Despite what the nurse had told him, no one had come to talk to Spike. He didn’t see anyone at all for an hour and a half until the cranky woman came back to shoot him up with more painkillers.
He felt them start to work immediately, and sighed happily. Not that he’d ever complain, but the rumors were true. Getting shot? Hurt like hell.
“HELLO?” He finally yelled, wondering if anyone could hear him through the thick walls. “Is anyone going to come explain to me what the bloody hell is going on?”
Just then, Gunn entered the room, followed by Xander and Willow.
“Oh good, someone could hear me.”
“How you doing, Spike?” Xander asked.
“Feel like I’ve been shot.”
“Damn, harsh. You remember Willow?”
“Of course. Nice to see you again, Red.”
They shared a smile, and then Spike’s gaze shifted over to Gunn, who was staring at him, jaw and shoulders and hands tensed. There was an awkward silence, and Xander tried to break it by joking, “Hey, Spike? Meet Charles Gunn. FBI agent.”
“Nice to meet you,” Spike growled. “I’d shake your hand, but I’m cuffed to the bed.”
Gunn’s eyes flashed and he responded, “Yeah, we tend to do that with criminals.”
“Because I’m such a dangerous man.”
“You are.”
“Right, so dangerous I—“
“Okay!” Willow chirped. “Let’s get on topic, okay? Buffy needs us.”
“What?” Spike was instantly at attention. “Where’s Buffy?”
“Well, we don’t really know,” the woman frowned. “She was with Xander and I, we were helping her with…something and then Angelus’s guys showed up, and we separated, and there was a car crash and we….we haven’t heard from her since.”
For a second, Spike was completely silent, staring at the wall in front of him with an unreadable expression.
“Get these fucking things off of me.” He rattled the handcuffs.
“What?” Gunn asked.
“Get. Them. Off. And get me some clothes.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t fancy running around in a hospital gown, as much as I’m sure you’d love to be staring at my ass.”
There was murder in the other man’s eyes. “Why the hell would I let you go? So you can run to Mexico? You’re in custody of the US gover---”
“You really think I’m going to try to escape with a hole in my stomach? I can find her.”
“No.”
“You want to leave Buffy in danger—“
“We’re here for any information you may have, not to follow you on some wild—“
“I can help! I think I know where he would—“
“I’m not risking my job on what you think, asshole. I’m not Buffy. My orders are to question you—“
“BOYS!” Willow yelled out, then widened her eyes in surprise at her own outburst. “Sorry. Boys? Buffy, danger? Can we not do the whole pissing contest thing?” Both men grudgingly nodded. “Okay. Spike, you actually think you can help?”
“Yeah.”
“Gunn, you want to find Buffy, right?”
“Yeah. But I’m not letting him come.”
“Okay then! Xander, honey, I think some of your clothes are in my trunk, get them?”
Her words were clearly an order, and Xander obeyed them instantly. “Yes, ma’am!” He saluted as he left.
Gunn frowned. “I just said—“
“Now, you two,” Willow turned back to the two stewing men in front of her, ignoring Gunn’s words completely. “Spike, Gunn thinks Buffy maybe wasn’t really doing her job, was working secretly for you. Was she?”
“No!” He snapped. “I had no idea who she was. She lied to me.” His last comment was soft, almost just to himself.
“And you don’t want to run away, do you?”
“Bloody hell. No. Why would I run away when I was planning to put myself in LAPD custody anyway?”
“Good point. Gunn, Spike just wants to find Buffy. Can you accept that?”
“Fine.”
“And you want to find Buffy.”
“Yes, but—“
“If Spike can help, won’t your bosses be happy you found Buffy, even if you broke a little rule to do it?”
“I guess…”
“So you’ll let him help?”
“…fine.”
“Good!” Her face was happy again. “Then let’s go.”
The needle into her arm hurt, sure. But Buffy had never been afraid of needles. A tiny pinprick, she could handle. No problem.
But then, she could feel the liquid entering her veins. Like fire. No, like ice. Like both. She could feel it creeping inside her, slow, so excruciatingly slow. Spreading throughout her body. The devil taking her over.
“Well. Let’s give the girl a minute, see if Walsh gave us our money’s worth. Buffy, this is a scientific exploration. I’d like detailed descriptions of everything you’re feeling.” His laugh was cruel, clearly enjoying his deranged torture of her. “And please, any hallucinations? Tell me all about them.”
She wanted to stay calm. She wanted to resist, wanted to ride out the drugs effects with her mouth closed and her sanity intact.
And she succeeded, for awhile. She started to feel warm, and light, her head felt like it was floating off of her body, her limbs felt separate. Buffy didn’t say anything, didn’t give in. Angelus got bored.
“Bring the other one in,” He snapped to someone behind her, and a few minutes later Fred was thrown on the ground by the couch, arms bound, blood trickling from her nose.
“Angel, I’m so sorry—“ She started to say, when he brutally kicked her in the stomach.
“What…what…” Buffy wanted to ask questions, wanted to investigate, wanted to do her job. But the second she opened her mouth and spoke, she all of a sudden felt like she was falling, falling down, air rushing past her cheeks, and she let out a whimper.
Angelus laughed at her fearful expression and then poked the moaning girl on the ground with his foot. “Thought more about being cooperative, Fred?”
“I told you everything!”
He poked her harder. “That’s what you told me last time too, and we both know you were lying then. Why would I believe you now?”
Buffy stared intently at them, and they started to shift and mutate into shimmering, amorphous blobs. She began to giggle.
“How you doing, Buff?” Angelus looked amused. “Want to talk about it?”
She shook her head and tried to suppress the giggles, which shifted into sobs as she once again became cognizant of how well and truly screwed she was. “What did…what did she do?” She managed to force out.
“What didn’t she do is a better question. Little Fred here is a double crosser. Well, no, a triple crosser.”
“Triple?” Buffy giggled. The word struck her as hilarious for some reason. “Triple.”
“Yep. I thought she was my good little spy, keeping me updated on your boyfriend’s bad behavior. But I guess she was keeping him updated on me too. Still not really sure which side she thinks she’s on. Not that it matters.”
He removed his foot from Fred’s ribs, picked her up and sat her down on the chair opposite Buffy. Fred glared at her.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Buffy frowned. “I thought you liked me.”
Angelus laughed. In Buffy’s current state it was even more annoying, and yet frightening, then usual, and she shuddered. “Fred likes Fred,” he said. “And whoever is useful to her at the time. Oh, and by the way, she’s the one who found out about you. Maybe I should let you two wrestle. Could be hot.”
Buffy laughed loudly, then abruptly started to struggle against her bonds. “Too tight, too tight, please? Angel, please?” She stared at him pitifully, eyes wild, panting.
He sighed and undid the ropes around her wrists. “Fine. Don’t want you to have a panic attack.”
Inwardly, Buffy smiled, as she thanked Angelus pathetically and rolled her wrists around. Was she fucked up on some crazy drug? Yes. But was she stupid? No.
She just had to wait for her moment. And even though it wasn’t in her nature, she would be patient. For now.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thank you oh so very, very much for sticking with my fic thus far, and thank especially to my loyal reviewers (you know who you are!) Updates probably won't be daily this week, but at least every other day, depending on my real world obligations. But, exciting, I'm getting a shiny new MacBook tomorrow, so that might just kick my productivity into high gear, and you all might reap the benefits! Please, as always, let me know what you think! It makes me happy as a clam (if that clam were not about to be made into chowder).