stayed steady and she remained upright.

           Yay, score a point for the house-sized Slayer. Slayer one, Gravity zip.

             Buffy looked around the living room and saw the present that Willow had dropped by earlier that morning sitting on the coffee table. Buffy sighed and figured she might as well see what it was.

             She unwrapped the all-purpose wrapping paper and frowned at the unmarked videotape. Curious, she popped it into the VCR. She groaned when the overly cheery Lamaze instructor came on screen.

             “Damn you and your resolve face Willow.”

Watcher's Headquarters...

             Colin Weasley hated his job. He also hated the fact that he wasn’t considered a good enough Watcher to be attending the Annual retreat. He sat in the obscenely large Library scouring the texts for translations to the Ahmse’ir prophecy. Well, at least he wasn’t the only Watcher deemed ‘unworthy’ to attend. The library was scattered with the other ‘rejects’, all of them researching the same assignment: Translate the prophecy at any cost.

             Colin sighed in annoyance as he flipped another page of the large Tome he was reading. His superior, Professor Broody had descended upon his underlings after his meeting with the Head Watcher, Mr. Travers. He had ordered them to crack the encryption on the Prophecy…something that was entirely un-like the quiet professor.

             Colin sighed as he sipped his tea, and continued leafing through the Tome.

           This is ridiculous.  He thought, No one is ever going to crack that Encryption. I know a Mage lock when I see one. Short of using blood magics to draw up enough power to ‘break’ the ‘lock’, nothing will crack it.

             Every mage that was working for the council knew about that little conundrum. No one wanted to bring it up though…blood magics were…awful. They were incredibly powerful…and incredibly stupid to use. You either had to be extremely in control of yourself to use the power that can easily corrupt you…or you had to be completely insane to try and harness it. Blood magics are *rarely* used for good, even if the original intent was a pure one.

             Professor Broody knew…but so far he hadn’t said anything to Mr. Travers.

           And the rest of us are willing to keep that secret as well. Lest we find ourselves being offered as the sacrifice!

             Now there was something to think about. If the blood Mage’s sacrifice was another mage…

           God no, don’t even think it! The Council would never allow such a thing to occur. That would be suicide.

             It would also transform the blood Mage into the most terrifying Mage on the planet…everyone’s worst nightmare. Nothing would be able to stop them. Blood Mages were extremely powerful…and *never* sane. If a blood Mage were to ever drain an extremely powerful Mage…

             Colin nervously sipped his tea once more, his hands shaking as he set the cup back on the saucer.

             Such thoughts made him wish he wasn’t the most adept Mage within council walls.

Sunnydale, the Summer's residence...

             “Buffy, I’m home!! Just in time to go patrolling too!” Dawn called out as she closed the door behind her, tossing her backpack on the floor in the foyer.

             “Buffy?” Dawn called out again, hearing the silence in the house.

             “Dawn…! Help.” Buffy whimpered from the living room.

             “Oh my God, Buffy! What happened?” Dawn rushed forward and saw her sister lying on the floor in front of the TV.

             “Willow and her stupid resolve face, that’s what! And the fact that I’m too fat to get off the floor now!” Buffy nearly cried.

             Dawn couldn’t suppress the giggle at the sight her sister made sprawled out on the floor, helpless. “What are you doing on the floor?” Dawn asked as she grabbed her sister’s hands and heaved her to her feet.

             “Willow was making with the guilty because I haven’t been going to my Lamaze class, so she brought over a tape this morning. I decided to try it but I’m too fat to get off the floor now!”

             Dawn started cracking up laughing and Buffy shot her a glare.

             “It’s not funny!” Buffy whined.

             “It is when you’re wearing two different colored socks.” Dawn pointed out.

             Buffy’s eyes widened and she looked down at her feet, but couldn’t see past her swollen stomach. She tried to balance on one foot while holding the other out so she could try and see it, but she kept loosing her balance and Dawn had to grab her before she fell on her butt. Dawn couldn’t stop laughing.

             “Oh you think this is funny, wait until YOU get pregnant some day!” Buffy gave up and all but stomped her foot in frustration. She made tracks to the kitchen, Dawn trailing behind her.

             “Buffy, I’m sorry. I wasn’t laughing at you, I was laughing at the situation…really!.” Dawn gave her sister a sheepish look.

             “S’ok. I guess I’m just stressed out. It’s been over a week and we still haven’t heard anything from Giles.” Buffy sighed as she glanced at the telephone forlornly.

             “Don’t worry. He’ll call… soon…ish.” Dawn tried to sound confident but ended lamely.

             “So did Angel feed you dinner?” Buffy asked, changing the topic to a less heart-wrenching one.

             “Oh yeah! We got Chinese before we left L.A. It was pretty cool, we got it free because the place was terrorized by a demon while we were ordering, so we Slayed it. The owner was like, really great full. He kept trying to give us free Chow Mein.”

             “Great. Call Jonathan if you want to see about patrol. I think it’s your guys’ turn tonight.”

             “Yeah it is. Thanks Buffy, for letting me hang out in L.A. this weekend, I actually learned a lot. I now know how to kill five new demons, and Gunn taught me a lot about weapons!” Dawn told her sister excitedly.

             “And to think I ever wanted you to have a normal life.” Buffy sighed.

             “Oh please, that would be so boring. Slaying is so much fun.” Dawn grinned. “Speaking of, I’m going to go call Jonathan.” Dawn said as she grabbed the phone and bounced off into the living room.

             Buffy sighed and opened the refrigerator, looking for something to eat, occasionally tossing glares over her shoulder at the phone that refused to ring.

The Watcher's Headquarters...

             Celia used her pocketknife to pick the locks of the manacles that chained Spike to the wall like a dog. Even though it was extremely dark, she managed to feel her way through it.

             “There, you’re free.” Celia announced to him as she removed the last manacle.

             “Thanks.” He said quietly, unsure of what to do now.

             “Here, put these on.” She handed him a pair of sunglasses. “You haven’t seen any light for a very long time… your could be temporarily blinded as your eyes try to adjust to seeing light again, and that’s the last thing we need right now. Come on.” She said, grabbing his arm and leading the way to the door.  She opened the solid steel door, ushering him out into the dimly lit hallway.

             Now that she could actually see him she had to stifle her gasp of horror. His skin was horribly white, so white in fact it had turned ashen, his eyes looked dead, his hair was messy and it had grown out past his ears, the ends frosted white where his bleached ends remained. His skin was loose on his bones, and he obviously had muscular atrophy because he was wincing with every step he took, walking on unsteady feet.

           Christ, what did that bastard Quentin do to him?! Celia thought angrily. No one deserves this!

             “I must look like a bleeding Holocaust victim.” Spike muttered, and she found herself silently agreeing. They walked down the stone passageway as quickly as they could and climbed up the stone stairs, his poorly mistreated muscles protesting every step of the way.

             “How far do we need to go?” He asked as he winced in every movement he forced his muscles to make.

             “Not that far. Just up these stairs, down a hallway to the lift, three floors up and…then out.” Celia replied.

             “I’m that bloody close to the outside?”

             “Appearances can be deceiving.” She replied as they finally made it to the top of the stairs. “Okay, a little farther.” She said as she slung his arm over her shoulder and had him put his weight on her as they walked.

             “What are the chances of us getting caught?” Spike asked as they made it to the elevator doors. She pressed the button and the doors opened.

             Celia actually smirked at him. “I’m very resourceful.”

             “That’s not what I asked.” Spike said as she shuffled him inside and pressed one of the unmarked buttons. Spike didn’t try to figure how she knew which one was which since they were all unmarked.

             “I know.” Celia replied cryptically. They were silent for a few moments as the elevator transported them to the ground level. Spike closed his eyes behind the sunglasses, his eyes already strained from the constant light. The doors opened and Celia poked her head out the door to make sure the coast was clear.

             “Okay, come on.” She placed his arm across her shoulder again and walked him down another deserted hallway. In fact, it looked as if it hadn’t seen a duster for ages.

             “Where the bloody hell are we?” Spike asked.

             “Where no one will see us. No one uses this hallway anymore so I knew it would be safe to use.”

             “Okay, so where’s the exit?” Spike asked.

             “Down.”

             “Down?”

             “Yep. This is where we say goodbye.” Celia said as they stopped in the middle of the hallway.

             “Hu?”

             “Rupert is waiting for you, he knows the rest of the way out. Good luck Spike. And I’m sorry for what Quentin did to you.” Celia told him sincerely.

             “Erm…thanks. But uh, where am I supposed to go?” Spike asked as he looked around the hallway. There was nothing but dusty old paintings and draperies. There weren’t even any doors within twenty feet of them.

             Celia pointed behind him and he spun around.

             “The laundry chute?!”

             Celia raised an eyebrow at him. “Of course. Quentin would never think of it. He’d be expecting a showy rescue…The Slayer running in, guns-a-blazing or casting a spell or something. He wouldn’t think it would be something as boring as an unguarded laundry chute. Besides, you’re skinny enough to fit down it, no problem.” Celia shrugged.

             “You’re crazy…but it’s bloody brilliant.” Spike said, grinning at the logic. “Thanks.”

             She held the flap open for him as he climbed in feet first.

             “Just be sure to return the favor by saving the world or whatever the hell you’re supposed to be doing.” Celia said.

             “Hu?” Spike replied stupidly, but Celia gave him a shove and he went sliding down into darkness, his questions unanswered.
 
 

 

             Giles walked into the Watcher’s Headquarters like he owned the place. Security at the doors checked his credentials, and he was admitted. His excuse was that he needed to use the vast library the Council boasted, and since that was available to all Watchers, he was let in. The guards didn’t even need to ask why Rupert wasn’t with the other Watchers at the retreat…it was a well-known fact that Quentin despised him.

             Giles ascended up the large grand staircase to the third floor and took a right, walking down a beautifully decorated hallway that lead to the library. He passed a few Watchers along the way, nodding courteously in greeting to them as he passed. Giles knew his way around the Watcher’s headquarters pretty well, but the place that he was headed wasn’t in his known territory. Thankfully he studied the blueprints Willow and Nigel had conjured, so he could find his way around the Watcher’s Headquarters blindfolded. At least in theory.

             But this was the part where it got tricky.

             Instead of taking a left into the Library, Giles took a right, heading to a place that most Watchers avoided. He glanced around making sure no one saw him and then took the ‘servants’ staircase down four flights of stairs. From here on out he had to be extremely careful.

           Alright Rupert old boy, steady now. Don’t bollix this up. Giles thought to himself as he crept in and out of shadows walking down the Hallway. The intense smell of bleach made his nose itchy and his head feel light, but he continued down the hall, passing a room that was thankfully sparse of employees tending to the wash. He crept past the ironing and mending room, and made his way into an extremely large dark, shadowy room at the end of the hall that had several large baskets full of clothes waiting to be washed. Above his head several networks of laundry chutes all pointed to the ground with laundry bins positioned underneath them.

             Rupert checked his watch.

             I hope you know what you’re doing Celia. Rupert thought as he searched out the laundry staff’s ‘locker room’ and stole a worker’s blue uniform, putting it on. He felt utterly ridiculous, dressing in disguise, but it was the only way to leave out the back door without any suspicion.

             He stood where Celia had instructed him to stand, just in time to hear loud bangs and muffled curses down one of the thankfully straighter laundry chutes. Spike landed in a mountain of clothing inside a laundry bin placed below the chute.

             Rupert casually leaned over the edge of the bin and looked down at the vampire entangled in clothing. He opened his mouth to crack a joke, but he was so shocked to see Spike’s haggard appearance, he gasped, “Good God man! Spike?? Is that really you?”

             Spike wearily cracked open an eye and focused in on the watcher through the heavily blackened sunglasses. Spike groaned in pain, for both his body and the small level of light that was hurting his eyes. “Unfortunately.”

             Giles was appalled. The man he was staring at hardly looked like Spike at all. Good God, he looks like hell twice over!

             It took Rupert a moment to realize he said the last bit out loud.

             “You look smashing your self Ruppies. Are you moonlighting as a wash-boy now?” Spike said wryly as he climbed out of the bin slowly as Giles held it steady for him.

             “Ha ha. No, I’m wearing this so we can escape this dreaded place without suspicion.” Giles squinted down at the faded blue work-jumper he was wearing.

             “Great, and I’m supposed to just walk out of here with you? In to the sunlight no less?” Spike asked as he picked a sock off of his shoulder with a grimace.

             “For the walking part, no. You’ll see. As for the sunlight …” Rupert pulled out of his pocket the Amulet of Bytanor and handed it to Spike. “I believe this belongs to you.”

             Spike took it with an unsteady hand and examined it for a minute, bringing forth memories of happier times back in Sunnydale. Tears were threatening to spill as he felt a wave of intense home-sickness.

             “Spike…there are a lot of things I need to tell you about what has been going on back home… but right now we need to stop standing around and get out of this blasted place while we still have the chance.” Giles said.

             “Right then. After you Ruppies.” Spike nodded, putting on the Amulet of Bytanor.

             “And do stop calling me that.” Giles sighed.

             “Aye there Mate! Need any help with that?” A laundry worker smoking a cigar called out.

             “No thanks, I’ve got it.” Giles called back.

             “Bloody Christ Ruppies, don’t sound so…Watcher-ish.” Spike hissed from beneath a pile of neatly folded clothes. He was hiding inside the bin that Giles was pushing into a large laundry delivery service van.

             “I beg your pardon?” Giles hissed back.

             “Don’t sound so proper mate! They’ll suspect somethin’.”

             “Oh, right.”

             “You the new blood?” The man with the cigar walked up to Giles, getting in his way.

             “Er, yes…uh, mate.” Giles stammered, trying to sound uncouth. From beneath the pile of clothes Spike rolled his eyes and suppressed a groan.

             The man with the cigar gave Giles a penetrating glare, and to Giles’ credit, he never broke eye contact. The two had a staring contest for several moments.

             Finally the man with the cigar broke. “Alright then mate. Best get to it, don’t want to be late now do ye?” He said with a grin, showing a couple blackened teeth.

             Giles said nothing as he maneuvered the laundry bin around the man and to the back of the delivery truck. He pushed it up the ramp into the van.

             “What the bloody fuck was that all about?” Spike hissed.

             “Shut up Spike, there are workers everywhere out here.” Giles hissed back and jumped out of the back of the van.

             “That’s a full one. Take ‘er out.” One of the workmen closed the back of the van. Giles got into the driver’s seat and started the ignition.

             “’Aye mate!” The Cigar man called out. Giles groaned.

             “Yes? Er, I mean, yeah?” Giles switched his accent again.

             “You know the route?”

             “Yeah.” Giles gave the man a ‘of course I do you bloody pillock’ look.

             “Good. Off you go then.” The man slapped the side of the van twice, and Giles put it in reverse. Putting the van back into drive, he headed for the gate, pulling out the fake credentials Celia had gotten him to show to the guard. He was let through without incident.

             Giles found himself letting out a sigh of relief he didn’t realize he was holding.

Sunnydale, Summer's Residence...

             “I’ve got it!” Dawn called out as she ran to pick up the phone. “Hello? … GILES!!” Dawn squealed.

             Buffy came barreling down the stairs and into the kitchen where Dawn was holding the phone. “Gimme!” She ruthlessly grabbed the phone from Dawn’s hands. “Hello?! Giles?”

             “Hey!” Dawn pouted as she leaned in closer to hear what Giles had to say. Finally Buffy relented and half held the phone between her ear and Dawn’s so they could both hear the conversation.

             “Hello Buffy. How are things?” Giles asked.

             “Giles! Is he alright?” Buffy asked. Giles chuckled.

             “He’s resting right now. He’s…well, he’s safe now.” Giles told her.

             “Giles…I don’t like the sound of your voice. What’s wrong?” Buffy asked worriedly.

             “Buffy, he’s been through hell… twice, I think. He’s in horrible shape. I fed him a short while ago, but it will take him a couple days, maybe even a few weeks to recover…physically at least.”

             “…And emotionally?” Buffy asked in a whisper.

             “I can’t really say. He seems to be doing okay though. I think he might do better once we get home.”

             “When?” Buffy asked, tears threatening to spill.

             “Soon. We’ll take a day here for him to get some strength up, and we’ll take a flight tomorrow. I’m going to call Angel tonight to see if we can stay the night at the Hyperion after our flight gets in. Is that alright with you?”

             “Oh…yeah, sure. Of course. I just…I just really want to see him..”

             “And you will…but I don’t think you want to see him in the state he is now. In fact, I don’t think *he* wants you to see him like this.”

             “It’s that bad?” Buffy asked, tears streaming down her cheeks. There was a lengthy pause before Giles replied.

             “Lets just say that I would like nothing more than to kill Quentin with my own hands…as painfully as possible.” Giles said through clenched teeth.
 
 

 

Later that night...

            “No….NO!!”

             Giles awoke from his sound sleep to hear Spike shouting. He fumbled for his glasses on the Hotel’s nightstand and ran into Spike’s room.

             “You can’t have her! No!! GET AWAY!!” Spike was thrashing about on his bed, sheets tangled around him.

             “Spike!! SPIKE! Wake up man!” Giles grabbed him about the shoulders to steady him so he wouldn’t go flying off the bed. Spike was fighting him off in his dream-state so Giles had no other choice. He punched Spike. Hard.

             Spike woke up, but he still seemed to be trapped in his dream. He was looking directly at Giles, but he seemed to not really ‘see’ him.

             “You can’t have her! I made this, and she’s mine! The one thing I did right…”

             “Spike, snap out if it! No one’s trying to steal anything from you.”

             Spike blinked several times as if to clear a vision. “Rupert?”

             “You were having a nightmare.” Giles sighed in relief.

             “But…they were chasing me…trying to get her.” Spike shook his head, still trying to discern the dream world from the real one.

             Giles chuckled a bit and pointed to the tangled sheets on the bed. “Your phantom attackers. Between you and the sheets, I would have bet on the linen.”

             “But…I saw her…I was holding her.” Spike looked down at his hands in confusion.

             “Holding who?”

             Spike frowned but then shrugged indifferently. “S’nothing. It was just a dream.”

             “Spike…maybe now would be a good time to update you on what’s been going on back home.” Giles said, sitting down.

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