"Excuse me, um, would it be possible to maybe get something other than junk food? Please?" she asked, rushing through the words before he slammed it shut again. "It's not that we're not grateful that you're feeding us and all but it's so fatty. It's really not very healthy to be eating it this often."
He seemed to consider this for a while and then grunted once in acknowledgment. "I'll talk to the boss."
"Thank you."
The hatch slid back with a dull clunk.
"Wanna bet that Boss-man says no can do?" Buffy said.
"Dunno," she shrugged. "Was worth a try, though. They're feeding us so they want us alive. The worst he could do is say no."
"I guess."
They split the burgers and fries between them and ate in silence. They'd run out of topics to talk about.
Willow let her mind wander. She had nothing else to do. The armored van they were in had two small windows near the ceiling which had been covered in something like grease, so their view was blurry at best, but it let light in. She'd been keeping careful track of the changes from light to dark. It had been four days.
Four days since Buffy had gone to face the Master, prophecy be damned. Four days since Willow went after her, only to find her dead in a pool of water and having to breathe life back into her. Four days since they'd been kidnapped by vampires.
It had been one of those days.
They'd made their way back out of the Hellmouth on shaky legs. Buffy had been talking about going after the Master and finishing the job, as she had the element of surprise on her side what with not being dead and all. Willow had mostly thought about whether CPR counted as kissing or not. She'd never been kissed before and she had imagined her first to be... well, it hadn't involved a girl for starters. Nor that it would happen in a life or death situation.
Technically, Buffy had been a corpse at the time. Did that make her a necrophiliac if she'd liked it? Had she liked it?
She'd been so lost in thought that she didn't realize anything was wrong until Buffy gave a startled yelp, reached up to touch her shoulder and then promptly fell into a heap on the ground. Something like a dart slipped from her hand and rolled away. Before she'd been able to get past her shock, strong hands had grabbed her from behind - too strong. They'd felt like metal when she fought against them and didn't budge an inch.
"Kill the spare?" a guttural voice had asked.
A bulky man in jeans and a checkered shirt had detached himself from the shadows and walked over to them, stepping over Buffy to come face to face with Willow. He'd eyed her up and down, leering.
"Well now, little lady," he'd said in a thick Southern accent and licked his lips, "ain't you a surprise! Purdy thing like you might come in right handy."
The vampire holding her had protested a little but had been ignored.
"This a friend o' yours?" he'd asked, and jabbed Buffy in the ribs with his foot.
Upon her nod, he had grinned wide. His teeth were dirty and yellow.
"That right? Then I think we've got ourselves some bona fide blackmail material here. If the Slayer be tryin' to get smart, something nice and sharp-," he shifted into gameface, "-near your vulnerable lil' neck sounds like just the ticket to change her mind, no?"
"And then kill her when we get there?" the first one had asked, hopeful.
"Naw," he'd drawled and reached out to stroke his fingers down Willow's cheek. His fingernails were caked with dirt and the way he'd looked at her had made her feel sick to her stomach. "I reckon' he ain't got no redhead in his collection as young an' innocent lookin' as this one. Bet she's unsullied, too."
The vampire holding her had laughed at that.
"She'll make a nice gift," he'd continued. "Showin' my 'preciation, like. Make sure he knows callin' on me has its benefits, beyond gettin' the job done."
And so she'd been dragged along and thrown into the back of an armored truck together with the unconscious Buffy. A third vamp had appeared, climbed in with them and manacled Buffy's hands and feet. Then they were left alone. The door had shut and the truck had started moving. Taking them away to who knew where.
Buffy had come to several hours later. She'd tested the restraints repeatedly but eventually gave up. They were too thick. The chains between the manacles were also much too short, she could only walk with baby steps and her arms couldn't utilize their full strength to try and break them open.
Since that night, they'd been trapped inside the armored van.
The first day they had tried alerting someone to their plight. Buffy had kicked the walls of the truck and Willow had shouted for help. Within minutes the hatch had been flung open, revealing that they were parked in the shade of a building. The Southern vampire that they'd nicknamed Boss-man had come into view and threatened to hurt 'lil' miss Copper Top' if they didn't stop the racket. So they had.
Buffy had apologized to her afterward for getting her into this mess. Willow had pointed out that there was no way either of them could have predicted this happening. Then they had talked about anything and everything to pass the time.
Three times a night the small hatch in the door slid open and a grease-stained paper bag was handed over. The only thing that changed was the logo on the side. They were never fed during the day, which made sense since their kidnappers were all vampires. They drove only at night as well.
There had been a sleeping bag, brand new and with the tag still attached, sitting on the floor that first night. They'd spread it out and shared it. The next night, a second sleeping bag had been shoved through the hatch along with their first meal.
Their other needs were seen to by the tiniest bathroom ever. Placed in one corner, it was so cramped that when you sat on the toilet, the sink was pretty much on your lap. The water pressure left much to be desired, too. Still, she was grateful for it. She could imagine far worse alternatives, involving being accompanied by vampires into the bushes by the side of the road and having them watch while she took care of business.
By day three they'd started running out of topics to talk about. They mostly just sat in silence.
At every meal Buffy had complained about the food, saying she'd be overweight by the time they arrived wherever they were going. Willow wasn't very happy with it either, which had prompted her to plead for something else.
She'd waited until it was Mr. Nice standing outside instead of Boss-man or Short, Dark and Ugly (the one that had wanted to kill her), as he seemed the most sympathetic of the three. He was the one that had given them the second sleeping bag and he'd also tossed in two toothbrushes and a tube of toothpaste the next time he delivered food to them.
Those things had been provided without them asking first, though. She wasn't sure what kind of response her direct request would get.
She tried not to get her hopes up, but when the food hatch opened next they were presented with two plastic bags from a grocery store chain rather than the usual brown paper bag.
"Oooh," Willow crowed, thanking Mr. Nice profusely and taking the bags. "Let's see what we've got."
It was a considerable improvement. There was a small loaf of bread, a couple packs of sliced deli meats and cheese, a head of lettuce, a bag of apples, two cups of yogurt with granola included and a squeeze bottle of mayo.
Buffy claimed both yogurts, which was fine with Willow; she was busy being excited over the apples. They made sandwiches until they ran out of bread and wondered aloud if perhaps they were meant to save some for later.
"Doubt it," Buffy finally decided. "They've given us three meals a night so far, doesn't seem right to change the routine suddenly even if it's a different kind of food."
Willow nodded in agreement. They fell into silence again.
The next two meals were provided by Short, Dark and Ugly and, unsurprisingly, were back to junk food.
When the car slowed to a halt on the fifth day, there was no indication that anything was different than the previous stops. The night had begun like all the others; as soon as darkness fell, the engine had started and the truck moved back on the road. They were typically fed after an hour or two of driving, and it seemed like it had been about that long. (She had theorized to Buffy that wherever it was they parked during the day wasn't near any restaurants or shops, and thus the vamps had to locate one before the girls in the back could be taken care of.)
Neither of them expected anything to change. The constant boredom had dulled their alertness to near nothing. By the time she realized that there was no bag being handed in through the opening but a long, thin, black cylinder instead, it was already too late.
The dart hit Buffy in the thigh and she barely had time to jump up and curse before she stumbled back against the wall and slid inelegantly to the floor. Willow shrieked in shock, but hastily cut herself off at the sound of the back of the truck being unlocked and opened. Better to not piss them off by being a girl, she decided.
They were inside a garage from the looks of it, but she couldn't see much before Short, Dark and Ugly grabbed her arm and hauled her with him towards a door. She could hear the sounds of the others' footsteps behind them.
There was a long, barren corridor, another door and then she found herself in a decent sized room with nice wallpaper, brown carpet, tasteful furniture and several vampires in gameface. She couldn't make out much else as the room was kept in semi-darkness, lit exclusively by one lamp sitting on a side table. The light barely crept to knee-height around the edges of the room; if there was anything hanging on the walls for example, she couldn't see it.
Mr. Nice carried Buffy in and held her out as if for inspection. She must have been approved, because after a moment he left the room with his burden and Willow was alone with them all. She had the distinct feeling that everyone turned to look at her. She cringed and fiddled with the hem of her shirt, desperate for a way to make herself spontaneously become invisible.
"Who's this, then?" a voice asked.
"Just a lil' gift, from me to you," Boss-man replied. "Friend o' the Slayer, brought 'er along to make sure the little bitch didn't try to get any smart idears."
"I see." Whoever it was spoke in a calm manner and with an accent that reminded her of Giles. He stood in the very corner of the room, positioned so that it was too dark to see any details at all save his black combat boots.
"Thought you might like to keep 'er, seeing as how she's right purdy an' all."
"I will, thank you. Very thoughtful of you."
A thick, white envelope was handed to Boss-man by one of the new vamps, this one wearing glasses. She'd never seen glasses on a vampire before and was briefly intrigued by how he got them to fit around the bumps of his gameface. She dubbed him Four Eyes and tried hard not to think of what any of this gift-talk implied.
"We all settled, then, right?"
"Yeah. I'd say it was pleasure doing business with you but... anyway, you delivered. I'll keep you in mind should I require any further help in your neck of the woods."
The man in the corner had not moved at all, still protected by the shadows. This was in sharp contrast to Boss-man who was fidgeting in the middle of the room, exposed to all and looking rather distressed about it.
"Dalton, see him out, will you?"
"Yes, Master."
Four Eyes, whom she gathered must be Dalton, lead Boss-man back out the way they'd come in. To her surprise, Short, Dark and Ugly did not follow.
They waited. She felt deeply uncomfortable; the silence made it all too obvious that she was the only one in the room breathing. After a few long minutes, Dalton returned.
"He's left, Master."
"Good." A small pause and a movement in the shadows. "Get Aaron and go to my study. Wait for me there."
There was no 'yes, Master' in reply, Short, Dark and Ugly simply left. While she was glad to have him gone, she was only somewhat relieved. Whoever the shadowed man was, he was clearly everyone else's Master - Boss-man included - and that meant he was likely responsible for the entire thing. The thought terrified her. She desperately wished she knew what he wanted them for. Or, rather, what he wanted Buffy for, as she was merely a bonus 'gift'.
"Let's have a look at you then, Red," he said once the door had closed behind the ugly vamp. "Come closer."
She took two hesitant steps forwards, placing herself in the center of the room where Boss-man had been so uncomfortable a short while ago. She was beating him by miles.
It didn't appear to be close enough, however. He made an impatient sound and barked another 'Closer!'. She bit the inside of her cheek to prevent herself squeaking and jumped forwards another step.
"Turn around."
She did.
"And around again."
In all her life, she'd never felt more exposed.
"Got a name, pet?" he asked eventually, when he'd had enough of staring at her.
"Uh, it's Willow," she croaked.
"Like the tree. Bit of a hippie-name, that. Think I prefer Red, if it's all the same to you."
Disagreeing was definitely not on the menu but he didn't bother waiting for her approval.
"Bring her to Anyanka," he said, presumably to Dalton who was hovering to her left. "Ask her to take care of my little gift here for me, and make sure to apologize for the lack of forewarning."
"Yes, Master."
"Uh, sir?" she spoke up quickly, as Dalton was gesturing for her to follow. "Sorry, but, uh, could I ask what's happening to Buffy?"
"Wouldn't you like to know," he drawled.
She gulped.
"Please, Miss Willow, come with me."