51. Going to War
"Wow," Buffy murmured
contentedly, a lazy smile
on her face as she looked up into the eyes of her lover, reaching up a
hand to play through his hair. "That was just...wow..." She paused before
adding in a soft appreciative murmur, "You are so absolutely
incredible."
Spike was still back on "wow". "Yeah," he replied quietly, still lost
in her eyes. Suddenly, his eyes widened as he realized what she had
said, and he dropped his gaze for a moment, embarrassed. "I – I mean,"
he stumbled over the words as he tried to correct them. "I – didn't
mean to say..."
"Spike," she interrupted him softly, patiently, still smiling up at him
reassuringly. "It's okay to say it. I know that's not what you meant,
but you *are* incredible...amazing... and if I have to make you say it once
a day, every day, for the next fifty years...I'm gonna make you believe
it."
The tender passion, the simple honesty in her eyes and her voice took
his breath again, and he felt his throat choke up a bit, not with the
sorrow and pain of the past that had made tears so familiar to him, but
with a sweet joy that had become so foreign that it was like a brand
new experience for him – and he wanted to savor every moment of it.
Painful memory taught him that something this beautiful was sure to
disappear before long – and so he found himself studying every feature
of her face, as if to commit it to memory forever.
This moment went beyond all words. It was almost difficult to even
believe that it was really real. It was such a sharp contrast to
everything that his life had been for the past few years, that a part
of him was afraid that he was going to suddenly wake to find that the
past few hours had been nothing but a happy dream.
"You know," she whispered, her smile softening. "I'm not going
anywhere."
He marveled at her growing ability to seemingly read his mind, sensing
his thoughts and insecurities before he spoke them – even the ones he
would never have spoken at all. "I know," he said softly, knowing that
the accuracy of her aim with the words was clear in his voice.
"I love you," she whispered again before she pulled him back down for
another kiss, and he returned it urgently, claiming the reassurance she
offered him so freely. Oh, yes...this was real. No doubt about it. His
beautiful fantasies had come to life in breathtaking reality.
The moment was broken suddenly by a soft but insistent knock on the
bedroom door. Buffy gave the door an anguished look, before looking
back up at Spike, her lower lip jutting out in a pout of annoyance. "I
want them to go away," she whispered, very childishly, she had to admit.
"Maybe if we're really quiet," he suggested in a very serious whisper,
unable to suppress the slight twitch of a smile about his lips,
"they'll think we're asleep and they will."
She couldn't help it; she giggled at the wide-eyed, mock seriousness of
his expression and his voice. *God, he's adorable!* she thought with a
rush of affection, very pleased that he was becoming comfortable enough
to do things like joking around with her, and taking the lead sexually
as he had just done.
And, boy, had *that* ever been nice!
"Buffy!" Tara's anxious voice on the other side of the door tore her
reluctantly from her thoughts. "Buffy, you need to get up! Please
hurry!"
"Now see what you've done?" he teased her matter-of-factly in a mildly
sarcastic tone, just before he registered the urgent sound in Tara's
voice.
Buffy had already noticed it, and was frowning toward the door in
concern. This sounded serious. "Just a second, Tara. I just need to,
um..." *Find my clothes?...Make myself not-naked?* "Um...I just need a
second..."
Spike moved off of her and they both quickly rose from the bed. He
slipped back into the pair of sweatpants they had discarded at the foot
of the bed, while she pulled a set of the pajamas, she had skipped
entirely earlier out of a dresser drawer, much more concerned with
coverage now than she had been earlier. Judging by the tone of her
voice, it sounded like whatever had driven Tara to "wake" them was
rather important.
In fact, judging by the tone of her voice, Buffy thought that she might
have to actually get dressed before all was said and done. She frowned.
That was not a happy thought.
Finally, Buffy went to the door and opened it, trying very hard to look
innocent and like someone who had not spent the past hour being shagged
senseless. "What's up, Tara?" she asked with a frown of concern that
she did not really feel.
Not yet.
The look in Tara's eyes was enough to drag the Slayer unwillingly back
to reality. And her words were worse.
"Anya's missing," the blonde witch informed her without a moment's
pause, her soft grey eyes wide and worried.
"What?" Buffy's eyes widened. "What do you mean, she's 'missing'?" she
asked, a little more sharply than she had intended to.
"She's missing. She said she was going out on the porch for some air.
Xander went looking for her, and she wasn't out there. And she's not in
the house. Buffy – she's gone." Tara's eyes were troubled and fearful,
and her voice was trembling. "Buffy, what if they found her?"
Buffy's mind was racing. "You're sure she didn't just...go for a walk or
something? You're positive that she's really *missing*?"
Tara nodded soberly. "We'd already talked about how this house was the
safe place, and she and Xander needed to stay here. You know how
paranoid she's always been about her ex-demon status, especially since
all this mess started. I don't think she would have gone anywhere
alone, and without telling anyone – especially not this late."
The sick feeling in the pit of Buffy's stomach told her what she
already knew. Tara was right. Anya had not simply gone somewhere of her
own free will. The only other alternative was that – she had been taken.
"Okay," Buffy said quietly. "Give us five minutes. We're gonna get
dressed and be right downstairs and figure out what to do. Try to keep
things together downstairs, okay?"
Tara nodded silently and headed back down the stairs, as Buffy closed
the door behind her, her eyes wide and worried as they focused on the
wood grain of the door, thinking hard.
Spike stepped up beside Buffy, a thoughtful frown on his face as he met
her eyes. "Riley knows about that...doesn't he? Anya's history?"
Buffy nodded slowly, realization dawning on her. "Yes," she whispered,
a stricken look on her face. "But he knows she's human now." She shook
her head, her eyes narrowing in rising anger and indignation. "He could
care less about Anya, he knows very well she's human! He's using her as
bait! He *wants* me!" She glanced at Spike, her eyes softening with
concern as she amended, "Us."
"Then...then let's give him what he wants, pet," Spike said in a quietly
decisive voice, taking her arm and turning her to face him. "Let's go
straight down there and show him just what we're capable of. Let's get
her back."
"Spike," she shook her head slowly. "We're going to get her back...but we
don't even know where she is yet!" She paused. "And you are *not* going
in there with me! It's too dangerous. The chances of Riley's having
vampire guards in the training center, or anywhere else that he's
keeping demons prisoner, are next to nothing, Honey. And I am *not*
putting you in a dangerous position where you can't even defend
yourself!"
"No," he said firmly, meeting her gaze without backing down. "You're
not. Because it's not your place to *put* me in any position. It's
mine."
When she blinked, surprised – but pleased – at his assertion, he
lowered his gaze for a moment, adding in a tentative voice, a bit
smaller, "Right?"
Buffy's resolve softened at the uncertainty in his voice. He was slowly
developing the confidence to stand up for himself, to make his own
choices without fear of punishment – but he needed her to support him
in it. No matter how badly she wanted to protect him, wanted to keep
him from any danger – she had given him his freedom, and she could not
take it back now – not even for his own good.
She reached over with a gentle hand to tip his chin back up, and he
hesitantly met her eyes again. "Right," she said softly with a
reassuring smile. "I – I can tell you that I don't want you to do this.
That I want you to stay where it's safe, that I never, ever want you to
have to be anywhere near those people again. But that's all I can do,
because in the end, the decision is up to you." She paused before
adding again, "I *don't* want you to do this."
A soft little smile came over his lips, relief and gratitude shining in
his eyes as he said quietly, "And that argument worked *so* well the
last time, didn't it, pet?"
She released a heavy sigh, her eyes becoming serious. She knew she had
lost this argument already. But she knew that she was doing the right
thing, allowing him to make the decision – even if it was not the wise
one. "Come on," she said softly. "Let's get dressed. You need to wear a
little more than that if you're going on a rescue mission with *me*.
Otherwise, I'll get all distracted," she shook her head, wrinkling her
nose up as she smiled into his eyes. "Off my game – won't be pretty."
He let out an appreciative little chuckle as he headed for the closet
and the clothes she had bought him before. "Basic black it is then," he
said, trying to keep his tone light, despite the serious situation.
As Buffy hurriedly took off her pajamas and put on her clothes, she
couldn't resist a little glance at the amazing body of her lover. "Not
much help," she muttered. "Still *very* distracting!"
Downstairs in the living room, the Scoobies were in a state of near
chaos. Xander and Giles were in a stand-off near the front door, the
older man blocking it, determined not to let the younger man, frantic
with fear, pass. Tara was trying to keep the others calm, though the
vampires seemed near panic with the knowledge that apparently Riley's
people knew where they were now.
Willow stood near the two men, trying softly, timidly to calm the man
who had been her best friend since childhood.
"I have to help her! You have to let me go after them!" Xander cried
out frantically as Buffy and Spike descended the stairs.
"No." Giles' voice was quiet but firm and authoritative. "You can't go
after them, alone, Xander. These men have no scruples. No sense of
morality. They'd as soon kill you as look at you."
"I don't care, they've got Anya – oh, God, our *baby*! -- and I have to
go after them!" Xander was yelling now, on the edge of hysteria in his
panic, unconscious of the tears that streamed down his face, trembling
violently with rage and terror, as he glared furiously at the older
man, his fists clenched at his sides. "I'm *going* after them," he
repeated defiantly, trying to shove past Giles.
The Watcher bravely stood his ground, blocking the doorway. "No." He
spoke the word simply, with determination to protect the boy he loved
like his own.
"Damn it, Giles, let me *go*!" Xander nearly roared, and the others
watched in horror as in his panic and grief, he raised his fist to
strike out at the person he saw now only as an obstacle between him and
the rescue of his family.
At the last moment, a strong hand gripped his wrist, tightly, but not
hard enough to hurt him, spinning him around to face the tiny but
powerful Slayer. Her eyes met his, solemn and compassionate – but
unyielding.
"Buffy," he whispered tearfully, shaking his head, pleading in his
eyes. "You have to let me go! I have to find her! I have to..."
"No," Buffy said firmly. "Xander – I know you want to go...but you can't
help her. These are armed soldiers, with weapons and power we know very
little about – and I can't let you get hurt."
Xander glared at her defiantly, fresh tears of frustration welling up
in his eyes. "You can't stop me!" he snarled. "I won't *let* you stop
me! Anya – our..." His voice broke in a sob of anguish, and she felt him
weaken under her hand. "oh, God...our baby...oh...God...Buffy!" And then, his
sobs overwhelmed him, and she could tell that he was about to collapse.
She caught him carefully, guiding him to sit down on the couch, holding
her weeping friend in her arms for a few moments. "It's okay," she
whispered. "We're gonna get her back. I promise, Xander. We're gonna
get her back, and I'm gonna kill anyone who's touched her."
The others were stunned by the fierce fury in her eyes – but Buffy had
seen what these monsters they were dealing with could do to the people
she cared about – and she would *not* allow it to happen again. "Your
wife and your baby need you," Buffy went on gently, as his sobs began
to subside. "Safe. Here for them, when I bring them home. Okay?"
Reluctantly, Xander nodded slowly, knowing deep down that she was
right. As always, she was the Slayer – and he was the moral support, he
thought bitterly. But this time was different. This was his entire
world in the balance.
Once Xander was calm, Buffy stood up quickly. "Okay. We need to come up
with a plan. Let's meet in the kitchen. That'll be our war room. These
bastards are going down." As she passed Spike on the way to the
kitchen, she looked at him, an odd look on her face, a realization she
had gained from the encounter with her friend.
"And you," she announced quietly, outside the hearing of the others.
"Are not going."
Before his outraged response could leave his lips, she added firmly.
"Not because you're my slave. Not because I own you, and make all your
decisions for you. Because I love you. And I won't let you hurt
yourself like that."
And with that, she left him standing stunned in the living room as she
went on into the kitchen.