Where ever bound, yet thou art ever free;
The path of Him, whose perfect law of love
Bids spheres and atoms in just order move.’
The torrent of water continued to cascade around Spike, battering him roughly with its pressure as he dangled in his climbing harness hundreds of feet above the floor of the cavern. The witches’ little breathing mask had been ripped away from his face the minute he’d been sucked through the hole and it wasn’t until now that he could drop his head down enough to create a little air pocket beneath his mouth and take a few small, life-giving, gasps of oxygen.
Air certainly helped, but he wasn’t out of the woods yet, or the waterfall as the case may be. It was pitch black in this corner of the cavern, and even with benefit of light he would have been hard pressed to see anything. The tumbling waters not only locked him into a position that made surveying his surroundings impossible, but they also obscured even his excellent vision.
And there was no way he could do anything to draw attention to himself. The dam bursting was undoubtedly loud enough to have drawn the guard’s interest. In fact, he was more than likely stationed below Spike’s feet at this very moment. Only the rushing waters and the dimness of the cave provided the cover he needed to remain unseen. But slowly, incrementally, he could feel the force and volume of the water begin to ease off, enough to know that unless he acted soon, he’d be stranded out in clear view with little more than a gentle trickle to conceal him.
But for the moment, longing and indecision paralysed him. The tantalising warmth of Buffy’s signature washed over him, more tangible to him by far than the icy cascade that beat down upon his head and shoulders. In such close physical proximity to her, it called out to him like a siren’s song, and he was sorely tempted to dash himself against the rocks below. Or the sandy floor. Not that it would seem any less rocky after a 600 foot drop. Undoubtedly a vampire could survive such a jump, but what sort of condition he’d be in, particularly if his landing should be witnessed by a burly, armed henchman, Spike didn’t know. Certainly in no shape to rescue an incapacitated slayer; that was for sure.
So, as quietly as possible, Spike began to hoist himself back up the dangling line. It wasn’t particularly easy given that the weight of the water increased the load on the rope enormously. But slowly, inch by inch, he began to make headway. The going got easier as the deluge continued to abate and it quickly became a race against time, the test to see whether or not he could make it back up to the mouth of the tunnel before the cover gave out.
He wasn’t worried about his safety, not really. The guard might be armed, but whether he’d be able to hit a moving target, in the dark, was quite another thing. And with his protection tattoo in effect, Spike was quite safe from that sort of harm.
In fact, it was unlikely that the guard was even considering the possibility of ambush. He would be expecting his colleagues and might suspect the dam burst was the signal to their arrival, either that or some freaky natural phenomenon, and as far as Spike was concerned he wanted to keep it that way.
The flood began to lessen further and Spike sped up his ascent as much as he could. Up ahead he could just make out the mouth of the tunnel exit and took a big breath so that he could dive fully into the water pouring over the lip. At the same moment he felt rather than saw a hand reach out of the darkness and grab him by the scruff of the neck. Bodily, he was lifted up and dragged into the tunnel.
Spike found himself lying face down over a pair of overall clad legs. His own legs still dangled in the roaring, rushing water below, while his head rested only inches above the surface of the watercourse. It was a pretty vulnerable position to be in, and the adrenaline pounding through his body only slowed down when he heard a sultry voice admonish him.
“Shit, you manage to get yourself into some seriously fucked up situations Billy. You're damn lucky I came after you. Give me Kakistos any day ahead of making my way down a flooded tunnel in the dark,” Faith hissed. “You owe me you bastard.”
Spike was still panting and spluttering, but he raised his head just enough to give the slayer a cheeky smirk. “Ta Rogue, didn’t know you cared. I owe ya. Pay you back in kind some day soon.”
“No you won’t you little shit, more’s the pity. But nevertheless you owe me all right.”
Faith was balanced across the width of the tunnel, about halfway up from what Spike could tell. Her back was pressed into one side of the tunnel while her booted feet were jammed up against the other. She was wet and soggy, but at least out of the water for the moment, as was a good percentage of the vampire lying prone across her legs.
Spike only allowed himself a few minutes of rest. They were both cold and wet and in serious need of dry clothes and hot food. To do that they had to head back up the tunnel to where their packs were. But the awareness that they were now only several hundred feet from Buffy was still a huge weight on his mind. He consoled himself with the knowledge that they couldn’t make their way into the cavern yet anyway, not while Buffy’s abductor was likely still down there, monitoring the opening.
So carefully, using the rope to anchor them both, they slowly made their way back up the slope to the drowned passageway. It wasn’t so drowned anymore. Only about six inches of slowly draining water covered the tunnel floor, which would have been shallow enough to wade through had the roof been high enough to stand in. As it was they had to crawl, but what was a bit more water when you were already soaking.
An hour later they were dressed and fed. The clothing issue had been the most difficult to resolve. In the three days that they’d been down the tunnels, neither of them had totally stripped off their multi layers of clothing. The long johns and wetsuits were equipped with strategically placed openings so that the most they’d had to do was peel down their oversuits to take care of any necessary business. And after having to use a poop bag to do that, well they didn’t have too much modesty left around one another.
Now, the most important layer to remove was the bottom one. Their thermals were very wet, but luckily they each had a spare set in their packs. There seemed little point putting the soggy wetsuits back on, so they each clambered straight into their cordura oversuits, Spike’s which was still dry as he’d left it behind when he’d waded into the flooded passageway, and Faith who slipped into the spare one they’d brought for Buffy. They’d have to sort out the clothing Buffy situation when they came to it.
They gave up worrying about dry feet, they were going to be wading through it again shortly anyway, but they did each manage to wriggle into the thin waterproof jackets they’d packed. So, after hot noodles, two big mugs of hot, sweet tea and a re-sort of their packs, they were ready to go.
They unhitched all of their climbing ropes and Spike coiled them up so he could carry them. Few of the tunnels up until the plughole were steep enough to absolutely require ropes as long as they were careful, and they were going to need as much rope as possible to get them the huge distance from the tunnel opening to the cavern floor. He was still very worried about how they were going to manage that without being detected, but when he mentioned it to Faith she just shrugged and said, “Guess we’ll use Rowan and Tara’s ‘obscurum’ spell.”
Spike had forgotten about that little gem. All it required was a sprinkling of some sort of herb mixture and the recitation of a few words. The slayer reckoned she had that covered. Hopefully there was enough juice to vanish the ropes as well as themselves. Of course the problem with invisible ropes was, they wouldn’t know when they’d come to the end of the line, except by touch. And if they were both invisible, that was going to create some difficulties down on the cavern floor. But there was nothing for it, it certainly beat being captured or killed before they’d even touched down.
The trip back down was quiet and tense, each of them aware of how far noise could travel in the enclosed spaces. They were both pleased to see that by the time they got back to the drowned tunnels, the upper half was completely drained, and the lower half only contained about two inches of slow moving, muddy water. But the floor was still very slippery. They were able to crawl the first half without getting too wet, and by crouching, they managed to shuffle their way back to the sink hole.
Once there, they prised away the rocks that remained around the edge of the hole and used them to build two small dams either side of the opening. The rock walls were high enough on the near horizontal floor of the tunnel to hold the remaining waters back for a while at least, leaving both the hole and the tunnel below it damp but free of actual water.
“Come on pet,” Spike said, “Let’s shake a leg yeah? Need to move it before the waters bust through again.”
They both slithered down through the hole and into the tunnel below, then carefully bottom shuffled their way down the slope until they reached the opening in the ceiling of the cavern. Spike busied himself with fixing a long expansion bolt into a vertical crack about two feet back from the mouth, while Faith got out the herb mix and made sure she was confident with the incantation.
Finally they were set. The three ropes, all that they had left of their original stock, had been joined one to the other with offset water knots, and the top end secured to the bolt with a carabiner. They hooked their harnesses to the top end of the rope, then huddled together, either side of the coiled rope so that Faith could do her thing. A quick but liberal sprinkling of herbs and a Latin phrase later and all three began to fade from view. Spike did a slow pivot so that Faith could check for any visible leftovers. Once that was sorted, he dropped the rope over the edge and leapt out after it.
That feeling of exhilaration, the adrenaline buzzing, spine tingling rush of ultra excitement laced with a big ol’ chunk of terror, flooded his system again. It was underscored this time by the sensory mindfuck of rappelling down an invisible rope. Freaky stuff indeed! Spike used his friction brake fairly liberally as he approached what he guessed was the 200 foot mark.
Not being able to see how much rope was left below before you came to the join was disconcerting to say the least. So too was the feeling (and sound) of Faith on the line above him but with zero visual contact. It didn’t hamper him too much though, and in due course he’d got to the knot, unclipped and re-clipped and after exchanging a few whispered words with the slayer, he’d headed off again.
He could see the floor of the cavern clearly by the time he hit the third rope. It was clear (no guard), but still seemed a long way away and the final rope was the shortest of the three. He’d tied a loop into the tail end, so that the descender would come to a stop, rather than just flying off the bottom. That halt came sooner than he would have wished, still about eighty feet from the ground. An easy enough jump for a vamp, and no problem for a slayer either, but it was going to make re-accessing the rope for their escape later a bitch.
Spike waited until he could hear Faith approaching, then quietly called her name. The almost silent murmur of rope friction halted.
“We’re at the bottom pet,” he whispered. “Gonna jump and then roll outta your way. Wait thirty seconds so I can get m’self clear, yeah?”
He didn’t wait for a reply. Unclipping his descender, Spike let go of the line and plummeted downwards. Silently he landed boots-first in a feline crouch. He rolled, absorbing the impact, and then in one fluid move, sprang upright. Behind him he could hear the slight displacement of air as the slayer followed his plunge then alighted almost as soundlessly. He reached back and grabbed her, pulling the girl towards him in a huddle. A little squeak was the only sign of fright she gave.
“Fuck you, you arsehole,” she hissed in his ear, “You just about gave me a damn coronary. Don’t do that.”
Spike’s body shook in silent laughter as she pulled away from her. Faith might be invisible, but he could almost see the heatwaves coming off her.
“Come on Rogue, didn’t mean it like that pet.” He stood quietly, waiting for her to come to him this time. She still hadn’t forgiven him he figured, when instead of reaching out for him, she just grabbed the back of his pack, wordlessly attaching a line to it before waiting for him to head off.
Spike shrugged, figuring she’d settle down once they hit the track. Standing quietly, he blocked everything else out while he situated himself. Then, with little more than a tug to signal his intentions, he set off, unerringly heading towards the corner where Buffy was being held. His knowledge of the cavern layout, and her pulsing signature, like a homing beacon in his head, guided him on.
They moved quickly, stealthily. In fact, although being invisible had certain drawbacks, now they were down on the cavern floor, the advantages certainly out weighed the disadvantages. Spike led them over to the wall anyway; it would keep them out of the way if the guard should suddenly decide to randomly run from one side of the cave to the other. But without having to constantly stick to the shadows, they made really good time. Before he knew it they were standing outside the walled in basin.
Spike’s heart beat in double time and the pounding, still so unfamiliar to him after all of these years, filled his head like thunder. So close now, so close. All he wanted to do was run pell-mell through the doorway, grab Buffy up and hold her against him, kiss her precious face. But now was not the time for his renowned impatience.
At least the entrance was henchman-free this time. Spike turned quietly to Faith, reaching out gently to grab hold of her, to draw her closer. Snit obviously forgotten, the dark haired slayer shuffled up alongside him.
“’K pet,” he whispered. “Gonna make my way over to the gap and take a gander. Might be able to …”
Suddenly his rousing speech was interrupted by a string of muffled sounds, a few thumps and distant shouts. The rescue squad turned and looked back the way they’d come. It was impossible to see in the dark, but the resident guard stumbled out of the chamber and tried anyway. He undoubtedly came to the same conclusion that they did, that the back up crew had arrived, and with sword in one hand and torch in the other, he dashed away towards the dome to welcome them.
“Quick,” Spike hissed, “This is our chance to get Buffy.”
“Right behind you, boss,” Faith replied.
They scrambled through the gap in the rocky wall. A single fiery torch bathed the room in a dull glow. Through the gloom, Spike could see Buffy, laid out, as before on the elevated rock slab. He could sense her signature through the link, and he could hear her heart beating steadily. But if not for those aspects, he might have thought her dead. She lay so pale and still, that a fairy tale princess sunk deep into the ravages of mystical sleep could not have seemed more lifeless.
Despair and grief threatened to overwhelm him once more, crush him in its paralytic embrace. Faith, oblivious to his unseen anguish, saved the day never the less.
“Shit B, are you okay?” she whispered urgently, moving swiftly towards her sister slayer’s side. Buffy’s hand floated up in the air, Faith clasping the cold fingers in her own unseen ones. “Spike,” her wobbly voice finally penetrated his distress. “She is … alright isn’t she?”
“God,” he shuddered, “I hope so Rogue. She’s obviously cold and exhausted and no doubt half starved but her heartbeat’s strong, as is the nipper’s. We just need to get her out of here, home to where she’s safe and warm.” Privately he was having some misgivings about how they were going to do that. She looked a lot worse than he’d imagined, not really in the best condition for an endless uphill scramble through this immense bloody anthill.
“Buffy, Buffy pet. Wake up precious. Ol’ Spike’s come for you my sweetling. Its time to come home, you and the bairn both.” He whispered his endearments, his pleas, as he pressed kisses across her face and tried to rub warmth into her hands.
Slowly, his voice and hands drew her back, out of the oblivion of sleep and towards the cold and dark. She frowned slightly and her breath hitched. His soft words and gentle touch soothed her fears, and her eyelids began to flutter, her inhalations turned into little gasps.
“Its alright baby, I’m here. Come back to me luv. Faith and I have come to fetch you home. Everyone’s waiting. Wake up pet.”
Suddenly Buffy’s eyes popped open. She frowned, blinked furiously, then glanced wildly around her in the half-light of the cold chamber. Tears filled her eyes, spilling over onto her pale cheeks. “No-o-o-o,” she sobbed. “Not real, not real.”
Guilt shot through Spike’s body, as he realized his mistake. Poor chit, driven half mad no doubt by the terror and isolation of her kidnapping, gets pulled outta blissful sleep by what must seem like a ghost. Wanker!
“Oh kitten,” he soothed, “Am real baby, just invisible. Just one of Red’s spells, so Faith and I could sneak in here past the bad guys. But I’m real precious, and I’m gonna get you outta here.”
Shakily, Buffy lifted one of her hands up towards the sound of his voice, towards his face.
“You’re real?” Her voice rasped painfully in the silence as she cupped his cheek.
Spike’s eyes filled with tears. “Yes baby, I know it’s a hardship not to be able to look at my gorgeous self, but I ’m really real and present and fully functional.” He grinned, “Although you’ll have to wait to test that out later. Can you sit up?” He threw the space blankets back, ready to help her into a sitting position.
“Whoa,” Faith said, her exclamation matching his own thoughts exactly as the blankets now revealed what their ruched up layers had previously hidden.
Two sets of chains were draped across her body, at chest level and across the top of her thighs, and fastened to the rock shelf on either side. Each chain was bolted directly into the rock on one side and padlocked to a bolt on the other. The chains certainly gave them pause, but what stunned both of them more was what lay between.
Buffy’s baby bump protruded starkly from the landscape of her thin frame. It had only been six days since they’d last seen Buffy, and she’d been almost six and a half months along. With her short stature and slim figure, she’d already been sporting a decent size baby belly, but in the week since she’d been taken, her bump seemed to have expanded exponentially. Faith knew very little about pregnancy, but Spike had been reading all the books diligently, and even he was taken back by such startling growth in such a short time.
Their musings were quickly sidetracked by Buffy’s raspy voice. “You came for me,” she said, a faint smile gracing her face. “I knew you’d come for me.”
“Of course I came for you sweetheart,” Spike said, shelving the mystery for later. He bent down and pressed his cheek alongside hers, whispering into her ear. “Will always come for you baby, never give up, till the end of the world. You know that.”
“Yeah,” she whispered, “I knew. I knew. I was waiting for you, so long, but I never gave up.” She gave a tremulous little smile as he pulled back to lean his forehead against hers. Their tears mingled together on her cheeks, tears of relief and regret and exhaustion, tears of joy at being in one another’s arms, and tears of fear at the uncertainty still to come.
Their touching reunion was suddenly interrupted by shouts of anger and the sound of running feet, still some distance away, but closer than Spike would have hoped, and closing in on them even as they stood there frozen.
“Quick,” Faith hissed, “We’ve gotta get these chains off of her.”
Spike felt her unclip herself from his pack and brush past him. “I’ll look for the keys, you try and break the chains.”
He nodded; a gesture that seemed wasted given his lack of visibility, but helped at least to jumpstart his own actions. He reached down and grabbed the chain, near to where the padlock fixed it to the bolt. Pulling with all of his considerable strength, he was dismayed, but hardly surprised, at the total lack of movement. They’d been magically enhanced no doubt, given that they’d been specifically arranged for a slayer.
He pulled again, tugging furiously at the metal links. The chain remained indifferent to his efforts, cold and implacable in its inflexibility. Frustrated, Spike pulled out his new blade and tried striking at the metal at close quarters. Sparks flew and a loud clanging rang out, but the chain bore no evidence of any impact.
“Shit, shit,” Faith growled, “I can’t see a damn thing. I don’t think they’re here anyway. I’ve used my eyes and my hands but the cupboard is bare. Damn guard probably has them.”
She ran over to Spike and started pulling and tugging at the other chain, panic setting in at the seeming futility of their task. Outside the pounding feet grew louder, the guerrillas were drawing close to the chamber.
“Shit, I’m gonna go try and hold them off,” she said, and Spike felt her pull away from the rock slab, her quiet footsteps heading towards the opening.
“Be careful,” he murmured, but she was already gone.
Spike paused, undecided about what he should do. He wanted to stay by Buffy’s side and protect her, but he could probably do a better job of that by going outside to help Faith get rid of the goons. One of them had the keys no doubt, and he had his nifty new blade to try out. Mind made up, he stood up and began to slide the space blankets back up over Buffy’s torso to keep her warm.
“Spike, what … what’s happening? What are you doing?” He hated hearing the panic in her voice, his strong Slayer, so weak and scared.
“’S alright pet, I’m just gonna pop out and grab the keys for your chains. Won’t take me more ‘n a minute or two. You just stay here and keep nice and warm.”
“No Spike, don’t leave me,” she whimpered pitifully.
“God luv,” he embraced her prone form and kissed her sweetly. “I’m not leaving Buffy, promise. I’m just gonna see a bloke about a key and I’ll be right back. You won’t even have time to miss me.”
A little bit of the old fire came back into her eyes. “I’m gonna hold you to that you know. If you don’t come straight back, I’m so gonna kick your butt.”
Spike chuckled. “I’ll bend over for you an’ all if I stuff up. Right, hang tight Slayer, see ya in a bit.” He pressed a final kiss to her forehead and dashed over to the opening.
“While you’re at it, sort something out so I can see you, you stupid vampire,” she called after him, the last of her bravado deserting her as effectively as her rescuers had. With a weary sigh, she closed her eyes and let the silent tears fall once more.
Spike ran outside the chamber to the sound of clashing swords. The confrontation was taking place about 150 feet away. Even with his vamp sight it was difficult to see in the murky light of the large cavern. But as he eased closer, his first instincts were confirmed. Faith, still invisible, was fighting against two henchmen at once, engaging first one then the other.
They were big buggers; well over six foot each and built like props. She was probably just playing with them, but to be fair, the brutes had adapted quickly to parrying against an unseen foe and were standing back to back, swords outstretched. Sure it was purely defensive on their part, but apart from a nick on one guy’s leg, they both seemed fairly unscathed. And alive! Which was something in itself.
Spike stood watching until he could work out where Faith was, then stepped into the fray himself, drawing his blade and using it to introduce himself to the bad dude. It gave the guy a hell of a fright, but Faith worked it out immediately.
“Hey Spike, welcome aboard. The more the merrier.”
“Thanks pet. Having fun are we?”
“Yeah, it’s a hoot. You should have seen their faces when I first came roaring out. Didn’t know what hit them.”
“They still don’t I’d grant. Thought you’d have them finished off by now.”
“Well, I didn’t know if we were taking hostages or just disposing of the riff raff. Besides which, they’re wearing some sort of kick ass military style Kevlar protection vests. Slashed one guy across the front and he’s still fine and dandy.”
“Okay pet, good to know. And I guess the old man will want someone to interrogate, so we’d better just knock them out and tie them up. “
Their light-hearted banter had been woven in and out of a fairly lukewarm sword battle. They’d engaged one soldier each, but with their rivals effectively blindfolded, it was sandpit time, for the both of them. The decision to help themselves to a couple of prisoners set the outcome, and they both stepped up their games, the objective being to disarm their opponents, minor injuries quite acceptable.
Cutting loose, they’d used their newly acquired weapons to attack, slashing horizontal cuts from the left and then the right. Each followed with a little flicking upward drive and two swords went flying. It was almost disappointing. Spike was just starting to get into it, and strangely, the hilt of his sword was beginning to heat up pleasantly in his hand. He quickly overcame his disappointment by swapping his sword into his right hand, stepping in close and delivering a huge sucker punch to the guy’s jaw. He went down like a sack of spuds.
To his right, Faith had also knocked her opponent out, seemingly with a spinning sidekick. They stood for a minute, panting. Faith picked up the two discarded weapons while Spike dragged the two unconsciousness guys next to one another, ready for trussing. The dark haired slayer stood there, hands on hips frowning as she scanned their surroundings.
“What you looking for Rogue?”
“The other guy. Where’d he go?”
“The other guy?” Spike’s blood ran cold. “What do you mean the …”
His question was rendered obsolete by the scream of anguish that reverberated across the room, a scream that came from the chamber.