To Hell and Back: Chapter Eleven

Buffy awoke slowly, her eyelids fluttering open heavily as she squinted against the light. It took her a moment to realize the light was coming from an antique lamp in the corner, and it took her even longer to realize she was tied up, tightly. She tested the strength of her bonds and found, to her immense worry, that they were unbreakable, at least with her strength.

"Oh, the little Slayer is awake," Drusilla said coolly, lifting Buffy's head up so it was level with her own. "I was so pleasantly surprised when I saw you!" she continued. "What an unexpected gift!"

"Bite me," Buffy answered bitterly, closing her eyes against the light.

"No!" Drusilla growled. "No, that comes later. You have to pay. For what you did, you have to pay. You upset our happy home! Now I'm all alone. Poor princess, so alone." For a moment her expression was sad, but then it brightened. "Then you came!"

"Spike left you, huh?" Buffy asked, smiling slightly at the thought as she looked up at the insane vampire.

"No," Drusilla answered, walking around in a slow circle. "I couldn't stay with him any more." As she looked up at Buffy her expression seemed again sad, lonely, and somewhat lost. But immediately the look disappeared, just as quickly as it had come. "He took away my Angel," she continued, anger causing her eyes to narrow dangerously. "He left him all alone. Then you killed him. Now he's back, but he's still gone."

"Right," Buffy said, rolling her eyes slightly. "So I have to pay?"

Drusilla clapped her hands in front of her in delight. "Yes!" she exclaimed, sounding thrilled that Buffy was catching on to her plans. "Exactly!"

"Great," Buffy murmured, annoyed. "I leave town, try to get a break from this crap, and you show up." She sighed heavily.

"And I don't know what you did to Spike," Drusilla continued, seeming unaware that Buffy had spoken. "He wasn't himself. He and my Angel used to be the best of friends. Just us three, one happy little family. You did something to make him betray us, you were a naughty girl. I need to know what you did. I need to know, so I can make it better. And I need to know how my Angel lost his soul, so I can take it."

"Oh," Buffy said flatly. "So it's not just a revenge thing, it's a torture info out of me thing, too. Always good to be well-rounded."

"I forgot how fun it was," Drusilla said, sounding as though she agreed with Buffy. "But your watcher helped me to remember. I only got to have a little fun with him, but I remember how we used to play. Spike and I had fun, too," her voice grew quiet, almost thoughtful. "When my Angel went away, we tried to bring him back. But then the Gypsies got mad, so we had to go before we'd get in trouble. Still, my Angel taught me a lot of things. And I never, ever get to use them."

"Well," Buffy replied, nodding whole-heartedly, "I mean, if you get to practice your technique on me and all, I can hardly protest."

Drusilla gave her a half smile and moved towards Buffy slightly. "When would you like to begin?" she asked, sounding entirely serious.

"Never an option?"

"No," Drusilla answered, disappointment tingeing her voice. "No never. We have to start sometime. I have to make things better. Like they were before. So you have to suffer. Your pain will make mine go away."

Buffy groaned . "Not very original," she murmured.

"What do you mean?" Drusilla demanded.

"Well, think about it," Buffy said, looking up at Dru and trying to look as casual as one possibly could when they were tied to a wall, "I mean, this will make the third torture since you guys were around. First there was you to Angel, then you and Angel to Giles, now it's you to me. Can you say repetitive?"

Drusilla growled and moved closer to the Slayer. "For that we must start early," she hissed in anger, trailing a blood red fingernail down Buffy's cheek.

Buffy bit her lip as the vampire twirled angrily and stormed out of the room. Her technique had, quite obviously, not had the desired effect. With a soft sigh of frustration, tinged with more than a little fear, Buffy worked desperately against the ropes that bound her, trying to at least loosen them. They remained firmly attached, however, and she knew even as she struggled that she didn't have a chance of getting out of here. And no one had even the slightest idea where to look to find her. She really was all alone, Buffy realized. And no one was going to be coming to save her this time.

*****

Angel was, once again, fighting a losing battle when it came to the images filling his mind. But after a moment, when he stopped fighting them and instead looked at them, he quickly pulled over to the side of the road. He completely ignored Giles, who was at this point insisting he be the one to drive, and Angel could give directions. Instead his attention remained firmly focused on what his mind was trying to show him, images of Drusilla, pacing, smiling, laughing, . . . toying with her prey. And there was only one person her prey could possibly be. "We have to find her," Angel said quietly, his voice subdued. "Now."

Giles stopped speaking and stared at Angel, startled by the vehemence in his tone. "What's changed?" he asked, immediately concerned.

"Drusilla has her," Angel informed him. "And if we don't get there soon, she'll be killed."

Giles bit his lip, not quite wanting to say it, even though it absolutely had to be said. "It's . . . " he trailed off, took a deep breath, and started over, "It's six in the morning."

"Damn it!" Angel shouted angrily, banging his hand against the steering wheel as he opened the door in the same motion. Whatever emotional problems he was having, anger definitely didn't apply to the same rules guilt did; the emotion was not in the least bit subdued. Instead it seemed all the more overwhelming considering its strength in comparison to the other emotions which lacked any power at all.

"Where are you going?" Giles asked.

Angel rolled his eyes slightly. "Underground," he said, tightly, in an attempt to keep some of his temper under control. He tossed the keys to Giles. "We meet back here as soon as the sun sets," he added, before stalking off down the street and around the corner. Giles watched him go somewhat worriedly, his thoughts on Buffy, and exactly what images Angel was seeing that had him so on edge. With a soft sigh the Watcher stepped into the car, knowing that there was nothing he could do about it until the sun set and Angel could once again track the Slayer down.

*****

Willow quietly stood vigil over Xander's bedside, staring down at him and closing her eyes for a moment. It was so eerily similar to when she, herself, had been in the hospital, and it had instead been Xander watching over her. "You talked to me," she said softly, her voice little above a whisper. "You talked to me before, when it was me lying here, you wondering if I'd make it. And . . . and even though we know you'll make it, it's still . . . " She sighed, looking down towards the ground for a moment. "I thought these feelings were gone," she continued after a long pause. "I . . . I thought I'd moved past this." Her eyes filled with tears, and she sat down in a chair the hospital had provided. "Damn it, Xander, this isn't how it's supposed to work! I'm happy now . . . I love Oz, I love him with all my heart, with everything that I am, I love him. I've never even told him, but it's true. I love him. But God, the thought of losing you . . . " A single tear left her eye and fell down her cheek to drop upon Xander's bandaged chest.

"It doesn't matter," she continued after a moment. "You can't hear me, and it's a lot better that way, too. You're going to make it, and I have Oz, and you have Cordy . . . who really isn't as bad as I thought she was, so it all works out well." The hacker sighed heavily and stood from her chair, looking down at Xander one last time. "So why doesn't that make me feel better?" she wondered, softly shaking her head. With one last sigh she turned around and left, knowing that it should be Cordelia with him when he awoke.

*****

Buffy was unable to keep the cold grip of fear from clenching around her heart as Drusilla returned, and she hated herself because of it. Emotions were weaknesses. It had been her motto in the past few weeks, and right now would be the absolute best time for her to truly start living by it. She hated herself when the thought crossed her mind of whether or not to tell Drusilla, especially considering she really had nothing to tell her. She'd done nothing to Spike, and Drusilla would never be able to cause Angel to lose his soul; she knew the insane vampire would never be able to make him happy. And she hated herself even more when she was disappointed by that, knowing that there was nothing she could say that would prevent the pain coming in her very near future.

Drusilla smiled, a slightly feral, slightly affectionate smile as she walked towards Buffy, once again. "Angel is so much better at this," she pouted, looking up at Buffy with slightly watery eyes. "He'd make you pour the secrets out like blood."

Despite the fact that Buffy had considered if there was anything she could say to stop Drusilla, she honestly didn't think she'd actually tell her anything, and she said so. Drusilla, obviously, didn't appreciate the comment, and slapped Buffy across the face. "That's not playing fair," she hissed darkly.

"Well, gee, tying me up to torture me is just so much more fair," Buffy quipped, raising an eyebrow and smirking at the vampire, determined to at least torment her verbally, especially since she had no other options.

"Maybe not fair," Drusilla conceded, "but it's fun. Don't you agree?" Her question actually seemed earnest, and Buffy blinked in surprise.

"Not really," she answered.

"Hmm," Dru murmured. "Well, you will soon enough."

*****

Angel was not at all close to sleeping. He'd chosen to avoid the sewers, instead content when he found a small warehouse that let very little light in. It wasn't exactly as safe as the sewer systems, but it made access to the car, which was only three blocks away, much easier. At least, when the sun set anyway. To pass the time he'd been pacing, back and forth, going just inches away from where the sun filtered in through the shut door.

Every once and a while he would, somewhat tentatively, allow himself to explore the bond which had always been in the back of his mind. Whenever he did, however, the images all flowed together and made little sense, probably because the bond was the very last thing on Buffy's mind.

Angel suddenly whirled and kicked the wall, hard. Then, having used what little strength he had left to do so, sank down against the wall, leaning his head back. For a moment he remained seated there, waiting for some strength to return, then he leapt back to his feet and began pacing once again. The pacing helped greatly, giving him something else to focus on besides the knowledge that Buffy was being held prisoner by Drusilla.

Abruptly the images left their position in the back of his mind and returned to the fore-front, in crystal clear clarity. She was being hurt, badly. He could see it so clearly; he could see her whimper softly, trying to be brave, trying not to scream or show she was in any pain at all. It was way too much for him to handle, and without thinking about the consequences of his actions he focused all of himself, everything he was, on the images flashing through his mind. They changed, rapidly, becoming more and more clear, more and more life-like with each passing second.

For a moment he hesitated, slightly worried about just what would happen when the bond reached it's maximum capacity. But Buffy was being hurt, and he was going to stop it, no matter what it took. The images became more and more clear, until he was actually there, inside Buffy's mind, seeing with her eyes, feeling through her body. It was more than just leaving one's self, it went far past that; he was solid, he, in a sense, truly was Buffy. She was there, in her mind and his, but so very weak . . . he could only hope desperately that he wasn't causing her any more mental anguish. He knew, somehow, that he had the mental power to stop her pain, to take it into himself so she didn't hurt, and he was incapable of simply watching her agony.

And hurt it did, badly. He could feel Buffy there, a part of him, and him a part of her, so completely combined, so totally connected, until it became less and less like him and Buffy and more and more like one mind, one body, one heart, and one soul. Vaguely, Angel recalled Giles' warning about the dangers of this happening, the memory causing him to realize that he had to withdraw from Buffy's mind; now. A sense of urgency, probably a mental defense in them both, caused him to do just that. He slowly pulled away, trying to bring the pain with him so she didn't have to feel it.

Returning was something of a shock, it had happened so quickly. All of it had taken the space of maybe a minute, probably less, yet it had felt like an eternity, at the very least. The pain was still there, stronger now; his own. He had succeeded, he had rescued her from the pain Drusilla would have caused her. That, in itself, was enough, at least for now. Despite his pacing and vow to remain awake until the sun set, mental exhaustion from the journey he'd just undertaken caused the vampire's eyes to shut; and as he drifted off to sleep against his will he wondered how Buffy had reacted to what he'd just done.

*****

Willow knocked on the door to Xander's room quietly, not allowed to intrude, since only one visitor was allowed. A moment later the door opened, and Cordelia stepped out, her eyes watery. "Any news?" she asked of Willow, trying to hide the fact that she'd been close to tears.

"They said that he's still on pain killers, stuff like that, so he probably won't wake up for awhile," Willow explained. "He's definitely out of danger, though, as far as they can tell." She was silent for a moment, then finally asked, "How is he?"

Cordelia's eyes filled with even more tears, and she looked away. "He looks so weak," she whispered quietly. "So vulnerable . . . " she trailed off, tossed her hair behind her shoulder, and as inconspicuously as possible wiped at her eyes. "I can't believe I missed my make up test for this," she continued, but her voice was wavering more than slightly, and she was incapable of doing her normal routine of non-concern. Instead she sat down and swallowed tightly. "I hate this," she said softly.

"Me too," Willow agreed. "Go back in," she added. "Oz is waiting for me, I just wanted to fill you in, see how you were."