Disclaimer: All the toys are Joss Whedon’s, doo-dah, doo-dah
 
Ok, getting a little punchy. But here’s another chapter to keep people occupied. Thanks for the continued reviews!
 
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Chapter 27
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Buffy and Spike slept until late afternoon. Buffy woke up ravenous again, and padded upstairs for some sustenance while Spike kept dozing. She found there was only one container of blood left from the stash Giles had brought. She took half of it and heated it up, drinking it slowly to make it last. She curled up in the armchair as she drank, thinking things out. Outside the sun shone diffusely through the trees, but without generating any dangerous rays in the crypt. I can’t go out there anymore, she realized. I’ll never get a tan again. Never have a picnic on the grass at lunchtime again. She tried to push away the feelings of self-pity, but it was tempting to wallow.
 
After a few minutes Spike came upstairs. “I missed the sun at first too, love,” he said, having caught her thoughts when he woke. “Not as much as you probably. Not like we ever saw the bloody sun in England half the time anyway. But I still miss the sunset now and again.” He heated up the rest of the blood for himself and came over to sit on the arm of the chair next to her.
 
Buffy stared at her mug for a moment. “Do you think I still have my soul?” she asked.
 
Spike contemplated that for a minute. “I don’t know, love. It sounds stupid, but I don’t remember what it felt like. It was so long ago for me, and other than having next to no inhibitions, I don’t remember feeling that much different. I still loved my mum, still enjoyed good food, that sort of thing.“
 
“But killing didn’t bother you.” It was a statement, not a question.
 
“No, it didn’t,” he admitted. “Truth be told, I can’t say it bothers me now. What bothers me is making you unhappy, especially since we claimed each other. Your pain is my pain. I couldn’t live with myself if I did something to hurt you. And since you’d have to stake me if I started killing, and that would mess you up, I don’t do it.”
 
“I guess I don’t know how I feel. Or how I would feel, if I had to… to kill someone to live,” Buffy said, still staring into her mug. “It’s like wanting to eat a whole cake, but knowing that you’re going to have a stomachache when you’re done. I feel like I’ve got this constant battle going on between the Slayer and the Vampire, and it’s all being fought out in my brain.”
 
“It’s one of the reasons that I never wanted to turn you, love,” Spike said quietly. “Slayers tend to go mad from that constant conflict. I didn’t want to inflict that on you. Had no choice.”
 
“I know you didn’t,” she replied, lifting a hand to stroke his face. “I’m not angry at you. Just trying to figure this all out.” He wrapped an arm around her and they leaned into each other, contemplating all this in silence for a while. Finally Buffy said, “What are we doing today?”
 
“I was going to go to the Magic Box this morning. See what I can do to help figure out our dilemma. Do you want to come, or stay?” Spike replied.
 
“I’d like to come, but…”
 
“I know you’re worried about control. We’ll stop by Willy’s on the way and get some of the good stuff. And if you need to leave, you’ll know the way through the tunnels to get back here.” The plan sounded good to Buffy, so they went back downstairs to get dressed and head out.
 
They came up through the cellar at Willy’s to find the bar deserted at this early hour. Willy raised his eyebrows when they entered through the customary door for daytime demonic visitors. “You two have a lot of nerve showing up around here,” he said. “Heard you went on a bit of a rampage last night.”
 
“That’s our business, and none of yours,” Spike said curtly. “Just give me 2 pints of the good stuff and we’ll trouble you no more.”
 
Willy raised an eyebrow. “Thought you were on a no-human diet.”
 
“Didn’t ask for an interrogation,” Spike growled. Willy thought the better of it and got two containers of blood out of the fridge behind the bar. Spike paid for them then added, “As far as you know, we were never here.” Willy nodded, looked hard at the two of them, then went back to drying glassware. Buffy trailed Spike back to the tunnels. As soon as the door was closed behind them she opened one of the containers and drank half of it down.
 
“God, I needed that. How long does this ‘feed me NOW’ stage go on?” she asked.
 
“It settles down after a few weeks. Although it can take a while to really control the demon. I can’t imagine you’ll have much trouble with that though. Demon doesn’t have a chance against a stubborn Summers woman.” He crooked a half smile, which faded as he remembered the fate of the other Summers women.
 
“I miss them too,” Buffy whispered. Her hand crept into his for comfort as they continued through the tunnels. After several more twists and turns they arrived in the basement of the Magic Box and came up through the trapdoor into the cellar. They heard Willow and Giles having a discussion as they came in.
 
“… I just don’t know, Giles! I’ve never done a spell like this before!”
 
“I realize that,” Giles was saying. He turned when he noticed Spike come in. “Spike, good to see you. We could use some translation help on…” He stopped when he noticed Buffy behind Spike. “Buffy. It’s… good to see you too.” There was a long, awkward pause.
 
“I was going to go and work out in the training room a bit, if that’s alright,” Buffy said, feeling self conscious.
 
“Of course,” said Giles. Spike squeezed Buffy’s hand once more for reassurance, before she disappeared into the training room and closed the door. Giles stared sadly after her for a moment, then shook himself and focused anew on the task at hand. “We think we’ve found an appropriate locator spell, but the source is written in a demon language neither of us is familiar with.” He handed the book over to Spike, who sat down and studied it.
 
“Did you try a translation spell on this?” Spike asked without looking up from the text.
 
“I did, and it seems to have only worked partway,” Willow said. “It’s like the list of ingredients translated, but the words of the spell didn’t.”
 
Spike studied it a while longer. “I’ve seen books like this before. Pretty common thing in a lot of demon books. They’re enchanted to keep the white hats out of demon business.”
 
“Is it possible to say it phonetically?” Giles asked.
 
“Suppose so,” Spike said. “But it’s an awful risk. You’ve got no clue what it’s going to do if you don’t know what it says. Could end up sending yourself into a demon dimension or lord knows what else.”
 
“Can you translate it?” Giles wondered.
 
“I can have a go at it,” Spike said. “It’s pretty obscure though. I don’t recognize the language, although it seems to share some elements with Fyral.” He stared at it again. “Do you have any books at all about demon languages? Might give me a clue.”
 
“Whatever we have is over here,” Willow said, moving over to the bookshelves. Spike joined her, and the two of them searched through the titles intently. They brought a selection back to the table and soon were hard at work.
 
After a while, Giles left the table to use the restroom. He hesitated for a moment when he came out, then opened the door to the training room. The target was covered with enough throwing knives to resemble a porcupine. Buffy was in the process of pounding the heavy bag, her kicks and punches so ferocious that Giles was momentarily tempted to slam the door and flee. But he swallowed his fear and entered the room.
 
Buffy gave the bag one more side kick before turning to face Giles. “Hey, Giles,” she said.
 
“Hello, Buffy,” he replied. The awkwardness remained, and Giles went to sit on the couch, trying to think of what to say. He settled on, “How do you feel?”
 
Buffy hopped up on the pommel horse and sat there, dangling her small feet and staring at the ground. “It’s… different,” she said after a moment of thought. “Everything is really intense. Like someone turned all my senses up.”
 
“I meant emotionally,” Giles clarified. “You’ve had a terrible series of shocks.”
 
“Yeah,” she said, still looking down at the floor. “I just need to focus on finding Emma right now. I don’t have time to process the rest.” She could hear Giles’ heartbeat, and the blood rushing in his veins, and her control started to slip a bit. She got up and went over to a small table where she had parked her container of blood and took a big sip to calm her nerves.
 
This small act made Giles very aware that he was in a small room with a vampire. Not only a vampire, but a vampire with Slayer strength and speed. “Is it getting any easier?” he asked.
 
“A little, I guess,” Buffy shrugged. “But the need to, well, to feed is really, really strong. I don’t know that you’d want to be within arm’s reach of me if I didn’t have some blood with me.”
 
“Do you think you’ll be able to patrol? To fight other vampires?”
 
“I did last night,” she stated. “Slayer strength plus vampire strength equals a whole lot of dead demons. Killing things seems to help.”
 
“Will you… do you worry about what will happen when you find Emma?” Giles asked nervously.
 
“I’ll have Spike to help me. He’s got control enough for both of us. We just need to find her, Giles.” Buffy looked up at him with misery in her eyes. “She’s all we’ve got left. Even if we can’t raise her ourselves, I need to know she’s okay.”
 
Giles longed to take her in his arms and comfort her. But he kept his distance and said, “We will find her. I won’t stop until we do.” Buffy found herself comforted by the determination in his voice.
 
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By nine o’clock that night, Spike was cross-eyed with frustration. He had dragged out every book he could find, and had studied the text for the locator spell backwards, forwards and upside down, and still he could only figure out about a third of the words. Buffy had gone out to the butchers as soon as it was dark. She had kept in mental contact with him the whole time, and although she had a couple of moments when she had to duck into an alley to regain control, she made it there and back without vamping out on anyone. She rubbed Spike’s shoulders as he bent over the text, until at last he slumped in defeat. “I’ve got to get away from this for a while. I can’t make it out.” His voice was thick with frustration.
 
“Maybe you two should take a break and go patrol,” Giles said. “And with your permission, I’d like to call in some outside help.”
 
“Who?” Buffy asked.
 
“I’d like to call up Wesley Wyndam-Price. He did his thesis on demon languages. He might have some resources we don’t. And given his state the last time I saw him, I don’t think we will have to worry about him bringing Angel into the picture.”
 
“Do it,” said Spike tersely, and Buffy nodded her agreement. “We’re running out of time.” With that, Buffy and Spike left to go work off their tension on the local demon population.
 
The other Scoobies took a break and ordered some pizza, while Giles went into his office and closed the door. He fished around on his desk until he found Wesley’s number and dialed it. “Hello?” came the familiar British voice on the other end.
 
“Wesley, it’s Rupert Giles.”
 
“Rupert. What can I do for you?” Wesley’s voice still sounded tired and wary.
 
“I need your help translating a spell in a demon language. It is literally a matter of life and death.”
 
In his apartment, Wesley sat up straighter, hearing the slightly desperate note in Giles’ voice. “Giles, what’s happened? You sound upset.”
 
Giles took a deep breath. “It’s a bit of a long tale,” he began. Wesley listened with increasing horror to the tale of the true origins of Buffy’s pregnancy, the attack, the murder of Dawn and the abduction of Emma, and the unbelievable news that the Slayer was now a vampire. Giles finished his story by saying, “We need to find the Dwak Dlam, and we need to rescue their child. It may be that the fate of the world depends on it. Can you come to Sunnydale?”
 
Wesley barely hesitated. “I’ll be there as quickly as I can.” They rang off and Wesley started grabbing books off of his shelves. He realized he was being given a chance to redeem himself, and he wasn’t going to blow it this time.
 
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Spike and Buffy got home about a half hour before sunrise. Buffy was dripping with the blood of various demons and covered with a liberal coat of vampire dust as well. She had shown no mercy, ripping vampires and demons alike into unrecognizable heaps. Spike had felt the anger and desperate grief pouring out of her with every punch and kick, and his heart ached for her. She had started out reasonably calm, but had grown more angry, frantic, and violent with each passing moment. He had tried to stay out of her way, letting her work it all out, only stepping in when sunrise threatened.
 
Buffy stormed in, still agitated. “Look at my clothes!” she ranted. “These things are never going to be the same!”
 
“Maybe we should go down and get cleaned up, yeah?” Spike suggested.
 
“Guess so,” Buffy said. She went downstairs, shed her clothes in a heap near the entrance to the tunnels, and climbed into the shower. Spike moved more slowly, then realized he was waiting as usual for her to use the restroom before joining her. Guess I don’t need to wait for you to use the loo anymore, huh? he thought as he stepped in beside her.
 
Buffy didn’t respond. Her thoughts were still an angry whirl as she scrubbed and scrubbed at her skin and her hair. She moved in jerky, frantic movements, looking at nothing, forming no coherent thoughts. “Buffy,” Spike said, trying to catch her eyes.
 
But Buffy acted as if she hadn’t heard. She scrubbed and scrubbed at her hair, over and over, until finally she grabbed large handfuls of it and pulled at it, crumpling up at the bottom of the tub and wailing hysterically, “They’re gone. They’re gone, and Dawn’s dead, and we’re dead, and there’s nothing we can do and they’re going to kill my b… baby.” She rocked and keened, practically screaming as she succumbed to complete hopelessness.
 
Spike sank down in the tub behind her and drew her in. He held her, saying nothing, just letting the water run over both of them, mixing with their tears and forming a backdrop to their shared sorrow. By the time Buffy came back to some level of control, the water was even icier than usual, and they were cramped from their awkward position. Buffy sat up, shaking and sniffling. “Sorry,” she whispered.
 
“Don’t be sorry love,” Spike soothed. “As long as we don’t have our breakdowns at the same time, we can spell each other. “
 
“I wanted to be a mother so much,” she said in a broken voice. “I know at first I wasn’t sure but by the end she was such a part of me…”
 
Spike winced slightly at the rawness of her grief. “I know, sweetheart,” Spike said. “Wanted to be a father more than anything. But I’m not giving up yet.” He stood up and pulled her up with him, reaching over to turn off the water. He squeezed her shoulders firmly, looking deep into her eyes. “We’re going to find her. You and me. If we have to kill everything in our path for five miles around. I’m not going to stop trying to get to her until I’m a pile of dust.”
 
Buffy nodded, having nothing more to say. She let him help her out of the tub, and they both dried off. They got into bed and wrapped their arms around each other. Between the slaying and the sobbing, they were both exhausted, and fell asleep almost immediately.
 
TBC