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Chapter 25
 
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Disclaimer: The characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and all those folks.
 
Thank you to all the reviewers who have spurred me to edit faster!
 
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Chapter 25
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The wailing cries echoed in the small, torch lit chamber. “Why does it make that horrible sound?” the Ruler asked, regarding the infant who lay before her. The Seer was in the process of cleaning the blood from the sacrifice, making it perfect for their gods. It was always unnerving watching the Seer work. Blind as she was, her powers allowed her to ‘see’ many things, and her powers had increased exponentially as the time of sacrifice grew nearer.
 
“It is hungry,” the Seer said. “I have sent the Kratash agents to obtain sustenance for it.”
 
“It is small. Will it survive until the appointed time?”
 
“It is healthy. Provided it is fed, it will survive,” The Seer finished her ablutions and moved to put the bloody cloths and water to the side. She returned to swaddle the infant in a piece of black silk-like fabric, which seemed to calm it. The wailing tapered off to small whimpers and squirms and its eyes half opened, trying to focus on its tiny fist.
 
A noise behind them caught the attention of the Ruler and the Seer. They turned to see the Kratash controller there. “I have brought the supplies you requested,” he said, placing a box on the floor. “There is milk for a human infant, and feeding bottles.”
 
“Good,” said the Ruler. “You have done very well, Kratash.”
 
The Kratash glowed with pride. It had been one of the most challenging assignments he had ever faced. Toward the end they thought they would never find a way past the wards. But they had gotten lucky, and their constant vigilance had paid off. The wards had not gone up as expected, and they had been able to alert the Dwak Dlam about the narrow window of opportunity. “Do you require any more from us?” the controller asked, his politeness masking an intense desire to get as far away from these creatures as possible.
 
“No,” said the Ruler. She motioned to a chest in the corner. “The agreed upon sum is in there. We are grateful for your assistance in this matter.”
 
The Kratash briefly opened the chest, to see the promised gems heaped inside. These gems were exceedingly rare, and would fetch an incredible price in certain dimensions. Closing the chest, he stood and bowed to the Ruler. “It has been my pleasure.” He hefted the chest in his arms, and in a moment had vanished from sight.
 
The Seer had hobbled over to the box and was rummaging around. After a few moments she stood up, carrying a bottle of formula. She brought it over to Emma, who after a few false starts suckled eagerly. “Grow strong, small one. You will be the source of our greatest triumph,” she said, and the Ruler grinned evilly at the thought.
 
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Giles returned to his apartment in a daze. He called Willow and asked her to gather the others and come over. When she questioned the reason, he answered, “Something has happened. I need to tell you all in person.” After he hung up, he poured himself a measure of scotch, belted it down, and poured another. He sat down on his sofa, staring into space and drinking from time to time. At last there came a knock on the door, and he got up to answer it.
 
The Scoobies rushed in, concern painted on their faces. “Giles! When did you get back? What happened?” Tara asked. She had never seen his aura so black and hopeless.
 
“Please, sit down, all of you,” he said in response. Tara and Willow took the couch, while Anya sat in an armchair with Xander perched on the arm. Giles sat in the other armchair, and stared down into his drink, searching for courage. He sat there so long that Willow finally said, “Giles? You okay?”
 
He looked up at them with swollen red eyes. “I don’t want to have to be saying this again,” he said in a cracked voice. “Buffy and Dawn are dead.”
 
The pronouncement was met with stunned silence. Xander shook his head back and forth silently, as Willow put a hand to her mouth and Tara’s mouth dropped open. Anya found her voice first and said, “How did it happen? Was it the demons?”
 
“I… I don’t know,” he stammered. “Spike came home from patrol to find Dawn in the living room. Someone … b…broke her neck.”
 
“Oh, no,” Tara whispered. “Dawnie…” Tara had grown close to the teen, and now the knowledge that she was gone pierced her like a dagger. She covered her face with her hands and wept, while Willow held her.
 
Giles went on, haltingly saying, “Spike found B… Buffy in their bedroom. They had… whoever it was… they had ripped her o… open to get the baby.” He couldn’t continue for a moment. The memory of Buffy’s bloodied body flashed across his memory and he pinched the bridge of his nose, trying desperately to regain control.
 
“Poor Spike,” Anya said softly. “To find her like that…” She shuddered, and leaned into Xander for comfort.
 
“Where are they now?” Xander asked in an uncharacteristically quiet voice.
 
“They, um,” Giles began, but then couldn’t continue for a moment. He wiped his face, took a deep breath and tried again. “Spike got there as Buffy was… dying. She told him that the baby was a… alive. He… um… he…”
 
“Giles, what is it?” Willow asked, dreading the answer.
 
“He turned her,” Giles whispered. “When he knew that he couldn’t save her, he turned her.”
 
“What?” Willow gasped. They all reeled anew at this latest horror.
 
“Buffy is the only one who knows what happened, and Spike won’t be able to help look for Emma if she’s gone. There was nothing else he could do.”
 
Xander leaped to his feet. “And you let him?” he yelled, his voice an equal mixture of grief and anger. “So now we’ll have an evil version of Buffy running around with superhuman strength? How exactly does this help the situation?”
 
Giles sprung from his chair and startled them all by whipping his glass into the fireplace. “Xander we do NOT have time for this!” thundered Giles. The Scoobies’ mouths all dropped open as they watched Giles shaking in rage and grief. Even after the battle with Glory he had seemed more in control. Right now he looked like a man teetering on the edge of madness. “Their child, Emma, is out there. If the information I found is correct and matches what Buffy experienced, Emma is in grave, mortal danger. Spike and Buffy are mated. Spike will literally die without her. We cannot defeat this enemy without him.”
 
“But Giles, how will Spike deal with Buffy?” asked Anya. “When Slayers get turned they tend to freak out on their sires.” All the others turned to look at her. “You don’t live for a thousand years without hearing a few things,” she said by way of explanation.
 
“Spike has Buffy contained until she wakes up and he can assess her state of mind. He hopes their claim can help keep her balanced.”
 
“He hopes?” sputtered Xander. “And what if he can’t manage her? What if she escapes and comes after us?”
 
“I don’t know,” Giles said, deflating like a balloon. He sank back into his chair, hanging his head in despair. “We have no choice. We can’t find the baby without Spike. Spike can’t survive without Buffy. We’ve got to try.” He gave into his grief then, covered his face and wept, for Dawn, for Buffy, and for himself. Anya stood up, went over to Giles, and knelt in front of him. She gathered him into her arms and held him while he succumbed to sorrow.
 
It was a long time before Giles got himself under control and sat up, wiping his face and feeling sick to his stomach. Tara had finally controlled her own tears enough to ask, “W… what do we d… do n… now?” Her stutter had returned with a vengeance.
 
Giles took a deep breath. “Spike said to keep away from them for a couple of days. He will contact us as soon as she wakes and he can tell what she’s like.” He pulled out a handkerchief and dried his glasses. “In the mean time, we need to take a look at the information I brought back about these demons – the Dwak Dlam. I suspect they are what we have been seeking. They will sacrifice Emma in five days, unless we find them and stop them. So let’s regroup, and figure out where they might be.” Still in shock, the Scoobies nodded and moved slowly to their task.
 
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Spike woke with a start. His dreams had been a torturous, endless replay of Buffy’s death – the light going out of her eyes, her heart stopping, her heat dissipating. He had no idea how long he had been asleep. Looking over at Buffy, he noticed that some of the minor defensive wounds on her arms and face were completely gone. Lifting her top, he checked under the bandages to see that the abdominal wound was healing as well. Hopefully, she would wake soon. Spike’s stomach growled a bit. He had no idea how long it had been since he’d fed. All he wanted was to stay right where he was, next to his mate’s body, but he realized that he would need strength to deal with her when she awoke. With a supreme effort he forced himself to go upstairs. He found the cooler Giles had left. It had been packed with dry ice, and was still cold. Looking around, he found that Clem had kept his old fridge, but had added a microwave to the pile of random appliances. Spike heated himself a container of pig’s blood and gulped it down, putting the rest in the fridge for later. Then he went back to his vigil.
 
He lost track of how long he lay there, studying every millimeter of Buffy’s face, every golden strand of her hair. Drusilla had always refused to allow a claim between them. Spike had thought it was just because she was a mad, capricious bitch, but now he had to wonder. With her gift of the sight, could she see what it would end like? If any vampire truly knew what it would feel like, to have half of your psyche replaced by a vast, hollow blankness, then no one would ever claim another. He fought to stay focused, but he found that he just wanted to fall asleep and never wake up. The urge to lie down outside and let the sun take him was so intense that he wondered if he would be able to bear it long enough for Buffy to wake. He only hoped that when she did the claim would somehow be renewed. If it wasn’t, he didn’t know how he would survive.
 
At some point in his lonely struggle, he felt something. At first, it was like a faint distant buzzing, or like the pins and needles from a limb falling asleep. The buzzing increased in intensity, and Spike realized that it was something originating outside his own mind. He sat up, hardly daring to hope, watching Buffy intensely. The buzzing became a roar that he recognized – the Hunger. He had always thought of that deep-seated need in capital letters. The Hunger grew and expanded in his mind until suddenly Buffy’s eyes flew open.
 
They were yellow.
 
The yellow eyes of the former Slayer were unfocused for a moment. Then she vamped out fully and writhed in her chains. She screamed, an incoherent feral cry, and her thoughts came flooding into Spike’s mind. Blood… hunger… kill…
 
Spike recovered from his shock and threw himself on top of her. “Buffy! It’s me, it’s Spike!” he cried, trying to get through to her. She continued growling and struggling until Spike forced himself into her mind. Listen to me. I am your mate, and your Sire. Drink. He palmed the back of her head and guided her fangs to his neck. She viciously bit his jugular, as he more tenderly sank his fangs into hers. Remember, love. It’s me. Your mate, your lover. Forever.
 
After the first few swallows Buffy’s mind began to clear. Spike? Where…
 
Shhh. Drink. Be mine.
 
Yours, she agreed, gaining some degree of control. The claim, which had dwindled to nothing, now grew and expanded and became a lifeline to which they both clung. Spike had no words to describe the feeling of Buffy’s presence filling the howling void which her death had left behind. He was complete once more, and hoped with all his being that he would never have to feel that void again.
 
Buffy pulled back, gasping with shock and confusion. Spike released her and looked into her eyes, stroking her hair soothingly. Where are we? Buffy wondered.
 
My old crypt.
 
Why am I chained up?
 
Was afraid of what might happen when you came to.
 
You turned me. It was a statement of fact, not an accusation, but it still conveyed utter bewilderment.
 
Yes. Spike caressed her bumpy forehead tenderly. I’m so sorry, love. No other way to save us all. Can you tell me what happened? We need to find Emma.
 
Still so hungry. How do you stand this?
 
It’s worst at the beginning. Spike searched her mind and found confusion and sadness, but no hatred toward him. He got up and unfastened the chains, feeling sure enough of her state of mind to trust her. Be right back.
 
Buffy sat up and rubbed her wrists. She felt cold inside, but at the same time she was aware of all the heightened sensations of her new state. She could hear Spike upstairs, opening the fridge, turning on the microwave. She could hear dripping water in the tunnels that led off from the crypt. Her sharpened sense of smell picked up Clem’s dirty clothes, cat fur, candle wax – all sorts of things she hadn’t noticed before. She heard the small ping of the microwave and the distant scent of blood blocked out all else. The demon inside her screamed for it, and she was licking her lips unconsciously as Spike came back downstairs.
 
Spike handed her a large mug and said, “Here love. It’s human, but from a donor. You’re going to need it at first to get strong.”
 
She took it and frowned slightly. The Slayer in her shied away from the idea of drinking human blood. But in the end the vampire demon won the battle and she drank, first tentatively, then deeply, finishing the mug in one long go. She turned to Spike and said, “Is there any….?” Spike was already handing her a second mug, which she also drained without stopping. Believe me, love, I remember what it’s like at first. ‘S why I had you chained up. If you were loose you could have killed someone without knowing what you were doing.
 
Buffy shuddered at the idea that she could have killed Giles or… “Dawn!” she cried suddenly, turning wild eyes to Spike. “Where is she? Is she ok?”
 
Spike took the mug from her and sat down, taking her hands. “Dawn’s dead, Buffy,” he said softly.
 
Buffy shook her head in denial. “No. No, she can’t be. No. No!” Her voice rose to a wail and she struggled in Spike’s arms, pounding his chest with fists like iron.
 
Spike gathered her close and held on against the onslaught. I tried to get to her, to you, he explained, not trusting his voice. God I tried. But I was too late, again. His grief and hers merged into a shared storm of emotion.
 
Buffy remembered every time she had insisted that demons couldn’t love. At this point she desperately wished that it were true. The love she felt for her sister was still there, but twisted into crushing grief. She can’t be gone. Not Dawnie. She finally stopped struggling and simply collapsed into Spike’s arms. It’s all my fault. I fell asleep, and I didn’t put the wards up. I couldn’t get to her, there were too many of them, they just came out of nowhere.
 
Spike rocked her, silently sharing her grief and distress. Buffy could feel his love for Dawn and his horrible guilt for not having saved her pouring out of his mind. Above her own loss she could read his thoughts: They snapped her neck and left her there like some broken toy and she was still warm and if I had just been faster maybe I could have saved her…
 
They rocked together, consumed with their loss for a long time. Finally Buffy spoke up across the claim. Did… did she suffer?
 
No love. Wasn’t a mark on her. It was quick. Buffy nodded and closed her eyes, her gameface finally melting away as she clung to Spike. We need to find Emma, love. She’s in danger, but there’s still time. But we need to know what happened. Can you tell me? In response, Buffy started replaying the scene in her mind as she buried her face in his shirt.
 


…Buffy woke with a start. It sounded as if a wind was shaking the house. Suddenly she heard Dawn scream. “Dawn?” she cried. She got up as quickly as she could but the bedroom door burst open to reveal the first of a large number of huge black demons. She backed away, looking for a weapon, as Dawn’s screams got louder and more frantic, then stopped with a sickening suddenness. The demons reached for her, and she punched one of them as hard as she could in the face, but they came in a wave and overpowered her. Demons held her arms and legs as she thrashed and swore. The throng parted to admit a smaller figure, who was somehow even more terrifying. This figure was clearly old, and her eyes were sewn shut, yet she moved as if she could see everything. She held a long, wicked looking knife in her hand with a black blade. She knelt before Buffy who struggled and screamed. “The child of the prophesy,” she hissed, running her clawed hand over Buffy’s abdomen. With agonizing slowness she stabbed the knife into Buffy, drawing it raggedly from one side to the other while Buffy screamed endlessly. Blood spurted in jets as the knife worked again and again. The clawed hands reached sickeningly inside her, tugging and tearing until at last they pulled forth the wailing, bloodstained form of her child. The blind creature held the squalling infant in her hands, lifting it up in the presence of the warriors and saying, “The child is ours! The Dwak Dlam shall prevail!” A great cheer went up from the warriors, and Buffy passed out from pain, shock, and horror….
 


Oh God, love. Spike was horrified and nauseated by the shared memory of what had happened.
 
This is all my fault, Buffy repeated. I should have got up right away, but I was so tired.
 
Shh, Spike soothed. I’m just as much to blame. I should have waited until the wards were up before I left.
 
How are we going to find her, Spike? Buffy pulled away and looked up at him. Those... things. What do they want with Emma?
 
Giles found something. He found me when I was at the house. He said that the sacrifice will happen in a couple of days.
 
“Sacrifice?” Buffy said aloud. She jumped to her feet. “We’re wasting time! We have to find her!” She started making her way toward the stairs.”
 
“Buffy!” Spike said sharply. The combination of the claim and the force of sire stopped her. “We will find her. But the sun is out. You’re not tuned into that yet, but I can tell you, you go storming out the door up there and you’ll be dust before you can blink. We need more information. We’ll get it. But we can’t go rushing off half-cocked or we’re not going to have a chance in hell.”
 
Buffy realized he was right. “Dammit,” she swore softly. She looked at him with tormented eyes. “How do you stand this?”
 
“I’ve had a hundred plus years to get used to it, pet,” he said. He came up to her and drew her into his arms once more. “You’ve got the Slayer demon to deal with too. You can’t stop wanting to save everyone, and you can’t stop needing to feed to live. Unmated Slayers who get turned usually don’t last very long for that reason.”
 
“This sucks,” she muttered. Her misery was like a veil over all her thoughts.
 
“I know,” he said. “But as long as I’m still walking, I’m going after our girl. Are you with me?” He pulled away and looked deep into her green eyes.
 
Buffy swallowed, then nodded. “I’m always with you.” And despite the weight of all that had happened, they both felt marginally consoled by the thought.
 
TBC
 
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