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.
Buffy and Anton had the Audi, while Xander and Spike drove the BMW series six sports car toward the address south of Bologna. 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, then 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? 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 to 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 spilled onto 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?”
“’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 Riley knew Spike. So Xander played the only card he had, speaking for only the second time in two days, his voice was 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, and hoped 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!”