Tuesday, April 27^th, 2010, 7:00pm, London:

Bess used all her strength to hold the door closed against the guards that were banging on it, trying to get in, as Giles struggled to slide the three heavy, metal rods in place that served as locks. When he finally secured the last of the rods, Giles leaned his back against the door heavily, breathing hard, as he wiped the perspiration from his brow. 

“Oh my God!” Bess exclaimed when she could finally let go of the door and turned around. Spike and Buffy were on the ground, both bathed in blood, neither moving – forgetting momentarily that Spike was a vampire, she was certain they were both dead.

At her exclamation, Giles looked up and his eyes found them instantly. “Dear Lord…” he murmured, swallowing back the bile that was climbing in his throat as he pushed himself away from the door and started towards them.  Bess began to follow him when a renewed barrage began against the door from the guards outside.  Giles and Bess both turned back to the door as the heavy metal rods creaked and rattled in their moorings. 

“You stay here … don’t allow anyone in,” Giles instructed her and Bess nodded and went back to her position against the door, bracing her legs and pressing her back against it as she watched Giles move closer to Spike and Buffy.

Giles swallowed hard as he reached the warriors and concentrated on just breathing.  Knowing that Spike couldn’t actually die, despite the severity of his wounds and what seemed miles of entrails covering his abdomen, legs and floor, Giles began with Buffy. The ex-Watcher pulled the sword out of the dead guard and pushed him off her, then knelt down to try and check for wounds. She was so drenched in blood, he had no way of knowing what of it was hers and what had come from their adversaries – he couldn’t tell if she’d been cut or stabbed or even if she was alive or dead.  He leaned down and placed his ear against her chest and listened … he finally breathed a sigh of relief when he heard her heart beating strong and steady.

Giles jumped up to find something to use to clean her off with so he could actually find out if she was bleeding.  He quickly spotted the bucket of cold water that Weatherby kept in the chamber … he stepped over the dead and unconscious bodies of the guards that Spike and Buffy had fought, and retrieved the bucket.  Once back at Buffy’s side, he removed his own shirt and undershirt and used them as rags, dunking them in the water and washing her blood-stained skin.  He started with her neck and groin area, knowing if one of the large arteries in those areas had been cut it would only take minutes for her to bleed out … but he found only burns from the stun gun on her neck and no injuries near her femoral artery.

Then he moved to her torso and the vital organs there, working quickly, he dunked his t-shirt in the water and brought it back over her body, washing away the blood and grime that covered her until he found it … a slice the width of a sword in her hospital gown on her abdomen. When he washed the blood off, more formed and began running in a red river down the small bulge in her belly and forming a pool of red on the floor.

Giles pressed down on the wound as his throat tightened.  It was to the right of the center of her abdomen … it could have easily hit the uterus or perhaps a kidney. He couldn’t tell how deep it was without exploring it with his fingers … he had to know how desperate their situation was. If it was simply a flesh wound, he could stop the bleeding and take time to help Spike and formulate a plan … if it was deeper … well, he wasn’t sure what they would have to do in that case, perhaps surrender to the throng of guards that were trying to beat down the door in order to get medical treatment for his Slayer.

Giles took a deep breath and pressed one finger into the wound.  He’d only gotten into the first knuckle when Buffy grabbed his wrist in both her hands and began twisting his arm.

“Buffy! Stop! It’s just me ... Giles!” the startled ex-Watcher exclaimed as he turned his whole body to keep her from ripping his arm out of its socket.

Buffy opened her eyes and finally looked at who she’d caught … letting go immediately when she realized it was, indeed, Giles. “Christ, Giles! You want some salt to rub in there too?”

Giles pulled his arm back and rubbed at his shoulder … it appeared to still be in place. “I … I was simply trying to determine how severe the wound was,” he explained.

“Severe enough to hurt like hell when you poke a finger in it,” Buffy informed him as she pushed up to sitting so she could examine it herself. Buffy's head spun when she sat up and she had to close her eyes a few moments to get it to slow down to a slow twirl. Finally, she took a deep breath, opened her eyes, and pressed against the sides of the stab wound, she could actually stop the bleeding by pressing her flesh together.  “It’s not that deep… I’m ok,” she assured him after a few moments.

Giles sat back on his heels and sighed in relief, taking his glasses off and massaging the bridge of his nose and rubbing the stress and worry from his eyes.

“Oh, God … Spike…” Buffy moaned as she turned to her husband. He was covered in the slimy, slithering pink ‘snakes’ … it looked like even more than she’d seen before, and drenched in blood from head to toe.

“How do we fix it?” Buffy asked Giles, looking from her husband’s prone and unconscious body to her Watcher and back again.

Giles sighed heavily and replaced his glasses. “I really can’t do more than thread his entrails back inside and attempt to sew his abdominal wall back together.  It really would be better if we had a proper doctor … but I’m not certain how we’d explain Spike’s … condition to a proper doctor.”

“We need to wash them off … they’re all …dirty and bloody,” Buffy pointed out.

“He can’t get an infection, Buffy … it doesn’t matter if they’re clean…”

“We’re washing them off! I am not putting that … that dirt and that … that murderer’s blood inside him!” Buffy insisted as she reached for the water bucket and slid it across the floor and over next to Spike.

“Let’s get those shackles off you …” Giles suggested as he searched the dead guard’s pockets for keys.  When he found them, Buffy held her wrists up for him and Giles unlocked and dropped the shackles onto the floor.

“God, Spike …” Buffy cried as she turned back towards him. She clenched her jaw and swallowed hard, determined not to squick on him again … not to let him down this time.

Giles moved over to the other side of her husband and, as Buffy cleaned the long tubes … which she tried to think of as pink snakes rather than entrails, somehow that made it easier … Giles threaded them back into Spike’s abdomen.  He wasn’t sure how they would stay in place once in there and not twist and become even more painful. Perhaps they could find a proper doctor when they got out of here that could get them placed correctly or perhaps, if they were lucky, his natural vampire healing would take care of it.

Buffy was thankful that Spike remained unconscious throughout their ‘operation’ … she didn’t think she could take seeing the pain in his eyes … he’d suffered so much these last days on account of her and her rash decisions, she didn’t want to be the cause of any more of his pain.  When they’d gotten enough of his entrails back inside him that his naughty bits were uncovered, Buffy took a moment to yank the shirt off one of the prone bodies of the guards and cover Spike’s hips up with it.  Giles smiled to himself at her, that really was the least of Spike’s worries at the moment … What was it that made her do that? Naïveté? No. Respect, perhaps, or maybe it was simply thoughtfulness brought on by love.

When they got all the ‘snakes’ back inside the gaping wound, Giles pressed his palm down on it to keep everything in.  “We need something to sew with … something strong, like a wire perhaps?” Giles suggested, looking around the room.

Buffy pushed up to her feet, swaying slightly from the change in elevation and the pain that still radiated out from her back, knees, and now her neck, chest, and abdomen.  She took a deep breath and closed her eyes a moment to get her balance, before letting the breath out and opening her eyes to survey the room.  There were plenty of instruments of destruction here, but she didn’t see anything that looked like …

“There!” Giles exclaimed, tilting his head towards some kind of odd device that looked like a chair with a big handle at the back of it. “The garrote … it should have a thick wire on it…”

Buffy stepped over the guards that littered the floor and made her way to the machine Giles indicated. It did have a wire across it … Buffy really didn’t even want to imagine how it was used or how Giles knew what it was called.  She used some bolt cutters that were hanging on the wall and cut the wire off the machine and brought it back to Giles, washing it in the bucket of water before handing it to him.

Giles smiled slightly at her gesture … despite the fact that it really didn’t make any difference to Spike’s health, she wasn’t going to put dirty entrails back into him or use a grimy garrote wire to sew him up with.

“Ok … you hold the two sides together and I’ll thread the wire through his abdominal wall and muscles, pulling them together like a corset … hopefully it won’t tear out,” Giles instructed her.

Buffy nodded and pulled the two sides of wound together so Giles could ‘sew’ it up with the wire.  Giles knew the chances were that if Spike moved very much, it would tear open again, but it was their best chance with what they had to work with.  When Giles was nearly done with the procedure, Spike moaned loudly and reached a hand up to rub at his cracked and aching skull.

“Spike? Just lay still, honey … don’t move, ok?” Buffy cooed softly to him as Giles struggled to twist the ends of the wire around each other tightly enough so they didn’t just unthread.

Spike blinked his eyes and looked up, first seeing Giles then slowly turning his head and seeing Buffy over him. “Bugger…” he moaned, closing his eyes again. “Thought I’d landed in a hell-dimension with a ‘alf-naked Watcher callin’ me ‘honey’ …”

Giles snorted and rolled his eyes as he finished securing the wire and sat back on his heels. “I can assure you that if I call you ‘honey’ it will be because there is a large, homicidal bear chasing us…”

Spike snorted a laugh, but it immediately turned painful and he wrapped his arms around his midsection, trying to hold everything still.

“You should try not to move … I don’t know if that will hold or not,” Giles informed him. “Buffy … see if you can rip some wide strips out of some of these men’s clothes that we can use to wrap around Spike’s torso to help keep everything … together.”

“And see if you can find m’ bloody clothes…” Spike added. “Are you ok … the bit?” he asked, reaching a hand out to Buffy and halting her as she started to stand up.

Buffy stopped and dropped back down next to him. She smiled softly at him, laying a hand gently on his cheek and looked into his eyes. They were still swollen nearly closed, but she could just see the beautiful blue she loved so much ... now so filled with worry. “We’re fine …” she assured him, rubbing a hand over her tummy.

Spike smiled lightly and nodded as relief flooded over him and he relaxed back against the cold, dirty floor at his back. He was sure he’d stabbed that sword all the way through her … through the littlest bit – he really didn’t know how it had missed, but he was thankful to whatever intervention that had stopped it.  “Did we win?” he asked to no one in particular.

“The battle, perhaps … the war remains to be seen…” Giles answered tiredly, looking at Bess who was still pressed against the door, keeping the remaining guards at bay.

**~**

When Buffy pulled the shirt off the guard she’d left unconscious, he moaned and began to stir.  Buffy bent down and popped him hard in the jaw with her fist and the man went still and silent again. “That’s for trying to strangle me,” she murmured to him before turning back to Spike and Giles and ripping the shirt into long, wide strips.  Giles slid the strips under Spike’s back and around his torso, tying them together tightly around his abdomen to help hold everything in place. When he was done, he had Spike’s entire stomach laced up like a Victorian lady, all the way from his hips to his rib cage. It was a good thing Spike didn’t actually have to breathe or he would’ve passed out from lack of oxygen.

While Giles worked on Spike, Buffy looked around the room for her husband’s jeans, duster, and boots … she knew that his t-shirt was probably gone, it had been stuffed into the wound on his chest the last time she saw it … was that just yesterday? It seemed like years ago. She finally found Spike’s clothes in a cabinet in the back of the room … along with lots of other clothes.  Weatherby’s trophy case, no doubt … the clothing of all his victims.  Buffy grabbed what was Spike’s … his jeans and boots, and brought them over to him … his duster wasn’t there.

“Brilliant…” Spike moaned in a low voice when he saw his jeans and boots. “Help me up…” he requested of Buffy and Giles and they each grabbed him under one arm and pulled him to his feet. 

“Bloody hell…” Spike moaned, bending over at the waist and wrapping his arms around his stomach. When he moved, everything inside him shifted … it felt like someone was tap dancing on his innards…with steel soccer cleats.

“Oh God …baby … I’m so sorry,” Buffy cried, wincing in pain with him. She laid her hand on his back and started rubbing gently up and down, trying to soothe him. She didn’t know what else to do.

After a couple of minutes, the pain subsided to simply a dull ache as everything inside him finally stopped shifting and Spike stood up as much as he could and met her eyes with his. “No worries, pet … not much worse than digestin’ that charcoal cake you baked for m’ birthday that one year…” he quipped.

Buffy’s brows shot up and she resisted the urge to slap him. “Why do I think that was the year I stopped cooking?”

“Mighta been…” Spike agreed as he took his jeans out of Giles’ hand.

Buffy rolled her eyes and snorted a small laugh as she helped him with the jeans. “Lean on me…” she offered as she took the jeans from him and held them low so he could step into them, hopefully without ripping his stitches.

Spike accepted her help gratefully and finally … after what seemed an epic struggle, was dressed again.  Spike leaned on Giles and Buffy, trying to put more of his weight on the uninjured Watcher than his wife, and they made their way over to Bess, who was still pressed against the door. The banging had stopped for the moment, but they knew that it was just a matter of time before it began in earnest again.

“Are you going to be all right?” Bess asked, looking at Spike doubtfully. He still couldn’t stand up straight, actually he could barely stand at all.

“Be fine … no worries,” Spike assured her, giving her a small smile. “Run ‘em off, did ya?” he asked her, nodding his head towards the door.

“I fear not … I could hear them talking. I believe they’ve gone to get a battering ram … or a bazooka,” Bess informed the weary warriors.

Buffy snorted and rolled her eyes. “Perfect.  Sooo …. anyone have a plan? I pretty much used up my only plan…”

“Brilliant plan, by the way, luv,” Spike offered. “Ya didn’t have to hit me quite so hard with them shackles, though … messed up my pretty face, ya did.”

Buffy smiled at him and shook her head. His face was a bruised and bloody mess, his nose was demolished, his eyes swollen and blackened … and not from her hitting him with the shackles. “Sorry, I thought you would’ve ducked faster.”

Giles stepped forward and unshackled Bess’ wrists as he’d done Buffy’s as he tried to think.  Then something suddenly dawned on him. “Where’s Quentin?”

Spike, Buffy, and Bess all frowned and turned back to face the room, surveying it quickly with their eyes – Quentin wasn’t there.  “Maybe there’s a secret passage … another entrance … like in those old Bella Lugosi movies,” Buffy proposed.

“Indeed …” Giles agreed. “Spike – you stay here, let us know if they return. We’ll look for another entrance,” Giles suggested and they all nodded their agreement.

Spike wrapped his arms around his midsection and leaned heavily against the door while the other three fanned out, checking the walls for buttons, levers, seams or hinges … anything that would open or reveal a hidden door.

Bess approached a coffin-like, iron box that had a face on top of it and smiled ruefully … the doors weren’t quite closed, she could hear Travers’ heart racing … she could smell his adrenaline – he was hiding inside.  Bess waved her hands in the air, getting Giles’ and Buffy’s attention before taking hold of the handles and pulling the doors open quickly.

But Travers was ready and waiting for her. He moved faster than she expected … well, she didn’t actually expect him to move at all, but rather to be cowering in the bottom of the iron maiden like the coward he was. Travers spun Bess around and pressed a wooden stake against her sternum, holding her back against his front with an arm across her throat.

Giles and Buffy had both started moving towards her when she waved at them, but they both stopped short when they realized that Travers had a stake to her heart.

“Now, I believe I have your attention …” Travers drawled dryly.  “Open the door – let the guards in or your precious daughter will be nothing more than dust.”

Buffy held her hands out as if in surrender but took another step forwards towards the Council Head. “One more step and I swear I’ll dust her!  I don’t have anything left to lose … you do.”

Buffy stopped moving as her mind raced. Maybe if Bess could kick back or stomp down on Travers’ instep he’d drop the stake … on the other hand, it may just make him shove it into her heart.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Watcher,” Spike contradicted as he moved away from the door and started towards Travers and Bess. “You’re still livin’ … could lose that pathetic, shriveled up, raisin of a soul … could be one a’ us. Could live in a dungeon for a bloody century … could find another Weatherby for a roommate so you wouldn’t be lonely.”

Spike! What are you doing? Buffy screamed at him through the bond, her eyes wide with fear.

Trust me … he sent back simply, never taking his eyes off Travers. Spike continued to move slowly forward towards the Council Head, he couldn’t stand up straight, his arms were wrapped around his mid-section, his steps were unsure, wobbly – not his normal confident, graceful gait, and he certainly didn’t come across as much of a threat.

“I’m warning you!” Travers threatened, tightening his grip on the stake until his fingers turned white and pressing it harder into Bess’ flesh.

“No … I’m warning you,” Spike countered as he kept moving forward while Buffy and Giles watched wide eyed, frozen in place, afraid to move lest Travers dust Bess. “Let ‘er go … call off your goons and we’ll all leave here in one piece … more or less.”

Bess’ blue eyes met Spike’s … he was only three feet away from them now. He saw the fear in their depths … fear that the hope she’d allowed herself had been for naught; fear that she would be dusted in this hell, never see the outside world again, never walk barefoot on a beach, never lay in fresh-mown grass under a starry sky, never feel the love of a family again.

“Don’t worry… I promised to get ya out, didn’t I?” Spike asked her, his voice calm and confident.

Bess nodded slightly and Travers pressed the stake in a little deeper, drawing blood and making her gasp.

“I swear I’ll do it!” Travers warned Spike. “I’ll dust her as sure as there’s a God in heaven!”

“Not sure ‘bout that …never actually met the man … or woman? Do you think God could be a bloody bint? ‘Cos, gotta say, some days it seems like God’s got PMS and She's takin' it out on the whole buggerin' world…” Spike contended, as if pondering the universe with a mate in a bar over a pint of lager.

Spike took one long, painful stride forward and was within reach of Travers and Bess, but just as he did, Travers kept his word and plunged the stake into Bess’ heart.  Buffy screamed, “NOOOO!” and she and Giles rushed forward, but Spike was between them and the Council Head.

Spike smirked when the stake went into Bess and she screamed out in pain but didn’t explode into dust. He grabbed Travers’ wrist and pulled the stake out of his daughter and the wound healed almost immediately.  “Wha …What … What’s going on?” Travers stammered, his eyes wide with fear and shock.

“I reckon you found the Gem …” Spike explained. “You were right 'bout one thing … even the losers get lucky sometimes … just too late for you, mate.”

Spike pulled Bess away from Travers and pushed her towards Giles and Buffy before slamming Travers’ hand against the stone wall next to them and forcing him to drop the stake. Spike bent down and picked up the pear of anguish from the floor and held it up in front of the Watcher's face, as his seething anger began to boil. "Do you reckon 'brain-dead Watcher' is redundant?" Spike questioned as he shoved Travers back against the cold stone wall of the blue room ... the room from which only screams escape.

“My turn …” Spike growled as he vamped out and sunk his fangs down into the Council Head’s neck. Travers fought against him, but Spike’s adrenaline and rage fueled him to nearly full strength despite all his injuries, as he drained the blood from the man that had masterminded their capture, threatened his family, hurt Buffy, and held Bess captive as his own lab experiment for so many years. He may not have been the one to originally imprison Bess … but his great-whatever grandfather … Harold Travers, her Watcher – the man who should’ve protected her, guided her, kept her safe – the man who lied to her family, who lied in the Watcher’s diary … was. Spike was sure of it.

Giles instinctively started to move towards Spike … to stop him, but Buffy grabbed his arm and pulled her Watcher back. Giles looked at her … her green eyes shone with determined resolve and she shook her head sternly.  This ended here – Travers wouldn’t threaten their family again – ever.  Giles sighed heavily and nodded his silent understanding and Buffy let go of his arm. Giles put an arm around Bess and one around Buffy and turned them away from the carnage that Spike was meting out to their tormentor and began walking back towards the door … the only door in the room.

“What happened?” Bess questioned with wide eyes, running a hand over the hole the stake had made in her dress. “Why am I not dust?”

Buffy stopped and took both of Bess’ hands in hers. “Spike must’ve hid the Gem of Amarra in you somewhere … you don’t remember?”

Bess shook her head, her eyes still full of confusion. “What does it do?”

“It protects you from everything … it keeps you safe,” Buffy explained simply.

“And … and he … he gave it to me?” Bess asked with disbelief.

Buffy smiled softly at the young Slayer-vamp. She was unlike any vamp she’d ever met … any except Spike. If she didn’t know better, Buffy would’ve sworn the girl had a piece of her soul. “He loves you very much … he trusts you with it.”

It was suddenly clear to Buffy why Spike wouldn’t tell Travers where the Gem was … it wasn’t only to keep Travers from convincing their friends that they were dead, it was to protect Bess. If Travers thought she had it, there’s no telling what he would’ve done to find it. Weatherby would’ve taken her apart piece by piece to find it … hell, Weatherby would’ve taken her apart piece by piece even if he knew where to look for it; it would’ve been the perfect excuse for him to keep her in his house of horrors for days … weeks, months even.

When they got to the door, Giles, Bess, and Buffy stopped and listened. They could hear hushed conversations and heavy footsteps moving up and down the hallway – some running, some walking.   Buffy sent Bess to retrieve her broad sword; the Slayer-vamp also picked up a machete, the two bowie knives, a dagger, a long handled, curve-bladed axe, and a scimitar (an Islamic curved sword) and brought the cache back to where Giles and Buffy waited by the door. 

Buffy picked up the broad sword while Giles chose the scimitar and a bowie knife, Bess kept the machete and dagger, leaving the other bowie knife and the axe for Spike. When Spike rejoined them, Buffy stepped forward towards him. “Are you ok?” she asked, laying a hand over his where it pressed tightly against his abdomen.

“Never better…” Spike lied. “Our buddy Quentin ain’t looking so good, though…” In truth, Spike was hurting like a son-of-a-bitch … on the plus side, the blood he drained from Travers had given him a boost of energy and he could almost feel some of his smaller wounds starting to heal … finally.  “What’s the plan?”

Buffy looked back at the door and at Giles and Bess, then turned back to Spike. “Kick ass … win … go home,” she stated simply, handing him the axe and bowie knife.

“My kinda plan…” Spike smirked, taking the weapons and tucking the knife in his belt at his back as he tested the balance and weight of the axe in his hands. He wasn’t sure he could actually swing it and not tear his guts out … literally, but he couldn’t rely on just the knife, either.

Suddenly the banging on the door began again and the heavy metal rods creaked eerily as they tried to hold off the onslaught.

“Ok … this is it,” Buffy announced, holding her sword at the ready.  “Bess and I will take the lead … you cover our backs.”

“No … you can barely walk … it should be Bess and I in the lead,” Giles objected. “We’re the least injured.”

Buffy snorted a soft laugh. “Giles … no offense, but a Slayer, even an injured one, trumps a middle-aged Watcher,” Buffy informed him as she stepped up next to Bess, who held the machete with both hands, ready to strike.

“Bess should go first, Buffy … she’s got the Gem, she can’t be hurt – you can,” Spike pointed out, trying to get his wife to back up.

“No, we’ll stand together … we’ll be stronger that way, a unified front,” Buffy argued.

“Buffy, please … the little bit,” Spike begged her, pulling on her arm. “Let me stand with ‘er, then.”

Buffy turned and looked into his eyes. “My recklessness got us into this … let me at least help get us out. You can barely stand … you can’t swing a weapon … I’m alright – I can do it,” she assured him.

Spike sighed as he looked into her eyes; in their green depths was a bright flame, burning with determination and resolve. He’d seen that look before and he knew he’d never win this argument, that was her ‘don't fuck with my family’ face.

“Please be careful, pet,” he admonished her before dropping a soft kiss on her lips.

She gave him their normal reply, “It’s my middle name…” as she closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against his for a moment when the kiss broke.

Buffy took a deep breath and pulled away from her husband and turned to Giles, going back into battle mode. “You slide the rods out – top, bottom, and then middle. When they start in, we’ll pick them off one by one … or two by two,” Buffy continued. She looked at Bess … Dani’s older doppelganger … so young and yet so very old. “You ready?” she asked her daughter and Bess nodded resolutely. She’d been ready for this for over a century.

Giles went to the side of the door and pulled the top rod out, letting it fall to the floor with a clatter, then the bottom rod … he looked at Buffy and she nodded for him to continue. The door was barely holding against the pressure from the outside, she knew it would fly open as soon as that last rod was out. Giles pulled and tugged on it, but the pressure of the door against it was keeping it in place. Spike moved over next to him and together they pulled the last remaining rod away that was keeping the door closed.

The door flung open and banged hard against the stone wall behind it. As soon as it was open, Buffy and Bess lunged forward, their weapons thrusting hard and fast towards their captors who were surging quickly into the room from the sudden release of the pressure that had been holding the door closed. The insurgent’s deadly weapons drove forward towards the blondes’ torsos, just as Buffy and Bess’ deadly weapons powered outwards towards their captors.

From Spike’s position at the side of the door, everything seemed to move in slow motion as gleaming blades crossed the threshold. His throat and chest tightened and he suddenly regretted letting Buffy take the lead as he watched a deadly shaft of gleaming metal jab directly into her chest …

**~**