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Blood of the Sire by BuffyMeetsSpike
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Disclaimer: All the characters belong to some rich person who is not me.

Thanks so much for the encouragement so far!

Chapter 4 - Diagnosis
Patrol was a rushed affair that evening. Buffy made her way as quickly as she could through the biggest cemeteries, taking care of four fledges and two older vamps who hadn’t been in town long enough to know who she was. Their talk of having ‘skinny blonde chick’ for dinner was cut abruptly short as said blonde chick took them out in about half a minute. Too easy, she thought to herself, dusting off her hands. They should be ashamed to call themselves vampires. The thought brought her back to one particular vampire, and she pointed her feet back toward home.
Buffy waged a mental battle all the way home. Why do I care? Why am I doing this? These questions and many of their relatives kept bouncing constantly through her brain, but no answers seemed to come up. All she knew is that the thought of Spike being gone forever bothered her. A lot. If he had left town she would have missed him, if she was being honest with herself. But if he ceased to be entirely? If there was no chance he would ever darken her doorstep again? The idea filled her with an unnamed dread. So if I hate the idea of him being dead, what does that mean? She shied away from deeply exploring the answer to that.
When she got home, Willow was watching television in the living room. “How was patrol?” Willow asked as Buffy hung up her jacket.
“The usual. Where’s Dawn?” Buffy asked.
“She went to bed. Spike was sleeping last time she checked.”
“I’ll go see how he’s doing,” Buffy said as she headed to the kitchen for a clean mug and the kitchen knife. “Can Tara join us tomorrow?”
“Yes. She’ll meet us there.” Willow furrowed her brow as she saw Buffy heading to the basement, clearly intending on feeding Spike again. “Are you really sure that’s a good idea? I mean, he hasn’t had human blood in a long time. What’s that going to do to him if he gets better?”
Buffy raised her eyes to the ceiling and counted to ten. “Willow, the animal blood didn’t help. The human blood Dawn got him – which I have to remember to kill her for getting – didn’t help either. The slayer blood seems to. I heal quick.”
“Just worried, that’s all,” Willow said.
“If you want to worry about something, worry about figuring out what did this, okay?” Buffy turned and went downstairs, leaving Willow still frowning behind her.
Buffy made her way down to Spike’s cot. “Spike? Got some tasty Slayer goodness for you,” she said.
Spike opened his eyes at the sound of her voice. “Evening, Slayer,” he said. He watched as Buffy put the mug down and prepared to slash her arm. “You really don’t need to do that, you know.”
“Yes, I do,” she said, slashing away before he could protest again. His stomach growled at the scent of her as the mug slowly filled. She realized she hadn’t grabbed a towel to staunch the flow. “Shit. I’ll be right…”
“Give me your arm, Buffy,” Spike said quietly. Hesitating, she looked questioningly into his eyes before slowly moving her bleeding arm close to him. He took her arm with one shaky hand and brought it to his lips. He tenderly ran his tongue over the wound, sealing it, before planting a kiss on her wrist. The action caused warmth to flow through her body and down between her legs. Embarrassed, she pulled her arm away. “Thanks,” she muttered. “Um… here, let me help you sit up.” She lifted him once more, cradling him with one arm while she held the mug for him in the other. He drank it down and licked his lips as she laid him back on his pillow. “Slayer two meals in a row. Gonna spoil me,” he croaked.
“You seem a little more talky,” Buffy observed. She noticed that his eyes seemed a little clearer as well.
“I feel less than completely comatose, yeah,” Spike agreed. “Still pretty immobile though.”
“Do you remember anything that could help us figure this out?” Buffy asked. She had gotten up and was sitting on an old chair, elbows on her knees, watching him for any signs of improvement.
Spike wrinkled his brow in concentration. “It was just this gradual thing, you know? I was fine, then I started feeling tired all the time. I had been going through about one or two pints a day, but after a while I was going through three or four pints in a sitting and I still felt like I was starving. ‘Bout the time that Nibblet came to see me, after the wedding, I couldn’t actually summon the strength to get to the butcher’s anymore.”
“Oh yeah, that reminds me, what was the idea of sending my sister to Willy’s?” Buffy said with more than a hint of aggravation.
Spike shook his head slowly. “I didn’t send her there. I expressly forbade her to get me any human blood. Listens about as well as her sister does,” he replied.
“Hey, I heard that,” Buffy said, but her irritation with him died back down. She should have known that Spike would never knowingly put Dawn in danger. “I’ll threaten her miserable existence for that later I guess.”
“What’s the plan, then?” Spike wondered.
“Well, since Slayer blood doesn’t seem to be an instant cure, I guess we hit the books tomorrow,” Buffy said. “Will you be alright here alone?”
“’M a big vamp. Can take care of myself. Still feel like I could sleep the clock round anyhow,” Spike said. “You’d better go upstairs and get some food and liquid into you now. Can’t have you keeling over from blood loss, you hear?”
“I hear you,” Buffy said. She stood up and found she did feel a little lightheaded. “I’m going to go take care of that not keeling over thing. Can I get you anything else before I go crash?”
“I’m good, Slayer,” Spike said. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” she said quietly. She made her way to the kitchen, finding it blessedly deserted for once. She grabbed a huge glass of water and heated up some of the leftover pizza. As she munched she pondered the situation further. She and Spike were actually being cordial to each other, for once. Spike wasn’t making snarky and inappropriate comments, and she hadn’t called him a pig or punched him in the nose. It was so unlike their usual exchanges that it gave her pause. Even before they had started sleeping together, their interactions had never been like that. Either she had been too traumatized from her return from the grave to say much, or she had been drunk, or depressed, and their conversations had mostly consisted of Spike trying to get a rise out of her, to jolt her somehow into living again. After they had started in on the sexcapades it was either angry sex or disgust on her part. This was different, and she wasn’t sure what to make of it entirely. She kept turning these things over in her head while she finished eating, but came to no clear conclusion. With a sigh she shut all the thoughts back into the ‘deal with later’ drawer in her mind and went up to bed.
“Buffy I’m never going to be able to concentrate anyway!” Dawn whined.
“Dawn, I know you’re worried. But if you skip school then I’m going to be worried about social services paying us another visit.” Dawn had tried every possible argument for weaseling out of school in favor of research with the gang, but Buffy put her foot down. “As soon as school is over you can come straight to the Magic Box, okay?” Buff said.
“Fine,” Dawn sighed. “Can I just check in on Spike before I go?”
“Fast – you need to get there on time,” Buffy admonished.
Dawn came down the stairs with her usual racket. “Spike? Are you awake yet?”
“I am now,” Spike muttered. He opened his eyes and squinted at her. “For such a slip of a thing you come down the stairs like a herd of cattle.”
“Sorry,” Dawn said, blushing a bit. “How are you this morning?”
“Talking. Awake. Not much else,” he admitted.
“Buffy’s making me go to school, but I just wanted you to know I’m not abandoning you,” Dawn said.
“Not worried about that, Nibblet,” Spike said with affection. “But you’d better mind your sister and go. Don’t want you getting taken off to some foster home.”
“Okay,” Dawn agreed. “We’ll have you back on your feet in no time. Just wait and see.”
“Appreciate the confidence, Bit,” Spike said. “Now go, before you get in hot water.” He closed his eyes and listened with a half smile to the thumping of Dawn’s feet. Bint weighs a hundred pounds. How does she make such a godawful din? A few minutes later the door opened again and another set of feet came down, quieter this time. “That you, Slayer?” he asked, opening his eyes again.
“Room service,” Buffy said. “Figured you could use a little more to eat before I ditch you for the day.”
“I told you, it really isn’t necessary, pet,” he argued. “’M not really worth it.”
Buffy responded by pulling out the knife and slicing her arm again. “Look, it seems to be helping, at least a little. If we’re going to find you a cure, we need you to stay alive long enough for us to cure you. So take your medicine like a good vampire.” She brought the cup over to him and moved to help him sit up.
Spike ignored the cup to tend to her arm first, once more drawing his tongue along the cut and sending shivers down her spine. Only then did he permit her to feed him. He tried to hold the mug himself, but his shaky hands could barely manage it, and Buffy ended up helping just to keep it from being spilled. “Fucking embarrassment this is,” he muttered as he finished. “Even when you dropped that pipe organ on me I could at least move my arms.”
Buffy was moved with pity for him. To be a fighter like Spike, trapped in this weak body, must be absolute hell. “We’re going to figure this out, Spike. I swear to you.”
“Whether you do or not, thanks for trying, love,” he said. He searched her green eyes until she flushed and turned away to pick up the knife.
“I’ll see you this afternoon, okay?” she said. Spike nodded his understanding, and Buffy turned to go.
“Are we ready to go?” Willow asked as Buffy came back upstairs.
“Just let me rinse out this mug and we can leave,” Buffy replied. After the dishes were done they left, walking at a brisk pace toward the Magic Box.
“How’s the undead English patient?” Willow asked as they walked.
“He’s talking more,” Buffy answered. “He still can’t hold the mug on his own, but he seems to be able to manage a bit more movement, and his eyes look clearer.”
“So the Slayer blood slowed down whatever is going on, but it isn’t a complete cure,” said Willow.
“Seems like it,” said Buffy.
“Who would want to do something like this to him?” Willow wondered.
Buffy shrugged. “Who knows? I know that half the demons in town think he’s a traitor because he helps me. Maybe someone got tired of him being on our side.”
“I guess I never thought of that,” Willow said. “He must not be very popular if he’s out with us every night killing his own.”
“Yeah, I can see why demons and vampires might take offense,” Buffy said. “But that being said, it’s hard to know if there is a specific grudge someone has against him.”
“I guess we just have to do what we can to figure this out,” Willow concluded as they reached the store. The bell rang as they entered, and Anya looked up from behind the counter.
“Good morning. Haven’t seen you in a while,” Anya observed. She seemed unnaturally subdued, and Buffy and Willow were reminded of how devastated she must still feel. Buffy was a bit ashamed that she hadn’t made any particular effort to reach out to Anya after the wedding. Aside from cleanup help, Willow had spent a lot more time comforting Xander than Anya. The situation was a bit awkward, to say the least.
“Things have been a little crazy,” Buffy said noncommittally. “But we need to do some research.”
“What about this time?” Anya asked.
“It’s Spike,” Buffy began. “He’s sick or something. He’s been gradually… wasting away or whatever you want to call it. He eats, but he just keeps getting thinner. He doesn’t know what did this. I figure it’s a spell or a poison or something.”
Anya wrinkled her brow in thought as she moved over to the bookshelves. “Hmm. It’s got to be something mystical…” She started pulling a number of possible books off the shelves and handing them to Willow, who bore them to the table. Anya made her way up to the dark magic section and loaded Buffy down with a pile as well. As Buffy set them on the table the bell rang again and Tara came in.
“M…morning everyone,” Tara said. Between feeling awkward around Anya, and still feeling a little nervous about Willow and magic, her stutter had a tendency to slip in now and again.
“Hi, Tara,” Willow said with a smile. “Come join the research party. The topic of the day is things that can make vampires starve.”
Buffy found herself annoyed that Willow was taking this so lightly, but held her tongue for the present. If you were the one starving I bet you wouldn’t be cracking jokes, Buffy thought. However, since telling Willow off would most likely slow the research down, Buffy just reached for a book and dived in.
The research went on until lunch time without any success. Poisons were found that made vampires burn from the inside, develop fevers, and think they were immune to sunlight so that they would dust themselves among other things. But they found nothing specific that could make them starve as they glutted themselves on blood. Spells were considered, but none seemed to fit the bill exactly. Buffy tossed the latest book on the table and sighed. “I need to take a break for a few minutes,” she said, sitting back in defeat.
“Same here,” Willow said. “I mean, I guess we’ve eliminated some avenues, but we still don’t seem to be getting anywhere.”
Tara put her book down and said, “Do we know for sure whether it’s a poison or a spell? There are spells that can detect the presence of past spells done on a person.”
“We don’t know anything really,” Buffy conceded. “We should try it. As long as the spell wouldn’t hurt him worse, I don’t see the harm.”
“I can do the spell this evening,” Tara said. Willow sat up, secure in the knowledge that she could do that spell in a heartbeat, without even thinking about it. Willow started to speak, but kept silent as she saw the others nodding at Tara. She knew that the subject of her own magic was still a touchy one. I’ve got it much more under control now, she thought. How long is it going to take for them to trust me again?
“Why don’t we have some lunch and start this up again afterward?” Anya suggested, not really noticing Willow’s slight frown. “Is pizza okay with everyone?” The other three agreed, and Anya went to make the call. A few minutes later she returned saying, “The pizza’s on its way.”
“Thanks, Anya,” said Buffy. They spent several minutes clearing space on the table, putting away books they were finished with, and sorting out notes. Fighting her usual urge to dodge difficult subjects she asked, “How are you doing anyway? We haven’t really talked much since…”
“Since Xander stomped my heart in front of all my friends?” Anya said bitterly.
“Um, yeah,” said Buffy.
“I’ve been alternating between depressed and wanting to call up some of my vengeance demon friends for a freebie,” Anya continued. “I’m pretty sure that’s the standard reaction to this sort of thing.”
“You wouldn’t… do anything to him, would you?” Willow asked nervously.
“Me personally? Probably not. Although like I said, if one of my friends happened to give him nightmares for a year or boils on his penis, I wouldn’t exactly object,” Anya replied.
“I know he made some mistakes,” Willow began. “But he does still care about you.”
Anya barked out a short sarcastic laugh. “He has a funny way of showing it. I’d hate to see how he’d treat me if he hated me.”
“That had to be so awful for you,” Buffy put in. For whatever reason, the full impact of what Xander had done finally hit home. She had been thinking about Spike’s absence from the wedding, and dealing with Dawn, and had only really given passing thought to Anya’s point of view. “I just can’t imagine what you were feeling.”
Anya looked hard at Buffy. “I was wondering if anyone was going to notice that someone other than Xander was involved in this whole thing,” she said in a voice tinged with hurt. “To hear some people talk you’d think that Xander was the only one who had a right to be upset.” At that point the pizza delivery man came in, and Anya broke off the conversation to go pay him.
Willow had been about to mount another defense of Xander when Tara spoke. “Willow,” said Tara, putting a hand on her arm. “I know you’ve been Xander’s friend for a long time. But he’s in the wrong here, and you can’t keep defending him in front of Anya. It’s hurting her.”
“I know his timing sucked, but he’s really hurting too,” Willow protested.
“I didn’t say turn your back on him,” Tara said. “Just... be sensitive to Anya’s feelings, okay?”
Willow’s response was cut off by Anya returning, pizza in hand. “You each can chip in four dollars,” Anya said, capitalism once more rearing its head. The others paid Anya then dug in, grateful for the break from the awkward conversation. At least until Anya said, “So Buffy, why are you worrying so much about Spike? Have you two decided to resolve the obvious sexual tension or something?”
Buffy nearly choked on her pizza. She definitely noticed that she had gotten used to Xander stepping in to filter Anya’s embarrassingly blunt mode of communication. Now that Xander wasn’t here, Buffy wondered what other comments were going to be flying out of left field. After recovering from her choking fit she said, “Spike’s been an ally and a… a friend. I couldn’t just leave him suffering like that.”
Tara looked searchingly at Buffy. She knew their relationship was more than friendship, even though said relationship seemed to be on the rocks of late. Why is she still so afraid to talk about it? Tara wondered.
Tara’s question was answered when Willow said, “I still don’t understand why you were so willing to give him your blood. I know you guys had some sort of thing going, but if it’s over, that seems… unusual, to say the least.” Tara shook her head slightly, wondering when Willow was going to stop commenting on Buffy’s personal affairs.
Anya broke in, “You gave him Slayer blood? And you’re still here?”
Buffy sighed. “I gave it to him in a cup, okay? I’m not putting in a tap for heaven’s sake.”
“That was sensible,” Anya agreed. “Did it have any effect?”
“It seems to have helped a little, but it’s definitely not an instant cure.”
That seemed to spark a thought in Anya. “You know, we’ve been mostly looking at poisons available in this realm. Maybe it’s something rare from another dimension. If it came from another dimension where Slayers don’t exist, it might explain why Slayer blood doesn’t help.”
“Do we have that sort of information?” Buffy wondered.
Anya wandered over to the bookshelves. “There are some other books here – more obscure stuff. Some of it is in demonic languages, but I might be able to help with some of those, unless we trust Willow enough to do a translation spell.”
Willow’s face burned red. “For the thousandth time, I’m sorry the magic got out of hand! You don’t have to keep reminding me every ten seconds.”
Buffy once more counted to ten, trying not to knock various people’s heads together. Sometimes it felt like navigating the Scoobie relationships was a full time job, and the pay sucked. “We’ll cross the translation bridge when we come to it, okay? Let’s just finish eating and get back to work.” The four of them finished eating in silence and cleared away the leavings, returning to the book pile.
By the time Dawn showed up after school they had a list of about twenty potential spells and a list about twice that long of possible poisons and potions from a variety of sources. Some were extremely far-fetched, but they decided not to eliminate anything at this stage. “Did you figure out what’s wrong with Spike yet?” Dawn asked as she hurried in and plunked down her backpack.
“We’ve narrowed it down a bit,” said Buffy. “But we’ve still got a long list of possibilities.”
“So what do we do now?” Willow asked. She was tired, cross-eyed from reading, and starting to wonder if Xander might be right – that this was an awful lot of worry about a pain in the ass vampire, regardless of his past assistance.
Buffy considered. “Let’s go back to my house. Tara can do that spell to see if there is any residual magic hanging around him. And maybe if we ask him some questions about the poisons we know about something will ring a bell.” They gathered up notes and several large books. Waving goodbye to Anya, Willow, Dawn, and Buffy climbed into Tara’s car for the short drive home.
“Anya’s still pretty upset, huh?” Dawn asked. Even she had noticed the air of hurt and anger around the former demon.
“You can say that again,” Buffy agreed. “I think Xander had better give her a huge amount of space. Like for at least ten years.”
“And here I thought I might actually see a functional adult relationship for once,” Dawn muttered. “Someday I’ll have to find an actual grownup couple who have stayed together and study them, just to see what they’re like.” None of the others had an answer for that, and the ride finished in silence.
When they got to Buffy’s house, they unloaded all the books onto the dining table. “Wait here,” Buffy instructed. “Let me go see if he’s awake.” Buffy headed downstairs, closing the door behind her. “Spike? We’re home.” Spike was asleep, so she went to his side and shook him gently. “Spike?”
Spike stirred and slowly opened his eyes. “Hey, Slayer,” he said. “What’s the story?”
“We’ve got some possibilities,” she said. “Tara wants to do a spell to detect the presence of any past magicks on you. That way we know if it’s a spell or a poison. Do you feel up to it?”
“Guess I don’t have much of a choice,” he said. He hesitated, then said, “I don’t want to have to ask you this but…”
“Oh, stupid me,” Buffy said, understanding his meaning. Of course he was hungry. “Let me go get the knife…”
“Buffy, do you trust me?” he cut in quietly. Buffy’s mind flashed back to the last time he had asked that question, with handcuffs dangling from his fingertips and a ‘dare you’ expression on his face. His expression this time was one of desperation, rather than lust, but the question was the same. Did she trust him, or not? After a moment’s hesitation she slowly held out her arm. He took it in his cool, still unsteady hands and brought it to his mouth. With a visible effort he brought forth his fangs and sank them as delicately as he could into her wrist. The sting was so slight as to be hardly noticeable, and the sensation of his lips and his tongue, together with the suction of his drinking filled her once more with a wave of pleasure. She closed her eyes and drank in the sensation as he took in more of her essence. God that feels good. Why does that feel so good? It’s totally wrong. Then, just as she thought she might come right there and then from the sensation he stopped and kissed the wound closed. Her eyes flew open as her breath came in gasps. Spike fixed her with his blue eyed gaze and said, “Must be helping – couldn’t even vamp out the other day. Thank you.”
“You’re… you’re welcome,” Buffy stammered, suddenly embarrassed. “I’ll… just… I’ll go get the others. Now. To do the spell. Um, yeah.” She turned and all but fled up the stairs, pausing before she opened the basement door to get herself under control. “Hey,” she said to the others. “We need to go do the spell and whatever downstairs. He’s awake, but there’s no way he can get up here right now.”
“Buffy, are you alright?” Willow asked, noticing that Buffy looked a bit flustered.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Buffy said, moving purposefully into the dining room. She rummaged around with burning cheeks until she found the sheets of paper with the list of poisons. Grabbing that and a couple of books, she led the way back down the stairs, followed by Dawn. Willow looked at Tara who shrugged, grabbed the spell ingredients and followed, with Willow behind her.
Tara stifled a gasp at the sight of the emaciated vampire. “S… Spike. How are you f… feeling today?” she stuttered.
“Been better,” Spike said, trying to put her at ease with a faint smile. “Gonna do some mojo on me, are you?”
“Just a sort of a magic detection spell,” Tara said, recovering her composure. “This won’t hurt.”
“Doctors always say that,” he retorted. But truthfully, he had always trusted Tara, and had no qualms about letting her try to find out what the hell was going on. Just keep Red and her brand of magic meddling far away from me, thank you very much.
Tara lit four candles and placed one on the floor at each corner of the bed. She positioned herself kneeling at the head of the bed, with a bundle of burning incense held in her left hand. “Close your eyes and clear your mind,” she instructed. Spike did so while the others watched intently, looking for anything unusual. Tara chanted in a strange tongue for a long minute then said, “Reveal.” The girls’ eyes grew wider as a white mist came out of the bundle of incense, circled Spike once, then dissipated without further ado.
“What happened? What does it mean?” Dawn said excitedly.
“Nothing,” Willow said. “If it had been a spell we would have seen some sort of image of the spellcaster in the mist. Whatever it is, it isn’t magic.”
Buffy tried to hide her disappointment. “Well, I guess that eliminates half of the list,” she said, trying to look on the bright side.
“What else do you have on the list then?” Spike asked. He too had hoped for an easy resolution, and he had to fight the urge to close his eyes and sink back into inertia.
Buffy grabbed a couple of folding chairs from the stack of them under the stairs and put them out for Willow and Tara. Dawn perched on the edge of the cot by Spike’s feet, her long legs drawn up and her arms wrapped around her knees. “Ok,” Buffy began, tucking an errant hair behind her ear. “Some of these we can probably eliminate pretty quickly. You don’t have any rashes or spots or funny colors, do you?”
“Not that I’ve noticed,” Spike said with a faint hint of amusement. “Course I can’t see my back, so I couldn’t swear to it in a court of law.”
Buffy involuntarily conjured up an image of that long white back, and the attractive ass it led to. Would you quit that already! she thought, exasperated at her own brain’s inability to quit thinking about Spike that way. We’re not doing that anymore, okay? Done with that whole… naked Spike… thing. Arrgh. Forcing herself back to the question at hand she said, “Alright, we’ll keep those on the side if nothing else pans out. That leaves about… thirty other possibilities.” Spike groaned slightly, not sure if he could keep focused for as long as this was likely to take.
The conversation went on, with various possibilities being explored. This poison probably would have killed him outright. That poison had a side effect of hallucinations. This other one didn’t actually affect vampires usually. “Okay,” Willow said, looking over Buffy’s shoulder at the list. “We’re down to about a dozen. Most of these don’t originate in our dimension, so the information was sketchier.”
“Run down the names,” Spike said wearily. “Maybe something will ring a bell.”
“Let’s see,” Buffy said. “Dragon’s oil, gorgonbeast heart, essence of kerala wood, watais root, deathwater, snaketree extract…”
“Wait a minute,” Spike said. He closed his eyes and concentrated. Something was dancing at the edge of his memory and he couldn’t quite grasp it. “Can you tell me what dimensions or demons or whatever are associated with these things?”
“Hang on a minute,” Tara said. She ran upstairs and came back with some more pages of scribbled notes. “Okay, dragon’s oil is used for the feast of Delthrox, gorogonbeast heart is associated with grador demons, essence of kerala wood gets used in certain rituals by finger eating demons, watais root comes from the Trok’fav dimension, deathwater is what they call some obscure poison from Pylea…”
“Trok’favs,” Spike interrupted again. “Sound familiar. Do you have a description of them somewhere?”
Willow ruffled through one of the books for a moment then said, “Trok’fav demons are tall, blue-green skin, red eyes, generally humanoid.”
Oh fuck. He recalled that bar fight, at Willy’s. Biker vamps, a Mohra demon, and a bluish-green chap who had had way too many to be able to hold his own, but had jumped in anyhow. He had gotten exactly one shot in before Spike had kicked him in the gut, grabbed his head as he bent over, and snapped his neck like a twig. “I think I may have killed one of those in a bar fight round about the time this all started happening,” Spike admitted.
“Well, that’s good then, right?” said Dawn hopefully. “I mean, if we know what it is, then we can figure out the cure!”
Willow frowned as she read the entry on watais root again. “This is not the best translation. But it seems that watais root is used in vengeance killings. The Trok’fav demons evidently are compelled to revenge the death of family members, and watais root is a long and drawn out way to go.”
“So is there any antidote to this then?” Spike tried to remain calm, but his voice came out with a slight waver. He was afraid. Please let there be a way to stop this. Can’t live this way.
“According to this, the only thing that reverses the effect is ‘sang mater’, which translates as blood of the mother,” Willow read. “It’s a particularly nasty thing to do to a Trok’fav, since their family bonds are so strong. They essentially have the choice between slow death and matricide.”
“But what does that mean for Spike?” Dawn persisted. “I mean, his mother is long gone!”
“No,” said Buffy quietly. “It means we need to find Drusilla. He needs the blood of his sire.” She locked her eyes on his and wondered how the hell they were going to accomplish that.
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