Render the Extra Mile

Disclaimer: These characters are the property of Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. They do not belong to me.

…..

Chapter 25

As soon as she turned the corner, Dawn's body slammed into a large solid object. The force of her collision was so hard it caused her to lose balance momentarily, making her step back unsteadily. She held up an arm in defense which caused her to set further back on her heels as she took a few step back on the uneven stones. As a result, the flashlight she was holding in her hand was jolted from her grasp. The tin cylinder hit the stones with a bang and rattled noisily as it rolled across the stone floor, finally settling in a corner and illuminating the hallway in a ghostly reflected light.

Finally regaining her balance, Dawn swallowed her fear to peer at the barrier that had halted her progress in her rescue of Spike. Squinting her eyes, she could just make out the outline of a large man standing silently in the hallway. Even in the dim light, Dawn could tell the man standing in the hall was mammoth. It was no wonder she had crashed into him, he blocked half of the hallway. He was wearing a nondescript outfit of what looked like shapless worn pajamas. Although she was taller than Buffy, this man easily dwarfed her. In fact, the top of her head did not even reach his shoulder. Staring at his heavily muscled arms at her eye level were bigger than her torso. Her eyes traveled up from the arms to the face of the man standing there.

Holding her breath, she waited to see what the giant would do. She feared what kind of damage he might do to a girl found alone in a deserted hallway. In her head, she debated her options for a moment. One option she considered was turning around and running back to the door to the relative safety of the pump yard. She thought of the depressing situation in the kitchen and decided that she would not return to its safe, but dehumanizing environment. But as she looked at the breathing obstacle in her path, she could not help but think that being dismembered by a random maniac would hardly be a more beneficial turn of events. She took a step back, realizing there was no one around and for once there was no Scoobie nearby that she could call on for help. She realized that she was finally on her own. If she was going to prove herself, now was the time. Spike was depending on her and she was not about to let him down.

"Um…ex..excuse me." Dawn's voice wavered as she addressed the gargantuan standing silently in her path. "Uh, um. Yeah. Hello, there."

There was no response from the man who stood there, staring at the wall opposite of him. Grimacing at the thought, Dawn built up her nerve and slowly reached over to tap the man on his giant bicep. She unconsciously hopped back after giving a few quick jabs with her index finger. The man continued to stand with no visible reaction to Dawn's action. Seeing the less than spectacular results of her nervous attempt to communicate, Dawn became disgruntled.

"Hey! Hello? Is anyone home?" Dawn began to hurriedly speak the man. She once again began to tap on his arm but this time it was in groups of ten or twelve. She shifted on her feet and placed a hand on her hip as she wrinkled her face in annoyance. Despite her best effort, there was no response from the man. After staring at the man for a few minutes, Dawn shrugged and made a sound of teenage disgust. She decided that she could no longer waste any more time in the hallway. Time was getting away. She bent down to retrieve her flashlight from over by the wall. Standing straight, she looked at the man again.

"Well, I can't stand here chatting away." Dawn sighed and as she began to move around the man. "It's been surreal."

As she skirted around the man in the small remaining space between him and the wall, she looked at the man. He had roughhewn features with eyes fixed on the wall behind her. Dawn moved carefully along the wall in front of him, watching for any movement on his part. Even as she passed directly in front of him, there was no reaction from the colossus standing still as a statue just a few feet from her. Her eyes glued at the man, Dawn let out the breath she was holding as she felt that she finally passed beyond the man. She turned to start down the hallway when a large hand grabbed her throat.

Dawn squeaked out a noise as the hand enveloped her throat, squeezing the flesh of her neck between the immense palm and fingers. With a jerk, the hand pulled her up to the top of her toes. Wincing, she tottered slightly as she brought up her hands to battle against the hand. As she ineffectively struggled to free her neck, the flashlight once again fell from her grasp. The iron like grip remained immune to the efforts of her small hands as she tried to free herself from her captor. Finally, Dawn stilled. Unable to move her head due to the giant hand around her neck, her eyes looked to the right just before she was suddenly pulled into darkness.

Giles tapped his fingers in a short staccato rhythm against the rounded bend of polished wood of the arm rest of the Victorian chair he was sitting in as he awaited the director of the institute to arrive. Despite his best effort to maintain a calm exterior, his heart was mimicking the rhythm of his fingertips. His eyes traveled over the cluttered Victorian decor of the office. His worry about Tara was beginning to build to such a level that he had difficulty sitting in the chair. He had hoped that Tara would revive and would be shown to the director's office to join him. But as he glanced toward the hallway door for the umpteenth time, he saw that it remained closed. He had no idea if Tara was still resting in that nurse's room or where she could be at this moment. He wanted to go in search of her, but it would be unseemly for his character to be concerned for a mere assistant. So he sat in the office in a large chair that was by the imposing desk centered in the director's office.

On the far side of the large desk stood a smaller door. Giles imagined that that would be the one by which the director would make his entrance. He was sure that he had been waiting over an hour. It seemed as if the director was in no hurry to see him. He began to fidget in an effort to relieve the tension, Giles stood up from the chair where he had been sitting. He walked over to the large fireplace that was the source of heat for the room. He began to pace in front of the fireplace to work off his anxiety. After pacing for a few minutes, he stopped in front of the fireplace.

As he stood there, he stared up at the idealized painting of the institute that hung on the wall in front of him. He scrutinized the painting, studying the architecture of the vast building. He noticed that the building backed up to a large stone cliff. The sheer incline of rock that surrounded the backside of the institute would be insurmountable escape route for any poor inmate trying to make his escape. Giles made a note of the arrangement of that information for possible future use. His eyes drifted down to the bare mantelpiece in front of him. In the cluttered room so common in Victorian decor, it was odd that this one feature that would hold prominence in the room should have no object on it.

In fact, it seemed so odd that Giles began to absentmindedly run his ran his fingers over the carved wood. At the first pass, there was nothing but smooth wood. He then ran his finger on the underside of the mantle. Suddenly he stopped when his fingers detected something along the glossy sleek carpentry. His eyes looked up to the past the painting on the wall in front of him as his fingers told him a story from the mantle. With a narrowing of his eyes, a click of a mechanism erupted from the woodwork. Giles stepped back as a small door hidden amongst the woodwork swung open with an almost silent click.

Quickly looking over his shoulder at the door, Giles checked to see if anyone was about to enter the room before investigating this interesting development. Sensing that no one had approached the door, he bent down slightly to investigate and opened the door fully to peer inside the small void in the mantle. 'What was this?' Giles wondered. 'For what reason would the director go to this much trouble to hide something from his staff?' From what Giles had experienced, it seemed that the staff had a healthy respect for the director. None of staff seemed to possess even the slightest glimmer of rebellion. There must be something important to be squirrelled away in a secret alcove.

Giles squinted his eyes as he peered into the small vault despite the dim yellowed lighting provided by the sputtering gas lights in the room. There was something was wrapped in a cloth at the back of the interior. Giles ducked his head to get a better view. He pondered what it could be to merit such secrecy. Suddenly, he heard the sound of the door latch retracting from the door. In a quick smooth movement, Giles quickly grabbed the item and closed the compartment. He quickly stood up straight, his back to the door as he slid the item in his inside jacket pocket.

The motion of the body basket made as it bounced along allowed Buffy's motion sickness to blossom as she tried to shake off the lingering disorientation of the guard's punch. She held her head forward slightly as she shook her head to clear it, her hair falling forward across her face. The guards had become careless when they bound her in the basket and her head was not secured. As she traveled backwards, Buffy's eyes searched for a landmark to which anchor her bearings. he turned her head to see where the basket was heading. There was nothing but inky darkness. She shut her eyes as the rocking carriage continued into the darkness. She wondered where the basket was taking her. She tried to twist her head to see what was ahead but the basket held her fast. She pulled at the bands that held her in place in the basket. She hoped that once she gained some play in the belts she would be able to tear the bands.

"Gotta loosen these restraints!" Buffy spoke to no one in particular as she strained against the bands which refused to budge. She released her struggle with a sound. "Gah! What's with this place? It's almost like I'm not a slayer!"

She continued to grumble under her breath as she shifted her shoulders in an effort to loosen the restraints.

"This has got to be the worst carnival ride I've ever ridden… Wait a minute! At least, this one doesn't have little miniature puppets from all over the world singing the same inane song over and over. Small favors!"

Buffy attempted to twist her head around to see where the basket was heading. She was only able to look over her shoulder slightly due to her immoveable restraints. The atmosphere seemed to get danker and darker in the last few yards.

"Hey, what's going on? Let me out of here!" Buffy yelled out to whoever was controlling the device. "I'm starting to get motion sickness! Believe me, nobody is going to be happy when that plays out!"

Buffy began to notice that the basket was slowing down. As it slowed, she noticed a glowing light from below the basket. She saw that the basket was traveling over a crevice. Arching her neck forward, she could see that the light was emanating from the bottom. She began to feel the intense heat coming up from the below the basket. It began to become hotter as the basket traveled. The light illuminated the walls which seemed to be sheer sides of roughhewn rock.

Feeling that the basket was slowing, Buffy began to look from side to side. Her eye caught on something unusual on the rock face. In the reflected light, she could discern that there was someone standing on a small ledge of rock jutting out from the wall. The person's arms were suspended over their head as if chained there. Buffy could tell from the long hair it was a young woman. There was something very familiar about the person which sent a thread of dread up her spine.

"Buffy?" a tearful voice called out to her from the darkness.