Tamika cast one last glance through the windows of her family's home. She could not shake the feeling that she was saying goodbye forever. Of course, if all went as planned, she'd be making her way through these levels twice more before she turned her back on the Watchers for good. And maybe with a lot of luck she'd be able to return here. She just didn't count on it.
It helped that the young Slayer had not really been close to her parents since several years before she was called. The Watchers were her family now, but without the emotional bond that word usually implied. She knew she was doing the right thing.
Her mother, on the other hand, was much less certain.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked for what seemed like the hundredth time.
Tamika sighed. They were walking side by side towards the nearest area to descend to the lower levels. "I have to do this," she declared.
Her mother frowned at her. "You do this, and all of the luxuries that the Watcher have gifted you - and us - with will disappear."
"I know that," Tamika replied with a nod. "That's why I expect you to take cover for a little while if I succeed." She looked at her mother strongly. "I won't rescue someone else just to have you captive, used against me."
"They wouldn't..." she replied disdainfully.
Tamika instantly felt like a little girl with a head full of illusions, trying to tell her mother about the monster under the bed. But this time, Tamika knew exactly what the truth was. "I would have agreed with you a month ago," she said sadly. "Before I saw what they were actually willing to do..." Her voice trailed off, thick with shattered dreams. "Will you support me, Mom, please?" she begged. "Tell me I'm doing the right thing."
Her mother smiled then, and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "I hardly recognize you," she said, and the pride was clear in her voice. "You are old enough to know what the right thing is. And I trust you."
Tamika gave a week smile. They'd reached the lift now, and the first farewell was at hand. "Thanks," she said, her voice soft as she stepped through the portal.
Lifting her hand in a wave, her mother gave her a concerned smile. "Good luck," she said vehemently.
She was going to need it.
Buffy wasn't sure whether she was going to cry, scream, or have a complete and total break down. One thing was sure, something was going to happen if she had to wait much longer, and it wasn't going to be pretty. She was supposed to be sleeping. Instead, she was lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling, and praying - yes, praying - for Tamika's speedy return.
After Buffy had confronted the younger Slayer, there was nothing left for Buffy to do except worry. She was tying herself in emotional knots, she knew, but she couldn't help herself. She hovered at Angel's side any moment the Watchers would let her, and she worried. She caught Castor watching her throughout her practice sessions, and she worried. Tamika left hours ago and had not sent any word since...and Buffy worried.
Her stomach cramped painfully in protest.
'Oh, God...I think I'm going to be sick,' Buffy thought bitterly, rolling to her side and curling into a ball. Well, she had heard that excessive worrying could lead to stomach ulcers.... 'Worry about your stomach lining once you're out of here, would you?'
In fact, she had more important things to worry about at the moment than ulcers. Her concerns over Angel pretty much outweighed anything else. When she closed her eyes, she could see him as clear as day, his forehead creased with wrinkles as he tried to ignore the pain. He was less aware of his surroundings each time she saw him, no matter how little time had passed in between. He spent more and more time unconscious. Which, considering how much pain he seemed to be in, was probably a good thing. Or not...
'Angel, what the hell's happening to you?' Buffy thought helplessly, closing her eyes. She sought for him inside herself, trying to reassure herself as to his well-being. Trying to feel him nearby, to know that he hadn't.... Images of vampire dust filled her memory. 'No, I won't think of that!' He had to be okay; she would find some way to rescue him and they would both be out of here for good.
The sudden sound of the door chime actually made Buffy emit a startled squeak.
'Oh, yeah, really alert and Slayer-like there,' she thought, jumping out of bed. "Who is it?" she asked a bit breathlessly.
No, she wasn't sleeping when she was supposed to be. What of it?
"Me," came the simple reply, and Buffy's heart was suddenly in her throat.
She opened the door a bare moment later. Standing aside for her late night visitors, she watched silently as Tamika led three uniformed figures into the room. For a second, her eyes went wide at the thought of betrayal....
The lights went on, and the newcomers' identities were laid bare. "You...I..." Buffy stuttered in surprise.
Dr. Hasna gave her a soft, apologetic smile. Buffy could see now that only her uniform was real, if threadbare from age. The other two were simply black jumpsuits, a replica of the insignia hastily attached at the breast.
It was Daneela who finally spoke. Her demonic nature had been hastily obscured by a liberal coat of makeup. "I told you that you could count on us if you needed help," she said.
"Yes, but..." Buffy tried again. "I didn't expect you to actually come up here."
"There's no way Tamika could get the three of you out of here by yourself," Hasna said in turn. "She asked us for help...and there was no way we could turn her away." The doctor's voice was tinged with guilt.
Buffy flashed her a grateful smile before turning to the last new member of the group. "And what do you think you're doing here?"
Tomas opened his mouth to retort, but Daneela replied for him. "He wouldn't let Tamika return without him," she said, her expression teasing.
"Hey!" the young man defended himself. "I can help. I've been training...."
"He can help," Hasna agreed. "We have a plan..."
"But we have to hurry," Tamika nearly snapped, the first she'd said since her greeting at the door. "They'll figure out that I snuck fake Watchers in here soon enough. And if we want to survive the evening...."
Buffy felt a great flash of hope spring on her unexpectedly. She grinned at the four of them. "Thank you," she said.
Hasna's heart was pounding in her chest. The last time she had been so nervous, she had been fleeing from this place. Now, she was back, and unwelcome. One little screw up here and they were all done for. So too would be the people they were trying to protect.
But to walk these halls again, a place she had willingly turned her back on nearly a decade before, was an unnerving echo of things she'd spent that time trying to forget. She remembered her friend, who had been dragged away to these very cells. Now, they were there to rescue Angel from a similar fate. Perhaps she'd succeed; save Angel where she could not save Ravi.
No matter what she was feeling at the moment, though, Hasna was good at hiding her nervousness. She strode through the corridor as if she belonged there. She was supposed to be a guard, she kept reminding herself. She was supposed to be there.
Daneela wasn't nearly so composed. Her complexion had taken on an unnatural ruddy tint, even under the obscuring makeup. Her continuous glances down the plain corridors were furtive and suspicious. She held her hands before her, fidgeting nervously.
Hasna could not help but glance at the demoness. 'Maybe we should have done this as if she was a captive being transported. Then we wouldn't have to worry about her being a demon.'
She shuddered as soon as the thought came to mind. To masquerade in the very image of what had driven her from this place.... The image of Ravi rose in her mind like a ghost from the grave. She could still see him screaming as he was dragged away.
"How close?" Daneela asked in a hushed whisper.
"Assuming they haven't rearranged things or my memory is poor?"
Daneela scowled at her, pleading. "Please don't talk like that."
Hasna waved her concerns off. "Just around the corner," she said flatly.
Daneela took a deep breath and nodded. Hasna could see her composing herself, taking on her role as another guard. With a brief nod of approval, Hasna led the way with her back stiff.
There was nothing to differentiate the door they stopped at from any other, and Hasna prayed that they were in the right place. All of their group efforts would come to an end very quickly, otherwise. With a deep breath and a brief glance at her companion, Hasna pressed her fingers to the door chime.
When the door opened without a word a bare moment later, Hasna had to fight down a smile. Was it arrogance that kept them from being cautious within their own headquarters? Whatever it was, it worked to her advantage here.
The two women entered the room with no more invitation than the open door. Inside, three men sat amid an odd array of mysticism and technology. One of them glanced up from his work, startled.
"You're not..." he began. "Who...?"
Neither Hasna nor Daneela replied. Hasna took out the weapon that she'd kept for so long along with her uniform, never thinking she'd have the use for it again. Out of date, now, and without the usual polish of the Watchers' standard weaponry. Before any of the three Watchers could raise an uproar, she struck. At the same time, Daneela sprang forward, her hands outstretched and looking every bit the demon that she was. Barely a cry was uttered.
Moments later, all three of them were on the ground, unconscious. Daneela was grinning from ear to ear. "Well," she said a touch breathlessly. "That went well."
Hasna wasn't so thrilled with the situation. "We were going to keep one of them...conscious," she said, leaning over the bodies. All of the men were alive and would recover...but not until well after the two of them were gone.
Daneela's grin turned sheepish. "Oops?"
Hasna sighed, stepping away from the slumped figures. She glanced at the monitors. Tamika and the young telekinetic had not yet appeared near the cells. "Okay, we need to just...what are you doing?"
Daneela was kneeling next to one of the men she'd knocked out. Her gaze was focused on his inert face. "What else do you think I'm here for?" she asked distractedly.
No matter how far removed she got from the biases of the Watchers' Council, there were certain things that still made her uneasy. One of those was the invasion of another's mind. Just what Daneela was doing at the moment. She finally had to turn away from the demoness' actions, unable to watch.
When Daneela spoke again, her voice was oddly distracted. "The circle of red stones."
"You're sure?" Hasna asked. "There are some things here we don't want to release."
Daneela withdrew from the fallen man. "I'm sure," she said, looking Hasna in the eyes. Something of the doctor's disapproval must have shown on her face, for Daneela's expression was serious as she continued. "I don't like doing that, either. It makes me feel sick, and I would never do it if I didn't have choice. But we don't have a choice."
Hasna could not help but feel a bit chastened. "I'm sorry."
Daneela just nodded dismissively.
In silence, the two of them searched the small room. Hasna pursed her lips at the carefully laid out rows of ritualistic items. Each one represented a prisoner and the unique chamber created for their confinement. For their torture, perhaps as well. If only Hasna could have been sure she was releasing only those wrongfully imprisoned, she would have taken the entire room apart. But she couldn't be sure.
At last a pulled out drawer revealed a circle of tiny red stones around a larger white one. Hasna waved her companion over urgently. "Now what?"
Daneela pursed her lips for a moment as she thought. "Disrupt it," she muttered.
"Disrupt it? And quickly. We're running out of time." Hasna ignored the look her impatient tone earned her.
The younger woman pointed to a slightly larger stone among the red ones. "That one. Remove it."
"Are you sure?"
"Stop asking me that! Yes, I'm sure." Daneela shot Hasna a look. "I thought you were the one that wanted to hurry?"
"I am hurrying," Hasna hissed in response. Carefully, she lifted the stone from its place, not touching the ones beside it. She even held her breath. With as unstable as she knew these spells could be, she did not want to have the whole thing blow up in her face.
Several tense moments later, the single red stone sat alone on the counter. Hasna took a deep breath. "Did it work?"
Daneela gave an uncertain shrug. "I don't know. Did it?"
Hasna replied with a nervous sigh. "I don't know," she said, glancing up at the still monitors. "I guess we'll find out in about five minutes."
Endless stillness and echoes of pain.
Angel's body fought for consciousness. And, once there, his mind wanted nothing more than to shut down.
He wanted.
He needed.
And there was nothing, so he hurt.
Oh, there were short reprieves granted by Buffy's visits, but even those were pain fogged now. His entire recollection of their last encounter was buried under a haze of pain. They'd tried to continue they're conversation from before, but Angel had to fight just to stay conscious and there had obviously been other things on Buffy's mind.
The silence became painful in its own right the longer it went on. It pressed on him, his senses as starved for input as his body was for blood.
And it hurt.
And then it was gone, abruptly and without warning. This was a whole different type of pain. Senses long deprived were bombarded. Heartbeats pounded in his ears. Their breathing was as audible as a howling storm. The smell of the living and the blood they possessed made Angel's hunger spring up again like an entity unto itself.
"See, I told you I'd get the door open."
The words were a roar over the torrent of living sound.
"Hush." A light swat; a sharp, staccato beat.
He groaned and curled up on himself further.
"Angel?"
Even the whisper pierced his skull.
"Come on, Angel. Open your eyes, please."
He hadn't even realized his eyes were closed. The voice tugged at him. It was much to loud to ignore. He blinked up, unfocused, at a startling familiar face.
"Slayer?" he gasped.
"Yeah," the dark haired young woman whispered back. "We're getting you out of here."
"Wha-" Angel struggled to form a question. His raging hunger fought him for attention. A second figure swung into focus. "I know you," Angel managed.
The young man nodded. "Can you stand?" he asked without preamble.
Could he stand? Angel could barely think beyond pain and hunger. "No."
He could see his two rescuers glance at each other. The young Slayer spoke up. "If we go to help you, are you going to...bite?"
Under other circumstances, Angel would probably have been offended. But then, under other circumstances it wouldn't have been a sincere possibility. The hunger and the demon that drove it were screaming under the force of his will; his will alone kept them from seeking sustenance. For now, he was still strong enough to win that battle. "I won't bite," he said through gritted teeth.
A moment later Tamika's arm was around his waist, trying to help him stand. He couldn't do it. Oh, he tried, but with her blood so close that alone was taking up enough of his thoughts. Angel felt his entire body trembling with weakness. He wasn't much help to anyone like this.
Suddenly the young man's hands were on him as well...and Angel no longer felt like he was going to fall. Now he knew the boy's identity for sure. He was the telekinetic that he and Buffy had saved...he wasn't sure how long ago...and it was that power that kept Angel from falling now.
The boy had been running from the Watchers then. Why the hell had he come here?
"What...?" Angel tried to ask again.
"We're rescuing you," the boy said, his tone light but serious.
Angel felt like his mind was quite a few steps behind. Rescue? He was really getting out of here? Not just out of this cell, but away?
As the pain and hunger threatened to overwhelm him again, only one question remained.
"Buffy?"
He barely perceived Tamika's sympathetic smile. "She's waiting for us."
That was all the reassurance Angel needed before he surrendered to unconsciousness once again.
The voices in my head get
cranky when I don't get feedback.
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