Cause and Effect

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Chapter Three
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The lid of the boot popped open and Spike was instantly blinded by the sudden light flooding in. He flinched backward, slamming his eyes shut; the bright light instinctively reminding him of the sun. When the half-expected pain of bursting into flame never came, Spike tentatively opened his eyes. After the total darkness he'd spent the last couple of hours in, the light cast by the . . . porch light seemed blinding -- bright as day.

Even as his sight began to clear, hands were already grabbing him, pulling him out. He fought against them. Useless though his mind told him it was, he couldn't just *let* them manhandle him. Managing to wrench himself out of one set of hands, he found himself half-way dropped back into the boot. The hands on his other arm remained firm, however, gripping him painfully.

**Well, *that* did a bloody lot of good!** he thought morosely, the silence of the two men trying to pull him out a touch unnerving.

The back-hand across his cheekbone, snapping his head to the side and sending explosive pain up into his eye, didn't help his mood either. He clenched his teeth together, certain it was only the beginning, but was surprised that no other blows came. The two men merely hauled him out. They tried to stand him on his feet, but his legs buckled almost immediately. He'd stood! Spike nearly howled with glee, even as they dragged him toward the old farm house. It hadn't been for very long, but he'd stood. That meant that whatever they'd done to him, it was healing normally. It wasn't like before. That alone was nearly enough to make him weep with joy.

Not even trying to get his feet under him, Spike bided his time. Until he could do more than drag himself, escape was just a dream. It galled him to admit to being virtually helpless, but that's what he was. The chip wouldn't let him fight back effectively. It hampered him far more than his soul did. He could get in one good blow before it activated, and that was only if he didn't think about it too hard before hand. Now, he couldn't even run. The rage behind his despair began to grow again, the demon within pacing mentally as Spike could not do physically.

Perversely enjoying the slight pain caused by being dragged -- because that meant he could feel -- Spike resisted closing off his mind to everything external. As much as he might want to do so, he had to pay attention. The tiniest detail could mean the difference between escape and recapture when the time came.

There wasn't much around the house itself, he noticed. They'd cleared away any bushes or plants that might have been next to it originally. They'd gone so far as to clear a three foot swath out of the grass -- at least next to the porch and as far on either side of it as he could see, caught as he was between the two men. Loose dirt and mud surrounded the house like an old fashioned moat around a castle.

Swallowing convulsively, Spike realized that wasn't a good sign -- at least for him. It spoke of advanced planning -- well-organized, advanced planning. He shuddered as he realized it reminded him of his capture by the initiative. Of course, he'd escaped from *there*. Unfortunately, he didn't think these guys were going to underestimate him as badly as the government poofs had. He just wondered if he'd been the object of their search -- as Leader had intimated -- or whether any vampire would have done. Or had they been looking for a vampire at all?

One thought about the thoroughly light proof boot convinced him. They'd been hunting vamps. Now he just had to figure out if it was him specifically they'd really wanted -- or whether it had been simple happenstance.

The door opened as they approached, though no one was immediately visible to Spike. He reared back instinctively when the man who'd called him 'a pretty boy' stepped out, holding a heavy length of cloth. The men holding him tightened their grip, but that didn't stop him from growling low in his chest.

Pretty Boy laughed. "What's wrong?" he asked, sounding overly solicitous. "Aren't you enjoying our hospitality?"

Spike remained silent, his eyes narrowing in tightly held anger.

"Guess not," Pretty Boy replied cheerfully, while the two that held Spike chuckled. "Well," he shrugged, "maybe he'll enjoy the entertainment better."

Spike stiffened as Pretty Boy reached out with the cloth, covering Spike's nose and eyes with it. It took every ounce of willpower he had to appear docile, despite all the insurmountable odds against a struggle being successful. It simply wasn't in his nature to meekly accept this . . . indignity.

"A little late for the blindfold," Spike drawled, unable to hold it in any longer, "don't you think? I've already seen where we are." The snickering sounds from the three men he could no longer see disturbed him. That *wasn't* the response he'd been expecting.

"Oh, that's not what the blindfold is for," Pretty Boy purred softly, grabbing hold of Spike's chin and yanking his head upward to a painful angle. "I've been told that depriving someone of one of their senses heightens all the others. I'll have to remember to ask you later if that's true."

**Wanker!**

They dragged him over the threshold heedless of his feet thudding over the door jamb. Expecting to be dropped soon after, Spike was surprised when they continued dragging him. He tensed as he heard the door slam shut behind him, the sound ominous and so . . . final.

He tried to see either over the top, or underneath the thick, blanketing blindfold, but Pretty Boy had applied it too well. He couldn't see a bloody thing. Swallowing convulsively, Spike could not help but fear what lay ahead. He had no fight, no bite, no legs, and *now* no sight. He really, really didn't want to know what else these wankers had planned. A shudder traveled the length of his body as he realized he was being systematically destroyed.

Yeah, he knew his eyes were only covered, simply removing the blindfold would restore his sight, but at the moment, that really didn't help much. A vivid imagination, and long experience giving him image after image of what else they could do to disable him. It wasn't a pleasant experience.

He tried to rear back when he heard and felt a door suddenly open in front of him. It sent a cold, forbidding draft over the bare portion of his face. The grips on his arms tightened and he found himself being hauled down a flight of stairs. Each drop of his feet down another step set a tiny jolt of pain through his lower back. **Making the injury worse, no doubt,** Spike thought despondently.

Sighing in relief as they reached the end of the stairs, Spike groaned as he was unceremoniously dropped to the floor. He immediately lifted himself up onto his elbows. That blindfold was coming off! It was worse than the bloody gag. A firm, sharp shove square between his shoulder blades forced him back to the ground -- a knee, if he was any judge -- the increasing weight holding him there, painfully reawakening the still tender wound in his chest.

Gritting his teeth against making any sound, Spike took the only option left to him. He listened. Except for the sounds of life coming from the three humans in the room with him, and the increasingly uncomfortable knee in his back, Spike could have been alone. No one spoke or moved, his guards' heart beats and breathing growing loud in the unnatural silence. Spike was tempted to say something, anything, just to see if he could provoke some kind of reaction.

Just as he drew breath to speak, however, the back hem of his shirt was yanked up and he immediately tensed. **What are they going to do now?** A seemingly long moment passed, then Spike felt a tiny tug, immediately followed by a sudden sharp twinge of pain -- nothing that would have normally made him even wince, but coming now, made him gasp in surprise. **What the hell?** His left leg began to ache -- like he'd just stood after having it in one position for far too long.

Before he could figure it out, a second tug followed by the same twinge of pain came, causing his right leg to echo his left. Immediately after, the knee lifted from his back and Spike warily listened to the man's movements, ignoring the growing pain in his legs. **At least I can feel them!** He std ind in front of Spike, standing there in ominous silence.

Before Spike could manage a retort, however, instant, unimaginable pain shot through both his legs. They felt as if they were on fire. One . . . Two . . . Three . . . He screamed. Spike choked off the sound as quickly as he could, the shocking pain easing slightly within just a few seconds.

The sound of joints popping directly in front of him brought Spike's attention snapping away from the slowly fading fire in his legs. A whisper of movement was followed by hands at the back of his head, removing the blindfold, and Spike quickly shut his eyes, not knowing how bright the room would be. An amused chuckle brought his head up and his eyes open, however. Immediately thankful that the room wasn't all that bright, he focused on the man squatting in front of him. He held two long, nearly hair-thin, needles between the two of them. Spike frowned.

"These were placed in your spine, Vampire," the human said, grinning. "They shut off the nerves controlling the blood flow to your legs."

Spike's eyes widened. That certainly explained both the loss of use *and* the pain that hit him when the pins were removed.

"Tiny little things, aren't they, to cause so much damage and pain." The human shrugged, handing the pins to one of the others. "Of course, anyone -- other than someone with the healing powers of a vampire or other demon -- wouldn't have gotten to the *pain* part. They wouldn't have recovered from the damage to the nerves."

"What do you want?" Spike asked against his better judgement. He wasn't altogether certain he wanted to know.

"When the boys brought you in, my entire day brightened, Vampire," the human said softly, reaching out to lightly caress Spike's cheek.

Spike purposely flinched away, not wanting anything to do with this man's touch. "Oh?" Spike asked dryly, frowning at the avoidance of his question. "And why's that?"

"That's a long story, Vampire -- one that I will tell you . . . eventually. For now," he said rising slowly to his feet, "I imagine that you're hungry."

Shock snapped Spike's head up further to stare at the now standing man. He was going to get fed during his imprisonment? That was certainly unexpected.

The human chuckled. "Of course I'm going to see that you're fed, Vampire. I wouldn't want you to wear out too quickly, now would I?"

"Who are you?" Spike asked, an involuntary shudder running through him.

"Dr. Weisenburg," he replied, his eyes narrowing, his nearly perpetual grin melting into a frown. "A man you will learn to fear, Vampire."

"Not bloody likely," Spike retorted, even as a second shudder traveled the length of his body. Given long enough, he knew damn well that anyone could be made to live in constant fear -- even him -- of course he was pretty much used to that now. The big question now running through his mind was -- would he be here long enough?

"We shall see," the doctor replied speculatively. "We shall see." Turning away from him, the doctor began giving crisp, rapid-fire orders to Pretty Boy and the other.

". . . .and as soon as you've got him settled, see to his 'dinner'."

Spike frowned at the odd emphasis on 'dinner' and began wondering just what *delightful* repast he'd have to gag his way through. Surely it wouldn't be something other than blood. Only blood would do him any good.

Pretty Boy and Other yanked him roughly off the floor, not bothering to give him time to try and get his feet under him before they dragged him forward. Cursing silently, it took him three tries to get his weakened legs to function enough that his entire weight wasn't on his arms, pulling painfully at his chest wound. It was never going to heal if they kept re-injuring the blasted thing!

Other pressed a series of buttons on what appeared to be an electronic lock and the entire stone wall in front of him slid to the side, revealing a much larger room than the one they were in now. Manacles of varying sizes lined the wall he could see -- all of which looked plenty strong enough to hold a Fyarl demon, let alone a weakened vampire.

**Okay, that really answers the question as to whether or not they were out after a vamp, doesn't it, Spike, old boy?**

They moved him several steps into the room while Spike debated the wisdom of trying to escape now. Something told him once he was clapped in irons he was never leaving this place. Cautiously looking around to assess his chances, Spike froze, once again swallowing convulsively. This room made the inquisition look like it had been run by amateurs. Some of the devices he recognized -- a table that looked to be the modern equivalent to the rack, a brazier, complete with heating element, various knives, blades and other such cutting tools. Those bothered him, of course, but what bothered him even more were the devices he *didn't* know what were for.

Pretty Boy and Other jerked him sharply forward, toward the manacles. He resisted. Surprisingly, they let him go. Unfortunately, without the dubious support of his captors, Spike's legs gave out from under him, and he tumbled ignominiously to the floor. Rolling the instant he hit, Spike scrambled awkwardly to his feet only to find himself immediately pinned between the two humans again.

It wouldn't have mattered much either way, what he'd seen on the opposing wall had rendered the stolen blood in his body icy, leaving him momentarily still in shock.

**Bugger it all to hell in a sodding hand basket!** No bloody way was he staying here! Jerking both arms free of the humans' grasps he stumbled forward, fear and determination giving him the strength he'd lacked only moments before. Catching himself against the frame of the opening between rooms, Spike forced himself forward, making a bee foe for the stairs he knew led to freedom.

A hand shot out from the side, grabbing his arm. An instant, and sharp prick on his arm later, Spike felt the world around him begin to fade away. "Bloody hell!" He turned to face his attacker, and had to blink twice when he actually saw someone standing there -- Leader. What in hell was wrong with him? He hadn't smelled the third human, nor had he heard the man's heart beat. As he dropped to his knees, Spike knew that if he continued to make mistakes like that, he wasn't going to get out of the hellhole he found himself in.

As darkness closed in around him, narrowing his vision to mere pinpricks of light, he heard the other two men approach.

"It worked," Pretty Boy said.

"Yeah," Leader replied, satisfaction lacing his tone. "He didn't even know I was there."

"The doctor will be happy about that," Other replied softly.

"He won't be if we don't get this one locked up, though," Leader snorted as Spike's awareness completely faded out.


TBC
Kiristeen
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Kiristeen@kiristeen.com