Chapter 6

Buffy was feeling decidedly odd…  she itched.  Not in the regular prickle on the skin way, no, this was far more than that.  It was a tingle that started deep in her gut and was rippling outwards fast.  Her skin felt weird too, wrong somehow, like it didn’t fit.  The light was blindingly bright and she was far too hot.  And was it her imagination, or were her feet tinged with green? 

Anyanka stared aghast at the inexperienced spy as she tried time and again to break her restraints.  She didn't look well.  She hoped that whatever was in Nautilust's cocktail, it wasn't catching.  Green was absolutely not her colour. 

"Buffy, you are A-okay?  You feel good, da?  I'm sure the injection isn't life-threatening."   

Anyanka's smile was forced, her eyes just a little too wide and her pulse was racing.  Buffy could ear her heart beating twenty to the dozen and she... 

' Huh?  I can hear her heart beating?' 

Buffy concentrated; her hearing wasn't the only thing that seemed to be enhanced.  Her sense of smell was acute too; the acrid stench of her own sweat on top of Anyanka’s plus the chemical smell of the laboratory was almost overpowering.  Her eyesight had always been pretty good but now she could easily read the labels on bottles on the far side of the room, the tiny lettering clear and crisp.  If she didn't know better, she'd think she was turning into a vampire.   

She swallowed hard.  Strange sensation; her taste buds seemed to be on strike.  Definitely vamplike. 

Surely it wasn’t possible to inject vampire into you?  Well, other than the regular way – with fangs and blood, of course.  She giggled.   At least she wouldn't have to struggle thinking up stuff for dinner.  Pig's or cow's?  Mmmm decisions, decisions. 

Anyanka was still waiting for a reply.  She didn't expect maniacal laughter, but that's what she got.   

"Buffy?  What’s funny?  This is serious.  Now, focus." 

Buffy tried to stifle the giggles but they kept bubbling up.  It was panic, obviously.  Would she be craving the blood of a freshly slaughtered virgin next?  No, that was too Anne Rice...maybe she'd want to dye her hair black and stock up on swirly cloaks with red satin lining?  She gave in to her near hysterics, her eyes streaming.  Finally managing to pull herself together, she gasped for air...although, that too seemed to be superfluous. 

"Buffy?" 

Anyanka tilted her head quizzically, Buffy's hysteria setting her teeth on edge.  The last thing she needed was a crazy woman on her hands.    

"I'm fine.  Sorry.  I'm just feeling a little...funky." 

"Funky?  What is this word?  I’m thinking it’s not so good...da?" 

"No.  I mean, yes.   That is – no, I’m not good.  Something’s happening to me, I’m changing.  I can feel it.  Whatever Nautilust stuck me with is doing its job.  I can even smell your blood, Anyanka – it’s so weird!  If I'm not mistaken, the mirrors at Chez Blond will soon be redundant, reflections not being available, and ...did you know your pulse beats to a New Kids on the Block song?  Now what was it called...?" she mused. 

Anyanka opened her mouth and squawked.  "Hey!  Buster!!  Get in here, now.  Don't leave me with this crazy chick.  I'll do anything you want." 

Buffy was humming away to herself, oblivious to Anyanka's fear.  She became aware that they were no longer alone before Nautilust and his sidekick even entered the room.  She could smell them coming. 

"Mrs Blond.  Good to see you are enjoying the fruits of my labours.  How do you like my treat?" 

Buffy glared at him.   

"No snarky comeback?  No witty pun?  What a letdown!  I expected more...shall we say...bite?"  

Anyanka rattled her manacled wrists, drawing Nautilust's attention.   

"Patience, my little blintz.  You haven’t been forgotten.  There’s a special something for you too, but later.  Right now, I need to introduce your friend to her new home."   

The restraints keeping Buffy tied to the table were removed, but before she could even tense her muscles to lash out at her captor, another syringe was plunged into her flesh and she felt herself become woozy. 

"Relax, my dear – just a little sleeping draught.  I haven't spent years waiting for the perfect subject for my experiments just to let you harm yourself when success is in sight." 

Nautilust clicked his fingers, and a muscle-bound heavy materialised from the shadows to pick her up and carry her from the lab.  Anyanka watched her go with a mixture of panic and relief: panic because whatever was happening to Buffy, she’d be next in line – and relief that the crazy-talking girl with the suddenly sharp teeth was no longer a threat. 

+ + + + 

W heard the commotion along the corridor and braced herself for one furious vampire to come barrelling through her door.  She downed the whisky she'd poured more from habit than desire and set the glass down well out of harm’s way.  The crystal tumbler was especially precious as Tara had bought it for her and had it etched with their initials intertwined.  On second thoughts, she grabbed it from the shelf behind her and stowed it in the drawer.  Footsteps thudded along the corridor and stopped at her door.  W gripped the back of her chair as she shoved it under the desk and held her breath.   

Finally, just when she was about to scream at him to come in, the door opened softly and Spike Blond eased himself inside.  W was poised to defend herself from any verbal – or other – attack that her top spy may launch at her; but this was the last thing she was expecting -- one very subdued vampire.  W relaxed a little, but only a little.  Spike Blond was a killer, albeit a killer with self-imposed restraints, and W never forgot that.  And right now she'd bet her life he was walking a fine line between man and demon. 

"Blond.  You made good time." 

Spike walked further into the room, coming to a halt in front of W's desk, his head bowed.  He didn't look up, his voice harsh with the effort of suppressing the emotions erupting inside him, threatening to snap the tenuous control he'd clung to since Buffy's emotional Mayday had hit him. 

"W.  Just tell me.  I can't...just tell me, okay?" 

His eyes were cloudy with emotion, and his rigid arms shook as he leant on the surface of her desk.  W's heart clenched in her chest as she thought of how she'd feel if it was Tara who was in danger.  And here was her brother who shared many of the same gentle traits of her lover, but put on the Big Bad facade to hide them from the casual observer.  W walked around the desk to his side and without hesitation threw her arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. 

Spike clutched her desperately, his face buried into her neck.  He could hear the blood pumping round her body, could almost taste it as her pulse throbbed against his lips.  His already fragile control left him and his forehead ridges and fangs slid into place, a tiny droplet of W's blood staining his lips as he pierced her neck.  She flinched, but held on to him, knowing that she was safe despite her earlier musings. 

After a little while, Spike regained control and managed to subdue the demon sufficiently to return to his human face.  He gave W one last hug and gently pushed her away, giving her a bitter smile as he dragged out the chair in front of her desk and collapsed into it.  W squeezed his shoulder and returned to her own chair, settling herself down into it and letting out the breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding. 

"God ’m sorry, W." 

"What?" 

"Sorry... for the neck..." 

W brought her fingers up to touch the slightly tender hole.  "Oh, I'd forgotten...look, don't worry 00666.  It was an accident; it's barely a scratch.  To tell you the truth, I’m just happy the door is still on its hinges and I don’t have to order new furniture for my office.  So a little bitty hole in the neck?  No big deal." 

"Even so...I don't like to...you must have been scared." 

W considered.  Actually, she wasn't.  Not at all.  After all, it wasn't the first vampire bite she'd had... 

She blushed, hoping that Spike wouldn't figure out why.  "Hey, it's fine.  I'm one tough mama and I'm really impressed you can shake off the vamp face at all given the circumstances."  An awkward silence filled the room as they both recalled the reason for Spike's visit.   

"Where is she, W?" 

Ah.  Truth time.   

"Before I start, I just want you to know that she's not alone.  G and Harris are with her." 

Spike leapt to his feet, sending his chair crashing to the floor, and stood menacingly in front of her. 

"Furniture, Spike!!” she tried to calm him down. 

"You WHAT?” he bellowed.  “They get to go with my wife while I'm packed off to kill time being stuck with needles and told to piss in jars?" 

“Think it through.  If you'd been there, would you have followed orders?  Now be honest." 

His jaw tensed, eyes flinty grey with anger.  "No.  I’d have shredded anyone who stood in my way the instant I sensed Buffy was in danger." 

W leaned back.  "Exactly.  Now think about this – Buffy's accreditation is on the line.   Danger's part of the job.  If you're going to go all gung-ho every time she's on a mission, she may as well wear a sign on her head that says 'I'm a spy, shoot me now'.  You have to give her a chance to find her own way, William, hard as it is.  So...I did the next best thing to sending my top man; I sent his best friend." 

Spike righted the chair and threw himself back down into it, drumming his fingers on the armrests.  W was right, but dammit!  It hurt like hell to admit it. 

"Fine.  Fine.  I take your point.  But I have to go to her, W.  You must see that.  And if you try to stop me...well, some things are more important to me than the Service, and Buffy means more to me than my entire soddin' existence.  So, you try to stop me – I go anyway and you know what you can do with your licence to kill!" 

W did consider forbidding him until she'd had a field report from G, but one glance at the tense and agitated vampire only served to reassure her that it would be futile.  She sighed, reaching into her drawer and retrieving a file marked 'EYES ONLY' and bearing the codename Lone Wolf .  Hesitantly, she slid it across the polished mahogany and sat back to watch his reaction. 

It didn't take long... 

"That fucking bitch !  I'm gonna rip her head off and feast on her entrails.  When I bring my wife home and she's safely tucked up, I'll be taking the jet and heading back to the motherland.  There's no way she gets to live, not after this." 

"Blond, let’s not be hasty.  She has powerful friends, G knows her of old.  Even I struggled to find the little I have on her, she covers her tracks so well.  I don't know what inspired her to send Buffy off solo like this.  It’s unprecedented.  But as I said, she's not as alone as Ms Post supposes." 

"I couldn’t give a toss, W.  This Post woman may have powerful friends; they'll need to be once I get my fangs in their throats.  But for now...I need a jet.  And a weapon.  And your blessing." 

"Done, done and done.  But you're not going alone, Blond.  I’m overdue a little vacation time in the sun." 

+ + + +  

Harris and G swam around to the far side of the sub, sleek and silent in the water.  Harris made bizarre gestures with his hands in the manner of every clichéd soldier movie ever made and G cocked his head, mouthing silently to the spy that he didn't have a clue what his shadow puppets were supposed to be.  

"G!  For god's sake, I thought you were a veteran of this stuff," Harris hissed through clenched teeth.  "I was signalling you that we should find a way to get on deck and down below from there.  There's no way in below water level so we need to go up.  Capische?" 

"Capische?”  G groaned, “Where on earth do you get these ludicrous sayings from?  Why couldn’t you simply say that instead of the incomprehensible mime routine?  Anyway...I agree.  Let's get to it." 

The pair manoeuvred along the side to the ladder that allowed access to the vessel.  G whipped out his gadget belt and twiddled his knobs, scanning for any signs of life.  He couldn't pinpoint exactly who was there and whereabouts – this wasn't Star Trek - but it would give a proximity warning if anything registering at body temperature came within range.  It scanned clear.  G nodded, Harris grinning and scaling the metallic ladder at super speed.  G brought up the rear, peering nervously over the top and relaxing a little when it appeared to be deserted.   

Clad in black and hunched over to minimise their outlines against the cavern walls, they tiptoed towards the airlock hatch at the far end of the sub.  They were just praying that their luck would hold as Harris started turning the wheel – squeaky, as required to make the story, once told over a glass of Schnapps, more suspenseful – each revolution releasing the lock until it finally hissed its surrender.  Harris raised the lid slowly, peering into the gloomy interior.  So far so good, nobody about.  He slid inside and dropped silently to the inner deck, beckoning to G, who was peering dubiously down the opening, to join him. 

A whispered conversation ensued, the hissing echoing strangely off the metal walls of the sub.  The occasional word could be made out as G became exasperated at 0069's refusal to follow the plan.  Harris was more the 'fly by the seat of his pants' guy, and his idea consisted of storming the sub until they found Buffy Blond then fighting their way back out.  That way lay suicide, a fact that G was having a hard time convincing Harris about.   

In the end a compromise was reached when G handed over a new gadget that he was field-testing.  Harris would play it softly-softly until Buffy was located, then he'd be free to engage in macho mayhem if he so desired.  The gadget – a sonic stunner, the prototype of which Blond had found so useful in defeating the vampires of Sunnydale some time ago – would no doubt assist the eager spy in inflicting maximum damage. 

The shadowy figures stilled as hard footsteps clanged on the metallic decking a tier below them.  Two armed guards laughed and nudged each other as they walked along, their voices carrying to the spy and the gadgetmeister who tried to merge with the grey walls.   

"...yeah, I did.  We put her in the new aquatic holding cell on deck two forward.  From what I heard, when the transformation comes she'll be glad of the water.  Looked pretty hot little number too, all naked and shivering.  Man, that Blond guy’s a lucky dog!  Heading back there now, Nautilust wants some more manacles.  I can’t wait to tie her up...maybe she’ll want to have a real man while she can." 

G shot out a restraining hand as Harris moved to vault the rail to inflict some payback on the guards.  Right now the spy's brain was set on punishment thereby bypassing the logic circuits that would have told him to wait and follow the bragging idiot back to Buffy.  After grinding his teeth, Harris calmed enough for G to remove the hand, Harris nodding in answer to the unspoken order to stay put.   

Stealthily, the duo tracked the guard from the higher level, watching him disappear through an internal sealed door and spin the rotary lock behind him.  Again Xander made with the hand movements, an action that had G tut-tutting and shaking his head. 

"G.  Here’s a plan.  The next time you’re off on a sabbatical in the field, you brush up on a little soldiering know-how.  Right?  For a guy who is maestro of the ingenious invention, you sure don't have a clue about tactics.  What do you need, a memo signed in triplicate?  I’ll write you one." 

G raised a sardonic eyebrow in response. 

"So...this" Harris gestured with his fist clenched, "...means move forward slowly paying good attention to possible booby traps.  And this..." another gesture..."means stop and take stock." 

"And this..." G raised two fingers and thrust them beneath Harris' nose; "means thank you for enlightening me, you impudent twerp.  Now come along, I suggest we advance slowly, keeping a weather eye open for possible booby traps." 

Harris stifled his response, shaking his head in resignation and followed G through the doorway the guard had disappeared through. 

+ + + + 

Buffy came to, head pounding from whatever the hell Nautilust's goons had doped her up with.  Her eyes opened slowly and she struggled to focus, noting the change of scenery and the salty tang of seawater in the air.  A large tank filled one wall, various sea creatures swimming between the swaying aquatic plants that lined the bottom.  Her first thought was how strange it was that her captor had provided her with a soothing aquarium.  Her second was, /Don't be a dope Buffy, this has to be something else.    There's probably a secret entrance and man-eating sharks will be zooming around any minute and lurking in wait for their Buffy-flavoured snausages./  

With a shiver, she shook her head, muttering to herself.  "I swear, if Spike has me watching any more James Bond movies, I'll start to believe that stuff." 

A cursory exploration of the cell didn't reveal any clothing, so Buffy curled up as small as she could and hugged her knees, her back pressed into the farthest corner near to the tank.  She shivered despite her efforts to think warm thoughts.  Nothing she could think of could make the chill of fear leave her body. 

She heard the sounds of a commotion outside the door, a strangled scream and a thud, like a body hitting the deck.  She prayed Nautilust's henchmen had somehow managed to do each other in, their IQs not being much above an amoeba’s and therefore it was entirely possible they’d yet to master walking and thinking at the same time.  The key rattled in the lock though, and Buffy's hopes sank at the sound.  She stood, oblivious to her nudity, as she swore she'd inflict as much damage to them as she could before they brought her down.  It was what William would do... 

As the door swung open, G was ambushed by a screaming banshee who knocked him flat to the floor and pummelled him in the stomach, Harris managing to grab her and throw her backwards to skid into the tank.  Buffy righted herself immediately and was about to rush them again when her brain clicked into gear and she realised that the man being helped from the floor was her stores master and friend – and the assistance was coming from agent 0069, Xander Harris.   

In her ecstatic relief at seeing familiar faces, it took her a little while to recall that she was bare-assed naked, and that was only because of the drool dribbling from the corner of the spy's mouth, and the scarlet cheeks and steamed-up lenses of G’s glasses. 

 

*CUT TO: A sleek fighter jet, equipped with rockets, stealth technology and a nifty paint job that reflected its surroundings so as to make it almost invisible.  Within the glass cockpit, a platinum blond head can be seen dipping so as to see the controls.  Behind him a flash of titian red disappears as a black helmet is pulled on.  "Testing, testing.  Can you hear me Blond?"  A crackle then a 'bugger'.  "W?  Yeah, I hear you.  Sodding thing's ruining my 'do'.  You strapped in?" 

"Check.  Take her up.  Oh, and, Blond?  Do you mind not throwing underwear at me?  Yours, I believe."  Taking the proffered garment, Spike Blond grins.  "Not mine, don't wear 'em...but they belong to me.  She belongs to me.  Let's go to work." 

DOO . DOO . DOO      DOO . DOO . DOO    DOO . TE . DOO

tbc...