Thanks: To Melissa, as usual! I’d be lost without your help!

CHAPTER 9

It was dark. Dark and cold and…damp as if he was sliding on an ice lake in a winter night. The scents were stronger here, all mixed-up with other odours added to the foul blend. Yellowish chinks of light came through the rifts in the distant, wooden ceiling but never reached the floor. Little, tiny, as remote as stars from a nebula. Unconsciously, Spike began to breathe in short, desperate gasps, as he couldn’t find any trace of Buffy’s scent or hear her footsteps. The damned placed seemed to have eaten her alive.

As he went further into the place, avoiding big wood boxes and piles of frayed thick ropes, another perfume invaded his senses. Opium. He rubbed his nose with the back of his hand feeling he had gone back in time. To those opium slums from his earliest weeks as a vampire when the new world he had begun to cherish had shown its first unpleasant cracks. Something in no way he wanted to live again. Something he had erased from his memories with each and every throat he had gorged from. His body began to ache as in those awful nights in which he had lay on a bed, bestrewed over it as flowers on a grave. Wilted and dead like them. Used and discarded like them. He shut his eyes for a long moment, the gasps turned into choking wheezes when he felt the lewd hands pawing him, the fingers and the tongues…

“STOP!” He shouted with a shudder of repulsion. “Don’t breathe, you pillock. Just don’t breathe.” He stumbled and fell on a pile of twisted wires. Cold, long and… slippery? He jumped to his feet, frenetically scouring his palm against his black jeans.

“Bloody hell! If only I could see a buggering thing! And hear… I can’t… What the fuck is going on? No sight, no smell, no ears as if I had become a useless human… BUFFY!” He yelled, fear for her starting to choke him better than the snakes that glided on his boots and his calves.

A potent electric current pierced his spine and Spike staggered around a few more steps before he crumpled up in a knot of shaking flesh. Something caught his wrists. Icy and solid. Spike closed his eyes. Numbness swallowed him with a greedy gulp.



Buffy blinked furiously, beseeching the drummer in her head to stop the painful hymn. She managed to open her eyes and scanned the place. Grubby, grey walls and long iron bars which crossed the ceiling in complicated patterns. A tattered, brownish curtain hung from one of them dividing the place in two. There was a mouldy stink, like that she sometimes smelt in one particular cemetery. Dead rats and who knew what else left to rot inside open holes in the earth. Her arms and her ankles ached for being chained to some hooks in the wall. She looked down and found herself naked.

“Shocked?” Buffy lifted her eyes sharply. Angelus’ obscene gaze ran along her body. “I’ve found out that nudity is so related to vulnerability. At least with the prude ones.” One of his fingers circled one of her nipples. Buffy shook with revulsion and spat his face. He cleaned the little line of saliva with a merciless smile.

“And I thought that Watcher of yours had taught you some manners… Speaking of whom…” He snapped his fingers and the sound ricocheted in the empty space as a bullet trying to find somewhere to hide.

The dirty curtain was drawn with a sharp noise of clattering rings showing two hooded men tied up to metal chairs. Buffy felt the air running away from her lungs. That was Giles’s grey suit. And his light blue shirt. Torn and smeared with blood. Clenching her teeth she stabbed a grinning Faith with her eyes. If only she could free herself, that lousy bitch would know how it could be possible to grin with her butt. After she had shoved each of her teeth up her sorry ass. Faith lifted the black hood and Giles’s battered features slapped Buffy better than a blow from Angelus. She swallowed hard, steeling her heart at the dreadful sight.

“You know who that is?” Angelus pointed at the other man. He looked like a faceless dummy. “Of course not. Nice trick that of vortexes… Help you get everything you want. And I wanted him. Your Watcher’s great grandpa. Say hi.”

“And all this time I thought you’re after something important…” Her voice was made of ice. So were her eyes. Buffy had a brief second to be proud of herself.

“Good!” Angelus clapped and cackled noisily. “Spike is a very good teacher, I reckon…” A fugacious disgusted spark twinkled in his dark eyes. She wouldn’t have seen it if her gaze hadn’t been glued to his face just to avoid Giles’s pulped one. “But this guy here is something else… He’s the Guardian of magnificent treasures. Powerful treasures. I could have killed him back there and vanished Giles for good but it would have spoilt the fun, don’t you think? You wouldn’t have the chance to see it. So I decided to give you the first row and the only ticket to watch Giles vanishing in the thin air. But first…”

He yanked her head backwards, forcing a flask to her lips. The green liquid seeped from the corner of her mouth as a strong rosemary scent made her nostrils itched. An agonic stream of pain rushed through her body when Faith prodded her with something like a taser. Buffy couldn’t help the scream. The bitter brew ran down her throat making her cough.

“Good girl…” Angelus patted her forearm like a caring father. “Now we’ve to wait. This is the worst part but don’t worry. It’ll only take five minutes.”

“To do what? Don’t tell me that your smart brain could only thought of poisoning me.” Buffy found out that sarcasm was the best way to make the fear recede. Spike was a master at it. Maybe he was just for… Nah. He was never afraid. But maybe he… She wasn’t going to wonder about him right now. ‘Cause if she did, her heart would explode like a neutron bomb.

“It’s a memory elixir. See, time is such a mysterious thing. If I kill this man, then not even Giles’s father could exist. So, there would be no memories of him. And you don’t want that, do you? No, I don’t want it either. The funny thing is you’re going to be the only one who will remember him. And you will try so hard to convince everybody that you haven’t lost your mind that they’ll probably send you to those… how do they call them? Yes, mental institutions to… clear your head. Enough talking. Let’s the show start.”

“That won’t happen…” Something horrible was menacing to shatter her guts. A painful, twisting, steeling knot as if they were moulding in a new shape.

Faith jabbed her ribs again and this time the air really escaped from her lungs. “Shut up and watch.” The bitch ordered with a cheerful tone.

Angelus fangs got near the immobile man’s neck, his scornful yellow eyes never leaving Buffy’s white face. After what seemed an eternity he finally pierced the flesh. The man didn’t even flinch. He was fainted, apparently. Judging by the mess his clothes were in they had probably beaten him even harder than the poor Giles. Blood painted Angelus’ chin, his lips, the tip of his nose as he guzzled with agonizing slowness. Buffy tossed down her tears when the man finally fell to the floor. Her frantic, lunatic eyes hurried to Giles. The most amazing and atrocious thing happened. Giles’s shape began to die away. It grew thinner and thinner till it finally disappeared with a faded chime.

“And now…” Angelus straightened himself doing nothing to clean his face. “He is gone.” A sinister laughter reached her numbed ears. Buffy struggled against the chains but they didn’t give way an inch. “And for that sorry vampire of yours…I could do the same to him but, you know. Family and all those things. Not to mention Faith here seems to have got fond of him.” Buffy swore her face had changed into a twisted mask of rage. Not even a demon could have revolted its features the way she did.

“Oh, don’t be so worried, B. I promise I’m really going to take care of him. Think I’m going to keep him as my pet. He’s such a yummy treat!”

“Yeah, he’s a beautiful toy, really.” There was something so cruel and pungent in that remark. Buffy fixed her eyes on his and she actually saw the reason to it. A harsh rush of bile knocked her palate.

“Why are you doing this?” She turned away her gaze and focused on Faith. Sarcasm had flown away. Only her torn, opened flesh as if a gang of hellish lions had mauled her.

“Oh, you mean ‘cause I’m the Slayer and all that crap? Joining the dark side… Well, it’s so much funnier!” Faith bent forward and kissed Angelus’ smeared mouth. “You should try. Seriously. It’d help you to relax a little. I mean, such a body and so wasted…” Her stained lips crushed Buffy’s.

Frenzy sobs and quivering flesh. That was all she had been reduced to. There wasn’t even room for pain. Only a freezing numbness as that you had after being stunk by a wasp. An overwhelming pain at first and then nothing. “What have you done to Willow?”

“As a matter of fact, she’ll be Spike’s cell partner. For now, of course. We’ve only got one single mystical cage. So hard to get those things…” He grabbed Faith’s waist and pushed her slowly towards a door. Suddenly the lights went off and in the darkness Buffy’s puking sounded like a volcano. Chains evaporated as an iron gnome and she fell to the floor, on her own vomit, curled against the bulking shape of Giles’s great grandpa.


First thing Spike was aware of when he came to his senses again was the powerful light from a bare bulb dangling from the ceiling by a black cord. A little dazzled, he raised his eyes. His arms were stretched over his head; his wrists shackled and chained to an iron bar that ran along the room. He wriggled against them but the shackles chafed his skin as if they were daubed with garlic.

“And all these years I thought I’d taught you well. But you are the same weak tosser, aren’t you Willie? One blow and you’re out.” Angelus finished his cigarette and crushed it on the floor never leaving the plastic chair he was sat on.

“Says who? The soul wanker? Always hiding behind the Slayer’s skirts…” He snorted loudly, fighting the stinking tears in his aching eyes. He hadn’t even smelt the sodding bastard.

“Yes, the Slayer…” Angelus stood up. His dark eyes were gimlets. “I should kill you right now. After all, you’ve been poaching on my territory…”

Spike’s eyebrows were birds ready to take off from his forehead. If he hadn’t been manhandled it could have been amusing. “It’s not your territory anymore, mate. In fact, I doubt it ever was.”

“Well, I was the one who popped her cherry, didn’t I?” He expected some kind of wild reaction from his grandchilde. He didn’t get any but a muffled giggle.

“Oh, yeah, hot shit. Wait, I thought it was that ponce Dr. Jeckyll of yours who did that. You just showed your ugly face when it’s all over, didn’t you?” The smack split his lips. Spike gathered the seeping blood with a quick flick of his tongue. “A great puff like you wouldn’t even know how to pop an eye out of his own bloody face. Unless they were berries… That’s your real stuff, ain’t it gooser? Or is it angel?” He blew him a kiss but he spat a thin thread of blood instead when another clout broke his nose.

“Why isn’t he naked?” Faith came into the room, patting her leather-clad thigh with a lightning rod. Spike frowned at her tone. Disappointment? Bloody unbelievable.

“Maybe ‘cos that little trick doesn’t work with me anymore…” The answer was only directed to Angelus. Suddenly, the hidden implications of the phrase kicked in. Buffy… Only a twitching muscle in his neck told about his rage.

“We’ll see about that, hottie…” Spike gawked at Faith’s hand sliding along his chest. Oh, bollocks! A loopy, horny Slayer! He’d have welcomed that a year ago. Right now it was rather pathetic.

“Well… gimp, - Angelus laughed at his own joke, - my advice would be that you chilled out a little. Enjoy our camp here. You’ll have plenty of time. Till one of us get bored of you.”

A nauseating tremor ran along Spike’s skin. Flashes from the past threatened to fill his mind but he locked them out with every cell of his brain. He had to focus on Buffy. Found out what that fucking sod had done with her. Trouble was that he couldn’t just ask, could he? He knew what would be the exact answer to one of his questions. Some laughter and another slosh.

“Now, I need something from you…” Angelus stabbed the crook of his left arm with a syringe. When he was done he stepped back a little rolling the damned thing in his long fingers. “Faith here is going to take you to your rooms, Willie.” He began to walk away and stopped as if he had changed his mind. “Oh, and in case you wonder… she is alive…”
Spike didn’t know whether to feel relieved or terrified about the news. He chose the second one. A hot single tear sprang to his eye and he gulped it quickly. He would get free. Oh, for all the demons in hell he would. He would rip that fucker’s balls and make him eat them along with his shaft if he dared to put one of his hands on his warrior. And while he was at it, he would enjoy a brilliant, succulent dish. Slayer’s blood springing from the source itself. Faith torn neck served in a silver plate for his own pleasure.



The clank of the heavy shackles pounded against the walls all the way to his new home. A shining metal cell. Tons of light spots hanging above it making the metal bars glittered as if they were made of crystal. His eyes screamed inside his head but he never stumbled. Last thing he wanted was one of that bitch’s hands on him. He turned round as soon as the door was shut behind his back. The bitch ordered him to stretch his hands to the bars. The shackles disappeared leaving wide, blistered gashes on his wrists. He had been right. Garlic. His precious boots looked like if they had been gnawed by rodents where the iron had been.

Squinting painfully, his eyes swept the place. There was a cot on the left with some kind of bulking shape under a shabby, brownish blanket. Another one was resting against the back wall. A grey blanket with jagged edges was spread on it. Great, at least he could be able to find some darkness under it since the sons of bitches had stolen his coat. Spike walked towards the shape. Didn’t even bother to sniff. His nostrils were loaded with an electric smell… Like ozone… As lightings in an open field. The whole damned place twitched with such energy that even his skin trembled. Carefully he raised one corner of the blanket. A red strand of hair shone on a dirty white pillow.

“Red!” He muttered tossing the blanket aside. “Red, talk to me love. Red!” He shook her but Willow didn’t respond. He threw away the pillow and took her in his arms. Her head rested aimlessly on the puncture of his arm. Made him wonder why they needed his blood for. It wasn’t that Peaches had turned into a barmy boffin, had he? Speaking of whom… The dark figure of his grandsire loomed from outside the bars. Blurring and even more disgusting due to the lack of distinct shape. A red thing gleamed against the door of the cage.

“Thanks for giving me your blood so willingly, Spike. It will be your locking key for good. Which is rather poetic, isn’t it? Well, you should know. Poet…” His mocking laugh rang in Spike’s ears for a long time. Yes, poet… He’d show that bastard what kind of poems he’d write with his guts… Bloody beautiful poetry. Yes… Bloody beautiful…



Oz had waited one hour. One hour and fifteen minutes. Twenty minutes… He was going for the torches. Three, four, a hundred torches to put the rats to run away. He had just reached the corner when a heavy thump filled the air. He ran back only to find a curled Buffy on the floor. She was wrapped in something black which looked too much like Spike’s coat. Oz’s knelt, panicked. “Buffy! Buffy! What happened? Where is Willow?” He screamed staring at the close door.

“I’ll kill them, I’ll kill them.” It was the mumbled chant that went out her lips even after they reached Giles’s house. The house that should have belonged to a man named Rupert Giles.

tbc...