“Thats it?”
“More or less.” Riley said slightly defensively.
“Ok,” Xander clearly didn't even attempt to hide the exasperated look that crossed and double crossed his face, “Can I be the first to say that this is a plan for crazy people?”
Willow looked at him in exasperation. She understood Xanders skeptical response, but equally at this point she was willing to risk anything for a slim chance of saving her friend, and she couldn't understand his reluctance.
“I perfectly understand your concern Xander,” Giles began in a placating tone of voice, “But this may be Buffy's only hope.”
“He's right Xander,” Willow cut in, throwing Giles a brief look convey her gratitude, then glaring at Xander witheringly, as if he was the one at the party who hadn't got the joke - yet again.
This time however, Xander held her angry glare with a milder one one of his own, looking sadly at her as if he was the only one who truly understood.
“Guys, I still remember my time as Rambo Xander.” he said regretfully, “We can't just walk into a heavily guarded military installation and take what we want. We'll be dead before we can say 'Please don't shoot me!'”
Willow shook her head stubbonly, “No we won't Xander, if Riley can shut down the security systems, we'll be able to get inside. And like he says, who's going to notice a few more people in there?”
Willow glared at Xander, but he looked away, shaking his head gently. She shifted her reproachful gaze to Giles. Surely of all people he would understand that they had to try something, and right now Riley was the only one proposing anything resembling a plan. Buffy was her best friend, and she'd risk or even give her life for her without a moments hesitation. But a part of her insistently whispered that Xander was right. This was nothing but suicide, and it seemed that Buffy's voice in her own mind backed up that nagging fear. As much as she loved Buffy, throwing their lives away in a futile gesture almost certainly wasn't something she would approve of.
She opened her mouth to continue to argue her flagging point.
“Until I reach a high security area that is.” Riley said softly silencing her, although she couldn't miss the subtle qualifier in his sentence.
“Xanders right. This is crazy.” he paused and looked purposefully from face to face, “Unless you have help.”
Willow bit her tongue, biting back the response that rose to her throat. She'd only known Riley for a for months, but already she trusted him almost implicitly. There was something about his broad, innocent face and uncertain halting speech when embarrassed than made it hare to think of him as part of some evil government conspiracy to - what? It occurred to her that they still had no idea what the initiative were actually planning to do. Kidnapping demons wasn't actually a plan. Poisoning Buffy certainly was, and she felt bitter anger swell uncontrollably as she finished the thought - but they will pay for it.
But still, there was no actual logic to it.
Demons were easy, she conceded. They just wanted to destroy the world. Sometimes you got an unusually subtle demon who wanted to disembowel every first born child who was born on a Thursday and to eat their brains, but that was about the worst it got. You never got an logical, impassionate, intelligent mind out to kill you.
What did Professor Walsh want?
“They still trust me, mostly.” Riley continued, ignoring Wilow's internal diatribe. “Since Buffy left the Initiative, we've been fed stories that she took up with some demons who offered her a better deal. Horror stories about the origins of the slayer and how she's part demon – she's the enemy, have been going round the base for weeks.”
He paused and looked at Willow squarely, “I didn't believe them. I know Buffy. I knew that they were wrong, and... “ he winced, and the pain was evident in his expression, “and I know Professor Walsh was wrong in trying to kill her.
“I saw Professor Walsh's first attempt to kill Buffy. I saw the demons try to kill her and fail in the sewer. I ran. I didn't know what else to do.
But she found me, she bought me back. She tried to assure me that Buffy had betrayed the cause. That if was all the fault.”
He stopped and looked up, his eyes brimming with tears, “ I didn't believe her for a moment. I've believed in Professor Walsh for as long as I can remember. I wanted to hate Buffy for making me question her.” he paused, “ but I can't help it, I love her regardless.”
“I couldn't find Buffy, I couldn't talk to her after Professor Walsh tried to kill her. At first I didn't belief it. Later I started to think that maybe she had done something to justify it.
“But then I heard what had happened. I heard Buffy was sick, and I had to find out if we were responsible.
So I played along. Acted like I believed Professor Walsh' excuses. But all the time, I was looking for answers.
“I found what caused it. I know exactly what caused it. It wasn't the demon she fought. It was a poison it had been injected with. A poison the initiative developed specifically to target and kill the Slayer. But thats not all I found.
“The initiative have been experimenting with demons for years. Hostile 17 was meant to be the first viable subject, but...” he paused and shrugged,” I guess you know, our plans for him didn't exactly work out quite the way we'd expected.”
“Plans for what?” Giles interrupted.
“The initiatives aim was never to wipe out demons. The objective was to control and harness the demon population,” Riley replied. “Can you imagine it! A whole army of virtually unkillable demons at our disposal. Superhuman strength, agility,virtually indestructible and completely expendable. They'd make the perfect shock troops.
“That's what the Initiative have planned. But for the last few weeks, I've been digging deeper. And I'm convinced that Professor Walsh has something more in mind. There have been experiments going on – highly secretive, something to do with demon-human hybrids.”
Willow gasped, “What? Thats just...” she trailed off, unable to find a description adequate.
“Great.” Xander supplied. Willow looked at him in bewilderment. “That's just great Riley. But pressing concern here – Buffy. You say you can help her, but I'm still not seeing how thats going to happen.”
Riley nodded. “I know. They're suspicious of me enough anyway – I'm watched all the time, this is the first chance I've had to slip away since...” He shrugged, “Well, the point is I'm going to need your help. I've found there was an antidote created for the poison that Buffy was infected with for insurance, but it's held in a high security wing of R&D. Only a half dozen people on the base have access, and I'm not one of them.”
“What do you need us to do?” Willow asked.
“Willow, I'll need you to hack into the Initiatives mainframe. I can provide you with access codes to get past the first layer of firewalls, but I need you to get into the core systems, and there you're on your own.”
“Sure, should be easy,” Willow replied, trying to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.
“And I'm going to need a distraction. I can't do this if the base is crawling with soldiers.”
“What did you have in mind?” Giles frowned.
“We need to give them something they want. We need someone to act as bait.”
Willow glanced momentarily at Anya, a look that didn't pass unnoticed.
“Hey!” Anya protested shrilly, “Not a demon anymore. Tell them Xander!”
“Actually, I had someone else in mind.”
Spike made his way through the graveyard, tasting the cool, crisp night air as he sauntered his way back towards his crypt in evident unconcern, inattentive to the world around him.
Nothing could be further from the truth. Spike was still acutely aware of his hunted status in the eyes of the initiative, and he doubted that he would get a particularly friendly welcome from most demons he came across either.
So, contrary to his deceptive nonchalant pace, all of his senses were fully alert, his ears straining at every sound, his nose testing the sharp still air, and his eyes of course doing their thing – scanning suspiciously through the shadows.
He relaxed imperceivable. For once the quiet night appeared to be nothing more than it seemed, to contain no hidden dangers, no waiting threats to further complicate the parody that his life had become.
He laughed bitterly to himself, shifting his grip on the large brown bags that contained the results of tonights shopping trip. To think he'd been reduced to this – William the Bloody scrounging through the cast-away refuse of others, scurrying afraid through the night like a bloody human! He used to own the sodding night!
Finally, thankfully, he found his way back to the questionable sanctity of his crypt. He pulled open the door, then paused.
There was something. He froze, one hand still gripping the heavy stone portal, his overworked senses straining to catch again the elusive thread of disharmony that they had fleetingly grasped.
After several long seconds, he snorted derisively at himself.
Bugger this, he thought, keep this up and I'll be jumping at my own shadow next.
He walked into his crypt. Immediately he could feel her presence. He moved forwards silently through the musty darkness, his sharp eyes already picking out her slender form, laying swaddled in dirty blankets on one of the stone slabs.
I've got to get a bed, he thought at random, then immediately dismissed the thought, what would I need a bed for?
He looked down at her thoughtfully. Still after almost two weeks, Spike couldn't even explain to himself why he'd rescued her from the initiative and then continued to shelter her. Picking up strays as anything more than a snack wasn't really in his nature.
He'd rationalized his actions at the time. She'd been chased by the Initiative. Quite possible she had escaped, and had useful information about them. And pulling a fast one on those buggers had to be worth a little risk to unlife and limb?
His chip had prevented him from harming humans of course, but in that gloomy night he hadn't needed to. Confusion and misdirection had been all the weapons he needed, and in the smothering thick mist it must have seemed that there were a hundred of him.
There'd been a brief stint of utter pandemonium, as he led the elite commando teams into one another. Crack government troops in the snarling menacing night briefly regressed back to terrified little boys, still afraid of the dark. Three of them had been injured by panicked 'friendly fire' before they had withdrawn with what little discipline they could muster.
It'd been the most fun Spike had had in months, and he hadn't even laid a finger on anyone. The sense of victory had diminished somewhat however when he stumbled across the prone figure of the girl he'd been trying to rescue. In the confusion, he hadn't even noticed the blindly fired shot that had torn through her shoulder and felled her.
As he looked down at her laying there, he'd seemed to also see the image of another girl, laying bleeding and helpless.
He'd lurked around Giles' apartment periodically for the last few weeks – unwilling to come close enough to reveal his presence, but still close enough to witness Buffys slow deterioration. It filled him with a helpless rage that confused and terrified him.
Why should he care? She was the slayer, he should be drinking a toast to the demon that finally did the little bitch in.
But looking down at this other girl, who he had never laid eyes on before, whose dark hair and pale features were nothing like the slayers, he felt moved to help her in some sort of twisted transference of feelings he didn't dare to consider. Plus he reasoned, if she died - he could always eat her.
She stirred, and Spike pulled himself back to the present. Her huge dark eyes opened, and she smiled sleepily up at him.
“Hey Spike,” Mira yawned.
“Hello, pet,” Spike turned away quickly. He wasn't used to people look at him like that. Like they weren't afraid of him. “Bought you food.”
“Thanks, I'm starving.” she swung her legs off the crypt, then winced.
“How's the arm?” Spike queried casually.
She tested it, and then grimaced again, “Better. I can move my fingers today.”
He dumped the bag randomly on the floor, then turned back. “Thats good. Maybe you might feel up for telling me why those commando rejects were after you?”
Mira dropped her eyes, refusing to meet his gaze. “I -” she was interrupted by a loud thump, as someone struggled to push open the door.
Her eyes met his, terrified. “You don't think...” she whispered.
Bollocks. He cursed himself, he knew something hadn't been right.
He cast around desperately. Then he swept the blankets off the tomb, and pulled the stone lid up. “In here!” he ordered.
She hesitated for a moment, then clearly decided a fossilized corpse was preferable to facing whomever was out there, she dived in.
Spike closed the lid down then looked around again. Stupid git, he chided himself. In his race to hide the girl he'd neglected to consider where he would hide.
As his eyes flickered doubtfully over the brown bags on the floor, the tomb door finally acceded to swing ponderously open.
He tensed, then stared in astonishment to the figure standing there.
“Giles?”
“Spike.” Giles spat his name grudgingly, looking around the squalid crypt disdainfully.
Spike allowed himself a sigh of relief, although he was careful not to allow the watcher see it.
“I'd invite you in, but that would imply that I wanted anything to do with you.” he said pleasantly.
Spike frowned as unbidden, Giles picked his way across the floor to stand in front of him.
“Which part of bugger off don't you understand?” he snarled.
“Spike,” Giles repeated. His face remained impassive, but his voice betrayed the disgust in his next words. “We need your help.”
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