Chapter 4

Buffy walked.

In a wide-open field of wheat she walked. Slowly, peacefully, she brushed her hands over the many stalks as a small breeze stirred them, the rustling lending a chorus all of its own. She paused briefly, closing her eyes to drink in the serenity and sheer peace surrounding her. Smiling, she could hear the sounds of birds chirping in the background. Opening her eyes, she tilted her head in puzzlement when she noticed a structure right in the center of the field. Curious, she started towards it. Her smile slowly faded as she began to notice the structure for what it was.

A door.

The smile soon began to turn to a worried frown as she noticed a number written in big letters on the door.

314.

Coming right up to the door, she saw a handle on it. She stared at it for moments, before a peaceful resolve came over her. Glancing one last time at the peace around her, she grasped the handle and opened the door, stepping through. Upon passing the doorway, she stopped suddenly when she realized she was now in a cemetery. The door closed slowly behind her, and she barely registered when she looked behind her that the door vanished.

The scene before her was much different to what she had seen before. An overcast day, close to dusk greeted her. Curiously, as she approached any grave, the name written on the tombstone became impossible to read. She continued walking until she came to a clearing that had a small tree growing in the center. Next to the tree, with its headstone facing away, was a freshly made grave. Walking closer, she noticed a man and a woman, both dressed in black, near the site. The man was kneeling in front of the headstone, one hand clenching the freshly dug-up dirt, while the other covered his face. The woman, her face covered in a thick veil, had one hand on the man's shoulder, as he seemed to cry. Neither seemed to take notice of Buffy as she walked right up from behind the headstone. She stopped suddenly when she noticed something about the man, particularly his hair. Frosted Blonde. Eyes widening, she looked up at the woman. A pair of sad, green eyes gazed up at her through the veil. Although she couldn't see the rest of the face, she could tell that the woman was also smiling sadly at her. She nodded at Buffy and then looked back down at the man.

Nervous, Buffy started to walk around the grave, determined to read the name written on the headstone. As she started, a large hand grabbed her shoulder from behind and gently held her in place. Gazing down at the hand, her breath caught in her throat as she noticed a ring. Before she could turn around, a deep voice spoke:

"Buffy, wake up."

---

Gasping, Buffy woke. She groaned as she clutched her head at the memory of the dream. It was one aspect, in terms of being the Slayer, which she absolutely hated. The last time she remembered such a vivid dream was when it involved Jenny Calendar. She swallowed and shivered at what happened at the end of that whole episode. She shook the cobwebs from her head, realizing that she wasn't getting anything done by just laying there. As to where she was laying, she couldn't quite tell. Slowly getting up, she hissed when a sharp pain lanced through her side, forcing her back down. Gingerly feeling her side, she could tell that the area was quite tender.

Not broken, but definitely bruised.

Last she remembered, she pushed Adam off the side, but at the last second he managed to grab her and take her down with him. From where she lay, she tried to get a bearing of where she was. Looking up she noticed rows of large lights on the ceiling. The area she was lying on seemed wooden, grainy even. Gritting her teeth she sat up and noticed that she was lying on a large box. Looking around, she saw nothing but stacks upon stacks of boxes, of various sizes all over. The containers ranged from the size of trunks, to the size of houses, the latter she found she was lying on.

My God, I'm in an underground warehouse! Just how big is this Initiative, anyway?

From her perch, she could easily see that the room was almost the width and length of a football field. She then stopped suddenly when she realized one very obvious thing was missing: Adam. She looked all around her, but couldn't find the cyborg.

Ok, Slayer, enough sightseeing. Time to get this over with.

She swung over the side, and landed on the hard cement floor. She stood silent for a moment, straining to hear anything. When nothing popped up, she started walking, wondering how the rest of the gang were doing…especially Willow.

---

"OPEN THE BLOODY DOOR!" screamed Spike as he slammed his foot on the steel-reinforced hatch. He'd wasted precious minutes shaking off various demons and backtracking until he reached his final destination: the med lab. If any place could help Willow, it would be here. He could feel Willow stir and moan, and even without his vampire-enhanced senses, he could tell she was hanging on by a bare thread. The blood was down to a trickle from her wound, but he was having a hard time controlling his demon, which was screaming at the smell and touch of her sweet blood.

With a growl, he stepped from the steel hatch to a huge glass partition that overlooked the entire med lab area. Peering in he could make out one individual, dressed in full biohazard gear, looking into a computer. He kicked at the window until he got the person's attention. The person glanced over and almost dismissed Spike, until he got a look at Willow. Walking over, he peered down at her then at Spike. Gently, Spike showed the man the knife that was protruding from Willow's back. Shocked, the man hit a button.

"Step away from the door," he said through a speaker grille.

Spike did as told. He could see the man grab a rifle, and holding it unsteadily, cycled through two doors before he reached Spike. The man, obviously not a commando, pointed the rifle in Spike's general area. He was definitely nervous about the way the man was shaking, as well as how he held the rifle.

"Bloody hell, mate! Could you point that thing someplace else?"

"Who are you? Are you one of those things? What happened to her?" The man asked nervously.

"Look mate, I didn't come here to play 20 bloody questions. All you need to know is that this girl has a very large knife stuck in her. You're a doctor, so you're going to help her." With that he simply walked past the doctor and entered the lab. The doctor, befuddled, followed.

---

Xander swore.

For the second time they had tried the spell, and, for the second time, they failed. Riley, even with coaching, kept flubbing on the pronouncing of the last part of the spell. Giles, for all his patience, took his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"All right, we'll give it another try."

"Again?" Xander had enough. "Giles, this is the second time we've tried this! Buffy, Willow, and yes even Spike may be dead by now!" he glanced over and glared at Riley. "And all because Captain America here can't…" before he could finish Riley lashed out, grabbed Xander and pounded him to the wall.

"Don't you blame this on me; I'm doing the best I can!!"

"Yeah, well if it wasn't for your goddamned Initiative, we wouldn't have the problem of Adam, the fight out there, and the entire mess that this all came down to!!" Xander shot back.

"STOP IT, BOTH OF YOU!!" yelled a stentorian voice. Surprised, both Riley and Xander looked over. Giles, in full Ripper-mode, glared at the two young men.

"How dare you," he whispered. "People are dying out there, and all the two of you can do is have a pissing contest?!" Both men looked down, neither able to look Giles in the eye. Reluctantly, Riley let go of Xander.

"Good, now then 'children'." Both men blushed as he stressed the word. "We can't keep stressing over who's alive or not. What I do know is everyone is counting on us. The only thing they have going for them is the hope that we'll back them up. Well, I, for one, refuse to let them down." He walked back to one corner of the floor design and folding his arms, glared at the other two. Riley, embarrassed, looked at Xander.

"Sorry."

"My fault, I'm just…pissed I can't be there with them."

"Me too."

"Shall we try again?" asked Giles. Both men nodded. "Good, now sit your asses down."

---

Buffy peeked around a corner of boxes. She wished she had some kind of weapon to use, and prayed that Giles and the rest would hurry with the spell. Seeing nothing, she kept to the sides of the boxes, as well as the shadows, and walked in. Several feet in, she stopped when she heard heavy boots coming from behind. She turned and there he was. From what she could see, Adam seemed back up to speed.

"So, I guess it's just us now," she said.

Adam nodded. "So it would seem."

Something tickled at the back of her mind, warning her that something was wrong. She couldn't see anything, no backup for Adam. He just stood there. Eyes narrowing, she started to walk towards him. As she got to within ten feet of him, she stopped when she heard a noise. Suddenly, from behind, several large boxes fell from each side, blocking her way. She snapped her head back to see a grinning Adam, who gestured with his right arm. Her eyes widened as the arm suddenly morphed, and pieces started to slip into place, revealing a spinning minigun and rocket launcher.

Great! He's a Transformer!

Without thinking she threw herself behind a container as tracers flew all around her, tearing up everything. Bullets sprayed everywhere, wood and concrete being torn up and spraying all over Buffy. The bullets stopped suddenly and she caught the sound of something going 'Click!'. Taking a risk, she looked around the side of the container just as a small rocket on Adam's arm pointed in her direction.

"Shit!" she screamed, as she dove for cover, just as the area around her erupted in an explosion. Coughing, she quickly looked around for some kind of escape. She spotted it. On the ceiling, near one of the containers, was an air vent. She also noticed several boxes that that led up to the vent. With smoke still wafting around, she leapt to the first box and jumped to the edge of the next. Ignoring the bullets that were, quite literally, on her heels, she flipped over to the next box, jumped on top of the large container, and pulled herself, feet-first into the vent. As soon as she got in, she started to scramble down the vent.

Adam, for his part, was actually pleased with the Slayer's performance. But he also felt that her exit was far too early in the game. Switching to infrared, he could see her form move quickly through the ducts. He smiled grimly as he took aim.

Buffy crawled forth in the ducts hoping to find a way out, as she rounded a corner the area just ahead of her suddenly got chewed up by bullets. Backtracking quickly, she turned the other way, but that also started to get riddled by tracers.

"Aaahhhhaaaaaaaaaaaahh!!!" she screamed, huddling in a corner as bullets chewed and twisted metal all around her. An explosion rocked the entire area as the whole vent tore from the ceiling and fell to the ground in a loud crash. When through, Adam calmly looked around the debris and found the Slayer, unconscious, but amazingly enough, none the worse for wear.

"Your resilience is astounding," he commented, not caring if she heard him or not. Coming up to her, he pointed the gun right to her head, and stood there.

I could kill you right now, and you wouldn't know the difference. He thought. Staying there for several moments, he finally lowered his arm, which morphed back, and stepped aside. Looking down one last time, he turned and walked away.

Time enough, he thought, for the final act.

---

"Can you help her?" hissed Spike at the doctor as he inspected the wound. The doctor, nervous, looked up.

"I don't know. She lost a lot of blood, and from what I can tell the knife penetrated her left lung, collapsing it. Also, there's fluid buildup…" Before he could finish, Spike grabbed him by the shirt, and gritting his teeth to the pain from the chip, lifted him off the floor.

"Listen you bloody quack," he said through clenched teeth, "I don't want an episode of ER spelled out for me. All I know is that if she dies, you die. So, I will ask you again, nicely, Can.You.Help.Her?"

The doctor, eyes bulging, tried to speak. "I'm…not an…..M.D.!…I'm a…Neurophysiologist!" he started to choke. "But, I'll do the best I can!" Spike, somewhat satisfied, dropped him.

"Spike?" he heard in a small, pained voice. He rushed to Willow's side as he grabbed her hand and looked down. He grimly noted that she was much paler than usual, her lips almost blue. Every so often, she would cough, and wince at the pain. She was lying on her side, due to the fact that they didn't know what to do yet about the knife.

"Yes, luv?" he asked as he cupped her cheek. Willow looked around as best she could.

"Where…are we?" she whispered.

"Medical area, Red. I figured," he glared at the doctor who was rubbing his neck, "that this would be the best place to take you."

"You…brought me all the way here?" she asked, a bit puzzled.

"Hell, Luv," Spike said. "I wasn't going to let you die." Although too tired for tears, a small hand came up and brushed his cheek.

"Thank you," she said softly. Spike gripped her hand, was about to say something, when the doctor stepped in.

"Ok, I think I know what we have to do. We're going to have to pull the knife out."

"Ok, what do you want me to do?" asked Spike. The doctor just looked at him. "Well, you pull the knife out and I'll start applying pressure." Spike's eyes widened as he looked from the knife to the doctor and back.

"Me? As in, me pull the knife out?"

"You're obviously the stronger," the doctor said ruefully.

" 'Pull the knife out'? As in this will cause her considerable pain, right?" he asked softly.

"Unfortunately, yes," the doctor said as he busied with getting some gauze. "The morphine drip I've set up for her should help, but, yes, it will hurt." Spike started to chew on his lower lip as he looked down at Willow, her breathing becoming shallow.

Bloody hell, this really puts a new spin on the whole 'this'll hurt me more than it'll hurt you' bit!

"Ready?" the doctor asked. Spike took an unnecessary breath, nodded, and then went behind Willow.

"Doc," he said, as he gingerly clutched at the handle. "Promise me something?"

"What?"

Spike stared at the doctor, his eyes icy cold. "No matter, what happens, no matter what you see, you stick to helping Willow."

Confused, the doctor nodded nonetheless. "On three?" Spike nodded. "One…two…THREE!!" With a sickening pop, Spike pulled the knife free. Willow screamed in pain.

"Aahh!!" Something akin to several red-hot pokers jammed through Spikes brain as he screamed in agony. The knife slipped through his fingers as he clutched his head. A virtual firework of lights went off behind his eyes as he grunted in pain.

"Are you all right? What's the matter?" asked the doctor, seeing Spike writhe on the ground. Facing away, Spike moaned.

"See…to the girl…don't worry..'bout me…"

"But if there's something…" he stopped suddenly as Spike whirled around and grabbed the doctor, who gaped at what he saw before him. Fully vamped out, Spike had a nosebleed, as well as a bloodshot eye, all from the chip. He grunted while the doctor writhed in his grasp.

"Help her!" he said as he pointed to Willow's moaning form. Sweating profusely, the doctor ran back. Over the next several minutes, Spike let the pain slide by. After several tries, he finally got to his feet, and walked over to Willow's side. The doctor was on the other side, deliberately not looking in Spike's direction as he continued to take readings. Spike came up and grabbing a bit of leftover gauze, he wiped the blood from his nose.

"How is she?" he croaked out.

The doctor looked up at him. "I think she's barely stable. Like I said, she lost a lot of blood, but as long as nothing happens to her and she's not moved…" Spike nodded and gently wiped a few stray strands of hair from Willow's face.

"You're Hostile 17, aren't you?" the doctor asked suddenly. Spike looked up sharply.

"How would you know?" he asked suspiciously. "You're not a commando. You're obviously one of those egghead doc…" he stopped suddenly. He looked around at where he was: The operating theater…equipment…neurophysiologist?? With a feral growl, he leaned forward, and even with the renewed pain, he grabbed the doctor and screamed:

"You did this to me!"

(Continued)