This story is a little on the dark side. If you're not into the whole Slayer-trapped-in-a-science-lab scenario, I would hit that back button now. There's a lot of fluffy romance you could be reading instead.

Disclaimer: Clearly I am not Joss Whedon.

Between a Rock and Faith

Chapter 1

Buffy awoke to the terrifying feeling of being strapped down. She didn't open her eyes at first. Instead, she tensed her arms, testing whatever was holding her there. Metal cuffs around her wrists, that was for sure. She pulled at her legs. More metal cuffs around the ankles, too. She lifted her torso. It was blocked by a strap across her stomach, pressing down on her belly button when she strained against it.

Buffy opened her eyes.

She found herself blinking against bright white lights, set in fluorescent panels along the ceiling. She turned her head to the right and saw only a bare white wall, with a bare white floor. She turned her head to the left and saw that the room she was in was not very large, and that one its walls was a panel of glass. Beyond it, there was an empty hallway, and she could see that across from her were more rooms like hers, with dark, hunched figures inside of them.

Where was she, and how did she get here? These were the questions that ran across her mind.

Before she answered them, Buffy decided to figure out if she was in immediate danger. As far as she could tell, she was alone in the white room behind the panel of glass. This scared her, but also made her feel somewhat safer. She shut her eyes so that she could listen to the sounds around her. Aside from the fluorescent lights, which let out a monotonous hum, she thought she heard someone groan, and then she thought she heard someone scream. But these sounds were far away, and Buffy didn't know what to make of them. She sniffed at the air, but the chemical smell of antiseptic drowned out any other odor.

"Helloooo? Bee? Anybody home?"

Buffy's eyes popped open. The voice had come from behind her, so she couldn't see who it was. But she recognized the voice.

"Faith?" Buffy said, and she felt a mixture of relief and fear. Relief because she recognized someone here, in this strange place. Fear because the person she recognized was not a good one.

The Dark Slayer stepped out from behind Buffy, moving to stand beside her, near her head. Her face was paler than Buffy remembered, perhaps because she wore none of the dark eyeliner or heavy lipstick that Buffy was used to seeing on her. Her hair was quite long, messy and sweeping far past her shoulders, and she wore a plain white T-shirt with plain white pants. Since neither of these garments was the least bit sexy, Buffy guessed that Faith had not picked them out for herself. Faith's lips were pursed in a smirk as her eyes ran over the strapped-down Slayer. Her expression suggested that she was happy to have Buffy in such a vulnerable state. Unconsciously, Buffy tensed her muscles against the cuffs that held her wrists and ankles, but they held tight.

"Faith." Against her will, Buffy conveyed how afraid she was with her voice. "I had to. I'm sorry." She was referring to the last time the two Slayers had met, when Buffy's knife had found its way into Faith's gut, leaving the Dark Slayer in a coma. In fact, it surprised Buffy to see Faith here, standing in front of her, very un-comatose.

"Sorry for what?" Faith cocked her head to the side, and her expression took on an evil, calculating look. "Stabbing me? Leaving me to die?" She placed two fingers on Buffy's temple and ran them down the side of her face. Her touch was like ice, and Buffy couldn't help but shiver. Then Faith leaned over her, till their faces were inches apart. Buffy could see nothing but the brown in Faith's eyes, and the anger that blazed within them. "It's no biggie, Bee. Really. I'm fine."

Faith held her face close to Buffy's for what felt like an eternity, till finally she pulled away, and Buffy exhaled. Faith walked to the panel of glass, stared out it for a few seconds, then spun back around. Her expression was haughty.

"I'd take advantage of this little setup to get my revenge on you," she said, "but it looks like I'm not gonna have to. I'd brace myself if I were you."

Almost as soon as Faith finished speaking, the glass panel slid open with a thwack, and several men in army fatigues marched into the small, square white room. They didn't seem to notice Faith, who put her hands up and flattened herself against a wall, a submissive gesture the frightened Buffy even more. One of the soldiers came around behind Buffy and pushed the gurney to which she was strapped out of the room and into the hallway. Buffy heard the glass panel smack closed behind them.

The hallway had bright fluorescent light panels like the room had, and the glare of them was beginning to make Buffy's head pound. She craned her neck to try to get a look at the soldier's face, but could not.

"Hey look, it's the Slayer!" someone called. Buffy thought it had come from one of the little rooms she was whooshing past.

"What's a matter, Slayer? Stuck here with the rest of us?" another voice called.

Buffy whipped her head in the direction of the voice, just in time to see a green-faced demon with small red horns leering at her from behind one of the glass panels. He laughed when she met his eyes.

"What is this place?" Buffy said. Her voice was hoarse, like she'd been unconscious for a long time. She wondered how long she'd been lying in that room before she'd woken up.

The soldier said nothing. Soon, he pushed her through a set of double-doors into another long hallway, this one with metallic walls and a rounded ceiling, like the inside of a soda can. Buffy was alarmed to see that the doors along either side of the hallway were made of metal, too, with tiny windows at eye level. She was certain such doors were not constructed without sinister purposes.

"What is this place?" Buffy repeated, but again there was no answer from the soldier.

They came to a stop in front of one of the doors. From his belt, the soldier jangled loose a set of keys. Then he opened the door and pulled Buffy inside.

The room was large and bright, with three white walls and one wall that was a mirror. Buffy wondered if there were people watching her from the other side of it. Three figures approached her. One was a heavy, middle-aged man with a shiny bald spot. The other was a young man in army fatigues, not much older than Buffy, with light brown hair and a tan face, like he'd spent a lot of time outdoors. The last figure was a woman Buffy recognized.

"Professor Walsh?" Buffy said.

The woman gave Buffy a small smile, stepping closer. She had blond hair, cropped close to her head, and wore a white labcoat. Buffy was disturbed to see metal tools sticking out of her pockets.

Buffy forced herself to sound calm. "Am I gonna be graded on all this?"

Professor Walsh's smile got wider, showing her white, perfect teeth. "Be quiet, Hostile 33."

The professor approached Buffy's side in two quick steps, whipped a syringe out of her pocket, and jabbed it into her upper arm. Buffy was swept by nausea. Her eyelids fell shut, but she clung to consciousness, unwilling to lose her awareness of what was happening. Professor Walsh didn't seem to care that Buffy wasn't fully knocked out, because the woman began to undo the cuffs on Buffy's ankles and wrists. Though Buffy's mind jumped at the opportunity to put up a fight, her body felt like dead weight.

"Get the equipment ready," ordered Professor Walsh, and the two men moved out of Buffy's vision. The professor herself stayed near Buffy, grabbing her wrist and putting her fingers on the vein, as if checking her pulse. As several seconds went by, Buffy assumed she was doing just that.

Professor Walsh dropped Buffy's wrist and it landed on the gurney with a thud. Then the professor stepped closer to Buffy, looking her in the face with an expression that was half curiosity and half disgust. Buffy struggled to keep her eyes open.

"That dosage could have knocked out an elephant," said the professor. She touched Buffy's arm with her fingertips and dragged them along her skin. "What are you?"

Buffy tried to open her mouth, to claim that she was just a girl, but she couldn't even move her tongue.

"What are you?" Professor Walsh repeated. Then she smiled. "No matter. We're going to find out."

She stuck her hands under the hem of Buffy's T-shirt and yanked it over her head. Buffy felt goosebumps prickle along her bare skin. If she'd suspected that something nasty was going to happen before, she was absolutely certain of it now.

The professor left Buffy in her sports bra and pants as she walked to the other side of the room. She returned momentarily with what looked like a television on wheels, connected to several wires with circular stickers on the ends of them. Placing one hand possessively on Buffy's stomach, the professor stuck one of the stickers over Buffy's heart, another at the base of her ribcage, and two more on each of her temples. In response, the television lit up with green lines that arched upward and downward in rhythm, accompanied by a beeping sound. My heartbeat, Buffy thought.

"Is everything ready, soldier?" the professor said, not turning her gaze away from Buffy.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good."

The professor wheeled her closer to the two men, who had assembled what looked to be two metal poles, standing straight up from the ground and connected by a third pole that sat horizontally between them. The structure formed a rectangle, a bit like a swingset, and was a foot taller than both men. Two metal cuffs were attached to the horizontal pole. Buffy eyed them forebodingly.

The men grabbed Buffy's arms and and hoisted her off the gurney, lifting her arms into the cuffs. The professor clicked them shut around her wrists, and then the men let Buffy's body drop. She hung suspended, toes grazing the floor, head falling forward because her neck couldn't support her. The professor wheeled the television closer, and Buffy listened to the rapid beeping of her heart.

The older, bald man spoke in another language, maybe Russian, before laying one hand on the small of Buffy's back and pressing his fingers into her stomach, seemingly probing around for something. Dangling from the metal bar, Buffy's head was higher than his, and if she had had the motor function she would have spit on him.

The professor spoke back to the man in Russian, then came up beside him, laying her hand where the man had been probing her stomach. They said another few words before Professor Walsh drew a scalpel out of her labcoat. It glinted in the bright fluorescent light.

"Don't." In her terror, Buffy managed to get her mouth to form the word.

The professor looked up at Buffy, shocked, then smiled. "You'd be much better off if you just went to sleep."

Professor Walsh plunged the scalpel into Buffy's lower abdomen, slicing a thin line from her hipbone to her belly button. Buffy whimpered as she watched beads of blood form along the line, before the wound began to drizzle freely. The television beeped faster.

"Riley, bring me a swab," said Professor Walsh.

Buffy heard the smacking of the younger man's boots against the floor as he followed her orders. Soon, the professor held a long, thin, white stick in her hand, fuzzed with cotton on one end. She reached into her labcoat and pulled out a test tube filled with blue liquid. After dunking the swab into the blue stuff, she jammed the swab into the slit in Buffy's abdomen, dragging it through the entire length of the wound. Buffy howled.

"Don't you think you should give her some more anesthesia?" the young soldier said. Buffy's head was dropped too low to see his face, but she could hear the pain in his voice.

Professor Walsh took her scalpel and cut another line into Buffy's abdomen, higher on her stomach but horizontal to the first one. Buffy let out a shriek.

"Why would I do that?" the professor said.

"She's clearly in pain."

The professor jammed another chemical-drenched swab into the wound, and Buffy exploded with screams. "And?" The professor turned to face the soldier. "This is not a person, Riley. This is a creature. We don't care when creatures are in pain."

There was a moment of silence, and then soldier said, "Yes, ma'am."

The professor made six more cuts into Buffy's stomach, drenching each of them in the blue fluid. By the end of this, Buffy felt like her stomach was on fire, and she had traded in her screams for continuous moaning. Then the three left her hanging for what felt like hours, returning periodically to examine her. She hung there in a sort of fog, grimacing each time someone put her hands on her, wondering where she was and why she was being treated like an test subject.

Finally, the young man entered the room alone. Buffy had regained enough of her mobility to raise her head and frown at him.

"Done for the day," Riley said, reaching up to undo the cuffs. As he let one of her arms drop, it sung with pain, the muscle stretched out and exhausted from the hours it had supported her entire body. He grasped her torso as he undid the second cuff, supporting her entire weight on his shoulder as she dropped from the metal bar. Buffy attempted to kick her way free, but her limbs felt like they were full of lead, and she did nothing more than slowly flail as he carried her to the gurney and lay her on her back.

After fastening her to the flat surface, he took a wet cloth and rubbed Buffy's stomach with it. The wounds had long stopped bleeding, but were crusted with dried blood. Buffy watched the concentration in his eyes, and noticed that the towel seemed to have been warmed up.

"What is this place?" Buffy hissed.

Riley glanced at her, but quickly returned his attention to cleaning off the wounds, acting as if she hadn't spoken.

"Help me," Buffy said. "Please."

This time Riley didn't even glance at her.

When he was done cleaning her stomach, Riley rolled her back to the little room she had come from. Faith put her hands in the air and flattened herself against the wall when she saw them approaching. Riley didn't pay her any attention, opening the door and rolling Buffy inside. Once there, he unlatched the cuffs around Buffy's wrists and ankles and exited the cell. The glass panel slammed shut behind him.

Buffy curled into a ball and squeezed her eyes shut, her stomach still throbbing and her shoulders sore. When she opened her eyes, Faith was slouched against the wall, a mischievous smile on her face.

"So," Faith said, eyes twinkling, "how was your day?"

I'll be posting tomorrow, so come on back. I know you want to know what happens next :)