Chapter 4

“The night is darkening round me,/The wild winds coldly blow;/But a tyrant spell has bound me,/And I cannot, cannot go./The giant trees are bending/Their bare boughs weighed with snow;/The storm is fast descending,/And yet I cannot go./Clouds beyond clouds above me,/Wastes beyond wastes below;/But nothing drear can move me:/I will not, cannot go.” ~Emily Brontë, “The Night Is Darkening Round Me”

Giles took a deep breath as he stood in front of Spike. If this spell went wrong, Buffy was never going to forgive him. Removing a compulsion was a delicate process, and if he bollocksed it up, Spike could be seriously damaged.

“Can you do this, Giles?”

Buffy sounded worried, as well she might. “Yes, I believe so. If I can’t, I’ll leave the geas in place and we’ll try another tack.” He did not mention the fact that he might have gone too far to end things by the time he realized there was a problem.

“That’s reassuring,” she muttered. “Can you do it while he’s still out?”

“He’s awake,” Giles said calmly. “He has been for the last fifteen minutes.”

“Good call, Rupert.” Spike’s voice was even. “How did you know?”

“You aren’t a very good liar, even when you’re pretending to be unconscious.”

A grim smile tilted his lips. “Do your worst, then.”

Giles took a deep breath and began the spell. It was deceptively simple spell, requiring little in the way of accoutrements. His concentration had to be absolute, however, and his level of control had to be at a level rarely required in his day to day life. As with anything else, magic had to be practiced if skill wasn’t to be lost.

It had been years since Giles had been required to cast this sort of spell.

The geas went deep—insidious and tenacious. Giles was well aware that but for Tara’s remarkable insight, they would have missed it.

Slowly, carefully, Giles unwound the tendrils of the compulsion, wanting to be sure that he’d left nothing behind. He had to be sure that the geas wouldn’t be triggered at some future date; if the Council wanted to control Spike, they would have to make another attempt.

And Giles was certain that Buffy would stop any attempt that was made.

When he finally pulled out, Giles realized that sweat had coated his brow and was dripping down the back of his shirt. Spike looked as though he’d been through the wringer as well. He was slumped in the chair, breathing hard, even though he didn’t need to breathe.

“You can release him now.” Giles took the towel that Wesley held out and wiped his face.

“Are you certain?” Wesley asked.

Spike rattled the chains. “Don’t be a git, Wes. Rupert knows his job.” His eyes met Buffy’s. “I’m sorry, luv. I couldn’t figure out another way to let you know something was wrong.”

The tension drained out of her, and she rushed to Spike’s side, keys already in hand. “I’m sorry I had to knock you out.”

“I wanted you to.” Spike rubbed his wrists. “Who figured it out? Tara?”

“Yeah.” Buffy searched his face. “What happened?”

“Can I get something to drink first?” he asked plaintively. “I’m going to need fortification for this.”

Giles headed for the liquor cabinet, having been at Spike’s house often enough to know exactly where he kept it, and what he’d want. “I think we all need a drink,” he said. “I know I do.”

~~~~~

Spike took a long sip of his scotch and thought about having another. He wasn’t nearly calm enough to speak. Maybe the geas had only been on him for a couple of days, but those had been very long days as he felt the spell like a heavy hand on his shoulder.

He hadn’t been able to speak, to warn Wesley or Buffy that the Council had essentially programmed him to betray them, that while he wasn’t under their complete control, he couldn’t tell the Slayer or his friends what the Council wanted so badly.

Or to what lengths Travers would go to get it.

“They got me as I was leaving our hotel,” Spike began quietly. “The Council goons used some sort of magical net, and they had me trussed up and unable to call for help in about 30 seconds.”

“I know what they used,” Giles said quietly. “It’s impossible to break out of from the inside.”

“That makes me feel better,” Spike muttered, although it did a bit. “Apparently, I wasn’t cooperative enough with Travers, and he didn’t think he could trust me to turn over this key when I found it.”

“What key?” Buffy demanded.

Wesley cleared his throat. “It’s part of the prophecy, which states that the vampire with a soul will be the guardian of the key to the doors of the worlds. I believe that Travers is concerned about the power inherent in such a position.”

“You think?” Spike asked. “Anyway, next thing I know they’ve put a hex on me. As soon as I found the key, I was supposed to bring it to Travers, and I was to let nothing stop me.” He swallowed, thinking of the damage he might have done if the spell hadn’t been discovered.

Buffy’s eyes widened as she realized what he was saying. “You could have killed someone.”

“I could have.” Spike shrugged the idea off uncomfortably. “I might have been able to hold back, to incapacitate, but—”

“I’m going to kill Travers.” Buffy’s eyes glittered menacingly, and Spike had no doubt that if the Council’s head had been anywhere nearby, he would have already been dead.

Giles rubbed his temples wearily. “I don’t blame you for being angry, Buffy, but I don’t think that killing Travers is the answer we’re looking for.”

“Maybe not, but it would make me feel better.” Buffy’s tone was a little petulant, but some of the tension eased. “What do you think, Giles?”

“I think that our first order of business is to discover just what it is this prophecy says. It’s entirely possible that the Council misinterpreted it.”

“More than possible,” Wesley inserted. “I don’t know if this was deliberate, because they were trying to keep us in the dark, or if the Council gave me what they had, but the copy I was given is incomplete.”

Giles nodded. “Then I think that’s what we have to work on first. Once we know what the Council is so concerned about, we’ll know more about how to deal with it.”

“I should get started, then.” Wesley looked at Buffy. “What did Robert say about the prophecy that he found again?”

“He said that it involved choices, and that Spike was a pivotal figure.”

Wesley frowned. “It may be that the two are related. I’ll look at both, cross-reference, see if the translations are similar…”

He trailed off, and Spike smiled indulgently. That was Wes; he was the research guru. “Thanks, Wes.”

“I’ll let you know when I have more information.”

Giles rose as well. “I’m afraid I need to get home. I’m not quite as young as I once was, and that spell took quite a bit out of me.”

“Thank you, Rupert.” Spike tried to infuse as much gratitude into his voice as he could. “That was—”

“I’m sure it was very unpleasant.”

The two ex-Watchers departed, leaving Spike alone with Buffy. “I’m sorry, luv.”

“You didn’t hurt me,” Buffy assured him. “Let me guess. You were acting so strangely in hopes that we would figure out the geas.”

He nodded. “Should have known that Tara would see it. That bird has a good head on her shoulders. What did she think of Robert?”

Buffy thought for a moment. “I don’t know. He made her nervous, I think, but she said he was really nice. Why did you want them to meet, Spike?”

“Just something I picked up from her,” Spike replied. “And I don’t know that she’s fully human.”

Buffy’s eyes went very wide. “Are you serious?”

Spike smiled. “Dead serious. Don’t know for sure, but I’ve wondered for a while. You meet enough half-breeds, and you learn to sense them, even when they can pass as well as Tara can.”

She shook her head, as though to settle the new idea. “I guess it doesn’t really matter,” she said slowly.

“Which is why I wanted her to meet Robert.”

Buffy smiled. “Makes sense.” She moved quickly, pulling his lips to hers. The kiss was deep and bruising; Spike could feel her teeth nipping at his lower lip, and his hands seized her hips.

There were no words; there was no need for them. His fingers found the sensitive skin under the waistband of her trousers, then popped the button in one deft motion. She moaned as his fingers went lower yet.

The sound only encouraged him. Need for her consumed him; Buffy went pliant under his hands, surrendering to his touch.

As Spike pleasured her, and received pleasure in return, he could forget what the Council had done to him, the feeling that he had been violated, and trapped inside his own body.

In this moment, he could forget everything.

~~~~~

A rather domestic silence had fallen over Wesley’s apartment. Although Wesley had informed her that translating the prophecy had to come first for now, Willow had grabbed Tara and they had both shown up at his apartment with homework and snacks.

Now, sitting around his kitchen table, Willow couldn’t help but marvel at the unit that they had formed. They might be part of a greater whole that included Spike and Buffy and the others, but the three of them acted as a single person at times.

Willow glanced up to look at Wesley, who was going between the prophecy that Robert had given Tara and Buffy, the sheaf of papers that the Council had given him, and two thick references. “Are you making any progress?”

“Some.” He rubbed his eyes. “It appears that both prophecies are the same, or at least refer to the same thing. I don’t know where Travers got his information, but it’s obviously incomplete.”

“Maybe they didn’t want you to have the whole thing,” Tara suggested.

Wesley frowned. “Perhaps. The Council clearly wants this key, and from the information that they gave us, I can see why. The key is described as something that could easily tear down dimensional walls, thus ending our world.”

“Which would be a really bad thing.” Willow grimaced. “So Travers thought that Spike would just let the world end? That’s stupid.”

“Yes, it is.” Wesley leaned back in his chair, stretching. “That’s why I suspect the Council has the entire prophecy, and that they wanted us to believe that the key is dangerous.”

Tara put down her highlighter. “You’re thinking that the Council wants the key, and they didn’t want us to interfere.”

“That’s exactly what I think.” Wesley looked off into the distance, and Willow knew that he was seeing all of the possibilities. That’s what he was good at—seeing the possibilities and ramifications of each choice. “Giles thought it unlikely that the Council would know that the geas had been removed, but they will eventually discover that Spike has not brought the key. I have to wonder what steps they will take at that point.”

~~~~~

“Sit.” Giles gently nudged Joyce towards the kitchen table. “You’ve been on your feet enough today.”

“I’m feeling fine, you know.” She sounded amused, rather than annoyed, however, and she did as he’d requested. “I have survived pregnancy before.”

“Humor me,” he suggested. “You might have already gone through this, but it’s my first time.”

Joyce merely smiled and watched as he set about making tea and sandwiches. While Giles had never claimed to be a good cook, he’d been a bachelor for too long not to have picked up a few things.

“How was Spike?”

“Understandably shaken.” Giles paused in his preparations, remembering the expression on Spike’s face when he’d asked for a drink. He remembered the last geas he’d removed, and how the Watcher had described the feeling of being a prisoner in his own body.

The compulsion in that case had been more insidious, as he’d been ordered to report on a number of top Council members on a regular basis, but Giles imagined Spike had experienced something similar.

“Will he be all right?”

“Yes, of course. The compulsion is no longer viable.” Giles put the tray with the tea and light meal on the table. “What else can I do for you, love?”

The smile that curved Joyce’s lips was nothing short of predatory. “I can think of a few things, but you may want to eat first. You’re going to need your strength.”

Giles felt his blood heat. “We’d best get to it, then.”

~~~~~

Quinn O’Mara knew her job; as the daughter of two Watchers, and the sister to the newest Slayer, she understood just what was at stake.

She was to observe and learn all she could, and she was to report back with her findings.

Too bad Quinn hated lying. Give her a straightforward battle any day of the week.

Tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear, Quinn entered the college classroom with a sigh. Travers had determined that this was the best way to get close to Buffy and her friends, but it essentially meant going back to school.

She hadn’t much liked school when she was at the Academy; she didn’t think she’d changed all that much in the last three years.

Taking a seat a couple of rows behind her quarry, Quinn prepared to pay attention. Just because she didn’t need the college credit didn’t mean she could afford to get kicked out for poor grades.

At least the sociology course was relatively interesting, she thought as the lecturer wound things up. Quinn kept an eye on Willow Rosenberg and Tara Maclay as they packed up their things, chatting animatedly about a rather obscure point.

Choosing her moment, Quinn approached them. “Excuse me, I don’t mean to interrupt, but would it be possible to get the past notes from you? I’m a late transfer, and—”

“Of course!” Willow said with a smile. “It’s no problem. Can I make a copy for you and bring it to the next class? I was going to review tonight.”

“You can use mine, if you bring them back at the next class,” Tara offered quietly. “I have another class to study for.”

“Thanks. I’d really appreciate that.” Quinn’s eyes met Tara’s, and there was a moment when Quinn could have sworn that the other woman recognized exactly who and what she was. Then the moment passed as Tara passed over a sheaf of notes, and Quinn made her escape.

Thinking about it later, Quinn knew that she was going to have to be especially careful around the quiet girl. She had been chosen for this job because of her skills, and because Rupert Giles and Wesley Wyndam-Pryce had never met her.

They hadn’t reckoned on having someone around who could read auras so thoroughly.

~~~~~

“Are you okay?”

Tara nodded absently. “I’m fine. There was just something about that girl, the one who asked for our notes.”

“What kind of something?” Willow asked, sounding concerned.

Tara shook her head. “I don’t know. I got the sense that she was at war with herself.” Tara smiled. “I was probably imagining things. Are you going over to Wesley’s tonight?”

“Yeah, he promised to take a break from translating for a while.” Willow frowned. “Are you okay with that? I mean, I know—”

“It’s okay.” Tara wanted to cut short any offers of sympathy. She honestly didn’t mind being alone. She’d had nothing but bad relationships in the past, and while she was aware that good ones existed, Tara preferred to be alone than risk heartbreak again.

Willow nodded, dropping the subject reluctantly. “Okay. You know, I think that Marissa was interested.”

“Marissa wouldn’t know a real spell if it bit her in the nose,” Tara shot back.

Willow’s eyebrows went straight up. “Meow.”

Tara laughed reluctantly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No, you’re right. She wouldn’t.” Willow put a hand on Tara’s shoulder. “Tara, you know that if something’s wrong, you can tell me, whatever it might be.”

“I’ve been grumpy lately. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. We all have our days.” Willow gave her a quick hug. “Just remember that we’re here.”

After Willow had gone, Tara wondered if that’s what was bothering her so much. Willow and the others were there for her, but she wasn’t the person they believed her to be.

In a month, she would be twenty, and everything would change.

~~~~~

The words of the spell rang through the old monastery. Brother Luka chanted along with the others, feeling the power course through the circle, giving the energy form and purpose. Once form had been given, they would channel the rest of the power into making a place for the newly formed Key.

Brother Luka felt it when the form was complete, and he and his brothers began the last part of the spell.

A great force blew in the doors, and one of the wooden splinters caught Brother Kurt in the throat. The power behind the spell was lost, as he had been the anchor.

“I don’t like it when other people steal my things.”

The voice of the Beast boomed off the stones, and Luka threw himself out of the way of the statue that it sent towards them.

He knew that there was nothing to be done to save his brothers. The Key had been formed, but no place had been made. It was up to him to make certain that it didn’t fall into the wrong hands, and that the Guardian was made aware of his destiny.