A/N:Spike get's tortured in this chapter so beware if you're schweemish.


Chapter Fifteen: Whisper to a Scream

A groan escaped Spike’s lips as he slowly regained consciousness, his clouded mind struggling to focus on his surroundings. The persistent soreness in his knees told him he had been kneeling down on the hard cement floor for some time now. The dull ache in his shoulders brought his uneven attention to his arms, which were pulled back around a stone pillar, tied together by thick coarse ropes. Weakly lifting his head up, Spike glanced around, barely making out through the hazy darkness a mess of tables, chairs and computers screens. The large open room he was in had a cold, dark and dank quality to it which made Spike assume he was being held in some sort of basement. In the corner of his eye, he caught glimpse of a few small blackened out windows. He had no idea how long he’d been knocked out, and though Spike could sense the sun outside, he had no clue what time of day it was specifically. His head fell back to his chest from an inexplicable exhaustion but when his face hit bare flesh, he realized he was missing a few articles of clothing; his shirt and duster were gone.

Feeling as though he had been thrown head first into a frozen lake, a short period of clarity washed over Spike. He knew what was about to happen, what was in store for him if he didn’t get the hell out of there. Spike desperately tried to rip the ropes apart, but for all his efforts, he couldn’t get himself to break free. That was when he picked up on the scent of magic in the damp air and shuddered at the thought that he was being magically drained. No vampire strength, no resistance against whatever was going to be thrown his way.

‘Watcher’s got a witch helpin’ him with his dirty work,’ Spike numbly reflected as he swung his head back into an upright position. ‘Speaking of which, where the hell is the poncy bastard?’

As if on cue, a single light bulb lit up above him, its light swinging back and forth, casting moving shadows on the face of the said Watcher who was holding the pull string. His stern face glared down at the vampire as he slowly lowered his hand to his pocket. “I see we’re finally awake,” Giles derisively stated.

“What have you done to me, you wanker?” Spike grumbled, feeling as though his head was stuffed with cotton.

“Just a minor modification. Can’t get any information out of you if you manage to break loose,” Giles casually answered as he approached the crouched vampire.

“And what information is it exactly that you think I have to divulge?” Spike wondered, swaying a little from his lightheadedness.

Giles grew suddenly very somber, his face contorting into a discontented expression. Walking up to the vampire until he was hovering right above him, the ex-Watcher glowered down at Spike. “Where is the girl?” he asked in a solemn tone.

Spike flicked his glossy blue eyes up at Giles, an amused smirk plastered on his face. “What girl?”

It was then that Spike came to the realization that his reflexes had also been affected by the hindrance spell; he didn’t even have time to react when he saw the fist fly straight at him. Giles struck the vampire across the face, causing Spike’s head to snap to the side. Spitting out a mouthful of blood, Spike returned the Watcher’s murderous glare, undeterred in his refusal to answer the question.

Rubbing his knuckles, Giles paced back and forth in front of Spike, his determination evident in every stride. Glancing back at his prisoner, his small amount of patience began to dwindle. “I’ll only ask you once more. Where is the girl, Spike? Where is Buffy?”

“Well, that’s actually askin’ twice more, now innit?” Spike retorted smugly, feeling his head clear a little. Pulling on his restraints in the hopes that the spell was dissipating, he came to the unfortunate discovery that he was still as weak as a newborn kitten. It all made sense to Spike, the spell was to weaken him, not to completely numb him from the experience. No point in torturing a bloke if he can’t feel it.

Giles smacked Spike again across the face. Spitting out more blood, Spike moved his jaw to make sure it wasn’t broken. The vampire peered up at his would be torturer, noticing his tightened fists and the knots in his prominent brow. The barefaced hate the Watcher was giving off was enough incentive for Spike to cooperate. He couldn’t do a damn thing to escape; he might as well play along. “What makes you think I have her?”

“I have it under good authority that you are keeping Buffy hidden away,” Giles informed, removing his glasses and wiping them down before placing them back on his face. “For what purposes exactly, god only knows,” he added, sickened by the thought of the possible atrocities the vampire could have already committed against the poor girl.

Though his lip had been burst open by Giles’s onslaught of punches, Spike kept in deceivingly good spirits, smiling despite the blood. “And what authority would that be?”

Giles’s lips drew into a stubborn thin line. Spike continued to smirk; he knew he had hit a sore spot. “It was Damon, wasn’t it?” the vampire inquired, all of a sudden very serious. Spike took the Watcher’s inability to reply as a definite ‘yes’.

A loud, somewhat maddened laughter escaped Spike’s lips. “Oh this is just too priceless!” He continued to chuckle uncontrollably. “You actually believed him? A vampire? I have to say, Watcher, I expected so much more from you,” Spike ranted as he burst into another fit of laughter. “Rupert Giles, the Wayward Watcher!” he giggled out.

Having had about enough of Spike’s hysterics, Giles abruptly kicked the vampire in the gut. Spike pitched forward from the pain, but the ropes stopped him hitting the floor. He felt a hand violently grip his head, yanking at his short platinum blond locks to lift up his dangling head. Spike was suddenly face to face with the enraged Watcher, his searing hate burning metaphorical holes into the vampire. “I did what I had to. It was the only way to get her back without getting my people killed,” Giles spat out.

Spike feigned being scared by the ex-Watcher’s aggressive actions, his eyes wide in a transparently fake expression of fear. Another bout of laughter came from him as he dropped the charade, loving how easy it was to mess with the broken old man. “Oooooo, ’m shakin’ in my boots Rupert.”

“Shut up, you git,” Giles grumbled as he let go of Spike’s head.

Sitting back upright, Spike’s pleased azure stare followed the pacing Watcher. “You actually took his word for it,” Spike not so much as asked, but remarked, still stunned by Giles’s abnormal behavior. “Can’t say I’m not disappointed.”

Giles irately strolled over to Spike, pointing his finger at him furiously. “You shut the bloody hell up! We had no choice. To save Buffy, we had to take a chance.”

“And you blew it!” Spike yelled back, nearly vamping out. “‘Cos yeah, I had Buffy, but I wasn’t fucking hiddin’ her anywhere,” he heatedly threw back at the Watcher.

The look on Giles’s face transformed from pure contempt to utter disbelief. “What?!”

“You heard me, Watcher. Right as we speak she’s all alone at the main house, with Damon, who by the way hates both me and her with a fiery passion. Thanks to you, you fucking git, Buffy’s got no one to protect her!” Spike growled as he pulled on the ropes, his frantic need to save the woman he loved from uncertain death growing with very passing second.

“You’re lying,” Giles responded, sounding as though he wasn’t completely convinced by is own denial.

Spike stopped struggling and looked up at the middle-aged Englishman with untainted sincerity in his gaze. “Wish I were.”

Giles ignored Spike’s apparent honesty, unable to let go of his distrust for this particular vampire. “I don’t believe you. I know you all to well, William the Bloody, and protecting young innocent girls is not part of your perverse repertoire.”

Spike snorted apathetically. “Think whatever you’d like, mate. No amount of flapping my gums is gonna convince you otherwise. Already got your mind made up.”

“If you don’t wish to be cooperate, we’ll find ways of dragging the truth out of you,” Giles warned, a glimmer of Ripper flashing across his face.

“Doesn’t matter what I say. Gonna torture me either way. Always knew you had it in you Watcher,” Spike quipped, leaning his head back against the large pillar he was bound to.

Giles harshly backhanded Spike, the veins bulging in his neck as his vision blurred in rage. “Don’t you dare presume to know me!”

Spike gurgled out a guffaw as a trickle of blood fell from his nose. He gave Giles his trademark smirk. “Know you more than you’d like.”

Giles stormed into the darkness, stepping out of the range of the basement’s only light source. The Watcher marched his way back to Spike, his mind clearly set on doing something not-so-fun to the vampire as he roughly grabbed him by the neck.

“Really? Know me well enough to expect this?” Giles asked as he dumped a whole bottle of holy water on Spike’s chest. The sound of singeing flesh and Spike’s stunned cries broke through the basement’s eerie silence.

Once the pain had slightly subsided, Spike stared down at his reddened chest, tilting his head in appreciation of the Watcher’s handiwork. “No. Can’t say I was. Dippin’ a little into the dark side, aren’t we Rupert?” he leered in a hiss as a breeze of air hit his irritated skin.

“Fuck you, you pillock,” Giles gritted out. “You don’t know me. You’ll never know me. Just because you…” he trailed off, becoming incredibly flustered. Closing his eyes and taking in a long calming breath, the Watcher tried to get himself under control. Gradually opening his eyes, he gave the vampire a long detached stare and continued with what he had been trying to say in a neutral tone of voice. “Just because you killed her doesn’t mean you know me.”

A new found insightfulness filled Spike, his blue eyes widening in response to the Watcher’s words. “Ohhh! So this is all this is? Little bit of vengeance ‘gainst the vamp that did in your Slayer?”

Giles’s countenance turned on a dime. Gone was his newly calm and collected demeanor, replaced instead with the Ripper persona he’d thought he had long since buried. Snatching at the cross that was hanging around his neck, he ripped it off and forcefully pressed it against Spike’s shoulder. The vampire convulsed madly, screaming in delirious pain as the smoke from his burning flesh billowed around his head.

Giles lingered for a moment before slowly pulling away the cross, leaving his victim panting from the severe pain. Spike roared in frustration as he once again struggled to get free but his vampire strength was still waning. Waiting for Spike to settle down, Giles remained quiet until his impassive eyes met with the vampire’s intense blue ones. Kneeling down in front of Spike, the Watcher never broke eye contact. In a steady voice, he began to respond to Spike’s allegation. “Torturing you won’t even begin to heal the countless wounds you’ve inflicted upon me.”

Spike didn’t appear the least bit threatened. “Do what you’d like. Wasn’t lyin’ before. Just remember the longer you waste your time tryin’ to get a lie out of me, Damon’s out there, free to hurt Buffy.”

“I know that’s not what you’re worried about,” the Watcher stated. “Are you afraid that we’ll find her? That you’ll loose another girl to torment with another one of your sick obsessions? That you won’t be able to beat and demean her any longer?” Giles maliciously asked as he stood back up. “You afraid we’ll take her away before you can finally kill her?”

Spike growled at the audacity of the ex-Watcher’s spiteful questions. “I swear, if you let her die, I will move heaven and earth to make your life a living hell,” Spike spouted angrily as he morphed into game face.

“Too late,” Giles retorted, menacingly cracking his knuckles. “And aren’t you making a bit of an assumption here?”

“Yeah? And what’s that?”

“That you’ll actually still be all in one piece when I’m through with you,” Giles forebodingly declared, pulling out a plastic stake from his back pocket, amused by the fear in Spike’s saucer wide amber eyes.

“Oh balls!”


********


The late afternoon sun filtered in through the glass of the large dinning room window, its rays shinning down on a small group of friends, who were at the moment casually sitting around a worn-down wooden table. Appearances can be deceiving and the atmosphere was anything but cheerful as gut wrenching, blood curdling screams emanated throughout the house. With every bellow of pain, the group flinched, unable to restrain themselves from feeling sorry for the miserable vampire downstairs. Even if he was the leader of the clan that had ruined their lives for the past three years, Giles was seriously wailing on the poor bastard.

“Aaaaahhhhhhhhhhhh!” reached their ears from the partially open basement door.

Xander pushed himself out of his seat and slammed the door shut, hoping it would dull down the nerve rattling noise. Sitting back down beside Cordelia, he balked again at the newest screech, lowering his face to his hands. “Thank God we cleared the house before Giles got his mitts on Spike. I don’t even know how much more I can take,” he complained.

Cordelia patted the brunette on the back. “It shouldn’t last too long right? I mean, how long could it possibly take to torture a vampire?” she wondered, glimpsing over at Willow and Oz who were sitting directly across from her.

Willow gave the new girl a saddened look. “Depends on how much of a fight Spike puts up,” the redhead replied.

“And you also gotta consider how much Giles hates him. So I’m thinking it might be a couple days,” Oz chimed in, taking hold of Willow’s hand in an attempt to comfort her.

“I get the whole hating Spike thing, cuz you know, evil vampire and all, but a couple of days? Isn’t that a little obsessive?” Cordy inquired suspiciously.

Xander slowly lifted his head back up and turned toward the confused girl. “See, you’re new to this so I’ll let you in on what everyone here already knows,” he said in the quirky way that only Xander could get away with. “A few years ago, Captain Peroxide down there roared into town, killed Sarah and then made it his mission to turn the rest of our lives into the living hell we’ve all come to know and love.”

Cordelia was confused by the name drop. “Okkaaayyy. Who’s Sarah?”

“Giles’s Slayer. We didn’t really know her that well but we know they were close,” Willow answered, sorrow evident in her voice.

“What happened?” Cordy asked, her concern mounting. If Spike could kill a girl endowed with super strength, what chance did Buffy have?

“We don’t really know. Giles doesn’t like to get into specifics and we try not to bring it up,” Xander explained, his body tensing at the lack of noise coming from the basement. He didn’t want another scream catching him off guard.

“So when did she die?” Cordelia asked, feeling as though she needed to know everything about Spike’s victim. In her misguided logic, it made sense to know everything about Spike and the people he’d hurt; it just might shed some new light on how to save Buffy. Her desperation was making her grasp at straws and she could care less if she was opening up old wounds.

“Like Xander said, it was right before the town went all to hell. I still remember that day at school when we found out she had died,” Oz responded, deviating from his usually stoic and silent manner.

Willow nodded her head. “Yeah, I remember the announcement but everyone else just shrugged it off. Guess we can thank Sunnydale’s freakishly high mortality rate for everyone’s lacking sense of sympathy.”

“You’re kidding?” Cordy asked, stunned.

“Nope,” Xander sadly replied. “Plus it didn’t help that Sarah was a total social pariah.”

“She didn’t have any friends?” Cordelia wondered.

“Well, we talked to her but we were never really close. She was a loner, always hanging out at the library. It makes tons of sense in hindsight but at the time everyone thought she was some sort of delinquent recluse,” the witch elaborated, a grim look on her face.

“Giles was the librarian, right?” Cordy inquired.

“Hence all of Sarah’s solo retreats to the library,” Xander quickly confirmed.

Willow chuckled. “Remember when everyone thought that she and Giles were having some kind of illicit affair?”

“Ewwww,” Cordy disgustedly reacted.

Xander gave her an annoyed look. “It wasn’t true.”

“No d’uh. But still: Ewwww,” she restated.

The room suddenly seemed very quiet, not even the slightest sound making its way upstairs. “Do you think he’s done?” Cordelia wondered.

Right when she asked that question, the most horrid scream ripped through the entire house. Willow and Xander instantly flew into the nearest available arms. Xander instantly pulled away from Cordelia, trying to brush off the dreadfully uncool incident where as Willow buried her face in her boyfriend’s shoulder.

“Guess not,” Oz impassively observed.

“Will, how long is that spell of yours supposed to hold up?” Xander asked, his nerves on edge.

Willow lifted her grimacing face back up to look at her best friend. “As long as Giles needs it to work.”

“Couldn’t you maybe make up some kinda excuse, like claim the spells gone wonky or something to pull Giles out of the basement?” Xander wondered, desperation in his voice.

“I don’t think that’d be a god idea. That spell's kind of a one shot deal. The ingredients are like impossible to find and we were only able to do it cuz Giles was saving up for a special occasion. And I so don’t wanna deal with a grouchy Giles,” Willow protested.

“Then could you at least come up with some kinda blocking spell or maybe conjure up some mystical ear plugs? I’m about ready to jump out of skin here, Will,” Xander pleaded, holding his hands over his ears, readying himself for another one of Spike’s tortured cries.

“I’ll try, but it might take a while. It’s gonna be kinda hard to concentrate,” the witch offered as she left to gather some of her magic supplies.

“Thanks Willow,” the antsy brunette called out in relief. Xander dropped his head in his hands again, shaking it in uncertainty. “Do you think we did the right thing?” he asked dismally.

Cordelia immediately and adamantly answered. “Of course we did the right thing! We have to find Buffy! How could you even ask that?”

“I’m all on board for saving your friend Cordy, but letting Giles get his hands on Spike is like opening up a whole other can of worms. And I’m talking like the big cans you get from Cosco, filled with snarling, razor sharp-toothed demon worms,” Xander inventively explained, peering up at Cordelia.

“What the hell are you talking about?” the girl wondered, noticing as a silent exchange passed between the two guys.

“We kill vampires Cordelia. We don’t torture them. If we did, we’d be no better than the monsters we hunt,” Oz stated stoically.

“And the longer Giles is down there, the bigger the hole he digs for himself. I just hope he knows what he’s doing before he gets in way too deep,” Xander added, rubbing his hands together anxiously.

Another roar flew out of the basement, this time nearly sending Cordelia into Xander’s lap. Their eyes locked for the briefest moment, a look of desire passing between them. Cordelia blushed as she turned away from his hungry stare, excusing herself as she mumbled something about helping Willow.

Xander sighed as he watched the new girl leave, returning his gaze to the only other person left in the room. Oz gave his fellow vampire hunter an uncharacteristic yet all knowing grin, which was deliberately ignored. Looking at his watch, Xander took note of the time. “Better get going. Sun’s gonna set soon.”

“You don’t think Giles is gonna keep it up while I’m down there, do you?” Oz asked as he stood up, his usually relaxed demeanor shifting into that of agitation.

“For your sake, I hope not,” Xander answered, placing his arm around the shorter man’s shoulders as they headed out of the dining room. “Who knows, maybe we’ll luck out and you’ll break free and accidentally eat Spike. That’d sure put an end to Giles’s torture the vampire crusade.”



********


The full moon’s pale glow barely invaded the dark empty room, its soft light shinning through the big bay window. Buffy sat at its edge, having pulled open every heavy curtain in the room, deciding that once the sun rose, it would be her best defense against any hungry vampires who might decide to pay her a daytime visit. This way, all she had to worry about was just surviving through the night.

So here she was, staring down at the grisly moon-lit town below, whittling herself another stake as her mind unintentionally wandered. As she stared out into the expanse of town’s numerous dark scattered buildings, Buffy’s thoughts were filled with images of a certain platinum haired, devilishly handsome and infuriatingly sexy vampire. It’d been less than a full day since she found out he’d been abducted, and Buffy felt as though she hadn’t seen him in ages.

A sigh caught in Buffy’s throat when she spotted an inquisitive vamp strolling around in the street below, glancing up at her window. Scurrying away, Buffy hid, pressing her back against the adjacent wall. After a few seconds, she dared to take a peek. The vamp was still there but he appeared to have lost interest in whatever he might have seen in the upstairs window. Buffy exhaled as she regained her composure, sitting out of sight on the ceramic floor. Clutching at the half-made stake, tears of dread began to well up in her eyes. She hoped Vincent and Natasha found Spike soon. Buffy wasn’t sure how much longer it would be before some of the vamps actually acted on their curiosity.