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Author's Chapter Notes:
A/N: Hope everyone is happy and having a great holiday season! My festive mood sparked my creative streak, so here is a slightly edited, longer chapter to read.

Thanks to all who have viewed and reviewed. Your insights and comments are the best presents I can hope for!

In this chapter, Wesley is interrogated (and remembers a torturous moment); Spike and Riley come to an understanding about the Army Commander's mean streak.

Just to clarify again: Darla turned both Angelus and Drusilla in this alternate universe.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

XXXXXXXXXXXX

Wesley woke up in the type of room he had been familiar with for most of his adult life. He knew it was exactly like the place where he had brought many a sick patient to to recover. He didn't think that he would be using a room like this, though. The young British man's mind was swimming in and out as he tried to remember why they had brought him here.

He remembered being in a warehouse before; and prior to that, he remembered three figures looming over him. They tortured him! His hand flew to his neck as he recalled one biting him.

**Darla!** He thought suddenly as he remembered the being which had drank his blood. **Darla, Angelus and Drusilla. Oh, my word!**

He knew Drusilla's name well since he had heard Spike using it. He remembered Spike telling him that Drusilla was his sire, and that she was the instrument of the vampire's Curse. Angelus and Darla were their family, at least in the vampire communities. He recalled that Spike did not want to admit to Wesley that he had any ties to the vampires he had talked about, but Spike could no more be dishonest with his best friend and brother any more than the vampire could lie to Buffy.

When he had gone to Anya's Magic Box Shop, Wesley's fear of what Spike might do and a desire to research the prophecy involving Slayers and Hunters had warred within him. He could see the beast in his friend that was rising and begging to be set free. Wesley knew that it was only a matter of time before Buffy was on the receiving end of Spike's true vampiric nature.

Because of that, the younger British man had taken his research and, as a result of wanting to hurry instead of considering the feasibility of his actions, went to consult with Anya. The end result was that Angelus, Darla and Drusilla had cornered him and had eventually left him at the warehouse to trap Spike.

He could still remember the taunts and slurs of Angelus when he, Anya and Willow had been captured.

(YESTERDAY...)

Angelus walked over to a table with several knives on it. Eyeing Wesley, Anya and Willow, the vampire selected a cutting knife.

"So, Wes ol' boy, got up and got dressed for tonight's gig and told myself, 'self, let's see how long it'll take someone like an intelligent, book read college boy to cry out in pain,'" he jeered.

"I'm betting on a minute," Darla had said, throwing some money down on a table.

"Ohh...a minute twenty until the squire calls for the Prince!" Drusilla said, throwing some more money on top of Darla's.

Angelus lovingly ran the knife against a leather belt to sharpen it. "Oh, I don't know...these young bucks have stamina," Angelus said. "Although I think he'll be hollering in thirty seconds."

"So, now, you'll mar me for life, is that it?" Wesley said from his chained position on the wall.

"Leave him alone!" Anya's voice popped up. The evil male vampire's eyes swam to her.

"What's that?" he asked the former demon.

Anya swallowed as she mustered up courage. "I said, 'leave him alone'," she repeated, trying to sound more assertive than she really was.

Angelus boldly strode over to her, asking, "Or what?" Anya's eyes drifted to Wesley then back to Angel again.

"Or...I'll curse you!" she said. Beyond the pair, Willow was trying to remember a teleportation spell.

Oh, really?" Angelus sneered. "I don't sense any demonic energy in you anymore."

He leaned in close and ran his cool fingers over the top of her dress. Then Angelus brought the knife up and cut down the middle. Anya's chest was partially exposed.

"Nice to see you still have the goods, babe," he leered. "I'll bet your blood is still as sweet as--"

"Don't!" Wesley shouted, his voice shaking with anger. Darla chuckled.

"Dear human boy," she said, "you've got a thing for her, haven't you?"

Angel chortled, agreeing with his sire. "That he does, Darla," he said, "that he does."

He looked at Wesley and said in a husky voice, "don't worry, Wes. I promise to return her to you after I'm done!" Anya turned her head away. She certainly didn't want to have Angelus bang her.

The male vampire smiled a superior grin at the three hostages. He focused on Wesley next.

"Now, if I were a vengeance demon, I might do something like, oh, I dunno..." he said, taking the knife and holding it close to where Wesley's genitals were inside of his pants, "a Bobbit on a man."

For a few tense seconds, no one did anything. Then, Angelus moved the knife away, eliciting a sigh of relief from Wesley and the others. Willow moved her lips in an effort to recite the incantation.

"Of course, we don't have any men present other than myself, do we, girls?" he asked Darla and Drusilla.

Darla was getting bored. "Let's just get on with torturing them!" she snapped.

Angelus grabbed a whip from the table of weapons. "Now, now, Darla..." he chided softly. He looked at Wesley and said, "She always was the impatient one in the bunch."

He winked at the British man and smiled, ripping the front of his shirt. Buttons went flying as he saw Wesley's perfectly muscled chest. Angelus snared Wesley's neck with the whip, jerking it forward. The evil vampire used his knife then and, with perfect precision, nicked the side of it. The young Englishman didn't scream; he wouldn't give his attacker the satisfaction. The blood trickled down his shoulder.

Darla crossed over to Wesley, saying, "Look there…he's got a little boo-boo!" She vamped out and said, "least I can do is kiss it better."

Grabbing the whip from Angelus, she jerked Wesley's neck even closer to where her fangs awaited. Hungrily, Darla buried her fangs in his neck and drank. Drusilla clapped, while Angelus smirked.

Willow meanwhile was chanting softly.

Drusilla closed the distance between herself and the magic woman. "Naughty, naughty!" she said in a singsong voice. "Miss Edith doesn't want you to do interrupt the King of Sorrow's games!"

She came closer to Willow's face, then Drusilla's ridges were in full view. "Mummy, may I taste now?" she asked, looking back at Darla.

"Why not?" Darla asked. "Go on."

Drusilla's game face appeared. She faced the benevolent sorceress. Willow tried to shut her eyes, but Drusilla's held hers in their hypnotic grasp.

"Be with me..." she said. "Be in my eyes." Willow looked at the vampiress.

"You'll give me a taste?" Drusilla asked. Willow turned her neck willingly.

"A White One's blood!" the insane vampire cried happily. "Such a nummy treat!"

"No!" Wesley shouted, earning a whipping from Angelus.

The vampire casually tossed the whip aside and crossed to Anya. He ripped off her dress and tasted Anya's blood from her chest. "You still taste sweet, my sweet," he mocked as he sealed the wound he had made. "Just like old times!"

The three drank from their victims. As Wesley felt himself being drained, he promised revenge on the vampires, especially the one with the angelic face...

(IN THE PRESENT...)

Wesley still didn't know how he had gotten to this hospital. His mind raced as he wondered what game the evil trio of vampires was playing.

**Why did they release me and not destroy me or the others?** His mind wondered. **Where are Anya and Willow?**

He breathed a sigh of relief when he didn't feel the change coming upon him. Wesley still knew so little about vampires, even with having Spike as a housemate. Deciding it was time to find out about the hospital he was in, the college student buzzed for a nurse.

"You rang, Mr. Wyndham-Price?" a young, blonde nurse asked, coming in to check Wesley's chart.

"Yes," Wesley told her. "I was wondering what I'm doing here."

"I would rather you talk to the doctor about that," the nurse said. She went outside to fetch a physician.

Presently, she came in with a tall, somewhat fatherly looking man in a spotless lab coat. He had salt and pepper hair and a neatly trimmed beard.

"Doctor Baines," the nurse said, "Mr. Wyndham-Price is awake, and he has questions."

The doctor bent over Wesley and looked at his chart. "Hmmm..." he said. The medical practitioner looked up presently and commented, "you seem none the worse for wear, Mr. Wyndham-Price. Your vitals are all right; however, you're definitely anemic. We're keeping you here for observation. If you check out okay, then you should be able to go when all the lab results are in."

"Did someone else bring me here...I mean, besides the ambulance drivers?" Wesley asked.

"Commander Finn handed you three over to us for observation," the doctor reported.

"You mean, Anya and Willow are here, too?" Wesley asked. "Where are they? I want to see that they're okay."

Doctor Baines shook his head, saying, "Sorry, but that's not permitted. You took a significant loss of blood. Now, good news is: you won't need a transfusion. The assailant didn't drain you to the point of a coma or death, but you still aren't ready to do the bugaloo out of here, either."

"You said I could leave soon..." Wesley reminded the physician.

Doctor Baines turned from him slightly and, sight unseen, withdrew a syringe with a yellow liquid from his pocket. He then turned back, the needle concealed in his hands.

"I DID say that earlier, didn't I?" the doctor asked. "But it might take some time until we achieve the results we're after."

Wesley noticed the sinister tone his voice had taken. "What...what do you mean?" the college student asked, his voice revealing his fear.

The doctor lifted his hand with the syringe and checked the dosage. Wesley struggled to rise, but found he didn't have the strength.

"Now, now, Mr. Wyndham-Price," he said in a calm voice, "There's nothing to be afraid of, I assure you. The military just wants to know how much information you have about the supernatural elements that attacked you at the warehouse, oh and their cronies, of course. You will all be questioned separately, and when the Army is satisfied, you will be released."

Wesley knew that he had to do something, anything, to protect his friends, especially Spike. He forced himself to remain calm despite his growing agitation.

"What are you talking about?" the younger man asked Doctor Baines. "We were there, but there was a gang of drug crazed men, not anything like ghosts or goblins."

"Not what I heard," the doctor countered, tapping the needle with deliberated slowness. A nurse came into the room, her face dwarfed by the pad she was holding.

Doctor Baines turned around to the nurse, saying, "Nurse, please make certain that we're not disturbed." He turned to regard Wesley. "He's not up to receiving visitors just yet."

The nurse nodded and left to do the doctor's bidding. It was during that time that Wesley lifted himself as much as he could. He grabbed the doctor's hand and, in a show of surprising strength, managed to make Doctor Baines drop the needle.

The doctor pressed a button. Two orderlies rushed in, but unlike Wesley's smaller frame, these were large, Quarterback sized attendants. They held the British student down as Doctor Baines grabbed the needle from the side of the bed where it had fallen.

The physician injected the contents into the IV bag. One attendant covered Wesley's mouth so that he couldn't scream; the other checked to make sure that no one from outside the room disobeyed the doctor's request for privacy. "The military made this drug for people like you...bleeding heart radicals who abscond with Hostiles," Doctor Baines said coldly.

Wesley felt his muscles growing heavy. He couldn't move, much as his mind wanted to. A warm euphoria engulfed him. Doctor Baines saw the restrained man's face start to shift from fear to an almost drowsy look. The doctor studied Wesley's eyes. They were dilating.

Perfect, the medical practitioner thought, smiling. To the remaining attendant, Doctor Baines ordered, "Go outside and help Ralph. Make sure no one can enter this room!" The other large man went outside. Wesley tried to resist whatever was making him feel like taking a nap.

"Wha'...what did you do to me?" He slurred.

"Nothing significant. Just something to calm you down; make you lose your inhibitions," the doctor reported. "Commander Finn wants to know about the Hostiles. He wants the truth out of you."

Wesley blinked very slowly. He had to do something, his mind reasoned, but what? He couldn't think straight as he felt himself relaxing.

The doctor began. "The one we caught," he began. "We understand that you have strong ties to him," he told the Englishman.

"I told you..." Wesley responded with an inebrated voice, "...I dunno any creatures, or whatever. 'Was all per-fect-ly normal. Just some druggies."

"Oh, come now," Doctor Baines chided, "You can do better than that! Tell me about the vampire. Was he the one that killed all of the victims? Does he have some hypnotic power over you?"

Wesley tried to process the doctor's inquiries. Doctor Baines waited patiently. Wesley frowned. He tried to clamp his mouth shut, but the drug was overpowering him. "He didn't kill anyone. He doesn't use mind control on me."

"But he DOES have the ability to use it, doesn't he?" the physician asked. Wesley turned drowsy eyes on him. The British man giggled, then became serious.

"I don't know," he responded. The doctor grew impatient.

"Do vampires have the ability to enthrall their victims, or not?!" the medical practitioner snapped.

"Why are you cross with me?" Wesley slurred. "Vampires have the ability to enthrall their victims."

Doctor Baines was writing down everything Wesley was saying. The door opened, and a titian haired nurse walked in. She held a chart on a clipboard in one hand; a pen was in the other. The physician grabbed the pen and signed the pad. He turned back to his patient, eager to continue questioning Wesley.

"You said he didn't kill anyone," the doctor started saying. "How do you know?"

Wesley declared, "Because we're good friends. Spike wouldn't kill anyone, except in self-defense."

Doctor Baines snorted, but he kept his observations to himself. How anyone in his right mind could be friends with any of the hostiles was beyond him, but he knew he had to get as much information as possible for his Army superiors before the quick acting drug wore off.

"You said his name was Spike, and that you were—" the next word the doctor spoke was laced with disdain for Wesley—"friends. Tell me everything you know about him."

Before the patient opened his mouth to answer, the nurse slammed the metal clipboard against the doctor's temple. Baines slumped to the floor, unconscious.

"Wesley!" His eyes focused on Willow Rosenberg. He slowly brought up his hand and waved it in her direction.

"'Ello, Willow!" he greeted cheerfully. Willow looked apologetic.

"I'm sorry I didn't find you sooner," she said sadly. "It was all I could do to find the right incantation to purge that stupid stuff from my system!"

"'S okay," Wesley slurred. Willow murmured something in what sounded like Latin. The English college student felt his mind clearing, and his senses growing more alert.

"We've got to get you out of here," she said, handing him an orderly's uniform. Fully recovered thanks to the White One's magic, Wesley sat up and put the white coat with the badge on it over his clothes.

"Where's Anya?" he asked, his voice laced with concern. He hoped that the staff in hospital didn't use the drugs on her.

"She's okay," Willow said. "I fixed it so that she couldn't tell them anything useful, then I healed her, too. She's getting our transportation ready."

"Good," Wesley said. His eyes fell on the doctor who was unconscious.

"Can you make it so that he forgets what I told him?" he asked. Willow nodded.

"I can, but we have to hurry," she responded with urgency in her tone. Doctor Baines murmured as he started regaining consciousness.

When Baines was fully awake, Willow looked at him and said, "Forget everything you heard for the last hour, and sleep. When you wake up, you will be relaxed and go about your usual rounds."

The doctor muttered, then slumped to the ground. Willow turned his face toward her so that she could see his expression. He was smiling.

"He's under," she reported. Wesley had finished tying his shoes and joined the titian haired sorceress by the door.

"What about the guards?" he asked nervously. "Did they see you?"

Willow opened the door and said, "Not at all. They're taking a nap right now."

"Spell?" the British young man asked. Willow shook her head, holding up a needle.

"Hypo," she responded. "I didn't inject Baines 'cause there wasn't enough, and I needed to find out how much he made you say anyway."

When a quick scan of the hall revealed only a nurse and very few doctors, Willow and Wesley calmly walked into the corridor. His companion went to the elevator and pressed the button. When it dinged, Wesley was the first to enter. Willow was about to get on the elevator when one of the guards she had injected staggered out of the closet.

"Stop those two!" he shouted. A doctor started running toward Willow. She took off at breakneck speed down the corridor, desperate to find a good hiding place.

XXXXXXXXXX

(At the Army base…)

Spike slumped to the ground in defeat…at least for the moment. He had exhausted himself by trying to break from his mortar and glass prison. He wasn't certain how long he had been locked up, but he knew from the hunger pangs he felt that he had not fed for far too long.

The beastly looking vamp concentrated on getting his mind back in shape. He forced himself to calm down. He controlled inner demon once more. Spike thought about the love of his unlife just then. He felt every nuance that was Buffy with perfect clarity; her hair, her scent, and most especially, her kiss.

He imagined her dressed in the dark colors of the night, not black necessarily, but a deep, rich plum, as she climbed willingly into his bed. Her sinful, berry shaded lips were teasing his chest, bringing tingles that he had not felt in a long time. They surged throughout his body.

He dreamed that she alone had relieved him of his Curse. Together, standing against the dark hordes of demons, he and Buffy had kicked some serious arse. Angelus tasted the point of a long stake, and so had Darla. Drusilla was hanged, and as the last ashes of her remains drifted away on the wind, Spike had mourned her passing. Buffy and Spike had shut down the remnants of this hellish demon prison camp.

Later, he dreamt he and Buffy claimed each other in a very private and very intimate ceremony. Afterwards, all of their friends were there: Wesley, Willow, even Anya. They cheered, along with Buffy's mother, for her good judgment in choosing a mate.

A moment later, Spike snorted, thinking, **sod all! Gettin' too romantic in my old age!**

Besides, hadn't he told Buffy to bugger off? Maybe he hadn't said it quite in those terms, but he had said that she needed to find a human bloke; that he couldn't give her the life she deserved. He had meant what he'd said. Only her happiness mattered. He realized deep in his unbeating heart that it mattered more than anything.

He had to face facts. He was a demon, plain and simple. He didn't deserve the company of friends. Even so, he wasn't going to let his captors do anything to him. Spike told himself that he would not die like some dumb animal in its cage.

The revenant saw that there were several glass structures across from him. Like Alcatraz or some other prison block, there were two levels of cells. Some were empty, but he had a feeling that they wouldn't be for long. Spike saw a vampiress in the cell straight ahead. She wasn't too healthy looking; her pale skin was even paler, and her blue eyes were hollow.

The female revenant didn't have any markings on her, but she resembled what he knew he would be if he didn't secure his freedom: a weak, hungry shell of a night creature, willing to do anything for his next meal.

A green and grey skinned, short demon with several tattoos was in the cell next to hers. He didn't seem too emaciated. His eyes bulged out of his head, and his mouth was crammed with teeth. Suddenly, two scientists came in front of the demon's cell. It jumped up and down, frantic to get out. The humans in front of its transparency had a machine resembling a sound board. Without any preamble, they shut the device on. The demon stopped jumping and cooed like a contented puppy.

"That's better, hostile 10," Spike heard one say. "We've got a special destination in mind for you. Man in Saudi Arabia wants you for his private collection."

The second scientist grabbed a silver chain and opened the door to its prison cell. The demon didn't struggle, but let the scientists chain it and calmly walked with them to its' ghastly fate.

**So tha's it!** He thought, afraid and yet repulsed.

Before he could fully process the magnitude of what was going on, a man wearing a black Navy commander's uniform was walking up to his cage. The vampire could see that it was Commander Riley Finn, and he looked like he wasn't just there to sell Spike to some slave trader or other such rot. From the fiendish look in the Army man's dark blue eyes, the revenant knew Finn was out for blood.

The sadistic Army commander never took his eyes off of Spike while he said, "So, the Vampire Beast has come to call," he said in a low voice. "Good! I can't wait to try out our latest toy on you." His eyes flicked to the other prisoners next to Spike's holding cell.

In Riley's hand was something resembling a cross between a cattle prod and a riding habit. He tapped his hand with it as he said, "The other hostiles will be leaving soon. It'll go easy for them. Sorry to say: it won't be easy for you!"

"If you're gonna kill me, Commander Cardboard, jus' be done with it!" Spike shouted. "I hate long waits!"

Riley motioned to three scientists in lab coats. They wheeled in another device, but this was only about the size of a tiny laptop computer.

"Spunk…I like that," Riley said in a cold voice. "But you'll find, that you'll beg for me to end your life when I've finished making you suffer." The scientists switched the device on and waited for it to power up.

Spike braced himself to withstand the onslaught as he promised he'd spring himself if it was the last thing he ever did and wring Riley's neck.





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