Title: Try Not to Breathe
Summary: Set after Grave, Spike is captured by the Counsel of Watchers. Will Buffy find out? Will she care?
Rating: Right this second, PG-13. I expect the rating to go up as the work progresses.
Warning: I'm very busy with school and I am working on two other stories....so this may not be updated on a very regular basis.
Spike lost all sense of time and place as he stumbled through the cave. It seemed as though he would never reach the outside world, as the tunnel continued to twist and turn, sometime branching into two choices. At these forks, Spike would pause, scared and uncertain. What if he picked the wrong tunnel and was stuck wondering through the bowels of this cave forever? At this point, the prospect didn't seem entirely unlikely.
He rested occasionally, leaning up against the cold, wet wall and gasping for unneeded breath. He would fall asleep on his feet; too exhausted to keep his eyes open for another minute. Sleep also brought the blessed escape from the pain and hunger ripping through his body. But he could only rest for five or ten minutes at a time before he would jerk awake and continue to search for the way out.
Spike wasn't entirely alone in his quest for the moonlight. Somebody, or something, was following him, just on the outside of his senses. The presence was more of a tingle on the back of his neck than anything else, so he did his best to push it out of his head. If it were something hostile, it would have attacked him by now.
He was half walking, half limping and the sound of his bare feet scraping the dirt and the hard earthen floor echoed loudly off of the walls and the low ceiling that forced Spike to hunch over, nearly bending completely at the waist. Occasionally the sound of Spike's labored progress down the tunnel would be interrupted by a long, loud screech that pierced Spike's skull with intense pain. He was too tired to realize this tormented and tortured sound came from him.
Blood was still dripping from his ears, nose, and mouth and he absently brushed it away. He could feel it in him, moving around, settling in, and twisting his insides until the pain was too much to bear. Who knew that the sound the soul made was that of a little girl, crying pitifully for her life to be spared? Spike certainly didn't before, but he knew all too well now.
Each second stretched to a minute, and each minute an eternity. Why couldn't he find a way out? Was he just moving deeper into the cave? Did he somehow get turned around so completely that he would never find his way out again? And did it even matter anyway? Where was he going? He might as well just make himself comfortable in the endless tunnels, because once he returned to the world, there was nowhere for him to go. He was venturing out into the world that didn't need him and didn't want him, a world where he would be an abomination.
But he couldn't worry about that yet. His survival instinct had kicked in, and it pushed him to continue, even if he didn't have anything to continue for. Finally, he was forced to crawl, to weak to continue on his sore, bloody feet. He pulled himself a long by his hands, inch by painful inch. It occurred to him that he could be moving in circles, but there was no way to tell because everything looked the same-dirt floor, stone walls and darkness.
Spike only hoped that once he actually reached the opening of the cave, it would be dark and he wouldn't burst into flames. He needn't have worried. When he finally reached the mouth of the cave, a deep African night stretched before him. He felt that he could almost touch the inky blackness.
He was so relieved to reach the clean, fresh air and escape the stale darkness behind him that he didn't notice the small group of people waiting for him, just off the side. He collapsed onto the harsh sand, still warm from the sun that set just hours before, and shut his eyes. He just needed to rest-just for a moment. He would just close his eyes and..
Spike never saw the man who knocked him unconscious with the heavy, lead pipe.
~*~
The two men drove to the airport in silence. In their backseat, a very dangerous vampire lay sleeping. Only, he didn't look so dangerous anymore. He looked like shit. His skin was too pale and stretched across his bones tautly. He looked almost blue in the moonlight.
He was filthy, caked with mud made of dirt and blood. His body was covered in gashes and burns, and he looked like he couldn't hurt a fly. But the two men in the front seat were armed into the teeth and prepared to stake the wounded vampire if he attacked.
When they reached the airport, they moved quickly, doing their best to get the vampire into the plane before it stirred. They cuffed his hands behind him and chained him securely to the chair. Two large men sat across from him, armed with stakes, crosses, holy water, and tasers. They were both ready to kill if they had to, they knew their job.
They didn't know the particulars of the mission though. Both men were briefed on Spike, who he is, and his history, but they weren't told why it was important to keep the monster alive. Travers made it very clear that if they returned without the vampire, there would be dear consequences to pay.
"Do you have more chains?" The larger of the two asked.
"One more, Bob. Why? You don't think he's secure?"
"Just want to make sure we don't have to kill him. You know what Travers said."
"I know what he said, but I don't know why. Do you have any fucking clue why we're dragging this.animal.all they way to England from Africa?"
Bob shook his head, "I don't know why, and it's not my job to know why. My job is to make sure it reaches the Counsel in one piece."
"Right." They lapsed into silence as the airplane sputtered into life.
"We'll just hit him with a few volts if he acts up," Bob muttered.
"Right."
"Won't be a problem at all."
"Never is."
They both gripped their stakes tighter, as the plane took off and they realized they were stuck in a small, confined space with a known killer. Neither believed that chains could really hold the vampire if he wanted to be free. If he was hungry enough, nothing would hold him back.
When Spike opened his dull blue eyes, he didn't even react. They flickered over the two tense man, took in his surroundings, and then closed again. None of them spoke. The miles fell behind them as they rushed through the atmosphere towards the sun. It registered in Spike's tired brain that the sunrise was approaching, but he didn't really care. He'd rather the sun take him than one of the big goons staring back at him as though he was a bug caught under a piece of glass.
Despite his exhaustion, his interest was piqued. Why were they keeping him alive at all? Much less going to the trouble of keeping him chained and guarded? He sighed, probably just some blokes who wanted a spot of torture and decided he looked like a good candidate. That was the way his luck was going lately. But if he were being tortured, he wouldn't be able to think about Buffy, or the soul, or.anything else. That was something.
In the meantime, he hoped that they would knock him out again. It would be much easier to pass the flight in the blessed relief of sleep, but he didn't think that was likely. Spike didn't think any sort of relief would be coming his way any time soon.
Summary: Set after Grave, Spike is captured by the Counsel of Watchers. Will Buffy find out? Will she care?
Rating: Right this second, PG-13. I expect the rating to go up as the work progresses.
Warning: I'm very busy with school and I am working on two other stories....so this may not be updated on a very regular basis.
Spike lost all sense of time and place as he stumbled through the cave. It seemed as though he would never reach the outside world, as the tunnel continued to twist and turn, sometime branching into two choices. At these forks, Spike would pause, scared and uncertain. What if he picked the wrong tunnel and was stuck wondering through the bowels of this cave forever? At this point, the prospect didn't seem entirely unlikely.
He rested occasionally, leaning up against the cold, wet wall and gasping for unneeded breath. He would fall asleep on his feet; too exhausted to keep his eyes open for another minute. Sleep also brought the blessed escape from the pain and hunger ripping through his body. But he could only rest for five or ten minutes at a time before he would jerk awake and continue to search for the way out.
Spike wasn't entirely alone in his quest for the moonlight. Somebody, or something, was following him, just on the outside of his senses. The presence was more of a tingle on the back of his neck than anything else, so he did his best to push it out of his head. If it were something hostile, it would have attacked him by now.
He was half walking, half limping and the sound of his bare feet scraping the dirt and the hard earthen floor echoed loudly off of the walls and the low ceiling that forced Spike to hunch over, nearly bending completely at the waist. Occasionally the sound of Spike's labored progress down the tunnel would be interrupted by a long, loud screech that pierced Spike's skull with intense pain. He was too tired to realize this tormented and tortured sound came from him.
Blood was still dripping from his ears, nose, and mouth and he absently brushed it away. He could feel it in him, moving around, settling in, and twisting his insides until the pain was too much to bear. Who knew that the sound the soul made was that of a little girl, crying pitifully for her life to be spared? Spike certainly didn't before, but he knew all too well now.
Each second stretched to a minute, and each minute an eternity. Why couldn't he find a way out? Was he just moving deeper into the cave? Did he somehow get turned around so completely that he would never find his way out again? And did it even matter anyway? Where was he going? He might as well just make himself comfortable in the endless tunnels, because once he returned to the world, there was nowhere for him to go. He was venturing out into the world that didn't need him and didn't want him, a world where he would be an abomination.
But he couldn't worry about that yet. His survival instinct had kicked in, and it pushed him to continue, even if he didn't have anything to continue for. Finally, he was forced to crawl, to weak to continue on his sore, bloody feet. He pulled himself a long by his hands, inch by painful inch. It occurred to him that he could be moving in circles, but there was no way to tell because everything looked the same-dirt floor, stone walls and darkness.
Spike only hoped that once he actually reached the opening of the cave, it would be dark and he wouldn't burst into flames. He needn't have worried. When he finally reached the mouth of the cave, a deep African night stretched before him. He felt that he could almost touch the inky blackness.
He was so relieved to reach the clean, fresh air and escape the stale darkness behind him that he didn't notice the small group of people waiting for him, just off the side. He collapsed onto the harsh sand, still warm from the sun that set just hours before, and shut his eyes. He just needed to rest-just for a moment. He would just close his eyes and..
Spike never saw the man who knocked him unconscious with the heavy, lead pipe.
~*~
The two men drove to the airport in silence. In their backseat, a very dangerous vampire lay sleeping. Only, he didn't look so dangerous anymore. He looked like shit. His skin was too pale and stretched across his bones tautly. He looked almost blue in the moonlight.
He was filthy, caked with mud made of dirt and blood. His body was covered in gashes and burns, and he looked like he couldn't hurt a fly. But the two men in the front seat were armed into the teeth and prepared to stake the wounded vampire if he attacked.
When they reached the airport, they moved quickly, doing their best to get the vampire into the plane before it stirred. They cuffed his hands behind him and chained him securely to the chair. Two large men sat across from him, armed with stakes, crosses, holy water, and tasers. They were both ready to kill if they had to, they knew their job.
They didn't know the particulars of the mission though. Both men were briefed on Spike, who he is, and his history, but they weren't told why it was important to keep the monster alive. Travers made it very clear that if they returned without the vampire, there would be dear consequences to pay.
"Do you have more chains?" The larger of the two asked.
"One more, Bob. Why? You don't think he's secure?"
"Just want to make sure we don't have to kill him. You know what Travers said."
"I know what he said, but I don't know why. Do you have any fucking clue why we're dragging this.animal.all they way to England from Africa?"
Bob shook his head, "I don't know why, and it's not my job to know why. My job is to make sure it reaches the Counsel in one piece."
"Right." They lapsed into silence as the airplane sputtered into life.
"We'll just hit him with a few volts if he acts up," Bob muttered.
"Right."
"Won't be a problem at all."
"Never is."
They both gripped their stakes tighter, as the plane took off and they realized they were stuck in a small, confined space with a known killer. Neither believed that chains could really hold the vampire if he wanted to be free. If he was hungry enough, nothing would hold him back.
When Spike opened his dull blue eyes, he didn't even react. They flickered over the two tense man, took in his surroundings, and then closed again. None of them spoke. The miles fell behind them as they rushed through the atmosphere towards the sun. It registered in Spike's tired brain that the sunrise was approaching, but he didn't really care. He'd rather the sun take him than one of the big goons staring back at him as though he was a bug caught under a piece of glass.
Despite his exhaustion, his interest was piqued. Why were they keeping him alive at all? Much less going to the trouble of keeping him chained and guarded? He sighed, probably just some blokes who wanted a spot of torture and decided he looked like a good candidate. That was the way his luck was going lately. But if he were being tortured, he wouldn't be able to think about Buffy, or the soul, or.anything else. That was something.
In the meantime, he hoped that they would knock him out again. It would be much easier to pass the flight in the blessed relief of sleep, but he didn't think that was likely. Spike didn't think any sort of relief would be coming his way any time soon.