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Part
2: Blood & Rhetoric
Section
2.5: Reinforcement NOTES: All
sections of Part 2 take place immediately before Normal
Again.
All song lyrics in Part 2 are from "Psycho
Killer," Talking Heads, 1977.
Ce
que j'ai fais, ce soir la
Ce qu'elle a dit, ce soir la
Realisant mon espoir
Je me lance, vers la gloire ... OK
We are vain and we are blind
I hate people when they're not polite…
Warren licks his lips and leans forward, pleased by Spike's interest in his little
project.
"Just a little tweaking. Fine tuning, you know? Like – and you'll
be pretty happy about this, I'll bet – you
can kill people again."
Spike looks at him warily. Knows better than to speak.
"Well… some people. I mean…" he barks out a laugh, "Not me, obviously.
Actually, you're tuned into me now. It's pretty cool. Your chip picks up a signal…" Warren
indicates the monitoring device on his wrist. The vamp looks at it, confused.
Probably thought it was a watch. Probably never even saw Tank Girl. "Stuff
like my heartbeat, brain waves, et cetera. Anything happens to me; disrupts the
signal… basically, if any harm comes to me, you’ll get a dose of interference.
Not quite a shock. Nothing incapacitating, in case I’m being attacked and
I need you to back me up. But you’ll definitely be inclined to protect me.
The interference should be painful enough. I imagine it would feel sorta like
nails down a chalkboard. You know that feeling? Man I hate that. It’ll be
like that but way worse – probably kinda like how it felt when I uploaded
the program. You didn’t
seem to like it all that much, by the looks of it.”
The vampire blinks, hands clenching momentarily into fists. Aside from that,
there’s no reaction. “I think you’ll eventually agree that my
health and safety should be your top priority. “
Spike looks skeptical. It’s obvious that for now, the vamp’s number
one priority is still getting the blood. Warren is confident that he’ll
learn otherwise.
“Most importantly, if I die, that chip's gonna fire so hard and so long,
it'll blow your mind. And I mean it. You'll be, like… a vampire vegetable.
Accompanied by an extended period of extreme pain. Now, I am kinda curious… with
your vamp healing powers, how long would it take you to heal from severe brain
damage? Or would you just kinda be stuck like that for eternity? Man, that would
suck, huh? Nothing going on up there except pain, 'cause, of course the chip
would still be firing…"
Oh, good. Spike does look a bit uncomfortable at this. He's trying not to show
it, but he's definitely not quite as mesmerized by the blood as he was.
"It would really suck if you just happened to wander too far out of range
and lost the signal. Or if you just pissed me off and I set the chip off manually." He
indicates the trigger button on the monitoring device.
God this feels good. He hadn't thought it was possible for the vampire to look
any more pale. If he hasn't already figured out who's in charge here, he's getting
it now. Warren winks at him.
"Hey, wouldn't it be funny if I just accidentally bumped the button some
time?"
Spike just glares at him. The guy has no sense of humor at all. Fine. Time to
get serious, anyway. It’s taken too long to get to this point but now he
thinks the vamp is finally ready for the real deal. Not quite mentally broken
but close enough. And presumably healthy enough to withstand a beta test.
"Okay, here's the deal, Sparky. You're gonna do as you're told. When you're
told. No questions asked. You kill who I want you to kill and your chip won't
fire. Kill someone I don't want you to kill and it fires. Do anything I don't
want you to do and the chip fires. Do something stupid like running away or trying
to stake yourself and the chip fires. Protect me from harm and your brain won't
explode. That's simple enough, right?"
He arches an eyebrow, waiting for a response. He's already gotten used to the
look of utter hatred the vampire is currently directing at him. A whole lot of
good it does him. And he's not responding. What an idiot. Warren narrows his
eyes. "Answer me, vampire."
"You're bluffing."
Spike is a terrible liar. He'd figured that out shortly after they'd captured
him. The vampire believes him all right. He's already bracing himself for the
shock he knows will come. Warren's enjoying the game too much to give him what
he expects. He cocks his head toward the bag of blood and looks sideways back
at the prisoner. Making sure he has Spike's full attention, he plunges the chopstick
through the plastic. A staking in effigy. The vampire whimpers, unable to stop
himself. Blood spurts at the impact and then seeps out steadily from the perforation.
A puddle starts to form on the floor, so Warren scoots to the side a bit. Mom
just bought him these pants and she’ll be totally pissed if he ruins them.
He drops the chopstick.
"Don't try to manipulate me, Spike. You're not the one in charge here. I
don't have to prove anything to you."
The vampire watches helplessly as the blood seeps from the bag onto the concrete.
Warren polishes off the rest of his noodles and stands up. He licks off the fork
and tosses it onto the work bench. Steps up to the edge of the barrier. Looks
down at the prisoner. Time to test this baby out.
"Okay. Get up," he commands. The vampire ignores him, completely lost
in the spreading puddle of blood.
A second later, the chip fires and Spike cries out, clutching at his head, pulling
his legs up to his body. Warren sneers. A minor command. It's just a jolt. The
same sort of jolt the chip was originally programmed to give. Not like he had
disobeyed one of the more serious commands. Warren had cranked up the punishment
levels for the big stuff.
"Get up," he says again. Spike just squeezes his eyes shut and
wraps his arms around himself. The chip fires again. He's prepared this time
so he doesn't scream. Just gasps and tenses up. Curls himself into a tighter
ball.
"Wow, you really are stupid." Warren shakes his head. "Get up… NOW!" A "now" command
is serious. This should be interesting. He isn't sure what kind of effect the
bigger jolts will have. This is his first attempt with a non-robot. He hopes
he doesn't kill off his prototype before he can have any fun –
Okay, definite screaming. The vampire drops onto his side, convulsing and pawing
frantically at his skull. It doesn't last long. Just a second or two. But the
point has been made. Spike lies gasping on the floor, an anemic little trickle
of blood coming from his nose. Pretty cool.
"Do I have to ask you again?" Warren inquires.
Scrambling weakly, Spike pulls himself to his knees. He stays that way for a
moment, swaying, hanging his head.
"C’mon, get up!" Warren practically shouts this time.
Bracing a hand against the wall, Spike complies, rising unsteadily to his feet.
He keeps his hand on the wall for balance. He is still gasping, staring at his
boots.
"Look at me," Warren commands, feeling quite satisfied with the results.
Spike turns his head and glares. He's shivering.
"Believe me now?" Warren chuckles excitedly. Holy crap, it’s working!
This is way more entertaining than a robot. Of course, it would be a whole lot
better if Spike also happened to be a really hot chick. Would open up all kinds
of other possibilities. Oh well. Soon enough.
The vampire wipes his free hand at the sluggish rivulet of blood from his nose.
He looks hopelessly at the smear of red on his palm for a moment before licking
it off.
“Well, I’m sure Spike’s better off wherever he is,” Buffy
continues, returning at last to her mocha. Taking a tentative sip. “ Not
so much with the drama. No more him stalking me. No more me using him. And that’s… y’know… that’s
a good.”
“Yeah,” Tara agrees. “It’s good. He’s moving on with
his life… or… unlife… or whatever. It’s
healthy.”
“Yeah…” Buffy’s stares into her cup. “Moving on… healthy…”
Tara watches her. She seems to be doing better. When she had come to her for
help in finding out what happened with the resurrection spell, Tara had been
worried. What if something had gone wrong? The concern had always been
there at the back of her mind, but Willow had been so certain that it would work.
The spell was so complicated, Tara had had a difficult time poring over it for
clues as to what could have happened. She’s still not absolutely sure she
fully understood it all. Not that she would say so to Buffy. It would only make
things worse.
“Buffy?”
Buffy loses her staring contest with the mocha. “Oh – sorry. Just… kind
of a space cadet today.”
Tara smiles. Today? “That’s okay. Sometimes the swirls on the
top – kinda pretty.”
“Yeah.” Buffy looks over at the clock on the wall above the Please
Bus Your Own Table sign. “Hey, I should go. I’m nerd-tracking tonight.
Gonna check out some rental houses Willow looked up on the net for me. See if
they’re holed up in any of ‘em.”
“Oh, hey, good luck. Maybe I’ll stop by soon… see how you all
are doing?”
Buffy smiles at her friend and stands up to go. “That’d be great.” |
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