17
Spike could feel Buffy just behind the steel door.
One piece of metal barring him from the girl for whom he'd willingly give his unlife. The mother of his hopefully not-quite-yet born child. Again, regret struck that he hadn't initiated a proper mating; the intimate connection he could have been sharing with Buffy would have gone a long way towards soothing the terror building within him.
The vampire felt Christine at his side and turned to look at her, finding himself oddly calmed by her quiet presence.
"Can you open it?" Spike gestured to the higher level security door, finding the retinal scanner imposing.
The raw need in his voice that Christine found mirrored in his eyes was staggering; the capacity this vampire had for heartfelt emotions no longer suspect. She nodded in response to his question.
Acknowledging her nod, Spike turned to Giles and handed him the tazer gun he had nicked from the dead soldier whose uniform he now wore. Travers had already helped himself to weapons from the corpses Spike had just left down the hall.
"Won't be needin' it." Spike told the watcher as facial features shifted, his forehead erupting with the harsh ridges of his demon, teeth elongating from his gums. "Shoot anythin' that moves."
In another time, seeing this vampire's true face emerge would have created a flurry of panic. Now, Giles merely nodded and readied the weapon that had been placed in his hands, eager to see what lay behind the door.
Recognizing the hardened edge that lurked behind the watcher's calm reserve, Spike quickly found himself identifying with it. Gold eyes, serious in their intent, regarded Buffy's mentor. "Need you to get to Buffy. We'll be goin' in shootin', but if anythin' happens to me, I need you to get her the bloody fuck out of 'ere," Spike announced brusquely. "Can you do that?"
Finding himself oddly touched by the vampire's obvious sincerity and unselfishness, Giles nodded curtly. "You have my word."
That seemed to satisfy the vampire and he stepped back to allow the female soldier to step up to the highly sophisticated retinal scanner. A cool hand on her arm stilled her momentarily.
Christine looked at Spike questioningly.
"You don't have to go in with us, ya know. You've done enough." Spike left it unspoken that it could very well turn into a suicide mission rather than a rescue.
Christine knocked his hand away while she gave him a dirty look. "Yeah, right. I think I'll be teaching these fuckers that I'm nobody's guinea pig bitch."
She heard an answering snicker, then a murmured, "You're a bit of all right, Jane." Ignoring the new nickname, she positioned her eye in front of the scanner and allowed the laser to read her retina, breathing a sigh of relief when the computer informed her that access had been granted, the door sliding open without a sound.
The sight that greeted them was absolutely horrifying.
Their eyes were drawn to the middle of the room where they found Buffy shackled to a modified birthing table, her face a study of agony.
She was naked.
Completely exposed to every clinical, and not so clinical, male eye that was upon her, no attempt at modesty having been attempted. Her heels were shoved in gynecological stirrups and another pair of shackles had been clamped cruelly around her ankles, leaving her thighs widespread.
Pain had dulled Buffy's consciousness to the barest minimum, her mind seeking the comfort of oblivion from both the physical and mental torture her body was being subjected to. The gown she had been given before had been stripped from her frame, leaving her more exposed and violated than she had ever been in her life.
And to think she'd been so worried about just having her ass hanging out before. Now, she was splayed wide for any Tom, Dick, and Harry that felt like taking a gander. This was so beyond the realm of not cool, it wasn't even funny.
Now, however, she had faces to go with her torturers, and longed for some mind-numbing narcotics to dull her imagination. That was one more thing she added to her list of grievances - the lack of quality drugs to make her labor easier. Sadistic bastards.
Their whispered words Buffy had overheard were just as revealing as their faces, and she had quickly learned of their intentions.
She was to become another causality once her baby was born, supposedly dying during the rigors of childbirth. From what Buffy had been able to piece together, something - or someone - had them spooked, and she had a strong suspicion of whom it could be.
The Council.
Not that the potential for their interference held any reassurance. Out of the frying pan and into the fire was the only thought that continued to ring through her brain of the totally stressed. She couldn't imagine Quentin Travers would be much better than the stupid military.
To say her regret was acute was an understatement, and she had already wasted a lot of tears and energy lashing out verbally.
Now she was exhausted, and the reality of giving birth this way continued to terrify her. Refusing to give up hope, she held onto the one thing that did have the power to get her through this.
Spike.
But she found herself barely hanging on, pain and the sacrifice of her much needed blood to Spike hitting her with a stunning intensity. Her contractions were fierce and unrelenting, and she nearly screamed as the labor-inducing medication was turned up, the IV flowing faster.
Despair seemed inevitable and she found herself succumbing, trying to battle it away by imagining the grisly demise of every person in the room with her.
Her heart suddenly jumped, and hope fluttered to batter at the ravaged surface of her emotions.
Because she felt him.
He was coming for her.
Buffy watched as the vampire who had vowed to protect her slipped practically undetected through the door that led to the making of her worst nightmare; she was only mildly surprised to see him flanked by Christine. But her throat suddenly closed up at the sight of her watcher following directly behind the pair.
.
She had missed him.
However, it was the last person in their small group that brought up the rear that managed to utterly shock her.
Never had Buffy thought she'd be happy to see the sight of Quentin Travers, but seeing the way he fanned out with the others along the perimeter of the room, weapon in hand, clearly indicated that he was there with Spike to help.
In another time, she might have laughed at the irony - Quentin Travers and a vampire working together - but this was most decidedly not a laughing matter.
Spike's golden eyes searched the room immediately, his demon roaring with the need for vengeance when he found Buffy shackled to the table, her body on full display to all those who chose to watch. Instinctively leaping forward to snatch her away, Spike found his movements halted by a firm grip around his wrist.
Spinning around with a snarl, he prepared to launch himself at his restrainer. Spike's furious eyes were met by the irritated brown of Christine. Glaring at the vampire, she whispered, "God, can you chill? Buffy will kill you if you blow it now."
The immediate need to get to Buffy's side fled in light of the soldier's reminder and Spike was able to regain control of his volatile emotions.
With a gaze that was now cool and accessing, Spike's eyes flickered around the room, grateful for the hum of machinery that masked their presence. He noted an almost equal number of soldiers and scientists, and his lip curled with anticipation. Blood would be shed here, and his demon roared with impatience. This impending birth of manipulated supernatural origins was apparently a cause for much celebration and anticipation because the ambiance of the room was surprisingly non-hostile.
If the pissed-off, naked, laboring guest of honor wasn't counted.
Making eye contact with each member of his allies, Spike gave them the signal to move in. The party that consisted of one vampire, two Council members and a renegade soldier attacked. Silently and lethally, they struck, and in a matter of seconds, the area became a virtual war zone.
Spike was determined to inflict a maximum amount of damage in a minimum amount of time, each throat ripped apart only slightly appeasing his demon's rage.
Heeding Spike's earlier request, Giles utilized his stun gun and cleared a path that took the watcher to Buffy's side. His forehead pinched with concern when he realized that she appeared to be in labor.
Heavy labor.
She hadn't noticed him yet; her eyes screwed shut as what appeared to be a contraction rode through her body, evidenced by the painful gasping of breath and the artifact showing on the machines she was hooked up to.
"Buffy," Giles uttered quietly.
Familiar hazel eyes sprang open at the sound of her name, tearful and filled with pain, finally calming as the last part of the contraction worked its way through her.
"Giles," she panted. "It's really you." Suddenly her eyes darted over her watcher's shoulder and in a voice that confirmed her slayer status, instructed "Giles, behind you."
Before the words had even completely left her mouth, she watched as her mentor spun around and shot the soldier that was coming up behind him. They both watched dispassionately as the injured soldier fell to the ground.
"We have to get out of here, " Buffy announced, her intense eyes searching some sign of for Spike. Hope filled her when she saw him fighting next to Travers, with only a handful of military left.
"You're in labor, Buffy," Giles informed her gently, knowing not only how inconvenient this development was for them to make good their escape, but also the potential danger at moving Buffy during such a crucial time.
"Duh, I think I know I'm in labor." Her hazel eyes flashed. "But I am so not having my baby in a military base, Giles."
Giles finally realized that Buffy was laying there completely exposed, her nudity not having registered in the shock of finding her about to give birth. The watcher looked around to assess the situation and found Spike across the room; his fury still palpable with every neck twisted and each jugular ripped out. Yet, Giles couldn't find it in himself to disapprove of the sheer violence being displayed, actually finding himself wanting to encourage it.
****
Realizing that there were only two of the enemy remaining, Spike left them for Travers and G.I. Jane to finish off, wasting no time in closing the distance that kept separated him from his girl.
His eyes met those of his slayer's and in their hazel depths, Spike found himself reassured that she was all right. They shared a small smile that spoke volumes.
"Thought you were gonna get her outta here," Spike snarled, glaring at the watcher upon his approach. He grabbed one shackle and snapped it as if it was made of paper, doing the same to the others. "Don't just bloody stand there. Get something to cover her up."
Finding himself flustered, Giles shrugged out of his tweed blazer and spread it out atop of her, belatedly realizing how mortifying her nudity must be.
"Thanks," she muttered gratefully. "Not really liking the all-exposed part of this scenario."
With more gentleness than Giles would ever have given Spike credit for, the vampire tore of the attached wires and scooped Buffy up off the hard clinical table and headed towards the door where they had come in.
"Let's go, kids," he called derisively over his shoulder, ignoring the carnage they were leaving behind. The death toll was high, but not nearly as high or destructive as it would have been if Spike had had the time to give it the proper effort.
Still, to have Buffy safe in his arms, her pregnancy still viable, more than made up for the lack of satisfying violence.
Travers and Christine brought up the rear of the small procession out of the room.
Before they could make good their escape, a soldier that the head watcher, himself, had tazed roused himself out of his paralyzing stupor with enough energy to pick up his stun gun and fire his weapon.
Despite the soldier's injured status, his aim was accurate and the target was hit.
tbc
Major thanks once again to spikeskat for beta'ing this chapter and QUICKLY!! *hugs kat*
18
With a sharp cry, Christine went down.
"Bloody fuckin' hell," Spike snapped, only slightly mollified when Giles returned fire with his own weapon almost immediately, finishing the job his superior hadn’t. "Pick her up," the vampire ordered a transfixed Travers, who'd failed to respond immediately. "We're not leavin' 'er here."
Realizing the vampire’s words were having no effect on the head councilman, Giles stepped in and swiftly hefted the slight girl over his shoulder. He was somewhat, perplexed by Spike's insistence about retrieving the fallen soldier, their escape already hampered as it was. Gesturing with his head for Travers to snap out of it and move, Giles hurried after Spike, who was managing to make good time down the long hallway - even with the awkward package of a very pregnant slayer in his arms.
With their most reliable source for navigation now unconscious, Spike was forced to rely on the watchers to guide them towards the exit, his own previous escape prompting no memories that would help in this instance.
The small team had managed to work their way through the corridors, and making it as far as the level with the familiar holding cells level before running into their first snag.
With the sound of military-issue boots headed leisurely in their direction, Spike cursed under his breath as the noise drew steadily nearer. Though he did note that their unhurried pace was a good indication that their massacre obviously hadn't been noted as of yet. However, with Buffy in his arms and in the middle of another contraction, he sussed out the only one with free hands was the head Council wanker himself. Quickly pressing himself into the shadows, Spike hoped that he had enough time to unload Buffy before they were set upon.
The soldiers were too close, however, and Spike prepared himself to do battle with his slayer cradled against his chest. He tightened his hold on her and signaled to the others, alerting them of the incoming enemy.
Before the vampire could take care of this latest threat, Travers darted into the path of the approaching soldiers, using the element of surprise to his full advantage. Raising his stun gun, the head watcher managed to bring the leader down with a sharp burst of electricity before turning to face the other soldier, who was attempting to discharge his own weapon. A quick chop to front of his neck effectively took care of the problem .
Hands scrambling to clutch at his throat, the wounded soldier tried desperately to pull air into his tortured lungs, a dawning horror spreading over his face at the inability while peering helplessly into Travers' impassive face. Unable to get the oxygen his body required in light of his crushed trachea, the dying man sank slowly to his knees, his coloring quickly changing to the mottled blue of the terminally asphyxiated.
Giles watched admiringly as Travers, face devoid of emotion, leaned down to grab the dying soldier's head, twisting it savagely. With an audible crack, the body was dropped uncaringly to the ground, and Travers calmly reached down to remove the hand-held radio from the dead man's holster.
"Nice bit o' work, that" Spike commented, gesturing to the bodies on the ground.
Travers acknowledged the compliment for exactly what it was, as one killer to another. A hint of a satisfied smile shadowed the Englishman's face. "Yes, well, I wasn't always head of the Watcher's Council, you know. Granted, it's been a few years, but some things you just never forget."
Spike didn't need Travers to tell him that they needed to hustle; the vampire was well aware that the conspicuous lack of radio contact was bound to raise suspicion, sooner rather than later. This time, Spike let the head watcher take the lead, confident in his abilities to see them out of this hellhole.
Spike looked down at his precious cargo, worry creasing his brow. Buffy's eyes were shut as her body worked through the internal agony of childbirth. She seemed to be in no condition for this type of escape - much less going through the actual birthing process. There had been a glimmer of hope that her contractions would have stopped once the labor-inducing IV drip was no longer being pumped through her veins, but soon realized that their luck hadn’t held that long.
The prolonged contraction she was obviously experiencing proved that her labor hadn't gone anywhere, and Buffy thrashed her head against the wall of his chest while groaning softly.
"Spike, stop. Please stop," Buffy begged, her agony acute and growing by the second as her uterus hardened and squeezed.
As much as he'd had trouble denying her every whim in the past, this was not a request he could give into. "Can't do that, pet. We gotta get out of 'ere."
Spike didn't want to think about when he had escaped before and almost perished in the desert when the sun had come up. A cave had sheltered him in just the nick of time.
"Spike, it hurts," Buffy whimpered softly, her entire body rigid with pain as they continued along.
Spike would have given anything to allow her the comfort of ceasing the movement that he knew was exacerbating the agony.
A blaring symphony of sound suddenly filled the air, a harsh alert that their duplicity had been discovered, and Spike knew that stopping now was impossible.
"We're almost there," Giles wheezed, recognizing the way.
Just beyond that - freedom.
Now on a high level of alert, the base seemed to come to life. The soldiers who hadn't had the necessary clearance to the experimental levels having obviously been dispatched without regard for security, and Spike could hear the pounding of their feet as they headed in their direction.
Right now they needed a miracle.
Spike picked up his pace to a run, and Buffy's moan of agony cut straight through his unbeating heart. But he couldn't slow down now.
Spike looked behind him and checked on the others, noting that Buffy watcher was looking a wee bit peaked, the dead weight of G.I. Jane obviously proving to be too much for him. The shorter Council head was in bad shape too, even without hauling extra weight.
Bloody humans.
The vampire knew with startling clarity that they weren't going to make it.
He could feel the daytime tickling his senses and cursed the inconvenience. One more strike against an already impossible task.
Regret and anguish slammed through him as he ran. He was never going to get to meet his daughter. If they were recaptured, it was almost assured that he would not be allowed to live.
Not after massacring practically half the base.
The alert continued to blare, and the sounds of the approaching soldiers grew louder.
Spike found himself offering a prayer to a God he had forsaken - pleading for that miracle.
Even if he didn't expect to get one.
The straggling group had made it as far as the motorcade and Spike eyed the ramp that would take them towards freedom longingly, before searching for a getaway vehicle. Despair struck when he saw the only vehicles available were open-topped military jeeps. Still, if it gave Buffy and his child a chance... he would willingly give it to them.
Resolution flooded his body, his stagnant veins filling with determination as he headed for the row of vehicles, not bothering to find out if the others were still following behind.
Before the vampire could reach his intended destination, his sensitive hearing picked up another sound over the continued blaring of the alarm - the screech of tires against asphalt.
Frustration screamed through him at the swift realization that they were under attack from the opposite direction, and Spike slowed to take precious seconds to search for overlooked opportunities, his demon clawing within him to survive.
Their outlook appeared bleak, and Spike roared with despair. To fail when they were so close to freedom was excruciating. He resumed his course towards the vehicles, instinctively knowing he would never make it in time. The sound of approaching soldiers informed him that they were close.
Too close.
Again, Spike ignored Buffy's tortured whimpers and kept moving.
The screech of tires sounded closer and Spike's determination hardened, snarls ripping through his throat as he waited for the final blow. But a subtle itch began crawling through him that had nothing to do with rage, hopelessness or despair.
It was the itch of family.
When an armored truck swung into sight, tires leaving the ground as it navigated around the last turn, the significance could no longer be denied.
The sound of rubber leaving marks on the ground drowned out the loud military alert, and the truck screeched to a halt as the doors flew open.
And all Spike could think as he raced towards those open doors was that he had never, in his entire existence, been so happy to see the bastard that was his grandsire in all of his existence.
Angelus.
Not quite the miracle Spike had been expecting, but it would hopefully do.
TBC
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