Fourth part in the Five Gold Rings series:

Part 1     Part 2     Part 3    Part 5

Jumping the Gun

by
Rngrdead

Part Eleven

Spike and Xander knocked on their landlady’s door. Amidst her protestations at their need to leave, Senora was lovingly kissed on both cheeks and paid generously for her hospitality. Spike went on to explain in eloquent Italian, how dear she was to them and that she was to treat the family to a night out with the ‘little extra’ they had included (adding in a conspiratorial whisper, that there was a rather beautiful item in a jewelers nearby that had already been set aside for her as he pressed the receipt into her hand). The lady of the house beamed and wished them well, along with insisting that they return soon.

Spike waited in the shadowed doorway as Xander piled their luggage into Buffy’s elegant silver Audi convertible (with the hood up for Spike’s benefit).

The blonde slayer stared incredulously at her two allies of old.

Spike was as always, Buffy noted, ethereally beautiful. The longer hair, pigeon pair earring and elegant clothes were not lost on the slayer. She also noted that Xander now looked the older of the pair, leading to more personal reflections on decisions made with her own partner.

Xander was all brunette and tall, with mature lines and hard muscles, and a self confidence Buffy had only glimpsed once or twice as she remembered Xander the ‘site manager’ before the ‘year of the First’. Now sporting a goatie beard, neat haircut and notably expensive, casual clothes, and a stunning earring, the man she watched heaving luggage into her car was definitely drool-worthy, eye-patch included!

Buffy groaned as she realized she was channeling her ‘inner Dawn’.

She finally blurted out, “How?! You both rob a bank? And what’s with the perfect speech and the, oh by the way, designer clothes and … and… God! I don’t know you at all any more, do I?”

“You never did in the first place, luv.” Spike answered, the statement barely audible before he made dive for the backseat of the car and safety of the blanket Xander had waiting,

The drive north was relatively quiet with all parties seemingly engrossed in their own thoughts. Buffy naturally took the role of driver as Spike lay curled up under the blanket with his head in Xander’s lap. Still in his heat suit, he nuzzled into his consort’s crotch, becoming increasingly lulled by the reassuring, familiar scent and pulse, and the consistent hum of the car. Sleep came easily.

Buffy looked into the rear vision mirror several times during the ensuing four hours. She watched with increasing fascination as her high school friend and former Scoobie, gently petted and stroked the figure under the blanket, obviously soothing and reassuring himself as much as the vampire ensconced in the sun-protective wrap.

Sometime in the fifth hour, Spike felt the car halt. “We’re just stopping for petrol. You guys want anything?”

“A juice would be good, thanks Buff.”

“Spike?”

The rather muffled reply came, “Got all I need right here, taa.” And as Buffy moved to refuel the car, Xander felt his crotch nuzzled in earnest.

He whispered as loud as he dared, “Spike, no you can’t! She’ll be back soon!”

Spike swiftly lowered Xander’s zip and released his partner’s obviously leaking arousal from the confines of his underwear. “Nothin’ like a spot o’ danger pet.”

He licked up the shaft and tickled over the tip, tasting the precum already emerging. “Anyway looks like you’ve been waiting a while already.” He went back to his task in earnest, swallowing Xander to the back of his throat.

Xander arched in his seat “Gahhhh!! What… do you ex...pect when you’re…. Gahhhh! Lying on my….lap all that …..Oh God!”

Spike deep throated his partner and swallowed as hard as he could, also managing to wiggle his tongue against Xander’s now pulsing vein.

“F#$% Spike!..... Coming…..”

The vampire was rewarded with a series of hot pulses of fluid flowing direct into his stomach and pulled off slowly, grinning. Xander dove under the blanket, taking care not to lift it away from his vulnerable lover. He caught Spike’s grin with a passionate kiss.

Spike moaned then purred into the contact as Xander’s hand found its way to the vampire’s unsatisfied manhood. At that moment the car door swung open.

“Far out! You two! Gahhh! Wait till we get to the villa at least! Still getting used to the whole who’s gay thing, no need to wig me out any more right now!”

A very rumpled and blushing Xander emerged from under the blanket, patted down his hair with all the dignity he could muster, then sat quietly as they started off again. Buffy did notice that his hand was still under the covers and obviously rubbing Spike… somewhere. She chose not to comment and focused hard on the road ahead.

They passed through Pisa sometime early evening and Xander broke the silence for the first time since they were ‘caught under the blanket’. He requested a drive past the only thing he could remember about the town from high school history. Buffy complied easily and grinned at her friend’s excitement. The construction manager was stunned by the angle on the Leaning Tower – and by the fact it was still standing, noting that tourists were wisely no longer welcomed onto its skewed balconies. He mused idly regarding who might pay were such an error of engineering to cause one of his company’s buildings to list so badly!

They were another hour north with signs pointing to Lucca, when Buffy veered more toward east, taking them away from the coast. The hills were lit with a dark rust color as the sun set.

Xander had continued stroking his, once more sleeping, partner’s form absently as they sped through a darkening countryside peppered with small farms, vineyards, olive groves and villas. As sunset completed, his vampire stirred and sat up.

No longer threatened by sunlight but still groggy from sleep, Spike curled into his consort’s side, wrapping arms around Xander’s waist and pulling in with a satisfied purr. Despite concentrating on the ever darkening narrow roads, Buffy heard the move and the purring. “Oh my God! Vampires really *do* sound like big cats! But then Angel never did the purry thing!”

Spike simply buried his face into Xander’s shoulder as though for a kiss, and whispered for Xander only. “He did for me pet… always for me….. Now I purr for you.” The human grinned.

Around fifteen minutes and a number of quiet consort kisses later, they both broke off the touches as the car lurched to the right and crunched its way up a long gravel driveway toward a whitewashed villa with impressive grounds – obvious to all, even in the dark.

The car pulled up under a spectacular entry complete with columns and intricate classical mosaic on the floor. Xander gripped his partner on the arm tightly as they followed Buffy into a greeting space with vaulted ceilings, exquisite art and marble… everything else.

Heavy, richly carved, near burgundy colored, wooden doors pushed open to a figure whose face was obscured by the shadows cast by the open fire behind him.

Buffy rushed forward and wrapped herself around her lover, accepting a passionate kiss before introducing her charges.

“Anton – this is Spike and Xander… but um I guess now… William and Alexander??”

Buffy sounded oddly like a fifteen year old school girl introducing friends to her parents.

Spike simply stared, this was *nothing* like the man he imagined to have ‘violated [with consent!]’ the Aurelian women back in the day.


A tall, elegant male stepped into the light of the entry hall. Xander had heard little of Buffy’s beau, other than derisive snippets from Spike which came across more as schoolboy snark than any meaningful description.

Anton was undoubtedly striking in looks, and had a quiet confidence that seemed to draw in anyone around him. Wavy raven hair was cut short and styled impeccably, the color broken by a finger width splash of white from his right temple to just over his bejeweled ear. Xander noted the large diamond tipped pearl hanging from a thick gold loop and wondered at the story that no doubt went with the piece. But it was the man’s eyes that drew him in. They were the most extraordinary shade of pale green, bleeding in to deep emerald at their centre, and framed by long black lashes. His slender, smiling face was adorned by a jaunty moustache curled at both ends, but not to a point, rather it seemed natural and left the observer with the impression that the shape was borne of smiling a great deal.

Anton released Buffy and offered his hand to Spike, shaking it and pulling the vampire in for a full Italian welcome. After kissing him on both cheeks, he stepped back a little but kept hold of the hand. Smiling green eyes met rather puzzled blue.

“William, my dear fellow! How wonderful to meet you after all this time! I believed you to be dust! And now here with your lovely consort, wonderful, wonderful! You are *most* welcome.”

Spike’s eyes narrowed a little as he tried to reconcile the man before him with memories of Angelus and himself strung up in a barn while the immortal satisfied their women ‘concurrently’. He recalled Angelus’ rage and the pursuit of the Immortal to exact justice ‘back in the day’. What threw him the most was the upper-class English accent, though he knew the Italian would be just as polished. *Sod it, a thousand years of practice, I’d be a bloody expert too!*

Xander stepped forward and put his arm around his partner for a quick squeeze, then moved to receive his own traditional welcome.

Anton was slightly taller than Xander, with (the human noted ruefully) the perfect build of a 200m track runner. “I have heard of your Sunnydale exploits, Alexander, but had never imagined I would have the pleasure.” He paused and took in his other guest, Spike all but growled, “But as I would expect, William has impeccable taste in partners!” Noticing Spike’s increasing agitation, Xander shot his partner calm, love and loyalty through the link.

The Immortal smiled knowingly at the Blonde, “Oh my dear fellow, you needn’t worry! I am *strictly a ladies’ man, and these days it seems I have found the only lady I need.” He grasped Buffy around her tiny waist and spun them both a hundred and eighty degrees. The petite blonde finishing in front of her partner, delighted grin firmly in place.


With Xander’s continuing attentions, Spike calmed, smiled ruefully, then gave a small nod acknowledging his own ‘shift in circumstance’. It had been well over a hundred years, and Spike was hardly patient enough to hold a grudge for that long.

Spike brightened, caught Anton’s eye with a crystal blue, wicked stare and stated for all to hear, “So… bygones and all that rot…. You gonna offer a bloke a drink or what?”

Anton laughed out loud, grasped Buffy’s hand and led them all through a set of glass doors that opened onto a broad patio bright with fiery brasseries and outdoor candles. Though dominated by a lit fountain of classical design, there was a candle lit table to the right of the feature, laden with local delicacies and a generous selection of drinks.

Xander was once more, struck by the casual elegance of the whole affair and squeezed his partner’s hand reassuringly.

The meal and drinks were strangely comfortable. Spike was surprised and thankful to note the extra carafe of ‘classic vampire red’ on his side of the table, and the tall, antique red glass alongside. Xander struggled to take his eyes off the Buffy and Anton combination.

“I was sad to hear of your dear Sire’s fate, William” The Immortal looked at his vampire guest with genuine distress. “I know you were his favorite child…. I am so sorry. Angelus was a worthy advisory and might have been a good friend…. As I hope we will be from hence forth.”

“Angel…. He was Angel, with a soul… bloody champion and all that… I… loved him…” Spike trailed off, Buffy and Anton both noted Xander’s reaction.

Xander felt the distress through the consort link and immediately dragged the vampire into his lap where they rocked together for a few minutes as Spike fed from his partner’s wrist. Eventually they refocused on the room.

“I am sorry to have caused you distress Master William”

“It’s Spike, and… um… sorry mate… just a bit raw with the whole thing is all…” Spike sniffed hard and regained his composure, sitting up straight in Xander’s lap and directing his questions at the ‘man of the house’.

“Indeed he was a Master of his time… Vampire or ensouled… a fine individual….. William, now Master of the Aurelian line you and your consort are honored and welcomed into my house. I toast your company…” Anton stood and clinked glasses with all present, smiling as he noted the ‘O-positive’ in Spike’s glass. (The vampire had hoped for a comment, but gaining none, resolved to ‘go with the flow’ also!)

“So, what’s the story with our Initiative friends?” Spike looked to the Immortal but Xander spotted Buffy’s dark demeanor and pushed his luck…. “Buff?”

Part Twelve

The Immortal and Spike had somehow made their way to the balcony edge to smoke, leaving the two old Sunnydale friends to chat.

Spike leaned on the wide stone balustrade, and blew a flume of spoke out toward the hills. Anton had his back to the darkened terrain and stared intently at his guest then finally broke the silence, "I wish to acknowledge your service to our household, William Aurelius."

"How's that mate?" He took a long drag of his cigarette and continued to contemplate the dark horizon.

"You were instrumental in saving the woman I love. More than once I believe."

"Oh that…." Spike stubbed the cigarette out in apparent annoyance, but turned to look at his host.

"Indeed, 'that'." The Immortal rounded on Spike, staring into the vampire's eyes as though to attempt to see into his soul. Spike dropped his gaze, shifted his stance and attempted to disguise the discomfort by lighting another cigarette and taking a long draft then blowing it into the distance.

"Did Angelus ever know of my past?"

"Monastery, considerable… desire… stringing us up… that sort of thing… Yeah, I get it mate…"

"Oh, but you really don't William."

"Name's Spike these days mate."

"You are, of course, correct, my apologies 'Spike'…" Anton stared out toward the hills of his property. "I'm tired Spike, I've lived sixteen hundred years, since the crusades. I've seen plagues and wars and so much suffering that human imposed on human it makes the very gods
weep."

"That what you are then? A god? 'Cause gotta say, not all of 'em are worth writin' home about!"

"Indeed Wi..Spike, indeed. And I have no such presumptions. I am the last of Constantine's line"

"The Emperor? Byzantine Emperor? How??"

Spike turned to stare at the now wistful face of his host.

"Ahhh Spike you are truly a scholar of many years, and I see that you have not forgotten your classical training. Indeed, I was the younger son of Constantine. Justinian took the thrown after my father…"

"Cut up the face of his brothers! But we were taught…"

"That he only had one son, indeed. I was his illegitimate offspring and therefore saved from the disfigurement that accompanied the time…" Anton lit up a small cigar and stared out toward the night enshrouded hills.

"God!" Spike stared at Anton attempting to reconcile the man in front of him with the stories of murderous intrigue he had all but memorized from his own study of history at Cambridge.

Anton turned and leveled pain filled green eyes at Spike. "I was borne of a servant of Diana herself, my destiny was always on a different track. Justinian was a fine emperor for his time, brutal and cruel… I could not do that… demons are soulless, but rarely *that* cruel to their own…."

Spike stared at his smoking partner, processing memories of the history he'd learned of only at school, one of split noses and sliced tongues, of poisonings and beheadings, one of familial hatred and betrayal… "You were??…"

"Yes, my dear William I was part of that… and you need not comment, vampires are loyal to their family ties, sadly this was not the case with my human relatives…. It was about power."

"Seem to have heard that once of twice before mate…"

"Ah yes… The First… the latter days of Rome were ripe with candidates for that folly."

"So you?"

"Departed for quieter shores, to Africa first. Then to Tibet…"

"But that would have been…"

"Indeed. All silk roads and dried food, but my dear fellow, as you must know…. All precious things come with a price."

"Your soul?"

The Immortal laughed ruefully and, Spike noted, at his own expense. "Indeed, my dear fellow. You are not the only one to struggle for that which was rightfully yours. We are the only two,
by the way…. I do not know you William the Bloody, but I know your qualities, your strengths, and now, through your choice of partner, that you are kindred spirit."

”How's that mate? Seems that my partner has some bits yours doesn't?!"

"Yet he is loyal, brave and loving… A true champion. And more than the Slayer for the fact that he chose the role, rather than was designated it."

"Too right! But what is it to you?"

"You and I are the last in the line William. Angelus perished at the hands of our cruel gods, we have the potential to do him justice. Indeed to maintain balance, but we must close down the establishments that are currently pushing the dark side."

"The Initiative."

"Indeed"

Spike turned to his host, " You have a plan? 'Cause if it involves Xan you can just forget it! The boy owes nothing!"

"Nor do you Wil…Spike… Nor do you. My sources will continue to gather information today and we will call on you tomorrow. I have arranged a recital for tomorrow night… I *do* hope you and your consort can come." Anton smiled, grasped Spike by the hand and kissed him on the
cheek.

Dismissed, Spike wandered inside, collected his consort from Buffy's presence and headed for their rooms.

Spike and Xander slept for the majority of the day, but for one minor incident when 'l' amour' got the best of them. But then Spike had removed his suit and Xander had found skin on skin for the first time in… weeks! What was a man to do?!

Despite their ardor, both managed to stay quiet, indeed it heightened the excitement to do so. Silent scream's and bodies arching toward each other as passion heightened, sheets twisted, buttocks bruised and flesh bitten as the two lovers kept silent.

They emerged late afternoon to enjoy the shadows on the north side of the house and admire the view.


Xander was relaxing back between his partner’s legs on a garden lounge. A warm breeze caressed them both as they took in the rolling hills. Buffy and Anton were ‘out riding’ according to the staff who cheerfully provided the two guests with a fine Cianti and plate of local fruit to welcome in their day.

Xander spied the large pool a story down on the terrace to the right of their balcony. It was still bathed in sunlight, an inviting Aegean blue with sandstone surrounds. There was a lane marker designating an area for laps. Xander brightened. It had been a week at least since any regular exercise.

Spike noticed the direction of his partner’s gaze, pushed him up and slapped him hard on the rear. “Go on then!”

“You sure? God Spike don’t want to…”

“You know me an’ swimmin’ mate. I’ll watch from here, just make sure you look up occasionally yeah?”

Xander all but bounded inside and within minutes was in the water, waved to Spike then proceeded to freestyle up and down the pool, tumble turning with ease at either end.

Spike watched for a while then took up a book of nineteenth century French poetry he had pulled from the well stocked bookshelf in their room. Occasionally looking up he waved to his consort the three times Xander actually looked toward him, and was utterly preoccupied with the text in front of him when a quiet knock on the door interrupted.

Spike answered the door, cream cotton pants slung low on his hips, dress shirt undone, hanging loose, glass in one hand and cigarette perched precariously between pouting lips. Anton grinned and could not help but comment, “A picture like this deserves eternity.”

Mildly annoyed at the interruption Spike was hardly in the mood for compliments, “Yeah well, what d’ ya want ya ponce! Was watchin’ me boy take a paddle…” Anton held his hands up in supplication. Spike relented, “Oh bugger… well... come on in I s’pose.”

Anton stepped inside and proceeded out onto the balcony, “Thank you. I trust you slept well.”

“You come to ask after me health or is there more to it?” Spike noted the slightly tense stance of his host and dropped all pretence of annoyance. “What’s wrong, mate? I figure it takes a bit to spook you.”

Anton’s usual casual demeanor was noticeably absent and his countenance darkened further as he began to speak. “We think we found the headquarters.”

“‘Of?”

“The Initiative.”

“How do you know?”

“It’s why we’re here… in this place. You must know that this is only one of my houses. We had it on fairly good authority that they were somewhere south of Bologna, but this is new. The reports of an underground laboratory are new.”

“How did you know?”

“As I said last night, we have a number of informants. It is confirmed. Military vehicles, individuals in fatigues, recorded discussions of demons and holding pens…”

Spike blanched at the last statement, “How did you…?”

“Watched this afternoon, disposing of some ‘remains’ not ten miles north of here. Far too much dialogue reminiscent of…”

“Das Kampf? Third Reich sellout? Yeah I figured with that lot… Bloody hell” Anton noted Spike’s nervousness.

“I have some idea of what they did to you.”

“No you don’t mate…. Bloody Mengele acolytes… make the Nazi’s look like pussies they would.”

“I should fear for Buffy’s safety.”

“And your own mate… and the rest of us besides.”

“She wishes to go after the captured Slayers and the watcher.”

“Just get her away from here now.”

“Not possible Wi..Spike. She won’t go, she feels compelled.”

“Bloody Hell.”

“Indeed.” Anton threw three photographic prints onto the small patio table. “Here’s the latest from our sources.”

The first two images were of generic men in green, Spike lit up a cigarette and stared at them with passing interest, but as the last photo hit the table, he felt a familiar sense of dread and whispered, “ So it’s true… Captain Cardboard.”
“Indeed. Riley Finn seems to have been tracking Buffy and all her movements.”


………………… 36 hours earlier…………..

“I understand all that but repeat again, for me, why is it you are here!”

“Sir, we were following orders Sir. We have been monitoring the apartments that the Council of Watchers generally frequent for over six months now Sir.” Chambers shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Newly released from police custody, he knew the interrogation he had already undergone was nothing compared to the grilling to come from his own CO.

“And!??”

“And, Sir, well…. The subjects spotted our equipment, Sir. In particular we think they saw the camera. It is my opinion that…”

“I am not interested in your opinion. Who were they and why were you taking photos of individuals with a direct line to the Chief of Police! We are *trying* to keep a low profile! Or did you not notice that on your manifest?” The senior officer shot a vicious glance at the major in charge of the surveillance, then slammed a fist down in front of the frightened young soldier.

“Sir yes Sir, it was noted Sir.”

“So? Who are they, these two for whom you saw fit to risk our entire organization?” Riley was pacing, rounded on the young man to grit his teeth and wait.

Chambers looked over to Bourke then recited all they knew, “One A. Harris, building project manager, Sacramento. One W. Aurelius, investor, Boston. Both flew in from the UK three days ago. Ticket indicates they are here for ten days. They left for Tuscany, apparently with a friend, this morning.”

“No other anomalies?”

“No Sir, body temperatures both in the normal range, no unusual behavior.”

At this point Bourke gave a barely audible snort.

Riley rounded on him as his own officer rolled his eyes and wondered why they continued to send him the ‘dumb ones’, “Something to say soldier?!”

“Not really Sir, just that they’re fags, Sir.” Bourke had been less than convinced of their task in the first instance but remembered his own officer’s adamant insistence that they continue monitoring.

“Stir your pot did it son?” Riley put a hand on either side of the unfortunate soldier’s chair, “Jack off in your own fucking time Dorothy!” He pushed away and raised his voice still further to the two, now frightened young men, “Now tell me why I’m not sending you back stateside with ‘no promotion’ written on your sorry arses?”

Riley spun on his heel and paced the length of the room in silence, idly grabbing a handful of the surveillance photos in anger as he passed the table. As he approached the ancient fireplace at the end of the interrogation room he stopped dead. He flicked through the dozen photos in his hand. He knew the face. The brunette. Buffy’s friend. The boy who had loaned him clothes and played friend in the months he ran with the Slayer’s group in Sunnydale. The blonde’s face seemed perpetually obscured. From all accounts younger of the two so unlikely but….

He turned on the worried young men in the room and demanded, “Name them again!”

“One Alexander Lavelle Harris of S….”

“Xander.”

“Sir”

“Slayer’s friend from Sunnydale.” Riley turned back to the photos, fingering through the various ‘positions’, noting the pretty behind, long hair and earring of the ‘boy’ Xander had brought with him. Riley moved to the window of the room and mumbled to himself, “Never figured him a switch hitter… should have guessed with the clothes and all the women friends and….”

The group captain spoke up first, “Sir?”

Riley turned with a murderous glint in his eye, “Where did they go? I want them tracked, found and brought in.”

“But Sir! There’s noth…”

“*Bring them in*!!! This is the slayer’s friend from high school. I don’t care who the cabana boy is, if we get this A Harris, we get to the original Slayer, and her team.” Riley turned to stare out of the window once more. “You have my orders. Track them and take them. If nothing else, hold Harris for long enough for us to work out if he’s with the council. If not negotiate… you never know who might be happy to take a ‘spotters fee’ for demons. Take his little friend too – might help him to be more….cooperative.” Riley almost growled out the last part.

Chambers and Bourke exchanged a look. Both had spent hours watching the tender and passionate coupling of the men Major Finn now spoke of so disparagingly. Somehow the whole thing felt wrong to Chambers. But he held his tongue, knowing his opinion was unwelcome, indeed a career limiting move.

Bourke and Chambers were dispatched to track down the car that had left with the subjects of their most recent surveillance. They were given four days.

…………………..


“What’s the plan mate? You got some intel? Cause gotta say, been their guest before and not fancyin’ a trial of their new toys!”

“Agreed.”

As an after thought Spike turned to face his ‘compatriot in arms’, clenched his jaw and ground out, “And Xander doesn’t go near ‘em.”

“My dear fellow, I would love to promise that and include Buffy in that equation, but… I believe that may well be up to our partners… yes?”

The Immortal and his newly made friend exchanged a rueful grin. “We’re both love’s bitch then.”

“Ahhh my dear friend, indeed it would seem so.”

“So…. The plan?”

“We go in tomorrow night.”

“Oh bloody hell!”

At that instant Xander pushed open the door. Still toweling his hair dry, he wandered over to kiss his lover on the cheek then turned to their guest. “Hey Spike, Anton… What’s up?”

Part Thirteen

The evening meal was a pleasant affair and the recital even more so. A full chamber orchestra accompanied a wonderful young tenor as he sang his way through most of the best known Mozart, Puccini and Bellini arias. For Spike the highlight came as the harpist began to perform Mozart’s Concerto for Flute and Harp in C Major. Xander watched his transfixed partner as tears welled then fell, the beautiful blonde seemed caught in a private, silent salute to a memory of times long past.

He reached out, took, then squeezed Spike’s hand. “You OK?”

Spike gave him a pained smile and sniffled a little, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, “Angelus loved the harp… bloody Irish!”

Despite their audience, Xander pulled the vampire into his lap and held him tight as the beautiful counterpoint melodies continued, as did his lover’s tears.

The recital ended with accolades flowing from all present, but eventually Anton, Buffy, and their two guests were left alone (albeit with coffee and liqueur to ease the rather tense feel of the room).

Xander could stand it no longer, “So…. We go in tonight? How? Where? And you are *so* not having Spike in this!”

Spike broke from the grasp, “Oi!... You’re the one who’s not goin’ in mate!”

At that moment pandemonium broke out, both couples arguing vehemently regarding their significant other’s safety, yet none debating the need to ‘go in’.

It was Anton who eventually broke the impasse. Holding a pale hand up, he ceased all other dialogue, “Sadly we are all warriors in our own right, therefore, it is perhaps inevitable that we all go. It does seem that we have a rather unique combination of skills needed for this type of situation so, perhaps it is apt that we share the risk equally.”

Spike looked across at the man he now knew to be ten times his age, plus some, and then to the slayer, his former violent lover, and then to his consort, his friend, his lover, Xander.

Xander felt the surge of ‘love’, ‘love’, ‘trust’, ‘worry’, then ‘brother’ through the link and knew Anton was the subject of the final sentiment. He squeezed his partner’s hand, indicating his compliance with the plan and his respect for Spike, and with the tiniest of nods conveyed his loyalty.


Having placated his own partner, Anton began to speak again, “If anything happens, we head to Venice, here is the address, memorize it, if you will.” He handed out a small piece of paper to Buffy and the other two present.

Buffy turned to the Immortal with a near unreadable expression, “This is crazy, Anton! We go in, we kick arse and take home what’s ours, simple! Why all this ‘Plan B’ stuff?”

“Because, my darling, we need to shut down their operations, not just save a few slayers! For that a ‘Plan B’ is essential.”

“But…”

Spike turned to the concerned blonde, “C’mon Slayer! We’ve done it before.. and I’m sure you’d rather not watch your back for the rest of time… We do this? We do it right an’ proper. Agreed?”

Xander closed his eye and pulled his lover close, whispering, “God Spike… here we go again!... Don’t you *dare* leave me!”

“Not a chance pet… you’re *mine*.”


The plan was simple, go in to ‘purchase a couple of demons’ for a fictitious private army, take the slayers and leave. The ruse had already been set via a combination of Stephano and Anton’s contacts. All they had to do was get in, thrall the guards (something the Immortal was sure he could do), Xander and Buffy grab the slayers, Spike open the rest of the ‘cages’ (all four protagonists purposefully ignoring the possibility of innocent ‘casualties’ from the same action)… then they would all ‘get out’…. What could go wrong?

They left the property in two cars near midnight.

The New Initiative had waited for just such a move. Intel had informed them, and despite their twenty four hour hiatus, Chambers and Bourke were ready and watching for one of the cars. It was the one used to collect the two individuals being monitored. The ‘gay couple’ they had apparently underestimated (though Chambers still had his doubts). They followed at a distance and rang forward to warn their fellow soldiers.


Xander and Spike drove the BMW series six sports car toward the designated address south of Bologna, Buffy and Anton followed in the Audi. In another life it would have been a thrill, but now their intertwined fingers were a silent sign of worry as they held on and the car sped toward a hated destination. Something did not feel right.

As they approached the first gate of the chalet, Spike pulled his friend’s hand up to his own lips, and kissed it. “Love you pet… don’t you *ever* forget that…. Love you.”

They were only minutes away from their goal but as they rounded the next bend, a roadblock loomed. Xander pulled on the hand brake. Xander who was driving, spun the car ninety degrees to the authorities, and silently forced his partner from the vehicle, at the same moment dropping his own window.

“Can I help…” His world went black.

…………………………………………………

Xander was cold. In fact he was beyond cold, his brain seemed to have shut down to all but some basic needs. He needed heat, he desperately wanted to pee and everything hurt.

Starting to catalogue other things, he realized that he was lying on his side, hands zip strapped behind him and locked to a short chain on the floor of his cell. He was also unbelievably thirsty, could no longer see out of his good eye and his teeth were chattering uncontrollably. Without consciously trying, he called plaintively for Spike through their link but felt nothing. Fear ate at him… Had Spike been taken too? He could not remember their last moments, only that he had been hit hard and all went black. The next time he woke, he had refused to talk and some jackass in a uniform had hit him hard across his ‘good side’.

What if Spike was dust or worse? Too many imagined hells sprung forth. Xander tried too calm his breathing but seemed to be fighting a losing battle. Fear and cold took any control he had left, unable to rise from the floor, he was intensely humiliated yet temporarily warmed by his own stream of urine. His skin prickled as he made a futile attempt to move from the puddle.

Xander, the consort, craved for his master vampire… but even more critical, Xander, the man needed to know his lover was safe. He curled into a fetal position to try to preserve what little core heat he had, and allowed more precious fluid to spill onto the floor as his own bereft tears dribbled to the floor. The plastic zip strap binding his hands behind him continued to cut into his wrists. Trying to shut down all thought, he curled down onto the concrete hoping for sleep, his forehead on the floor, all extremities pulled as close as possible to his core.

Xander was aware of food coming and going. He finally reached for a small bottle of water on the second day, and eliminated his waste again without the pleasure of moving. A quiet tear fell as he did so but it was out of worry for Spike, not his own circumstance. If only Spike had survived, that was all he needed to know. He had said nothing to his captors to date, despite a number of ‘visits’ and ‘encouragement’ as his ribs and bruised face would attest.

Xander heard rather than saw the door to his cell hiss open.

“Are you ready to cooperate Mr Harris?”

Xander whispered, “’M dad was Mr Harris… talk to him.”

“It seems a shame that you refuse to assist us. We have *so* enjoyed ‘chatting’ to your young friend. He’s quite the firecracker… takes it up the arse as well as any I know. Wonderful screams Alexander…. Or is it still *Xander*? Quite surprised at your ‘life choice’ when we first photographed you, but then he is pretty. I *do* hope he’s of age! Wouldn’t want to have to keep you both here until he’s legal….”

Xander had already picked the voice, and despite the lack of vision he knew, *Riley*. But rather than increasing Xander’s distress, his captor had made a fundamental error… the ‘young friend’ statement gave him the information he needed. They could not have Spike. ‘Hostile 17’ was ‘on file’ no doubt and besides, would never be mistaken for human. Apart from anything else, Riley knew Spike. So Xander played the only card he had, speaking loud enough to be heard for the second time in two days, his voice still rasping and faint.

“Yeah well, least he takes it from me with a smile and leaves satisfied.”

Riley’s immediate reaction to the statement went unnoticed by his staff, but Xander knew the ire would be rising. Baiting the captor was perhaps not his smartest move he reflected as Riley grabbed Xander by the hair and hissed, “You like to hear him scream, pervert? You wanna watch while my boys put it to him? They’re quite lonely these days… Second thoughts… why don’t we play tag so he can watch as I take your sorry arse?”

Xander opened his good eye as far as he could, vision still blurred, he hope his attempt at ‘indifference’ worked. “Actually figured you for a bottom, *commander*.”

The blow to his already bruised ribs was expected but still took his breath away.

“What’s your relationship with the slayers these days *Xander*? You can’t still be delivering donuts, ‘cause I note that… hmmm…. Gosh… ‘position of responsibility’…. Who would have thought?! Bet your boss missed the memo about your little blonde *boyfriend*, didn’t he!”

In a switch of personality worthy of Sybil, Riley squatted down, dropped his tone and near whispered, “All you need to do is tell us what you know about the Slayer and the Council.”

Xander remained quiet… If he were to admit he was privy to their lie then …. He came to a quick conclusion, it was better to play the terrified lover and innocent human…. but how much he could reveal was the critical point.

“OK… OK! Just…. Let William go… he’s done nothing!”

“There now, much better.” Riley stood up with a self satisfied grin.

Xander opened his still blood engorged eye and looked up from the floor, noting the self satisfied smirk on the face of his friend’s former lover. *Prick!* Play to the audience… he had seen Spike do it a hundred times. Coughing dramatically he turned and rasped… “I need a guarantee, or I don’t talk!..... William… I need to know he’s…”

Riley appeared to make a call but even Xander’s human hearing could detect that there was no one on the other end of the line. “ Release William Aurelius.”

“You have my personal assurance, Xander, we’ve ‘freed your Willy’.” The derisive snort from the blonde as he chuckled at his own double entendre did nothing for Xander. He rolled to a kneeling position and dry wretched, spitting a teaspoon of foul bile onto his captor’s combat boots.

…………………

Spike was beyond reason, pacing their ‘safe house’ in full game face. At the Immortal’s insistence, he had kept on the heat suit but it only served to remind him of what he had lost.

Anton appeared at the door, Buffy at his side. As green eyes met blue the result was… golden and ridged!

“No!! I will not be F#@$ing calm! We have to go *now* It’s Xan….” Vampiric ridges disappeared and distressed human replaced them as a low whisper ground out, “It’s Xan!”

Part Fourteen

Spike had been pushed from the car with such force that it took a moment to realize what Xander had done or why. Rolling to the verge he could see combat boots shuffling on the opposite side of the car courtesy of the spotlight glare from the roadblock. With *Run! Love! Panic! Run!* flowing through the link, Spike felt helpless to act. He heard rather than saw the sickening blow that quickly incapacitated his lover.

As the car door was opened and his consort dragged out, he was just about to surge forward when a preternaturally firm hand grabbed him from behind and pinned him to the ground. “Don’t! We will go in but anything rash act now bodes ill.”

Spike with his face still in the dirt, realized the sense in what was being said, nevertheless struggled for a moment then simply collapsed in grief. The Intiative had ‘acquired a target’ and departed, leaving the abandoned car at the side of the road, switching off floodlights and allowing darkness to rule. Anton picked up the now desperately keening vampire, and holding him as onae might a child, walked back to their own car concealed to the side of the road in an olive grove.

Buffy drove as Anton held the distressed vampire until they arrived at the safe house.

It was almost that evening before Spike pulled from his grief long enough to level his anger at himself, then all those around him, snarling then pulling in on himself to bite his own wrist and take penitent blood while letting tears of loss fall

…………………………………………..

Twenty four hours on, things seemed no better in the ‘safe house’. Spike had been in game face for hours, alternately growling then silently grieving for his lost consort. Buffy eventually took her former compatriot in arms out to the courtyard and simply invited him to, “Give it your best shot.”

Anton watched, admiring his slayer’s speed, strength, and… compassion. Spike needed to kill, or hurt or maim…. At the very least he needed to fight! Anton realized in a blinding moment, that he would have been the same were Buffy to be the one taken.

Unfortunately, when they went ‘back in’, the rescue would need completely ‘level heads’, only that would win the day. Anton saw his own lover’s understanding of Spike’s need. He was beside himself with worry at the current time and would be of no use until that was ‘worked through’.

From what he had observed of Xander, level headedness was the human’s greatest strength, yet he knew, they still *had* to get to the man swiftly, and not just for interrogation reasons. Like Spike, he had full knowledge of what the Initiative was capable of imparting on its ‘charges’, and worried for Xander should a full battery of physical tests be run. Consorts of Master Vampires would hardly register as ‘normal’.

Anton also realized something that perhaps only Xander and Spike knew, a consort and master relied on regular, if only small amounts, of blood exchange. Without it Xander would suffer withdrawals worthy of any long term heroin addict if not fed within two to three days. Added to that was the concern that, if Xander died for any reason, Spike would die too, slowly and in the most agonizing way. Anton had seen it once before, that was enough. They simply *had* to get Xander out.

Spike had been sent to don the heat suit one more time while Anton took various reports regarding the Initiative from his personal sources. It seemed that Stephano was as concerned about Spike’s consort as Anton. Something that rather surprised the Immortal until Anton remembered that one of the demon’s favorites was lost via consort link and death. He was unsure of Stephano’s history with Spike, but it seemed there was enough loyalty to push this seasoned Roman demon ‘heavy weight’ above and beyond any passing assistance.

…………..

Spike said it again, this time with a desperation that tore at the Immortal’s core. “Please mate, it’s Xan!! I’ve got to go…”

Anton put up his hands to calm the vampire, the sensitive blonde poet, the former adversary who had fast become friend and fellow warrior.

“We will go in, but at sundown and with some assistance. I have some contacts that are of use and I believe that Willow Rosenberg is on her way here as we speak along with two others of her coven.”

“Red’s coming?... We have to get him, why’s Red’s coming?… Boy’s in trouble but can’t risk the witch… boy won’t be happy…” Spike was rambling and quite beyond reason. His concern for his consort jammed all logic. Anton grabbed his arm as the vampire turned and made for yet another lap of the room. In a tone Spike had only ever heard used by his Sire, Anton pushed his wrist against the vampire’s mouth and commanded his distressed friend with a single word, “Drink.”

The master vampire was reduced to fledge in an instant and complied. Fangs dropped immediately and he bit quickly, yet with reverence, into the pale wrist pressed against his lips. After a mouthful he fell to his knees, Anton moved with him. After two drafts, tears began to flow. After three, Spike withdrew and attempted to pull away in body also but instead was drawn back and held. “Xan, [hic] Xan…. oh God please!... Xan….” Spike’s voice dropped to a mere whisper, “Please…” The Immortal pulled the keening blonde to him and eventually simply rocked and cooed quietly. There was no shame in the act, merely an attempt to comfort.

Eventually the bereft vampire sat up, grasped the Immortal’s arm and leveled blue eyes on green, “Thank you….” No more needed to be said as both ancient males sat entwined on the floor of one of Anton’s guest rooms.

Buffy had appeared at the door ready to announce the arrival of Willow soon after Spike’s final collapse, but Anton silently warned her off with a shake of his head and rueful look. She had gripped the door handle hard, understanding only in part, the agony Spike was going through… but empathized [unable to shake the thought that it might have been Anton] .

By the time Spike and Anton joined the main group, Willow was already in ‘full flight’. The coven had resolved to back the venture completely, an unprecedented move since medieval times as it risked revealing at least some of their number.

The meeting was in full swing when Spike sniffed audibly from the doorway, “So Red…. Xan is relyin’ on us, what’s the plan?
…………………

Since his little interlude with Riley, Xander had spent much of his time alternating between trying to sleep and blacking out due to injection, lack of blood pressure or blows to the head.

He was in a kneeling position when he awoke this time. Hands still strapped behind him and a distinct reek of excreta and bile surrounding him… and another scent… that of blood, his own.

There was an audience this time, he could sense that, so kept his eye shut trying not to indicate his return to consciousness. It was Riley’s voice that he recognized again.

“Analyse the sample and time the healing this time… I want the results by midday.”

Midday? What time was it? How long had he been here? What had they found? When had he passed out? He was thirsty again… but they didn’t have Spike… If only Spike would come… he would come… he had to come… He needed Spike. He *craved* Spike…. and why was it still so cold? As full awareness returned the ache in his gut returned and he began to shake uncontrollably, he dry retched and continued to shake.

“The subject is going into shock, Sir. Shall I sedate him?”

Only vaguely aware of his surrounds, Xander felt the sharp jab to his buttock then retreated to blessed darkness.

……………………..

Still listening intently to Willow’s proposal, Anton looked up from the detailed planner for their coming operation to attend the announcement by one of his doormen, “Stephano is here sir.”

“Show him in.”

Stephano arrived with four of his ‘boys’ in tow. Unimpressed by the hour they had been forced to leave Rome, he was still glad to see his old ally, though circumstances might have been better. Anton stretched a welcoming hand to greet the younger demon and now compatriot.

Buffy stepped to Anton’s side, he noted once again, the dark colors of her attire, atypical but brimming with a sense of anticipation of the fight to come. She was flanked by Willow and two women as yet little known to the Immortal.

Stephano could be difficult, but they needed him, Anton stiffened with anticipation as the doors opened.

“Senor Stephano Capillano and his staff Sir.”

“Welcome Stephano, and thank you for attending in this hour of need.” Anton pulled Buffy and Willow forward, “May I present my partner Buffy Summers and her friend, Willow Rosenberg, and her fellow coven members Jaala and Kerryn.” Anton then held his hand out and pulled Spike to his side as one might a younger, precious brother. “And you of course know William the Bloody.”

Stephano nodded to Spike then addressed the previously unknown members of their group by kissing each woman on the hand, “Charmed.”

The meeting began amicably enough, Anton acutely aware of the deadly game they were about to engage in, and the need to engage each person’s unique skills.

Anton addressed Willow first, “You are aware of my history?”

“Indeed Master. We come to aid you and our friends, and are fully aware of your status, and that of Spike. Though I confess we will need to discuss our roles as I am concerned you are able to utilize us effectively.” Willow and her two companions bent their heads with traditional reverence.

“Indeed we will discuss that within the hour. Stephano, I thank you for coming and ask that you lead off proceedings with the current intelligence from Rome. Might I request that we move to our dining room and proceed with our meeting in a more formal setting.”

All rose to follow their host, Willow taking Buffy’s arm as Anton rose to shake Stephano’s hand, point he and his entourage in the direction of the meeting room, then place a reassuring hand on Spike’s shoulder as they moved venues.

……………………

“You’ve been holding out on us Mister Harris”

Xander came to with a start but attempted to hold still. He was desperate for water, his head throbbing with dehydration and tongue apparently three sizes too big for his mouth. His eye had healed, but there was safety in keeping it closed.

“C’mon coward, we know you’re awake…” He was kicked in the ribs once more, letting out a stifled ‘umpfh’ as long unused vocal cords attempted sound.

Several hands pulled him to his feet and a young man’s voice sneered, “We have a little present for you… since our CEO said you are the San Fran type we figured….” He was blindfolded, then gagged.

Barely able to stand, his back was forced against a cold wall and soiled pants sliced and torn from his person. The zip strap was cut but replaced by more traditional hand cuffs. His wrists swollen and continuing to bleed from the overly tight fastening of three days and shoulders sore after being fixed behind him. The cuffs were better, but now fastened to a D bolt on the ceiling and now he was naked. Xander started to breathe heavily through the gag, unsure of what was to come.

A blast of cold water from a fire hose washed him down and took his breath away. The onslaught was painful and he swung away, drawing his knees up to protect his groin, resulting in a humiliating blast that assaulted his rear and penetrated his bowels.

Xander closed his eye once more and bit his bottom lip until it bled. He just needed to hang on. *Spike will come. Spike is safe… Spike will come….* He vaguely heard laughing, felt the cuffs released from the ceiling and collapsed onto the ground shivering and folding in on himself as best he could.

*Spike will come. Spike is safe… Spike will come….* His silent mantra continued even as his body registered hands tugging him to standing again. Eventually he registered a change of venue. Dragged to a bathroom somewhere he was pushed to the floor and all four limbs pinned by strong hands.

For the first time Xander struggled, but hearing the buzz of an electric shaver and feeling it touch his upper thigh next to his groin he stilled instantly. He doubted that anyone would care too much if his status shifted to eunuch, so he went limp, allowed them their ‘giggle fest’ and let silent tears of humiliation and distress flow into his blindfold as his captors divested him of all his obvious body hair.

Another forced cold shower later, Xander kept his head down, trying to listen for some indication of his captors’ intentions. He felt, rather than saw, the many hands and heard the vicious sniggers and phone calls to fellow soldiers, apparently he was to have a bigger audience. He was toweled dry and felt clothing being applied. Pulled and shoved, beyond caring and compliant, Xander’s body somehow no longer connected to his brain.

“Come on *darlin’*… you’re all smooth so let’s get you pretty before we fuck your whoring arse!”

He felt the cuffs being clipped to a ceiling again, the blindfold was pulled free and someone played with his features before Xander’s good eye was forced open and his chin held up until he stared unwillingly into a one way mirror.

“Wouldn’t your little friend love to see you now!”

He was in a ‘strappy’ floral dress, tight, at least two sizes too small, and a pale yellow cardigan. He noted that his torturers had ‘assisted’ his bustline with two wads of what he assumed was toilet paper.

Not only was he in a dress, but he had been shaved, closely and intimately and someone had ‘done his makeup’ in a grotesque parody of womanhood. They had even painted a crude false eye complete with blue eye-shadow in the empty socket.

One of the soldiers, who could not have been older than nineteen, lifted Xander’s skirt with the butt of his rifle and in a thick Italian accent, pointed out that the thong he was now wearing was of the ‘edible variety’, before caressing Xander’s very uninterested sex with the broad handle of his weapon and leaning in close to whisper “Faggot”.

Xander did the only thing he had left in his defense. He closed his good eye and remained silent. His arms ached; he was desperately thirsty despite his recent dousings; it was at least three days since he had eaten; and he needed to pee again… but most of all he needed Spike, he craved his Master Vampire, so finally let all his remaining energy flow into a plaintive, desperate call of love and cry for help across the consort link.

………………………………….

Anton had just dismissed the majority of their team, giving them an hour before they regrouped and met in front of the villa to begin their attack. The wiccan and slayer team would go in first with only twelve minutes to disarm security systems and scramble computers before the rest of the team went in.

Willow had brought a vital suite of information and though they had only vague sketches of the ground plans, it was clear that the establishment was still in its infancy. There were twenty three ‘holding pens’, a number of ‘research rooms’ and four interrogation areas, plus a number of other functional rooms.

They all knew their roles, and thanks to the wiccans would all go in with glamours to hide their real identities from any cameras

Anton was following Spike out the door when the vampire fell to his knees, grabbed at thin air in obvious agony, and tried to scream, only managing a strange whimper. With preternatural speed and strength, Anton swept up the blonde, carried him to the lounge and tore open his own shirt as he settled them, pressing the vampire’s mouth to his pectoral, he offered his blood for the second time in three days.

Spike was beyond conscious thought, he could feel Xander calling in desperation. He knew they were about to go…but… And then Sire was there, but not Sire… no… friend…Anton… with blood that was ancient and strong, and arms that were reassuring, and as he drank he sent back *love… coming… hold on… hold on… love* through the link as loud as he could.

……………….

As two more soldiers entered the room Xander felt a warm jolt and allowed a single tear to trickle down his cheek, taking eyeliner with it… Spike was coming.

Part Fifteen

Anton sat for almost fifteen minutes with the vampire on his lap, arms enveloping and comforting the distraught male. For some reason Spike evoked a feeling of paternal protection, of friendship and camaraderie, and the strongest sense of his own expansive history. Empires, Kingdoms, Nations and political movements had come and gone in his time, Spike had but a hundred and fifty years of that yet…. Anton had felt disconnected for years. With modern communications and technology, the process of ‘rise and fall’ had sped to unreasonable proportions, demons survived yet human cruelty endured… indeed it seemed more potent with each new generation of weaponry. He sighed and looked down at the now relaxed face of a friend.

William was something different. There was a quality in this vampire that Anton recognized as a kindred spirit, yet also a sense of something that the ancient soul was missing. Spike’s vitality and love of life seemed to permeate everything. Despite all that had been done to him; despite all he had sought out for himself; all he had lost; all he had endured; every new twist that fate had dealt; this resilient individual, be he souled or un, seemed to have adjusted and overcome… Spike was alive… more… he was the embodiment of life, he was its lover.

Anton reflected as he fed his needy compatriot. He currently loved Buffy, but like all other mortal lovers, their time would come to an end – even for humans it would be thirty or forty years at best, but a blink of the eye. His current lover was a woman of the twenty first century, and a slayer. She loved passionately, there was no question of that, but her sense of ‘the past’ was utterly lacking. If it came up, she denied it, if it was discussed by others the topic was changed, if friends or family were present, Anton’s real status was denied. It hadn’t bothered him before.

The distraught beauty currently in his arms shifted a little and pulled the cool male form closer, the ancient being was deeply touched by a profound sense of gentle and genuine love, the sense of familial tenderness, of kindred spirit, something he had not felt for nearly a millennium and now knew to have profoundly missed. Something he needed. How ironic that it was Angelus’ wayward childe, a mere century and a half young, whom called to his very soul as brother.

Anton felt Spike shift again, this time his sat the blond up, gently brushed the cascade of blonde curls back, and retied the ponytail with the black ribbon. Spike eventually stood, sniffed and turned away to quickly wipe the remnants of tears from his face with the back of his left hand.

Anton stood also. Spike still refused to look at his host, though he managed to find his voice, “Seems like the consort link is still workin’… Figure we better be goin’…. And um… Thanks…. ‘preciate the top up… and the um…” He gestured down to the couch then looked up to capture green eyes with a deeply grateful and now fiercely determined crystal blue stare.

Anton pulled him in and kissed him on the temple “You are most welcome little brother. Let’s us rescue your consort shall we?”

The Immortal smiled knowingly as Spike suddenly appeared to ‘switch’ gears, grab the leather duster he had slung over the couch at the beginning of the meeting, and departed the room with the near jovial comment, “Oi watch who you’re callin’ little mate!” Ahhh no. He was certainly not going to lose track of this soul, and knowing William the Bloody, his consort would be equally worthy of the Immortal’s protective gaze.

He followed Spike, slammed the heavy door behind him and felt oddly excited regarding the fight to come.


……………………..

Xander was unsure of how much time had passed. His arms above his head made it hard to breathe, so he alternated between semi standing and hanging. The ‘tranny crew’ had inadvertently offered his strained arm sockets some relief at some point in the last half hour. Six inch fashion heels, no matter the purpose, had their advantages.

Initially the taunting had been less than average, the stuff of sexually frustrated schoolboys at their smutty best. No doubt reflecting the mental capacity of his ‘pack’ of captors Xander mused silently…*sticks ‘n stones, little boys, sticks ‘n stones*. It was the touching that had him cringing, closing his good eye and retreating as far as he could into his own mind, unwilling to fall all the way into darkness for fear of losing the fleeting links with Spike.

One particular soldier seemed to be using the session as therapy, screaming abuse at some former ‘girlfriend’ so close to Xander’s face that the halitosis suffered by his abuser gave away the likely reason for the girl’s apparent frigidity. The encounter ended with Xander’s ‘breasts being fondled and finally a backhand across the face that had him seeing stars. The next soldier took a cue from his ‘innovative’, angry colleague and pulled up the dress at the rear, tie it into a bunch then begin to ‘spank’ the prisoner for some imagined reason that Xander missed amongst the expletives being spouted. Hanging his head low, he focused on the pain and his worry for Spike’s ongoing safety should Anton and team attempt a rescue. He was unsurprised but still relieved to realize the pain/pleasure response from the one or two times he and Spike had play acted with ‘love slaps’, applied only to his lover’s ministrations. He wondered what Spike was doing at that moment and tried to remember the crystal blue eyes.

Eventually bored with their hanging subject, Xander was tugged from the fastening in the ceiling, falling painfully to his knees as his legs gave out and wondering if he could get up given the high heels and his shaking frame. He need not have worried, his captors pushed his face to the ground, pinning his still cuffed wrists above his head, they spread his legs as wide as they could holding them firmly. He heard a zip opening behind him and the guffawing of the group as they encouraged ‘MacIntosh’ to ‘get it on’. Someone pointed out that lube would help ‘The Mac’ but apparently ‘slick was for pussys’, which brought on a whole new round of lewd comments and raucous laughter.

Xander felt a hard column of flesh press against his right buttock as the soldier leaned forward and whispered, “You can scream whenever you want *sweetheart*. Just love little girls who give me feedback. If you’re real good one of the boys might even take ya on ya back later. Like that wouldn’t ya, whore!?”

Xander let a single tear squeeze from his closed eye and trickle to the floor, he knew this would hurt. He tried to focus on the things Spike would do to these men if he found them….. if he found Xander…. If he came…

…………………………..

Prior to departing the villa all members of the group known to the Initiative were given glamours by the wiccans, should they be spotted or caught. Willow giggled as Spike began scratching furiously, claiming that heat-suits and mojo didn’t mix. When tingling eventually stopped, Spike was left with an appearance that was still striking, but hardly recognizable. Dark red, tight curls and a thick sprinkling of freckles along with hazel eyes and a slightly chubbier face,gave him the appearance of a sixteen year old school boy, rather than a master vampire.

“Oh bloody hell what are you grinning at slayer?

“You’re all Happy Days Ralph Malph!”

“What?”

“Freckles and red hair!” She giggled again, this time joined by Willow.

He gave a distinctive leer that could only the vampire could manage, “Yeah well… least I can’t see meself! Short haired brunette is hardly your style, though must say, extra curves do you no harm!”

Buffy immediately moved to try to view herself in one of the car’s side mirrors but was stopped in her tracks as Anton stepped in quickly blocking her path, leading his partner matter-of-factly to her car and bringing all present back to the seriousness of what they were about to do.

Spike was in the car with Anton and two of Stephano’s ‘crew’. The mood was tense. Anton rolled a small purple ‘locator’ crystal in his hand as Spike systematically chewing the cuticles on his nails until three were bleeding, at which point he sucked the digits until his own saliva healed them, then began the process again. They each had a crystal which was to direct them to the Initiative captives. Spike had pocketed his, knowing that if Xander was still conscious, the consort link would be enough once he was close.

The roadblock was still in position but this time manned by only two soldiers. Apparently the Initiative had obtained what it wanted with the capture of Xander. The other two cars remained well back and out of sight as one of Stephano’s crew, Petros (an extremely dark and as always with Stephano, Spike noted, a very beautiful boy) stepped out of their vehicle. The speakers from the car blared dance music out into the night as he walked up to the uniformed men to ‘ask directions’, claiming he and his friends were on their way to a cousin’s marriage celebration somewhere in the vicinity. He returned to the car to apparently retrieve the map, growling ‘Ready?’ to his three ‘party’ companions, then returned to consult with the soldiers once more.

Obviously placated by the seemingly harmless group, both soldiers moved to assist the lost party goer, Petros drawing out the conversation with descriptions of his cousin, the new wife, the mother-in-law, and a lengthy ‘dirty laundry’ story of his cousin’s infidelity during the engagement period. He was just in the process of inviting the soldiers for a drink after their shift, when both dropped to the ground with a thud.

Mouths sealed with tape and arms and legs shackled together, both unconscious men were pushed into the boot of Willow’s car as the group prepared to approach the Initiative’s building. Anton grabbed both communication handsets from the soldiers, handing one to Petros who nodded and smiled as he was quietly congratulated on his performance thus far. Anton slid his hand into Buffy’s, then directed a commanding statement to the whole group, “Time is of the essence. There is a surveillance handover in less than half and hour, Willow must be in place by then.”


Twenty minutes later they were in position outside a rambling, rather decrepit looking two story villa. According to their intelligence it was old style with large courtyard and the main Initiative facilities on the ground floor. The only obvious ‘high tech’ was a series of cameras panning the area and unusually elaborate lighting shining out into the grounds.

The wiccans held hands, and the power flicked off for a moment, just long enough for Spike and Anton to virtually fly to the side wall of the building. Spike scaled the ancient wall easily and snapped off the two cameras while Anton scanned the side door for other devices then undid the hinge pins and opened the door reverse to normal. Spike dropped silently from the roof and the others sprinted to to join them as they cautiously entered via what seemed like an old fashioned pantry.

Willow squatted down and briskly set up the laptop, logging in to the Initiatives computer system easily with a combination of magic and more than decent hacking skills.

She whispered “Where good to go, three minutes.”

………………….

‘The Mac’ had had his fun, frustrated that his victim remained virtually silent throughout, despite his own very ‘special’ efforts.

“Next… Got the lady all warm and slick for you fellas.” Xander felt something hot trickle down his inner thigh and heard shuffling behind, then the Private Halitosis piped up, “How much of a goer is ‘e? Shall I give ‘im a go with a nightstick you recon?”

A door slammed hard, and Xander heard Riley’s voice, “No more! And clear this up, we may have a situation. It seems our boys on the road weren’t at their post for changeover.” Sounds of a scramble ensued, Xander left face down on the cold floor, leaking and every part of him in pain. All went quiet as the group departed.

A hand reached down and pulled him up to a full kneel by his hair. “Seems you have been holding out on us *Xander* blood tests came back… Your little fuck buddy might be human but seems your blood has ‘demon’ all through it … Been screwing around have we? Guess you’ll just have to be our guest for a bit longer…. might even have to buy you a couple of new frocks for the summer.” Pushing the battered individual back to the floor he departed, flicking the light off then slamming and locking the door. Xander painfully pulled his knees together and curled up into a fetal position on his side, only to lift again, wretch violently and spit bile to the floor as the shock of the past few hours finally sank in.

……………………..

Stephano and his men were closest to the door leading to the rest of the house, their aim was to engage. They would split up, flanking both sides of the courtyard and set off as many smoke grenades as was possible then take out as much of the ‘muscle’ as they could – by whatever means. Anton and Buffy plus one of Anton’s men would go for the main control room and then the holding pens to retrieve the slayers. Anyone in the way of their goal was to be taken down also. Another of the Immortal’s men would stay with the wiccans as protection while they progressively shut down and confused all security and communications, then worked to erase all Initiative records.

Spike had been assigned Anton’s own personal friend and bodyguard, Gregor. Initially objecting fiercely claiming his own capacity as Master Vampire, Anton had put a hand on his friend’s arm and gently conveying his own concern for the vampire’s welfare with a silent exchange, Spike conceded, growling “Just keep up then” to the slightly bemused Gregor. His only task was to find and rescue his consort.

Willow hit a key on her computer then gave the command, “Now!”

Stephano and his men moved swiftly and silently, the Slayer and group followed then Spike and Gregor. Seconds later pandemonium broke out.

Jaala and Kerryn began to chant while Willow typed furiously confident of her own abilities but conscious of time. She checked off the list swiftly: Satellite and land communications with ‘the outside’, out; Mains power, out. Digital phone signals, scrambled; Security lockdown, disabled; All electronic surveillance and locking systems, no longer functional.

Willow relaxed a little and set to work on the research computers while her fellow wiccans continued chant the location spell that would direct their warriors to the slayers, the watcher and Xander.

Sounds of gun fire and orders yelled at unseen soldiers dominated, then screams and calls for help.

Spike was oblivious. Unable to see through the smoke he sped through the corridors of the ancient building Gregor at his shoulder, not only keeping pace but watching for danger to his charge. Spike began to call desperately through the link…. Nothing. He pushed his hand into his pocket at took out the locator stone… it glowed red and he picked up the urge to head upstairs.
A soldier appeared suddenly from the smoke. Gregor was upon him and before the man realized he was with company a blow under the chin had him unconscious, or possibly dead on the ground. Not easily impressed, Spike nodded at his compatriot and sped up the set of stairs that had just come into view.

Stephano and his men had successfully rounded up the soldiers present. Pushing those conscious into the courtyard to kneel hands cuffed, while those unconscious were cuffed then dumped face down beside the growing group. Twenty three soldiers in total, but the commander was missing.

A shot was fired and though the smoke obscured the source, it was apparently from the upper story. Petros collapsed, his thigh bleeding profusely. Within seconds a second shot missed its target then a muffled yell and further shot marked the capture of the sniper.

Riley struggled as preternatural arms held him fast, “You’re fuckin nicked mate! Go shootin’ our boys and we’ll just ‘ave ta punish ya won’t we. Now…..” Spike growled, “Be a good host and show us to your latest ‘guest’ would you?”

“Get F@#$ed”

“Oooh feisty…” Spike’s mocking tone soon shifted as he nodded to Gregor who proceeded to blindfold the man then tape Riley’s mouth, and cuff wrists and ankles, pushing the man to the floor in the process.

Gregor held his pistol close to Riley’s ear and cocked it then stood guard.

Spike left him to his charge, speeding down the corridor, now desperate for Xander.


Buffy and Anton had found the research area, captured the scientists with relative ease and released the residents of the seven occupied cages. Three of whom were apparently their unharmed Slayers. They also found one traumatized, incoherent young watcher who had apparently been kept in a lightless solitary confinement cell for almost a month.


Spike had kicked open almost every door on the upper floor of the south wing in desperation. He was becoming frantic. No signal through the link and the *bloody stone* was giving him no more clues than some small child calling ‘warmer’ in a game of hide and seek! Bordering on panic that he might be too late, he stilled for a moment, took an unnecessary breath and let it out slowly. And felt it… ever so faint but there none the less… He followed the call to the very next door.

Kicking it in, he was assaulted by the smell, tears and terror and blood and many males, arousal and… semen… and Xander. To his relief he heard it, the heartbeat was strong.

Vowing that the guilty would die for this, Spike pulled his consort into his arms, cradled him as one might a two year old, kissed the beloved forehead and began to rock the unconscious figure, purring a little to mark his own distress and relief. Eventually he stood and carefully carried the abused body downstairs.

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