Anton sat for almost fifteen minutes with the vampire on his lap, arms enveloping and comforting the distraught male. For some reason Spike evoked a feeling of paternal protection, of friendship and camaraderie, and the strongest sense of his own expansive history. Empires, Kingdoms, Nations and political movements had come and gone in his time, Spike had but a hundred and fifty years of that yet…. Anton had felt disconnected for years. With modern communications and technology, the process of ‘rise and fall’ had sped to unreasonable proportions, demons survived yet human cruelty endured… indeed it seemed more potent with each new generation of weaponry. He sighed and looked down at the now relaxed face of a friend.
William was something different. There was a quality in this vampire that Anton recognized as a kindred spirit, yet also a sense of something that the ancient soul was missing. Spike’s vitality and love of life seemed to permeate everything. Despite all that had been done to him; despite all he had sought out for himself; all he had lost; all he had endured; every new twist that fate had dealt; this resilient individual, be he souled or un, seemed to have adjusted and overcome… Spike was alive… more… he was the embodiment of life, he was its lover.
Anton reflected as he fed his needy compatriot. He currently loved Buffy, but like all other mortal lovers, their time would come to an end – even for humans it would be thirty or forty years at best, but a blink of the eye. His current lover was a woman of the twenty first century, and a slayer. She loved passionately, there was no question of that, but her sense of ‘the past’ was utterly lacking. If it came up, she denied it, if it was discussed by others the topic was changed, if friends or family were present, Anton’s real status was denied. It hadn’t bothered him before.
The distraught beauty currently in his arms shifted a little and pulled the cool male form closer, the ancient being was deeply touched by a profound sense of gentle and genuine love, the sense of familial tenderness, of kindred spirit, something he had not felt for nearly a millennium and now knew to have profoundly missed. Something he needed. How ironic that it was Angelus’ wayward childe, a mere century and a half young, whom called to his very soul as brother.
Anton felt Spike shift again, this time his sat the blond up, gently brushed the cascade of blonde curls back, and retied the ponytail with the black ribbon. Spike eventually stood, sniffed and turned away to quickly wipe the remnants of tears from his face with the back of his left hand.
Anton stood also. Spike still refused to look at his host, though he managed to find his voice, “Seems like the consort link is still workin’… Figure we better be goin’…. And um… Thanks…. ‘preciate the top up… and the um…” He gestured down to the couch then looked up to capture green eyes with a deeply grateful and now fiercely determined crystal blue stare.
Anton pulled him in and kissed him on the temple “You are most welcome little brother. Let’s us rescue your consort shall we?”
The Immortal smiled knowingly as Spike suddenly appeared to ‘switch’ gears, grab the leather duster he had slung over the couch at the beginning of the meeting, and departed the room with the near jovial comment, “Oi watch who you’re callin’ little mate!” Ahhh no. He was certainly not going to lose track of this soul, and knowing William the Bloody, his consort would be equally worthy of the Immortal’s protective gaze.
He followed Spike, slammed the heavy door behind him and felt oddly excited regarding the fight to come.
……………………..
Xander was unsure of how much time had passed. His arms above his head made it hard to breathe, so he alternated between semi standing and hanging. The ‘tranny crew’ had inadvertently offered his strained arm sockets some relief at some point in the last half hour. Six inch fashion heels, no matter the purpose, had their advantages.
Initially the taunting had been less than average, the stuff of sexually frustrated schoolboys at their smutty best. No doubt reflecting the mental capacity of his ‘pack’ of captors Xander mused silently…*sticks ‘n stones, little boys, sticks ‘n stones*. It was the touching that had him cringing, closing his good eye and retreating as far as he could into his own mind, unwilling to fall all the way into darkness for fear of losing the fleeting links with Spike.
One particular soldier seemed to be using the session as therapy, screaming abuse at some former ‘girlfriend’ so close to Xander’s face that the halitosis suffered but his abuser gave away the likely reason for the girl’s apparent frigidity. The encounter ended with Xander’s ‘breasts being fondled and finally a backhand across the face that had him seeing stars. The next soldier took a cue from his ‘innovative’, angry colleague and pulled up the dress at the rear, tie it into a bunch then begin to ‘spank’ the prisoner for some imagined reason that Xander missed amongst the expletives being spouted. Hanging his head low, he focused on the pain and his worry for Spike’s ongoing safety should Anton and team attempt a rescue. He was unsurprised but still relieved to realize the pain/pleasure response from the one or two times he and Spike had play acted with ‘love slaps’, applied only to his lover’s ministrations. He wondered what Spike was doing at that moment and tried to remember the crystal blue eyes.
Eventually bored with their hanging subject, Xander was tugged from the fastening in the ceiling, falling painfully to his knees as his legs gave out and wondering if he could get up given the high heels and his shaking frame. He need not have worried, his captors pushed his face to the ground, pinning his still cuffed wrists above his head, they spread his legs as wide as they could holding them firmly. He heard a zip opening behind him and the guffawing of the group as they encouraged ‘MacIntosh’ to ‘get it on’. Someone pointed out that lube would help ‘The Mac’ but apparently ‘slick was for pussys’, which brought on a whole new round of lewd comments and raucous laughter.
Xander felt a hard column of flesh press against his right buttock as the soldier leaned forward and whispered, “You can scream whenever you want *sweetheart*. Just love little girls who give me feedback. If you’re real good one of the boys might even take ya on ya back later. Like that wouldn’t ya, whore!?”
Xander let a single tear squeeze from his closed eye and trickle to the floor, he knew this would hurt. He tried to focus on the things Spike would do to these men if he found them….. if he found Xander…. If he came…
…………………………..
Prior to departing the villa all members of the group known to the Initiative were given glamours by the wiccans, should they be spotted or caught. Willow giggled as Spike began scratching furiously, claiming that heat-suits and mojo didn’t mix. When tingling eventually stopped, Spike was left with an appearance that was still striking, but hardly recognizable. Dark red, tight curls and a thick sprinkling of freckles along with hazel eyes and a slightly chubbier face,gave him the appearance of a sixteen year old school boy, rather than a master vampire.
“Oh bloody hell what are you grinning at slayer?
“You’re all Happy Days Ralph Malph!”
“What?”
“Freckles and red hair!” She giggled again, this time joined by Willow.
He gave a distinctive leer that could only the vampire could manage, “Yeah well… least I can’t see meself! Short haired brunette is hardly your style, though must say, extra curves do you no harm!”
Buffy immediately moved to try to view herself in one of the car’s side mirrors but was stopped in her tracks as Anton stepped in quickly blocking her path, leading his partner matter-of-factly to her car and bringing all present back to the seriousness of what they were about to do.
Spike was in the car with Anton and two of Stephano’s ‘crew’. The mood was tense. Anton rolled a small purple ‘locator’ crystal in his hand as Spike systematically chewing the cuticles on his nails until three were bleeding, at which point he sucked the digits until his own saliva healed them, then began the process again. They each had a crystal which was to direct them to the Initiative captives. Spike had pocketed his, knowing that if Xander was still conscious, the consort link would be enough once he was close.
The roadblock was still in position but this time manned by only two soldiers. Apparently the Initiative had obtained what it wanted with the capture of Xander. The other two cars remained well back and out of sight as one of Stephano’s crew, Petros (an extremely dark and as always with Stephano, Spike noted, a very beautiful boy) stepped out of their vehicle. The speakers from the car blared dance music out into the night as he walked up to the uniformed men to ‘ask directions’, claiming he and his friends were on their way to a cousin’s marriage celebration somewhere in the vicinity. He returned to the car to apparently retrieve the map, growling ‘Ready?’ to his three ‘party’ companions, then returned to consult with the soldiers once more.
Obviously placated by the seemingly harmless group, both soldiers moved to assist the lost party goer, Petros drawing out the conversation with descriptions of his cousin, the new wife, the mother-in-law, and a lengthy ‘dirty laundry’ story of his cousin’s infidelity during the engagement period. He was just in the process of inviting the soldiers for a drink after their shift, when both dropped to the ground with a thud.
Mouths sealed with tape and arms and legs shackled together, both unconscious men were pushed into the boot of Willow’s car as the group prepared to approach the Initiative’s building. Anton grabbed both communication handsets from the soldiers, handing one to Petros who nodded and smiled as he was quietly congratulated on his performance thus far. Anton slid his hand into Buffy’s, then directed a commanding statement to the whole group, “Time is of the essence. There is a surveillance handover in less than half and hour, Willow must be in place by then.”
Twenty minutes later they were in position outside a rambling, rather decrepit looking two story villa. According to their intelligence it was old style with large courtyard and the main Initiative facilities on the ground floor. The only obvious ‘high tech’ was a series of cameras panning the area and unusually elaborate lighting shining out into the grounds.
The wiccans held hands, and the power flicked off for a moment, just long enough for Spike and Anton to virtually fly to the side wall of the building. Spike scaled the ancient wall easily and snapped off the two cameras while Anton scanned the side door for other devices then undid the hinge pins and opened the door reverse to normal. Spike dropped silently from the roof and the others sprinted to to join them as they cautiously entered via what seemed like an old fashioned pantry.
Willow squatted down and briskly set up the laptop, logging in to the Initiatives computer system easily with a combination of magic and more than decent hacking skills.
She whispered “Where good to go, three minutes.”
………………….
‘The Mac’ had had his fun, frustrated that his victim remained virtually silent throughout, despite his own very ‘special’ efforts.
“Next… Got the lady all warm and slick for you fellas.” Xander felt something hot trickle down his inner thigh and heard shuffling behind, then the Private Halitosis piped up, “How much of a goer is ‘e? Shall I give ‘im a go with a nightstick you recon?”
A door slammed hard, and Xander heard Riley’s voice, “No more! And clear this up, we may have a situation. It seems our boys on the road weren’t at their post for changeover.” Sounds of a scramble ensued, Xander left face down on the cold floor, leaking and every part of him in pain. All went quiet as the group departed.
A hand reached down and pulled him up to a full kneel by his hair. “Seems you have been holding out on us *Xander* blood tests came back… Your little fuck buddy might be human but seems your blood has ‘demon’ all through it … Been screwing around have we? Guess you’ll just have to be our guest for a bit longer…. might even have to buy you a couple of new frocks for the summer.” Pushing the battered individual back to the floor he departed, flicking the light off then slamming and locking the door. Xander painfully pulled his knees together and curled up into a fetal position on his side, only to lift again, wretch violently and spit bile to the floor as the shock of the past few hours finally sank in.
……………………..
Stephano and his men were closest to the door leading to the rest of the house, their aim was to engage. They would split up, flanking both sides of the courtyard and set off as many smoke grenades as was possible then take out as much of the ‘muscle’ as they could – by whatever means. Anton and Buffy plus one of Anton’s men would go for the main control room and then the holding pens to retrieve the slayers. Anyone in the way of their goal was to be taken down also. Another of the Immortal’s men would stay with the wiccans as protection while they progressively shut down and confused all security and communications, then worked to erase all Initiative records.
Spike had been assigned Anton’s own personal friend and bodyguard, Gregor. Initially objecting fiercely claiming his own capacity as Master Vampire, Anton had put a hand on his friend’s arm and gently conveying his own concern for the vampire’s welfare with a silent exchange, Spike conceded, growling “Just keep up then” to the slightly bemused Gregor. His only task was to find and rescue his consort.
Willow hit a key on her computer then gave the command, “Now!”
Stephano and his men moved swiftly and silently, the Slayer and group followed then Spike and Gregor. Seconds later pandemonium broke out.
Jaala and Kerryn began to chant while Willow typed furiously confident of her own abilities but conscious of time. She checked off the list swiftly: Satellite and land communications with ‘the outside’, out; Mains power, out. Digital phone signals, scrambled; Security lockdown, disabled; All electronic surveillance and locking systems, no longer functional.
Willow relaxed a little and set to work on the research computers while her fellow wiccans continued chant the location spell that would direct their warriors to the slayers, the watcher and Xander.
Sounds of gun fire and orders yelled at unseen soldiers dominated, then screams and calls for help.
Spike was oblivious. Unable to see through the smoke he sped through the corridors of the ancient building Gregor at his shoulder, not only keeping pace but watching for danger to his charge. Spike began to call desperately through the link…. Nothing. He pushed his hand into his pocket at took out the locator stone… it glowed red and he picked up the urge to head upstairs.
A soldier appeared suddenly from the smoke. Gregor was upon him and before the man realized he was with company a blow under the chin had him unconscious, or possibly dead on the ground. Not easily impressed, Spike nodded at his compatriot and sped up the set of stairs that had just come into view.
Stephano and his men had successfully rounded up the soldiers present. Pushing those conscious into the courtyard to kneel hands cuffed, while those unconscious were cuffed then dumped face down beside the growing group. Twenty three soldiers in total, but the commander was missing.
A shot was fired and though the smoke obscured the source, it was apparently from the upper story. Petros collapsed, his thigh bleeding profusely. Within seconds a second shot missed its target then a muffled yell and further shot marked the capture of the sniper.
Riley struggled as preternatural arms held him fast, “You’re fuckin nicked mate! Go shootin’ our boys and we’ll just ‘ave ta punish ya won’t we. Now…..” Spike growled, “Be a good host and show us to your latest ‘guest’ would you?”
“Get F@#$ed”
“Oooh feisty…” Spike’s mocking tone soon shifted as he nodded to Gregor who proceeded to blindfold the man then tape Riley’s mouth, and cuff wrists and ankles, pushing the man to the floor in the process.
Gregor held his pistol close to Riley’s ear and cocked it then stood guard.
Spike left him to his charge, speeding down the corridor, now desperate for Xander.
Buffy and Anton had found the research area, captured the scientists with relative ease and released the residents of the seven occupied cages. Three of whom were apparently their unharmed Slayers. They also found one traumatized, incoherent young watcher who had apparently been kept in a lightless solitary confinement cell for almost a month.
Spike had kicked open almost every door on the upper floor of the south wing in desperation. He was becoming frantic. No signal through the link and the *bloody stone* was giving him no more clues than some small child calling ‘warmer’ in a game of hide and seek! Bordering on panic that he might be too late, he stilled for a moment, took an unnecessary breath and let it out slowly. And felt it… ever so faint but there none the less… He followed the call to the very next door.
Kicking it in, he was assaulted by the smell, tears and terror and blood and many males, arousal and… semen… and Xander. To his relief he heard it, the heartbeat was strong.
Vowing that the guilty would die for this, Spike pulled his consort into his arms, cradled him as one might a two year old, kissed the beloved forehead and began to rock the unconscious figure, purring a little to mark his own distress and relief. Eventually he stood and carefully carried the abused body downstairs.