To my readers: Sorry for the multi-year dry spell and the cliffhanger. Family crises, insane work hours, and complete and utter writer's block have been conspiring against me. But I really hate unfinished stories, so I am going to try my best to make this one happen. As always, the characters don't belong to me. 




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Chapter 6 – All the demons of hell
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Didn’t expect to see you here, pet.
 
Buffy was in a cave, and she wasn’t sure why. The world seemed somehow blurry around the edges, indistinct. The space was dark and torch lit, and in front of her was Spike, chained to a wall, naked. His body was crisscrossed with wounds old and new. Some looked like burns, or like whip marks, and dirt and bruises marred his alabaster skin.
 
Spike? What happened? Where are we? She instinctively moved to help him, but found herself running into an invisible barrier like a wall. Startled, she slammed her shoulder forward a few times, trying to break through to him.
 
Don’t bother, Slayer. They’re not going to let you in. You don’t really belong here.
 
But where is here? she asked, bewildered.
 
Hell, where else? Didn’t exactly expect me to go to the other place, did you?
 
Hell…? Buffy looked all around her, but everything seemed black and indistinct other than Spike, the rough stone, and the cruel chains that held him. Spike, hang on, okay? There’s got to be a way to get you out of here.
 
Spike laughed bitterly and shook his head. Some things are beyond even you, Slayer. Thanks for the thought, though.
 
Spike, listen to me… But as she spoke another creature entered the cave. A monstrous demon entered the room, humanoid in shape but with razor sharp claws and eyes that were glowing red. Before Buffy’s horrified eyes he jabbed those terrible claws into Spike’s chest and tore downward, shredding his pale skin into ribbons of red. She screamed as she heard Spike’s agonizing cry, cut short by the demon slashing his throat. His blue eyes rolled wildly as he jerked and twisted in his torment. Stop it! Buffy shrieked, pounding against the barrier desperately. No!
 
“It’s okay, miss, calm down, you’re safe.” A firm pair of hands on her shoulders stopped her as she tried to sit up.
 
“Spike? Where…?” As she came to her senses she realized that she was in a hospital bed with a nurse trying to calm her down.
 
“Take it easy,” said the nurse, whose nametag proclaimed her to be Arielle Sanchez. “You’ve got a possible concussion and a hairline fracture of your left arm. You need to relax.”
 
Bewildered, Buffy lay back, noticing the cast on her left arm for the first time. “Where am I?” she asked.
 
“Sunnydale Memorial. Police brought you in.”
 
“The police?” Buffy was completely confused. How had she gotten mixed up with the police? I didn’t actually hurt one of them did I? Her last memory had been of fighting Warren, and although the details were a little fuzzy, she didn’t seem to recall she had been winning.
 
“They responded to a call about a robbery of an armored car. They found a tipped over armored car with its back door ripped off, and you on the ground beaten to a pulp. I think they’re going to have some questions for you.”
 
“Yeah, guess so.” She closed her eyes briefly against the light, which was accentuating the pounding in her skull.
 
“Can you tell me your name?” Arielle asked. “You didn’t have any ID on you.”
 
“Um, Buffy,” she replied shakily, opening her eyes again. “Buffy Summers.”
 
“Is there someone we can call for you? You kept saying ‘Spike’ – he your boyfriend or something?”
 
Buffy winced as the vision of Spike in hell flashed through her mind again. “Um, not any more. You can call my sister though.” After a few seconds of thought she rattled off the number.
 
“I’ll call her right now. You just lie still. The doctor will be in to see you soon.” The nurse bustled out leaving Buffy alone in physical and mental pain.
 
He’s in hell. Oh God… She didn’t know if it was a vision, or a Slayer dream, or just a plain old garden variety nightmare caused by a blow to the head. It had felt real, and the knife of guilt twisted deeper into her brain. He was trying to help! Didn’t that count for anything? Tears welled up in her eyes and she squeezed them tight, trying to block out the echoes of Spike’s screaming in her mind.
 
“Miss Summers?” Buffy opened her eyes to see that a young female doctor had entered the room. “I’m Dr. Zimmerman. How are you feeling?”
 
Buffy tried to sit up a little, although it made the room swim alarmingly. “My head feels like someone was using it for soccer practice. Otherwise, I’m here, I guess.”
 
Dr. Zimmerman came over and started taking Buffy’s vitals. “Do you remember what happened?”
 
How do I spin this one? The effort of constantly trying to pretend that Sunnydale was a normal town with normal crime was exhausting at the best of times, but tonight it seemed nearly impossible. “I was walking home. I came around the corner and saw these three guys around this armored truck. One of them tried to grab me, and I fought him. Then he hit me and I woke up here.” And I guess that’s not completely a lie for once either.
 
“You’re a lucky young woman then,” the doctor said with a hint of admiration. “From your injuries he must have been hitting you pretty hard.”
 
Lady, you don’t know the half of it. “I’ve got martial arts training. I can hold my own for a while.”
 
“Well, we’re going to keep you here overnight for observation, but I think you’ll be fine. I know your head is killing you, but do you think you can give a statement to the police?”
 
Suppressing a groan Buffy answered, “Might as well.”
 
Dr. Zimmerman left and came back a few minutes later with a tall black police officer. “Miss Summers, can you tell me what happened?” He opened a notebook and stood with pen at the ready.
 
Buffy repeated what she had told the doctor. “That’s really all I can remember, officer.”
 
“Can you give me a description of them?”
 
Buffy thought about it for a moment, then decided, Fuck it. Maybe the police can hound their asses for a while. She gave as detailed a description of Andrew, Jonathan, and Warren as she could without sounding suspicious. She didn’t give their names, but that probably wouldn’t make a ton of difference. The bastards were annoyingly good at covering their tracks.
 
“That’s very helpful Miss Summers,” the officer said as he closed his notebook. “At least they didn’t get away with much.”
 
“They didn’t?” Buffy was surprised.
 
“No. Turns out that there was one big pickup that didn’t get made due to a scheduling error. They only got away with about $25,000 rather than about ten times that.”
 
“Well that’s good.” Buffy tried to sound enthusiastic, but inside she was worried. They were going to be pissed that their heist hadn’t been as good as they had hoped. It was fairly unlikely that they were going to be content with eight grand each.
 
“You’ve got a lot of guts, lady,” the police officer said. “You get some rest while we hunt these guys down.”
 
“Thanks.” The doctor led the office out, while a nurse came in with some pain medication for Buffy’s throbbing head. She swallowed the pills gratefully and lay back down, her mind churning with thoughts of what these guys would think of next.
 
Just as she was about to drift off to sleep her door opened again and Dawn burst in, with Willow, Tara, and Xander trailing behind. “Buffy! Are you okay?” she cried as she rushed to her sister’s side.
 
“Yeah, just keep it down, okay?” Buffy said with a wince. Her sister’s voice was like a knife in her skull.
 
“What happened?” Willow asked. “We went home after a while to wait for you, then we got the call that you were here. Did you stop them?”
 
Buffy shook her head. “They’re up to something. Warren managed to tip the armored car over. By himself. One-handed. Then he proceeded to beat the living shit out of me.”
 
“How is that possible?” Xander asked, bewildered.
 
“No idea. I’m guessing magic though. And they only got away with $25,000, so I’m also guessing they’re not done.”
 
Tara turned to Willow. “We need to research what they could have gotten into. Maybe a talisman or something?”
 
“Or an enhancement charm of some sort,” Willow answered.
 
“Guys?” Buffy asked in a tired voice.
 
“Do you think they could have…”
 
“Guys!” Buffy said a bit more forcefully, wincing again at the pain in her head. “Look, you can research anything you want, but not here. They’re keeping me overnight, and my head is killing me. Can we take this up later?”
 
The Scoobies were instantly all apologies. “Are you going to be okay here alone?” Dawn asked worriedly.
 
“I’ll be fine, Dawnie. Just let me get some rest, okay?”
 
“Okay,” Dawn said, reluctant to leave. With a series of worried glances the others said their goodnights and ushered Dawn out of the room. After they left the nurse came in once more to check on her for what felt like the fiftieth time, and then dimmed the lights and departed, leaving Buffy in silence. She closed her eyes and tried to sleep, but visions of pain and torment and tortured blue eyes sprung up the moment she shut out the world. Tears slipped out of the corners of her eyes as she lay there, and the morning seemed a very, very long way off.
 
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Buffy was discharged as expected the next day, her Slayer healing having dealt with the concussion. She suspected her fractured arm was probably mostly better as well, but decided that asking to have the cast off was going to raise some uncomfortable questions. Willow and Dawn came to pick her up, and Dawn still seemed shaken. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
 
Buffy mustered a smile for her sister. “Slayer healing, remember? I’m almost good as new.”
 
“We started looking into what could have made Warren so strong. We’ve got some possible leads, but it would have to be something obscure,” Willow reported. “Did you notice them carrying anything?”
 
Buffy thought for a moment. “Hard to say. I was sort of having the shit kicked out of me at the time.”
 
An idea suddenly occurred to Willow. “I wonder if they have any security cameras around there? Maybe one of those picked up some clue.”
 
Buffy shrugged. “Couldn’t tell you. It was dark. I do know that it was just Warren doing the beating, not the other guys, so either it was some spell done on just him, or he was carrying something.”
 
“That’s helpful info,” Willow said as they turned into the driveway. “Anyhow, we’re convening at the Magic Box for a research party this afternoon.”
 
A thought occurred to Buffy as they walked into the house. “Maybe it would be better if Xander wasn’t there and Anya was. Talismans and that sort of stuff is more her department than his.”
 
Willow put her purse down on the kitchen counter and ran her hand through her hair. “This is so majorly awkward. I kind of agree with you, but then Xander’s going to get all bent out of shape if we leave him out of it.”
 
Dawn scoffed loudly. “Oh boo hoo, poor Xander. Cry me a river. He dumps Anya and kills Spike and we’re supposed to feel sorry for him?” She rolled her eyes to the extent that Buffy wondered if she was going to do them permanent damage. But she quietly agreed with her sister’s assessment of the situation.
 
Tara had been listening to the exchange and chimed in before Buffy could say anything. “I think Buffy’s right here. We need to stop these guys. Xander’s a big boy. He can live if he’s not there one day.”
 
Outvoted, Willow conceded. “All right. I’ll call him and wave him off.” She didn’t sound like she relished the idea, but headed for the phone anyway.
 
Dawn was still clearly irritated. “He’s probably going to show up anyway.”
 
“Willow will get him to understand,” Tara soothed.
 
Buffy realized she was still wearing the outfit she had been fighting in, since Willow and Dawn had neglected to bring extra clothes for her. “I need to go change clothes.” Upstairs she closed her door gratefully. Her need for solitude was growing every day. The effort of maintaining any semblance of control in front of the others was exhausting. She sank down on her bed and covered her face with her hands. Again the image of Spike in torment came unbidden into her mind. She wondered if maybe she was making too much of what was probably just a bad dream brought on by a head injury. Maybe it’s all in my head. But deep down she knew that Slayer dreams were a whole different category of messed up than the average person’s. Shaking her head to clear it, she got up. She used her Slayer strength to tear off the cast, flexed her arm a few times, and pronounced her arm good enough before tossing the cast in the trash. After a quick rummage around her untidy room she changed into jeans and a black t-shirt, realizing only after the fact that she had unconsciously chosen Spike’s uniform. They’ll probably read something into that downstairs. She momentarily thought about changing, then decided, hell with it. She lay down on the bed and closed her eyes for a moment. The moment stretched out as she fell fast asleep. It wasn’t long until she fell into another dream.
 
Vampires. She was surrounded by hundreds of vampires. She was in a cave, fighting for her life. She recognized Faith, whirling and kicking, but there were a bunch of other girls she didn’t recognize also fighting. The vampires weren’t the ordinary everyday Sunnydale denizens. They were twisted and gray and more demonic than any vamp she had ever seen. They fought with an unprecedented ferocity, and as she watched the girls began falling one after another. Then through the throng she saw Spike standing with a red bladed weapon in his hands, looking at her with a sort of desperate sadness. Somehow she knew that she needed that weapon to turn the tide. She screamed to Spike to toss her the weapon, to help her, but he didn’t answer. He just kept shaking his head sadly, and tears started running down his face. Another girl fell, and another, and then Faith staggered and fell under a cascade of vampires who proceeded to tear her to pieces. Then she was surrounded, and she realized that she was alone. As the snarling horde closed in around her the last thing she saw was a pair of blue eyes, filled with regret…
 
With a gasp Buffy sat up, her heart pounding wildly. It took a few frightening moments to realize that she was in her room, on her bed, and not in a desperate fight for her life. Shakily she sat on the edge of the bed, trying to regain her composure. What the holy hell was that? Unlike the previous vision, she knew without a doubt that this was one of those prophetic dreams. She had no idea what it meant, but it had left her with a cold fear in her bones. She couldn’t understand why Spike had been there, and why he had looked so desperately sad. Something bad is coming.
 
A knock on the door made her jump. “Buffy?” Dawn called from the other side of the door. “We’re going to head to the Magic Box. Are you coming?”
 
“Yeah, I’ll… I’ll be right down.” She got up and went over to look in the mirror. Her face was pale, and her hair was a mess. Her hair was easily set right, and she threw a little makeup on quickly, but her eyes still held a haunted look. Taking a deep breath and resolving to keep her Slayer dreams to herself she headed downstairs to join the others.
 
Tara, Willow, and Dawn were in the foyer getting their shoes and jackets together. “Are you okay?” Tara asked, sensing something amiss in Buffy’s demeanor.
 
“Yeah, I just fell asleep, so I’m a bit out of it.” She grabbed her own shoes and was soon ready to go. “Time for research!” she said, trying to put a bit of energy into her voice.
 
With a few concerned glances from her friends they headed out to Willow’s car. As they drove Buffy asked, “So is Anya going to be there?”
 
“Yes. And I left a message on Xander’s machine to tell him to let us have some girl time,” Willow answered. Buffy nodded, staring out the window. The problem of how to deal with the Trio seemed somehow less important compared to the ominous dream, but Buffy knew she would get no time to process anything if she didn’t shut them down. She did her best to turn her mind away from the horrifying visions swimming through her memory and focus on the task ahead.
 
A short time later they were entering the Magic Box. “Hey, Anya,” Tara said as they trooped in. “How are things?”
 
“Well, business is doing well. Yay, capitalism.” Her voice lacked a little of the usual excitement that making money caused. “But I might as well do something to distract myself from thoughts of dismembering Xander. What’s the research topic today again?”
 
Willow’s eyebrows shot up a bit at Anya’s usual lack of filter, combined with her distinctly vengeful sounding tone. Privately wondering if Anya was considering returning to her previous lifestyle, Willow said, “We need to figure out how those guys were able to beat Buffy up so badly. They had supernatural strength, and they’ve never exactly been body builders, so we suspect magic.”
 
Anya looked over at Buffy. “You don’t look particularly beat up.”
 
Buffy shrugged. “I was in the hospital last night with a concussion and a hairline fracture. Slayer healing took care of it, but I think if the cops hadn’t shown up I might be in much worse shape.”
 
Anya nodded and went over to the bookshelf. “Was it all three of them, or just one of them?” she asked as she started perusing titles.
 
“Just one of them.”
 
“Probably a talisman or some other object then. I mean, if it was a spell, why not do it on all three of them?” She started pulling likely sources off the shelf and putting them on the table.
 
“Good point,” Willow agreed, sitting down at the table. “So we’re looking for something that can make you Slayer strong without being the actual Slayer.”
 
“How many things like there could there be?” Dawn asked, grabbing a book and sitting next to Willow.
 
“You’d be surprised,” Anya said. “I mean, when I had my powers, I was pretty strong.”
 
Buffy looked at Anya thoughtfully. “Do you wish you still had your powers?”
 
“Sometimes,” Anya said with a shrug. “I mean, I think I have a right to feel vengeful and all that right now.”
 
Willow looked alarmed. “You wouldn’t do anything to Xander, would you? I mean, I know what he did was wrong, I mean, really wrong. But you still shouldn’t…”
 
“Wish that he’d fall in a sewer? Wish him impotence for life?”
 
“Yeah, that.”
 
“He betrayed and jilted me in front of all my friends. I think my feelings are perfectly justified,” Anya replied bluntly.
 
“They might be, but he’s still a good guy, deep down,” Willow insisted.
 
“Spike was actually a good guy deep down too,” Anya retorted.
 
Buffy winced and said suddenly, “Stop, okay? Just… let’s just research, alright. I can’t… I can’t deal with this right now.”
 
Her sudden outburst silenced the others, and they settled into their books, shooting occasional glances at each other while they read. Buffy was turning the pages, but nothing was sinking in. What Anya had said about Spike was true. He was a demon with a long and bloody history. But there was an inherent core of decency in him that years of bloodshed had never completely eradicated. He had been a worthy opponent and a powerful ally. Once he had decided he was on her side, he had stayed, despite everything. Even Angel hadn’t stayed. Focus, dammit! She bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to draw blood, trying to force her brain back to the present task.
 
“I think I found something!” Tara cried suddenly. Turning the book around she pointed to a drawing of what looked like a couple of tricked out ping pong balls. “These are Orbs of Nezzla'Khan. They give the user nearly unlimited physical strength.”
 
The others crowded around. “How could they have gotten hold of those?” Willow asked doubtfully. “I mean, it says here they’re guarded by some pretty powerful demon types.”
 
“Nezzla demons,” Anya put in. “They’re pretty protective of their stuff. Those guys had to do some serious planning if that’s what they got a hold of.”
 
“I don’t know how they got them. But we know that Jonathan’s got some powerful sorcery chops, and the others must as well. The three of them working together would probably have enough mojo to pull it off,” Tara reasoned.
 
“So how do we stop them if that’s what they have?” Buffy asked. Truthfully she didn’t care where they got their latest toy, she just wanted them to go away.
 
“Well, I guess we have to…” Tara was interrupted by the sound of the door opening as Xander walked in.
 
He looked surprised at the gathering. “Um, hey ladies. Is there some crisis I wasn’t aware of?”
 
Dawn spoke up first. “What are you doing here? It was supposed to be girls only.”
 
A confused look passed over Xander’s face. “I just got off work and thought I’d stop by.” Truthfully, he had hoped to talk to Anya some more, perhaps actually get out of a few days of purgatory. But clearly that wasn’t going to happen with an audience.
 
“So you didn’t get Willow’s message?” Dawn persisted.
 
“Um, no,” Xander stammered. “Am I banned or something?”
 
Anya gathered her purse and headed for the door. “Since I’m not allowed to wish certain people into a bathtub full of leeches, I’ll just let you finish up the research without me. Just lock up when you leave.”
 
“Anya, wait!” Tara called, but Anya didn’t even pause her step as she stalked out the door.
 
“Nice job, Xander,” Dawn snarled. “We were actually getting somewhere before you had to butt in.”
 
“Jeez, what’s with the hostility? I thought I was one of the gang.”
 
Buffy had been listening to the exchange, quietly agreeing with her sister, but now something snapped. “You truly don’t get it, do you?” she cried, leaping to her feet. “Are you really that fucking stupid?”
 
Xander backed away slightly. “Look, I just want to make amends to her! I don’t know how I can make things better if she won’t even be in the same room as me!”
 
“Can’t really say I blame her,” Buffy snapped. She grabbed her jacket and stormed out after Anya, leaving the others to look at each other awkwardly in her wake.
 
“Anya, wait!” Anya stopped and turned to see Buffy jogging down the street toward her.
 
“What, did Xander send you to plead his case? To tell me how sorry he is?” Anya’s voice dripped with sarcasm.
 
“No, it’s not that. Can we… can we just talk?”
 
Anya shrugged. “Sure.”
 
Buffy looked up the street. “Look, there’s that new coffee joint. Let’s go there.” Anya followed Buffy and soon they were facing each other somewhat uncertainly over a small table in a corner.
 
“So what do you want to talk about?” Anya asked.
 
Buffy stared down at her coffee for a moment before speaking. “I wanted to talk about Spike.”
 
Anya cocked her head, not expecting this. “What about Spike? I mean, you already know how he is in bed, so not sure what I can tell you.”
 
Buffy blushed, but soldiered on. “What… what happened that night? I mean, why did he come to you?”
 
“He didn’t come looking for me,” Anya explained. “He was looking for a spell.”
 
“A spell?” It was Buffy’s turn to be confused.
 
“He wanted something to make him stop loving you. He was pretty miserable, and just wanted the feeling to go away. So I offered him whiskey instead.”
 
Buffy was completely taken aback. “He… wanted to erase his memory or something?”
 
Anya shrugged again. “He just wanted the pain to go away. You hurt him pretty bad by dumping him. I guess I knew how he felt.”
 
“Yeah, I guess you did,” Buffy said, ashamed.
 
“Anyhow, I was sort of hoping he would get drunk enough to wish something bad on Xander so I could exact some vengeance but one thing led to another and…”
 
“Wait a minute, back up. You’re back in the vengeance business?” Buffy’s astonishment was evident in her voice.
 
“D’Hoffryn offered me my old job back practically on the way out of the reception,” Anya explained, pausing for a sip of coffee. “But since I can’t wreak vengeance for myself, I have to get someone else to wish something on him. But even then I don’t know if I could bring myself to do it. He’s an ass, and I’m pissed at him, but I still care about him.”
 
Buffy sipped her coffee, absorbing this new information. “I… I can’t really let you go around killing anyone, you know.”
 
“Oh I know, I know. Strictly non-fatal vengeance. Besides, I’m pretty out of practice.”
 
Buffy’s brow creased as she tried to take in this new situation. Anya’s a vengeance demon again. As the Slayer I’m probably supposed to do something about that. But on the other hand… “I know that I should probably do something Slayery about this. But I sort of feel like you have a right to be all pissed and vengeful.”
 
“Glad someone sees it my way,” Anya said. “I mean, Willow’s all ‘Poor misunderstood Xander’ and no one else other than Spike seemed to care about what I felt.”
 
“I’m sorry I didn’t say more to you. I was sort of… dealing with my own issues, you know?”
 
“Yeah, seems like you and Spike had more going on than any of us realized.” Anya looked at her coffee thoughtfully. “He didn’t really want me, you know,” she said quietly, not looking at Buffy.
 
“What do you mean?”
 
“We needed solace, both of us. But both of us wanted to be with someone else.”
 
Buffy studied her coffee some more. “He… he didn’t deserve the crap I gave him. I guess I’m glad someone was listening to him before…” She trailed off, not able to speak the words.
 
“Sometimes I think resurrecting you was a mistake,” Anya said bluntly. “I mean, I don’t want you to die again or anything, but it seemed to mess everything up.”
 
“Sometimes I think that too,” Buffy admitted. “But I guess I’m here, and I have to somehow get through all this.” She picked up her coffee, but found she had lost her taste for it. She stood up. “Thanks for… for talking to me.”
 
Anya looked up at Buffy with an understanding in her eyes that Buffy hadn’t seen before. “You’re welcome. I needed someone to talk to as well.”
 
“I’ll see you later,” Buffy said. She turned and walked out of the café, making her way homeward, still lost.