A/N Graphic violence.  Some torture might trigger or be too much for some to read.  If you want to skip it, just imagine what the Initiative COULD do to Buffy and Spike and you'll likely be on the same page.
 
***
Chapter 12
***
 
Buffy couldn't remember ever being so tired.  The so-called doctors had been running endurance testing on her for weeks.  If she were at full Slayer power, it might not have been so bad, but whatever they had been putting into her weakened her--not completely or they wouldn't be getting information on her "uniqueness" at all, but enough to cause every one of her muscles to cramp badly when they were finished.  Even if the sleeping shelf they called a bed had been somewhat comfortable, she doubted she could have had a full night's rest with her body aching this badly.  Still, based on the glimpses she caught of others being tested and worse, she was one of the lucky ones...for now.
 
"Wonder when the guys will mount up and tunnel me out of Shawshank?" she muttered.  Surely they all would realize what had to have happened to her?
 
"Hey, just zap it if it gets too annoying!"  That shouted order from a familiar sounding voice was followed by sounds of a scuffle and a loud curse.  "Might as well just hook up electrodes; this one is always annoying." 
 
Buffy put face to name a second before he came into view, 'Riley!'  She looked at the group of soldiers dragging the limp form of some poor prisoner.  Obviously, they had followed Riley's order and tazed him into unconsciousness.  From the look of the prisoner's body, it was probably a mercy.
 
"Riley, why am I here?  You know who I am and why I have my powers.  Why don't you just tell them about the Slayer powers?"
 
Riley looked at her coldly. "And how do I know that all isn't just a load of crap?  You aren't normal, Buffy.  You've never been normal in any way, not just your fighting ability.  I'd say there's good reason to make sure you aren't some weird form of demon after all."
 
The prisoner moaned and began to return to consciousness.  His head lifted and Buffy's eyes widened as she saw who it was.
"Spike?!"
 
***  
 
Spike tried to return to consciousness with a desperation born from knowing he was at his most vulnerable when he was out.  He could have sworn he heard Buffy call his name, but when his eyes opened he saw only the same four close walls of his cell. 
 
Felt like only a few broken bones this time, that and a scattering of burns.  If the buggers would actually feed him today, he might be whole enough to deal with the next round. 
 
The first day in captivity had been the worst thus far.  The bastards hadn't believed in anesthetic, not for demons at least.  He should be grateful they had already learned that actual removal of organs led to small piles of dust so nothing was permanently disconnected.  Was all moved about, lifted and examined though, and it hurt beyond the telling, even days later.  They had also learned that a drop of holy water on the vocal chords kept the deafening screams from bothering them at their work.
 
Spike’s voice had finally returned today and he had wasted no time in expressing his opinion about their treatment of him, his accommodations, and the likely parentage of his captors.  That hadn't gone well for him either.
 
Seemed the overgrown Boy Scout had decided to make Spike his own personal project.  No matter the test, poke, or prod, Finn and his sneer was always right there to watch, if not administer the damned thing.  They were taking that P & P very seriously.  The physical was nothing if not creative and that twit Finn knew just enough about Spike to make the psychological actually sting.
 
The early years with Angelus had given Spike pretty good firsthand knowledge of what kinds of pain and torture he could endure, but this situation held no promise of it ever ending, at least without him being a pile of dust.  He would have to steel his mind to keep despair from doing half their job for them.  Make 'em work for it, make them feel a bit of pain and worry along the way.
 
A bag of pig-swill was thrust into the cell.
 
"I'd drink up if I were you, vampire.  Never know when it'll be the last." The soldier chuckled at his threat coached as a joke. 
 
"Same with you and breathin'," Spike threatened back.
 
*** 
 
Willow was chalk white and eerily silent as she waited for the doctor to finally let her know how Tara was doing.  By the time Giles got the redhead to the hospital, Tara was already being treated and they wouldn't let her into the examining room.  No one was giving her any information either.  Seems she had no legal rights to any say regarding how and what might be done to her beloved!  Officially, no one except the family that Tara had turned her back on for good reason had these rights.
 
Giles had told the admitting nurse that Tara had no family. Willow would make certain that any computer search would show that to be the truth. Still, Willow had no clever computer trick to give her actual relationship the legal weight needed to give her a say or privileges. 
 
Giles handed her a tepid cup of weak tea from the hospital vending machine. "I don't suppose there is anything I can say to make this any easier?"  He put a comforting arm around her. 
 
"Some news would be great," Willow sniffled.  "Xander had described what happened and Tara's condition when the ambulance arrived."
 
"Did Davey get home safely?" Giles inquired.
 
"Yeah, I had a hard time keeping his dad from going after the idiot squad.  I've got a feeling that with the way everyone is feeling and acting, he'd be the one in trouble."  Xander sank down in his chair and slouched wearily.  "Poor kid's quiet.  Looks like they finally broke his spirit.  I doubt he's going to want to go outside his house again, at least as long as all this idiocy is going on."
 
"Tara is always talking about that kid and how brave and sweet he is.  I'd hate for this to kill his spirit." Willow sipped at the tea and grimaced.
 
"Any word on Tara?"  Xander glanced at his oldest friend and shuddered at the flash of vengeful anger on her face. 
 
"Nope.  I'd better hear something soon or I'm going to start getting creative." Willow muttered and not in jest.
 
A harried looking doctor cleared his throat and looked kindly at the clearly frantic redheaded woman who had been demanding information from the staff ever since her arrival.
 
"How is she?" Willow demanded as she rose from her seat and confronted the doctor.
 
"I can only tell you her status: she is in serious condition."  The doctor could feel the arguments to policy ready to explode around him.  "Now, if one of you is related to Miss Maclay, I might be able to give more information."  He looked at the three people pointedly. 
 
Xander took the hint. "Um...I'm family.  A distant cousin, but she doesn't have anyone closer.  Will that do?"
 
The doctor smiled and nodded, happy that someone had taken the bait he had tossed them.  "That'll do fine.  Your...cousin...has suffered a moderate to severe traumatic brain injury.  We won't knowuntil she regains consciousness and our neurological team has a good look at her what the end result will likely be."
 
"What are the possibilities?" Giles asked.
 
"Closed head injuries frequently cause diffuse brain damage, which means damage to several areas of the brain.  It causes headaches, confusion, memory problems, and nausea. In a moderate brain injury, symptoms can last longer and be more pronounced. Most patients make a good recovery.
 
With a severe brain injury, the person may suffer life-changing and debilitating problems. She could have cognitive, behavioral, and physical disabilities. People who are in a coma or a minimally responsive state may remain dependent on the care of others for the rest of their lives."  The doctor sighed, "We really won't know what direction Tara's condition and treatment will take until all the tests are completed.  We have her scheduled for some scans in the morning."
 
Willow had begun to pace.  "So we don't know too much, that’s what you are saying?"
 
"We know she will live and that is a good start," the doctor reminded her.
 
***
 
"This collar should give a strong enough jolt to fell a fully healthy Fyarl.” The technician promised proudly. "With this around her throat, even one soldier can safely control her movements and behavior."
 
"So we could safely stop the drug treatment and actually test her abilities without fear of reprisal?" The doctor inquired.  "The last ‘quick fix’ your team came up with resulted in two of my best aides having to be treated for broken limbs."
 
"This model has a strong enough charge, and it’s titanium-rimmed so she won't be able to tear it off."
 
"Travers, what do you think?  You're the expert where this girl’s strength is concerned."
 
Quentin looked over the device carefully.  "I don't see why it shouldn't work.  This girl has enhanced strength and skills, but she is mostly human at her core, at least physiologically.  I don't see why this device shouldn't allow proper testing."
 
"Fine.  Release the sleeping gas into her cell and bring her in for a fit as soon as you are certain she's actually out."  The doctor nodded.  "Let’s get to some real tests at long last."
 
***
 
Giles looked at the large chain and padlock on his place of business with pursed lips. "What gives you the right to close up my establishment?"
 
The police officer looked chagrined.  "Look, I'm just following orders.  The city council voted that all magic shops and occult places were to be shut down until they decide if the stuff you have in there is real or just kids’ stuff."
 
"And just who is it they plan to have make that determination?"
 
The officer shrugged, "Not sure.  Someone from the Humans Only office, I guess."
 
After the officer had driven away, Giles removed his glasses for a quick polish as he thought about his best course of action. 
 
"I tried to keep the officer from locking us out," Anya commiserated.  "He wasn't listening to me at all.  No one does," she sighed.
 
"We have been lately, Anya, and your words have been quite valuable," Giles patted her on the shoulder gently.
 
"True."  Anya looked into the window all the lovely merchandise that should be being purchased even as they spoke.  "What are we going to do now?"
 
"I'm thinking that for once I am glad that Spike had that entrance to our basement from the sewers.  Call Xander and see if he can lend a hand in moving out as much as we can before the officials come to take inventory."
 
"Maybe we can put enough silly stuff on the shelves that they'll think we're just a kids shop?"  Anya suggested.  "We could even stock things like a street magician might like and say that's what is meant by the magic in our name?"
 
"You mean cards and hats for rabbits and the like?" Giles suggested as Anya flinched at the mention of the little fluffers.
 
"NO bunnies!  Can't we have some other creature instead of those?"
 
Giles shrugged, "Well, they are traditional."
 
"Anyone with sense would know right away that it IS an evil magic shop if we stocked them." She argued illogically.
 
"You call Xander while I go home and change into something suitable.  The sooner we move things, the better."  Giles purposefully headed towards his car, already making a plan of action as he walked.
 
*** 
 
Spike struggled against the restraints holding him underwater.  He didn't need to breathe, of course, but he was used to doing so.  He couldn't help the panic at knowing any attempt to breathe would only draw water into his lungs. 
 
The container was clear Plexiglas and a team of doctors stood watching, clipboards in hand.  The water had been freezing when he had first been immersed and closed in.  Since then the temperature had fluctuated from icy to literal boiling.  The "test" had been going on for hours, although it seemed even longer.  He could feel his skin begin to crack where the burns and stretching had taken its toll.
 
"Looks like a bit of skin has sloughed off, at least I'm assuming that's what the thin coating of dust is," The lead doctor noted.  "Perhaps the next test should be using oil to see if the higher temperature of boiling oil causes more of a skin loss?"
 
"Make note of that, Jackson." The doctor tapped the container and peered in at the obviously distressed vampire.  "Might want to give it a couple of days, minimal feed, enough to rebuild the skin so we have a clean slate," he ordered.
 
*** 
 
Buffy whirled into a kick spin and aimed for the legs of the pimple-faced sociopath closest to her.  The lead examiner pressed a button on the device he held and she suddenly collapsed to the ground, clutching at the collar they had evidently put around her neck while she was out.  The pain was excruciating.
 
"Now, Miss Summers, it would be far less stressful for you if you would simply cooperate," the bastard dared to suggest.
 
"I am going to get out of here and I am going to make it my life's goal to rip your testicles off one at a time and make you eat them," she growled.
 
"Crude as ever, Miss Summers," Travers tsked.
 
Buffy finally noticed the old Watcher who had been standing in the shadows.  "What are you doing here?  Why are you letting them treat your Slayer this way?"
 
"In the first place, I thought you were not working with the Council any longer?  Quit, didn't you, when we wouldn't assist your decision to help that vampire Angelus?"
 
Buffy glared at the man who had moved closer into the room to loom over her.  "You know I've never stopped doing my duty.  I just stopped trusting your group's judgment.  Looks like I was right."
 
"A Slayer is not needed for her judgment, merely her ability to kill demons and contain the Hellmouth.  You, Miss Summers, do not know your place."  Travers curled his lip in disdain.  "And you are easily replaced."
 
***
 
Willow slipped into Tara's room and pulled the curtain around her bed.  She set out the required candles and herbs and began to prepare for a simple healing ritual.  She carved Tara's name into the white candle and lit it.  She anointed Tara's head with the herbs and sacred oil and began the healing chant.
 
"I call upon Atepomarus, Brigid, Sekhmet, and Aceso. 
Come to the aid of your daughter Tara, who has been felled by injury.
By the light of the moon and the path of north
Let illness be purged and good health flow forth
 
Let not this simple spell coerce or make their situation worse
Hear now my humble plea, and as I will it, so mote it be." 
 
She blew out the candle and gently pressed a kiss on Tara's forehead. 
 
As she gathered her vials and candle, Willow gave a startled look at the horrified expression on the nurse’s aide who had evidently witnessed the short ritual.  "This isn't what it looks like.  It's religious," Willow tried to explain.  "It's asking for help in healing her."
 
"That's not religion.  Religion's in a church and it doesn't have all that mumbo-jumbo you just said." The aide backed out of the room, looking fearful.  "I've read about you people.  You're as dangerous as those monsters.  You work with them."
 
"Wait, NO!" Willow tried to explain.  "I don't work with monsters; I fight them."
 
The aide shook her head and left the room hurriedly.
 
"Oh, boy!  I'd better call Giles on this." Willow put on her resolve face and debated if it were safe to leave Tara in this place with these people.
 
*** 
 
Xander and Giles wiped off cobwebs and dirt and sunk wearily to the ground to rest.  Most of the actual magical items and all of the books had been moved into one of Spike's providential hiding places.  They had left behind anything that was harmless or could pass as a child's idea of magic.  Anya had used her connections to get enough merchandise that looked like it might tempt an amateur Sigfried or Criss Angel.
 
"Think they'll buy it?"  Xander whispered tiredly.
 
"Doubtful.  We have enough of a regular clientele that this ruse won't last long.  Perhaps long enough to buy a bit of time, though."  Giles had decided, based on the crackdown on magic and Willow's disturbing encounter at the hospital earlier, that it might be time to join Spike in whatever place he had evidently chosen to hide out.  "We should probably make a search of the different bolt holes and make a strategic withdrawal from what passes for society now."
 
"I still have a decent job and so far no one is suspicious of me.  Maybe I should keep everything normal and my eyes open.  I can keep you up to date about what's happening locally, at least." Xander offered.
 
"Well, I'm not going to be living below ground while you're up there," Anya said indignantly.  "I'm not some mole person and I'm not afraid of the demon haters.  I'm a human girl through and through, and they can't prove differently."
 
"What about Dawn?"  Xander thought about the girl who had been trying to act as if nothing were amiss while her sister was MIA.  "Willow is still staying there, but with Tara still in the hospital and Willow outed as a magic user, it might not be a good thing to just hope that she'd test as human and leave her to their mercy."
 
"Mercy?!" Anya barked.  "Not much of that lately."
 
"Dawn took it rather well when we explained her origins, at least as well as we could given the limited information we actually have.  I'm ever grateful Buffy decided to tell her while Joyce still lived.  I doubt she would have handled the information as well otherwise."  Giles closed his eyes at the memory of all that had been lost in such a short time.  "Yes, I think it prudent that Dawn join us in the tunnels until we can decide the best course of action.  We cannot continue to wait for Buffy's return to decide what to do about her little sister."
 
"Do you think we'll ever find Buffy?" Xander asked in a choked voice.  This was the first time he let on that his original dream of Buffy being gone by her own choosing had ended.  They were all quite awake by this time.
 
Giles clasped the young man's shoulder, "We won't give up until we do.  There are places even in the tunnels where Willow can continue to use her computing skills to search.  If you remain at your job and home, at least as long as it is safe to do so, you can be our eyes and ears in other ways."
 
"Well," Xander stood, "I guess we go and find out where the great bleached undead is holed up and take it from there."