Spike took her hand, resuming his kneeling position at her bedside like a knight attending his lady.A few minutes before he'd been certain she was dead and yet he was touching her. He kissed the curve of her fingers, grateful Buffy was still unconscious so she wouldn't see the tears rolling down his face.
~*~*~*~
Spike had been watching over the slayer since she was returned to him. Buffy's eyes were open, but she hadn't said anything in a long time. He hated the Slayer in silence; it didn't seem right for her to be bereft of a quip and one of those vicious, Summers smiles that made him burn. Instead she was gazing at him with big, empty eyes made of sugar glass, all sweet and ready to shatter.
He squeezed her hand and the corners of her pale, dry lips ticked up for a moment, then her eyes found his. Spike was grateful for the flicker of recognition from her. He grinned at Buffy, elaborating on her slight gesture with a smile that encompassed his entire face.
"Back among the living...well, close enough, anyway. How you holding up, Slayer?"
"Hurts," she croaked.
He moved closer, realizing his legs had cramped from being in the same awkward position for however long it had been.
"Where does it hurt, love?"
"Everywhere."
"There's water here, could get you some."
"Water of the good."
Spike uncoiled from the floor and then went to the sink. There was a stack of paper cups by the faucet, and he plucked one from the top, filling it for her. Spike brought her the water and helped her sit up. She drank slowly, leaning on him to stay upright.
"I saw them leading in a couple Fjarl demons who were mumbling about you. They think we're the ones who set this place up," Spike said.
She choked and Spike set the cup on the floor, then patted her back. Buffy clung to his arms after she stopped coughing.
"Right, like I could build a gulag. I haven't even started the reading this week for Introduction to the Modern Novel."
"I'm sure if you got the right funding you could," Spike said.
"Thanks, I guess."
"Since it's not us, who do you think's doing this?"
"One of the guards here is a teaching assistant in my introductory psych class, so I'm guessing we're near campus," Buffy said.
"Explains why the demon community has been avoiding Sunnydale U like the plague. So what do you think's the point?" Spike asked.
"I don't know. Maybe they want to test cosmetics without pissing off those PETA people," Buffy said.
"If I wake up wearing liquid liner we'll know you're right."
Spike was grateful for her attempt at sardonic humor, though it hardly lightened the shadows gathering around her eyes. Buffy looked at him and lifted her hand to his face, touching along his cheek. Spike winced at the pressure. He hadn't even noticed there was a bruise there, the pain was a distant second to his concern for her.
"Did they hurt you, Spike?"
"No, at least, not bad. What about you, Slayer?"
Aside from her injuries, Spike had noticed her coat was missing, leaving her in a skimpy, pink tank top and some badly ripped jeans. The thought of these strange men taking off her clothes kindled a rage within him that spread from his gut out to the ends of his hair. The way Buffy looked at the wall, her fingers pressing into Spike's arm so hard the pads were turning white, did nothing to reassure him.
"They did some kind of experiment with me. Someone kept sending in different demons to see if I could fight them. They called me Hostile Nineteen, so I'm guessing that number has to do with the order we were captured in. They sent the girl in, too, the werewolf we were trying to save. I had to...I had to kill her, too," Buffy said, refusing to meet his eyes.
"You didn't have a choice, love."
Buffy blinked back her tears and finally looked at him. She rubbed her thumb against his lower lip and the friction made the thin skin tingle.
"I did have a choice. I picked me."
"Anybody would have done the same."
"No. Willow wouldn't and neither would Xander. I'm supposed to be the chosen one, but they're so much better than me when it comes to doing the right thing. I pick me an awful lot and when I do, somebody else usually has to pay the price."
Spike gave her a gentle shake.
"Not true and you know it, Slayer."
"Isn't it? I killed that girl, I let Miss Calendar die, I almost murdered Faith to save Angel."
"Who's Faith?"
"The other Slayer. She went bananas and went on a little killing spree, then she infected Angel with the Interfector Mortis. I was going to feed her to him but she escaped. Now she's laying in a coma over at Sunnydale Memorial because of me. You've got a better moral compass you're a mass murderer, Spike."
"You listen to me. You are my conscience, Slayer. Even after everything you can still mourn the death of the creature who was set to rip your heart out. That's goodness, that's purity of spirit. You've screwed up, royal, but you never stop trying. You're my hero, Buffy."
Buffy crushed Spike in a sneak-attack hug.
"Thank you. I don't know what I'd do without you right now," Buffy said.
Her words took some of the warmth out of his warm and fuzzy.
"Funny that, them leaving the pair of us. Even drugged and restrained they've got to know we're stronger together," Spike said.
Buffy withdrew from the embrace, her expression thoughtful and her hands regrettably in her lap.
"They might be trying to play us off each other."
"To what end?"
"Seeing as I'm not an evil commando guy, I have no idea, but if you see a chance to escape, take it, Spike."
"No, like you said, we're stronger together."
"But you can get help."
"Unless they move you. You're more valuable than me, don't think they'd risk you for anything. Besides, I've been in tighter spots than this. These piddling little upstarts have nothing on the Nazis."
Her contemplation of him nearly brought a smile to her lips.
"Sometimes I forget how old you are," Buffy said, her voice soft and full of awe."Let's put this in the column of things we'll argue about later. I'm seriously tired."
Spike could see she wanted something she could never ask for, something he desperately wanted to give. She held his look for a long time before she spoke.
"So tell me how you beat the Nazis," Buffy said, pulling the white blanket around her .
"Well, I recovered the Ark of the Covenant, melted their faces off and got the girl," Spike said.
"Wow, somebody should totally make that into a movie," Buffy said.
~*~*~*~
On his bank of screens, Lloyd Oliver watched the vampire and the creature who appeared to be a young woman talking together. The girl made a joke and the boy on the screen laughed, causing Dr. Oliver to smile in turn. He heard Maggie Walsh sweep into the darkened room, pen clicking against her clipboard.
"Your interest in those two is bordering on prurient," Maggie said, squeaking past him to get to one of the gray filing cabinets lining the wall. She smelled like the cloying, pink hand sanitizer hanging near every doorway in the complex.
"For a psychologist, you have always had a shocking disinterest in human beings and their behavior," Lloyd said.
Maggie rattled open the metal file cabinet, treating him to the view of her stiffly styled blonde hair.
"Those aren't human beings," she said, sticking her folder in and slamming the drawer shut.
"One of them used to be and the other most likely is. I'll know for certain after her bloodwork comes back," Lloyd said. He turned to face Maggie. Her arms were already folded across her chest and she was smiling at him. It was an expression devoid of warmth, merely a mechanical exercise executed to get her point across.
"You were right there with me watching her fight. There's no way she's a regular girl."
"Being extraordinary doesn't preclude her from humanity. She's simply attained what you're trying to accomplish with your boys."
Maggie's smile dropped away, the creases in her face calcifying into a grim frown.
"What are you talking about?"
Lloyd moved closer to her, speaking in hushed tones.
"I know about the enhancement regimen, the drugs. You're not authorized for human trials, Maggie," Lloyd said.
Maggie's thin lips were going thinner.
"My soldiers all signed waivers, they're property of the U.S. Government. We won't assume any liability if they get sick."
"When they get sick. Have you taken a look at Finn's echocardiogram? You don't think the U.S. Government won't be upset that you're destroying their valuable commodities? These boys are not grunts who barely scraped through high school. They're all on track to be officers, the cream of the crop. Mitchell's father is a senator, don't you think that will bite you in the ass? I'm coming to you as a friend," Dr. Oliver said.
"I don't believe for an instant you have my best interests at heart."
"Fine, but you've got to know the only reason I'm here is because General Lancaster has a soft spot for you and wants me to help with damage control before the brass comes down on this whole project. You really think you'll be able to justify kidnapping a cute, blonde co-ed no matter how strong she is? And what about the money, Mags? There's a quarter of a million dollars that's still not accounted for."
"My results will be worth the cost," Professor Walsh said.
"I hope they are. For your sake and my own. We're civilians and they won't think twice about throwing us to the wolves," Dr. Oliver said.
"Are we done here?"
"We are, Maggie."
Professor Walsh walked out of the room, her white lab coat swirling mercurially around her. She stopped in the doorway without turning to look at Dr. Oliver.
"We aren't friends anymore. Refer to me as Professor Walsh."
She resumed her tread, leaving him behind. Dr. Oliver's attention lingered on the empty hallway a moment, the tips of his fingers resting on the black consul desk. He returned his focus to the bank of screens. The other hostiles were pacing, screaming or passed out but Nineteen and Seventeen were still conversing peacefully. Buffy and Spike. He sat down at his desk and turned on his computer to continue researching Buffy. After an hour, he'd mostly caught up on her escapades throughout high school when Dr. Oliver noticed Maggie and four of her soldiers were approaching Buffy's prison. They were pushing a gurney and they were heavily armed. Dr. Oliver jumped up, leaving his office chair spinning.
~*~*~*~
Spike was asleep beside her cot, his head resting against the wall. He was so still in repose she almost wanted to wake him because his lack of presence made her feel so terribly alone. As if reading her mind, Spike snorted and stirred. She stroked his hair, taking comfort from the feel of him being alive-ish and awake. His eyes remained closed, his long, dark eyelashes dusting the severe incline of his cheek. Spike sighed and his nostrils flared. Buffy realized that she found the softness of his nose in contrast with the harder lines of his face incredibly endearing.
Then she felt foolish for thinking such a thing about her vampire.
"Nodded off there," Spike said, looking at her.
"It's not like there's much else to do but sleep," Buffy said.
"Right," he said, a lurid smile tickling up the edges of his mouth, "there are other things could maybe take up a few hours."
She gulped. Time to play dumb.
"I don't think I'm up for anything more strenuous than a cat nap and maybe some light sipping."
He cocked his head.
"Still feeling poorly?" he asked.
Before she could answer, Buffy saw a cluster of guards collecting in front of their cell, among them her psychology professor. If she ever got out, Buffy resolved to drop that class. Professor Walsh spoke into the circle of holes in the door. The divider in the wall segmenting Buffy's cell from Spike's opened.
"Hostile Seventeen, exit the enclosure," Professor Walsh said.
"Piss off," Spike said.
"We'll seal up your quarters and cut off the oxygen if you don't comply," Professor Walsh said.
"You're bluffing," Spike said.
"Try me," Walsh said.
Buffy looked at Spike and shook her head, hoping he'd understand.
"Go," Buffy said.
Spike searched her eyes and then nodded yes. He stood and then disappeared through the portal. The silver door slid shut after him.
"Stand up and come to the entrance, Miss Summers," Walsh said.
Buffy dragged herself to her feet, holding her arm rigidly at her side. She swayed slightly as she approached her captors. Professor Walsh was holding a syringe and Riley was at the teacher's side with a gun. There were three others, all about the same, hulking size as the teaching assistant and similarly armed. One of the men used a key card and the glass receded. Riley reached for Buffy's wrists.
Before he could make contact, Buffy had already grabbed Professor Walsh around the neck and jabbed the needle into Riley's arm.
"Ow, what the hell?" Riley asked.
Buffy headbutted Riley and shoved him, sending the tall blond colliding with the person standing behind him. Both men clattered to the floor. The sound reverberated throughout the complex, inciting the captive demons into a frenzy of whooping and shrieking.
Buffy backed out into the corridor, her injured arm (which was feeling a whole heck of a lot better) clamped around Professor Walsh's throat. Buffy made eye contact with the Captain America clone who had a key card attached to his belt. He went sallow beneath his tan.
"Unlock Spike's cell or I kill her," Buffy said.
"What?" he asked. The name embroidered on his jacket said Private Graham Miller.
"Hostile Seventeen. Set him free or Miss Minchin here intimidates her last student," Buffy said, tightening her hold to make Maggie jump.
The bald, coffee-colored man Riley had knocked over had regained his footing and was glaring at Buffy with murderous intent. His jacket labeled him Forrest Gates. A fourth fellow with red hair and stark freckles on his ghostly pale skin was kneeling over Riley. The man with the key card, Graham, looked swiftly from Buffy to Professor Walsh.
"Do it, soldier," Walsh said.
Graham was reaching for the white, plastic rectangle attached to the retractable lanyard on his hip when Buffy heard Spike shouting at her.
"Behind you!!!!!"
Buffy jerked her head in time to see two more soldiers rushing toward her. She grabbed the gun barrel of the nearest commando and shoved it back, smacking her would-be attacker hard enough to break his nose. When he went to clutch his bloodied face, Buffy snatched the weapon. She aimed it at the hesitant Graham.
"Unlock the fucking door," Buffy said, her voice nearly spilling over into a scream.
With a swick and a beep, Spike was free. She tossed her vampire the gun and the fellow named Forrest took a step closer to them. Spike shot him with the weapon, producing a blue rope of electricity. The blast planted the soldier on the ground where he lay twitching in a spreading pool of his own urine. Buffy shook her head
"You didn't have to shoot that guy," Buffy said.
"Yeah, but it was fun, besides the wanker deserved it," Spike said with a laugh as he and Buffy took off through the artery of the building. Buffy was dragging Maggie sideways and looking ahead while Spike covered the remaining soldiers who were following them. As they reached the end of the hallway, Maggie stumbled, nearly taking Buffy down with her. Buffy righted herself and her hostage, while Spike went on ahead.
When she heard the crackle and saw the sparks out of the corner of her eye, Buffy's stomach flopped. Beyond the mouth of the corridor stood an older man wearing a lab coat. Spike was unconscious at his feet. The person in the lab coat also had a gun with a wooden bayonet pointed at Spike's heart and was bracing his foot on her vampire's rib cage.
"Give me Professor Walsh, or I kill your friend, Buffy."
Buffy stopped dead. She shifted and Maggie whimpered.
"How about this. You give me Spike and I don't kill you and Professor Walsh."
"You don't want to kill me or Maggie. More to that, you won't. I saw your face after you bested that werewolf, the way you covered her up. There's no way you'll strangle an unarmed woman. Besides, he's not waking up for at least a half hour. You think you can carry out a hundred sixty-three pounds of dead weight?"
"You weighed him? Did you weigh me? No, don't answer that. I can wait until he's bright-eyed and bushy tailed."
"There'll be a whole infantry in here by that time."
"Then I'll fight them, too."
"You're quite the fighter, aren't you Buffy? You're lucky you have such advocates in Mr. Giles and your mother. They seem to have intervened on your behalf several times in the past. Without them it seems unlikely you would have graduated from High School at all. Don't think they'll help this time, though. Perhaps I should have someone fetch them, Buffy, or your roommate, Willow? That's a strong friendship, isn't it? She's protected you, too, when you were accused of attacking her. All these people you care for as much as you do Spike, in some cases more, I'm sure. Do you think you'll be able to get to them before I do?"
The tears that she'd been holding in were pressing on the back of Buffy's eyes. She felt like she couldn't breathe. This psycho had just threatened her mom, her watcher and her best friend so casually. Demons never seemed to do stuff like that, unless they were Angelus. The man before her had a kind, ordinary face, but she couldn't be certain he wasn't capable of that kind of cruelty. She couldn't be sure of anything.
"You don't touch any of them and you get your tacky, Payless Express shoe off of my friend's chest. Now kneel down and pick up Spike. If you care so much about the professor here, you can be my hostage," Buffy said.
"You're serious?" he asked, a half smile cinching up his cheek.
"Deadly," Buffy said.
The man dropped his weapon and knelt down. He scooped up Spike smoothly and hoisted him over his shoulder.
"Let Maggie go," he said.
Buffy released Maggie's throat and shoved the older woman from the shelter of the corridor. Professor Walsh took a few unsteady steps into a wider atrium. Buffy could see soldiers positioned around the floor and the tantalizing prospect of the elevators on the far wall. She snatched the discarded gun from the ground and then put it to the man's back.
"Move," Buffy said.
They stepped out into the open room, which was just as white as everything else. She wondered if their decorator was the set designer for "2001." As she reminded herself to tell Spike that joke when they were all safe, Buffy felt a sharp sting in the back of her neck, followed by another and another. She lost control of her legs and spilled to the floor like a chain. Buffy saw the sniper perched on a balcony above the exit.
"I told you not to put them in the same room," Walsh said.
"Duly noted."
"Be careful not to damage it," Walsh said.
Buffy didn't know if the it the professor was referring to was her or Spike. She had very little time to consider things before inexorable darkness took her under.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thanks to the lovely Sanityfair.
Chapter End Notes:
Please leave a comment. I'd like to hear what you think of this turn in the plot.