Gods And Monsters

Chapter Seventy-one:

An anxious Giles scurried into the living room, where Dawn and Buffy were seated on the couch.

"Are you sure you'll all be alright?" He asked, for about the the hundredth time since the proposal of taking the Potential Slayers on the Vision Quest was originally brought up.

"You'll only be gone for two days." Dawn countered.

"I think we've managed for a bit longer than that." Added Buffy.

"Right." He surveyed the room nervously, then paused, his gaze zeroing in on something of interest. "Oh, Dawn, Vi's left her notebook on the mantelpiece. Would you mind running it out to the car?"

Buffy took a sip from her mug, then lowered the rim from her lips, cradling it in her lap.

Dawn stood up form the couch, crossing the room and retrieving the aforementioned notebook from its place on the fireplace mantle. "Sure."

"While you're at it, you smack her in the head with it and remind her not to leave it lying around." He requested, thoroughly exasperated by the chaotic group of young women before they'd even left the house.

"On it." Dawn agreed, turning and strolling out the front door.

Giles perched himself on the corner of the coffee table. "I'm just a bit twitchy about leaving you alone again while— while things are..." He removed his spectacles, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. "In such a state of flux."

"I know, but you should go. This trip is important for the girls to understand the source of their power, and to know how to use it right."

"Do you think they appreciate the gravity of what we're undertaking? It's frightening, and it's difficult. And then, apparently, someone told them that the Vision Quest consists of me driving them to the desert, doing the hokey pokey until a spooky Rasta-mama slayer arrives and speaks to them in riddles." He stared at her pointedly.

"That's not exactly I put it." She replied innocently. "I—" She broke off mid-sentence when Willow entered the room, snatching up the opportunity for a diversion. "Hey, how's Kennedy?"

"Still fluey. Bummed about missing the field trip." Her gaze shifted over to Giles. "She says she wants you to meditate extra hard for her, and to bring her back some s'mores." She flashed him a playful grin.

"Ah, yes, s'mores. I'm going to end up singing campfire songs, aren't I?" He remarked, rising to his feet.

"Oh yeah." Buffy confirmed.

Xander came striding through the foyer, Dawn in tow. "Giles, you might want to get out there."

"Oh, God, what?" Giles asked him grudgingly, bracing himself for yet another headache.

"Molly and Rona are fighting over who gets to drive the first leg."

"Bet you wish you renewed that California state driver's license now, huh?" Buffy quipped, addressing Giles.

Hel crossed the threshold between the porch and the front door, joining them in the living room. "Rona won. You should probably let Molly out of the trunk." Skirting around the group, she headed for the kitchen and descended the stairs into the basement.

His wrists shackled to the cinder block wall, Spike sat on his cot, brooding. Upon hearing her footfall against the cement floor, he glanced up at her as she padded over.

"Hey." He raised the half-full bottle of tequila in his hand. "You want a drink?"

"God, yes."

He passed her the bottle and slouched against the wall. "You're becoming a bit of a low-key alcoholic, you know that?"

She gripped it by the neck and brought the rim to her lips, chugging until she had to break for air. Her throat felt like it was on fire and the pungent bitterness of alcohol lingered on her tongue. She handed the near-empty bottle back to him.

Spike tipped it back and swallowed the last trickle of tequila without missing a beat.

"How is your lover, by the way?"

Caught off guard, he spat out his drink. "My what?"

"The blonde. Don't deny it, I saw you together."

"Harmony? She is not my lover, she's just an ex, and none of my concern."

"Oh. I see." Hel took a seat beside him.

Setting the drained glass bottle on the floor beside his cot, he met her gaze. "A break from the constant pitter-patter of clomping teenage girly feet is long overdue."

"Agreed. It's like a war zone up there, and not the good kind."

"I'm just trying to stay out of their way."

She glanced at his chains. "I noticed."

"This is better. Believe me, it's safer."

She sighed. "All we need to do is ensure that the trigger is deactivated. We have a couple of days to figure it out before they return."

He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and gazed at her in earnest. "Hel..."

"Yes?"

A slight crease formed between his eyebrows. "Ow."

She frowned. "Ow?"

His face suddenly contorted, twitching. "Ow ow ow!" Recoiling, Spike thrashed against the wall and clutched either side of his head with both hands.

Eyes wide, Hel stared at him in shock. She hadn't the slightest clue what to do. "What's happening? Spike, what is going on?"

He swallowed hard as the agony briefly calmed, taking advantage of the opportunity to speak. "The chip. God, why would—" A scream was wrenched from his throat. "Aaahh!" He writhed in unbearable pain, his hands maintaining a vice-grip on his head.

Bolting to her feet, she took the steps two at a time as she dashed up the stairs in pursuit of Buffy.