Sixteen
You better love loving and you better behave
You better love loving and you better behave
Woman in Chains
Woman in Chains
Calls her man the Great White Hope
Says she's fine, she'll always cope
Woman in Chains
Woman in Chains
Well I feel lying and waiting is a poor man's deal
And I feel hopelessly weighed down by your eyes of steel
It's a world gone crazy
Keeps Woman in Chains
Trades her soul as skin and bones
Sells the only thing she owns
Woman in Chains
Woman in Chains
Men of Stone
Men of Stone
Well I feel deep in your heart there are wounds
Time can't heal
And I feel somebody somewhere is trying to breathe
Well you know what I mean
It's a world gone crazy
Keeps Woman in Chains
It's under my skin but out of my hands
I'll tear it apart but I won't understand
I will not accept the Greatness of Man
It's a world gone crazy
Keeps Woman in Chains
So Free Her
So Free Her
He was no closer to an answer hours later.
Buffy slept fitfully in the bedroom while he paced through the nearly empty apartment, his mind running through different scenarios. He couldn’t risk staying here, but he didn’t dare move. The longer things were quiet, the better their chances were. If Alanna hadn’t been able to notify Charles right away, then they could still be safe.
But for how long?
The more he focused on their situation, the more the idea that Charles Gunn had been the one to betray him became absurd. Gunn didn’t have it in him to run that way. If he was going to come at you, it would be from the front. There was no subterfuge there. The man was nothing if not a straight arrow.
That left a few other suspects. None of which made him happy.
Spike stopped his pacing outside the bedroom door, his eyes on the still figure huddled in the bed. He couldn’t shake his feelings for her – he hadn’t felt like this about a woman in a very long time. And though her age said she was barely sixteen, the weight of the world was on her shoulders and he could see the stress within her. Even in sleep she barely rested, her limbs twitching occasionally and soft muttering sighs breaking her slumber. He wanted to believe he’d done the right thing. Wanted certainty that he’d made the right choices when it came to her. But he wasn’t sure. Didn’t trust his own instincts anymore. She’d twisted him up in knots.
From the first moment he’d laid eyes on her, something had stirred in his blood.
Some fiercely protective instinct reared its head, and William could do naught but surrender to it.
And try as he might, he couldn’t convince himself it was even remotely paternal. He was far too aware of her scent, of her fleeting, vulnerable smiles to fool himself that way. Despite every inclination otherwise, Will knew he should keep his distance. Stay far away from Buffy.
With a deep sigh, he turned away, once more resuming his circuit through the apartment. He thrust his musings on Buffy away, letting his considerable attention focus on the real problem.
Who’s betrayed me?
Unlike Charles Gunn, Rupert Giles was one who could play games. With more than thirty years experience in the field, the spymaster was adept at changing and flowing with the situation, though his loyalties were always with the Crown. But Spike was well aware the Crown’s interests – not to mention Downing Street’s – didn’t always coincide with what constituted the ‘right thing’. All that aside, Spike trusted Giles the way he’d trusted Travers. With his life. Even if he sometimes was a stuffed shirt.
Besides, Giles had suffered mightily at the hands of Angelus and his organization. His wife, Jenny, and their two daughters had been caught in a bomb that had been planted by Angelus. The only survivor of the blast had been their daughter, Daisy, who’d been only six at the time. So no, Giles would not have sold him out to anyone from Angelus’ organization.
That left Faith, Sam Lawson, and Andrew Wells. Wells was a mostly harmless techno-geek, who worshiped the ground Spike walked on. Which was disturbing, Will thought, but didn’t make him a traitor. Lawson was quiet, a former Navy Seal who’d done more than his fair-share of tracking and eliminating terrorists. He didn’t seem the type to betray his ideals, or his country. He was a less cynical version of Giles.
His eyes were caught by the lights from the bridge, idly noting that traffic seemed to be slowing down. Glancing down at his watch, Spike was surprised to see the time. Well after midnight, he’d been pacing and lost in his own thoughts for hours. No wonder his eyes were tired and achy, or that he was fighting a headache. He needed to sleep. Needed to be able to rest, knowing they were safe for a little while longer.
Should I? He looked longingly toward the bedroom, fighting fatigue. He set his jaw, moving away from the living room window, heading for the bathroom. Maybe a hot shower will take my mind off . . .
Maybe it should be a cold one.
Gunn watched the flickering television screen, ignoring the drama unfolding between the actors in favor of deciding his next step. He needed to find Will before anyone else did. The feeling of unease – an itch between his shoulder blades – had only worsened since his sister’s phone call hours earlier. And now, he could barely contain his apprehension.
Something was about to go wrong.
That feeling had goaded him into heading to his mother’s place, avoiding his own apartment or his girlfriend’s. Alanna’s precinct was six blocks away, though it was still too early to head over there, Gunn could no longer fight the urge to go. A glance down at his cell phone had him grimacing. Four thirty-three in the damn morning. Shift change wasn’t until eight. As a detective with the covert anti-terrorism unit, Gunn pretty much could go wherever he wanted to, whenever he wanted. The fact that he could wasn’t much help. He needed to fly under the radar, at least until he figured out what the hell was going on.
He needed more information. All he had to go on was this weird itch between his shoulders and an unswerving belief that Will knew what he was doing. Gunn didn’t always approve of his partner’s methods, and he didn’t always understand his thought processes, but in the eight years he’d known William Pratt, Gunn couldn’t think of one time he’d been wrong. Especially when it came to Liam Reilly.
He had to trust that his partner knew what he was doing by hiding way the hell uptown. Gunn didn’t even know Will knew what Manhattan looked like from above Central Park, but if Alanna said it was him, then it was. She’d had the hots for him for so long that he figured his sister could pick Spike out in the dark. Not that his hair wouldn’t be a dead give-away.
Gunn flicked the television off, checking his watch again. Barely five minutes had passed, but he needed to do something. Sitting here watching the television wasn’t helping the unusual anxiety. Slipping quietly from his mother’s apartment, Gunn headed out to find something to occupy his time.
The shower hadn’t helped. Neither water temperature was able to distract him from his thoughts. Under the hot water his mind had drifted back to thoughts of Buffy and under the cold, those same thoughts had circled round to the idea of someone betraying the unit. So nothing had been solved, except now he was incredibly clean. And still not relaxed enough to sleep.
Three hours later he was still wide awake, only this time he was staring up at the ceiling. Six hairline cracks intersected above his head, trailing off into the molding and he’d spent far too much time contemplating each one of them. Try as he might, Will couldn’t shut off his brain. He’d dwelled on each member of his unit, dismissing them in turn.
Now he was just at a loss. His brain was blank, his emotions numb. The living room floor was cold and uncomfortable, but he didn’t want to confront the temptation of Buffy. It would be too easy to slip into bed beside and let her body c-url against his. He had to start thinking smarter. Which meant keeping some distance.
It wasn’t ideal. Hell, he wanted nothing more than to get up off the cold floor and snuggle next to her. But he stayed put.
Once more contemplating the ceiling cracks, Spike tried focusing his thoughts on something else. Anything else.
It was bitterly cold and the definite hint of impending snow was in the air. The sky was low, filled with gray clouds, falsely lightening the sky and Gunn hunched his shoulders against the whipping wind.
Why the hell am I out here? I must be six kinds of crazy walking around at five in the damn morning, trying to get info on that crazy, mo-fo Englishman I call a partner. Shaking his head at his own insanity, Gunn half-turned to head back to his mother’s apartment. Ain’t no reason for me to be out here like this.
At the very periphery of his line of sight, Gunn spied a slow moving truck. His cop’s brain immediately searched for markings or something to indicate why a truck – a late model expensive American brand – without headlights, was on this street. Truck like that got no good business being . . .
Charles didn’t bother finishing that thought. Those long-dormant instincts kicked in and he nonchalantly pulled his jacket tighter, reaching for his shoulder holster. Deliberately turning his back, he headed right for the precinct, no longer bothering to waste time. Need to get inside, before that big-assed truck gets any closer.
Too far. . . Damn building is too effing far. I’m not gonna make it.
He ducked inside the next doorway, pressing himself into the dark shadows around the window, his eyes scanning the street. Barely two minutes passed before the truck was even with him, and though he tried, Gunn couldn’t make out the number of inhabitants. The SUV slowed to a crawl. Gunn inhaled deeply, easing his nine millimeter from the holster.
Sirens wailed in the distance and the distinctive flash of blue and white lights lit up the street. The SUV lurched into gear, turning the corner too quickly for his liking. This is not good. What the hell did that freaking limey get his ass involved with now?
Gunn moved away from the door, sprinting the final distance to the precinct steps, taking them three at a time. The desk officer was at the top of the stairs, nodding when Gunn flashed his credentials and ushering him to go further up the stairs to the detective division.
Can’t stay here any longer. Gotta move. Will threw off the light blanket, gingerly getting to his feet. He hadn’t slept more than ten minutes at a time, the little rest doing nothing to ease his growing apprehension. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing at attention. He couldn’t shake the feeling that time was up. He’d better get moving if he wanted to save his ass, as well as Buffy’s.
Lightly stomping his feet to warm them up, Will headed for the bedroom. He wasn’t at all surprised to see her awake, big eyes shadowed in the darkness.
“Get up, kitten.”
“What’s wrong?”
They spoke over each other, harsh whispers of sound echoing in the nearly empty room. When he didn’t answer her, Buffy asked again as she slipped out of the bed. She was fully dressed, something else Will wasn’t at all surprised to note.
His answer, when it came, was gruffer than he wanted. “Want to head out before it gets light.”
“Where are we going?” Buffy followed him into the kitchen, her voice muffled by the thick sweater she was pulling over her head. “Will?”
He wolfed down day-old pastries, handing her a few. “Don’t know.”
She took them. “So why are we going?”
“Got an itch. A hunch. Can’t sleep. Best we be movin’. Been here too long any way.” Will tied his boots, then looked around, avoiding her eyes.
Watching him from the corner of her eyes, Buffy tried making her tired brain connect the dots. He wasn’t telling her everything, that much she knew. There was something going on that she didn’t understand, and it frustrated her because she knew if she focused for a moment, the answer would be there. “You don’t trust – you think someone’s going to find us.” She paused, the cinnamon roll halfway to her mouth. “You think it’s a cop.”
The look he shot her wasn’t at all nice, though carrying more than a hint of respect for her deductive skills. “Yeah.”
No sense keeping her in the dark. Chit’s gotta know what we’re facing. Will breathed out heavily through his nose, then he focused his eyes on her face. “Yeah. Could be one of m’team, an’ that’s not somethin’ I like thinking about.”
“So you think that girl would tell?” Buffy sat on the floor to tie her boots, wincing at the awkward position.
“No. ‘M thinkin’ that whoever is the rat, will get the information without anyone bein’ the wiser.”
“Oh.” Will grabbed her foot, raising it so she wouldn’t have to put more pressure on her broken ribs and quickly tied the laces.
“Yeah. Oh.” Helping her to a standing position, Will looked down at her up-turned face. “Think you can make it?”
Buffy thought about asking him for more details, thought about pushing him to tell her more, but the look in his eyes was frosty and the color had changed to a startling flame-light blue. Knowing he needed her to try, she answered the only way she could. “Yeah.”
Only seconds later they were out the door, heading for the elevator and eventually, the street.
There wasn’t going to be much, if any, sunlight. The sky was heavily-laden with snow clouds, hanging low and ominously over their heads. Building tops were obscured and even the Cloister hill was little more than a darker blur against the low sky. Spike took a moment to make sure Buffy was bundled up, carefully tucking her hands inside the too big sweater.
“If somethin’ happens, you run. An’ you keep running ‘til you can hide. Don’t answer if anyone calls you an’ it’s not me.” He brushed a hand over her hair, a grim smile on his lips. “Understand?”
She didn’t want to answer him. Didn’t want to lie, because there was no way she was going to leave his side, especially if something happened. He was the only person in the world she trusted – why would she leave him? Buffy bit her bottom lip, nodding her head in agreement. When she hesitated, he shook her slightly. She resisted answering him until he forced her chin up, his eyes boring into hers. “Promise me, kitten, if somethin’ happens and the situation gets tight, you’ll run. Promise me.”
“Yeah.” He knew she was lying. The defiance and determination were there in her eyes. She wasn’t going to leave him. But Will let it go, knowing that he’d just waste time arguing about it. Time they might not have.
“C’mon, kitten, let’s go.”
The squad commander waved him through, pointing to his sister and shaking his head. Alanna had her head down, fingers flying across her keyboard, her attention focused on the monitor in front of her.
“Girl, you work too hard.” He played it for their audience, no longer certain he could trust anyone, even if they were wearing blue. There was a reason Will had gone to ground and even more of a reason why he’d chosen to do it where no one knew him.
“Look who’s talking like he’s ready to retire.” His sister was no dope and for once, Charles was glad they were still close.
“You got time for breakfast with your brother?” Gunn parked himself one desk away, his big feet resting on the desktop. He listened to his sister fake groaning and grumbling about his timing, aware that his heart was thumping madly in his chest and the sweat on his bald head was standing out. The hat he’d pulled on before leaving his mother’s was itching horribly, but he didn’t pull it off, ignoring the sensations. Too many eyes were on them and he couldn’t risk anyone else’s life.
Will might have thought his relationship with Nikki Wood was under the radar, but his sister had a nose like a bloodhound for that kind of shit, and when the two of them had ‘accidentally’ bumped into each other at NYPD functions once too often, Alanna had spilled her theory to Charles. He’d never had the balls to ask the Englishman outright, but Nikki’s murder, right on the heels of O’Reilly’s, had only cemented Gunn’s belief that Alanna was right.
Which meant that there really were no secrets. And he couldn’t trust anyone else but his sister. And Spike only had them. And his handler. Gunn had a number for Giles, but he didn’t dare risk calling him. At least not from a cell phone. Not when the bad guys were looking to be right outside the door, and no doubt had tails on everyone Pratt knew.
Alanna looked over at him, sensing his barely-leashed tension. “Yeah. I could eat.”
He rose to his considerable height, almost daring her squad commander to stop him. “Let’s go.”
Thanks to all of you that are still with me on this, it means a lot. I have to thank both Spikeslovebite and Dawnofme for their beta skills and wonderful feedback. You are both awesome.