Chapter
6.12
Wednesday, May 15th, 2002
Willow clung on with her arms wrapped tighter
around Spike's waist than Buffy's had ever been, but then Buffy
had never been terrified out of her wits by Spike's driving, or
at least not since she realised that despite appearances the vampire
was almost always in perfect control. Tonight, however, was an
exception to the rule.
When they had followed along the roads and the
train had been obliged to limit its speed because it was passing
through various built up areas, they had gained ground. When the
train was stationary, even though their vehicles were less efficient
on the track, they still gained ground. Now that Spike had a vision
of the train effortlessly outdistancing him as the bike struggled
on the gravel surface, he just pulled the throttle right back
and said "damn the consequences".
Willow, she just held on tight, both to Spike
and the orbs at his waist, and kept watch for the end of the second
tunnel. That would be her cue to release the barrier spell behind
them, forcing Riley and his team to double back the maximum possible
distance to catch up with them. That wasn't to say that Willow
entirely agreed with Buffy's assessment of the Riley situation.
The soldier had looked pretty distraught at the
sight of the slayer's younger sister. Willow had an idea that,
even if he'd been in the process of convincing himself that everything
up to that point had been a huge misunderstanding, that the spectacle
of the bratty teenager he had once known, reduced to little more
than a battered, bleeding husk was something he couldn't reason
away. The thing was, say by the time he and his people arrived
on scene, Sam was in a similar or worse condition, then any sympathy
he might have had for their cause would probably dissipate fairly
rapidly.
All of which brought her to another question.
Spike tapped her on the arm, a pre-arranged signal
that he could see the end of the tunnel. Willow released her spell,
praying that she was doing the right thing when she used just
enough power to make it last for about five minutes. With luck,
that would give Angel and his crew, along with the blond vampire,
as much of a head-start as they needed, without giving them long
enough to beat Sam to a bloody pulp.
"Spike?" she communicated telepathically
with the vampire.
"What, Red?"
"When you catch up with this train full
of humans, what exactly are you going to do?"
"Exactly what Buffy asked me to."
"Which is what?"
"Find out what she did to Dawn and then
beat the crap out of her some more. Maybe use her as a comparative
test to see if she's lying."
"But wouldn't the chip...?"
"Chip's history, Red. Dru wasn't looking
for a pet. She was looking for the old Spike back."
"Oh... Ohhh. And Buffy knew?"
"Buffy knew. Up till she saw what they'd
done to Bit, she figured to keep it a secret. I guess what they
did to Niblet has her past caring."
"I guess she really does trust you."
"Yeah. Surprisingly enough, she really
does."
Buffy looked at the sweat-covered face that she
cradled in her lap. Like her mother, but not; like her, but not;
her father's eyes like those of a dead man beneath her taped-down
lids. Features from all her family were recognisable in the unique
and miraculous being that she was so afraid of losing. This free
spirit who could make her so proud one day and so exasperated
the next, much like the latest addition to her inner circle who
had been right about the pain she would feel if she lost her.
Guilt filled her again as she saw the events
leading up to her mother's death repeating themselves. She had
gone off to college and as soon as she had settled in, she had
stopped coming home, neglecting her mother and Dawn. Then, her
mom had got sick and she'd tried to make up for it, but how do
you say sorry for the long-term neglect of people so important
to you, or more accurately people to whom you were so important.
And then she'd come back to life, and she'd pretty much ignored
Dawn all over again, and now Dawn was going to die and it was
her fault for bringing Riley and the Initiative into their lives.
Buffy's petite hands wiped away the stringy strands
of hair from her sister's face. Just over a week from now she
should be the belle of the ball at her first big formal and instead
it was as if the life had drained right out of her.
"Dawnie, I am so sorry. I never meant for
anything to hurt you. I wish I'd never met Riley Finn, never dated
him, never brought him back to Revello; anything that would mean
that you'd be well and here with me now." Tears dropped from
Buffy's eyes, normally hazel, but transformed by the sheen of
tears to a rich, emerald hue. The droplets fell on her sister's
cheek. Buffy smoothed them away from the soft cheek using the
ball of her thumb, and was rewarded when her sister's eyelids
fluttered for the first time since they had found her.
"Mommy?"
"No, Dawnie. It's Buffy."
Buffy removed the tape that had held the girl's
eyelids closed in an effort to prevent her eyes drying out.
"Ouch. Well, if I didn't know before now
it was you, yanking out my eyelashes would be the clincher."
"Dawnie, are you okay?"
"Well, I can't say tonight was my best night
ever.
Sam killed Brandon. Just Bang. Shot him without
a second thought. And I was such a bitch. I was blaming him for
whatever was in the drinks. and he was just trying to protect
me and now he's dead."
"Dawn, Brandon's not dead."
"But she said so. She said five minutes
and every vampire in a half-mile radius would be drawn by the
smell of blood."
"Well, I guess his dad turned up in four,
then. His dad got him to the hospital, and Willow did some major
healing mojo to get rid of the bullet wound. I think there was
a phone in his room. Want me to try—"
"Buffy, where are we?" Dawn's eyes
fixed on the back of the vehicle's driver. The man wore civilian
clothes, but the close cropped hair was almost as good as a uniform.
She looked around the vehicle and then back at her sister, pushing
herself away from her. "He's one of them. This is their truck.
You're not Buffy. You might look like Buffy, but you can't be
Buffy." The youngster began to fumble with the handle on
the door and Buffy had to grab at her to stop her throwing herself
from the vehicle.
"Get away! Get away! Get away!" Dawn's
struggles in her weakened state weren't even enough to bruise
Buffy with her strongest kicks, but her high-pitched screams were
still almost enough to rupture eardrums.
"Pull over," Buffy commanded the driver,
thinking that perhaps it might be better if Dawn could talk to
Wesley as well, maybe even ride with him if that made her more
at ease. Maybe if she could see that she could get out of the
vehicle if she wanted when it was stationary it would calm her.
Dawn's thrashing suddenly stilled, even as the
truck pulled over at the wayside and Buffy found herself looking
once more into those sightless, blue eyes.
Willow got even more worried about Spike's driving
when he began to cross the rails, following a set of tyre tracks
that led off into a siding.
"How can you be sure we're going the
right way?"
"I'm not. It's an informed guess. The
tyre tracks started right where the Angelmobile was parked and
they hadn't managed to stop the train, so my guess is they're
following it. So, if the tracks go over into a siding, I'm betting
that the train is in the siding, too."
Much to Willow's concern, Spike pulled his cell
phone out of his pocket and began to speak to whoever had called
him, not reducing the bike's speed one iota even though he was
now only using one hand to steer the machine.
"Okay, love. It's more information than
we did have. I guess it'll help narrow things down. And if she
can come out of it once, she can do it again. The kid's a fighter.
Gotta go, love. I think we just reached the end of the trail.
Take care."
Spike dropped the phone back into his pocket
and returned both hands to the handlebars just in time to swerve
the bike around the old truck and the girl standing next to it
with a pistol pointed at what seemed to be an Initiative guard.
Lorne crouched next to Gunn and Connor on the
roof of the train car, all three swaying slightly as the train
pulled off the main track. "Since when did I start doing
all the action stuff? Do I look like I'm dressed to join up for
Mission Impossible? The dry cleaning on this is going to be a
bitch."
Gunn scanned the green demon's bright red suit
and electric blue shirt. "In that get up, you look more like
you're Superman's really ugly ass cousin, who pimps in his spare
time. Besides, you've done the hard bit. All we need to do is
find a way to get off this roof and into the train before we get
decapitated by a power line or something on our way to Union Station."
"Thank you, Mr Sunshine. Can I just say
I liked it so much better when Junior needed a babysitter."
Connor began to make his way along the roof in
a crouching run. All the ventilation hatches on the train were
too narrow to use as a means of entry and the carriages' flexible
couplings joined seamlessly together. There was only one visible
way in.
Lorne watched in disbelief as Connor was silhouetted
against the brightening sky. He seemed to do some sort of handstand,
gripping the open doorframe with his fingertips, then as he balanced
head down he seemed to twist, crossing his arms over so that when
he let himself swing down through the doorway, he was facing into
the carriage.
"You know that decapitation deal?"
the demon asked as he turned toward Gunn. "Starting to look
like the preferred option."
"I don't think it's going to be a problem."
"Why's that?"
"Because we seem to be stopping." The
other man answered as he tried to grip the ridged rubber of the
section between the two carriages.
Sam backed away from the vampire, seeming to
stumble over something as she kept her gaze fixed on the figure
before her. Angel didn't rush. There was really no where for her
to go. She scuttled backwards like a frightened crab.
"Now, really, you might want to try to keep
just a little dignity here," Angel chided.
Sam backed away even further and faster, seeming
to think that the well beneath her stainless steel desk
would offer her some measure of protection. However, that
wasn't her real plan. Instead she hit the panic button located
in the desk well. Three sets of shutters came down dividing
the train car into four. The last set came down between
the two adversaries. The shutters were of the type that
had once adorned many shop fronts, made of long horizontal
rods, joined by shorter vertical ones in a brickwork type
pattern. They were designed to isolate the various areas
without preventing the use of firearms. Almost immediately,
the train began to slow to stop.
Sam picked up a tissue from a box on one of the
benches. She wiped the blood from her nose and then with an audible
snap she pushed it back into place. "Okay, Angel. It is Angel,
isn't it? I'm guessing, but tortured expression, or is it constipated?
Billowing coat? Seems to fit. You've got maybe ten seconds before
the rest of my men get in here with rifles blazing. Still think
I'm going to tell you what you want? Or do you think maybe you'll
be next on the operating table?"
"I think you're the one with the misconceptions,"
came the voice from the far end of the car, as Connor took a stance
covering the far door with the pistol he drew from where it had
been taped at the small of his back. "Like the one where
you think he would come alone."
"He's got a point," Angel said, managing
to sound almost regretful as he pulled a similar pistol from his
own pocket.
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