Chapter 5 – Hell to Pay


Aspen left the computer lab at midnight. The lab was the last place Thomas was seen alive. She’d come there every night during the past weeks to question people who showed up, hoping to find someone who’d seen him or talked to him the night he’d disappeared. Every night, she talked to someone new and every night she was disappointed.

She headed down the dark street, past the burnt-out computer building. It was a long walk home from the university to her apartment. Thomas would have been upset if he’d known she was walking alone at this time of night.

Thomas was right to worry. Sunnydale was full of spooky-looking people and mysterious happenings. She’d shrugged them off – the disappearances, the deaths by weird causes like neck punctures and traumatic anemia – until Thomas disappeared. Now, walking in the dark terrified her. She jumped at every noise and scurried by every shadow.

When she finally arrived at her apartment building, she fumbled for her keys at the outside door. She berated herself for not having her keys ready like Thomas asked her to do. She was scrabbling her keys at the deadbolt when an Army truck drove up and parked on the street in front of her building. She hurried to unlock the door, although she told herself she shouldn’t be frightened of some soldiers, and dropped her bag in her rush.

A soldier jumped out of the passenger seat of the truck. “Miss? I’m sorry to disturb you. We need directions.”

Three more soldiers got out of the back of the truck. One of them was holding a rifle.

She shook with fear, but ignored the soldiers. She struggled to turn the key. The lock always jammed when she was in a hurry. As the deadbolt turned and the door swung open, she felt a sharp sting between her shoulder blades. A wave of dizziness overwhelmed her and she slumped to the sidewalk, unconscious.

“Damn it, Raul,” Finn said. “I told you not to shoot until I verified her identity. Give Gates your rifle. You can’t be trusted. If she’s the wrong broad, you’re on latrine duty for a week.”

“Jeez, Finn,” Private First Class Raul said, “It’s her.”

Finn picked up her bag and fished out her wallet. “Aspen Bleuette. You got lucky asshole. Put her in the truck.”

Forrest Gates, Agent Second Class, slung the rifle over his shoulder. “How much longer are we going to be doing this shit, Finn? I didn’t sign up to be doping and kidnapping college girls. We’re a fighting unit. We’re supposed to be killing demons and vampires, not fucking around with crazy-ass experiments.”

“Shut up. Help Raul get her into the truck.”

Finn tossed Aspen’s bag into the back of the truck where several other college girls were sleeping off the effects of tranquilizer darts.

“Hey, Finn,” Private First Class Fred snickered, “When do I get to volunteer for college girl duty?”

“When you grow a set of fangs, shit head. Move out. We’ve got something else to take care of before we go back to base.”

***

Willow snuggled deeper into Tara’s large, soft bed, crammed her face into a pillow so she wouldn’t have to confess to Tara what she’d done. At least, not right away.

Tara sat next to Willow and stroked her back with her delicate fingers. “You have to tell me sometime, Willow. I won’t be angry or upset. I promise.”

“I can’t. I can’t tell you. I can’t tell anybody.” Willow intended to tell Tara, but she wanted to soften her up first and get her to make stupid promises, like the promise she’d just made about not being upset.

“Is it someone else? Oz? Did Oz come back and you want to break up with me?” Tara held back her tears, but her voice broke. Since Willow wouldn’t talk, she imagined the worst.

Willow sat up straight and wrapped her arms around Tara. “No, baby. There isn’t anyone else. You’re my girl. Don’t. Don’t ever think that.” If only Buffy had someone to love her the way Tara loved Willow.

Tara pushed Willow away and folded her arms. “What am I supposed to think? You won’t tell me what’s wrong. You’ve been sad for days and crying when you think I don’t hear you. You don’t trust me.”

Willow dragged her fingers through her hair. Her idea of softening up Tara went too far, not unlike some of the spells she’d cast lately. “Okay. I’ll tell you. Don’t bother to promise you’ll not be upset, because that’s not possible.”

Willow drew in a long breath as if she needed an extra supply of oxygen to expel the whole sordid story.

Tara took Willow’s hand and held it both of her own. She waited for Willow to begin.

“You know how vampires always get invited in?” Willow asked.

Tara shook her head and her face looked blank.

“Okay. You remember a few months ago, when Spike asked me to hack into the Initiative computer?”

***

Buffy perched on the arm of Spike’s chair and pressed an ice pack to his eye. Considering her new girlfriendly status, she pecked Spike on the cheek in front of Giles and her mother. Cheek pecking was a lame reward after Mom popped Spike in the eye and cracked a teapot over his head, so she kissed him on the mouth and slipped him a little tongue when Mom and Giles weren’t paying attention.

“Are you okay?”

“I see how you came to be the Slayer. Your mum has a good left hook.” He eased his fingers under the front of her overalls and pinched her nipple.

Joyce glared at Spike to make him stop fondling Buffy.

“Before you two came in, Rupert was telling me about his new research project that the Watcher’s Council is funding. You’ll be interested in this, honey. Rupert is studying ryzark demons.”

Buffy raised an eyebrow. Ryzark demons? What was her mother talking about? Less than five minutes ago, Joyce found out she was going to be a grandmother and all she could talk about was ryzarks?

Buffy felt her news deserved a little more interest from Mom – some yelling and crying and sulking and pouting. The very least her mother could do was throw up her hands and say she didn’t give a damn what all the parenting tapes said and make an appropriately noisy fit. Instead, her mother wanted to talk about some stupid demons nobody ever saw before.

And, what did Joyce know about ryzark demons? Other than the tiny, minute, inconsequential, miniscule, insignificant white lie she’d told her mother concerning homework and taking out a nest of ryzark demons.

“Buffy cleared out a nest of ryzark demons, here in Sunnydale,” Joyce informed Giles.

Joyce held refilled Giles’ glass and her own. Spike held out a teacup, hoping for a slosh of booze to ease the pain in his black eye. Joyce ignored him and placed the bottle on the coffee table out of his reach.

Giles drained his second glass of scotch. “You didn’t mention any ryzarks, Buffy. I’d like to examine their nest. Where is it?”

Spike picked this moment to contribute to the conversation. “What are you on about, Watcher? There are no ryzarks within three hundred miles of Sunnydale.”

Buffy gouged Spike in the ribs to shut him up.

“Strays. Stray ryzarks. Cleaned them out. Ryzarks all gone. Nothing to see.” Buffy said.

Spike looked at her like she’d grown a second head with fungus-coated antlers.

This would be a good moment to get Spike some more ice for his black eye. If she was in the kitchen, she wouldn’t have to answer any more questions about ryzarks.

She opened the refrigerator, fished out the Cheezee Whizee and gave herself two squirts before tucking the can in the pocket of her overalls.

I’m eating for two.