He lay still on the bed, the steel was cold against his bare back, he had photographic images running through his head like a roll of film, of masses of people coming at him bearing guns. Blind, but not deaf he listened to the clattering around him, he clenched his fist and yanked hard at the straps, he tensed his shoulders and tried to sit up, the straps dug into him in protest as he struggled. "I shouldn't do that if I were you, you mightn't hurt yourself". Spike had no desire to complain, he'd been in much worse situations, namely Glory, the initiative and the first, plus his body ached. He lay back down and breathed heavily. At that moment, as if it were an attempt to shut him up, he felt someone's hand press down firmly on his stomach, he groaned in pain tensing his stomach as far as he could to escape the coldness of its touch. He tried once more to move and instantly wished he hadn't bothered as the straps grew doubly tighter. He screwed up his face and wished that he hadn't gone back to his crypt again, sure it was once his crypt, but since he'd been gone, all kinds of evil had taken refuge there. He was quickly jerked out of his thoughts when he felt the hand exert more pressure on his flesh, it felt female, but it hurt like hell, he was strongly reminded of Buffy and wished it was her, but a niggling sensation in the back of his mind told him that it most certainly wasn't. In another part of his mind he pleaded for the pain to stop and at once, as if the person could hear his thoughts, the pressure was lifted. He gave a sigh of relief as the blindfold was removed. Allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness of the room he realised that he was in a large room of some sort, surrounded by... Initiative soldiers. Oh Bollocks!! He thought