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Part Thirteen
For some reason, it took Buffy and Cordelia a lot longer to get back to the library than it did everyone else. Giles murmured to Buffy as she walked over beside him, “What happened?” Ethan was bound hand and foot behind the check-in desk, and Drusilla, conscious again, was locked inside the rare books cage. Careful attention was being paid to both of them. A quiet (except where Xander was concerned) debate was taking place over the disposition of their two captives. More properly, over what should happen to Ethan Rayne, as Giles intended to force them to honor Buffy’s promise to Spike. Personally, Giles favored a lengthy stay locked inside a bubbling fondue pot, but perhaps he would he overruled.
“Beats me,” Buffy said, breaking him out of his reverie, “Cordy was just in the mood for a long drive, that’s all.”
“Now? When we have two captives and not many places to put them?” Giles was a bit annoyed with the lateness, and Wesley positively beside himself — though, to Giles’ increasing disgust, the other Watcher seemed as much put out with Cordelia’s absence as Buffy’s.
“It seemed to mean something to her. I don’t know why,” Buffy answered. Off to her left, Wesley was loudly clearing his throat. One would have thought he would have learned better by now, but no. If it hadn’t been for his inventive method of rescuing Willow earlier tonight, Giles would have been sorely tempted to give in to despair on ever teaching the younger Watcher anything. As it was —
Showing off, just a little, Giles said, “May I have your attention, please?” and was gratified to see everyone rapidly wind down their conversations — well, excepting Xander, but that was hardly a surprise, and even he went silent after eventually realizing that no one was paying attention to him any longer. Wesley shot Giles a mildly irritated look, which the Watcher ignored.
“Now that we’re all here —” He looked at his wristwatch and was startled to realize that a mere 9 hours and 15 minutes had passed nbsp;since the group had first met. “—we have a couple of decisions to make. Namely, what do we do with our captives.”
“Kill ’em all and let God sort ’em out,” Xander said. “Even if he doesn’t follow through, the important thing is that they’d be dead.”
“Wish we could,” Buffy said, “but I owe Spike one, and that one was not killing Dru.” Then she grinned evilly. “That says nothing about what we do to Ethan, though.”
“Right, then,” Wesley said. “I shall go get the rusty knife.” Everyone gave him a strange look. “What?” the Watcher inquired mildly. “Am I not permitted the occasional foray into humorous sadism?”
“Yeah,” Xander said, “but next time warn us when you’re going to step out of character like that. Makes us nervous.”
“All humor aside — and believe me when I tell you that more than once tonight I have entertained thoughts of slow-roasting Ethan over a barbecue pit — the Slayer cannot kill people.”
“Xander’s not a slayer,” Willow said, surprising Giles.
“Neither am I,” Angel added from his position by the cage. “And I have the added bonus of having been dead for the past 240 years.”
“Harder to track down,” Oz commented.
“Exactly.”
“Oh, sure, side with deadboy,” Xander grumped.
“Look at it this way, Xander,” Cordy commented. “At least now your streak of having been wrong 1500 times in a row is still intact.”
Seated in — and tied to — one of the chairs in the library, Ethan Rayne’s veneer of bravado was rapidly wearing thin. Nervously — but still with a show of confidence on his face — he said, “Knock it off, would you? We all know this isn’t going to end in my death. None of you have the guts.”
“Care to place a friendly wager on that?” Xander asked pleasantly, while Angel simply walked towards Ethan.
The vampire said, “In my time I’ve killed hundreds of people, and a fair number of fellow demons. I think I can handle one pathetic, second-rank sorcerer. Given the pain you’ve caused my friends, I can think of little that would cause me greater pleasure.”
Buffy walked over and stood next to Angel. “Sorry, then, honey, we definitely can’t let you do it. Moments of pure happiness and all.”
“You have yet to master the art of pleading for your life, Ethan,” Giles commented. “The idea, I believe, is to not ROYALLY piss off your captors — at least, not to a greater extent than you already have.”
“I rarely deal well from adversity, Ripper, you know that.”
“How about if I cast a spell?” Willow asked.
“Little girl,” Ethan sighed. “There are few spells you could cast on me that I could not eventually magick my way out of.”
“Not if you don’t have a mouth,” Oz commented, and then whispered in Willow’s ear.
A wide smile appeared on Willow’s face. “I like that.” She looked on the counter at Amy. “Get ready …” she told the rat. She moved to where she had a clear line of sight to the chaos worshipper. Then she uttered five words that had everyone in the room laughing, mildly shocked, or, in Wesley’s case, thoroughly confused.
“Goddess Hecate, work thy will …”
No one had time to more than barely begin to form their objections/congratulations when Willow finished the spell.
“… before thee let the unclean thing crawl!”
A bolt of bluish energy emitted from Willow’s hands and Ethan quickly changed from human to rat.
Giles reached down and picked up the new-made rodent. Approaching very closely, Willow looked in at Ethan and said. “Don’t worry, Ethan. I’ll restore you … well, as soon as I figure out how to restore Amy …” Then she had to jump backwards as Ethan — apparently unhappy in his new form — bit at Willow’s nose.
“Nice idea, Miss Rosenberg,” Wesley said, “Now, what are we to do with him in this form?”
From Xander: “Here, kitty, kitty, kitty …”
“No,” Willow sighed. “I have one pet rat, I may as well have two.”
A crash from the cage behind them revealed a now awake and phenomenally irritated Drusilla.
Giles turned to Buffy and said, “Is it too much to hope for that Spike left you a number where he could be reached?”
“Afraid so, Giles.”
“Tell me that doesn’t mean you’re going to cut her loose!” wailed Cordelia.
Sensing the opportunity for a spot of revenge, Xander said patiently, “Anyone who thinks she should wait it out at Cordelia’s, raise their hand.”
And at this point all eyes turned to Angel. “Those chains are getting an awful lot of work,” he groused. “Giles? Tranquilizer gun?”
* * *
The Mayor was still in his office when Faith got back.
“Hey, boss, “ she said as she walked into the room. “What are you doing up this late?”
“Well, you know me,” he said, closing a book. “I’m a demon at work. And I mean that literally. What were the results of your search?”
Pulling Ted’s head out of her backpack, Faith dropped it on the Mayor’s desk and said, “This.”
The Mayor picked the head up. “This should make a nice trophy to mount on your wall.”
A bit confused, Faith said, “Well, I was hoping you could do something with him. Maybe recruit him, reanimate him — know what I mean?”
“How thoughtful. You are such a thoughtful girl. Have I told you that recently?” Faith brightened a bit to hear this. “But alas, no. I know a bit of Mr. Buchanan’s exploits — did you know the man married five women and killed them? No matter his strengths, he simply could not be trusted.” The Mayor reached out a hand and tousled Faith’s hair. “At least, not like you. And what of everyone else?”
“Well, the ‘good guys’ were cartin’ off Drusilla and Ethan Rayne as I left. They got the cowboy to run off — why they didn’t just kill him, I don’t know — and Catherine Madison — well, she vanished. You saw what happened to Ted, and as for Catherine Madison —”
“What did happen to our favorite witch?” the Mayor asked pleasantly.
Then Faith explained her experiences breaking into the hotel room, and didn’t even gloss over that it had taken Willow — WILLOW! To rescue her.
“Clever maneuver,” the Mayor said admiringly, and for a second Faith was jealous. “You know, for saving your life like that — I think the girl deserves a reward. Don’t you?”
“Can I kill her?” The Slayer asked eagerly. “Slowly and painfully? With a sharp knife?”
“Seems to me you’d need a knife for that,” the Mayor said. “You have a birthday coming up, don’t you?”
* * *
The only way for them to get rid of Drusilla safely was to actually summon Spike to Sunnydale to retrieve her. By common consent, Wesley was not let in on the plan, on the chance he’d decide it would be a wonderful opportunity to get rid of two vampires with one stake.
It took Spike a good four days to arrive.
“Hello, mates,” he said as he walked in. “I understand you’ve a package for me?”
“Dru’s in the other room,” Angel said. “Do you want me to get her or —”
“No, it’s better I retrieve her myself.” After a second Spike paused and said, “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to lose to me in a slugfest? Kinda make me look good in front of her?”
“You don’t suppose correctly,” Buffy answered. “And don’t even THINK of trying to do it the hard way.”
“Easy, easy,” Spike said. “You all did me a favor. I’m not about to trample on that — at least not yet, when I don’t have good cause.”
They all walked towards the main room. “You know,” Spike said, stopping suddenly, “every now and again I wonder if this is all worth the effort, you know? Dru keeps getting into trouble I have to bail her out of. I mean, I do love her and all that, but every once in a while I keep thinking it might be time to find someone … a little more sane.” As he said the last couple of words, he looked at Buffy.
Irritably, Buffy said, “Not in a million lifetimes, Spike.”
“Again there, easy. You aren’t even close to being my type.” A pause. “ I was actually thinking more of Willow …”
Spike grinned widely as he walked in to rescue Drusilla. Buffy and Angel exchanged horrified looks.
“He’s kidding, right?”
“Of course,” Angel said. “Remember, I’ve known Spike for over a hundred years. You’re a LOT more his type than Willow is.”
Then he ducked.
end