ENDURE

transitive verb

1. to undergo (as a hardship) especially without giving in; suffer patiently; "it seemed impossible that anyone could endure such pain"

"Well that was just bloody brilliant," Spike snarled at Angelus as the older vampire limped into the alleyway and joined them in their flight from the burning factory that had been the two younger vampires' home for months. Giles had done a wonderful job of destroying their refuge. The trio would require a new one before the sun rose and the injured demon in his wheelchair was in no position to find it. Spike's frustration at being at the mercy of his failing body as well as the newest, slightly insane rendition of Angelus was more than he could stand. He barely contained the urge to scream.

"Shut up, Wheelchair Willie," Angel ordered as he wiped blood from his chin with the back of his hand. He flinched slightly as his fingertips then skated over the damage on his right cheek. Angelus could have cared less about the destruction of the factory. He was obsessed with crushing the Slayer and his recent gag gift in her Watcher's bed had been a piece of sadistic and artistic genius. The campaign to destroy her mind was in full swing and details like a lack of lair took a back seat to his obsession.

Drusilla immediately abandoned her position behind William's chair and rushed towards her injured Sire. She fussed over Angelus' split lip and bruised cheek that he had gotten in the altercation between first the distraught Watcher and then the furious Slayer. It was a toss up as to who had actually inflicted which injuries. They weren't particularly painful wounds but Dru didn't seem to make the distinction. She cursed the horrid creatures that dared to damage her precious daddy.

"Hmm, think I finally touched a nerve," Angelus crowed with a proud smirk as he patted Dru on the tip of her nose and smiled at her attentions. Drusilla cooed happily at his attention.

"Ya think?" Spike replied with a roll of his eyes. "Personally, I think you're gonna brass the Slayer off just enough that she shoves her stake up your arse to get to your heart."

"Not that you wouldn't deserve it," he added under his breath.

Unfortunately, his comment did not go unnoticed. Drusilla whirled towards him. Her hand flashed out and connected with his cheek.

"Bad Doggy," she accused in a sharp tone. She stomped her foot and glared at her still injured companion. "Daddy wouldn't have been hurt if you allowed me to play."

Dru's eyes narrowed. The fleeting insight that perhaps Spike had hoped the Watcher would kill Angelus flitted through her mind. The lucid observation flitted away though and left only an overwhelming rage in its wake.

"The Watcher would have made such pretty bubbles and cries for me if you had allowed me to help."

Drusilla's hand flew once more. This time, her fist struck the side of Spike's head so hard that it toppled the wheelchair to the ground. The blond vampire tumbled onto the gravel strewn asphalt of the back alley. Because of the speed and power of the Dru's strike, he wasn't able to catch himself with his arms and avoid smacking his head in the fall. The side of his face that had only recently begun to heal from his burns ripped open once more as he scrapped against the hard ground. His snagged duster and his useless legs trapped him in the wreckage of his overturned seat.

While Angelus laughed hysterically at Spike's struggle to extract himself from the capsized chair, Drusilla added another injury to her insult. She kicked the chair off the downed vampire. The wheelchair wretched free from Spike and the snap of his leg which had been trapped by one of the foot plates and front riggings accompanied the clatter of crunching and screeching metal.

William snarled as sharp pain flared in his now broken leg. He had been regaining limited feeling in his lower body over the past couple of days but the agony of the snapped bone was more than enough to shock even his muted nerves. Anger warred with the agony for dominance and Spike was the ultimate loser of the battle.

Spike's distress only fed Angelus' amusement. The older vampire wrapped his arms around Drusilla and pulled her back against his body. He glared at his sputtering grandchilde on the ground from over her shoulder.

"Bad doggies have to be put down," Angelus murmured seductively into Drusilla's ear. He added a little lick on her earlobe as an additional taunt to Spike. The older vamp had always taken a perverse pleasure in harassing the younger one. His overdone affections for Drusilla made William an easy mark and Angelus was never one to forgo some spiteful fun at someone else's expense. He reveled in cause other pain; it filled him with joy.

Dru's mercurial mood shifted from her spiteful rage. For a moment, she appeared confused. She stepped away from Angelus with a frown on her lips and her hands clasped against her chest. She turned and glanced between the two males.

"Will-Eee-Ummm is my knight and I am his princess," she pouted for a moment as her eyes shifted towards her injured lover who was struggling to sit up with only the use of his arms.

Angelus' left hand snapped out and caught her chin in his grasp. He lifted her face until she was looking only at him.

"You are Daddy's Princess, Dru. Don't forget it," he firmly ordered as he released his hold. The sadistic older vampire was not about to concede ownership of his very special girl to anyone else. He wasn't about to share even with the demon who had taken care of her for the past century while he was wallowing in soulful guilt.

Drusilla nodded obediently. Even after all this time, the lessons he had taught her about obedience were still clear in her often cloudy mind.

"DRU!" Spike called in frustration.

Drusilla snapped her head towards him. She was once again lost for a moment and unable to decide what she was supposed to do. She loved Spike but she loved her Daddy too. Unhampered by any sense of loyalty or fair play, Angelus pressed his advantage.

"Come on Precious," he wheedled. "Remember, Willie was a bad doggy and bad doggies get punished."

Drusilla glanced back at Spike then returned her attention to Angelus. The older vampire reached out and took her left hand in his and raised it to his damaged cheek. His dark eyes flooded with betrayal and pain well beyond what the injury merited but Dru didn't understand the subtle manipulation.

"Daddy got hurt because Will-EE-Ummm wouldn't let you save me," he lied smoothly as he shifted Dru's hand until he could gently take her fingertip into his mouth. His tongue played over the pad as he seductively sucked on her digit. Dru moaned and her lids lowered. She swayed slightly until Angelus pulled her body against him with his free arm. All thoughts of Spike washed from her mind and she wallowed in sensation.

The duo ignored Spike's indignant cussing. They ground against each other until Drusilla was purring and panting with excitement. When Spike finally pulled himself up enough to reach towards Drusilla, he grabbed wildly for her long coat. He softly begged for her help as his fingers brushed along her closest leg.

Angel withdrew his attentions when he noticed the fallen vampire's attempt to gain aid from his Childe. He stepped back and waited. Drusilla did not disappoint him. Her eyes flew open as her passion morphed back into rage. She had been thoroughly enjoying her Daddy's attentions. She did not appreciate the interruption.

"BAD DOG!" she screamed as she lashed out at Spike's hand with her foot.

The fallen vampire pulled his arm back to avoid the blow. This only infuriated the vampire further. She wanted to cause him pain and would not allow him to escape it. Losing all control, Dru began screaming and kicking maniacally at Spike. Repeated blows from her leather clad feet connected with his already damaged body, legs, arms and shoulders.

Raising his arms in a protective cover for his head, Spike babbled an endless stream of pleadings for her to stop. His litany abruptly ended when Drusilla succeeded in landing a particularly vicious kick against his jaw. The impact dazed the beaten vampire and he collapsed completely onto the ground. As his consciousness wavered, William heard Angelus cooing proudly at Drusilla as he began to pull the insane vampire down the alley. He muttered one last pleading call for help that was answered with only harsh laughter from Angelus and insane giggles from Dru. Darkness enveloped him as his heart tore when he realized his lover was abandoning him. She had clearly chosen Angelus over him yet again.

Pain. It was the first thing that clawed into Spike's awareness. His head, his torso, his left arm and both hands throbbed with a sharpness that would have stolen his breath if he had needed one. As he lay on the cool, hard asphalt of the alley, William attempted to pull his focus from the overwhelming ache to what had awoken him. An annoying poke nudged at the side of his chest under his arm. It was the unexpected movement that had originally pulled him back to consciousness.

"Wonder what happened to this one," croaked a scratchy voice damaged by years of smoking.

The nudging repeated and Spike realized that someone was prodding him with their foot.

"Who cares?" another voice answered from further down the alley. "Just snag his stuff and let's go. I can hear a trash truck and we need to clear out before they see us with the body."

Spike heard more than felt the hands shifting through his clothes in search of valuables. Whoever was shifting through his pockets was an old hand at it. The thief's hand caught hold of the vampire's lighter at the same moment Spike opened his eyes. His right arm snapped up and grabbed the startled street person by his neck. With a sharp yank, the man fell against the vamp's chest. He screeched as Spike's fangs ripped into his neck. The old man's hands beat uselessly against the demon's chest, but his motions soon stilled as the injured vampire guzzled from the gaping wound.

Spike barely noticed the footsteps retreating down the alleyway as the second homeless man abandoned his companion. He shook his head and worried at the wound in hopes of pulling just a bit more sustenance from the dead man. He could taste the sickness and poor nutrition that was a common hallmark of street people blood. It didn't lessen his purpose. The blood was foul but he desperately needed it.

Shoving away the drained corpse, William cussed. The sky carried the indigo glow of approaching dawn and dawn would spell his doom. He rolled onto his stomach and started dragging himself with his uninjured arm towards his wheelchair. Six feet and seven cuss words later, Spike managed to reach the toppled chair only to realize that the frame was damaged and one of the wheels was bent. The thing was useless to him.

Rolling onto his back, Spike stared at the lightening sky. He cursed at Angelus and then at Drusilla for leaving him to dust. For a moment, tears swam in his eyes and he considered just closing his eyes and letting the sun have him. The despondency only lasted for a moment until it shifted to rage. He quickly looked for his best chance of reaching safety from the sun. The surrounding industrial buildings were all brick and block with high windows that he could never reach from the ground. Neither seemed to have any doors or loading docks into the alley. There was a dumpster at one end of the alley but that wasn't an option since it was already illuminated by a soft patch of daylight from the sunrise. He cussed once more and rolled over. He pulled out his demonic form and set his nails into the ground. Dragging his useless legs behind him, Spike clawed his way down the alley towards a drainage grate.

He sighed in relief when he found that the storm grate had direct access to the city drainage system. It took Spike three tries before he was able to pull free the heavy metal plate and shift it out of the way. With his skin tingling from the burn of indirect sunlight, the vampire pulled himself into the darkened hole. He fell the five feet to the ground and landed roughly on the rounded bottom of the runoff water tunnel. He moan in agony as the fall sent his injuries back to stabbing pain instead of just a dull throbbing.

Through sheer will, he dragged himself further down the mostly dry tunnel until he was beyond the threat of sunlight from the storm drain he used as an entrance. Once he was sure he was safe, Spike flipped onto his back. He flung his uninjured arm over his face and screamed in frustration. The eerie sound echoed through the long, dark tunnel. As the sound finally died, the vampire wasn't sure if the physical pain from the beating or if the emotional pain from being abandoned was more excruciating. His body shook for a time as the effort and despair finally caught up with him. Alone, injured and heart-broken, William closed his eyes and slept.

The telephone startled Giles. It wasn't common for anyone to call his office during school hours. It wasn't like the Sunnydale High School library was a hot spot for student life. Discounting the Scoobies, few students found their way to the quiet space and even fewer had reason to call it. Leaving the small cart of books that he had been returning to their shelves, the Watcher hurried to his office. He mumbled a somewhat official sounding greeting into the receiver and waited for a reply.

"Hey Giles," Buffy answered in a tone the librarian recognized as a cross between nervousness and annoyance.

"Ah, are you just getting home from the hospital?" Rupert replied as he took a seat and shifted some of the papers around on his cluttered desk.

"Not yet," the Slayer answered hesitantly.

Giles frowned. After she killed Der Kindestod last night, the Watcher figured his Slayer would have been more than ready to leave the hospital. She had been quite adamant about leaving even before she was healthy enough to do so.

"I thought your mother planned to pick you up this morning," he stated as he glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost two in the afternoon. No matter how inefficient the hospital administration may be, even they should have released his Slayer by this point.

"Yeah, I thought so too," she confirmed in an obviously worried tone. "Mom hasn't shown up though. I tried to reach her at home but only got the machine and no one is answering at the gallery either."

A prickle of anxiety bloomed in Giles stomach to match Buffy's concern.

"How can I help?"

"The hospital won't allow me to leave unless I am signed out by my guardian. Think you could be my dad long enough to spring me from medical prison so I can find my mom?"

Giles nodded then realized Buffy couldn't see his agreement.

"Of course. I will leave as soon as I contact the school office and inform them that I have an emergency."

Rupert glanced at his watch and conveyed that he would be there in about twenty five minutes.

Seventeen minutes later, Giles briskly walked into Buffy's hospital room. A call to the nursing station, four illegally signed forms with Hank Summers scribbled on the bottom, and a wheelchair ride later saw the pair climbing into the Watcher's outdated vehicle. In a little more than ten more minutes, the pair were parked in front of Buffy's home. Joyce's SUV was not in the driveway, but Buffy hurried into the house anyway. She scurried through the empty home calling for her mother. Once she determined that her parent was no where to be found, she returned to Giles' vehicle. She shook her head. Her Watcher offered her an encouraging smile and decided to take her to the gallery.

"I'm sure that your mother just got caught in something at work and lost track of time," he offered.

Buffy hummed in acknowledgment if not agreement. A firmer edge of panic started to eat at her gut and she nervously pulled a stake from her pocket. She tapped it against her knee until Giles pulled onto Maple Street. The teen pointed down the street towards the front of her mom's art store. She slipped her stake up her shirt sleeve so it was hidden from public sight.

"There's her car."

Giles pulled into an open spot a few cars behind the SUV but Buffy was out of the vehicle before he turned off the ignition. She practically flew towards the gallery entrance. The teen paused when she noticed the sign on the window still read closed but the door to the gallery stood gaping open about a foot.

"Mom?" Buffy called as she hesitantly pushed the door fully open. Despite the sun shining on her back, a chill ran down her body. With a simple flick of her wrist, her stake slipped properly into her hand and she stepped carefully into the quiet store front. She called for her parent again. Only silence answered her.

Buffy moved further into the gallery's main room with her eyes focused on the back corner where the service desk and the entrances to Joyce's office and the back storeroom were found. None of the overhead lights were lit although the spot lighting for the art offered enough illumination to allow for easy movement through the displays. At her back, Buffy could hear Giles entering the room. The little warning bell tinkled as he closed the door behind him.

"MOM!" the blonde teen screeched as the disquiet pounding in her chest made it difficult to properly breath. The call was harsh and desperate in its sounding; fear was obvious at its heart.

Buffy moved around a large metal sculpture of twisted and warped triangles welded into an asymmetrical mass. Since no one answered her call, the teen's eyes scanned the remainder of the gallery showroom. She froze as her vision caught on the display in the recessed alcove to the left of the customer service area.

Some images, once seen, can never be unseen or forgotten.

Buffy's stake clattered to the ground and she stood silently as a wave of horror swept away all conscious thought. Ethereal fear coalesced into reality.

"Buffy?" Giles questioned as he stepped beside her. His eyes followed her unwavering stare. "Oh, God," he whispered in revulsion.

On the wall of the alcove, an oversized rendition of a full figured woman hung in the specially designed spotlight angled to draw attention to the Rubenesque oil painting. The attractive, full bodied subject reclined on a rich red fainting couch. The brunette beauty had been captured in a gauzy gown and was surrounded by a collection of chubby, naked cherubs. In the center of the woman's chest, a bone handled dagger had been stabbed into the painted canvas. The knife was sunk deep enough into the drywall behind the painting that it held the weapon perfectly in place between the subjects partially bared breasts.

The damage to the expensive art was nothing compared to the horror directly below the framed painting though. One of the spotlights had been moved to highlight the assembled tableau that recreated the hanging image. One of the gallery's patron benches had been moved directly below the painting. It was angled in position and draped with a rich velvet curtain so it appeared like a replica of the fainting couch. A collection of undressed, porcelain dolls with tiny blindfolds and gags were expertly placed to act as the cherubs. Centered on the mock couch lay Joyce Summers. Her body was wrapped in a filmy bit of lingerie that Buffy knew was not part of her mother's wardrobe. Her lifeless eyes stared sightlessly at the overhead spotlight.

A hitching sob escaped from Buffy's lips as her hand reached towards the bone handled dagger sunk deeply in Joyce's chest.

"No," Giles ordered sharply as he reached out and stopped the teen from touching the weapon or the corpse. The Watcher attempted to draw his distraught Slayer away from the macabre scene but found himself unable to move the far stronger girl. After repeated attempts to pull her from the horrible display, Giles finally just told her not to touch anything while he called the police. Although they both knew who was responsible for the grisly murder, the authorities had to be notified. They might not be able to do anything about the monster that killed Joyce and Jenny but they could properly handle the details.

"Angelus will die," Giles whispered softly into Buffy's ear before he tried one more time to convince her to turn away from her mother's body. She remained immovable. It wouldn't matter if she turned away now. The horror was permanently seared behind her eyes. Yet another chunk of her soul cracked and peeled and shivered to dust. The image could not be unseen. The death could not be undone. Her mother was dead and Buffy could do nothing but stand and stare.

"So what's happening with the Buffster?" Xander questioned as he plopped into a seat at the library reference table. "Is she doing okay? When is she coming back to school?"

Giles glanced up from the pile of legal documents that had just been delivered to him by one of the Council's lawyers. The librarian had played chaperone for the grieving teen yesterday and had orchestrated the excused absence for Willow today so that she could stay with Buffy instead of them coming to school.

"She is... well, she is doing about as well as one could expect her to be given her mother died. Her aunts should arrive tonight and will be staying with her for a few days. Until the funeral at least."

Xander sighed. He really wished he knew how to help but he felt clueless. He also felt uncomfortably sad. He could only imagine how badly Buffy was feeling. Harris had really liked Mrs. Summers and would miss her. She had always been so much more friendly than his or Willow's mothers. It had to make the loss so much worse for his friend. She lost a true parent who loved her. The teen shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned back in the chair.

"Is Buffy going to be sent to live with her Dad in LA?"

Giles pulled off his glasses and set them on the pile of papers he was reading. He shook his head.

"No," he answered as he tapped the top document. "Surprisingly given his hand off style of partial custody, Hank Summers has refused to waive parental rights. On the other hand, he has given the Council supervision privileges. Well, actually, not the Council. Me. He gave me supervisory privileges. That is quite the thing. Never done before. Mr. Summers only agreed because Buffy had talked about me when visiting and talking with her father previously. He refused the Council's offer of intervention. He only wanted mine."

Xander sat forward and looked at the papers filled with unfathomable legal gobbledygook. He frowned and asked if Mr. Summers knew about Buffy being the Slayer now.

Giles shook his head and explained that the Council lawyers had approached Buffy's father in hopes of him signing over guardianship to them. The reasons behind the request was never actually explained truthfully to the families of the marked girls. They always couched the terms in reference to educational, social and economic opportunities. It was how most Slayers and Potentials were handled. Normally, the girls would be identified early and their guardianship assumed by the Council. Only in rare cases were the potentials missed. If the missed girl grew up with her family, the Watcher's organization had found it was difficult to coax the control away from the parents. If the undiscovered potential happened to be called as the Slayer, then she didn't normally last long enough for them to bother with the legalities. Without the training and support of the Council, Slayers tended to have even quicker expiration dates than normal.

Buffy's ongoing survival was a testament to her resourcefulness as a Slayer. She defied the odds. Giles only hoped that her mother's death would not break her beyond recovery. The heart-heavy Watcher feared that his young charge would not weather the upcoming changes with her usual aplomb. Not only must she deal with her mother being gone, but she would also have to adjust to totally new living arrangements. In the next week or so, she would be forced to move out of the house on Revello Drive. The Council was already looking into securing a new apartment or a small townhouse for the Watcher and Slayer. Adjustments in lifestyle and priorities would not be easy for the teen.

In a moment of mental clarity, Giles admitted that the changes would be a struggle for him as well. He worried that he would not be the support Buffy needed at this time. He lacked the skills to be a parent. Books and research were his strengths. He was even a fair hand at weapons and tactics. Wading through the emotional waters of a teen-aged girl was not part of his training and Giles doubted his charge would be easy on him. The British man could only pray that they survived the adjustment period.

"You ready to go, Pumpkin?" Hank Summers asked as he wrapped his arm around his daughter's shoulder. Most of the folks who attended the graveside funeral for Joyce Summers had already left the cemetery to return to the Summers home and her remaining parent was hoping to coax his obviously distressed child somewhere more comfortable. Joyce's sisters had planned a light meal and get together at Revello Drive in order for the mourners to seek comfort in each others company and honor Joyce's memory.

Leaning slightly into her father's shoulder, Buffy shook her head but didn't mutter any reply. She wasn't ready to leave yet. Her father squeezed her in a one armed hug before stepping back and leaving her to her thoughts.

"Take your time, Sweetie. There is no rush."

Buffy mumbled a quiet thanks before falling silent once again. Silence had been her companion for days. As she stood beside the open pit where the funeral home employees had lowered her mother's casket, she wrapped the quiet peace around her like a security blanket. She desperately clung to the silence. The teen didn't want to speak. Unlike all the others at the funeral, she didn't want to discuss her feelings or share stories about her mother. Buffy just wanted to hide inside her cushion of tranquility and pretend that her world hadn't tilted off its axis and spiraled into hell.

She had no desire to return to the home that she once shared with her mother. She didn't want her Aunt Lolly to fret over her lack of appetite and horrible sleep pattern. She didn't want to listen to her Aunt Arlene reminisce about what a wonderful little sister Joyce had been. The teen really didn't want to endure the nauseatingly overdone attention and physical affection that Hank's half-his-age girlfriend kept forcing on her. She didn't want to face the reality of her mom's murder. Buffy just wanted to stand by her mother's grave and misplace herself for just a little while longer. She wanted to lose herself somewhere even she couldn't find.

Buffy wanted to escape. Her thoughts and memories were painful. She raged against Angelus but ultimately knew the truth. She was at fault. The guilt she carried was like an unwieldy weight crushing her chest. The teen hid from the hurt and hoped for relief. She just didn't know how to get away from herself.