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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thank you everyone for all of the fantastic reviews for this fic!!!
Thank you Spikeskat for doing a fantastic beta job this chappie!!

14
The sequence of events that had taken place since landing played a repetitive loop inside Giles' head. It had seemed like a lifetime ago, when in all actuality no more than eight hours had passed. He couldn't help but ponder the likelihood of an alternate conclusion if things had been handled in a different manner.

And quite frankly, he found himself at a crossroad of indecision.

Now... hours after the Council's jet had landed on a secluded restricted runway in the vast desert and both he and Travers had been locked inside what amounted to little more than a conference room, Giles found himself exhausted - both mentally and physically.

Upon landing, their aircraft had been met by armed personal, which hadn’t been entirely unexpected. They'd been shuffled into some officious-looking vehicles and driven miles into the desert. Once arriving at their destination and gaining entrance to the base, the watcher could see why it remained so secretive.

It had all the appearances of a lone energy station on the outside, secluded and out in the middle of nowhere. The few outbuildings were benign in appearance, the gate surrounding the compound was large and unimposing. But once through the heavily, but discreetly, monitored exterior, it became apparent that the premises were guarded almost as well as Fort Knox – if not more so.

Looking around at the vast openness surrounding the base, Giles honestly didn't know how Buffy had managed to make good her escape the first time around, and his respect for her grew.

The entrance to the secure laboratory was hidden within the largest industrial building that lay surrounded by a few other nondescript structures. Giles was highly suspicious of the fact that they'd been allowed to witness this top secret location, increasing his keen sense of foreboding as to the outcome of this confrontation. He would have felt far better if blindfolds had been insisted upon once landing, even if that touch was cliché'. He could only hope that Travers knew something that he, himself, did not, and they weren't blindly walking into a trap.

Under the watchful eyes of their armed escorts, Travers and Giles had been secreted inside a room that could easily have passed for an executive board room - except for the visible security cameras in several corners.

They had been given curt instructions to merely wait here before the armed personnel quickly departed, refusing to answer any of their questions.

However, it was the sound of the electronic lock on the outside door being engaged that had proved to be Giles' undoing.

Giles had glared at Travers, blaming him for their current predicament. His fury simmering just beneath the rigid control he kept on his emotions, almost ready to boil over. It was not known if the US military had any inkling of who exactly they were dealing with, and this stall tactic was most likely a direct result.

And even though they’d been locked in a room, Giles had held hope. Buffy was here, and they were a step closer to seeing her freed.


It still hadn’t saved Travers from the brunt of his anger, however.

"How could you have been so... foolish?" Giles had finally snapped, his long legs eating up the length of the room in a few strides.

His typically ageless boss now appeared ancient; the cool, unexpressive mask having slipped the moment the lock was engaged. He, too, had taken it as a metaphor for their well-being. Slumped at the head of the table, a position he placed himself in without thought, regret had ravaged stark lines onto his face.

"The council holds considerable power with the military..." he'd begun to justify once more before being cut off angrily by the watcher.

"Maybe within the typical hierarchy of power, yes. But this is not typical. Wouldn't you agree?"

Travers had sighed heavily. He wasn't under many delusions at this point, having realized the significance of being allowed to witness the location of a highly secret government agency.


     With nothing but time on their hands, their future uncertain, the two had settled in to wait... and pray that the clean-up crew would find them still alive. Travers realized that he'd had made a grave error in time management. No more than twelve hours should have been allowed to pass without communication, especially in light of the fact that both he and Giles had been stripped of all communication devices and weapons upon entering the base.

The mutterings from the watcher regarding trusting no one and conspiracy theories had suddenly began to make a whole world of sense to Travers, and he couldn't help but sigh heavily in response.
 ***

Whereas before the stony silence had bothered Spike, now it was the idle chit-chat between Buffy and the soldier girl that threatened to drive him insane. Forced to suffer the guise of a limp biscuit, Spike could practically feel the constrained energy coiling within his body, once more willing himself to ignore it. Ripping out G.I. Jane's throat was sounding more and more appealing though as time wore on.

If only to shut her up.

However, when he realized her blathering was keeping Buffy entertained, he forced himself to suffer through this latest form of torture. If the slayer was talking to soldier bint about girly stuff, then she wasn't thinking about where they were - and he’d endure hell itself to give her that peace of mind.

Spike had been right about her, the soldier girl. Her eagerness for trivial conversation was almost sad to watch. He'd bet her life hadn't been a bed of roses. Buffy's own forced isolation since she'd found herself on the run and pregnant with only a vamp for company had left its own mark, and Spike watched as a tentative bond of friendship was being forged before his very eyes. The soldier was only a handful of years older than his slayer, if that.

Somehow, over the last few hours, he had been banished to the floor, and the new bird had taken his place on the bed next to Buffy, their conversation now progressing at a more muted tone. That suited him just fine. Idly, he wondered what the scientist wankers thought of this new tableau, and was satisfied with the knowledge that irritation most likely played a key role.

Spike closed his eyes and tipped his head back to rest against the wall, his body screaming for the familiar calming influence of nicotine. But when the sound of footsteps stopped just outside the cell door, his body underwent a subtle shift as he prepared himself. Growling low in his throat, his first instinct was to protect Buffy, and he shifted into a poised crouch just as the door slid open. Before he was given time to react, unknown amounts of electricity were sent through his body by a soldier wielding a stun gun, the blast riding along every cell in his body, sending his pain receptors into complete overload.

Another blast from the tazer forced his body into reactive spasms and the sound of Buffy screaming his name was the last thing he heard before sliding into oblivion.
 
It happened so quickly, that it took Buffy a moment to comprehend what had just happened as she witnessed Spike's uncontrollable jerking upon the floor.

"Spike!" she yelled, struggling to sit up, her eyes wide with a dawning horror.

The room was suddenly flooded with the scientists garbed in white and the typical guards, leaving Buffy with no absolutely no time to react, even if she had been capable. It had been a well planned takeout, she had to give them that, mentally cursing herself for not considering the possibility of Spike being taken out of the equation. One thing she knew with blinding clarity - being removed from this cell would be very bad.

Per usual military operating procedure, she was not offered an option. With a keen sense of deja vu, her wrists were once again shackled with a calm efficiency and Buffy turned her pleading hazel eyes in Christine's direction.

Christine had jumped up the moment the first blast struck Spike and had slunk herself to the corner while looking on with horror at what was being done. She swallowed heavily, eyes locked on the vampire's broken form splayed out upon the floor and tried to force her brain into thinking of a way to make this better. Her hesitation had nothing to do with her sense of duty, merely a testament to the blaring uncertainty of how she would best be able to fix it.

"Uh... permission to accompany the prisoner requested," she found herself asking, cringing at the label she'd placed upon the pregnant girl.

With a quick kick to release the brake on the standard issue hospital bed, one of the guards had guided it towards the door, the vampire was unceremoniously kicked out the way like yesterday's garbage.

"P-permission to--"

"Permission denied," one of the scientists snapped. Several of them may be civilians, but Christine knew who really gave the orders around here. "Your orders are to guard the vampire."

She didn't dare point out that there were others present that were much more suited to the assignment than she.

With a chaotic flurry of orchestrated white poetry, the scientists disappeared while Christine watched helplessly. The soldier's throat swelled up with the backlash of her unaccustomed emotions as she watched the pregnant blonde transported out of reach, futilely fighting against the restraints.

Buffy.

Her new friend.

Helpless rage dug a huge well in her gut, and she swallowed hard against it. Again, she knew why she'd been denied passage. Even in light of the potential delivery, the scientists were not finished with their little 'bait and trick' experiment. She couldn't even fault them for their curiosity. Her life had been spared thus far, but upon the revelation that Buffy had been removed from the cell, Christine didn't delude herself into thinking Spike wouldn't hesitate to satisfy his need for revenge, for blood.

She was, after all, a representation of the enemy.

But it wasn't a far leap to see this secret military group for what they really were.

They were the ones who were the monsters.

She believed that now with every fiber of her being. Only monsters would be setting up to deliver the baby of the seventeen year old girl that they had kidnapped, terrorized, and inseminated. Christine knew that Buffy and Spike wouldn't be allowed to walk away after this.

She wouldn't either, regardless of how she fared when Spike came out of his juiced stupor.

And she found herself doing something she hadn't done since getting kicked out of her first foster home at the tender age of twelve after the tragic death of her parents.

She cried.

*****
Spike swam towards consciousness slowly, his body resisting every effort to return to the land of the unliving as pain slammed through him relentlessly. With a low snarl, he pushed himself through it; his demon screaming at him to get his ass awake. That something needed his immediate attention.

Buffy.

His eyes flew open and he gritted his teeth against a new onslaught of agony.

Once more, pushing his way through the pain, his eyes desperately searched the small cell for reassurance, only to find that there wasn't any to be found.

The bed was gone.
tbc

*blinks innocently* Me? Leave you wth a cliffhanger?





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