Only half an hour passed before the door to the suite swung open again.
Spike was pouring himself a cup of blood as General Cordova strode into
the room as if she owned the place – well, she did, technically, he
realized grudgingly, but still resented the invasion of his space.
She walked over to him, her pleasant expression hardening a bit at his
failure to acknowledge her presence at all. Still she spoke in a very
calm voice when she began, "You gave Sergeant Conners a bit of a scare."
"Vampire, here. Bloke can't handle that, might wanna find another
bloody job!" he snarled, putting the cup in the microwave, not turning
to face her.
A lot had changed during the past year. Gradually the general had
developed a somewhat grudging respect for the experience and
intelligence of the master vampire, and because of it was tolerant of
his often volatile moods – to a point, and only in private. Oh, if
there was anyone else there, the speak-when-spoken-to,
come-to-attention, absolute obedience rules still applied, and the few
times he had forgotten himself had resulted in swift, savage, and
usually public punishment. After all, she told him, if he was allowed
to disrespect her, the other vamps would follow suit. Usually, when
they were alone, however, she allowed him to speak freely to her,
provided he maintained a certain level of respect.
He knew that tonight he was in serious danger of crossing that line.
"Might I ask what he did to offend you?" General Cordova asked, her
voice softening, with a hint of a threat that he would have noticed had
he not been so bloody furious.
Spike was silent. He didn't know how to explain to the general in a way
she would find acceptable how the soldier's mere look at his childe had
set him off. He shook his head, still fuming, and took a sip from the
cup in his hand.
"Let me rephrase that," the general went on. "*What* did he do to
offend you?" A direct question. That meant he had to come up with an
answer.
"I'm just bloody sick to death of these soldier boys looking at her
like she's a soddin' piece of meat is all!" he finally exploded,
slamming his fist down on the counter. He turned to face her, eyes
blazing with fury. Pointing an accusing finger to emphasize his point
he declared, "If they tried to treat a bloody human like they treat
her, they'd be in prison for the rest of their miserable lives!"
The general was silent for a moment. Then she replied in that same
calm, even voice, "But she's not a human."
As if that settled it.
Frustrated rage surging through him, he struggled to maintain his
temper, and just barely failed. Starting off low and intense, but his
voice rising with each word, he said, "Well I'm not going to tolerate
it anymore, I'm her sire, and it's my duty to protect her, and the next
git that so much as looks at her wrong's gonna get his soddin' throat
ripped out!"
The general's eyes were hard with anger, but she still did not
retaliate against him. She merely pointed out calmly, "And you know
where that would leave you. Don't you?"
"I don't care," he muttered, looking away.
"You really should, Hostile," General Cordova's voice was suddenly as
hard as her eyes, and he looked up at her quickly, thinking that maybe
he should try to gain some control of himself.
But this little rant just felt too bloody good.
The general continued, "I realize that you are her sire, and that
carries a relationship I really can't comprehend." Her tone was
slightly derisive, feeding his anger. "As much as you would like for it
to be, Diana's fate is not in your hands. You will accomplish nothing
by making a rash mistake like that."
"Not in my hands," he repeated scornfully. "What bloody well is? My
childe's fate is in the hands of that wanker, Finn, who's just using
her as a soddin' stand-in to work out his personal issues about not
being man enough to handle a real woman!"
General Cordova's voice was sharp when she interrupted, "Diana's fate
is in *my* hands, Hostile, and it would be to your benefit to remember
your place before you..."
"Your hands, eh?" he interrupted, turning toward her furiously. "Well
I'll say this, if you expect me to even *show up* for that bloody
training session in the morning, you'd better bloody well..."
That was as far as he got before the chip fired, hard, dropping him to
his knees, doubled over in agony, though he still maintained enough
pride to force back the scream that rose to his lips. She kept the
punishment going for a couple of minutes before making it stop.
He was taking deep unnecessary breaths, trying to recover from the
pain, as she stepped closer, standing over him, glaring down
impassively. "Get up," she ordered.
He knew he had to obey, and awkwardly used the counter behind him to
pull himself back to his feet. He stood as straight as he could through
the remnants of the pain, trying to at least appear as if he was paying
attention to her.
Drawing herself very close to him, her eyes flashing flames, she said
slowly, pointedly, "As I was saying about your *place*, Hostile. Is it
your place to tell *me* what I'd 'better' do?"
Swallowing hard, he said softly, "No, Ma'am."
"Is it your place to tell me what *you* are going to do?" The cold
smile on her lips told him that she was enjoying his humiliation.
He swallowed back the fury that would have had him lunge for her throat
then and there – and would have cost him his life – and replied again
through gritted teeth, "No, Ma'am."
"And is it your place, Hostile, to insult an officer of this operation,
my second-in-command, because you don't like what he does with his
property?" Her eyebrows raised in anticipation of his response.
His jaw worked with his anger at hearing Diana once again referred to
as Finn's "property", and being forced to acknowledge it. But his year
among these army types had if nothing else taught him a measure of
self-control, and he knew he would accomplish nothing by refusing to
give her the answer she required. His voice very low and full of hatred
he replied, "No. Ma'am."
The general's smile widened at her triumph. "Good. Just so long as
we're clear. I'll see you in the morning," she said pointedly, and
turned and walked out, leaving him to his cooling mug of blood and his
enthusiastic planning of the various ways in which he could painfully
kill her.
When the doorbell rang, Buffy nearly jumped out of her skin. "Oh, God.
They're here," she said to Willow, her eyes wide with apprehension.
Taking her hands and looking at her seriously in an attempt to help
calm her, Willow said earnestly, "It's ok, Buffy. You can do this. You
are Buffy Summers, vampire slayer and super-spy!"
"Shh!" Buffy said in an agonized whisper, looking toward the door as if
they could hear her friend from the front porch.
"Buffy," Willow gently said, giving her a look.
"I know, I know. Ok. Calming down now," Buffy assured her with a nod.
"Ok, I'd better answer that, hadn't I? Now that I'm – calm, and all."
Willow nodded apologetically.
"Go on down to the basement and be sure Darian stays there," Buffy told
her, and Willow did as she asked.
Buffy had had a difficult time deciding what to do with the chipped
vampire whom she had promised would not be turned back over to the
Initiative. She couldn't just let him go, because if the Initiative
*did* catch him again and found out about her connection to him, it
could ruin her plan. Also, though she hated to admit it, she felt a
certain compassion for the helpless creature, and knew that on his own
in Sunnydale, with that chip in his head, he wouldn't last a day.
Fortunately, Willow had told her about a spell she had recently
perfected that was sort of like the opposite of a de-invite spell. It
was a sort of a vampire containment spell that kept Darian *in* the
house. When Willow had informed her months before of the idea, Buffy
had secretly wondered what use that sort of thing could ever be; who
would want to keep a vampire *in* their home? Now, however, she was
grateful to not have to watch him every moment.
Taking a deep breath to prepare herself, Buffy opened the door. There
was Riley, flanked by two uniformed soldiers.
He looked at her for a long moment before saying softly, "Hey, Buffy."
She looked back, stunned by the emotion she saw in his eyes – stunned
and a little disconcerted. Shouldn't *she* feel something, too? But
oddly enough, she found that she didn't, not really. God, had he meant
that little to her? "Hey, Riley," she finally thought to reply,
stepping aside to wordlessly invite him in.
"Are you ready?" he asked, looking a little uncomfortable, and suddenly
she felt very uncomfortable as well. "Cause I mean, your appointment
with the general is at..."
"I'm ready. Of course," Buffy assured him, stepping outside and closing
the door behind her. She was actually relieved that he had refused her
offer to come in; it spared her extra awkward small talk. "Let's go,"
she said, stepping toward the dark blue SUV parked in her driveway.
She noticed the two soldiers accompanying Riley talking quietly
together. They seemed to be arguing about something. Then the one who
apparently had lost the argument stepped toward her, clearing his
throat nervously.
She raised her eyebrows in a question.
"Uh, Ma'am, obviously our operation is strictly classified, and its
location has to be a complete secret, so...usually anytime someone visits
from outside, they...they wear a blindfold on the way there and back s-so
that the location stays a secret," the young soldier managed to stammer
out.
Buffy's lips twitched upward in a smirk as she crossed her arms over
her chest. "I'm *not* putting on a blindfold," she declared.
"It's policy, Ma'am," the soldier argued, sounding more uncomfortable.
"You're welcome to *try* to put it on me," Buffy flashed him a huge,
deceptively bright smile, and beside her Riley suppressed a laugh,
before stepping in to rescue the hapless soldier.
"I think we can bypass that particular policy in this case, soldier,"
he said with a tone of quiet authority that surprised Buffy. He sounded
so much more sure of himself than he had last time they'd seen each
other. Of course, the last time they had seen each other, everything
he'd built his life on had just fallen apart and he'd been struggling
to pick up the broken pieces...but still, he seemed to have developed a
firm self-assurance that Buffy found a little unsettling, for some
reason.
"Yes, Sir," the soldier replied with obvious relief, and got into the
SUV in the back with the other young man. Buffy sat in the passenger
seat next to Riley. The silence during the ride was deafening.
*Awkward,* Buffy thought for the thousandth time since her call to
Riley the day before. *Well, here goes nothing.*
Spike had just drifted off into an uneasy sleep when the alarms in the
hall outside his suite drew him back to wakefulness. He jumped up and
went to look out the windows into the hallway. Several armed soldiers
were hurrying through the halls, looking very serious and upset.
Suddenly his door burst open, and the general herself stood there
before him, an extremely displeased expression on her face.
Cautiously, unsure of what the situation was, Spike took a step
backward.
The general allowed herself a small smile at that. "Please, Hostile,"
she sneered, her fingers in her pocket obviously running over the
device she kept there. "Like that would do you any good...*if* that was
why I was here."
For the hundredth time that day, Spike fought back his anger at her
condescending tone, while still realizing that she was right. Distance
was no defense against the circuitry in his head. "What's happened?" he
asked her quietly, when he realized that it was nothing he had done.
Her smile was sarcastic as she replied, "It seems your beloved
childe...our little miss Diana...took a cue from her brother and has
decided to attempt escape."