Chapter Thirteen
Sipping her mug of coffee Willow turned the page of the Council Report she was reading and jotted down a few notes on the notebook beside her. Sighing, she set down the mug and adjusted her position in the chair, pulling one leg under her body and resting her cheek on her hand. Glancing at the clock on the wall Willow saw it just past six in the morning and she had yet to sleep a wink in the past 48 hours. Yawning she shut the folder, pushing it aside, and opened another.
"Commander," a blonde-headed 3-D agent came scurrying into Willow's office, stopping several feet in front of her and saluting.
Without lifting her eyes Willow responded, "What is it, Younger?"
Frantically the young agent answered, "It's Denzure, ma'am."
Hearing the squad leader's name caught Willow's attention and she rose to her feet. "What's happened?"
"I don't know, ma'am," Younger said leading Willow quickly towards sick bay. "He was complaining of a headache an hour ago so he went to see the Doc and the last I saw of him he was sprawled out on one of the medic couches drugged up all ways to Sunday with some sleeping med but just two minutes ago he sprang up like a hound out of hell and – "
Lifting her hand Willow silence the young agent as they reached the Med Quarters. Squad leader Denzure was trashing the medic lounge, roaring like a beast and lashing out at the agents attempting to sedate him. Bloody nail marks colored his chest, where he had ripped the material of her shirt, and the palms of his hands. "Where's Hope?"
Agent Younger shrugged. "I don't know, ma'am."
"Find her," Willow barked, sending the fretful agent scurrying away.
Stepping into the windowless room Willow approached, slowly, only a few steps not wanting the crazed man to notice her. Watching him she took note that his movements were stiff, programmed almost, and though his head thrashed from one side to another his eyes remained oddly focused straight before him as though he were dreaming. The Council Commander recognized the symptoms immediately and swore under her breath.
Crouching under his desk the Doc clutched his knees to his chest, trembling, terrified eyes glued to the 3-D leader. Denzure's men, on the other hand, were trying, quite unsuccessfully, to corner the squad leader who was barring his teeth, growling, and slicing at the agents with an extremely sharp scalpel. All of the men were bleeding from at least one wound atop their arms or chest and most carried several oozing cuts. Willow counted three 3-D agents unconscious on the floor and guessed it would take only minutes for the others to join them.
"What the hell's going on in here?"
Willow spun around quick as lightning and cupped her hand over Cordelia's mouth, hissing, "Shut up!"
Too late.
Squad leader Denzure had heard the ex-cheerleader shrill voice and his interests had obviously been peaked. Knocking two agents away from him with fluid movements Denzure eyed Willow, growling. Shoving Cordelia back into Buffy's arms, who was rushing towards sick bay followed by Oz and Xander, Willow shot them a warning glare. Heeding the redhead's look the four stopped dead in their tracks while Willow moved forward.
Locking her eyes to Denzure's, knowing his distain for her would hold his anger solely upon her, Willow motioned to one of the 3-D agents standing near her. Shuffling slowly towards her the agent barely heard her whispered words, "Move the squad behind him and wait for my signal. Issue every agent a taser."
"But wouldn't tranquilizers work better?"
"We don't want to put him back to sleep, you fool," Willow snapped. "Now stop arguing, god damnit, and as I tell you."
"Yes, ma'am," the agent nodded, moving to do as he was commanded as Willow held Denzure's focus by pacing slowly side-to-side.
Denzure was beginning to foam at the mouth, a classic sign of Possession Burnout – an Infantry term used to describe the slacking strength of a shaman's link to his victim's subconscious. But, Willow also noted, the violet glow emitting from his eyes signaled that the Dé'sa was attempting to "up the stakes" – that is, transfer more of his own power into Denzure – which could very likely, Willow knew, kill the squad leader.
As Denzure continued to growl and hiss at Willow she watched, from the corner of her eye, as the 3rd Division agents positioned themselves behind their leader. Glancing quickly over Denzure's shoulder and seeing the final agent lock-and-load Willow gave the signal: a soft robin's call.
Denzure roared and collapsed to his knees as eight taser guns struck him in both sides. An electric hiss wafted through sick bay and sparks leapt about the squad leaders body but, eventually, Willow ordered the agents to pull away and Denzure fell forward, his head bouncing off the cement floor. Kneeling beside him Willow pressed her fingers to his neck and checked his pulse. He was still very much alive and awake but in momentary shock. Standing to her feet Willow gave orders for Denzure's care and instructed the Doc to perform a full check – like those he did daily on the Scooby's – and place his report in her hands by 1800 hours.
"And keep him awake," Willow added just before stepping out of sick bay. "I want him quartered in the vacated cage until further notice and under no circumstances is he to be approached without orders from me. Do I make myself clear?"
"Aye, Commander," the agents responded, saluting.
"Willow," Hope pushed past agent Younger and into Willow's arms.
Releasing a breath of relief Willow returned the embrace. "Oh, thank god."
"What happened?"
"Their fingers are stretching," Willow responded.
Hopes face fell slightly. "This is my fault."
"No," Willow said sternly. "It's never your fault." Hope tried to smile but frowned instead. "Don't worry, sweetie, you know I'd never let anything happen to you."
"I know that, Willow."
"But," Willow sighed, "this means you're going to need constant guard." Hope nodded her understanding. "You're not to take so much as a step without Spike, Dru or myself at your side. Understood?"
Hope nodded again and smile. "Roger that Pioneer."
Willow laughed and tussled the young Slayer's hair. "Good girl."
"Is everything okay?" Buffy asked.
Lifting her eyes Willow saw her old friends looking at her with expressions of perplexity and, to her complete surprise, respect – though the latter was slight and hardly noticeable. "For now, but I'm not holding my breath here."
