The second night, Buffy patrolled and saw no sign of Spike. On returning to the mansion shortly after midnight, she expressed mild surprise that only Angel awaited her, but, since he was naked and holding a can of whipped cream...she quickly forgot about her errant lover.

The third night, when Buffy reached the mansion an hour after sun set and found Angel pacing, she began to grow worried.

"In the month we've been together, he's spent a total of four nights away from here, and never any consecutive nights. Even if he didn't get here until nearly dawn." Angel kept pacing as Buffy sat on the couch, her fingers digging into the cushion beside her legs.

"Did we do something to anger him?" she asked in a small voice.

Angel shook his head. "I've been wracking my brain all day. He left about an hour before dawn. You were sleeping and we'd been playing chess. He seemed to be in a good mood-- he'd actually beaten me. I think he made some quip about seeing us that night if he could beat off the fledgling chicks with a stick, and then he left."

"We...we just assumed he couldn't get away, but..." She flashed Angel a frightened look. "Could he be dead?"

Angel shook his head again. "I think...I think I'd know. Sires are supposed to know when their childer are killed. It's never happened to me so I'm not sure what it feels like."

"How many childer do you have?"

"Two."

"Oh." Silence fell as Angel leaned on the mantle, staring into the fire, and Buffy examined the scuffed toes of his boots. "Can you ask around?" she finally asked.

Angel nodded slowly. "As Spike's sire, I have certain privileges and immunities. I haven't wanted to enter his territory, but it's important that we find him."

"They won't hurt you?"

"His minions know that Spike's been spending time with me-- they aren't happy about it, remember? If he had turned on me, they'd kill me without hesitation, but I'm relatively safe now."

"I can go to Willie's; see if he's heard anything."

"Meet back here in two hours?"

Buffy nodded and they both left the mansion.

Two hours later Buffy was back on the couch, staring into the dying embers of the fire, desolate.

No one knew anything. The last sighting of Spike had been four nights ago. He'd bought his newest fledgling a beer, then left the bar around nine. He'd gone straight to the mansion and stayed till sometime after five in the morning.

Willie no longer even bothered to try to lie to her, so she believed him when he said he hadn't seen Spike. He had mentioned that some of Spike's fledglings had been in the night before and had been wondering where he'd gotten to. Spike's second in command had made some derogatory comment about Angel.

It was apparent that Spike hadn't been seen by his clan for at least a few days either.

But, that had been last night, and Buffy held desperately to the hope that he had returned by now and Angel was dragging him back by his ear or some other part of his anatomy.

Ten minutes later, an angry, disheveled Angel stomped into the room. Buffy jumped to her feet and hurried over to him.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes. Idiot fledglings have no respect for their elders. The older ones stopped them from attacking."

"No Spike?"

Angel shook his head slowly and pulled her into his arms. "They haven't seen him since before our last time together. He never made it back to the lair that morning."

"Oh God..."

Spike woke with a jolt as a red hot branding iron seared into the middle of his back. He screamed, unable to keep his composure as agony lashed through him. As the iron was lifted off of him, he beat and kicked at the examining table he was chained to on his stomach. He'd actually been relieved when they'd placed him there--he hadn't lain down in at least forty eight hours. The relief on his legs and feet had actually allowed him to sleep.

Not that he had any clue what time it was. Going in and out of consciousness did nothing to help him keep track of time.

All he knew was that he was growing increasingly hungry.

Heels clicked on the linoleum floor and his chief tormenter came into view. Spike raised his head, wishing he had the energy to spit in her face. His demon, given free reign by his fury and hunger, glared at her and hissed, "Bitch."

"I truly am amazed at his strength." She was speaking to someone off to the side and Spike tried to turn his head, only to realize there was a clamp around his neck, preventing him from doing anything but raising it straight up. "He must be several decades old."

"We rarely get old ones here," a male voice added. "Most are killed by the slayer while still fledglings."

"One of the disadvantages of the Hellmouth. True, it attracts the beasts, but it also makes the most fitting place for the slayer to reside." She grabbed Spike by the hair and jerked his head back up. "I want your name, beast."

"Fuck you," Spike spat out in a furious growl.

"We've kept catalogs on all those who have died and been reborn here in the last three years, so you're either an older resident or from out of town."

Spike wondered why they hadn't heard of him. He'd raised quite a bit of Hell during his original tenure in town. It pricked his pride that she didn't know his identity. Maybe she just hadn't put the name with the face.

The woman released his head and Spike's chin clunked on the cold metal table, making him snarl in pain.

"What next?" the man asked.

"We've tried electro-shock, drugs, beatings, holy water, branding..." As she recited the litany of the tortures they'd put Spike through, her voice rose in anger. "Hell, I don't know, maybe we should ram a hot poker up his ass."

"The physical torture doesn't seem to bother him enough. The animals like pain."

"But, only to a certain extent. Eventually, even a demon will be unable to take it. We've experimented on nearly thirty of the creatures and they've all broken to some degree within three days."

"But, as you said, they were all young. Most couldn't even control their faces."

"Is that a matter of will, I wonder?" she mused.

As they rattled on, Spike let his mind drift back to his last moment of freedom.

Spike strolled through the edge of the campus on his way back to his lair from the mansion, from...home. His brows furrowed at that thought. When had the mansion become home? Shaking himself slightly, he glanced towards the east and saw the sky beginning to pinken. Picking up speed, he passed silently through a spinney of bushes.

His thoughts drifted to the image of Buffy laying curled like a cat, asleep on their big bed. Her naked body glistened with perspiration and was flushed with the remnants of her passion. As he'd dressed, her familiar vanilla scent, now mingled with the heady aroma of lust, had tickled his nose and he'd smiled at his sire, who lounged in front of the fireplace, sipping from a goblet of blood.

Angel had smiled back, a silky, dark look of humor, lust and love.

Spike didn't know what had pleased him more, Buffy's body, replete with love induced sleep, or Angel's smile of such incredible pleasure.

A grin crossed is face, and he swept around a statue of the founder of the college, then broke into a quick trot along the pond towards the edge of downtown.

Suddenly, every nerve burst into flame, and he silently screamed as blackness filled his mind, replacing his last view of his lovers.

Spike stared darkly at the table beneath his face, his eyes crossing unpleasantly. He'd been in this torture chamber ever since, awaking naked and chained to the wall, a whip being applied to his chest. He'd laughed off that first whipping. Angel's love taps were harder. The holy water had been bloody painful, then the electro-shocks had made him scream. All the drugs had done were make him giggle. Truth serum rarely worked on vampires of strong will, and there weren't many with stronger wills than Spike. So, they'd returned to the physical torture.

The brands were the worst so far. The smell of his burning flesh freed his demon, making him hunger as the pain overwhelmed him. He hadn't been fed since they'd brought him here, and he'd lost quite a bit of blood during one extremely brutal whipping that had left his back a raw mess for what had to have been at least twenty-four hours.

Dimly, he wondered what they'd do next...and when they'd kill him. He had no illusions that if he didn't break, that's what came next.

And...better demons had tried to break him.

"Maybe we're going about this the wrong way, professor," the man spoke up. "All the others who have survived through the breaking down process, have gone mad from project delta. Maybe they need their wills to survive it."

After a moment, the woman responded. "Hm, you may be on to something. But, unbroken, we won't have any control over him."

"But we can still monitor his responses. We may have to start with that. If he can survive project delta, we might be able to make adjustments to the device so that future demons can be tamed first."

"Okay, let's keep up the torture for another twenty-four hours, then, if he still hasn't broken, we'll try the insertion."

Clacking heels informed Spike that the bitch was leaving again- -she didn't seem to have the guts to watch or participate in the torture. He smelled the heat as it approached and steeled his body, his muscles going rigid.

The brand touched the sole of his foot and Spike roared.

After only a few hours of exhaustion induced sleep, Buffy slipped from Angel's side and quickly dressed. It was shortly after noon, but she couldn't just sleep the day away. Leaving the mansion, she headed back to Willie's to see if he'd heard anything new.

The information she obtained from the bartender sent her dragging her steps towards her watcher's house. She hadn't wanted it to come out like this--she hadn't wanted it to come out at all.

But, she couldn't let Spike die if she could save him, and, she couldn't save him without Giles.

Picturing her watcher's reaction, she physically cringed, and thought momentarily of going to get Angel and returning at dusk.

But, that might be too late.

And, Giles might very well kill Angel in his initial anger.

Reaching her watcher's door, she took a deep breath and knocked. A moment later, the door opened and Giles smiled at her.

"Hello, Buffy."

Nodding, she entered the cozy living room and perched herself on the edge of the couch, her hands knotting in her lap. "I need to talk to you."

"Is there a problem?" He immediately grew serious and took a seat across from her, leaning forward slightly.

"Um...yeah. Have you found any information on those commando guys?"

"Not as of yet. There have been several sightings over the last six months, mostly around the campus. As usual, most people in this town have just turned a blind eye."

"I...Willie told me something." She swallowed hard and stared into her lap. "Vampires have been disappearing for about six months, and, not going poof. There are rumors in the vamp community that they're being kidnaped, tortured and experimented on, and they never come back."

"Good Lord."

"They mostly are disappearing shortly before dawn, as they make their way back to their lairs. Their concentration tends to lapse from both being full and the rising sun. Willie said that someone saw a vampire shot with some kind of stun gun a couple days ago. He was shot by a guy in army fatigues and a ski mask."

"Interesting. So, these commandos are taking vampires for experimentation of some kind? Hm..." Giles sat back in his chair, pondering. "Well, although this is unusual, I can't say that I'm against it. The Watcher's Council has been known to do the same thing, and it does rid the world of a few that you won't have to face."

"Yeah, good," Buffy replied dully, then steeled herself, straightening her spine and looking at her watcher. "I think they took Spike."

Giles looked startled for a moment, then pensive. "I didn't realize that he was back. Well, this could create a problem. He knows your identity. These commandos appear to be on our side, but I wouldn't want your identity compromised, until we know for sure just what they're up to."

"Spike won't tell."

"Well, yes, he does have an extraordinary will, but everyone has a breaking point." He flushed slightly and rubbed his nose. "We need to find out who these people are and confront them in some way to determine if they are harmful to you. Call Willow and have her come here to try to hack the university computer. They seem to be based on campus."

"I want to rescue him."

Giles was shaken out of research mode, and stared at her. "What?"

"I can't leave him there. If he's...still alive, we need to get him out of there."

"Buffy, he's your worst enemy, and, though generally I don't support the use of torture, I can't sympathize with a demon who has terrorized you and tried to kill you."

Rising to her feet, Buffy stared down on her watcher, her eyes filling with tears. "I'm sorry," she mumbled.

Giles knew her too well. Eyes narrowing, he stood, reaching for her shaking shoulders. "Buffy?"

Swallowing back a sob, she blurted out the truth. "I've been sleeping with him for six weeks."

Giles released her abruptly, stumbling back against the chair, his face reflecting his shock.

Wringing her hands and fighting to hold back the tears, Buffy continued, "He found me in the cemetery after I'd been with Angel and I was so...lonely. It just happened, and then...it continued to happen...and then Angel found out, and he has his soul permanently now, and we began this bizarre threesome, and I think I love Spike too."

Face shuttered, Giles stepped back away from her, his hands clenching into fists. "So, let me see if I understand this," he began tightly. "You have continued to see Angel, after telling me that it was over between you, and you began a physical relationship with a demon who has tried to kill us all on numerous occasions, and now you are involved with both of them."

"Yes," she sobbed. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"But not sorry you did it."

At his snapped comment, her inner strength returned and her tears stopped. Her spine straightened and she looked up into Giles' angry face. "No, I'm not. I love Angel. I've never been able to stop. And, we can be together now. I know you'll never forgive him for what he did to you, and that's your right--and he's never forgiven himself--but I have to move past that. I have a finite life, and I'm not going to waste it being miserable and alone."

"So, you become the whore of two demons."

Buffy stiffened, his words lashing through her, but she kept her anger in check, and nodded tightly. "If that's how you see me, there's nothing I can do about that. Whatever your feelings about Spike and our relationship, we can't leave him with these commandos. We don't know what they're up to. What if they're trying to use vampires for some evil purpose?"

Giles stared at her for several minutes, then finally gave a brief nod. "Call Willow."

Hours of research later--and a brief, tear-ridden, heartfelt talk with her best friend--Buffy paced around Giles' living room mentally ticking off what they knew, which was heavily outweighed by what they didn't know. She and Giles hadn't spoken since the arrival of Willow and Oz, and she could feel his disapproval with every move she made, but he was in full research mode. He was trying to help her.

Somehow she'd make this up to him.

Willow and Oz had accepted it with aplomb--not such a surprise with Oz. Luckily Xander was in San Diego at a cousin's wedding for the weekend. He was not going to take it well--probably worse than Giles.

Shortly after they'd begun to research, Buffy had called Angel and he was due to arrive right after sunset. She wasn't looking forward to the confrontation between her mentor and her lover, but he had every right to be here, helping to find Spike.

Willow let out a crow, and Buffy hurried to her side. "What did you find?"

"I can't tell for sure if this is it, but there's a research grant buried deep in the housekeeping budget. It's for research into the emotional ability of vermin."

"Like rats?"

Willow shook her head. "At first sight, maybe, but it's a hidden grant, which makes it automatically suspicious, and why would housekeeping care about the emotions of vermin?"

"Vermin could mean vampires," Giles mused, squinting at the screen. "Can you find out to whom the grant was awarded?"

"It's a code, but I recognize the numerical signature." Willow nibbled on her lower lip and glanced up at Buffy. "It's Professor Walsh."

"Psychology, that makes sense if they're studying vampire emotions," Oz added.

"I don't believe it," Buffy mumbled numbly. Her favorite professor.

"She does have a cadre of strapping, young T.A.s, that all seem strangely devoted to her." Willow returned to hacking. "All the details are in code. It's going to take me a while to break it, but hopefully they have a physical location listed here. I could be wrong, Buffy," she added.

"No...I don't think so."

The doorbell rang and Buffy went to answer it. Angel pulled her into his arms, hugging her tightly.

"We'll find him," he murmured, gently kissing the top of her head.

"We have a lead." Buffy pulled back and quickly filled him in, as she led him into the room. As she finished her recitation, Giles rose to his feet, his face a cold mask.

"Angel, we need to talk."

Nodding, Angel followed the older man through the kitchen and into the courtyard.

On Spike's next return to consciousness, he found himself laying on the floor of a sterile, empty room. His hands were chained to a bolt in the far corner from the one door. The walls and floor were white, the only color, the yellow glow from the one light bulb hanging from the ceiling. Slowly pulling his aching body into a sitting position he leaned back against the wall, wincing as healing lash marks brushed the hard surface.

Dizziness assailed him, and he cursed under his breath. He was starving, and the blood that remained inside him was going stale, doing less and less each moment to keep him alive. He knew from experience that the need for blood would drive him mad before it killed him. One of Angelus favorite ways to mold a minion was to starve them for a couple days after rebirth. A vampire would agree to anything to stop the agony.

That Anne Rice crap about digging yourself into the ground and hibernating was a bunch of, well, crap. If a vampire didn't feed regularly--even a few spoonfuls a day--it would die a very painful, nasty death. The older a vampire got, the longer it could go without fresh blood. Spike wondered if that was why the previous prisoners had broken--not from the physical torture of their captors, but from starvation.

For the first time, Spike wondered if he would break and agree to whatever they wanted, tell them anything they wanted to know.

One of their persistently asked questions was the identity of the slayer.

Buffy stood in the kitchen archway, her eyes fastened on the back door, her ears straining for the sounds of blows and cries. All she could hear was the tapping of keyboards and the clicking of computer mice from behind her.

Willow rose, stretching, and walked up behind her best friend, tapping her gently on the shoulder. "Let's take a break."

Torn between wanting to talk to her best friend, and keep an eye on the back door, Buffy finally nodded and followed Willow over to the couch. Oz made some mention of fetching mochas, and headed out the front door.

Taking Buffy's hand, Willow squeezed gently. "You know, I wondered what was up with you the last month or so. You were rarely at home, and I just didn't buy your sudden need to bond with your mom."

"I...I didn't know how to tell you." Buffy stared at their joined hands.

"You can tell me anything, Buffy. Best friends, remember? I'm so happy for you that Angel's soul is super-glued on. I admit, I don't quite get the whole Spike thing, though he is a hottie."

"I wanted to tell you about Angel. I knew you'd be the one person who would be happy for us, but, it all got mixed in with Spike, and I didn't know how to tell anyone about that."

"And...Angel's okay with you and Spike?"

"I didn't give him much choice, and it's Angel and Spike, too."

Willow blushed, her mouth dropping open. "Wow. I mean, I guessed that they, you know, in the past, cuz vampires, you know, but...wow."

Buffy flushed, too, and mumbled. "It's really weird, but...exciting, too."

"I know that a lot of guys like the idea of watching two girls, is it the same for a girl, you know, watching two guys?"

"Well, *I* like it. And, they're so good together. I mean, they've been doing this for two centuries."

"Wow."

Buffy's face fell again and she squeezed Willow's hand tighter. "I miss him. I know Giles thinks I'm insane and a slut and...I don't care. Spike isn't evil to me anymore, and..."

"You miss him," Willow continued gently. "We'll find him, and then, when he's back in the fold, you can tell me all the details. Well, not all, but some." Smiling, she hugged her friend.

Angel and Giles came back into the apartment, neither looking the worse for their encounter, though neither was smiling. Buffy rose and went to Angel, sliding into his arms.

"You okay?" she whispered, burying her face in his chest.

"Giles and I had a long talk. A good talk. We'll work through this, sweetheart."

Buffy pulled back and turned to see that Giles was watching them, his face impassive. Willow had gone back to her laptop, and Angel joined her. Slowly Buffy walked over to her mentor.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," she said softly.

"So am I. I...can't be happy about this, Buffy, not yet, maybe not ever. But, you are an adult, and a wondrous one at that." He placed one hand gently on her shoulder and squeezed. "I have to trust that you know what you're doing." He glanced over at Angel. "Logically I know that Angel is not the same man who killed Jenny and tortured us all for months. We can work out our differences, but," He returned his gaze to Buffy's hope- filled face. "If Spike hurts one hair on your head, I'll eviscerate him very, very slowly."

"He won't hurt me, and, you'd have to get in line behind Angel. Can you forgive me for keeping yet another secret?"

Giles sighed and pulled her into his arms. "I wish you didn't feel like you had to, but, yes, I forgive you."

Buffy's tears wet his shirt as she silently cried her thanks.

Oz returned with coffee, but it only kept the humans awake so long. One by one, they fell asleep over their research. Buffy and Angel patrolled fruitlessly, returning to Giles' apartment in the hour before dawn, to sleep in a darkened corner of the living room. The next day was Saturday and they all slept in, exhausted from searching.

They came for Spike again just as he was about to begin screaming in pain and fury. He was too weak to do much more than struggle feebly as they dragged him down a featureless hall and into what looked like a futuristic operating room. The woman stood there, that blonde bitch, wearing medical scrubs, and examining a tray of instruments.

She glared at him, her eyes narrow and full of hate. "Your strength of will, beast, is an affront to God, as is your very existence, but I'm going to find out what makes you tick, one way or another." She gestured and Spike was chained to the operating table, on his stomach. He struggled and growled, but was helpless against their relentless grips. As the manacles bound him tight and a clamp was fitted around his neck, he felt the prick of a needle in his arm, and then a burning heat fill him.

In his head, his demon began to scream, as unconsciousness pressed upon him.

"This is getting us nowhere," Buffy growled in frustration.

"I'm trying to break this encryption as fast as I can," Willow snapped back.

Immediately contrite, Buffy rubbed her friend's shoulders as she stood behind her. "I know, I'm sorry."

"Whoever designed this was a genius."

"So are you, Will. You'll get it."

Angel walked over to them. "It's sunset. I need to grab a bite, and then we can start searching again."

Nodding, Buffy made her goodbyes, and they left the apartment. They made a quick stop at Willie's for blood and to check if there was any new information, which there wasn't, then returned to the campus. As they prowled along the edge of the pond, Buffy heard a rustling in some bushes and parted the branches carefully.

Naked to the world and stirring feebly, Spike lay at her feet, his body covered in healing wounds of various kinds, his face vamped out even though he wasn't really conscious.

Sobbing his name in joy, Buffy dropped to her knees and pulled Spike into her arms.

Spike's demon automatically lunged for her neck, but Angel intercepted him, pushing Buffy out of the way and jerking his childe to his feet, then over his shoulder.

"He's starving." Angel began a quick trot through the woods towards Giles' apartment--the closer of possible destinations-- and Buffy followed, her heart pounding with joy.

Two hours later, Spike lay in Giles' bed. Angel had fed him his own blood, along with two pints of cow blood that Oz had fetched from Willie's. After he'd fed, he'd slipped into a more natural sleep--at least for a vampire--and Buffy and Angel had examined his wounds. As each burn and lash mark was uncovered, Buffy paled even more.

All the wounds were recognizable except for one dime sized scar behind his left ear. It looked like someone had cut him there very deliberately, but it was healing quickly now with the infusion of fresh blood, and like the rests of the marks, would be gone by the next night.

Carefully Buffy pulled the blankets up to his chin, then curled up next to him on the bed. Angel pulled a chair up on the other side and took his childe's hand in his.

"He's going to be okay, Buffy. He's tough."

"He looks so...vulnerable." And he did. There were dark shadows beneath Spike's eyes and his cheeks looked even more sunken. His skin was pasty, and he appeared thinner, as if his skin was hanging on his bones.

"My question is, why did they let him go?" Giles asked from the doorway. Oz and Willow stood just inside the room, arms around each other's waists as they leaned against the wall.

Before anyone could comment, Spike stirred and his eyes blinked open. The first thing he saw was the watcher staring him down. "Bloody Hell," he groaned. "Secret's out."

"You're talking. You're okay!" Buffy exclaimed, wanting to hug him, but not wanting to hurt him further.

"My head's gonna explode." He raised one hand to his head and rolled his eyes to his sire. "Stake me?"

"Doesn't take much for your sense of humor to return," Angel replied with a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"They let me go." Spike seemed very surprised by that. "I remember hearing that order, then everything went black again."

"Who took you?" Buffy demanded.

"Don't know, luv. Looked like...doctors or scientists. Bloody sadistic ones, too." He glanced slowly around the room. "So...where are we?"

"My apartment," Giles answered in a cold voice.

"It was closer than the mansion. We found you near the pond on campus," Buffy explained.

"How long was I missing?"

"Five days." Tears began to leak out of her eyes and drip onto his shoulder.

"Don't cry, luv," Spike soothed. "I'll be fine. Takes a lot more than some namby pamby doctors to break William the Bloody."

"I've been so scared." She buried her face in his shoulder, weeping quietly.

Spike gave Angel an uncomfortable look, and Angel squeezed his hand. "Vampires have been going missing for several months and none of them have turned up. You're the first."

"Yeah, they said something about...me being a lot older than the others."

"We think we know who's behind it." Angel gestured to Willow who approached the bed cautiously, a piece of paper in her hand, which she gave to Angel. Spike looked at the computer printed picture and his eyes narrowed.

"That's the bitch behind the whole thing."

"That's Professor Walsh," Willow said, a lump forming in her throat. "She teaches psychology."

Spike snarled at the picture, and Buffy stared at him in shock, then looked to Giles for direction.

"More research," Giles advised, frowning in concern. "The only proof we currently have is the word of a vampire."

"We'll find more," Angel added firmly, gazing lovingly at his wounded childe.

Re-energized, Oz, Willow and Giles returned to the makeshift library downstairs, while Buffy curled against Spike's side, and Angel began to pace, his mind churning with plans and desires.

This woman would pay.

 

The End

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