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a/n- I am sorry for the last cliffie. No really... Anyway, I just want to assure everyone that I don't plan on anything occurring in this fic that will cause you to sit and shout "NOOOOOO!!!!" at the monitor. Because well, I just don't go there. :P


chapter 11

The Council seemed to employ a certain mold of secretary - frumpy and asexual. Such was Giles' musings when he was delivered a message while selecting more books from the library the next day. His presence was required in Travers office immediately, and that did not bode well.

Once again seated before Travers, the head watcher lording over him behind his huge monstrosity of a desk, Giles was relieved when the man wasted no time getting to the point.

"We have located the military operation."

Giles waited for him to elaborate, gesturing impatiently for him to continue. "And?"

Travers took his time in answering. "Apparently, it is located near the quite infamous 'Area 51'. As of yet, we cannot ascertain if the two are affiliated. We are in the process of establishing our counter-surveillance measures, as we speak."

This took the watcher by surprise. It wasn't something he'd expected. "Area 51, you say?"

Travers nodded grimly.

Giles shook his head ruefully. "This is beginning to have a very ominous 'X-Files' tone to it, I'm afraid," he pointed out, not surprised by the blank look on Travers' face following his comment. He knew that the man wouldn't bother cluttering his mind with things of a science fiction nature; not unless it had direct bearing on his line of work.

And now, it appeared it was beginning to.

"Well, we can only hope that they have limited their experimentation to earth-bound creatures. Dealing with an extraterrestrial aspect would be most unpleasant," Giles added distastefully.

"Quite," Travers agreed.

When compared with the possibility of the military mucking around with combining slayer and either alien DNA or that of a vampiric nature, Giles found himself seemingly grateful for Spike's involvement.

"What is the proposed course of action?" Giles inquired, his question going unanswered as Travers private phone line began to ring.

Even before Travers replaced the hand set back in the cradle, Giles knew the news was not good, the harsh look settling over his employer's face preparing him for that fact.

"We appear to have a problem. This military group in question seems to have taken Miss Summers back in custody," Travers announced grimly.

"Oh dear lord..."

****

Buffy's eyes fluttered open slowly, her mind sluggish as she tried to piece together what had happened. When her vision cleared, she was greeted with a blaring depth of white, and she wanted to scream with frustration.

She remembered.


The bastards had her again.

Panic began rising within her, fast and furious, as Buffy fought through the remaining fog that insisted on clinging to her brain. Three months ago, this sight would have broken her.

Now it just pissed her off.

She lifted one arm to confirm that her strength was no longer working in her favor, but found her mobility hampered by the familiar thick metal clamped around her wrists.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," she grumbled, pulling on one chain that effectively shackled her to the bedrail of the hospital issue bed. The next thing she noticed was the absence of Spike's black t-shirt that she had worn to bed before being so rudely awakened. In its place, was the type of hospital gown that opened down the back, except the bastards didn't offer the same courtesy as the demon clinic, and she knew she wasn't fully covered. Most likely her ass would be hanging out if she ever managed to get out of this bed, she thought sourly. Looking over the bulge of her belly, she noticed the final injustice - the clear plastic tubing between her legs that snaked over the side of the bed. That one was new.

Bastards.

Determined to look on the bright side, she attempted to placate herself by acknowledging that at least she had been unconscious when they had inserted the urinary catheter... and whatever else they had done to her while they were down there. It worked - slightly. Buffy fought off the tears of helplessness that tried to pool in her eyes, especially knowing 'they' were on the other end of the two-way mirror, watching her every reaction. Well, she wasn't going to give them tears, that was for damn sure.

Best to stay angry.

Looking around, Buffy realized she was in a different type of cell than the last one. This one was bigger, and the bed to which she was currently chained was a step up from what she’d been made to endure before. It was still the same sterile white though; white floors, white walls, and white ceiling. Buffy vowed upon her escape, her home would never bear anything so sterile.


 Home.

Spike. Oh god... Buffy didn't dare think of what they were likely doing to him, knowing she would not be able to keep her composure if she allowed her thoughts to go in that direction.

She heard a click outside her cell, then the door slid open. Buffy's lip curled instinctively and her eyes flashed. They may have broken her once, but thanks to Spike, she was broken no longer. She wouldn't allow them to do it again.

But the unexpected occurred. Spike was dropped unceremoniously on the floor of her cell without them ever having set foot inside.

"Spike!" she cried, struggling against her restraints, desperate to get to him. Against the white backdrop, Spike almost blended in - if you discounted the startling contrast of his blue cotton gym shorts that he had worn to bed and the array of bruises that riddled his body.

It seemed to take every ounce of his strength to lift his head off of the ground; but once he did, the relief that shone in his eyes had Buffy's tears flowing in earnest.

"Oh...Buffy..." he breathed, as he slowly and painfully climbed to his hand and knees. Buffy gasped when she saw his condition - there wasn't much of him that hadn't been bruised or bloodied. It seemed to take him a lifetime to reach her side. Once there, Spike managed to muster one last show of strength and tumbled beside her on the bed. He was clearly exhausted and suffering considerable pain.

"What did they do to you?" Buffy asked, her voice tormented.

He opened one bleary eye to look up at her and managed to give her a lopsided smile. "I got a wee bit mouthy, is all." Regret shadowed his face. "I let you and the tiny bit down. I didn't keep ya safe, did I?"

But Buffy refused to let Spike blame himself, shaking her head furiously at him. "This is so not your fault."

Spike sensed her frustration and let the matter drop. "You ok? They haven't done anythin' to you, 'ave they?"

Buffy shook her head. "Other than being chained up, I'm just peachy. I just can't believe they put us together like this, you know?"

Spike's eyes closed wearily as he nuzzled his face against Buffy's shoulder, breathing in the scent of her. His gut clenched at the lingering scent of her fear that soured the air. "Bastards wanted to see if I'd cuddle with ya or try to off ya, is why."

Buffy was silent, her mind whirling at a rapid pace. She didn't need to ask Spike to know that he had been drugged, his strength depleted as well. But they didn't have him chained up, which seemed totally unfair to her. A thought came to mind, and she grabbed hold of it.

Knowing he still possessed his acute sense of hearing, Buffy spoke in a voice inaudible to humans or microphones, "Spike, you need to bite me."

His eyes flew open and the look he gave her was filled with incredulity and horror.

Still speaking softly, Buffy interrupted before he could even argue. "No, Spike, listen to me. If we are going to have any chance of getting out of here, you need to be better. And strong. You need my blood."

"Not gonna hurt you or the baby."

Buffy sighed in frustration. Didn't he get it? "Spike, they will take the baby from us if we don't get out of here. There will be no baby. You need to do this. It. Is. The. Only. Way." Her eyes filled with tears of frustration. "We can't let them have our baby, Spike."

A shudder wracked Spike's tortured frame at her words. Buffy's lips parted to plead with him once more when she felt the subtle shifting of his body until he was positioned on his stomach leaning against her. The shackles on her wrists kept her arms positioned away from her body and Spike buried his face into the inviting space between her bicep and her ribs. To the casual observer -or spying military personal - it appeared as if the vampire was merely seeking comfort.

But Buffy felt the sharp ridges of his forehead dig into her sensitive flesh, and her breath caught in her throat.

But pain was not really an issue, as the razor-sharp teeth gently sank into the tender flesh of her bicep and into her brachial artery. He had chosen a good spot, she realized, it would be hard to spot the marks on her inner arm, unless they took the time to examine her. Buffy expelled her pent-up breath slowly.

Trust was not even an issue here. Buffy trusted Spike with her life, and this was no different. Her entire body was on alert for a different reason, expecting their captors to come storming through the door at any moment, taking Spike away. Or worse. She looked down and noted with relief that his ridges were out of sight, still feeling his mouth pulling the blood from her body.

When she felt his tongue begin to attend to the marks he had made after too short of a time, she panicked. "No! More. You need more, Spike."

She felt, rather than heard, his growl of frustration, but experienced again the sensation of his throat muscles working to swallow the large mouthfuls of blood he was taking. He wasn't exactly going easy on her, and she appreciated that - wanting him to have as much as possible in the event this feeding was interrupted.

But Buffy could practically feel his agitation and knew instinctively he wasn't enjoying it.


In another time, another place, Buffy realized that this was something she could enjoy. This feeling of Spike taking life-giving sustenance from her body. It was the very intimate of acts. But for now, everything about the way in which it was occurring was wrong.

The pleasure would have to wait until later.

Her face hardened.

And there WOULD be a later, she resolved firmly.

God, she hoped this worked. That her blood counteracted whatever drug Spike had been given that robbed him of his supernatural strength. It was their only chance.

Their daughter's only chance.
tbc





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