They were all sitting in the alley, discussing their next move. Everyone was tired, tousled, and in Xander’s case, a little ripe. A map of LA was sketched into the dirt. As everyone else listened, Willow gave a detailed description of the LAPD headquarters.
It was all a bit cliché, Spike mused. ‘f course, if it’d bring the LAPD down, then he wasn’t exactly complaining.
“I don’t know so much about the actual officer’s, you know, offices, but I heard they’re cubicles and Rayne’s office is right next to—Gunn? What’s going on?”
Spike whipped his head around to see what had happened to Gunn to make Red so distracted. Generally she’d just ignore an intrusion.
As soon as he saw the man, he rushed over and helped him onto a garbage bin. To be honest, Spike wasn’t sure how the man had made it into the alley, he was so exhausted. His head was glistening with sweat and he was gasping for breath, but Spike couldn’t wait. “What the bloody hell happened?”
Gunn was their muscle, but due to the fact that he was also rather smart, Spike had recently placed him in charge of handling gossip and rumors in LA. He wasn’t supposed to report back to them until the next week. Knowing what he did about Buffy’s whereabouts, Spike was beyond worried.
“Gunn! Sod it all, man, start talking!”
“Spike, I think he’s a little out of breath,” Red told him, her eyes fixed on Gunn. She seemed more worried about Gunn than the news he might be carrying, and though Spike knew he ought to be, too, somehow he couldn’t force himself to be overly distraught about it.
“No—I’m cool,” Gunn gasped, leaning back. “I gotta—it’s about that girl of yours. The nice one.”
“Buffy.” His voice was flat, refusing to betray the turmoil he was in. Oh God, was Buffy in trouble? The only reason he’d been cruel, the only reason he’d forced himself to do the unthinkable, was because he had to get his girl away from danger.
Every time he thought of what he’d said, what he’d done—when he thought of the crushed look in her eyes, the absolute heartbreak she must be going through when she remembered his words, it felt like there was a knife twisting in his belly. He was trying to be cold and leader-like on the outside, but his inner ponce was whimpering, Buffy. Buffy, my love, forgive me. I only did what I had to.
“Yeah, Buffy. Word came to me—few hours ago. I hit a hundred on the highway, man, that car you gave me is tight..” Gunn spoke quickly.
Spike frowned. “You’re changin’ the subject, mate. Best tell me what happened to Buffy and fast.”
Gunn grimaced. “Okay, you caught me. Got word from a custodian at the Randall Building...ya’ll know where that is, right?” At Spike’s impatient nod, he continued: “Riley’s a turncoat like you said, Spike, but they’re not gettin’ all cuddly with the lady. They drugged her, and word is Rayne’s planning on questioning her. The guy said that...”
Spike didn’t hear anything after that. Rayne’s planning on questioning her. Rayne. Oh, God, no. He’d delivered her straight into the hands of the one person capable of inflicting pain upon her far worse than death. Buffy was going to be tortured, and it was all his fault. He was responsible for the worst pain his love could ever feel.
“Spike?” That was the Bit’s voice. He glanced at her for a moment before falling back into apathy. Poor girl, she looked terrified. Well, she ought to be. They all ought to be. Without Buffy, his world was nothing. He was nothing.
“Spike? Spike, you can’t stay in a love-sick haze forever. Spike, dammit, stop it!”
Someone else was calling his name. It was his sister, and not only was she yelling at him, but she was also shaking his shoulder.
“Bloody hell, Anya, what do you want?”
His sister’s eyes were staring into his, and for once, they looked honestly concerned. “Spike, if you want us to rescue Buffy, you can’t go all semi-catatonic on us now! We have to move quickly!”
“Anya’s right, Spike,” Cordelia said earnestly. “Just because you had to be a total jerk to her and now it was all for nothing since she’s in deep crap anyway doesn’t mean you can just tune us all out.”
Although Cordy’s idea of motivating was rather amusing, he still didn’t move. His mind wasn’t capable of focusing on something as complicated as standing up. He was too busy thinking of Buffy, of the woman he loved— of what he’d said, what he’d done, and wishing he could undo it all. He kept seeing her eyes, so beautiful, so green, staring at him in love as she climaxed...
And then a few hours later, staring at him in utter disbelief and betrayal.
“Spike! God-fuckin’-dammit, get your sorry ass up now!”
His jaw was dealt a right cross of absolutely stunning proportions. He reeled back, smacking his head against the brick wall and jolting back to reality.
“Faith, you bug-shaggin’ mad little—“
“Don’t even start with me,” Faith snapped. “You needed that.”
Spike rubbed his jaw. Well, he could see something other than his memories now, that was an improvement. But...”Coulda started talkin’ without you takin’ swings at me,” he informed her.
Faith only rolled her eyes. “Right. Look, you okay now?”
“More or less. Although ‘m gettin’ a huge bruise on m’ jaw.”
“Okay, guys, cut the crap,” Kennedy interrupted. “Spike, you had your pity party, now it’s back to reality. Buffy’s stuck in the Randall Building. Now, are we going to get her out, or are we going to mope in the alley until our asses fall off?”
“Nice way to put it,” Xander said sarcastically. Kennedy flipped him the bird.
Spike would have smiled it his heart wasn’t breaking. That was his team, all right, true to form. They were all squabbling now, completely ignoring their venerated leader.
“A’right, all,” he announced, standing up. “Get your guns ready and all that rot. We’ve got a rescue to do.”
Personally he thought it was a rather impressive little announcement, but everyone ignored him. Bloody hell. “Is anyone listening?” he asked, starting to get annoyed.
They continued to bicker.
Okay, that was it. He was gonna kill ‘em. “All of you, shut your bleein’ gobs b’fore I rip your throats out!” His roar was loud enough to be heard three streets away, though he rather hoped it wasn’t.
Silence fell. If they’d been in the country, you could’ve heard crickets chirping, it was that quiet. “Right then,” he said when they’d stopped glancing at each other and started paying attention to him, “we’ve gotta get to the Randall Building, and we’ve gotta get there fast. Cordy, Anya, get your cars. We’ve all got our weapons, right?” At everyone’s nod he said, “Good. Let’s go.” He turned to Gunn. “I want you to stay here,” he said. “Drusilla’s in the guest room. Tie her up or kill her, your choice, but restrain the bitch will we get back.”
Gunn stood up, wincing, and nodded. “I can take care of one crazy chick,” he said, though he didn’t look exactly eager. Oh, well. Spike didn’t really care. Right now, there was only one goal in his mind: rescue Buffy.
“Um, Spike?” Tara spoke up. “I think—can I stay with Gunn? He looks done in, and, well, Drusilla can get kind of mean.”
Spike stared at her for only a second before nodding. Tara was a good bird, but she wasn’t too great in a fight.
Anya looked him up and down. “You look ready to collapse,” she said matter-of-factly.
Xander patted her on the back. “Way to encourage, sweetie.”
“You think so?” Anya was practically radiant.
“No, that was sarcasm. God.” Cordelia rolled her eyes. “Even I could recognize that.”
“Um, guys? We’re supposed to be rescuing,” Willow reminded them.
The guilty looks on everyone’s faces gave him grim satisfaction. “C’mon, then, let’s get over to LA.”
They all trooped over to the two cars. On the way, Faith fell into step next to him. “Think we’re doin’ the right thing, just charging in like this?”
He shot her a sharp glance. “You protestin’?”
Faith held up her hands defensively. “Hey, you’re the boss. ‘Sides, you know me, half-suicidal anyway. But...” she lowered her voice. “She’s just one person, and we’re risking everything, here. Seems a little crazy to me.”
“Faith.” His voice was hard; he had to set her straight now.
She halted. “Yeah?”
“’m not doin’ this because ‘s sane. ‘m doin it because I have to. I put her there. She’s in Rayne’s claws right now because I drove her there. Now, I gotta get her out.”
He didn’t know what she saw in his eyes, what conclusion she drew from his words, but her eyes narrowed. She stared at him in silence for a moment, rubbing two fingers together, before she said, “You love her, don’t you?”
Spike arched and eyebrow at her. “Where’ve you been?”
Faith was grinning and about to reply when Dawn yelled, “Guys, come on, we’re ready to go!”
“Okay, studly,” Faith said, unsheathing a knife and twirling it around on her knuckles. “Let’s go save B.” She strode off confidently.
But as Spike got into Anya’s car, his expression was closed in, and his head was spinning with worried thoughts. Unlike Faith, he knew exactly what Rayne was capable of.
What if we’re too late?
Anya sped toward LA. The speedometer crept up: 80, then 90, then 100, and finally, amazingly enough, 110. Any other time he would have been scared shitless, not to mention a little annoyed with Anya for her reckless driving. Now, he just wished she could go faster.
Hold on, luv. Please, hold on.
~*~
Buffy woke slowly, pain clouding her mind. Her first conscious thought was of Spike. Her second thought was, Where am I? And then memory came rushing back.
Spike. Riley. Aspirin. Rayne...Oh, God. She let out a whimper as the cause behind her pain finally hit her.
A second later, she wished she hadn’t. She kept her eyes screwed shut, but heavy footsteps alerted her to another’s presence in the room—wherever that room was.
“So, you’re awake, are you?”
She cringed. She knew that voice: it was Captain Rayne.
“Open your eyes, bitch! I know you can hear me!”
She kept her eyes shut.
There was no warning, not even a rustle or an angry mutter. One second she was lying on the ground, praying to be let out of this place, keeping her eyes shut in a feeble attempt to deny that she had really been captured. The next, she was hauled to her feet, and a fist plowed into her face.
Her eyes flew open and connected with Riley’s small, piggish ones. He smiled gleefully and punched her again, only this time he let go. She flew across the small white room and hit the wall—hard.
Buffy caught herself on her hands and knees, fighting not to hit the floor, struggling to contain her whimpers. That would only give them satisfaction.
She stood again, noting that they’d at least left her clothes on, and turned to face her captors.
Riley, Angel, Rayne, Harmony, and Veruca all stood at the other end of the room. One wall was covered in irons and pokers and other incredibly unsavory-looking things. Some very medieval-looking chains were coming from the wall. Buffy poked the wall she was against with her toes—it was plaster, nothing special. She couldn’t see a door.
Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit!
She straightened as best as she could when Riley starting to walk toward her. Her muscles ached like fire, and she could tell that they still weren’t working properly, but she fought to stay upright all the same. Maybe if she could hold on, fight back, someone would rescue her.
But who? a nasty little voice in her head whispered. With a sinking feeling, she realized it was right. The people she trusted had abandoned her. No one knew she was here.
But that didn’t mean she had to give up. Buffy lifted her chin and stared haughtily at Riley as he came closer. “Nice dose. It wore off fast,” she said in as snide a tone as she could summon.
Riley smiled nastily. “It was supposed to,” he told her.
“Yeah, we figured that if we were going to like torture you, then we, you know, wanted you to feel it,” Harmony piped up.
“Is that so?” she said, still fighting for disdainful casualness. “Well, hate to disappoint you, but there’s not gonna be any torture today.”
Riley huge, ham-like fist came crashing toward her. She ducked and pivoted, so that instead of hitting her, he hit the wall.
Which was definitely plaster, Buffy noted with interest, since his hand crashed right through it.
Unfortunately, it was flimsy plaster, so sticking his hand through it didn’t seem to affect Riley much; and, spirit aside, Buffy was unarmed. Still, she fisted her hands. She might die—actually, there was a fairly good chance she would—but she was going to go out fighting.
“So, answer me this,” she taunted as he flexed his knuckles.
She leapt for him, dealing him a blow to the face and then to the groin. “Were you planning on torturing me all along?” Punch. “Or was it a spur-of-the-moment kind thing?” Spin, kick, punch, duck, and—ow!
Someone had come up behind her and hit her over the head with a bludgeon. Her head spun, and the next thing she knew, those chains were being put around her wrists and legs.
“You see, Buffy,” Rayne said calmly, coming to stand over her as Harmony rushed to help Riley, “We need information. There are a few things that don’t add up, and we knew you could provide us with some answers. We understand that you’ve been intimate with William Jenkins recently?”
“She was so doing him,” Harmony said matter-of-factly. Despite the fact that she was in chains, Buffy rolled her eyes.
“No kidding,” she said sarcastically.
She was rewarded with yet another kick to her ribs. “Treat us with respect, you whore,” Veruca advised.
Rayne knelt down in front of her. Buffy wished she could stand up, but the chains were placed in such a manner that her feet could only move a few inches and her arms just a few feet. Just kneeling like she was then hurt.
“We want information, Ms. Summers, and we want it now,” he said in a hard voice. “I know you’ve heard from all your little friends about what we’re capable of. You don’t want to find out first-hand, do you?”
“My little friends hate my guts,” Buffy spat. “So sorry, I know jack.”
Rayne shot a glance at Riley, who shrugged apologetically. “She’s right. That’s why she came running to me.”
“Well, you at least know what they’ve told you before. Tell us that,” Rayne cooed.
“Not on your life,” Buffy snapped.
A gunshot went off right next to her head. In spite of herself, Buffy flinched and jumped to one side. The chains constricted her movement, and she fell in a heap on the floor.
“Perhaps you misunderstood.” That was Rayne again, still cool as could be. He put the gun back in its holster. “We are in charge, not you. You will tell us what you know, or we’ll give you our worst. Understood?”
“Bring it on,” Buffy whispered, and she spat at his feet.
He didn’t get angry and knock her out, the way she was hoping he would. Instead, he crooked a finger and called out the one word she’d been dreading to hear: “Angel?”
He came over immediately, insane grin fully intact. In his hands was a pair of metal prongs that ended in serrated, hooked edges. Thinking about what it might be used for, Buffy grew sick.
“Yeah, boss?” Angel asked. “You gonna let me play a little?”
“Try a lot,” Rayne said, smiling. “Don’t kill her, and don’t let her pass out. Oh, and make sure she can still talk.”
Buffy paled at his instructions. Oh, God no.
As Angel advanced, fly unzipped, tongues at the ready, she shut her eyes. Please, Spike, hurry. She didn’t care if he hated her. He had to be coming. Somebody had to have told him. You’re my only hope. God, please, make him come.
After that, she could only scream.
~*~
They got stopped about twenty miles outside LA. It was an LAPD cop who stopped them. Anya poked her head outside the window. “Yes, officer?” she said sweetly.
“Show me your license,” the man said in a bored tone of voice.
Spike watched his sister blink innocently. “Of course, officer,” she said. She turned to Spike, who sat next to her in the passenger seat. Wordlessly, he handed her a gun.
She whirled around and pressed it against the man’s temple. “Now, here’s the thing,” she said calmly. “You’re gonna let us go, because if you don’t, your brains will be the newest decoration to the highway. Got it?”
The man nodded. His face was a mask of utter fear.
“Thank you!” Anya said. She then reached up and whacked him across the temple with the gun. He fell in the ditch on the side of the highway.
Kennedy and Xander were in the backseat. They didn’t even blink when Anya rolled up the window, put the car into gear, and sped off to catch up with Cordelia.
*
Buffy didn’t know how much time had passed, and to be honest, she didn’t care. All she knew, all her world consisted of, was pain.
And if the look on Angel’s face was any indication, he wasn’t half finished yet.
There were cuts on her thighs and arms, and her muscles hurt more than ever. Blood from a cut on her forehead was constantly welling down into her eye. She was just barely restraining tears.
“Now, I’m going to ask you again,” Rayne said, his voice as calm and patronizing as ever. “What do you know?”
Angel took a piece of skin on her calf in the tongs; her clothes had long since been reduced to tatters. Buffy closed her eyes, knowing what would happen if she didn’t answer. Part of her was begging the rest to stop, to be realistic, to just give in to the inevitable and tell him everything. But the rest of her refused.
“Go to hell,” she whispered.
Angel’s grip on the tongs increased until the blades cut through her leg. He twisted, twisted, wrenching the skin out of shape, causing blood to fountain every which way and stain the once-pristine walls red. And then, when that bit of skin was nearly shredded, he yanked.
The tongs ripped away a chunk of skin about an inch square, revealing red, angry, bloody meat underneath. Buffy screamed in agony as he discarded the chunk and got ready to begin again.
Oh God, Spike, please come.
Please.
~*~
A/N: Sorry about the delay, my mom took over the computer and I developed a huge, annoying case of writer's block. =) The reviews I got for the last chapter rocked, and I swear I’m not being sarcastic. Even if you said you hated Spike, it was good to know you still liked the story enough to review. Here’s hoping the next chapter makes you change your feelings about him! Sorry about the Buffy torture. It sucked ass writing it, but I kinda felt it had to be done. Don’t worry, it gets better =)
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Please excuse any typos, this chapter was typed very quickly =) Also, I stumbled across a new site the other day. It's an archive called Beyond Twilight. It supports Ats and BtVS, Spuffy is of course welcome. Since it's new, it's having trouble getting off its feet, so please, if you're a reviewer spread the word, and if you're an author, post!!! Hey, the more archives the better, right?