Banner by Me
Banner by Me
Chapter 3
The van rolled into Sunnydale in the early hours of the morning and drove straight to the mansion on Crawford Street. Everyone piled out, exhausted, and a little bit nervous, and made their way inside.
“God! What a pigsty!” Cordelia complained. Angel had given her a flashlight and she was shining it around the room.
Angel just shrugged. “I’ve been gone for awhile.”
“I guess so.” Cordelia headed towards the bedrooms, brandishing her flashlight like a weapon. “Please tell me you at least have clean sheets.”
“I should probably cover the van,” Oz said. “Do you have a tarp, or maybe a blanket?”
“How about a concealing spell?” Wesley offered. “For the van… and perhaps the mansion as well.”
“Good idea, Wes.”
Wesley preened at Angel’s praise, adding, “It’s a rather simple spell. I’ll write down the items we’ll need and Doyle can pick everything up from the magic shop later this morning. I think it would be best if we keep a low profile, at least until we assess the situation.”
There were nods all around and by some unspoken agreement they moved to the living room; Angel lit a few candles, providing just enough light for everyone to see and the flashlights were turned off.
Cordelia was still grumbling about how dirty the place seemed to be, an occasional “Oh my god!” or “Really, Angel!” drifting out from the back bedrooms.
“Can’t wait ‘til she finds the—”
“ANGEL!” Cordelia screeched.
“Chest,” Spike finished, laughing.
~*~*~*~*~
Doyle was in the magic shop not long after it had opened, gathering the necessary items to perform the masking spell, when he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. A moment later, a blonde whirlwind came through the door dragging a red-headed female who was doing her best to break free. Buffy and Willow, obviously. He’d been briefed by both Angel and Oz on the likelihood of their showing up as the shop was their unofficial base of operations when researching the latest crisis to visit the hellmouth.
“Giles!” Buffy bellowed, uncaring of the few patrons in the store.
Doyle’s eyes remained glued to the shelves in front of him while he blatantly eavesdropped on their conversation.
The watcher was obviously put out about the Slayer’s less than subtle yelling of his name when he replied, “Yes, Buffy, what is it?”
“Xander’s missing!”
“What? I mean,” his voice lowered to a whisper, and Doyle was forced to move closer to hear.
“Willow and me, we went by his job. The guy there, the foreman—”
“He was very rude,” Willow interjected.
“Yes, he was,” Buffy agreed. “I mean, you’d think he would have called someone when Xander didn’t show up. But no! He just fired him. Said he was a ‘no show’.”
“Xander would never do that. I mean, not really. Sometimes when he was up late helping us, he’d be late. But he’d never not call.”
“Have you tried his home?” Giles asked.
Willow nodded. “We went there first before coming here.”
“His parents were…” Buffy looked at Willow. “Unhelpful.” Which was an understatement.
Mr. Harris had been drunk and his wife wasn’t too far behind, and it had barely been ten in the morning. Neither had noticed Xander’s absence. They’d been allowed to go down into the basement to see for themselves, and Buffy had been shocked at the condition of the place. It was obvious Xander hadn’t been there for some time. The garbage stank of leftover food; clothes had been piled in a corner, obviously waiting for wash day. Nothing had seemed to be missing, so it wasn’t as if Xander had packed up and moved away.
He’d just… disappeared.
“We have to find him, Giles,” Buffy said.
The Slayer lowered her voice and spoke in a whisper, and Doyle had a hard time hearing what she said.
“…think it might have something to do with those military goons I came across?”
“At this point, I’m not ruling anything out. I’ll see what I can find out while you girls go to class. Meet me back here when you’re through for the day.”
Both Willow and Buffy seemed ready to object, but at a look from Giles, reluctantly nodded and left the shop.
Doyle finished gathering what he needed and hurried to the counter to pay for his purchases. He needed to relay what he’d overheard to the others.
~*~*~*~*~
It was the cold that woke Xander out of his drug-induced sleep. He opened his eyes and stifled a sob at seeing familiar white walls and a video console installed in a corner.
The face was different this time. Male. But no less scary.
“Hostile 23, welcome back. I’m Dr. Angleman.”
Xander didn’t care what the man’s name was and he said as much, but more colorfully. Spike would have been proud.
His frown was the same as The Bitch’s. The soldier’s name he shouted for was as well. Xander almost welcomed the beating because it sent him back to blessed unconsciousness, where nothing could hurt him, or at least he couldn’t feel it hurting him. Before he passed out from the pain, he catalogued the faces of every man in the room; if he ever got free, he was going to kill each and every one of them.
~*~*~*~*~
The next time Xander woke, he was strapped down to a table with a gag in his mouth and two soldiers were standing sentry just a few feet away. A lab technician approached and checked his vitals then took several vials of blood from his arm. He moved off and spoke into a microphone.
“He’s ready for you, Doctor.”
“Very well. I’ll be right there.”
Xander’s eyes grew wide and he began struggling in earnest when he saw the doctor approach the table with a tray of what looked suspiciously like knives.
“Give him another dose of the sedative,” Angleman said. “I don’t want him moving while I work.”
Even with the sedative, Xander still screamed when the scalpel took a layer of flesh from his inner arm. Five more shots and he barely twitched in reaction as the knife cut into him over and over. His voice had gone hoarse from yelling, cursing the doctor, then just begging for him to stop. The drug he’d been given had limited his movements; it had done nothing for the pain. He felt each and every cut to his body.
Then, when he thought he could suffer no more, the doctor performed a complete physical exam. He’d never felt so degraded in his life and he had to wonder at these men, these humans, that would treat another human being so callously.
Exhausted, the fight completely gone out of him for the moment, Xander could do nothing but lay there as the doctor ran impersonal hands over every part of his body, inside and out, cataloguing his findings in a voice recorder for later review.
His body oozing blood from the numerous cuts all over him and the numerous injections he’d received from the overzealous lab technician had left Xander weak and on the verge of passing out. Before he slipped back into blessed unconsciousness, he pinned the doctor with a look, eyes blazing with fury.
“You better pray I don’t get free.” His eyes closed then and everything went black.
Angleman stood and removed his gloves. Gathering his specimens he turned and headed towards the door.
“Get him cleaned up and shaved, then put him back in his cell.”
“Yes, sir!”
The first soldier looked at the second and smiled.
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