14
The sequence of events that had taken place since landing played a repetitive loop inside Giles' head. It had seemed like a lifetime ago, when in all actuality no more than eight hours had passed. He couldn't help but ponder the likelihood of an alternate conclusion if things had been handled in a different manner.
And quite frankly, he found himself at a crossroad of indecision.
Now... hours after the Council's jet had landed on a secluded restricted runway in the vast desert and both he and Travers had been locked inside what amounted to little more than a conference room, Giles found himself exhausted - both mentally and physically.
Upon landing, their aircraft had been met by armed personal, which hadn’t been entirely unexpected. They'd been shuffled into some officious-looking vehicles and driven miles into the desert. Once arriving at their destination and gaining entrance to the base, the watcher could see why it remained so secretive.
It had all the appearances of a lone energy station on the outside, secluded and out in the middle of nowhere. The few outbuildings were benign in appearance, the gate surrounding the compound was large and unimposing. But once through the heavily, but discreetly, monitored exterior, it became apparent that the premises were guarded almost as well as Fort Knox – if not more so.
Looking around at the vast openness surrounding the base, Giles honestly didn't know how Buffy had managed to make good her escape the first time around, and his respect for her grew.
The entrance to the secure laboratory was hidden within the largest industrial building that lay surrounded by a few other nondescript structures. Giles was highly suspicious of the fact that they'd been allowed to witness this top secret location, increasing his keen sense of foreboding as to the outcome of this confrontation. He would have felt far better if blindfolds had been insisted upon once landing, even if that touch was cliché'. He could only hope that Travers knew something that he, himself, did not, and they weren't blindly walking into a trap.
Under the watchful eyes of their armed escorts, Travers and Giles had been secreted inside a room that could easily have passed for an executive board room - except for the visible security cameras in several corners.
They had been given curt instructions to merely wait here before the armed personnel quickly departed, refusing to answer any of their questions.
However, it was the sound of the electronic lock on the outside door being engaged that had proved to be Giles' undoing.
Giles had glared at Travers, blaming him for their current predicament. His fury simmering just beneath the rigid control he kept on his emotions, almost ready to boil over. It was not known if the US military had any inkling of who exactly they were dealing with, and this stall tactic was most likely a direct result.
And even though they’d been locked in a room, Giles had held hope. Buffy was here, and they were a step closer to seeing her freed.
It still hadn’t saved Travers from the brunt of his anger, however.
"How could you have been so... foolish?" Giles had finally snapped, his long legs eating up the length of the room in a few strides.
His typically ageless boss now appeared ancient; the cool, unexpressive mask having slipped the moment the lock was engaged. He, too, had taken it as a metaphor for their well-being. Slumped at the head of the table, a position he placed himself in without thought, regret had ravaged stark lines onto his face.
"The council holds considerable power with the military..." he'd begun to justify once more before being cut off angrily by the watcher.
"Maybe within the typical hierarchy of power, yes. But this is not typical. Wouldn't you agree?"
Travers had sighed heavily. He wasn't under many delusions at this point, having realized the significance of being allowed to witness the location of a highly secret government agency.
With nothing but time on their hands, their future uncertain, the two had settled in to wait... and pray that the clean-up crew would find them still alive. Travers realized that he'd had made a grave error in time management. No more than twelve hours should have been allowed to pass without communication, especially in light of the fact that both he and Giles had been stripped of all communication devices and weapons upon entering the base.
The mutterings from the watcher regarding trusting no one and conspiracy theories had suddenly began to make a whole world of sense to Travers, and he couldn't help but sigh heavily in response.
***
Whereas before the stony silence had bothered Spike, now it was the idle chit-chat between Buffy and the soldier girl that threatened to drive him insane. Forced to suffer the guise of a limp biscuit, Spike could practically feel the constrained energy coiling within his body, once more willing himself to ignore it. Ripping out G.I. Jane's throat was sounding more and more appealing though as time wore on.
If only to shut her up.
However, when he realized her blathering was keeping Buffy entertained, he forced himself to suffer through this latest form of torture. If the slayer was talking to soldier bint about girly stuff, then she wasn't thinking about where they were - and he’d endure hell itself to give her that peace of mind.
Spike had been right about her, the soldier girl. Her eagerness for trivial conversation was almost sad to watch. He'd bet her life hadn't been a bed of roses. Buffy's own forced isolation since she'd found herself on the run and pregnant with only a vamp for company had left its own mark, and Spike watched as a tentative bond of friendship was being forged before his very eyes. The soldier was only a handful of years older than his slayer, if that.
Somehow, over the last few hours, he had been banished to the floor, and the new bird had taken his place on the bed next to Buffy, their conversation now progressing at a more muted tone. That suited him just fine. Idly, he wondered what the scientist wankers thought of this new tableau, and was satisfied with the knowledge that irritation most likely played a key role.
Spike closed his eyes and tipped his head back to rest against the wall, his body screaming for the familiar calming influence of nicotine. But when the sound of footsteps stopped just outside the cell door, his body underwent a subtle shift as he prepared himself. Growling low in his throat, his first instinct was to protect Buffy, and he shifted into a poised crouch just as the door slid open. Before he was given time to react, unknown amounts of electricity were sent through his body by a soldier wielding a stun gun, the blast riding along every cell in his body, sending his pain receptors into complete overload.
Another blast from the tazer forced his body into reactive spasms and the sound of Buffy screaming his name was the last thing he heard before sliding into oblivion.
It happened so quickly, that it took Buffy a moment to comprehend what had just happened as she witnessed Spike's uncontrollable jerking upon the floor.
"Spike!" she yelled, struggling to sit up, her eyes wide with a dawning horror.
The room was suddenly flooded with the scientists garbed in white and the typical guards, leaving Buffy with no absolutely no time to react, even if she had been capable. It had been a well planned takeout, she had to give them that, mentally cursing herself for not considering the possibility of Spike being taken out of the equation. One thing she knew with blinding clarity - being removed from this cell would be very bad.
Per usual military operating procedure, she was not offered an option. With a keen sense of deja vu, her wrists were once again shackled with a calm efficiency and Buffy turned her pleading hazel eyes in Christine's direction.
Christine had jumped up the moment the first blast struck Spike and had slunk herself to the corner while looking on with horror at what was being done. She swallowed heavily, eyes locked on the vampire's broken form splayed out upon the floor and tried to force her brain into thinking of a way to make this better. Her hesitation had nothing to do with her sense of duty, merely a testament to the blaring uncertainty of how she would best be able to fix it.
"Uh... permission to accompany the prisoner requested," she found herself asking, cringing at the label she'd placed upon the pregnant girl.
With a quick kick to release the brake on the standard issue hospital bed, one of the guards had guided it towards the door, the vampire was unceremoniously kicked out the way like yesterday's garbage.
"P-permission to--"
"Permission denied," one of the scientists snapped. Several of them may be civilians, but Christine knew who really gave the orders around here. "Your orders are to guard the vampire."
She didn't dare point out that there were others present that were much more suited to the assignment than she.
With a chaotic flurry of orchestrated white poetry, the scientists disappeared while Christine watched helplessly. The soldier's throat swelled up with the backlash of her unaccustomed emotions as she watched the pregnant blonde transported out of reach, futilely fighting against the restraints.
Buffy.
Her new friend.
Helpless rage dug a huge well in her gut, and she swallowed hard against it. Again, she knew why she'd been denied passage. Even in light of the potential delivery, the scientists were not finished with their little 'bait and trick' experiment. She couldn't even fault them for their curiosity. Her life had been spared thus far, but upon the revelation that Buffy had been removed from the cell, Christine didn't delude herself into thinking Spike wouldn't hesitate to satisfy his need for revenge, for blood.
She was, after all, a representation of the enemy.
But it wasn't a far leap to see this secret military group for what they really were.
They were the ones who were the monsters.
She believed that now with every fiber of her being. Only monsters would be setting up to deliver the baby of the seventeen year old girl that they had kidnapped, terrorized, and inseminated. Christine knew that Buffy and Spike wouldn't be allowed to walk away after this.
She wouldn't either, regardless of how she fared when Spike came out of his juiced stupor.
And she found herself doing something she hadn't done since getting kicked out of her first foster home at the tender age of twelve after the tragic death of her parents.
She cried.
*****
Spike swam towards consciousness slowly, his body resisting every effort to return to the land of the unliving as pain slammed through him relentlessly. With a low snarl, he pushed himself through it; his demon screaming at him to get his ass awake. That something needed his immediate attention.
Buffy.
His eyes flew open and he gritted his teeth against a new onslaught of agony.
Once more, pushing his way through the pain, his eyes desperately searched the small cell for reassurance, only to find that there wasn't any to be found.
The bed was gone.
tbc
See, I didn't leave you too long! Thank you once more to spikeskat for being my beta goddess!
Chapter 15
The bed was gone.
Spike could only stare at the spot where his slayer was supposed to be, his entire being freezing up with a profound sense of agony at the discovery of her absence.
"They took her," Spike heard a soft, feminine voice call out in the silence and his head snapped towards the girl huddled in the corner. His agony became slightly easier to bear as his demon reacted to the cold finality of her words – filling his body with rage and forcing out all other emotions. Like despair.
Christine finally got to see his true monster revealed, watching with detached fascination as the sapphire blue of the man's tortured gaze faded into the furious amber of his demon.
Even drugged of his strength and suffering the aftereffects of being tazed, this vampire was still lethal and dangerous, and Christine came to a decision.
Her country had, after all, served her up to him, practically on the proverbial silver platter.
He wouldn't hear her plead, though. When she had enlisted, her life was something she had willingly signed over for the sake of serving her country. Maybe it made her an idiot, but growing up without the benefit of a family had skewed her outlook on certain things.
She would die like the soldier she wanted to be. Without fear or reservation.
Christine wondered how long he was going to stare at her, finding this interlude almost surreal, and she took a moment to study the furious face in front of her. She had expected his glowing eyes to be merely fathomless windows of evil. Yet even with the ridges and fangs, easily identifiable were emotions that Christine easily recognized as being very human in nature.
She wasn’t quite sure how long she sat and watched the wheels practically burning rubber in his head as he decided on the next course of plan, but she’d settled into a calm tranquility that was at such odds with her current situation.
When he slowly pushed himself to his feet and prowled in her direction, Christine stuck out her chin defiantly and refused to look away.
"I'm not going to fight you," she announced firmly, confused momentarily by the look of pure irritation he threw her way.
Spike wasted no time in wrapping his fingers around her biceps and hauling her up to her feet, the female soldier offering no resistance to his man-handling.
When Christine was effectively pinned against the wall, a cruel smile distorted Spike's lips. "Thanks pet, 'preciate that an' all. 'Specially since I'm not quite up to snuff 'ere," he mocked, his hand fisting a handful of her short brown hair and jerked her head to the side. "Figure you can 'elp me with that little problem."
Christine may have decided to not fight back, but found herself scared to death despite her best intentions and questioned her very sanity. She was allowing this... why?
Spike could here the soldier bint's heart pounding away and the scent of her fear drowned out the lingering scent of Buffy's.
Oh god, Buffy...
Despair struck him with a relentless force and with a heated snarl, Spike wasted no time in sinking his fangs into the girl's neck, ignoring the yelp of pain that accompanied his actions.
True to her word, she didn't fight him, and finally Spike growled with irritation. With the ability to form speech impaired by his teeth firmly embedded in her flesh, Spike still managed to grumble, "For fuck's sake, would ya bloody work with me here?"
"What?" Christine questioned, confused by the fact he was talking to her rather than finishing the deed.
"Start bloody acting terrified, is what."
Realization dawned on her the same moment she recognized that he really wasn't... drinking from her, his fangs were just kinda... stuck in her neck?
And damned if it didn't still hurt like a sonofabitch.
Spike knew she got it when she started struggling to get away; an ear-piercing scream flying past her lips that had him cringing and wanting to drain her for real.
But it was exactly what he had asked for.
"No! Please no!" Christine cried out, attempting to free herself. Even though she was a girl and not a very strong one at that, Christine knew that the lone hand curled around her bicep, the other still fisted in her hair, held more strength than they should have, and she had to force herself not to smile at his duplicity.
Christine knew this impromptu ruse worked when she heard the door slide open. In anticipation of what was to follow, she allowed Spike to spin her around to be used as a human shield. It would be kind of worthless if they managed to taze him again.
The teeth that had been embedded in her neck were smoothly removed; although he seemed to want to keep up the ploy of feeding, his lips hovering over her neck. Christine couldn't help but tense when she heard the sound of booted footsteps enter the cell, but what followed transpired so quickly that Christine could barely grasp that it had even occurred.
The mere second that her 'saviors' were within striking distance, Spike was a sudden flurry of motion. Tossing her none too gently to the side, the vampire reached for the first soldier and snapped his neck, before making quick work of the other two.
Christine stood there in shock. Three men killed right in front of her in less time then it took her to tie her shoe. She grasped for the sense of horror and guilt she knew should be eating away at her conscience at witnessing Spike's brutality, but it wasn't there. In its place was a profound sense of relief.
Still struggling to come to terms with her fractured emotions, she watched as Spike reached down and yanked the tazer gun away from the first man he'd killed, wondering idly if it was finally going to be her turn. Her neck hurt like a bitch, but right now, it seemed like the least of her problem .
She watched as Spike stripped one of the corpses with swift, economical movements; donning the uniform that was similar to her own.
Like the predator he was, Spike stalked towards the door that had been left blessedly open before he turned back to pierce her with a discerning look.
"You comin'?"
Christine's eyes widened at his query, completely thrown off guard for a brief second by the unexpectedness of it. Buffy's stricken features came to mind, and with little hesitation, she nodded her head.
"Oh yeah, I'm coming." She stopped briefly on her way to the door to grab a second weapon from one of the fallen soldiers before following the vampire out through the door.
Another world devoid of color greeted Spike as he stepped out into the hall, the oddly reassuring steps of G.I. Jane right behind him. It chilled him that no reinforcements had been dispatched as yet. Their lack of detection told him that there was something happening elsewhere that garnered more attention than winning the pool of how long it would take before the vampire finally offed the female guinea pig.
Something else - like Buffy.
Extending his senses, he tried to hone in on anything that would help him pinpoint her location, growling instinctively when he felt a hand upon his sleeve.
"I know where they probably took her."
Spike's penetrating eyes suddenly captured hers, and Christine could easily read the desperation the vampire couldn't quite mask.
"Take me to her," he demanded gruffly.
Christine nodded and slung the strap of her pilfered gun over her shoulder, setting a careful path down the hallway as she fumbled for her ID to open the security door. For the first time since joining the military, she actually felt like a soldier and she didn't know exactly what that said about her.
And found she didn't particularly care.
Thank you to spikeskat once again for the beta job! And thank you soooo much for all the reviews I have received for this fic!!
16
Once the security door slid opened and Spike and Christine carefully passed through, they were greeted with a small hint of color. Gone was the blinding sterile white of the holding cells; yet Spike neither noticed nor cared. His single-minded purpose to gain the slayer’s side was the only thought that consumed him.
The pair kept to the shadows, Christine taking the lead so that she could point out the numerous security cameras. Spike nodded each time he was shown one, ears attuned for the sound of any approaching footsteps as they made their way towards the passageway that would lead them to Buffy
Halfway down their chosen path, a lone scientist stepped out from one of the many door littering the hallway and began walking in their direction; his identity as the enemy easily established by the white jumpsuit and lab coat. Spike tensed, ready -and eager - to dispose of him the same way he had the others. However, a barely perceptible negative head shake from his new sidekick halted his murderous intent.
Christine knew this particular scientist and was confident in her assessment of the man. He was an idiot, by far one of the worst offenders, blind to anything but his work and the soldier was sure he bore no threat.
And time proved her correct.
The scientist breezed right by them, not once attempting to make eye contact. Spike had to admit, even though his demon was practically chomping at the bit, that the lack of blood spilled in this instance was far preferable than tipping their hand too early.
Giving the soldier a small nod of acknowledgement, Spike gestured for her to continue on their way. When she noticed him stop abruptly and sniff the air, Christine gave him a quizzical look which he promptly ignored.
Christine shrugged and kept moving, leading him towards the final hall that would reunite him with Buffy; her own unease growing with each step.
When Spike paused once more and turned back towards the long hall they had just left behind, Christine couldn't help but question his distraction.
"Gotta go back that way." He pointed in the direction they had just come.
"But they wouldn’t have taken her that way. The experimentation arena is the most likely place for the birthing," Christine argued, remembering the new additions to the unit that she had seen the day before. An incubator being the most prominent thing that came to mind.
An icy feeling washed over Spike at the term she used and he struggled to contain his rage before it took over. A clear head was needed here and he knew from experience that his demon didn't always react logically. That just wouldn't do in this situation.
Without another word, Spike turned around and quickly made his way back to the other hallway, Christine shadowing him, her confusion continuing to mount as they moved further and further away from Buffy.
Spike did another one of his unexpected halts, this time in front of one of the compound's meeting rooms that doubled as an 'interrogation chamber.'
"You able to open this door?"
Christine nodded and swiped her badge through the electronic keypad. A green light signaled that the door was unlocked and her security clearance hadn't been suspended. Yet.
Spike watched the heavy door slide open, then made his move.
*****
Apprehension did not even begin to describe what Giles was feeling when he heard the sinister sound of the electronic lock being disengaged. 'This is it,' he thought. The watcher was under no delusions as to why they had been left sitting for so long. Oh, they'd been told that they needed to be involuntarily detained in this room for their own 'protection.' The latest update from their 'escorts' had informed them that they were waiting for some big wig to fly in from Washington to fully 'debrief' them. However, Giles knew that was just a ruse.
They had been locked in here to await their own execution.
Giles peered at Travers and realized that he, too, was aware of this fact as well. Resignation and regret had already done a one-two punch to his increasingly haggard-looking face.
The door slid open and Giles gripped a chair. If he was facing his execution, he would do so fighting.
First came the flash of camouflage, the uniform familiar, and the watcher's body froze with dread.
Then his eyes made it to the lead soldier's face, and Giles suddenly struggled for breath, clutching the chair in earnest now. He had only seen a glimpse of the vampire during the Parent/Teacher night that had gone to hell. At the time, the face before him had been distorted by evil. Still, there was enough similarity that he would have recognized this 'soldier' anywhere, even minus the platinum locks.
Yet, it wasn't fear that was rushing through his body right now.
It was hope.
"Spike," Giles acknowledged warily, not daring to forget even for a moment that this WAS William the Bloody standing before him. Lethal and deadly, now wearing a mockery of patriotic symbolism.
Spike tipped his head in silent greeting, his intense blue eyes probing. Giles was unprepared for the wealth of emotion that sparked behind the vampire's gaze.
Christine stopped next to Spike, her face tense and silently questioning the vampire’s reason for risking their detection. She looked at the two men who were staring at Spike as if they couldn't figure out if he was their savior or the devil incarnate.
And boy, if she didn't know just how they felt.
"Is... Buffy all right?" Giles broke the silence and dared to ask, his gut clenched in preparation for the answer.
Spike's face clouded with fury, and his eyes sparked amber, causing Giles to take a firmer grip on the chair under his hand.
"She bloody well better be," the vampire snarled before whipping around and disappearing into the hallway with the female soldier not far behind. The door had been purposefully left open.
Giles exchanged a look with Travers before rushing after the vampire and his comrade.
"You're... following him?" Travers asked as Giles reached the door, after having been oddly quiet during the exchange.
Giles paused briefly and turned to give his employer a rueful smile. "Something tells me our chances of survival are far better with William the Bloody than remaining behind here." With that parting comment, the watcher moved out of the room, not at all surprised when Travers hurried to catch up with him.
Once again, the hallway was conspicuously empty and Christine confirmed the direction his thoughts were taking. "It's weird. There is usually more activity around."
Spike had a feeling he knew where everyone could be found.
Watching the birth of his child.
Hearing the quiet approach of the watchers he had set free, Spike turned abruptly to face them, his face set in a hard stare. Not even the sudden jump of their pulse rates and the fear that permeated the hall gave him any satisfaction.
Ignoring the shorter one, Spike focused his attention on the one he knew was Buffy's watcher. "Just wannna get one thing bloody well clear 'ere. When I find Buffy, I'll be killin' anyone who is with her. You got a problem with that, you either sod off or try to stake me right now." The smile that twisted his lips was anything but reassuring, but Giles could see fear lurking behind the menace. "I can assure you, try will be the operative word 'ere."
"I'm quite certain that we can work-" Travers began to respond but was cut off.
"Not talking to you. I'm talking to the girl's watcher."
Giles didn't hesitate. Spike's terms were more than acceptable. "Can we count on our own continued survival?" he felt compelled to ask however, ignoring any input from Travers.
"You won't die by my fangs," Spike remarked sardonically, a look of understanding passing between the two. "S'far as I'm concerned, we both 'ave the same goal 'ere. Not bloody stupid enough to off any potential backup."
Giles nodded, not questioning the vampire's sincerity.
Travers gestured towards Christine, eyeing the bite marks that were still bright and angry on her neck. "And what about her? Can we be assured of her compliance, as well?"
"Huh? Me? You're worried about me?" Christine couldn't help but ask, her eyes searching Spike's in confusion.
"She's human, you git," Spike informed the head watcher, watching as his eyes widened with shock at the realization that William the Bloody had apparently left a victim alive.
Travers was curious to discover the details that had occurred before they had been set free, but had to content himself with watching as Spike once again spun on his heel and headed towards the door at the end of the long walkway, the human in question falling in line right behind him.
Yes, Travers found this vampire quite intriguing. The two watchers fell into line behind the stealthy duo in front of them as they continued to make their way cloaked in the shadows.
With their sight focused solely on the door at the end of the walkway, it was some cause for alarm when the door in question suddenly slid open, allowing several soldiers to pass through it.
Flattening himself against the wall, Spike held up a finger then pointed at himself to communicate that he would take care of the threat.
When there was no argument from Travers, Giles found himself surprised at his employer's willingness to put their safety in the hands of a vampire. Perhaps stepping out of the Council's remote offices for once would go a long way towards changing the head councilman's views.
God knows it had changed his.
If there had been any doubts regarding Spike's competence as a killer, it was put to metaphorical dust when the two men witnessed the speed and pure lethalness that were employed as the vampire easily killed the soldiers when they marched past him.
In any other scenario, witnessing such brutal violence at the hands of the demon would have filled each human with dread.
Now they could only silently thank whatever maker had made him so.
tbc...
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