We will Remember Them ... Chp5

[lilachigh.livejournal.com]

Title: We will remember them...
Author: lilachigh
Rating: NC17 eventually
Disclaimer: All characters belong to ME
This story was written for Writer Con 08 banner challenge. This banner is by kazzy_cee
Summary: In 1943 Spike and Dru have been captured by the British Army. To save Dru's life, Spike agrees to fly to France to save Joy, the current Slayer who has been captured by the Germans. In 2001, Buffy is persuaded by Quentin Travers to time travel to France to save a Slayer and kill a vampire. What she doesn't know is that the charm to get her home will not work. And when she arrives in France, she realises that the vampire she has been sent to kill is Spike - a William the Bloody, unchipped, dangerous and deeply in love with his Dark Princess. Reluctant allies, what they find in Joy's prison comes as a big surprise.





We Will Remember Them….

By Lilachigh

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.
Laurence Binyon


Chapter Five

Somewhere in France: 1943


The sound of a baby crying echoed through the underground cells of the vast French chateau, unexpected, alarming and disturbing. Buffy flinched – this had to be so bad! - and banged on the prison door with clenched fists. “Joy! Are you in there? Can you hear me?”

“The whole sodding castle can hear you!” Spike said, sounding disgusted. He stretched an arm over her shoulder and waved a large, ornate key in front of her nose. “You should learn to use your eyes and well as your pretty little pink mouth, Slayer. The key was on a hook under the guard’s desk. Just where you’d expect it to be.”

Buffy glared, snatched it from him and turned it in the lock. “Stay here and keep watch,” she snapped.

“Whatever you say! Two Slayers in one small room is a bit rich even for my blood. And why is a kid in there? No one mentioned a baby to me.”

Buffy didn’t reply: she was pushing open the heavy door,
wrinkling her nose and trying not to retch at the fetid smell that rose up from the floor and hung like a foul mist inside the dark, damp cell. The baby’s cries had faded into whimpers and Buffy found she was whispering, scared of alarming it. “Joy? Slayer?”

“Who are you?”

The very English voice reminded Buffy instantly of Giles. She pushed the door wider and the light from the passage threw a pale yellow glow onto the girl lying on a narrow metal bed on the far side of the cell.

She struggled up onto one elbow, the other arm protecting the baby that lay against her breast. Long dark hair spilled in dirty tangles across her shoulders and a huge bruise disfigured one cheek. But Buffy could see that under the thin blanket, her feet were flat on the bed, ready to spring, every inch of her taut and prepared to fight.
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