Spike had been pushed from the car with such force that it took a moment to realize what Xander had done or why. Rolling to the verge he could see combat boots shuffling on the opposite side of the car courtesy of the spotlight glare from the roadblock. With *Run! Love! Panic! Run!* flowing through the link, Spike felt helpless to act. He heard rather than saw the sickening blow that quickly incapacitated his lover.
As the car door was opened and his consort dragged out, he was just about to surge forward when a preternaturally firm hand grabbed him from behind and pinned him to the ground. “Don’t! We will go in but anything rash act now bodes ill.”
Spike with his face still in the dirt, realized the sense in what was being said, nevertheless struggled for a moment then simply collapsed in grief. The Intiative had ‘acquired a target’ and departed, leaving the abandoned car at the side of the road, switching off floodlights and allowing darkness to rule. Anton picked up the now desperately keening vampire, and holding him as one might a child, walked back to their own car concealed to the side of the road in an olive grove.
Buffy drove as Anton held the distressed vampire until they arrived at the safe house.
It was almost that evening before Spike pulled from his grief long enough to level his anger at himself, then all those around him, snarling then pulling in on himself to bite his own wrist and take penitent blood while letting tears of loss fall
…………………………………………..
Twenty four hours on, things seemed no better in the ‘safe house’. Spike had been in game face for hours, alternately growling then silently grieving for his lost consort. Buffy eventually took her former compatriot in arms out to the courtyard and simply invited him to, “Give it your best shot.”
Anton watched, admiring his slayer’s speed, strength, and… compassion. Spike needed to kill, or hurt or maim…. At the very least he needed to fight! Anton realized in a blinding moment, that he would have been the same were Buffy to be the one taken.
Unfortunately, when they went ‘back in’, the rescue would need completely ‘level heads’, only that would win the day. Anton saw his own lover’s understanding of Spike’s need. He was beside himself with worry at the current time and would be of no use until that was ‘worked through’.
From what he had observed of Xander, level headedness was the human’s greatest strength, yet he knew, they still *had* to get to the man swiftly, and not just for interrogation reasons. Like Spike, he had full knowledge of what the Initiative was capable of imparting on its ‘charges’, and worried for Xander should a full battery of physical tests be run. Consorts of Master Vampires would hardly register as ‘normal’.
Anton also realized something that perhaps only Xander and Spike knew, a consort and master relied on regular, if only small amounts, of blood exchange. Without it Xander would suffer withdrawals worthy of any long term heroin addict if not fed within two to three days. Added to that was the concern that, if Xander died for any reason, Spike would die too, slowly and in the most agonizing way. Anton had seen it once before, that was enough. They simply *had* to get Xander out.
Spike had been sent to don the heat suit one more time while Anton took various reports regarding the Initiative from his personal sources. It seemed that Stephano was as concerned about Spike’s consort as Anton. Something that rather surprised the Immortal until Anton remembered that one of the demon’s favorites was lost via consort link and death. He was unsure of Stephano’s history with Spike, but it seemed there was enough loyalty to push this seasoned Roman demon ‘heavy weight’ above and beyond any passing assistance.
…………..
Spike said it again, this time with a desperation that tore at the Immortal’s core. “Please mate, it’s Xan!! I’ve got to go…”
Anton put up his hands to calm the vampire, the sensitive blonde poet, the former adversary who had fast become friend and fellow warrior.
“We will go in, but at sundown and with some assistance. I have some contacts that are of use and I believe that Willow Rosenberg is on her way here as we speak along with two others of her coven.”
“Red’s coming?... We have to get him, why’s Red’s coming?… Boy’s in trouble but can’t risk the witch… boy won’t be happy…” Spike was rambling and quite beyond reason. His concern for his consort jammed all logic. Anton grabbed his arm as the vampire turned and made for yet another lap of the room. In a tone Spike had only ever heard used by his Sire, Anton pushed his wrist against the vampire’s mouth and commanded his distressed friend with a single word, “Drink.”
The master vampire was reduced to fledge in an instant and complied. Fangs dropped immediately and he bit quickly, yet with reverence, into the pale wrist pressed against his lips. After a mouthful he fell to his knees, Anton moved with him. After two drafts, tears began to flow. After three, Spike withdrew and attempted to pull away in body also but instead was drawn back and held. “Xan, [hic] Xan…. oh God please!... Xan….” Spike’s voice dropped to a mere whisper, “Please…” The Immortal pulled the keening blonde to him and eventually simply rocked and cooed quietly. There was no shame in the act, merely an attempt to comfort.
Eventually the bereft vampire sat up, grasped the Immortal’s arm and leveled blue eyes on green, “Thank you….” No more needed to be said as both ancient males sat entwined on the floor of one of Anton’s guest rooms.
Buffy had appeared at the door ready to announce the arrival of Willow soon after Spike’s final collapse, but Anton silently warned her off with a shake of his head and rueful look. She had gripped the door handle hard, understanding only in part, the agony Spike was going through… but empathized [unable to shake the thought that it might have been Anton] .
By the time Spike and Anton joined the main group, Willow was already in ‘full flight’. The coven had resolved to back the venture completely, an unprecedented move since medieval times as it risked revealing at least some of their number.
The meeting was in full swing when Spike sniffed audibly from the doorway, “So Red…. Xan is relyin’ on us, what’s the plan?
…………………
Since his little interlude with Riley, Xander had spent much of his time alternating between trying to sleep and blacking out due to injection, lack of blood pressure or blows to the head.
He was in a kneeling position when he awoke this time. Hands still strapped behind him and a distinct reek of excreta and bile surrounding him… and another scent… that of blood, his own.
There was an audience this time, he could sense that, so kept his eye shut trying not to indicate his return to consciousness. It was Riley’s voice that he recognized again.
“Analyse the sample and time the healing this time… I want the results by midday.”
Midday? What time was it? How long had he been here? What had they found? When had he passed out? He was thirsty again… but they didn’t have Spike… If only Spike would come… he would come… he had to come… He needed Spike. He *craved* Spike…. and why was it still so cold? As full awareness returned the ache in his gut returned and he began to shake uncontrollably, he dry retched and continued to shake.
“The subject is going into shock, Sir. Shall I sedate him?”
Only vaguely aware of his surrounds, Xander felt the sharp jab to his buttock then retreated to blessed darkness.
……………………..
Still listening intently to Willow’s proposal, Anton looked up from the detailed planner for their coming operation to attend the announcement by one of his doormen, “Stephano is here sir.”
“Show him in.”
Stephano arrived with four of his ‘boys’ in tow. Unimpressed by the hour they had been forced to leave Rome, he was still glad to see his old ally, though circumstances might have been better. Anton stretched a welcoming hand to greet the younger demon and now compatriot.
Buffy stepped to Anton’s side, he noted once again, the dark colors of her attire, atypical but brimming with a sense of anticipation of the fight to come. She was flanked by Willow and two women as yet little known to the Immortal.
Stephano could be difficult, but they needed him, Anton stiffened with anticipation as the doors opened.
“Senor Stephano Capillano and his staff Sir.”
“Welcome Stephano, and thank you for attending in this hour of need.” Anton pulled Buffy and Willow forward, “May I present my partner Buffy Summers and her friend, Willow Rosenberg, and her fellow coven members Jaala and Kerryn.” Anton then held his hand out and pulled Spike to his side as one might a younger, precious brother. “And you of course know William the Bloody.”
Stephano nodded to Spike then addressed the previously unknown members of their group by kissing each woman on the hand, “Charmed.”
The meeting began amicably enough, Anton acutely aware of the deadly game they were about to engage in, and the need to engage each person’s unique skills.
Anton addressed Willow first, “You are aware of my history?”
“Indeed Master. We come to aid you and our friends, and are fully aware of your status, and that of Spike. Though I confess we will need to discuss our roles as I am concerned you are able to utilize us effectively.” Willow and her two companions bent their heads with traditional reverence.
“Indeed we will discuss that within the hour. Stephano, I thank you for coming and ask that you lead off proceedings with the current intelligence from Rome. Might I request that we move to our dining room and proceed with our meeting in a more formal setting.”
All rose to follow their host, Willow taking Buffy’s arm as Anton rose to shake Stephano’s hand, point he and his entourage in the direction of the meeting room, then place a reassuring hand on Spike’s shoulder as they moved venues.
……………………
“You’ve been holding out on us Mister Harris”
Xander came to with a start but attempted to hold still. He was desperate for water, his head throbbing with dehydration and tongue apparently three sizes too big for his mouth. His eye had healed, but there was safety in keeping it closed.
“C’mon coward, we know you’re awake…” He was kicked in the ribs once more, letting out a stifled ‘umpfh’ as long unused vocal cords attempted sound.
Several hands pulled him to his feet and a young man’s voice sneered, “We have a little present for you… since our CEO said you are the San Fran type we figured….” He was blindfolded, then gagged.
Barely able to stand, his back was forced against a cold wall and soiled pants sliced and torn from his person. The zip strap was cut but replaced by more traditional hand cuffs. His wrists swollen and continuing to bleed from the overly tight fastening of three days and shoulders sore after being fixed behind him. The cuffs were better, but now fastened to a D bolt on the ceiling and now he was naked. Xander started to breathe heavily through the gag, unsure of what was to come.
A blast of cold water from a fire hose washed him down and took his breath away. The onslaught was painful and he swung away, drawing his knees up to protect his groin, resulting in a humiliating blast that assaulted his rear and penetrated his bowels.
Xander closed his eye once more and bit his bottom lip until it bled. He just needed to hang on. *Spike will come. Spike is safe… Spike will come….* He vaguely heard laughing, felt the cuffs released from the ceiling and collapsed onto the ground shivering and folding in on himself as best he could.
*Spike will come. Spike is safe… Spike will come….* His silent mantra continued even as his body registered hands tugging him to standing again. Eventually he registered a change of venue. Dragged to a bathroom somewhere he was pushed to the floor and all four limbs pinned by strong hands.
For the first time Xander struggled, but hearing the buzz of an electric shaver and feeling it touch his upper thigh next to his groin he stilled instantly. He doubted that anyone would care too much if his status shifted to eunuch, so he went limp, allowed them their ‘giggle fest’ and let silent tears of humiliation and distress flow into his blindfold as his captors divested him of all his obvious body hair.
Another forced cold shower later, Xander kept his head down, trying to listen for some indication of his captors’ intentions. He felt, rather than saw, the many hands and heard the vicious sniggers and phone calls to fellow soldiers, apparently he was to have a bigger audience. He was toweled dry and felt clothing being applied. Pulled and shoved, beyond caring and compliant, Xander’s body somehow no longer connected to his brain.
“Come on *darlin’*… you’re all smooth so let’s get you pretty before we fuck your whoring arse!”
He felt the cuffs being clipped to a ceiling again, the blindfold was pulled free and someone played with his features before Xander’s good eye was forced open and his chin held up until he stared unwillingly into a one way mirror.
“Wouldn’t your little friend love to see you now!”
He was in a ‘strappy’ floral dress, tight, at least two sizes too small, and a pale yellow cardigan. He noted that his torturers had ‘assisted’ his bustline with two wads of what he assumed was toilet paper.
Not only was he in a dress, but he had been shaved, closely and intimately and someone had ‘done his makeup’ in a grotesque parody of womanhood. They had even painted a crude false eye complete with blue eye-shadow in the empty socket.
One of the soldiers, who could not have been older than nineteen, lifted Xander’s skirt with the butt of his rifle and in a thick Italian accent, pointed out that the thong he was now wearing was of the ‘edible variety’, before caressing Xander’s very uninterested sex with the broad handle of his weapon and leaning in close to whisper “Faggot”.
Xander did the only thing he had left in his defense. He closed his good eye and remained silent. His arms ached; he was desperately thirsty despite his recent dousings; it was at least three days since he had eaten; and he needed to pee again… but most of all he needed Spike, he craved his Master Vampire, so finally let all his remaining energy flow into a plaintive, desperate call of love and cry for help across the consort link.
………………………………….
Anton had just dismissed the majority of their team, giving them an hour before they regrouped and met in front of the villa to begin their attack. The wiccan and slayer team would go in first with only twelve minutes to disarm security systems and scramble computers before the rest of the team went in.
Willow had brought a vital suite of information and though they had only vague sketches of the ground plans, it was clear that the establishment was still in its infancy. There were twenty three ‘holding pens’, a number of ‘research rooms’ and four interrogation areas, plus a number of other functional rooms.
They all knew their roles, and thanks to the wiccans would all go in with glamours to hide their real identities from any cameras
Anton was following Spike out the door when the vampire fell to his knees, grabbed at thin air in obvious agony, and tried to scream, only managing a strange whimper. With preternatural speed and strength, Anton swept up the blonde, carried him to the lounge and tore open his own shirt as he settled them, pressing the vampire’s mouth to his pectoral, he offered his blood for the second time in three days.
Spike was beyond conscious thought, he could feel Xander calling in desperation. He knew they were about to go…but… And then Sire was there, but not Sire… no… friend…Anton… with blood that was ancient and strong, and arms that were reassuring, and as he drank he sent back *love… coming… hold on… hold on… love* through the link as loud as he could.
……………….
As two more soldiers entered the room Xander felt a warm jolt and allowed a single tear to trickle down his cheek, taking eyeliner with it… Spike was coming.