Chapter 31 - Captured

On the way out to the van, I kept trying to put myself between Buffy and those guns, but there were too many. They load us into the van, pushing us in, not caring that Buffy is pregnant, and she sprawls on the floor in a way that would never have happened if she hadn't got the extra weight throwing her off-balance.

I'm torn between terror at what's going to happen, and fury at the way they're treating her, and I'm working hard to concentrate on the fury because I know that if I give way to the terror, I'll be useless.

Two armed men follow us into the back of the van, then Dawson climbs in behind. She's still grinning, looking so pleased with herself. I notice that she's doing her best to keep the armed men between her and us, but she looks confident enough.

As I hear the engine start, she fishes into her pocket and pulls out a small recording device. I instinctively know that it contains the sounds that will cause me to collapse in agony, and I can feel the terror threatening to break through.

"Ah, he knows what I have here," Dawson purrs. "Do you understand the significance of this?" she asks Buffy, waving the device in front of her face, her finger never leaving the button.

"I can imagine," Buffy murmurs, and I feel the waves of anger coming from her at the way I'm being threatened. "It's the thing you use to hurt him, because you know you could never hurt him without it."

The total disdain in Buffy's voice makes her sound so cold, but I know that white-hot anger is running through her, and that's it's only cast iron control that's stopping her from acting.

I know what's coming, what they plan, or at least I can imagine it, and I know that we've run out of options. For my sake, but also for Buffy's and Zara's, we have no choice other than to do something. Two armed men and Dawson, we're probably not going to have better odds than this again.

I'm moving slowly, doing my best to put myself between Buffy and the guns, and praying that she knows what I'm doing. It's going to be up to her to make sure that Dawson either doesn't get the chance to switch on that device, or to stop it bloody fast, 'cos I won't be able to.

She's giving no sign of recognition that I can see, but that's what I want. Total surprise. I'm doing my best to look like I've stopped thinking clearly, that the threat has all but made me useless already. I'm let my shoulders slump, and I'm not meeting her eyes. Not that that's difficult, the sight of that bloody thing is enough to do that anyway.

This is it, one more shuffle, and I'll be close. I know there's almost no chance of success, but I've got to do it, for them. I'm on the verge of moving, when I hear it. The van stops, and I can hear arguing from outside. Never one to look a gift-horse in the mouth, I take the opportunity while everyone's attention has wandered.

The next few seconds are a blur of pain. I throw myself at the armed men, taking several bullets in the process, and an instant later, that noise starts again, and with it the agony in my head. For a couple of seconds, I actually feel relief that I can no longer feel the pain from my wounds, but then the other pain reaches levels where thought is almost impossible. I fill my mind with visions of Buffy and our daughter, and I continue my assault on the men, pummelling and punching, albeit with more strength than co-ordination, acting purely on instinct. I feel the pain in my head increasing, becoming more and more unbearable, and I know that consciousness will soon be gone. I hope Buffy has Dawson under control.

*-*-*

I watch with dismay as I see Spike slump at the sight of that recorder. I know what it is, and I understand Spike's reaction. It takes me a second or two to realise that the feelings he's giving off don't match his physical reaction. He's not as dejected as his body language is implying. And he's moving, well, more shuffling towards the guns. He's going to attack the ones he can affect, and it's going to be up to me to sort Dawson. Ok, just what I wanted to do anyway.

I'm struggling to keep talking to Dawson. She's using a conversation with me to add to Spike's apprehension at what's to come. I don't even know if what I'm saying is making any sense, because I'm concentrating on Spike, hoping to catch some sign of when he decides to act.

I'm surprised when the van comes to a sudden stop, and I hear raised voices from outside. I don't know what's happened, and, by the look of it, neither does Dawson, but while she's distracted, Spike makes his move.

He moves quickly, but I immediately hear gunfire. I ignore it, turning instead to Dawson. One glance and it's obvious she hadn't planned on this. She thought she'd broken Spike so completely that he wouldn't be able to do anything.

Even so, I'm not quick enough, and the air fills with a noise. In itself, it's not exactly musical, but it's not unpleasant either, but I know what its purpose is. My instinct is to turn around and see what's happening to Spike, but I fight it and lunge at Dawson instead. She's faster than I'd have thought, and she evades my first attempt. I lunge again, and realise that the gunfire has stopped. That either means that Spike's been stopped, or that he's incapacitated the guards, but again, I don't dare look around to see. On my second attempt, I manage to knock the recorder out of Dawson's hands, and it skitters along the floor out of reach. I scramble for it, switching it off, and see Spike lying on top of the two men, sprawled, not moving. I'm scared for him, but I've got to accept that he knew what he was doing, and that he did it for Zara.

I know time's against us, as the noise of the scuffle must have filtered through to outside by now, so I've got to finish this, and now. I throw myself at Dawson, who's looking part scared, part hopeful. She knows help's on the way, but this time, I put everything I've got into the kick I aim at her, and she falls, hitting her head on the side of the van before slumping, unconscious, to the floor.

I rush to Spike, and pick him up. There've been times when Slayer strength wasn't welcome, but this isn't one of them. I kick open the back of the van, and jump out, ready to run.

To my surprise, I'm met with Riley. He's pointing a gun at me, but there's something about his face that says 'Trust me', and when I look around to see a barrage of armed men I realise I have no choice.

He barks an order I don't hear to one of the men who goes into the van and comes out carrying Dawson. He then points towards another van, and I walk, carrying Spike, towards it. For an instant, I thought I saw Anya in the crowd, but it was so fast, I think I may have imagined it.

I hear another barked order, this time a 'Stand down', as I lift Spike into the back of the other van. A moment later, Dawson's inert form is dumped on the floor beside me, then Riley gets in, with another man whose face I recognise, but can't immediately place.

I feel betrayed. He asked me, begged me, with his eyes, to trust him, but ..

I ignore them. I'm holding Spike in my arms, checking him first for wounds. He's taken eight, four in his chest, two in his right leg and one in his left, with another grazing his cheek. I look around, desperately searching for something to use to stem the blood flow, and I'm handed a piece of cloth. I glance up at the hand holding it, and see Riley, his jacket discarded, and his white, cotton t-shirt in his hand. I nod my thanks, and start to rip up the offering to make padding and rough bandages.

"We'll get someone to look at him when we arrive."

Riley's voice barely makes it through my consciousness. I look up from what I'm doing. Ok, I admit it. I'm confused. He sounds like he cares.

"Don't pretend you're interested," I mutter, under my breath, while I go back to my work.

I ignore him after that, although Riley and the other man are talking quietly, mainly about Dawson.

"She's hurt pretty bad," is the opinion of the other man. I've been wracking my brain since I saw him, trying to work out where I've seen him before. It's the connection with Dawson that does it, that's when I saw him before. He came looking for Riley, and she was there too. What was his name? Westgate, that was it, Simon Westgate.

When I've finished, I pull Spike's upper body into my lap, holding him tight as I sit against the side of the van. When they realise they've got my attention again, Riley squats beside me, trying to make eye contact.

"What?" I ask angrily. I'd actually believed he was on our side.

"Buffy, it's going to be ok," he promises.

"Oh, so you're going to take us home, and take that .. woman .. away to pay for what she's done to him?"

"Not exactly," he admits. "But, you've got to believe I don't mean you, either of you, any harm. Simon too. We just want to take you somewhere you'll be safe for a while. There're things you don't know, important things, things we've only discovered recently. I haven't been able to tell Giles everything, because we didn't want you giving anything away, but .."

"That's rich," I tell him. "You didn't want us giving anything away? You mean you just wanted to make sure we didn't get away."

I turn away from him then, because if I don't, I know I'll hit him, and at the moment, that won't do any good at all.

"I'll talk to you when you've calmed down a bit," he promises.

I really don't know what we've got to talk about, but right now, I'm more concerned about Spike. I remember the recorder in my pocket, and almost wish I hadn't brought it. It's a weapon that can be used against Spike, and that makes him more vulnerable. On the other hand, if I can get Willow to analyse it, maybe we can find some way to erase the effect it has on him. I'm torn between putting my hand in my pocket and just squeezing the thing until it's a useless pile of electronics, and ignoring it and hoping for the best. Of course, it's only a copy, and destroying it won't stop them from using another recording, so I decide to keep it, for now.

My mind goes back to when I thought I saw Anya. Could she be following us? Teleporting from place to place to keep track of us? I hope so, because with Spike in this state, we're in no position to consider another escape attempt without help.

I concentrate on Spike, feeling my love for him, hoping he can sense it, in the desperate hope that he'll be healed by it, at least until I can get hold of something sharp so I can give him some blood.

Riley's watching me, I can feel it without looking at him, but when I do glance up, I'm surprised at what I see. I don't see the face of self-congratulation that I expect. I see a face full of doubt and regret and not a little, well, not fear, but wariness. There's more going on here than I know about, but my first priority is Spike, so I go back to him, doing my best to show him with thought and touch that I'm here, and that I love him and need him like I never thought I'd need anyone.