Bad Bargain

by Diana G. Gallagher

  “There was a whole bloody colony hanging about until this wanker popped in.” Spike crouched slightly, scanning the ceiling. “Vicious creatures with a nasty bite.”

  Sensing his dread, Buffy dug in with a cutting remark. “Vampires, bats. What’s the dif?”

  Before Spike could respond, the short demon scrambled upright and snarled. Its alert eyes shifted back and forth between them before it suddenly broke for the stairs.

  “Stop!” A voice called out from the access doorway above.

  Buffy spun at the sound of Giles’s voice.

  The Watcher started down the stairs as the demon ran up, but he averted a head-on collision with a word: “Pragoh!”

  The demon stopped and backed down, growling softly.

  Buffy stared, noting that Spike seemed as astounded by the mild librarian’s brazenness and the demon’s cowed reaction as she was.

  “Thank the gods I’m not too late. Ms. Calendar said you’d taken off, and I was afraid”—Giles paused, surprised to see Spike—“you’d kill our only salvation before I arrived.”

  “Spike?” Buffy asked, confused.

  “I daresay not.” Giles motioned toward the other demon. “I meant Pragoh.”

  Buffy watched the pug-nosed demon from the corner of her eye. It sniffed, as though it could discern intent by the odors they gave off. It remained tense and wary. Apparently it still felt threatened.

  “Stupid girl would have killed it if I hadn’t pulled her off,” Spike said.

  “Okay, Spike,” Buffy fumed. “Let’s just finish this now and get it over with.”

  “Without the element of surprise?” Spike eyed her with disdain. “Where’s the sport in that?”

  “A truce would be in order, actually,” Giles said. “As distasteful as I find it, we’ll all have to cooperate to prevent a disaster everyone inside and outside the Hellmouth will regret.”

  “Seriously?” Buffy wasn’t sure she had heard him correctly. “You want me to work with Spike and Play-Doh?”

  “It’s Pragoh, and I’m deadly serious.”

  Buffy wasn’t happy about teaming up with the enemy, but she trusted Giles. Despite the almost fatal fiasco with the Master, she owed him. Stuffy and old-school, he didn’t always understand or agree with what she did or what she wanted, but he tried to see her side. He knew—beyond doubt—that she wasn’t selfish and irresponsible. That didn’t negate the sting of her mom’s misconceptions, but it helped.

  Giles eyed the vampire narrowly. “What are you doing here, Spike?”

  “Just checking out the rummage sale.”

  “We can do without the insolent sarcasm,” Giles snapped.

  “It’s the truth!” Spike bristled at the insinuation he was lying.

  “The survival of the entire planet may be at stake,” Giles added. “If you know anything relevant—”

  “We were shopping!” Spike insisted hotly.

  “Is survival of the planet worse than the typical saving-the-world scenario?” Buffy asked. “Because it sounds worse.”

  “Actually it could be.” Giles turned to Pragoh. “My hypothesis is based on certain assumptions. Please correct me if I’m wrong.”

  “Yesssss,” Pragoh agreed in a gravelly voice.

  Spike rolled his eyes. “Just get on with it, will you? Some of us have other things to do.”

  Buffy bit back a scathing taunt about secondhand style, ending the verbal joust. Giles did not make jokes about the end of everything, and he needed her undivided attention.

  “As I explained earlier,” Giles began, “the Hell-mouth has a pyramidal structure of lower to higher beings. However, the higher-level demons cannot break through the barrier and escape without assistance, such as the Master provided.”

  “That’s why I’m here,” Spike said, needling the librarian. “In Sunnydale. Because the big bloke bought it.”

  “Irrelevant, Spike.” Giles waved him off like a pesky child. “These dominant demons empowered a lower-level demon—”

  Pragoh snarled.

  “My apologies, Pragoh.” Giles cleared his throat. “They empowered Pragoh to have dominion over all the lesser entities in the Hellmouth. He is charged with ensuring that they don’t infest our world, which would bring an end to all life as we know it.”

  “Impossible,” Spike scoffed.

  “It’s entirely possible, I assure you,” Giles said.

  “How?” Buffy asked, perplexed. “Ms. Calendar said that the disease bugs don’t infect more than one person at a time. They wait until that person dies before they look for someone else.”

  “A fortunate, but temporary reprieve, I’m sorry to say.” Giles wiped his glasses with his handkerchief. “Without natural enemies in this world to control them, the Hellmouth organisms will undergo explosive growth. The same natural mechanisms affect Earth life. If certain animals didn’t feed on insects, bugs would overrun the Earth, wiping out everything else.”

  “Oh.” Buffy nodded. “I think we studied that in biology last year.”

  “And if Hellmouth flora and fauna are allowed to multiply without restriction,” Giles concluded, “they’ll require more and more victims exponentially, until all Earth life is extinct.”

  “Yesssss,” Pragoh agreed.

  “And Pragoh is here to do what?” Buffy asked. The idea that the smallest entities in either reality could finish off everything was very unsettling.

  “He’s here to lure the vermin back through the barrier,” Giles explained. “Most of those who’ve been taken ill will be cured after the beasts abandon them.”

  “Most but not all?” Buffy frowned, her thoughts on her mother and Willow. “What things won’t be cured?”

  Spike took a sudden interest. “I’d rather like to know the answer to that myself.”

  “Quite honestly, I haven’t the foggiest.” Giles stuffed his handkerchief back in his jacket pocket. “We’ll, uh, have to wait and see. The important thing is that Pragoh’s superiors want to preserve the natural balance in our world—”

  “Why?” Buffy asked. “Evil things don’t do good things unless they’re going to get something out of it.”

  “Good point, Slayer.” Spike scowled. “The big bad beasties must be planning a bash.”

  “The old ones will kill all things here.” Pragoh made a throaty noise that might have been a laugh. “Someday.”

  `Buffy wasn’t amused. “Someday when?”

  “At an undisclosed time in the future,” Giles said. “Give or take a few years or millennia.”

  “Is that written down?” Buffy asked. The monstrous scope of the Hellmouth bigwigs’ ulterior motive was chilling. However, a plan to end all life on Earth wasn’t guaranteed to succeed unless some ancient killjoy had left a note.

  “Not specifically, that I’m aware of, but it doesn’t matter at the moment.” Giles looked at Buffy. “What matters is that Pragoh alone has the necessary abilities to round up the escaped vermin and send them back into the Hellmouth. That’s the only way the afflictions will be cured.”

  “Starting with Dru.” Spike took a stride toward Pragoh. “C’mon, you.”

  “Not so fast.” Buffy blocked his advance. “I may have to work with Pragoh, but our salvation won’t be at risk if I kill you.”

  “I wouldn’t be too quick to test that theory, Slayer,” Spike said. “The part about your health and welfare not being at risk.”

  “Why would I need you?” Buffy smiled, refusing to be baited by his mocking tone.

  Spike was matter-of-fact. “You need me to save you from—”

  Buffy’s cocky attitude crumbled when the storeroom door slammed open.

  The grotesque beast standing in the doorway looked like a bat-vampire hybrid experiment gone terribly wrong. Dark hair fell in long, matted tangles around large, pointed ears. A sloping skull had replaced the heavy brow, and a flat, puckered nose capped a short snout. Tatters of a white dress hung from narrow shoulders. The seams had been ripped apart as membr
anous wings grew outward from the down-covered body, legs, and arms. The velvet edge of the wings stretched from wrist to ankle, and venom dripped from viscous fangs.

  “Is that—” Giles stumbled backward when the deformed demon lunged toward him.

  “Drusilla!” Spike shouted.

  Chapter Six

  And Cordelia thought she was having a bad day! The sight of Drusilla’s shocking transformation did not inhibit Buffy’s timing. Her reflexes were as quick and ruthless as her catty observation.

  Giles jumped back as Buffy raced forward and kicked, landing a foot squarely on the vamp-bat’s chest. Dru was thrown off stride, but only for a second. When she launched an immediate counterattack, Buffy ducked, struck out with her leg as she came back up, and repelled Dru’s charge.

  “Don’t kill her!” Spike tried to insert himself between Buffy and Dru, but the beast batted him aside.

  “It’s her or us, Spike!” Buffy planted her feet, poised for the vamp-bat’s next move. “She loses.”

  Giles flattened himself against the wall and took off his belt. He wrapped the leather end around his hand twice. If swung with enough force, the buckle end was an effective weapon.

  But not against the supersize bat out of hell, Buffy thought. As a hybrid, Drusilla was a lot stronger than a vampire and a lot smarter than a bat. She wasn’t sure how they were going to defeat her.

  “So where’s the Beastmaster gotten to, then?” Spike asked, brushing dust off his long coat. His eyes narrowed when he spotted Pragoh under the stairs. “Hey! No hiding. Get out here and cure her!”

  Pragoh shook his head. “She bites.”

  Spike stopped, then sidestepped, swinging his upper body low as he moved. Drusilla’s fangs grazed dead flesh without breaking the skin on the back of his neck. His brow furrowed as he took several quick steps over to Buffy. He was visibly shaken.

  “Too bad she missed.” Buffy smiled, but the brash vampire’s fear gave her pause.

  “Is it?” Spike’s surly tone had a serious edge. “If she’d bitten me, you’d have two monster bat people to fend off.”

  Drusilla raised her arms, gracefully unfolding her scalloped wings. The fingers on each hand had fused into a single curved claw at the midpoint on the membranes. She stared at Buffy with unblinking golden eyes. A menacing growl sounded deep in her throat.

  “Why doesn’t Pragoh do something?” Buffy hissed at Giles.

  “Technically, Drusilla isn’t a lesser Hellmouth creature,” Giles said. “Pragoh can’t control her.”

  “Then I’ll bloody well have to.” Spike threw up his hands as he moved by them and continued on past the stairs.

  “By running away?” Buffy huffed.

  “Teeth!” Giles yelled.

  Pivoting, Buffy fired off another kick to stop the vamp-bat’s forward surge. Dru snapped clear before the blow connected, then hooked Buffy’s ankle and pulled her off her feet. Rolling as she hit the floor, Buffy sprang back up in an unbroken fluid motion of Slayer agility. Enraged, Dru prepared to strike again.

  Buffy wondered how Angel would react to Drusilla’s hideous transformation. The torment of driving her crazy and killing her family before he changed her into a vampire was almost more than he could bear. At least he was locked out of the school by Giles’s quarantine spell. She missed having Angel by her side in a fight, but she was glad he wasn’t in danger of being bitten or infected.

  “Okay, Slayer. Just so we understand each other—”

  Buffy’s heart lurched, lagging Spike’s sudden return by what could have been a fatal second. She had been so fixed on Dru that she hadn’t heard him coming. She cocked her elbow, ready to deliver a swift and painful jab.

  “I’ll put bat-girl back in her cage and keep her there,” Spike said.

  “Right. You’ve done such a good job of controlling her so far,” Buffy interjected sarcastically.

  “In exchange for what, Spike?” Giles asked.

  “We don’t try to kill each other until hell’s zookeeper cures Dru and gets the bats back in their proper belfry.”

  “You won’t kill anyone,” Buffy countered. “Everyone in this school is off-limits.”

  “All right, for today.” Spike paused, then added, “And Dru and I get a free pass out of here when it’s done.”

  Buffy looked at him askance. “Why am I even thinking about trusting you?”

  “Make the deal, Buffy,” Giles advised, “before Drusilla bites you—or me.”

  “Okay. Deal.” Buffy had to agree. The risk of being turned into a bat-babe was too great not to give Spike the benefit of the doubt. He wouldn’t jeopardize his only hope of having Dru restored to her insane, savage self. And in the event he couldn’t confine her, Dru would turn them all into bats and the fighting odds would be even again.

  Buffy watched closely, intrigued as Spike took immediate command of the situation. He carried himself with the confidence of someone who was accustomed to giving orders and being obeyed. He showed no fear or doubt as he advanced, and his intimidating bearing cowed the animal essence that had supplanted the insipid but cunning Dru.

  “Fun’s over, love. Time to fold up your wings and take a nap in the nice comfy dark.” Spike motioned toward the open storeroom. When Dru snarled and rustled her wings to test his resolve, he whipped out a flashlight and trained the beam on her eyes. “In the storeroom, Dru. Now!”

  Buffy tensed as Dru pulled her wing over her eyes. The dramatic move was eerily reminiscent of Bela Lugosi’s Dracula in the 1931 movie, but the light had worked. She backed up.

  “Where’d he get the flashlight?” Buffy whispered to Giles.

  “The boiler room, I think.”

  He’s not a dimwit either, Buffy realized, cataloging Spike’s every move. She would just as soon kill both vampires now, but she had to honor her word. Eventually she would turn Spike to dust on the business end of her stake. It wouldn’t be easy, but she would kill him.

  “Enough with the lollygagging,” Spike said as he prodded Drusilla to the door with the light. As soon as she was inside the storeroom, he dropped the flashlight and pushed the door closed. The beast threw herself against the door from the other side, then hit it again. The heavy door bounced as Spike leaned in, trying to hold it closed. “Some help here, people!”

  “I’ll go,” Buffy told Giles. “You get Pragoh, and let’s get this circus back on the road.”

  “That cannot possibly happen quickly enough, as you Americans like to say.”

  “More or less,” Buffy said, moving toward the storeroom as Giles went to the stairs. When she added her weight to the door, Spike was able to hold it closed long enough to secure it. However, the door didn’t lock.

  “Won’t she just open the door from the inside?” Buffy asked, concerned.

  “She would if she still had her wits and her hands, her fingers and toes.” Spike shrugged. “But she doesn’t.”

  “As odd as this sounds, I hope we can remedy that.” Giles slipped his belt back on as he and the demon approached the door. “We’ve lost far too much time, Pragoh. Please, do whatever it is you do.”

  “First thing.” With a stiff bow, Pragoh turned to face the stairs. Holding up his plump arms, he closed his eyes and hummed. After a moment, he mumbled a few unintelligible words, then hummed again.

  “Can’t anyone do what they do without chanting?” Spike flinched each time Dru slammed into the door. “Damn cults and magick makers always with the incessant blathering.”

  “The cadence enhances the power of a ritual,” Giles explained. “Chanting concentrates—”

  Spike smashed the door with his fist. Giles stopped talking, and Dru stopped trying to break it down. “I just hope the ritual works.”

  Ditto that, Buffy thought.

  Giles watched Pragoh and checked his watch, his frown deepening as the minutes passed.

  “Bats now,” Pragoh said when he finished his litany.

  “What have you been doing?” Giles asked, still fr
owning.

  The demon didn’t acknowledge the question. He waddled part way down the corridor, where the bats had last been seen. Cupping the sides of his face with his hands, he closed his eyes again. This time he was silent.

  More minutes passed before Pragoh lowered his arms.

  “Is that it then?” Spike asked, placing his hand on the door handle.

  “Don’t open!” Pragoh waved his arms, his little eyes alight and frantic. “No bats come.”

  “Meaning?” Spike asked.

  “Power pfft!” Pragoh made a gesture of helplessness. “I call. No bats. No bats, no get better.”

  “The ill effects created by the vermin aren’t neutralized until the source animals are back inside the Hellmouth,” Giles explained.

  “No bats, no get better,” Buffy repeated. Not good, she thought. “Try calling that little orange lizard that drinks coffee—the one with the black scales on its back.”

  Pragoh stared at her then took a step back. “Did the fire dragon smoke you?”

  “Like blow smoke out of its nose?” Buffy shook her head. “No. Why? What happens if you get smoked?”

  “Fire start.” Pragoh poked the scales over his stomach. “Slow cook and all burn up inside. Pfft!”

  “Oh, now there’s a picture to savor.” Spike smiled.

  Buffy felt sick.

  Giles peered down at her. “Are you absolutely sure this fire creature didn’t . . . smoke you?”

  “In face?” Pragoh asked, patting his cheeks.

  “I’m sure,” Buffy said. “I can’t believe I felt sorry for it.”

  “Good thing not try to catch it,” Pragoh said, nodding sagely. “All over for you then.”

  “Yeah.” Buffy didn’t elaborate. Her merciful decision to catch rather than squash the orange lizard had almost gotten her incinerated from the inside out. However, she didn’t have time to dwell on calamities that wouldn’t happen. She had to stop the horrible things that were in the process of killing her mother and friends. “So can you call it?”

  “Can try.” Pragoh assumed the stance with his hands cupped to his face and held it for a minute.

  The fire dragon didn’t show.

  * * *

  Xander knew he was in trouble when he tried to take off the vest and the zipper wouldn’t unzip. He wasn’t putting on pounds. The vest was slowly strangling him.