The Agency, part four - Tara/Lindsey/Spike
Hey, Dess never forgets! She just, uh, postpones... more of remember_nomore's seekrit agent story.
The Agency, part four
“Don’t you worry about a thing, luv,” Spike says. “Gotten out of worse scrapes, haven’t we?”
Tara nods, a slow, ponderous move. “We’ll f-figure something out.” And they will, only she’s so tired, burned out from all the spellcasting against the wizards, and there are bruises where the acolytes managed to hit her. The air is sweet here in their cell.
“Fucked up their ritual, didn’t we?” Spike’s grip on her hand might hurt under other circumstances, but everything feels cottony now. “Aced the mission.”
Tara’s eyelids feel increasingly heavy, but she turns to look at Spike anyway. “Don’t worry,” she tells him. “I’m sure the gas will only knock me out temp-”
The last thing she sees is his pale, worried face.
::
When she wakes up, Spike is gone, and she’s strapped to a chair in a bare, white room. She blinks at the sharp lights.
“Welcome!” a voice says cheerily from somewhere to her left. “So glad to have you back with us. You wouldn’t want to miss all the fun.” A slender man strolls into view, a pleased little smile on his sharp-featured face. He’s wearing a burgundy shirt and black slacks, and carrying a wickedly sharp-looking dagger. “You know, I don’t believe we’ve met,” he says. “Allow me to introduce myself. Ethan Rayne, at your service.”
Tara pales.
“Now, I don’t know how familiar you are with Janus’s rituals. I’m a bit of a polytheist, myself, but I always go back to Janus in the end. There’s nothing like a bit of chaos to stir the blood.”
Tara cases the area discreetly while Rayne talks. There is only one door she can see, which is firmly shut. She tests her bonds. They won’t yield to her experimental tugs, so she starts working up an unbinding spell in her mind. Perhaps if she can distract him-
“Speaking of blood,” he continues, “we’ll be needing some for the ritual, of course. It’s a special treat, my dear, I think you’ll be quite pleased. Took quite some doing to work it all out.”
“W-w-” Tara swallows. “Why are you doing this?”
He looks surprised. “Besides the whole chaos aspect?” His thin lips press into a tight line. “I’d say I have some anger issues to work through. I’m certain this will be terribly therapeutic.” He tests the dagger’s blade on his thumb and smiles.
Tara fights down a wave of panic as the solitary door opens. If Ethan’s accompanied, it’s likely to be--
“Ethan, darling,” Darla strolls in. “Do stop scaring the children. Don’t mind him,” she tells Tara confidingly. “He just likes to be dramatic. Wizards, you know.” She pats Ethan’s shoulder.
Ethan smiles. “I can’t imagine what the agency was thinking, pairing the two of us and setting poor Lee Mercer as our handler. Doom doesn’t begin to describe it.”
“Th-they said you’d gone rogue. They k-killed Mercer for his failure to control you two. But the control chips, how did you…?”
Ethan waves the ceremonial dagger cheerfully. “As I said, it took some doing.”
Tara is bewildered. “And now you want to… to help me? And Spike? But… but why?”
“Spike is family,” Darla says firmly. “And knowing the poor boy, of course he’s developed a hopelessly sentimental attachment to whomever he’s exposed to for any regular length of time. Besides,” Darla’s smile takes on a dangerous edge. “Ethan and I aren’t pleased with the Agency. As it turns out, neither of us likes being used, do we, Ethan?”
“Too right,” Ethan doesn’t look up from stirring something foul-smelling.
“So we’ve decided to make them pay. The Agency is going down. This might have started out as an ordinary mission for you, my little witch, but as it turns out, today is your very lucky day.”
“I should warn you, my dear, the procedure is rather painful,” Ethan says. “Hence the restraints. Rather than removing the chips, we finally hit upon a ritual to incapacitate them. It was… grueling, but we thought the pain was worth it, didn’t we, darling?”
“Anything would be worth it,” Darla says grimly. She hands him a silver bowl.
“Now turn up your wrists, there’s a good girl,” Ethan says.
Tara grits her teeth. If they’d wanted to hurt her, they already would have done so, she knows. Beneath the restraints, she turns her arms enough to bare the insides of her wrists and the pale, vulnerable flesh of her inner forearms.
She closes her eyes as Ethan starts chanting.
::
She drifts in and out for what seems like hours, until movement in the room wakes her, a heavy blanket of pain draped over her eyes. Even the light is painful, making her squint. It hurts to move her head, to think. Every breath sends fire shooting along her nerve endings. Someone is lifting her, setting her on a soft surface.
Tara sleeps.
::
“Off we go then, darlings,” Ethan waves cheerfully. “It’s been a lark. Be sure to drop us a line, now, from… wherever you two crazy kids end up.”
“Wait,” Tara says. Everything hurts, but it’s… bearable now. They’ve brought a mostly-unconscious Spike to her. She cradles him in her arms, running soothing fingers through his hair. “Wait.”
Darla and Ethan turn as one.
“W-where are you going?” Tara asks, though she already knows the answer.
Darla and Ethan exchange slightly sinister smiles. “Oh,” Darla says airily. “Just out for a spin. Maybe pay the old stomping grounds a visit. Just walking out is so impersonal. We’d like to give the good folks at the Agency our regards.”
“You’re going to destroy them,” Tara says woodenly.
“Oh, yes,” Ethan says. “We’ll make them burn.”
“And bleed,” Darla adds.
“And pay.” They smile at each other once more and turn to leave.
“Please!” Tara says. “Please, just. What about the other agents? W-what about th-the handlers? What about the test subjects?”
Spike moans, stirring restlessly in Tara’s arms, and Tara can’t stop thinking about Faith, Wesley, Lilah. Lindsey. And there are others, she knows, there are so many others, pawns like themselves. No hope for them. No mercy.
Darla stops, crouches down beside Tara. “Just get out while you can, little witch. You still have your boy. We weren’t all so lucky, were we, Ethan?”
Ethan just nods, suddenly looking old, haggard. Grim.
“They owe us,” Darla says. “They owe us three times over. And tonight, they’ll pay.”
“One night,” Spike rasps.
The others stop to look at him.
“Spike!” Tara says. “Are you-”
“One night,” he says again. He clasps Tara’s hand, struggles to sit up. “Give us one night, Sire, and tomorrow night old Spike’ll make you proud. Go in beside you, wreak havoc and mayhem, just like old times. We’ll make them all burn. We can be a family again.”
“‘Sire,’” Darla murmurs. “You haven’t called me that in over a hundred years. Always did hate when Angelus and I pulled rank on you. You only had eyes for your dark princess.”
“Sire…”
“A family,” she says. “Yes.” She rises, nods once at Ethan, who nods back grudgingly as she takes his arm. “One night,” she says, and they walk out.
::
“We need a plan,” Tara says. “Don’t we?”
“Plan would be good,” Spike agrees. He’s still lying flat on his back, gathering his strength. “You let me know when you hatch one, eh?”
::
Part 5
The Agency, part four
“Don’t you worry about a thing, luv,” Spike says. “Gotten out of worse scrapes, haven’t we?”
Tara nods, a slow, ponderous move. “We’ll f-figure something out.” And they will, only she’s so tired, burned out from all the spellcasting against the wizards, and there are bruises where the acolytes managed to hit her. The air is sweet here in their cell.
“Fucked up their ritual, didn’t we?” Spike’s grip on her hand might hurt under other circumstances, but everything feels cottony now. “Aced the mission.”
Tara’s eyelids feel increasingly heavy, but she turns to look at Spike anyway. “Don’t worry,” she tells him. “I’m sure the gas will only knock me out temp-”
The last thing she sees is his pale, worried face.
::
When she wakes up, Spike is gone, and she’s strapped to a chair in a bare, white room. She blinks at the sharp lights.
“Welcome!” a voice says cheerily from somewhere to her left. “So glad to have you back with us. You wouldn’t want to miss all the fun.” A slender man strolls into view, a pleased little smile on his sharp-featured face. He’s wearing a burgundy shirt and black slacks, and carrying a wickedly sharp-looking dagger. “You know, I don’t believe we’ve met,” he says. “Allow me to introduce myself. Ethan Rayne, at your service.”
Tara pales.
“Now, I don’t know how familiar you are with Janus’s rituals. I’m a bit of a polytheist, myself, but I always go back to Janus in the end. There’s nothing like a bit of chaos to stir the blood.”
Tara cases the area discreetly while Rayne talks. There is only one door she can see, which is firmly shut. She tests her bonds. They won’t yield to her experimental tugs, so she starts working up an unbinding spell in her mind. Perhaps if she can distract him-
“Speaking of blood,” he continues, “we’ll be needing some for the ritual, of course. It’s a special treat, my dear, I think you’ll be quite pleased. Took quite some doing to work it all out.”
“W-w-” Tara swallows. “Why are you doing this?”
He looks surprised. “Besides the whole chaos aspect?” His thin lips press into a tight line. “I’d say I have some anger issues to work through. I’m certain this will be terribly therapeutic.” He tests the dagger’s blade on his thumb and smiles.
Tara fights down a wave of panic as the solitary door opens. If Ethan’s accompanied, it’s likely to be--
“Ethan, darling,” Darla strolls in. “Do stop scaring the children. Don’t mind him,” she tells Tara confidingly. “He just likes to be dramatic. Wizards, you know.” She pats Ethan’s shoulder.
Ethan smiles. “I can’t imagine what the agency was thinking, pairing the two of us and setting poor Lee Mercer as our handler. Doom doesn’t begin to describe it.”
“Th-they said you’d gone rogue. They k-killed Mercer for his failure to control you two. But the control chips, how did you…?”
Ethan waves the ceremonial dagger cheerfully. “As I said, it took some doing.”
Tara is bewildered. “And now you want to… to help me? And Spike? But… but why?”
“Spike is family,” Darla says firmly. “And knowing the poor boy, of course he’s developed a hopelessly sentimental attachment to whomever he’s exposed to for any regular length of time. Besides,” Darla’s smile takes on a dangerous edge. “Ethan and I aren’t pleased with the Agency. As it turns out, neither of us likes being used, do we, Ethan?”
“Too right,” Ethan doesn’t look up from stirring something foul-smelling.
“So we’ve decided to make them pay. The Agency is going down. This might have started out as an ordinary mission for you, my little witch, but as it turns out, today is your very lucky day.”
“I should warn you, my dear, the procedure is rather painful,” Ethan says. “Hence the restraints. Rather than removing the chips, we finally hit upon a ritual to incapacitate them. It was… grueling, but we thought the pain was worth it, didn’t we, darling?”
“Anything would be worth it,” Darla says grimly. She hands him a silver bowl.
“Now turn up your wrists, there’s a good girl,” Ethan says.
Tara grits her teeth. If they’d wanted to hurt her, they already would have done so, she knows. Beneath the restraints, she turns her arms enough to bare the insides of her wrists and the pale, vulnerable flesh of her inner forearms.
She closes her eyes as Ethan starts chanting.
::
She drifts in and out for what seems like hours, until movement in the room wakes her, a heavy blanket of pain draped over her eyes. Even the light is painful, making her squint. It hurts to move her head, to think. Every breath sends fire shooting along her nerve endings. Someone is lifting her, setting her on a soft surface.
Tara sleeps.
::
“Off we go then, darlings,” Ethan waves cheerfully. “It’s been a lark. Be sure to drop us a line, now, from… wherever you two crazy kids end up.”
“Wait,” Tara says. Everything hurts, but it’s… bearable now. They’ve brought a mostly-unconscious Spike to her. She cradles him in her arms, running soothing fingers through his hair. “Wait.”
Darla and Ethan turn as one.
“W-where are you going?” Tara asks, though she already knows the answer.
Darla and Ethan exchange slightly sinister smiles. “Oh,” Darla says airily. “Just out for a spin. Maybe pay the old stomping grounds a visit. Just walking out is so impersonal. We’d like to give the good folks at the Agency our regards.”
“You’re going to destroy them,” Tara says woodenly.
“Oh, yes,” Ethan says. “We’ll make them burn.”
“And bleed,” Darla adds.
“And pay.” They smile at each other once more and turn to leave.
“Please!” Tara says. “Please, just. What about the other agents? W-what about th-the handlers? What about the test subjects?”
Spike moans, stirring restlessly in Tara’s arms, and Tara can’t stop thinking about Faith, Wesley, Lilah. Lindsey. And there are others, she knows, there are so many others, pawns like themselves. No hope for them. No mercy.
Darla stops, crouches down beside Tara. “Just get out while you can, little witch. You still have your boy. We weren’t all so lucky, were we, Ethan?”
Ethan just nods, suddenly looking old, haggard. Grim.
“They owe us,” Darla says. “They owe us three times over. And tonight, they’ll pay.”
“One night,” Spike rasps.
The others stop to look at him.
“Spike!” Tara says. “Are you-”
“One night,” he says again. He clasps Tara’s hand, struggles to sit up. “Give us one night, Sire, and tomorrow night old Spike’ll make you proud. Go in beside you, wreak havoc and mayhem, just like old times. We’ll make them all burn. We can be a family again.”
“‘Sire,’” Darla murmurs. “You haven’t called me that in over a hundred years. Always did hate when Angelus and I pulled rank on you. You only had eyes for your dark princess.”
“Sire…”
“A family,” she says. “Yes.” She rises, nods once at Ethan, who nods back grudgingly as she takes his arm. “One night,” she says, and they walk out.
::
“We need a plan,” Tara says. “Don’t we?”
“Plan would be good,” Spike agrees. He’s still lying flat on his back, gathering his strength. “You let me know when you hatch one, eh?”
::
Part 5