After that single initial defiance -- Spike was quite cooperative with Walsh’s questions.

Her threats had been emphatically backed up with the horrific torment of the holy water that had burned his middle finger black, and he knew that he would rather surrender a bit of his pride and go along with her little interrogation, than to experience that sort of agony again. She did as she had said she would, and kept her questions mostly to yes’s and no’s, and he did his best to answer them.

Not that it did him much good.

Most of his answers were so “fascinating” to her that she insisted on seeing firsthand if he was telling the truth or not, anyway. There was no typical weapon against vampires that she did not try on his bound, vulnerable body. Of course, she *did* avoid the use of a stake to the heart.

But at a certain point, that ceased to feel like a mercy to Spike.

A simple staking would have been far easier than this agonizing, methodical torment.

“Any idea of the effect a wooden stake might have on other vital organs?” Walsh asked with a smirk, carelessly twirling the deadly piece of wood in her hand, giving him a skeptical look.

Spike struggled against the gag in his mouth to protest, wanting to tell her that it was pretty much the same as the effect would be on a human, only slightly less deadly -- though no less painful; but he was helpless to respond, helpless to stop her, as she poised the stake over his lower abdomen, pressing just slightly shy of hard enough to break the skin.

“Oh, so sorry,” she remarked, shaking her head. “I forgot. Yes or no questions only. I suppose I’ll just have to see for myself, then, won‘t I?”

Blinding agony gripped Spike’s body in the next moment, his back arching as the stake plunged through his flesh to pierce several not-so-vital organs at once, and then was ripped carelessly back out, leaving dozens of tiny splinters in its path.

“Now,” Walsh went on calmly. “Is this injury going to kill you, vampire?”

Weakly, Spike shook his head, knowing that the penalty for refusing to answer would be worse than the torture she was inflicting now -- though that was hard to imagine at the moment.

“Fascinating,” the scientist-slash-soldier repeated, shaking her head in amazement -- and Spike thought with bitter resentment that he was swiftly tiring of hearing that word. “I could probably do the same thing to all of your vital organs, right? Except the heart? Is that accurate?”

Spike nodded, hoping that the answer would keep her from trying to find out for herself.

“Incredible. But,” Walsh went on, her eyes pensively looking up and down the length of his taut, trembling body, “I would assume that it’s still quite painful, correct?”

Spike nodded again, closing his eyes and swallowing hard, bracing himself for the next strike. He had seen the sadistic flash of pleasure in her eyes, and knew that it was coming.

When it came, he felt the intense pain pushing him into the foggy darkness of unconsciousness, aided by the rapid blood loss from the first non-fatal staking. He welcomed the oblivion it would bring, knowing that it would at least grant him a brief reprieve from the torment they were putting him through. After all, he had a feeling that these people would not have such an interest in their little experiments if he was not conscious to experience them.

Just before his mind faded into the sweet mercy of oblivion, a loud, screeching metallic sound, like steel being crushed, was heard -- followed by an intimately familiar voice dancing on the edges of his consciousness, echoing and distant through the haze of darkness and pain surrounding him.

“There he is -- there’s my sweet William…”

*Just your bloody imagination, mate -- that’s all -- don’t let it fool you into thinking…*

“But you’ve made him all broken and bleeding…and I make him bleed so much more prettily…”

It wasn’t a dream, Spike realized with an overwhelming sense of relief, remembering the desperate call he had sent out to her, until his pain and weakness had eventually silenced it.

She was really here -- here to take him home.

“I think I’m very cross with you all -- breaking my best dolly. Mummy shall have to punish you…” Drusilla’s playfully pouting voice informed them all, and Spike relished the sound of the low, menacing growl in her throat, accompanying the words.

“Stay calm.” Walsh’s voice was terse, sharp with warning, and even without being able to turn his head to view the scene, Spike knew that all the attention in the room had shifted from him to the dark vampiress now standing in the doorway. “She’s clearly very strong -- and very dangerous. Exercise xtreme caution, everyone. Draw your weapons.”

Spike heard the sound of several guns being drawn at once, and cringed inwardly at the thought of several of the wood-tipped bullets that had been described to him, now aimed at his Dark Princess, who was completely unaware of the danger that they posed to her.

And he was unable to warn her.

*Come on, Baby,* he thought desperately. *Make me proud, love…you can take them…*

“Children’s toys,” Dru’s lilting voice said in a tone of mocking dismissal. “But I don’t want to play. Mummy’s angry now. Can’t abide the little tin soldiers playing with her little William. ‘E’s mine to play with alone, ‘e is…mine and Daddy’s. No one else’s…and now I’ll have to punish you…”

Spike heard the quiet, crunching shift of Drusilla’s delicately beautiful features into her frightening vampiric visage, and smiled as best he could at the sounds of the alarmed gasps of his tormentors.

“Steady,” Walsh snapped at her followers -- though Spike knew that the word was useless at this point.

He got the distinct impression that most of these gits had never faced a real, free vampire, her true nature and power unrestrained -- and he could smell the terror rolling off of them in waves.

“Aim…fire!” Walsh commanded sharply -- and from the sounds of things, all hell broke loose.

Several rounds fired off, not quite exactly at the same time, and Spike heard a sound that was a cross between a hiss of pain and a snarl of rage that told him Dru had been hit.

The agonized scream that followed those sounds told him that the hit had not been fatal -- at least, not for Dru.

And that scream was only the first herald of the brutal bloodbath that followed. Running footsteps disappearing into the distance told Spike that several of the scientists had escaped, but by no means all of them. One by one, Spike heard the few remaining scientists who remained to try to kill Dru, meet their own violent, bloody deaths -- their throats, their hearts, torn out by her deadly fangs and lethal claws.

The shaking hands of the hapless humans, and Dru’s own preternatural speed and agility, had prevented most of the wooden bullets from hitting her, though from the smell of her blood that made its way to his nostrils, a few had at least connected; but she did not seem to be too badly injured. If she had been, Spike knew that he would have felt it.

Finally, as the last screams died away, Spike could hear the frantic, clicking sound of an empty rifle being fired, and then thrown away in frustration. Rushing footsteps headed toward the door -- but Dru headed the fleeing human off, blocking the exit.

“Bad dolly,” she said in a wickedly playful voice, and Spike heard the thud of the unfortunate human being thrown violently against the wall, and groaning in pain as she slumped to the ground -- and a satisfied smile came over his face at the sound. “Musn’t leave the party just yet…you haven’t been excused…”

The one remaining human in the room was Maggie Walsh.

And a moment later, Spike was gazing into the soft, concerned eyes of his Dark Princess, hovering over him and looking down at him with mingled amazement and despair.

“Oh, my Spike,” she murmured, as her hands deftly unfastened the bonds at his wrists. “They’ve taken you from me…”

As she moved to the foot of the table to free his legs as well, Spike reached up and tore the vile gagging device from his head, swallowing a couple of times to lubricate his dry, sore throat.

“Almost, love,” he reassured her, catching her arm and pulling her toward him for a moment, wincing at the pain caused by the slight movement of his abused body. “Not quite -- you stopped them…”

“Too late,” Dru shook her head mournfully, meeting his eyes with a strange sadness in her own. “But once we’re home again -- Daddy says all will be well…”

Spike frowned, his thoughts still somewhat muddled by the pain and exhaustion of the past day, trying to make sense of her words. And then, with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, he remembered the words Dru had spoken in the church, just before he had lost consciousness.

*Daddy’s coming home…*

*No -- not…not him…*

“Dru,” he began slowly, cautiously, attempting to sit up, and then abandoning the attempt when his torn, bleeding lower body set up a screaming protest to the motion.

But Dru was already distracted again, her dark eyes narrowed and focused on the injured human woman, struggling unsuccessfully to rise to her feet again, with a shattered hip.

“Not nice to play with others’ things,” Dru informed her in a dark voice of reproach, swaying gracefully toward her -- and the woman froze, staring up at her through wide, fearful eyes. “You take them without asking -- and return them broken and useless -- if you return them at all…naughty girls who do such things must be punished, you know…”

“D-don’t -- don’t touch me,” Walsh rasped out, the words barely coming for her fear, as she struggled again to stand, letting out a cry of pain as her body slumped to the floor again.

Spike laughed softly, a low, dark sound behind the two women, as he turned a vindictive smile on the woman huddled on the floor. What he was sure that Drusilla was about to do was a welcome to distraction to the unsettling thoughts of Angelus’ possible return. “Now you’re bloody well in for it, love,” he informed the woman softly. “You’ll wish you’d never soddin’ touched me.”

“Look at me,” Dru commanded the woman sharply, who was now staring wide-eyed at her former victim, still lying on the table, and Maggie Walsh turned her head sharply to look at Dru, visibly fighting back panic.

Spike recognized the look in Dru’s eyes, as in a soft, mysterious, hypnotic tone, she ordered, “Be…in me…be…in me…”

Walsh’s tense stance gradually relaxed, her attention focused completely on the fathomless eyes of the deadly vampiress before her.

“Oughta let her stay aware of it,” Spike muttered, rolling his eyes in disgust. “Oughta let the bitch feel what happens to her, love…”

But Dru was still ignoring him, her own dark eyes widening with wonder as she studied the face of the woman crouched on the floor in front of her, shaking her head slightly in disbelief.

“Oh, no, my Spike,” she murmured pensively. “Can’t kill this one…can’t hardly kill her…”

“Why the bloody hell not?” Spike snapped in annoyance, looking at her in exasperation.

“This one will try to blot out the sun…and the other stars won’t tell me yet whether she’ll succeed…but if she blots out the sun…then you are not yet lost to me…” Dru mused, a slow, crafty smile spreading across her face.

“I’m *not* lost to you, pet!” Spike insisted. “You stopped them! I’m right here!”

“Can’t kill her,” Dru repeated firmly, still gazing into the blank eyes of the human woman. “Not yet. But is she tries again to hurt my Spike -- we’ll rip her throat out, and dance in her blood…won‘t we, my love?”

Spike sighed in defeat, aware that he was not going to convince Dru to do in the mad scientist, not right now, anyway. “Fine, love,” he said flatly, his voice sounding weaker now as the pain began to catch up with him again. “Whatever you like…let’s just get the bloody hell out of here, can we, pet?”

Dru stood up straight, staring at the woman for another long moment, before turning to face her childe with sympathy in her dark eyes. “My poor little Spike -- Mummy needs to take you home and take care of you…Daddy will be so pleased to see you…”

Spike winced as she lifted him none-too-carefully into her arms, both at the pain of his jarred injuries, and also at the reminder of the other vampire who, somehow, awaited them at home.

If Angelus was really back, Spike was fairly certain that Dru would not be “taking care of him” as she had just promised. The barmy bint could scarcely take care of a sodding bird, let alone an injured vampire -- and even less, when her beloved “Daddy” was around to distract her.

And Spike was quite certain that Angelus would *not* be overly pleased to see him.

“Somehow, I’m not so very sure of that, love,” he muttered with a weary sigh of apprehensive resignation.

“Oh, yes, he will,” Dru insisted happily, her eyes taking on a dreamy quality. “We’ll be a family again, my William -- you’ll see. Just wait and see…”