By PassionFish
As always – thanks to all the great reviewers out there! Sorry it took so long - again; more soon…as long as get those yummy reviews!!!
Part Twelve:
A/N: Thank-you to Lady Brandywyne, for all her support on the past few chapters!
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
There were at least fifty machines in the cold, sterile room. Seemingly hundreds of wires and needles. All manners of scientific instruments were spread out across a large, metallic table...torture in the name of science.
Five cold, sterile men, each equipped with clip-boards and flip-top pens stood staring dispassionately at the results the computers spewed out every few seconds.
White and silver...white and silver; the only constant colours in the room.
In the centre of the room, a single body lay icy and unresponsive like the room around her. A thin, white sheet was all that covered her modesty. Tubes, wires and needles wove in and out of the orifices in her skin. Thin plastic bands strapped her wrists and ankles down to the metallic bed beneath her.
The men continued to move about the prone ex-Slayer, checking the outputs on the various screens and scribbling illegible notes on their clipboards as they did so.
The silence was interrupted with a large bang, as a heavy door opened inwards, seemingly from a plain, white wall. Sharp heels clicked loudly on the tiled floor as Walsh came closer to her prize.
With a satisfied smile, she gazed down at the unconscious vampire. *Perfect.*
"I see you've begun" She began curtly, and the five men looked up sharply, immediately pausing in the work as they became fearful of her response. "Good."
The relieved hiss of breath was audible in the practically silent room.
"We are here, gentlemen, to discover the essence of a Vampire. The essence of a Slayer. What it is that makes one, and what the other. And what is it that drives them together." She let her gaze flow over the assembled men, before resting on Buffy. "As you are well aware, this subject is unique and possibly irreplaceable...currently."
"As such, I hope you understand that I expect her to remain alive, uh, so to speak, for the duration of our study."
Walsh carefully slid the medical gloves on to her hands as she regarded the tray of metal implements before her. With a brutish smile that chilled her companions, she picked up the first piece...effortlessly sliding it into the Slayer's skin.
The vampiress arched in pain, but did not waken; too heavily drugged...for the moment.
And now the room had another constant colour.
Red.
Blood red.
----
Angelus
growled in agitation, cast yet another disparaging glance towards the door.
There was good news...and bad.
Spike had yet to return to the mansion they'd made their home, but so had the
ex-Slayer.
He threw down the glass of fresh blood that was in his hand, and stalked to the
front door, slamming it open. He was assaulted with a large stream of sunlight
straight to his exposed face, neck and arms. He growled in pain and anger, and
sent the door crashing back closed with charred hands.
He snarled, only causing further pain to his inflamed face.
With an unearthly roar, he grabbed a near-by minion who had the up most
misfortune to be passing at that moment, and sunk his harsh fangs into her cool
neck. The fresh blood refreshed the elder Vampire, and he let the drained
Vampiress fall to the ground, unconscious.
Calmer than before, and wounds almost closed, he retreated to 'his' part of the
mansion - the same part that Spike had once been rejected to.
He'd wait for the sun to go down, and then he'd look for the Slayer.
And if he didn't find her, then he'd just have to pay a special visit to a certain
college professor.
----
He was warm. There was a strange warmth emanating from above him, curling around him, bathing him. Loving him.
Spike smiled contently, *Buffy....*
With a sloppy smile he reached up for her. When he didn't find her, he rolled over, expecting her to be next to him. Instead he received a mouthful of dirt for his troubles.
He sat up in shock, spitting the mud out as wide blue orbs tried to assess the situation.
Above him, the sun shone strongly and he panicked, darting to the shadows out of habit, completely forgetting about the ring of Amara as his memory returned to the previous night.
*Buffy!*
His pale hand rose to absently wipe the last remnants of dirt from his lips as he stared at his surroundings.
He was near Chez Luis - the restaurant that Buffy had wanted him to take her to the night before. At least he hoped it was just the night before. He felt like he'd been out for days.
He scented the air. He could still smell Buffy, but it was faint - and could just be accounted to his clothes. Spike growled in frustration; this wasn't helping.
They'd had dinner inside...then again outside.
Laughter, and kissing...
Then shouting - and a lot of fucking pain! He figured his knocked out state to be on account of electricity; the blue shots flared in his memory. *Right, so that rules out the Council of Wankers.*
Something else...
Blue light...guns....
Soldiers.
"Fuck me...." He murmured, as he picked up the pace towards his car, the pieces finally starting to fall together in his memory.
The military.
What the fuck would they want with...*Slayer....They want a vamped Slayer.*
But who would tell them - how the fuck would they even know? Demons did not tend to mix with the military. Unless...
"ANGELUS!"
The car roared to life in duet with the Master Vampire's voiced conclusion and sped back towards the mansion....and answers.
Suddenly, he doubled over in pain as a sharp gash magically formed itself across his abdomen. The car swerved as the vampire growled, but quickly righted itself before it was back on it's course.
It was the bond. Heightened by their being Sire and Childe, and Mates to boot.
His pain was hers...and vice versa. As it should be. Except, he couldn't find her...he needed to help, but he didn't know where she was.
But he knew someone who would.
*I'm comin', Slayer...Hold on, love....I'm comin'....*
TBC
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