Chapter 6.06

For long seconds two pairs of blue eyes bored into each other with a palpable intensity.

"And if I prefer to think that you and yours are responsible for this?" Brandon’s father asked.

"Then that would be another reason for us to clean up our own mess, wouldn’t it? But, seeing as you’re unlikely to find any of us carrying a gun, at least one loaded with anything other than tranqs, I don’t see how you can lay the blame on us, soldier boy." The last two words were spat out with a disgust that was obvious to all in the room. "We’re not the ones using a sixteen-year-old kid to spy on people. What’d you do? Have a debriefing session after every date?"

"You don’t know me, so I’ll let that one slip, this once, but rest assured any attachment my son formed for the girl has nothing to do with me. I’d have been more than happy if he’d never met her, especially given the outcome."

"Spike, this isn’t helping, and if you get any louder that cop outside is going to come in to see what’s going on." Buffy gently touched Spike’s arm at the elbow.

Spike half-turned toward her. "Alright, pet. I’ll shut up, soon as Rambo here tells us whether he’ll accept our help or not."

The taller man sighed. "Like you said, I don't have a lot of choice. This doesn’t mean I trust you, or that I ever want my kid near any of you again. It just means that I’m backed into a corner."

"There you go, Red. There’s your go-ahead. At least now we don’t have to punch him out."

Mr Michaels’ forehead creased into a frown. "You said it was my choice whether they did anything or not."

Spike gave a lupine grin. "I lied."

Half an hour later, the quartet exited the building leaving Brandon and his father in their hospital room. Willow had used her magic to remove the bullet and repair the damage to Brandon’s chest. However, as for the concussion, blood-loss and the drugs in his system, his body would have to recover in its own time with whatever help the doctors could offer. His father had grudgingly taken Buffy’s cell number and promised to call if Brandon had any useful information when he woke up.

"I guess one of us best ring Glinda and see if she’s come up with anything."

"I’ll do it," Willow volunteered.

She pulled a phone from her bag and rang the number for the magic shop. Anya answered, of course, but quickly handed the receiver over to Tara when she realised that it wasn’t a potential customer.

"It’s Willow. Doesn’t she realise that’s a business line?"

"Are you really expecting customers to ring at this time of night?" Xander asked.

"Well, sometimes overseas customers leave orders on the answering machine, since they can’t be like normal people and get up when we get up and go to sleep when we do."

"How inconsiderate of them," Xander remarked. "You really should discuss it with Giles. Just explain to him that all these international time zones are kind of inconvenient and that you think they should be abolished with everyone adopting LA time as standard. I’m sure he’ll think it’s a marvellous idea."

"You think I can’t tell when you’re being facetious?"

"You never used to be able to."

"Yes, well maybe I know you better than you think. You are my husband, aren’t you?"

"According to the state of Nevada, and the funny thing… considering your former career, not actually scared and more kinda somewhere between contented and smug about the whole marital deal. Come here and gimme some sugar, sweet-lips?"

"So you’re glad we got married, even though you originally ran away in panic at the very idea?"

"Very glad, and I’ll be ecstatic when you put down that order pad and come kiss me."

"Tara’s kind of busy keeping up with her spell. Maybe we should go take a nap in the training room." Anya replied, as she raised her lips from the requested kiss.

"Ahn?"

"Well. We did it the last time Dawn was kidnapped. What’s the big difference now?"

"The difference would be that you’ve just announced to everyone in the room what we’re about to do."

"Piffle. Tara’s too busy trying to explain her train theory to be paying any attention, and it’s not like we can help with the spell, and once they get closer and she’s trying to do two at once, she’s going to be even busier." Anya drew her not-really-resisting husband by the hand into the training room. "If you really want, I’ll wear that sticky metal prosthetic above my eye and put my hair up."  

Tara looked up as the training room door closed behind the couple. "And tell the guys, if they’re planning to stock up on weapons before you leave town, I suggest you swing by Revello."

"I thought we’d just get a couple of bits and pieces from the training room," Buffy countered when Willow passed on the message.

Tara overheard Buffy's comment and was quick to bring the redhead up to date. "Anya and Xander are in the training room. I think she was planning on making it up to him for missing his Seven of Nine special."

"Anya and Xander-. Nope, I can’t even act surprised. We’ll go by Revello. Talk again in a bit," Willow confirmed. "Added bonus: while you guys sort out the weapons, I get to put on a pair of trousers instead of this skirt. So not fun on the back of a motorbike."

"If we’re arming up, we need to swing past my place as well," Spike added.

"What? You think I don’t have enough weapons of mass destruction to go ‘round?" Buffy asked.

"No, but I did have the general impression you would rather I made use of the tranq gun than one of your nice axes."

"Good point. How many darts do we have left with that thing?"

"About four, I think, but it’s better than nothing."

"Okay, we’ve got that and one taser. I guess you get that, Wes. Other than that, it’s going to have to be magic and hand-to-hand. I suppose I could take a crossbow; it’s always a deterrent and I can aim to wound."

"You can use the tranq gun?" Wesley asked the vampire.

"Well, uh. I never actually fired it, but I didn’t get a migraine when I pointed it at someone, so I’m guessin’ it’ll be okay. Haven’t had the ammo to spare or a volunteer to test the theory any further." Spike’s answer was, strictly speaking, true and neatly skirted around the issue of the chip’s removal, but he still looked vaguely uncomfortable in the deception.

"We’ll go by yours on our way out of town. It’s kind of on the way. I still don’t know if we should take the car rather than the bike. How’re we going to get Dawn back when we find her if we take the bikes?"

"Need the manoeuvrability, love. ‘Sides, you and the Bit don’t hardly make a full-sized passenger ‘tween the pair of you. We’ll get by."

Sam was already dressed in civvies, since her mission had involved operating in populated areas. When she got back to Lowell house all she had to do was leave Riley a note to say she’d been called back out, grab some scrubs and claim another vehicle from the pool. All with the added bonus that if Riley did hurry back in hopes of joining her in her bath he was going to be disappointed.

The slayer and her little friends thought they were so great. Then, why had it never even occurred to them to wonder where Riley’s Jeep had come from, considering that the couple had been airlifted in and out? And they never gave a thought to who was going to be around to pick it up when they left. Just because the faces they knew had been rotated out, they had thought the Initiative was gone. True, the base had been stripped at one point, but a change in government can lead to all sorts of decisions being reversed.

Sam was only sorry that she’d missed out on her chance to have a part in the Initiative when it was operating at full scale. It was so seldom she got to make use of her medical training these days. Tonight was an exception, though. Once she made it to the containment facility, she would get answer the riddle, "what is the difference was between a mystical key and a normal teenaged girl?" She couldn’t kill her. No one knew what would happen to the energy contained by her human form if she died. It was an unacceptable risk. That didn’t mean the girl wouldn’t wish she were dead before the night was over.

By the time they left her for her sister to find, she would provide her sister and her ridiculous hangers-on with quite the object lesson. Between that and losing the vampire, the slayer would learn better than to interfere in business that was none of her concern.

"Alpha One, this is Alpha Two. We have two motorbikes approaching from the centre of town. One looks like the couple from earlier but the other could be the target… Make that confirmed. Hostile 17 is incoming," Graham advised Riley from his rooftop vantage point.

"Okay, people. First clear shot on the heart that you get, take it," Riley ordered.

"Wait, sir. There’s a passenger on the vehicle with him. It’s hard to tell with the helmet on, but I think it’s the slayer, sir."

"Belay, that last order. Wait until the vehicle is stationary. Do not endanger any civilians. We’re only looking to take out the vampire. Repeat, target is blond male, approximately five foot ten. All other subjects to be treated as civilians."

Wes pulled his bike over onto the path leading up to the house and stopped just short of the steps up onto the front porch. Spike drew to a halt just to his rear. Buffy hopped off from behind him, and as Spike backed the bike up onto its stand before getting off, three arrows were loosed with well-practised precision from their respective bows.

Chapter 6.07

"Spike!" With barely half a second to spare before the first bolt should have hit Buffy shouted a warning. As clear as he could see Wesley sitting on his hog in front of him, taking off his helmet, Spike could see the three arrows converging on his heart from behind. He didn’t question how he knew this, or that it was really happening.

Battening down the instinct that told him to dive for cover, he grasped the outer edges of his coat, pulling it wide to present the largest possible target. He rose up on tiptoe with his feet on the bike’s footrests, hoping that if the arrows did hit that they would land low of their mark.

"Bloody hell, if the old watcher was wrong, this is going to hurt," was his last thought before the arrows bounced painlessly off his back without even marking the leather. "All praise the orbs of Nezzla Khan and sheer dumb luck."

"Watcher!" he shouted to the blissfully unaware Wes. "I’d be immensely happy if you could find some cover that isn’t me. Standing here letting wooden arrows bounce off my back isn’t my idea of fun. I’d much rather be running toward the bastards with the bows."

The arrows continued to rain in, as soon as the archers got over the shock of the first few just dropping to the ground, and soon it became apparent that Spike was their only target.

After a few seconds, Buffy stood away from the tree she’d been using as cover. "What the heck? These guys take Dawn and then think they only have to worry about Spike?"

"Clear," Wes shouted to let Spike know that he could move without putting the other Englishman in the line of fire.

Spike was off the bike and into a dogleg run as fast as a blink. He’d known his target before he even turned around, the same way he knew that Buffy fell in directly behind him as he made the turn using his body as both a shield and concealment. Always, when he and Buffy had fought, both against each other and on the same side, they had had an intuitive awareness of each other. Now, it was refined to an incredible degree. It wasn’t as if they were communicating telepathically. He wasn’t aware of what Buffy decided to do. Rather, it was as if they were independent parts of the same whole, they thought as one.

Even though he knew it wouldn’t make a difference, Spike raised his arms in front of his face instinctively, as he crashed through the window.

"This is Alpha One requesting assistance, Alpha One requesting assistance," Riley spoke into the walkie-talkie as the tornado of fury and black leather that was Spike and Buffy imploded into the room.

"What do you know? You got any more exes, maybe from when you lived in LA, who’re going to get an urge to kill me?"

Riley pulled an asp from his boot, flicking the extendable baton open, but Spike simply ignored the blows that the younger man tried to land.

"Don’t you guys ever get the message? You can’t hit me. You can’t shoot me. You can’t detain me."

"Buffy, stay out of this," Riley warned.

"Why? ‘Cause you only like to shoot people in the back, or because you don’t want to face someone who could actually hurt you?"

Buffy’s questions distracted the soldier long enough for Spike to slip past his guard. Spike’s arms snaked through under Riley’s from behind and then his fingers came up to interlace behind the taller man’s head effectively pinning him. Spike dragged him back until the vampire could brace himself against the door into the room, preventing the men upstairs and on the roof from coming to Riley’s aid.

"Do you remember when we were sparring and I kicked you across the room?"

"Yeah?" Riley’s voice was unsure as he tried to struggle against Spike’s grip.

"I was holding back.

There are pretty much two things that make me mad enough that I stop holding back. One is people who mess with my boyfriend. The other is people who mess with my family. I guess you win the jackpot."

It was the type of blow that Buffy rarely, if ever, used. Normally, she didn’t really want to get that closely acquainted with her opponent’s anatomy and if you needed to resort to dirty tricks it was so predictable that there were generally better targets. However, with Riley pinned in place and her sister in danger, she planned to get her message across quickly. As her kneecap crunched into Riley’s pelvic bone with little regard for the more delicate areas in between her satisfaction at the grating sound almost matched Spike’s.

Even before the blow, the larger man had been prevented from standing upright by Spike’s hold. After it, he slumped like a dead weight in Spike’s arms.

"Why?" Buffy asked.

Riley panted for several seconds trying to get his breath. In the lull, the heavy blows of his men, trying to break through what they assumed was a barricaded door, could be heard.

"Why not? He’s just another monster." The soldier finally gasped out his reply. "One of these days that chip’s going to stop working. He’s already got you and the others in his thrall. What’s going to happen then?"

A low dark voice spoke softly in Riley’s ear. "She already knows you’re a bigoted bastard who can’t accept that in the end the better man won. She was asking about her sister, asking what Dawn’s boyfriend did that made you leave him lying in an alley to die."

"What? We never… Buffy, he’s lying. He set this up. We don’t hurt people. We protect them from things like him."

The thuds against the door at Spike’s back stopped to be replaced by the sound of running feet. Buffy looked toward the smashed window frame, only to recognise the faint shimmer in the air that denoted one of Willow’s barrier spells.

"Yeah, right," answered Spike. "That why you were in Nepal? The yetis not quite managing to hide as well as they used to, so you thought you’d go wipe them out? You ever heard of anyone being attacked by an abominable snowman, love?"

"You make it sound dirty. All we’re doing is protecting our own."

Buffy’s fist smacked into Riley’s jaw as Spike gave his opinion on the man’s comments.

"Bollocks. It was bollocks when the Nazis said it and it’s bollocks now."

"Hey, I’m not some-."

"Genocide is genocide, Jews, gypsies, blacks or demons."

"So what does that make Dawn? Let me guess, Class 3 subterrestrial, not normally aggressive," Spike gave a small snort at Buffy's description. "Minimal threat, especially if the big brave soldiers can drug her and her boyfriend before they shoot him and kidnap her. How’m I doing?"

"Buffy, I don’t know what you’re… talking about." Riley hesitated slightly as Buffy’s phone began to ring.

Buffy pulled the phone from her pocket turning her back to the two men as she answered.

"Buffy Summers."

"Miss Summers. It’s Andrew Michaels here."

"Hi, Mr Michaels. How’s Brandon?"

"He’s still unconscious, but he’s talking in his sleep. Now, I can’t think of a single reason he would be dreaming about his grandparent’s dog, so maybe you know another Sam he might be talking about?

I also thought you should know, I’ve spoken to Brandon’s godfather about this evening’s events. He has some influence at The Pentagon. He’s going to see that there’s a full inquiry and that those involved are held accountable for their actions. I know it doesn’t help you find your sister, but those responsible aren’t going to get away with it."

"Thank you, Mr Michaels. You’ve been more helpful than you know. I think we know exactly who he means, and we’re currently …interviewing someone who should be able to help us find her."

"And Miss Summers. What I said before about not wanting Brandon around you? He’s never been wrong about people before. I guess when he comes round he’ll make his own decisions, anyway."

"Teenagers generally do."

"I hope you find her, Miss Summers."

"It’s Buffy, and we will. Thank you."

Buffy closed the phone and launched into a spinning kick that caught Riley on the opposite side of his jaw from her earlier punch.

"Steady, love," Spike cautioned. "Can’t tell us what we need to know if he’s got a broken jaw."

"Okay, Riley. How about you start with the truth this time. What has your wife done with my sister?"

"I don’t know what you’re talking about. Sam and her team had reports of a Polgara over the far side of town. They took it out, finished early and she went back to Lowell for some R and R."

"And I’m supposed to swallow that? Just like I was supposed to believe that those Nevilles-."

"Nevlons," Spike corrected.

"Whatever. Don’t interrupt," she snapped before returning her attention to her ex. "Just because you fooled me with those baby demons and your stinky clothes, don’t think I’m stupid. Maybe you got past me at the time but I have a brain. Those stupid crabby things were never going to grow up into that thing I killed and I bet the reason you didn’t want the thing killed was so that it could lay some more seriously lucrative spawn for you and your honey.

How damn feeble-minded do you think I am? Now tell me where your wife has taken my sister."

Spike felt the fight go out of the bigger man as the meaning of Buffy’s words seeped into his resisting brain.

"I- It can’t…" he stammered.

Spike loosed his hold on the younger man letting him slump to the floor. "I think he thinks you’re a bit less stupid than he is, pet."

"You mean… ?" Buffy couldn’t bring herself to believe what Spike seemed to be suggesting.

"She fooled you lot. Guess you weren’t the only ones."

Buffy couldn’t bring herself to gloat over the fact that Riley’s perfect life was so very far from perfect after all, but that was okay, because Spike could revel in his opponent’s misery quite enough for both of them.

"And you," she turned to her fiancé. "The term is African-American."

"Funny, I was talking about Hitler. He did most of his killing in Europe and Africa, not America, and it’s just a statement of fact. I’m white. You’re white. Martin Luther King was black. It’s not like I called him a-."

"Mouth. Shut. Now," Buffy snapped.

"Bloody hell." Spike leaned back against the door and lit a cigarette.

"Riley, your wife took my sister. She’s not being held at the Initiative; in fact we have reason to assume she may be aboard a train of some sort. Now, tell me what you know."

Chapter 6.08

"There is a train… but Sam doesn’t have the authority on her own to requisition it. Last I knew it was in the Midwest." Riley’s voice was little above a whisper.

"Love, before this goes all Jackanory d’you think you could get Phil Silvers here to call off the goon squad so a man can have a quiet fag in peace?"

Buffy nudged the walkie-talkie that lay on the floor toward Riley with her foot. "You heard the man. Call them off. All of them."

Riley picked up the radio. "All units, this is Alpha One. All units stand down. Repeat, all units stand down. Mission is aborted."

Spike pushed himself away from the door, only to have it fall open under the weight of two soldiers in civilian clothing. Spike merely raised an eyebrow at the men sprawled on the floor, and then strolled casually to the broken window where he beckoned to Wes and Willow with the hand that held his lit cigarette.

The witch and the watcher made their way across the road and Spike scanned the other houses ‘round about for signs of activity. "You know, slayer, you were right. Your neighbours will ignore pretty much anything." When Willow reached the front porch of the house she paused and muttered a few words and the barrier that had prevented Graham from getting from the roof into the house, and the other soldiers from getting out disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. The pair strolled into the room where the others had accumulated.

"Sheesh," commented the Wiccan as she eyed the broken glass and wood all over the floor. "You guys think you're too good to use a door?" The tip of her tongue peeked between her teeth as she flashed the blonde pair a grin. She was followed by a rather sheepish looking Graham.

"Sorry, Man. We couldn’t get in." his eyes travelled with obvious hostility from the bruises forming on Riley’s face, to the vampire who was currently picking stray fragments of glass out of the window frame so he could use it as a seat.

"Don’t look at Spike," Buffy told him intercepting the look. "He didn’t do it. I did. And I’m not under his thrall, either. So, just forget that idea, too, along with any you have about killing him.

There’s a kid in the ICU at the hospital tonight after Sam and her team drugged him, shot him and left him to die. Maybe, if he pulls through, we find my sister alive and well, and you leave us all the heck alone, then that kid’s godfather won’t use his pull at The Pentagon to see that every man in your crummy genocidal outfit leaves the army with a dishonourable discharge."

"And if you’re really lucky his dad won’t tell the story to his former colleagues at The Washington Post, or Reuters or even the Stars and Stripes," Willow chipped in.

Spike finally sat himself down, took a deep draw on his cigarette and announced, "I love it when all the politico-military shit works for us for a change." The vampire’s eyes rapidly clouded over as the moment of levity passed. No one could doubt the gravity with which he framed his instructions. "Now, tell us what we want to know about this train and make it fast."

"Ri, man. You can’t give up secret information to a sub-T." Before Buffy could silence Graham, Wes’s fist unexpectedly lashed out and caught him in the stomach. As he doubled over, the watcher’s knee came up and caught him in the face. One last shove left the well-intentioned but ill-informed soldier lying on his side in a foetal position.

"Okay, people," Buffy took a stance in the centre of the room, facing off against all the military, looking each of them in the eye in turn as she spoke. "I’m only going to say this once. In this scenario you are not the good guys. You are the stooges. You have been played and made to dance like little puppets. One of your number has been manipulating you from within."

Buffy began to pace the floor as she spoke. "Sam Finn has used you, her personal relationships and her position in your unit as a cover for her dirty dealings. Unless I’ve missed my mark, somehow she worked out that we were onto her-."

"Um, that’s kinda my fault. I sent her an email saying that we knew about the surveillance and how things had been manipulated to make Spike look guilty, and that her and Riley should stay out of Sunnydale. I guess I overestimated our effectiveness as a deterrent." Willow’s eyes darted back and forth between the two blondes as if she expected some form of instant retribution for her misjudgement.

Spike’s eyes glowed with a cold anger. Buffy’s ire ran hot but only lasted for seconds. "Not the time to be laying blame, or claiming it, Will. There’ll be time enough for that when we get Dawn home." She shifted her gaze to where Riley still sat on the floor.

"If I’m honest we thought that Riley had to be in this thing with Sam, but it seems we had that part wrong. I guess she thought if Spike was taken out and she was holding my sister that we’d keep quiet, and no one, including Riley, would find out.

Well, she screwed up. She does not know how much shit she is in. Now, we are going to find my sister and bring her home. Riley is going to tell us exactly what we need to know to make that happen and none of you are going to interfere. If you’re truly the men of honour that this nation’s forces are meant to produce, you might even help. Believe me when I say you do not want to be in our way."

Spike’s cigarette butt sailed past Buffy to bounce off Riley’s leg before Buffy crushed it out with her foot, turning to give the vampire a withering glance.

"Well, I would spit but it’s so crass and hey, when I shoot his back full of arrows, then you can make with the dirty looks," the vampire gave by way of defence. "For now, I suggest you get him to start talkin’."

Buffy’s gaze turned to Riley and he swiftly got the point.

"There’s a train we use sometimes in the field. It acts as a mobile lab and containment unit… but it’s not like the Initiative we don’t hold specimens long term. There’s no experimentation or anything. It’s purely so the techs can work on any vaccines or anti-toxins that we might need."

Spike burned to make a comment about it being so much better to know they would exterminate their friends rather than holding them prisoner, but time wasn’t on Dawn’s side and petty bickering would help no one. Just the same, when the dust of this whole affair settled, Spike was determined to make sure that Riley knew that the non-human population of this fair burgh were henceforth outside the military’s remit.

"You worry much for man you only know few days," Lily’s eyes scanned the face of the woman she had come to care for as if she were her own flesh and blood.

"What? No… no. It’s just the whole thing with those creeps being back in town and Rosa… Isn’t it?"

Lily shrugged. "Is maybe both? Two years is long time for young woman or for a lonely little girl. She should have father, brothers, sisters."

"Lily, I’ve barely met the guy and you have us married off."

The Quarnoth demon shrugged. "Is not like you can play in the field. A good man, he know he no can play with the heart of a child, and my Marie, she no choose a bad man."

"It’s not that simple. I think there’s someone else."

"Pff. Skinny girl with baby horse legs and cow eyes and her own man. She make her choice. May be right. May be wrong, but is made. His life no more with those people. You see. He stay."

"Even if he does stay in Sunnydale, it still doesn’t mean anything."

"No, it no mean nothing that he young, pretty, smart, has good heart and is comfortable with demons and he here. What matter is he makes your heart beat like it no beat since Harvey and maybe sometime soon when he open his eyes, he feel same way ‘bout my Marie."

"Okay, I find him attractive, but that isn’t enough, and even if he did eventually feel the same way, any man would think twice about taking on a ready made family, especially one that’s not entirely the same species."

"I hear, reason Spike’s grandpapa no talk no more that he do just that." Lily retorted with a smug grin.

Marie sighed and wandered in the direction of Lily’s kitchen, muttering under her breath in Spanish about interfering mothers-in-law as she went.

Three black humvees pulled up in front of the house on Revello, carrying the teams who had been stationed by Spike’s apartment and at his old crypt. The driver of the front vehicle got out and was going to leave it for Riley’s team but Riley stopped him before he could.

"Stay. We can regroup into teams later. Graham you’re with me in Car 1. Lars, Car 2. Tom, Car 3. I want you to bring the guys on the other teams up to speed on what’s happening and I want radio silence. If you need to communicate with the other cars then use the cells. If at all possible Sam is to be detained for debriefing by the appropriate authorities, but the safety of the civilians is our first priority."

"Sir? Wouldn’t it be safer for them, if we left the civilians here?"

"It surely would, but you have things the wrong way round. It’s them who’re letting us come along."

Back in the house Spike pulled Wesley aside making sure they faced away from the window. "Here, watcher."

Spike pulled the pouch with the orbs from his belt and held them out toward the other Brit.

"Are you sure?" Wesley hesitated to take the orbs in view of the fact they were all that had kept Spike undead during the earlier hail of arrows.

"Am I sure you’re going to need them more than me in the middle of whatever goes down out there tonight? Hell, yeah. Besides, I can always use you as a human shield."

"Don’t you want Buffy…?"

"She can use you as a shield, too. Slayer’s a big girl. Doesn’t take to bein’ overly protected."

"Okay, then. Let’s make a move."

Tara’s spell showed that although the Sunnydale group was closing the gap between them and Dawn, it was still going to be a considerable length of time before they managed to catch up. If the train kept to its current course, it was going to be much quicker to arrange an intercept from another direction entirely.

Chapter 6.09

The convoy was just approaching Oxnard when Spike pulled over again to get the latest update from Tara. He pulled Buffy’s phone from his coat pocket and pressed it to his ear.

"Go, Tinkerbell."

"No go, as a matter of fact. They’ve stopped, or at least Dawn has, so either the train's stopped... or."

"Or they’ve ditched her. How far?"

"East of Simi Valley, in the mountains. I don’t think you’re going to be able to get close to it by road."

"You got any good news, pet?"

"How does the idea of reinforcements approaching from the south grab you?"

"It doesn’t, but seeing as they might be useful I’d best keep my mouth shut. Ring us back if anything changes."

Spike quickly relayed the situation to Buffy, once she got her helmet off and left her to deal with Riley.

"...So, can you like get some satellite or something to check whether the train is stationary, or moving or whatever?"

"Shit, I think that kick you gave me earlier knocked my brains loose. We don’t need a satellite."

Riley pulled out his phone and hit one of the speed-dial numbers. "Command? This is Special Agent Riley Finn. I need you to patch me through to the person in charge of the central control room for the San Fernando railway line. It’s an emergency. Can you sort it out, establish my authority and then call me back on my cell? Thanks."

"What are you going to do?"

"For one thing, the control room will know exactly which section of track the train is on. These days it’s pretty much all centralised, and for another if that train is still moving we can get them to divert it somewhere where we want it to go. It can only go where the point changes let it. We can have it diverted into a siding somewhere or something."

"That’s fine if we can have people waiting, but if we don’t, won’t they just realise the jig is up and make a run for it?

Oh, and by the way Tara called in Angel and the people that work with him to help. It’d be a really good idea if none of your people tried shooting any of them. They might get a bit confused as to who’s on our side otherwise. Just so you know. I’d hate for there to be any misunderstandings."

"What exactly are we talking about here?"

"Well as far as I know they’re all human except Angel and the big green guy with the horns and I suppose..." Buffy tailed off as she realised she really didn’t trust Riley with the information about Connor and his origins or abilities. Suddenly a comment Riley had made when Xander got split into two seemed far too ominous; something about was he the only one who wanted to split them up and do experiments. "Does it really make that big a difference? Can’t we just say they’re on our side and leave it at that?"

"Yes, Buffy, it matters. If I’m going to be asking my men to deal with the denizens of the underworld then I want to know exactly who and what they're dealing with."

"You are dealing with people who I trust. Some of them I don’t know well enough to call friends, yet, but I trust them with my sister’s life, regardless of their origins, and right now I think my character judgements are a lot less suspect than yours. If you think you or your men are going to have a problem with that then I suggest you leave."

"God, what is it with you, Buffy? You’re supposed to have this sacred duty to fight the demons, but every time I turn around you’re socialising with them."

"I don’t call trying to get my sister back from your psycho spouse socialising. And don’t tell me what my sacred duty is. I live with it every day, and the way I see it, it isn’t defined as fighting the demons. It isn’t even defined by protecting humanity though that might be how a lot of the watchers would like me to see it. It’s about protecting the innocent, whether they’re human, or whether they’re some Class 3 demon that you guys want to annihilate. If the worst thing a guy does is play poker for kittens, then when the human race turns vegan we can complain. And you’ve been turned around for a very long time, even if you have been spying on us in the meantime. Long enough for some of us to grow up a little bit. You have no idea how glad I am that you didn’t bother to look down when that chopper took off, because I’m learning to like myself now, and if you’d stuck around with your blinkered mindset, then maybe I would still be stuck there with you. And I might socialise with the demons. I have every intention of marrying one, but at least I’ve never paid one to be my whore."

Just in time to prevent the blowout getting truly vitriolic, Riley’s cell phone rang.

"Agent Finn."

"Agent Finn we have Mr Colefax on the line for you. He’s the gentleman you wanted to speak to."

"Hello, Mr Colefax I wonder if you can help me? We believe there is a military train on the San Fernando line somewhere east of Simi Valley. Unfortunately we have reason to believe that an armed and dangerous fugitive is on board and may in fact be masquerading as one of the officers in charge. We need you to tell us where exactly this train is, and if possible without making the people on board suspicious we need you to divert it to a site where a containment unit can be waiting to deal with it.

"Hi, the train you’re asking about is currently in the mountains it’s pulled over in a siding between the two tunnels. The train driver reported a warning light to say that one of his axles was overheating and he’s checking it out."

"What was the route that they originally filed with your company."

"Just a return run from Sunnydale to Burbank."

"Okay, this axle thing, how long should it take to check?"

"Twenty minutes, maybe thirty tops."

"And how long have they already been there?"

"About fifteen minutes."

"Okay, when they’re ready to start again I want you to let me know. You can reach me at this number. If they’re headed east I need for you to get them into some out of the way sidings or a freight yard or something and clear it of all passengers and personnel, but I need enough warning to get my other team in position first. So you might need to stall them with a couple of signals or whatever. Okay?"

"Yes, sir. I’ll be in touch."

Riley put away his cell phone and turned to address Buffy. "Why don’t you get Angel and his men to cover Burbank. If we can get a more precise location, I’ll let you know."

"Keep the demons as far away from you as possible you mean?"

"Something like that. Or don't you think two of your boyfriends in the same place is enough?"

"You know what? Spike and Angel, they managed to settle their differences. Believe it or not, they can act like grown-ups. And for someone who married someone else within a year of splitting up, you seem awfully fixated. And for the record, boyfriend doesn't even begin to cover what Spike is to me."

"So what is Spike to you? Enlighten me. Tell me how it isn't Psych 101 any more. Tell me how you don't want a guy with super strength."

"God, is that why you tried to kill him? Even when you thought Sam was little Miss Perfect you couldn't bear to see me happy with someone else. Well, get over it. I don't have time for your damn insecurities and jealousy. Either help or get the hell out of my way, but I'm not going to stand here and argue with you while my sister's in danger."

Buffy stalked off to stand by Spike's bike as she put through the call to Angel's cell asking him and his people to head for the station at Burbank. Her anger simmered just beneath the surface, lending a tension to all her moves. Then, Spike's hand reached out and the back of one finger brushed against her cheek in the simplest of caresses and all the stress just melted away. She was in command. She knew what she was doing and Riley and his men were irrelevant. They were along for the ride. They needed to be part of this to salvage their own self-respect, but Buffy didn't need them. She had people she trusted and who trusted her. They hadn't lost a war yet, and they weren't about to start.

She pulled her helmet back on and got back on the bike behind Spike. "Let's go find my sister," she told him.

"Now this is going to hurt quite a bit," Sam said with a self-satisfied smile. "But then we have to be thorough. We've got the hair and the blood. Pity it's the wrong time of the month for egg harvesting, but maybe next time we're in town I'll make up for it. For now, though, we may as well get the skin sample. Say, how about I give you a choice of where I take it from? I could take it from your stomach. No more crop tops, but hey that's not so bad. Or maybe you'd rather I took it from your forearm? More obvious while it's fresh but perhaps not so bad when it heals. Maybe a bit more difficult to explain to Social Services when they get that child abuse call tomorrow morning. Or maybe you would rather I took it from your breast where it'll be hidden away from all but your most intimate acquaintances. What do you think?" She stepped up to the teenager and ripped the duct tape from her mouth.

"I think Buffy's going to kill you, if Spike doesn't get you first."

"Spike? Your toothless guard dog? He couldn't do anything to me, even if by some miracle he did manage to survive the night. And your sister is going to be so distraught over her vampire lover's final demise that by the time she realises that you're not just dawdling on your way home, Riley and I will be gone, on our way to our next exotic locale.

Well, since you won't choose, inner thigh, it is. That should make your walk to freedom a little more interesting."

"You really think I believe you're going to let me go when I know who you are?"

"You wouldn't be much of a warning if no one knew where you came from. But just in case you might decide to try anything official, I've got a little something here. We call it Venom 64. I believe you've recently seen its effects on your sister, only you won't have the luxury of being able to get any antidote."

Dawn's eyes widened in terror. She couldn't face having her reality ripped away from her. She wasn't strong like Buffy. And what about Buffy? If Sam was serious about killing Spike, who knew whether Buffy would survive. It had been scary enough when the vampire had been wounded. Maybe, if she lost Buffy again and Spike too, she might be happier in some fantasy world she created. And if she was crazy would she see herself as human or as some glowy ball of energy? Even through her panic she managed to come up with an air of bravado.

"It doesn't matter where you go on this earth. There will be nowhere you can hide. She will find you."

"She'll be busy trying to keep you away from sharp objects and stop you wetting the bed. If social services don't stick you in an institution as soon as they see the state you're in. Can't take any more sick days, can you or they'll come out to check up on you. And what will they find? Do you think your sister will report your disappearance to the proper authorities? I doubt it, but Social services are going to wonder. And what about when they find all that men's clothing in your sister's closets, from a so-called fiancé who's nowhere to be found? You are going to end up in a mental home, and your sister is going to learn that I am one person she should not cross."

Chapter 6.10

"You are a cast-iron bitch, you know that?" Dawn wasn’t about to go quietly now that the tape had been removed from her mouth.

"Yes, I know that. In fact, I take it as a compliment. You Americans are all soft. You don’t know what hardship is, and you expect everyone to play along with your soft little world-view. So, yes, I’m a bitch. I am what life has made me. But what you’d do well to remember is that I’m a bitch with lots of scalpels and needles and a prisoner who’s taped to an operating table.

I could always decide I need another sample or two, if you don’t keep quiet."

"Well, if you don’t let me off this table you might find you get a urine sample that’s kinda difficult to collect."

"You should have said." The older woman continued with her task of administering the milky looking contents of a hypodermic syringe. "It’s a smaller dose than your sister received, so it may take some time to take effect, but our tests confirm that it is sufficient to do the job." Only then, did she open one of the lockers and pull out something that looked like a papier mâché potty.

She slit the tape around Dawn’s arms, shoulders and forehead leaving the tape at her knees and ankles still intact. Her panties weren’t going to be a problem as Sam had removed them somewhat earlier in the proceedings. Passing Dawn the wide-rimmed bowl, Sam remarked, "You should be able to manoeuvre just enough to be able to use that."

"I was thinking more of using a toilet."

"And why would I let you do that? We haven’t finished our tests yet?"

"What? You want to stick me on a treadmill and see how long I run for before I say, "Fuck you!"? We can skip that one. The answer is no running."

"Actually, the last test is simply one of observation." Sam pressed a button and an opaque plastic screen slid back to reveal a barred cell no bigger than a shower stall. Huddled in the bottom of the cage was an unkempt old man, wrapped in a woollen overcoat that smelled as if no one had allowed him use of a cardboard potty. Clasped tightly in one hand he held half a bottle of bright purple liquid.

"How can you do that to him?" Dawn asked.

"Do what?" Sam countered. "Ninety nine percent of what has been done to him he did himself. We’re merely giving him somewhere warmer and keeping him supplied with what his addiction demands."

"You can’t really think it’s okay to treat people like that. He could go blind drinking that stuff."

"People die, little one. All my life I’ve seen people die from cold, hunger, disease, alcohol and war. His death was already ordained by the time we picked him up. This is more humane than letting his addiction take its course. Have you ever seen a hospital ward where they keep the alcoholics before they die? Not, of course that that is why we chose him. He’s simply convenient."

Sam drew a heavy baton across the bars making them vibrate and clatter like a child dragging a stick along a set of metal railings.

The man seemed to be startled into wakefulness and his arm immediately came up to shield his eyes.

"What is it?" Sam probed, pulling another plastic bottle of meths from a nearby locker. She waved it in front of the cage, but, of course, the man couldn’t see it unless he removed his arm. "Tell me what you see, old man, and you can have an extra bottle."

"Oz," the shrivelled heap that had once been a man replied, a trembling hand stretching out through the bars of his cell for his reward even though he couldn’t see where Sam was holding it.

"That is not an answer."

"Yes, it is. You just don’t get it," Dawn protested.

"Then why don’t you explain it. Before I open this bottle and pour it on the floor to watch him lick it up like a dog."

"It’s a kid’s story, with wicked witches and dwarves and stuff. All the heroes think they need help with something, so they all travel to see this powerful wizard who lives in Oz, the Emerald City. Then, when they get there they find the Wizard isn’t a wizard at all he’s just a man with a lot of neat tricks to make him look impressive, and Oz isn’t made of emeralds it’s nothing but green glass."

"So he sees the key’s energy." She turned to the unfortunate in the cage. "You see the light? Is that it?"

" But then, you did pick him because he’s at that stage where he’s seeing things that aren’t there, didn’t you? So, it might mean nothing at all. Well, either that, or he knows you’re just an impotent little sadist with no true power or ability, who’s just trying to look like someone important."

"I think I liked you better when you still had the tape on your mouth." Sam picked up the roll of duct tape and ripped herself off another strip.

Dawn opened her mouth as wide as she could trying to prevent the woman from replacing the tape over her mouth, and while she had her mouth wide she figured she might as well go for a good old scream. There had to be someone on this train who wasn’t a psycho, right?

"Keep your mouth open, little one, and you will be the one drinking this." Sam held up the bottle of meths and Dawn immediately decided that given the choices, she’d put up with the tape, thank you very much.

Sam walked over to a phone that was mounted on the wall at one end of the carriage. She picked up the receiver and spoke to the train’s driver. "I’ve finished here. You can quit stalling any time you like." As she passed the old man’s cage, she tossed in the bottle of alcohol before she pressed the button that slid the plexi-glass into place. "Hoo. I guess we could do with some fresh air in here." She pulled open what seemed to be a freight door at the opposite end of the carriage.

"I’ll tell you what?" she said as she slit the tape that bound Dawn’s legs and hauled her to her still somewhat shaky feet before pushing her out the open door. "Just to prove I’m not really a bad guy," the dark-haired woman reached into a pocket and tossed something small and metallic to land at Dawn’s feet. "You might need that to call your precious sister, assuming you don’t collapse before you get to a phone."

Dawn looked on stunned as the train pulled away without her before she reached up to pull the tape from her mouth.

She looked up and down the tracks. Aside from the fact that the train had gone one way, no particular direction seemed any better than the other. Part of her wanted to go as far and as fast as she could in the opposite direction from the train, but Sam might be counting on that, perhaps dropping her off where the next town back was twenty miles away and the one ahead was only two. Maybe, if it had been daylight she might have climbed one of the nearby hills to get an overview of the terrain. Then, she corrected herself, if it was daylight and she had any shoes. Dawn picked up the quarter that Sam had thrown and tossed it. "Heads I go on, tails I turn back," she told herself as she caught it and slapped it down on the back of her left hand.

Spike squirmed uncomfortably as Buffy’s finger drew patterns on his abs under his shirt, causing the bike to swerve slightly before he righted it. Then, he became aware of a certain impatience that began to accompany the gesture and realised that the pattern she was drawing wasn’t random, but an arrow pointing to one side. Finally, he did what she wanted and gradually pulled the bike closer alongside Wes’s. Somehow, with nothing more than eye movements Buffy managed to communicate to Willow what she wanted. Either that or the witch just decided to take the easy route to finding out what she wanted.

"What is it, Buffy?"

"I need you to set up one of your special conference calls for the four of us."

"Hokay, but we’d best warn the guys so we neither of us end up in a ditch."

Buffy simply raised her visor and leant forward to speak to Spike. Willow had a slightly more difficult job and eventually resorted to the very telepathy that she had been supposed to be warning Wes about in order to issue the warning.

"So, what’s with the cloak and dagger, Buff?" the redhead asked when she had established a mental link between them all.

"I think Riley’s getting twitchy. I think he’s not only having second thoughts, but third and fourth and fifth ones. When I mentioned Angel’s crew he pretty much lost it. I think by the time we get wherever we’re going, he’s going to have just about convinced himself it’s all a misunderstanding, that Sam has a good reason for anything she’s done and that he really should be on her side rather than pal-ing around with a bunch of vampires and demons."

"And we all know what comes after denial…" Willow added.

"He’s not going to just go home and leave wifey to a bunch of demons and demon-lovers. So, what do you want to do about it?" Spike asked.

"I was thinking, when we get to Simi, we’re probably going to end up following the track, which goes through these tunnels, which might be like an opportunity to put up a barrier that would give us enough of a head start to get Dawn out and take Sam. I guess we need to wait and see what happens when the train starts moving again."

"You mean we go through, and then, pouf, barrier before the first truck gets there? That’s quite an order."

"But can you do it, Red?" the vampire asked impatiently.

"Sure… I think."

"Cool." Buffy laid out one last surprise. "There’s just one more thing. Riley wanted me to send Angel to Burbank, but it turns out they were already headed up the I405. They’ll meet the train at Chatsworth, but I think, for now, it’s safer to let Riley think he’s got a few more miles of track to play with."

"But how are they going to stop the train?" Wes asked. "Isn’t Riley’s man in the control room going to think he has a bit more time to get it somewhere out of the way?"

The glee in Spike’s "voice" was apparent even through the spell. "Well, how would you stop it, if you were them?" he asked.

"Probably with more finesse than any of the others except Fred is capable of."

"Just when I was thinking you got my idea of fun, watcher… At least, long as Bit’s safe."

The minutes dragged on as the convoy continued to eat up the miles between them and the train. Skirting Oxnard, they travelled on through Camarillo. At Thousand Oaks they turned off the 101 taking a link road that would become the 118 at Simi Valley. They had already followed the railway tracks for several miles when Riley’s contact rang back to say the train was, once more, on the move.

"You’re sure this is the right place?" Angel looked at Fred. "This is definitely the right line."

"Well, assumin’ they’re usin’ the passenger lines. There’s all sorts of freight lines, but I figure this is the most likely way they’ll come," Fred replied.

The entire LA gang had piled into Gunn’s truck and Angel’s car and now stood around beside the two vehicles, watching the level crossing in front of them as if they expected it to suddenly do something.

"So, just as a purely theoretical question, I don’t suppose anyone has any ideas on how we’re actually supposed to stop a hundred ton train?" Lorne asked from beneath his baseball cap, "or were you and junior planning on doing the father and son Superman act and just standing in the middle of the track?"

"You know, when I was checking up on the Net, there were all these stories from like ten, fifteen years ago where they reckoned gangs would push cars onto the tracks and wait for the next train to smash into them. Eventually they started running patrols to check the line in front of all the scheduled trains… but this isn’t really a scheduled train. Thing is, the train would have to stop to check there was no damage before they could go on. Sometimes maybe a bit of debris could damage a brake line or something so they couldn’t take any chances."

Angel turned and looked at Gunn’s truck with an appraising eye, at least until the young man realised what he was doing.

" Get real, I sold my soul for this truck. You want to write off a car for a kid I only met once, use your own."

"But…"

"No buts. This truck is staying this side of that there barrier and that is final."

"But I don’t have insurance," the downcast vampire almost whined.

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