Chapter One

Spike stood with the palms of his hands flat against the pane of glass separating him from the unconscious figure of Buffy – his lover – hell, his saviour. His thumbs ticked metallically as he fidgeted.

If his heart could beat, he knew he’d be having a heart attack right now. The monitor showing the signal of Buffy’s heartbeat had been flat for five minutes. She was dead. The Slayer. His lover. The mother.

Unable to stand it any longer, Spike turned away and rubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes, in an effort to stop the threatening tears from escaping. As always, he was careful not to press too hard at his right eye, not wanting to damage the camera that had given his sight back to him.

He leapt almost a foot in the air when someone rapped sharply on the glass behind him. Whirling around, he felt the familiar slight bout of nausea as the camera struggled to react to such a fast movement. When his focus cleared he came face to face with the doctor who had performed the procedure on Buffy. The man pulled down his surgical mask and grinned at the shell-shocked vampire and pointed to the bed. This time his mechanical eye had no problem in remaining in focus as he slowly followed the doctor’s outstretched arm.

His knees went weak and once more his palms found the glass, this time to support him.

The doctor turned to face him again and mouthed the words ‘she’s fine’ before walking back to tend his patient. As Spike watched Buffy, she stirred and rolled over, her eyes fluttered open and when she saw Spike she smiled weakly. The bed she was on was wheeled away and Spike left the observation room and hurried to where he’d been told that she be taken after the procedure.

Pushing past a nurse who was coming out of the room, Spike was at her bedside in two long strides. Needing to feel the warmth of her skin to truly believe that she was all right.

“Hey, you,” said Buffy, softly.

Spike sat in the bedside chair with a thump and this time couldn’t stem the tears.

Shifting in the bed, Buffy reached out and stroked his hair with her right hand. “Shh, I’m okay. Spike! Look at me – I’m fine.”

Spike sniffed a couple of times before he obliged and turned his face to hers. Even his expressionless eyes couldn’t take away the pain etched across his face.

“I saw you die, Buffy. You were dead.”

“Oh, honey. I know it must have been tough, but I’m free now, Spike. The calling has passed on to some other girl.”

When the idea had first been broached, Buffy couldn’t see the point of it. When she’d been a teen, she’d died – drowned by the Master – and another slayer had been called, but for some reason when Kendra had been killed another hadn’t been activated and Buffy was back to being the sole slayer again.

Now, they told her that because she was older that the Slayer line would be passed on more strongly and they were convinced that if the new slayer was subjected to the same controlled death, then another would be created. From Buffy’s point of view it was a win – win. Another slayer could take over all of her duties and if the techs were wrong and that girl was unable to pass on the calling, then at least the world had a younger slayer until Buffy died. Either way, Buffy got to stop patrolling and doing the Initiative work that Spike understandably despised.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” asked Spike, leaning closer and inhaling deeply, filtering out the alien hospital smells and savouring her familiar scent.

“I’m fine. They said I can go home in another hour or so.”

“Thank fuck for that,” muttered Spike.

As his worry for Buffy dwindled, his anxiety at being in a building owned by the Initiative began to climb.

“I’d love a soda,” said Buffy, knowing the effort it was taking for him to remain still. “The nurses told me that there’s a vending machine down the hall.” She smiled as Spike leapt to his feet.

“Okay, I’ll get one.” He didn’t need to ask. He knew her favourite flavour.

He strode out of the room and pulled the door closed behind him. A sniff of the air soon told him which way he needed to go. Digging into his pockets to find the coins for the machine, he wasn’t looking where he was going but he stopped short as a familiar scent washed over him. It took all of his strength not to bolt. Instead, he slowly raised his head and came face to face with the last person he ever saw with his own eyes.

“See you haven’t lost your touch, Seventeen,” said Maggie Walsh.

“S-Spike,” he muttered, cursing inwardly at the stammer.

The woman threw her head back and laughed. “Oh, yes. I’m sorry. The old slayer got herself a little lap-dog and gave it back its pet name.”

For the first time in years Spike wished he could vamp out, but the hardware in his skull, though mostly dormant these days, prevented it completely. It couldn’t prevent the low threatening growl though.

Totally unfazed, Maggie smiled malevolently. “Oh, pack it in. You know full well that you’re powerless against humans.”

Spike tried to sidestep her but she blocked the way. “You ought to get your owner to send you in for an upgrade. We’ve got a much higher definition camera nowadays.”

“It’s fine. Good as new!” This time he was successful in his attempt to pass the woman.

“That’s nice to know,” said Maggie under her breath as she walked away.

Spike didn’t look back, but if he had he wouldn’t have been reassured by the look on the woman’s face. It was plain to see. She wanted Seventeen back.




Buffy sat at the kitchen table and watched as her men ate their dinners. All three eating spicy wings as if they had been starved for a week, Craig had a bottle of beer, Cam, a Dr. Pepper and Spike, vodka laced A- positive. It was a celebration. The new slayer had had her heart stopped – just as Buffy had a couple of months ago and the Watchers’ Council had just confirmed that another had been called. Buffy was now officially and completely retired.

From now on the world would have an army of Slayers to protect it, which she had to admit was kind of ironic now that the Initiative caught hundreds of demons each year. Despite rescuing Spike from them, years before, she couldn’t deny that its development and growth had helped her life.

She rested her chin on her hand as she put her elbow on the table and gazed at her sons. The Initiative had enabled her to have her sons and live long enough to see them grow.

“Mom! Quit staring at me!” protested Cameron, the youngest.

“Don’t talk to your mother like that,” corrected Spike automatically, before taking a long deep swallow of his drink.

“Aw, c’mon, Spike. Give me a break. She’s gone all mushy on me.”

Spike swivelled his head to take in her expression and grinned. “He’s right. You are looking all bloody soppy – what gives?”

“Aren’t I allowed to look at my boys?” replied Buffy, smiling broadly.

“Yeah but I’m in High School, Mom,” continued Cam. “You haven’t looked at me like that since I was in kindergarten.”

“He’s right,” added Craig.

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Okay, okay! I’ll stop. It’s just – well I can’t quite believe that my work is done. Now all I have to do is worry about you and…” She gave Spike a truly lascivious glance.”

“Please, Mom! TMI! TMI!” cried Cam.

They all began to laugh and Spike resisted the urge to pinch himself. Here he was – a soulless vampire, living the life that William had craved.




When Spike woke, he fumbled on the bedside table for the remote control switch for his eye. He turned it off when he went to sleep as otherwise the slight vibration in it kept him awake. But he hated waking up blind each day. With a sigh, he pressed the button.

Nothing happened.

He tried again.

Still nothing.

His strangled cry woke Buffy.

“Sweetie, what’s wrong?”

Her warm hand slipped into his.

“My—I—the eye—it’s not working,” he croaked.

“What?” Buffy turned on the light and took the controller gently out of his hand. She pressed the button as she stared at his face.

Spike shook his head. “It’s broken, Buffy. We knew it could do this.” He forced his voice to remain even.

“We can get it fixed – I can call Jerry,” said Buffy, referring to Spike’s former handler now working in administration. “I’m sure he can organise it.”

“No.” Spike voice was low but firm.

“But—”

Spike threw the covers back and got out of bed, stopping halfway to the door with his back to her.

“I’m not going back in there for them to do something else to me.” He whirled around. “Isn’t this enough?” His voice rose as his gestured to his eyes. “I know I look like something from a fucking bad sci-fi show. A freak! Look at my hands! Jesus, Buffy, how can you want me to go back in there?”

And I thought he’d adjusted nicely. Buffy climbed off the bed. “Spike, calm down, okay? You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

He tilted his head to the side. “Do you really mean it? You’re my bleeding owner after all – you could send me back!” His face snapped to the side as she slapped him and he staggered sideways hitting the wall.

“Don’t you ever throw that at me!” roared Buffy. “Have I ever treated you like property?”

Spike slumped against the wall and shook his head slightly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t…”

Buffy was at his side in an instant. “I know you didn’t mean it. You’re freaked out – I get it. But shit, we share a bed! I love you. Don’t ever think that I don’t or that I’d make you do anything you don’t want to do. I just want you to be happy.” She wrapped her arms around him and he clung to her. “I know that this is your worst nightmare.”

“I’ll be okay,” Spike mumbled into his hair. “Just—I can’t—”

“Shh,” soothed Buffy. She guided him back to the bed and they sat there for a long time, just holding each other.




He adjusted to his return to a world devoid of light with alarming ease. The layout of the house was familiar to him and Cam soon learned not to leave anything lying on the floor where it might trip the vampire. Outside, he could walk with Buffy, guided by the scents around him, but he never went out alone. As a tracker he had only gone outside with his handler and he knew he was too vulnerable to attack if unaccompanied. One plus side was the annoying vibration the working eye gave out was now still. But it broke his heart that he could no longer see the faces of Buffy and her boys.

About six weeks after the eye failed, Spike was at home alone when the doorbell rang. Halfway to the door, he froze. The strong aroma reaching his nose was one he hoped he’d never smell again.

The Initiative.

“Open up!” a harsh male voice called. “We know you’re in there, Spike. Buffy’s been hurt. She needs you.”

The leader of the Capture Squad covering California winked at his colleagues as he spoke.

“S-she’s hurt? How?” replied Spike, walking closer to the door.

“Look, we’re coming in, okay? She gave us her key.”

Spike took a step back as the lock clicked undone and the door swung open with its usual squeak. Some of the tension left him – they’d used his proper name and if they had a key they must be telling the truth, right?

Wrong.

Something hit Spike’s shoulder and before he had the chance to draw breath to yell out, his legs gave way and he fell heavily to the floor.

The men swooped into action. Spike was bundled into a light-proof body bag and carried out by two of the men. Two more hurried to the door into the backyard. They opened it and poured a large pile of vampire dust onto the ground just outside it. A forged note in Spike’s spidery scrawl read, ‘I’m sorry to leave you and I love you so much it hurts, but I just can’t live in the dark any longer – not even with you. Tell the boys I love them. Spike x’. If Spike could see it he’d be unable to tell the difference.

Their leader glanced around as his crew left and nodded curtly.

Job done.





Cam let himself into the house and threw his schoolbag onto the couch as he walked over to turn the TV on.

“Spike! I’m home!”

He frowned when he got no response and made his way into the kitchen.

“Spike?”

Shrugging, he opened the fridge and took out a can of Dr. Pepper, waiting for Spike to groan, wherever he was – the vampire hated the smell of the stuff and since he lost his sight, it affected him even more. But there was no groan. Then he saw it. A piece of blue paper, torn from the pad kept next to the telephone. Cam pulled it across the table with his fingertips. Spike had left a note. He smiled, fully expecting it to be along the lines of ‘I’m with your Mom – back soon.’

But it wasn’t.

The can of soda fell out of the boy’s hand and he whirled around – trying to think of what to do – where to go. Where would a blind vampire run away to? Cameron’s mind refused to register the true meaning of the note. The door to the yard was ajar and Cam couldn’t believe that he hadn’t noticed it before. The back yard was shaded at that time of day and Cam pulled it fully open and strode outside.

His first step was into something soft, and he glanced down. His white Converse sneaker was covered in grey powder. The boy lifted his foot up and peered at it.

“What the—”

He moved backwards – eyes unable to look away from the pile of dust.

“No!”

Sobbing, the boy’s legs gave out and he sank to the ground.

“Spike!” he cried, before he buried his head in his hands and wept for the vampire he’d loved like a father.




The house was in darkness when Buffy finally arrived home. Puzzled, she flipped the light switch and called out, “Spike? Cam?” Her heart increased its rhythm with a lurch. “Guys?”

A slight noise in the kitchen drew her attention and she walked cautiously down the hall. She may be retired and the wrong side of forty but she was still a slayer. A figure was huddled on the floor and she raced towards it.

“Cameron! Oh, my God! Are you hurt?”

Her son shook his head as she knelt beside him.

“What happened?” she asked gently, trying to keep the rising panic from showing in her voice.

Cam twisted his body and clung to her like he used to do when he was young and frightened by nightmares. Buffy wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly.

“Oh, baby. I’m here. It’s all right. I’m here now.”

She could feel him shaking his head against her shoulder.

“Not all right,” he rasped. “He’s gone, Mom.” He clung to her even harder as he began to sob in earnest again. “Spike’s gone!”

“What?” Buffy pushed Cameron back until she could see his swollen tearstained face. He looked much younger than his seventeen years – a child again – not almost a man. “Where is he?”

For a reason she didn’t immediately understand, Cam let his eyes fall onto his grubby sneaker. The mother in her had Buffy opening her mouth to complain how dirty he’d managed to get them, when realisation hit.

She shook her head violently. “No. It’s not true.” She struggled to get control over her spiralling emotions. “Whoever did it – I’ll kill them – I don’t care who it is – they’re dead,” she said tonelessly.

“He did it to himself, Mom. He left us. No one took him away.”

He thrust the crumpled piece of paper into her hand. Taking it, she stood up, reaching for the light switch near the door frame, and squeezing her eyes shut against the glare. She blinked rapidly and then peered at the note. It was Spike’s handwriting – there was no mistake about that. A tear rolled slowly down her cheek as she remembered how much he hated the fact that he could no longer write neatly. She glanced to the door and saw the grey powder spread on the ground.

The bastard!

Her anger surprised her. She expected to fall apart and join her son back on the floor but instead she burned with rage that Spike had left her alone after making her fall in love with him. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. He was a vampire for Christ’s sake! He was supposed to be with her all of her life and her children’s lives.

Seeing his mom begin to shake, Cameron pulled himself together and stood up, wincing as his limbs protested at the movement after so long and a cramp his hit left calf. He rubbed his eyes and sniffed several times.

“Mom?”

He almost stepped back when she turned to look at him and he saw the fury blazing in her eyes.

Buffy forced a tight smile onto her face. “I’m okay.” She glared at the pile of dust. “I’d better get rid of that, and take your shoes off or you’ll have it all through the house.”

“But…”

“Cam, just do as I ask, okay?”

Being the son of a slayer meant that he’d grown up knowing that there was absolutely no point in arguing with his mom when she was in slayer mode and right now, she looked about ready to tear the head off anything that stood in her path.

Silently, he bent down, unlaced the sneakers and stepped out of them, leaving them where they were. Buffy squeezed his hand as he passed but neither said a word. He retreated to his bedroom, running up the stairs two at a time when he heard Buffy take the dustpan and brush out of the closet. The bedsprings squeaked as he threw himself on the mattress and buried his head in the pillow.

Downstairs, Buffy swept up every grain of dust and threw it and the trainers in the trash. Then she scrubbed the floor until she could be certain that no trace of Spike remained. Only then did she allow herself to cry.

to be continued...

Chapter Two


Spike emerged slowly, his hearing first and then his sense of smell. When his eyes opened the darkness was still complete and added nothing to what his others senses were telling him . He tried to move and couldn’t do more than blink. But it was all horribly familiar. The sounds. The smell. The paralysis. He groaned quietly, his paralysed body not allowing him to pull in enough air to make more noise.

Footsteps.

A warm hand on his forehead.

A voice that made him wish he was dust.

“Hello, Seventeen. Welcome back.” Maggie Walsh smiled down at her reacquisition. “You didn’t think that she’d want you forever did you? She’s human – it was inevitable that she’d want a relationship with a real man again one day.

“No,” breathed Spike.

“Oh, yes. The contract we drew up when she bought you clearly stated that whenever she didn’t need you anymore that you would be brought back here.”

“She wouldn’t”

Maggie laughed. “Oh, yes she would!”

More footsteps approached and Maggie stroked her hand through his unruly, wavy hair. “It’s all yours. Let me know when it is all healed and ready for testing.”

“Yes, ma’am. Should be a week or so,” replied a technician.

A week! What the fuck are they going to do with me?

Whatever they did – he was mercifully unaware of it, as they kept him anaesthetised for the duration.

*~*~*~*

Spike came to on a soft bed, which in itself was enough to scare him half to dust. Comfort? In the Initiative? He could move his limbs a little but they were well strapped down. So he did the only thing that he could do – he waited.

Eventually, they came. Lots of them. No one spoke but he could smell Maggie Walsh. The top half of his bed slowly rose until he was sitting upright.

“We upgraded you, Seventeen. I think you’ll be happy with what we’ve done.”

He didn’t trust himself to reply.

“The bandages, Michael, if you please?”

Her assistant moved closer, and Spike’s nose screwed up as the aroma of stale sweat wafted to his nostrils. Spike kept his eyes closed when the bandages fell free.

“Open them,” barked Walsh.

Reluctantly, Spike did as he was bidden and slowly opened his lids. He could see, but the images were confusing and blurry.

“Describe it.”

“Colours. Blurred. Won’t focus properly.”

“Turn one off,” Maggie said.

Spike’s left eye went dark and suddenly the vision in his right was very clear. He raised his face to meet Maggie’s gaze.

“What’s changed?”

“Can see perfectly,” said Spike. “I forgot what a fucking ugly bitch you are!”

She punched him, not on his face – no his head contained expensive hardware – in the balls. Spike grunted and fell forwards as far as his shackles would allow.

“Mind your manners, Seventeen.”

He raised his head and stared at her.

“Is there any vibration?”

Spike suddenly realised that there wasn’t, so he shook his head.

“Fourth generation from the one we removed from you,” explained Maggie, helpfully. Her next words were directed to Michael. “Turn the right off and left on.”

For a moment, Spike was back in the dark and then the strange colours were back. He blinked as he tried to make sense of it all, and then understood. His left eye picked up heat signatures. The people who had been staring at him curiously were now a series of blobs with bright red centres.

“Your sight can do more, but it will take a little getting used to. Your training will commence tomorrow.”

As one, the blobs moved towards where the doorway was.

“Please,” said Spike, quietly. “Let me see properly.”

The shape at the back stopped and moved towards him. “Why not?”

Instantly his right eye had vision. But she didn’t turn the other one off and the images all merged together in a confusing soup.

Apart from someone who gave him a couple of pints of top quality blood to drink, Spike was left alone for a further twenty-four hours. By the time that Maggie and her crew returned, his brain had somehow worked out how to cope with the messages it was receiving and his vision was something akin to watching two monitors. He could focus on one eye and bring its images to the fore and vice versa. It was weird, but he could see and that was a hell of a lot better than the darkness.


*~*~*~*

They came back, as he knew they would. His limbs were unshackled and the blanket covering his lower body pulled back.

“What?” he hissed as he stared at the knee of his right leg and then up at the smiling face of Maggie Walsh.

“Technology has moved on since you’ve been away,” she said. “We need you to be fully mobile.”

“But—”

“Just get off the damn bed and on your feet,” Maggie snapped.

Unable to take his eyes off the joint, Spike slowly swung his feet over the side of the bed and gingerly stood up. As was his habit, he kept most of the weight on his left leg.

“Stand squarely on both,” ordered Maggie. “It will more than hold your weight. In fact if they weren’t so expensive I would have upgraded your good knee too.”

Spike shifted his weight and found that she was right. It felt as good as new. He smiled. He could see and now he had two good legs again. That meant he could escape – or dust trying.

A sharp stab of pain in his head brought him back down to earth, and he turned towards Maggie. In her hands was the remote controller for the chips in his head and she waved it meaningfully at him. He dipped his head and shuddered. With that in her hands, she could have him writhing on the floor in agony in seconds.

He walked slowly along to his cell. With each step of his right leg, he couldn’t help but stare at the knee. Now apparently completely artificial, its highly polished metal glittered in the florescent light. He no longer had a terrible limp but if regaining full mobility, not to mention his sight, was at a cost of being away from Buffy and the boys then the price was way too high.

Once placed in his new home, a twelve-foot square room that boasted only a narrow bed in one corner, Spike decided on a plan. His life was over and he was damned if he was going to be forced into being one of their operatives again. Whatever they wanted him to do – he’d refuse until the only course of action remaining would be to kill him or – fuck it – retire him. But no way would he help them. The vampire who had crippled him had got it right. He had been a traitor to his own kind and nothing they could do would make him change his mind.

*~*~*~*

Craig had returned home from college when Cameron had called him the night that Spike had killed himself. The professors had all been understanding when he told them of his step-father’s death. There’d been no reason to let them know that he’d been a vamp, and it meant that they gave him permission to take a month off as long as he made up the work when he got back. The baseball coach less so since they were in the middle of the season and he didn’t want to lose a key player.

From what Cam had told him, their mom had acted a little weird to the discovery of Spike’s ashes. After having been home a week, he knew exactly what his little brother meant. She never mentioned Spike and put on a cheerful face, tidying up the house to within an inch of its life. But at night, he heard her crying as if her heart would break in two.

He had no idea how to make it better. By the time their real dad had skipped town with his secretary, the marriage had been just about over and although his mom’s pride was hurt, it certainly hadn’t broken her heart, but now… She didn’t even have patrolling to fall back on.

Cam had withdrawn into himself and for some reason wouldn’t drink Dr. Pepper anymore, and he went crazy one day when he’d seen Craig wear a pair of Converse sneakers. His school work was suffering and Craig coached him with it as best he could, but Cam was the brains of the family. Craig’s own education was shored up by the fact he could throw a mean curve ball from the pitcher’s mound, and his dreams were of playing major-league – not performing life saving surgery.

A couple of weeks later, unable to bear the atmosphere in the house a moment longer, Craig went out for a walk, going wherever his feet took him. There was a noise behind him and he paused, listening intently but he didn’t hear it again. He resisted the urge to look back and stepped up his pace, cursing under his breath when he realised where in town he was. His mom had many times warned him about the demon activity here and also about leaving the house un-armed and yet here he was…

Another noise.

Shit!

He was being followed. And not by just one person, creature or whatever. Craig thought of another thing his mom frequently told him: ‘If in doubt – run!’

So he did. At nineteen, he was in the peak of physical condition and quick on his feet but it still wasn’t enough. A sharp blow hit the back of his head and he was unconscious before he hit the ground.


*~*~*~*

The second week after Spike’s arrival back in the Initiative was spent with endless hours of tests regarding his sight. When the cameras in his eyes were switched on so that they transmitted back to computers in the main office, his vision became even more like that of a science-fiction movie. Everything he saw was overlaid with a series of grids indicating the distance to whatever he was focussed on; sometimes it included the size, shape and breed of the demon in view. Put simply, his eyes were that of a computer – capable of analysing the data they saw. From Spike’s point of view, it gave him a headache worthy of a chip firing to begin with, and then he learned how to filter it so that he was almost unaware of all of it.

The ‘normal’ vision of his right eye could be switched to the eerie glow of night-vision, which he found very disorientating when coupled with the body heat images from the left. But he adapted – like vampires always do.

In his third week of captivity, Spike put his decision not to become a tool of the Initiative to the test. When they wanted him to participate in a hunt, he refused. Point blank. When pressed, he managed to get in one good punch before the chip put him on the floor.

He woke up strapped to a chair with his head fastened so securely he couldn’t move it at all.

Maggie Walsh leaned in close. “You will do what we want, Seventeen.”

“Fuck off! I’m through working for you!”

Spike gritted his teeth against a blow to his bollocks, and he wasn’t disappointed.

“Show him,” she said to someone that Spike couldn’t see.

He yelled out as pain ran through his head and localised in his eyes. Images began to flicker across his vision. He froze. Buffy’s house.

“Recognise anyone?” asked Maggie. She knew what clip of film he was being fed.

As she spoke, Buffy and her sons walked out of the front door and down the pathway. Spike’s fingers stretched out as if he was trying to touch her.

“Buffy,” he whispered.

His lover looked gaunt. She’d lost weight and he was sure there was more grey speckling her blonde hair. Beside her, Cameron walked along, scuffing his toes on the ground, hands plunged into the pockets of his jeans. Of them all, only Craig looked as he remembered him, walking tall next to his mother.

“Where’s her new lover?” croaked Spike. “Why does she look so bad?”

He’d consoled himself that at least being sent back to the Initiative meant that she was happy with a human who could be a proper father to her sons.

“There is no lover. They think that you’re dead,” taunted Maggie. “The young one found your dust.”

Spike closed his eyes but it made no difference to the images he could see – they were being fed directly into the cameras. Cam. His favourite. Brainy, funny and painfully shy around girls. Spike had seen a lot of the William he once was in the boy.

“But…”

“They think that you didn’t love them enough to cope with being blind. The question is, Seventeen, do you love them enough to keep them safe?”

The image stopped abruptly and Spike gasped at the loss of the ones he loved. Opening his eyes all he could see was Maggie’s smirk.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“You will do as we ask and do it well otherwise they will get hurt.”

Shaking his head, Spike said, “No – they’re human. You don’t hurt humans.”

“Don’t we?” sneered Maggie. “Dare you risk it?”

Spike thrashed against the straps holding him in the chair and growled at her, trying and failing to be able to vamp out.

“Take him back to the training room and see if he’s mended his ways.”

As soon as the straps were loosened, Spike leapt at Walsh but wasn’t even half-way there when his body jerked and he fell screaming on to the tiled floor, his head exploding with pain.

For the next week, Spike was systematically tortured whenever he refused to comply with their orders. Which was every time they gave him one.

Then one day he woke up strapped into that same chair.

“We warned you,” said Maggie, as the video feed was connected to his vision.

Spike tensed as the image of Craig racing down a street appeared. The creatures that were chasing him weren’t demons; they were some of the security guards that the Initiative had. He cried out as the blow of a baton knocked the boy to the pavement.

“Just so you know. This is live, Seventeen. This is happening right now.”

Whoever held the camera got in close and Spike moaned at the sight of blood streaming from a wound on the back of Craig’s head. The boy was turned over so that he was flat on his back, and it was clear that the fall to the ground had broken his nose.

“Leave him alone. It’s nothing to do with him,” said Spike.

One of the men took hold of Craig’s right arm and then grinned at the camera. Spike yelled and thrashed uselessly.

“Don’t hurt him! He’s only a kid!”

“I hear he’s quite the upcoming baseball star,” said Maggie conversationally.

“I’ll do what you want,” said Spike desperately. “Don’t hurt him. I’ll do anything.”

“Oh, you will,” replied Maggie.

The man holding Craig’s arm nodded as if hearing an order and then savagely twisted the arm, dislocating the shoulder and snapping the elbow.

“No!”

Spike sagged in defeat. It was all his fault.

“Now, what was that you said about cooperating?” asked Maggie as the images shut down and Spike once more could see her face.

“I said I’d do anything. You didn’t have to hurt him,” said Spike, trying not to let the bitch see his tears.

“We did, Spike, because sooner or later you would have resisted again. But now you know that we mean it. The young one is a good academic isn’t he? Head trauma can have quite serious consequences, can’t they? Or maybe we should let him know first hand just what you felt when you couldn’t see? What would happen to Buffy if she were raped and left for dead?”

“Stop!” sobbed Spike. “I mean it. I’ll do anything.”

Maggie chuckled. “Take him back to his cell. Give him a good feed and we’ll make a new start on the training tomorrow.”

*~*~*~*

Buffy glanced anxiously at the clock. Craig had been gone for a couple of hours, but while she couldn’t blame him for needing a bit of time away from the atmosphere at home, she couldn’t help but worry.

A rap on the door had her on her feet in an instant. She rushed to it, saying as she flung it open, “Forgot your key ag—” Buffy’s hand flew to her mouth as she saw that it wasn’t her son but two police officers.

“Ms. Summers?” asked the taller of the two men.

She nodded mutely.

“Are you the mother of Craig Evans?”

Another nod.

“I’m afraid he’s been hurt. He’s at the hospital; he’s in a fair but stable condition.”

“W-what happened?” Buffy finally managed to speak.

“We’re not too sure. Looks like he was mugged.”

Buffy glanced vaguely around, “Um…I need to see him…I…”

Cameron jogged down the stairs coming to a halt when he saw the officers.

“Craig!” he yelled. “Mom, what’s happened?”

Buffy turned to him. “He’s in the hospital. He was…he was attacked.” She picked up her car keys with a trembling hand.

The second officer said, “I don’t think you should be driving right now, ma’am. You’ve had a nasty shock. How about if we take you there?”

Buffy nodded gratefully and putting her arm around Cam, followed the officers to their patrol car.

The officers helped her past the reception and led her to where Craig was waiting before being taken to the OR.

Cameron’s hand found Buffy’s as they walked through the gap in the curtains surrounding the bed.

They both gasped when they saw Craig. His face was bloodstained and beneath the bruising, deathly pale. He tried and failed to smile when he saw them, his face was just too sore. Both eyes were swollen and already purple and black. His nose crooked where once it had been straight, but what made both Buffy and Cam stop with shock was his arm. Although it had been strapped up in the ER, it was clear that it was very badly damaged indeed. Craig was sitting hunched over to keep the dislocated shoulder from pressing on the bed, and the rest of the arm was swaddled in bandages.

“Oh, baby,” said Buffy taking his hand in her free one.

It was too much for her. Losing Spike and now seeing her son so badly injured. She let go of Craig's hand and covering her face with it, sobbed loudly.

“Shh, Mom,” said Craig, floating on a sea of opiate drugs. “Don’t cry. I’ll be okay.”

His brave words only made her cry harder and Cameron had to support his mother when the orderlies came to take Craig up to be operated on.

*~*~*~*

The hours that Craig was in surgery stretched to what felt like an eternity. Cameron had finally managed to fall asleep on one of the couches in the waiting room, but Buffy had barely been able to sit down for more than a minute at a time.

A woman clad in green scrubs, a white surgical mask hanging around her neck, walked into the room.

“Ms. Summers?” she enquired, extending a hand when Buffy nodded. “I’m Dr. Jamison. I operated on your son.”

“How is he?”

“Shall we sit?” Dr. Jamison waited until they were seated before she continued. “The dislocation of his shoulder was relatively easy to reduce and should cause him no long term problems. However, the elbow was extensively damaged. I have repaired it using a bone plate and screws, but he will face a prolonged course of physical therapy to get movement back.”

Buffy began to tremble. “But it will be okay, won’t it? I mean, it’ll just take time, right?”

The look in the doctor’s eye gave her the answer she didn’t want to here, even before the woman spoke.

“I’m afraid the chances of him regaining full use of it are slim, Ms. Summers. But it will recover sufficiently not to hamper his life too badly.”

“He wants to pitch in the Major League,” blurted Cameron, startling both women.

Dr. Jamison shook her head softly. “I’m afraid that will be out of the question. The joint was so damaged that it was almost irreparable, but he’s young and so I’m confident that he will be able to drive a car, things like that, but sports? I’m afraid not.”

She stood and looked down at the devastated family.

“He’ll need your support when he comes around. He’s lucky to be alive. Concentrate on that. A nurse will come to find you when you can see him.”

Dr. Jamison nodded to them and then walked away.

“It’ll kill him, Mom,” muttered Cameron.

Buffy’s heart tightened. “Like the doctor said. We’ve got to be strong, okay? He’s going to be upset and we’ve got to help him.”

They hugged and then sat watching the clock slowly tick away the minutes until they would be allowed to see him.

Chapter Three


“Fucking hell!” Craig yelled, throwing the jar of peanut butter across the kitchen where it smashed against the wall.

Heart in her mouth, Buffy raced into the kitchen wondering what on earth was going on. She stopped when she saw her eldest boy slumped dejectedly on one of the stools. His chest was heaving and as she glanced over at the sticky mess on the wall opposite, she could guess the cause of his distress.

“Craig,” she said warily.

“Go away!”

She flinched but took a step closer to him.

“I know how you feel,” started Buffy.

The venom in Craig’s eyes made her tense up. His top lip curled as he said, “You know how I feel? Oh, right. This should be good. How exactly do I feel?”

Buffy dropped her gaze and stared instead at the slices of bread he’d obviously intended on smearing with peanut butter.

“You’re hurting,” she said softly. Encouraged by the fact he remained quiet, she continued, “I know you feel like it’s the end of the world but—”

Craig leapt up, sending the stool crashing to the floor. “I don’t feel like it’s the end of the world. It is the end of the fucking world! It’s the end of my dreams, okay?” He bent down so that he was right in her face. “My life may as well be fucking over!”

“Don’t say that!” This time Buffy held his stare. “When I was called—”

“Oh, spare me the ‘I didn’t think I could have a normal life’ speech, Mom. I’ve heard it before! And in the end, you got exactly what you wanted, didn’t you?” He waved his left arm expressively. “All this – the house – the husband – the kids.” His breath hitched and he bit his lip. “But I will never have what I want. I can’t even open a jar of peanut butter for Christ’s sake. I will never pitch ball again!”

He pushed past her, grunting as he jarred his elbow and she heard him thunder up the stairs to his room. The door slammed shut with a force that had the windows rattling. Buffy slowly bent down and brought the stool upright again, before she began to clear away the makings of Craig’s aborted attempt of a sandwich.

“He doesn’t mean to yell,” said Cam from behind her. “He’s just scared.”

Buffy smiled weakly. “I know. And I’m scared for him too. He’s never wanted to do anything else.”

Cam took up a cloth and cleared away the peanut butter from the wall and the floor.

“Make sure you don’t cut yourself,” cautioned Buffy.

Cam looked at her and raised his eyebrows, making her smile and she added, “I know, I know, over-protective mother.” Her smile faded and she glanced towards the stairs. “I didn’t protect your brother, did I? Or Spike.”

“What happened to Craig and what Spike did isn’t your fault,” said Cam.

Buffy took a deep breath. “It’s just we were doing so well and now…”

Cam threw the cloth and pieces of jar in the trash and walked to his mother.

“We’ll be okay. Things will get better. It’s only been a couple of weeks since Craig’s last operation. He just expects too much too soon, that’s all.”

Smiling weakly, Buffy pulled her son into her arms. “Listen to you, all wise and grown up.”

“Um, Mom, you’re still wicked strong,” Cam gasped.

“Oh! Sorry!” Buffy let him go and ran her fingers down his face. “I love you, Cam, you know that, don’t you?”

Taking her hand in his, he drew it away from his face. “Yes I do, Mom. And I love you too.”

He knew why she said it. She was afraid that Spike hadn’t known how much she’d loved him and that was why he’d done what he had. She couldn’t accept that he would have killed himself unless he felt he was unloved.

“I’ll make Craig his snack and take it up to him,” added Cam.

“Thank you, son.”

*~*~*~*

Craig glared at his reflection. He hated what he saw and it had nothing to do with the crooked nose or the chipped front tooth that the thin line of his compressed lips hid. All his life, he’d been a winner. Through the Little League games right up to playing in college. It had been easy. He loved the way the ball felt in his hand and how he could get it to go anywhere he wanted it to go.

Now it was gone forever. In the two months since he’d been assaulted he’d endured three operations. And the prospects of a full recovery diminished each time the surgeon cut into his elbow. The second operation, two weeks after the first, had taken place because one of the plates hadn’t seated properly. After that operation Craig had complained of a lot of pain and at first they dismissed it, thinking it was due to him no longer being on opiate based injected drugs and missing their effect. By the time the surgeons had gone back in, the compressed nerve had made his hand weak and numb. Two weeks on – it didn’t feel much better.

The face staring back at him was the face of a loser. Forever known as someone who didn’t even get to play Minor League, more of a ‘never was’ than a ‘has been’. Sure for a few years someone might remember the winning pitches or the home runs he’d hit, but then it’d be forgotten.

Abruptly, he turned away and sat on his bed. He knew he’d been horrible to his mom, but he couldn’t help it. If she hadn’t fallen apart after Spike had gone. If Spike had had the balls to continue to exist. Then this would never have happened. He’d be back at college and playing every chance he got.

Craig had just flopped onto his back when there was a tap at the door and Cameron walked in, carrying a plate of sandwiches and a couple of sodas.

“Thought you might be hungry,” said Cam.

Craig hated the way they both kept looking at him; as if he was going to shout his head off at them. He hated that he kept on doing just that.

“Thanks,” he mumbled and shuffled across the bed to make room for Cameron to sit on it too.

Cam handed him a sandwich and took one for himself. They sat in silence for a time.

“You shouldn’t take it out on her,” said Cam.

“I know. I’ll tell her I’m sorry later, okay?”

The younger brother wanted to tell him that no, it wasn’t okay. That he shouldn’t have done it in the first place but Cam wisely kept quiet. Since Craig had come home from the hospital, Cameron had tried to think of how he’d feel if his dreams of becoming a surgeon were shattered. All in all, he thought that maybe his brother wasn’t handling it so badly after all.

*~*~*~*

Spike howled as a needle was rammed into his jugular; it felt like the tech was trying to push it through to the other side. With more pain than he thought possible his features shifted to vampiric. The intervening years, being locked into his human visage had given his fangs time to regenerate and he wiped the tip of his tongue over them and smiled.

But not for long.

A dental gag was thrust into his mouth and cranked open. He barely had the chance to growl in protest before his four longest fangs were snapped off at the root.

Bastards!

He thought it – but he wouldn’t say it. Oh, no. For the past two months Spike had been the model subject. Once per week he was shown footage, in and around the home that he’d shared with Buffy. He’d seen Craig come home, face ashen and his arm encased in plaster and held in a sling. He’d seen Buffy weeping at night and he’d seen Cameron bravely trying to keep the household going. No way would he ever risk more harm coming to them.

For some reason this time around, snapping of fangs excepted, they preferred to work on him while he was unconscious. The familiar coolness on his abdomen led to the only place he ever felt peace – the velvety darkness of unconsciousness. He fervently hoped that one day he’d never wake up.

He always did.

So far, since he’d cooperated fully things hadn’t been so bad. Admittedly the barcode ID tattooed onto the side of his penis hadn’t been a fun thing to wake up to. It had stung for days. And the delight in Maggie Walsh’s expression when they inserted the tracking device into the tip of his cock, he could have lived without seeing. Apparently, using the penis meant they could be certain that the vampire wouldn’t try to remove the tracking device. But so far he’d been just used for exercises to do with the data his eyes could send back.

Until today.

He was led to an unfamiliar room and given a pair of plimsolls to put on, which struck Spike as being a little bizarre considering he hadn’t had shoes or a stitch of clothing on since he’d been brought in this time around.

A strange sensation ran though his penis and he moaned softly. It wasn’t unpleasant. In fact it was quite the opposite. He glanced down and saw that his cock was half hard. Focussing the left eye, he was a little surprised to see just how warm the head of his penis was.

A jolt from the chip in his head made him lift his head and concentrate on his trainer.

“Are you listening, Seventeen?”

“Yeah.”

Another jolt.

“Yes, sir.” Spike missed being able to roll his eyes. This trainer was a real dick.

“Get out there and do what you’re trained for.” The trainer prepared to release Spike into the huge outdoor training enclosure.

A different door was opened and Spike stepped out into the night air for the first time since his kidnapping. Then he could smell it. His prey. No longer merely a tracker, Spike was a hunter. His job was to lead the Capture Squads to nests of demons.

He set off at a jog, thrilled to feel the cold air caressing him as he ran without a hint of pain or a trace of a limp. Moving silently, his right eye switched to night vision mode, overlaid with the grids. Spike found himself concentrating more on the scent trail than his sight. He would have closed his eyes but they’d done something to him so that he could no longer blink once on a hunt, not wanting any interruption to the signal.

When he located the nest, his orders were to try to ensure as much information about the place was learned. So he slowly reconnoitred the area. Scanning from side to side, the images he saw conveyed to the Capture Squad that would be mobilised.

The sound of the helicopter was so familiar, Spike felt like he’d never been away, and he had to resist the urge to go into the house like a tracker would. But he watched from the undergrowth as the squad went in. There was a sound of a brief skirmish and then out they came. Demons this time – Gnusmas – a lower intelligence breed, Spike momentarily wondered what the Initiative would want to use them for. Then he remembered that this had been a controlled hunt and those dim creatures were easy to capture and release again.

The homing device pulsed and Spike bit back a groan of pleasure as his penis rose in response.

“Seventeen, come here!” called his trainer.

Spike walked out from his hiding place, startling the trainer with just how close he’d been. His hands covered his erection. Permanent nakedness he was used to but to walk up to that pillock of a man fully erect was more than his pride could bear.

“You did well, tonight.”

His trainer gestured for him to move closer. And then he smiled broadly at Spike. “We’re all out of Scooby snacks,” Spike tensed at the inadvertent use of the name he’d called the Slayer’s friends, “but I think you’ll like this treat well enough.”

Spike barely had time to frown when his homing device vibrated again and he fell to his knees, hands clutching his cock.

“Hey, guys, take a look at Seventeen,” called his trainer.

A couple of Capture Squad members walked over.

“Oh, man, their first time is always the best,” said one, slapping Mark on his shoulder.

Spike arched his back and cried out. His hands which had no effect on what he was feeling fell away from his penis and onto the ground to support him, fingers digging into the damp soil. For the first time since his recapture he came, and came so hard that his arms collapsed and he lay on his back as his spendings hit his stomach.

As he lay there panting, he became aware of the others laughing at him and shame and anger burned through him in equal measures.

“On your feet, Seventeen.”

With a rumbling growl that earned him a low grade jolt from the pain chip, Spike stood up and positioned himself as trained with his hands clasped behind his back. It didn’t matter that the mode his vision was in meant that he couldn’t see expressions. He could smell that two of the fuckers were in danger of shooting their loads from watching him.

From that night on, he was used out in the field. If the vampire who’d knackered his knee had thought him a traitor back then, Spike shuddered to think what she’d think now.

He got the job done.

He led the Capture Squad to free demons – vampires mostly – and he watched as they were subdued and taken away. He was fascinated by their eyes. The harsh yellow that all vampires’ eyes turned when the demon showed its face. He stared at them unblinkingly and felt sick that they would likely end up blinded as he was. No matter that the technicians allowed him to see, his eyes had been taken and they controlled him completely. And he wouldn’t wish that on any creature.

Now, after several dozen times, Spike hated the Pavlovian response the hunts caused. His cock remained uninterested when he tried to wank but now, the mere mention of a hunt had him standing at the door to his cell, hoping they’d pick him. Desperate to have those few moments of ecstasy that could blank all thoughts from his mind. The thoughts of his family slowly falling apart.

Once a week, they showed him a clip of either Buffy or the boys and it hurt more each time to see them. Craig was almost unrecognisable to the athlete he’d known. The disabled arm robbed him of all his cocky self-confidence and he seemed to shrink each time Spike saw his image.

Cameron looked like he tried hard to act normal but he failed, and Maggie Walsh had enjoyed telling that he’d failed to graduate that year and so was being kept back. This, the boy who’d been almost teaching his teachers. The lines on Buffy’s face seemed etched ever deeper.

All because of me. I ruined Craig’s arm. I ruined their lives.

*~*~*~*

Buffy flinched as the door slammed behind her son as he fled the house. She reached out and picked up the letter that Craig had let fall to the table as he bolted. She knew what it would say. ‘Dear Mr. Evans, Thank you for your application…I’m afraid that you’ve been unsuccessful on this occasion…’ or something along those lines. They always did.

When Craig had announced that he was going to try to get a job coaching baseball, unable to face returning to college, she hadn’t the heart to tell him that maybe the fact he couldn’t throw a ball might be an issue. She desperately hoped that someone out there would give him the opportunity to still be a part of the game he loved.

She’d been so worried that she’d even contacted her ex husband to see if he could help. But Craig had refused to go to stay with his father for a while, accusing her of wanting to get rid of him.

With a sigh, she stood up and walked over to make a cup of coffee. She was at a total loss of what to do next. Not for the first time, she cursed Spike for his cowardice at leaving them. Glancing out of the window, she was relieved that dusk was hours away and hoped her son would be home before then.

“Cam! Do you want a drink or a snack?” she called up the stairs, to where Cam was shut in his room working on the computer, trying desperately to get back to the level of achievement he’d had before everything had gone wrong. He hated the fact that his friends were now freshmen at college and he was still stuck in high school.

“No, thanks, Mom!” he called back.

Buffy took her coffee into the lounge and slumped down on the sofa, flicking the remote to turn on the TV and hoping that there would be a program interesting enough to enable her to lose herself in it for a while.

The newscaster was cheerily telling viewers how the best of the Initiative’s trackers and hunters, along with their handlers were being loaned out to the British Government for a twelve month contract to help them set up their own version of the massively successful business. Buffy turned the TV off and shuddered.

How could I have ever been involved with that place?

She closed her eyes and tried to imagine Spike’s arms around her, comforting her and telling her everything would be all right. A tear rolled down her cheek as she realised she could no longer even remember what being held by him felt like.

Chapter Four


Spike cocked his head and listened. Something was going on. What, he couldn’t work out. Unable to hear more than muffled voices, he shrugged and returned to his bed, sitting on it and resting his head back against the wall.

He closed his eyes, relishing the fact that he could. More and more often, his ability to blink was blocked, as he began to be used during the training of subjects in addition to still hunting. They had never considered that a trained vampire could assist in the training of others until they had seen how Spike reacted to a new inmate who freaked out when he saw what had been done to Spike’s eyes.

They’d watched in amazement as Seventeen calmly walked up to the vampire and held it by its throat as with his artificial thumb he pressed into the creature’s left eye. Unaffected by its screams he repeated the action with the right and then dropped the blinded vampire at his feet.

“I think you’ll welcome eyes like mine now, won’t you?” said Spike, before calmly walking away and licking the blood off his thumb.

The trainers had fewer problems in getting obedience from the group that had witnessed that act than before and from then on they called on Seventeen to help discipline any rebellious ones.

A part of Spike hated that he helped to turn them into drones to be ordered about by the Initiative but another part relished the fact that he was allowed to get violent with them. He hated seeing their fucking eyes and couldn’t wait for them to have the surgery to replace them with cameras. But when they had he hated knowing that his eyes also looked so inhuman and artificial. How had Buffy been able to look at him? Had he imagined the love she had given? It seemed so long ago – had it really been real?

The door at the end of the corridor clicked open and Spike, like all the vampires in that section, began pacing back and forth, cocks half hard, hoping that they would be selected to hunt.

To Spike’s relief, he saw his handler when his door slid open. He hadn’t hunted for almost a week and craved the release it gave. Shaking his head at the weird sensation of his eyelids being frozen in their open position, Spike followed his handler along the corridor and into the little room where he was given plimsolls to wear, but no other clothing. Spike grinned. This meant that the hunt wasn’t in a populated area and he loved hunting in the wilderness. As the Capture Squads got ever more efficient, free vampires and demons began to pull out of the more populated areas, hoping to find sanctuary out in the wilds.

They were wrong.

Unlike trackers, hunters worked alone, their handlers followed in the helicopter and so it was the closest thing to freedom that they ever got. Spike relished it and let his mind narrow until all he was aware of was the need to find his prey.

It wasn’t long before he was lost to the sensations created in his stimulated penis once he’d led them to the vampires, and he rocked back and forth as the orgasm ripped through him. No longer was he embarrassed by it, in fact it amused him when the humans got a little sweaty at the sight of him writhing about on the ground.

Back in his cell after being hosed down, his belly full of top grade human blood, Spike soon fell asleep.

*~*~*~*

Spike followed his handler to a room he’d never seen before. It revealed a plush office with dark panelled walls and a pair of overstuffed leather armchairs facing a large desk. Spike couldn’t prevent a low hiss escaping when he saw the person sitting behind it.

“Sit down,” said Maggie Walsh.

Mark, Spike’s handler, sat. Spike, as was expected, did not.

“So, how are you finding Seventeen’s performance?” she asked, not even glancing in Spike’s direction.

“Faultless, ma’am. And he can be a vicious devil with the new intake – brings them in line right away.”

Maggie leaned forwards. “Vicious? How is it with discipline?” She raised her head to stare at Spike. “Does it give you any trouble?”

Spike dipped his head, unable to keep eye contact.

“No, ma’am. Not a hint of trouble.”

The vampire shuddered at the thought of what he’d become.

“Because if it is, we can always use the leverage again.”

“No!”

Maggie stared at Spike and Mark swivelled in his seat, eyes wide.

“Please,” continued Spike, looking from one to the other. “He told you that I behave well. Don’t…”

“Don’t what, Seventeen? Are you giving me an order?”

“No. It’s just…please don’t hurt them again. I’ll do anything you want.”

“Anything?” said Maggie, in a tone that put ice deep in Spike’s gut.

He swallowed hard and nodded. “Anything if it will keep them safe,” he whispered.

“Excellent!” Maggie grinned. “Mark, take it back to its cell.”

“But, ma’am?”

She silenced him with a hard look. Mark shoved Spike hard in the side. “You heard. Move it!”

Spike turned around and walked as slowly as he could on the way to his cell. He knew that something would happen to him and his imagination was running away with him.

Sure enough, not long after Mark had left him, several guards came and escorted him to theatre.

*~*~*~*

The whole of the facility was buzzing with the news that a select band of trainers, handlers and their charges was being transferred to Europe.

Spike woke blearily in his cell and glanced around. His brows furrowed as he looked down at his body. Nothing had been done to him this time as far as he could see. He’d got the usual post OR headache but nothing else. Sitting up, he scanned the room more carefully but nothing was amiss. The bed was still the only item of furniture and the camera high up on the wall in the rear right corner was still blinking away as usual. So why did he feel that something was off?

His puzzled thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of a couple of pints of blood. By the time he’d finished it all, the feeling had left him.

*~*~*~*

Mark came and led him to one of the rooms he frequently was taken when the techs needed to do something new to his vision. He sat in the chair and let them strap his head so it was immobile. Electrodes fixed on his scalp in the places that they kept free from hair and to his surprise images of three people flickered into life in his vision. He blinked a couple of times but the images remained. A slight blonde woman walking with two boys. The older of the boys’ right arm seemed to sit at a slightly odd angle and the younger slouched behind them.

When the images disappeared, Spike could see the expectant looks on the techs’ faces and Maggie Walsh was standing right beside him.

“Um…” He didn’t know what to say. Although his speech wasn’t hampered by the chip, like most of the other vampires in the Initiative, Spike seldom spoke voluntarily. “Did I get shown the right film? They’re not vampires, if that’s what you needed to know.”

“So you don’t recognise them?” asked Maggie casually, but her jaw tightened and Spike felt a twist in his guts at the thought that he had done something wrong.

He tried to shake his head but it was still strapped down so he said, “No. No I don’t. Should I have? Have I missed something in training?” He could hear the apprehension in his voice.

Maggie smiled. “No. You did very well, Seventeen.” She turned on her heel, saying over her shoulder as she left. “Reward him and then take him to get ready for the mission.”

Spike smiled up at Mark, knowing exactly what was coming. His handler grimaced at the eager vampire and pressed the button to stimulate the homing device. As his penis filled, Spike wished that he had been untied. He loved to watch his cock with his left eye, watching as it heated up, changing from the blues and greys that it normally was to a red tinged yellow. But Mark kept him shackled and turned his back when Spike thrust up with a yell as he came, rivulets of semen, spilling stickily onto his stomach.

When his vampire had recovered sufficiently, Mark untied him and led him out of the room. Spike baulked when he saw several pods in the room as they walked in. He turned to look at Mark.

“I – I’m not a tracker anymore,” he said quietly.

“It’s all right, Seventeen, you haven’t been downgraded. It’s just we have a long journey ahead and it will make it easier if you travel in the pod.”

“Okay,” replied Spike unconvinced.

Easier for who exactly? He climbed inside and couldn’t suppress a tremble as he lay his neck down against the object that in a couple of seconds would paralyse him.

“I’ll see you when we get there,” said Mark.

He activated the pod’s lid and at the same time, there was a sharp pain at the base of Spike’s skull and his limbs went lax. He whimpered softly as seconds later the feed from both eyes went dark.

*~*~*~*

Spike had no idea how long he’d been in the pod but he gave a small sigh of relief as the lid to the pod slid open and his limbs jerked as the paralysis faded. His eyes remained blind though.

“Out you get, Seventeen. Got a bit of a technical hitch with the cameras so I’ll take you to your cell and you should be able to see in a couple of hours,” Mark said.

“Where are we?” asked Spike as he climbed out of the pod. “Smell’s different.”

“We’re in London, though quite why I’m telling you that, I don’t know,” replied Mark with a chuckle.

Spike’s steps faltered. London. Back to where he’d been born. If his Victorian self could have been told that he’d be back here well over a century later he would have thought it impossible.

“Come on, haven’t got all day.” Mark gave Spike a push and he staggered forwards for a few paces before resuming his walk.

Mark pushed a button to what would be Spike’s new home and smiled with approval at the specification of the cells. The glass fronts allowed people to see inside but from within was mirrored so the vampires couldn’t see out. That way they couldn’t excite each other when waiting to be selected for a hunt. He told Spike to walk forwards and as soon as the vampire stepped over the threshold, he closed and locked the door behind him.

Disorientated by the change of the layout in this new facility, Spike shuffled sideways until his fingers touched the wall and then he slowly made his way around the room until he found the bed. That was familiarly narrow and hard. He sat down and waited.

The techs solved the hardware problem and managed to remotely turn on the vampire’s eyesight. Spike blinked a couple of times as the focus took a little time to settle and then peered around the room. Apart from the mirrored wall, it appeared very similar to the one he had before. Then it hit him. He could hear nothing at all. The cell must be soundproofed. Pulling his knees up to his chest and hugging his arms around them, Spike felt very alone.

*~*~*~*

Jerry wondered whether his promotion was really all that it was cracked up to be. Right now, he was going through his predecessors’ somewhat haphazard records of the trackers and hunters that were sent out to be the basis for the new London branch six months earlier.

Sighing with frustration as he found yet another misplaced file, he opened it and scowled.

“What’s wrong?” asked Lesley, the personal assistant that he’d inherited with the new job.

“Nothing, I just didn’t realise that we re-used numbers for the vampires,” replied Jerry, flicking through the papers.

“We don’t.”

“What?” Jerry’s heart clenched, and he snapped the folder closed.

Lesley rolled her eyes. “I said we don’t re-use the numbers assigned to the demons. It’s against regulations.”

Not taking his eyes from the cover of the folder, Jerry said, “Go to lunch, Lesley.”

“But it’s only eleven thirty. I usually have lunch from one to two p.m.”

“Go now, Lesley, and come back at two as normal,” snapped Jerry.

Lesley stood up and walked briskly to the door. “Thank you.” She smiled as she walked away. Maybe this boss would be a good one. Only here a week and already he’d given her a long lunch and she hadn’t even had to flash some cleavage to get it.

Jerry stared at the battered card folder. Top right corner stated Subject No. V17.

Spike.

Why was his file in with the ones that were now in England? He re-opened the folder and with trembling hands picked out the sheet that had prompted him to get rid of Lesley.

The paper listed Spike’s statistics and had been over-stamped in bold red ink with the words ‘EXPORTED - LONDON’ and then the date. But it couldn’t be. Spike was dead. He’d been to see Spike only a couple of times after he was taken home by Buffy Summers, but the visits had been such an obvious failure that he’d stopped. While he was there, Spike had struggled to behave normally in his presence. Since the reason Buffy had taken Spike in was to try to give the vampire who had saved the world a reprieve, he’d contented himself with the occasional telephone conversation with Buffy to keep up with how Spike was doing.

The contents of the file were sparse. His early training was there, but then nothing after his sale to Buffy apart from that single piece of paper declaring his export. Jerry glared at the computer sitting on the desk. Would that hold the answers? Records had been computerised from the start but there should always be a paper file as back-up. If the papers explaining things were lost – would the stored data be intact?

An hour later, Jerry had all of Spike’ records downloaded to disc. The only problem he had was that the whole lot was encrypted with a code he hadn’t come across before. He put the discs in the pocket of his jacket and got back to doing what he was supposed to do – sorting out the mess.

By the end of the working day, Jerry felt that the discs were burning a hole in his pocket. He knew that six trackers and ten hunters had been exported. That fact was well documented and film of the sixteen pods being loaded onto the airplane had been beamed world wide. On the right hand side of his desk were the files of six trackers and nine hunters. The folder marked V17 lay in front of him. Without adding it to the pile – he didn’t have all exported vampires accounted for. But Spike had been a tracker – how could a lame tracker be turned into a hunter? Especially difficult seeing as he was dust.

The Initiative had a policy of not doing orthopaedic operations. The last tracker Jerry had handled had been retired due to injury – just as Spike had been. He’d pleaded with them to fix his vampire, six forty had been a good worker, but they just sent him to the retirement sheds, where for the past several years he’d been harvested for semen.

The top brass had decided that Jerry had begun to get a little too attached to his charges and had shunted him off to the administration department. It had taken him years to get them to take him seriously again and the promotion was his reward. But now, his faith in the facility was shaken to the core again.

Driving home, he knew that he needed help. The question was who could he trust enough to ask?

Chapter Five


Jerry hovered at the school gates, glancing nervously from side to side until he caught a few odd looks from parents waiting to give their kids a ride home. So then he feigned nonchalance and leaned against the wall.

He’d almost given up when he saw his target. Cameron was trudging slowly along, a rucksack bulging with books on his back and his eyes cast down to the ground. Jerry opened his mouth to call him, then paused. The boy looked like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders and unlike the other kids coming out of school, he walked alone. Still unsure that it was the right thing to do, Jerry called out to him.

Cameron raised his head and while the smile seemed genuine, it didn’t reach his eyes. “Jerry, hi. What are you doing here?” He headed towards Jerry. Then a thought struck him and his face blanched. “Is Mom okay? Craig?”

It pained Jerry to see the carefree person he’d known so full of anxiety. “They’re fine, Cam. I just wondered if you could come for a coffee or something with me – I need to ask you something.”

Brows knitting together, Cam nodded. “Okay, I need to call Mom first. She worries if I’m late home.”

“I don’t mean now,” said Jerry, quickly. “Can you meet me at the Starbucks on Main Street in ninety minutes?”

“Um…yeah…I guess.”

“And don’t tell your mom that you’re meeting me, okay?”

Backing off a little, Cam shook his head. “I dunno about that. Why can’t I tell her?”

“Look, trust me, Cameron. I need your help with something, and I’ll tell you all about it later but please can you tell her that you’re meeting up with some friends and not mention me just yet?”

Cam smiled sadly. “That’ll be a bit difficult – my friends are all at college, but okay, I’ll think of something and come.”

“Thank you. See you later,” replied Jerry and was gone before Cam could reply.

“Okay,” said Cameron slowly. “Now that was just weird.” He turned for home and strode briskly along frantically trying to come up with a plausible reason for going out.

*~*~*~*

Cameron walked into the coffee shop and scanned the faces until he spotted Jerry sitting right at the back. The man nodded in acknowledgement and Cam weaved his way between the plethora of tables.

“What do you want to drink?” asked Jerry as the boy sat down opposite him. “Dr. Pepper?”

“No!” said Cam, sharply, before adding in a more moderate tone, “I’ll have a Coke, please.”

Jerry got up and went to the register to order the drinks; he paid for them and then took his seat back with Cameron.

“What’s going on Jerry? I don’t like lying to my mom.”

“I saw something at work the other day and need to find out more. The relevant data is all encrypted and I don’t have clearance for the code,” said Jerry. “I wondered if you could try to crack it for me. You’re good with computers.”

“Why don’t you just ask at work?” replied Cam. “This sounds like it could get me into a lot of trouble and my family’s been through enough lately.”

“I know. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t ask, but I think it could be really important and there’s no one else I could trust with it.” Jerry leaned forwards. “But if you do agree and you do manage to access the information – you won’t be able to tell anyone about it to begin with. If it’s what I think it is, you’ll soon see why.”

Despite himself, Cameron felt a rush of adrenaline through his body. School was boring, he’d re-established himself in the top echelons and the work was familiar and didn’t tax him at all. At home, he felt less than useless as both Craig and his mom struggled to cope with their emotions.

For the first time in what seemed like months, Cam grinned. “What do you need me to do?”

*~*~*~*

Mark regarded Seventeen with contempt. Since the work to erase the memories of the time he’d spent with the former slayer and her family, the vampire had changed. Sure, its work had been excellent but sometimes like now, the vampire had enjoyed it a little too much.

Seventeen was currently curled up on the ground panting with a combination of pleasure from his end of hunt reward and pain from the shock that Mark had caused the chip to give. He’d attacked one of the captives without any provocation other than being stared at in horror as the vampire was dragged semi-conscious to the truck. As usual, he’d gone for the eyes. It wasn’t normally too much of a problem but the facility wanted to try to train some as infiltrators and they needed the captives intact.

He noticed that Seventeen had stopped moaning and so he nudged him with his foot. “Stand up, Seventeen.”

Spike struggled to stand, the reward always made his legs a little unsteady and the pain in his head made him sway. He kept his head low to avoid looking at his handler.

“You knew that we needed these intact. Yet you still disobeyed and that’s why you were punished. What do you say to that?”

“S-sorry, sir,” Spike mumbled.

He followed Mark to the transporter and sat inside. It reminded him of when he was a tracker as he was strapped in the same way. Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Spike couldn’t wait to get back to base and get the clothes taken away again. A patch on the crotch was cold and sticky. It was much nicer when the hunts were in wilderness areas so that he could feel the fresh air against his skin, and his spend dried quickly on his flesh. Unfortunately, since arriving in London, they were mostly in more urban areas.

“Pack it in,” snarled Mark.

Spike instantly stilled his fidgeting.

He walked meekly to the room where he stripped off his clothes and was then hosed down. Still dripping he was taken back to his cell. Spike stared in at the other hunters in his section. The only time he got to see them was when he walked in the corridor to and from working. They were all males of various builds and all sat patiently on their beds waiting for the call to hunt. Spike smiled and ran his left thumb over the head of his penis as he walked. The metal digit cool to the still heated flesh.

Before Mark locked the door, Spike whipped round to face him. “I’ll still help with the training, won’t I?”

It was the longest sentence Mark had heard him say in a long time. “If you can’t do as you’re told…” The door sliding shut cut of his words and Spike roared with frustration.

Mark chuckled as he walked away. No need to let the vampire know that he was too useful to leave in his cell. The techs would be along to get him soon and then they’d be able to use him with the new intake again.

The door sliding open startled Spike. Not even smells permeated his soundproofed cell. He stood up expectantly, but shuddered when he saw the techs.

“Seventeen, you’re needed in the lab.”

Spike swallowed and obediently went where he was asked, flanked on either side by a guard. When he was strapped in the chair, he relaxed. Just a routine check on his vision. Then the tech took a firm grip on his left hand.

“What?” said Spike trying, unsuccessfully, to pull it away.

His vision suddenly went dark as the feed to his eyes was cut. At the same time, a sharp pain pierced his hand and he yelled out. Only a few moments later the tech’s hold on his hand was released and he heard the rattle of metal instruments and their footsteps faded as he was left alone.

The return of his vision confirmed what he already knew. They’d taken his thumb. He turned his head and looked at his right hand, bending its thumb several times. His brows furrowed as he tried to recall why his thumbs were metal. His right knee was metal too; did they do his thumbs at the same time? He could remember them being taken away. He’d been bad then too – attacking a trainer! How could he have wanted to do that? Cocking his head, he regarded his left hand again. The incision was neat and already healing.

Mark’s smell reached Spike before he heard him and Spike found himself unable to meet his handler’s eyes.

“Seventeen.”

Spike tried to slouch down in the chair.

“Look at me,” ordered Mark.

Spike wished he could move his eyes so he didn’t have to raise his head so high, but reluctantly he did as he was told.

“What was the last thing that you did with your left thumb?”

“I-I touched my cock,” gasped Spike, after a momentary pause. “Didn’t know it wasn’t allowed. Doesn’t make it do anything – not like being rewarded.”

His handler burst out laughing. “Oh, Spike, I like you – I really do.” He patted his vampire’s shoulder. “Before that. What did you do?”

“Er…I…the vampire,” whispered Spike looking down. “But I thought you’d punished me?”

“I did, Seventeen. This is to remind you, okay? If you push your thumb in another vampire’s eye without permission – you’ll lose the other one too. Or maybe your whole hand. Understand?”

Spike nodded miserably. He’d let his handler down and that was really bad. He liked to watch the eyeball pop under the pressure of his thumb. He liked the blood, gore and screams. Almost as much as being rewarded. He wouldn’t risk not being able to do that again.

“I understand, sir.”

“I know you just get a bit carried away.” Mark began to unfasten the straps pinning Spike to the chair. “Right then, let’s go to work.”

Spike smiled. “Can I still hit them?”

“Yeah, Seventeen, hitting them’s fine.” Mark wished all the hunters had Seventeen’s attitude. A bit of violence and a good orgasm was all he wanted.

It was with a spring in his step that Spike made his way to where the new intake was housed.

*~*~*~*

“Did you have a good time, honey?” called Buffy as soon as the front door opened.

“Yeah, was great. Got a lot of work done.” Cam was pleased that there was a wall between them as he flushed at his lie.

“Want a snack?”

“No thanks, Mom. I’m going up to my room, okay? I need to go over the notes for the next tutoring session.”

“Okay.”

Buffy let herself sag back into the armchair. At least one son seemed to be getting back on track. Glancing at the clock on the mantel, she sighed. Craig had been out for hours. One thing was certain though, he’d be home before dark. His self-inflicted curfew had begun when he’d come home from the hospital. Only another hour or so to sit here worrying.

Upstairs, Cam threw his bag on the bed and took his jacket off before opening the rucksack and taking out the disks that Jerry had given him. He stared at them, wondering again whether he really ought to be doing this, but the way Jerry had looked when he’d said that the reason to keep quiet would be apparent if the data was what he thought it was…

Flipping open his laptop, Cam pressed the ‘on’ button then sat down and tapped his fingers impatiently as he waited for it to boot up. He inserted the disk with the earliest date and concentrated hard as he tried to turn the jumbled mass of letters into something that was readable.

It took him a week.

His stomach lurched so hard that Cameron thought he was going to puke. He rubbed his eyes and stared at the screen again. But the images were still there. With a trembling hand, he reached into his pocket for the cell phone that Jerry had given him. At the time, Cam thought that Jerry was being overdramatic when he’d given him it with one number keyed into its memory – all very cloak and dagger – but now he wasn’t so sure.

“Cameron?” Jerry’s voice rattled tinnily in his ear.

“Y-yeah, it’s me. I need to see you. I’ve—”

“An hour – the place we discussed."

Cameron’s blood ran cold. This was serious shit. “Okay,” he replied then disconnected.

A glance at his watch told him that the only way he could get to the rendezvous was to cut class. After reading what he had, he didn’t think he could concentrate at school anyway. He stuffed the disk into his bag alongside the others – Jerry had told him to keep them with him at all times – and took it and his jacket downstairs.

“Morning, Cam,” said Craig, who was sitting at the kitchen table eating a bowl of cereal.

“Hi.”.

Cam nodded at his mom when she placed some toast in front of him. “Thanks.”

Looking at them, he wondered if they could tell how hard his heart was beating. He smiled weakly – how did spies do it?

As soon as he could, he made his excuses and hurried away in the direction of the school building. After a couple of blocks, he took a right and headed for the coffee shop. Jerry was already there. A coffee and a Coke sat on the table, and Cam nearly knocked them over as he lurched against the table when he sat down.

For a moment, they just stared at each other. Jerry took in the boy’s wild-eyed look and knew that his hunch had been right. Now it was time to learn how right he was.

“So,” he said gently.

Clutching his rucksack as if his life depended on it, Cameron took a hasty sip at his soda before meeting Jerry’s eye again.

“It’s about Spike,” he said, “but you knew that, didn’t you?”

“Suspected it.”.

“I printed it out.” Cam rummaged in his bag and pulled out a sheaf of papers. His eyes were glistening with unshed tears when he added. “They killed him. Why did they do it?”

Jerry didn’t want to tell Cameron that he strongly believed that Spike was currently working out of the new London facility. Better to wait for the facts before he got anyone’s hopes up.

“What did you find?”

“It-it’s all there.” Cam put his fingers on the papers. “There are samples of all of our handwriting.” He pulled the relevant sheet of paper out. “Look – why have they got that? How did they get it?”

Taking the paper from Cam’s hand, Jerry read it. The handwriting for Cam was part of a school project, for Craig, a note saying he’d be late home for dinner, for Buffy, it was a section of one of her patrol reports and Spike’s… Jerry closed his eyes momentarily. Spike’s was a little poem of his love for Buffy.

Christ! Vampires aren’t supposed to be like that.

He wondered if Spike had ever shown it to Buffy or had it been stolen without her seeing it?

“Jerry, I’m scared. It’s got plans to our house and says they have keys. And…” he leaned forwards and shuffled more pages, “do those symbols mean what I think they do?”

“Oh, crap,” breathed Jerry.

“Cameras!” said Cam. “They’ve got cameras in our home!”

“Give me the disks,” said Jerry, sharply.

“What? No way!”

“Cameron. Hand them over.” He pointed to the plan of the house. “There’s one in your bedroom – they could have seen you working on these disks!”

Shaking his head rapidly, Cam said, “No, they can’t. Not now.”

Jerry frowned. “What do you mean?”

“See where the camera is…I don’t know when it was put in but I changed my room round a couple of weeks back and there’s no way they can see the screen from that angle.”

“They could hack into your computer,” replied Jerry, running his hand over his face. “Oh, shit, what have I gotten you involved in?”

“That’s one thing they’ll never be able to do – not without direct access to my computer and several hours.” Cameron smiled for the first time since he entered the coffee shop. “It took me a week to crack their code. I’m good at this stuff, Jerry. Trust me – if they could do it at all, it would take them a long time to access anything I’ve protected.” He leaned forwards and added quietly. “But, why did they kill him? What harm was he doing? They faked that letter from him – didn’t they? He didn’t want to leave us.”

“No, I’m sure that he would never have wanted to leave you guys.”

Cameron stood up. “I’m going to the library – there’s free wi-fi there for students, so it’ll jut look like I’m doing some research – I need to see what else is on these disks. There are three more. Why should they need three more when he’s…when he’s dead?”

“Be careful, for God’s sake. Your mom will slay me if you get hurt because of me; retired or not!”

“I will be. I’ll call when I get more decoded.” With that, Cameron turned and walked briskly out of the café.

Jerry sat there for a while longer. He hoped to God that the kid could handle what was likely to be on those disks. Like Cam – he needed to know why they had done it. It’s not like there was a shortage of vampires for them to use. It seemed vindictive.





After Cameron left for school, Buffy sat down opposite her eldest son. She hated how awkward things were between them these days. They used to be so close – the three of them against the world after their father left, and then when Spike joined the household, once he’d settled in, he’d made them all get even closer.

“Craig…” She hesitated when she saw his jaw tense. “We need to talk.”

He stood up abruptly, gathered up his dirty dishes and put them in the dishwasher without a word or even looking in her direction.

“We can’t go on like this,” Buffy said softly. “You can’t carry on like this.”

“Leave me alone, Mom, please,” he said desperately, screwing his eyes tight shut.

“I’ve tried giving you space and it hasn’t worked, has it?” Buffy slid off her chair and stepped closer to him.

“Please…”

“No, Craig. I need you to talk to me – tell me how you feel.”

Whirling around so that he faced her, Craig glared at his mother. “Trust me. You really don’t want to know how I feel.” He went to move past but she blocked his way and stood there arms folded across her chest, glaring right back at him.

Without realising he was doing it, Craig rubbed his left palm over his damaged right elbow.

“Okay,” he said. “I wish you’d never brought him home!” Buffy flinched as if he’d slapped her but didn’t take her eyes off his. “Christ, Mom! You were the slayer and you brought a vampire home to be our freaking nanny!”

“I thought you loved him,” she whispered.

“What were we supposed to do? We saw more of him than we did of you! And then you started screwing him.”

Lightning fast, Buffy’s right hand flew out and she slapped her son’s face barely able to contain her still considerable power. Even so, Craig reeled backwards and grunted as his back hit the edge of the counter.

Buffy got in close to him and he felt a thrill of fear race through him. She might be tiny, but his mom could rip him in two if she wanted to.

“I never screwed Spike.” Buffy’s voice was so calm and controlled that Craig realised just how close to losing it she was. “I made love to him. I loved him despite the fact that he was a vampire. He was a good man.”

“But he didn’t love you like that, did he? Probably just too scared that you might send him back to the Initiative to say no – did you ever think of that?” Craig’s lip curled as he sneered. “Just fucking you ‘cause it was better than going back!”

This time it wasn’t an open hand that met his face but a fist and he slid sideways to the floor. His mother loomed over him, suddenly looking much taller.

“Don’t you ever say that,” she hissed. “He loved me and he loved you too.”

Craig shuffled backwards shaking his head, “No he didn’t!” His voice shrill. “If he did he wouldn’t have done what he did. He wouldn’t have done it knowing Cam would find the dust. And…” His voice hitched. “I wouldn’t have been home from college and…and…”

As his face crumpled, Buffy was at his side in a heartbeat. Her son wrapped his arms around her and sobbed, reminding her of that horrible day when she’d found Cam on the floor and she’d held him while he’d sobbed too. She wouldn’t let her tears fall though. Enough had been shed and maybe Craig was half right. Spike hadn’t loved them enough to carry on, had he?





Spike bounced on the balls of his feet, half hard cock jiggling as he did. He couldn’t believe it. For the first time since he’d been assigned here, he was going on a hunt unclothed, but for the thin sneakers they always were given to wear. Glancing at Mark, he saw his handler roll his eyes at his antics, but it didn’t dim the excitement.

“Come on, let’s get to the transport,” said Mark gruffly.

Spike grinned and took up position at his shoulder. He wished his handler would walk faster.

“Where are we going, sir?” As far as he could remember there was precious little wilderness near London.

“Dartmoor. So shut up. It’s a long journey and I don’t need to hear your voice again.”

Wisely, Spike complied and remained silent as he was strapped into his chair. He wished that he still had his old handler – the one from when he was a tracker – that one always reclined the seat when the journey was a long one, but Mark never did. A tech with a scanner in one hand and a latex glove covering the other leaned in and grasped Spike’s penis. He pulled the penis out and held the unit to it until it beeped once when the barcode tattoo had been successfully scanned and Seventeen logged out of the facility, then he stood up and closed the door.

As soon as the vehicle pulled away, Spike’s sight switched to night-vision and heat sensing only. A soft moan escaped his lips as his eyelids froze in the open position. The techs ran through the series of grids that could be used on the hunt and Spike let his mind float away. As always it drifted to the hunt, or rather, the reward at the end. His cock twitched at the thought, and biting back a moan, Spike wished that Dartmoor was much nearer.

Finally they were there. The cold night air enveloped him and he suddenly wished for the clothes he normally loathed. He growled softly. Why couldn’t he have stayed in warm California? He picked up a scent, something unlike anything he’d ever smelt before. He looked over at Mark and opened his mouth to speak but then closed it again without uttering a word.

“You can already smell it, can’t you?” said Mark.

Spike nodded. “Sir?” he said tentatively.

“Permission to speak, Seventeen. What’s on your mind?” Mark couldn’t help but smile as the vampire dropped his head and looked at his cock. “Yeah, apart from that, you slut.”

“There’s something here – not a demon though, sir.”

“Think you can follow its trail?”

“Yes, sir!”

“One thing you need to know…when you find the creature – kill it.”

This time when his cock twitched, he did moan.

“Go on then,” said Mark, waving his arm. “Go hunt!”

Spike needed no more encouragement and he sniffed the air before racing off as fast as he could.

“I can kill.” He couldn’t believe that he’d be allowed to kill.

A furious growl in some stunted bushes to the left of him told Spike that he’d found his prey. Then the noise was repeated almost behind him and Spike realised that maybe the prey had found him. Given no information of what he might be hunting, Spike froze when a large black creature stalked into view.

“Oh, fuck,” muttered Spike, as the panther leapt at him.

His reflexes weren’t as sharp as they’d once been – he hadn’t been put in any danger for years, but the lethally sharp claws that slashed at his arm as he staggered backwards were incentive enough to hone them again.

Hissing and snarling the big cat pounced again, and this time its full weight hit the vampire and he went down. The night air was rent with inhuman growls and roars, as vampire and panther rolled on the springy moorland grass. Hampered by his missing left thumb, Spike struggled to get a good enough grip on the creature to break its neck, but managed to keep it far enough away so that its snapping jaws couldn’t sink into him.

Tiring and in desperation Spike head-butted the cat and though slightly disorientated by the vision of his left eye going black, he managed to pin the stunned animal down. He bent low and sank his teeth into the spine at the base of its skull, which prompted a shriek and the cat thrashed wildly. Spike’s fangs had only partially regrown since the last time they’d been snapped off but his remaining teeth were still razor sharp and with a last shake of Spike’s head, they snapped together and the panther went limp.

Panting with exhaustion, Spike rolled off the still living but paralysed cat. He pushed it so that it was lying on its side and sank his teeth into the jugular vein. The surge of warm blood that pulsed into his mouth had Spike’s cock fully hard and he groaned with pleasure as he steadily drank the life force out of the cat. How long had it been since he’d had the thrill of the blood rushing warm into his mouth instead of having to suck at it cold from bags or bottles? He couldn’t remember and at this moment he didn’t really care. When he felt the panther’s heart stop beating, he put his head back and howled as an unprompted orgasm ripped through him, streams of come spurting stickily onto his victim’s pelt.

Only then did his he become aware of his own injuries. The creature’s claws had raked him in many places. The blood helped soothe them and fully sated, he waited for the team to come to pick him up. Thoughts of escaping into the night never even crossed his mind.

Mark hopped down from the helicopter and jogged over to his vampire, accompanied by a couple of local police.

“Christ!” exclaimed Detective Inspector Benson, when he took in the sight before him. “Which one is the wild animal?”

Although disgusted by the state that Spike was in, Mark felt the need to defend him. “He’s done in a couple of hours what you guys have been trying to do for years. Hell, the thing was thought of as more of a legend than a reality. He’s just rid you of the ‘Beast of Dartmoor’.

“Takes a beast to catch one, I suppose,” replied DI Benson.

“Seventeen,” said Mark. “On your feet.”

Up to this point, Spike had shown no sign of knowing they were there. His torso was half over the body of the panther as he sought the warmth the slowly cooling corpse could offer. Wanting to impress the officers at how obedient Spike was, Mark activated a brief shock from the chip to get his attention.

Spike yelped and turned to look at the men. His face was covered with blood, both his own and the big cat’s.

“Bloody hell!” gasped the second officer, taking a step back. “His eyes!”

Spike’s eyes, never very easy to look at, were even more shocking with the left hanging halfway out of the socket.

Mark glanced at him. “Strictly speaking they’re not his eyes. We replace them with cameras so we can see what he sees while on the hunt. He can see the images too though.”

“You replace their eyes?” said Benson weakly. He looked over to his colleague and both men shuddered.

“On your feet!” commanded Mark, fed up of listening to the men’s comments. “We haven’t got all night.”

Spike immediately pushed himself off the panther and struggled to his feet. He swayed a little but managed to remain upright. With his right hand, he held a large wound in his abdomen closed.

“Sorry, sir,” replied Spike, hanging his head low.

Mark helped the vampire walk to the helicopter. With his charge securely strapped into his seat, Mark had a look at the wound on his stomach. At almost eight inches long and gaping widely now that Spike was now longer holding the edges together, the wound was a serious one, even for a vampire.

“Hey, Freddie, call base and see if we can transport him by helicopter – he needs some attention in the OR,” Mark asked the pilot.

“Will do.”

Spike turned his head and looked up at Mark. “Did I do well?” he asked weakly.

“Oh, man! You’re not seriously wanting a reward in the state you’re in?”

Nodding, Spike said, “Please.”

“Reward?” asked Benson as they settled in their seats as the helicopter began it’s flight to be take them back to where the hunt began.

Oh, aren’t they just gonna love seeing this? Mark smiled. “Yes. They can’t ejaculate without us stimulating their penises and we only do that at the end of the hunt.” His smile broadened as the two officers paled. “Keeps them eager. Okay, Seventeen, here goes.”

Mark pushed the button and the Englishmen watched with fascinated horror as Spike’s cock began to fill and he shifted in his seat. A couple of minutes later, Spike came to completion and let his head loll back against the headrest. He still couldn’t close his eyes but he drifted in a semi conscious state for the short flight back to the officers’ car. Then the helicopter was in the air again; permission had been received to transport him back to base as there was still enough time before dawn broke.



Link to the legend of the Beast of Dartmoor - http://www.legendarydartmoor.co.uk/beast_dart.htm
(sorry don't know how to make it clickable!)

Several technicians helped Spike from the helicopter to the waiting gurney. He leaned heavily on them, the effect of the animal blood was wearing off and his legs were unsteady.

“Too bright,” he hissed as the fluorescent lighting reached his right eye which was still in night vision mode.

“Shit! They haven’t re-activated his eyelids,” said one tech sharply. He pulled his white lab coat off and laid it over Spike’s face.

Spike sighed in gratitude when the familiar cold liquid was painted on his stomach. Moments later he was unconscious and the surgical team went to work.

“Jeez, what a mess,” muttered the head surgeon as he began to clean out the wound on his abdomen. “Why did they send the best operative we have on a stupid mission like this?”

“Publicity, sir,” replied a nurse. “They wanted to show the country how useful these vamps can be.”

Shaking his head, the surgeon carried on his work. “Well, they’ve put him out of action for a while, even with human blood.”

A couple of hours later, the inert body of Spike was wheeled out and taken to where he’d be kept until recovery was complete.

*

Cameron walked into the house and right into trouble.

“Where the hell have you been?”

Backing up a step as his mom got in his face. He opened his mouth to speak…

“Don’t even think about telling me that you were at school!”

Oh, crap! He tried indignation. “So, what? You’re checking up on me now? You don’t trust me?”

Buffy’s face flushed and Cam knew that he had said exactly the wrong thing.

“Trust? Are you fooling with me?”

He tried penitent. “I’m sorry, Mom. I really am.”

“Sorry!” Buffy went rigid. “I’ve been out of my mind wondering where you were.”

Craig walked into the hallway and Cam’s eyes went wide at the sight of the bruising on his brother’s face, so he tried deflection. “Shit! What happened to you?” His mouth fell open when Craig grinned and nodded his head towards their mom.

“Get in the living room,” snarled Buffy, suppressing a smile as her son scurried away.

“Told you he’d be okay, Mom.” Craig smiled lopsidedly. “He’s too smart to get into trouble. Unlike me.”

Buffy reached up and gently touched his bruise. “I’m so sorry about that, son.”

Closing his hand over hers, he shook his head. “I was out of line. I deserved it.”

“But, still I shouldn’t h—”

“Better go in there and put Cam out of his misery,” said Craig.

“Okay.” Buffy squeezed his hand and then took a deep breath and strode into the living room.

Cam glanced at her briefly then stared at his feet.

“So, where have you been, Cameron?”

“Library,” he mumbled, hands twisting in the straps of his rucksack.

“Why not school, Cam? Do you want to repeat this year again?”

His head flew up. “No! And I won’t. I promise you, Mom, I’m all caught up. My grades are good and—”

Buffy put her hand up and stopped his babble.

“Enough, Cam.” She sat next to him on the couch. “If you needed to be at the library, why didn’t you just tell me? After all that we’ve been through – don’t you think we should be honest with each other?”

Cameron felt a total shit for lying to his mother, especially since he was going to continue to do so.

“I thought you wouldn’t find out. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“Thinking I wouldn’t find out is no excuse, Cameron! In fact it’s worse.” She stood up. “Go to your room. You’re grounded until I say otherwise, and Craig will walk you to school each day.”

“But—”

Putting his head round the door, Craig called out, “I’d shut up now and do as you’re told if I were you.”

Deciding that his brother was right, Cameron stood and stepped a touch warily past his mother before bolting up the stairs to the sanctuary of his bedroom.

Buffy looked over at Craig, “I’m doing a great job with you two, aren’t I?” Her eyes filled with tears and this time it was Craig comforting her.

“We’ll be okay, Mom.”

He made a promise to himself then. To stop wallowing in self-pity about his injury and to try to get his life back on track.

*

Cameron cursed the fact he’d been found out – how could he get through class knowing the disks needed working on? With a sigh, he pulled his laptop out of his bag and set it on the desk. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. The camera. It took all his will power not to turn to where the plans said it was.

As he’d told Jerry, he was confident the Initiative hadn’t seen him working on the disks, but his hand was still shaking when he slipped the disk into the drive.

A couple of hours later, Craig tapped on his door and when Cam told him to come in, he entered carrying a plate of sandwiches and a glass of soda.

“So why did you go to the library?” asked Craig.

Cam pulled the top of his computer down. “I needed to look something up.”

“And it took all day? Come on, how thick do you think I am?”

Grinning at his brother, Cam raised his eyebrows.

“Okay, don’t answer the last part,” replied Craig, wincing a little as he tried to smile broadly.

“Did Mom really do that?” Cam said quietly.

“Yeah. I got out of line. I knew I was pushing her, but I just couldn’t shut up. Deserved it. She feels bad about it though.” He leaned towards his brother. “I’m really worried about her, Cam. I know we’re all fucked up right now, but she’s just as bad as we are, if not worse.”

“I’m not fucked up.”

“That right?” said Craig. “So how about some Dr. Pepper?”

“Screw you!”

“Yeah, you’re fine, aren’t you? So come on, why did you cut class today?”

Scowling, Cam said, “It’s just so freaking boring. I’ve done it all before and I’m fed up listening to it. I missed a couple of months and I’ve had to re-do the whole year – it’s not fair.”

“I know. Everything sucks.” Craig ran his left hand through his hair. “But, you can’t worry Mom like that. She’s barely holding it together.”

“Should we call Aunt Willow?” asked Cam.

“Would it do any good? They haven’t spoken since…”

“Since Spike came to live with us,” finished Cam. “She just didn’t get why Mom’d want a vampire in the house. All of them were the same.”

Craig cringed when he thought of his earlier words. No wonder she’d hit him. “Well, I think she needs help. And it’s not something that we can give her, Cam, so yeah, I think we should. Will you call her? You always were her favourite.”

“Was not! You call.”

“Was too,” retorted Craig. “You used to want to help her with research all the time.”

“All right. I’ll call her, but if Mom goes crazy I’m telling her it was your idea, okay?”

“Okay.”

*

Spike regained consciousness in a world devoid of light, smells or movement. He was in one of the pods again. He retched weakly as he swallowed around the feeding tube inserted down his throat. How long had he been in here? How long would he stay? He hated the darkness. For some reason it made him feel really sad, but he couldn’t think why. He’d liked being a tracker and he’d been blind then. Sure he liked to be able to see, but the feeling he had was so intense he could hardly bear it.

The feeding tube vibrated as blood began to pump into his stomach. By the time it had stopped, he was pleasantly full and feeling sleepy. He’d been fed several more times before the pod of the lid opened and Mark’s familiar aroma reached Spike’s nose.

Once free of the pod, Mark led Spike to the room where the technicians were waiting. “They’re just going to sort out your vision, okay? Nothing to worry about,” he said as he felt the vampire begin to tremble.

He’d seen the tapes of Spike’s fight with the big cat and couldn’t help to be impressed by the fact that he managed to kill it and not get dusted trying. The footage was going to be shown on a documentary program that was currently being filmed to try to promote the work done by the Initiative’s London branch.

Spike nodded and meekly let himself be strapped in. He gritted his teeth as pain seared in his head, but he kept quiet, desperate to escape the dark and the unsettling feelings it evoked.

Once his sight had been restored, though confusingly the heat sensor vision was now in his right eye and his ordinary vision in his left, Spike was taken to his regular quarters. Lying back on his narrow bed, Spike examined the scars on his body. The big cat had torn him to shreds but the wounds had healed and soon even the scars would be gone. He traced the line of the abdominal wound and thought that maybe that one might stay. Like some of the ones inflicted during training had. His left hand travelled lower and rubbed over his cock. It twitched a little at the memory of the taste of the cat’s blood, but as usual it didn’t respond to his touch. Growling softly, he let his hand fall away. He needed comfort but knew it wasn’t going to be forthcoming. In the end, he fell asleep wondering how long it would be before he was allowed to hunt again.

*

The telephone was answered just as Cam was about to give up and hang up.

“Hello?”

“Um…Hi, Aunt Willow, it’s me – I mean it’s Cameron.”

“Hello, Cam,” she said, evenly.

“Er…look, I know that you and Mom haven’t talked in ages,” blurted Cameron. “But I know you were close, back in the days when she was the only slayer and—”

“Cameron! Get to the point. Is Buffy all right?”

“No. No she’s not.” Cam sighed with relief when he heard the concern in Willow’s voice. “Um…you know that Spike was…er…that he’s dead?”

“No,” replied Willow. “I didn’t. What happened?”

“His eye sight failed and he wouldn’t let Mom take him back to get it fixed, and we thought he was doing okay, you know? But then I found… and there was a note…”

“Oh, sweet Goddess,” murmured Willow. A vampire committing suicide – how bizarre was that?

“And since then, everything’s gone wrong. I had to repeat my senior year.” He held the telephone away from his ear as Willow’s shriek threatened to burst his eardrums.

“You did what! How on earth did you manage not to graduate? You’re a smart boy.”

“I missed him, Aunt Willow.” Cam said simply. “I loved him. We all did.”

There was a pause as Willow digested that fact. To his surprise, instead of a tirade about vampires being unlovable creatures, he heard Willow sigh and say softly, “She always did have a thing about vamps.”

“What do you mean?”

Willow chuckled. “That’s not a story for your ears if you don’t already know it. So, how is your mother?”

“She’s not great. None of us are, really. Craig got attacked a few weeks later and they broke his right elbow so he can’t play baseball anymore. He doesn’t know what to do. But we’re really worried about, Mom. She needs you.”

After the things that had been said the last time they had spoken, Willow wasn’t so sure, but they had been friends for a long time before that and she felt guilty at being so rigid about it all. So she hung up after promising to call Buffy up the next day.

*

Spike was standing legs spread at shoulder width apart, hands clasped behind his back as a camera crew filmed him.

“This is Seventeen. He’s been in service since 1999 and as such is one of the longest surviving without being formally retired.”

Spike shuddered minutely as he recalled the retirement sheds.

“As you can see, both eyes have been replaced with cameras to enable the handlers to see exactly what he sees whilst on a hunt. During his time as a tracker he couldn’t actually see the images beamed back to the control. Trackers were routinely kept blind back then to heighten their sense of smell, now as you know, they retain the sight of one eye.”

The camera shifted downwards carefully skirting his exposed genitals and focussing on Spike’s prosthetic knee. “An injury in the field left Seventeen crippled and he was destined for retirement before the founder of the Initiative, took the decision to try the artificial knee joint. It worked well and the vampire was then retrained as a hunter.”

As the female presenter droned on and one, Spike’s attention wandered but it snapped back sharply when she mentioned a hunt.

“We are now going to be privileged to see him in action in the training enclosure here at HQ.”

Mark, who had been standing to the side, snorted as the woman squeaked as Spike’s cock got half hard at the mention of the hunt.

Spike was given the plimsolls to put on his feet but left naked. The director was anxious that the vampires be seen as lower beings and clothing would make them look more human, despite their ugly ridged faces.

Just before he entered the enclosure, as was procedure, his barcode was scanned by a tech, provoking more embarrassment from the presenter, which meant they had to re-take the scene three times, by which time Spike was growling with impatience. This was his first hunt since being injured and he was desperate for the reward.

He made short work of tracking down the couple of Neehs demons that they’d released earlier and once the camera stopped rolling, he was given his reward. Sinking to his knees, he held his throbbing cock in his right hand as he came. Hearing the woman’s noise of revulsion, Spike got to his feet, turned to face her and watched her closely as he licked the semen from his hand.

“Oh, my God! That is simply disgusting,” she exclaimed backing off.

A shock from the chip, made Spike grunt and he turned to stare at Mark. “Behave yourself,” he cautioned.

Spike dipped his head and stared at his feet instead.

“They’re not human,” explained Roger Futter, the manager of the London branch. “They don’t work the same as we do. They are ruled purely by their senses. Rewarding them as we do keeps them relaxed, easy to handle and eager to work. They want to do as they are told purely to get the reward – nothing else. You can’t appeal to the better nature of a vampire because it hasn’t got one. They can’t love. They only seek release. In the wild, the sexual act is often a fatal one for their partner.

Cocking his head to one side, Spike frowned. Love? I’ve known love, haven’t I? An image of Drusilla flashed through his mind. The deep sadness returned. He’d been unloved for years.

*

Craig walked his younger brother to school and enjoyed the looks the senior girls gave him as he walked to the door. It had been a while since he’d been able to notice anything but his own misery. He winked at the prettiest one, causing her to blush and her friends to giggle. He’d just turned away when he heard his voice called out from behind him.

“Craig Evans? It is you, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” He was surprised to see the principal looking at him.

“Can you spare me a minute of your time, please?”

He made a show of looking at his watch, then shrugged. “Okay, but I can’t be too long – I need to be someplace else.”

The principal smiled. “I won’t keep you long.”

Together they walked to the office and Craig sat in the chair indicated and glanced round the room. He smiled as he remembered the last time he’d been in there. He and Bobby Dawson had been in trouble for spying on the girls changing rooms.

Once seated, Mr. Munnings smiled at Craig. “Remembering when you were in here last, are you?”

“Uh…yeah.”

“You weren’t a bad student – didn’t focus on your studies as hard as you should have done, but that was understandable I guess. You really were an extremely talented pitcher.” Craig shifted awkwardly in his seat. “I know of your injury, of course. A terrible shame. How is your arm?”

“As good as it’ll ever be.” He swallowed hard and for the first time said out loud, “I’ll never be able play professionally.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Um…thanks…but you didn’t bring me in here to say that. Is Cam in trouble?”

“No. He’s doing fine.” Mr. Munnings leaned forwards. “I have a proposition for you. I wondered if you’d be interested in helping coach our baseball team?”

“Did my mom tell you to say that?” said Craig, his eyes narrowing.

“She may have let me know that you were at a bit of a loose end right now, but I assure you, not even your rather formidable mother could have made me offer you a position if I didn’t think that the school would benefit from it.”

Slightly mollified, Craig asked, “Does it pay?”

The principal laughed. “Enough maybe to keep you in candy.”

Craig was already grinning. He was kidding himself if he thought he wouldn’t take the job because of the money. And he suspected that Mr. Munnings also knew that he’d do it for free.

“Okay. So when do I start?”

“How about I show you round now? Remind you where everything is?”

In the locker room, Craig picked up a bat and caressed its smooth surface. Fuck. It hurt so much, knowing that he’d never play. He put it back down and took a deep breath. Maybe I can help someone else achieve their dream instead?

Chapter Eight


The telephone rang shrilly and after six rings with neither boy picking it up, Buffy sighed, set down the book she’d been trying to read and walked out into the hallway to pick it up.

“Hello?”

“Buffy?”

The familiar voice made her heart miss a beat, and she wandered back into the living room and flopped down on the couch.

“Buffy? Are you there?”

“I’m here, Will,” she replied softly.

Silence stretched between them, before Buffy spoke again. “So, how have you been?”

“Good. I’m good,” said Willow awkwardly. “I heard about Spike,” she added, deciding to get to the point.

Buffy sat up and gripped the handset tightly. “Don’t you dare give me the ‘I told you it would end in tears’ lecture!”

“Oh, Buffy. I’m so not going to say that. I’m sorry that we argued and that I never picked up the phone until now.” Her voice hitched. “I’ve missed you, Buff. I’m sorry.”

Tears began to course silently down Buffy’s cheeks and when she spoke her voice was thick with emotion. “You don’t know how glad I am to hear your voice.”

“Are you okay?”

“No, Will. I’m really not. I feel like I’m going crazy. I know you didn’t approve but, God, I loved him so much and he was so good with the boys…”

Willow listened patiently as Buffy told her everything that had happened since they last spoke, years before.

“Come to stay with me. You need to get away from the house.”

“I can’t,” replied Buffy. “I can’t leave the boys.”

“The boys will be fine. Didn’t you just say that Craig is going to be coaching at Cam’s school? They are big enough to take care of themselves for a few days. Please come – you know it makes sense.”

It took Willow another ten minutes of persuasion before Buffy agreed to go for a visit.

“Buffy, are the boys there now?”

“Yeah, upstairs, I think, why?”

“Call them down. I want to talk to them.”

“Okay.”

Buffy yelled up the stairs for them to come down, the two of them appeared jostling each other as they ran towards her. Craig got to the phone first.

“Hey, Aunt Willow,” he said with a smile. His smile faded as his faced blanched and wordlessly he handed the phone to his brother.

Glancing nervously at Craig, Cam quietly said, “Aunt Willow, hi.”

His face also paled and he nodded once and gave the handset to his mother, then the pair raced back up the stairs as if the hounds of hell were after them.

“What on earth did you say to them? They looked scared half to death.”

A deep throaty laugh came down the line. “I just told them that if they got into trouble in any way at all when you come to visit me, that I’d cast a spell that would make their danglies shrivel up and fall off!”

Buffy snorted. “You didn’t?”

She sat on the bottom step and laughed at Willow’s reply. “I did. And I could do it too if I wanted to! That threat works every time, so now you don’t need to worry about them – they’ll be on their best behaviour.”

Hanging up the telephone, Buffy walked upstairs. If she was going to go stay with Willow, she needed to check out her wardrobe pronto. She hadn’t bought any new clothes for so long.

The door to Craig’s room was open and so she tapped on the door as she stepped inside.

“Tell him, Mom!” said Cam as soon as he spotted her. “I said that Aunt Willow didn’t really mean it, but he said she does. He’s just trying to scare me, right?”

Buffy bit the inside of her lip and stared at him seriously. “Do you really want to risk it?”

His eyes widened and he glanced at his brother who had regained his composure and was obviously enjoying Cam’s discomfort.

“Anyhow, there’s nothing to worry about if you behave yourself, is there?” she said. “You’re not planning on getting up to any mischief are you?”

“No, Mom,” said Cam, shaking his head rapidly.

She looked at him for a moment longer, making his heart beat faster. He’d almost cracked the code on the second disk and when he did, he’d have to contact Jerry again. He was pretty sure that that could be construed as mischief.

“The plan is for me to go the day after tomorrow and stay for four days. You don’t mind me going do you? If you do, I can stay…it’s no—”

“Mom. Go and enjoy yourself. We’ll be fine. I’ll look out for Cam.”

Cameron kicked Craig’s shin. “I don’t need looking out for!”

“Boys,” said Buffy in a voice that brooked no argument. “This is not making me feel confident at leaving you.”

“Sorry, Mom,” said Cam, standing up and going over to her. “I hope you have a great time.” He hugged her and then headed for his own room, eager to get back to work on the disks.

Buffy watched him go and then turned to Craig. “You will look out for him, won’t you?”

“Yeah, Mom. I promise. I didn’t say before, but thanks for going to Mr. Munnings about the coaching. I won’t let you down.”

“I know you won’t, honey. Right, now I need to go and start to pack. Thanks for calling Willow.”

“Wasn’t me. It was Cameron’s idea. It was a good one though, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, one of his best.”

Laughing, Craig said, “That’s not saying much!”

“Hey! I heard that!” Cam’s indignant voice came from the next room.

It was nice to hear laughter in the house. It had been devoid of it for too long.

*~*~*~*

Spike was standing outside the house that signified the end of his hunt. His mouth was watering with the need to go in there and rip the throats out of the demons within. Ever since killing the Beast of Dartmoor, Spike found it hard to obey his handler and stay outside. He wanted to give in to the bloodlust and have that warm blood spurt into his mouth. He wanted to come without it being at the whim of some git with a controller.

A twig snapped behind him and he turned, just in time to avoid being staked in the back. The sharply honed wood grazed his arm instead. Even though his long fangs had only been removed a week ago, he snarled and bared his teeth.

Laughing, the creature in front of him vamped out and hissed, curling his lips back from his perfect teeth. “My fangs are bigger than your fangs!” he sang, still chuckling.

Spike didn’t hesitate, he lunged forwards hands clutching the vampire’s shoulders and teeth sinking into his neck. Without his fangs to neatly pierce the vein, Spike settled for tearing out a huge chunk of flesh. Disorientated by the pain, the vampire sank to its knees. Spike’s metal right knee hit the vampire’s chin and the creature went out like a light.

The blood didn’t flow from this body as it had from the panther’s, forcing Spike to worry at the wound and suck deeply to draw it into his mouth. But the lukewarm blood still excited him enough to climax just as the vampire turned to dust. Grinning broadly and panting with the thrill of the kill, Spike didn’t hear his name being called until a short burst of pain ripped through his head.

“Seventeen! Present yourself!” Mark’s voice rang out clearly.

Reluctantly, Spike stood up and walked out of the undergrowth towards his handler.

“What the fuck have you been doing?” snapped Mark as he took in the filthy and bloodied condition of his vampire.

“There was a vampire…” mumbled Spike.

Mark strode up to him and grabbed hold of his chin. “And you just had to help yourself to some blood.”

“It was going to attack me,” said Spike, just as his head jerked to the side from his cheek being slapped.

“Hey, boss,” called out one of the Capture Squad. “Got ourselves a body out here.”

“Come with me,” snarled Mark, not trusting Spike to obey his orders if told to stay.

He gripped the vampire’s elbow tightly, his fingers unerringly pressing on the nerves. Spike groaned and shuffled at the side of his handler, trying to ease the pressure. The wind was blowing away from the body and so Spike didn’t smell the blood until they were almost upon the body of a young girl. She looked no more than eighteen.

Spike hadn’t realised he’d made a sound until Mark shook his arm and glared at him. He licked his lips, as his mouth watered with the intoxicating scent of a recent kill.

“She hasn’t been dead long, boss,” said Derek, the man who’d discovered her. “Man, it nearly ripped her head off. Look at the wounds.”

Mark glanced down and took in the torn flesh where he’d expect to see just four neat puncture marks and he turned to look at Spike again. The vampire was almost fully erect and drool ran from the corner of his mouth.

“Holy crap! Get on the radio. Tell them we’ve got a situation here,” snapped Mark, not taking his eyes off Spike. “Looks like Seventeen has killed a civilian.”

“What?” yelled Spike. “No! No I didn’t! It was a vampire! It was going to stake me!” He tried to back up, but Mark held him firm and then pain like he hadn’t felt in years burst through his brain and everything went black.

“Do you think he’s telling the truth?” asked Derek.

“I dunno – he’s never done this before – well not to humans. Can get a bit aggressive when we use him in training, though. The DNA from the girl will tell us whether he fed from her or not. Once we’ve got her bagged up and him on the transporter, I’ll have a look to see if I can find the dust from the vampire he says he bit.”

Rain began to fall softly and by the time that Mark could go to look around, any trace of dust had long been washed away. He didn’t spot the stake on the ground in the shadows as he turned away and jogged to the transporter.

*~*~*~*

Buffy stepped off the plane at JFK and couldn’t believe she had actually got a few days away from her normal life. She’d never seen Willow’s apartment in New York before as the witch was relocated there by the Council several months after they’d stopped talking to each other.

Dragging her suitcase behind her, Buffy walked out into the arrivals hall and scanned the crowds of expectant faces. She grinned broadly as she spotted Willow, a vision of purples and greens midst the more soberly clad people. As she got closer, Buffy noticed strands of silver running through the shoulder length hair of her friend and with a shock realised that they were getting old.

Why is it a shock? I have a twenty- one year old son!

Shaking her head at the thought, she found herself enveloped in yards of incense smelling fabric as Willow ducked under the rails and hugged her as if her life depended on it.

“Need to breathe, Will,” gasped Buffy.

Willow let her arms fall away from her friend’s but snatched hold of her left hand and gripped it firmly.

“I’m so glad that you came. You’ll love the apartment – can you believe it’s actually got a view of Central Park? And the Council pretends it has no money! They own real estate in prime locations all over the freaking world!”

Buffy could feel the tension in her easing as she listened to her friend babble on as if she were still a teenager.

*~*~*~*

Jerry nearly leapt out of his seat as the cell phone in his jacket pocket began to ring. He cursed his choice of Eye of the Tiger for the ringtone as six pairs of eyes turned to him as one.

“Sorry. Sorry. I have to take this.” He fairly ran out of the conference room and pressed the button to answer it as soon as the door closed behind him.

“Yes?”

“Got the second one done.” Cam’s voice was tremulous.

Shit! What has he found out? “Same place? An hour?”

“Make it thirty minutes,” blurted Cam and then disconnected before Jerry could respond.

One advantage of being the head of your department in the Initiative meant that you seldom had to explain your actions. He poked his head around the door, said simply, “See my PA about rescheduling – something’s come up.” Then walked out of the building.

*~*~*~*

With his heart feeling like it was trying to claw its way out of his chest, Cam slipped out of the school gates and half walked, half ran down the street heading for the coffee shop.

Craig spotted Cam’s escape out of the corner of his eye and set of in pursuit, only to be thwarted by the ringing of the bell for afternoon class. Torn between following his brother and going to do the job that he already knew he loved and didn’t want to screw up, Craig opted for the latter and ran towards the locker room. Cursing his brother under his breath as he did.

*~*~*~*

Jerry spotted Cameron as soon as he got in. The teen was sitting with his back to the room and Jerry could see him shaking before he even got close. He slid into the seat opposite and stifled a gasp when he saw Cameron’s face. If he didn’t know better he’d think that this white faced, twitchy kid with sunken, bloodshot eyes was coming down from a high and starting to suffer withdrawal.

Wordlessly, Cameron pushed a pile of papers towards Jerry.

“Are you al—”

“Read it,” said Cam quietly, leaning towards him. “R-read it first.”

As Jerry watched, a fat tear spilled over from Cam’s left eye and rolled slowly down his cheek, before it dripped onto the table. Tearing his eyes from the boy’s distraught face, Jerry began to skim over the papers.

The first few were full of things he’d read countless times in reports on vampire operatives in the Initiative. They listed the procedures that had been done to Spike. Only they weren’t the things that had been done to him when Jerry had been his handler. The eyes were different specification and there was mention of a sort of bionic knee. Had Cam realised that these were done recently? None of the entries had dates which in itself was odd.

With only a couple of pages left to look over, Jerry looked up at Cam.

“They did it to him,” the boy whispered.

“Yes, I know. But it’s what the Initiative does, Cam. You know that.”

“No,” said Cam, hoarsely. “Not Spike.”

Frowning, Jerry glanced down at the papers again. “I don’t understand?”

“Last page.”

Then he saw it and for a moment he thought he was going to pass out as a wave of nausea hit him.

“Oh, sweet Jesus,” he said slowly.

“There was video footage.” Cameron’s voice almost inaudible. “I saw them attack Craig. They knocked him down and then one of them…one of them…” He put his head in his hands and tried desperately to keep from crying. Taking a deep breath, he lifted his head and managed to continue. “Looked right at the camera and twisted his arm until it snapped like a twig.” Cam buried his face in his hands again, his words were muffled. “They knew what it would do to him. They knew that he’d never recover well enough to play.” He raised his head and met Jerry’s eye. “Why did they do it? What has Craig ever done to deserve that?”

“I don’t know, Cam,” Jerry replied but his blood ran cold as he thought it likely that it was done as punishment. Since Craig had nothing to do with the Initiative, Jerry’s best guess was that it was to make Spike obey them. They’d had the house under surveillance long enough to know how much Spike thought of the boys.

“I’m going to find out,” said Cameron, coldly.

The face that Jerry saw when he looked up was still swollen with tears, but the anguish in the eyes had been replaced by a glint of steel. Cameron was the son of a slayer after all. He’d been brought up to fight for what was right.

“We’ll find out,” said Jerry. “I promise you, that we will.”

Roger Futter and Mark stared through the one-way glass at the suspended figure of Spike. The unconscious vampire hung by his wrists in the centre of the white tiled room, his feet some six inches off the floor.

“Do you think he did it?” Roger said without taking his eyes from Spike.

Shrugging, Mark ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not sure. He’s been twitchy since he offed that panther.”

“Twitchy?” Roger turned and scowled at the handler. “And why didn’t I hear about this?”

“Because he still did as he was told.”

Their attention was caught by Spike slowly raising his head and turning it from side to side as he scanned the room.

“How long before we get the results of the DNA test?” said Roger.

“A day – maybe a little less.”

“And what do we do with Seventeen until then?”

Mark grinned. “Whatever we want.”

“Oh, right. Well, I’ll leave you to it, then.” Roger didn’t like the darker side of his work and tried to keep his hands clean of it if at all possible.

*~*~*~*

The door slid open and Mark walked into the room. Spike’s body swayed as he turned his head to watch him approach. He licked his lips and tasted some of the blood that had dried there.

“Hey, Seventeen,” Mark said, smiling as he strolled towards the vampire.

“S-Sir?”

“What happened out there?”

“I told you.” Spike’s brows furrowed. “Why was I punished?” His head still ached from the blast of the chip. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“You were covered in blood and we found a body only yards away. What were we supposed to think?”

“There was a vampire – he tried to stake me.” He glanced at his arm, which showed a deep raw furrow across it. “Look you can see where it hit me.”

He hissed as Mark ran his finger along the wound. “That could’ve been caused by anything. The girl had her throat torn out and the only vampire around was you.” Mark rubbed at some of the dried blood at the corner of Spike’s mouth. “We’ll know soon enough – if this blood has her DNA – then you killed her.”

For a moment, Spike relaxed. He knew he hadn’t drank of the girl and then ice crept slowly into his gut. If the vampire he’d drained had killed the girl – the blood Spike had taken would have been laced with that of the girl’s. The chains holding him began to rattle as Spike trembled violently.

“I didn’t kill her, but the vampire I killed probably did,” he said quietly.

“Yeah, well, like I said the DNA don’t lie.”

“If he drank her blood and then I drank his—”

A punch to the stomach cut off his words. “Do you think I’m stupid? DNA doesn’t work like that! If that blood around your mouth has her DNA then you bit her – end of story!” sidd Mark.

“We’re different.” Spike gasped as he tried to draw enough air in his lungs to speak. “Please…I didn’t do it…I do as I’m told.”

Mark glared at him. “Shut the fuck up!” This time his punch was lower down and Spike couldn’t draw enough breath to cry out as he swung in the chains.

Walking around the vampire, Mark said, “If you did this, do you know how bad it’ll make me look?” He punched Spike in the small of his back, eliciting a grunt of pain. “You’re supposed to be the star of our fucking show!”

“I didn’t do it – you can see what I can see – check the footage,” said Spike desperately, as an unwelcome image of the retirement sheds flashed through his mind.

His handler grabbed Spike’s face and wrenched it up to make eye contact. “Do you really think that we haven’t thought of that? The film’s blank.”

“What? No!” Spike tried to shake his head but Mark’s fingers dug into his cheeks.

“What did you do? What did you use to cover your eyes?”

“I didn’t! It’s not my fault the film went wrong!” He could hear the panic in his voice.

“We’ll see,” said Mark, laughing as Spike’s eyes were shut down. He gave the vampire’s body a shove, and Spike heard the door closed as he swung gently back and forth in the dark.

Spike’s panic slowly turned to anger as the hours passed by and he was left strung up. He’d done everything asked of him for as long as he could remember. He’d taken his punishments when he’d done wrong, but now they were punishing him for something he didn’t do, and the fact that his handler hadn’t believed him burned.

Realisation hit him. The new intakes that had taunted him for being the Initiative’s lapdog were right. The Initiative didn’t care about him at all. Their interests lay only in results and hitting their quotas each month. Spike had thought that he’d been doing the only thing that he could do to survive. That outside of the Initiative was a very vampire unfriendly place. Now he knew that it couldn’t be less friendly than in here.

*~*~*~*

Buffy stood at the top of the Empire State Building and smiled as the wind ruffled her hair. Glancing over at Willow, she reflected on how she relaxed she was feeling. She could hardly remember when she’d last been so carefree. She’d called the boys up the evening she had arrived, but then agreed when Craig said that he’d call if there was anything she needed to know and for her not to ring again – just to enjoy herself.

Willow smiled back and then turned to look out at the city’s skyline. She came up here often but the sight always stirred her.

“Ready for lunch?” said Willow.

Reluctantly, Buffy turned away from the view and nodded. “I’m starving. Where are we going?”

“Aha! I pulled some Council strings and, ahem, used a little magic and got us in to The Four Seasons. So if you haven’t got a nice outfit with you, we’d better hit the shops!”

“Oh, my God, Will! I can’t believe we’re going there!” She squealed, as giddy as a teenager and if it looked a little odd for a woman of her age to be behaving like that, Buffy didn’t care.

The women linked arms and giggling walked to the elevator.

In the restaurant, being plied with fine wine, Buffy found that she could almost forget that her life wasn’t as conventional as the other diners. Her happy mood dimmed a little as she thought of what she had lost when Spike died. He would never have been allowed in this place even if they came after dark – the dress code stated suit jacket and tie and she doubted Spike had worn either since he’d been turned. But he had made her feel loved and cared for and if their treats had been take out rather than fine dining, she hadn’t cared.

Sensing the sombre mood of her dining companion, Willow lightened the moment by asking if Buffy remembered the time that all the Scoobies had gone to the Pinnacle Peak Steakhouse and the staff had cut off Giles’ tie and nailed it to the rafters when he hadn’t believed their threats to do just that.

The smile returned to Buffy’s face. Now there was a place that Spike would have fit right in. She resolved to take her sons there when she got home.

“I wonder how the boys are?” Buffy said, before eating another forkful of lobster.

“Have they called?” Willow raised an eyebrow at her friend.

“No.”

“Then they’re fine. Craig promised that he’d call if anything was wrong. Trust me, that boy wouldn’t risk his danglies – he’d be on the phone in a heartbeat!”

“Will!” Buffy glanced around to see if anyone had heard.

Leaning back in her seat, Willow laughed softly. “Buffy Summers, you're acting positively middle-aged.”

“What? I so am not!”

“Prove it!”

“What do you mean – prove it?” Buffy grinned at her friend.

“Do something that will shock the clientele.”

“We’ll get thrown out!”

“Don’t care,” said Willow. “I’m too full to want dessert anyhow.”

“Hmm…what shall I do?”

Buffy glanced around and noticed that all the tables seemed to be taken by heterosexual couples, businessmen obviously having a lavish lunch with clients on their expense account or groups of older ladies who looked like the only work they did was to go out to lunch.

Slowly she rose to her feet and walked round to stand beside Willow’s chair.

“Darling,” she said making sure her voice carried across the room, “I know it’s impossible, but I have to ask despite that.” Buffy sank to one knee. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see that she’d gotten the attention of all the nearby diners. “Willow, honey. Love of my life. Will you marry me?”

To her credit, Willow played the part well. Her hands flew to her mouth and she smiled broadly. “Oh, my love! Of course my answer is yes! And I don’t care which country we have to go to, to make our dreams come true!”

Buffy grasped Willow’s hands as she stood up, and to her friend’s surprise firmly planted a kiss on her mouth. When their lips parted, there was a small round of applause and the two women had to bite the inside of their lips to keep from laughing.

A waiter appeared and asked if they would accept a complimentary bottle of champagne, but the ladies decided that a hasty departure would be more fitting. With a wink, Willow charged the meal to the Council.

Once outside they fell about laughing.

“Oh, Buffy, are you sure you couldn’t be just a little bit gay?”

“’Fraid not, Will. But you know I love you, right?”

“You’re one hell of a kisser; I haven’t been kissed like that since Kennedy moved out,” said Willow with a slightly wishful look on her face.

“You’ve had partners since Kennedy – I know you have.”

“I know, but sweet Goddess I wish they could have kissed like you – I might not have ended it, if they could!”

“Well, from my point of view, it felt very odd to kiss warm lips!”

Willow worried that Buffy would go quiet again, but this time she seemed to have managed to refer to Spike without falling apart. It looked like the trip was doing her good.

*~*~*~*

“I’ll fucking kill him,” muttered Craig, as he paced back and forth in front of the living room window.

Cameron hadn’t made any of his afternoon classes and still – an hour after school was out – hadn’t arrived home.

A movement caught his eye and he spotted Cam walking slowly up the pathway to the front door. Before Cam could turn his key, the door was pulled open and a hand grasped his jacket, yanking him inside and slamming him against the wall.

“Where the fuck have you been!” Craig’s face was about an inch from Cameron’s.

“I –”

“I saw you sneak out at lunchtime! We promised Mom that we’d be okay – and as soon as her back’s turned you cut class! Do you never want to fucking graduate?” Craig’s right hand joined his left at Cameron’s throat and he rammed him against the wall again. “You’re supposed to be the smart one, for Christ’s sake!”

With a final push, Craig let go of his brother and stalked to the still open door, slammed it shut and then turned back to glare at Cam.

“Well?”

To his utter astonishment, Cam’s face crumpled as tears began to fall down his cheeks. Cam wiped at them with his arm and then pushed past Craig, mumbling that he was sorry. His footsteps were loud as he bolted up the stairs.

“Shit,” said Craig, quietly.

He followed his brother upstairs and tapped on the bedroom door. When there was no answer, he opened the door and walked in.

Cameron was sitting at his desk, laptop already open, watching the screen as it booted up. He didn’t turn around as Craig entered and sat on the bed to the left of him.

“What’s going on Cam?”

The only response he got was Cameron slightly shaking his head.

“C’mon, Cam. I’m sorry I yelled, okay? It’s just that I was worried. Look what happened to me – it’s not a great place to be wandering around alone anymore.”

Tensing up at his brother’s words, Cam didn’t trust himself to speak.

“Talk to me…please – you’re freaking me out.”

How could Cam tell Craig that every time he closed his eyes he saw him get chased down the street? Saw the blow that felled him. Saw the eyes of the man who ruined Craig’s career before it really had a chance. There was no audio on the tape but Cam swore he could hear the elbow snap.

“Cam!”

He jumped at his brother’s sharp voice.

“There was just someplace I had to be,” Cam whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“Cameron. Look at me.”

Reluctantly, Cam turned around, but kept his eyes downcast.

“Do you want me to tell Mom? Ruin her trip?”

“No! Don’t!”

“I won’t if you tell me what’s going on.”

When Cam finally raised his head, Craig almost recoiled at the anguished look on his face.

“If I promise not to cut class will you just trust me, and I’ll tell you when I can?”

Leaning forwards, Craig said, “Oh, man! Do you know what you’re asking? If you’re in trouble, let me help.”

“I’m not in trouble. It’s just…I need to find out more before I tell anyone. Please, Craig. I need to do this.”

Craig stared into his little brother’s eyes and behind the pleading look that he was giving him, he could see the determination. Cam was going to do whatever it was regardless of what his brother said to him.

“If you cut class – the deal’s off.”

“Thank you,” said Cam solemnly.

“I’ve got your back, if you need it.”

Cam nodded.

“Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

Another nod.

Craig stared at him for a long time, then stood up, put a hand on his shoulder and walked out of the room.

Turning back to the computer, Cameron paused with his fingers over the keypad. Why bother decoding the remaining disk? Why not simply go straight to the source and hack into the Initiative database direct? He had a feeling that Jerry wasn’t being completely straight with him. The guy had handled Spike when he’d been in there and still worked for the organisation that had blinded the vampire. Why should he trust him?

Ignoring the disk, Cameron set himself to work.

Chapter Ten

“What do you mean the results are inconclusive?” said Roger Futter.

“Just that, sir.” The technician shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. “The victim’s DNA was present in the blood taken from Seventeen’s mouth but it wasn’t as we would expect it to be.”

“Are you deliberately trying to come across as cryptic? Has my head operative killed on duty or not?”

“Like I said, sir –”

“Yes or no!” Roger glared at the tech.

“It’s not as simple as that,” said the tech hesitantly. “If I had to say one or the other, sir, then I would go with no.”

“But how does that explain the traces of her DNA?”

“We’re not entirely sure, sir. We’ve asked the US HQ to run some trials with the vamps in the retirement sheds over there. I’m sure that they’ll soon have a definitive answer.”

Sighing loudly, Roger said, “And so what do we do with Seventeen until then?”

“We need to run tests on why the cameras failed, sir,” said the technician.

“That was rhetorical,” said Roger brusquely. “His handler will be in charge of what happens. He will let you know when Seventeen will be brought down for the tests.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

The tech watched the boss walk away and felt a twinge of sympathy for Seventeen. It was well known around the facility that Mark was furious at the deficiencies displayed by the vampire. Oh, well. If something like that incident ever happened again, they’d be sure to be able to give a definitive answer after the research was completed.

*~*~*~*

Craig slipped into Cameron’s room and glanced over at the bed. His brother didn’t stir and so Craig crept in a little further, his hands reaching out in the dim light shining in from the open door, for the jacket hanging on the back of the chair. He found what he was looking for in the right hand pocket. A cell phone. And not the one their mother had given him. Craig pressed the buttons to reveal stored numbers and found only one. There was no name, just the number one keyed into where the name should be. Quickly copying the telephone number to his own phone’s memory, Craig put it back in the pocket and left the room, pulling the door silently closed behind him.

Just what the hell are you up to, little brother?

Back in his own room, Craig checked the numbers stored in his own phone and those in the book usually kept near the landline downstairs, to see if he got a match. With a groan of frustration, he put them all down and flopped onto his back. None of the numbers matched the one in Cam’s mysterious new phone.

Whatever he’d said to Cam, he had no intention of letting him go anywhere without following him.

*~*~*~*

Buffy and Willow collapsed through the door to the witch’s apartment.

“Oh! I think I have had a bit too much to drink.” Buffy giggled as she weaved her way to the couch.

“I know I have,” said Willow, beating Buffy to sitting down by a millisecond.

The women kicked off their high heeled pumps and as one, leaned down to rub their sore feet.

“I haven’t danced that much since…hell, since we used to go to the Bronze!” said Buffy.

“Told you – middle-aged!” Willow grinned.

“I might be a retired slayer but I’ve still got the moves, so you’d better watch out, missy, or I’ll whup your ass!”

“Coffee?” said Willow, waving a hand in the air.

“Yes, as long as you make it. My feet are throbbing. I can’t move off this couch.”

“Me either.”

Buffy frowned. “So no coffee then?”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

Willow nodded her head in the direction of the low table in front of them and as Buffy looked at it, two steaming mugs of coffee appeared.

“Will! You said you never use magic for personal benefit.”

“It’s the exception that proves the rule,” Willow said wisely. “I can make it go away if you like?”

“No, no, that’s fine,” said Buffy.

She leaned forwards and picked one mug up, wrapping her hands around it and curling her feet up under her on the couch. Glancing around the apartment, she could clearly see the touches that Willow had added to the rather ostentatious décor. Quirky little statues with no doubt some magical use, but pride of place was a photograph of the redhead with Tara. They might be many miles away and many years on from those days in Sunnydale, but Buffy wondered if the Hellmouth had cursed them by making them fail to find a lifelong partner. Or by killing them when they had been lucky enough to find their soulmate.

Willow saw where Buffy was looking and reached out to squeeze her hand.

“You’ve never got over losing her, have you?” said Buffy softly.

“Well, I’ve never loved anyone as intensely as I loved Tara, but she’s gone and I know she wouldn’t want me to be alone, so I guess I’ll keep on looking. Maybe I’ll find someone that I can love almost as much.”

Turning to look at her friend, Willow said, “How about you? Are you going to be all right? Can you move on from loving Spike?”

“Honestly? I don’t know. He was…oh, he was a mass of contradictions. Even back when he first came to Sunnydale.”

“There wasn’t much contradictory about him wanting to kill you.”

“You’re wrong, aren’t you? Because in the end he did just the opposite – he helped me save the world.”

“True,” said Willow, shuddering as she recalled Angelus’s killing spree starting with her fish and ending with the death of Jenny Calendar.

“I saw him in there, you know. Years before he came to live with me and the boys,” Buffy said, quietly. “I should have gotten him out then. He didn’t deserve that. Not after saving the world.”

“I don’t think that they would have let you take him before he was no longer of any use to them,” replied Willow.

“I should have tried. I can’t believe I didn’t even check up on him.”

“You had enough to cope with at the time, what with Peter leaving and all.”

“I suppose.”

“How long had he been in the program?”

“He would never talk about it, but his old handler, Jerry, told me that he’d been captured in 1999. A long time, Will.

“That time I saw him was the first time I went to the Initiative’s buildings, even though I’d been on call to help them most nights for years.” She shook her head, sadly. “The stuff I witnessed…I’m ashamed I didn’t do more. He was stored, in between going out tracking, in a freaking pod that paralysed him! I watched him walk to it and climb in as placidly as I’ll get into my bed tonight. I saw footage of him waking up blinded. God, Will, he screamed. He was terrified. No wonder that he couldn’t handle going back to that, even though he was surrounded by people who loved him.”

“His final years were happy, Buffy. You have to concentrate on that. He knew love, and as much freedom as you could give him. Feel glad for the time you had with him and not sad for the time you missed. Trust me, nothing good will be found by going down that route.”

“I know you’re right, Will. I just wish he’d confided in me when his sight failed, given me a chance to work him through it.”

Willow put her arm around her friend and Buffy leaned into her embrace. “I wish I hadn’t been so stupid and stubborn and gotten to know him. I’m so sorry for not being there for you.”

“Listen to us. One cup of coffee and we’ve gone from laughing to maudlin,” said Buffy.

The women stayed there for a time before sleepily going to their beds.

*~*~*~*

The door slid open and Spike cocked his head, as he listened and sniffed the air for some clue as to what was going to befall him. The scent of his handler didn’t reassure him as it should. Over the past days – surely it wasn’t more than a week – whenever he’d visited, he’d abused him in some way.

“Do you want the good news or the bad news first?”

Spike opened his mouth but all that emitted was a dry croak as dehydration robbed him of his voice.

“Well, the good news is the tests are back. The bad news is that they think that you at least had a taste.”

Again, Spike resembled a goldfish as his mouth opened and closed soundlessly. The rattle of the chains suspending him from the ceiling told Mark how afraid his vampire was.

“You understand that you have to be punished, don’t you?” said Mark pleasantly.

Despite the anger burning deep inside, Spike nodded and couldn’t help but fear what was going to be done to him. Without warning, the chains holding him up released and he collapsed onto the floor as his legs were unable to take his weight. He groaned as the strain in his shoulders gave way to cramps when he tried to move his arms.

Mark bent down and grabbed Spike’s face, pulling it up and with swift movements squirted something up both of Spike’s nostrils. Spike tried to pull away and sneezed blood-tinged mucous as the Holy Water sizzled and seared. Mark was too strong and Spike only managed a scream as more Holy Water was poured into his ears. His harsh rasping cry appeared to cut off, but Spike was the only one who no longer could hear it.

Devoid of his senses and weakened through hunger, Spike offered no resistance as he was dragged by his collar from the room. The vampires in the section where Spike was normally kept were startled when the fronts of their cells became transparent. They all moved to peer out, seeing a handler dragging a vampire along the floor, blood visible at its nose and ears. Several stepped back in alarm as the human’s voice echoed loud inside their normally silent cells.

“This is Seventeen,” said Mark, as he let go of Spike’s collar and the vampire moved feebly on the tiles, trying to stand up.

The vampires who had been subjected to Spike’s attentions while training craned their necks to get a better look at their former tormentor.

“He’s had privileges that most of you could only dream about,” Mark said, exaggerating the benefits that Spike had been given. “Yet still he thought fit to disobey when out on a hunt.”

Spike was halfway to standing when Mark’s boot met his torso with enough force to propel him a couple of yards down the corridor. The vampire began to crawl, but disorientated he actually crawled towards Mark.

“Disobedience will not be tolerated!”

Mark then subjected Spike to a vicious assault, kicking him, using a baton and even making the chip fire, until the vampire lost consciousness and lay limp and bleeding on the floor.

Panting with exertion, Mark stared at the other hunters, pleased to see them all transfixed at the sight of Spike. Two guards appeared and helped Mark to hang Spike from his ankles in the middle of the corridor.

They positioned his legs some three feet apart, leaving his genitals exposed. His wrists were cuffed behind his back and when that was done, Mark stood back to check that it was set up as he’d liked. Satisfied, he nodded to the guards and they all walked away, leaving Spike visible to all of the other vampires.

Used to solitary confinement, the vampires were unable to keep from looking at each other and the upside down figure of Spike. Several grinned as he began to come around and his moans were heard through the intercoms. Spike hurt everywhere, every small movement brought a protest from somewhere on his body.

He’d been suspended there for two days before a vampire was needed for a hunt. On its return to its cell, as it passed Spike it was ordered to bite him. Its fangs were due to be re-clipped that day and so they were sharp and sank into the flesh of Spike’s right buttock as easily as a warm knife through butter. Spike twisted in his chains desperate to avoid this new pain.

For the next two days, Spike was kept there, until finally the guards cut him down and carried him to his cell Too weak to drink when offered blood, technicians were called to pass a feeding tube down his gullet and he wriggled and moaned as his stomach stretched when the blood filled it.

The tube was pulled out and he was left alone. For hours he didn’t move, and then slowly the blood began to heal the various injuries that he’d sustained. He bit back a scream as the raw flesh of his many wounds rubbed against the tiled floor when he tried to move. Hearing was the first of his deprived senses to return and the first voice he heard was Mark’s as the door to his cell slid open.

“Maybe it was a mistake to erase those memories. Seventeen had never looked likely to disobey since we hurt the boy.”

Spike gave no sign that he was conscious, trying to process what had been said. Mark nudged him none too gently in the ribs.

“Still out for the count, then. When he wakes up. Give him as much blood as he can take – tube him if necessary. We need him fit by the end of the week.”

To Spike’s relief the door slid shut and Mark and the person he’d been talking to left. He forced himself to stay where he was until he counted to a hundred before he dare risk moving.

What had they meant – erasing memories? I know who I was. The slayers I’ve killed. Dru. Capture. Tracker. Hunter.

He couldn’t understand it. There were no gaps. Pushing up with his hands, he managed to crawl to his bed and pull himself on it. His thumb and knee ticked metallically as he crawled.

Thumbs. I had two metal ones once, but when were they done? Try as he might he couldn’t remember. Is this what they mean?

Exhausted, he fell asleep despite trying to work out what Mark had meant.

Craig waited until he knew that Cam was in class and couldn’t escape before he text the number he’d copied from his brother’s illicit phone. He knew he was taking as chance as his number would be different from Cam’s but he had to find out what was going on.

Need to meet. Phone broken. Using own.

Almost immediately, Craig got a reply.

Usual place. One hour?

“Shit!” Craig had no idea where the usual place was.

Don’t trust that anymore. Lacey’s café on Hills Road. 30 mins. Urgent.

His heart was in his mouth when he hit the send button. Again the reply was almost instantaneous.

OK.

Craig headed off the school grounds as soon as he got the reply. He felt bad that he’d used the excuse of his arm being due a check up to give him the time to set up the meeting, but if Cam was into something bad, then he needed to find out.

He got to the café with fifteen minutes to spare and managed to find a table right at the back where he could see people as they walked in. When the waitress came to take his order, he opted for juice; he was strung out enough without the need for caffeine.

A stout, dark haired man walked in and surreptitiously scanned the tables. Craig tensed – was this the guy? Then the man smiled and walked to a pretty blonde about twenty years younger than he was.

Nope. Just the boss screwing his secretary. Craig smiled ruefully and turned back to the doorway.

Oh, crap! He spotted Spike’s old handler as he walked in. Watching through his lashes with his head dipped down, Craig hoped that the man wouldn’t see him. The last thing he needed was Jerry coming over for a chat.

Jerry glanced around the room and sat in the opposite back corner to Craig. The waitress took his order and returned with a mug of what looked to be coffee and a tall glass of Coca Cola. Realisation dawned. Fumbling with his cell phone Craig dialled the number he’d stolen from Cam. He knew before it even rang that it would be Jerry’s phone. It was too much of a coincidence for him to be there at that time. As Jerry pulled out the phone to answer it, Craig moved swiftly across the room and sat down in the chair opposite.

“What have you got my little brother mixed up in?” he said, slapping his hands down on the table.

Startled, Jerry looked up. “Er…Craig…I…”

“If you lie, so help me God, I’ll punch you, right here, right now.” Judging by the look on Craig’s face it wasn’t an idle threat. “Why has Cameron got a cell with your number keyed in it?”

“Is he all right?”

“Oh, yeah. He cut class, came home late, keeps looking at me funny and cried half the fucking night. So yeah, doing just fine!”

“Craig –”

“Just tell me straight!”

Jerry took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay. Here’s what’s happened…” He brought Craig up to date with everything apart from the attack on him. There was no reason for Craig to know about that.

Unable to believe what he’d just been told, Craig found it hard to remain seated. His earlier urge to hit Jerry was increased not diminished by Jerry’s words.

“Jesus! I can’t believe you approached Cam with this. He’s just a kid!”

“He’s nineteen, Craig. Only a couple of years younger than you.” Jerry leaned back in his chair. “He knew what he was doing.”

“Nineteen going on about twelve. Cam lives in a freaking dream world half the time,” said Craig. “You took advantage of him and you know it.”

Jerry hated to admit it but it was true. Cam had been the easiest way to get the details he needed.

“He worshipped Spike. When he found his dust outside the back door it tore him apart.” Craig’s voice was low and he jabbed his finger towards Jerry. “You used his love for Spike to get him to do your dirty work.”

Hanging his head, Jerry said, “I know. I’m sorry.”

For a moment they sat in silence before Jerry spoke again. “There’s something else. Something I haven’t said to Cameron.”

“What?” Craig’s eyes narrowed.

“I believe that Spike is alive.”

“But—how—why would you think that? You said that the disks proved that Spike had been killed by them.”

“I didn’t want to say anything until I was completely certain, but I think they faked his dusting and took him back to the Initiative.”

“No way.” Craig leaned back in his seat. “Why would they want him back? They sold him to Mom, besides his knee was as fucked up as my elbow is – no way could he track again.”

“I don’t know why,” said Jerry. “But I saw Spike’s number on a document. It was a list of the vampires that were exported to England. I thought it must be a mistake, then when I tried to look up his records they were either missing or encrypted. I downloaded what I could and asked Cam to try to decode it.”

“Does he know?” It was barely audible.

“What? That I think Spike is alive? No. No I haven’t told him.”

“Christ, Jerry. What the hell do we do now?”

*~*~*~*

He should have been working on his English project, but Cameron’s fingers were flying over the laptop’s keypad with an entirely different purpose. The Initiative’s database. He was almost in! Second’s later, the screen cleared and little box requested that he typed in the number for the operative he wanted. With shaking hands he pushed the keys.

17

The screen blinked and an error message popped up.

“Crap.” He frowned. Then smiled and typed again.

V17

Spike’s record came up. There was the option to read it from the most recent or the earliest entries, so Cam selected most recent and waited for the record to be brought up. His eyes widened when he saw the date of it. It the same as yesterday’s.

“No way,” he whispered.

He clicked to read it, and his heart almost stopped beating altogether.

V17 is still undergoing correction for his earlier misdemeanour.

Then there was a list of what had been done and to Cameron’s horror, photographs of Spike suspended upside down, covered in welts and bruises. He pushed down the lid of his laptop and raced from the room, he reached the bathroom with barely a second to spare before he was doubled up over a toilet throwing up violently.

Gasping, his eyes watering, he sank to the floor. Spike’s alive!

*~*~*~*

At the US Headquarters of the Initiative, one of the army of computer technicians that they employed sat up straight in his seat.

“Holy crap!”

He leapt up and did something that he’d never thought he would have to do. Even as he went to report that a hacker had successfully got through their defences, the program began to trace the location of the intruder.

*~*~*~*

Walking slowly back to the classroom on legs that felt like rubber, Cam thought about his promise to Craig not to miss class. He was going to have to break that promise – he needed to see Jerry as soon as possible.

“Hey, Cam. Are you all right?” said John, a boy whom Cameron tutored from time to time. “I shut down your laptop for you – I’ve never seen you leave it still active.”

“Oh, right.” Cam glanced at the computer, realising he must not have closed the lid properly. “Thanks. Look I’m not feeling so good, so can you let Mr. Blackwell know that I’ve gone home.”

“Sure. Hope you feel better soon – you look really pale.”

Nodding absently, Cameron put his laptop in his bag, slung it over his shoulder and walked away.

He took out the cell phone that Jerry had given him and dialled. It connected on the first ring.

“Cameron!”

“Hi, Jerry. I need to meet up. I’ve found something out – it’s huge.”

“Come to Lacey’s Café – do you know it? I’m already there – it’ll be quicker.”

“Okay.”

Cam disconnected and put it back in his pocket. He cast a glance over to the playing fields where Craig would be and decided that he’d tell him as soon as he saw him, unless Craig killed him before he had a chance to explain.

As he walked out of the school gates, a black SUV screeched to a halt in front of him. Before he had a chance to react, a burly dark skinned man leapt out of it and pressed the end of a stick to Cam’s chest. With a choked off cry, Cameron’s limbs spasmed and he collapsed into the man’s arms. Within seconds, they were in the car and it sped away. The only thing to show that Cam had been there was the cell phone which had fallen from his pocket when the man threw him in the car.

*~*~*~*

Buffy hugged Willow tightly and made no attempt to keep her tears from falling. She’d had a great time and her friendship with Willow was back on track.

“Stay for longer next time, sweetie,” said Willow. “Bring the boys.”

“I will. They’d love it. I’ve missed them so much.”

The women looked up Buffy’s flight was announced that boarding was about to commence. “That’s me,” said Buffy.

One more hug and Buffy walked towards the gate. Sad to be leaving her old friend behind but eager to see her boys again. She wondered what state the house would be in when she got home.

*~*~*~*

Spike could see again. The numerous and painful tests that they did to see why the cameras had failed to transmit what Spike had seen were over. But though the physical punishment appeared to be over, Spike’s sight was shut down whenever he was in his cell.

The door slid open at the same time that his vision snapped on. Spike tried not to tremble when he saw Mark standing there, scowling at him.

“On your feet, Seventeen. Got work to do.”

“W-work? Sir?” He dipped his head, stealing himself against a blow.

“Yes, you’re needed for a hunt.”

“A hunt?” Spike smiled slightly. A hunt meant a reward – though he wasn’t sure how pleasant it would be after the abuse his genitals had taken when he'd been beaten. More importantly a hunt meant he would have a chance to escape. He’d fail, he knew that, but hopefully they’d dust him as he tried.

Mark cuffed Spike around the head. “Don’t repeat everything I fucking say!”

“Sorry, sir.”

The pair walked through the corridors to the door which led to the huge training enclosure. Spike stepped through and looked down at his feet. Mark followed his gaze and chuckled.

“No shoes from now on. You’re not the hunter – you’re the hunted!”

“What? I don’t understand, sir.”

“You don’t need to understand. You need to…RUN!”

Spike jumped at his handler’s yell.

“They catch you in less than an hour – their reward is you for an hour!”

He didn’t need telling twice. Spike ran! He knew this enclosure like the back of his hand and so the fact his vision never switched to night mode didn’t really hamper him. Still only barely recovered from his punishment, Spike soon found that his legs were getting slower and panic setting in didn’t help him as he tried to work out where he could hide. It was obvious that he couldn’t hope to outrun whoever was hunting him.

Sometime later, there was a triumphant cry as the hunter saw him. Spike stopped running and turned to face the vampire, his skinny body heaving with shallow, rapid breaths. He offered no resistance as V1604 grasped his shoulders and his uncut fangs grazed Spike’s neck. Then the hunter cried out, clutching his head as he fell to the ground. Stepping back, Spike turned his head, scanning the surrounding area. A couple of handlers that he didn’t know appeared from out of some bushes.

“You’re lucky, Seventeen. It took him sixty-two minutes to get to you.”

Still panting, he watched as the vampire recovered from the blast from the pain chip and then was given its reward. Spike’s cock hardened and he gave out a soft moan which made the shorter of the two handlers stare at him.

“Touch that, and we’ll cut it off.”

Spike snatched his hands away and clasped them behind his back. The handler chuckled and then ordered him to walk. Within ten minutes, Spike had been hosed down with icy cold water, which had diminished his erection, and was back in his cell still dripping wet. He shivered as he lay on his side, blinded once again and wondered if this was all he’d ever be again. The training enclosure offered no hope of escape.

The next day he was used as quarry four times, the final time, exhaustion meant he had been caught by the hunter within only twenty minutes. Mark, true to his word, didn’t shock the vampire when it grabbed hold of Spike, he simply walked away.

The vampire, a tall, strongly made blond, who despite the hair reminded Spike of Angel, laughed as he bent Spike over an outcrop of rock and rammed two of his fingers inside Spike’s tight hole. Seconds later, Spike screamed as in one hard thrust, V379 inserted the full length of his cock into the smaller vampire.

Many things had happened to Spike in his time – both as a free vampire and a captive one – but the vicious rape he was subjected to was the worst of it all. Too weak to be able to fight back, Spike suddenly realised how his victims had felt all those years ago, as he’d laughed at their pain and humiliation, just as V379 was now. When finally the vampire climaxed, Spike howled as fangs ripped into his neck. V379 drank deeply until he let the barely conscious body of Spike fall to the ground.

Mark stepped into view and grinned at V379. “I think we’ve found the new star of the program, Three –Seventy –Nine." He pointed at Spike. "Pick him up and carry him home.”

The vampire lifted Spike as easily as if he were a child and slung him over one shoulder. Spike offered no resistance as he was taken back to the compound. Once more he was washed, blinded and taken back to his cell. A feeding tube was pushed down his throat and enough blood pumped in to make his stomach distend and cramp, then he was left alone to his discomfort. It was some time before he dared to explore the damage done to him. His questing fingers found torn flesh around his anus, already healing thanks to the blood, but the shame remained.

*~*~*~*

Craig waited at the café for thirty minutes after Cam’s call before he stood up, the chair scraping on the floor.

“Something’s wrong. He should be here by now.”

Jerry nodded.

“I’m going to look for him,” said Craig. “You stay here for another fifteen minutes. If he arrives call me. If he doesn’t…”

“What?” said Jerry, as Craig’s voice trailed off.

“You’d better leave town, ‘cause if anything happens to him over this crap you’ve gotten him involved in, I will break every bone in your body!”

Swallowing hard, Jerry nodded again. “If anything happens to him, I’ll deserve it.”

Craig paused for a moment and then turned to leave. He was jogging by the time he got to the door.

Jerry took out his cell phone and dialled Cam’s number. “Come on. Answer it.”

“Hello?”

“Oh, thank God, Cam, where are you?”

“Cam?” said the voice. “You mean Cameron Evans? Is the phone his? I’ve just found it outside the school gates. I’ll give it to him tomorrow in class.”

“Er…okay…thank you.”

He pressed the disconnect button and stared at his cell before putting it in his pocket. Cam didn’t seem the type to be careless with anything. Suddenly, he could sit there no longer. Scribbling a note on the back of a napkin, he gave it to the woman at the counter. She looked at him as if he were mad when Jerry gave her a brief description of Cam and asked her to give him the note if he showed up. Then he dashed out and headed for the boy’s home.

*~*~*~*

Cam groaned as he woke up, his head throbbed and he thought he might be sick. Trying to bring his hand up to touch his forehead, full awareness snapped back when he couldn’t move his hands. He tried to draw in enough air to yell out but his chest barely rose and all that came out was a wheezing gasp.

Heart pounding, he discovered that he couldn’t move at all, not even his head. His eyes were useless to him as he was in total darkness. All he could hear was a slight hissing sound which he presumed was air being pumped in. He knew where he was. He’d read the description in the data about Spike’s years as a tracker.

A pod.

In the Initiative.

“Mom.”

By the time Jerry got to the house, Craig was already frantic. He’d thrown the door wide open in response to Jerry’s knock and stared at the man, with tears glistening in his eyes.

“Look,” he said simply, holding out his hand.

Jerry’s hand trembled as he took the piece of paper and read.

Please don’t worry about me. I just need some time alone.
Will be in touch soon.
Love you both,
Cam

“Some of his clothes are gone and it looks like his handwriting, but we both know that he didn’t write it, don’t we? The bastards have taken him, Jerry. He’s probably already dead!”

“Christ, don’t say that. They wouldn’t kill him. He’s just a boy,” said Jerry, stepping inside.

“A boy who has been working on decoding encrypted disks!”

Jerry’s face paled. “They wouldn’t.” The words were barely a whisper.

“I’m going to the police. We’ve got to tell them that Cam’s missing.”

His hand was on the receiver when Jerry stopped him. “He’s nineteen. They’re not even going to start looking for him for at least twenty-four hours and if Cam is…is still alive, we don’t want to spook them into doing anything to him.”

“Oh, crap!”

“I know it’s—”

“No – I wasn’t meaning that. Mom’s due home any moment.” Craig sat down on one of the kitchen chairs with a thump. “Oh, God. What do I say to her?”

“The truth. And I’ll tell her,” Jerry said, firmly. “Do you have to collect her from the airport?”

Craig shook his head. “She’s getting a cab.” He glanced at his watch. “She’ll be here in around thirty minutes.”

“Do you have a computer?”

“What? Yeah, there’s the desk top in Mom’s office. But what do you want a computer for?”

“Where’s the office?” said Jerry, striding out of the kitchen.

Running after him, Craig pointed to a door on the right in the hall. “What are you going to do?”

“I still work there, Craig. I’m going to see if I can find anything out.”

*~*~*~*

After being force fed large amounts of human blood, Spike was fit for duty the next day. Obediently he followed Mark out of his cell, but to his surprise he wasn’t led to the door of the enclosure, but to where they were loaded into vehicles.

He hissed as a hand grabbed at his flaccid cock and tried to scan it.

“Give the tracking device a bit of a boost. I can’t scan it when it’s like this,” grumbled the latex gloved tech.

A pleasant buzz went through Spike’s penis and this time when the tech took it in his hand it was half hard and easy to scan.

Mark leaned close to Spike’s ear. “Perform well tonight and you’ll be rewarded.”

A shiver ran down Spike’s spine, partly thrilled at the thought of something pleasant after all the bad he’d gone through, but mostly fear, as he knew that if he got the chance he’d run. Run until he found a nice sharp branch to hurl himself against.

As he was strapped into position. Spike overheard Mark and another handler talking.

“They’re flying the boy out here. He accessed Seventeen’s files. We can use Seventeen as leverage to make sure he tells us all that he knows.”

The boy? They’d said I’d behaved after the boy got hurt. Is this the same one? I don’t know any boys.

His mind reeling, Spike made sure that he was facing forwards as Mark climbed into the transporter.

Mark turned off his sight. “Take a nap, Seventeen, we’ll be on the road for a while.”

Feeling anything but sleepy, Spike closed his eyelids and tried to think of any boy he might have known.

Several hours later, Spike’s sight was activated and his lids permanently opened. Even before the transporter’s door opened, Spike knew that it would be a remote area as he was still totally naked. His lack of footwear made him realise that he was still going to be the quarry. He wondered idly whether the artificial parts of him would dust too, or would they remain intact. Smiling at the thought of a pair of eyes, a thumb and a knee joint, being left behind, Spike met Mark’s eyes more boldly than he had done in days.

“Do well today, Seventeen, and you’re back to being a hunter again. Remember how nice the rewards were?” Mark laughed as the vampire’s cock twitched. “Looks like at least this part of you does.” He pumped his hand up and down Spike’s length and laughed louder as Spike moved his hips upwards. “Slut,” said Mark affectionately.

Released from his seat, Spike was taken to a narrow track some two hundred yards from the transporter, before being told to run. Without a backwards glance, Spike jogged away. The air was crisp and there was the tang of sheep in it. His mouth watered remembering the blood of the panther. Just before being loaded up, the techs had clipped his teeth and this time all of them had been reduced to blunt nubs barely proud of the gums, rather than just his fangs, so he knew that he’d never be able to tear open anything’s throat.

The illusion of freedom that being out there gave him made Spike postpone his suicide. He’d enjoy one last run in the night air with springy moorland turf beneath his bare feet.

*~*~*~*

Craig tensed up as he heard a car draw up outside their house, he glanced out of the window and saw his mom pay the driver, as he handed her the small suitcase. As she walked up the path, he could see that she was smiling. It had been so long since he’d seen her smile like that, and his heart clenched knowing that he’d be the one responsible for erasing it from her face.

He stood frozen, unable to move, as the door opened and she walked in.

“Boys! I’m home!”

Her smile faded when she saw her eldest son transfixed before her.

“What is it?”

A movement caught her eye and her eyes narrowed as Jerry walked into view.

“Jerry. What are you doing here?”

The men glanced at each other before Jerry cleared his throat. “Um…you may want to sit down.”

Craig couldn’t help but smile as Buffy glared at Jerry and took a step forward, letting the suitcase fall to the floor with a clatter. “Tell me!”

“Er…” Jerry looked helplessly at Craig as his nerve failed.

“Mom. Spike’s not dead,” blurted Craig. “The Initiative took him back. They were trying to find out why and—”

“Where’s Cam?” Buffy stared at each in turn.

“Well the thing is…” started Craig.

“We think the Initiative took him,” finished Jerry, backing up a couple of paces.

“You think what!”

Buffy had Jerry slammed against the banister to the stairs before he had time to react. “Why do you think that? What the hell has been going on?”

“Mom,” cautioned Craig.

Jerry sighed with relief as the former slayer let him go. “Where is my son?”

“I’ve been using my contacts at work and it looks likely that he was put on a plane to England. It fits with the time we know he went missing.”

“Why haven’t you called the police?”

“Think about it for a minute, Mom,” said Craig putting a hand on her arm. “No way would they take on the Initiative. They’d never take us seriously.”

“He’s right,” added Jerry.

“If you’re sure that he’s been taken to England I need to get on a flight there as soon as I can, and I think you need to tell me the whole story,” said Buffy, firmly.

As Craig called the airline to book the tickets, Jerry brought Buffy up to speed on what they had discovered so far.

“Spike’s not dust?” said Buffy.

“No.”

“They wouldn’t hurt Cam. He’s human. They’ll just want to scare the pants off him for messing with their files,” she said, knowing how ridiculous it sounded.

“I don’t know why they've done what they have,” said Jerry.

“Mom,” said Craig walking in the room. “We need to leave now. I’ve got us on the next flight to London.”

“Did you book me a ticket? I’ll call in sick,” Jerry said.

“No. I need you to stay here. You’ll be able to access stuff from the inside that we would have no hope of getting,” stated Buffy. “We’ll keep in touch. Now get out of my house.”

“We’ll find him,” said Jerry.

“We better,” replied Buffy. “Craig, grab some things – just enough for a carry-on bag.” As he took the stairs two at a time, she turned back to Jerry. “You still here? I’ll need the address for the Initiative over there. And not just the public address, okay?”

“I’ll text Craig with the details. I’m sorry.”

Without waiting for a reply, Jerry ducked out of the house and disappeared into the darkness.

Craig ran back downstairs. “Ready?”

Grabbing the car keys from the dish on the table, Buffy nodded. “Yes. Let’s get on that plane.”

*~*~*~*

Spike was beginning to tire and his attempts at leaving little or no trail for the hunter to follow were getting less effective. He stood still, hands on his sides, panting as he glanced around to find a suitably sharp tree branch. Up on the moors there were more scrub-like bushes than proper trees. Smiling when he spotted a likely candidate, he walked over to it. The end of the branch was a little flexible so he snapped it off and stripped it of its leaves. It was a bit higher than the level of his heart, but all he’d have to do would be to jump up a little way. Then it would be over.

He took several steps back and paused. Inhaling deeply, he ran at the branch, leaping off the ground with his last stride. The sharp tip plunged deeply into his chest, before breaking away from the tree. Spike yelled out as he hit the ground and the stick buried itself even deeper. Rolling on his back, he thought dusting would have been less painful and quicker.

Shite, it hurts!

Images flashed into Spike’s mind so clearly that for a moment he thought it was one of the films the techs had used when testing his eyes.

“Spike, I’m sorry!”

The voice belonged to boy of about twelve.

“Bloody hell, Cam! What have I told you about messing with your mum’s weapons? Damn near dusted me!”

Cam reached out to touch the crossbow bolt that was firmly embedded in the vampire’s chest, only an inch or so away from the heart.

“Don’t touch it!” yelled Spike.

“Does it hurt?” Cam asked, eyes wide.

“I’ve got a chunk of wood stuck in me – what do you think?” His words were harsh but the tone had gone from annoyed to indulgent.

“Do you want me to help get it out?”

“No, I sodding well don’t. Go and get your mother.”

The images faded as quickly as they’d arrived and Spike was once more aware of the grass beneath him and the chill of the air…and the piece of wood embedded just shy of his heart. He clenched his jaw and pulled it out.

“Fuck." He grimaced as he threw the stick to the ground.

Cameron. The boy was Cameron. He put a hand over his eyes as he tried to remember more, but he couldn’t. The only thing he was sure of was that he’d loved that boy and if he was in danger, he needed to help him. A noise had him on his feet in an instant, tensed, ready to fight, the makeshift stake in his hands, but it was only a fox out on a hunt of its own.

“They can see what I can see,” he muttered. “Oh, shit! They’ll know what I’ve tried to do.”

Fear of what they’d do to him, coupled with the fact that if he was locked in his cell there would be nothing he could do to help the boy, leant wings to his feet and he rang headlong, crashing through undergrowth and leaping stonewalls. A building came into sight and he smashed the door down. The sign above it said ‘Speedwell Mine’. He might be able to lose them in the tunnels. The ground beneath his feet was slick and as Spike raced down the stone steps, he slipped and fell headlong down them. Falling for what seemed like an age. He landed in water, and barely conscious, he sank to the bottom.

Pain!

Tremendous pain!

His body arched as he opened his mouth to yell but all that happened was that water flooded in. His hands sought the location of the pain. The head of his penis seared. Like being electrocuted. The tracking device was shorting out. Driven half mad by the bolts of pain running through him, Spike worked his thumb into the slit and dug frantically, desperate to get rid of the device. The pain as he pulled the tracking device free was so great that he passed out. The microchip fell out of his lax grip and floated away in the slight current in the water.

*~*~*~*

“Where the fucking hell is he?” roared Mark, when the signal on the monitor indicating Spike’s progress on the moor blinked and went out.

A flurry of activity ensued as techs frantically tried to relocate the tracking device’s signal. Some ten minutes later to everyone’s relief the signal blinked back into life.

“Where’s the other one?” Mark glanced at the other monitors. “Is he still on Seventeen’s trail?”

“He’s about two miles away from him and circling around. Looks like he’s lost him, sir.”

“Damnit!” Mark rubbed a hand over his face.

“Um…you better see this, sir,” a voice said nervously.

Mark turned to see one of the techs – he could never remember any of their names – pointing at a monitor.

“I’ve been watching the visuals from Seventeen and at first I dismissed it as a stumble but now I’m not so sure.”

The screen flickered into life and they could dimly see trees as Seventeen looked around. Then one tree got bigger and bigger as Seventeen ran towards it. The picture reeled and went black.

“Shit! I thought you said you’d fixed any glitches."

“The camera is still working. He’s on his back looking upwards,” said the technician. “Seventeen covers his eyes for a time before he gets up, but concentrate on the bottom right of the screen.”

Mark moved closer and inwardly cursed the fact that he hadn’t enabled the vampire’s night vision. His eyes widened when he briefly saw the object in Spike’s hand.

“Shut the fucker’s eyes down! Switch off the cameras!” Mark said, urgently.

“But, sir. That means we can’t see where he is either.”

“I don’t care! He’s just tried to stake himself! Do you know how much that vampire is worth? Even in the retirement sheds? Christ, we can’t lose him. Walsh will have my balls on a platter!”

“Shutting down the cameras now, sir,” said the tech with the press of a couple of keys on the computer.

“Now activate the reward.”

“Sir? But—”

“Do it! It will keep him occupied and in one spot until I get transport there.”

“Yes, sir!”

They both watched the monitor intently.

“Um…he’s still moving, sir. Slowly, but still on the move.”

“The bastard knows what will happen to him when I get my hands on him. Keep me up to date on the coordinates. And get the other brought back in. Don’t reward it though.”

Deep in the underground river, Spike’s limp body moved slowly along the bottom before becoming wedged against a rock and coming to a stop.

~~~~~~


Check out the Speedwell Mine.
http://www.speedwellcavern.co.uk/index.html

Chapter Thirteen

Cam tried not to panic, purely for the reason that he couldn’t draw enough air in if he did and then his vision greyed until he knew he was on the brink of passing out. He could feel his pod being moved about and stared up in terror when the lid began to slide open.

“Help.” His voice was barely more than a whisper.

“Get out!” snarled the man peering down at him.

“I c-can’t m—”

“Oh, Christ!” Another face came into view. This one an older woman with a face that looked like it hadn’t smiled in a long time. “Those imbeciles have activated the spinal crush!”

“Wh—”

Again, Cam’s words were cut off by the woman’s words.

“De-activate it then! Don’t just stand there!”

Cam screamed – the sound louder in his head than in reality as his breath was too shallow to create more volume. Sharp pain, worst than he’d ever felt, stabbed at the back of his neck, and ran down his immobile limbs.

“Get a gurney,” ordered the woman. She glared at the retreating figure of the man before leaning forwards and staring at Cam.

“Welcome to the Initiative,” she said with a smirk.

Cam didn’t have the energy left to try to speak.

“We’ll get you on some oxygen,” Maggie Walsh said. “Your lips are looking a little blue.”

A squeaking noise took her attention from Cameron and he found himself being manhandled onto a hospital type gurney. He closed his eyes against the strobe effect of the overhead lights as he was pushed quickly along the corridors.

A team of white coated technician’s efficiently stripped Cam of his clothes and to his horror, inserted a catheter into his penis. He could only imagine how much that should have hurt. A nose-clip was attached and he could feel the flow of oxygen into his nostrils, making breathing a less of a problem.

“What have you done?” he wheezed. “I want to go home.”

Maggie pushed the techs out of the way and looked down at him. “We need to talk to you about hacking into our computer system.”

He moved his head slightly to the side. “Why c-can’t I m-move?”

“Hmm. Now that wasn’t planned. The idiot who put you in the pod activated the spinal clamp we use on the vampires.”

A tear rolled down his cheek. “Will I…is it…?”

“Permanent?” supplied Maggie almost cheerfully. “That is something that I don’t know. In vampires when it’s removed they are active immediately.” She waved a hand over his body. “Whereas you, quite obviously, are not. But it’s your mind I need not your body, so it doesn’t really matter all that much.”

Cameron opened his mouth to speak.

“I know you don’t think of it like that – but since you violated my company’s security, I don’t care what you think.”

“Mom…” whispered Cam, the effort of speaking almost too much for him.

Maggie stroked her fingers down Cam’s cheek and he hated that he couldn’t swat her hand away, that all he could do was move his head an inch or so.

“Will kill you,” he managed to finish.

Maggie lightly slapped his face and laughed. “Oh child, you are so amusing. She will never find you.”

*~*~*~*

The knuckles of Buffy’s hands showed white and the armrests on her seat creaked in protest. She was barely a quarter of the way to England and it felt like it was already too late. The Initiative had the use of supersonic aircraft, and so Cameron could have been there for hours. She hadn’t wanted to kill something so badly in a long time.

She turned to Craig and couldn’t decide if she was pleased or horrified that he flinched away from her, when their eyes met.

“Don’t call us, Mom. Have a great time, Mom. I’ll call you if we need you, Mom,” she said coldly.

“Mom…”

She raised a hand to stop his words and this time a pang of guilt ran through her. Her own son was afraid of her.

“Tell me everything that you know.”

Craig sighed and shifted in his seat. “I’ve told you. I know Jack. Jerry and Cam were working on this. I swear I didn’t know.”

“You should have called me when he cut class.”

“I know.” Craig’s head hung low. “I know, Mom.”

Buffy rested her hand over his and resisted the urge to grind it to a bloody pulp. Instead she squeezed it gently.

“He’ll be all right,” she said, hoping it sounded convincing.

“But what if he’s not?” Craig risked a glance at her.

“If he’s not – I’ll kill whoever hurt him and then we’ll deal.”

“They could be human, you don’t—”

“Like I said. I’ll kill whoever hurt him.” Her eyes bored into Craig’s and he nodded slightly.

“Sound’s good to me.”

She finally allowed her thoughts to turn away from her son’s plight to the knowledge that Spike still existed. To think of him back in the place he feared so much was almost worse than her worry for Cameron’s safety. She loved him but her priority for now had to be her son. Squeezing her eyes shut against the threatening tears, Buffy took several long slow breaths, willing the panic rising inside her to subside. Would she see either of them again?

If anything happened to Cam…

*~*~*~*

Jerry made his way home via a dingy back street bar. He knocked back several shots before finally venturing home, needing to get some sleep before going to work the next day. He put his front door key in the lock and turned.

The explosion was so severe that pieces of the door were found across the street and the police had to cordon off a wide area whilst Jerry’s scattered remains were picked up.

*~*~*~*

Spike came to, with a jolt.

Clawing at his neck, he panicked at the heavy sensation of water in his lungs. He was in total darkness and thrashed wildly to try to get his head above the surface of the water. His leg was caught somehow and although his hand could reach out of the water, his head was still submerged.

“Look! I saw something!” the child, a pretty blonde haired girl of about five years old, cried out pointing to a spot in front of the small boat she was travelling in.

“Oh, Jessica, for goodness sake, sit still. You’ll fall overboard,” chastised her mother, singularly unimpressed at her husband’s choice of a family day out. A damp walk across moorland, where a few depressed looking sheep were grazing and now they were in a small boat as it travelled along a narrow cave.

Their words were indistinct but Spike rapidly brought his hand back to his side and lay still, not daring to move until they had been gone for fifteen minutes. Then he began to try to pull his leg free. His artificial knee joint somehow seemed to be attached to the wall, and it took his probing fingers twenty minutes to free it.

During this time, several other boats had passed overhead – each one causing Spike to freeze. Remaining still was getting more difficult as the icy water chilled him to the bone, making him shiver almost uncontrollably and his thoughts sluggish. Eventually he dared to move and pulled himself along in the direction of the weak current.

*~*~*~*

A technician walked towards Cameron with a couple of syringes in a shallow metal dish. Cam tried to recoil and bit back a sob when his body didn’t respond.

“Please help me.”

The tech smiled at him.

“Now just try to relax,” she said.

Cam watched as she inserted a needle into a vein on the back of his hand, and stitched it into place. Noticing the boy’s eyes on her she explained.

“I’m fixing it so that it doesn’t pull out when you're moved.” She attached a line to the needle and connected it to one of the three bags hanging on a metal stand next to Cameron’s bed.

“Moved…where?” Cam didn’t realise that talking could be physically so hard.

“You don’t need to worry about that.”

Cam disagreed but decided it wasn’t worth the effort.

“This one will help you remember.”

Not long after the tech had administered the drug into Cameron’s vein, Maggie reappeared along with several severe looking older men.

“Hello, Cameron. Or should I call you Cam?” She continued before he could reply. “Now you are going to tell us all about what you and Jerry discovered.”

His eyes widened at the mention of Jerry’s name. He intended on saying that he didn’t know anything but instead he began to recite everything that he had found out. By the end of the session, Maggie knew what he knew and was a lot happier. News had come in from the States that Jerry was no more and even the fact that the former slayer and her other son were on their way to England couldn’t affect her good mood.

Only Cameron and Jerry knew the Initiative’s actions regarding Seventeen and the attack on Craig Evans. One was dead and the other completely at her mercy. The fact that Cameron hadn’t had a chance to speak with Jerry, or anyone else about it was more than she could have hoped for. With one dead and the other completely at her mercy, the leak was well and truly plugged. She glanced upwards. Maybe there is a God, after all!

She stalked out of the room to her office and sat behind the desk. Her index finger activated the button on the intercom.

“Rebecca, get Roger Futter in here right now.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Leaning back in her chair, she decided it was time to test the mettle of the man she’d put in charge of the UK operation.

Five minutes later a visibly flustered Roger was ushered in by the secretary. Maggie indicated that he sat down opposite her and noted that he perched on the edge of it nervously.

With a sigh, she said, “Well, Roger. We have a little problem here don’t we?”

“I’m sure we’ll get him back, Maggie. The Capture Squad is working on it now, admittedly it’s more difficult in daylight hours as we can’t use the trackers or hunters,” the man babbled.

“Get who back?” asked Maggie coldly, leaning forward in her seat.

Roger paled. He knew of Maggie Walsh by reputation and seeing her glare at him was bringing up stories about her that he’d thought were exaggerated.

“Um…” He swallowed hard. “Isn’t that why you wanted to see me?”

“Get who back?” repeated Maggie.

“S-seventeen. We lost him on his last training exercise before being brought back into active service.”

“You what!” Maggie yelled and stood up. “The creature is tagged – how can you lose it?”

“We’ve just found the tracking device. Seventeen must have taken it out.”

“Have you seen the procedure when the transmitter is inserted?”

Shaking his head, Roger replied, “No. No I haven’t. I don’t watch the surgical operations.”

Maggie loomed over the seated man. “You do know that it’s in the vampire’s penis, don’t you? Would you want to try to take it out if you had one?”

Roger blushed crimson. “No, I would not.”

“So how did Seventeen’s transmitter come to be separated from him?”

“We…er…we fear he might have dusted.”

“You don’t know?” Maggie threw her hands in the air. “Just what sort of operation have you been running over here? The cameras are still working, I take it. It shouldn’t be too difficult to track it down from what they can see. They are designed to withstand the vampire dusting.”

The colour drained from Roger’s face once more. “We shut the eyes down, in the hope it would make him stay in one place, and now we can’t reactivate them.”

“You better bring me evidence that he is dust, because if one of our vampires is running about out there, there will be hell to pay! The UK is only adjusting to the use of vampires – this could set the whole program back months!”

“I have been producing a documentary about our work to promote what we’re doing,” said Roger, trying to regain a little respect. “We have some wonderful footage.”

“I’ve seen what you have so far,” said Maggie, taking her seat again. “Which vampire did you use to showcase our operation?”

“Seventeen,” he mumbled.

“Yes, Seventeen. So when this is shown to the public and the talk-shows want you on them with Seventeen beside you – what exactly are you going to tell them?”

Roger decided that looking at the carpet was infinitely less scary.

After a pause, Maggie said, “That wasn’t why I wanted to see you.”

Eyes widening at the thought that Maggie hadn’t known about the fiasco he’d just blurted out, Roger looked up.

“I need you to arrange a little car accident,” she continued.

“What?”

“Two people are heading for London with the intention of attacking the facility. I have their identities and the flight number, and I want you to make sure that they never arrive.”

Roger half stood, before a glare from Maggie made him think better of it. “A terrorist threat sounds like a matter for the police.”

“The police?” Maggie laughed harshly. “And what would the police do when they take them in for questioning and they say we have kidnapped a relative?”

“Well, that just proves how ridiculous their claim is. We have nothing to hide,” said Roger boldly.

“We don’t?” Maggie quirked a brow and nodded in the direction of the bank of monitors on the right hand wall.

As he watched one turned on, revealing the figure of a youth lying naked on a bed. Roger turned his head away with distaste when he saw the catheter in the boy’s penis.

“Oh, and when one of our security men transported him here from America, he accidentally paralysed him from the neck down. What do you think the police will think of that?”

This time Roger did manage to get to his feet. “I’m not a part of this! Why are you showing me this?”

“Sit down!” Maggie slammed her hands on the desk. “You are the head of this branch – if we don’t contain it – you will be held accountable for anything that is discovered. You!”

“Oh, dear God.”

“Now, will you order the hit on the terrorists?”

Roger knew that he was trapped. “I’ll do it at once.”

“Good.”

Maggie watched Roger walk out of her office, before she picked up the phone. She activated the scrambler before she spoke. “I want Roger Futter under twenty-four hour surveillance. If he so much as breathes out of place, take him out of the equation.”

Smiling, she put the telephone receiver back in its cradle and began to go over some papers that she had brought with her from the States.

*~*~*~*

Cam concentrated on breathing in and out, in and out. He was exhausted after the drugs they’d used to get him to tell them everything had worn off, and he struggled to get enough air. A woman in blue hospital scrubs approached and he cringed inwardly as she stared at his naked body. Why hadn’t they covered him up?

He opened his mouth to plead for her help but the effort was too much and as he fell unconscious his breathing arrested.

The nurse dropped the tray she was carrying and ran to the bed as the alarm rang out that the boy had stopped breathing. His heart ceased to beat almost immediately after this. She leapt onto the bed, straddling Cameron as she began to perform CPR – pumping his chest and breathing into his mouth.

Help arrived in the form of two doctors and a crash cart. She climbed off the bed and stood back as they shocked the patient’s heart. Once they finally had a rhythm the doctor inserted a tube down Cameron’s windpipe and hooked him up to a respirator. His chest rose and fell with the hiss of the machine’s pumped air.

Maggie Walsh ran into the room, just as things settled down.

“We need to insert a permanent breathing tube,” said the doctor. “We’ll get him prepped and into the O.R. right away.”

“No,” stated Maggie, firmly. “He’s stable now isn’t he?” She stared at the still unconscious boy.

“Well, yes, but when he comes around the tube in his throat could become a problem. It is much more usual for a quadriplegic like him to have a hole cut into his trachea so he can be hooked up to oxygen and yet still be able to speak.”

“Get one of the techs to bleed Four-Fifty-Five. Then give the blood to the boy,” ordered Maggie. “He’s no good to us dead.”

“So it’s true then?” asked the doctor somewhat unwisely. “Vampire blood helps healing?”

“Yes it is true – but the information is classified and its use is only permitted under my orders, so put all thoughts of curing cancer out of your head!”

The doctor gulped and muttered that he would see to it at once.

“The blood has to be given by mouth. It is ineffective if given intravenously,” added Maggie as the doctor hurried away.

Alone with Cameron, she gazed down at the boy and smiled as his eyes fluttered open. They widened with fear when he saw her at his bedside and he coughed feebly around the tube.

“Calm down. Let the machine breathe for you.”

She stayed with him until the doctor returned with a bag of blood.

“It will be dangerous to unhook him from the machine,” he cautioned.

“Just do it!” snapped Maggie.

The doctor obeyed and Cameron’s respirations became shallow and weak.

“Drink this.” The doctor put a tube into Cam’s mouth, but the boy refused to co-operate.

“Get it in by whatever means you need to – the stomach remember,” Maggie said.

Cameron’s breathing was almost imperceptible and so the doctor hurriedly reinserted the breathing tube.

“What are you doing?” Maggie glared at the doctor.

“The blood will be no good to him if he’s dead. I’ll go directly into the stomach – that should still work.”

Cameron watched with detached fascination as the doctor took a scalpel blade and cut into his abdomen. A few moments later and the doctor inserted the tube from the bag of blood into the tiny incision he’d made in the wall of the stomach and squirted in the contents. A sprinkling of antibiotic powder and a couple of stitches later the hole was reduced to a narrow line.

“Keep him closely monitored. I want to be informed the second there is any change – day or night,” said Maggie before she left the room.

The doctor stared down at Cameron. “Let’s see what that does for you.”

*~*~*~*

Spike didn’t realise that he’d been blinded until he surfaced from the river and felt the sun sear his skin without the darkness changing at all. He dived back underwater without even trying to empty his lungs. The stream was deep enough for him to keep moving with the current without the sun’s harmful rays reaching him.

Unwittingly, his movements took him closer to the Initiative’s retrieval unit’s search area.

*~*~*~*

The plane landed after taking what felt like an eternity to arrive in London Heathrow. Craig followed in his mom’s wake as she pushed her way through the other passengers, ignored the luggage carousel and reached the arrivals area. He was pleased that the customs men hadn’t asked to check their small bags as he wasn’t entirely sure that his mother would have obliged and not just tear them in two. The tension in her small body was palpable.

Buffy paused only long enough to locate the nearest car rental desk when they were through customs.

“A car. The best you have – something sporty,” she barked at the girl behind the counter.

“We have a—”

“I don’t need to know what it is as long as it has a powerful engine.”

“Oh…um…well, if you give me a moment I’ll draw up the paperwork. I’ll need your passport and driver’s licence please.”

Buffy handed both over and by the time the key was handed over she was pacing back and forth. Craig muttered thank you in apology as his mother stalked off without a word.

Considering that he was almost a foot taller than his mom, Craig had trouble keeping up with her as they strode to the parking lot to collect the car.

Nodding with satisfaction when she saw the car, Buffy opened the trunk and threw her bag inside, glancing at Craig to prompt him to do the same. She slammed the lid shut and climbed in behind the wheel. Craig had only just closed his door as with a squeal of tyres, Buffy drove the car out of the space and spiralled down the multi-storey lot until reaching ground level and setting off for their destination - the location of the Initiative’s research centre on the outskirts of London.

Neither noticed a black Range Rover following them.

*~*~*~*

Spike cautiously put a hand out of the water, bracing himself for pain, but there was none. Night had fallen and finally he managed to find his way to the bank and heave himself out. He coughed and retched several times as he expelled the water from his lungs. The night air held a hint of frost and Spike shivered violently.

Now what can I do?

There had been no more images of the boy in his mind and he began to think that perhaps he had imagined it after all. Why would he have been near a human child? It was an insane thought! Spike closed the lids over his sightless eyes and tried to concentrate on his sense of smell. As a tracker he’d barely missed being able to see once he had adapted to it. Now, after having had the luxury of sight, things seemed very different. For a start, he was alone. Vulnerable to attack from just about anything. He got to his knees and inhaled deeply. Unsure if the Holy Water had permanently damaged him, he tried to glean information from what he could detect.

The principle aroma was that of sheep and Spike’s stomach growled loudly. Beneath that though he could faintly detect human. Not the familiar stink of the ones from the Initiative but a fresh, clean smell. With no idea of what else he could do, Spike rose to his feet and walked tentatively towards it.

*~*~*~*

The first indication Cameron had that the vampire blood had had some effect on him was when he got pins and needles in his arms. At first he welcomed it but then it intensified to something just short of pain. He began to choke on the tube down his throat and his eyes watered as the doctor removed it and watched his breathing carefully.

By the time the tingling had stopped a couple of hours later, Cam could weakly move his arms and head. He still couldn’t sit up unaided but his breathing eased as he found his chest less rigid.

The doctor was assessing the extent of his returned feeling as Maggie walked in.

“Show me what you can do,” she said, staring at Cameron as if he were merely a piece of meat.

“Screw you!”

Her hand darted out and slapped his face hard enough to make it turn to the side. The doctor gasped and Cam slowly brought his head around to face her, his hand reaching up to touch his stinging cheek.

“I will not tolerate being spoken to in that way, child, and you would do well to remember that.” She turned to the doctor. “Tell me.”

“Um…well…he can now move his head, and his arms, as you can see, have movement although it is weak and his grip is poor. He can breathe unaided. As far as I can assess, the improvement stops just below his ribcage. He cannot sit up nor move his legs. I doubt that he will improve further.”

Cameron couldn’t prevent a tear from rolling down his cheek as his condition was so clinically mapped out.

“Can he use a computer keypad?” asked Maggie.

“I would think so."

“Good.” Maggie nodded curtly. “Get him transferred to a wheelchair. He can be put to use.” She turned on her heel and walked away.

“Please…” said Cameron, hesitantly.

“What?” She whirled round to face him.

“Can I have some clothes?”

Maggie laughed. “And there was me thinking that you’d ask me to allow you to go home. Pleased to see you’ve accepted that you’re mine now.”

“But...” Cam stopped when he caught the doctor slowly shaking his head behind Maggie.

“But what?” asked Maggie.

“Nothing.”

Maggie left and Cameron faced the doctor with renewed hope. “Will you help me?”

“No!” The doctor’s eyes widened.

“Please – at least get a message to my mom?”

“Out of the question!”

Cameron watched helplessly as the man dashed away.

Some time later two nurses arrived. A thick set middle-aged blonde pushed a wheelchair with a high back and a thickly cushioned seat. The other, a slimmer taller brunette, carried a hospital gown.

“We’re just going to get you into the chair. It will be easiest if you don’t try to help, okay? Just let us do it all.”

As they began to pull Cam to the edge of the bed, he said quietly, “My name is Cameron Evans.”

The nurses exchanged a glance before the blonde said, “Okay. Now, Cameron, remember just to relax and let us move you. We don’t need you to fall now, do we?”

Cam shook his head, and flushed as the brunette matter of factly handled his penis as she disconnected the catheter from the tube that led to the waste bag. Once in the chair, the hospital gown was put on him and the catheter attached to a tube that as far as Cam could tell, ran to beneath his seat. They wrapped a strap around his body just below the armpits and another at his waist, without which Cameron would have slumped forwards as he was unable to hold himself erect. The headrest of the chair sported a padded block at each side that the nurses explained he could rest his head against should he get tired. His limp legs were strapped together at the knees to prevent his feet from falling off the rests. Finally, they hooked up his intravenous drip to a stand attached to the chair.

Then they left him, without a word.

“Oh, Christ,” he muttered as he tried and failed to propel himself by pushing the wheels. He couldn’t grip tightly enough to be able to hold the rims and he knew that his arms weren’t strong enough to push them even if he could.

The chair looked like the type he’d seen quadriplegics in on the TV, only this one didn’t have any electric controls. He slid his hand beneath the gown and ran his fingers over his penis. The only sensation he got was from his fingers. The flesh felt warm and soft but not a part of him at all. Covering his eyes with his hands, he struggled not to weep again. He needed to be strong if he was going to get out of here. He needed to ignore the little voice that told him he never would.

*~*~*~*

The trip to the north end of Epping Forest had taken place in silence. It wasn’t until Buffy pulled the car up outside a large detached house that had a sign proclaiming vacancies for bed and breakfast, that she spoke.

“Get the bags out of the trunk.”

She handed Craig the car keys and swiftly got out of the car and walked up to the front door. The bell rang as Craig opened the trunk and picked up the two small bags. By the time he’d got to the door, Buffy was being shown inside by a white haired man, who stood tall despite being obviously in his seventies.

“Welcome,” he said. “I’m Maurice Carmichael. My wife, Dora, is out at the moment, but you will see her later, I’m sure.”

Buffy managed a tight smile. “Thank you. I’m Buffy Summers and this is my son Craig.”

Maurice extended a hand to Craig, who put the bags on the floor so he could take it and was surprised by the elderly man’s strong grip.

“Pleased to meet you, sir,” he said politely.

Maurice chuckled. “Sir! I haven’t been called that since I retired. Ex army – Sergeant-Major. Now, let me show you your rooms. I have a double room and a single room next door to each other – is that agreeable? How long are you planning on staying?”

“That sounds great,” replied Buffy. “I’m not sure exactly, but I’d like to pay for a week in advance if possible? If we need to stay longer, we will let you know.”

And if we leave in a hurry, you’ve been paid, thought Craig.

“Excellent!” declared Maurice. “You’re our only guests at the moment – the season is over really, but we keep the sign out there just in case.”

Maurice moved to get the bags but Craig shook his head. “It’s okay, sir. I’ve got them.”

This prompted Maurice to chuckle again and he led them up a flight of stairs to a narrow landing with two doors off it.

“The double is on the right, the single on the left. Both have en-suite bathrooms. Will you be requiring an evening meal?”

For a moment, Craig thought his mother would say no and he was starving, but to his relief she nodded. “Thank you, we’d appreciate that.”

“Any food allergies that we need to consider?” asked Maurice. “Our food tends to be typically English, quite plain but plentiful.”

“I’m sure whatever you serve will be fine,” replied Buffy. “We have no allergies.”

Maurice smiled. “So shall we say dinner will be ready in an hour? Come down when you’re ready. The living room is on the right at the bottom of the stairs, and you’re welcome to use that.”

“Thank you,” said Buffy.

The proprietor nodded and then left them alone. Craig turned towards the door of the single room, but was stilled by his mother’s hand on his arm.

“It’s okay. I’ll take that room. You can have the larger bed. Let’s freshen up. I’ll come to your room in thirty minutes and discuss what to do next.”

“Okay, Mom,” replied Craig, knowing she’d used the word discuss lightly – there would be no discussion – she would tell him what was going to happen and that would be that. He didn’t care. He just wanted his brother back, safe and sound.

*~*~*~*

“They’ve booked into a guest house called Windayle. Will keep them under surveillance until the next shift arrives.” The guard gave the address and directions to the house.

The man on the other end of the radio tried not to let the fact that the Americans had gotten to a location so close to the Initiative base, rattle him. They’d soon be a threat to security no more.

Spike tripped and stumbled as he followed the scent of the humans. His artificial knee joint had been damaged when he’d been trapped underwater and he was alarmingly unsteady on his legs.

The sound of a vehicle had him flinging himself on the ground, unable to see the white, shocked faces of the car’s occupants at seeing a naked man at the side of the country lane. The woman wanted to stop, to see if the man needed help, but her husband had noticed the strange reflection from the man’s eyes and pressed firmly on the gas, speeding away from the scene.

Panting as he waited for the car to go out of earshot, Spike then struggled to his feet and tried to regain his bearings. The scent of humans was now mingled with that of horses and Spike hoped that there would be somewhere he could hide. Close to exhaustion and unsure how far away dawn was, Spike badly needed to rest.

As he got closer, he heard the scurry of paws and a dog nipped at his legs when it got close. Spike staggered backwards, stumbled and fell heavily, winding himself. Suddenly the dog was on him! But instead of biting, it began to lick his face.

“Pack it in,” complained Spike, unsettled by the friendly welcome, even if only from a dog.

He pushed the dog away with one hand as he got to his knees and then slowly to his feet. The dog had a long thick coat and from the smell of it Spike guessed it worked with the sheep and was probably a collie. Stooping slightly, he put a hand on the dog’s broad leather collar and said softly, “Home, boy.”

The dog’s body swayed as it wagged its tail and began to lead Spike towards the house. The smell of raw meat greeted Spike as the dog took them closer to his kennel, and Spike bared his blunted teeth with a low growl as his hunger made itself known. The dog let out a startled yip and slipped free from the vampire’s grasp. Spike sank to his knees and ran his hands over the stone slabs trying to find the source of the smell. His fingers touched something and he growled again, drool escaping from the corner of his mouth. A bone. Uncooked. Full of marrow.

A bright light flooded the area, and a man’s face appeared at the window.

“Oh, my God!”

“What is it?” His wife went to the window and peered out.

Her hand flew to her mouth as she saw what her husband had spotted. A naked man, kneeling beside the dog kennel, licking at the bone she’d thrown out for the dog.

“Love, go and call that number,” the farmer said quietly. “The one the man gave us this morning.” He glanced away from the window to check that his wife had found the card with the number on. When he looked back, Spike had turned slightly and his face was now bathed in light. “What the hell are you?” he whispered. The eyes – dear God, the eyes! This was no escaped mental patient.

Spike became aware that he’d been sucking desperately on the bone for too long. The kennel must be close to the house and he needed to hide. Keeping the bone in his right hand, Spike stood and sniffed the air. The scent of horses was stronger now and he walked towards it. Sweet scented hay joined the smell of horses and Spike found himself at the entrance to a barn. He moved inside, climbed the bales of hay until he got the top, and then found a gap to hunker down in. Using his metal thumb he scraped the morrow out of the bone cavity, before falling into an exhausted sleep.

*~*~*~*

Thirty minutes after Craig had gotten in his room, there was a sharp tap on the door, it opened and Buffy walked in. For a second or two she stared at her eldest son. He was wearing only a pair of blue jeans and the scars across his disfigured elbow were plain to see. Her heart lurched as he reached out for a long sleeved t-shirt; he never wore short sleeves anymore, preferring to keep it covered. She’d failed to keep him safe and now his brother could already be dead.

Pushing down her despairing thoughts, she acted in the only way she knew how. To concentrate on the job ahead of her. To focus her anger and pain into something that she could use.

“Right, I know from what Jerry told us that the training base is in this area. Tomorrow we’ll search for it. There’s a large outdoor compound so it shouldn’t be too difficult to locate.” She sat in the only chair the room had.

“What then, Mom?” asked Craig, wishing his voice hadn’t had the slight tremor.

“I don’t really know,” said Buffy honestly. “I was hoping to get more details from Jerry but I can’t raise him on the phone.

“What if they see us? What if they panic and…” Craig couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“Then we’ll just have to make sure they don’t see us.” Seeing her son’s stricken expression she stood and hugged him. “We’ll get him back,” she whispered. Please God let him be alive.

Unable to really plan anything, the pair went downstairs and into the living room. A log fire crackled and a slim woman, looking a good few years younger than Maurice greeted them.

“Come in and sit yourselves down near the fire. It’s a chilly old night. I’m Dora, by the way.”

“Hello. I’m Buffy and this is my son, Craig.”

Craig nodded to Dora as he slumped down in the chair closest to the fire. He had felt cold ever since he’d seen the note supposedly from Cam, and he wondered if he’d ever feel warm again.

Dora left them with a promise to call when dinner was ready, and gave them directions for the dining room.

Dinner was a test of endurance for both Craig and Buffy. The Carmichaels joined them for the meal, and as a consequence conversation had to be made. Buffy pushed her food around her plate trying to look as though she was eating, but was heartened to see Craig tucking into the pork chops and vegetables with gusto.

The Carmichaels were good people and with Craig asking the right questions of Maurice, the older man soon kept them entertained with tales of his life in the army. Refusing a dessert, Buffy and Craig retired to their bedrooms. Both wondering where Cameron was and fervently hoping that he was okay.

*~*~*~*

The door opened and a man Cam had seen in one of the video clips strode into the room.

“Well, well, well, look what we have here,” said Mark with a smirk. “I take it you know who I am – what with decrypting the disks regarding Seventeen.”

Cameron nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving those of the man he’d seen torturing Spike. He cringed as much as his broken body would allow when Mark walked behind him and began to push the chair, twisting his head away as he felt the man’s breath near his ear.

“I’m the one who activated the spinal clamp,” Mark whispered. “I thought it might make you a little easier to handle! Worked a treat, didn’t it?”

The chair whizzed forwards as Mark laughed and gave it a hard push, letting its momentum carry it through the doors. The man caught up with the chair and pushed Cam along seemingly endless and identical corridors before they went through a heavy door that required Mark to use a plastic key card to open it.

“Professor Walsh thought you might like to see first hand what you discovered in our files.”

“No! No, I don’t,” said Cam desperately. “Please…”

His words trailed off as his eyes fell on a creature huddled in the back of a cell with padded walls and floor.

“Oh, Christ.” He turned his head away and sobbed with frustration when Mark cupped his chin and brought it back.

“Look at it, boy! This is the future!”

Cameron closed his eyes, but he knew that the image would never leave him. This was insane! This was science-fiction!

*~*~*~*

“What did they say, Jackie?” Brian asked his wife as she returned to the living room.

“They’re sending some people over right away. I’m scared! What if he attacks us?”

Brian wrapped his arms around her and hugged her close. “Shh, love. We’re safe in here.”

He didn’t add that if the creature out there had intended doing them harm, then the stout wooden front door would probably have done little to prevent it. Nor did he share his concerns that, what was currently chewing his dog’s bone like the savage it obviously was, most likely was a vampire. He’d seen the news items when they were shipped into the country. But they were supposed to be in London somewhere – so what was one doing, alone, up in the Peak District of Derbyshire?

An hour after seeking sanctuary in the barn, Spike startled awake when he heard the dog barking. He cocked his head on one side and then began to shake. A vehicle was approaching but not any vehicle. The engine noise was familiar – he’d heard it so many times before.

The transporter.

The barn doors opened with a squeak and Spike’s head exploded in pain.

“I guess the chip wasn’t damaged then,” stated the man in charge of the recovery, Riley Finn.

Jackie flinched at the terrible cries heard soon after the men arrived.

“Stay here. I’m going to take a look,” Brian said.

“No! They said to stay indoors!”

Shrugging off his wife’s clutching fingers, Brian went to the door. “I’ll be careful, love, but this is my land and I have a right to know what the hell is going on.”

At the back door, he thrust his feet into Wellington boots and pulled on his thick padded jacket.

Jackie ran to the kitchen window to try to catch a glimpse of what was going on.

Spike’s writhing took him to the edge of the haystack and he fell off it, just as Brian appeared at the doors. For a moment, Spike’s cries were cut off as the fall winded him so badly but soon they returned even louder than before. He curled up and cradled his head in his hands.

“What’s going on?” Brian asked Riley, unfazed by the man’s size and bulk.

Riley turned to him and pressed a button on the small plastic gadget in his right hand and to Brian’s astonishment the creature’s cries faded into harsh rasping sobs.

“Sir, you were told to remain indoors,” Riley said, scowling at the farmer.

“My land. I’ll do as I please. What the hell is a vampire doing running loose on my farm?”

Riley sighed. Containing this escapee was turning out harder than anticipated. He pressed the button again and Spike rolled onto his back, his screams echoing in the stillness of the night.

“That’s enough!” Brian grimaced. “He’s helpless.”

“Not so helpless that he wouldn’t try to drain you in a moment, if he had the chance,” replied Riley, but he cut off the pain chip’s shock all the same.

“I want a closer look,” said Brian, unable to resist seeing more of the first vampire he’d ever encountered.

Riley waved a hand. “Go knock yourself out.”

Moving forward cautiously, Brian peered down at the sobbing figure of Spike. Snot was running down the vampire’s face and his lips were drawn back in his distress.

“What’s happened to his teeth?” asked Brian, taking in the almost bare gums.

“Their fangs are clipped monthly, but this one still likes to bite so we ground them all down.”

Brian screwed up his face. “Sounds painful.”

“They’re not like us,” replied Riley with a shrug.

“Why are his eyes like that? No way are they natural.”

Riley snickered. “As if vampires are natural! The Goddamned things are freaking against nature.” He pushed Brian out of the way and brought his heavy boot down on Spike’s genitals.

Spike yelled and rolled onto his side curling up around the pain.

“Keep back. I’ll go get the chains,” ordered Riley.

A hand touching his leg caused Brian to leap a foot in the air. He glanced down and saw the vampire feebly clawing at his boot. The remaining guard was looking out of the door so Brian stooped and gazed down at the inhuman creature on the ground.

“Help me…please don’t let them take me…stake me,” Spike whispered.

“Stake you? You mean kill you?” Brian couldn’t believe he was having this conversation.

Spike nodded frantically. “Please! Don’t let them—”

His body arched backwards as another blast from the chip seared his brain. By the time he was once more aware of his surroundings, he’d been hogtied and was being carried out of the barn.

Brian watched as his collie dog, Moss, sneaked between the men’s legs and licked the vampire’s face before scooting out of the way of their feet. The men threw the vampire into the back of the van and Brian winced as he heard the creature cry out yet again in pain. Moss pressed his cold nose into Brian’s hand as the van sped out of the gates.

*~*~*~*

Cam wanted to look away, he really did, but he remained transfixed on the creature opposite him. It was different to the one he’d seen in the files. He had known there must be others. He just didn’t realise quite how much they could…vary.

As if becoming aware of Cam’s presence, although he knew that the glass didn’t allow them to look out, the creature moved to the front of the cell. It reared up until its front limbs were on the glass and then began to scream. Its face contorted and it banged its head against the glass until the skin on its forehead split open.

“Some of them don’t adjust so well.” Mark’s voice in his ear caused Cam’s heart to miss a beat.

“W-why do you do it?” Cam stammered.

The creature had given up now and gone back into the far corner, where it curled into a ball.

“Because we can,” said Mark simply. “When we discovered that infusions of vampire blood meant that any transplant would be a success, that none would be rejected by the body, we wanted to see just how far we could take the procedure.”

“I was given vampire blood. Why don’t they use it to cure things?”

Mark spun the wheelchair round until he was staring down at the ashen faced teenager. “Look how much good it did you.” He slapped Cam on his unfeeling legs and grinned. “You can barely make a fist. What if we needed you to move quickly again? Without the wheels?”

“Give me more?” asked Cam, his breathing becoming ragged.

“It would probably heal you eventually. We tried it, years ago, but it would take weeks, maybe even months before you were back to normal.”

Cam dropped his gaze.

“If we do that.” Mark waved to the cells. “Do you know how long it would take for you to be fully functioning?”

When Cam didn’t respond, Mark grabbed his chin and roughly brought his head up.

“A day. Twenty-four hours. That’s all.” He tapped Cam’s left temple with the fingers of his free hand. “And all this knowledge remains intact. We’ve discovered what to do to keep the subject’s sanity intact. These are the early ones. Amazing really. The scientist in you must be fascinated.”

“I’m gonna be sick!”

Cameron dry heaved several times. The blood he’d been given had long been absorbed into his system and the intravenous drip was his only sustenance. Mark chuckled as Cam wiped at his eyes with the back of his left hand.

“Best be moving on,” said Mark turning the wheelchair around and pushing it along the corridor between the cells. “The professor wants you to go to work for her.” At Cam’s slight shake of his head, the man added, “Just take a look at the last cell on the right and remember that Maggie can do to you absolutely anything that she wants. Maybe even a mate for this one, eh?”

He spun the wheelchair round so that Cam was facing the creature in the cell. Cam’s eyes widened in horror.

“No,” he whispered. “This isn’t real – it’s not happening.” He shook his head as rapidly as he could, hands trembling on the armrests of the chair.

“Oh, it’s real all right.”

The creature in the cell walked effortlessly to the front of the cell when Mark flicked the switch to make the glass transparent to its inmate. Her face was pretty enough that Cameron knew ordinarily would have had him half-hard and as he watched she winked at him and ran her fingers through her long dark brown hair. He moaned softly when her hands travelled lower, caressing her breasts, tweaking each nipple until they stood erect. She licked her lips.

“I think she likes what she sees,” said Mark, softly.

Her hands left her breasts and trailed their way to her waist where they fingered the raised scar that ran the whole way around her body. The pale white skin changed to dark chocolate and the contrast of her hands against her lower body was stark. Cameron gagged as she took hold of the large flaccid penis and arched her back as her other hand caressed the heavy testicles. Within moments, the glass was splattered with rivulets of semen as she brought herself swiftly to climax. She was licking the spendings from her fingers as Mark returned the front to opaque and pushed Cameron away.

“Lilah’s a horny bitch isn’t she? Always puts on a good show,” joked Mark. He leaned forwards and rubbed his hand over Cameron’s inert genitals. “Fancy swapping this for a fully functioning pussy?”

Cameron let out a sob and tried ineffectively to swat the man’s hand away. “Please…”

“Or maybe you’d prefer to become man’s best friend?”

Thinking back to the creature in the padded cell, Cameron’s vision greyed out and he thought for a moment he was going to faint.

The creature in that cell had been a large breed of dog – a deerhound maybe – all apart from its head. Cameron screwed his eyes shut and weakly clenched his fists. He’d never forget the sight of a man’s head attached to the body of a dog. For the first time, but he feared it wouldn’t be the last, Cameron prayed for death.

The journey back to London was uncomfortable for Spike, as he remained hogtied and crammed into the foot-well of the seat he usually travelled in. But he knew that it would be a damn sight more uncomfortable when he reached his destination. From time to time, Riley gave him a short blast of the pain chip. Just enough to make him spasm against the chains.

As they unloaded Spike, carrying him by the chains he was bound with, Riley bent close to the vampire’s wrenched back head.

“Man, if you didn’t like being a hunter – you sure as hell won’t like what’s in store for you now!”

Spike’s limbs cramped as he was unchained and then firmly strapped down into a chair in one of the surgical rooms.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” chanted Spike over and over again as they manoeuvred him into position.

“Too late for that now, buddy,” said Riley, slapping Spike’s face a couple of times. “Have a nice existence!”

Spike couldn’t see the little red light on the top of the camera facing him flick on capturing his image on film. But for a time, he gave a good show as he thrashed against his restraints and roared in desperation.

*~*~*~*

Cameron was visibly wilting by the time that he was wheeled into Maggie Walsh’s office.

“Well now, Cameron, what do you think of our facility?” She smiled at him.

He leaned his head to the right until it was supported by the head rest and closed his eyes momentarily. If he told her the truth would he become the next subject for her insane projects? Luckily, she didn’t give him time to answer.

“Take a look at that screen – you may see something rather familiar.” She turned a monitor on the desk around so that he could see it.”

He opened his eyes and gasped. He’d known it was true that Spike was still alive, yet seeing him again after so long affected him deeply.

“Why did you take him back? Why couldn’t you have just left us alone?”

“It was fascinating, observing a vampire living for all intents and purposes as a human. Loving and being loved in return. It was something that we couldn’t allow to continue. If the public knew that a vampire could act like that they would demand we close the facilities. Hell, there’d probably be a campaign for equal rights for vampires as long as they were chipped so they couldn’t harm humans!” Maggie leaned forwards. “I couldn’t see years of work taken away because of one vampire!”

Tears rolled down Cameron’s face as Spike struggled and screamed. “Stop hurting him!”

Laughing softly, Maggie said, “We’re not doing anything to him right now. Seventeen just knows that he’s been disobedient and you’ve seen what can happen to disobedient operatives, haven’t you?”

“Please don’t hurt him. Leave him alone. I’ll do whatever you want.” Cameron’s voice was becoming wheezy as exhaustion and stress took their toll.

“Funny, that’s exactly what Seventeen said, right after we snapped your brother’s arm.”

Maggie glanced up at Mark, who had remained silent, standing near to the door. “Take him to his quarters – the nurses will clean him up and put him to bed.” Her eyes returned to Cameron. “Sleep well, boy. There is much work for you to do tomorrow.”

To Cameron’s relief, Mark didn’t take him back to his bed the same way and so was spared the sight of the physically mutilated beings. He was too tired to feel embarrassed as the nurses efficiently moved him from chair to bed and proceeded to give him a bed bath. Despite his fears, Cameron was asleep almost as soon as he was left alone.

*~*~*~*

Buffy woke before dawn. She dressed and paced back and forth as she tried to decide what to do. Her cell-phone was lying on the bedside table and a glance at it revealed that she’d missed no calls as she slept.

What the hell is Jerry playing at?

Her blood ran cold and she pressed speed dial three, tapping her fingers impatiently against the wooden headboard.

“Hello, Buffy. How are you? Glad to be home with the boys?” Willow said, knowing who it was from the caller I.D.

Biting the inside of her cheek to keep the tears at bay, Buffy said, “I need you to do me a favour. Can you get onto the Internet and check something out for me, please?”

“Sure,” said Willow, resisting the urge to ask why. “Give me a moment.” After a few minutes she said, “Okay, I’m online. What do you need me to check?”

Buffy quickly told her to go to the news sites and see if anything came up from her home town. Willow got a hit right away.

“There was an explosion at a house. A man was killed. Jerry Lloyd. They think it was caused by a gas leak.”

Sitting on the bed, Buffy found herself unable to speak.

“Hey! Wasn’t Spike’s handler called Jerry?” said Willow.

“Yes. Yes, he was.”

“So what has this to do with you?”

“Spike’s alive and the Initiative have taken Cameron,” Buffy said, her voice cracking. “Oh, God, Will. They’ve got Cam and they killed Jerry!”

“Where are you?”

“The outskirts of London. Jerry found out that they had brought Cameron here. I’m going to get him back, Will. And if they’ve hurt him…”

“Sweet Goddess, be careful! You can’t do this alone! Why didn’t you call me?”

“I didn’t have time. Craig is with me. I’ll be careful.”

“I’m coming over!” Willow declared and Buffy almost sobbed with relief. The witch’s magics might come in handy.

She told her where they were staying and after thanking her, hung up. Buffy put on her boots and grabbed her jacket, then strode out of her room and rapped sharply on Craig’s door. It opened so quickly that she wondered if he’d been standing waiting for her to knock.

“Come on. Let’s go see what we can find out.”

Craig nodded grimly and the pair went outside to the car. The black Range Rover followed at a distance. They no longer needed to be so close as a tracking device had been attached to the car during the night. Now all that was needed was for an opportunity to arise to stage the accident.

*~*~*~*

Cameron was woken when the nurses returned. They worked silently to bathe him and set him back in the chair he already hated. He didn’t try to make conversation. Once he was strapped into the chair, they left him alone. His hands were still too weak to be able to propel the chair and he knew that this was as good as he was going to be allowed to get. His life was over. Had they already made it look like he was dead? Were his mom and brother arranging his memorial service? Glancing round the sterile white tiled room, Cam longed for his familiar bedroom, with its posters and books and–

“Stop it!” he said out loud.

He had to keep thoughts like that away. Lock them up with the memories of the mutilated creatures he’d seen yesterday. It was almost a relief when Mark came, smirk in place, to take him to wherever Maggie wanted him to be.

A relief until he was wheeled next to the contraption containing Spike.

“Spike!”

Cameron reached out to touch the vampire, but Mark pulled the wheelchair back so his fingers fell short.

Spike turned his head in the direction of Cameron’s voice. It had been a long time since he’d been called Spike. When Mark’s scent joined the strange one of the person who had spoken his name, he shuddered uncontrollably. Then he hissed, lips drawn back, revealing the worn down stumps of teeth. His body went limp as he raised his chin, exposing his neck in the ultimate vampiric gesture of submission.

“Spike! It’s me! It’s Cameron!” Cam glanced up at Mark. “Let me touch him.”

With a shrug, the man rolled the chair closer, and Cameron placed his left hand on Spike’s side. To Cam’s dismay, Spike flinched and a whimper escaped his lips.

“Why doesn’t he know me?” Cameron asked.

“I guess you just weren’t that important to him after all? Why should a vampire care about a human boy?”

Spike froze. Was this the boy he’d seen in that image? But that was just a dream or a trick, wasn’t it?

“I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere!” Mark said with a chuckle, when as ordered, he left the boy and vampire alone together.

Cam stared at Spike. In all the years that he’d been with them, his features were fixed as human and now the lumpy brow was present. But no fangs, not really any teeth left at all.

“Look at me, Spike,” said Cam softly.

The vampire snorted. “They turned off my eyes. I’m blind. Don’t think they’re going to let me see again. Not now.”

“Don’t you remember my voice?”

Spike shook his head. “You’re human. I can smell that. But you’ve never been my handler.”

“Concentrate! You lived with us. Me and Mom and my brother.”

“Vampires don’t live with humans. What test is this? I don’t understand.”

“It’s not a test, Spike! You need to remember!”

Cameron managed to touch the partially healed scar on Spike’s chest where he’d tried to stake himself.

“What’s this from?”

The vampire turned his head away. “Tried to stake myself,” he mumbled.

“Spike, I’m sorry,”

“What?” Spike whipped his head round to face him. “What did you say?”

Cam took his hand away from Spike’s cold flesh. ”I-I said I was sorry.”

Tugging at his restraints, Spike said, “You’ve said that before. You shot me!”

“I was only eleven,” said Cam defensively.

“It was real? I was in a house?”

“Yes, you lived with us for years, then they took you back and we thought you were dust.”

“You’re not one of them – so can you untie me? We can escape.”

“Um…I c-can’t release you—”

“So you are a part of this!” said Spike, confused by what must be false memories.

“No! I’m not. It’s just…I-I’m paralysed. I can’t reach to open them.”

“But…what I remember…you’re…”

“Yeah…it’s new. They did it to me. I was searching for you and they got me and brought me here. They’ve done s-something to my spine. I can hardly even move my arms.” Somehow his condition seemed scarier to Cam when he actually said it aloud.

“You were looking for me?”

Cam nodded then remembered Spike couldn’t see and said quickly, “Yes.”

Spike opened his mouth to reply but instead screamed as the chip fired in his brain.

“Spike!” Cam glanced around helplessly. “Stop it! Stop hurting him!”

Mark walked back in. “Time to go, kid.” Abruptly he wheeled Cameron away from the still howling Spike and out into the corridor.

“No. Please let me stay with him!”

“The professor needs your help. He’ll be fine.”

Inside the room, Spike lay panting as the pain faded.

“Cameron,” he whispered.

Another image ran through his mind. Another boy – older this time, injured, a man holding his right arm.

“No!” cried Spike as the arm was twisted and broken. “Craig!”

Watching on the monitor, Maggie scowled. The vampire’s erased memories were returning as she’d suspected. She turned the monitor off as the door to her office opened and Mark pushed Cameron in.

“Good morning, Cameron. How are you?” she asked politely.

“What are you going to do to Spike?” Cam asked as strongly as he could.

“Don’t worry about him. He’ll soon be much calmer. I’m sure seeing you helped him.”

Cameron didn’t know what to say. What did she mean? He was afraid to ask.

“I need you to do some programming for me. And before you even think about doing it wrong – just remember what we can do to you. Gunn will show you what to do. You will be expected to work for six hours per day. Mark will escort you to the office and back.”

“I want to see Spike each day,” said Cam. “Then I’ll do whatever you want.”

“That sounds reasonable.”

"Why can’t I eat?”

“Are you hungry?” asked Maggie.

“Um…no.”

“So why exactly do you need to eat? The drip gives you all you need.”

Cam shrugged.

“Take him to the office.”

“Yes, ma’am,” said Mark.

Cameron was pushed down more seemingly endless identical corridors and then taken inside the room. The walls were full of monitors and one side was made up solely of rows of computer memory banks. Sitting at the desk in the middle of the room, tapping rapidly on his keypad was a dark skinned man.

“Be with you in a minute – just need to finish this,” he said without looking up.

A few minutes later, he swivelled his chair around to face them and Cameron thought his heart would stop.

“Um…yeah, should have warned you. Sorry, man. I’m Charles Gunn but most call me Gunn.” He held his hand out to Cam.

It took a prod on his shoulder from Mark before Cam could bring his right hand out to meet Gunn’s.

“Cameron Evans – Cam,” he mumbled.

“Welcome aboard, Cam,” Gunn grinned, and for some reason the man’s cheerful disposition sickened Cameron more than if he’d been morose. “That’ll be your work station.” He pointed to a desk to his left.

Mark wheeled Cam where Gunn had indicated and made sure that Cameron would be able to reach the keypad. Just in case Cameron hadn’t put two and two together, Mark whispered in his ear just one word. “Lilah.”

Cam swallowed the bile that rose in his throat.

“So, this is what I need you to do.” Gunn rolled his chair over to Cam. “Look. Shall we just get it all out in the open from the start? My…condition. I was attacked by a vamp – damn thing tore me in two. Should be dead but they managed to save me.” He grinned. “Well, about a third of me, I guess. I’m no different from you really. Maggie told me how little movement you have.”

“But…”

“So your useless legs are still attached – does that make it any better?”

Cam shook his head.

“Damn, I miss my cock though!”

Gunn threw his head back and laughed as Cam’s eyes widened in horror.

“I tell you, man. I was hung like a horse!”

Squeezing his eyes shut against the image of Lilah’s small white hand firmly gripping that large black penis, Cam struggled not to throw up.

Gunn shifted his truncated torso in his specially adapted chair. “Sorry, I guess you’re only just adapting to your Johnson not working – not very tactful.”

“What do you want me to do?” asked Cam hoarsely, staring at the blank screen in front of him.

He wondered what Gunn would say if he knew that his lower half was currently attached to a pretty brunette and in full working order.

“Right, straight down to work. I get it. Want to impress on your first day.”

To Cameron’s relief, Gunn ran through the program that he wanted Cam to work on.

*~*~*~*

Two techs approached Spike and he knew it wasn’t going to be good. Hands roughly grabbed his head and strapped it into the brace. He began to pant in anticipation at the pain he knew was going to come. Electrodes were attached to his head, like they did when they needed to access his sight. He knew better than to ask what was going to happen to him.

*~*~*~*

“Mom,” said Craig slowly. “Don’t react, but I’m sure that we’re being followed.”

“What!”

“There’s a black Range Rover. It’s some way back but it’s there. I saw it yesterday too, I think.”

“Damn!” Buffy slapped the steering wheel with frustration. “That means they know we’re here.”

“So what do we do?”

Shaking her head, Buffy said. “I don’t know. I’m more used to worrying what a demon is up to than a human, and I haven’t had to do that in years!”

“We can’t search for the compound with them on our tail. We’ve got to lose them.”

Buffy glanced at her son. “You do know that that sounded like a line from an action movie, don’t you?”

Despite everything Craig grinned. “I know. But this proves a couple of things. We’re getting close to finding the place and that Cam is being held there.”

“Why does it mean that Cam’s here?” asked Buffy, looking in the rear-view mirror and seeing a black vehicle behind them.

“Because why would they do this to hide what was done to Spike? If we got too close they’d just stake him and deny everything! Cam’s here, Mom, and he’s alive!”

“I hope so, Craig.” Buffy leaned over and squeezed her son’s leg.

“Mom! Look out!”

As Craig yelled, the Range Rover ploughed into the back of the car, sending it forwards with a jerk. Buffy struggled to keep control as the Range Rover came up on the side.

Both occupants cried out as their car was rammed again, and this time Buffy had no hope of keeping the car steady as it spun wildly across the road and down a grassy bank where it impacted with two trees with a sickening crunch.

The Range Rover turned back and almost came to a halt, but continued onwards when a truck came up from behind. Not wanting to call attention to themselves they kept going. The hire car was barely visible from the road and they were confident that the occupants would be injured and so out of the picture for now. They radioed in what had happened and were ordered to return to base and that the relief squad would go immediately to the scene to make sure that the woman and son were taken out completely.

Chapter Seventeen

Buffy came to first. Pushing the airbag out of the way and wincing at the numerous pains it provoked. She turned to look at Craig and called his name. When he didn’t respond she came close to panicking, but took a deep breath and reached out to touch the blood slowly tracking down his face.

“Craig, honey,” she said softly, smiling with relief when his eyes flickered open.

“Mom?”

A low whump of a noise caught Buffy’s attention and this time panic wouldn’t be denied as a plume of smoke billowed out from the car’s crumpled hood.

“Craig! We’ve got to get out of here! Now!”

She wrenched her door open and ran around the rear of the car to get to Craig’s side. He looked at her vaguely as she yanked the door open.

“Unbuckle your seatbelt,” said Buffy urgently.

He was still dazed and his hands moved too slowly, so Buffy leaned over his lap to release the catch. Putting her hands beneath his armpits, she dragged him free of the wreckage. When they were only ten feet away the car burst into flames. The explosion caused Buffy to stumble and the pair fell heavily to the leafy ground.

Seconds before the car exploded a second black Range Rover drew up on the road above. The passenger reported the fire to control and stated that they would take a closer look just in case the targets had got out.

The Range Rover’s doors slamming shut after the Initiative’s men got out alerted Buffy to their presence and with her heart pounding against her chest, she moved further back into the cover of the trees.

“Craig! Wake up. You’ve got to help me!” She lightly tapped his cheek.

He opened his eyes and gazed at the burning car. “Wow. Car’s on fire.”

Oh shit! He’s got a concussion! “I need you to walk with me. If I drag you, we’re going to leave a trail. People are coming,” she hissed in his ear. “On your feet!”

“Feet…yeah…’kay.”

Craig staggered to his feet and would have fallen but for his mother wrapping her arm around his waist and supporting him. She began to lead them further into the trees, ears straining for any noise that might indicate the men had discovered them.

After an hour, she began to relax. Surely if they had been spotted they would have known by now. Even with Slayer strength, Buffy was tiring and she eased Craig down so that his back was leaning against the broad trunk of a mature oak tree.

She pushed his hair away from the cut and sighed with relief when she found it to be little more than a graze. A tender lump was forming where his head must have struck the side window.

“Ow!” Craig pushed her hand away. “Hurts.”

“How many fingers can you see?”

Craig blinked a couple of times, and then focussed on her hand. “Um…I can see two hands but I think only six fingers.”

“Oh, God. You need to get to a hospital.”

“Hey, Mom. I’m sorry, okay? Just joking. I know there was only three.” Craig smiled weakly at her.

“That is so not funny!” said Buffy, but her face broke out in a broad smile and they hugged each other.

“So what do we do now?” asked Craig, as they parted. “We have no car. Shit, I hope you paid the damage waiver.”

“I did, but I still don’t think they’re going to be that impressed. We need to get back to Windayle.”

“They could be watching it.”

“It’s a risk we’ll have to take. Our passports and money are there. With a bit of luck, they’ll think we’re dead. The only problem is I have no idea which way to go,” said Buffy

Craig shifted his position and dug a hand in the inside pocket of his jacket. “Always be prepared,” he said with a grin, and handed her a small tin box. “Remember when Spike got me this before I went to camp?”

Buffy rolled the tin over in her hands. “Yeah.”

She smiled at the memory of Spike finding it on the Internet and ordering it. Using her fingernails, she prised off the lid and looked inside. The tin contained a small compass, a multi-tool Swiss Army knife and a small pouch made of a piece of muslin tied with a gold ribbon. Buffy raised an eyebrow and poked at the pouch.

“What’s this?” she asked. “I don’t remember that coming with it.”

“The ingredients for a locator spell. Aunt Willow gave it to me – she said it would keep for a long time as all the ingredients are dried.”

“And there was me thinking I managed to give my sons a normal childhood,” said Buffy, shaking her head.

“Um…your best friend was a witch and then you brought a vampire home to be our nanny,” said Craig. “So I’m thinking normal’s maybe not the right word.”

Buffy frowned, “Locator spell? Why didn’t you say – we could have used it to find Cam.”

“I was only a kid when she gave me the spell. It’ll only find something of mine. You know like keys – stuff like that.”

“So how is a compass going to help us to get back to Windayle, if we don’t know where we are to start with?”

Craig took the tin out of her hands and said, “You really aren’t great with the magics are you?”

“Hey!”

“My passport is at the guest house. So I do the spell, which turns the muslin that the ingredients are wrapped in, into a map. Then using the compass we follow the map and abracadabra, we get back to Windayle.”

“So what are we waiting for?” said Buffy. “We need to get our stuff and move somewhere else as soon as we can. God only knows what they’re doing to Cam.”

*~*~*~*

Cameron took his hands away from the keypad and laid them on the armrests of his wheelchair. He let his head loll to the side until it rested against one of the pads and closed his eyes.

“You okay?” asked Gunn.

“Not really,” said Cam. “I miss my family and … and I hate being like this.”

“We’re your family now! You don’t need anything else. You’re just down, ‘cause you’re tired. There’s just one more thing I need you to do and then I’ll get Mark down here to take you home.”

“It’s not my home! I don’t belong here!”

“Hey, calm down,” soothed Gunn, his ever present smile not fading a bit. “Once they get your meds stabilised you’ll feel a lot more positive.”

Cam stared at the IV line running into the vein at the back of his hand. “What sort of shit are they pumping me full of?”

Gunn grabbed his hand as Cameron went to rip the line out. “Easy now. Leave that be. They’ll only strap you down ‘til you’re more rational. Don’t want that do you?”

Surprised at how strong Gunn was, Cam shook his head.

“So are you ready to do that final task?”

“Yeah, okay. What is it?”

*~*~*~*

Pain ripped through Spike’s head. Then his world was flooded with light. He squeezed his eyes closed for a moment then opened them slowly. They’d given him back the sight in his left eye, but he had no idea whether this would be a good or bad thing.

*~*~*~*


“I just need you to activate the program you’ve been working on,” explained Gunn, with a smile.

What the fuck are they drugging him with to be this happy when from the waist down there’s nothing there? Will I be like that soon?

Gunn nudged Cam. “Hey, man, are you listening?”

“What? Yeah. Sorry.”

“So what did I just say?”

“Um…okay. Wasn’t listening.”

With an eye roll, Gunn ran through the procedure again and as the teenager ran his fingers over the keypad and methodically pressed the required sequence, he switched on a monitor to the right of Cameron.

“Done,” said Cam. “Now what?”

Gunn nodded his head towards the screen. Cam’s eyes widened and his exhaustion was forgotten when he saw Spike in the picture.

“Why am I looking at Spike?”

“You’ve just set the program in motion.”

Cam shook his head. “No. I haven’t done anything to him. You said that the program was for clearing corrupted data.”

“It is,” replied Gunn. “He hasn’t been behaving as he should so he has to be cleaned out.”

Cam punched Gunn, who just grinned and said, “You might want to work on that upper body strength a little.”

“You tricked me! Maggie promised he’d be okay as long as I did what she wanted.”

“Oh, he’ll be just fine,” Gunn said, staring at the screen which showed Spike thrashing wildly in the chair, mouth open, as he no doubt screamed at the top of his lungs. “In a while.”

Raging impotently at being fooled into activating whatever was happening to Spike, Cam couldn’t take his eyes from the screen. After ten interminably long minutes, Spike’s body went lax as he fell unconscious.

Cameron’s head lurched forwards as his chair was abruptly pulled back.

“Time for bed,” said Mark.

The boy let out a startled yelp.

“Sorry, didn’t hear me come in? You didn’t even have the volume up, did you?”

“I want to see him!”

“Sorry, Cameron, no can do. You get to see him once a day and you’ve already seen him today.”

“Please…I’ve got to—”

“You have to go to your quarters,” snapped Mark, spinning the wheelchair around. “Hey, Gunn, how you doing?”

“I’m good. Though I’d appreciate it if my new work mate would lighten up!”

They exchanged a high five as Mark wheeled Cam out of the room.

After going along in silence, Cameron asked, tentatively, “He wasn’t really attacked by a vampire was he?”

“No. He used to work for a law firm. Wolfram & Hart. When you join there you sell your soul to the company. Wolfram & Hart were in debt to us, after some work we did in the early days, so we took payment in souls rather than cash.” Mark chuckled wryly. “I’m not sure that the employees realised that their souls could be passed on with or without still being attached to the body. Maggie wanted the whole package and so we got Gunn and Lilah and a few others, including the CEO. Did you see that glass orb on top of the filing cabinet in her office?”

“Yeah,” said Cam, quietly.

“Well, that contains the soul of the CEO.”

“What happened to the body? Is it down in those rooms full of experiments somewhere?”

“Oh, no. The soul is all that remains. The CEO was a vampire.”

“A vampire with a soul? There’s no such thi…” Cam clenched his fists. Angel! He’s talking about Angel! His mom had know the vampire. An ensouled vamp. The only ensouled vamp. “This place is evil! What you’re doing is wrong!” Cam tried to twist his head around to look at Mark, but couldn’t manage it.

“Gunn’s happy enough, and Lilah enjoys playing with her parts! You don’t hear them complaining.”

“They’re drugged!”

“Gunn is. But none of the ones in the cells are. No need to with them safely locked away.”

“Why has Gunn been left like that? Why not just give him his lower half back?”

“No need to,” explained Mark. “We needed his brain. As long as he takes his meds, he stays a happy bunny and works hard. Plus, it means if he ever tried to get out of the facility – he’d fail. There are steps out of all exits!” Mark laughed and leaned down to slap Cameron’s unfeeling thigh. “So now you know why I activated the spinal clamp.”

Cam tried to push the man’s hand from his leg but groaned in frustration as his arms just weren’t strong enough to achieve it.

“Please let me go home,” said Cam, futilely.

“Your wish is my command,” Mark said as he pushed the button to Cam’s spartan quarters. “Better get used to it, kid. The nurses will be in soon to put you to bed.”

Cam started as the door slammed closed behind him. When he closed his eyes, all he could see was Gunn. How had the man even survived with so much of him missing? He thought back to what Maggie had said. Vampire blood. That must be the answer.

*~*~*~*

Spike screamed and writhed. The pain in his head worse than he’d ever endured. But then darkness came and he welcomed it. He was no longer in the chair when he came around. Not that he remembered he’d been in the chair at all. The room he was in appeared large and Spike decided that he should explore it. Trying to stand, his head swam and he collapsed back to the floor, so he crawled along the side of one of the walls.

His head bumped something solid and he looked up, but scowled as he saw only a white wall some ten feet way. Cautiously, he reached out with his right hand and hissed when it touched something cool. Further exploration revealed that this invisible barrier existed across the whole width of the room. Deciding that it couldn’t be good, Spike scooted backwards until he was huddled in a corner.

It was an hour later when his messed up mind figured out that the wall was showing a reflection, that the room was really only half as large as it appeared. But for the life of him he didn’t know why he wasn’t able to see himself. He laid on his side, curled up into as small a ball as he could manage and waited.

*~*~*~*

The nurses came in to find blood flowing freely from where Cameron had ripped out the line in the back of his hand. His face bloody, where he’d used his teeth to tear it free when his feeble fingers couldn’t tug hard enough.

Wordlessly they began to clean him up. The blonde wiped his face, all the time avoiding his eyes and the brunette put an adhesive bandage on his hand.

“Why don’t you talk to me?” asked Cam in a small voice.

Exchanging glances, the blonde spoke up, “Orders.”

“Why? I’m here. I can’t go anywhere.”

She just shrugged and left the room. When she returned, she wiped his neck. The tang of alcohol reached his nose and Cameron jerked his head away.

“What are you doing?”

The brunette placed her hands on his, pressing them to the armrests of his chair. Cam struggled to no avail. His head was pushed to the side and there was a sharp sting as a needle was pushed into the vein in his neck.

“Please don’t,” he begged, but he may as well not have spoken at all for all the notice they took of him.

The line was reconnected to the shunt in his vein and then a broad collar was firmly fastened around his neck. Smiling coldly, the brunette released his arms and watched him expectantly. Without thinking, Cam reached up to touch the collar. A bolt of pain shot through his neck and his questing fingers. With a yell, he let his hand fall back down to his lap.

“You won’t be pulling that line out in a hurry, will you?” The brunette sneered at him.

She wheeled the chair around and pushed it to the front wall of the cell so that Cameron’s feet were almost touching it. When they had left the room the whole front wall became one huge mirror, and Cam baulked at the first sight of himself since his arrival.

His face was vampire pale with large dark shadows around his soft brown eyes and he’d visibly lost weight. But what his attention really focussed on was the chair. The straps holding his useless body upright. The narrow tube running from a bag suspended at the back of his chair, to where it disappeared beneath the collar, feeding him drugs that would do God knows what to him.

Another glance at his face made him see what he really was. The corpse for all intents and purposes of the person he’d been before. He wished that he’d never cared enough for Spike to go looking for him.

They’d finally made it. Windayle’s chimney came to view between the trees.

“Oh, thank God,” muttered Buffy.

For the last thirty minutes, she’d been worrying that Craig wouldn’t make it. He’d grown increasingly pale and had vomited a couple of times.

“What?” said Craig.

“That’s Windayle.” Buffy pointed towards the house.

“What if they’re there?”

“I’ll go and get the money and our passports. If someone is watching – I’ll make sure that they don’t see me.”

Although they’d left early that morning, dusk was already falling. Craig sank to the ground gratefully. He knew he’d held his mom back and terror ran through him with every pulse of his heart, as he worried that the time they’d lost today would mean that they’d fail to find Cam.

Ducking his head so Buffy wouldn’t see him blinking back tears, he said, “What will we do then? I can’t walk any further, Mom.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll work something out,” said Buffy. “Just stay still and I’ll come back for you, but…”

Craig looked up when she paused. “But, what?”

“If I’m not back in thirty minutes. Move further north and call the police, okay?”

“No, I’ll come with you, I can’t—”

“Craig,” said Buffy sharply. “Do as I say!”

“But—”

“I can’t risk taking you to the house with me. I can’t have them get their hands on both of my sons. You understand that, don’t you?” She knelt in front of Craig and placed a hand on either side of his face and looked deep into his troubled eyes. “I love you so much, and I’m sorry that being the slayer has meant your life hasn’t been as it should have been.” She kissed his forehead and gave him her cell phone. “I’ll be back before you know it.” Without giving him chance to reply, Buffy stood up and ran towards the house.

Craig stared after her, wishing he had the strength to get up and follow her. That had sounded too much like goodbye.

*~*~*~*

Cam couldn’t sleep. He wished the nurses had put him in the bed instead of leaving him in the chair, his toes almost touching the huge mirror that made up the front wall of his quarters. Each time he began to doze, his head fell forwards with a jerk that woke him up. Screaming with frustration, he tried in vain to turn the chair around.

“At least turn the fucking light out!” He yelled at the ceiling.

*~*~*~*

“He’s not settling in as well as I’d hoped,” said Maggie, as she watched the feed from the camera in Cam’s room.

“He’s a tough kid,” Mark replied, with a shrug. “Son of a slayer – he’s seen more than most.”

“Hmm…maybe we need to do something a little more drastic?” Maggie smirked.

“Shall I go get him?”

“Yes, we’ll do it tonight. Then he might be more useful tomorrow.”

A sharp rap at the door had them both turn to face it.

“Enter,” Maggie said.

The door swung open and two men walked inside. Maggie’s eyes narrowed at their nervous appearance.

“Tell me that you have them.”

The men glanced at each other before the taller said, “The fire service put the fire out, but it took some time as the undergrowth caught—”

“Cut to the chase, Haines,” snapped Maggie.

“Well…I’m sorry, Ma’am, but there were no bodies in the vehicle. We searched the area around the crash site but found nothing.”

“Nothing!” She stood up and marched around the desk to stand in front of the men. “Just why, exactly do I pay you?”

“Sorry, Ma’am,” they murmured in unison.

She turned to face Mark and nodded almost imperceptibly. He got up and walked to the door. “Haines, Gibson, best we leave the Professor alone, now.”

Smiling gratefully, the men walked through the door that Mark held open. Mark followed them out and without either man suspecting a thing; he put them on the floor with a shock from a stun gun.

Maggie pressed the intercom on her desk. “Get a clean up squad here. Two subjects to be taken to the labs.”

She went to the men, writhing feebly on the floor. “No one fails to do their allotted task.”

“Please…” gasped Gibson.

Mark kicked him in the face and he lost consciousness.

Two minutes later, the men were carried away to the laboratory holding pens.

“Get the boy,” said Maggie. “If there is the chance of the slayer being alive, we’d better give her something to worry about, eh?”

Mark grinned and nodded. “I’ll see you in the O.R. with him in ten minutes.” He turned on his heel and strode away.

With a sigh, Maggie went into her office and sat at her desk. It would be easier just to kill the boy and stake the vampire, but then she’d never liked easy.

*~*~*~*

Spike started as the mirrored wall in front of him slid open. He sat up and pressed his back against the wall, afraid of what might come inside. Two white coated men walked inside and for a moment, Spike’s attention was on their reflections rather than the men. Tilting his head, he wondered why they could be seen and he couldn’t.

His attention was brought back to the men when the nearest one kicked at his legs. “Stand up.”

Not knowing what else to do, Spike did as he was told and struggled to his feet, resting a hand on the wall to steady himself. For a long time before the men had entered, Spike’s head had been swimming with pain and it made standing difficult.

“Where am I?” he whispered.

A hand lashed out and hit him with a back handed slap that made his head hit the wall and his vision flicker.

“Shut up!”

He did. He didn’t know they would be the last words that he uttered.

“Hold out your hand,” said the man who’d hit him.

Spike glanced at both and shook his head. Whatever they were going to do, he just knew that he wasn’t going to like it. With a sigh, the man lunged at Spike and with an all too brief struggle, soon over powered the weakened vampire and pulled his arm out in front of him.

The second man stepped in close and injected a pale yellow liquid into Spike’s forearm. Spike panted nervously as the men simply smiled at him and let him go. Soon he was alone again. Ten minutes after they had gone, Spike was hurling himself around the cell, crashing against the mirror, time and time again, as an uncontrollable rage tore through him, and the pain in his head increased.

His inhuman growls and snarls echoed off the walls. Pain ripped through his mouth as his fangs grew back, much more rapidly than normal, and he lost all reasonable thought when he saw the specks of blood on the tiled floor. Pausing long enough just to lick it up, Spike resumed hurling himself at the walls; his head feeling like it was going to explode.

Maggie grinned as she watched the vampire’s reaction on a monitor in the O.R. “Just a little precaution if the Slayer manages to find you. Let’s see how much she loves a feral, insane vampire,” she said to herself. She turned away from the monitor as she heard the arrival of Mark and Cameron. “Now let’s screw with the bitch’s son some more.”

She stepped back to ensure that the boy had the opportunity to see Spike’s behaviour.

“What are you doing to him?” asked Cam, wearily. “Why can’t you just leave us alone?”

“What would be the fun in that?” Maggie replied. “Get him on the table.”

Cam offered no resistance as Mark got him from the wheelchair to the table and strapped his hands down. He closed his eyes at the fact the only restraints needed were on his arms. When he opened them again, his eyes went to the monitor. They widened slightly as he saw Spike attacking a man. The man, Haines, was trying to fight back but with Spike’s strength returning, the human was no match for him. Cameron looked away as Spike roared with triumph and bit into the man’s neck so savagely that he almost severed it.

“How could you love that?” asked Maggie, bending close enough for Cam to smell the garlic from her dinner on her breath.

For some reason, it struck him as funny and he began to laugh hysterically.

“Oh, for God’s sake, Mark, shut him up.”

Cameron’s eyes bulged as Mark rammed a ball gag into his mouth, stretching his jaw wide open and reducing any sounds to a low gurgle as it compressed his tongue.

“You remember why you came to be here?” asked Maggie.

Cam nodded.

“It was out of love for that creature.” Maggie pointed at the monitor. “Now that is just not normal, and we need to do something about these silly notions of yours. We need you to be like Gunn.”

Even with the gag in place, Cameron objected loudly and shook his head as rapidly as he could, his chest heaving with his panic.

Maggie stroked her hand along his lifeless limbs. “Don’t worry, Cameron, you’ll hardly miss it at all.”

*~*~*~*

Buffy stealthily made her way to the house, calling on all her long unused but not forgotten skills. The house appeared empty and only Dora’s small car was in the driveway. Hoping that the Carmichaels had gone out together, Buffy broke the lock on the back door and then paused, listening intently for signs that anyone had heard the sound of the wood splintering. Satisfied that no one was heading her way, Buffy stepped catlike inside and cautiously made her way upstairs.

Grabbing Craig’s rucksack, Buffy quickly found their passports and cash and put them in it. She glanced around the room to see if there was anything else that would be of use, but there was nothing. With a sad glance at her favourite high heeled boots, she tiptoed down the stairs and into the kitchen. She needed weapons. The top drawer revealed a set of stainless steel kitchen knives of varying lengths. She picked up the largest and held it out, gauging its weight. Nodding, she put it in the bag, swiftly followed by one with a two inch blade and another with double that. Her eyes fell on a wooden spoon and she picked it up and added that to her cache.

She’d just picked up the keys for the car on the driveway when the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as she heard the click on a gun’s safety catch being released.

“Place your hands on the counter and don’t move a muscle.”

*~*~*~*

Cameron was in danger of hyperventilating as Maggie placed her hand on his chest. “You really are a good person, Cameron. Your soul is pure.” She tapped her fingers lightly. “The trouble with that is it's always going to hold you back now that you’re working for me. I need to free you from that troublesome desire to do the right thing, from your conscience.

Shaking his head frantically, Cameron wailed.

“In return, you’ll get more vampire blood – you will heal some more.”

Mark stepped forwards and handed her a small golden disc which Maggie placed on Cameron’s chest. Pain ripped through him and his fingers clenched into fists. He prayed for death – how much more could his body take?

A brilliant light rose from his chest. Maggie used what looked like a handheld vacuum cleaner to suck it away from him. The pain receded as the light dimmed until it all was pulled into the device. With a glance at Cam’s face, Maggie walked to a table and put the nozzle of the device in the neck of a jar made of thick glass with a greenish tinge. Pushing a button, light flooded out of the device and filled the jar. Maggie quickly screwed on the lid and then held it up for Cameron to see.

“One, barely used, untarnished human soul – have you any idea how much this is worth?”

Cam couldn’t move – his emotions were in turmoil – he no longer knew who he really was. His eyes found the monitor and saw that Spike was covered in blood and gore and still tearing up the remains of the man. He tried to care – for the loss of the man’s life and for what Spike had been through, but all he felt was emptiness.

“Tell me what you’re feeling, Cameron,” said Maggie, pulling the gag from his mouth.

He worked his aching jaw for a moment before fixing her with a flat stare, but found he had nothing to say.

“You’ll feel better soon,” Maggie continued. “I’m going to make you sleep now and when you wake up, you should find some improvement.”

A prick in the back of his hand and Cameron’s world went dark. As the boy slept, Mark and Maggie went to work. Using technology acquired from Wolfram & Hart, they attached electrodes to Cam’s scalp and infused his mind with new skills. They’d used it to turn Gunn from a hot shot lawyer to a computer expert. With Cam, they infused the knowledge and skills of a top class surgeon. Like Gunn, they shut down the part of his brain that allowed him to feel strong emotions like love or hate. The only thing he’d truly care about would be his work. He’d also forget that he’d ever been taken from his room that night.

Maggie tubed vampire blood directly into Cam’s stomach. A surgeon was no good without fully functioning arms. She ran her hand over his sweat beaded brow.

“You’ll be happy now, my son.”

*~*~*~*

“I can explain,” said Buffy, quietly, resisting the urge to face the man behind her.

She heard the bag being shoved away from her.

“Turn around slowly, Buffy – if that is really your name,” said Mr. Carmichael.

“It is. Please, just listen to what I have to say.” Buffy turned to face Maurice.

“I have to listen to the woman who has just broken into my house? And was about to steal Dora’s car by the look of it. So why shouldn’t I just pick up the phone and call the police?”

“Maurice, Craig is hurt, he’s in the woods. We were in a car wreck.”

The hand holding the gun never wavered. “Why did you break in? Tell me – is it anything to do with the men who were here earlier?”

“They were here? Oh, God! I’ve got to get back to Craig. If they find him…” The colour drained from her face.

Maurice lowered the weapon. He believed in trusting his instincts and his instincts were telling him that although the woman was in trouble of some kind, that maybe she wasn’t the one in the wrong.

“I’m going to ask you one question and I want an honest answer.”

Buffy nodded. “Fair enough.” Now that the gun wasn’t on her, she could take the man in a heartbeat, but she was reluctant to do it, unless she really had to.

“Were the men that came here from that facility with the trained vampires?”

“Yes. They have my other son.” Buffy boldly held the man’s stare.

“In that case you have my assistance – if you want it?”

“That’s really good of you, Maurice, but things are going to get messy. I don’t want to put you or your wife in any danger.”

“They’re up to no good up there, I might be retired but an old soldier can tell when something’s off. Whatever they’re doing in there – it isn’t what they want us to believe. I’ll help you in any way that I can.”

“It’s too dangerous. I can’t ask for your h—”

“There’s no time for that now,” said Maurice. “I offered. Where is Craig? We need to get him to a safe location. Is he able to walk?”

Buffy saw the determination on the man’s face and made the decision to trust him. She quickly told him what had happened. As she was talking, Maurice busied himself getting supplies that he thought they might need. They walked out of the broken back door and instead of going to the car on the driveway, Maurice took them to a shed at the back of the property.

“Dora has already gone to our cottage. One of the men who came here recognised me, as I led a local opposition group when the place was being constructed. I didn’t trust them not to come to clear up the loose ends when they realised that their target was lodging with a known opposer of their organisation. They’d think we were connected even if we’re not.”

“I’m sorry that I’m causing you trouble.”

“Enough of that.”

He pulled open the door to reveal a quad bike. “It should be able to carry the three of us as long as you’re able to hold on tight enough to sit on the wing, so Craig can sit behind me. It means we can stay off the roads.”

“I’m stronger than I look,” said Buffy dryly causing Maurice to look at her quizzically.

He tied their bags to a rack on the back of the quad and climbed on. Buffy got on behind him and the bike roared into life when Maurice turned the key. Using the compass to guide them back to where she’d left Craig, she was off the quad before it fully came to a halt.

He wasn’t there.

“Craig!”

Buffy whirled around, eyes frantically covering the area, trying to find her son.

“Oh, God! Craig where are you?”

Maurice stepped closer to her. “The woods can be deceiving. Are you su—”

“Yes! I left him here! He was leaning against that tree.” She pointed to the spot next to its broad trunk.

Closing her eyes, panic rose in her chest. She’d lost everyone. Cam, Spike and now Craig. For a moment, she thought she was going to pass out, but then there was a loud crack and a tumble of leaves, followed by a low grunt. Her eyes flew open and there just eight feet away was Craig, looking paler than ever and struggling to escape the clutches of the branches surrounding him.

“Hi, Mom.”

He said it so calmly, that the panic inside Buffy coalesced into laughter as she hurried over to him.

“Are you all right? You could have been killed!”

Finally struggling to his feet, Craig said, “I’m okay.” He flexed his limbs to make sure. “Just a few bruises.” He smiled lopsidedly at her and winced as she pulled him into her embrace.

“What the hell were you doing in the tree?”

“Uh…Mom, you’re going to crack my ribs.”

“Sorry.” She let him go and smiled as she reached up to take a couple of leaves from his hair.

“I heard the bike and thought it might be…” He paused when he glanced at Maurice.

“It’s all right, son. Your mother’s told me everything. I’m here to help.”

Craig raised an eyebrow at Buffy. They didn’t usually get outsiders in on family stuff. The last case in point being Jerry and look where that had gotten them all.

“The Initiative had been to Windayle looking for us. Maurice found me when I got supplies and offered to help.”

Not sure that he was entirely satisfied with his mom’s explanation, he let it go for now. “Will that thing carry us all? I don’t want to hang about here too long.”

“It will,” said Maurice. “I’ve got a cottage that’s a good bit more secluded than the house. That’s where we’re heading. It’ll take at least an hour and that’s as the crow flies. If we took the roads it would be more like two.”

Craig stumbled a little as he stepped forward, but waved off any assistance. “I’m okay. Just got a headache.”

“Have you vomited again?”

“No, Mom. Quit worrying about me, okay?”

She stood on tiptoe and to his embarrassment, kissed his cheek. “I love you, honey.”

“Yeah, love you too. Now can we go?”

When they got to the quad bike, he eyed the bag on the rack. “Don’t suppose there’s any food in there is there? I’m starving.”

“Not too much wrong with you, lad, if you’re thinking about your stomach. If you unzip the front left pocket, there’s a chocolate bar or two. That should put you on,” said Maurice, smiling at him.

“Thanks. Um…Mom, do you want one?” he asked when he pulled them out.

“No. I’m fine for now. You have them.”

The journey to the cottage was silent. The roar of the engine made conversation impossible. By the time they got to the cottage, Buffy’s arms ached from holding on and Craig looked exhausted.

A light on the outside wall of the cottage illuminated their way up the path. When Buffy and Craig got off the bike, Maurice took it to the left and stowed it safely in a small garage.

“Come on. Let’s get inside,” said Maurice, ushering them through the backdoor.

“Maurice, there you are. I was getting worried.” Dora stepped into view and stopped short when she saw he had company. “Oh!”

“They need help,” Maurice said, crossing the room and squeezing her hand.

“Why?” Dora pulled her hand free and glanced at Buffy. “I’m sorry, it’s nothing personal.” She faced her husband. “It’s not our fight.”

“We can’t just turn our backs on them, Dora.”

“Er…I think I need to si—” Craig’s eyes rolled back and he crumpled to the ground.

“Oh, dear Lord!” Dora rushed to him. “You didn’t say he was hurt!”

She eased him into the recovery position with Buffy’s help and then asked, “What happened to him? We need to get an ambulance.”

“We were run off the road in the car. He was knocked out for a while. But—”

“Maurice! Call nine, nine, nine! A head injury?” She fixed Buffy with a hard stare. “How long ago was this?”

Fighting back tears, Buffy said, “This morning.” She stroked Craig’s face and his eyes fluttered open.

Dora turned to Maurice. “For God’s sake, man! Don’t just stand there. Phone for that ambulance.”

“No,” mumbled Craig, trying to sit up. “No ambulance.”

Placing a firm hand on his shoulder, Dora said, “Now you just stay where you are.” She glanced at Buffy. “I still think that he needs to be checked out.”

“Mom, please. I don’t want…”

“Shh, honey,” Buffy soothed. There was steel in her expression when she looked at Dora. “No ambulance. Not just yet.”

Dora shook her head. “But—”

“Please, Mrs. Carmichael. I’m okay. I just felt a bit weird when the warmth hit me.” Shrugging off both women’s hands, Craig sat up. “I just can’t be stuck in hospital when I don’t know what’s happening to Cam.”

“Cam?” Dora glanced at her husband and then Buffy. “So what exactly is going on?”

“Let’s get the lad up off the floor and sit more comfortably. I think this story needs to be told over some hot soup,” said Maurice, offering Craig his hand.

Craig took it and let him help him stand up. Aware of Dora’s gaze, he smiled at her. “I really am okay. Feel a bit embarrassed at fainting.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” She turned to Maurice. “Get them settled in the living room. I’ll be through with some soup as soon as it’s heated.”

“Thank you,” said Buffy, gratefully.

“Don’t thank me yet,” cautioned Dora. “I haven’t heard your story yet.”

“Dora!” said Maurice.

“It’s okay. She’s right. You need to hear the full story and if you don’t want to be a part of it, that’s fine. We’ll leave as soon as we can,” said Buffy. “We appreciate what you’ve done so far and some food would be great.”

Leaving Dora and Maurice glaring at each other, Buffy and a still wobbly, Craig went to sit by the blazing log fire.

“You really should go to hospital,” said Buffy, softly.

Keeping his eyes on the fire, Craig said, “Mom, I’ve spent too long in hospitals. I don’t want to go. I’ll be okay.” He glanced at her. “I need to be with you when you go to get Cam. It’s my fau—”

“The important thing is to get him back. I’ll decide which of you to yell at when we’re all together again.”

Craig smiled weakly at her. “Do you think he’s okay?”

“I don’t know. I hope so.”

Maurice and Dora entered the room, carrying trays laden with large bowls of steaming vegetable soup, crusty bread rolls and a teapot and cups.

“Here. We’ll eat and talk afterwards,” said Dora, firmly.

To Buffy’s relief, Craig’s colour visibly improved as he ate. She helped Dora to take the dishes away and when they were all settled in front of the fire, she began to tell them what had happened so far.

She told them of her life as a slayer, how Spike came to live with them, how he was taken from them, and of Cam’s hunt to find him. Dora gasped when she learned that the Initiative had kidnapped him and shipped him from the US to England.

Buffy knew that the woman would help them when she told of Jerry’s probable murder. By the time she’d finished, Craig had fallen asleep and was snoring softly.

“I apologise for my words when you arrived. I just—”

“You were protecting your family,” said Buffy. “I understand that. And I am sorry that we stumbled into your life and disrupted it like we have.”

“I think we all need to get some sleep,” said Dora. “Maurice, can you put the camp bed up in the spare room.” She looked over at Buffy. “The cottage has only two bedrooms and I think that Craig needs to be woken several times during the night, to make sure that his head injury isn’t getting worse. If you can’t rouse him, wake us and dial the emergency services.”

“Thank you, Dora. For everything.”

Dora followed Maurice out of the room to help make the bed up and Buffy shook Craig to wake him.

“Come on, sleepyhead, time to go to bed.”

Craig yawned and blinked blearily at her. “Oh, sorry. I fell asleep.”

“How are you feeling?”

His grin lightened her heart. “Like I was in a car wreck and fell out of a freaking tree. Doh!”

“How did you even get up there?” Buffy laughed softly.

“You don’t want to know. With the concussion and my arm, it wasn’t easy.”

The mention of his injured arm cut her to the quick. She’d never forgive herself for the fact that he got hurt.

Seeing the sadness in her eyes, Craig stood up, crossed the room to her and knelt at her feet.

“Mom. Everything is going to be all right.”

She had no idea how she stopped herself from crying when he said that. Her beautiful son, maimed and his dreams in tatters. His brother missing and could be dead.

“I know it will.” She kissed his forehead. “Let’s get some sleep and then we can decide on our plan in the morning.”

Together they climbed the steep narrow staircase to where the Carmichael’s had just finished preparing their beds. The four said their goodnights and retired for the night.

*~*~*~*

Cameron opened his eyes with a groan. He felt like he’d been asleep for a week. Pushing himself upright, he grinned as he realised that his condition wasn’t as bad as it had been. Staring optimistically at his legs, his smile dimmed when all he could do was very slightly wiggle his toes. The wheelchair was close to his bed and for the first time, it had some clothes on it. A pair of loose fitting pants and a button down shirt. He was sweating with effort by the time he’d managed to thread his uncooperative legs into them, but the fact that his arms were strong enough to do it had him smiling again.

Unsure what to do about the catheter on his penis, he simply disconnected the tube, pleased that there was no urine being expressed at the time, and then threaded it through the fly in his pants before reconnecting it. He’d just done up the buttons on his shirt when the nurses arrived.

“Morning,” he said brightly.

“Someone is feeling better,” said the dark haired one.

“Yeah. I slept like a log and my arms are much stronger. I can even wiggle my toes. Look.”

The nurse squinted as she tried to see the almost imperceptible movement. She resisted telling him that he ought to keep quiet about that, as she knew that the professor wouldn’t allow him to walk.

“Do you want me to show you how to get into your chair safely?”

“Please. It’ll be so much better being able to do it myself.”

She shuddered. This drug-induced perkiness was downright creepy. “Okay. You need to get the chair like this.” She pushed it into position. “Make sure you have the brake on, then put your hand on the arms and lift yourself on.”

With a grunt of effort, Cam made it smoothly. He smiled up at her. “Hey, I don’t need those straps on my chest anymore.”

The blonde spoke for the first time. “I need to check your lines, now. Just need to make sure you haven’t dislodged them.”

“Okay.” Cam stared at her boldly as she opened his flies. “Wonder if this’ll start working again? Maybe if you play with it some?”

“Enough of that talk!” snapped the nurse, rolling her eyes at her colleague.

Whatever shit they gave them in the fluids, seemed to make them all act the same – assholes! She decided that she preferred the scared to death, miserable kid he’d been yesterday. At least now that he was more mobile, they wouldn’t need to be around him so much.

“You know, I could rip it clean off and you’d never feel a thing?” she said as she unceremoniously shoved it back into his pants and zipped the fly halfway.

To her satisfaction, Cam paled a little and dropped eye contact. The line in his neck vein was fine, protected as it still was by the collar. She reactivated it after she’d checked it.

“Mark will be here for you soon.”

With that, the two nurses walked out of the room. Cam pushed himself to the door but to his dismay found that he couldn’t reach the button to open it. He amused himself by pushing himself around the small room, relishing the fact that he was mobile again. Glancing at his legs, he found that he didn’t really care if he never got any better. This was fine. He knew he’d be useful.

Mark arrived and stared at the boy. “Heard you were mouthing off at the nurses. I don’t want to hear that again.”

“It was only a bit of fun – hell, they play with my dick more than I do.” Cam grinned. “Are we going now, or what?”

“Christ, you and Gunn are a right pair...” muttered Mark. “Can you push yourself today, or do you need me to?” he said more loudly.

“I can do it.”

To prove his point Cam whizzed past Mark and headed out into the corridor, evidently remembering the way to go. Mark shook his head and followed him.

Five minutes later they were in Maggie’s office.

*~*~*~*

Spike curled up into a ball and moaned piteously. The pain in his head was coming back. He raised his head just enough to see the remains of the human he’d killed earlier. He wasn’t sure how long ago it was, all he knew was that when he had killed the pain had gone away.

Now it was back.

He couldn’t stay still. Roaring with pain and frustration, he leapt to his feet and began to attack the mirrored wall, knowing that it would do no good, but unable to keep from doing it.

After a time, with blood pouring from where he’d split his head open after repeatedly head-butting the wall, he turned his attention back to the dismembered corpse. He wasn’t really hungry, but when he’d fed the pain had gone away. Dropping to all fours, he rummaged about trying to find something to appease the pain. He’d eaten the spleen, heart and liver, so he snapped one of the leg bones in half and sucked at the marrow.

Nothing changed.

With a scream, he threw the limb to the far corner, and then resumed his attack on the walls, stopping only when the combination of agony and exhaustion put him on his knees.

The door slid open.

Spike raised his head and bared his fangs, a low feral growl rumbling in his throat.

“No! Oh, please God! No!”

Gibson’s eyes showed rings of white around his irises in his terror at the sight of the naked and bloodstained vampire, and his lips moved rapidly as he whispered a prayer.

Spike lunged for the naked human, but the guard was quicker and a well aimed stream of Holy Water from a powerful water pistol, hit Spike in the face, causing him to cry out and retreat to the back of the cell.

Another guard pushed Gibson in as the first kept him covered. This time instead of letting the man go, he was strung up by his bound wrists from a hook in the ceiling.

“Hurry up, Jordan,” said the guard holding the pistol. “Get him secured and let’s get out of here.” He turned to Spike. “Word to the wise, Seventeen. The longer he lives and hurts – the longer you’re pain free.”

“Does it even know what you’re saying?” said Jordan, making for the door.

“Who knows, but it’ll save us a few bodies if it susses it out quickly.”

Spike rose slowly to his feet, staring from the guards to the bound man and back again.

“Enjoy your dinner.” The pistol toting guard sneered. “Hey, Jordan, see how he likes this.”

Laughing he pointed the pistol at Spike, but the pain clouded the vampire’s judgement and he didn’t duck away. Not until the Holy Water hit his abdomen and dripped down his body. With a howl, he lunged for the door, but Jordan had slammed it shut as soon as the other guard stepped out and Spike hit the door hard enough to make him see stars.

Gibson continued his litany of prayer, but when Spike tilted his head and regarded him as steam still rose from where the water had sizzled, he could no longer form words.

As Spike stepped closer and smirked, tongue caressing the upper left fang, the naked man lost control of his bodily functions. Spike leapt back as urine splashed at his feet, fearing it would sting and burn like the other liquid had. Tentatively he dipped a toe in it and when nothing happened, he moved in closer. The pain in his head already easing as it was fed by the terror of his soon to be victim.

“Good morning, Cameron,” said Maggie Walsh, stretching her pinched features into a smile. “How are you feeling today?”

“I’m good thanks.” Cam wheeled his chair to the desk. “I’m just impatient to get to work. I can’t believe this accident made me miss so much time. You must be getting behind with the experiments.”

Maggie and Mark exchanged smug looks. Damn, those techs could mess with minds.

“You’ll be back to work today; if you’re sure you’re up to it?” Maggie replied.

“Yeah, can’t wait to get back. Might need the arm rests taken off the chair though, so I can get in close enough to reach over the table,” Cam said. “What’s scheduled for surgery today?”

“I just need you to look over some of the past projects and see if you have any suggestions.”

Cam grinned. “So what are we waiting for?”

“Mark, take Cam to the holding pens.”

“Sure thing, Professor.”

Mark put his hands on Cam’s chair.

“I can do it,” snapped the boy. He nodded at Maggie and wheeled himself out of the room, pausing only for Mark to open it for him.

“So what am I going to see first?” asked Cameron as they made their way to the pens.

“We need you to observe a vampire.”

“Cool,” said Cam, showing boyish enthusiasm. “I love messing with vamps.”

They’d removed his soul to get rid of his pesky conscience but the input of the surgical knowledge meant that they’d had to give him memories of past experiments. So it seemed to Cam that he’d performed them himself. It would be quite a test of the technician’s skill if he was happy to use Seventeen as a subject given his previous connection with the vampire.

“Then I think you’ll enjoy this one.” Mark grinned.

At the outside of Spike’s cell, the pair stopped and Cam spun his chair around to face it.

“So what’s the low down on this thing?” asked Cam, his face wrinkling with distaste at the sight before him. “Who’s the toy?”

“That’s Gibson. Well what’s left of him,” said Mark.

“The fucker who put me in the chair?”

“That’s right.” Mark’s satisfied smile at another lie successfully implanted was hidden from Cam as he stood slightly behind the chair.

“Good.”

“So the vampire was a tracker?” said Cam, regarding Spike with clinical detachment. “An early one, given that both eyes were taken.”

“Yes, that’s right. We’ve only given it the sight of one eye right now though.”

“So why is it here?”

“It rebelled and escaped. Should have been retired years ago, its knee was screwed, but it got re-trained.”

“I think it’s enjoying itself too much,” said Cam, as Spike bit into the weakly struggling man’s thigh, tapping the femoral artery.

“We’re re-honing its killing instincts. It has spent a long time with its aggression curbed. Now if it’s not inflicting pain – its head hurts.”

“Well, give it night vision only. The added pain from being in a bright environment will keep it aggressive. What are Maggie’s plans for it?” asked Cam, twisting so he could see Mark’s face. “I can’t remember anything about this one.”

“It came in while you were unconscious.”

“So what’s she need it like this for? It’ll be uncontrollable.”

Mark took a deep breath. He glanced at the camera up near the ceiling before answering him, knowing Maggie was watching and listening.

“We’re pretty sure the retired slayer is going to come here – the vampire is our weapon of choice.”

Frowning, Cam said, “My mother? She’s going to come here?”

“We think so. She wants to take you home.”

“This is my home. Where was she when I needed her after the accident? It was the professor who was there for me – not her. Half my childhood, she palmed me off on…” Hesitating, he stared at Spike, trying to remember something that was just out of reach.

“On what?” prompted Mark.

“On anyone she could have. No wonder Dad left us.”

Mark winked at the camera. The kid had passed. His memories of his mother were suitably warped. Maggie would be pleased that the money spent on embedding the surgical knowledge wouldn’t be wasted. Cameron was here for good.

“So what do you want to do with the vampire, Cam?”

“Like I said. Get rid of the normal vision. It can be accessed remotely, can’t it?” Mark nodded. “Oh, and make sure the techs paralyse the eyelids to keep them open.”

“Won’t that cause permanent damage to its ability to be able to see?”

“Probably,” said Cam, with a smirk, “but we’ve got the other eye to play with. I want it fitted with the most up to date eye you have in the other socket.”

“Sure thing. Should I get the techs to switch the mode of vision when it’s on the table having the new eye fitted?” asked Mark.

Cam shook his head. “No. It’ll hurt like hell and I want to see it.”

“Oh, okay.”

Mark shook his head slightly at the change in the boy. He knew it had to be done, and he’d seen it done plenty of times before, but the contrast in this case was extreme. Using a radio, he passed Cam’s instructions on to the team of techs, and then stood back to watch the show.

*~*~*~*

Spike licked the wound to seal it and glanced up at the food hanging on the hook. It didn’t make much noise anymore, but its heart still beat, albeit erratically. He scored the thigh with one of his fangs, leaving a neat incised cut that slowly seeped blood. The food twitched, and he grinned. The pain was gone. The fury that had prompted him to bash against the walls was reduced to the extent that he was able to ignore it. Just biting or breaking one of the food’s limbs quelled it if the rage returned.


The light in his eye intensified, until it seared. Screaming, Spike tried to close his eyelids, panicking when he couldn’t. It took several seconds before his muddled brain could work out what to do. He dropped his head to the floor and curled up, wrapping his hands around his head to blot out the light.

Cam smiled. “I don’t think it liked that. Take its food away and leave it for two hours before letting the techs take it away.”

They watched as the suspended body of Gibson was hauled up through a hatch in the ceiling. The vampire, distressed by the pain from its eye, didn’t react until it was too late. With a roar, it leapt up and tried to grab the feet of its food but it missed. Howling with rage, Spike clawed at his temples, drawing blood on the skin already seared by the Holy Water. Then as quickly that he got up, he retreated to the corner with his arms covering his eyes.

“I want to be the one to work on it,” said Cam, once it became clear that the vampire wasn’t going to be moving anywhere for a time.

“No problem. Now, Maggie wants you to look over the others and let her know if you think further work needs to be done.”

“Cool!” For a moment, Cam looked like the teenager he was as he grinned up at Mark.

*~*~*~*

The first thing that Craig saw when he woke was his mother’s face peering anxiously at him.

“How are you feeling?”

Smiling, he sat up. “I haven’t been awake long enough to know yet.”

“Well, you look better than you did last night.” She took his hand and squeezed it.

“Thanks, Mom. I think I do feel better.” His fingers explored the lump on his forehead, and he winced. “That’s still sore though. Good job I’ve got a thick skull, huh?”

Placing a gentle kiss on his brow, Buffy laughed softly. “If you’re making jokes, you must be feeing okay.”

They stared at each other for a moment, before Craig broke eye contact and said quietly, “Do you think he’s still alive?”

“He has to be.”

A tap at the bedroom door interrupted them. “Buffy? Craig? Dora’s making some breakfast – it’ll be ready in fifteen minutes.”

“We’ll be down. Thank you,” called Buffy.

“So it looks like they’re going to help us,” said Craig. “You said he found you in the house?” He raised an eyebrow. “Losing your touch, Mom?”

“I never heard him at all,” Buffy said ruefully. “But at least it got us a safe place to stay.”

“I don’t like it though. We’re best when it’s just us. How do we know we can trust them?”

“I hear what you’re saying, but I think this is too big for us to do alone.”

Craig got out of bed, pulling his jeans on over his boxer shorts as he said, “Don’t you think it’s all a bit of a coincidence? We just happened to stay at a guest house whose owner is anti-Initiative? What if they’re a part of it all?

“Craig, we’ll just take it step by step. We’ll tell them only what we have to. But I honestly feel that they’re genuine.” She handed her son his shirt. “Now, let’s go down and eat. We need to work out where we go from here, and Willow should be arriving in London soon.”

Nodding his agreement, Craig put the shirt on, and together they went downstairs.

The Carmichaels were in the kitchen, and Craig’s face lit up when he saw Dora taking bacon out of a frying pan.

“Wow, that smells good,” he said, sitting down at the table when she indicated he should with a wave of the spatula.

“How’s the head?” she asked, beginning to pile scrambled eggs, bacon, and sausage onto plates.

“It’s fine, thanks. Sorry for all the hassle I caused,” he said, fiddling with the knife and fork on the table.

“Don’t be silly,” she said. “You had a bang on your head, a long hike and then an hour on the back of the quad! I’m surprised you lasted so long.”

“What would you like to drink?” asked Maurice. “Tea? Coffee?”

“I’ll have coffee, please,” said Buffy.

“Tea for me,” said Craig. “Spike got me to like it.”

“Spike being the vampire we talked about last night?” said Maurice.

Craig glanced at Buffy before answering. “Yeah. I don’t know what Mom told you about him, but he was a better man than my dad was. I know you probably won’t understand, but I loved him.”

Buffy’s eyes filled with tears as Craig spoke, recalling his harsh words from not so long ago when he’d said he wished Spike had never lived with them. She wanted to correct the tense from past to present, but she honestly couldn’t believe that they’d let Spike live after kidnapping Cameron. A shudder ran through her. Please let them have dusted him and not sent him to the retirement sheds.

“I do find it hard to understand,” said Maurice. “The adverts on the TV that have aired have shown vampires to be little more than trained animals – something akin to a dog. Yet he lived as family with you?”

The drinks made, he put a cup on the table in front of each person and sat when Dora passed out the plates. They were silent for a time as they began to eat.

“He was my lover,” said Buffy, causing the Carmichaels to choke in unison.

Craig laughed at their shocked faces, and Buffy thought sadly, how long it had been since she’d heard him do it.

“I’m sorry,” said Buffy, smiling. “But I thought it was better out in the open. Craig’s right. Spike was a better man than most. I intervened when his handler told me they were going to retire him – and trust me when I say that what happens to retired vamps isn’t conversation to have while eating – I should have done it years before.”

“Why?” asked Dora. “I’m not trying to be awkward – but why intervene with this particular one? Surely you encountered many vampires when you were an active slayer – both in and out of the Initiative.”

Nodding, Buffy said, “I did. But a long time ago, before the Initiative was formed, and when I was the sole slayer, he helped me save the world.”

Craig smiled as he saw the Carmichael’s digest that fact.

“Good God,” said Maurice, reminding Buffy of the late Rupert Giles. “Why on earth would a vampire help a slayer?”

“It’s a long story,” said Buffy, and as they ate, she told of Spike’s aid in defeating Angelus.

*~*~*~*

The pain was back.

Spike’s cries began as whimpers but as the pain increased his rage increased with it and soon, despite the pain in his eye, he started to attack the walls again. By the time the techs came to get him, he could barely stand.

A shock from the stun gun put Spike on the floor and he was rapidly taken to the lab for treatment. His head was fastened into a brace and on Cameron’s instructions, Spike was given no anaesthetic.

Mark watched in fascination as the teenager scrubbed up for the procedure. Normal surgical hygiene was observed so that no time was lost to infections that even in a vampire might result in several days out of action. After Cam had scrubbed up, he smiled as he touched the control joystick of the electric wheelchair that had been sterilised for him to use while operating. It was hard to take in that this would be the boy’s first operation. But to Cameron, it was as routine to him now as breathing was. His imported knowledge led him to believe he’d operated many times.

As Cameron approached, Spike growled, struggling against the restraints. The vampire’s panic and fury increased by the fact he was now blind, the vision in his left eye burnt away.

“Gag it,” ordered Cam.

He wheeled back a little to allow a couple of techs to ram a metal ball gag into Spike’s mouth. It was small enough to fit comfortably behind his fangs, but pulled back so tightly that it provoked the gag reflex, as it pressed on the back of his tongue.

Waiting for the vampire’s retching to settle, Cam studied it carefully. He reached out but didn’t touch a scar on the vampire’s chest. For a moment he thought he remembered something about such a scar, but then it was gone.

“Okay, show me the selection of eyes,” he said.

A tech came forward with an array of eye shaped cameras, all sterile and ready to use. After a pause, Cameron selected a vivid blue one. The lens of the camera so tiny that the eye looked normal. It amused Cam to put such a human looking eye into a demonic visage.

“We’ll put it in the right eye socket. The left is ruined. The pathway to the brain is gone. Just find a matching eye without any of the tech stuff in it,” said Cameron, carefully dissecting away the camera in Spike’s left eye.

He could have just left the socket empty but he liked things to look neat and tidy.

“The only blank eye we have is two shades lighter than the camera eye – will that be alright, sir?” asked a tech timidly, she knew whose memories had been used and old Knapton had been a perfectionist. “They won’t have a match for two days.”

With a sigh, Cam stared at the still struggling vampire. Would it really matter what colour its eyes were when it was unleashed against the slayer? He refused to think of that uncaring bitch as his mother.

“It’ll be fine. We’ll be picking them out of a pile of dust soon enough.”

The latest models could survive the vampire dusting, unlike the early ones.

Spike passed out as the camera eye was fitted. For the first time the techs had come up with an eye that could be attached so that it could be moved from side to side almost like a real eye. The left would remain immobile – no reason to go to the trouble of attaching it when there was no vision in it.

When the surgery was complete, Cameron leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms out.

“Boy, that’s made me ache,” he said. “Glad to be back on the job though.” Glancing at Mark, he added, “I want to do something else – it’ll make it even more lethal.”

“You don’t need my permission,” said Mark. “What do you want to do?”

“I think I know how we can improve the fangs – elongate them a little.”

“Really? How’d you know that?” blurted Mark, not thinking it through.

Scowling, Cam shook his head. “Not sure. But I want to try it. It won’t take long.”

He manoeuvred the chair to a refrigerator on the far wall and took out a small vial. “Gemma, change the gag for a bit gag – one coated with rubber.”

Nodding, the tech did as bidden. Then Cameron approached the vampire once more. Drawing up a millilitre or so, with a fine gauge needle, he injected the gum just above the top left fang. Even unconscious as it was, the vampire’s body shuddered.

“Jeez,” muttered Mark, stepping back a pace as the fang almost doubled in length, and inclined forwards slightly.

Cam laughed. “I knew it would work!”

Within minutes, all four fangs were longer than they should be. The gag was taken out and Cameron eased the vampire’s jaw shut. The fangs now protruded from the lips when the mouth was closed, but didn’t interfere with the way the other teeth meshed.

“That’ll make its bite deeper and even more lethal.” Cam replaced the bit gag and looked up at Mark. “Best keep it restrained until you need it – unless it gets fed. Don’t want it thrashing about and damaging the hardware.”

“Sure thing.”

“I’m going to write up my notes and then go have a nap. My arms and back are aching. I don’t want to set my recovery back. But any problems with it and I want to be told immediately.”

*~*~*~*

Spike came to with a start. He hissed and bared his teeth as his fangs nicked his lips. The pain was there in his head. But other pain too. In his eyes. His mouth. Trying to rub them, he growled and snarled as he discovered he was firmly shackled, with the chains on his arms taut enough to prevent him from being able to touch his face. His legs stretched out on the floor in front of him. A collar around his neck fixed him so securely to the wall that he was unable to even bang his head against it with any force.

As his hunger increased, so did his desire to rip and tear and feed. Eventually, the food was lowered back into his cell. Gibson was more dead than alive and large swathes of skin had been stripped from his body, causing blood to drip sluggishly to the floor.

He was close enough for his blood to coat the vampire’s feet, but not close enough for him to eat. After thirty minutes, Spike was almost demented by being unable to feed or vent his rage. After an hour – he was completely demented – any small shred of humanity that may have survived had been purged.

Maggie watched the monitor and smiled.

After breakfast they’d tried and failed to come up with an effective plan of getting into the Initiative and locating Cameron with even the smallest chance of success.

When the facility was opened, to try to get the locals on board rather than against them, the organisation had held an open day, which Maurice had attended. So he could tell Buffy just how well guarded the place was. Coupled with her own experience of the Californian branch, Buffy knew that Fort Knox would probably be easier to break in to.

Buffy’s cell phone rang, making all four start at the intrusion. She pulled it out of her back pocket and flipped it open, smiling as she saw the caller ID.

“Willow, hi. So you made it?”

“Yes, I’ve just landed. So give me directions and I’ll be there quick as a flash.”

“Will,” cautioned Buffy.

“It’s okay – I’m not all dark side. I’m older, Buffy. With age comes control.”

“Um…okay. But be careful.”

Buffy asked a somewhat bemused Maurice the co-ordinates for the cottage, before repeating what he’d said to Willow and disconnecting.

“She’ll be here…”

There was a gust of wind and a flash of light that made them all squint and Willow appeared before them.

“Uh…now,” finished Buffy.

Craig grinned like a fool. “Wow, cool entrance, Aunt Willow!”

Matching Craig’s grin, she said, “I know!” She turned to the astonished Carmichael’s and extended her hand. “Thanks for being so accurate – I have been known to end up in next door’s back yard. I’m Willow Rosenberg.”

Maurice recovered first. “Carmichael. Maurice Carmichael,” he said, shaking the offered hand firmly. “My wife, Dora.” He inclined his head at Dora who was still staring wide eyed at the witch.

“Pleased to meet you,” said Willow politely. “I apologise for the means of my arrival, but I felt that time was of the essence.” Turning to Buffy, she added, “I don’t suppose I could have a cup of tea, with lots of sugar? Plays havoc with my blood sugar levels.”

“Oh! Where are my manners?” Dora said. “Please sit down. I think we could all do with a cup of tea after that.”

“Thank you.” Willow pulled out a chair and sat down.

Buffy glanced nervously at the Carmichaels. She knew that Dora hadn’t been keen to get involved with their problems and she worried that Willow’s extremely unorthodox arrival had upset the woman.

“Dora…” she began.

“I know what you’re going to say,” said Dora, smiling kindly. “I can’t pretend that I’m not shocked and frightened by everything, but I do live in a world where vampires are trained to track down missing people. So I’d be rather short-sighted and silly if I didn’t think that other supernatural things weren’t real too.”

For a moment, Buffy’s mouth gaped comically open, then she got control and said weakly, “Thank you.”

“What for?” asked Dora, frowning slightly.

“For not throwing us out the second we turned up here. For not freaking out when a witch teleports into your kitchen with no warning.”

Dora smiled and just shrugged, unsure what to say.

Once they were all seated and drinking tea, Maurice asked Willow, “So if you can…teleport, why did you use an aeroplane to get here?”

“I know, it’s so frustrating, but I can only teleport within the continent I’m on,” replied Willow. “But at least I can bring things with me now.” She nudged the large black bag near her with her foot. “Makes me feel like Mary Poppins – well apart from the fact that no one can see me when I do it.” She chuckled.

They all laughed and Willow gratefully drank her sugary tea, as they brought her up to date on events so far.

The laughter died away as the story unfolded.


*~*~*~*

Spike’s world had narrowed down to just three things.

Pain.

Hunger.

Rage.

Cameron sat staring at the vampire. His smile was cruel as he watched the intermittent struggles and roars of Spike. That is how the world should perceive vampires – not the trained little puppy dogs that the program turned them into – but the soulless feral beast with the demon fully in control.

The human suspended from the ceiling was alive – just.

Without looking at Mark, Cam said, “Release Seventeen. Let him feed. I want to see those fangs in action.”

Mark knew the chain of command had changed. “Yes, sir.”

A button pressed at the side of the door caused the shackles to open and fall away. Reacting purely on instinct, Spike was on his feet and at the man’s throat in the blink of an eye. The elongated fangs sank in deeply and seconds later, Gibson’s heart stopped beating, but Spike kept worrying at him. The blood he’d taken not enough to take the pain away. Rage took over from hunger and in less than a minute, all that remained was chunks of flesh and bone strewn all over the floor.

Kneeling amongst it, Spike never looked less human. Mark shuddered when the vampire roared, lips drawn away from his teeth. His right eye darting from side to side, as Spike tried to find a way out of the cell. He needed food. He needed…to kill.

“Um…sir?” said Mark.

“What?”

“How are we going to restrain him again?”

“Leave it loose. Throw in a Libreg every hour until he gets turned loose on the slayer. Its blood should be rich enough to keep him from bouncing off the walls.”

“Sure thing.”

“Give Seventeen one now. I want to see how he gets on with it.”

Mark glanced at the teenager and wondered if maybe Maggie had overdone it with the implanted personality. The kid was nothing like he used to be. Even being in the chair no longer bothered him. Pulling a radio out of his pocket, Mark ordered a one of the rodent-like demons to be dropped into Seventeen’s cell. He was glad he didn’t have to do it. The little demons were incredibly strong and vicious. Looking at Spike as he gave out another roar and stood covered in blood, obviously aroused by the kill, Mark smirked and hoped the vampire was faster than the Libreg was, otherwise he might have a nasty surprise.

The hatch in the ceiling opened and the Libreg was thrown in, its high pitched squeal making Spike wince. The Libreg was a dark brown, furry, rabbit sized demon, resembling a rat. They are incredibly fast but Spike was faster. The thing had barely touched the floor before Spike grabbed it with his right hand. Bringing it to his mouth the long fangs ripped its head off and he eagerly lapped at the blood flowing from its neck.

Deciding he’d seen enough, Cam, pushed his chair away, heading to the labs, sure there would be something for him to work on there. Mark trailed after him, already fed up by the way the kid treated him. The sooner the slayer was taken out the better. Then he would be reassigned elsewhere. He preferred working with the hunters than being little more than a babysitter for some weird kid.

*~*~*~*

“I’m going with you.”

“No, Craig. You’re staying here,” said Buffy firmly.

“But—”

She raised her hand. “No buts. You are staying here. If this goes…if we can’t get out. I need to know that at least one of my sons is safe.”

Craig slumped in his seat. “I understand that, Mom, but Cam…he’s my kid brother…I should have looked out for him. It’s my fault they took him.” He closed his eyes willing the tears to dissipate.

Walking over to him, Buffy sat next to him on the couch. “I know you’re worried about him.” She rubbed a hand over his cheek as his eyes opened. “But I need you safe. Please understand that.”

Reluctantly, Craig nodded.

“Thank you,” whispered Buffy as she placed a soft kiss on his forehead.

With a deep breath, she stood up and went to find Willow. The others had wisely given mother and son some space. She found them in the kitchen. Willow turned to face her.

“Ready to go?” she asked.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Are you sure that this is the way to do it? We could go to the authorities,” said Maurice. Something that had been repeated many times during the course of the day.

“I can’t take the risk that they just wouldn’t kill Cam and dispose of him as soon as the police arrived at the front door,” replied Buffy.

“What about the vampire?” asked Dora. “What will you do with him?”

Closing her eyes at the pain thinking of Spike caused, Buffy took a deep breath. “My priority has to be Cam.”

Dora took her hand and squeezed it. “You have my word should anything happen that we’ll support Craig in anyway we can.”

Seeing Buffy’s distress rising, Willow said, “I need to focus. Buffy, it’s time to go.”

Buffy nodded and smiled at the Carmichaels. “Thank you.” Then made their way up to the bathroom, which Willow had decided was the best place for them to teleport from.

For several minutes, the witch sat crosses legged on the tiled floor as she focused her energy on reaching out to find Cameron’s soul. That was the beacon she was using to guide them inside. Arriving next to Cam wherever he was within the facility gave them more chance of getting him out.

They hadn’t told anyone else, but the plan was for Willow to immediately teleport back with Cam before returning for Buffy. Strong as she was, Willow could only take one person with her at a time.

She opened her eyes and smiled at Buffy. “I’m ready.”

“You can feel him? He’s alive?” Buffy’s heart rate went up a notch.

“Yes. He’s alive.” Holding out her hand, she added. “Shall we?”

The women stood up and Buffy hitched the rucksack so it sat more firmly on her back. Standing facing each other, firmly holding hands, Willow once more closed her eyes, and offered up a short prayer to the Goddess to help them on their journey. As their hair began to be buffeted by a strong breeze, Willow and Buffy disappeared.

Craig flinched at the thunderclap that accompanied the women’s disappearance. Leaning forward, he buried his head in his hands.

“Please God, let them be okay. Please let them be okay.”

He rocked slowly to and fro, not noticing Dora peer into the room before deciding that he needed privacy right then. She walked back into the kitchen, where Maurice was leaning against the counter. If all went well – it would be over in a matter of minutes.

*~*~*~*

Cameron’s head whipped up at the clap of thunder that reverberated around the building. There was something about it that didn’t seen right. Like it meant something, but for the life of him he couldn’t remember what. After a pause, he shrugged and went back to thinking about the arm of a tracker he’d amputated earlier in the day who’d kept interfering with his artificial eye. He’d wanted to take both arms away, but Maggie had wanted to see if losing one limb was sufficient to dissuade the vampire from damaging the eye again. Personally, Cam doubted it. This vampire in particular wasn’t very bright.

*~*~*~*

Buffy staggered as they reappeared, but Willow held her upright. Wherever they were, they were in total darkness.

“You okay?” asked Willow.

“Yeah. Cam? Are you here?” whispered Buffy.

She shrugged off the rucksack and fumbled in the front pocket for the flashlight Maurice had insisted she’d taken. Cupping it with her hand to shield the beam, Buffy turned it on and together she and Willow peered around.

“What the hell?” Buffy took her hand away, letting the light flood the room they were in. She pointed the beam this way and that but each direction revealed the same.

“We’re in a cupboard! Will! I thought you said you were good at this?”

“I am!” Willow snatched the flashlight from Buffy’s hand and pointed it at the shelf closest to them. “Oh, dear Goddess.”

“What?” Buffy moved closer. “What is it?”

Willow stepped back a little and directed the beam at one of the numerous jars on the shelves.

“Oh, please no.” Buffy struggled to stay on her feet. “Is that…is it?” Her breath hitched in her chest.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” said Willow, quickly regaining her composure.

“Not as bad as it looks! My son’s soul is in a glass jar on a shelf inside the Initiative building. How much worse could it have been?”

“Shh,” hissed Willow urgently. “His soul is intact. It is as it was when it was removed. Look at the seals on the jar – they haven’t been broken.” She turned the jar around and read a label stuck on the back. “It says here that it was going to be sold in another dimension.”

Unable to help it, Buffy sank to her knees, crushed by the fear of finding out what Cameron had gone through. My poor beautiful boy.

“Get on you feet, Buffy,” said Willow, grabbing her arm and hauling her upright. “We need to move fast. I can’t restore his soul here – the ritual is complicated – but I can use it to find him.” She picked the jar off the shelf. “Put it in the bag.”

With trembling fingers, Buffy unzipped the rucksack and tipped the contents on the floor. Keeping only the handgun that Maurice had produced from a safe behind a painting in the living room, and a polished wooden stake. Neither woman remarked on how long it had been since Buffy had staked a vampire.

The jar fitted easily and Willow put the bag on her back, so that it would be with her when she teleported Cameron out.

“I daren’t teleport in here. They’ll pick up on the disturbance. They might dismiss it once but not twice. But I can feel where he is,” said Willow.

After a brief hug, the friends cautiously opened the door. Buffy stepped through first.

“Go left,” Willow whispered in her ear.

Tiptoeing along the corridor, hugging the wall like a spy in a movie, the women made their way deeper into the bowels of the Initiative.

Buffy’s nerves were jangling by the time Willow said, “He’s behind this door.”

“You’re sure?” asked Buffy, taking the witch’s raised eyebrows as an affirmative.

Willing her hand not to shake Buffy, slowly turned the handle.

“Wait,” said Willow, almost causing Buffy’s heart to leap out of her chest. “They took his soul…he might be…different.”

An unwelcome image of Angelus popped into Buffy’s mind. She shook her head to rid herself of the image. He was a vampire. Cam’s a boy. An innocent boy.

She opened the door and quickly stepped inside, Willow following closely behind. Cam was sitting with his back to the door. The gasp that Buffy gave out when she realised he was in a wheelchair, alerted Cameron to their presence. He whirled the chair around until he faced them.

“Cameron! Oh my God, Cam!” Buffy raced towards him, but his glare stopped her short.

“What the fuck are you doing here, bitch?” snarled Cameron.

His mother may have recoiled from the hatred in his tone, but Willow didn’t. Swiftly passing Buffy, she reached out and slapped his face hard enough to make his head snap to the right.

“Don’t you dare talk to your mom like that!”

It was hard to decide who was the more shocked by Willow’s actions. Cam brought his hand to his stinging cheek. Blinking back tears, he looked more like the boy he’d been, but his eyes remained cold.

“What happened, Cam? Your legs?” Buffy croaked.

“We haven’t got time for that now, Buff. I need to get him out.”

“No!” Cam pushed the chair backwards. “They said you’d try to make me leave – but I’m not going. This is my home.”

Buffy and Willow exchanged glances as they took in Cam’s living quarters. Under no uncertain circumstances could it be described as like a home – it was a cell – nothing more.

“Take him, now!” urged Buffy.

Cam wheeled towards the left hand wall, as Willow moved closer. Her hands grabbed his just before he could push a button set in the wall. The air became turbulent and as Buffy stared at her son, he glared back. A split second later, Buffy was looking at an empty wheelchair, spinning across the floor.

“Look after him,” muttered Buffy, wiping furiously at her eyes. She’d always known that she wouldn’t make it out. But her sons were safe. Willow would restore Cam’s soul.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Willow staggered and fell, crying out as her hip struck the edge of the bathtub, and together with Cameron, ended up in a heap on the floor.

The bathroom door flew open and a wild eyed Craig rushed in.

“You got him! Oh, Christ! You got him!” He held his hand out to his brother, who was struggling to sit up. “Welcome home, Cam.”

Cameron stared at Craig, before pushing himself backwards. “This…this isn’t home.”

“I know – long story,” said Craig. “Hey, you’re bleeding.”

“Where? Let me see,” said Willow, who’d carefully laid the bag to one side and now crawled over to Cam.

Bringing his hand up to his neck, he could feel the trickle of blood from where the line to his intravenous drip had been connected. The collar had been taken off once Maggie had implanted the knowledge.

“What have you done?” He glared at them.

Craig followed Cameron’s gaze as it travelled to his groin. There was a wet patch at the crotch of his pants from where the waste tube had snapped.

“Oh, man! You’ve pissed yourself.” Craig couldn’t keep from blurting it out.

Willow silenced his subsequent giggles with a look. “It’s all right, Cam. Everything is going to be all right.”

When Cameron tried to recoil from Willow’s outstretched hand, Craig realised that his brother couldn’t move his legs. He fell to his knees beside him. A tear rolled slowly down his cheek, as his faced paled. He’d let his brother down and now Cam was paralysed.

“What did they do to you?” he whispered.

“They didn’t do anything,” hissed Cameron. He stared at Willow. “Take me back!”

“What?” Craig frowned.

Knowing that his brother’s presence wasn’t helping Cam at all, Willow said, “Craig, go and get my bag.”

Craig opened his mouth to protest but thought better of it and left the room without saying a thing

Placing her hands on Cameron’s shoulders, Willow said, “Now I have to go back for your mother. We didn’t foresee your injuries and so I’m sorry you might not be very comfortable. The catheter in your vein has been pulled out, but it’s stopped bleeding now. Are you in any pain?”

Cameron shook his head. “Take me back.” He covered the wet mark on his pants with his hands.

“Not gonna happen, kiddo. Why would you want to go back there?”

“I told you it’s my home. Maggie looks after me well. She didn’t abandon me like the Slayer did.”

“What has gotten into you?” Willow frowned. The loss of a soul in one so unsullied shouldn’t have made him like this.

“Nothing. I just finally know the truth. If you take me back now – I won’t have been missed yet,” Cam said, his expression earnest. “I’m not scheduled to operate until six a.m.”

“Operate?”

“Yeah. What of it?” Cameron tried to move away and let out a soft moan when he couldn’t manage it.

“Look, I have to go back for your mom. I’ll get Craig to help you to a bed.”

She called down to Craig and before he got to the top of the stairs she’d teleported out again.

“Don’t fucking touch me – leave me here,” said Cam as soon as Craig walked into the bathroom.

“Don’t be stupid. You can’t stay on the floor. I’ll help you.” Craig bent down and scooped Cameron up. “Wrap your arms around me. It’ll make it easier with my arm not being very strong.”

Cam tried to wriggle free but when he couldn’t, he reluctantly grabbed hold of Craig as he carried him out to the bedroom. Dora was there, fussing with the bedclothes, as Craig staggered in. He half put down, half dropped Cam onto the bed and groaned as he straightened his right arm.

“What’s wrong with it?” asked Cam, frowning.

Glancing at Dora, Craig said, “Um…you know what happened to it.” Seeing Cam’s blank stare, he sat on the bed beside him and added, “I got attacked – remember? It screwed up my elbow.”

Dora decided that discretion was the best course of action for now. “I’ll leave you to catch up,” she said, wincing at how inane it sounded. “Just call if you need anything.”
“Thanks, Dora,” said Craig. He waited until she left before turning to face Cam. “What happened to you Cam…you look terrible?”

Cam shoved himself up so that he was sitting a little more upright. “I got attacked too.” He frowned. “At least I think I did. I mean, I must have done, right? To end up like this?” He waved a hand at his legs. “It kept me from operating for weeks.”

It was Craig’s turn to frown. “What do you mean weeks? It’s only been a few days since they snatched you.”

“Don’t be stupid. There’s no way I could have done all of what I have in a couple of days.”

Craig stared open mouthed at his brother. “What are you talking about? Crap, they’ve fucked with your head.”

“Now you’re being stupid! Just get out and leave me alone!”

Twisting on the bed so that he faced Cam, Craig said quietly, “You don’t even know who I am, do you?”

“Sure I do.” Cam screwed his face up, as he tried to dredge up a memory. He felt he should know him, but somehow just couldn’t quite remember. “You’re Craig. Told you I remembered.” He stared at Craig.

“Oh, man.” Craig blinked back tears. “You heard Aunt Willow use my name.”

Bringing his hands up to hold his head, Cam groaned. “I-I don’t understand…my head really hurts.” His brown eyes were tortured when he raised them to meet Craig’s. “I just want to go home. Nothing hurts there.”

Craig said nothing, even though his heart lurched in his chest knowing that the home Cam sought wasn’t their home.

*~*~*~*

Smoothing her hair away from her face, Buffy stared at Willow in disbelief, unable to take in the fact that the witch had managed to come back for her. As she waited, she’d realised that Cam’s quarters were sound-proofed and maybe that was why no guards had come racing in to get her.

She’d fully intended on seeking out Spike but seeing her son like that had knocked the fight out of her, and since they’d teleported out all she had managed to do was sit on the bed and weep.

“Buffy! Thank Goddess, you stayed here,” said Willow, holding out her hand.

“Cam?”

“He’s safe. Now hurry. We need to get that soul back into him and I can’t do it without you.”

As Buffy took hold of Willow’s hands she glanced at the door. “I’m sorry, Spike,” she murmured, fresh tears falling. “I’m so sorry.”

Then they were gone.

*~*~*~*

The hatch opened and Spike looked up expectantly and snarled. His head throbbed and his mouth watered, saliva dripping off his elongated fangs, as he waited for the next Libreg to arrive. Blood trickled down his chin from where the fangs constantly rubbed his lips raw and the scent of even his own blood was adding to his lust for more.

The guard tasked with feeding Spike every hour through the night was annoyed at having drawn this duty and decided to have a bit of fun. So it was four, not one Libreg, that he dropped through the hatch for the three a.m. feeding.

Spike caught the first one even before it hit the floor, crushing the beast in his right fist. His fangs had just grazed its fur covered skin when the other demons attacked. Howling as one bit deep into his buttock, the vampire threw down the one he held and twisted so he could use his right hand to grab the one biting him. A chunk of his flesh came with the Libreg as he yanked it away.

With his left hand he managed to knock one away, just before it sank it teeth into his balls. He tried to stamp on it but it was too quick. He snapped the spine of the one in his hand and tossed it aside. The two Libreg still capable of movement, worked as a unit, attacking from opposite sides, biting and leaping away before Spike could catch them. Spike’s head swivelled wildly from side to side as he tried to predict where the creatures would come from next. They seemed to have realised that he only had the sight in one eye and kept attacking on his blind side.

By the time he’d killed the remaining two, Spike was covered in bites on his feet and legs. Panting with exertion, he stooped down to pick up one of the bodies. Wrinkling his nose in distaste, he had to suck hard to pull the rapidly cooling blood from the corpse. When all four were drained, he sat on the only part of the floor not littered with debris, rested his head against the wall and for the first time since waking in the cell, he slept.

*~*~*~*

Craig leapt up from the bed and ran to the bathroom when the turbulence indicated Willow’s return.

“Mom!” He sagged against the doorframe as he saw his mother.

“I’m fine. They never knew I was there,” said Buffy, hugging her son tight enough to make him wince.

“How’s Cam?” asked Willow.

Lowering his voice and glancing over his shoulder, Craig said, “They’ve done something to him…he d-doesn’t know who I am.”

“They took his soul away,” said Buffy, “but we got it and Willow is going to restore it.” A glance at her friend revealed the witch picking up the rucksack with its precious cargo. “But why would that make him forget Craig?”

“It wouldn’t.” Willow’s face was grim. “But I’ll fix him. Don’t worry.”

Together they made their way to the bedroom where Cam sat on the bed. Denied of the constant stream of drugs that the Initiative fed him, he was already beginning to hurt as his head seemed too small to contain the suppressed memories that were trying to return. His eyes widened in fear as he watched them enter.

“Craig. Go get me and your mom a cup of sweet tea – at least four spoons of sugar – please.”

Nodding, Craig turned on his heels and jogged downstairs to the kitchen.

Willow sat on the bed next to Cameron’s inert legs. “Now, Cam. Tell me what you remember about what happened to you.”

His eyes narrowed as they fixed on Buffy. “She abandoned me. Didn’t want me around now I’m like this.” He waved a hand at his legs.

“That’s not true!” Buffy dashed to her son, kneeling beside him, she took his hand in hers. “I love you. I’ve been hunting for you since you were taken.”

He tried to pull his hand away. “No you didn’t!” She was too strong and he moaned with frustration at his failure to get free. “You left me to rot! Maggie saved me. I want to go back.” His face crumpled. “Please let me go back. It hurts. I don’t hurt when I’m there.”

“Oh, Cam.” Buffy stroked his face and for a moment, a fleeting moment, he leaned into her touch.

Craig reappeared, gave the women their tea, and disappeared again without a word. He couldn’t bear to see Cam so broken.

“Cameron,” said Willow. “I want you to look at something.”

The boy raised his face to stare balefully at her. Bending down, she took the jar out of the rucksack and held it out for him to see.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Don’t you know?”

He scowled and shook his head.

“It’s your soul, Cam. They took away your soul. That’s why everything feels different.”

“No. You’re lying,” said Cam, but his voice wavered and he glanced uncertainly between the women.

Buffy took his hand. “We’re not. I swear to you, sweetie, that we’re not.” He gripped her hand for a second before realising what he’d done and snatching it away.

“I don’t believe you. Why would Maggie do that?”

“We don’t know why she’d do it,” said Willow. “But she did and now I’m going to put it back.”

“Why?”

The question stumped the women momentarily.

“Because you’re my son, and you have a soul and—”

“Will…will it make my…will I be able to walk if I get my soul back?”

Buffy’s throat tightened, unable to speak she turned to Willow, her face anguished.

“No. It won’t make any difference to that at all. But if they used magical means to do it to you, Cam, I promise that I will find the spell to reverse it,” said Willow.

“But…it wasn’t magical…it was an accident and you didn’t help me…that’s why Maggie did.” Cam glanced from on to the other.

“What sort of accident?” Willow asked. “How were you hurt?”

“I…it was…” Cam screwed up his face as he tried to remember. “Why can’t I remember? What have you done to me?” His voice rose and he struggled to move further away from them.

“Willow,” said Buffy quietly, “please just do it – I can’t listen to this for much longer – I need my son back how he was.”

Nodding, Willow reached into her bag and began to mix the ingredients that would enable her to return Cameron’s soul. She plucked hairs from Cam’s head and added them to the mix. When she was finally ready she turned to Buffy.

“You know how I said that I couldn’t do the spell without you?” Buffy nodded. “Well…I need you to hold him down. If he moves at all the soul could be lost forever.”

“Why not just knock him out?” Cam’s eyes widened at his mother’s response.

“He’s got to be conscious.”

“Please…” Cam said, tears welling in his eyes. “Please, just take me home.”

“I’m your mother, not that bitch Walsh!” Buffy grabbed his ankles and with more force than she’d intended, dragged him down the bed so he was lying flat. His head hit the headboard of the bed with an audible crack.

“Conscious, Buff,” said Willow as Cam cried out.

“Just do the goddamn spell.” Buffy crawled up the bed to straddle Cam’s torso.

He struggled ineffectually as she pinned his arms under her knees and then firmly placed her hands on his collarbones, with enough pressure to make them creak and Cam moan.

“Please don’t hurt me,” whispered Cam.

Hot tears fell onto his face as Buffy squeezed her eyes shut, unable to bear looking at the fear in his face any longer.

Willow began to chant, slowly and quietly at first, the pace and volume increasing as she got deeper into the ritual. She snapped off the lid to the jar and the ball of pure white light hovered over the bed for an instant before dipping between Buffy and Cameron and sitting over the boy’s chest.

Buffy’s resolve almost weakened then, as Cam screamed and his body writhed beneath her.

“Hold him!” Willow said. “Sweet Goddess! Don’t let him dislodge it!”

Gritting her teeth, Buffy redoubled her efforts to pin Cam down and after the longest five minutes of her life, Cameron went limp, his yells fading to whimpers.

“Did it work?” She turned to face Willow.

“Yes. His soul is restored.”

Buffy crawled off Cameron, grimacing at the bruises she’d caused on his body.

“Cam, oh baby, I’m sorry.” She wiped the tears from his face. “I love you.”

Cameron’s eyes seemed to take a second to focus, before clearing and meeting hers. “Will you take me home? Maggie won’t be angry with me now that I’ve got a soul, will she?”

“Will!” Buffy turned to face her friend. “Why is he still saying that? Oh, God. We’ve failed!”
Willow put her hand on Buffy’s shoulder. “It’s not over yet.” As she spoke Cameron’s eyes rolled back in his head and he passed out.

“Cam!”

“Shh,” Willow said. “It’s too much to take in while conscious. His subconscious needs to be in charge. He should wake in about thirty minutes.”

“I’m staying with him.” Buffy climbed back onto the bed and cradled her son in her arms.

Willow nodded and left the room, closing the door softly behind her.

*~*~*~*

As Cameron’s screams rent the air, Dora leapt to her feet. “Dear God! What are they doing to that poor boy! I’m going to stop them!”

Maurice beat Craig to stand in front of her. “No, love, you’re going to sit down and wait, like we’ve been asked.”

“But…how can you sit here and listen to that!” All three winced as his cries, if anything, got louder. “They’re killing him!”

Putting a hand on each of her arms, Maurice said, “They know what they’re doing. Leave them be.”

“How do we know that? We’ve only known them a couple of days! Maybe they are the villains here, not the Initiative?”

“Dora,” said Maurice.

Sighing deeply, Dora nodded, “I can’t believe I just said that. We know the Initiative is up to no good, but—”

“Mrs. Carmichael,” said Craig. “Please trust us.” His voice cracked. “I need my brother back. They’ve done stuff to him and…and you’ve seen him…they’ve paralysed him.” Craig broke down in harsh rasping sobs.

Pulling free from her husband, Dora moved to Craig, putting her arms around his shoulders. Turning in his seat, he clung to her. “I want him back how he was!”

Willow paused in the doorway of the kitchen, taking in the tableau in front of her. Maurice was standing beside Dora who was being hugged by Craig as if his life depended on it.

Sniffing, Craig raised his head and wiped his eyes. “Did it work?”

“His soul has been restored.” Willow pulled out a chair and sat down on it with a thump. Her energy levels were getting low. “He’s unconscious, right now. We’ll know when he wakes up if having the soul returned has helped him strip away the false memories that they’ve implanted.”

“Cup of tea, Willow?” asked Dora. “Are you hungry?”

Maurice chuckled. “A cup of tea is your answer to everything.”

Cuffing his arm as she walked past him, she said, “It’s the universal cure all – you know that.”

Craig watched her as she busied herself with the kettle and began to make some sandwiches, knowing that it was her way of coping with things she had no hope of understanding. He glanced upstairs and offered up a small prayer for his brother. Cam was a good person. He’d be all right, wouldn’t he?

Chapter Twenty-Three

Cam resurfaced and moaned as he opened his eyes and blinked. He glanced around the room and noticed a woman sitting in the chair beside his bed, when she saw him looking at her she smiled.

“Welcome back, Cam.”

His vision blurred by the sudden tears, Cam reached out weakly. “Mom? Oh, Mom.”

Buffy moved to sit on the bed and enveloped her son in a hug. “I’m here, baby. I’m here. You’re safe.”

Cameron’s head was spinning as all his memories fought with the implanted ones. An image of himself calmly ordering work to be done on a vampire…on…

“Spike!” Cam struggled to get out of his mother’s grip. “Oh God! What have I done?” He broke down into such uncontrollable sobs that Buffy feared he’d pass out.

“Will!” Buffy needed her friend’s help.

Willow raced into the room.

“What’s wrong?”

Hearing her voice, Cam wiped his eyes and after several hitching breaths managed to speak. “You’ve got to take me back!”

“What? No!” Buffy grabbed his hand. “You’re mine. Maggie Walsh is—”

“I know!” Cam said. “I-I don’t want to go back, but I’ve got to. They’ve got Spike – they’ve done stuff to him. Horrible stuff. I did stuff to him!”

“What?” The two women spoke as one.

Shaking his head, Cam said, “I don’t know how, but I could operate. I worked on him.” His sobs started again. “We’ve got to get him out.” He wrapped his arms around his body and shook uncontrollably. “The things I did…” He heaved as though he was going to vomit but there was nothing in his stomach to void.

“Will,” said Buffy, helplessly looking up at her friend.

Bending down, Willow took Cam’s hand. “Cam, sweetie. You’ve got to be strong.”

His anguished eyes met hers. “But it hurts – it sears inside.”

“It’s the soul, Cam. It will ease. Whatever they did to you in there, your soul is having to deal with it, understand? I can’t help you through it, but be strong. You’re a good person, Cam. The best.” She pushed his hair back from his brow.

“But I’m not good, am I? I did those things. I amputated…oh, God…how could I know how to do that?”

“Spike?” Buffy’s voice was barely more than a whisper.

Cam shuddered and stared down at the hand Willow was still holding. “I…I operated on him.”

Buffy closed her eyes and Willow put a hand on her shoulder to steady her as she swayed.

Realising what his mother had thought, Cam quickly said, “I didn’t operate on him like that!”

Buffy’s eyes opened and he saw the depth of her love for the vampire in her expression.

“What did you do?” Again, it was barely audible.

Cam glanced at Willow, drawing strength from her when she squeezed his hand. “I-I gave him new eyes.” His own widened when he heard how bizarre the words were. “But… his mind…” Unable to continue, squeezed his eyes shut at the image of Spike attacking the poor human tied up in his cell.

“Shh, baby.” Buffy soothed him when all she wanted to do was shake him to find out what had happened to Spike.

“I need to go back. I can’t leave him for them to keep using.” Cam’s voice was stronger, and his tears dried. He twisted his body and then stared at his legs as if noticing for the first time that they were unresponsive. “Mom…”

Buffy felt her heart would break with the sound of that one word. Her son, broken at the hands of the place that had ruined Spike before and by the sounds of it had done even worse to him this time.

Wrapping her arms around him, she pulled him to her breast and rocked slowly to and fro. “Everything will be all right, Cam. I promise that we’ll fix everything.”

She caught Willow staring at her, shaking her head. No words were needed to transmit that the witch couldn’t heal her son. After a few moments, Cam raised his head and took a deep breath.

“We’re going to get Spike, right? I mean…that’s how all this started – I needed to find out what had happened to him.”

To Buffy’s relief, he didn’t ask after Jerry, and she nodded.

Frowning, he said, “They knew that you’d come for me. I remember now.” He glanced at his mom. “That’s why they worked on Spike. He’s their weapon against you.”

“Well that’s where they’ve made a mistake,” said Buffy. “Spike would never hurt me – or any of us.”

“He will, Mom. They’ve made him into a killing machine. He hurts unless he kills and feeds.” Hot tears tracked down his cheeks. “I helped make him like that. He’s not Spike anymore and I don’t know if—”

“We’ll get him out,” Buffy said, but on catching Cam’s expression added, “Whatever happens we won’t leave him there.”

Mother and son stared at each other for a moment and when they broke eye contact they both understood the meaning behind her words. If they couldn’t get him out – or if he was beyond help, then he’d be staked.

Cam made a little noise of distress as a few drops of urine leaked from the catheter. Is this how it was going to be from now on? Forcing the terrifying thoughts away, he focussed on Spike. Raising his head he turned to Willow. “Can you take me back?”

She nodded.

“We need a plan,” said Buffy. “We can’t fail!” She stood up. “I’ll go and get Craig; he needs to be a part of this too.”

Once he was alone with Willow, Cam asked, “You meant it when you said the soul would stop hurting?”

“I did, Cam, but it might take a while and it’s maybe the hurt will always be there to some extent, but you learn to live with it.” She thanked the Goddess for giving her the strength to keep her voice steady as she mourned Cam’s loss of innocence.

Buffy returned with a white faced Craig, who hovered near the door and couldn’t meet his brother’s eye until Cam asked him to sit on the bed. Reluctantly, Craig did so, and Cam said, “I’m sorry.”

Eyes wide, Craig finally met Cam’s gaze. “What?”

“I shouldn’t have tried to keep it from you. I know what you’re like and whatever you’re thinking – what happened to me is not your fault. It’s on me, okay?”

Craig swallowed hard, unable to speak, but shook his head.

“Craig?”

“I’ll kill the bastard who did that to you,” Craig said, eyes narrowed.

“We’ve just got to help Spike.” The more Cameron thought of what state the vampire was in – the more he thought that a staking would be the kindest thing to do.

The four planned their strategy for over thirty minutes, calling Maurice and Dora up to the bedroom when their decision on exactly what action to take was made. The Carmichaels were their back-up plan. If all else failed and they didn’t return, then the Carmichaels would go to the authorities.

*~*~*~*

Crushing the Libreg with his right hand, Spike raised his head to the ceiling and bellowed. The pain never went away now, not even for a minute. He threw himself at the front of the cell. Snarled and repeated the action again and again. He needed to kill!

*~*~*~*

Willow arrived back inside the Initiative for the third time that night, holding tightly onto Cam. They appeared in the centre of the room, Willow crouched down next to Cam as he sprawled on the floor.

“Are you okay?”

Cam nodded, but couldn’t help but shudder at the sight of his useless legs. Standing, Willow strode over to get the wheelchair and brought it back to the boy.

“Shouldn’t you lie on the bed?”

Shaking his head, Cam said, “No, they know I can get in and out of the chair myself now.”

She put her hands under Cameron’s armpits and heaved him into the chair, averting her eyes as he flushed and reattached the tube to the catheter in his urethra. His hand went to his neck, but there was no way that he could reinsert the line into his vein. Nor did he want to as he knew whatever nutrients were in there, he was sure it was laced with lots of drugs too.

“You’d better go, Aunt Willow,” said Cam, smiling weakly.

“Take care,” said Willow before she disappeared with a rush of wind.

Now he just had to wait.

*~*~*~*

Buffy and Craig hugged before Buffy took Willow’s hand and the pair disappeared. Craig paced quickly back and forth as he waited for Willow to return, worried that the women had actually planned to leave him here.

“Come on. Come on,” he muttered.

With a gust of wind, Willow arrived back. She fell to her knees as she landed.

“Aunt Willow!”

“Craig…I can’t…” Slumping to the floor, Willow lost consciousness.

“Help!” Craig dashed to her side, cradling her head gently.

Her eyes flickered open momentarily. “So tired…” Then she was unconscious again.

Dora and Maurice ran in the room. “What happened?” asked Maurice.

“She passed out when she got back. She’s done too much, but I need to help Mom and Cam!”

“Calm down, lad. There’s no way you can get in there. I’m sure your mother will be fine. Help me carry Willow to the bedroom.”

As he eased Willow onto the Carmichael’s bed, Craig knew that he’d go insane if he had to stay in the cottage. Making his excuses, he went to the small guest room he and his mom had shared and sat on the bed. He needed a plan. If Willow didn’t recover soon – his mom and brother would be trapped in there.

*~*~*~*

The alarm sounded almost as soon as Willow disappeared. Buffy prayed that the witch had gotten back to the cottage okay, as she could see the exhaustion on her face, when Willow had warned her that she might not be able to come back for a while.

Jogging down the corridor, Buffy knew that Craig would be going crazy because he was stuck at the cottage, but a large part of her was glad of it. Willow’s fatigue had meant that she’d been unable to take Buffy exactly where they’d planned which had been the cupboard where the souls were stored, but luckily Buffy recognised that she was close to Cam’s bedroom and so knew where she had to go.

After running down empty corridor after empty corridor, Buffy smiled grimly. Did they really think that she was so stupid that she wouldn’t have realised this was a trap, even if she hadn’t been in touch with Cameron? The place had been eerily silent when the alarm switched off.

*~*~*~*

The alarm sounding took Spike to his knees, hands over his ears as his over-sensitive hearing made the alarm feel as if it were cutting into his brain. He stayed on the floor, alternating his harsh pants with low growls, for a while after the sound stopped. Then raising his head he grinned, baring his teeth, and stood up in one fluid movement.

The door to his cell was open.

*~*~*~*

An inhuman roar echoed in the passageway and Buffy slid to a halt. Cam was wrong – they weren’t sending Spike after her. Her fingers touched the handle of the gun she’d tucked into the back of her pants and prayed that whatever demon was approaching that bullets would kill it.

The roar came again, closer this time. Buffy glanced behind her, the corridor was empty. Whatever it was – the Initiative trusted it to do its job and kill her. Her eyes fixed on the corner, some forty yards in front of her and she pulled out the gun. Widening her stance, she raised the weapon and held it with both hands, thankful that she’d had some training in firing weapons when she had been an active slayer. Her heart was racing, but her aim was steady.

*~*~*~*

Spike flew out through the doorway and spun around, trying to decide which way to go. It was easy to decide as the corridor to his left came to a dead end ten feet away, whereas the right led down to a corner. He loped to the right and the guards watching the monitors breathed a sigh of relief that the vampire hadn’t touched the wall to the left. It was only an optical illusion, merely a reflection of the wall opposite, but the vampire no longer was capable of thinking of anything other than a kill.

The scent, when he caught a whiff of it, made him speed up. This wasn’t a Libreg – this was something so much more appealing. The pain in his head intensified if it were possible and he rounded the corner so quickly that he slipped and hit the wall. Barely missing his stride, with a howl, he lunged towards the small woman, mouth wide, fangs glistening with saliva.

*~*~*~*

Buffy couldn’t help but take a step backwards as the creature hurtled round the corner towards her.

“Oh my God!”

She had just enough time to realise it was humanoid before she took a deep breath, aimed for its head and squeezed the trigger.

Chapter Twenty-Four


As Buffy pulled the trigger, the creature leapt off the floor, arms outstretched. The bullet, instead of hitting between the eyes, slammed into the centre of its chest. Its triumphant roar turned into a scream of pain that sounded all too human to Buffy’s ears.

The force of the gunshot had thrown her attacker to the side, and Buffy let out a cry of her own as she registered the hands that flew to the creature’s chest. The left hand had no thumb but the right had one made of metal. That meant that the beast was…

“Spike! Oh, no! Spike!”

A bullet couldn’t kill a vampire but it could incapacitate it. Without thinking, Buffy ran to Spike where he lay writhing on the floor. The bullet had torn through his sternum, and she shuddered to think what the exit wound would be like. She reached out with her hand, but when her eyes fell on his face, she stopped. The fangs. How could it be? His lips were raw where the elongated fangs rubbed over them – too large to be contained inside his mouth.

Spike’s eyes flew open and he hissed, baring his teeth. He shuffled backwards, the pain in his chest confused him as it vied with the pain in his head for dominance. Then the hunger inside took over and his hand snaked out, lightning quick, grabbing Buffy by the throat.

Frantically scrabbling at the hand at her throat, Buffy kicked and squirmed in his grasp. Her vision started to grey out, and then human and vampire alike spasmed as the electric shock hit them and she collapsed on top of the now inert Spike.

“What were you thinking?” Cam wheeled himself up behind Mark. “You almost let Seventeen feed. Slayer blood is potent to vampires! We can’t afford him to get stronger.”

“Yeah, well, he’ll be able to eat her soon enough, when we string her up in his cell.”

“No!”

Mark spun round to face him. “What?”

Forcing himself to calm down, Cam said, “I want to study her. Think of what fun we could have testing her…chipping her…”

“Does Maggie—”

“What? Approve? She’ll agree to anything I suggest.” Cam met Mark’s eye coldly. It wasn’t difficult. He remembered now – it was Mark who’d put him in this chair. He waited until the older man dropped eye contact before speaking. “Take them both to the OR. Make sure you strap her down with the vamp proof restraints. I’ll be right there.”

“Okay,” said Mark, looking up.

Cam sneered. “Okay, what?”

Gritting his teeth, Mark managed to spit out a ‘sir’ before assisting to put Buffy and Spike onto the gurneys that has just arrived. He rammed a metal gag into Spike’s mouth and ratcheted it open until Cam thought he’d dislocate the jaw. His heart hammered in his chest as his mother was strapped onto the other gurney and swiftly pushed away. Taking a moment to compose himself, Cam took a deep breath before wheeling himself slowly along in their wake.

*~*~*~*

Craig couldn’t stand being still a moment longer. Dora was sitting at Willow’s bedside waiting for the witch to regain consciousness, leaving Maurice alone in the kitchen. The old soldier looked up as Craig strode to the door.

“Where’re you going, son?”

“I’m…I just...” Craig looked at him helplessly, unable to verbalise what he was feeling.

“Going stir crazy, huh?” Maurice nodded to the chair opposite.

Instead of taking it, Craig paced back and forth. “I can’t take it. I should be there with Mom.” He stood still. “I’m going for a walk, being in here, it’s—”

“I know, lad. Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

“I won’t, but I just can’t stay inside.”

Maurice dug in his pocket and tossed some keys to Craig. “Take the quad bike. Blow off a bit of steam, eh?”

Craig caught them with his left hand and grinned. “Really?”

“Really. Just stay off the roads and don’t go too far. Have you got your mobile phone with you?”

“My cell?” Craig patted his jacket pockets. “Yeah, I’ve got it.”

“Call in every fifteen minutes. I’ll call you when Willow wakes up.” He gave Craig the landline number for the cottage and watched as he went outside.

A couple of minutes later, Maurice heard the quad roar into life. Sighing he got up and went to put the kettle on, sure that Dora could do with a cup of tea.

*~*~*~*

Cam baulked when he got to the treatment room where Spike and Buffy were strapped to tables about ten feet apart. The techs had stripped his mother and he averted his eyes from her nakedness. Biting the inside of his lip to try to keep his focus, Cam pushed himself towards her.

Her eyes fluttered open and he scowled at her.

“Cam?” Buffy blinked a couple of times and glanced down at her body. “What are you doing?” She tried and failed to be able to sit up.

“What? You think that kidnapping me and ramming the soul back in me would make me forgive what you did to me?” His voice flat and his eyes hard.

“But—”

“God, you’re so gullible! Even managed to get you to bring me home when I asked.”

Mark loomed over Cam’s shoulder. “Do you want her gagged?”

Buffy’s eyes widened with disbelief, her son had tricked her. They really had turned him into a monster.

“Oh, Cameron,” she whispered.

Ignoring her, Cam glanced up at Mark. “No, I want to hear her scream.”

Mark grinned and Cam turned back to face his mom.

“What are —”

Cam placed his hand over her mouth, effectively silencing her. She stared at him, horrified at what he had become, and then to her surprise he winked. Realisation dawned - Cam was playing the role of what he had been. He must have thought they suspected something. Even with the dangerous position they were all in, Buffy was glad that Cam’s hand was covering her mouth as her lips twitched and tried to stretch into a smile. He’d always had trouble winking; it looked more like a squint really. Cam nodded minutely, pleased that his mom understood what was going on.

Keeping his hand where it was he glanced at Mark, who was standing at Buffy’s feet ogling her naked body. Cam felt his face heat up as rage bubbled within him.

“Get out!” He stared at the couple of techs still in the room. “All of you. I’ve got lots to do and I’d rather do it without distraction.”

“But—” Mark began.

“Are you going to question me for the second time tonight?” Cam snorted derisively. “I’m sure Maggie will be delighted to hear that when I see her later.”

“No, I didn’t mean it like that. I just thought you might need some help.”

Cam stared him down. “You thought wrong.”

After a moment, during which Cam held his breath, Mark turned on his heels and strode out with the techs following in his wake. When the door slammed shut, Cam took his hand from Buffy’s mouth. “Thrash about a bit,” he whispered. “There are cameras in the room.”

Buffy stared at him for a moment and then did as he asked, tugging at her restraints and pleading with him to let her go. Cam wheeled himself to the computer in the corner and tapped his fingers impatiently as he waited to log on. He had no idea how he knew to disrupt the signal to the cameras in this room, but he did. He could only guess that whoever’s knowledge they’d rammed into his head, had done it from time to time to keep some elements of his work from being observed.

“Sorry, Mom,” said Cam when he returned to her side. “They know you took me – I managed to convince Mark that I made you bring me back.”

He began to untie her and flinched at the growls and snarls Spike started to make as he came round. Once Buffy’s arms were free, Cam rolled over to where there were some spare sets of hospital scrubs, selected a small pair of green pants and a top, and pushed himself back to his mom. To his relief, she was bent over reaching to unfasten the straps on her legs and so he was spared another glimpse of her nudity.

“Um…here you are.”

He practically threw them at her and wheeled over to where Spike was lying. As soon as he got close, the vampire turned to stare at him as he struggled to get free.

A soft sob made Buffy look round and she saw her son fighting to keep his composure. She bit back a sob of her own as she took in the feral state that Spike was in. After slipping into the scrubs, Buffy padded barefoot to stand beside Cam.

“His fangs,” she said, resting a hand on her son’s arm.

“I did that to him, but, Mom, I screwed with his mind. I’m not sure that he’s Spike anymore.” Cam’s voice cracked.

As if to reiterate what Cam had said, Spike roared even louder and thrashed frantically.

“Oh, God! Do something.” Buffy turned away, unable to bear it.

“I’ll anaesthetise him,” said Cam.

He whirled the chair around and without hesitation got the required drug from the shelf, then returned to Spike.

“How do you know what to do?” asked Buffy.

“They screwed with my mind too, but instead of wiping it, they gave me knowledge.”

Cam squeezed his eyes shut as the implanted personality tried to take command. The need to study the affect the changes had had on the vampire was almost irresistible.

“Cameron?”

His mother’s voice grounded him and he opened his eyes, smiled weakly at her and painted the liquid on Spike’s abdomen. They remained silent as Spike’s inhuman snarls dwindled to whimpers and finally to nothing.

Cam released the gag that Mark had put in Spike’s mouth. His fingers traced the outline of the elongated fangs.

“I gave him something that made his teeth regenerate faster than they should and it made the fangs like this.” He gently wiped the blood from Spike’s lips.

“Can it be reversed?”

“I have no idea,” said Cam. “But I can clip them back to normal size.”

Buffy flinched with each snap as Cam broke off the fangs so they weren’t much longer than his other vampiric teeth. When he’d finished he gently eased Spike’s mouth closed.

“We need to get him out of here, Mom. Where’s Aunt Willow?”

Shaking her head, Buffy said, “I think she must have become too exhausted to teleport. When she brought me back, it should have been in the room where the souls are stored, but luckily we ended up near to your room so I knew which way to go.”

“We’re not going to make it are we?” said Cam in a small voice.

“Don’t even think that! I came here to get you and I’m not leaving without you!”

“I’m not leaving without Spike. And he’s not going to cooperate with us.”

“Cam, sweetie, you said yourself that it might not be Spike anymore, maybe—”

“Don’t say that! I’ll fix him! I will! I’ve got to or else…or else I’m as bad as they are.” He looked down.

“I just don’t see how we can do it without outside help. They’ll catch us for sure. I can’t let them kill you, Cam, I can’t!” Buffy reached out to him but he spun the chair away and moved to the cupboards lining one wall.

“There’s got to be a way!” He turned to face Buffy. “The computer! I wiped his mind with a program on the computer! If we got that—”

“We might be able to reverse it?”

Cam nodded excitedly. “I’ll tell you where it is!”

“Um…I’m crap with technology remember?”

“Yeah I know, but I just want to steal the whole unit.” Cam scanned the room for a pen, when he found it he wrote directions to the room where he’d worked with Gunn.

Buffy stared at Spike for a second, seeing the lumpy brow made him seem less like her lover and more like the demon he was. She touched the bullet wound and shuddered. God knows what they’d done to him in the time that they had him back. Would staking him be the kindest thing? She held his right hand in both of hers, and in that instant, she knew. She could no more kill Spike as kill one of her boys.

“We’ll fix you,” she whispered, and placed a kiss on his filthy cheek. “I love you, Spike.”

Cam watched his Mom with a lump in his throat. He coughed a couple of times. “Mom, time’s running out.”

“Right!” She smiled at Cam. “I’ll be back.”

He grinned. “Couldn’t resist saying it, huh?”

“Had to be said!” Her smile faded. “If anything goes wr—”

“It won’t.”

“It won’t,” Buffy said. I’m a slayer! I was the Slayer – I can be again. A deep breath later and she jogged out of the room.

As soon as she was gone, Cam crossed to the telephone hanging on the wall, dialled the number that made sure the line was unmonitored - tried not to think of how he knew how to do that - then dialled a number that he knew from heart.

To his delight, it answered on the first ring.

“Hello?” The voice was cautious.

“Craig. It’s me! How’s Aunt Willow?”

“Is it safe to talk on the phone?”

“Yeah, yeah. How is she?”

“Okay, but not teleporting anytime soon,” said Craig. “Is Mom okay? Spike?”

“Look, I can’t stay on long. There’s something I need you to do…”

Craig listened for a while as Cam outlined his plan.

“So, big brother, can you do it?”

There was no hesitation. “I’ll do it. Even if it kills me.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Craig disconnected the phone and stared at it for a moment before turning the ring tone to silent and then putting it in his jacket pocket. How the hell was he supposed to do what he’d just promised? From talking to Maurice about the local area, he knew that the nearest town lay to the east and was about five miles away. He checked the tank of the quad and saw, to his relief, that it was almost full. Before he set off, he called Maurice and was pleased to hear that although still weak, Willow had come around.

Then he began to make his way into the town. He stayed in the fields as much as possible and when he got too close to the town to be able to keep doing it, he parked it behind some thick hedges and hoped it would still be there when all this was over. Walking briskly and keeping to the shadows, Craig scanned the area for what he needed.

His face split into a grin when he noticed the car rental lot on the edge of an industrial estate. He walked the perimeter to make sure that there wasn’t a security guard and then glared at the high wire fence that surrounded it. Getting over it was going to be tricky, but then he thought again of the desperation in his brother’s voice and he somehow managed to scrabble over it. He tore his jeans on the barbed wire at the top, but otherwise was unscathed and landed with a grunt on the other side.

So far so good.

Taking it for granted that the building could be alarmed, Craig didn’t hesitate once he’d broken a window pane and let himself in the rear door of what was little more than a shed.

A box on the wall helpfully provided him with keys labelled with licence plate numbers and the main gate’s key too. He grabbed them all and ran to the lot. There were two vans the size he needed. One was brand new, the other older. Opting for the older one and breathing a sigh of relief that it hadn’t been painted with the company name, Craig jogged to unlock the gates before climbing in and driving away.

In an open all night garage, Craig filled up the tank, pleased that since they’d been run off the road that he’d kept his wallet on him at all times, just in case. He also bought a road map and a couple of screwdrivers. He’d seen enough movies to know what to do next. Ideally he would’ve liked to have gotten a plate from a van of the same make but time was of the essence so he pulled into the first housing estate he came to and took the plates off an SUV and put them on the stolen van. At least now it might give them enough time to get away before it was spotted as being stolen.

Again, thanks to the information gleaned from Maurice, Craig knew exactly where the Initiative base was. With his heart pounding fit to burst, he drove towards the facility, taking care not to exceed the speed limits. The last thing he wanted to do was draw attention to himself. As he drove his cell phone rang several times. Each time he checked it, thinking it might be Cam, and he was disappointed to see it was Maurice. He didn’t pick it up – the less the Carmichael’s knew the better.

When he was about a mile away, Craig pulled into a lay-by and waited for Cam’s call.

*~*~*~*

Buffy jogged almost soundlessly along the corridors. Only a skeleton staff was on during the night and so she was confident of getting to the computer room and back without being challenged. She ran past the door to the cupboard that held the souls, and then skidded to a halt, turned around and let herself in. Unsure exactly what she was looking for or why she needed to look in the first place, she scanned the names on the glass storage bottles as she walked along the row.

One name made her gasp, her hands going to her mouth, as tears pricked at her eyes. How could it be? With shaking hands she turned the jar around to read the additional label that was on the rear of it.

The old copperplate script on the yellowing label read, Captured in 1880 after vampiric demon took control.

She turned it back around and read the name on the front once more.

William Pratt

Another newer label offered more information regarding the soul’s former owner.

Aka William the Bloody

Aka Spike

How could the expelled soul of a vampire be contained for so long? Buffy had no clue but she knew that she wasn’t going to leave it here. She picked up the jar and placed it in the bag that Cameron had made by tying the neck of a scrubs tunic. One thing she knew she’d never find in there would be a jar with Maggie Walsh’s soul in it. The woman might be pure evil but Buffy knew that it was still inside of her.

Carrying it carefully, she continued on her way to the get the computer. She disconnected the computer and was just closing the door behind her when a guard came round the corner. Slayer instincts rapidly coming back to her, Buffy lashed out with her foot, knocking the man unconscious before he’d even had time to yell out.

Grunting with the effort, she dragged him into the computer room and used the cables she’d just disconnected to tie him up. Satisfied that he couldn’t get free of his own accord, she shoved one of the man’s socks in his mouth as a gag and then raced back to where Cam and Spike were as fast as she could.

Cam was putting some computer disks into the pockets on his sweatpants when she burst into the room.

“You made it!” His face lit up with a smile.

“Yeah, we’ve just got to get out of here now.”

“That’s sorted,” said Cam. “I need you to put Spike in there.” He nodded to the rear of the room.

“A pod?” Buffy frowned, remembering Spike meekly stepping into one all those years ago.

“Yes. We’ve got to keep him quiet if we’re going to be able to get out of here at all and this is the only way we can restrain him.”

“But how the hell are we going to get that thing out of the facility?” asked Buffy, still staring at it.

“It’s all organised. Come on, Mom! We need to be quick!”

Buffy pushed the gurney holding Spike until it was next to the pod and then managed to haul the unconscious vampire into the pod. Cam checked the feeding reservoir and nodded when he saw that it was full. With his hands feeling like they belonged to someone else, Cam expertly slid the feeding tube into Spike’s oesophagus and then asked his mother to bring the lid down and clamp it shut.

With a shudder, he activated the spinal clamp, but unless he’d used it, Spike would surely have been able to smash his way out. He went to the telephone and dialled Craig’s number. It answered on the first ring.

“Yeah?”

“We’re ready – meet us there in five minutes.”

“Will do, little brother.”

As soon as he hung up, Craig drove towards the delivery gate at the base.

“Who was that?” asked Buffy.

“Our getaway driver.”

Cam returned to the computer and tapped rapidly at the keypad. He needed to get the guards on the gate away from their posts for long enough for them to load Spike up. With the alarms in a different quadrant set to go off in ten minutes, Cam looked up at his mother.

“We need to go now. Can you push the pod?”

“Yes,” said Buffy sounding more confident than she felt. It looked heavy, but she was pleasantly surprised when she began to shove it in front of her, as its wheels glided easily over the tiled floor.

Cameron went in front and pushed his chair as fast as he could, glancing over his shoulder to make sure his mom could keep up. The alarm sounded and Cam fervently hoped that the guards at the door would go to investigate as he really didn’t have a plan B to fall back on.

Their luck held. The exit was unmanned. Mark hadn’t lied about all the exits having steps at them but he’d forgotten that the delivery exit had to have ramps for the pods to be transported in and out of the facility. It was too steep for Cam to manage to push himself though and so Buffy wheeled him up first before going back to get the pod.

They were just going through the outside doors when a voice called out from behind them.

“Stop right there, or I’ll shoot.”

Buffy turned around to see a guard aiming his gun at them. She took a step towards him, ensuring that the gun moved to her and away from Cam. As long as her son was safe she didn’t care what happened to herself.

“We’re leaving,” she said, staring boldly at the man.

“Not gonna happen.”

“Go!” she said to Cam and pushed the pod through the doors.

“I mean it! I’ll shoot.”

Backing up slowly, Buffy kept her eyes on the guard. He widened his stance and moved his finger on the trigger. A shot rang out and with a cry he fell to the floor clutching at his lower leg. Ears ringing from the shot, Buffy whirled around and almost lost her balance when she saw Craig standing in the doorway, with a smoking gun in his hand.

“Craig!” She ran towards him. “How did you get here…the gun…?”

“Now’s not the right time, Mom. We need to get away from here, like ten minutes ago!” He bent down and picked up a bottle, containing a clear liquid with a piece of rag pushed into the top. He lit the rag and threw the bottle inside the building where it shattered and the spilled gas burst into flames.

Together they went outside and between them they managed to lift Cam and his wheelchair into the stolen van. The pod’s legs could collapse like a stretcher and they heaved it in beside Cam then slammed the doors. Once they were in the front seats, Craig burned rubber as he floored the gas pedal and sped out of the compound.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Buffy twisted in her seat to glare at her eldest son.

“Oh, gee, it’s great to see you, Craig. Thanks for saving my life back there.”

“Of course I’m grateful, but since when did you learn to fire a gun and where did you get it from?”

Craig grinned at her, a touch too manically for her liking; she hadn’t seen him this pumped up for a very long time. “From the guard I took out when I drove up to the gate.”

“What did you do?”

“Spike was right. If you kick them hard enough in the bollocks, it gives you time to tie them up.”

“Spike said…” She glanced over her shoulder, but the rear of the van was separate from the front and so all she saw was white painted metal. “Nice shooting, getting that guard in the leg like that.”

“Um…not really, I was aiming for his chest.”

“Craig! You could have killed him!”

“He was going to kill you! What was I supposed to do?” Craig slammed his palm on the steering wheel. “Would you rather be lying on a slab in there? Cam needs you, if he’s going to make it through this.” I need you!

With a sigh, Buffy said, “So I’m guessing this van is stolen?”

“Yeah. The idea is to drive to the cottage, unload the pod into the garage there and then I’ll drive this a few miles away and dump it.”

Buffy nodded and leaned her head against the seat. “Sounds like a plan. But where do we go from there?”

Craig shrugged. “I dunno – that’s up to you and Aunt Willow to work out, I guess.”

“Willow! How is she?”

“Exhausted, but okay, last I heard.”

“Last you heard? Please don’t tell me that you haven’t told the Carmichaels what we’re doing?”

Craig dug in his jacket pocket and tossed her his cell phone. “Uh…I thought they might take it better from you.”

“Oh, for God’s sake!”

By the time that they pulled up at the cottage, Maurice had opened the garage doors, so Craig reversed the van as close as he could and then helped them unload the pod. Maurice and Craig lifted Cameron and his chair out.

Willow appeared in the doorway of the cottage. “Craig, I’m coming with. I’ll teleport us back here.”

“Are you sure you’re up to it?” said Buffy.

“I’ll be fine. And time is of the essence.”

As Willow and Craig drove away in the van, Maurice patted the top of the pod.

“So your vampire is in here?”

“Yeah,” said Cam. “It was the only way we could do it. I’ll just check to make sure the feeding tube is working okay.”

Buffy opened the lid and recoiled as she saw the snarling face of Spike. Teeth bared, growling quietly due to the paralysis making it almost impossible to draw air into his lungs to enable him to make sounds.

“Bloody hell!” Maurice’s eyes widened when he peered in at Spike.

A tear traced a path down Buffy’s cheek. “I know. They’ve really messed him up. We’re not sure we can get him back.”

“The feeding tube’s fine,” said Cam. “I think we need to go into the cottage and lock this place up.”

Reluctantly, Buffy pulled the lid down and went into the cottage with Maurice and Cam.

Thirty minutes later, a gust of wind blew around the living room as Willow and Craig arrived home.

“I’ve contacted the Watchers’ Council,” said Willow as they all sat around the kitchen table drinking cups of tea or coffee. “They’ve got a safe house we can use. The only problem is that we’re going to have to transport Spike and the pod there by road. There is no way that I can teleport them.”

“I’ll drive,” said Buffy. “We just need to hire a van.”

“No, Buffy. We guessed what Craig was up to when he went missing and so Maurice and I have had time to work things out. I’ll teleport you and the boys there, then travel with Maurice in a van. That way if there’s any trouble I should be able to use magic to cover our tracks.”

Buffy glanced at Dora, wondering what the woman was making of it all, not least the fact that her husband was going to be driving the stolen vampire and pod across the country. Noticing her watching her, Dora reached out and squeezed Buffy’s hand.

“We’re with you one hundred percent, love. After seeing what they’ve done to your family, there is no way that we couldn’t offer to help you with anything you need.”

Tears glistened in Buffy’s eyes, and not trusting her voice, she nodded her thanks and squeezed Dora’s hand until the older woman gave out a low grunt of pain.

“Oh! I’m sorry,” said Buffy, letting go.

“I’m all right.” Dora rubbed her hand. “Nothing broken.”

With a few more details discussed, Willow took Buffy, Cam and Craig to the house in the middle of the East Anglian fens, before returning and being driven to a car rental depot. Making sure that it wasn’t the one that Craig had stolen the van from.

To appear more inconspicuous, they rented a large SUV with removable rear seats and blacked out windows. If the Initiative were searching for them, the chances are they wouldn’t think of looking for such a vehicle.

Leaving Dora to drive to a hotel in the centre of London, rather than going back to the cottage, Willow and Maurice loaded up the pod and set off for the safe house. Depending on traffic, they should arrive there in a couple of hours.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Willow and Buffy stared at the pod positioned in the centre of the cell in the basement of the Council’s safe house. They’d all decided that it was best to keep Spike in it until they could undo some of the damage that Walsh and her cronies had done.

“Buffy,” cautioned Willow, as her friend moved to open the lid.

“I can’t help it, Will. I just have to see him. Make sure he’s okay.”

Buffy, usually so good at hiding her emotions from everyone, could barely keep from weeping every time she thought of Spike’s or Cameron’s ordeals. It was so far out from the things she’d dealt with as a slayer. It used to be so much easier to tell the bad guys from the good guys. Now that line was blurred forever in her mind.

“The stimulation won’t help him, Buff,” said Willow.

“I know.” Despite her words, she opened the catches and raised the lid. “Shh, baby,” she said. “It’s going to be all right.”

Spike hissed at her and bared his fangs. The hiss deepened to a low wheezy growl as she stroked his cheek.

“Oh, God!” Buffy fled the room, leaving Willow to close the pod.

As she did she muttered an incantation and the vampire was asleep before she’d done up the catches.

Upstairs, Buffy found no escape from her spiralling emotions, as she walked into the lounge to see Cam, sitting in his chair staring at the blank TV screen.

“Hey,” she said softly, rubbing a hand over his arm.

He turned to look up at her, the corners of his mouth twitching in what seemed to pass as a smile.

“How are you doing?”

“Craig is setting up the computer for me.”

“I meant—”

Cam’s mouth set into a grim line. “I’ve got to put that right.”

“But—”

“Don’t, Mom. Don’t ask me how I am.” He blinked back tears. “I need to stay focussed.”

He put his hands on the wheels and turned the chair away from her. Buffy reached out to touch his shoulder but let her hand fall away before it touched him. What comfort could she really offer him? Craig walked into the room and paused when he saw Cam with his back to Buffy. His heart twisted at the pain etched on his Mom’s face, but understood a little of how Cam must be feeling.

“Uh…the computer’s all fired up and ready to go.” His tone didn’t match the light-hearted words.

“Great.” Cam wheeled round to head to the door.

Craig shifted awkwardly, eyes downcast. “Cam…there are steps to the room. I’ll have to help you.”

Buffy’s heart tightened as she saw Cam close his eyes briefly and grit his teeth. “Okay. Is there room for the chair?”

“Yeah, loads of room, just got three steps down at the end of the hallway.” Craig walked behind Cam and put his hands on the grips on the back of the wheelchair.

“Come on then. I need to get started.”

Cam stared straight ahead as Craig pushed him forwards. Galvanised by their movement, Buffy’s hand finally touched Cam’s shoulder. “If you need—”

“I’ll call for help, okay? It’s not like I’m going to be going anywhere, is it?”

Both Buffy and Craig winced at that, and his shoulders slumped.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, hands twisting in his lap.

He didn’t mean to be like that but his head was buzzing with thoughts not his own, and whatever drugs they’d fed him in the Initiative had long since worn off, leaving him with pain radiating through his body from the base of his neck where the clamp had done its damage.

Hatred for Maggie Walsh and all in the Initiative swelled in him as Craig tipped his chair backwards and bounced him down the steps. How could they do what they did? Not just to him, but to Spike, and those other godforsaken creatures?

Once inside the room, he pushed himself to the computer desk and without a word to Craig, he began tapping at the keypad, staring at the screen as he did so.

Craig had never felt more useless in his life than he did at that moment, watching his little brother – his crippled little brother – trying to figure out how to help Spike.

*~*~*~*

“Cam, honey?” The voice was tentative.

“I’m busy.”

“You need to take a break. You haven’t eaten a thing all day,” Willow said.

Cam shuddered. Nor am I going to! “I’m not hungry. I don’t want to lose track of where I’ve got to.”

Willow walked closer. “You’ll make yourself ill – what good will you do Spike if you’re ill?”

Glancing up at her, he said, “You don’t understand. They did…something…to me and I don’t need to eat, okay?” Not quite true – without the drip he wasn’t getting any sustenance – but he couldn’t bear the thought of having to have someone help him to the toilet. Would he even know when he needed to go? He certainly couldn’t tell when he urinated.

“Well, take a break then? Just for ten minutes.”

“No!” He turned back to the screen. “How can I take a break when Spike’s…when…” He swallowed hard. “I’m not stopping until I’ve worked out what needs doing.”

“Can I help?”

With a sigh, Cam said, “Yes.”

Her face brightened with a smile. “What do you want me to do?”

“Fuck off!”

Willow gasped and backed away.

“I’m sorry!” He turned to the door but it was too late; she’d already gone.

“Oh, crap,” he muttered as he refocused on the computer.

*~*~*~*

“What does he want to eat?” said Buffy, looking up as Willow walked into the kitchen.

“He doesn’t. They’ve made it so he doesn’t need to eat. Oh, Buffy…that poor boy.” She sat on a chair with a thump. “How could they…?”

Cutting the cheese sandwich she’d just made in half, Buffy said bitterly, “The real thing is how could we let them do what they did to the vampires? We should have seen that they’d be capable of doing more than just turning vamps into bloodhounds!”

“We thought they were doing good.”

“No, Willow. Deep down I think I always knew that the Initiative was as evil as the demons they used, but I was too focussed on trying to have a normal life and to bring up the boys to really care about it.” She paced to the window and looked out, arms wrapped around her body. “I let them blind and control vampires – Spike – and as long as I could feel normal then I didn’t care. As long as it didn’t affect me…” She wiped her eyes with the back of her right hand. “Only it has now hasn’t it? Craig’s dreams shattered. Cam…paralysed and subjected to God knows what. Spike…” She took in a shuddering breath. “He’d be better off dust. All because I wanted to deny what I was – what I am.”

Willow rose from her chair, went to Buffy and put her arms around her shoulders. “It’s not your fault, sweetie. We’ll get through it. We always did – remember?”

Buffy squeezed her eyes tight shut, knowing if tears began to fall she’d never be able to stop.

*~*~*~*

The Initiative was in uproar. Maggie had predictably gone ballistic. She was currently staring down at Mark.

“How could you let it happen? Get outwitted by a teenaged boy? Did you learn nothing from me?”

Mark would have said he was sorry - would have appealed to the good side that he wasn’t sure that she had. But talking was impossible when your mouth was stuffed with a ball gag, so big that he thought his jaw was going to dislocate.

She walked around the table he was strapped down on, her fingers trailing along his naked goose-pimpled skin. His eyes never left her as she caressed his genitals, eliciting a moan as she squeezed his balls so hard he feared they’d rupture.

“So what should I do with you, Mark? I can never trust you again. I’m sure that the goddamn slayer won’t just be content to have her son back.” She released his balls and continued around the table. “And she took Seventeen. I don’t like people taking away my possessions. And that brings me back to what I should do about you.”

Mark’s eyes widened as she smiled at him. The woman only ever smiled when she was going to inflict some torture or other. The door opened and she turned away.

“Ah! Perfect timing. Set it down over there.”

Rolling his head to the side, Mark frowned at the glass jar on the trolley beside his bed. A soul? What was she doing with that?

“Well, Mark,” said Maggie, conversationally. “I took a leaf out of Wolfram & Hart’s book. When you started here, you signed away your soul.”

He shook his head. It couldn’t be true.

“See the colour of it. You were quite the little goody goody when I enlisted you, weren’t you? Shall we see what effect, twelve years of working at my side has done to it?”

More frantic shaking of his head.

Maggie began the ritual to restore the soul to its rightful owner. Mark screamed around the gag and thrashed wildly, as the ball of light worked its way into his body. Moments later he went limp.

“See how you like that,” said Maggie, glaring at her former right hand man.

She strode over to push the button on the intercom. “He’s ready for the cells. Better put him in a padded one. Oh, make it the cell opposite Lilah, keep the fronts clear – let him see what he has helped achieve.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Two guards walked in the room a couple of minutes later, and Maggie watched dispassionately as the gurney was wheeled away. With that problem out of the way, she now needed to focus on locating her escapees.

*~*~*~*

As Cam worked in solitude, searching desperately for a way to reverse what he’d done to Spike, Willow took her laptop and sitting at the kitchen table, she hit research mode to try to find a spell that would restore Cam to full mobility.

*~*~*~*

Mark woke with a scream and found he couldn’t stop. His eyes flew open and darted around the cell, meeting the gaze of Lilah who had been standing at the front of her cell waiting for this moment. She grinned at him and licked her lips. He screamed louder and scuttled backwards until he was huddled in a corner. Lilah threw her head back, tossing her luxuriant brown hair, and laughed as hard as Mark screamed.

A shudder ran through her as her penis filled and rose, she stared at Mark as she rubbed her hand over her cock. Catching her bottom lip in her teeth, she wondered if the professor would let her play with him. It had been a long time since they’d let her have sex. Her mouth fell open as she brought herself to a climax, when her eyes met those of Mark, she swore she could hear his sanity snap.

As the semen spattered on the glass at the front of the cell, Mark’s screams stopped. His mind simply shut down, no longer able to deal with the horrors that he’d seen, participated in or ordered. The tension left his body, as his face went slack, mouth slightly open, he stared at nothing and drool trickled from the right corner of his mouth.

*~*~*~*

They finally managed to get Cam away from the computer when Buffy went to check on him and found him slumped over, head on the keypad, fast asleep. Disconnecting the waste tube from the container in the base of the wheelchair, Buffy lifted him as easily as if he were as child and carried him to the bedroom that he and Craig were to share.

Craig pulled back the covers on the bed when Buffy walked into the room. Between them, they got him settled and put the end of the tube into a container they’d adapted for the purpose.

A fat tear rolled down Buffy’s cheek as she pulled the quilt up over her son. He should be in a hospital, getting the help he so desperately needed, but she was terrified of Maggie Walsh finding him if he wasn’t safe inside the warded house.

She turned as Craig put his hand on her arm. “I’ll watch over him, Mom. Get some rest, okay?”

Smiling weakly, she nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Craig closed the door behind her and sat on the other bed, elbows on knees, his chin cupped in his hands.

It must have been an hour later that Cam began to stir, soft whimpers escaping as his upper body twitched and shuddered. Craig knelt beside the bed and took one of Cam’s clenched fists in his hands.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Craig said as Cam’s eyes fluttered open. “You’re…” He opted against saying all right and settled, instead, for, “safe.”

“Wha…?” Cam blinked. “How?”

“You fell asleep on your keypad. Mom brought you up here.”

Cameron pushed himself up, with his hands, until he was sitting. “Take me back – I’ve nearly found it.”

“No, Cam…you need to rest.”

“I don’t--I’ve got to…” He paled as swayed, and his head banged against the wall, hard enough to make Craig wince in sympathy.

“Cam!” Craig got hold of his shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

The feeling passed and Cam glanced up at his brother. “Nothing. I’m okay. Just felt a bit dizzy.”

Standing, Craig said, “I’ll get Mom.”

“No! I’m just…” His stomach rumbled loudly.

“Freaking starving!” said Craig. “All that I don’t need to eat stuff you told Aunt Willow was just bullshit, wasn’t it?”

“No.” Cam dropped his eyes to his hands which were twisting into the bed covers.

“Liar.” Craig sank to his knees beside the bed. “Why won’t you eat? If you pass out you can’t help Spike, can you?”

“No. Suppose not, but…”

“But what, Cam?” said Craig. “What’s wrong? You can tell me.”

Bringing his head up, so that their eyes met, Cam said, “You laughed at me.”

“What?” His brother frowned. “When?”

“When Aunt Willow brought me to the cottage.”

Craig shook his head. “I didn’t.”

“You did – or would have if Aunt Willow hadn’t glared at you.”

“No, I…oh.”

“Yeah, oh. Thought it hilarious that I’d peed my pants, didn’t you?”

“But I didn’t know…”

Neither boy could meet the other’s eye. After a pause, Cam added, “I hate it. Not knowing when I need a piss is worse than not being able to…not being able to walk.”

Craig thought his heart would cease to beat as Cam spoke so quietly.

“I don’t want to eat…’cause…what if I don’t know that either?”

“Oh, Christ, Cam!” Craig threw his arms around his brother, pulling him to his chest. “I’ll help you, okay? We’ll get through this. If you…well, if you need help getting cleaned up, I’m here for you, okay?” When Cam remained silent, he pulled back so he could see his brother’s face. “We’ll get through this, Cam. I’ll look after you.”

Cam nodded slightly and put his arms around Craig, pulling him closer so he wouldn’t see his tears. But I don’t want to have to be looked after.

When they untangled themselves, Craig sniffed a couple of times, to get his own emotions back under control. “I’ll get you something to eat. I won’t be long.”

After Craig had left, Cam rested his head against the wall, closing his eyes to try to banish the vision of having a colostomy bag fitted from his mind. It didn’t work. And even worse, he knew exactly how the procedure was done.

He remembered Mark’s words about how vampire blood could heal him over time, but how could he take Spike’s blood after all that he’d done to him? Cam had drifted off into a restless sleep by the time his brother returned, so Craig put the sandwich and soda on the bedside table and climbed into bed. He stared at the ceiling for a long time before he could sleep.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Cameron woke early and pulled himself up until he was sitting with his back against the headboard. Glancing over at Craig, he saw that his brother was still sleeping, with one foot sticking out from beneath the covers. As he watched, Craig moaned and pulled the foot out of sight, causing a pang in Cam’s chest. His own feet remained as if they were no longer part of him. He was impatient to get back to the computer but hated the fact that if he were to get out of bed, he’d need someone’s help as the chair wasn’t even in the room, let alone within reach.

Raising his hands, he winced at the pain in his shoulders. To his horror his fingertips felt numb.

Oh, crap. I’m getting worse.

To prevent himself from falling even deeper into despair about his condition, he concentrated on Spike. Before he’d fallen asleep, he’d been pretty sure that he knew how to reverse the wipe he’d done, but whether Spike would be able to process it only time would tell. There was a very real possibility that permanent brain damage had been done, or would be inflicted when the wipe was reversed.

He flexed his fingers a few times and decided that he’d have to wake Craig up. His stomach growled as he spotted the sandwich his brother had left for him the night before. With a moment’s hesitation, Cam picked up the sandwich and bit into it. The bread had gone a little stale but he didn’t care. He was starving and knew that Craig was right in what he’d said. He couldn’t help Spike if he ended up passing out. It took him a couple of attempts to open the bottle of Coke, his fingers feeling rubbery and not quite his own.

After gulping the sugary liquid down, he burped loudly, managed a smile at that, and then wiped his hand across his mouth. He tried not to think of how long it would take for the food to work its way through his digestive tract.

“Craig?”

He raised his voice, knowing how deeply his brother usually slept. To his surprise, Craig’s head immediately left the pillow.

“What? I’m up!”

His brother’s bloodshot eyes told Cameron just how little sleep he must have gotten that night.

Blinking and rubbing his eyes, Craig sat up. “Need some help?”

He said it so matter-of-factly that tears stung Cam’s eyes. Maybe, no matter what happened, he’d be able to learn to live with his disability with his brother’s support.

“Uh…yeah. I need to get back to the computer.”

Craig grinned, and if it didn’t quite reach his eyes, both pretended not to notice. “Should have known, huh? How are you doing with it?” Craig couldn’t look at Cam as he swung his feet to the carpeted floor and stood up.

“I think maybe an hour or so and I’ll be ready to do it.”

Turning to face Cam, Craig struggled to pull his t-shirt over his head. When his tousled hair finally found the right hole, and the shirt was pulled on, he said, “Wow, man, you really are smart.”

“Yeah,” Cam glared at him. “Real smart, getting caught and…”

They both stared at his legs.

Craig coughed. “Um…you know what I meant.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, Craig, it’s not. And if I wasn’t like this you wouldn’t say that would you?”

“Oh, jeez, what do you want me to do? Pummel the bit of you that still freaking works?” Craig’s eyes widened and his ran a hand over his face. “Oh, Cam…I’m—”

To his surprise Cam interrupted his words with a snort of laughter. Their eyes met and soon both were laughing helplessly.

“Just treat me as normal, if you can. I need to feel that I can be me – even if I-I’m stuck like this.”

“I think I can do that, little brother.” Craig smiled, this time it showed in his eyes, and clipped Cam lightly around the head. “So less of your mouth, okay?”

“Okay.” Cam nodded. “So will you take me downstairs, please?”

“Yeah, will do.”

Without making a fuss, Craig disconnected the tube to the makeshift container and then scooped the still fully dressed Cameron off the bed and carried him down to the study.

“Look, I’ll bring you some toast, okay? And if you need help…with anything – just yell.”

“Thanks, Craig.”

Both were a little relived when Craig walked away.

*~*~*~*

Willow continued to search for healing spells, but magic is a funny thing and not all things can be simply wished away. She wasn’t holding out much hope of finding a cure as if one was readily available then there would be someone somewhere making millions by healing the crippled. Maybe that was why such magic seldom worked? Somehow nature knew that such a gift would be abused. But it didn’t stop Willow silently cursing the Goddess for not helping her mend such a worthy young man.

Wandering restlessly around the house, Craig was unable to go outside for fear that the Initiative would spot him. The wards only cloaked the house and not its ample grounds. At one point, he found himself staring at the pod. Willow had repeated her sleeping enchantment on the vampire and the lid of the pod was open. From time to time, the feeding tube vibrated as more blood was pumped into Spike’s stomach. The bullet wound was already healing. He reached out and touched the mark, glancing at Spike’s face as if he expected the vampire to leap out and attack him.

Even after Spike had joined the family, he’d never really questioned the morality of using the vampires as the Initiative did. All he’d really thought about was how he saw more of his mom since the Trackers and Hunters took over. He cringed as he thought of how, with a young boy’s curiosity, he’d tried to get Spike to talk about his job. It never really occurred to him that the vampires were essentially enslaved and not willing participants. As he’d gotten older, he’d known the score but Spike was with them and happy and so he’d pushed any disquieting thoughts away.

Knowing what he did now, and seeing the evidence of the Initiative’s callousness both in this brother and in Spike, he wondered how on earth Spike had managed not to actually dust himself once he was free. They’d taken his eyes for Christ’s sake! Craig ran his fingers feather-light over Spike’s eyelids. They opened and he pulled his hand away with a gasp. Spike’s right eye followed the movement and he hissed at him.

“Oh, crap! Er…I’ll get Aunt Willow, okay?”

Spike bared his teeth and growled, his face contorting with the effort.

Craig fled the room.

Crashing through the door into the kitchen, Craig caused Willow to jump, he hand flying to her throat.

“Good Goddess, Craig! Don’t do that.”

Smiling sheepishly, Craig said, “Sorry. It’s just that I was checking on Spike and he woke up.”

Willow glanced at her watch with a frown. “Hmm, that was supposed to last for another fifteen minutes.”

“Losing your touch, Aunt Will?”

“Remember what I said I’d do if you caused trouble when your mom came to stay with me?”

Craig dropped a hand to cover his crotch. “Uh…yeah.”

“Well…I think your brother being kidnapped constitutes trouble, don’t you?”

“But…er…” Craig swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously. “You—”

Willow chuckled. “Men! You’re all the same.”

“That’s so not funny!”

She wagged a finger at him. “Manners, young man, or there could be a hoppy toad in your future.”

“Craig!”

Cam’s voice rang out.

“Coming!” Craig smiled at Willow and added, “Perfect timing.”

“It is.” Willow stood up and followed him to the door. “I’ll go and see to Spike.”

They went opposite ways down the hallway.

Cam was waiting at the bottom of the three steps, impatiently rocking the wheelchair backwards and forwards. His teeth worried at his lower lip, trying not to be freaked out by the fact that he was using the palms of his hands to move the wheels because his fingers were no longer strong enough to grip the rims.

“I’ve got it! Take me down to the pod. Get the others – I’ll need help to set it up.”

“Yes, sir!” Craig raised his eyebrows at Cam’s tone.

Dropping his gaze to his knees, Cam muttered, “Sorry. Just channelling the doctor a bit.”

“Doctor? I always knew you were a geek.” Craig jumped the three steps in one leap. “So what? You’re Doctor Who now?”

Despite everything, Cam chuckled. “No, you idiot. I meant the doctor whose memories they stuffed my head with.”

“Christ.”

“Yeah…it’s weird. It’s like he’s in there locked in a…” Cam waved his hand trying to think of a way to describe the feeling, “a cage, but sometimes he shouts through the bars.” He glanced up at his brother. Craig’s eyes were wide with horror.

“Christ.”

“Eloquent as ever.”

“Cam…how can you—”

“Go tell Aunt Willow and Mom we need them,” said Cam, patiently.

Craig nodded his head but it still took him a moment to make his feet obey him, unable to really process what his brother had just told him. His fury at the Initiative ratcheted up a notch higher if it was possible.

Spinning his chair around, Cam went back into the small study and began to gather up the things he’d need. While his mom had been retrieving the computer, he’d been garnering things like electrodes and, even though it made him shudder, a gag. The last thing he wanted was to have Spike bite into his tongue during the process.

By the time the three arrived at the doorway, Cam’s lap was piled high with equipment.

“Here.” He offered the things up to Buffy. “I need all this.” He looked up at Willow. “I’ve got the program on a memory stick – can I use your laptop, please? Otherwise I’ll need the computer down there.”

“Sure,” she said. “I’ll go get it.”

He turned to Craig. “I’ll need my chair down there. Will you help me down to the floor then you can take the chair first?”

“I can take you in the chair,” said Craig, shaking his head. “This is a Council house, remember. They store all sorts of nasties in the basement, so there’s a service elevator. How do you think we got the pod down there, braintrust?”

“Oh, right. Come on then!”

“Man, when this is over I’m so gonna bust your balls about your attitude!”

Cam forced a smile. He was too afraid of what might be in his future to say anything. Once in the basement his mouth went dry at the sight of the pod. The lid was open and he could see Spike’s gaunt face.

Oh, Spike. I hope I do this right.

Pushing away his doubts, he cocked his head to the side as he concentrated on listening to the voice of the doctor. His voice had a slightly different quality to when he spoke.

“I need the electrodes fitting. I can’t reach.”

“Where do you need them?” Willow stepped forwards, turning to get the equipment from Buffy before looking to Cam for instruction.

“Here.” Cam touched his right temple. “And the other side.” He watched intently as she did as bidden and then touched behind his ear. “Here and the other side.”

Willow carefully attached all the electrodes and then passed the wires to Cam who attached them to a small black box. The box had a single cable and he plugged that in to a USB port on the laptop.

“Mom. Can you gag him?”

“What!” Buffy’s eyes got big. “No! I can’t do that.”

Cam rolled his eyes. “It’s for his benefit! He might chew off his fucking tongue!”

“Hey!” Craig said, bending low to Cam’s ear. “You might want to rein in that doctor, or I’ll knock you out of the chair. Don’t you dare speak to Mom like that.”

“What?” Cam blinked several times. “Uh…sorry, Mom.” His voice sounded more like his own. “But it is for his own benefit, I promise.”

“Okay.” Buffy’s hands shook as she put the gag into the sleeping vampire’s mouth and cranked it open a couple of inches.

“Aunt Willow?”

“Yes?”

“He’s got to be awake.”

All three faces staring at him blanched.

“I’m sorry, but there’s no other way.”

Cam had waged a war with the doctor’s memories when he’d discovered it, worried that it was just the sadistic side of the implanted personality, but he became convinced that Spike had to be aware of the process.

Willow muttered the reversal to the sleeping spell and as soon as her words stopped, Spike’s eyes flew open and his right eye rolled to stare at them. He tried to move his head enough to dislodge the gag and worked his tongue furiously trying to push the metal out.

He hissed at them, and then Cam pressed the sequence that would start the procedure on the keypad, concentrating hard to make his numb fingers strike the correct letters.

Despite being paralysed and unable to draw in much breath, Spike’s screams soon echoed around the basement. Ten long minutes later, the vampire lost consciousness.

“Oh, God, I don’t think I can take much more.” Buffy walked on unsteady legs to a stool against the far wall. She looked from Cam to Willow and back again. “What happens now?”

“We’ll know whether it has worked when he wakes up,” said Cam, before glancing at the computer screen and frowning.

“What is it?” Craig moved so he could look over his brother’s shoulder.

“I’m not sure.”

Cam closed his eyes and tried to let the doctor’s memories come to the fore. He didn’t notice how the others were staring at him when he reopened his eyes, just began tapping at the keypad.

“I don’t understand it,” he muttered. “That shouldn’t be happening.”

“What shouldn’t?” Buffy stood up again and strode over to him.

“See that?” Cam pointed to a red line on the screen. It resembled the display on a heart monitor, and it rose and fell in rapid peaks and troughs.

“Yeah, what is it?” Willow asked as she peered at the screen.

“The pain chip. It’s still firing.”

“Crap, is it firing every time that line jumps?” said Craig, tracing it with the index finger of his left hand.

“Yes,” said Cam.

“But that means—”

“It’s almost continuous .” Cam provided the end to Craig’s sentence.

There was a pause as they all digested this fact.

“Can you fix it?” Buffy’s voice held a tremble.

“I don’t think so – not without cutting into his brain. They did something to the chip so it fired and only stopped hurting him if he killed or fed, but from the look of this readout, something’s gone wrong and it’s just hitting him with full strength shocks no matter what he’s doing.”

“So,” said Craig, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You’re all docorified – you can do it.”

Cam twisted round to look at him. “Are you insane? You think I should go in and cut it out?”

“Well…yeah. Just let the doctor take charge.”

“Doctor? What doctor?” Buffy bent down to look Cam in the eye, but it was Craig who answered for him.

“He said earlier that he can sort of feel inside his head, the guy whose knowledge he got pumped full of. All I’m saying is that he should let the good doctor out to play for a bit.”

“No!” Buffy, Willow and Cam all said at the same time.

Cam blinked back tears. “I can’t do it – what if I can’t put him back in his cage?”

“You don’t need to,” said Willow, her tone adamant.

All eyes swivelled to her face.

“I can do it. Without cutting into his brain,” she added rapidly. “It’s fairly easy for magics to make technology fail. What? Haven’t any of you read the Dresden Files? Butcher wasn’t wrong when he said strong magic and tech don’t like each other, though it does take a bit of concentration.” She waved a hand in the air. “Total bullshit about wizards living for centuries of course.”

“But—if you short it out, won’t it hurt?” said Cam. “How do we know it won’t cause brain damage?”

Willow sighed. “Honestly? I don’t know, but whatever happens he’ll be pain free.”

As if in response to her words Spike began to moan quietly, the volume increasing until his anguished screams made them all shudder.

“Just do it, Will!” Buffy ran to the pod, hands gripping the edge of it as she stared at Spike. “Spike? Do you know who I am? You’ll be okay.”

Spike didn’t react to her voice, just kept screaming, eyes squeezed shut.

Willow pulled the electrodes off his head so they wouldn’t be damaged, and then put her left hand on the top of Spike’s head. She glanced up, silently offering a prayer up to the Goddess, before returning her focus to Spike. Static electricity charged the air and Cam shut down the computer, to keep it from being affected.

Spike continued to yell. Willow’s right hand joined her left and a drop of blood oozed from Spike’s nostril as his cries faded.

“Oh, God! You’re killing him! Stop! Willow!” Buffy reached out to pull her friend’s hands away, but found herself gripped by Craig.

“Let her do her job, Mom. If it doesn’t work he’s dead anyway.”

She let out a sob and then buried her head against her son’s chest, knowing that she’d hear those cries for as long as she lived.

Tears ran down Cam’s face as he watched helplessly as Spike finally fell silent.

Pulling out of Craig’s arms, Buffy turned to Willow. “Did it work?”

“I think so. I’ve made him sleep again. I think we should take him out of the pod.”

Cam wheeled himself forward and deactivated the spinal clamp. Then between them, Craig, Buffy and Willow, lifted Spike from the pod, and carried him to a cot positioned against the left wall of the cage. Once he was laid on his back, Buffy eased him into the pants from a scrubs suit that they'd stolen. Then helped wheel the pod out of the cell and locked the door.

“I’m going to watch over him,” said Buffy. She drew up the stool and sat on it, facing the inert vampire.

The others nodded, knowing that she would want to do it and do it alone. Craig helped Cam into the service lift. When the boys had gone, Willow walked to a cupboard, took out a crossbow, primed it with a bolt and placed it at Buffy’s feet.

“Just in case it didn’t work.”

Buffy nodded. She would use it, if he was still in pain. She couldn’t take seeing him like that any longer.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

It was almost two hours before Spike began to stir. In that time, Buffy had only left her perch on the stool to visit the bathroom. The coffee that Craig had brought down to her sat forgotten and cold on the floor near her feet.

Spike’s right foot began to twitch and Buffy leaned forwards watching him intently. His left joined the right in its dance, before violent tremors took over the whole of his body. They were so violent that he was in danger of falling off the cot. To Buffy’s relief, although anguished moans escaped from Spike’s lips, he didn’t scream.

“Oh, please.” She closed her eyes and willed it to have worked. “Come back to me, Spike.”

Unable to sit still, Buff slid off the stool and paced around the metal cage that surrounded Spike. Its bars were so close together that even her slim hand and wrist would struggle to get between them.

The shakes subsided, and Spike fell silent – so silent that she thought he’d lost consciousness. He startled her by rolling off the bed and huddling beside it on the floor.

“Spike?” She crouched down and peered at him through the bars.

His face turned towards hers but he avoided eye contact and hugged his knees to his body.

“Spike? Are you okay? Do you hurt?”

There was a slight shake of his head.

Damn, which does he mean? Buffy tried again. “Are you okay?”

This time Spike didn’t move.

“Are you in pain?”

Slight shake.

No pain. Right. That’s good.

“Spike? Look at me.”

After a pause, the vampire raised his head and managed to meet her eyes.

“Do you remember me? Do you know who I am?”

Spike glanced off to the side and once more shook his head.

Fighting back tears she said, “Can you talk? Do you know your name?”

That seemed to stump Spike for a while but eventually he glanced at her face, licked his lips a couple of times before opening his mouth and closing it again and shaking his head.

Buffy’s heart clenched. Something had gone wrong.

“You’re Spike.” She forced a smile, though her heart felt like it had upped and left. “I’m Buffy. Think really hard, are you sure you don’t remember?”

“I don’t…” Spike looked down at his body, still covered with blood and dirt. He gasped and shuffled backwards. “Did I…? Was I bad?” He dipped his head and moaned.

“Hey!” Buffy moved closer to the bars. “You weren’t bad. Just calm down, okay? No one is going to hurt you.”

His eyes moved to the pod, which bizarrely seemed to make him relax. Keeping his eyes averted he said, “I was in there.”

Biting back a sob, Buffy said, “I know. I’m sorry but we had to keep you in it until we stopped your head hurting.”

He rubbed at his temples and then met her eyes. “I remember it hurting. I rememb…” He brought his hands away from his head, sat up a little straighter and scowled. “Do you…? Am…?”

“What, honey?” Buffy bent down so she was on the same level as him.

“Do you own me?”

“No!” She stood up so abruptly that the sudden movement caused Spike to flinch and hunch up again. “Look, don’t be afraid, okay. I don’t own you.” She ran a hand through her hair, wincing as it snagged in a knot. “Well, technically, I suppose I do, but no need to get into that right now. We rescued you. You’re free.”

Despite his obvious confusion, Spike huffed at that statement and looked at the bars of the cage.

“Uh, yeah…well…you’re only in there until we’re sure that you’re not going to try to kill us.”

“Oh, shite, I was bad!”

“You weren’t bad!” Buffy took in a deep breath and counted to three before she let it out again. “Look, Spike. You were kidnapped, okay? Some people did some terrible things to you and we’re going to make sure that you get back to normal.”

“Back to normal,” Spike said, in a voice that clearly showed he had no idea what normal meant.

When his hand strayed to the healing wound in the centre of his chest, Buffy could take no more. Before he could begin to ask her what had happened, she fled, calling out, “I’ll be back soon,” as she ran up the steps.

His fingers touched the still raw wound and he closed his eyes. He could almost remember something. With a snort of frustration, he opened his eyes again. It was no good, whatever it was, it was just out of reach.

Putting a hand on the bars he pulled himself to his feet and swayed dramatically. His head might not actually hurt but it felt weird. Sort of like his brain was rattling around inside his skull.

“Spike,” he said, trying the name on for size.

It sounded unfamiliar to him. Turning his head towards a clanging noise made him lose his balance and he fell heavily to his knees, the metal one ringing out loud as it hit the ground.

“What the hell…”

Spike struggled to sit on the bed and then stretched his legs out in front of him, pulling up the leg of the loose fitting pants he wore. One knee joint was completely metal. How could that be? Rubbing his hand over it, he froze for a moment before slowly raising his hands to eye level.

More clanging then the rattle of a door being opened distracted him from his hands. He lowered them onto his knees as he watched a boy in a wheelchair, a redhead and the blonde who’d said she was called Buffy, walk towards the cage. Another boy was pushing the wheelchair.

Feeling like an exhibit in a zoo, and intimidated by the number of them, Spike glared. “What did you do to me?” Holding his hands up. “Why?”

Buffy blanched. “Oh, God…I can’t do this.”

“Sure you can,” said Willow, squeezing her friend’s hand.

Cam glanced up at Craig, who nodded and pushed him closer to the cage.

“Hey, Spike,” he said softly.

Spike shifted on the cot but said nothing.

“Mom says you don’t remember us.”

A shake of Spike’s head confirmed this.

“Do you remember anything?”

The vampire’s gaze moved from one person to another before settling back on Cameron. For some reason, the sight of this person didn’t scare him half to death.

“Just you,” he said.

“What do you mean?” Cam frowned.

“Just you. If you want to talk, it’s got to be just you.”

“Okay,” said Cam. He twisted as well as he could to look at the others. “I’ll come up when I’m done.”

Buffy hated the thrill of relief that rushed through her. She’d coped with Spike, coming to terms with what had happened once and didn’t know if she could deal with it again.

Bending so his mouth was near his brother’s ear, Craig whispered. “Do you want me to move you anywhere? Or is here okay?”

Cam jerked his head back and stared at Craig, eyes wide.

“I know you’re getting worse”

“I’m n—”

“Cam, it’s me. Quit lying.” He dropped a cell phone in his brother’s lap. “In case you can’t use the elevator on your own.”

Vampire and boy stared at each other. Waiting until the others had left via the stairs.

“Um…so do you remember anything?” said Cam, breaking the silence.

“Why am I here?” countered Spike.

“Mom, told you, didn’t she? That you got kidnapped?”

Spike nodded. “But I don’t understand.” The word ended with a growl.

“Look, tell me what you do remember and I’ll fill in the blanks, okay?” Cam said. “I mean, you know you’re a vampire, yeah?”

Cam almost laughed as Spike sneered and raised his eyebrows in what had always passed as rolling his eyes for him. But the sight of one eye’s movement and the other staring straight ahead sobered him to the extent that he felt a little queasy.

“So I’ll take that as a yes.” Cam said. “What else?”

Spike closed his eyes and shuddered.

“Being blinded.”

Cameron worried that he was going to throw up as bile rose in his throat.

“Tracking,” said Spike, his eyes drifting to the pod. “I liked tracking…even though I couldn’t see. Following the scent…I – I felt free.”

Spike had never spoken of his time in the Initiative, not even to Buffy and Cameron felt awkward to hear it now.

Swallowing hard, Cam said, “Do you remember anything about before being a tracker?”

“No. First thing I can remember is being blinded.” He cocked his head on one side. “How can I see now? Why do I remember being blind when I’m not?

“Um…they did blind you. It was routine back then…”

Cameron began to tell Spike of his time as a tracker, of how he’d lost his thumbs as a punishment, and of how Buffy had rescued him from imminent retirement.

“But…she’s the Slayer…why would she do that?” Spike said, holding his head in his hands. It was too much to take in.

“There is more than one slayer now. They worked out a way to activate the next potential. They stopped Mom’s heart and a new one was called. Then they repeat it with the new one.”

Spike moaned, softly.

“What is it? Do you remember something?”

“Dunno…not really…just when you said they’d stopped the Slayer’s heart I almost could…but it’s gone.”

Mom did say how freaked you were when they did it – you’d been with us for a while by then.”

Cameron resumed his account of what had happened to Spike, ending with his disappearance from home and how they’d come to find out that he had been taken rather than dusted.

Fat tears rolled slowly down Cam’s face as he told of how he’d found the dust and of how he’d seen what had happened to him since his recapture. Spike was silent throughout this, the only indication that he was listening at all was the occasional tensing of his body in response to some parts of the telling.

In the silence that followed the end of Cameron’s account, Spike said, “I can remember a boy.” He touched his chest. “He shot me with one of those.” Spike nodded towards the crossbow, still on the floor beside the stool. “Was that you?”

Cam sniffed a couple of times and smiled. “Yeah, that was me. It was an accident.”

“Right. But you were…”

“I was. This is new.” He tapped the chair. “They did it to me when they discovered that I’d found out you weren’t dust.”

Spike leapt to his feet, snarling. “I’ll kill them! I’ll tear them limb from limb!”

The effect of his words was muted a little by the fact he was swaying dramatically, and looking like he didn’t really know why he’d reacted so strongly.

“There’ll be payback, Spike. Don’t worry about that. We’ve got to do something otherwise they could just come and get you again.”

Sitting back down with a thump, Spike met Cameron’s eye and said, “Stake me.”

“What? No!”

“Why not?”

“’Cause I love you!” Cam’s chest tightened. “We all love you – we want you back!”

“Seems to me that everybody is thinking about what they want and not about what I want.”

Cam gasped and shook his head.

“I don’t remember a time when I wasn’t controlled. You say I lived with you, but all I remember is you shooting me! How do I know that what you say is true? Why would anyone want to live when all they know is pain and following orders? Get the Slayer back down here and tell her to use that bloody thing and end it!”

Beginning to wheeze, Cam shook his head. “She couldn’t do it, Spike. She loves you – you were lovers.” He slumped forwards in his chair and for a moment Spike though he was going to tumble out of it.

“Cam?”

“Can’t…m-move…can’t…breathe.”

“Help!” Spike screamed at the top of his lungs, not sure why the boy’s plight should affect him so much, but the thought of him dying struck fear into Spike’s unbeating heart. “Somebody!”

Unbeknownst to him, the basement was soundproofed, and his voice merely echoed around the room. Spike spotted the cell phone resting on Cameron’s lap.

“The phone! Use the fucking phone!” Spike strode to stand in front of Cam. Growling with frustration as even his thumbless hand couldn’t fit between the bars.

Cam’s fingers twitched and he managed to flop his hand into his lap. Unable to raise his head to see the handset, he fumbled until he managed to press the redial button. He heard it ring twice before Craig picked it up.

“Ready to come up, little brother?”

Seeing that Cam couldn’t draw enough breath to speak, Spike called out.

“Get down here! Now!”

“Spike? What’s happened?” Spike heard Craig’s reply.

“Your brother…he’s…” Luckily Craig hung up before Spike had to say what he feared was happening.

The door to the basement flew open and a wild-eyed Craig burst inside.

“Cam! Oh God, no!”

He eased his brother’s body upright and Cam’s eye’s fluttered open.

“What do I need to do, Cam?”

Cam mouthed the word, “Sorry.”

“Sorry? What do you mean?” Craig glanced at Spike. “What’s he mean?”

“Let me out!”

“What? No! I’ve got to help Cam.” He straightened up. “I need to get help.”

“I’m the bleeding help!” Spike banged his hands on the bars. “Let me out – he’s dying for fuck’s sake.”

Cam’s breathing stopped. Craig ran to the shelf on the wall near the door, grabbed the key and fumbled as he tried to get it in the lock.

“Come on, come on!” Spike urged, listening to Cam’s unsteady heartbeat.

If the boy’s heart stopped beating there was nothing he could do.

As soon as he heard the lock snick open he pushed the cage door open, knocking Craig to the floor, and raced to Cameron. He lifted the boy from the chair and laid him on the floor, cradling his head. When he bit deep into the wrist of his left hand, he noticed Craig slowly picking up the crossbow.

“Use that and he’ll die.”

“Don’t turn him,” said Craig. “Please.”

“Haven’t bitten him, have I?” Spike said, pressing his bleeding wrist to Cam’s lips.

“What are you doing?” Craig stepped closer.

Ignoring him, Spike stroked Cam’s throat with his free hand. “Swallow it. Drink it down, Cam.”

Just when Spike thought it was too late and that Cam wasn’t going to be able to take the blood, the boy swallowed, coughed weakly as his breathing kicked back in, and then swallowed again.

Spike smiled when Cam’s lips began to suck eagerly at the wound. “That’s it. Take all you want.”

Felling not a little grossed out at his brother suckling down the blood, Craig sank to his knees.

“What’s happening?”

Glancing at Craig, Spike said, “My blood – it heals things.”

“But how? Is it something that they did to you in the Initiative?”

“No.” Spike shook his head, and looked down at Cam. “Vampire blood cures humans.”

“How come I’ve never heard of it? Mom never told us that.”

Spike snorted. “And precisely how long do you think we’d last if humans knew this? I’m guessing those bastards in there know now, but it’s always been a closely guarded secret.”

“Will it…will he be able to walk?” The crossbow clattered as Craig let it fall.

“Eventually – probably – I don’t know.”

“I thought you told us you couldn’t remember anything.”

“I don’t know how I know this, okay? But I do. Trust me.”

Cam brought his right hand up and gripped Spike’s wrist, his teeth worrying the wound to increase the sluggish flow.

“Go get your mum now if you want.”

Craig glanced at him and Spike could see the uncertainty in his eyes.

“Look, he’s the one chowing down on me – not the other way around. Go get your mother,” said Spike, adding once more, “Trust me.”

“’Kay.” Craig stood up and on unsteady legs ran to get Buffy.

Spike could feel the weakness spreading through him as the boy drank. “That’s it, lad. Take all you want. Let old Spike help you, yeah?”

When Spike’s eyes closed and his body slumped beside Cam’s, the boy just held onto the vampire’s wrist more firmly to make sure he didn’t drop it.

Buffy was the first one back into the basement and she skidded to a halt when she saw her son, sucking at Spike’s wrist.

“He says it’ll heal Cam,” said Craig at her shoulder.

Willow pushed her way between them. “Can’t you see that if he takes much more Spike will dust?”

Jogging over to the pair, Willow knelt down, put a hand on Spike’s arm and one on Cam’s head and pulled them apart.

“Uh…What? Aunt Willow?”

“Shh, sweetie, just lie there a while.” She turned her attention to Spike. “He needs blood and quickly!”

Craig turned on his heels and headed back up to the kitchen. Watching him go, Buffy sank to her knees beside Spike.

“You gave your blood to save my son. Now I’ll give you mine.”

She grabbed the bolt from the crossbow and used the sharpened tip of it to slice through the veins in her wrist. When her blood dripped onto Spike’s tongue, he moaned and swallowed eagerly.

“Don’t give him too much at once, Buff, ‘cause we haven’t got any blood we can give you if you lose too much,” said Willow.

“I won’t,” said Buffy.

“What happened, Cam?” asked Willow.

“I’ve been getting worse and when we were talking I suddenly couldn’t breathe, then I’m not sure,” said Cam, letting Willow help him to sit up. His eyes widened as his foot moved. But when he tried to move it again, it remained stubbornly stationary. “Aunt Will, did you see…?”

“I did, Cam. I did.”

“If I had more…?”

Willow smiled at him and hugged him to her chest. “I don’t know, Cam. I’ve never heard of this before.”

“But I might walk?” Cam remembered Mark’s words in the Initiative.

She eased her grip and let him pull back until their eyes met. “You might.” She let go of Cam completely and leaned over to rest a hand on Buffy’s shoulder. “That’s enough, Buffy. Now put him in the cage before he comes round completely.”

“Don’t lock him up!” Cam’s voice was shrill.

Buffy took her wrist away from Spike’s mouth. “Willow’s right. We need to keep him locked up until we’re really sure what’s going on with him. The chip’s gone remember.”

“But he saved me.”

“I know he did.” She dragged the vampire into the cage by his arms. Lifted him onto the cot and then walked out, locking the door behind her. “But his memories are gone – who knows what he might do once he’s strong again? We need to be sure of him before we let him out. For his own sake as much as ours. If he escaped I’m sure the Initiative would soon recapture him.”

Craig ran into the basement, a bag of blood in his hand. “Uh…” He spotted the wound on his mother’s wrist. “Took too long, I guess.”

Seeing her son standing there, all crestfallen and with the bag of blood in his hand struck Buffy as funny, and she smiled. “Yeah, a little. Toss the packet in with Spike. He’ll need more than the bit I gave him. Then let’s get your brother back upstairs.”

“Okay.” Craig managed to squeeze the hospital blood bag between the bars and then helped Willow lift Cam back into his chair.

The catheter in Cam’s urethra had come out when Spike took him out of the chair, and Willow said, “I’ll have to put it back in, Cam. I’ll sterilise it first.”

“I need a pee,” said Cam.

“I know, sweetie, but like I said, I need to get the catheter in first.”

“No. You don’t understand. I know that I need a pee.”

They all stared at him.

Blushing, he said, “So…um…can Craig take me to the bathroom, please?”

Willow, Buffy and Craig all began to speak at once. Delighted at the improvement in Cam’s condition.

Raising his voice to ensure he’d be heard above the cacophony, Cam said, “Like now!”

Craig laughed at his brother’s now scarlet face, and grabbed the wheelchair. “Sure thing, little brother.”

As the service elevator rattled its way to the upper floor, Buffy let out a sob and clung to Willow.

“Do you think he’ll recover fully?”

“We can hope so, Buffy. Blood is a powerful thing.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Blood.

Rushing through him as if his heart was beating.

He’d tasted blood that rich before. Now he could remember when it was. China over a century ago. His first Slayer.

Spike’s eyes opened slowly and he rubbed at the gritty feel of the blind one with the fingers of his left hand. Groaning, he pushed himself up until he was sitting and then glanced around the room beyond the cage.

“Welcome back,” said Buffy, smiling warmly.

“The boy?” He coughed and spoke again, this time with less of a croak. “Cameron? Is he okay?”

“He is thanks to you.”

Sighing, Spike nodded his head. “Good.”

“I thought you didn’t remember us?”

“I didn’t – I still don’t, not really – but I remembered him shooting me with a crossbow and then when he said they’d put him in that chair, I just…” He looked off to one side. “I dunno…it just made me mad. Then when he had trouble breathing, all I could think of was to help him – to save him.” Shaking his head, he glanced back at Buffy and said, “Weird, huh?”

Buffy shrugged. “What isn’t weird about our lives?”

Spotting the bag of blood, Spike reached out for it and brought it to his mouth; he had a little trouble nipping a whole in it as his fangs had been blunted when Cam had trimmed them.

Seeing his frown, Buffy said, “Cameron had to clip your fangs. Something had happened. They were longer and cutting your lips.”

Spike just stared at her and Buffy wished fervently that his eyes were his own so they’d show his emotions. She moved closer to the cage and pushed her fingers through the bars, wriggling them, hoping that he’d reach out and touch her. Her heart twisted when he just transferred his gaze from her face to her hand.

“Can you change?” she whispered.

“Change?” He cocked his head on one side in that oh so familiar gesture.

“Your face. The Initiative controlled what face you showed. When you lived with us they made it so only your human face showed. Now…well…obviously you’re vamped out.”

Spike touched his lumpy brow and wrinkled nose. “Do you want me to change?”

Smiling, Buffy said, “If you want to.”

“Do you like the other face better? I mean – Cam said that’s how I was before…”

He looked down at his hands and shuddered when he saw the metal thumb on one hand and the missing digit on the other.

“Hey!” Buffy said, tapping the bars to get his attention. “I like you…no, I love you, however your face looks.”

“But…” He stood up and turned away.

“Spike?”

“What’s going to happen to me now? I remember killing a slayer. Then another one!” He whirled round holding his hands up. “I snapped her neck.” Throwing his head back he roared with manic laughter. “Don’t think I’d manage it now!” He ran at Buffy, slamming his hands on the bars at either side of her, making her squeal and back away. “Can’t even bite, can I?” His metal thumb tapped against his temple. “They saw to that – so what am I?” He voice rose to a yell. “What the fuck am I?”

“I love you!” Buffy stepped back up to the cage.

“How can you? I’m a vampire! You’re a slayer! It’s…it’s against nature.”

“I don’t care! Listen to me, Spike. We lived together for years. You shared my bed.”

Spike turned away and stalked to the far side of the cage.

“I shared your bed. Wasn’t ours then? Earlier you said that you owned me.” He glanced at her over his shoulder. “It’s true. You do own me.”

“Look, they’ve messed with your head. You’re not remembering things right.”

“Oh, so you’re keeping me in a cage for…?” He waved a hand in the air as he faced her. “What was it you said? Oh, yeah, that’s right – to make sure I didn’t kill you!”

“You’re twisting everything round!” Buffy’s face contorted with frustration, and now she was the one to bang against the bars. “Before Cam managed to reverse what they’d done to you – you were…feral! They made it so the chip fired all the time unless you killed.”

Spike frowned and put his hands against his temples, crouching down. “I—I remember…”

“Remember what?” Buffy’s voice softened and she sank to her knees opposite him.

“The rage. The pain. So the boy helped me? Is that why I needed to help him?”

“No, Spike. You helped him because deep down, you know that you love him.”

“I can’t do this. My head—”

“Oh, God, is the chip firing?” She rested her forehead against the bars.

“What? No. Just too much going on in it. Feels like it’s going to sodding explode.”

“Well, the chip shouldn’t fire again. Willow hexed it.”

Looking up, Spike said, “You shut down the chip?”

“Yes. You’re in here because they’d made it so you had to kill. I know that if you hurt any of us when you had no control that you’d never get over it.”

Buffy’s eyes filled with tears. Standing up, she walked to the shelf near the door and took down the key. As she approached the cage, Spike scrambled to his feet. Their eyes locked together, Buffy’s hand shook a little, making it difficult to put the key in place. When the lock finally clicked open, she swung the door wide.

For what seemed like an age they just stood staring at each other. A strange feeling ran over Spike’s face and for the first time in years he changed his features of his own free will.

“Oh, God, Spike!” Buffy’s hand flew to her mouth as she began to sob in earnest. “I’ve missed you so much. I thought you were dead.”

His voice hoarse, Spike said with a shrug. “Vampire, yeah? Already dead.”

With her sobs turning into a snort of laughter, Buffy ran in the cage and flung herself at Spike. The force of her embrace knocked him back a step or two and he wrapped his arms around her, tentatively at first, then with more conviction. Closing his eyes, he buried his face against her neck and clung to her. Her scent at once both familiar and new to him.

His lips brushed over the pulse point in her neck, and they both moaned with the pleasure it gave.

“Buffy…I…”

She pressed her body up against his and tilted her head back, exposing her neck and shuddering as he licked his way along the vein. She’d missed his touch so much…

Then she was on her backside outside of the cage, a feral growl ringing in her ears. She looked up to see Spike, back in game face, pulling the cage door closed.

“Lock it!” When she hesitated, he rattled it and screamed at her. “Now!”

Leaping to her feet, she twisted the key in the lock and stood panting, staring at Spike.

“What the hell?”

“Sorry…just…” He licked at his fangs. “’M hungry. Wasn’t sure I could resist getting another taste of you. Not with knowing the chip is broken.”

Buffy rubbed her butt and shook her head. “You’d never hurt me. I trust you.”

“Well you shouldn’t! I could feel it, bubbling inside, the need to feed – to kill.” He leaned on the bars, pushing his face close to them.

“But you didn’t! You pushed me aside and demanded to be locked up again. That tells me that you won’t hurt me. Trust yourself, Spike. They’ve screwed with your head but you’re still you. You’re still a good man.”

“’M not a man,” said Spike, but his tone now was more petulant than angry.

“Yeah, I know – vampire. Evil, nasty vampire. So evil you played with my sons everyday from the moment you came home with me. So evil you helped Cam with his homework and pitched ball after ball for Craig, even though you had to stand in the shade in the backyard. So evil you used to cook meals for me. So evil you cleaned the bathroom everyday.”

“I what?” Spike’s eyebrows rose.

Buffy began to giggle, “Okay, well not the last one.” She found she couldn’t stop and soon was wheezing and holding onto the bars to remain upright. “Sorry, just had a visual of you on your knees with rubber gloves on, scrubbing at the toilet you never use!”

Spike found her laughter infectious and although it was more of a chuckle than a full blown laugh, he couldn’t help it. He touched the fingers of the hand that she was gripping the bar with and her laughter faded. Straightening up, she gazed into his eyes, willing him to remember how life had been with them.

“I did the other stuff though?” His voice low and hoarse.

“And more. You were a part of our family. In truth, you made us a family. When they took you and we thought you were dead, we fell apart. We need you, Spike. I need you.”

Something stirred inside him, but it remained just out of reach and he growled with frustration.

“It’s just…” He shook his head, as if it would help clear his muddled mind. “I feel it – I think, but I don’t remember it!”

“You always said you were ruled by your instincts, so trust them now.”

His face vamped out and he snarled, curling his lip at her. “Better get me some blood now, if you don’t want me bouncing off the bars. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm the demon within. “It’s so strong – this urge to feed. Never had trouble keeping it down in the past. Mind you, I didn’t try very hard as I recall.”

When he opened his eyes, he saw Buffy staring at him. “It’s good you’re remembering things.”

“Not so good when all I can really remember is when I was killing. Bet you wished you’d left that chip alone now.”

His voice now had a bitter edge to it and Buffy had to grit her teeth not to react to it. He was an emotional wreck right now, and arguing with him wasn’t going to help.

“I’ll get you some blood,” she said evenly.

“Ta. If the boy’s up to it, send him with it, yeah?”

He couldn’t face seeing the hurt expression on her face any longer, but he couldn’t give her what she so obviously wanted. He couldn’t be like he was before when he couldn’t really remember anything about living with her. Buffy’s face clearly showed him that she knew what he was thinking, and he wanted to apologise for not being what she wanted him to be, but he remained silent as she nodded and fled.

Spike made his way back to the cot and sat on it, cradling his head in his hands as his features returned to human. The pain in his head was almost as bad as the chip firing, as memories collided in a confusion of snapshots.

Being shot by the young Cameron was there.

Being blinded was there. He moaned pitifully at the remembered pain and the fear the loss of his sight gave him.

Tracking was there – running free across fields and roads.

Being punished was there. Countless times in numerous different ways.

“Oh, shite.”

The clanking of the elevator door opened made him look up, his vision blurry with tears.

Cam pushed the chair close to the cage. “Bad day, huh?” He said with a hint of a twitch of a lip.

“Could say that. Thing is I don’t really remember many good ones.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t do a better job on you.”

“What do you mean?” Spike straightened up.

“I could only reverse what they’d done to you the day I had the records for. I couldn’t give you back everything.” His voice hitched and Spike stood up.

“Seems to me you did a good job, yeah? According to your mum, if you hadn’t done something I would still have been totally out of my skull with what they did.”

Cam looked down and rocked the chair backwards and forwards slightly. “But I wanted to give you it all back. Wanted things to be like they used to be.”

Ticking his metal thumb against the bars, Spike said, “Don’t think that’s possible, Cam. What’s done can’t just be undone and forgotten – it’s going to stay with us.”

“But it’s not fair!” Cam stared up at the vampire.

“That’s the one thing that life isn’t, Cam. You’ve learnt it the hard way, for sure, but life is hard.”

A low growl and the appearance of a lumpy brow reminded Cam that he’d got a lapful of blood bags. “Um…Mom said you were hungry.” He pushed a bag between the bars, waited until Spike had drained it before pushing another through for him.

Three bags later, Spike’s features slipped back to human, and he inclined his head to Cam. “What about you? Are you doing better?” He returned to his position on his cot, so he was at eye level with the boy.

Cam smiled properly for the first time since entering the basement. “Yes. My arms are stronger and I…” He flushed and stopped, no need to mention that he was toilet trained again. “I saw my foot move.” His smile faded as he added, “Can’t do it again though.”

“Just need to keep having some of my blood, then.”

“I can’t.” Cam shook his head rapidly. “Aunt Willow said you nearly dusted the last time.”

“If I feed well it won’t matter, and for the record a vamp doesn’t dust through lack of blood. We just sort of shrivel up.”

“Ugh.”

“Yeah.”

They grinned at each other.

“Spike?” said Cam a moment later.

“What?”

“Why did you make Mom cage you back up?”

“I was going to bite her. The urge just got stronger and stronger.”

“So why didn’t you?”

Frowning, Spike said, “Did I just hear you right?”

“Yes. If you wanted to bite her so bad and you can’t remember her, why didn’t you feed?”

“Oh, I get it.” Spike pointed his left index finger at him. “You’re just the same as your bloody mother.”

Cam smiled. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should. She’s one hell of a woman.”

“How do you know?” Cam leaned forwards, his smile broadening even more.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! I don’t know! There’s something there, just telling me I don’t want to do it. Probably just the years of training and having a chip I reckon.”

“Or deep down you know you love her.”

Spike rolled his right eye and smiled. “Yeah, or that. Okay. Okay. I get the point. But I’m still not sure that I can control the demon any more.” He ran a hand over his hair. “You said they unleashed it and after decades of being suppressed he wants out.”

Sighing, Cam leaned back in the chair and said, “You sound like the demon’s separate from you.”

“No, we’re one and the same. I just talk like that when my head is wanting to behave more like a human and the rest of me is crying out to rip someone’s head off and drink from the body’s neck!”

“Okay. Okay,” said Cam, raising his hands. “I get the point.”

The repartition of his own words made Spike pause, then grin. “You’re a cheeky git.”

“I know!” Cam rested his hands on the chair’s wheels. “Things might not be able to get back to how they were, but things will get better – for all of us.”

Spike snorted. “Looking at the pair of us, it can’t get much worse, can it?”

They both chuckled, and then Spike said, “I’m knackered. Want to leave a vamp to get some sleep?”

“Okay. Do you want me to bring you anything? A book? More blood?”

“Book?”

“Yeah, you used to read all the time.”

“Oh…” Spike realised he had no clue as to whether he could read; he had no memory of it.

“I’ll bring one down when you wake up.” He pushed his chair until his knees touched the bars. “Here.” Cam pushed his cell phone between the bars. “Just press one when you wake, and it’ll call Craig’s phone and someone will come down, okay?”

Spike nodded. “Thanks.”

When the elevator rumbled, Spike curled up on his side, drew his legs up to his chest as if trying to make himself as small as possible, and within a few minutes was asleep.

Chapter Thirty

Maggie Walsh threw her coffee mug at the wall and turned, face contorted with fury. “What do you mean – you’ve lost them?”

The tall, blond man before her struggled not to quail. “Um…they—”

“They simply walked out of my facility!”

“Well, not exact—”

“They didn’t fucking fly out, did they? One in a wheelchair, one in a pod and one woman! How could they possibly have made it to the outside, let alone out of the compound?”

The man opened his mouth to speak but thought better of it and simply stood there, heart pounding, awaiting further instruction.

Rubbing a hand wearily across her face, Maggie sat down behind her desk. “The tracking device in the pod isn’t working, so I’m told.”

“That’s correct, Ma’am. We’re not sure why it’s not working.” The man was proud that his voice held no tremors.

“Tell me why, exactly, do I pay your wages, Tyler? Where ever it is, the pod is warded.”

“Warded, Ma’am?”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, I’m surrounded by fools!” Maggie leaned forwards, resting her palms on the desk. “Magics! Those bastards have got someone one their side with magical knowledge.”

“Oh, right.” Tyler took a step backwards. “So what do you suggest, Ma’am?”

Maggie’s eyes narrowed. “Get the best trackers and hunters we have and get them on the scent of them. Magics can’t hide that!” She put her hand up when Tyler opened his mouth to speak. “I know they took off in a van, but the Slayer and her son obviously survived the crash and so their scent should be trackable from there! It should give us some clues – they’ll have needed help from someone.”

“I’m on it, Ma’am”

The man fled.

Linking her fingers together and then flexing them until they cracked, Maggie rose and stalked about her office, mind working overtime. They had to get them back. They had to neutralise all who could damage the Initiative.

*~*~*~*
Spike was in trouble. He paced anxiously back and forth in the cage, trying to keep the demon from taking over. It was a battle he knew he was losing. Was this his future? A cage in a basement somewhere? He’d seen Buffy when she’d come down to check on him during the night. Not that he’d let her know that he’d been awake. The way she’d looked at him, the tears that had coursed down her cheeks, made him stay still. He wasn’t ready to talk to her the way she wanted. He couldn’t tell her what she wanted to hear.

With a growl he slammed his hands against the bars. There was a connection between them, and he’d believed Cam when he’d told him of the relationship he and Buffy had shared, but it didn’t seem real. So much was missing. He banged his forehand lightly against the bars. He wasn’t sure he ever wanted his memories completely back. From what he’d gleaned, a lot of his past had involved being controlled and tortured. Who’d want to remember that? If the price of staying as he was, with only snippets of his ordeal, was that he lost the memories of Buffy, then it was a price he was happy to pay.

Grimacing as his face shifted, he snarled with frustration. It was all bloody moot seeing as the demon ruled him now. Rage built in him and he began hurling himself about the cage. He tossed the bed to the side and roared at the ceiling.

Hearing footsteps, he turned and watched Craig walk into the basement. Spike’s nose twitched as the scent of warm plastic told him that Craig was bringing him some bags of blood.

“Wow, I guess you’re hungry, eh?” Craig smiled nervously at him. He couldn’t get used to seeing the vampire-faced version of Spike.

In response, Spike simply growled.

Craig pushed a bag through the narrow gap and gasped, as Spike snatched it and tore at it with his teeth, worrying at it with his clipped back fangs until he managed to pierce the bag.

When the bag hit the floor, Craig pushed the second one through. “Another?”

Demon feeling appeased, Spike nodded this time, his face reverting to human only when the bag floated to join the first one on the floor. The pair stared at each other before Craig dropped eye contact and scuffed at the dusty floor with the toe of his shoe.

“Um…so…do you want to talk about it?” He glanced up at Spike for a moment before looking down again.

“How’s Cameron?”

“Uh, okay, I guess.”

“I mean has he improved any further?” Spike rested his head on the bars of the cage.

“Not any more than yesterday. Is it true that he’ll be alright again?”

Spike shrugged. “In theory, yes. In practice, who knows?” After a pause, he added, “He’ll need more blood. If you bring a knife and a container that will fit through the bars, I’ll do it now – it’s best when I’ve just fed.”

“Why through the bars? I’ll bring a bottle and I’ll open the door.”

“No!”

Spike’s full-volume yell had Craig stepping back a couple of paces.

“What?”

“I don’t come out of this cage!” Spike paced back and forth, his anger fuelling the demon within, making the struggle for control even harder. His face morphed as he turned to glare at Craig. “I’m dangerous. I can’t control it. I’m still what they made me.”

“But yesterday, you had time to get Mom out of the cage.”

“I know.” Spike put the upturned bed back on its legs and sat on it. “But I can just feel it, bubbling inside…and worse than that,” he glanced at Craig, “I’m starting to want to let the demon take over.”

“What? Why?” Craig stepped closer.

“Because when he takes over it’s all simple. Rage, the need for blood, and that’s it. When I’m…more rational—well then I have the delightful prospect of sitting in a cage. I can’t be trusted. I can’t trust myself. And from the bits I’ve remembered and from what I’ve been told, I’ve had more than my fill of captivity. Just letting go means I wouldn’t be aware of this.” He spread his hands out wide, before tapping his metal knee with his metal thumb. “Would that be such a bad thing?”

His voice was so utterly defeated that Craig’s eyes glistened with tears. “But we rescued you.”

Spike smiled at him as they both heard how young and petulant he sounded. Closing his eyes, Spike said almost inaudibly, “Well you have. I’m not being controlled anymore, am I?”

Craig fixed him with a hard stare. “No – not controlled. Just going to let your mind be torn apart by unleashing the demon. The one that they screwed with!” He put his hands on the bars. “So if you give in, they are still controlling you!”

Leaping to his feet, Spike vamped out and hurled himself at the bars. This time Craig didn’t flinch – didn’t even move his hands.

“Fuck you!” Spike’s cool breath hit Craig’s face as he yelled. “You don’t know what it’s like!”

“Maybe not – but all I can say is the Spike I knew would never give in like this.”

“But I did give in to them! I can remember when they broke your arm, and I did whatever they wanted me to!” He squeezed his eyes shut as an image of him pushing his thumbs into a vampire’s eyes sprang into his mind. “I came to enjoy it! Didn’t know that did you?” He stomped away from the bars. “They wanted me to help catch vampires and I did and I liked it! I liked to see them get fucking blinded like I was!” He turned to face Craig who was standing open mouthed, staring at him. Spike laughed bitterly. “I even got punished for enjoying my work a little too much.” Walking closer to Craig, he added, “Now I bet you didn’t know your little pet vamp was like that, did you?”

“You’re still going to let them win.” Craig turned on his heel and walked out of the basement without a backwards glance.

Spike sank to his knees. He could feel the love he had for the boy even if he couldn’t remember much of his time with him, but it wasn’t enough. He wasn’t strong enough.

*~*~*~*

The tracker selected to take point on the hunt for Spike was the one who’d been blinded by him when he’d just been captured. The memories of his former existence may now be so misty as to barely exist at all, but they’d kept his feelings from that incident intact. Every night he relived the moment when Seventeen’s thumbs had ruined his eyes. Now he had a chance for some payback. He’d do all he could to help bring the vampire back for retirement.

The transporter pulled up and the tracker grinned as he was released from his shackles. His baggy blue overalls rustled as he climbed out of the van.

“Now, Four-twenty-seven, you know the drill.” Riley Finn stood in front of the vampire. “You know which scents you’re trying to find?”

“Yes, sir,” Four-twenty-seven nodded and smiled again as his cock twitched with the thought of the delicious scent of the Slayer.

“So get on with it.”

Riley followed the vampire, and then leaned against a tree as the tracker circled the wreckage, sniffing loudly, bending to touch the door handle and licking his fingers. He wasn’t impressed at being instructed to handle a tracker. The last thing he wanted to do was to run through damp undergrowth in an English wood, but the job needed closure and he was the man for the job.

When they found the escapees, he’d throw the cripple to Four Two Seven to play with, to make up for having to keep Seventeen intact for retirement. Riley flexed his fingers as he thought of wrapping them around the Slayer’s slim neck and squeezing the life out of her.

Closure.

The professor had been very clear that this was an ‘us and them’ situation. A point she’d driven home when she’d asked Riley to take Mark his evening meal.

*~*~*~*

Spike managed to keep control long enough to fill a couple of cartons of blood before losing it altogether. Brought on by the need for more blood, Spike closed his eyes, took a deep breath and welcomed the demon. Better not to have human feelings. Better not to think.

*~*~*~*

Craig took the blood upstairs and found the others in the kitchen. Cam was staring avidly at his bare feet, and grinned up at his brother.

“My big toe twitched.”

“That’s great.” Setting the blood down on the table, Craig flopped down onto one of the chairs and sighed. “We’ve got a problem.”

Willow, Buffy and Cam all turned to stare at him.

“Another? Why haven’t we got enough?” Buffy said, rubbing her temples. “What’s wrong?”

Craig glanced at her sharply. She sounded as defeated as Spike was. “It’s Spike. Whatever they did to amp up the demon, it’s still there. He’s struggling to keep in control and to be honest, I don’t think he’s going to keep trying for too long.” His voice hitched. “They’ve broke him, Mom. They’ve won.”

Buffy went to get up, but Willow put a hand on her arm and stilled her. “Stay here – give Cameron the blood. I’ll go and have a little chat with Spike.”

“But—”

“No, Buffy, see to your son.” Willow’s voice brooked no argument.

“Erm…” Cam eyed the containers of blood warily. “Am I supposed to just drink it?” His nose wrinkled in disgust.

Laughing, Craig gave Cam’s chair a shove. “You didn’t seem to mind yesterday – you were latched onto Spike’s wrist like a limpet.”

“Yeah, well…I didn’t know what I was doing then, did I? It’s not the same as now when it’s in…”

“Cold blood?” supplied Craig.

All four laughed.

“Buffy, put some in some soup or a hot drink for him,” said Willow. “Don’t come to the basement until I say so.”

“What are you going to do?” said Buffy, frowning.

“Just do something to help him relax and suppress the demon. Nothing to worry about, but being interrupted midway through would be a bad thing.

Closing the kitchen door behind her, and smiling at Cam’s plaintiff cry for lots of sugar to be added to the blood laced drink, Willow walked softly away. Not making her way to the basement but instead, hurrying upstairs. She went into Buffy’s bedroom, got on her knees and peered under the bed. Her fingers wrapped around the handle of a bag and she smiled as she pulled it out.

She made a brief stop in her own room to gather some other items and then slipped back downstairs into the basement. A growl and the flash of fang greeted her as she walked towards the cage.

“Spike?”

The growl deepened and he stalked towards the bars.

“Show me your other face.”

Willow watched him calmly as he struggled to comply. Only the fact that he was used to obeying commands gave him the strength to do it. His chest rose and fell as he stared at her.

“Gonna dope me up, witch?”

“I’m going to do a whole lot better than that, vampire.”

Willow grinned, knowing that though the human visage was on show, she was talking to the demon. Spike’s head tilted as she unzipped the bag and took out a glass jar. His breathing ratcheted up a notch and he backed away.

“I’m going to give you back your soul!”

Spike backed further away, shaking his head.

“No. No. No.”

He glanced to the corner but before he could dart into it – his body slammed against the bars hard enough to make him grunt. Tendrils of metal coiled themselves around his limbs and neck, pinning him firmly in place.

“Please don’t do this.”

“Can you control the demon?” asked Willow.

The eyes that met Willow’s were wide with fear, but reluctantly he shook his head.
She almost faltered then. The vampire looked terrified.

“You can’t stay in this cage, Spike. This will help you. You’ll be back in control.”

Still Spike shook his head, but the demon took advantage of his fear and regained the upper hand. His features morphed as he snarled ferociously.

The proof that Spike wasn’t in control restored Willow’s resolve to go ahead with the ritual. A few minutes later Spike roared loud enough to make Willow wince and cover her ears, as the soul seared its way back into the body it had been ripped from almost a hundred and fifty years ago. Spike thrashed and jerked in his restraints and for a horrible moment, Willow feared he’d surely dust, but then with his cries fading to a sigh, he went limp.

A wave of a hand had the restraints disappear, and Spike collapsed bonelessly to the concrete floor. Willow smiled when she saw his face was human again.

“That will make it so much easier for you, Spike. The demon won’t be so strong now.”

With a self-satisfied nod, at a job well done, Willow bent and picked up the glass jar before walking back upstairs.

*~*~*~*

Four-twenty-seven gave the signal that he had found the trail and grinned as Finn gave him permission to follow it. The scent was faint but he knew he could track it; the extra tang of the Slayer meant he could almost taste it. If unauthorised speech was allowed he would have whooped with joy as he jogged along.

Riley panted harshly as he struggled through the undergrowth that the vampire seemed to pass easily through. With relief, he noticed the tracker had slowed down and looking up, he could see the rooftop of a house. Ten minutes later and they were there, staring at the back door. The tracker leaned against the wall of a wooden shed, his head throbbing with the after effects of the shock he’d just been given. He’d ignored a command when he’d picked up the almost imperceptible scent of Seventeen, such was his eagerness to find his torturer.

The house was obviously empty, and so they waited for the backup team to arrive by road before the door was broken down, Finn invited the tracker in, and they entered. Four-twenty-seven raced from room to room and was rewarded with another brief shock when he worried at a boot the Slayer had evidently left behind.

The second drawer of an antique writing desk, that Riley broke open revealed documents giving the names of the house’s residents. Maurice and Dora Carmichael. There were documents for the couple’s cars, and Riley smirked as he called the licence plates in to HQ. With that information they should be able to find them and from there be led to the escapees.

When Four-twenty-seven was in place in the transporter, Riley allowed him a reward and grimaced as the vampire arched his back and let his head loll as the sensation ran through his penis.

“You did well.”

“Thank you, sir,” the tracker murmured, still lost to the pleasures of his flesh.

*~*~*~*

Willow paused when she got to the kitchen door. Cameron was grey faced and sweating, gripping his mother’s hand so tightly Willow swore she heard the bones creak.

“Just ride it out, honey. You’ll be okay.” Buffy wiped her fingers over Cam’s brow.

“It hurts, Mom.” Cam squeezed his eyes shut and groaned, his whole body rigid. “Oh, God, it really hurts.”

Craig stood to one side, a half-full mug of steaming blood-laced soup in his hands. “Aunt Willow!” he said when he spotted her. “Help him – please!”

Joining Buffy at Cam’s side, Willow shook her head. “I can’t use magics to dull the pain – the chances are they would affect whatever it is in the vampire blood that is allowing the healing.”

Buffy flinched as Cam let out another agonised groan. “Make it stop,” he said as a tear escaped his eye. “I don’t care if I can’t walk – I can’t take it.”

“Don’t say that!” Buffy shook her son gently until he opened his eyes. “You can do this – you’re strong enough. I know you are.”

Another spasm racked his body as the healing powers of the blood forced their way along the paralysed nerves, bringing movement along with the pain. Cameron was too distressed to notice it but his legs began to quiver with each moan.

After the longest ten minutes of all their lives, Cam finally relaxed and slumped in his wheelchair breathing heavily. He saw Craig still holding the mug he’d taken from him when the pain had hit.

“You can throw that away. I’m not taking any more.” His voice rasped as he spoke.

“But your legs were moving,” Craig said. “It’s working.”

Holding onto the arms of the chair, Cameron pulled himself forwards until he could peer down at his feet. “I don’t care. I can’t face it again.”

Buffy ran the nail of her thumb beneath Cam’s barefoot and he jerked the limb away without even realising he had.

“Oh, God… I can…”

“You can, baby. You can!” Buffy hugged her son to her chest.

When she let him go, he stared at his legs and slowly took first his right foot and then his left from the rests and placed them on the floor.

“They won’t hold me.” He shook his head. “They’re too weak still.”

“Give it time, Cam,” said Willow smiling down at him. “Be patient.”

“Screw that!” Cam reached up and grabbed the mug from a startled Craig and gulped it down.

“I’m going to be able to walk again!” Cam grinned at them, and then his face paled. “Oh shit.”

He closed his eyes as waved after wave of pain coursed through him. This time his groans escalated into screams. Unable to watch his brother in such pain, Craig stalked from the room and walked down the steps into the basement intending to ask Spike what Willow had said.

Expecting the feral version of Spike that he’d seen earlier, he was astonished to see the vampire huddled in a corner behind the overturned cot. He was muttering continuously and rocking backwards and forwards, his curled fingers tapping at his head.

“Spike?” His voice drew no response at all. “Spike!” Craig ran to the bars and banged his hands against them.

The noise made Spike shrink into an even smaller form; he shook his head rapidly from side to side and began to claw at his chest.

“Need to get it out. Will you get it out?” He glanced up at Craig, their eyes meeting for a second before he looked down. “No…No. Stupid. Why would he help?” Spike’s rocking increased in velocity, as his fingers scored his flesh.

“Spike! Stop it!” Craig banged on the bars. “Why are you doing that?”

“Witch did it,” muttered Spike as he crawled round until his back was facing Craig. “Witch gave me the spark. Didn’t want it – don’t want it.”

“Willow did this?”

Spike didn’t react, so Craig tore up the stairs to find his aunt.

*~*~*~*

Riley took a deep breath and dialled the professor’s number on his cell phone. She really wasn’t going to like this.

“It’s a dead end. The car has been found in the parking lot of a railroad station. There’s no way we can find out where they went from here.”

He winced and held the handset away from his ear as Maggie’s displeasure let itself be known. Even so, he could clearly hear his boss’s strident tones. Having told her that he’d try to trace them through hotels, he managed to hang up with a sigh of relief. A shudder ran through him when he thought of the fate of Mark down in the cells with the experiments. How long would it be before Maggie let Lilah get her wish and be put in with him? He’d seen Maggie’s creation in action a couple of times and it hadn’t been pretty. Whatever happened, Riley had no intention of ending up like that.

*~*~*~*

“Aunt Willow!” Craig crashed into the kitchen startling his mum and aunt – Cam was too busy gritting his teeth against the pain to even notice Craig had arrived.

“What is it?” She turned to face him.

“It’s Spike! What have you done to him?” Craig put his hands on the table and stared at her, his chest heaving.

Buffy glanced up from where she knelt beside Cameron. “Spike?” She transferred her gaze to Willow. “What have you done?”

“I helped him,” said Willow firmly.

“Well, it sure don’t look like it helped him much,” said Craig, eyes narrowed.

Standing up, but keeping a hand on Cam’s shoulder, Buffy said, “I say again, Willow. What have you done?”

“Why are you both looking at me like I’ve done something evil?” Willow folded her arms. “The demon was winning. Spike was ready to give up.”

“Will…?” Buffy glared at Willow.

“I gave him his soul back, okay? It will suppress his demon – let the real Spike come to the fore.”

“The real Spike is currently scratching the skin off his chest and whimpering in a corner,” said Craig.

Leaving Cameron’s side, Buffy got in Willow’s face. “Oh my God! Do you know what this could do to him? It took Angel years to get over having his soul back!”

“But that was because it was a curse.” The tone of Willow’s voice didn’t match the conviction of her words.

“No,” said Buffy, clenching her fists, “it was because every single person that he’d killed as Angelus haunted him – all the guilt that a vampire can’t feel came crashing into his mind!”

Willow paled and staggered backwards. “Oh.”

“Yes, oh!” Buffy turned to Craig. “Look after your brother.” Giving Cam’s shoulder a squeeze as she passed, Buffy left the room and jogged down to the basement.

When she saw Spike, her first thought was that he was having a seizure. The vampire was on his back, legs kicking as his fingers tore at his chest. Blood was already sluggishly dripping to sit on the dusty concrete floor. Without giving a thought to any possible danger to herself, Buffy grabbed the key from the shelf, unlocked the cage and folded to her knees beside him.

“Stop. You’re hurting yourself,” she said as she gripped his wrists and pulled his hands away.

Spike resisted but she was stronger and all of a sudden he gave up and allowed his arms to fall limp in her grasp. Breathing heavily, he opened his eyes and the fact that his eyes weren’t real didn’t detract from the pain Buffy could perceive in his expression.

“Buffy.” The word was a whisper of a whisper.

“It’s alright. I’m here.”

“They’re all here. Make them go away. Can you help me?”

“You’re going to be okay, I promise.” Tears ran down her cheeks and dropped onto Spike’s face, mingling with his own.

Realising that she’d let go of him, Spike scuttled backwards, shaking his head. “Won’t be okay – not while they’re here.” He rubbed the heels of his hands against his temples. “All talking at once.” He drew his knees up to his chest. “All saying the same thing.” He rested his chin on his knees. “Spike’s a bad man. So much pain.” His eyes met Buffy’s briefly. “I caused so much pain and now the spark is hurting me.” Wrapping his arms around his head, he added, “’S only right.”

Buffy shifted over to be near him again, and bit back a sob when he shrank away and began to rock back and forth, a thin moan escaping his drawn back lips.

“Oh, Spike.”

She was at a loss at what to do. Mostly, she just wanted to run back upstairs and slap Willow stupid. But a part of her couldn’t help being thrilled at the prospect of sharing her life with an ensouled Spike. Although she loved the vampire dearly, there had always been that niggle about his soul – that something was missing from their relationship. Maybe now, when things settled down, Spike would finally feel worthy of her love?

Spike raised his head and stared straight forwards, his lips moving slightly as they mouthed inaudible words. When Buffy spoke to him, he didn’t react. Not even when she waved a hand in front of his eyes. Not even when she gave him a gentle punch on the arm. It was when he didn’t react to her kiss, that Buffy got to her feet and walked out of the cage. She clanged the door as loud as she could but still Spike simply sat there, huddled on his haunches, staring at nothing.

After she’s turned the key, Buffy’s knees gave way and she sank to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. Spike had been through so much in the past couple of decades. Had the return of his soul been the final straw for his mind? Would he ever truly come back to her?

Chapter Thirty Two

Craig wandered around the house, restlessly passing from one room to another. He’d helped Cameron to his bed when their mom had gone down to see Spike, and after sitting on the bed opposite and watching Cam groan and twitch for a few moments before drifting off to an exhausted sleep, Craig went in search of his aunt. He knew better than to try to go to talk to his mom about what was happening to Spike, she’d likely chew his head off – Willow was a much safer bet.

A safer bet perhaps, but not any easier to talk to given that she was currently sat on a cushion in the middle of the large airy living room meditating. His hand was just touching the door to the basement, about to risk life and limb by going down to see what was happening, when the telephone rang.

Frowning as he walked towards the landline handset, Craig wondered who it could be. He picked it up and said cautiously, “Hello?”

“Craig? It’s Maurice.”

“Maurice! What’s wrong?” Craig’s heart rate increased – he wasn’t sure just how much more bad he could take.

The old man’s rich chuckle came down the wire. “Just thought I’d check in and see how you all are. Don’t worry; we’ve been very cloak and dagger. I’m calling from a payphone a few streets away from the hotel.”

Easing himself into a chair as relief made his knees weak, Craig said, “Where do I start? How are you and Dora?”

“We’re fine, thanks, son. Dora’s fretting over the house and cottage being empty but we won’t leave until we get the all clear from your mother.”

“Sorry about all this. I bet you wished that you’d taken down the sign for vacancies now.”

“Not at all! I’m having the time of my life. I knew those buggers up at the Initiative were up to no good. I just hope that you manage to bring them down.”

Craig thought of the mess that Spike was in, the physical trauma his brother was going through and the mental anguish of both his mom and Willow, and couldn’t see how they could bring down a house made of playing cards right now, let alone an organisation as well structured as that place.

“Are you still there?” Maurice asked.

“What? Oh, yeah. Sorry.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” It would have been convincing if his voice hadn’t had a bit of a quiver to it.

“Craig, tell me! I might be able to help.”

“It’s just…well... Spike’s all screwed up and hasn’t been out of the cage yet. But he told us that if Cam drinks his blood he might be cured—”

“That’s fantastic!”

“But Mom’s in a mess – I don’t think anybody really knows what to do.” To his horror, hot tears pricked at his eyes and his voice was thick with emotion when he spoke again. “It’s all so…so hard. I thought we’d get him out and…and that things would be better, you know?”

“I know, son. You’ve all been through a lot. You sound exhausted. When did you last sleep properly?”

“Oh…I dunno…”

“You need to get some rest. Things will be better when you have.”

Craig wasn’t so sure but he mumbled his agreement and was pleased when Maurice hung up soon afterwards. Back in the kitchen, he sat down at the table and rested his head on his folded arms. Maurice was right. He was tired. Maybe if he put his head down for a minute. With a sigh, he drifted off to sleep.

*~*~*~*

Maurice walked slowly back to the hotel. He was deep in thought as he walked through the foyer on his way to the elevator and wasn’t sure what it was that drew his attention to the two men standing at the front desk. Perhaps it was their posture that gave away their military background, but he slowed down and strained to hear what they were saying.

“I fully understand the need for confidentiality but we need to contact them urgently,” a tall muscular man was saying.

Out of the corner of his eye Maurice saw the man put something on the desk and slide it towards the receptionist.

“I’m sorry, sir,” said the woman firmly. “I was telling you the truth when I said we have no one by the name Carmichael staying here.”

Maurice’s heart missed a beat.

“Ma’am, please look at the photograph. Have you seen this couple?”

Heart now hammering in his chest, Maurice forced himself not to speed up as he approached the lift.

“No, sir. I have not.”

With a trembling hand, Maurice pressed the button to call the elevator and to his utter relief it opened immediately. He selected the button for his floor before turning around and then as the door closed, he pushed another couple of buttons to make the elevator stop at different floors to camouflage the one he’d originally selected.

When they’d selected a hotel, they had chosen a large one in the centre of London for the anonymity it could provide. Dora had booked it over the telephone using her maiden name, paying cash in advance for the room when she arrived. As far as the hotel knew, Dora was there alone.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Maurice slid his key card into the slot; at the green light he opened the door, slipped inside and closed it quietly behind him.

Dora leapt to her feet when she saw him. “Maurice! Are they alright?”

“They’re not great, but as far as I could tell, not in any immediate danger. I wish I could say the same for us.”

Gripping his arm, she said, “They’ve found us!”

“It’s alright, love.” Maurice wrapped his arms around her. “They’re asking for the Carmichaels, but they have a photograph and I think it would be best for us to move on.”

“I’ll call Willow.” Dora pulled out of his embrace and picked up the telephone. She dialled for an outside line and then the number of the safe house, no longer needing to avoid using it from where they were staying.

Craig answered and as soon as Dora explained their situation, he ran to get Willow, knowing she wouldn’t mind her meditation being interrupted by such an emergency. Willow hurried to the phone, snatching the handset up from the table, she said, “Co-ordinates.”

Dora told her.

By the time the phone had stopped rattling in its cradle she’d disappeared.

“That is just so cool.” Craig gazed in awe at the empty room.

“What is?”

Craig spun around to see his brother in the doorway. His face was pale but he smiled and wheeled himself further into the room.

“Hey. How’re you feeling?”

“Well the pain’s gone. Still got pins and needles though.” Cam couldn’t resist looking down and moving his legs. “What were you talking about?”

“Aunt Willow. She’s gone to get the Carmichaels. Maurice overheard someone from the Initiative asking for them at the front desk.”

A sudden wind swirled about the room, and Craig grabbed the handles on Cameron’s wheelchair, pulling him sharply backwards. “Better get out of the way!”

It wasn’t a moment too soon, as Willow and a very dazed looking Dora appeared where they’d been standing.

“She needs a cup of sweet tea,” said Willow, easing Dora into a chair, before disappearing again.

“Oh, my.” Dora’s hands fluttered at her throat as she tried to take in what had happened.

Craig put the kettle on and got three mugs out of the cupboard. Maurice and Willow would also be needing one soon.

“Feels weird, doesn’t it?” said Cam, not moving closer so that he wouldn’t be in the way when Willow returned.

“It’s like…well; I don’t know what it’s like.” Dora shook her head, at a loss as to how to describe what she was feeling.

“I always think that Douglas Adams got it right when in The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy Ford Prefect told Arthur Dent that being teleported was like being drunk.”

Dora stared at him blankly.

Grinning, Cam added, “Arthur said, ‘what’s so unpleasant about being drunk?’”

“Ask a glass of water that,” said Craig.

All three laughed.

“That’s exactly it,” said Dora.

Soon Maurice was standing with Willow just in front of the sink.

“Good God!” Maurice gripped the edge of the table. “That is …”

“Like being drunk?” said Dora, winking at the boys.

Neither Willow nor Maurice understood why the three of them burst out laughing.

*~*~*~*

Riley was a hundred yards away from the van when the door burst open and one of the computer techs leapt out.

“Sir! Sir!”

Riley ground his teeth together – what part of covert ops did this fool not understand? But before he could reach out and crush the idiot’s windpipe, the man continued.

“There’s been a magical disturbance…”

“Lower your voice, boy, and get back in the vehicle.”

At Riley’s words the man paled, snapped his jaw shut in an almost comical manner and jumped back into the van as quickly as he’d leapt out. Riley couldn’t help but smirk at the reaction.

Still got it.

He climbed in the van, slammed the door shut and as he lowered himself into a seat, said, “Explain.”

The tech turned the computer screen round so that Riley could see the display and then tapped at it.

“See, this spike here? That shows that there was something magical in the area. Something big.”

Riley leaned forwards. “Like teleportation big?”

Nodding rapidly, the tech said, “Definitely. It came from the hotel, sir. Twice. Can’t say what floor though.”

“Dammit! Riley slammed his fist on the seat’s arm hard with enough force that the vampire restrained beside him, whimpered and leaned away. “We’ll get Four-twenty-seven in to confirm it was them.”

“It’s daylight, sir,” said the tech.

“I’m well aware of that, Jacobs, but I need confirmation. If you bloody techs delivered what you promised then we’d have daylight proof Trackers and Hunters, wouldn’t we?”

“I just work the computers, sir. I’m not in the labs.” Jacobs’ voice trembled.

“Still a freaking tech though. You said the signal peaked twice? How much time between the two?”

Jacobs knew where this was going. “Um…not long, sir.”

“Exactly how long is not long?”

Riley’s face was close enough to Jacobs’ that he could feel the officer’s breath on his skin.

“Two minutes and eight point one seconds, sir.”

“And you didn’t think to inform me when the first signal occurred?”

Looking anywhere but at Riley, Jacobs said, “You said radio silence, sir.”

Riley’s hand snaked out and grabbed Jacobs’ shirt just below his throat. “Except for emergency, you stupid pile of crap! Two minutes and we might have got one of them!” Letting go of Jacobs with a shove that had the man almost fall out of his seat, Riley turned to the Tracker. “I hope you’re fast enough.”

As he released the vampire from its shackles and turned on its vision, Riley ordered the van to pull up as close to the hotel’s from door as possible. Shoving open the sliding door, Riley got out and beckoned the vampire out of its seat. The trembling creature crouched just out of the reach of the sunlight.

“See those doors?” Riley inclined his head.

Four-twenty-seven nodded.

“Run!”

The tracker practically flew out of the transporter and crashed through the doors with barely as wisp of smoke. Riley jogged after him.

“Damn, that’s one good Tracker.”

Awaiting further instructions, Four-twenty-seven was causing quite a stir. Although the use of Trackers was now well-known, few people had actually seen what one looked like, and Four-twenty-seven struggled to remain calm as the people in the foyer squealed and shrieked when they saw his inhuman high tech eyes. His fangs itched to show as his hatred for the vampire who’d ruined his eyes increased.

“It’s alright,” said Riley, stepping next to the Tracker. “No cause for alarm. It’s just a routine exercise. Nothing to fear.” He put a hand on the Tracker’s arm. “Do your job.”

Without hesitation, Four-twenty-seven strode to the line of elevators and waited until Riley pressed the button to call it. When the pair was inside it, Riley pressed each for each floor and watched the Tracker carefully when the doors opened. Four-twenty-seven remained immobile until the third floor, then it jogged out of the elevator, along the corridor to the left and halted in front of door number 312.

“Kick it down,” Riley ordered.

One swift kick from the vampire had the door burst open and hang lopsidedly on its one remaining hinge. Four-twenty-seven picked up a shirt that hung over the back of a chair and sniffed it. He looked at Riley and nodded, then with a grin tore the shirt to shreds, knowing he’d be punished for it but unable to help himself, the smell of his quarry always got him over-excited.

“Cut it out.”

Riley gave the Tracker a burst from the chip. Four-twenty-seven grunted and let the tattered remains of the shirt flutter to the carpet. Furious at being so close and yet now back to square one, Riley gave out a roar of frustration and upended the vanity unit. Taking a deep breath, he took out his cell phone and with the image of Mark and Lilah running through his mind he called Maggie Walsh.

*~*~*~*

“Go get your mom, honey,” said Willow to Craig. “She needs to know about this.”

“I’ll go,” said Cam, spinning his wheelchair around without waiting for an answer.

As he left he heard Maurice say, “Is what the vampire told you true? Will the boy be able to walk again?”

“We hope so,” said Willow. “But it is a very painful process for him.”

Anything further was lost as Cam went into the elevator and descended to the basement.

The smile he had on his face faded when he saw his mother and Spike. Buffy was leaning against the bars of the cage, quietly weeping and Spike…Spike was on his haunches as immobile as a statue staring straight ahead.

“Uh…Mom?”

Sniffing and wiping her eyes, Buffy glanced up. “Hey, baby.”

Pushing himself closer, Cam said, “What’s wrong?”

“How about everything?” She groaned as she got to her feet and arched her back as she stretched. “While you were…after you’d taken the blood, Willow gave Spike his soul back.” She looked at Spike for a moment and then back to her son. “It’s a very traumatic thing for a vampire to deal with, and I think that after all he’d been through that it just too much for him.” She bit back a sob. “I think we might have lost him forever.”

Alarmed by his mom’s defeated tone, Cam reached out and took her hand. “Don’t give up on him, Mom. Spike’s tough. He’ll deal. But we’ve got to do something about the Initiative. They can’t get away with what they’re doing. It’s not right!”

“I know, Cam, but it’s just…I’m so tired…”

Cam yanked on her arm. “Spike’s having to deal with his soul so you’ll just have to deal with being tired! Willow brought Maurice and Dora here, the Initiative are hunting humans now, Mom, and not just us. We need you to do something or it’s all just for nothing!”

Bending to put her arms around Cam in a brief embrace, she said, “You’re right. I’ve got to be strong.” She sniffed a couple of times and then glanced back at Spike.

“Go upstairs, Mom. I’ll watch over Spike.”

“You’re a good kid.” Buffy ruffled his hair, then straightened her spine and strode out of the basement.

“I’m not a kid,” muttered Cam.

He stared at Spike, who’d taken no interest in his arrival up to now.

“Got Mom a bit more motivated, so what will it take to make you fight back?” A bit more than a pep talk I think.