Summary: Season 6 Post-6.2, AU after that. The nerd trio never exisited here. A short time after Buffy comes back, she decides to tell Spike the truth. After they're together, everything goes great but it's all ruined when she's taken...
Disclaimer: I do not own the show Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel (The Series). All of the characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, 20th Century Fox, et al.
Feedback: jackie_a_2002@yahoo.com
Chapter Five
Spike wakes with a start and jerks around. His eyes snap shut and open and he looks to each place that he searches. The cemetery is quite and still on one is around and he can't smell anyone coming close. The only thing that fills his senses is the stale scent of Buffy's light perfume.
He chokes on his panic.
It can't be true. His senses are deceiving him. Yeah, that's what it is. His senses aren't working properly.
Jumping to his feet, he ignores the dizzy spell that washes through his head. He had to find her. He couldn't go home until he does. He can't face Dawn until he finds her. There's no way he would be to see that look again on her poor little face. Not if he has to move hell and earth to find her.
He doesn't allow himself to break down; he knows if he does, he'll never get back up. And that won't help Buffy, or little bit.
The sun starts to rise and he curses it's existence. If the sun would only stay down all the time, he knows it would cut his search in half.
Forgetting his car, and the rest of the world, he runs home. He runs as if the rest of the world is chasing him, crashing down behind him as he moves. He has to find her… His insides are going numb…
He has to find her. There's no questioning it. He has to find her.
* * *
In back of her mind, she knows that its not his fault, that it hurts him to the bone that she blames. But it's so much easier to blame him. He was there…
"You there, you should have protected her…" She screams at him, even as her common sense screams at her that this isn't right. She doesn't care. "You should have protected her."
"I know, little bit." He says as he tries to stop her pounding fists.
"Don't call me that. You don't have to the right," she screams as he struggles in his grip. "This is all your fault…. All your fault…."
"Dawn…." His voice breaks on her name but she ignores it, hating the way guilt rushes forward. Anger is better, easier to swallow, and far less painful to handle.
"No," she says as he backs away. She's glad that he lets her go. If he held her any longer, she was going to break down… "No excuse is good enough." She says as she runs to the stairs.
"Dawn," his voice follows her.
She turns a glare to him even as she feels tears welling in her eyes. She needs to leave, to get a hold of her reeling emotions. "You shouldn't have back until you found her." Her voice is cold, and sounds foreign, even to her ears.
She rushes up the stairs before she can see the look on his face. Running into her room, she slams the door and wishes she could do that with her emotions as well.
* * *
As she listens to Spike's words, listens to Dawn's subsequent anger, her body slumps. She vaguely feels a pair of arms steel around her.
"Will…" She hears Xander.
A sob breaks through her tightly closed throat. It does again when Spike turns to them after Dawn's parting words. She's never seen someone look more crushed. Still, he doesn't cry….
Willow turns her head and buries it in Xander's shoulder. She can't believe it. Buffy was kidnapped…
* * *
"Are you all set up Red?" Spike's is rough. It had grown weak a couple weeks ago from disuse. He used to be one of the most talkative vampires Willow had ever meet, but of late, he talks less and less… Not that she goes around talking to unknown vampires… Not that she goes looking for vampires to become friends with…
"Willow," his voice has more of a snap to it.
She jerks out of her thoughts. "Yes." She says she moves over to him and draws a mark on his fore head. "I need you to take off your coat and shirt." After a minute, he stands bare-chested in front of her, waiting for her next set of instructions. "Now, lay down in the circle, and I'll do the rest."
Spike does as told and makes himself relax in the circle, feeling his skin crawl. It doesn't make it easy for him. He feels as if he's lying down on the job. But this has to be done, or he will be of no use when the time comes.
He hears distant chanting but his mind moves to the morning after they'd made love. He'll never forget that morning.
He woke feeling refreshed and sated for the first in more years then he would like to admit. His eyes had traveled from the foot of the bed where her small feet had peeked out and up her sleeping form. It had been a surprise and an enormous please to see her.
She had been laying on her stomach, facing him, and breathed lightly in her sleep. He had stayed there and watched her for an hour or so before it had become too much not to touch, not to have her awake with him.
During the time, he had watched her; she had turned onto her side. He had bent down then, and pressed his lips to hers. As she had come awake, her arms had gone around his neck and pulled him further down, over her. He had gone willingly, and taken her tongue into his mouth to suckle.
As they had broken the kiss, she had purred, "Good Morning."
Just before he claimed her mouth again, he had growled, "Indeed."
They had continued like that for another fifteen or so minutes, enjoying the wet slid of tongue, and the brush of lips before the strong urge to take each other had started to rush through….
Spike roars as searing pain rips through his reverie, the first sense of peace he'd had in a long time. He arches up off the concrete floor, and roars again. His cry is so loud that it shatters the glass in the factory.
The pain goes on so long, runs so deep that roars and screams do it no justice, and he's reduced to silent cries. The silent screams continue, even as blood comes from his eyes and nose, releasing some of the pressure.
Then, finally, close to dawn, the pressure suddenly gives, so suddenly that he gives a sob of relief. A dull, but insistent ache takes up residence somewhere in the back of his skull. As lays there, half dazed, he feels soft hands gently searching him, and then finally pulling him to a where body.
How he wished that were Buffy.
"I'm sorry Spike," he hears Willow. And even with his head and body feeling numb, he feels a drop of warm moisture land on his cheek.
He smiles lightly as his eyes refuse to open. "It had to been done love. It's not your fault." He says as his voice fades.
"No, Spike. Don't fall asleep. You're sure to have a concussion."
He chuckles quietly. "I'm a vampire, love." And then everything turns pleasantly blank.
* * *
Xander paces up and down his living room, feeling more helpless and useless then he ever has. Buffy has been missing for a month and nothing. They haven't found anything.
And Spike… The damn vampire doesn't seem to have a care in the world in anymore. He's been disappearing for days at a time. And, no matter what Dawn says, it hits her every time he disappears.
He may hate the vampire, but he knows Dawn won't be able to handle the loss of both Buffy and Spike in such a short time.
"Where are you Buff?" He asks the room.
* * *
Even as the sun threatens to steal the night, Spike stays where he's perched on the railing of the Summer's home. Things have changed a lot around here.
Now that Buffy is officially missing, Giles has taken guardianship of Dawn. By her request, the two are going to be moving to England in a couple of months. Giles says it's because he has to get everything settled to the Demon and the story, and taken Dawn as his charge…. But Spike knows better.
Turning on the rail, he leans back against the post and lays his head back.
Dawn… the only Summers girl he has left and she won't even look at him. Things have never quite been the same between them after her harsh words.
Pushing thoughts of the little spit fire out of his mind, he turns it work on what he knows. Tara and willow are back together. Willow hasn't done magic since she helped him, and they were the only two that know about that, him and her. The two birds seem to be happier then ever.
"That hurts," he mutters.
The whelp, he thinks with a writhing smile, has been different toward him, even striving for civil. Not that he cared. It made no difference to him if the whelp didn't want him here, he's staying and that is that.
He frowns. He'd found little to him with his search for Buffy. The only clues that he does have all lead back to one thing: Riley.
Captain Cardboard had been here the night he had been shot with those bolts, and the commandos that gave them to him. Then there is the dart that he had found imbedded in his neck. The daft gits hadn't thought to take the thing out.
He had sent the dart to an old friend, calling in a favor. He still hasn't found out anything.
Looking toward house, he hears the phone start to ring. He doesn't move to answer it. "It's probably Angel." He mutters with a look on his face that says he tasted something nasty.
Peaches has been calling ever since the third day of Buffy's disappearance. Cordelia had seen it happen in a vision. Thankfully, she had seen him go down as well as Buffy. Angel had called yelling into the phone, demanding what the hell was going. After trying twice to get through his tantrum, Spike had hung and just stood by the phone.
As he had suspected, the phone rang not seconds later. He had said peaches in greeting as soon as he answered the phone. He'd heard a growl come from the other end and then Angel's strained voice as he asked what had happened to Buffy. Spike had said, "Since you asked so nicely…"
When he feels the sun start cooking his clothes, Spike drops to the porch and makes his way into the house and locks up on his way in. He looks up in surprise when he hears footsteps coming toward him.
"What are you doing up so early, Red?" He asks as he takes in her sleepy face.
"I couldn't sleep. Angel called," she says.
"Yeah. What did the bastard want?" He asks as he takes his duster off and hangs it up.
"Wanted to know if anything has changed." She says. "I told him that if it had, he would've be the eighth person to know."
He smirks a little. "Good night, Red." He says as he moves up the stairs. He goes into Buffy's room and shuts the door behind him. He knows he won't sleep but he needs to comfort of her bed, of the last place that they'd spent time together.
Hugging her pillow to his face, he breathes deeply and is glad that he doesn't have to breath. He can keep the scent in his lungs as long as he wants…
Chapter Six - Eight Months Later
Spike walks in the front door and past the living room entrance, but stops suddenly. He stands there with his head bowed, wondering if his eyes had been playing tricks on him. Stepping back, he peers into the living room. His eyes aren't playing tricks on him.
The Scooby's are sitting in the living room having a heated debate. Keeping his presence unknown, he leans against the doorframe and listens with interest… and dawning anger.
As he listens…
"I don't think it's a good idea to keep Dawn's hope up." Xander is saying as he comes back to listen.
"But if there's a chance…" Willow comes in.
Xander sighs, as if that is a mute point. "I'm not saying that there isn't, Will, it's just, that it's been eighteen months… Wouldn't she have escaped by now?"
"Not necessarily," Willow says in a low voice, she means to go on but the whelp interrupts.
"And why wouldn't she?" Xander asks heatedly.
"Because," Willow says, starting to actually sound angry with the "little boy". "I've tried locating her with a spell, and I can't find her any where…"
"Did you try a map that isn't of Sunnydale," he asks as if Willow is stupid.
"Of course I did," Willow says, her voice rising. "I've searched over every continent. Whoever has Buffy is keeping her well block or behind very thick walls. Don't talk to me like I'm stupid, Xander."
"I'm sorry," he says, actually sounding contrite. "The point," he says in a lower and cooler voice, "I'm trying to make is, that you know how kidnaps go. Hardly anyone survives one."
"Buffy isn't a ordinary human, Xander. She's a slayer." Willow says.
Spike silently applauds her for that one.
"I know that, but it's been eighteen months. We don't even know who took her, where they have her… if she's even still alive…" Xander says.
"Don't talk like that. Of course, she's still alive. It's Buffy." Willow says in Buffy's defense.
She better still be alive, Spike thinks.
"We don't know that…" Xander says as he sits back in his chair.
During their argument, Tara and Anya both sit and watch the disagreement with blank faces. Spike knows that they feel left out, and maybe a little abandoned by what has been happening. He has a feeling that is why Xander is saying what he's saying. Anya is starting to get anxious and Xander… well, Xander's whipped.
"Maybe we should…" Xander starts.
Now, if he doesn't know anything else in this damn world, he knows that he isn't giving up. Not now, not until he finds her.
Everyone turns startled eyes at him when he finishes Xander sentence, "Give up? I also took you for a whelp but I never figured you one for giving up on the Slayer." Spike says as he shakes his head. "True friend that is."
"What do you know?" Xander snaps back.
" 'What do I know'?" He repeats the whelp's question as he steps into the living room and closer to the boy. "I know that the Demon girl over there has been complaining non stop for the past three months because all you do is worry about getting your friend back…" He stares pointedly at Anya.
She at least has the guilt enough to duck her head.
Spike turns back to Xander, "So you decide to give up on your best friend, and because you're not doing it, you have to dash everyone else's hope by making them quit looking as well. That's what I know. And what's more, I'm going to keep looking." He says the last as he turns to the stairs and heads up.
He stops, however, when he hears, "What if it's a human? What are you going to do then?"
"Kill them," he says as he moves up the stairs.
He comes back down a few minutes later with a packed tan-green bag.
The house had been pretty empty after Dawn had left, just a few months earlier. The night Dawn had left, she hadn't even said good-bye to him. It almost hurt as much as if he had lost her.
"You can't kill humans," Xander starts up just as he makes it to the door.
"Oh, yes I can," Spike says as he decides to moves into the living room. He grabs his switchblade off the coffee table. "I don't have the chip any more so I wouldn't push my luck if I were you."
He heads back to the door.
"How did you manage that?" Xander yells as he stands. Spike can tell that because as he talks, the direction Xander's voice comes from changes ever so slightly.
As Spike walks out the front door, he lifts his arm and points at Willow.
Chapter Seven
The motel is dank and rat infested. There are punched holes in the walls and the linens and sheets are moth eaten, and the facet in the bathroom drips constantly. Outside the window, the neon blinking light flashing twenty-four hours and the couple in the next room bang the bed against the wall each night…
He doesn't want to think about that….
None of it matters. Only two months earlier, he had lost their trail after tracking them all the way to the panhandle of Texas… two and a half years now…
Rumors reach him, some aren't true and others are harder to see through. After that night in the Summers' living room, he's tried not to pay attention to what the whelp and his demon girl do… and the Wiccas? Well, he keeps in touch with them.
Willow is now in charge of a twenty strong coven somewhere in northern California, near the border of Oregon. Tara is running a veterinary satiation near their home and the two couldn't be happier.
The whelp and his demon wife… If he remembers correctly live somewhere in Chicago with three little brats. Other then that, he hasn't paid attention to what the witches tell him. He doesn't care.
Two and a half damn years…
Spike leans back on his bed and closes his eyes. Flashes of gold and hazel cross his eyes in a dazzling display. He groans as the images cause a pain in the middle of his chest. It hasn't gotten any easier to bare her lose and if he doesn't find her soon….
He pushes his thoughts to his search for his golden goddess.
Six months earlier, he had given up the habit of smoking…
The alley is damp from the light rain that had passed over just minutes ago. The silence of the night is broken by the shattering of glass, the noise ring from the end of the alley and drawing the attention of some unwelcome company.
Spike jumps and catches himself on the lip of the windowsill. Pulling himself up, he perches on the sill and looks into the dark interior. No one is working late, luckily, and the place is quiet. His head jerks to the side when a dog barks somewhere in the distance.
Turning back to the building, he jumps down from the window and moves into the room. Its quiet and dark, just the way he wants it.
The building that he's broken into is used as a storage facility for the Initiative. It's one of the buildings Willow had been able to find some information on it. Willow had told him that the place had been used for eighteen months… only two months after Buffy had disappeared. There's a good chance that they had put something in here on her.
He finds his way to the upper level, the level that Willow says that they keep their most recent actions. As he comes up over the top of the staircase, he stops in his tracks and almost roars with frustration. Someone had gotten to before he had.
Turning, he drives his fist into a filing cabinet. He lets his fist fall back out as he walks away and heads back down the stairs. There's no use staying in here and taking the chance of getting caught.
Outside, Spike jumps down off the windowsill and is about to turn the way he had come when he hears a noise behind him. Someone has caught him. Damn, he thinks as he stills and slowly raises his hands. No use giving off that he's a vampire until time.
That's when he hears a growl, low and gurgling….
* * *
Moving slowly toward his destination, Spike takes to the right side of the road, across from the compound. It wouldn't so to alert to his presence too earlier.
He wears a white trench coat, which matches his white locks perfectly, but what's so unique about the outfit, is what's under the trench coat. At the end of 2004, there had been some pretty interesting turns in the technology of guns and such. Cops, instead of being able to use deadly force, pistols had been replaces with high-powered tranquilizers. He carries five strong arsenal.
Just in case.
Across his shoulders is an adapted holster. It still carries two pistols on either side but what's new about one is that on either side, is has the ability to be attached to shotguns. All four places are carrying their intended pieces and all pieces are full of a very strong tranquilizer. The tranquilizer is so strong that he has to be careful and only shot once…
At the back of his pants, another pistol is tucked and his black cargo pants are full of tranquilizer bullets. For emergencies, he has two clips of live ammo, and his switchblade in a sheath in his boot.
The night he quit smoking, in retrospect, is funny, but at the time, it had him cursing demon kind for all its creativity.
As he turns to his new adversary, Spike wastes no time in hitting the thing square in the mouth. Or, what he had expected to be the mouth. When in actuality, turns out to the creature's venom pouch.
The pouch sprays familiar liquid over his hand and down his arm.
To make a long story short, he had killed the thing by twisting its neck and throwing it to the ground. He'd stood over it quite proudly and put a cigarette to his lips. Putting his lighter to the end of the cig, he had sparked.
It was then that he felt a burning sensation on his thumb and when he inhaled, the burning sensation had carried into his nose and down his throat. Then he knew what that familiar smell had been. Gasoline.
* * *
Spike steps off the sidewalk and starts to the front gate.
A few weeks earlier, had been in Oklahoma City, looking for any sign of the initiative, but only found that he was two months late. They all ways seem to be two steps ahead of him.
Anyway, he had found another one of their compounds, expect, the strange about this one was that it was empty… All expect for one body… Riley Fin's. He's not sure what happened to him, though it looks as if he had been shot full of something. There was a tear in his throat, a small one, like someone had ripped it out careless after they'd pumped him full of whatever.
Spike moves down the drive and up to the check-in booth. The guard looks up surprised. Spike gives him his usual cocky smile and tilts his head to the side. The guard's eyes widen even further as Spike raises his hand from inside in his coat and holds up a gun.
"Sorry mate, nothing personal." He says just as he shots the guard in the shoulder. The guard goes down immediately and is out as he hits the floor. He reaches in through the open window and opens the gate. Moving forward, he walks up to the front of the building and kicks the door in.
The building is practically empty, all except for the night guards and the janitors. Spike is able to creep through the compound with no one spotting him. The compound is larger than he had first thought and it takes him longer then he would like.
The long hall that he finds the file storage room in, is at the opposite end of the compound then he had entered. Moving into the room, he goes to the cabinet, which he knows would hold the files that he needs. He shuffles through the files until he comes to the file he's looking for and curses, long and hard. The files are gone, again.
The only thing left is the hanging folder that held the files.
Slamming the cabinet shut, he walks back to the door, still cursing. He opens the door a crack. "Shit," he hisses as he quietly closes the door. He glares as he looks around. How the hell is he supposed to escape now?
His eyes lock on a window and a wicked smile curves his lips. The window is just the right height and width; he steps away from door and continues to measure the window up.
Rolling his head on his shoulders, he roars as he runs at the window. Seconds later, he crashes through the window on the other side and flies through the air…
Chapter Eight
Finally, he's found her. After two years and three damn weeks, he's found her. And without those damn Scooby's tagging along.
He crouches behind an out post, waiting for a solution to get into the compound to present itself. None has been forth coming.
His break had been a month ago when he'd stumbled onto another compound. However, what made this one special is the fact that they were still cleaning the place out. He'd busted in there with a rush of hope, only to discover that she wasn't there. Nevertheless, his hope was returned to him when he found a weak spot in there chain of command… an abandoned walkie-talkie. It had been sitting on a shelf all by it's lonesome. He'd ignored it at first, but then he'd heard all he needed to hear.
That's how he'd ended up here, in the freezing north of Maine. He remembers now why he tended to stay away from cold places… his barrowed blood gets too cold.
He'd lost contact with the witches about six months ago. They still lived in Northern California, but had neglected to answer. Even Willow and Tara had started trying to sway him from finding Buffy. As for the Whelp… well, he never cared.
Turning his attention back to the compound, he watches as some type of buzz comes over the grounds. He frowns as he watches. His head turns sharply when the sound of a car comes up the drive. Spike's interest peaks when he sees a garrison of troops on after the car. Why they're on foot is a big question mark, why look convenience in the mouth?
Her frowns as he watches them walk up drive. Of course, none of the higher ups are on foot. Worrying about security later, he focuses on finding a man that….
He'll do, Spike thinks as he suddenly comes forward and drags a man into the bushes with him. He quickly knocks the man unconscious and looks around. He listens intently. No one had heard and he hasn't blown his cover. Turning back to the matter at hand, he starts to stripe the man of his clothes.
He looks up every few seconds just to make sure the missing man's presence hasn't been noticed. Seconds later, the solider lies facing down with only boxer briefs on. Spike nods his head from side to side, as he adjusts the tie. He grimaces as she starts to wiggle his hips.
"Poor bastard," he mumbles as he picks up his clothes. As he stands again, he adjusts the crotch of his pants and continues to his car to stash his clothes. Taking the blanket from the trunk, he walks to the open passenger window and throws it in.
* * *
Clipping the badge onto his pocket, he strides up to the check in booth and smiles at the guard. The guard is a big black man with a baldhead and fists like sledgehammers.
With a blank face, he looks at the id and then back up at Spike's face. "What happened to your hair?"
"Attacked by a bleach bottle." Spike smirks.
"Cute, Captain Gratin." His voice is deep and it almost vibrates through Spike's head. "Colonel wants you in his office, now."
"Thanks," Spike says as he moves into the compound. The chief's office isn't hard to find.
He knocks on the door and steps in when he hears a greeting. The colonel glances and then back again when he doesn't recognize Spike.
"Who the hell are you?" His voice is gruff.
"Spike."
"Spike?"
"Yeah," he nods as he sits down. "You got something of mine."
"Of yours?"
"Yes. You know, Buffy Summers?" Spike asks, his thin patience snapping.
"Summers?" The colonel repeats.
Spike raises a scared eyebrow and looks around the room. He looks back at him. "What are you, a bleeding parrot?" He gets up and walks around the desk. Even as the colonel gets up and backs away, Spike advances. "Now… you're going to…" he smiles slowly as the colonel comes to an abrupt stop when he bangs into a filing cabinet. "Tell me where she is."
When the scared man starts to speak, Spike holds up a finger. "Don't play dumb."
"She's… she's in the max- maximum security wing… but…" He stutters to a stop.
"But what?" Spike growls as he suddenly lunges forward and grabs the ponce by his shirt.
"You need… need high clearance."
Spike's scowl turns into a smile. "That's why you're coming with." Then he jerks the colonel away from the cabinet. "Lead on… I don't like to get rough." He waits a second as they move out into the night and close to another building. "Actually," he says as he and the colonel stops at another check point. "I do like to get rough." He gives the colonel a manic smile.
This is going was too easy. I haven't even had to vamp out. These people are no fun.
The inside of the building holds no real interest for him. But he glances around anyway. The building seemed to house other buildings inside it because they continue along; the commander has to go through three more checkpoints.
White being the sterile color, everything is that god-awful color and makes his eyes hurt. The florescent lights don't help any.
"We're here," says the colonel.
Spike has to give the colonel something. The man's voice is steady and he looks him dead in the eyes. His hands reach out before the colonel can fully move his own and Spike grabs his wrist. "Ah, ah, ah…. I'll do that."
Jerking the key card from his hand, Spike pushes him up against the wall. Turning to the door, he unlocks the door. When he feels the colonel move, he turns back and grabs him.
"Don't take this anyway but insulting, you jackasses better stay away from me, Buffy, her family and any town we happen to be in." Spike growls as he leans into the man.
"You can't…" The colonel begins but quickly cuts himself off when the man's face in front of him shifts and he realizes that the man is actually a vampire.
"Oh… yes, I can…" Spike says and then pulls the trigger on the tranquilizer gun he'd pulled while the colonel had been enthralled in watching his face.
The man immediately slides to the floor.
Spike takes a deep breath as he finds himself standing in front of the waiting door. He finds himself suddenly scared… what is she isn't in here?
Does he keep trying to find her?
Or… does he stop?
The idea of never finding her leaves him feeling dead and cold inside and it has nothing to do with the natural state of his body.
On the other hand, the lows and highs of searching for her are starting to get to him. But leaving her with these wankers…
He pushes the door open and his decision is made for him.
The room is only about five by five and white. The room is insolated floor to ceiling with a three-inch thick padding. His eyes flicker to the door and the square window. This whole situation makes him sick.
His eyes are drawn to one corner of the room.
At first, he's not sure what he's seeing.
A bundle lies on the floor, facing the wall and curled around itself. To begin with, the bundle looks like a crumpled shirt with a mop so brown that the floor of his crypt looked clean enough to eat off of.
The image starts taking shape and he knows what he's staring at.
Before his conscious mind knows, he's across the room and reaching out. As he lays his hand on her, her familiar heartbeat travels up his arm and pounds through his head. Then he feels sudden tension move through the body and he's suddenly holding an ankle.
As he feels her start to move again, he says, "Buffy, love, it's me, Spike." The tension in her leg stills, waiting. "That's my girl. Now, looks at me."
"I can't," the throat the voice comes from is dry and cracks on each word.
Even as her words move through the room, she turns her face up to him. He barely holds back a gasp as he looks at her. Tape covers her eyes and as she shifts, he sees mittens covering her hands. But these have no thumb outlet. He reaches out and as gently as possible, removes the tape from her eyelids.
Her hazel eyes blink up at him and she glares in the bright light. They stare at each other, taking the sight of the other in. The seconds drag on into minutes.
"Spike?"
Then he has her in his arms and she's real. Her warm body crowding close to his and her slightly weaker but strong grip around his shoulders. He feels her small frame tremble in his embrace and he tightens his hold on her. "Shh, its ok, love. I've got you now."
"Can't feel you," her voice is a whisper.
And for the span of her heartbeat, the time it takes her to lean back, his world crashes around him. To find her only to… Then she holds her hands up to him and he realizes what she meant.
"Oh, love," he says as he chuckles. One hand reaches up and cups her cheek while the other goes to the mitten.
He quickly removes the mittens then brings her fingers to his lips and kisses them. The whole time, his gaze remains locked with hers. Then they're moving toward each other and slowly let their lips meet.
"God, I missed you so much," he groans as he pulls her onto his lap and then their mouths are fastened together. Arms band around the other tightly as they cling to one another.
As they devour each other's mouths, Spike feels moisture, which makes the slide of their hard pressing lips easier. Her lips taste like salt. The taste brings a stinging pain to his eyes in answer.
The kiss has nothing to with lust or arousal, but desperation and reassurance.
A loud siren sets Spike into motion. He has Buffy in his arms and is out the door before he even realizes what he's doing. He feels Buffy flinch against him and they try to push closer. With one arm under her legs and the other wrapped around her shoulders, he presses his back against the wall around the corner from her prison.
His listens as a troop of soldiers rush into the area. He comes back around the corner and doesn't even blink as he comes face to face with a look out. Spike licks out and knocks the soldier down. Turning, he slams the door shut on the soldiers and grabs the card key.
Moving down the hall, he turns the corner he had hide around and goes into the first room that presents itself. There, he finds a place and sits Buffy down. She clings to him and whimpers when he tries to let go.
"Love, its ok, I'll be right over here." He says as he points to the door.
Standing, he removes the button down shirt to reveal an undershirt with multiply tranquilizer guns stuck into his waistband. Taking out the pistol he had used on the colonel, he raises it as he looks out door. The halls are now swarming with dozens of soldiers. He can feel fear radiating off the men as they frantically search for the slayer. "Damn." He mutters.
He shuts the door and looks back to Buffy. There's no way in hell he's going to allow these bastards to get their hands on her again. He lets his eyes travel over the room, looking for a way out.
His eyes light on the wall.
A plan starts to form in his mind as he pictures the layout of the compound. The only thing he hadn't been able to get the layout of the building he now stands in.
Moving away from the now locked door, he comes over to Buffy and brushes a stray strand of hair off her forehead. Looking down, he starts to remove the guns from his waistband and hands them to her. "Hold onto these, love. "I got a plan." His hand cups her face as he moves away.
He shoves the desk across the room to where it slams into the wall, making a dent. Turning to the wall, he raises his leg and punches a hole through the wall.
He just hopes that with all the noise going on out- and inside the building no one hears him.
Hard work, but he keeps at it, keeps kicking at the wall, trying to find some form of escape. Even if it is only the second of many barriers. He soon has a big enough opening for him to walk through.
Coming back over to Buffy, he wraps one of her arms around his neck as he takes one of tranquilizer guns. "Hold onto me, love."
With one arm under her knees, he walks out of the hole in the wall. Pausing, he looks around and then heads toward the woods that surround the back end of the compound.
"Excuse me," Spike hears someone call out from behind him, and moving closer. He turns and meets a very tall, board man. "Where are you taking her?"
The words are just dropping from the man's mouth when a tranquilizer dart hits him in the thigh. The man falls to the ground as Spike turns and continues on the course he'd planned.
"I'm c-c-cold, Spike," Buffy whispers into his ear.
"I know, love," he says as he darts yet another man. "We'll be there soon."
Pressing against a second building, he glances around the corner. He presses his back against the wall again. Four men, all ready and waiting anxiously. And just beyond them are the woods.
"Buffy, love," he whispers, "If I put you on my back, do you think you could hold onto me for a few minutes?"
"Mmm-hmm," she mumbles as she lifts her head from his shoulder. "I think so, but your guns…"
"Just keep hold of one, drop the rest," he says. As he fingers wrap around one of the pistols, he lets her legs down.
Taking her left arm with his left hand, he turns his back to her and reaches back for her right leg and boosts her up onto his back. Her free arm wraps around his shoulder and he helps her to wrap her legs around his waist then takes the tranquilizer gun.
"You good, love?" He asks slowly. His head is slightly turned to hers, which is buried in his neck. He feels her nod against him. "Hold tight, now."
Taking a breath he doesn't need, he steps out from behind the building and opens fire. He's able to get three before they really know what's happening, but the forth man gets a shot off. Not wanting to take the chance of the bullet going through his body, he turns to one side. At the same time, he reaches out and shoots the last man.
Not wanting to be seen by anyone else, he runs to the woods. Pushing the guns into his waistband, he hopes like hell they don't run into any more commandoes. No worries mate, he tells himself. Car's just ahead…
"Spike…" His name comes just before he feels her begin to fall. But by then, it's too late. However, he turns just as she's about to hit the ground and catches her by the arms.
He pulls her up into his arms.
* * *
With Buffy curled against his side, Spike presses down on the accelerator. As soon as he'd crawled into the car, he'd rolled up the window and then wrapped her up in the blanket.
He breathes a sigh of relief. His arm around her waist, he pulls her closer.