Winters Storm 63 A Force of Nature

*****

Chapter Sixty Three.

A Force of Nature.

Spike thought the weeks of cultivated patience while waiting for Angel had served to teach him he was capable of controlling his true nature…but he now realized the weeks and weeks of planning and preparing for Angel’s punishment and Buffy’s captivity were nothing, but a slow leisurely game of chess…where he had the luxury of time to plan and execute each stage of his game. All along the way, he’d patted himself on the back, congratulating himself for being so clever as he manoeuvred his players into position…until finally, everything and everyone was exactly where he wanted them.
Now it was all gone to hell.
Sitting alone in the quiet of his study, he remembered how he’d reacted when Masters first showed him Angel’s letter all those months ago. Screaming and raging at his loss…tearing Drusilla’s room apart in a petty act of revenge, he’d cried real tears. Or so he thought…and all his rage and anger had fed his desire for revenge and kept him determined to dominate both Angel and Buffy. Yet, it was all so meaningless…so empty and futile…without her there was nothing.
The same rage that had filled him after Drusilla’s desertion and caused him to act like a lunatic, filled him now but this time instead of lunacy, he was anchored to his fear. Fear he would be too late…that she would be hurt…or worse…that he would lose her for good. Tears threatened to spill, and he couldn’t stop the trembling that replaced the normal steady function of his heart. Instead of the usual sedate flow of the blood in his veins, he could feel the flow juddering, causing his muscles to quake and vibrate beneath the surface of his skin. He struggled, trying to think what to do next. He’d never felt so helpless in his life and he had never been gripped by fear so badly that it robbed him of the ability to think clearly. He was always able to come up with exactly the right solutions he needed to get him what he needed. He knew this was worse than his blind rage…knew if he didn’t get a grip on his fear, he would risk making mistakes or worse miss the vital plan or action that could save her.
The sting of tears burned his eyes and he let them roll unchecked down his face. Memories floated before him, all of them centred around Buffy. The day he met her…the time he asked her to be his mistress, when what he really wanted to ask her was to be his wife. That of course dragged up the memory of his proposal at the cabin…and her refusal. Yet, the memory of her rejection was softened by the memory of their night together at the hotel. Dressed in a white gown, she had taken his breath away. She looked like a bride…his bride. He was awed by her willingness to be there with him. He knew she could see the awe on his face and for once he didn’t try to hide his feelings from her.
He stood before her, worshiping her with his eyes, drinking in her golden beauty. Suddenly, he was hit with a wave of deep sadness, as he realized this was all she would ever want from him, all she desired of him. His hot flesh, claiming hers with the same passion of a thousand poets, her body spread out before him, a canvas of creamy gold and satin. His hands and mouth, the tools privileged to map the swells and dips of her wondrous curves, he wanted to claim all of her…her body and her mind. Sadly…her heart was unattainable and even if hadn’t been, he knew he wasn’t worthy to contemplate being the recipient of such a ponderous prize. This was all she would ever want from him, the pleasure his body could bestow upon her. The needs of her flesh he could satisfy and her heart he would abandon. Dwelling on it would lead to madness so Spike moved forward, eager to satisfy her body’s needs.
The memory broke and for the first time since he was a child, Spike prayed…not for himself. He didn’t believe God would answer prayers for a monster like him…but Buffy was good. She deserved God’s help…his mercy and deliverance. So he prayed for Buffy because he didn’t know what else to do.
A soft knock at the door roused him. Luke and Cooper stood in the doorway. “Trick’s here…he brought the girl…Noelle,” Luke said.
Spike sat up straighter on the couch, wondering if God was answering his prayers.
“Send her in, but keep Trick out. In fact, send him packin’…I don’t want to see his face.”
Luke nodded and turned to do his bidding. Cooper stepped into the room as Luke left.
“All the teams have called in…nothing yet…but they’ll keep looking,” Cooper said apologetically.
Spike wasn’t surprised at their lack of success. Gilbey was clever. He knew how to stay out of sight and he’d worked for Spike long enough to know how he operated, but Gilbey couldn’t hide forever…only this time Spike didn’t have all the time in the world. He had to find her and find her quickly.
Luke ushered in the young woman. She was dressed just like a common hooker and didn’t seem to care she was about to face a man, who’s reputation frightened most hardened criminals, including her pimp. She had golden brown hair, a fresh pretty face and a good figure. Spike stood up to meet her. She seemed more sure of herself than Alyx and she took the seat Luke pointed at while looking at Spike, fearlessly.
“Noelle…right?”
“Yes…are you Spike Winters?” She asked. She was softly spoken with a gentle accent and Spike wondered how a nice girl like her had ended up working as a street hooker for Trick.
“Yeah…that’s right.” She looked at him oddly. “What?” he asked.
“Oh nothing…you’re just not what I thought you’d be like…I thought you’d be meaner looking…and…and…”
“What?”
“Well…taller I guess.” She glanced at Cooper as he gave a small snort of laughter and looked quickly back at Spike, who was smiling slightly.
“Sorry to disappoint you…now you know why you’re ‘ere…don’t you?”
Her pretty brown eyes grew somber. She nodded. “Yes, Trick told me that guy Gilbey snatched Buffy and you need me to tell you everything I can remember about the place he took us to.”
Spike picked up on Noelle calling Buffy by her first name. “Do you know Buffy?”
“Yes, I do…a year ago she helped me get back in touch with my dad. If it wasn’t for her, I’d never have had the chance to see him before he died. I owe her a lot and I’ll do whatever I can to help you get her away from that sadistic monster.” She looked him straight in the eye with a strong steady gaze.
Spike was taken aback at yet another display of loyalty towards Buffy especially since it was coming from a street hooker. He noticed she didn’t say she would help him get her back…just help get her away from Gilbey. That almost made him laugh…this hooker was judging him and as far as she was concerned, he wasn’t good enough for Buffy…and the funny part was she was right.
Noelle went into a detailed description of the apartment Gilbey took them to and though she was very sure about certain details, even describing the curtains in the lounge, she wasn’t able to give them anything that any of them recognized or could use to help pinpoint the apartment’s location.
Sighing, Spike asked again. “So you were tied to a kitchen chair all the time Gilbey was attackin’ Alyx?”
She nodded.
“Where were you…in the kitchen, the lounge or the bedroom?”
“The lounge…he didn’t take either of us into the bedroom, though he did let Alyx use the bathroom. The bastard made Alyx tie me to a chair…he said we were going to play a little game, but as soon as Alyx finished putting the gag on me, he pounced on her.”
“And he didn’t take her into the bedroom?”
“No…he dragged her to the couch…a big ugly brown thing and once he got her there, he didn’t let up on her…the bastard. I can still hear her screaming,” she shivered.
Spike couldn’t believe he’d wasted valuable time questioning the two hookers. He knew it was a long shot that they would know anything useful, but he had to try.
“And you say he blindfolded and gagged both of you before he dumped you in that alley?”
“Yes, even though Alyx wasn’t conscious, he still gagged and blindfolded her.”
Spike didn’t really expect any less from Gilbey. He knew how to cover his tracks.
Marti knocked on the study door and stuck his head in, catching everyone’s attention.
“Er…Alyx thought she might have remembered something.” He stood back to allow Alyx to cross into the room.
With her eyes fixed on Noelle, she made her way to the couch and sat next to her, glancing nervously at Spike and the other men. Spike gave her a reassuring smile.
“What is it Alyx?”
She looked almost frightened at being the centre of everyone’s focus. “It’s probably nothing…just a stupid detail really…”
Spike looked at her compellingly. “That’s not important…jus’ tell me what it is you’ve remembered.”
“Well the apartment looked kinda bare…like he was just moving in or moving out…but somehow I don’t think it was his place…it kinda had the feel of a woman’s place…‘cause even though it was nearly empty…it was very clean…despite the build up of dust.”
Spike frowned. The new observation didn’t really help.
“Yes she’s right…I didn’t remember that.” Noelle looked between Alyx and Spike. “The clean windows, the plug in air fresheners and that ugly old couch that was very clean despite being ugly…only a woman would go to the trouble to keep a place that clean.”
Alyx was nodding, but Spike didn’t think it made any difference if the apartment was owned by a man or a woman it still didn’t help to pinpoint its location.
“It must have had some sort of sentimental value, ‘cause that’s the only reason anyone would keep something that old and lumpy, and only a girl would hang flowery drapes in the bathroom.” Alyx said to Noelle.
Spike looked at Cooper, his hopelessness showing in his eyes. The women’s conversation floated around him as he mulled over everything they’d said. Suddenly, his head snapped round to the two women. Frowning, he fixed Alyx with a sharp look.
“What did you say ‘bout the couch?” He sat forward, alert and ready.
“Er…that it was old and ugly…and it must have held sentimental value to the owner, because no one in their right mind would keep something that old and ugly.” She answered hesitantly.
“NO…No…you said it was lumpy.” He glared at her, daring her to contradict him.
“Yeah it was…very lumpy and…” She trailed off as Spike jumped up and caught hold of her arm, pulling her out of her seat.
She squeaked as he dragged her behind him out of the study. The others followed closely after them. Spike marched her into the monitoring room and released her arm as he searched the shelves for a tape. Snatching one up, Spike stuck it in the player and pressed the play button.
“There…” he practically shouted as the image of a furnished room sprang into life on the screen. “There…is that the couch…is that the room?”
Alyx and Noelle shuffled nearer to the screen. Alyx gave a little gasp, her hand flying up to cover her mouth in distress. Noelle put a comforting arm around her shoulder and answered for her. “Yes…that’s the place.”
Spike looked at Luke and Cooper. “It’s Buffy’s old place.” He pushed his way to the row of monitors and began flicking switches, turning the machines on as quickly as he could. He had given Gilbey orders to sever the surveillance connection to Buffy’s place when he forced her to move into the mansion, but after the other tapes Cooper had found, maybe Gilbey had continued to record Buffy’s place.
The screens came to life, each one showing a room in Buffy’s apartment. One screen remained blank and fuzzy all the others showed empty rooms. Kitchen – dinning room, hallway, lounge, bathroom, all empty, but the screen that should have displayed the bedroom was stubbornly blank.
“MARTI…get the fuck over ‘ere and see if you can get this thing working.” Spike called out.
The others made way for Marti as he approached the bank of monitors. Spike paced anxiously as the young man fiddled with the machine. Spike had spotted the signs, someone was definitely using Buffy’s old place. A half empty pizza box sat on the coffee table in the lounge and the TV was on. A man’s jacket was tossed over the back of the ugly brown couch…the same couch Buffy had always kept covered with a large beige throw and maroon cushions. The same couch Willow and Xander and the others had complained about been the lumpiest couch in the world. He remembered how Buffy had pouted at their complaints, moaning how she missed her lumpy couch and that it was a hand-down from her Grandma when she moved in.
A shrill scream from one of the hookers made him spin around to stare at the screen.
Buffy…she was tied to the bed…screaming…her clothes torn…her face bloody…Gilbey was straddling her hips with a knife in his hand. Spike swallowed the vomit that threatened to choke him as he saw that the fucking bastard was hacking at her hair.
Spike felt the blood drain from his face and the room swirled around him. Gripping the table in front of him, he steadied himself, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. He sprang away from the monitor, sickened and terrified.
Cooper dragged Noelle and Alyx out of the room ahead of Luke and Marti. Standing in the hallway, they heard Spike scream out an inhuman roar and the crash of heavy monitors hitting the floor. Both Alyx and Noelle jumped at the sound of his pain and rage mingled with his fear.
Spike burst from the room. Cooper flinched at the expression in his friend’s eyes. Instinctively, he knew there would be no holding him back this time and if he tried, Spike was likely to turn on him. There was murder in his eyes and all Cooper could do was follow close…watch his back and make sure he didn’t get caught, because Spike wasn’t in any frame of mind to think rationally. He was too focused to care if he slipped up.
“Marti you’re drivin’…Cooper, Luke c’mon…NOW.” He snapped.
They left Noelle and Alyx standing in the hallway as they ran to catch up with Spike, who had taken off in the direction of the garage. Cooper called over his shoulder. “Stay here…don’t leave.”
Spike grabbed a set of keys and tossed them to Marti. “We’ll take the SUV.” He looked at Luke. “Is it loaded?”
“Yes.”
They climbed in. Marti started up and pulled out of the garage at high speed. Luke pulled a black case from under the specially designed back seat, handing Cooper and Spike gloves, masks and extra gun clips. Each man in turn emptied their pockets of anything personal…minimizing the chances of accidentally leaving incriminating evidence behind.
“Drive fast, but not reckless. We don’t want to attract the cops.” Spike told Marti harshly. “Call the men and call off the search…tell them to head back to the mansion.” He told Cooper. He looked at Luke, his eyes cold and dead. “Call the Doc and tell him we’ll be bringin’ Buffy in…tell him to be ready for anything.”
After barking those few orders, he turned away from his men, gazing blankly out at the city as they sped nearer to Buffy.
“What about Ritt?” Cooper asked, but Spike didn’t hear him, he was stony and silent and Cooper figured it didn’t matter. There was no way to get in touch with the assassin anyway. Cooper caught Luke’s eye. They shared a concerned look before glancing back at their too quiet boss. Neither of them had ever seen Spike react in this way to a potentially deadly situation before and for once, neither of them knew what to expect, but they were both pretty sure it would be bloody and violent.
*****

Ritt looked up at the apartment building. He’d worked his way to the back and assessed his best way in was up through the fire escape and along the narrow ledge that circled the fifth floor. He spotted an open window and from what he was able to figure out from the information Fatty Friday had given him, it was either Buffy’s old bathroom window or her next door neighbours. The fact that it was open was to his advantage and he worked his way steadily nearer to his goal.
The fire escape was no trouble and he swiftly climbed to the fifth floor. Swinging his legs over the railing, he carefully positioned himself onto the narrow ledge. Years of experience at getting in and out of some of the most unlikely places to make his hits gave him the edge and confidence he needed. His skill and ability gave him complete belief in his success to reach the window without attracting unwanted attention, or the unlikely chance of falling.
As he reached the window, he could hear the sounds of a struggle and a woman moaning in pain. A scrap of red fabric caught on the window latch fluttered in the slight breeze. He pulled it free and noticed there were still a couple of tiny jewels attached to the fragment. Buffy’s dress. Ritt surmised she must have tried to escape out of the window. He glanced down at the five-floor drop and marvelled at the young woman’s bravery and determination. He tucked the scrap into his breast pocket. A scream ripped the air. He used the noise as cover to hoist himself up onto the open window ledge.
In one fluid movement, he hauled himself over the sill and into the bathroom. Silent as a ghost, he dropped to the floor and ducked behind the vanity unit. The screams were coming from the next room and Ritt could hear each one was interspaced with a male voice, harshly spewing foul names and dirty language at the sobbing girl.
Quickly, he moved to the door and peeked into the bedroom. The scene was as he expected. Buffy was tied to a bed, but he couldn’t see too much of her as Gilbey was sitting on top of her with his back to the bathroom door. Ritt debated simply shooting Gilbey in the back of the head, but Spike had been pretty adamant about Buffy being spared the violence and for once, Ritt agreed. She was suffering enough…but how to get Gilbey off her and out of the room so he could kill him was the problem he was faced with.
He listened as Gilbey stopped his torture to verbally torment her and Ritt had to admire her courage, as she shot back a brave, if reckless answer.
*****

“Not so pretty to look at now…are you sugar lips?” Gilbey sneered, twisting the knife back and forth in his hand, admiring the glint of silver as the blade caught the light.
“Still prettier than you…you ugly bastard,” Buffy panted weakly.
Angry, Gilbey glared at her. “AAARGH…FUCKING TRASHY BITCH,” she screamed as the knife plunged into the mattress an inch from her face. “You think you’re so much better than me…you look at my face and see my scar…when you’re the ugly thing…a slut…you’re nothing but a disgusting filthy little tramp…and I’m going to make sure whenever anyone looks at you, they’ll be able to see all the ugliness that is really inside you…on your face and body…I’m going to make you so ugly no one will ever look at you again without cringing.”
He pulled the knife from the mattress. Buffy flinched seeing the blade pass so close to her face.
Gilbey leaned over her, his hot breath fanning her face. He kissed her hard. Buffy clamped her teeth shut, trying to prevent him from invading her mouth again, but the kiss went on and on and she gasped unable to breathe through her nose. “That’s it slut, open up.”
Buffy twisted away from him. She froze when she felt him drag the edge of the knife down the side of her face. He pulled back to look at her.
“Beg me not to hurt you.” He caressed her with the knife. Tantalizing images of all the different ways he was going to torture her floated in his head. He smiled at her…almost tenderly as a strong image of her on her knees begging him not to cut her, pleading with him and promising to do anything he wanted as long as he didn’t use the knife on her filled his head. “If you beg me, I might not hurt you, much…or at least I’ll make sure it’s the kind of hurt a worthless whore like you would enjoy,” he rasped, tickling her skin with the blade.
Buffy swallowed painfully. She began to believe Spike wasn’t going to find her in time and she knew if that happened, she would rather die fighting than just simply give up. Screwing up her courage, she met his insane gaze.
“The only thing I’ll beg you to do is to shut your…filthy…ugly…mouth.”
He clenched his jaw, looking at her through narrowed eyes. Suddenly he reached above her and grabbed her hand. In a blink, he yanked painfully on her index finger, breaking it in one viscous tug.
Buffy screamed as the pain shot down her hand and along her arm, her feet drumming uncontrollably on the mattress. She gasped and panted, twitching as the pain receded. Eventually, her teary eyes focused back on Gilbey.
“I…I…s-still…won’t beg,” she panted sobbing.
Gilbey didn’t seem bothered by her defiance. He merely continued his obscenely tender caresses with the tip of his knife against her skin. “Such perfect skin,” the knife skimmed the soft round contours of her breasts. “Such perfect hair…well…actually not so perfect now,” he picked up a handful of the locks he’d hacked off earlier. He held up the severed lengths in front of her.
Her eyes flickered to the long strands of gold in his big fist. “It’ll grow back,” she stubbornly replied.
Gilbey shook his head, smiling as he played with the cuttings with his knife. “Only if I leave you alive and if I do, your hair will be the least of your worries…you’ll be too concerned with hiding your scars to be bothered about your hair.” He sprinkled the cuttings over her face, laughing as she tried to shake them off.
She froze again when she felt the knife scratch the surface of her stomach. She could feel a sticky trickle of blood run down to one hip. The cut stung as had all the other small cuts he’d made on her body. “Red suits you,” he whispered. The knife cut another shallow opening in her skin…this one below her left breast. She gasped, biting back the urge to scream. Gilbey stared into her face, reveling in the pain and despair in her wide eyes. “Beg me,” he demanded harshly.
Buffy guessed he would continue to torment and play with her for as long as she held out…if she gave in and begged him, she would only be aiding him in her own pain and humiliation and she was determined that wasn’t going to happen…no matter what he did. “No…never.”
“Fine…if you won’t beg me not to cut you, maybe you’ll beg me not to fuck you,” he laughed at the stricken look on her face. “But maybe a sleazy whore like you will beg for more…your kind are always the same…one minute pretending you don’t want it…then acting like a fucking cock tease and then when you get it…you can’t get enough…fucking little whore.” He plunged the knife back into the mattress next to her face.
Buffy flinched and gasped as he reached for his zipper. “NO…no…no…don’t touch me.” She tried to twist away from him, but he pulled her back, holding her down with one hand on her abused strained shoulder as he continued to undo his jeans with the other. She felt the binding on her wrist loosen and she wiggled her hand frantically as she tried to loosen it some more.
“That’s more like it…now you can beg me to stop or beg me to fuck you harder…I really don’t care which, but you better beg or I’ll make your death long and slow and very, very painful.” His jeans were open and Buffy glanced as his hand moved to the opening.
Terror gripped her, and she screamed as he fumbled at the tear in her skirt, forcing her legs apart and positioning himself between her thighs. Screaming, she braced herself for the pain, thrashing and pulling desperately on the ropes.
*****

Four men dressed in black entered the respectable apartment building through the basement fire exit. Marti cut the alarm system as the others pulled on their gloves. Once in, they made their way to the ground floor. Cooper calmly pretended to leave the stairwell and casually strolled over to the night security guard’s desk. He greeted the uniformed guard as if he was no more than a guest of one of the residents. Cooper waited until the guard turned his back to him as he prepared to unlock the front entrance to allow him to leave, before hitting him on the back of the head with his gun. The guard collapsed in a heap in front of the doors.
Luke dashed forward to help Cooper drag the body behind the desk. Quickly, they pulled his jacket off and tossed it on the desk. The two of them tied and gagged him as Marti rushed to the monitors, checking the cameras covering all the public areas of the building. All was still and quiet.
Spike looked at his men as he pressed the button for the elevator. “Marti you stay ‘ere, jus’ in case someone needs to get in or out…put his jacket on and sit behind the desk…” The elevator opened and Spike rushed in followed closely by Luke and Cooper. As the doors closed, they pulled the black masks out of their pockets and pulled them over their faces.
Spike stared at the flashing green numbers on the black panel as they counted the floors. “We go in quiet…I don’t want to give him any warnin’ or the chance to use her as a shield…the kill is mine…I want both of you to cover him once he’s down and leave Buffy to me…I don’t want either of you to try and touch her…understand.”
Luke and Cooper both nodded. “Yes, boss,” their tone almost as flat and dead as their boss’s…almost.
The doors opened and they made their way along the corridor. Cooper picked the lock effortlessly and the door opened with a soft click. Spike went through first, moving with lightening speed towards the bedroom door. Luke and Cooper were flanking him with their weapons drawn. He paused outside the room, listening to Gilbey taunting Buffy. Relief flooded him when he heard her reply…she sounded as if she was frightened and in terrible pain…but she was alive. He sent up a silent prayer to God in thanks that he had found her in time.
*****

“Red suits you…beg me.” Gilbey rasped.
Spike heard her groan. “No…never.”
“Fine…if you won’t beg me not to cut you maybe you’ll beg me not to fuck you.” Spike nearly choked on his hate and anger as he heard Gilbey laugh. “But maybe a sleazy whore like you will beg for more…your kind are always the same…one minute pretending you don’t want it…then acting like a fucking cock tease and then when you get it, you can’t get enough…fucking little whore.”
*****

From his position behind the bathroom door, Ritt decided he’d had just about enough. Stuff Spike’s orders…this bastard wasn’t going to stop and there was no way he was going to let him go so far as to actually rape her. His mind was made up. He was taking this fucker out now. He readied himself.
*****

Spike allowed himself to relax. His muscles loosened and his mind calmed. He glanced at Luke and Cooper, giving them a silent signal…they nodded to him in unison, glad to see he was in control of his emotions.
Buffy gasped loudly crying out. “NO…no…no…don’t touch me.”
Gilbey laughed again. “That’s more like it…now you can beg me to stop or beg me to fuck you harder…I really don’t care which, but you better beg or I’ll make your death long and slow and very, very painful.”
Buffy screamed at the top of her lungs. Simultaneously, Spike and Ritt burst through their doorways. Startled by the masked men, Ritt faltered but at the last second he recognized Spike. Ritt pulled back on his weapon, allowing the blonde man his shot.
Suddenly, Buffy’s hand shot out. She grabbed the knife embedded in the mattress next to her head. Screwing her eyes tight shut, she screamed with all her might and without hesitating, she plunged the blade into Gilbey’s chest. Comically, his eyes widened as he clutched his chest, laughing.
He caught a movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to look.
Simultaneously, Spike squeezed his trigger and fired. The silencer and Buffy’s scream muffled the sound. Gilbey fell forward covering Buffy, dead from the combined single shot Spike had delivered into his brain and the knife buried in his chest.
With an inhuman cry, Spike leapt forward pushing the dead man off of Buffy. Luke, Cooper and Ritt covered Gilbey’s body, their guns aimed and ready. Luke bent over the scarred man to check his pulse. He was dead. He stood up looking at the couple on the bed.
Spike was cradling Buffy in his arms trying to calm her as she screamed and thrashed in his embrace. Fear painted her bloodied face as she gazed up into his masked face. Luke pulled his mask off and so did Cooper.
Cooper tapped Spike on the shoulder. “Spike your mask.”
Spike loosened his hold on Buffy to reach up and pull the mask off. Her eyes fixed on him and her sobs grew louder for an instant as she recognized him. Gasping, she sagged in his embrace.
Dragging Gilbey’s body into the bathroom, the three men left Spike and Buffy alone for a few moments.
“Shush baby…please…I’m ‘ere. I’ve got you…don’t fret so…oh Buffy baby…I was so scared. I thought I’d lost you…please baby…I’ve got you…you’re safe now.” He cut the ropes binding her other wrist and pulled her towards him, rocking her gently as she cried and sobbed. He sat up shrugging out of his jacket and tenderly helped ease her abused arms into the sleeves, successfully covering her. Her sobs died back down, but he could see shock was setting in. He called out to Luke and Cooper. They both appeared at the bathroom door instantly.
“I’ve got to get her to the Doc…call a couple of the boys and get things ‘ere cleaned up. I don’t want any traces left. Cooper stay with Luke and cover the front desk…I’ll need to take Marti and Ritt with me.” His men nodded, both looking at Buffy with concern.
“I already called a crew…they’re on their way and the Doc is waiting for you,” Luke informed him.
Turning back to Buffy, Spike gently eased her off the bed; cringing at each little moan or gasp of pain he caused her. She passed out as he swung her up into his arms. He cursed, distressed at her condition. Hurrying, Ritt preceded him, opening doors and calling the lift before Spike could reach the metal doors.
Marti met them off the elevator, handing the guard’s jacket to Cooper. He glanced at the unconscious Buffy. “Luke called…we’ll have to go out the way we came in…it’s safer and quicker.” He led the way back to the basement.
The drive to the clinic passed in silence. Ritt turned to look at Spike as he cradled Buffy in his arms, the expression on his face unreadable as he stared at the unconscious girl. The doctor met them at the door with a nurse and a stretcher, but Spike refused to allow anyone to take her from his arms. Seeing he wasn’t going to be able to examine the young woman unless Spike came along, the doctor ushered him to the examining room.
Ritt stood alone in the clinics lobby, watching as the double doors swung shut behind Spike and Buffy.