Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“God,” Buffy moaned, rolling onto her side for comfort but only finding cold tile beneath her, “I feel like I was hit by a…—” She opened her eyes to blurry white, thinking back: “—bunch of commandos?”

She sighed and flexed her muscles to make sure everything was still working: sore, she decided, but working. Her next order of business would be to sit up. That seemed a little tougher because, she noticed now, her head was swimming—at odds with gravity. She felt nauseous and weak, and wholly unwilling to leave unconsciousness behind to deal with whatever mess she was in this time.

But she was the Slayer. And, wherever she was, she had to escape, and she wasn’t going to be able to do that lying down.

So she heaved herself into an upright position, head lolling as she scooted towards a wall to lean on and she braced herself against a wave of nausea.

It was a familiar wooziness, and Buffy quickly deduced that she’d lost a massive amount of blood. But, upon checking herself over—for stab wounds or bullet holes, for itty bitty puncture marks in her neck—she couldn’t find any serious injuries.

She took a deep breath and leaned her head against the wall, trying to get her thoughts together. But after a moment she was falling asleep. As her head dipped, she jolted awake again.

“What’s wrong with me?” she moaned.

“Good drugs, ain’t they?” came a man’s English accent from behind the wall she leaned on, “Yeah, they pumped us all chock full when we first got here. Won’t last long.”

“What is this place?” Buffy asked. She finally forced her vision to focus and looked around her cell, which was white and sterile with one glass wall that looked out into an equally sanitized hallway.

“You’re askin’ me,” said the man, “Why don’t you let me know when you find out?”

“Some help you are,” said Buffy, “What’s your name?”

“Round here?” said the man, “It’s Hostile 17.”

“Wait, what?” said Willow, “Buffy was what by military whats?”

“Kidnapped. Goons,” said Xander, out of breath, “I couldn’t do anything, I—”

“Xander,” said Giles, putting a hand on the young man’s shoulder and guiding him to the couch, “Just calm down. Breathe. Or, at least, tell us what happened before you pass out.”

“I was—” Xander gasped, “Me and Buffy were walking—I was walking her back to her dorm—”

“ You were walking her?” said Willow.

“Okay, well maybe I wanted some Slayer protection while I wandered back to mom’s basement in the middle of the night, alright? Anyway,” Xander said, “We were walking across campus and… Well, there’s this vamp, right? And Buff slays it easy-peasy. But then, all of a sudden, there were these guys. Black masks, commando getups. Came outta nowhere! Anyway, they attacked us, and I guess I got knocked out and when I woke up, well—”

“Buffy was gone,” Willow guessed. “Any idea where they took her?”

“No,” said Xander, “I’m sorry. I… I tried to fight but—”

“It’s not your fault, Xander,” said Willow quickly.

“All we can do now is try to find her,” said Giles. “This isn’t the first time we’ve seen these, erm, commandos. Is it?”

“We saw them around on Halloween,” said Xander, “But we figured they were just guys in costumes.”

“Or maybe they forgot the date?” Willow goofed. Then she frowned, “I can try a locator spell.”

“Um, yes,” said Giles, “Perhaps that would be a good idea. What do you need?”

“Just something of Buffy’s, I’ll stop by the dorm. And a map.”

“So what do you do for fun around here?” said the woman with whom he now shared a wall, his last neighbor having apparently perished some days before.

“Just sit around till it’s time for Jekyll and Frankenstein and whoever else they’ve got back there to see what makes you tick,” said Spike.

“I’m pretty ticked off right now, I can tell them that,” said the girl. “What do you mean ‘makes me tick’?”

“I mean, don’t be surprised if you’ve got some pretty new scars next time you wake up,” said Spike.

“Hey,” said the girl suddenly, “You sound kinda familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?”

Uh-oh. That wouldn’t do—whoever this woman was, he couldn’t let word get out, even in here, that Spike , William the Bloody, was locked up in some cage. It would wreak havoc on his already ice-thin reputation.

He cleared his throat, and when he spoke again his accent was softer, milder; more posh. Lamer, Spike thought—the one he’d had back when he was human, but it would do to disguise him for now from anyone who might recognize him. “I doubt it,” he said, “I’m a nobody. Maybe you’ve just got other English friends.”

That made Buffy wonder if Giles and her friends were already looking for her, and how soon they’d find her.

“I betcha someone at Willy’s knows something,” said Xander, “I mean, a new demon in town is one thing. But commandos? Would definitely catch some eyes. Or fangs.”

“The locator spell said Buffy’s… beneath us,” said Willow, “So unless we wanna get a shovel and start digging, we better figure out where the entrance to this secret underground lair is. Luckily, Willy’s patrons are kinda the experts on secret underground lairs.”

They entered the bar, and tough-as-nails demon types all turned to look at them. Willow waved with a timid smile as she followed Xander up to the bar.

“Willy my man,” said Xander, “We want info.”

“Info?” said Willy, “Listen, I don’t know nothing.”

“You tell us what we wanna know,” said Xander, “Or else—” He slammed his hand down on the bar in a threatening manner, but then hissed in pain and shook his bruised hand, “Ow, ow, ow.”

“Listen, Willy,” said Willow, “We’re trying to help Buffy. Have you heard anything about these commandos walking around?”

“Guys in military getups?” said Willy, “Oh yeah. Talk of the town right now. Apparently, these guys are goin’ around kidnapping my customers.”

“They’re kidnapping demons?” said Willow.

“And not just demons,” said Willy, “Underworld has it, they are after anyone with a little power. Vampires, werewolves, witches. You name it.”

“Anyone know where they’re holed up?” said Xander.

“If they did, I don’t think we’d still be seeing these guys creeping around. Nah, they must have a real solid operation going if no one’s found ‘em yet. Look, that’s all I know. But listen: This is my clientele they’re snatching. You find ‘em and stop ‘em, alright? I hear anything else, I’ll let you know.”

“Here goes,” said Buffy, finally feeling strong enough to actually try and find a way out of here.

She stood facing the glass wall, fists at the ready. She charged, punching the window with all her might—

—and then screamed, yelping in electric pain as she was shocked by the surface.

“Yeah,” said Hostile 17 from the other side of the wall, “It does that. You’re not getting out, I’ve tried everything.”

“That’s not gonna stop me,” Buffy huffed. “I’m tougher than I look.”

“Well, I dunno how you look, luv. Say, what’s your name?”

“It’s—” Buffy stopped herself. There weren’t a lot of Buffys in Sunnydale and she wasn’t about to out herself to this stranger, who might have some connection to the demon underworld himself, “Anne. You got a name other than Hostile 17?”

“Will,” said the man.

Buffy frowned, “My best friend’s name is Will. She’s probably looking for me right now.”

“Well, best of luck to her,” said Will, “I’ve been here days and looks to me the only way to get in here is to get captured.”

“Willow, this is a terrible plan,” said Giles.

“You got a better idea?” said Willow. “Look. Xander said these guys had all kinds of sensors with them, there’s no way we’d be able to follow ‘em back to their base without getting caught. But if you guys are able to track me while they take me down there, we might stand a chance.”

“I don’t like the whole part where you get kidnapped, Will,” said Xander.

“Well someone’s gotta do it,” said Willow, “And no offense, but if what Willy said is true and they are looking for people with power, I’m the only one they’re gonna be interested in.”

“What if your locator spell fails once you’re already captured?” said Giles, “Then it will have all been for nothing.”

“It won’t,” said Willow, “I promise. It’ll last at least three hours, which should be plenty of time for you to figure out where they took me."

“And then what?” said Xander, “We don’t exactly have the resources to attack some sort of military base even if we figure out where it is.”

“You’ll have information. Information I’m sure they won’t want getting out. These guys probably have day-jobs. Figure out who they are and do the interrogation thing,” said Willow, “Plus, I’ll be in there too, maybe I can start making moves from the inside. If I can find Buffy, I betcha the two of us will have enough firepower to do a bit of damage.”

“Willow,” said Giles, “I think you are vastly overestimating your strength. If Buffy is unable to escape, you won’t have any better luck.”

“I’ve been practicing a lot, Giles,” said Willow, “I’ve got some magical aces up my sleeves, I promise. Listen, for all we know Buffy could be hurt, or worse. We gotta do something and we gotta do it now.”

“This is where we ran into them last time,” said Xander, “I remember anything about the military, they’re probably gonna hit this spot again on their patrol. You sure you wanna do this, Will?”

“Sure as water is wet,” said Willow, “They didn’t kill you, right? And from what we can tell, they’re human. So they’re probably not gonna kill me, at least not right away. All we need is enough time for you guys to find out where they took us and break us out.”

“Yeah, that last part is what I’m worried about, but we’ll try. You sure that locator spell is all set?”

“Yep,” said Willow, “Giles is at home with the map. He’ll take notes, and if anything does go wrong he should be able to hold the spell up on his own.”

They heard a rustling in the bushes. “That’s them,” said Xander. “Good luck, Wills”

“You too,” Willow nodded, “Go hide!”

Xander scrambled behind a tree and waited, anxious.

“Well!” Willow announced loudly, pacing around the clearing, “I guess I will just cast a spell now! With magic!”

The men shuffling through the foliage didn’t seem to notice her.

“I said,” Willow cleared her throat, “I guess I’ll just do some evil supernatural black magic now!”

The group of four commandos stopped as they came into the clearing. They stared at her for a moment.

“Ignis!” Willow cried, a little ball of fire appearing in her hand.

Then all hell broke loose. Xander watched from his hiding spot as the men started shouting: “Hostile detected! Bag and tag. Take her alive.”

“Oh no!” Willow said, a little sarcastic, “You caught me! Oh well, I guess—”

Now the fear started to set in, but she couldn’t react to it before she was tased to the floor.

“H-hey!” she stuttered, “I was t-trying to surrender!”

“Quiet,” said one of the men as he held her too hard against the ground, “We’ve heard it all before. You’re just gonna take a little nap, alright?”

A frustrated groan was all Willow could muster before a prick in her shoulder introduced her to blissful unconsciousness.

Chapter Text

“Hey. Please w-wake up.”

Willow moaned, “Five more minutes.” But it was too bright, and the fluorescent glow on the backs of her eyelids was keeping her up. She wondered if her mom drew the curtains in an attempt to wake her, but then she remembered that she didn’t live with her mom anymore.

Her eyes finally fluttered open and the harsh ceiling lights were thankfully blocked by someone kneeling over her—an angel?

“‘m I in heaven?” Willow slurred.

“Hell, I think,” said the girl, “I-if hell has m-military commandos and h-human experimentation.”

“Commandos…” Willow echoed. Then she shot to her feet, remembering. “Buffy!”

But her head felt heavy and blackness danced at the edges of her vision. She toppled over, passing out momentarily, falling into the girl who tried to catch her but only succeeded in breaking her fall with her body.

“C-careful,” the girl said, stroking Willow’s hair gently. “Th-they probably took a b-bunch of blood. That’s what they did to me when I first got here.”

It took Willow a while to answer after coming to, “Wha’ d’they need my blood for?”

“Tests, I think,” the girl said, “A-and we aren’t the only ones here. There’s… vampires.”

Willow blinked deliriously at the ceiling lights, “Are you telling me they are feeding my blood to vampires?”

“Maybe,” said the girl, “I assume. They take blood every other day, how many tests could they possibly run?”

“And not even a cookie for my donation. I got a feeling they aren’t testing for STDs either,” said Willow. She finally sat up, but the other girl kept her arms hovering by her shoulders in case she fell again.

Willow tried to straighten out her thoughts, but she was having a hard time just staying conscious.

The girl must have noticed the way Willow’s dazed eyes were drooping because she said, “Don’t worry. They wear off soon.”

“Hm?”

“The drugs,” the girl said, “They wear off soon.”

“I’ve never done drugs in my life,” said Willow.

“See, you’re confused because of the drugs.”

Willow’s head lolled and she leaned heavily into the girl, who quickly shook her by the shoulders.

“Stay awake. I-if you pass out again they’ll just take you away to do more tests.” She turned Willow around to face her, “I’m Tara, by the way.”

“That’s such a pretty name,” said Willow, “You’re so pretty.”

Tara blushed. She knew that her new friend was just loopy from the drugs and the blood loss, but she was embarrassed and flattered nonetheless.

Willow looked around, sobering up a little and pulling away from Tara, “So this is like a secret military base, huh?”

Tara shrugged, “I guess,” she said, “I haven’t seen much besides this cell and the other room.”

“The other room?” said Willow.

“The one they take you to to do experiments.”

Willow shuddered. She stood, slowly, taking time to get her footing this time. She looked around the cell, getting her bearings.

There weren’t many bearings to get in this plain white room in a white corridor, though. She decided to let a little magic slip out to help her get the lay of the land.

“Agh-!” she cried, falling into a fetal position and clutching her head in pain, tears welling in her eyes.

“W-what happened?” said Tara, “Did you try to do magick? I’m s-sorry. I should have led with that.” She pointed to the bulky metal collar Willow had failed to notice around her neck, “These things won’t let us cast.”

It was only then that Willow became aware of the cold, heavy metal weighing on her own shoulders, and she realized her neck was encased in the same device.

“What are they?” Willow whimpered, sitting up again and examining the device as best she could, “It doesn’t feel magick.”

“I th-think it’s tech,” said Tara, “But there’s no way to shut it off. I’ve tried.”

Willow yanked on it a bit, but hissed in pain as she did so. It felt like it was embedded directly into her skin.

“How long have you been here?” said Willow.

“I think a week,” said Tara, “But I’m not sure. No windows. Or clocks.”

“A week,” said Willow, “Have you seen anyone else since you’ve been here?”

“Not except the guards and the scientists, and sometimes I see them carrying other prisoners past the cell,” said Tara, “You’re actually the first person I’ve talked to since I got here, except for lab technicians asking me to float pencils and s-stuff.”

“You’re a witch.”

“Y-yeah. Since I was little.”

“You said there’s others here. How do you know that?”

“Like I said, I see them carried past the cell sometimes. Sometimes I can hear them in the next room, but the turnover is… high.” She frowned, “I’ve heard the guards talking about other prisoners, too. I think there’s entire other cell blocks; this one is for us with mystical powers.”

“Hm,” said Willow, “So, hypothetically,” she started pacing, ignoring her lingering wooziness, “There’d be another cell block for the vampires and the… anyone with super strength.” She stopped in front of the glass window and poked it with her finger. She received a sharp electric shock and her finger flew into her mouth.

“Why?" said Tara, "It’s mostly demons and bad guys that I've seen. I don’t think you wanna meet them.”

“My friend, Buffy,” said Willow, shaking the pain out of her finger, “She got kidnapped by these goons. That’s why I’m here: to rescue her.”

“You got captured on purpose?” said Tara

“Yep,” said Willow, “Now thinking maybe there was a flaw in my plan. Y’know, getting captured without any powers, weapons, or escape plan. But I’ve got some friends on the outside who are working their angle too. We’ll be out of here, I promise. I’m Willow, by the way. How did you end up here?”

“I was j-just practicing alone in the woods near campus. No one usually finds me there. They must have had some kind of m-magick trackers or something because all of a sudden there were tasers and stuff, and then I was here.”

“That sounds like it was really scary,” said Willow, “I’m sorry that happened to you.”

Tara smiled sadly, “At least I’m not alone now.”

“We’re gonna get out of here,” said Willow, “I promise.”

Buffy was spooked from her bored near-sleep by a light thud and a metallic scraping. She opened her eyes to see a small metallic door she hadn’t noticed before opening behind her. It was some sort of dumbwaiter, and a styrofoam tray of food was presented to her.

She looked around confused, cautious. But then her stomach growled and she took the food greedily.

“Thank god,” she moaned, “I’m starving.”

“Don’t eat,” said Will from behind the wall, “Whatever they give you, blood, food. It’s drugged.”

“Drugged?”

“And not the fun kind,” said Will.

“Why’s the food drugged?” said Buffy, frowning at the forbidden meal before her.

“They wait ‘til you’re out, then they take you to the back for experiments,” said Will.

“Who’s ‘they’ anyway?” said Buffy, “What do they want with us?”

“Oh yeah. Right before they start cutting up your insides, they sit you down and explain to you their whole damn angle.” Buffy could practically hear his sarcastic eyeroll, “No, luv. I don’t know why they’re doing this. Seems to me they’re afraid of what goes bump in the night and they think if they cut it open they’ll prove to themselves it ain’t so nasty.”

“Are you a thing that goes bump in the night?”

“Aren’t you?”

“That’s privileged information,” said Buffy.

“Privileged? There’s a whole team of scientists about to send a probe down all your holes. I don’t think there’s anything about you’s gonna be privileged for long, Annie.”

“What about you?” said Buffy, “You a vamp? Demon? Warlock? What’s your sitch?”

“Say, we get outta here? I’ll tell ya.”

“Don’t eat the food,” said Tara, and Willow stopped mid-scoop of whatever gunk they’d been given to eat, “It’s drugged.”

“But…” Willow pouted, “I’m hungry.”

“I know. And you’re weak.”

“We gotta eat eventually,” Willow whined, “I mean… Food is kinda one of those things. Y’know?”

“I’ve been trying to eat it really s-slow,” said Tara, “It’ll still make you loopy, but if I space it out enough I never really pass out. Gives them fewer chances to take us and… I mean, whatever it is they do.”

Willow’s stomach growled, and she took a small amount of faux-mashed potatoes on her finger, tentatively sticking it in her mouth. She felt desperate for nourishment after her dangerous blood loss, but she wasn’t keen on losing consciousness again, and she knew she wasn’t going to come up with any semblance of a plan if she was too drugged to think straight. She watched Tara as the other witch ate a few very small bites of food before moving her plate aside. Willow copied her, taking the same amount for herself.

“Take it easy,” said Tara, “You’re smaller than me. Whatever it is it’s strong. L-like demon strong. It’ll k-knock you right out.”

Willow pouted again and pushed her plate aside before backing up against the wall, closing her eyes with a sigh.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Willow said, “Just tired. And kinda scared. I dunno what I was thinking. Coming in here to rescue Buffy. How’m I supposed to do anything when I can’t even eat the food they give me?”

“Buffy’s really lucky to have a friend like you,” said Tara, “I don’t…” She looked away, “Well, I don’t know if a-anyone’s looking for me.”

“‘Will,’” said Buffy, “What’s that short for?”

“Don’t much matter, does it?” said Will, “Wilson, Wilfred, William. Up to you, Annie.”

“Um,” Buffy said, “Whatever.” But she liked the sound of William, and decided that’s what she’d call him in her head anyway.

“Head’s up, luv. Here they come.”

“Huh?” said Buffy. She stood quickly, “Who they come? And can I fight them?” She looked through the glass to see four armed commandos on their way up the hall. She held her breath as they approached her cell.

They stopped, watched her for a moment. One seemed to snarl at her, and she thought she recognized him from class. They shrugged and kept moving. Buffy watched as they unlocked a cell further down the hall. They dragged out a demon—she wasn’t sure what kind, but it was certainly something she might slay on one of her patrols—and slung him over a shoulder as they carried him away.

“Take a good look,” said William, “That’ll be you pretty soon.”

“No it won’t. I just won’t eat their funny food.”

“They’ll work around it,” said William, “Trust me, I know. If they have to they’ll bring tasers, guns, needles. Whatever they need to keep you down long enough for them to do their proddin’.”

One commando hung back to shut the cell door, and as he passed by Buffy’s cell again she called, “Hey, you! Whatever the hell you’re doing, it’s majorly unethical. Definitely violating a constitutional right or ten.”

“Quiet, Hostile,” said the man.

“I don’t think you get it,” said Buffy, “I’m on your side. I mean, I’m a good guy—if you guys are good. I’m not a demon. I fight demons. And I didn’t do anything wrong so—”

“I said shut up!” the man said. He pulled out a taser, and Buffy, uncharacteristic, cowered slightly. After all, she couldn’t punch her way out of electric shocks or tranquilizer darts.

“Eat your meal,” the man said before marching away.

The lights were dimmed, now. Not off, but dim enough to suggest nighttime even if there were no windows or clocks to prove it.

Willow and Tara were curled up on opposite sides of their cell, trying to get some sleep. Tara couldn’t help but to watch Willow, who shivered in the chilled, filtered air.

“Are you cold?” Tara whispered, in case the other witch was sleeping.

“N-n-no,” Willow said.

“Are you lying?”

“Okay, well it’s a little crisp. Would it kill ‘em to g-give us a b-b-blanket?”

“They d-don’t see us as people,” said Tara, “We’re like animals to them. Demons.”

“Okay, fine, so I’m an animal. Doesn’t mean I’m a penguin. Can’t I be a little lizard on a nice sunny rock?”

“You g-get used to it after a while,” said Tara. She watched Willow shiver a little longer as they tried to go to sleep again. “Um…”

“Huh?”

“I m-mean,” Tara said, “We could p-p-probably…”

“What?” Willow said, sitting up and hugging herself for warmth, “We could probably what?”

“Um,” Tara stuttered, “If you’re cold, we could sh-share body heat.”

“I believe I've got it,” said Giles, and Xander looked over his shoulder at the map of Sunnydale, “The spell tracked Willow for a few hours, it looks like she stopped moving around here.”

“Hey, that’s on campus,” said Xander, “No way a bunch of military goons are keeping a dungeon of super-gals locked up in the Biology building and no one noticed.”

“Well,” said Giles, “This type of locator spell only tells us where Willow is on the map. It doesn’t tell us if she’s—”

“Underground,” Xander said, “So she’s in the same place as Buffy. I don’t get it—what was the point? We didn’t get any new info. Do we just go over there and start digging?”

“We knew where Willow would end up, but what we learned was how she got there,” said Giles, drawing a line on the map, “If we follow this path, which I watched her take after she was captured, we’ll be able to find the entrance to this lair.”

“Well, Watcher-man,” said Xander, “What are we waiting for? Let’s storm the joint.”

“Remember what Willow said,” said Giles, “We’re not going to be able to take down an entire… Whatever this is on our own. We’d be best off fighting with intel.”

“Hey,” said Xander, pointing to the map, “This building here. Willow passed through it; I’ve been to a party there. It’s a frat house.”

“Well, that could be our first lead,” said Giles, “Xander, how would you feel about going undercover?”

Chapter Text

“Well lookie here,” said a camouflage-clad goon as he stalked up to Buffy’s cell, “Got wise to the drugs in the food, eh? What do you want instead? Taser? Tranqs? Or we could just break your arms so you can’t fight back.”

“How about that last one, except I do it to you,” said Buffy, snarling from inside her cell.

He laughed. “Finn, get a load of this one.”

And then there was Riley Finn, the nice midwestern boy who she’d dropped textbooks on and who’d flirted with her at a party.

She gaped and raged and lunged toward the glass, careful not to touch it. “Riley?!”

“Shit,” Riley muttered.

“Well what’d you think was gonna happen?” said Buffy. “You start kidnapping girls around campus, probably at least one of them is gonna have eaten cheese with you. Is this why you were all flirty? To get close to me and then wham! – hostage?”

“Bu— Hostile . No,” said Riley, “I had no idea you were even— Wait, why are you here? What—?”

“Alright, Finn,” said the other goon, “Leave your girl troubles for the girls, alright? This one’s something else.”

“What is she?” said Riley, “All I was briefed on was humanoid, unnatural strength, agility, reflexes. Vampire?”

“We don’t know,” said the other man, “But that’s what Walsh wants to find out. I was just trying to decide the best way to get her over to the lab in one piece.”

Riley huffed, “Just open the cell.”

“What—”

“I said open the cell. That’s an order.”

The soldier did as he was told, and Riley stepped in and grabbed Buffy’s arm roughly. She was about to fight back when he whispered, “Don’t fight. They can make it hell for you. Play along and I’ll figure this out.”

Buffy knew he was right, that she didn’t stand a chance against however many soldiers they had in this place. She spit in his face, “Fine.”

She didn’t realize her fine would give Riley permission to take out a syringe and sedate her, but he did it anyway.

“What the f—?” she mumbled as she passed out.

“What am I supposed to say?” Xander hissed.

“Use your, erm, military experience from that Halloween,” said Giles, “Tell them you have information and that you want to be a part of their…—”

“Club?” said Xander. “I don’t really have any information, Giles. What if they kidnap me, too?”

Giles couldn’t help but to laugh, “I don’t think they are going to be interested in you, Xander. Now go.”

Xander approached the door. Be cool , he thought. Then he knocked in a musical cadence and he cursed inwardly.

The door opened, and two chiseled men were glaring at him.

“Uh—hi,” said Xander.

“We’re not buying,” said Graham.

“Or converting,” said Forrest.

“Oh, I’m not a salesman or a Mormon,” Xander clarified. “I’m actually interested in joining your club.”

“We’re not accepting new pledges,” said Forrest, and he tried to close the door.

Xander stopped him. “Yeah, see…” He forced the door back open, “That’s not what I meant. I know what you do here. And if you want those beans to remain firmly un-spilt and in their can… Well, I think you’d better let me in so we can talk.”

“You’re a good pillow,” Willow muttered, now cuddled with Tara in a corner of their cell.

“Are y-you kidding?” Tara said, “I haven’t had s-something soft or warm to sleep on in days. You’re a godsend.” She smirked, lopsided, “I mean, having some company is good too.”

“It’s freezing in here,” Willow said, and Tara hugged her closer, “I wish I had my magicks. Could make us a nice little ball of fire.”

“But with no marshmallows to toast…”

“I betcha those commandos have some in the back somewhere. We just gotta ask the right questions.” Willow yawned. Her eyes drifted closed and she began to fall asleep—

Suddenly, the lights in their cell clicked on, both girls squinting underneath the harsh fluorescence.

“Um— morning?” Willow said, sitting up. Two guards stood outside their cell as a third punched a code into the door.

“They’re conscious,” one commando said. Willow almost giggled at how afraid he looked.

“These ones can’t do anything,” said the one unlocking the door. “Got ‘em on a leash, that’s why the boss lets them share cells. This tech has ‘em weak as kittens. Have the tranqs ready though, just in case. Kittens have claws, after all.”

Willow glanced at Tara. Willow’s own fear wasn’t as funny as the commando’s, but Tara seemed used to this.

“Damn,” said the second guard, all smiles at Willow—and not the wholesome kind. “These hostiles’re just getting cuter and cuter, huh?”

“I dunno,” said the third as he finally opened the door and stepped inside. He moved dangerously close to Tara, “Red’s cute, but you boys know Fourteen’s my girl.” He tilted Tara’s chin up with a gloved hand, and Tara tried to cower.

Willow was overcome with disgust and she slapped his hand away, “Don’t touch her!”

Suddenly, there were three tranquilizer guns trained on Willow and she quickly put her hands in the air.

“Um… Okay, why don’t we talk about this?” she squeaked. “Without the use of… big guns. Or small guns. Any guns at all, really. I prefer a… gunless talk. I suppose water guns would be—”

“You,” said the man who had touched Tara. He grabbed Willow roughly by the arm, “Let’s go.”

“What if I don’t?” Willow said. She thought for a moment, “Oh. Right. The guns.”

“Willow,” said Tara, “Don’t—”

“I’ll be fine,” Willow said as she let the men take her away, “Don’t have too much fun without me!”

When Buffy awoke, she was in a different cell. Her shoulder hurt like hell, and she was surrounded by scientist-types watching her like she was a circus animal.

“Yeah, okay,” Buffy said. “Totally not into this. What the hell do you want?” Buffy seethed.

“Not much,” came a feminine voice, and Buffy turned as her eyes focused to reveal none other than her own Professor Walsh, “Just take a run on that treadmill in your cell.”

“Professor Walsh?” said Buffy, “What the heck?”

“Run, hostile,” said Walsh.

“No way,” said Buffy, noting the electrodes attached to her body and trying to rip them off.

“If you don’t cooperate…” said Walsh, and she reached for a button.

“No!” cried Riley, “I mean— She’ll cooperate. Right, Hostile?”

Buffy rolled her eyes, but Riley seemed quite afraid for her. She hopped onto the treadmill and started to run at an even pace. “I’m gonna get out of here, you psychos,” said Buffy, “And I’m gonna shut you down.”

“Keep an eye on her readings,” said Walsh to one of her scientists. She approached the cell, “We will find out what you are, Hostile.”

“That all you wanna know?” said Buffy, halting her run. “I mean. Little girl with unnatural strength who fights vampires. You’d think it’s pretty obvious.”

Walsh stared at her blankly.

“Oh, I get it,” said Buffy. “You guys have no idea what you’re doing, do you? Why don’t you leave the monster-hunting to the pros like me, okay? Listen, you let me outta here and I’ll tell you all about what I am and what I do.”

“Too dangerous,” Walsh shrugged. “You’re too powerful to let run amok around humans.”

“I am a—” Buffy sighed and continued running. “Whatever. You wanna play god for a bit? I’ve stopped apocalypses scarier than you. Hell, I’ve stopped monsters of the week scarier than you.”

Some new soldiers entered and stood at attention.

“The new witch is in examination now,” said one of them.

“Good,” said Walsh. “I think these girls will prove very useful to us.”

They had forced Willow to strip—they hadn’t bothered to knock her out or anything, she assumed because the device on her neck rendered her powerless—and now she sat on an examination table in a too-big hospital gown that left her feeling cold and exposed. Scientists bustled about, and one doctor put on some exam gloves and turned on a tape recorder.

“Subject is designated Hostile Number 24,” he said in a voice that sounded like it had never expressed an emotion, “Commencing preliminary examination.” 

He took a flashlight and shined it in her eyes. She shut them on instinct–”Ow, hey!”–so he took her eyelids and held them open one at a time. 

“Height: approximately 65 inches. Weight: approximately 120 pounds. Humanoid in figure. Slender build. Feminine. Eyes: green. Hair: red, auburn at the roots. Age: approximately 18—”

“I’m 19,” Willow huffed.

The doctor didn’t answer, and commenced to perform a full check-up, taking her pulse and blood-pressure, testing her reflexes and looking inside her throat.

“Don’t I at least get a lollipop?” Willow quipped when he seemed about finished.

“Subject speaks fluent English,” said the man, “All vitals are indistinguishable from those of a human.”

“That’s because I am a human,” said Willow, “Won’t you people just listen to me?”

The doctor pulled out a big, sharp needle and some empty vials. Willow flinched away.

“Whoa, wait!” she said, “You’re taking more blood? You took a bunch when I was out yesterday.”

“Hold still,” said the doctor. She tried to scramble away, and a soldier held her down hard enough to bruise her arms. The doctor drew vials of blood until Willow was sure she was going to pass out. He kept talking to his tape recorder, “Initial exam complete. Will transfer subject to observation for testing.”

“Wait, what?” said Willow, “Testing? This wasn’t the testing? There’s more testing?” She watched one of the assistants take out another needle, this one filled with medicine. 

The doctor continued, “Administering sedative prior to deactivation of Inhibitor.”

“Wait! Hey, drugs aren’t necessary. I got two legs, don’t I? Can’t we walk there?”

But it didn’t stop him. The needle slid into her arm and no matter how hard she tried to stay awake, Willow was asleep in seconds.

Buffy woke up back in her cell, legs aching from her unpleasant run.

“Ugh,” she moaned.

“Look who’s up!” said William, “Was quiet for a while. Thought you might be dead ‘cept for the snoring.”

“I don’t snore,” said Buffy. She took stock of herself, noted that her shoulder still throbbed. She reached awkwardly to rub her hand over the small cut on her back that was already starting to heal.

“They cut ya open?” William guessed, “Put something in or take things out? Or maybe just peeled away the wrapper to see what’s inside.”

“Not sure,” said Buffy, “They made me run on a treadmill.”

“What?” said William, “You’re getting a light jog in, meanwhile I’m getting brain surgery?”

“Brain surgery?”

“Yep,” said William, “Haven’t figured out yet what they did but I know my head hurts like the devil and it’s all stitched up with grandma’s sewing kit.”

“Brain surgery,” said Buffy again. “Oh god, I gotta get outta here.”

“Okay,” Willow muttered as she came to, “This is happening way too often now. I would love to spend a little less time unconscious.” She opened her eyes and realized she was in another cell, but this time the glass separated her from a lab full of scientists that watched her. “Um. Hi?” She realized she was still in the hospital gown and tried to cover up as best she could. “Will you stop staring? It’s wigging me out,” Willow whined. “What do you want from me?”

“We want to learn, Miss Rosenberg,” came a feminine voice as a new figure stepped into the room, “Surely you can understand that.”

“P-Professor Walsh?” said Willow, “What—? Don’t you… like, have classes to teach?” She blinked, “Also, what are you doing hanging with an evil military organization?”

“Such a shame,” said Walsh, pacing in that way villains always did, “You were such a bright student. I should have known there was something nefarious underneath that inquisitive charm.”

“Nefarious? Me?” said Willow. “What are you talking about? I’m totally… Farious.”

“Enough talk,” said Walsh, “Use your abilities, Hostile.”

“I have lots of abilities,” said Willow. “Got a computer that needs hacking?”

“Your magical abilities, Hostile.” Professor Walsh was losing her patience, and Willow felt a strange combination of guilt and giddiness at the prospect of making a teacher mad.

“I can’t,” said Willow, “Pretty metal necklace. Weak as a kitten. Ring any bells?”

“The Inhibitor has been deactivated temporarily,” Walsh said. “You displayed pyrokinesis when you met our agents. If you are like the other so-called witches we’ve captured, there are many other ‘magical’ abilities you have. There is an object on the other side of the glass in your cell. Please use telekinesis to move it.”

Willow noticed the separate compartment within her cell that contained some wooden blocks. “Or,” Willow said, “There’s a bunch of goons on the other side of this glass who I can a-annihilate with telekinesis. What do ya think of that?”

“You can try,” said Walsh, “But the wall itself is impervious to your ‘witchcraft’. Nothing you do can affect anything outside of your cell.”

Willow huffed and went to wipe a hair from her face. Then she realized that her body was covered in electrodes. “What the heck?”

“Move the blocks, Hostile.”

“What are these wires for, dare I ask? Maybe then I’ll— I’ll move your stupid blocks.”

“We are taking constant readings,” said Walsh with a sigh and an annoyed click of her tongue. “Your heart rate, your blood oxygen, brain waves, hormone levels… We are studying how this so-called magic affects and is affected by biology and in turn what types of physiological responses the body has to manipulation of extra-natural energy.”

Willow thought that was kinda cool. “Huh. Why?”

“That is none of your business, Hostile,” said Walsh. “We will also measure the amount of energy contained within your abilities. Everyone has a different level of supernatural potential. We’ve found a way to pinpoint exactly who is naturally predisposed to be able to harness this type of power. The question is: what causes that disparity in the first place?”

“Yeah… that doesn’t sound like eugenics at all,” said Willow, sarcastic. “Why are you telling me all this?”

“Because I know you,” said Walsh, “I know how much you love to learn, how much you appreciate the scientific method. I’d hoped that if you knew what we were doing here, you might be inclined to cooperate.”

“You’re still morally bankrupt kidnappers whose end-goal is hazy at best. I’m good.”

“Hostile 24,” said Walsh, “Move the damn blocks.”

“No,” said Willow. “Where’s Buffy?”

“Buffy Summers is just another piece of this scientific puzzle, and you needn’t worry about her.”

“Let us go, you sicko,” said Willow.

“If you don’t cooperate, we can make things very uncomfortable for you, Hostile,” said Walsh, “Those electrodes do more than just take readings, you know.”

“What do you—” Willow was cut off by her own scream as one lab assistant hit a button that sent a terrible electric shock through her body.

“What do you know?” asked Forrest.

“Where should I start?” said Xander, “How about the kidnappings? The military goons running around and dragging little girls back to their secret base?”

“Don’t tell anyone the base is here,” said Forrest quickly, panicked, and Xander was surprised just how quickly he was able to get some information. “What do you want?”

“Nothing,” said Xander. “Unless—I could bargain for the release of some prisoners?”

“Or we could kill you,” said Graham. “Not as messy.”

That wasn’t going to work. “Kidding!” said Xander, “I just thought it’d be like in the movies or something. I want to join you.”

“Join us?”

“Yep. Always wanted to join the army. Red-blooded Americans fighting a common enemy.”

“And what is that enemy?” asked Graham.

“Um—” said Xander, “You know. Witches and stuff.”

“The supernatural,” said Forrest, “How do you know all this?”

“Research,” said Xander, “I know more about this town than you, and have been fighting this fight longer. Let me join up, and I’ll show you how to bring the fight to them.”

Willow panted, bloody drool dripping from her mouth as she’d bit her tongue seizing during one of the shocks they'd barraged her with as she refused to use her magick. “Please,” she moaned, “Stop.”

“Use. Your. Powers.” Walsh said.

Willow was on the verge of passing out, and she wondered if the scientists could see that in their readings. “N-n-n—” Willow stuttered, “I w-won’t.”

Another shock tore through her nerves, this one initiated by Walsh herself, and Willow couldn’t help it: magic slipped out in the name of self-preservation. She involuntarily re-directed the electricity from her veins back out into the machine that had produced it. Willow collapsed with a nosebleed as Walsh flinched and screamed from the shock.

“Ma’am, are you alright?” said one of the lab assistants, running to her side. “The machine must have malfunctioned. I’ll call maintenance.”

“I’m fine,” said Walsh through gritted teeth. She glared at Willow, “And it wasn’t the machine.”

A different lab assistant sat at another contraption as it printed out readings. He waved Walsh over. “Ma’am? I think you need to see this.”

She leaned over the man and read from the newly-printed sheet. Her eyes widened with surprise, then curiosity. And then an evil little smirk spread across her face.

Chapter Text

“Ugh!” Willow growled, “Hands off, G.I. Jerkface!”

“No problem, sweetheart.” The guard shoved her back into her cell with a sneer and unwarranted roughness.

“Careful with that one,” said the second guard that had escorted her. “Boss wants her in mint condition, and I’m not taking the fall if you accidentally smash her brains on the floor.”

The other guard grunted, locking the cell before the two of them walked away.

“Willow,” Tara said, crawling up to her friend, “A-are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

“I’m fine,” Willow huffed. She sat up, dusting herself off.

Tara frowned. “I a-asked if they hurt you. That wasn’t really a no.”

“They got a little shock-happy,” Willow said. “They were trying to get me to use my magicks.”

“They did that to me too,” said Tara. “They measure it, somehow. I was k-kinda a pushover, though. Did they get you to do it?”

“I—” Willow blinked. “I don’t remember. I must have blacked out, or they drugged me again.”

Tara looked at Willow and frowned. “Hmm.”

“What?”

“It’s just—” Tara said. “I am good at reading auras, sensing energies. Yours is very hot—electric, almost. Powerful, like someone who just did big magicks.”

“You can see that? Even with the stupid collar on?”

“When you’re really in tune with the Earth… You can sense magick even if you’re not using it, even if y-you’re not trying,” said Tara. “It’s about being connected to the Earth; it’s not about power. I think these things focus on the power.”

“That’s cool. You’ll have to teach me when we get outta here.”

Tara nodded slowly, distracted. “Did you h-hear what that guard said?”

“Huh?” said Willow, “Oh. Yeah, ‘mint condition’. That sounds like a good thing, right?”

“I hope so,” said Tara. But she didn’t look so optimistic.

“They made you the what?” said Giles.

“The janitor!” said Xander. “How the heck am I supposed to rescue Buffy and Willow when I’m taking out trash and polishing floors?”

“You would be surprised how much access and information you might be able to acquire in such an overlooked role,” said Giles. “This could be a great start. I’m surprised they hired you so quickly, especially given that you aren’t military as these men seem to be.”

“Sounds like they’re low on people-power,” Xander shrugged. “They want the fewest people possible knowing about what goes bump in the night, it helped that I was already in the know. And my background check cleared, somehow.”

“Well I think this will be a great opportunity for us to find some information on this organization. Even if it is a tad humiliating for you.”

“Oh yeah?” said Xander. “And what are you gonna do while I’m sweeping up after a buncha commandos, Watcher-man?”

“Just a little magick,” said Giles. Xander realized he’d begun setting up some candles in a small semi-circle on the coffee table.

“Isn’t that Willow’s gig?” said Xander.

“Indeed,” said Giles. “Before she got captured, Willow set up a temporary telepathic link between us. It’s very short lived, but I think we’ve given her enough time to get some intel now, don’t you?”

“And you waited until after I got the job as toilet plunger guy to tell me this, why…?”

“Whatever Willow can tell us can’t be our only hand, Xander. Surely you know that. Whatever we’re up against, it’s a big operation to be able to keep the Slayer locked up.” He paused, chuckled: “Plus, your frustration with your assignment is not un-amusing to me. Now help me light these candles.”

Willow awoke with a scream, clawing at her head like her brain was leaking out of her ears.

Willow, can you hear me?  came Giles’ distorted voice from inside her mind.

“Ah—” Willow cried. “Ow— Giles—!”

“Willow?” Tara was groggy, but immediately concerned nonetheless, “What’s wrong?”

Willow pulled violently, futilely at her collar, “It’s— a spell I— Ow, ow, Giles! Stop talking so loud!” she groaned.

Tara stared at Willow bizarrely. “Willow, who are you talking to?” she whispered.

Willow ignored her, panting. “G-giles, c-can’t talk long,” she eked out. “They— My magick…— Hurts.”

She paused—this must be the side of the conversation Tara couldn’t hear.

“I c-can’t,” Willow cried as her nose started bleeding. “P-p-p-p—” Willow stuttered. “P-Professor Walsh…—” She fainted.

“Willow?” Giles cried as the telepathic link broke, “Willow!”

“What happened?” said Xander. “What did she say?”

“She was screaming,” said Giles, his face harrowed. “Whatever these men did, her own magick was hurting her. I can’t use the link again, I’m afraid it might kill her.”

“So we got nothing?”

“There was one thing she was able to tell me,” said Giles. “Professor Walsh.”

“Guess we know what happens if we manage to use our magick with these things on,” Willow mumbled after coming to a few moments later.

“What was that?” said Tara. “Who were you talking to?”

“A friend of mine,” said Willow. “I set up a telepathic channel for him to use once I got in here. I guess it still tripped this thing’s magick-ometer, but I couldn’t do anything to stop it since he was the one that opened the link.”

“Are you better now?” said Tara.

“I think so,” said Willow. She looked down at the smock they’d given her, which was covered in blood from her nose. “Think they’ll give me a new shirt?”

“I spy with my little eye…” said Buffy, “Something white.”

“The bloody wall,” said William. “I spy with my little eye something white.”

“The wall?” said Buffy.

“No, the ceiling.” Buffy heard William bang his fist on their shared wall. “I am going to go crazy I’m here for another second.”

“Ok, let’s do something else then,” said Buffy. “Let’s get to know each other. Where are you from?”

“What kind of bloody question is that?”

“England, I guess?”

“London, to be specific. Thought the accent gave it away,” said William. “You?”

“Here,” Buffy said. “Well, LA.”

“What brings you a whole two and a half hours away from the big city?”

“School,” Buffy said quickly. “I’m, uh, studying at UCSD.”

“Educated, eh?” said William. “What do you study?”

“Not sure yet. I was getting kinda into psychology until—... Well, I guess other stuff is cool too. History has all that… history.”

“I know a thing or two about history,” said William.

“Well England’s a historical place,” said Buffy. “I have a friend who’s English and he loves old things.”

“I prefer young things,” said William.

“Okay, ew?” said Buffy. “What brought you all the way out here, anyway?”
“End of the world,” said William.

Buffy narrowed her eyes, “Stopping it, or starting it?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Buffy sighed. “You figure out what they put in your brain yet?”

“Nope,” said William. “Think they’ll tell me if I ask real nice?”

“Not sure these guys are super interested in talking,” said Buffy. “I think punching might be our only option. They seem pretty afraid of us, don’t they? With all those weapons and tasers and drugs?”

“Of course they’re afraid of us,” said William. “They’re just people, after all.”

“You tried escaping yet?”

“Tried,” said William. “Never got nowhere, though.”

“Maybe if we worked together…” Buffy offered. “You know what they say about two heads, even if one’s been all spliced into by mad scientists.”

“I see what you’re getting at,” said William. “It’s a deal.”

“I’m really hungry, Tara,” Willow groaned. “Do they really drug every meal?”

“No,” Tara said. “But there’s n-no way to tell when they do. I t-think they play mind games on purpose.” She sighed. “I’m hungry too. We definitely haven’t been eating enough.”

“Then let’s eat,” said Willow. “Who cares if it’s drugged? They’ll just come take us anyway. Maybe it’s safe this time. Anyway, if we don’t eat, we’re gonna be too weak to escape whenever the time comes.”

“O-okay,” Tara said, watching Willow take a big spoonful of peas.

“Mmm,” Willow moaned. “I mean, it’s gross but I was starving.”

Willow kept eating, and Tara was beginning to think this meal really was safe. She took a forkful of her own food and lifted it hesitantly into the air. “How do you feel?”

“Oh, it’s definitely drugged,” Willow laughed. Tara dropped her fork, but Willow just shoved food in her mouth as fast as she could, presumably so that she could get as much as possible before passing out. “If they take me, glare at them real mean-like for me, okay?”

It wasn’t long at all before the tray and the plastic fork slipped from Willow’s slackening grip and Tara helped lower her to the ground. Tara smiled softly. “Night, Willow.”

Willow chuckled, “Nighty-night Tara-Tara, see you tomorrow.”

“So Professor Walsh,” said Xander. “I think that’s one of Buffy and Willow’s teachers. Kinda scary, they said. I mean, not demon-scary but teacher-scary. And not demon-teacher-scary either, like the praying mantis lady. Just, you know, mean.” He took a deep breath, “Will didn’t tell you how she’s connected to all this?”

“No,” said Giles. “But she wouldn’t have said it if it wasn’t important. The question now is… How do we get close to this Professor Walsh without revealing our hand? There is no reason she should suspect any connection between myself and the girls, and I’d like to keep it that way for as long as possible.”

“And you thought my undercover job was going to be rough,” Xander smirked. “If what the gals have told me is true, Professor Walsh sounds like a real piece of work. Probably a lonely old crone, married to her books, smarter than all her peers, all alone in her IQ bracket. Sounding familiar?”

“Not at all, Xander. What are you getting at?”

“Thing is,” said Xander. “I happen to know a rather ruggedly handsome pseudo-academic whose bookish charm could snag any post-menopausal dame, let alone a cranky hag who probably hasn’t known the touch of a man since the dark ages.”

“Spit it out, boy. What are you suggesting?”

Xander grinned, sly. “Hey, what’s Winnie-The-Pooh eat out of?”

Buffy also found herself succumbing to the drugged food, and when she awoke she wasn’t in a doctor’s office or a medical lab or some kinda evil science dungeon, but strapped to a rather comfortable chair (considering that Buffy hadn’t been afforded any chairs to sit in at all until now) in a room that looked not unlike a professor’s office.

And it was. Because on the other side of a large wooden desk, a plush red chair whirled around to reveal Professor Walsh with an aggravating smirk on her lips.

“Change of scenery,” said Buffy. “How come?”

“I thought we could talk,” said Walsh. “This is my office, away from all of the scientists and doctors and soldiers. I had a few questions for you, if you don’t mind.”

“‘Mind’?” Buffy said, “I’m sorry, you didn’t ask me if I ‘minded’ being kidnapped, drugged, operated on, and held against my will.”

“Hosti— Miss Summers,” Walsh corrected. “I know our methods may be extreme, but you must understand that that is in fact all we are trying to do here: to understand.”

“Have you tried reading a book?” said Buffy. “And there’s this whole new thing called the internet you could try.”

“Accurate information about demons and the supernatural is limited,” said Walsh. “Most texts are locked away by powerful eccentrics and holier-than-thou councils who think that knowledge is dangerous. And you must understand that whatever is put forth in these texts must be tested.”

“Why?” Buffy cried. “Okay, I get the demons. You want to fight them, right? So fight them! What’s with all the tests?”

“Right to the violence,” Walsh shook her head. “You say you’re not a demon, but they all seem to jump right to that solution, don’t they?”

“I’m not a demon,” Buffy growled.

“Maybe so, but you’re something . Look at it from our perspective, Miss Summers,” said Walsh. “You surely know as well as I do that there are plenty of demons who take the forms of humans, waiting and watching. Your strength makes you incredibly dangerous; we can’t just let you wander free.” She leaned forward, “But if you cooperate and answer my questions, it might help build that trust.”

“Fine,” Buffy huffed. “What do you want to know?”

“What are you?” said Walsh. “Your physiology is fascinatingly unremarkable.”

“That’s an oxymoron, and I’m a Slayer,” Buffy said. Off Walsh’s raised eyebrow, she continued, “Chosen one. One girl in all the world? Strength and skill to fight the vampires, demons, and the forces of darkness?”

“‘The chosen one? You really expect me to believe that?”

Buffy rolled her eyes, “You really don’t know, do you? How can you guys call yourselves experts on this stuff if you don’t even know what a Slayer is?”

“I know what it is,” said Walsh. “I thought it was a myth.”

“Well you were myth— Actually, you don’t even deserve a bad pun right now. That’s how much you and your goons are pissing me off.”

“Your powers,” Walsh continued. “When did they develop?”

“Why?”

“Would you rather answer my questions, Miss Summers,” said Walsh, “Or would you rather vivisection?”

“When I was fifteen,” said Buffy. “One Slayer dies, another is called. That’s how it works.”

“Hmm,” said Walsh. “So these abilities were given to you?”

“I guess,” Buffy shrugged. “I didn’t ask for them, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Walsh nodded slowly. “Only girls can be Slayers, at least that’s what the stories say.”

“Yeah,” said Buffy. “That’s not wrong.”

“Why is that?”

Buffy rolled her eyes, “I don’t know. How would I know? I really don’t know anything, Professor. You know that, you grade my tests.”

“My TAs grade your tests,” said Walsh. “I have more important things to spend my time doing.”

“Ah, right. The highly unethical human experimentation.”

“Pretty soon, Hostile 23, you’ll come around to our way of thinking. And if you don’t?” She shrugged, “That’s okay, too.” She cleared her throat, “That will be all, Miss Summers. Finn? Take her back to her cell.”

The door opened, and Riley came in. He undid Buffy’s straps and shoved her from the room.

“Watch it!” Buffy said once they were in the hall. “What gives, Riley? Tell Darth-Scully that I’m not down for the probing and prodding. You know I’m not a bad guy, tell her to let me go.”

“I can’t,” Riley said. “Walsh is… stubborn. If I turn on her… I mean, she has a lot of power. And so do you.”

“You trust her, don’t you?” said Buffy. She scoffed, “Why?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” said Riley. “You’re one of Them. Listen, I’m going to see if I can get you some good food. Non-drugged. Just hang in there, okay?”

When Willow awoke, Tara was gone. She was a little confused at how she could have slept through them taking her, until she blinked the haze from her eyes and noticed the mostly-eaten tray of food. She grimaced, wondering why she thought that was a good idea, but her stomach that no longer ached told her it was probably worth it.

It wasn’t long before the door opened and Tara was tossed back into the cell. Willow crawled over to her.

“Tara, can you hear me?” Willow said, shaking her gently.

“Ohhh,” Tara groaned, “Where am I?”

“Back in the cell,” Willow said. “What’d they do to you?” Willow felt around, checking for injuries, and Tara winced and pulled back when she touched her left side.

Willow carefully lifted Tara’s shirt to see an angry scare, neatly stitched up and running along her side.

“You’re all sewed up,” said Willow. She hugged her gently, “You’re gonna be okay, though. Promise.”

When Xander entered the Mess Hall, it was not as a happy camper. He scowled as he dragged the mop across the floor, waiting for soldiers and scientists to finish their meals so that he could clean up their scraps.

He noticed Graham and Forrest at a table in the corner and decided to make himself known.

“Hey guys! If it isn’t Teddy Graham and Forrest Gump,” Xander said.

“Never call us that again,” said Forrest.

“You liking your new gig?” said Graham.

“Hey, everyone’s gotta start somewhere. Right?” said Xander, feigning gratitude. “Say, cleaning the cafeteria is fine ‘n all, but you guys probably have some demon slime and vampire blood that needs scrubbing too, right? When do I get access to the cells?”

“I know you want to join the party, Harris,” said Forrest. “But you’re not trained to handle sub-terrestrials, at least not yet. Sick to your assigned areas. Hey, do a good job? Maybe you’ll be promoted.”

Students poured out of the lecture hall, rushing to make their next classes. And among the swarm of adolescents, Rupert Giles rounded the corner, almost like he’d perfectly timed his entrance based on a copy of the lecture schedule.

And now he was strutting down the hallway, nose buried in a book. Now, walking while reading was one of Giles’ secret skills, but today he managed to feign clumsiness enough that he collided directly with Professor Walsh, her papers and his book falling to a mess on the ground.

“I am terribly sorry,” said Giles. “I must have not been paying attention, I was so engrossed in this—” He made a show of glimpsing the author’s photo on the back of his book as he picked it up. “...book. I’m sorry, are you Professor Margaret Walsh?”

“That’s me,” said Walsh. “And you’re, what, blind?”

“Distracted, I’m afraid,” said Giles. “Your book is absolutely fascinating. The ideas you’ve put forth regarding psychoanalysis and fear… I never was interested in the topic until I picked up your book, Doctor.”

“I’m flattered,” said Walsh as Giles helped her pick up her papers. “Excuse me. I am very busy.”

“Just one moment. Surely you have the time to discuss your research with a fellow educator.”

“Are you a professor here, Mr…—?”

“Giles!” he interjected. “Rupert Giles. And no, I used to work at the local high school.”

“The one that blew up?”

“Erm, yes,” said Giles. “The one that blew up.”

Walsh nodded slowly. “What did you teach?”

“Um,” said Giles. “I was the librarian.”

Walsh rolled her eyes. “Mr. Giles, I really don’t have time—”

“I was particularly interested,” Giles continued, “In the part of your book that discusses the supernatural. The psychological processes that lead to the creations of these myths, and if they are really myths at all. These myths and monsters have fascinated me all my life, Professor, and I had never before thought to tie them to psychoanalysis as you have here. And this town certainly has a way about it, does it not?”

“It does,” said Walsh. “I am glad you are enjoying the text. I have other papers you might be interested in.”

“I would love to read them,” said Giles. “You are simply brilliant, Professor. And— Well, no. That would be inappropriate…”

“What?” said Walsh, no longer seeming so much in a rush.

“It’s just…” Giles had to swallow a grimace at the show of false affection that was to follow: “If I may… Professor Walsh, has anyone ever told you that your eyes are exceptionally… erm, blue?”

Chapter Text

Almost two weeks now Willow had been trapped in this hellhole, long enough that she was losing count of the days, and she still had no clue how she was going to escape, let alone save Buffy. Plus Tara, and whatever other innocent people were stuck here. She should have listened to Giles, she thought as she laid awake in what she presumed was very early morning. This was a terrible idea.

Willow sighed in not-quite-defeat as she snuggled closer to Tara to escape the cool sterile air. “You’re warm,” she said.

“Thought that’s the point,” Tara mumbled, half-asleep. Or three-quarters-asleep, Willow thought.

“No, Tara,” said Willow, sitting up. “I mean you’re really warm.” She put a hand on her forehead, “I think you have a fever or something.”

“Oh,” Tara muttered. “Yeah, I don’t f-feel so good.”

“I’ll say,” said Willow. Tara was shaking, curled over her side where the scientists had so recently cut into her. 

Willow carefully took the hem of Tara's shirt and pulled it up.

“Oh,” Willow winced at the partially-healed scar. “That’s like, infected -infected. Tara, you need a doctor.”

“G-g-great,” Tara stuttered. “I’ll j-just pop on b-by the c-campus health c-center.”

Willow tried to grin at the sarcasm, but she was worried. “We gotta tell the guards,” she said.

“I d-don’t think they’ll care, Willow.”

“We’re their science experiments,” said Willow. “They don’t care if we’re uncomfy, but they don’t want us to die. Right?”

“They don’t want you to d-die, Will,” said Tara. “The rest of us… I’ve seen a lot of witches come and go already.”

William was muttering something. Buffy tuned into her ultra-efficient Slayer senses to hear him more clearly.

“Heart… art… smart… Hmmm, no that’s not it…”

Buffy blinked. “Um. Part?”

“Perfect!" cried William, "‘Betwixt cardinal thuds of still-beating hearts…’”

“That’s actually kinda beautiful,” Buffy mused.

“‘’Tis mine love which maims these still-bleeding parts.’”

“...Nevermind,” said Buffy. “Are you… writing poetry?”

“Look, I’m bloody bored, okay? Heaven forbid I have a creative side.”

Buffy sighed. She knew William was a vampire or worse, and maybe it was because he was the only non-mad-scientist, non-commando she’d spoken to in two weeks, but dammit if she wasn’t finding herself feeling a little reluctantly friendly towards the guy.

“Who is she?” said Buffy. “I mean, whoever the poem’s about.”

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” said William. “She bloody took off, okay? Thought I was over it… But love'll take a lap around the block like that, won't it?”

“Yeah,” said Buffy. “Similar sitch with my ex. I… try not to think about him.”

“Way I see it,” said William, “Who are we to be all googly-brains over some two-faced has-beens. We’re the ones got a whole damn branch of the military keepin’ us locked up. We’re special. They’re nothing.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Glad you feel special. I just feel pissed off and a little bored.”

“You’re right,” said William. “It’s time to get out of here. Next time they show up, I’m gonna pretend to be all knocked out and then I’m gonna fight ‘em.”

“I’ve thought of that,” said Buffy. “But they’ve got all those weapons.”

“Weapons, schmepons,” said William. He seemed invigorated, and his accent slipped as he lost his inhibitions with the fantasy of freedom, “Like a bullet’s gonna stop William the Bloody. I’ve killed bloody Slayers!”

Buffy flew away from their shared wall. “Oh my god. Spike?!”

There was a moment of shocked silence before Spike said, “Slayer?!”

“I can’t believe I was beginning to not hate you.”

“I can’t believe you heard my poetry.”

“So what’s this mean?” said Buffy. “Truce is off?”

“Truce is definitely off. No way I’m helping the likes of you!”

They both heard footsteps start down the hall.

“Or,” Spike continued. “Guess I can’t kill you if you’re locked up in here, huh?”

“...And I’d way rather make you into a pile of dust than keep you all solid and able to eat people.”

“So truce for now,” said Spike. “And soon as we see moonlight… It’s to the death, Slayer.”

“Deal.”

“How is your beverage?” said Giles.

“Adequate,” Walsh replied. “And yours?”

“Um. Very good, yes,” said Giles.

There was a long, awkward silence, the chatter of the Espresso Pump around them doing very little to fill the uncomfortable space.

“Do you… come here often?”

“There’s a percolator in my office. So no.”

“Right,” Giles said. “Um, so where are you from?”

“Mr. Giles, I really am not interested in small talk. Please, you know as well as I do that this date is to test our romantic compatibility, so please discuss what you are really interested in.”

“Well,” said Giles. “Besides your…” He cleared his throat, “...unequivocal beauty. I am quite interested in your research. How long have you studied psychology?”

“It feels like since I was a girl,” said Walsh. “We’re always studying psychology, aren’t we? Anytime we are trying to understand another person.”

Giles nodded, “Indeed. The human mind is fascinating. So many varying beliefs, in gods and in sciences… in magic and demons…”

“You seem awfully interested in that particular part of my research,” said Walsh.

Giles wasn’t sure if she was suspicious, “The rumors that swirl around this town, can you blame me?”

“I am not blaming you, Mr. Giles. Nor judging you at all. I think your fascination with the topic is…” She looked him in the eyes and grinned slightly (which Giles found a little off-putting), “...Well, fascinating. To me.”

Xander pushed the mop across the floor, not really caring if he got all the dirt. No, he wasn’t looking at what he was doing at all, but instead he looked around at the offices around him, each locked with a kind of digital device that seemed to require a keycard.

One office at the end of the hall was left open, though. And, no one around, he decided to quite nonchalantly mop in that general direction.

He peeked into the room, could see papers and files strewn about a desk. He knew he wouldn’t have time to look through them, so he took the opportunity to scan the rest of the room. Hanging on a hook on the wall by the door was a key. Not a key card, but a regular old key. And he had no idea what it went to, but he shrugged and took it. It was better than nothing.

“Excuse me,” came a booming voice. Xander whipped around to see a couple of guards. “What are you doing?”

“The, uh, door was open, and I saw something sticky,” said Xander. “I was just sweeping up.”

“Well you don’t need to worry about the offices,” said one guard. He shoved him out of the room and shut the door. “If someone left it unlocked, it was a mistake. Stick to your post, broom-boy.”

Footsteps approached, and Willow steeled herself for a confrontation. She was going to get Tara help no matter what.

“Alright,” said one of the two guards as he unlocked the cell. Willow was starting to recognize them: this was the guard who called her cute on her first day. “Let’s go, Twenty-Four.”

“No, wait,” Willow cried. “You gotta help her. She’s really sick.”

“Not my problem,” said the guard. “On your feet. Or did you want to be carried out?”

Willow saw him reach for his taser, so she stood but backed up instead of going with him. “Hold on. Hold on. Look, I know Walsh is interested in me for some reason, and I know you guys want me to use my powers. Help Tara, and I’ll do whatever Walsh wants. Okay?”

The guard rolled his eyes and continued pulling out the taser, but the other guard stopped him. “Hold on,” he said. “Get 14 to Med. 24, you come with me. And don’t forget your promise, or I’ll tell Walsh to let your girlfriend die slow and painful.”

“When they come to take me,” said Buffy, “Scream.”

“What?” said Spike.

“Make the biggest racket you can. Be a distraction. Make it all about you—I know you can do that, Spike.”

“Sounds like you’re hatching a plan,” said Spike. “Hope it’s not one of those two-headed chickens.”

“I’m gonna pretend to sleep, alright? They’ll come take me, and I’m gonna let them. Once they close the door back up, you start making noise. They’ll split up and open your cell to knock you out. Then BAM, I’m awake and they don’t get a chance. The two of us fight ‘em off and take off running.”

“Then what?” said Spike.

“That’s all I got. These halls gotta end somewhere, right?”

“Fine, Slayer,” said Spike. “But this ends up with me under the knife again, I’m gonna kill you extra slow.”

“Willow,” said Walsh, “I heard you struck a deal with the guards.”

“So I get a name now?” said Willow. “A little less like Nazi Germany, I guess. Is Tara okay?” 

“Hostile 14 is being administered antibiotics as we speak. She’ll be fine.” Walsh leaned forward in her chair. “Unless, that is, you choose not to cooperate. Tell me about your power. How do you control it?”

“I don’t know,” said Willow. “I just do what the books say.”

“That can’t be all.”

“Well,” Willow couldn’t help getting a little excited to talk about magick. “I mean, it’s all about emotional control. It’s like… I can’t explain it, it’s this energy that’s always inside you and you have to learn how to tell it where to go.”

“When did you develop these powers?”

Willow cocked her head. “I didn’t. I mean, they didn’t come out of nowhere, two summers ago I did my first spell. I just kept studying till I got better. That’s what I’m trying to tell you—I’m not special. Anyone can do magick if they study hard enough.”

“Isn’t that a sweet, naive way to look at it,” said Walsh. “Trust me, Miss Rosenberg. There is a lot more that goes into it than that, or you wouldn't be here.” She chuckled, “An intellect like yours, I suppose it only makes sense that it came from somewhere… extra-natural.”

“I don’t cheat.” Willow huffed, “I’m smart because I study.”

“Is that so?” said Walsh, “Because mine aren’t the only tests you score impeccably on.”

“W—” Willow blinked, “What do you mean?”

“We’ve had lots of so-called ‘magic-users’ come through here. Done all our tests. Most are… Well, most can’t handle what we have in store for them. But you? Your measurements are off the charts.”

“What measurements?”

“Your abilities. The extra-natural energy in your bloodstream, the mystical force behind your power. It’s unlike anything we’ve seen.” She must have noticed the shock on Willow’s face, because she said: “Surely you knew this. You’re hugely powerful.”

“I’m—” Willow stuttered, “No I’m not. I’ve only been practicing for a couple years.”

“You’re more powerful than any other so-called ‘witches’ or ‘warlocks’ we’ve tested.”

“What about Tara? The girl who shares my cell?”

“What, Hostile 14? She’s nothing special.”

“What do you want me to do?” said Willow, “Float some pencils? Summon a little fire?”

“Miss Rosenberg,” Walsh said. “I want you to do everything. ”

“Code 8-13! Code 8-13!” Army-men cried as they ran past Xander, who continued to sweep. He looked up, only mildly interested, to find a dozen commandos surrounding a smallish demon, which was running rampant across the cafeteria. The commandos seemed hesitant, all of them afraid to make a move on the thing.

Xander rolled his eyes. He may not be a Slayer, but he’d taken down a demon this size tens of times, and hardly even with Buffy’s help. He picked up his broom and flipped it around. He approached the demon with the broom handle-first, and slammed it into the monster’s midsection, bringing it to the ground so the commandos could restrain it.

“Harris,” said Graham, approaching from the mass of army-men once Xander had returned to his post. “That wasn’t nothing.”

“I told you I’ve got the resume,” Xander shrugged. He acted nonchalant, but inside he was quite impressed with himself, and shaky from the adrenaline.

“I think the bigwigs’ll be thinking about a promotion after that stunt, Harris,” said Forrest.

“Yeah?” said Xander. “No more sweeping floors?”

“Even more sweeping floors, actually,” said Graham. “I think we can get you into the labs and maybe even the cell blocks for some deep-cleaning. Clearly you can handle yourself around sub-terrestrials.”

Buffy laid on the ground as footsteps approached. She heard her cell open and felt army-men grab her by the arms and legs.

“I’ll kill you!” she heard Spike cry. “You idiots think you keep the whole underworld locked away in here? I am William the Bloody! What do you want the Slayer for? Take me, do some tests, drill into my noggin all you want!”

One of the guards rolled his eyes and moved towards Spike’s cell. “Quiet down or else, Hostile.”

“Or else what?” said Spike. “You know I could snap your neck.”

“Like to see you try.”

“Gimme a shot,” said Spike.

The guard shrugged and drew his taser, opening the cell.

In that moment, Buffy leapt into action. She kicked the guard who had her legs, and flipped over the one that had her arms. Meanwhile, Spike took a swing at his guard—but suddenly Buffy heard him scream in pain, and she whipped around to see Spike writhing on the floor, not a mark on him.

She knew that she couldn’t take the three of these guys with their tasers and guns and drugs with Spike incapacitated, and she gritted her teeth as she felt a needle enter her shoulder. “Was worth a shot…” she muttered as she fell unconscious.

“Very good Miss Rosenberg,” said Walsh as the fire Willow had conjured danced in her eyes and then went out. “Now let’s move on to a different element.”

“I… I d-don’t think I can do anymore,” Willow panted. Walsh had already had her float and move several objects of varying sizes and weights, summon electricity, wind, and fire, and turn a lamp off and on at will, and Willow was rapidly approaching her limit. The witch had briefly considered taking the opportunity to attack Walsh, but she could see that the professor had her hand on a button that Willow was sure would turn her magick-inhibiting collar back on the second she did anything uncouth. “I need to rest.”

“Nonsense,” said Walsh. She placed a glass of water on the small stool between them. Willow looked grateful as she reached for it, but Walsh pulled it away. “Freeze it.”

“I c-can’t do water yet,” said Willow, wiping a bit of blood from her nose. “Well, I can make it a little colder but I haven’t been able to freeze anything. Maybe slush? I don’t know.”

“Ridiculous,” said Walsh. “Do it.”

“I don’t think you know how magick works, doc,” said Willow, peeved. “If I don’t know the spell, I don’t know the spell.”

Walsh waved her hand dismissively, “Our research suggests that these ‘spells’ are all psychological. It’s a placebo. Someone as powerful as yourself shouldn’t need them. Your body is already a conduit.” 

Willow grimaced, “How many witches have you guys tortured and killed to learn this stuff?”

“Combined they don’t have the power you have.”

“It’s not about the power. It’s about human lives!” Willow cried. “And I am telling you your stupid machine is broken. I am not that powerful. Even Tara knows more than me.”

“Does it upset you? The way we treat witches?”

“Of course!” cried Willow. “You’re heartless, cold—!”

“Cold?” said Walsh.

“Duh!” said Willow. “I mean, you’re talking about human lives here. Only a cold-hearted monster could be so— so—”

“Cold-hearted,” said Walsh. “Tell me about that.”

“You are all psychos!” Willow cried. “Cold-hearted is an understatement! More like arctic-hearted. Left ventricles right between the… the waffles and the peas in the freezer aisle. You guys could sink the frickin’ Titanic!” She finished her rant gasping for breath. Soon she noticed the mist coming from her own mouth, and then Walsh’s. “Did you guys turn the heat down?”

“I think you did, Miss Rosenberg.” Walsh walked over and picked up the cup of water, which was now frozen solid. “You told us that using your powers is all about emotional control. When I’m done with you, you won’t have any control left. And then we’ll see just how powerful you really are.”

Willow tried to be afraid at what Walsh had just said, she really did. But she was so tired and thirsty she could hardly pay attention.

“I n-need water,” Willow whispered.

“Melt it again and then you can drink it,” Walsh shrugged.

Willow looked at the water and tried to focus her powers. She blinked as her eyes went blurry and she tasted blood drip into her mouth. She could just hear the shattering of glass as she let herself slide from the chair and pass out on the floor.

“Dammit,” Walsh cursed. “I don’t understand, she should be stronger than this.” She turned to a guard, “Open the door. Tell the lab to give her fluids and then take her back to her cell. I’ve got some work to do with the Slayer anyway.”

Chapter Text

Willow let a soft whine escape her lips as she peaked open an eye, only to see Tara’s face filling her vision. She raised an eyebrow, “Morning, Tara.”

Tara blushed and pulled back. “S-sorry,” she said. “I, um… You were out for a while and I got k-kinda bored. I w-was counting your freckles.”

Willow tried to laugh but her throat was dry. “How many did you count?”

“Sixteen.”

“You should see the rest of me.”

Tara blushed more, and after a moment Willow did too.

“Wait. That’s not what I meant…” Willow’s awkward laugh was interrupted as her eyes got heavy and she had to balance herself against Tara’s arm. “Whoa…”

“You okay? You sound…”

“Yeah yeah, I’m fine,” said Willow. “They just made me do a lot of magick. I’m the lucky one—at least they’re not playing Monopoly with my insides.”

“Monopoly?”

“Or… Operation. How are you feeling?”

“A lot better,” said Tara. “Th-thanks for fighting for me. I… I think they w-would have let me die if you didn’t. I… I am sorry y-you had to do that for me.”

“Don’t be,” said Willow. “I’m glad I could help. Besides… I don’t hate getting to practice my magick without having to hide it. But they think they can just threaten and tase it out of me, and I just don’t have that kind of power. They think I’m some kinda super-witch.”

Tara shrugged, “You are powerful, Willow. Or at least, you can be. I can see it, and I bet their machines are s-saying the same thing. But you’re right: they can’t force you to get stronger. You should be training with other w-witches.”

“Like you?”

Tara smiled shyly.

“Hey. When we get outta here, there’s some really cool spells I’ve read about we can do together.”

This time when Buffy awoke, it was to the thick, wet growls, muffled as though in another room. Still, Slayer instincts always on, she hopped up into a fighting stance when she opened her eyes and saw the snarling demon mere feet from her.

Then she realized it was behind glass.

“Alright Walsh,” said Buffy, still eyeing the demon, but also getting a glance around the room: another lab, or maybe the same one as before, in a glass cage herself with a partition between herself and the demon. “Come on out. What’s your game this time?”

Walsh stepped slowly, evilly into the lab, and Buffy rolled her eyes. Did the Professor always have to make an entrance?

“Good. You’re awake,” Walsh said. “I want to see you in action.”

“You can give me your face to punch. That’s action,” said Buffy.

“Even better,” said Walsh. “This is Hostile 11. We found it attacking some sorority sisters on campus last month. You say you slay demons.” She pressed a button and the door between Buffy’s cell and the thing’s opened. “Slay the demon.”

The floor was sticky, and Xander dreaded to imagine with what. He plopped his mop down and started to clean the floor in one of the labs, but dropped the mop and leapt away in fright as a demon jumped at him. Then he remembered that the glass-like barriers would keep him wholly protected, and he chuckled as he continued his work.

“Looks like old Xander’s got the upper hand this time!” he said. “You know, it was always pretty lame being the one without powers, but look at me now! Buff and Will are lab rats and I’m the badass who’s gonna save ‘em!” He slipped on his own mop water. “Ow. The… janitor, who’s gonna save ‘em…”

“Where are you from?” said Willow, twirling her hair in bordem as she laid against the wall of their cell.

“Uh… The middle of nowhere, kinda,” said Tara. “It’s a village up in Northern CA. What about you?”

“Sunnydale, California. Born ‘n raised.”

“Is that…” Tara said, “Is that how you found magick? Sunnydale is… Well, It’s strange. There’s a call of magick here. I know there’s something about it.”

“Hellmouth,” Willow laughed. “That would be the ‘something’.”

“Sunnydale’s on a Hellmouth?” Tara whispered. “I thought Hellmouths were a myth.”

“You know about Hellmouths?”

“My mother w-was a witch,” said Tara. “She taught me everything I know, everything she could. She taught me about evil so I would…” She bit her lip. “So I would stay away from it. So I would never become like... that..."

She trailed off. Willow decided not to pry.

“That’s cool that your mom does magick,” said Willow. “Mine tried to burn me at the stake once! Does that count?”

“She what?” said Tara.

“She was kinda under a curse. Still not gonna tell her I can summon the elements again, though.”

“Very good, Miss Summers,” said Walsh. “And you hardly broke a sweat.”

“Gimme what you got,” said Buffy. “I don’t mind taking out the trash.”

“Have you ever considered joining the military, Miss Summers? Fighting demons with our resources?”

“I don’t take orders from psychopath mad scientists,” said Buffy. “Is that all you want? For me to join you?”

“I don’t know if that’s going to work. You see,” said Walsh. “You are arrogant and insubordinate. You wouldn’t do so well as part of the Initiative. A shame some brat like you was gifted these abilities.” She sighed. “But if that strength and skill can be thrust upon a teenage girl… Well, surely it can be bestowed upon our servicemembers too, don’t you think? We just have to figure out how.”

“You think giving your commandos super strength is gonna work out for you, Doc? Can you spell ‘coup’?” said Buffy. “This power means something. It’s sacred or whatever. If it gets into the wrong hands—”

“There’s that arrogance. Who’s to say your hands are ‘right’? Because you were ‘chosen’?”

“I mean… yeah.”

“Whoever ‘chose’ you, Hostile…” Walsh spat, “You’re mine now.”

Walsh started to walk away. “I don’t kill humans,” Buffy called after her, “But when I get outta here I’m gonna… Uh, sue you or something!”

Walsh didn’t seem to care as she exited the room, her scientist goon shutting the door behind her.

Buffy huffed. She sure was getting bored being left in empty cages without so much as a magazine to read. She could hear muffled voices outside, and she tuned her Slayer senses to listen to the scientists on the other side of the door.

“She’s not very cooperative,” said Walsh. “I’d love to have someone like her working for us without risk of subterfuge. 

The scientist shrugged. “Behavior modification?”

“No,”  Walsh said. “Not until we learn how to replicate her powers. For all we know, they are connected to the brain. We have never dealt with a ‘Slayer’ before.” She sounded excited, now, “What about the newest witch in M-2? Can we chip her? That hasn’t affected the potency of witches’ abilities in the past.”

“Evidence of recent traumatic brain injury in her imaging makes 24 a poor candidate for surgical implantation of the behavior modification device,” said the scientist. “Unless you are willing to risk permanent neurological damage.”

“No,” Walsh said quickly. “Don’t risk it. We’ll find another way.” She hummed briefly. “How old is the brain damage?”

“Less than two years,” said the scientist. “Scans suggest there was major trauma to the frontal lobe in addition to minor skull fracture and spinal cord injury likely due to blunt force impact. Why?”

Buffy blinked. They couldn’t be talking about Willow. Could they?

“It’s just—according to 24’s own account, this injury lines up very closely with when the subject developed these powers. Suppose there is a connection between traumatic brain injury and supernatural ability?” said Walsh.

“I’m gonna kill her,” Buffy muttered to herself, pacing angrily around her cell. “I can’t believe she came in after me! I’m gonna save her, and then I’m gonna kill that stupid witch!”

“Correlation is not necessarily causation, Doctor,” the scientist cautioned as Buffy continued listening.

“I’m not suggesting we start bashing all our witches in the heads to see if they suddenly grow more powerful,” said Walsh. “But maybe it’s deeper than that: suppose stress, injury, negative emotions, trauma both physical and psychological can temporarily increase power output and stamina. Suppose even permanently, in the long-term. Our own studies suggest that werewolf transformations can be triggered by negative stimuli rather than only the phases of the moon. Suppose it is similar for witches, whose abilities are also said to be affected by the lunar cycle.”

There was some reluctance in even the scientist’s voice when he answered, “Suppose...”

“Suppose,” Walsh continued, “There were a way to test this theory?”

Buffy could hear the other scientist gulp.

“Bastards,” Buffy growled. She banged on her cell despite the electric jolts it gave her. “You bastards! You lay a latex-gloved hand on her and I’ll— I’ll…—”

“You’ll what?” said Walsh as she entered the room again. “You’ll kill me?”

“Don’t. Touch her.” Buffy warned. “It’s not true anyway. I’ve seen Willow do plenty of happy magic.” Still, she couldn’t help but to recall Willow’s most powerful spells: Angel’s re-ensoulment, post-coma in a hospital bed; the summoning of her vampire doppelganger, royally pissed-off all day; her ‘will be done’ spell, depressed, lonely, and drowning her sorrows in alcohol. “She’s not as strong as your machines are telling you,” Buffy whimpered. The gravity of  the discussion settled like a rock in her stomach and she felt chilled to the bone. If Buffy could hardly stand what these goons had been doing to her, there was no way Willow would be able to endure torture in the name of experimentation. “You’ll kill her. Please don’t hurt her. Please.”

Walsh leaned forward until she was right above Buffy, apparently quite amused to see the Slayer beg. She smirked, “I’ll do whatever I want.”

This time when Walsh and the scientist left, Buffy could hear their footsteps fading away down the hall. She wondered when they were gonna knock her out to send her back to her cell. Maybe Walsh just wanted to leave her to wallow just to show her she could .

Eventually the door opened again, and Buffy didn’t even bother looking up, figuring it was a goon finally here to drug her.

“Buff!”

Her eyes widened and her head snapped to the newcomer: it was Xander. In fatigues. With a mop. “Xander?” Buffy exclaimed. “What the— How the— Who the— Xander?”

“Four great questions, Buff. Short answer is: Yes, and I’m here to rescue you.”

“No offense Xand,” said Buffy. “But how?”

“Still working that out,” said Xander. “So far my new gig is strictly reconnaissance.”

“Your new gig as… G.I. Janitor?”

“Okay, only one of us got herself kidnapped by mad scientists and it’s not me, so I’d lay off the jokes if I were you.”

“Okay, Private Harris.”

“What have they been doing to you in here?” said Xander. “You okay?”

“Mostly,” said Buffy. They both glanced at the dead demon that was starting to smell. “They’re really interested in what I can do. Sounds like they’re looking for a way to make… more Slayers. But these ones big burly commandos.”

“That’s impossible,” said Xander.

“Well, let’s hope it takes ‘em a while to figure that out,” said Buffy. “Once they don’t have a use for me anymore… Well, I’m afraid they might start getting dissect-y.”

“You’re gonna be fine. We’re gonna get you out.”

Buffy glared. “Willow’s in here too, isn’t she?”

“Have you seen her?” said Xander. “Giles had a way to contact her but I guess they did something funky to her magic so now it’s radio silence.”

“I didn’t know till just now,” said Buffy. “I heard them talking about a witch. Xander, we have to stop them. They’re gonna torture her.”

“Torture Will?” said Xander. “Why would they—?”

“I don’t know,” said Buffy. “They think it’s gonna make her more powerful.”

“Logic… not logic-ing…” said Xander.

“How could you let her follow me in here?” said Buffy. “Are you guys crazy?”

“She insisted!” said Xander. “And we had no other choice. She already got us some intel. Your professor’s behind all this, sounds like.”

“Walsh. I know,” said Buffy. “Xander, in their eyes we’re animals. Monsters. We’re not human, and they don’t have to treat us like them either. I’m the Slayer; I can take it. But Willow’s just a person. They’re gonna break her, Xander, and it’s gonna be all my fault.”

Laughter echoed off the sterile lab walls as Willow cackled in euphoric glee. “That tickles!”

One scientist glared at the other. “How much nitrous did you give her?”

“She tried to bite me!” the other scientist cried.

“Come on, Twenty-Four,” said the first scientist. “Stay still and we’ll be done soon.”

They were taking tissue samples or something. Willow couldn’t bring herself to care anymore. “Buffy’s gonna stop ya,” said Willow. “She’s super-duper strong. Super-duper-super-duper-duper-duper-duper…”

“Can you shut her up? Jeeze, I’d rather be working on a big scaly thing,” the scientist huffed. “How many samples is Walsh gonna have us biopsy before she believes this girl’s biology is entirely human?”

“I think we’re gonna be seeing a lot of this one for a while,” said the other scientist. “Walsh is crazy about her.”

“You’re crazy,” Willow muttered. “Loony bin for you, mister!”

“She’s kinda cute,” the same scientist said. “Just a kid. If her biology is human… I mean, don’t you ever feel kinda bad?”

Willow grabbed the other scientist’s hand and bit him till she drew blood. “Blech. Vampires are gross. It’s like drinking a penny.”

“Ow, bitch!” cried the doctor. He drew his hand away and slapped Willow in the face on instinct. “No,” he growled, “I don’t.”

When Xander reported back to Giles, the Watcher’s blood got icy and his hairs stood on end when he heard about the plans that Walsh apparently had for Willow. He knew he had to start making moves if they were going to get the girls out before they were injured or worse.

“Tell me, Professor,” said Giles. He sat across from Walsh at a rather fancy restaurant, sipping wine. “What is your stance on… human experimentation?”

“Are you referring to psychological studies with human test subjects? There is nothing wrong with it so long as ethics guidelines are followed.”

“I am thinking more of… physical experimentation. Vivisection and the like. Torture, even. If it had scientific value.”

“I think it is absolutely despicable. I would never partake in something so unethical,” said Walsh as she twirled her pasta onto her fork. “Animals, however… Well, if it forwards the progress of humans, I see no problem with it. And even less when it comes to… monsters.”

“And what constitutes a monster, Professor?”

“You know what I’m talking about, Mr. Giles.”

“Vampires, demons...”

“...werewolves, witches. If they were real,” said Walsh, “I would have no problem doing what I needed to learn how to stop them. Or how to use them to help our cause. The cause, that is, of the human race.” She leaned back in her chair. “This is all purely hypothetical, of course.”

“A shame they aren’t real, then,” said Giles, eyes steady, voice steadier. “Imagine all we could learn from them.” He cleared his throat. “I do apologize if my questions are coming off… probing. I am simply fascinated by your work.”

“Have you read other psychologists, Mr. Giles?” said Walsh.

“Excuse me?”

“I know you said you were uninterested in the topic previously,” said Walsh. “But surely you’ve delved deeper into the field since discovering this passion.”

“Erm,” said Giles. He wracked his brain for any psychologist. What names he knew he couldn’t connect to any topics or works, and any topics he was familiar with he couldn’t connect to names, save for the classics like Freud and Jung, but he had a feeling Walsh wasn’t going to buy those as products of his newfound interest.

The answer came out of his mouth before he could even think it through.

“Dr. Rosenberg!” he blurted. “Erm, she is a resident of Sunnydale. I, um, was introduced to some of her work by a… student. I mean, a colleague.”

“Dr. Rosenberg.” Maggie nodded slowly. “I am familiar with her work on adolescent psychology. She wrote a paper on juvenile fixations with the occult.”

Suddenly Giles realized that this could be an opportunity to get information, or at least to study Walsh for a reaction. Or maybe, even, to implant the seed of some kind of guilt. “Yes, her daughter was one of my students.” Giles knew that Walsh was smart, but he also knew, at this point, that she was cold and confident. Probably too confident to make the connection that Giles’ relationship to Willow was anything more than superficial and past-tense.

“I didn’t know Dr. Rosenberg had a daughter,” said Walsh, her eyes betraying nothing. “She never spoke of her in her writing.”

Giles shrugged. “I never met Dr. Rosenberg. She wasn’t around much, my colleagues tell me. It’s rather ironic: Dr. Rosenberg seemed to be so busy lecturing about adolescent psychology and the importance of parenting that she never seemed to take an interest in her daughter at all.”

“Good,” Walsh muttered to herself, apparently on instinct, and Giles had to try really, really hard not to grin in victory: even if he couldn’t get Walsh sweating by discussing one of her captives, this was all the proof he needed that the professor was really up to no good. “I mean," Walsh quickly revised, "Children are important but they certainly shouldn’t get in the way of science.”

“I’ll have you know, Dr. Walsh,” Giles said, nerves struck and self-control slipping, “That Willow Rosenberg was an extremely intelligent student with a bright future ahead of her. She is resourceful, resolved, and nothing short of brilliant. She has never encountered a problem she could not solve.” His gaze was vaguely threatening.

But Walsh did not crack. “She is in my class. I found that as well.” She shrugged, “But she stopped showing up. Maybe my class was too much for her. Maybe that parental neglect finally got to her.”

“You have no idea where she is?”

“Why would I?”

They glared at each other for a while. Then Walsh stood.

“I’d like to do this again, Mr. Giles.”

He blinked. “You would?” He was certain he’d blown his cover by revealing his concern for Willow.

“You are perceptive and intriguing, Mr. Giles. I get the feeling you know more than you are letting on, and I live to crack skulls like yours.” She chuckled in this heartless way, “Figuratively, of course.”

Chapter Text

“Gimme gimme gimme a man after midnight,” Xander sang to himself as he swept the floors several days later. He was finally given access to all of the holding cell floors, so he decided he ought to figure out which ones Buffy and Willow were in, in addition to ensuring the optimal sanitary conditions of the facility as was his job description. “Gimme gimme gimme—”

“Oh, would you shut the bloody hell up!” came an angry English growl. Xander looked up and burst into laughter.

“Spike?” Xander cackled. “William the Bloody? Locked up in this joint? Well look who’s got the stake this time.”

“That’s a bloody mop, numbskull. You movin’ up in the world? Sweepin’ the floors for Gloria Frankensteinem are ya?”

“I’ll have you know I’m on a mission,” Xander whispered. “You know where they keep Buffy?”

“The Slayer?” said Spike. “Yeah I seen her. Takes the cell right next to me just my luck. They got her out at the moment, though. Probably cutting her open or pumping her full of steroids or something. And you’re the one’s gonna break us out?”

“Who’s ‘us’?” said Xander. “I’m here for Buffy.”

“Yeah, Slayer ‘n me got a deal, mumps. I help her. She helps me. We get outta here and then back to our mortal enemy ways. Don’t see where you fit in, though.”

Xander scoffed. “She doesn’t need you. We’ve got a plan.”

“Oh yeah?” said Spike. “What is it?”

Xander blinked. “We’re on the reconnaissance stage right now, okay? But we will have a plan. Just you wait.”

“Harris!” came Forrest’s voice as he came down the hall. “Stop talking to the Hostiles.”

“He started it,” Xander mumbled as he continued mopping the floor, shuffling away.

“Let’s go, Hostile,” said Riley as he grabbed Buffy’s arm in a show of gruffness.

“Whatever,” said Buffy. She let him lead her from one of the labs and into the hall. Once they were alone she said, “Why didn’t you tell me Willow’s here?”

Riley halted in his steps. “Willow’s here?

“You don’t know? They really don’t keep you in the loop, do they?”

Riley blinked. “What is she? Is she a Slayer too?”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “No. She’s a witch.”

“Oh,” said Riley. “Well, lower-level agents handle the witches because they’re—”

Buffy narrowed her eyes. “Because they’re what?”

“Um,” Riley looked down. “It’s not a big deal. They use tech to, um… It weakens them, helps us keep them complacent.”

“Will can’t do any magick in here?”

“No,” said Riley. “I’m sure she’s fine.”

“Tell me what they are doing to her,” said Buffy. “She’s number 24, I heard them talking. Go find out.”

“Buffy, I can’t just—”

“Go. Find. Out.” said Buffy.

“Do you miss it?” Willow whispered.

Tara blinked. “What?” 

“Magick,” said Willow. “I mean… real magick. The kind that feels tingly and electric, that flows through you like it’s just the way it’s supposed to be.”

Tara noticed that Willow seemed kind of shaky and restless, rocking in her seat and scratching at her skin. “Willow, how long has it been since they let you cast anything?”

“I don’t know,” said Willow. “A few days I guess. Maybe they want to let me recharge since I went all unconscious last time. Why?”

“You just seem… Uh, being forced to do a whole b-bunch of magick and then being completely cut off from it p-probably isn’t good for you.”

“I guess I feel kinda on edge,” said Willow. She glanced at Tara, who looked all worried. “Hey, I’m fine . It’s not like I need magick.”

Suddenly, a guard came up to their cell. He opened the door and dropped a tray of food directly in front of Willow. “Eat,” he said.

“No thanks,” said Willow. She glanced at Tara, who shrugged where she sat in the corner.

“It’s not drugged this time,” said the man.

“And I should believe you why?”

The guard pulled down his mask.

“Riley?” said Willow. “What the heck?”

“Shh,” said Riley. “I’m going to try to get you out of here, but we need to be careful.”

“Is Buffy here?” said Willow. “Is she okay?”

“Yes,” said Riley. “Walsh is interested in her powers, but from what I know she doesn’t have any plans to harm her. I think she wants to use her instead.” He frowned at Willow as the witch shoveled food in her mouth. “Buffy asked me to find you, so I asked to work this floor.”

“Thanks for sneaking me in some real food,” said Willow. “I was so hungry.”

“I didn’t sneak it in,” Riley said. “Walsh ordered it. She wants you strong.”

Willow swallowed. “Wait, you said she doesn’t have any plans to harm Buffy. Does that mean…—?”

“I don’t know what she wants to do with you, Willow, but you’re very important to her. Be careful.”

“Willow’s here,” said Buffy once she was back in her cell.

She heard Spike click his tongue. “Red’s here? You lot really lost your touch, didn’t you?”

“She came in to rescue me,” said Buffy. “But I think they’re gonna hurt her. Listen, I know the deal was that you and me get out, but—”

“Of course we’re saving Red,” said Spike. “Only one of you lot was ever nice to me.”

“When did you get a conscience?”

“Maybe these white coats implanted me with one,” Spike shrugged. “‘Sides, I always dreamed of turning sweet little Red into a creature of the night. Can’t do that so much she’s in here, can I?”

“Nevermind on the conscience.”

“Saw the welp today. Harris,” said Spike. “You know he’s here to save you too?”

“I know,” said Buffy. “He and Giles are on the case.”

“Please,” said Willow as her legs were strapped to a chair in a dark room, a one-way mirror lining the wall. “I… I can’t do all that m-magick again. It takes a lot out of me, Professor.” A part of her was relieved that she’d be able to cast, though.

“That’s what we don’t understand,” said Walsh. “Everything we have says that you are incredibly powerful. And yet, you can barely do more than any other witch before your vitals start to dip and you’re losing consciousness. Why is that?”

“Maybe ‘cause I’m not that powerful,” said Willow.

“By every measure, you should be able to level a building. Maybe even a town. What is making you so weak?”

“I can’t do that many spells at once,” said Willow. “I am telling you, your machines are wrong.”

“Is it that your powers are not fully developed, or is it that your body just can’t handle using them yet?”

Willow shrugged. She was getting sick of the professor’s lectures, and she thought she’d at least be a junior before that started to happen.

“You are exactly what we’ve been looking for, Hostile 24. Don’t you see? For humans to harness the powers of demons… If we can control that power, think of how much we can do for science, for the world.”

“It’s not the powers of demons,” said Willow, “It’s magic. It’s good.”

“We’ve tried time and time again to transfer those abilities to our soldiers—but it never succeeds, and the witches we attempt to transfer from rarely survive.”

“Well duh,” said Willow, “That’s not how magic works. You can’t just take someone’s magic. You have to study, and learn… i-it takes years—”

“We’ve learned that now. And there is unfortunately a level of inherent skill that simply cannot be manufactured.”

“So what the heck do you want with me then? I can’t help you. I can’t give you my powers.”

“It’s no matter, Miss Rosenberg,” Professor Walsh said. She turned her back to Willow, observing a table, whatever on it obscured from Willow’s view, and then whirled back around with a metal rod in her hand. Willow widened her eyes when she realized the end of the rod was glowing red-hot. “If we can’t control your abilities… Well, Hostile, then I guess we’re just going to have to find a way to control you .”

“Are you okay?” 

Tara jumped when she heard the voice behind her. She’d been nursing her wound which, while no longer infected, was still red and swollen and forming an ugly scar.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

She looked up to see… the janitor?

“Th-that’s okay…” said Tara. “Uh… I’m f-fine.”

Xander smiled warmly. “Good. Sorry, you’re just the first non-scaly thing I’ve seen in a while.”

“Y-you’re the first non-soldier thing I’ve seen in a while. Or are you?”

“I’m not a soldier,” he said. “I’m Xander.”

Her eyes widened. “Xander? You’re Willow’s—”

“You know Willow?”

“She shares this cell,” said Tara. “She’s… They took her again.” She lowered her voice even more. “Are you here to rescue her?”

Xander nodded. “I gotta go or they’ll bust me for talking to you. But I’ll be back around later, when Willow’s back.” He sighed. “Take care of her for me, okay?”

“Please,” Willow cried, “Please stop. I’ll d-do wh— Ahh!” Her throat was raw from screaming but Walsh didn’t seem phased at all, or like she had any intention of stopping. She'd cycled through a few different weapons and seemed to be deriving some amount of maniacal joy from inflicting so much pain. Willow tried to use magick, but her spells were too weak and fizzled out before they had a chance to do anything.

“Come on, Witch,” said Walsh. “Prove my theory right.” She shoved some kinda cattle prod at Willow’s chest, and the witch grabbed it in her hands, screaming as it shocked her, the muscles in her fingers now frozen in a death-grip by the current.

She waited for Walsh to pull it away before the electricity killed her, but she caught her cold glare and realized she wasn’t going to.

Willow could feel herself passing out or worse. She slipped into survival mode as rational thought failed her. “Please…” she eked out. Then, instead of rolling back in her head, her eyes turned jet-black as magick leaked out completely outside of her conscious control. “...STOP!” she shouted, and the cattle prod snapped in two in her grip, an electrical shockwave sending Walsh across the room and shattering the one-way mirror.

The chains around Willow’s feet disintegrated and she started to run. The soldiers and scientists that were on the other side of the glass went after her, but she tossed them away with telekinesis like it was nothing. She twitched as she heard the cracks of skulls echo in her eardrums.

She almost reached the door when her weak legs gave out. She scrambled forward until the door opened and some soldiers on the other side grabbed her.

She started to come back to herself, the pain of her wounds striking tenfold and the memories of what she’d just done blurry at best. “Wha…?” she muttered.

“Take a nap,” said a booming voice. Before she knew it, she was pumped full of sedatives. Her pain numbed and she grinned lazily before passing out.

“The woman’s a right psychopath,” said Giles. “We need to stop her or the girls are going to end up dead or worse.”

“You’re telling me,” said Xander. “I haven’t seen Willow yet… The witch in her cell says she’s been gone all day. Who knows what they’re doing to her?” He sighed. “And get this: I saw Spike in there today, and he’s got a scar on his head. I don’t want Buffy or Willow all lobotomized.”

“Is he… different at all?”

Xander thought for a sec. “Well, no. The same snarky murderous asshole as always, just behind bars. Which is kinda a good thing, right?”

“Maybe, but we can deal with Spike another time. We need to focus on Buffy and Willow.”

“Any intel from our future Mrs. Margaret Giles?”

Giles gagged. “Only insight into just how cold, calculating, and vile a person can be.”

“You’re taking things too slow, Rupes,” said Xander. “You need to get into her bedroom.”

“Excuse me?”

“Well she’s not going to keep any secret info at the dinner table. You get to her bedroom, she goes to the bathroom to freshen up… And you snoop away. Duh.”

“I hate this.”

“Hey, in my day I’ve had romantic encounters with many dames of the demon variety.”

“Yeah? Well Maggie Walsh is far worse than any demon.”

Willow was flung unceremoniously back into her cell, drugged to oblivion and completely out cold.

Tara shook her lightly, “Willow?”

She saw a black and purple bruise poking out from underneath her shirt and started to lift it up to see.

“Are ya counting the rest of my freckles?” Willow mumbled, and Tara drew her hand away.

“Willow? Goddess, are you—?”

“Ohhhh,” Willow groaned. “God…” She sniffed, and Tara realized she was crying. “God, p-please…”

“What did they do to you?”

Willow only cried out in answer.

“Where does it hurt, Willow?” She touched her abdomen and Willow flinched. “Let me see.”

Tara pulled Willow’s shirt up to just beneath her breasts and gasped at the cuts, bruises, and burns that lined her torso.

“Oh my god…” Tara said.

Willow choked on some attempt at laughter. “Uh-huh.”

“W-Willow…” said Tara. “This… This isn’t science. Th-this isn’t surgery or v-vivisection. This is torture.”

“You’re tellin’ me,” Willow sobbed.

“B-but why would they—?”

“I… I think Walsh thought torture w-would supercharge my m-magicks.” She broke down into another bout of sobs. “And this isn’t the end. ‘Cause she was right.”

“She was right?” said Tara. “W-what do you mean?”

Willow’s eyes found Tara’s. “I did things I’ve never done before,” she whispered. “And I didn’t care. I think I hurt people, Tara.”

“Thank you for having me over, Profe— Maggie.”

“Well, Rupert,” said Walsh. “You know as well as I do that mammals have certain biological needs.”

Giles blinked. “Uhm—”

“The bedroom is just down this hall.”

Giles opened his mouth and then closed it again, following her silently instead.

“Alright,” said Maggie as she closed the bedroom door. “Let’s get to it, then.”

“Don’t you want to go… freshen up?” said Giles.

Maggie sighed. “I suppose changing out of my Ann Taylor pantsuit and into something a little more comfortable would be the socially acceptable thing to do. I’ll be back in a moment; please make yourself comfortable as well.”

As soon as Giles heard the bathroom door shut, he scrambled around the room looking for any clues that could be of use to him. He shuffled through the ungraded tests on her desk; the miscellanea in her junk drawer; the discarded papers in her wastebin. He glanced at the computer on her desk, but knew he hadn’t the skills to even turn the thing on, let alone search it for encrypted files.

He glanced at the bookshelf: several copies of Walsh's own book were surrounded by various classics on the subject of psychology.

His eyes found the briefcase that Walsh had placed on the floor when they entered. He tried to open it, but there was a combination lock on it. He heard the toilet flush and knew he needed to act fast. He wracked his brain for any number that might be meaningful to the woman.

He scrambled to the bookshelf and pulled out one of Walsh's many copies of her book. He studied the cover for a moment and then flipped it over.

0-3-1-4. The last four digits of her own book’s ISBN. He scoffed at the narcissism of it all when the briefcase opened.

He quickly grabbed a handful of papers, shoved them into his own bag, closed the bag back up, and then hopped on the bed, book still in-hand.

Walsh stepped back into the room in a lab coat over... nothing else. She stopped and raised an eyebrow.

“You said to get comfortable,” said Giles. “I’m never more comfortable than with a book. Aren’t you?”

She opened up her coat in a way that could only be described as the uncanny valley of sultry. "In the lab, mostly. But the bedroom is second-best."

It’s not that she was a bad-looking woman: just psychotic and evil. His eyes were drawn to her chest. Not to her breasts, though: to what looked like an electrical burn to her sternum.

“Like what you see?” she said.

“What’s that?”

She frowned. “That’s not what a woman usually likes to hear in the bedroom.”

“I mean, on your chest. It looks like a burn.”

She quickly closed her robe again, apparently self-conscious. “Nothing. An accident at work.”

“An electrical accident?”

“You have a lot of questions, Rupert.”

“Well, I’m just so eager to hear your answers.”

She came closer to him. “There is so much I have to show you that you won’t find in that silly book.”

He gulped. “Uhm. I think I’d like to take this slow. -er. If that’s alright.”

She narrowed her eyes. Then backed off. “Very well,” she said. “I do enjoy a challenge.”

Buffy watched the spot where the automatic dumbwaiter would bring her food. And watched. And watched.

“Haven’t heard a peep from you in a while, Slayer,” said Spike. “You sleeping, or did they finally lobotomize that sass outta you?”

“Shh,” said Buffy. “I have an idea.”

Finally, the thing opened to spit out her food. She pushed the tray aside and grabbed the mechanism that would vend it before it was able to hide itself again behind the wall. She pulled on it until it broke, leaving a small hollow slit in the far wall.

She peered through it, but could only see blackness.

“What’d you do?” said Spike.

“I broke the food dispenser thing.”

“That’ll show ‘em,” said Spike, sarcastic. “You’ll starve to death. What are you gonna do, crawl through it? You’re not that little, Slayer.”

“Think for a millisecond, blood-for-brains,” said Buffy. “This means they’re gonna have to come and fix it. Just another chance to escape.”

Chapter Text

Willow’s wounds were treated swiftly and effectively, and she was given as many painkillers as she asked for. It was probably the closest she’d get to the royal treatment for this place.

But every single day now they took her to the lab for tests. And while they didn’t seem keen on torturing her again so soon, they kept sticking her with needles, pumping things in and out of her. The procedures were exhausting, and her curiosity about it all was killing her.

And she couldn’t even commiserate with Tara anymore, because ever since Walsh tortured Willow, the scientists all but stopped experimenting on Tara. They took her blood and vitals every few days, but mostly they just kept Tara sitting uselessly in the cell.

Which is where she was now when Willow came stumbling back in as a guard shoved her into Tara.

“Asshole,” Willow muttered as the guards left.

“Are you hurt?” Tara asked.

“No,” said Willow.

Tara wiped a tear from Willow’s eye, “You’ve been crying.”

Willow shifted to show Tara a bloody bandage that covered a deep gash on her thigh, “Okay, maybe I’m a little hurt.”

Tara hissed when she saw the bandage; she could only imagine how ugly the wound itself was. “Did you…”

Willow squeezed her eyes shut to let some tears fall. “I think so. I don’t remember…” She hardened, “It’s like the magick takes me over, like I’m not in control of myself anymore. I think they make me forget on purpose, or I’m not meant to remember, ‘cause no one’s meant to. Meant to do that, I mean. What I do. But I remember what’s important.” She cocked her head at Tara. “That it feels so good .”

Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea, Buffy thought as she laid on the floor, hunger pangs eating away at her gut.

“Slayer?” said Spike. “You doing alright in there?”

Buffy groaned. “They gotta come fix this thing eventually, right?”

“And how on Earth will they manage to subdue a starving Slayer now? They’ll throw a candy bar at the other end of the room and you’ll chase after it like a dog.”

“Mmm…” Buffy said. “I mean, shut up, Spike. So maybe it wasn’t my brightest plan, but at least it’s something .”

And she was right. Because soon Riley and some army-guys were in front of her cell telling her to get up.

“Finally here to stop me from starving to death?” said Buffy.

Riley looked apologetic and addressed his goons. “Move her to a different cell while the mechanic fixes the dumbwaiter.”

“Cells in this block are all full,” said one of the soldiers.

“Just put her with 17," Riley said, "Not like he can hurt her, and if she hurts him it’s not too big a loss.”

And that was how Buffy found herself in a cell with William the Bloody.

“Slayer," he said, "So vile to see your face.”

“And it’s loathsome to see your ugly mug too, Spike.”

“Plan didn’t so much work, did it?”

“No,” said Buffy.

Spike eyed her. Hungry.

“Hey,” said Buffy. “We have a truce, remember?”

Spike went bumpy and stalked towards her. “Just a taste. I haven’t had a fresh human in weeks!”

Buffy was slightly afraid. She could fight Spike, sure... but she was starving half to death, weak and out of practice.

He lunged at her… and then he screamed and clutched his head, stumbling back.

“Bloody hell!” Spike said. “What in the—”

“Oh…” Buffy stared for a sec, and then chuckled. “Oh. This’ll be good.”

“What’s that?” said Xander as Giles shuffled through some papers.

“I’m not yet sure,” Giles said. “I stole them from Professor Walsh’s briefcase before we—”

“You didn’t , did you?” said Xander.

“Thankfully, I was able to avoid her advances under the pretense of taking things slow .”

“Well let’s see what you dug up, 007,” said Xander.

Giles opened up a folder and found a collection of photocopied files. The first one had an image of a bumpy, spiny demon on it, and notes about its appearance and behaviors.

“You think the girls are in here?” said Xander.

“Let’s see,” Giles said. He flipped through—

“Hey, there’s Spike!” said Xander. He pulled out the file and, sure enough, they were both faced with an image of William the Bloody lying naked on an examination table. “And more of him than I ever wanted to see, at that.”

“‘Behavior Modification Device’,” Giles read. “Seems they’ve implanted him with something, but the details are redacted.”

He continued flipping through the files when his stomach dropped. There was Buffy, or ‘Hostile 23’ as this file dubbed her. Xander shielded his eyes from the nude image of his friend, but Giles was too stunned with worry to do anything but stare at the file. There were photos attached to the file of every scar she had, every blemish on her smooth skin. There were blood test results and other figures he wasn’t knowledgeable enough about to understand.

“It’s like she’s a lab animal…” said Giles. He forced himself to study the photo of Buffy, for any clue to what they’d done to her. He could tell she was underweight and tired, even while unconscious.

“What about Willow?” said Xander. He flipped frantically through the papers. “Is she in here?”

Giles tried to look slower and more methodically, lest they miss her. He didn’t see her, either, so he flipped back through. Once again it seemed she wasn’t in there. Wait a sec… He went back a few files and pulled one out slowly. “Oh my…”

Xander grabbed the file from him. “Giles, we’re looking for Willow.”

“I believe that is Willow,” said Giles.

But how could that be? The thin woman (or maybe a demon) in this photo had black hair and strange lines snaking across her naked body. Her eyes were closed, but a close-up photo attached showed them completely black.

“What?” said Xander. “How… God, Giles! What’d they do to her?”

Giles fumbled with the papers in shaking hands. Behind that sheet was another which showed a comparison photo of Willow as she normally appeared, dated from when she was initially captured.

“I… I don’t…—” Giles tried not to hyperventilate. How could he have let Willow do this?

Xander grabbed the two photos and looked between them. “What is that? What’s all over her body?” He found a close-up photo. “They’re her veins? Yeah she’s pale but—”

“Clearly they’ve been experimenting on them both.”

“We need to get them out. Now .”

“We need to do it safely, lest the two of us end up in there as well. Willow’s plan was rash and we shouldn’t have gone along with it. Rashness will not do us any favors now."

“She could be dying.”

“On the contrary,” said Giles. “The file is redacted but black eyes are a common side-effect of powerful magicks. The hair and veins may be, too. Hopefully whatever they’ve done is reversible."

“I don’t just mean that. This photo is from this week,” said Xander, pointing to the black-haired photo. “And this one is from the day they took her. Giles, look at all these new scars. Look how much weight she’s lost. She’s covered in bruises. They’re torturing her, they’re starving her. They're killing her."

“I’m bored!” Willow cried. She paced around her cell, this frantic, crazed look in her eyes. “I need to get outta here… I need to get outta here… God, I’m bored!”

“Willow…” said Tara slowly. “A-are you okay?”

“No!” Willow all but shouted at her. “I’m losing it, Tara. I need this thing off. Please, I need to get this collar off or I’m gonna die, I think.”

“I can’t, Willow,” said Tara. “I can’t use my powers either.”

“You’re useless!” Willow said. She shook her head. “I didn’t mean that. Something’s not right.”

“You’re really scaring me, Willow,” said Tara.

“You should see me in the Other Room,” Willow laughed, manic. “I’m terrifying.”

“Did you sleep last night?” said Tara. “I heard you pacing.”

“I don’t remember,” said Willow. “There’s no time for sleep when every second is a year, you know?”

“I don’t know,” said Tara. “You’re not making any sense.”

“You’re not making sense! Is Little Miss ‘Control Group’ really gonna lecture me now? You don’t even know what they’re doing to me. I don’t even know what they’re doing to me!”

Tara cowered in the corner. “Something is really wrong with you, Willow. And I don’t think it’s just being trapped in here that’s making you act like this.”

Willow finally fell to her knees. “Have you ever wanted something you knew would hurt you? Wanted it so, so, so bad, Tara? This machine… it keeps me away from magick, but I am magick now, Tara. It keeps me away from myself, rips me up inside. You get it, Tara? You get it? You gotta get it, Tara. Whatever they’re doing to me… I’m all pumped full, bursting at the seams, ooey-gooey magicks spilling out of me but there’s nowhere for them to go. I feel like I’m gonna explode, like I’m gonna snap, like I can never sleep again ‘cause I’m so full of power and it keeps yelling at me to stay awake , cast a spell, kill them! But. I. Can’t!”

Willow had leaned so close that Tara could smell the sweat in her hair. The soldiers let them shower a few times a week, but Willow’s hair was still stringy and limp, her clothes drenched in fever-sweat. Her eyes looked wild and angry and dilated. Tara wasn’t sure whether to be scared for Willow or of her. She hadn’t known the girl that long, but she was certain this wasn’t what she had been like before.

They stayed like that for a while, staring at each other, Tara with wide, scared eyes and Willow panting with desperation. Suddenly Willow leaned in and kissed Tara on the lips. Tara certainly thought this was bizarre, and she briefly feared that returning the kiss would constitute taking advantage of Willow when she wasn’t in her right mind. That didn’t stop her though, and Willow deepened the kiss as she felt Tara reciprocate.

“Did the magick tell you to do that?” Tara whispered when they finally parted.

“No,” said Willow. She stood, stumbled back a few feet, and then passed out.

A part of Tara was worried that Willow was going to drop dead in her sleep or something because she seemed so sick, so Tara fell asleep with her head on her friend’s chest so that she could hear her heart beating and feel her slow breaths.

“You can’t even bite!” Buffy laughed. “You’re totally neutered! De-fanged! An invalid vamp! This is the best day ever.”

“You’re still locked up in here, y’know,” Spike growled. “How long till they do the same to you?”

Buffy blinked. “That’s… Oh.”

“Yeah,” said Spike. “So you better come up with a plan stat, Slayer, else we’re both never gettin’ outta here.”

"Harris," said Forrest. "Where are you going?"

Xander spun around. "I was gonna do a round in the magic block."

"It'll have to be later," said Forrest. "Someone just barfed in the caf. Have fun."

Xander groaned. He had to see Willow, but every time he came to her cell the only one there was Tara. It seemed like the universe was trying to keep him from her.

When Tara awoke in the morning, she was still on top of Willow. She rose to see Willow twitching softly in a way that reminded her of a dog chasing a squirrel in its dreams. It was awfully cute, and Tara almost forgot how frightened she’d been of the same girl just last night.

Willow’s twitches stopped and she covered her eyes with her arm, “Mm, what time is it?”

“G-good morning, Willow,” said Tara. She considered that she didn’t actually know what time it was. “I assume. How are you feeling?”

“Okay,” Willow said, “Considering the whole… kidnapped and experimented on thing.”

“Can you remember last night?”

Willow shrugged, “I don’t know. They all kinda blur together.”

She noticed as she sat up that Tara seemed to be looking at her with some apprehension.

“Why? Did I do something?”

“I th-think you were a little out of your head,” said Tara. “I’m glad you’re doing better now.”

Willow shut her eyes, possibly remembering bits of the night, but she seemed frustrated at the many details that were escaping her.

“It’s okay, really,” said Tara. “You were having some k-kind of withdrawal. You were really out of it. You weren’t yourself.”

“I don’t want to scare you,” Willow said softly. “It’s like I have no control. That’s what Walsh said, that she doesn’t want me to have any control so that there’s nothing to temper my powers. Or something. But there’s something else…”

Tara put her hand on Willow’s arm because she was trembling. “Willow…”

“I need it more than anything, Tara. Magick. Physically, I mean. Like a drug addiction or something. And I don’t know what I wouldn’t do to get it.”

Buffy paced around Spike’s cell, feeling more than a little anxious. If they started messing with her brain… Who knew what they could make her do, or stop her from doing?

A bag of blood was released from a dispenser and Spike rolled his eyes.

“More drugged blood,” he said, picking up the bag. “And I can’t even eat you. If vampires could starve to death, I’d be long gone." He ripped it open with his teeth and tasted it. Then he spit it out and dropped it on the ground. “Disgusting. Where do they get this blood?”

Buffy picked up the bag and stared at it. Then she slowly turned it upside down and let the blood spill on the floor.

“Hey, hey! It’s gross but it’s my only food source, Slayer. And I’d prefer not to sleep in it if I can help it.”

“Xander’s the janitor,” Buffy said.

“Yeah?” said Spike. “And?”

“Xander’s the janitor!” Buffy squeezed the rest of the blood on the ground. “This place gets filthy enough, they’re gonna have to send him in. Maybe he can sneak something in for us, something we can use.”

“Not a bad idea, Slayer. Why don’t you do it?”

“Well I need to eat. You don’t,” said Buffy. “Whenever they send you some blood, just dump it on the floor. Might take a few days, but eventually it’ll get too unsanitary and they are gonna have to do a deep clean. When they take you away and send Xander to clean it up, I’ll tell him the plan. Take off your jacket and leave it, it’ll be something he can hide a weapon under.”

Spike started to take off his coat. “This had better work.”

“How do you feel, Miss Rosenberg?” said Walsh.

Willow just glared. Or she tried to, but her eyes danced around an empty steel room she hadn't seen before. Were those shadows tricks of the light or was she hallucinating?

“Very, very curious that the symptoms caused by an extended detachment from your powers mimics drug or alcohol withdrawal so closely.” She leaned in close and looked at her eyes. "Shakes and fevers, delirium tremens."

“Please…” Willow whimpered.

“This room is made of several feet of reinforced steel on all sides. It is completely hostile-proof,” said Walsh. “I am going to leave. We are going to watch you on cameras. My team will deactivate your inhibitor remotely, and sensors are going to monitor your vitals and your power output.”

“No torture?” Willow spat. “You know you can’t make me use magick without it.”

“Is that so?” said Walsh. “Because I think you want to use your powers. Don’t you? More than anything?”

Willow was shaking just thinking about it, but she didn’t say anything. As promised, Walsh left the room. Willow sat in the dim light for a few moments before she felt the collar’s hold on her powers release.

She didn’t even have a chance. It was like a wave overtook her. Her eyes turned black, and the lights in the room immediately short-circuited. She backed into the corner and hugged her knees. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no…” She muttered. She was known for her level head, but here she was, completely out of control, high off her own powers like some kinda junky. “No, no, no, no, no…” She looked at the steel wall to her right. She couldn’t quite see through it, but it was like she could sense the people on the other side. Like she could sense Walsh with her smug little grin, her scientists with their stupid little needles, her soldiers with their big fat tranq guns. She knew exactly where they were standing, what they were doing and thinking. And she wanted to kill them all.

“Let me out!” she cried. She punched the wall. “Please!” She punched it again, and again, and it dented. She kept punching and punching, the steel bending under the supernatural force of her powers. She didn't know if she attacked the wall for minutes or hours, but e ventually, her collar was turned back on.

She kept punching, though, as hard as she could, till her hand was cracked and broken and bleeding. But it was like she couldn’t feel the pain at all, only the hole where her magicks had just been, only the desperation to use them again.

Walsh entered the room again, and Willow ran at her, almost rabid, like she was going to try and claw her face. But it was Riley who came and held her still, and Willow without her magic was far too weak now to put up any fight at all.

“You are so special, girl,” said Walsh. “This room is built to contain demons, vampires. Do you know what you just did?”

Willow glanced at the wall, which wasn’t just dented but was extremely close to having a hole punched through it. “I didn’t…” She felt so tired. She wanted to collapse and sleep but Riley held her up.

Walsh took Willow’s broken hand in her own and Willow yelped in pain. “Don’t hurt yourself, child. These hands are powerful. I want you strong. We need you strong.”

Idly, Willow considered that she had never seen Walsh behave this… human. It was almost like she cared about Willow.

Walsh wiped Willow’s tears with a cloth. “Why are you crying? I know it was painful getting here, but look at how much power you have. Look at what we’ve unlocked in you.”

Willow’s eyes got blurry as blood started to run from her nose. Walsh used her handkerchief to wipe that too. Riley gripped Willow’s arms to hold her steady as she grew dizzy.

“We’ll have to find a way to deal with the side effects,” said Walsh. “But we are on the right track. Miss Rosenberg, you could be the greatest weapon the United States has ever seen.”

“I don’t wanna be a weapon,” Willow whimpered.

“We’re not the ones who gave you this power, girl,” said Walsh. “We just want to control it.”

“How is this control?”

“I didn’t say we want you to control it.”

“I’m really tired…” Willow croaked.

Walsh nodded to the guard who held her. “Have the infirmary look at her hand. Tell them to give her painkillers and then bring her back to her cell.” She looked at Willow. “It may not feel like it now, Hostile. But you’re incredibly powerful, and you could save us all.”

Then Riley shoved Willow forward, regret on his hidden face, but Willow went rigid and glared once more at Walsh. “You’re right, Professor. I’m very powerful. Maybe it’s not such a good idea for you to piss me off.” The exhaustion hit her again and Riley stumbled under her suddenly near-dead weight as he escorted her from the room.

Chapter Text

“Why do they keep cutting your leg?” said Tara.

Willow covered the wound with her hand, embarrassed. “Walsh wants to see me heal it.” She shrugged. “But I don’t know how. I mean, in theory…”

“Have you read Darius’ Tome?”

Willow nodded. “But I just can’t get it to work. I can’t do anything except hurt people, apparently.” She leaned back. “It’s hopeless. We’re never getting out of here, and Walsh can just keep doing whatever she wants with me.”

“Hey,” Tara said. “Th-that’s how I felt at first. But not anymore.”

“What changed?”

“You,” Tara said. “I mean, you showed up. You’re the first real friend I’ve h-had since… Well, since way before I ended up in here.”

“Well I’m sorry I didn’t end up being the beacon of hope you probably expected,” Willow sighed. “I’m supposed to be like a genius, but I haven’t come up with one plan to get outta here. And it’s not like we can do anything with these stupid collars. It’s feeling like give-up-o’clock.”

Tara started to respond, but then they both heard:

“Willow—!”

They turned to see Xander wheeling his cleaning cart up to their cell.

“Will,” Xander said. “Finally.”

“Xander!” Willow cried. “Tara told me you were here b-but I thought… I thought she was wrong, or I was going crazy. But here you are!”

“You’re gone all the time,” Xander explained. “I stop by when I can, but they got their eyes on everything, including me. I can’t talk long.”

“Any ideas on your end?” said Willow. Tara noted that she seemed more exuberant than she had a moment ago, and more than she had in days at that. “‘Cause I’m coming up zilch.”

“Giles got some files,” Xander said. He observed her, relieved to see that her hair and eyes weren’t black and that she wasn’t covered in veins. But she was bruised and burned and thin. “Willow, are you… okay?”

“Huh?” Willow said. She waved her hand dismissively. “I’m fine. Tell me about the files.”

“Uh…” Xander said. Did Willow even know what they’d done to her?

“Harris,” said a guard who came down the hall. “Get back to work.”

Xander glanced apologetically at the girls and made his way down the corridor as the guard stopped at their cell.

Willow frowned at Tara, “Tell me you’re due for a blood test.”

“They just took me yesterday.” Tara shook her head, “Sorry, Willow.”

But seeing Xander had brought a fire to Willow’s eyes that she’d lost many days ago, and as the guard took her away, Tara could almost see the gears spinning in her head.

Every few days, Willow got a full medical examination. It seemed like overkill to her, but it was better than the torture so she welcomed it. She started to notice patterns: how they’d keep her magicks tied up for longer and longer amounts of time and then force her to let them out in bigger and bigger displays of power. How they’d take her blood first in vials for research and then in pints for vampire-food, and how they’d dose her with different drugs depending on where they were in their sick cycle: to stabilize her withdrawals, to give her energy or take it away, to screw with her mind, to confuse or enrage her in hopes that it’d make her lose control.

Today she just felt exhausted and shaky, though whatever they’d been giving her for the withdrawals seemed to be working to some extent because she was still able to function and think.

“You can put your clothes back on,” said the doctor. She never cared to learn his name, and he never cared to learn hers, but there was some twisted mutual respect between them. Willow knew she needed to cooperate with the doctors in this place or her withdrawals would surely kill her, and she could not help but respect the medical profession even if it was being used for this evil. And the doctor, though he didn’t strictly see her as human, spoke to her like one, and every so often she thought she caught an inkling of remorse in his eye as he stuck her with needles.

The doctor took off his nitrile gloves and dropped them with the expended needle into the trashbin by the table Willow sat on. Then he turned around and went about tidying up his station. Willow knew there would be two or even three guards outside the room, so she didn’t even consider running just because his back was turned.

She thought about Xander, and the hope that seeing him had returned to her heart. Even if he was just taking out the…—

She looked down at the trashcan as she pulled her shirt over her head. She glanced back up at the doctor, whose back was still to her. Carefully, nonchalantly, she bent down to pull up her pants, and ever-so-discretely reached into the wastebin as she did so, grabbing the wadded up glove and the needle the doctor had just thrown away. She quickly stuffed them in her underwear, careful to keep the needle from piercing her, and stood, dressed, just as the doctor turned back around and called the guards in to escort her out.

“Hey!” Xander said. “Quit making such a mess, Spike! You know who’s gonna have to clean that up.”

“Shh, Xander!” Buffy called from her cell. “That’s the plan. Listen to me.”

Xander pretended to sweep as he leaned his ear near the glass.

“Do you think you could get some weapons in here?”

“Definitely not,” said Xander. “There’s crazy security getting in every day. It’s like a tour of the White House but without the gift shop at the end.”

“Okay,” Buffy said. “How about the weapons they use here? Do you know where they keep them?”

“I think the guys have a locker room, but I’m not allowed in.” He paused. “But I can find a way. What’s the plan?”

“They’re gonna have to send you in to clean Spike’s cell once he’s done yucking it up. I need you to stash some weapons for us.”

“You want me to arm the serial murdering vampire?”

“I’m gonna try to make a mess too,” said Buffy. “But they will probably send you into Spike’s first ‘cause they just had the mechanic in here and they’re gonna get suspicious. “Besides, Spike’s using blood. I would have to use… Uh, stuff you wanna clean up even less.”

Xander gagged. “Desperate times.”

“You think you can do it?” said Buffy. “Spike’s having some performance issues with the fighting, but even a taser or something should give us the edge we need to get the one up on these guys.”

“What about Willow?” said Xander.

“We’ll get her, too. You know where they have her?”

“Yeah,” said Xander. “I finally talked to her today. It’s bad, Buffy. She is acting like it’s okay but I can tell they’ve been doing more than just poking and prodding.”

“Tell her not to try anything yet,” said Buffy. “Once we make our move, we’ll meet up with you. We’ll get one of the guard’s key-cards and break her out that way. I don’t want her getting herself into trouble before we have a chance to strike.”

Tara raised an eyebrow at Willow. She’d just returned from the lab and was grinning like a madwoman. “What are you smiling about?”

Willow grinned wider. “I got us something.”

“What?”

Willow reached into her pants and presented Tara with the wadded-up glove and the bloody needle.

“Willow, that’s g-gross.”

“It’s our way out!”

Tara blinked at her, and then scanned her face clinically. “What the heck did they give you this time?”

Willow rolled her eyes, “I’m not high, Tara. Look!”

She slipped on the rubber glove, which was a couple sizes too big, and pointedly rested her hand on the electric glass of their cell.

“See?” she said. “Rubber doesn’t conduct electricity.”

Tara nodded slowly. “Okay. So what? It’s too strong to smash without our powers. Now what?”

Willow pulled off the glove and tossed it to Tara. “Now you put this on.” She picked up the dirty needle.

“Willow, what in the world are you going to do with that?”

Willow wiped the needle off on her clothes and noticed Tara’s grimace. “Oh, don’t be so icked. It’s my own blood.” She moved up to the glass and looked at her faint reflection, holding the needle up to her collar, poking it awkwardly, using the glass as a mirror.

Tara watched for a while. “Care to share, Willow?”

“Oh,” Willow said. “Look, these collars are obviously shielded from electricity ‘cause otherwise they’d short-circuit when we get shocked and tased and stuff. But if I can get this needle to carry a current straight into the circuitry, the whole thing should go kablooey.”

“And how are you gonna do that?”

“If I can squeeze this metal needle in-between these panels… There we go! Like injecting electricity right into its veins! Now if I hold the needle and run some current through my body… I think we’ll get some inside the device, past the shielding.”

“Okay. But that means you’ll also have to get shocked,” Tara frowned.

Willow gestured excitedly to Tara, “That’s where you come in! If I’m getting shocked, my muscles are gonna lock up. So you use that rubber glove to pull me away once the collar gets smokey.”

“What if you get smokey first?”

Willow rolled her eyes, “You think they’d give us a free-for-all suicide-wall? I am positive there’s not enough current in this thing to do any permanent damage, let alone kill us. But there’s enough to fry a little circuit board."

“Are you sure it’ll work?” said Tara.

“No,” Willow shrugged. “But what other choice do we have?”

“Thank you for meeting me, Rupert,” said Walsh as she opened the door for him.

“Why of course, Margaret,” said Giles. And he didn’t have enough time to register the three armed men who suddenly surrounded him, guns drawn. He cast a violent gaze at Walsh. “What is this?”

“I believe you have something that doesn’t belong to you, Mr. Giles,” Walsh said.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean. Doctor.”

“Are you so certain? Think hard, now,” said Walsh as she approached him. “I thought for a moment that I’d gone crazy, that I’d left the files somewhere else. But then I realized who was in my bedroom lately. What have you done with the files, Rupert?”

“Are you going to lock me up like you’ve done the girls?”

“I don’t capture humans. Don’t be silly; you wouldn’t be of any use to us, and nothing in those files is… Well, it’s not like anyone would believe you about anything they say. And you already know something about it, don’t you? About magic and demons.”

“Willow Rosenberg and Buffy Summers are humans,” said Giles. “I want them released. Now.”

“If you’ve read the files, then you know how close we are to a breakthrough,” said Walsh. “I am not sure what your connection is to those girls, and I don’t really care. I have three guns pointed at your head and an entire government conspiracy to cover up your death, if I deem it necessary.”

“But it may not be, is that what you’re getting at?”

“Very good, my Rupert,” said Walsh. “I want to make a deal. Level the playing field, if you will. You know our secrets, now. Now I want to know yours.”

“The current gets stronger the longer we touch it,” Willow said. “Count to ten. With Missisippis—don’t cheat! Even if it looks like I’m in pain. And then if I don’t move on my own, you use that glove to yank me away from the current. Okay? And make sure you only touch me with the glove. Otherwise, the current’s gonna run through you too and we’ll both get crispy.”

“This is a terrible idea,” said Tara.

“It’s my only idea,” Willow said. “Ready?”

“No,” Tara muttered. “Be careful, Willow.”

Willow had the needle wedged between two panels in her collar; she held it in her left hand, and then reached for the wall with her right…

She squeezed her eyes shut as the current ran through her. What started as violent pins-and-needles quickly grew into blinding pain. She would have ripped her hand away, plan be damned, but her muscles had locked, the electricity freezing her nerves against the glass.

She heard a snap, and felt her collar get unbearably hot. The electricity continued to race through her veins and she could feel herself passing out…—

Tara ripped her from the wall and they both collapsed on the other end of the cell.

“Willow? Willow, are you awake? Wake up, a-are you okay?”

Willow glanced dazedly up at her, and then broke into a goofy smile. “I-i-i-i-i-i—”

Tara shook Willow by the shoulders. “W-Willow…?”

“...i-it w-w-worked!” Willow stuttered. She stood way too quickly, stumbling heavily. “I-I c-can feel my p-p-powers, I…”

Her collar was emitting smoke, and the small green light that usually indicated that it was functional was now out. And Tara could see bright red, burned flesh poking out from the edges across Willow’s neck. “Willow, you should sit down.”

Suddenly Tara felt her own collar shut off just as Willow stumbled against the wall and smiled victoriously, eyes squeezed shut.

Tara grabbed at her collar. “D-did you just—?”

Willow’s eyes fluttered open and Tara scooched away when she saw they were black.

“Willow?”

“We have the u-upper hand now,” Willow said. “We’re gonna get out of here.”

“M-maybe you should lay down first,” said Tara.

“Why?”

“You just had dinner and a show with 12000 volts.”

Willow laughed. “I feel amazing!”

“We should at least come up with a plan,” Tara said. “K-keep our edge for as long as we can.”

“Yeah, okay,” Willow said.

But they heard the guards coming up through the hall.

“Again already?” Willow muttered.

“Alright, Red,” one of the soldiers called. “Eggheads want an hour alone with you.”

And before anyone knew what happened (even Willow), the entire glass wall shattered over them. 

Tara turned to Willow, who was grinning goofily, eyes black. “Willow, p-plan?”

“Run!” Willow laughed. She took Tara’s arm with more strength than she should have had and dragged her through the glass and down the hall.

“Willow, this isn’t what I meant by plan!”

Xander watched as soldiers bolted past him, alarms blaring. He wondered what the hubbub was about. But as henchmen poured out of the locker room, Xander took the opportunity to slip in behind them.

He fished in his pocket and pulled out the key he’d swiped from that office when he’d first got the job. He had no idea which locker it belonged to, though.

He sighed and went to test it on the first one.

"Can't a vampire get some sleep around here?" Spike grumbled over the blaring alarms.

"What's going on?" said Buffy. "You think someone escaped?"

"Code 8-16!" she heard a guard call. Some static came through his radio and he responded, "Copy that. Engage anti-magic protocols."

Buffy's eyes widened. "No no no, please not Willow..."

"Incapacitate 14 by any means necessary," Buffy heard come through another radio as soldiers continued to jog past. "The other one must be kept alive. Hostile 24."

Buffy winced. "Dammit, Willow."

The floor turned to ice and Willow skated down the hall, Tara in tow, still dragged along in Willow's death-grip, the guards that now chased them falling over themselves. 

“How did you do that?” Tara said.

“I don’t know!” Willow giggled. Here eyes were still black and dark streaks seemed to have appeared in her hair. Tara glanced down at their joined hands and she could swear that Willow's veins looked black. Tasers and bullets flew at them but Willow just cast a hand behind them and Tara heard sickening screams.

“Willow, stop,” Tara said.

“Look!” cried Willow. “Th-there’s an emergency exit. We’re almost there!”

They passed through a pair of double-doors and Tara used her magic to temporarily seal them off, buying them some time.

“Willow, stop it!” Tara cried, ripping her hand from Willow’s grasp. “What is wrong with you?”

Some soldiers met them from the other end of the hall and Willow twitched and flung them away, laughing as she did so.

“Willow!” Tara called.

And like instinct Willow sent a shockwave at her, too.

Tara screamed and fell to her knees.

Willow blinked, eyes turning green again. “Tara?” Willow’s knees wobbled and blood started to leak from her nose. “T-Tara? I…”

The door that Tara had sealed burst open and soldiers approached them.

Tara got to her feet—the exit was so close. But now Willow was on her knees, and one look at her and Tara knew there was no way she could stand, let alone run.

The soldiers surrounded Willow first. In fact, they were exclusively focused on Willow. Tara glanced at the exit and it occurred to her that she might be able to flee. But, she knew as she hesitated just long enough for a soldier to grab her, she wouldn’t leave Willow.

“Tara…?” Willow mumbled as guards restrained her despite her lack of resistance. “Something’s really wrong with me…”