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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thank you to the lovely Sanityfair. Sorry for the delay in posting.
"Love the way you look in this coat with your tits out. Like a dream come true," he whispered.





"Dirty," she said, a sleepy smile poured on her face.





~*~*~*~


Buffy never gave Spike's flesh a chance to grow cold again; once she started touching him, she hadn't stopped. They were naked underneath the white blanket. The light seeping through the weave of the fabric left a crosshatched shadow on Spike's pale, unmarred skin. She kissed his hip, then licked the shallow, concave spot just below the bone. He was hugging her waist and his cheek was pressed against the slope of her stomach. She'd lost count of her orgasms since they started and was too sore for him touch her between her legs, but she couldn't bear to be separated from him. Even an inch felt too far away.





In some ways Spike was a being stronger and stranger than she; he soaked up her caresses like a stone in the sun. His penis was warm and hard under her hands. She folded down his foreskin and dragged her tongue along the tip, drawing out a white pearl of fluid from the narrow slit. His back arched and he sucked in an unneeded breath, just as he had the first time she'd done this to him. She swallowed his engorged cock until his pubic hair was scratching her lips. His taste and scent had become a balm to her in their captivity. He smelled like dusty silk and the ash of a long-ago smoked cigarette.





She wished he could moan for her, but his stifled whimpers had to be enough. He let her roll him over onto his back, so she was lying on top. Throughout the maneuver she didn't let his erection slide out of her mouth. She spread his legs wide so his ass was vulnerable and open for her. She pushed her finger into the tight aperture of muscle and felt his whole body buck. The opening was so tight it was almost cutting off her circulation. She started to fuck his ass with her finger in time with the rise and fall of her mouth. The head of his penis was hitting the back of her throat while his anus throbbed. She added another finger and he finally moaned. His pace became more frantic.





She could feel his semen surging beneath the thin skin under her lips as Spike came again, choking on her name. His cum tasted like salted caramel. She milked him until his body stopped palpitating, then slid her fingers out gently before releasing his cock. He was panting so she repositioned on top of him in order to listen as the air pulled in and out of his otherwise silent chest. After he calmed down and was entirely still, she ran her hand lazily along his body. When it snagged on his hard penis, she gave him a languid smile.





"I can't believe you still want me," she said, softly.





"Never have enough of you," he said.





"It's more than that. You're amazing," she said.





"I just love you."





Buffy was grateful his eyes were closed, because she wasn't sure how to respond. What he'd done for her had been incredible, but what he was had not changed. She'd loved a vampire before, but Angel's move toward goodness was innate while Spike only cared for her. His moratorium on killing would likely end when she did. Without her acting as his leash, she knew he'd get bitey real fast. She didn't know if she was able to love someone who could disregard right and wrong when her existence was about fighting for the good.





Spike's hand approached her face and his fingers grazed the short tendrils of her hair. He opened his eyes and gave her a tender smile. When he looked at her that way, she felt like her chest was being squeezed, and her stomach was a heavy stone. Her indecision must have been plain to him.





"Didn't say it to hear you parrot back. Only thought you could stand to hear it."





Her eyes were wide and wet; her lower lip trembled. Buffy crawled on top of him. She pinned his hands above his head with one of her palms and impaled herself on his rigid cock. He hissed and turned his head against the pillow. She rocked her hips, letting his tireless cock massage the bruised, aching flesh. She didn't have the strength to support herself over him very long and her arms gave out. Their chests slapped together as she landed and the stubble on his cheek scraped against her forehead. His mouth was open and, his eyes were screwed up as he squelched a groan. She didn't know if it was an expression of pleasure or pain.





He shook off her hands and wrapped his arms around her waist.





"Sleep, pet. It's alright."





She couldn't move in his embrace. She stopped trying to please him and just sprawled across his chest, her ear over the place where his heart should have been beating. She wished with every part of herself that it was still beating—that he was still alive. What she held in her arms was only the husk of a man; he was something else inside. The longer she knew him though, the harder it was to remember he wasn't human. Unless she had her ear pressed to his chest. Buffy wanted to succumb to her exhaustion, but she was afraid he'd be gone when she awoke. It might be the last moment they had together; it might be the last moment of her life. Even though Buffy wasn't sure, she decided she had to say the words anyway.





"I love you, Spike," she whispered. His hands tightened on her arms but he didn't speak. She'd finally made him speechless. He kissed her forehead and soon after she drifted off, still holding him inside of her.





~*~*~*~





Oh, I don't know what love is, I never will



But when you're gone from me I know I'll still



Want you to be with me and wonder why



There never was a love for you and I



"I Don't Know What Love Is," by Vashti Bunyan





~*~*~*~


Riley didn't know why he'd decided to stay until Hostile Nineteen woke up. After all, he knew she would not be happy to see him. Riley supposed she deserved to have her pain seen up close, not through the distance of a monitor.





He'd switched on the television feed from her cell before Professor Walsh returned from her meeting. Riley wanted to skip the dressing down his boss would give him if she knew he'd shut it off. The sight of Buffy and her vampire had been—enlightening. He'd never known he could get bored with watching a beautiful girl have sex, but he had. The Slayer and the monster had gone at it for pretty much eight hours straight, which was a full workday without a coffee break.





There was something so desperate and so tender about the way they fucked that the whole spectacle left Riley feeling like the worst kind of pervert,; especially following the exchange of "I love you's," at the end. Riley had never felt anything like that for anybody or anything before. For some reason, watching them made him doubt he ever would.





Professor Walsh had come into the office soon after the hostiles had fallen asleep. She was agitated and demanded Riley be the one to pry them apart so she could continue the experiment on Spike. He was so close to telling her no, it almost shocked him. Riley included Graham and Forrest in his retrieval mission because he knew they'd be respectful to Buffy. Mitchell and some of the other soldiers had made comments about her Riley didn't like.





They'd brought a gurney and some sedative, although Riley doubted they'd need the drugs. He didn't warn the other two guys the state Spike and Buffy would be in when he went into the white cell. There were a few titters from Graham when he saw the couple fast asleep. The white blanket had slid off of Buffy shoulders, exposing them both from the waist up.





"I get Nineteen, you guys grab Seventeen," Riley said.





"Right, you hold onto the fine as hell naked girl, Riley, while we tussle with the vampire who has an erection. That's fair," Forrest said.





"Just do it."





"Fine, pull rank."





"Fine, I will."





Riley injected Spike first, which caused the vampire to grunt. Then he stuck Buffy. Riley picked up the blanket and wrapped it around Buffy before scooping her up into his arms. Graham and Forrest took Spike at his hands and ankle respectively. They swung him onto the gurney and then fastened his wrists to the sides with handcuffs. Riley set Buffy down again. His friends were about to wheel the naked hostile into the hallway when Riley stopped them. He scooped up the black leather coat from the floor and draped it across the vampire's nude form. That bit of discretion caused Graham to snicker some more.





After the three of them had delivered Spike to one of Doctor Walsh's examination rooms, Riley couldn't stop thinking of Buffy. So there he was, sitting beside her cot on a metal stool, watching her eyes shift beneath her lids. Buffy suddenly woke, her body jerking beneath the blanket. Her arms met resistance when she tried to move them. Riley put her in the restraints so she wouldn't pummel him to death. She looked down at her body and clenched her fists.





"Where is he?" she asked.





"With Professor Walsh."





"She's torturing him, isn't she?" Buffy asked. Her eyes seemed to convey heat and weight, causing Riley's skin to prickle with shame. Riley ducked his head a moment then tried to refocus on her furious, green eyes.





"I don't know. Probably."





The muscles in her jaw flexed.





"Why are you here, Riley? Are you just gloating or did you rummage around my bathing suit area when I was passed out?"





He turned bright red, from chin to hairline.





"I didn't touch you, like any more than I had to."





"Had to?"





"Your hands. I touched your hands. I brought you some shampoo and soap so you can shower when I go. I don't know where your clothes went, so there are some scrubs you can wear. There’s more food, too. Mostly Snickers bars. That's all they have in the vending machine besides Paydays, and I always thought those were gross."





"You were the one who gave me the candy?"





"Yeah. Chocolate always cheers my sister up when she's down."





"I'm not down. My lover is being tortured, I've been kidnapped, and my mom doesn't know if I'm alive or dead. I don't think a couple Snickers bars are going to cut it."





"Buffy, I'm just doing my job."





"So I'm supposed to sympathize because you're not enjoying yourself? If you want me to make you feel better, you're coming to the wrong person."





"I'm sorry."





"Unless your mode of expressing regret is helping me and Spike escape, I don't care."





"I can't."





Her voice was low and seemed to scrape its way out of her throat.





"Then go to hell," she said.





Riley winced at her tone and stood up. His boots hit the floor hard and in a few steps he had returned to the corridor.





He felt humiliated for even trying to help her.





Riley walked down the hall, passing the examination room as he went. A man's scream coming through the wall stopped him. He turned and looked through the circular window in the door to see Spike. The vampire was naked, speckled with leaking, red gashes and suspended by his arms. Even though his eyes were swollen shut with black bruises, Spike was still smirking.





"I can go all night you fucking viper, but you might want to take a break, shave off that five o'clock shadow," Spike said. Then he let loose with a mad man's cackle.





Riley kept going before he could see what Professor Walsh was doing. He reminded himself that not only did he not want to know, but that it wasn't any of his business.





He was a soldier.





~*~*~*~





Giles had tried to pretend the macaroni and cheese Davinia brought over was good, but she could see he had forced down each polite forkful. She'd come by to help the gang with research and thought everyone would enjoy something simple. Comfort food. Davinia realized she should have tasted it herself before she brought the casserole, though. When she was upset she tended to screw things up; sort of like the main character in "Like Water for Chocolate," except instead of her food creating empathetic sorrow of epic proportions it just tasted bland. Andrew and Eddie both took two bites before neglecting their plates on Giles' coffee table. Willow had devoured three, heaping servings of the noodles, which made Dav think something was definitely up. The way Willow was avoiding her eyes and jumbled her words when they spoke reinforced Davinia's suspicions.





Xander hadn't stopped staring at Dav since he'd walked in the room. Cold tension seemed to radiate off of his normally warm, brown eyes. She wondered why she'd signed onto all this humiliation and discomfort when her gifts were severely limited in the realm of derring do. At least the work had paid off; she was the one who finally discovered a spell impervious to dark magic they could use to find the source of all that chaos.





Andrew, Willow, and Giles had arranged themselves according to the spell's instructions.


Andrew and Willow were sitting in the middle of the room on the floor, Indian style. Their knees touched and they were holding hands while Giles sat above them on a stool. The way they were seated was supposed to form a conduit.





Eddie tilted his head and whispered to Xander.





"Is it weird that seeing them do this always leaves me feeling kind of jealous and just a little bit turned on?" Eddie asked.





"Not really. I kind of feel the same way," Xander said. Eddie shook his head, slightly, as though uncertain he'd heard right. Then Eddie glanced at Dav. His look of sympathy was all she needed by way of confirmation that Xander had moved on to Willow. Giles didn't hear the conversation, but he caught the sadness muddying Dav's expression. He gave her a short, encouraging smile and then cleared his throat.





"We must have complete silence. Let's begin," Giles said from his perch. He lit the bundle of dried sage in his hand and began intoning the spell in Latin. Andrew and Willow joined in the chanting, and the smoke took on shape. It looked remarkably like a puffy, cartoon kitten with its bulbous eyes and rounded form. Then the vapor solidified into a realistic-looking brown, black, and white-striped mackerel tabby. The cat was suspended in mid-air before jumping to the ground, padding gracefully to the window, and nudging it open.





The cat was like a furry spyglass and dark magic divining rod in one. Willow's eyes were closed in the effort of piloting the creature and she was swaying gently. Suddenly, her lids popped open; her pupils looked like black grains of rice slicing lengthwise through the middle of her momentarily golden irises.





"It's Ethan Rayne. He's at the, ew, Sunnydale Motor Inn," Willow said before she began to collapse. Andrew caught her before she landed on the floor. Giles hopped down and knelt beside the pair as Xander ran over to them. Xander snatched the limp redhead from Andrew's arms. Her lashes fluttered and then she looked up at him, smiling. Her eyes had returned to their normal green.





"Are you alright, Willow?" Giles asked.





"I'm good, but I think I need a few minutes before we bring the pain to Mr. Rayne. See, I'm fine. I'm rhyming," Willow said, settling against Xander like she belonged there. While the others were gathered around Willow, Dav began collecting the dirty dishes because it was the only thing she could think to do. She carried them into the kitchen and then stood by the garbage, scraping the remains of the unwanted food in the bin. She could hear the others talking as she cleaned the plates.





"I'm not sure if we'll all fit in my vehicle," Giles said.






"Well, maybe only the magically inclined should be going," Xander said.





"Are you bailing on us, Xander?" Willow asked.





"No, I meant the other non-magical people."





"I go where Andrew goes," Eddie said.





Dav set the plates in the sink with a clunk and re-entered the room.





"He means me. I was heading out anyway," Dav said, snatching her coat from the bamboo stand by the exit.





"Dav—" Xander started to say.





She held up her hand.





"See you," Dav said. She yanked the door open and walked out, wrapping her red scarf around her neck as she went.





Xander gently set Willow down and rose to follow his ex-girlfriend. Giles stopped the younger man with a glare.





"We need to move quickly if we're going to intercept Ethan. Xander, you stay with Willow, Andrew, Eddie, come with me," Giles said. He scooped up Willow and set her on his couch. Her small hand drifted up and wavered. Andrew stood and went over to Eddie who was watching the situation unfold with his arms crossed over his chest.





"Giles, I can help you," Willow said. Her voice was thready and high. Giles gave her a short, benevolent smile and squeezed her hand.





"The boys will be sufficient. You've done your part, my dear," Giles said. He stood up and went to his weapons chest. "Do you have those glass components prepared, Andrew?" Giles asked as he lifted the heavy, oak lid.





Andrew had created a few "spell bombs," using stoppered glass test tubes. The vials were loaded with spell ingredients and when thrown on the ground would shatter. Coupled with some magical words spoken at the same time, the bombs created an instant, potent weapon. The early prototypes had initially turned the boys' hair blue, but they'd perfected them soon after.





"I've got a bunch in my bag. I was thinking of getting like a utility belt for them, though," Andrew said. Xander walked over to the couch and knelt beside his oldest friend.





"That would be a good look for you," Eddie said.





Xander looked over his shoulder at Andrew.





"Ooh, and you could have a grappling hook," Xander said.





"Could we focus, please?" Giles asked. He retrieved an ax from the chest and tossed it to Eddie, who caught the handle gracefully. Giles took out a stun gun and lobbed it at Andrew, who juggled the thing from hand to hand before dropping it on the floor. Eddie snapped up the gun and handed the item to his boyfriend.





"The three of us will go to the hotel, find out what Ethan's up to. We'll return here to gather up Willow and Xander. Then we'll find Buffy."





No one contradicted Giles' optimism. Not only did he sound more certain than they had ever heard him before, they wanted to believe. This was the first lead they'd had since Buffy disappeared and they were desperate.





"What should we do in the mean time?" Xander asked.





"Take care of Willow and if you're both feeling up to it, you could fetch some doughnuts for the group. I'm partial to the jellies."





"Dav makes these doughnuts using sunflower oil and cinnamon. They're like the most amazing thing I've ever tasted," Xander said. Willow looked sheepishly at her hands, examining her short fingernails intensely.





"Yeah, her doughnuts are good," Andrew said cocking his head to the side and getting an expression on his face as though he were literally savoring the memory.





"Yes, well, you fucked that up for everyone, didn't you Xander?" Giles snapped, as he hoisted a cross bow over his head and slammed the lid down. Everyone jumped as wood hit wood, not just because of the noise, but because of Giles' startling use of profanity.





"I'm sorry for the harsh words, but if all of you hadn't descended like a pack of vindictive locusts upon my kitchen last night and eaten the last bit of caramel apple cake I might be in a better mood."





Giles strode out of the house with the boys in tow, while Willow and Xander just stared at him awe-struck. Eddie closed the door behind them, giving Willow and Xander a smile before he left.





"I'm thinking Giles knows," Willow said.





"I'm thinking yeah."





~*~*~*~





Dr. Oliver had finally found the records regarding the two-hundred fifty-thousand dollar project being housed in room three-eighteen. He'd had to break into Maggie's apartment and go through her personal effects until he found the squat, black floor safe where she'd placed her notes. Luckily, Lloyd remembered the combination.





Oliver had spread the file on her glass desk and read with increasing horror; all the while snapping pictures to send to his superior, General Lancaster. Lloyd had started passing on info in order to build Maggie's case. Unfortunately, everything he'd sent out thus far seemed to damn her further. The information he was now chronicling defied explanation and definitively proved Maggie's insanity.





Aided by a Halliburton consultant of dubious repute named Ethan Rayne, whose list of qualifications included warlock, Mags had built a super-soldier. She'd used a mish mash of cadaver parts from hostiles like she was a little kid throwing together a dessert at a Sundae bar. Worst of all, she'd utilized human remains. There was no documentation proving she'd received any sort of consent, either, as the body in question didn't belong to a soldier. When he finished with the papers, Lloyd stacked them neatly and returned them to their hiding place knowing he had to see Maggie's creation for himself, just to confirm it was real. The patchwork homunculus was going to be the final nail in her career crucifixion, and Oliver had to know if he was damning her fairly.





There were supposed to be two guards on duty at the door of room three-eighteen. Graham, the other soldier scheduled for duty, was absent; probably fucking that undead tart of his. Lloyd had no idea why Maggie let sex with hostiles go on, other than the obvious fact she'd completely lost her mind. Mitchell was the only man on guard. Just like his dad, the senator, Mitchell was amenable to being bribed. Dr. Oliver slipped Mitchell a fifty and the soldier unlocked the door for him. Lloyd made his way into the chilled room.





The first thing he saw, beside several machines presumably keeping the thing alive, was the most grotesque perversion of the human form Dr. Oliver had ever witnessed. It was lying on a silver dissection table, its arms strapped down. Half of its face was covered in poorly stitched, green skin leading down to a mottled torso, misshapen like clumped paper mache. Its hands were covered in the same demon flesh and ended in claw-like nails. Pieces of metal poked out of its body at odd intervals. To his dawning dread, Lloyd recognized the beast's face. Suddenly everything made sense.





It was the corpse of Maggie's son, Adam.





Right before she embarked on the Initiative project, Adam had died in a car accident. That was when everyone noticed the change in Maggie Walsh. Every word she spoke was gilded in ice and her bitterness had desiccated into sadism. It was like Maggie had perished, too. The abomination on the table might as well have been her own, dead heart.





After reading her notes, Dr. Oliver realized there was only one way to save Maggie. He collected the rest of the I.V. Packets originally destined for Adam and threw them in a cooler. As he left the room with his burden in tow, Dr. Oliver swept a tear from the corner of his eye.





"Oh, Maggie May, what have you done?" Dr. Oliver whispered.







Chapter End Notes:
This is the song I couldn't stop listening to when I wrote this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eVBgTjL2nKE



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