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Author's Chapter Notes:
First I just have to say WOW in response to the great reviews the first chapter got. You guys are awesome and thanks to everyone who took the time to review, you really made my day. I decided to post this chapter earlier than expected as a thanks to you guys.
And another thank you goes out to Mari for another fantastic beta job. My stories wouldn't be the same without you *hugs*
“Slayer?” Spike moved warily toward the left-hand side of his cell, opposite to his irritating fledgling neighbor. The bitch was close enough to have heard the whole conversation, probably laughing over how she finally caught William the Bloody. Well, he sure as fuck wouldn’t go down without a fight.

“Yeah,” a soft bitter sigh assured him. “They got you too then?”

“Who?” Spike cocked his head to the side, caught off guard by what she said. The question had passed his lips before he had a chance to think it through.

Spike’s curiosity got the better of him as he tried to peer around the corner. All he could make out was her legs as she was obviously leaning against their adjoining wall. Glancing to the cell opposite her, he could make out her small frame reflected in the glaring glass of the Voracko demon situated in it.

“I don’t know,” Buffy’s worried voice drifted over to him. “It seems like they’re part of some military group studying demons.” She was whispering but Spike could clearly make out every word she said. He also heard her sharp intake of breath as she shifted against the wall. The Slayer was in a lot of pain by the sounds of it. The pungent aroma of rich slayer blood suddenly reached his nostrils and he realized she was hurt.

“Demons? Then why are you here? You’re workin’ with ‘em, aren’t you?” Spike let the frustration and accusation seep freely into his tone. A slayer trapped in a demon capturing operation? Not bloody likely! The Slayer let out a short humorless bark of a laugh.

“Yeah, because being poked and prodded Roswell-style and locked in a plastic hamster cage is my idea of fun, Spike.” Her snark lacked all of her usual pep, her voice sounding tired and weak above all else. But her choice of words made her the slayer he remembered and he could practically see her standing in front of him, arms crossed, one hip cocked to the side, rolling her eyes at him.

“‘S a bit hard to believe a demon capturin’ group would want you s’all,” he said, finding he believed her when she moaned softly again. He checked her reflection in the opposite cell to find her with her knees drawn up, cradling a bandaged arm.

“They don’t know what a slayer is. They think I’m some sort of demon. A ‘daywalker’ like Blade or something,” she snorted indelicately, sounding defeated. “They think their tests are wrong. They can’t make any sense of me. I’ve even been force-fed blood to see if I would reveal my ‘true face’.”

“What tests?” Spike’s suspicions rose. He may not trust the Slayer any more than Angelus on a bad day, but there was something about her tone and this place that made him believe her outlandish story. Besides, he would need someone strong to rely on if he wanted to have a chance in hell to get out of here. “What tests, Buffy?” he repeated when all he got in reply was a sniffle.

“Electroshocks, blood letting, pain tolerance, they broke my arm and fingers to check healing, they’ve cut me open,” Buffy’s voice sounded small and oddly child-like with a slight tremor in it. “There’s more, but, I-I just can’t…” she trailed off, obviously suppressing the memories of the trials.

Before Spike could reply, the door at the end of the hallway opened to let in a group of four soldiers carrying what appeared to be stun guns and crossbows. They appeared human, lumbering along the hallway toward him. One soldier, a bald African American man, slowed as they passed Buffy’s cell.

“How’s the arm, darlin’?” he sneered at her and Spike couldn’t help the warning growl rising in his throat and the flashing of his eyes. The Slayer was his. However, before he could give that anymore thought, the door to his cell slid open and he focused on the men in front of him. They were only four humans and being someone who wouldn’t let an opportunity like this pass, he lunged at the one closest to him. Before he had a chance to savor the sure kill, though, he felt an excruciating pain between his temples and the world went black.

Many torturous hours later during which he’d experienced Hell on Earth at the hands of a psychotic woman, Spike was dragged back to his cell. The last thing he noticed before slipping into the welcoming pit of unconsciousness was the empty cell next door. Buffy was gone.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Back at Scooby-central…

Nearly two weeks had gone by and there hadn’t been a single sign of Buffy. Not one indication that she was still alive even though every locator spell the Scoobies did showed the she hadn’t moved away from the university. Giles had finally told Joyce that Buffy had gone missing when the coven in England confirmed that she was detained by something or someone. Trapped in white lights but she was with a friend, whatever that meant.

Willow had spent the weeks constantly worrying over Buffy’s safety and location. She had scoured every inch of the university looking for any sign that Buffy was around anywhere. Every time she tried, she came up empty. But life hadn’t slowed down in Buffy’s absence. There had been the appearance of Veruka, another werewolf that apparently had no qualms accepting the beast within. Oz had promised her that he’d take care of the threat, and when it had come down to it, Veruka had been killed at Oz’s hands. Or jaws in any case. He had left her two days ago to find himself and he didn’t know when he would be back.

Willow was now more determined than ever to find her best friend. She was in desperate need of quality girl time, terrible movies about diabetes and lots and lots of chocolate ice cream. And she needed to find her. Two weeks without Buffy was something she didn’t want to repeat.

Willow sighed into the spell book she was reading. It held no more answers than the one before in terms of improving the locator spell. Maybe she could get some help from her new friend Tara in her Wicca group…

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Back at the Initiative…

He’d been awake for two hours in addition to however many he’d spent out cold on the floor, and Spike still hadn’t seen Buffy. He was starting to worry about her. Only because she would help him escape, not because he cared over what happened to her, of course…

Soldiers arrived at his cell again. This time they restrained him quickly and efficiently. He was sure he could get at least one of them down before the others could even so much as blink, but last time he tried it had resulted in hours of lost consciousness and one hell of a migraine. He had no idea what the army of wankers had done to him, but he intended to find out.

He was strapped down and muzzled Hannibal Lecter-style and taken into a large, empty room. It looked much like an operating theatre without any equipment. There was a row of windows high up against the ceiling and he could see a group of assembled people watching him intently.

He felt the restraints unlock and tore his limbs out of them before violently ripping away the muzzle. Spike paced the confines of the space, glaring up at the people observing him. He threw in the odd growl for good measure. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what sort of test they had devised for him now.

There was a click and Spike whipped his head in the direction of the sound. Another hidden door slid open to reveal a soldier violently pushing a battered slayer into the room. Buffy stumbled to stay upright, but fell helplessly onto the ground.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Buffy landed hard on the cool white tiles, identical to the ones in the room before, her whole body screaming in pain. She was exhausted. The commandos had just pitted her against a Kurlack demon after facing off against two vampires without a stake. She had never been a fan of the brutality of ripping a head from its body. Her arm was broken again and she had a new array of bruises and cuts for good measure. She was also pretty certain the constant burning on her leg was a result of the blue goo still soaking her pants after dispatching the Kurlack. It had to be a poisonous species of demon, didn’t it?

“Slayer,” Spike’s voice made her jump and automatically raise her arms defensively as she made her way back to her feet. An all out fight with one of her strongest opponents, just what she needed. “Relax, sweetheart. ‘M not gonna hurt ya,” he said softly, eyes scanning the room around them.

Spike looked over at Buffy. She looked like she’d been through hell and back. She was cradling what had to be her broken arm while limping and favoring her left leg. She had a mass of bruises running up her arms and deep gouges in her smooth skin. The sight of the battered young girl almost made him vamp out in anger. Not that she’d looked any better after fighting him, but it was the principle of the matter. The bandages around her wrists suggested that the tests done on the Slayer weren’t too different from his own and the thought made him shudder in disgust.

“Since you claim to be human, Ms. Summers, we’ve devised this little test here to see if your belief shows any validity,” a disembodied voice scratched above their heads. Buffy and Spike both glanced up at the faceless lab techs standing at the windows above them.

“We demand that you fight this vampire. Begin at will, Ms. Summers and you may get out of here.” There was no hint of promise in the voice and Buffy shot a desperate glance over at Spike who was growling softly. When he looked over at her, she shook her head, indicating that they wait the situation out.

At the Slayer’s head shake, Spike shrugged his shoulders and positioned himself next to her. He was all for not playing by the commandos’ rules and the Slayer looked ready to drop any minute. Rage at their situation simmered under the surface, causing his blue eyes to constantly flicker with gold, but he was in no mood to submit to their puppetry.

“Let’s just wait them out,” he heard Buffy’s faint whisper float across to him, not wanting to alert the researchers to their plan, he inclined his head only marginally. Minutes ticked by periodically interrupted by the static voice above trying to engage them in a fight. Spike had no clue as to how long they stayed in the arena patiently waiting for the lab techs to get bored. The constant drugging had disrupted his normal senses.

“I think they’re moving us,” Buffy’s voice again, this time the faintest trace of hope in it, and Spike dared a glance in her direction. She met his gaze and he saw for the first time how haunted she looked; her normally vivacious green eyes were now dull and flat, but there seemed to be a flicker of determination left in them. She wouldn’t go down without a fight, and neither would he.

“Alright,” the black soldier was back in the room, stun gun raised and ready. “You two won’t play nice now we’ll just have to wait you out,” he said before more of his commando friends piled into the room, restraining the two blonds. Spike growled at Buffy’s pained cry when one of the soldiers forced her broken arm behind her back. The two were forced back into the containment area, and to both their surprise, they were left in the same cell.

“I’ve always wondered how long it would take a vamp’s bloodlust to overcome the chip,” the black soldier sneered at the duo. “It seems we’ll finally get the chance to find out.” Another sadistic chuckle followed him as he locked the door and walked away, leaving the two super beings alone together.

As soon as the soldiers were out of sight, Buffy collapsed onto the floor, warily staring at Spike. She looked like she was weighing her options carefully, opening and closing her mouth a couple of times as if she wanted to say something. She cradled her broken arm in her lap and looked up at the vamp pacing the small cell.

“I know I’m probably not in a position to ask,” she started, looking up at him with pleading eyes as she leaned back against the wall. “But can we continue the truce until we find a way out of here?”

“Sure, Slayer,” Spike answered immediately, knowing that the best way of finding a way of getting out was with her help. He approached her slowly, kneeling down in front of her. “How’s your arm?”

Buffy glared suspiciously at him, but decided that a truce was a truce, and Spike always kept his word. Well, almost always anyway. “I think it’s broken again,” she mumbled, the pain and weariness after her fight settling in.

“Lemme have a look then, pet,” Spike carefully took the broken arm away from her, running cool fingers over her swollen skin. “I can reset it if you want, luv. But I don’ have much of a splint an’ it’ll hurt.”

Buffy looked down at where he was holding her arm, knowing it was better to reset the bone now before it healed crooked. Her natural accelerated slaying healing had slowed dramatically due to a lack of food and proper medical care.

“Help me out of my sweater,” she said, already struggling with it.

“My my, you move quick, pet. I know we’re trapped an’ all…” Spike smirked at her before tugging the thin fabric over her broken limb gently.

“You’re such a pig,” Buffy muttered, clenching her teeth against the pain. “Just use it to bind my arm.” Spike nodded, seeing the pain she was already in, he knew the resetting wasn’t something to look forward to. A deep breath by the Slayer and a vampire migraine later, Buffy’s arm was reset and Spike was bandaging the limb up with ripped strips from her favorite sweater.

“Bleedin’ commandos,” she heard Spike mutter as he continued checking the rest of her body for any injuries which needed urgent care. Why he was going out of his way to help her, she had no idea, but she wasn’t about to pass on it when her body felt like it was on fire from the various scrapes and incisions.

“What are you talking about?”

“Those tin soldier boys and their Jekyll crew ‘ave done somethin’ to me. Las’ time they tried to take me I fought back an’ it felt like a bloody bomb went off in my head. Now, with you,” Spike nodded to the bandaged arm, “I felt it again, jus’ not as strong.”

“Oh,” Buffy placed a small hand on the leather clad arm in front of her. She frowned and searched his eyes before continuing. She hesitated a moment before she spoke again. “I heard something about a behavior modification thing-a-mabob a little while ago. I wonder if that’s what they’ve done to you. Put a computer chip in your brain, I mean?”

“Behavior modification? Like Skinner’s stuff?” Spike asked and to his surprise Buffy nodded. Spike smiled at her, “Didn’t know you knew anythin’ bout the history of psychology, Slayer. But a computer chip sounds a bit Start Trek to me.”

Buffy glared at him mockingly, “I’m taking, well, I was taking, Psychology with Professor Walsh. But it turns out she’s the one in charge here. I knew there was something wrong with her when she droned on and on about Skinner and his oh-so-wonderful behavior studies. And I think a chip is perfectly plausible, they make tiny cell phones now…”

“Plausible? Slayer certainly has learned a new word or two,” Spike shook his head at Buffy. It was good to see some of her usual pep back in her tone. Enemies or not, it must be comforting for her to have someone she knew around. “But I’m not sure the existence of tiny phones proves it’s a computer chip.”

“Whatever, I think it’s a chip. It would shock your brain when you tried to hurt people, thus creating a positive punishment feedback, eventually training you to not do it anymore. Voila, your very own trained vamp,” Buffy said with a tone that dared him to argue with her.

Spike sighed heavily, not debating the Slayer further on her theory, which by the way sounded all too plausible. He was starting to get the unsettling feeling that there was something major going on with this organization and it didn’t look good for anyone involved. Aside from the potential futuristic computer chip imbedded in his brain, the wankers didn’t even know that Buffy was human, and a slayer at that. Seeing her so beaten and broken affected him on a base level, but he couldn’t understand why. He supposed it was something about seeing such a strong force brought so low by people who were too ignorant to understand the truth even if it slapped them on the face. Or perhaps it was William’s gentleman courtesy that seeped into his personality every once in a while. Whatever it was, he silently swore no more harm would come to her if he could do anything about it until they got out of this not-so-little shop of horrors.

“Spike?” Buffy’s soft voice broke into his thoughts. “I-I don’t know why they got you or what they’ve done to you. But I’m happy I’m not here alone anymore so I’m kinda happy they did.”

He cocked his head to the side, his earlier theory proving correct. “You enjoy bein’ in my company, Slayer?”

“No,” Buffy laughed softly, but winced when the movement strained her obviously broken ribs. “Call it temporary insanity due to being locked in a glass hamster cage with my arch nemesis.”

“Arch nemesis? ‘M flattered, pet.” Spike grinned at her, shrugging out of his duster before slipping off his red silk shirt. He sighed as he tore it into similar strips as he had with Buffy’s. “We need to bind those ribs, too.”

Buffy frowned at Spike, surprised again at his seeming care for her well-being. Spike motioned for her to lean forward so he could bind her ribs and she wordlessly complied, wincing as he pulled on the strips tightly. She had dismissed the pain from her ribs, but it was a relief to have the bindings tied securely around her midsection.

“Why are you helping me, Spike?” she asked softly, glancing down at his concentrated features as he was busy tying off the make-shift bandages. His too blue eyes shot up to meet hers with an unreadable expression in his eyes.

“Call it temporary insanity due to being locked in a soddin’ cage with my arch nemesis,” he replied with a devilish grin, using her earlier words.

Buffy smiled and shook her head. Spike was certainly unique. She felt the strain of the past few days of experiments and fighting trials wear on her and yawned widely.

“Come on, Slayer,” Spike moved away from where he was sitting in front of her. “You need some rest if we’re gonna find a way to get out of here. How bout you wrap yourself up all snug in my coat and get some shut eye. I’ll make sure none of these cardboard cut-outs bother you.” He held out the precious coat to the stunned slayer.

“You sure?” Buffy asked after a pause. She couldn’t deny how tired she was, and the thought of having some protection against the cool tiles was appealing.

“Yeah, luv,” Spike answered softly. “I’d offer my lap as a pillow, but I wouldn’t want ya to cut off my circulation.”

“You don’t have circulation to cut off, Spike,” Buffy smiled as she gratefully took the coat from him and bundled herself into it, shifting until she found a comfortable position next to the vampire on the cool tiles. She heard Spike chuckle and found herself feeling somewhat safe for the first time since her capture.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Professor and Commander of the Sunnydale Special Operations Unit Maggie Walsh looked over the assembled men with a grim sneer. She was not happy about the afternoon’s events. The young girl, Buffy Summers, had refused to cooperate, and much to everyone’s surprise so had Hostile 17. The two hostiles seemed to have some sort of pre-established relationship, but what it was based on she couldn’t begin to imagine. The security cameras in the containment cells had shown Hostile 17 actively tending to the young woman’s wounds. The relationship, however, would certainly go a long way in convincing the troops who still thought she was just a girl that she wasn’t, and shouldn’t to be treated as such.

“Agent Finn,” Maggie’s sharp voice startled some of her commanders. “Why do you suppose Hostiles 17 and 13 refused to cooperate today?”

“I-I’m not sure, m’am,” Riley Finn answered. “It appears that Ms. Summers has had some contact with Hostile 17 at some earlier point.” At Walsh’s sharp look, he quickly corrected Buffy’s moniker to Hostile 13.

“They may have had some form of business transaction, ma’m,” Forrest Gates added. “Or perhaps they work together on a regular basis. That would lend credit to our ‘daywalker’ scenario. She may be allied with other hostiles.”

“I’m not certain she is that involved, Gates,” Walsh smiled cruelly. “But perhaps it’s a start. We should look into her records and see if she has been violent or a disturbance in her earlier school days. She can’t have lain low too long. Agent Gates and Agent Miller, start looking into that now.”

The men in question, Forrest and Graham nodded curtly to their commander and left to complete their new assignment. Riley Finn looked over at Maggie, hoping that he would not be asked to extract Buffy for testing again. As much as he wanted to blindly believe what Professor Walsh and the Initiative were telling him, he was having doubts about Buffy Summers. She didn’t react at all similar to the other vampires during testing and she seemed like such a sweet girl.

“Don’t even think about it, Riley,” Walsh said softly, noticing where her favorite agent’s thoughts were obviously leading. “She’s not like us. You will treat her as you do any of the other animals in here. Refer only to her as Hostile 13. And as of this moment, you will be relieved of your guard duties in regards to her.” Maggie smiled down at the young man. She knew he had some attraction to the blonde girl, but she couldn’t nurture any deviance from him.

“I understand,” Riley said softly, standing to leave. “Do you think Hostile 17 will try anything?”

“We can only hope,” Walsh said with a cold smile. She was hoping that the implanted chip in Hostile 17’s head would finally yield some productive results. He was the only vampire subject to survive implantation so far and Maggie desperately wanted the data they could obtain from him. Who knew where it might lead them next.

TBC…


Chapter End Notes:
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