Escape

Buffy only stayed another hour with her friends at the Bronze before she called it a night and headed back to Giles’ apartment, completely drained. The entire way there, however, Buffy couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something was amiss, that there was something wrong. She could feel it deep in her gut, and it chilled her to the bone. Clutching her jacket tighter around her body, she began to walk at a quicker pace, finally breaking into a run as though Satan himself were on her heels, aching feet pounding the pavement. Finally, she arrived at Giles’ apartment just shy of 2:00, cringing as she walked up the two cracked steps at the back of his apartment, knowing he’d be angry at her for staying out so late if she woke him. Because in his mind, a tired slayer isn’t a good slayer, as one must always be fully alert and aware. So naturally, he wouldn’t approve of her arriving at such a late hour, as exhausted as she was.

But before Buffy could let herself in, she noticed that all the lights inside were still on.

’Uh oh, what’s going on? It’s not like Giles to stay up this late.’

Buffy felt her stomach leap into her throat as she opened the door, her palms suddenly sweaty with apprehension, unsure of what to expect. And when she saw Giles sitting on the couch, glasses off and head in his hands, she instantly feared the worst.

“Giles, what’s wrong?”

His head snapped up as though her arrival startled him, and Buffy noticed how tired he looked, bags deepened under two bloodshot eyes, his face blotchy, a half empty glass of scotch resting on the coffee table in front of him.

Clearing his throat, he gestured to the empty seat beside him.

“Buffy, I think you’d better sit down.”

She shook her head and gulped, the color instantly draining from her face. “Just tell me.”

Sighing, he turned his eyes away from Buffy, replacing the glasses on the bridge of his nose and clasping his hands together..

“I’m afraid it’s your mother, Buffy. She’s been kidnapped.”

“Wha- oh my God.” Putting a hand over her mouth, Buffy shook her head in disbelief. “How?”

“She came here to see you, Buffy. I-I told her you weren’t here and we talked for a little while. Since it was late I walked her to her car and then we were… ambushed. They grabbed her before I could do anything. Two vampires just… grabbed her and ran."

“No…" Tears stung the backs of Buffy's eyes as she instantly feared the worst for her mother. "But, why? What do they want with her?”

“I don’t know, Buff," He looked to his lap sadly. "I’m so sorry.”

Buffy stood rooted to the spot, the impact of the situation slowly sinking in. “We-we have to find her. Can we take your car?”

Giles shook his head and sighed. “That’s part of the problem. My car has been in the shop since yesterday.”

“Shit.” Buffy muttered, defeated. But then, her eyes widened as something dawned on her. “Wait, you said my mom’s car is here?” Buffy rummaged through her purse, hand emerging with a chain holding several silver keys. Raising them in front of her face, Buffy shook them victoriously. “Lucky for us, my mom gave me spare keys to both the house and her car, just in case.” She tossed the keys to Giles. “Can you drive?”

Giles nodded. “Yes, of course.” He stood from the couch, moving toward the door behind Buffy.

“And since I don’t know what we’re dealing with here, we might need some backup," Buffy added as an afterthought.

“Who?” Inquired Giles.

“Spike.”

Halting, Giles did an about-face, looking at Buffy with clear apprehension. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea, Buffy…”

“He’s all we’ve got,” She pointed out. “I want… we’re gonna need his help.”

*****

Spike heard his crypt door being flung open, and he jumped, letting out a loud growl of protest at the intruder.

“Dru, what the bloody hell do you want now? You know, in civilized cultures it's considered rude to just barge in a man's home without knocking...” But he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw who it was.

Buffy.

Staring at her shaking form for a moment with eyes narrowed in question, he let his mouth form a half-smirk.

“Jumping the gun a bit, aren’t we, love? Lesson isn’t for another 17 hours.” For once, Buffy didn’t berate him for his arrogance. In fact, she didn’t even seem to notice.

“Spike, I need your help.” Spike cut himself off abruptly at that, snapping his mouth shut before he let loose with another snarky comment. He’d never seen her so desperate. Her face was red and splotchy, eyes tear stained, hair in disarray and clothes rumpled as her chest heaved. Spike noticed she hadn’t even changed out of her club clothes, her feet sporting the same high black boots, only having thrown a long, rumpled overcoat over the outfit haphazardly.

“It’s my mom, she’s been kidnapped,” Buffy sputtered. “Please, I-I need your help. I don’t know where else to go.” Spike was almost taken aback by the sheer vulnerability she was showing him right now. Nodding solemnly, he didn't press her for any answers. Instead, he wordlessly went to his weapons’ chest hidden in a dark corner of the crypt and pulled out two stakes, which he shoved in an internal pocket of his duster and another in the waistband of his pants. Then he reached for a dagger and hid it in his boot before digging for a black crossbow and closing the chest back over tightly, tossing a second crossbow to Buffy. Coming to stand beside him, Buffy helped herself to a small bottle of holy water, shoving it in her jacket pocket.

But just as they were about to leave, there came a loud pounding from the crypt door. Buffy looked inquiringly at Spike, who had his own look of surprise plastered on his face, brows knitted together.

“Who the-“

Just then, a gasping Quentin burst through the door, shutting it behind him before promptly slumping to the floor.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Came here to find you…” He sputtered, pointing at Buffy. His face was flushed, eyes looking as though they were about to pop out of his head. “I was attacked.”

Buffy lifted a brow, skeptical, and crossed her arms in front of her. “Oh really? Why were you trying to find me?”

“Heard about… your mother. Then they tried to…” His voice dropped as he weezed. “Kill me.”

Quentin hacked dramatically several times before clearing his throat and trying to gain some composure.

“What was that last bit, mate?”

Quentin swallowed hard, drawing a deep breath. “They tried to," Cough, "Kill me,” He repeated.

Spike leaned a little closer. "Come again?"

"Kill me!"

“Oh, kill you?” Spike repeated, a grin spreading across his face. “With pleasure.”

Raising his knife, he took a menacing step toward Quentin.

“Spike, no!” Buffy grabbed his arm, stopping him before he could filet Quentin. “He-he might know something,” Buffy clarified, her eyes pleading. Very reluctantly, Spike lowered his arm, shooting a vicious glare in Quentin’s direction.

Quentin raised his arms to rub at his eyes, still coughing violently from his position on the floor.

Standing over him, Buffy looked down, studying his expression. “Do you know where my mother is?” She tried, gulping. “Was she-was she taken by Angelus?”

“I - yes, I think so. I – I don’t know why…” Spike took another step toward Quentin’s trembling form.

“Well, that’s a God-awful stench.” Buffy wrinkled her nose.

“Stench? What stench?”

“Bullshit.” Spike answered, shaking his head. “The sod’s practically cellophane he’s so transparent. Bloody horrible acting.”

“They – they tried to kill me!” Quentin interjected. Spike rolled his eyes and snorted in disbelief.

“Right, which is why there’s not even a scratch on your body.”

Turning to look at Spike, he could see mixed suspicion and anxiety as well as desperation written on her face. “We have to get information from him somehow.”

“How do you suggest we do that?”

Buffy shrugged. “Oh, you know, just a pinch of creativity…” Suddenly, she bent down and grabbed Quentin roughly by the arm, “And a little old fashioned brute force.”

“Careful with that one, he’s a biter,” Spike snarked from behind her.

Then, as if on cue, Buffy suddenly yelped when she felt an unexpected sharp pinch on her forearm. Looking at Quentin in disbelief, Buffy took a firm hold of his collar.

“Wow, those dentures sure do pack a punch.” Roughly, Buffy hoisted him to his feet and slammed him against the wall, not with enough force to seriously harm him, but plenty to jar him a bit.

“Alright, drop the act, Masterpiece Theater.” Buffy looked him straight in the eye, glaring daggers. “Where is my mother?”

Quentin returned her gaze squarely, chin held high and proud. “I’m afraid I don’t know.” Buffy sighed her irritation loudly.

“If you don’t cooperate, I’m gonna havta turn you over to Spike here. Word has it he’s got the torture thing down to a science.” Turning her head to Spike, she shot him a look, hoping he'd catch on and play along. Though Buffy realized she was only half bluffing, feeling desperate, and not really knowing or wanting to know if what she said was true.

Spike nodded in agreement, pausing to light a cigarette and leaning against the crypt wall. “Yeah, well, 'm not one to brag, but it’s true.”

After a long pause, Quentin opened his mouth to speak, regaining his prim and proper countenance. “Well, I suppose these are urgent times…” He cleared his throat.

“Quentin? What the bloody devil is going on here?”

Three sets of eyes snapped to the doorway to see Giles standing there, looking both bewildered and suspicious.

“That’s what we’re trying to find out," Buffy answered. "And I thought you were going to stay in the car?”

Giles closed the door behind him. “I’m still your watcher, Buffy," he replied sternly, "And as such I do technically have some authority over you.”

Buffy smiled tightly, not wanting to argue. “Right, sorry.” Then she turned back to Quentin. “Now talk.”

“I’ll agree to speak, if you will be so kind as to cease manhandling me.”

With a groan, Buffy released her death grip on his collar, backing up only two small steps and crossing her arms tightly across her chest. She tapped her foot impatiently as Quentin smoothed out the wrinkles in his shirt, brushing off his arms as though Buffy were nothing more than mere dust on his shoulders.

“You are right, Angelus did kidnap your mother.”

Giles peeled the glasses of his face, eyebrows raised in surprise. “Angelus? Angelus is in town?! Why does no one tell me these things?!”

Ignoring him, Quentin continued.

“He is currently holding her hostage in her own home.”

“What? Why there?” Buffy interrupted, frowning deeply.

Sighing, Quentin pursed his lips together. “To prove a point, my dear girl. The point that you and your kin are safe nowhere, that he can even now freely enter your childhood home at will. And he is using your mother as bate, to lure you there so he can kill you.”

Spike snorted. “Now Angelus wants to kill slayers? Since when?”

“Since he heard about the prophecy.”

“There’s a prophecy involved?” Giles replaced the glasses on his nose after yet another thorough cleaning. “Am I quite invisible that no one tells me anything anymore?”

“I am sorry, Rupert, but you are closest to the slayer. She currently resides in your apartment and we could not take a chance and confide in you before we were certain. If she found out too soon, we feared she might resort to certain… hasty measures.”

Clenching her fists at her sides, Buffy did her best to not let one fly directly at Quentin. “Don’t act like you know me,” She hissed at Quentin through gritted teeth. “You don’t know anything about me.”

Brushing her comment aside, Quentin began speaking again in a hushed tone. “It is called the Mahamara prophecy. Its existence has long been questioned.” Coughing slightly for dramatic effect, he cleared his throat and continued. “The prophecy told of the coming of a master vampire, the most vicious and brutal vampire ever to walk the earth. He would kill the slayer on the Hellmouth and begin a reign of terror that would last until the next slayer in line, the most powerful slayer in history, would successfully kill him. Then his followers, all around the world, would cease to exist. And only then could the apocalypse be averted, could the world be saved from being sucked into Hell.”

Buffy’s jaw dropped. “So, my death is… prophesized?”

“We knew this was coming, we knew he was coming, but there was nothing we could do to stop it from happening. It is the way things must be done. Don’t you see? You have to die now so Angelus can later be slain, and the apocalypse can be averted.”

Buffy shook her head. “But why? Why now? Why go through all of this trouble, why make me go through all this training when you knew my destiny was to die all along?”

Quentin chuckled. “My dear girl, no amount of training can stop the prophesy from happening.”

“Then why wouldn’t you have at least tried to keep me safe until Angelus could have a crack at me?”

“We had been looking for the prophecy for ages. We knew of its importance, however, we were never quite sure of all that it entailed or when it would occur until late. You see, the Maharama prophecy, or should I say the Amara Prophecy, for short, could only be set into motion once the Gem of Amara successfully crossed the boundaries of the Hellmouth on the finger of a vampire.”

“Bloody brilliant,” Spike mumbled, shaking his head.

“You see, the gem is linked to the prophecy,” Quentin said, turning his focus on Spike. “We originally thought the prophecy could pertain to you, Spike. Since after all, you were the one responsible for bringing the gem to the Hellmouth. But I quickly ruled out that theory since you two seemed rather… cozy, shall we say, in the alley yesterday.”

Buffy gasped, and Giles eyes widened, looking between Spike and Buffy with shock registering on his face. Teeth gritting, Spike growled at Quentin. “You son of a bitch, you were having me followed?!”

“I had to be sure,” Quentin stated flatly, and his calm, matter-of-fact tone only served to piss off Spike even more. He raised his fist and charged at Quentin, ready to leap at him and tear him to bits when Buffy again stopped him.

“Spike, no!” She was right behind him, grabbing his upper arm with both hands just as Spike came nose to nose with Quentin, eyes boring holes into his. “We need to hear the rest,” Buffy added, biting her lip hard as she watched Spike reluctantly lower his fists for the second time. With an almost imperceptible nod of acknowledgement, he backed away from Quentin and stepped to Buffy’s side, and she released his arm from her hold. Spike crossed his arms tightly over his chest.

“Go on, old man,” He said. “Stupid git,” He added under his breath.

Quentin drew a shallow breath. “Luckily, however, the gem came to be in our possession, as Spike was rather careless with it,” Quentin glared at Spike, scratching his chin through his small salt and pepper beard. “Do you know anything else about the gem, Spike?” Spike glared right back at him.

“Aside from invincibility for the wearer?” He shrugged. “Nope, can’t say I do, mate.”

“When positioned correctly atop the Hellmouth, and an ancient incantation is spoken, it also serves as a guiding light to the location of the scroll containing the prophecy. With its help, we found it here on the Hellmouth. That is how we discovered once and for all what the prophecy is about.”

With that, the room fell into a short-lived silence, and then Quentin narrowed his eyes slightly as Buffy suddenly burst into obnoxious laughter, guffawing loudly. He looked upon her with indignation, clearly none too impressed, while Giles gave his glasses yet another unnecessary cleaning and Spike couldn’t help the smirk that curled on his lips as he watched Buffy with mixed curiosity and amusement.

Tears sprang to her eyes and after several long moments, she finally regained her composure and caught her breath, standing up straight and looking Quentin dead in the eye.

“Oh, you guys are something else.” She brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, taking a step closer to Quentin. “So let me get this straight. You heard about this all powerful, all mysterious piece of paper, and it makes you all paranoid for years. Then some lousy trinket “lights the way”,” She used air quotes, “And you find a scroll like what, yesterday? And you’re convinced it’s fate?” Shaking her head, she let another chuckle escape her lips. “You’re a trip.”

The slight twitching of his mouth was the only outward indication that Buffy’s words had upset Quentin. For several long moments, he stared at her in silence before finally opening his mouth to speak in a darker, yet still calm and even, tone. “Do not mock me, child," He scolded, "Prophecies are not to be taken lightly. Throughout the course of history, they have always served a greater purpose.” Making sure he had Buffy’s undivided attention, he continued again. “All prophecies exist for a reason, and a very important one at that. Do you know what could happen if they are not fulfilled? The balance would be broken and the world as we know it would become unstable, the lines between good and evil themselves blurred. Chaos would ensue.” He raised an eyebrow. “So you see, it would be foolish to break a prophecy. It is what must be done. I am sorry.”

“I’ll bet you are,” Buffy spat, venom in her voice. “Like you even care, you wanted me dead all along. I’ll bet this is just the answer to your prayers, isn’t it?”

“No,” He shook his head, “I may not have been fond of you, Buffy, but I never prayed for your demise. The prophecy is what it is, however.”

“Yeah, well, convenient, isn’t it?” Sighing, her shoulders slumped slightly in defeat as she realized what needed to be done.

“Ok, Spike, do you have something in here to tie someone up with?”

“Got handcuffs,” he answered without hesitation.

Lifting a brow, Buffy shook her head. “I won’t ask,” She mumbled resolutely. “Ok, cuff Quentin. I don’t trust him.”

With a smirk, Spike immediately went to work, fishing in his trunk for a pair of handcuffs while Quentin protested. “Cuff me? How dare you!” But as Quentin tried to move away, Spike slammed him face first against the wall, pinning his arms behind him and cuffing him. “How bout that right to remain silent, eh chief?” He grinned, pleased with himself.

“You – you can’t do this! Release me!” Quentin demanded.

“Shut your gob,” Ordered Spike as he turned Quentin around roughly to face all of them again. “Or else I’m pretty sure I have some duct tape lying around that’ll make a nice gag to go with those cuffs.”

At that, Quentin snapped his mouth shut.

“Giles, could you stay here and keep an eye on Quentin?”

“Alright,” He answered with only the slightest hesitation, and Quentin looked at him wide-eyed.

“Rupert?” He questioned.

Giles shrugged. “You didn’t trust me, I’m afraid it’s only fair to return the sentiment.”

“Thanks, Giles. Spike and I are going to Revello Drive.”

At that, Spike’s head snapped up. “You can’t be bloody serious.”

“I’m 100 percent bloody serious,” Buffy shot back, facing away from him as she suited herself up with a few more weapons. “Whether or not he’s lying, I have no choice.”

“Yes, you do!” Spike grabbed her by the shoulders, forcing her to look at him. “This has got ‘trap' written all over it, in sodding big red letters!” Raising her chin, Buffy returned his stare, sighing when she saw the mixed look of anger and worry in his eyes.

“Trap or no trap, I have to get to my mother,” She answered softly, holding Spike’s gaze. “I never wanted her dragged into this, but now she is. I have to save her.” She looked over Spike’s shoulder as he released her from his grip. “Giles, do you have the car keys?”

“Oh? Um, yes,” Patting his pockets, he dipped a hand into one, fishing for the keys. “Here, the car is parked just around the corner outside the cemetery,” he said once he’d found them, “But how are you going to drive? You can’t, you never learned how.”

“I can’t, but Spike can. Right?” She looked pointedly up at Spike.

“Course I can,” He answered indignantly. “But how bout we leave the ‘ole tin wagon for Rupes here and take my motorcycle instead. It’s quicker.”

For once, Buffy didn’t question him. “Ok,” She readily agreed, taking a worried glance at her watch and realizing it was now almost 3:00. Spike only had a few more hours until the sun came up. “We’d better get going.”

“Good luck, Buffy,” Giles called as they turned to leave, and Buffy caught his eye and offered him a small yet genuine smile, deciding at least one of the council members could pass for a decent human being. Then, she and Spike exited the crypt, the air itself suddenly seeming heavy and noxious as it breezed past them, gently stirring the trees that cast ominous shadows in the moonlight.

Spike reached behind a cluster of low hedges that lined the outside of his crypt and concealed his bike, gripping its seat and dragging it backward into view. Hoisting his leg over the side, he started it up and revved the engine, looking over his shoulder at Buffy.

“What are you waiting for, love? Hop on.” Nodding, Buffy gulped slightly as she stared at the bike, having never been on one before. She threw her leg over the back and scooted forward, wrapping her arms around Spike’s waist and holding on tightly as he took off like a shot, the wind whipping their faces as they sped toward an uncertain fate.

---

A/N: This chapter might be a little confusing, but there will be more to it later, and some more things will also be explained.... Thanks so much to Anon for your review! *hugs* ~Jess :)