Chapter 5

Buffy groaned as she picked herself up, pushing away debris that had fallen all over her. She sat up and tried to assess how badly she was hurt. Aside from many cuts and bruises, she was thankful that she had no broken bones, though her ribs still felt a bit tender. Still crouched, she looked around, but found no sign of Adam.

He had the chance to kill me, but didn't. Why? Somehow I don't think I was spared out of the goodness of his uranium heart, she thought grimly, as she slowly started walking.

Some distance away, Adam was keeping a close eye on the Slayer. Cameras, strategically placed, gave him a birds-eye view of where the woman was headed. They relayed their info to a laptop in front of the cyborg. Behind him, he could sense the growing restlessness from the dozen or so demons at his command. They, out of all the others, had survived to make it down here to the rendezvous. His elite, as it were.

"Adam," one particularly spiny demon growled. "Why do we wait? We can take the Slayer now! Hell, you yourself had the chance to take her out!" A growing murmur of assent rippled through the demons. Adam stood, and faced the crowd. He walked among them as he talked.

"I understand your unrest, and yes, you could take the Slayer now. But what of the next one? And the next one after that? Is it not written that as one Slayer dies, another takes her place?" Several demons nodded grimly. Adam pointed to the screen. "She is, by far, the strongest one that has to come pass. To know how she fights, how she adapts, how she reacts, would give us an exclusive advantage over all future Slayers." Glancing at each other, Adam could see the understanding dawning in many of their faces.

"You all know your places?" All nodded. Adam pointed once more to the image of the Slayer. "Then go." Grunts and hisses of excitement rippled through the crowd as they all prepared for the final confrontation. As the last left, Adam strode up to his laptop, and slowly closed the lid.

Soon.

---

Spike stood there trembling with rage as he held on to the doctor. With a pained grunt, he let him go. "You bloody well put this chip in my head…you're gonna take it out!" he ground out as he rubbed his temple.

The doctor, nervous as all hell at being this close to a vampire, merely shook his head. "I can't."

Spike's eyes narrowed as he slowly advanced on the doctor. "Can't or won't?"

"I can't," he said, and quickly brought his hands up as Spike growled and kept coming. "You have to understand," he began, as he skittered away, "The chip you're carrying is experimental! You're lucky to be alive!"

Spike stopped at that and looked him straight in the eye. "What the bloody hell do you mean by that?" he said through clenched teeth.

The doctor swallowed before continuing. "What you're carrying is the end result of years in cybernetics!"

Spike, one eye twitching from the pain, clenched and unclenched his hands. "Do you bloody speak English?!"

'You're carrying an organic chip, not a microchip you'd find in computers!" the doctor squeaked out as his back hit the end of the far wall.

"Gee," Spike started sarcastically. "No wonder I didn't find a bloody tattoo that read 'Intel Inside' painted on my head!"

Ignoring the comment, the doctor continued, "Due to organic nature of the implant, we found that, after insertion, the chip bonded to the cerebral cortex. Unfortunately, the initial three test subjects died at varying times after the operation."

Spike glared at the doctor. "Are you telling me I have a time bomb lodged in my head?!"

The Doctor shook his head. "No, you're past that. For all intents and purposes, it's a part of you now."

"So, there's no 'chipectomy' for me?"

"Not to bore you with the details…."

"Too bloody late for that," Spike muttered.

"…but no, not without severe damage to you." The doctor swallowed as he gave that prognosis, not knowing what to expect. Spike stood there, all tensed up, glaring at the doctor. Slowly, with his eyes still trained on him, Spike walked up to a table and grabbed the edge. He swallowed, looked away and down on the table.

"Get out," he said, just above a whisper. The doctor, dumbfounded, could only stare at Spike's back.

Eyes closed, Spike growled a little louder. "I said get out!" The doctor jumped and slowly made his way towards the main hatch. He paused briefly to look at Willow's prone body, and then quickly cycled the hatches to leave.

Spike counted to ten after hearing the doctor leave. When he got to one, he opened his eyes. With a scream, he threw the table on its side, spilling all it's contents on the floor. He rammed his fist on a nearby monitor, and pulled back a bloody hand as the monitor exploded in a shower of sparks. He pounded on a wall, and with head hung low in despair, crumpled to the ground in a heap. For long minutes, nothing could be heard, except the sound of the crackling of the smashed monitor. Eventually, a sound did emerge from that dark corner.

The sound of agonized weeping.

(Continued)