Hell Is In the Details
 Spike’s Heart
 

Email: spikes_heart@yahoo.com
Pairing: S/OC, hints of S/Lorne, S/B eventually
Rating: NC-17
Setting: AtS, AU Season 5
Disclaimer: If they were mine, I’d treat them nicer than Joss ever did.
Feedback: Yes, please!
Archive: Ask me, nicely.
Warning: Very Dark, Non-con, Rape, Forced D/s
A/N: This is much darker than anything I’ve ever written before. An evil dream that demanded to be written. I hope I’ve done it justice. ** waves at evilmaniclaugh **
Beta’d by:   willshenillshe , who held my hand throughout and wiped my tears when it brought me to my knees. She smoothes my rough edges and makes me readable.
Summary: Spike resurrects corporeally and Angel can’t take it anymore. He betrays his childe in the worst ways possible: by selling him out of the family into slavery.



Hell Is In the Details – Chapter 1 – A House Divided

Three weeks ago he’d brought Wolfram & Hart’s amulet to Buffy, intent on wearing it to help in battle.

Three weeks ago she’d taken it and given it to Spike, and sent him back to L.A. – to be second string if they failed to defeat the First Evil.

Two and a half weeks since he learned of Spike’s demise in the closing of the Hellmouth, and the survival of mostly everyone else.

One week since Buffy and the original Scoobies headed off to England for a fresh start and a new life… without him .

Two days since Spike reappeared in his office, duster and all, in a screaming swirl of black ash and lightning when the amulet fell out of an unmarked envelope addressed to him.

Two days marked by a fist smashing into Angel’s jaw as the blonde’s first act upon returning to this plane of existence.

Forty eight hours later, and Angel’s already had enough.

“What the fuck do you want out of me, Spike? I don’t want you here. I don’t want to have anything to do with you. And no way in fucking hell am I giving you Buffy’s address.” Of course, Angel didn’t have it to give, but he wasn’t going to admit that. “She’s well rid of you and your obsession. Why don’t you go out and play in the sunshine? You should be used to the burning by now.”

“You don’t have the teensiest bit of respect for me, you bastard!” Spike roared. “I’ve got a soul, same as you. I saved the bleedin’ world again at the cost of my unlife. It’s not my fault I’m back here. Given my druthers, I’d be at rest. Can certainly understand why the Slayer…”

“Not one more word out of your mouth, boy!” Angel body slammed Spike against the wall, wrapping his hands around the slim neck and cutting off his airway so he couldn’t draw enough breath to speak.

Breaking the elder vampire’s hold easily, Spike put some distance between them. He stood for a moment, panting in an attempt to re-open his airway and make speech possible.

“You keep your bloody paws off me, you tosser. M’not some damned fledge for you to Lord an’ Master over anymore. I’ve got as much right to be here as you, and can say any damned thing I’ve got a mind to.”

“You always thought you were worth something, didn’t you, boy? So full of yourself and your antics. I hate to break it to you, but you’re still the same useless piece of trash Drusilla left half-drained in that damned barn. You were made to be used. Darla and I used you, Dru used you and we all left you.

“As for Buffy? That little girl never wanted you. She used you like everyone else. Gave you that damned amulet because you were expendable and we didn’t know what it would do to the bearer. She sent me home to be safe and didn’t give a shit whether you lived or died. When she left here last week, she was relieved that you were gone.”

Angel paced around his desk, growing angrier by the second. Buffy’s voice in his head added fuel to his ire. ‘He’s in my heart, Angel.’ ‘He has a soul, Angel.’ ‘He’s changed, Angel. ‘He saved us all, Angel.’ ‘I miss him, Angel.’ Each statement felt like a blow to his body.

He strode over to Spike, grabbed the lapels of his duster and pulled him in close, shaking the smaller man like a rag doll. “You have no place here, Spike. No friends, nobody who can stand to be around you for more than five minutes, no family willing to claim you. Why.Are.You.Here?”

“You can’t pick your family, Sire,” Spike spat. “Oh wait – you can! Unliving proof right here.” A sharp twist of his torso and he broke free from Angel’s grasp once more. “I thought we might be able to work things out between us, being family and all. No amount of your bitching can change that.”

Angel stopped in his tracks. Archaic vampire lore had been Angelus’ forte, drummed into him by Darla and he hadn’t forgotten a single by-law. Could he…? No – it’s just not done. In vampiric circles it’s considered the final insult and beyond cruel to do it to childer.

Oh, but the lure of being free of Spike once and for all was too great. He couldn’t dust him outright. First of all, there was no longer any cause – Spike was ensouled, same as Angel, and he no longer killed humans. Second, if Buffy ever found out – well, Buffy never had to know Spike had returned, much less… This was the only way to go, he decided. The time to act was now.

Spike was distracted. Having heard nothing from Angel in the past few moments, he made the false assumption that their argument had run its course and turned his back on the elder vampire.

In that moment, Angel picked up the tranquilizer gun he always kept loaded in his desk drawer, and fired three darts into the unsuspecting blonde’s back.

Spike managed to turn around, a look of utter betrayal on his face, before his eyes rolled back in his head and his legs gave way. He crumpled to the carpet in a heap.

Angel moved swiftly and secured the younger vampire’s hands behind his back with a pair of handcuffs. He tied his ankles together with a length of rope, threading the loose end through the handcuffs. A sharp yank bent his legs at the knees, and the rope was looped around Spike’s waist several times, resulting in one hogtied vampire.

A quick call to the legal department, circumventing Gunn, resulted in the paperwork Angel requested being drawn up and brought to the office. A flick of the wrist with a hidden stake dusted the unsuspecting vampire lawyer/messenger – one more loose thread dealt with. A second call confirmed his plan could be set in motion.

Rolling his unconscious childe in one of the Persian rugs decorating his office suite, Angel conceded the loss of the rug as a fair sacrifice to the cause. Hoisting the roll onto his shoulder and pocketing the legal form, he took his private elevator down to the garage, stowing the rug in the trunk of his car.

Sitting in the car, stuck in the ever-present traffic that snarled Los Angeles streets, the vampire had time to think his actions through. What he was about to do was irrevocable. Spike would be cast out of the Order of Aurelius, and dust soon after. His name and history would pass into oblivion, eventually wiped from the memories of the demon population. William the Bloody would become a cipher – a non-entity.

With a sneer curling his lip, Angel made up his mind. He would do this, and forget Spike ever existed.

He pulled into the shaded delivery platform of Dante’s, an exclusive demons only bar in one of the rougher areas of L.A. This further ensured none of his friends would ever track him here, keeping his transaction private.

The manager of Dante’s, a S’lugith demon named Pret, met Angel at the door, sending out a bouncer to retrieve the rug from the truck.

“Just toss him into the back room, and lock the door. I’ll be in to deal with him shortly. Do not unroll him.”

He turned to Angel, hand out.

The vampire removed the document from his jacket pocket, handing it over the demon.

“Just so we’re perfectly clear here, Pret,” he said. “This is a legal document drawn up by the lawyers at Wolfram & Hart. This is legally binding here and in any other known universe and dimension. I relinquish Sire’s Rights to my get, one William the Bloody, currently known as Spike. For the agreed upon purchase price of one dollar, he is removed from the Order of Aurelius and henceforth will no longer be acknowledged as ours.”

“The souled vampire is now mine? To do with as I please?”

“You can dust him the moment I get back in my car. He’s no longer any concern of mine.”

Angel turned his back on the S’lugith and strode to his car.

He never once looked back.


ETA: Change of chapter title from Pest Control to A House Divided


New Chapter Of - Hell Is In the Details - Abandon All Hope
I was gonna let this sit for awhile, see if the first chapter garnered any interest - and then I woke up and just had to put it out there for you. C'est la guerre!

Edited to remove the "It's my fic and I'll write as I want to" rant.

It's gonna be a bumpy ride for our dear Spike. **sniffs**

Cross posted to sickchicks and my regular journal.

Same warnings apply - this is NOT a fluffy puppies fic - NC-17, folks.


Hell Is In The Details – Chapter 2 – Abandon All Hope

This is just too good to be true ,’ Pret thought, looking at what amounted to a bill of sale. ‘I own an Aurelian vampire – correction – an ex-Aurelian vampire. With a soul. It’s just too delicious for words.’

When Angel called with the offer of dumping one of his get at Dante’s doorsteps, the demon had instantly come up with the idea of a demonic tournament. The winner got to kill one of only two souled vampires in all of creation. A traitor to demon kind. It didn’t matter if he was one-legged and wrinkled – he would be a magnificent draw to Dante’s and the money would come pouring in.

He was rather surprised that one souled vampire would sell another, especially his own childe, but Pret wasn’t about to question his own good fortune.

His plan went right out the window at the first glance of the trussed up vampire on his floor. He was pretty, all pale muscle and hair. Lifting his shirt, he noted Spike’s skin seemed to be unmarked. He couldn’t wait to get a good look at all his money had bought, but was wary of releasing the ropes. Even handcuffed, he was sure the blonde’s strength would become an issue if the sedative wore off.

Calling in two of his musclemen to hold the vampire securely, Pret removed first the duster and then the Docs, followed by the jeans. He paused to appreciate the vampire’s impressively semi-hard cock nestled in its bed of dark blond curls. He lifted it gently, feeling the heavy weight of the organ in his hands before moving on to cut off Spike’s t-shirt.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, running his hands up and down the well-sculpted pecs and abs of his latest acquisition. “I’m gonna have to make other plans for you, lovely one. You’re too pretty for a quick slaughter.”

Spike remained on the rug he’d been transported in, silent and unmoving. He’d begun the rise to consciousness, but was too weak and disoriented to take a chance on letting them know he was aware of his surroundings. Patience might be the order of the day, so he kept still.

With a silent motion to his men, Spike was unceremoniously hauled upright and dragged over to the back wall of the little room. The handcuffs were released.

Spike’s arms were drawn over his head, manacles attached and locked onto a ring sunk deep into the wall. His ankles were treated to the same manacles, legs drawn apart, and fastened to rings on the floor, displaying him for Pret’s perusal.

“I know you’re awake, little love,” the demon crooned. Gonna make sure you’re all tightly held in place until I can decide what’s best for you. You’re mine now – to do with as I please. You’re a present all wrapped up in pretty white muscle and I need to see more of you.

His ruse blown, Spike’s eyes opened, anger flashing as he got a clear view of Pret for the first time. The S’lugith demon could pass for human, mostly – about six feet tall with an excess of red hair on his face and hands. Two little horns were hidden under the hair on his head, and if Spike could remember his demons correctly, a stubby tail was contained under his clothing,.

“Just warning you, pretty. Open that mouth once when not ordered to, and I’ll gag you. Don’t want the patrons put off their food and drink, do we now?”

Pret grabbed a pillow from a nearby cot, and shoved it in between Spike’s ass and the wall, forcing his groin forward. One of the musclemen returned with a basin of water, a can of shaving cream and a straight razor, handing both to the S’lugith before retreating from the room and closing the door behind him.

“Told you I need to see more of you, and I do suggest you stay as still as possible. Wouldn’t want to damage the merchandise before getting some use out of it.”

Taking the washcloth out of the basin, Pret ran it over the vampire’s pubic hair, moistening it in preparation for removal. He applied the shaving cream with his hands, to groin and testicles – stroking longer than necessary, taking obvious pleasure in handling Spike’s genitals.

‘What the hell is going on?’ Spike wondered. Other than the obvious, of course. What did that bastard mean about owning him? The last thing he remembered was being shot in the back by Angel. Clearly that wanker was at the bottom of all this. He closed his eyes, silently submitting to this latest humiliation.

At the first press of the razor against flesh, Pret began to speak again.

“All that pretty white skin just waiting to be uncovered. scrape Want to know how you came to be mine, sweet thing?” scrape With a handful of Spike’s cock pulled upwards for better access to his balls, the demon paused, looking directly into the vampire’s eyes.

Lips pressed tightly together, Spike nodded.

“Your Sire sold your ass to me. For the princely sum of one dollar, you are no longer part of the Order of Aurelius, and I have the paperwork to prove it. Gonna frame that paper and hang it up front along with your duster. What was yours is now mine. You are mine.”

“No!” Spike protested.

But he knew it to be the truth.

Shit, shit, shit! The fucker had really gone and sold Sire’s Rights to this bastard. He might not have Angelus’ knowledge of vampiric law, but this was something he was intimately familiar with. He’d been threatened with it as a fledgling more times than he could count.

He was as good as dust. Worse than dust. He was totally worthless.

“I suppose you’re owed that one outburst, vampire. However, I warn you – one more word…” Pret poised the razor.

Spike’s frantic nod made further threats unnecessary.

“Good boy. Just do as I say and things will go easier for you. scrape Just a little bit more now scrape and you’ll be clean as the day you were born.” scrape A quick swipe of the washcloth to remove any remaining foam and the denuded skin practically glowed.

“A little oil to keep you smooth and we’re all finished for the moment,” Pret said, as he massaged the slick substance into every inch of flesh he could get his fingers on. He slipped his index finger underneath Spike’s balls, seeking out the small pucker between his cheeks. A slight push in an attempt to breech the tight ring of muscles proved fruitless. The vampire was far too tense.

“Oh you’re going to be a joy, you precious thing. Tight ass like yours will be highly sought after. Breaking you in is going to be a fine challenge.”

Spike hung limply in his restraints, his thighs straining from the pressure of the pillow that forced his hips forward, his chin resting on his chest in submission.

“Pretty as a picture, you are – all bare and glowing for me. Gonna lock up that treasure just for me, I think.” Grabbing Spike’s cock, Pret pumped it several times, enjoying the feel of it filling and lengthening in his hand. He deftly snapped a thick black leather cock ring around the base of the burgeoning erection and secured it in place with a small silver padlock.

Stepping away from his captive, the demon admired his handiwork. A shiver of desire coursed through his own body, which he promptly ignored. Plenty of time for indulgence in that fantasy later.

“Hang around, Spike,” he said, using the vampire’s name for the first and last time. “I have some things that cannot be put off any longer, but you’ll have my undivided attention soon enough.”

At the sound of the door closing, Spike raised his head, tears coursing silently down his face. This was his lot in life? One moment a hero – a champion charged with saving the world, the next moment an Orderless vampire – rejected by Sire and sold into either slavery or prostitution, or both from the sound of things.

He thought back to the day Giles’ had asked him if he might have a higher purpose in life. He’d snorted at the idea back then, but had come to believe just a little bit when Buffy handed him the amulet and called him a champion. Seems the Powers That Be didn’t think so highly of their champions after all, or maybe it was just him.

He startled at the sound of the door opening, unneeded breath catching in his throat as his fear threatened to overtake him. He wasn’t used to feeling helpless and it unsettled him, and being abandoned by his family, even though their relationship was volatile at best, had taken all the fight out of him.

Pret entered with only one other man as backup. “You gonna behave yourself, boy? Gonna try and make things more comfortable for you if you do.”

A brief nod, and Pret stepped forward. “My man is here just in case you decide to get rambunctious.” He unlocked the manacles from the ceiling ring, fastening them together in front of Spike, allowing his muscles to relax somewhat. “Gonna undo your feet, and if one of ‘em finds their way to touching me, I’ll get to see first-hand what the regenerative powers of a vampire are.”

Freed from the wall at last, Spike crumpled to the ground, his legs unable to hold him upright any longer.

“That’s good, baby. Just be quiet and listen to Pret and we’ll get along just fine.” He fastened a black leather collar around the vampire’s neck, two inches in width and secured it in place with two tiny silver padlocks, much like the cock ring. “Gonna trust you just a little bit, lovely. This collar’s gonna be chained to the wall, but you’ll have enough room to lie down for the evening. Trust me, you’re gonna need your rest for the next stage.”

Turning to leave he asked, “You hungry sweet thing?”

Spike nodded.

“That’s good to know. See you tomorrow, then.”

No!

Oh, God.

It couldn’t get worse. Could it?

Fiercely hungry, muscles aching, Spike crawled over to the cot as soon as he could gather his feet beneath him.

In no time at all, he had passed out cold.
Hell Is In the Details – Chapter 3 – The Breaking Point

Spike’s day began with a sharp smack on his ass.

“Up and at ‘em, pretty thing. This here’s your one and only breakfast call. Miss it, and I might just forget about you tomorrow.”

He scrambled to a sitting position, his overriding hunger motivation enough to speed his actions. He accepted the mug of warmed human? blood, too hungry to question its source. Finishing quickly, he handed the empty mug back to Pret.

“That’s a good boy. As long as you’re cooperative and useful, I’ll feed you once a day. More if it’s necessary for healing, occasionally more if I feel you’ve earned it.”

Spike’s hopes sank. There was no way he’d retain his strength on the meager rations outlined for him. He’d be half starved within a week. He didn’t even want to think about injuries serious enough to warrant additional blood for healing.

“Stand up, boy – gonna check you out proper now.” The demon disconnected Spike’s collar chain from the wall. “I don’t have to make threats now, do I?”

Spike shook his head.

“Smart answer. Now, raise your hands over your head and spread your legs. Stand perfectly still no matter what, and I’ll be happy. That’s your goal today, boy – making me happy.”

Pret walked around the silent vampire, running his hands over Spike’s shoulders, down his flanks and to his cheeks, prising them apart to check out the hidden pucker nestled between. Running his finger up and down the crease, Pret could feel the vampire tense and flinch.

“Gonna have to calm down some, or it’s gonna go very badly for you, boy. My goal today is not to hurt you, much – but I’ve got an agenda, and your ass is on it.” He pulled the cot away from the wall. “Lie down on your stomach, hands over your head.”

Spike swallowed nervously, but obeyed without hesitation.

His manacled hands were chained to the cot’s legs, and his neck chain doubled up and attached to a ring in the floor, that prevented him from raising his head more than the slightest amount. Two pillows were placed under his hips to elevate his ass to Pret’s satisfaction. His manacled ankles were chained to the cot’s rear legs.

“Just beautiful, pretty one – all splayed out for me like a buffet lunch. Don’t wanna have to do this,” he said, slipping a ball gag into Spike’s mouth, fastening it behind his head. “Just can’t take chances with scaring the customers away until you’re all ready for business.

“Seems as if I missed a few hairs yesterday,” the demon said, as he stroked his fingers over Spike’s pucker again and again, fascinated as it twitched under his touch. “I’ll just fix that right quick.” A few strokes with the razor, and the vampire was completely smooth.

Remember what I said, boy – you’ve gotta relax. I’ll make it as easy as I can, but you’d better hope I don’t lose patience. You still with me?”

A muffled groan from behind the gag indicated that he was. Pret landed another smack to his ass, hard enough to leave a pink handprint on the right cheek.

The demon retrieved the bottle of oil he’d used last night. Settling onto a chair on the side of the cot, he slicked up several fingers and resumed stroking the vampire from tailbone to balls. He increased the pressure at each pass over the wrinkled pucker, until he slowly sank in to the first knuckle.

“There you go, baby – open up for me. It’s just a little finger and I’ve got such big plans for you.” Slipping his free hand beneath Spike, he noted the vampire’s erection was solid and leaking. “That cock ring’s gonna be there for the duration, boy. This whole exercise is not about your pleasure. It’s not even about your pain. You almost don’t enter into the equation at all.”

Spike felt his muscles give way as Pret’s finger sank in further and further with each stroke – the burn was minor, but the humiliation of being spread out like a starfish with his private bits and pieces open to this demon’s whims was choking him.

“Look at that, baby – such a greedy little hole, grabbing onto my finger and not wanting to let go. Let’s feed it some more,” he crooned, slowly adding first one then two more fingers, pumping all three in and out of Spike’s unresisting body. “One day, lovely thing,” he promised. “One day I’ll fit my whole hand up your ass, and you’ll be looking for more.”

The demon was fascinated by the sight of his fingers disappearing into Spike’s body. He removed them from Spike’s grasping hole, and quickly slicked up both hands. Using the forefinger and middle finger of each hand, he slowly sank all four digits into the vampire.

Whimpers became moans, which became screams as the fingers proceeded to not only pound into Spike’s body, but to stretch his hole from side to side, wide enough for Pret to see the soft pink walls just past the entrance.

“It’s all right, sweet thing. You can do this. Not gonna have much choice about it, so you should be grateful to come out of it with as little damage as possible.”

The muffled screams had stopped and the tautness in the body went slack. Spike had left the building.

“Not bad for a first go round, baby. You rest now. I’ll just keep all that hard work from going to waste with this handy, dandy little plug.” Once again, Pret removed his fingers from Spike’s bottom, slicking up the plug and inserting it gently into his hole. Once it was fully seated, with only the black ring visible outside the body, he got up from the chair.

“I’ll be back soon, don’t miss me too much.” The demon pulled a blanket over Spike’s inert body, tucking it in around his shoulders, and left the room.

~*~

He regained consciousness slowly, unaware of how much time had passed. He was still restrained and gagged, unable to move. Felt like Pret had his entire foot up his ass. The burn and fullness had settled to a constant ache.

When the door opened, he realized he had been alone, which meant the bastard had shoved something into him. His ass burned, and his cock felt like it was going to explode.

“Such a pretty picture you make for me, boy. Just might take some one day. There’s a huge market for demon porn, you know. Most humans believe it’s all done with special effects and makeup. Blind fools don’t look at what’s there right under their noses.”

Pret walked over to the cot, and knelt down, able to look Spike in the face. “How you doing, pretty boy? All wide open and ready for me?” He stretched his arm around the vampire’s body, to toy with the plug. With a slight flick of his wrist, he worked the plug further into Spike’s abused channel, making him writhe and scream once more. “That’s it, sweet thing – sing for Pret. All stuffed up and aching for me.”

The demon had already stopped looking at Spike’s tear streaked face. He walked around to the end of the cot and unzipped his pants, taking his cock out and stroking it harshly as he continued to speak. “Haven’t had such a lovely piece of ass in years, boy – gonna be nice to sink into a hole and not worry about falling out. You’ll hold me tight, won’t you? Like a firm handshake you’re gonna be.”

A quick tug ~far too quick for Spike’s comfort ~ and the plug was removed. Spike’s hole gaping and fluttering at him, caused Pret to breathe heavily. He slicked himself in preparation, then lightly began a stroking and sinking pattern with his fingers, alternating outside and inside touches.

“Here it comes, boy – get ready to meet your Master,” he crowed, and shoved himself into Spike with one vicious thrust.

Kill me!

If I’ve ever done anything good or kind, just send down a bolt of lightning and burn me to dust.

Again!

It hurt less than this.

Spike’s body bowed in half with the force of the demon’s thrusts. Pret could hear the metal of the links holding the vampire’s neck in place strain towards a breaking point.

“That’s it boy, your ass is the sweetest ride around, and I’m not getting off any time soon.” Pret settled himself in for a steady pace, thrusting in and out, shallow, then deep, shallow then deep, shallow then buried so far in he couldn’t move.

He noticed a sudden laxness in his victim again, but continued to thrust. “Don’t matter to me, baby. Told you it wasn’t about your pleasure or pain. Gonna get my end off eventually, and you’ll have plenty of resting time.”

For the next hour or so, the only sounds in the room were Pret’s heavy breathing and the creaking of the cot. When he was done, he pulled himself out, wiped himself off on Spike’s blanket, and left the unconscious vampire as he was, bare assed and dripping.

Dead to the world.Hell Is In the Details – Chapter 4 – The Devil’s Playground

~ Three Months Later ~

Spike’s days had taken on a mind-numbing sameness, which, when he thought at all, he was grateful for. Feeding, fucking, and sleeping. In that order. His life reduced to three words.

Every morning he awoke to Pret’s strident call of: “Up and at ‘em, pretty thing.” The demon would offer him a mug of warm blood, fuck him and leave. He’d finally made good on his promise of fisting, but Spike was in no condition to ‘enjoy’ it. Pret didn’t seem to get much out of the experience, either.

As time went on, the less ‘pretty’ he became. His hair grew long and shaggy and un-dyed. Rough, because his owner enjoyed grabbing handfuls of hair and yanking hard while he fucked him.

Spike’s cheeks, ribs and hipbones had become more prominent; his skin no longer taut over toned muscles. The cock ring had long since been removed as erections had become a thing of the past. He was slowly starving.

He never saw anyone other than Pret. He never wore clothes, and he never left the dingy room he’d been dumped in since… well, he couldn’t rightly remember anymore. Since forever, it seemed. If questioned, the vampire would have been hard pressed to remember his life before Dante’s.

No longer chained to the wall or floor Spike had free reign of the room and its contents. He never left his cot except for the occasional hose down in the butcher’s kitchen.

Pret no longer gagged him during fucking, as he no longer made a sound, even when taken dry. No need to talk. His routine was inviolate and unchanging.

~*~

The inevitable happened – as it always does. Pret became bored. Fucking a vampire who no longer made even a show of fighting back or reacting to pain was a waste of his time. It wasn’t any good when they didn’t even cry.

He began to neglect his pet.

The first time Spike went hungry, the demon remembered three days later to come in with double rations and an insincere apology that garnered no reaction from the vampire other than drinking what was offered.

The second time Spike went an entire week without sustenance. The door to his room was no longer locked, but he had no thoughts about venturing outside of the four walls, even to seek out food. If he wasn’t being fed, he didn’t care. The hunger pangs were just another part of his existence.

~*~

“Up and at ‘em, sweet boy. Time for things to change around here. I know I’ve been rather pre-occupied of late, but you haven’t exactly been a sparkling conversationalist, have you?”

Looking at the vampire with dispassionate eyes, Pret had to admit his possession’s current condition was due to his own neglect. He didn’t feel badly about it, just thought there had to be something more he could get out of him besides a pile of dust.

“I know you’re in there, baby,” said the demon, looking into the dull, vacant eyes of his toy. “But if you’ve trotted off into some other place, it’s all good. The parts of you that are here are just gonna have to find some way of earning their keep.”

Pret carried Spike’s inert body – light as a feather – to a commercial sized double sink in the kitchen, and proceeded to wash the near-skeletal vampire. He remembered that body as he’d first seen it – all beautiful muscle and hard, thick cock. Now? Mostly wrinkled skin and a totally unresponsive organ. He’d even let that thick bush of pubic hair grow back. Should have noticed that; it was a sure sign of no longer wanting him. Pret never could abide body hair on those he fucked.

He tsked as he washed Spike off. “Such a sorrowful bag of bones you’ve become, boy – gonna feed you up good and proper. Make you a presentable whore for me. Just because I’m tired of you doesn’t mean you won’t be appreciated by a whole bunch of other folk.”

Going on, he warmed to his presentation, not caring if his audience heard him or understood a thing. “Imagine the pitch, baby – ‘Come one, come all, to the Devil’s Playground. Our star attraction is a once powerful souled Master Vampire. For a set fee, you’ll have an hour and your choice of one hole to play in – the game is yours. Only two rules apply – all body parts are to remain intact – no dismemberment allowed, and no dusting.’ Doesn’t that just make you tingle?”

Something must have gotten through to the nearly catatonic vampire in his arms; but a slight shiver was the only indication that he’d heard anything about his new fate.

Resting Spike’s head against the partition in the double sink, the demon washed and combed the longish sable tresses, cutting off the bleached ends. Less work to leave him with his natural hair color, and anything Pret didn’t have to bother with at this point was a good thing in his opinion.

A brisk toweling and Spike was re-settled onto his cot. After consideration, the S’lugith forced several mugs of fresh blood down his throat. He’d had to resort to using a straw in the end, stroking the vampire’s throat to encourage sucking. Looked like he no longer had the desire to feed.

“Guess I let you go too far, boy. Wasn’t my intention – but I did tell you I’m not one for long range planning. I just got so terribly bored. Tell you what. If you don’t perk up somewhat in the next week or so, I’ll dust you and end this. No need to waste time and fresh blood on a lost cause.”

~*~

Pret brought meals to Spike three times a day. After the first few days, the vampire began to exhibit signs of awareness – expecting his meals and his owner.

By the end of the week, he was able to drink directly from the mug held in his own hands.

At two weeks gone, Spike looked much as he did when he first arrived. He’d regained most of his weight and body mass, and was once again collared and chained to the wall. Pret was taking no chances on a mindless vampire chock full of human blood.

“Guess this is as good as it gets, pretty boy. I have to admit you’re still easy on the eyes, but it’s time to turn you over to your adoring fans. Got ‘em lined up around the block for you. The idea of fucking William the Bloody has spread rapid-fire through the vampire community, let me tell you. They seem to think knocking you down a peg or two makes for bragging rights.”

Spike’s blank gaze said nothing.

“It’s like talking to a wall, trying to get through to you, sweet boy – just as well your ‘dates’ have other things in mind for that pretty mouth of yours. You just take it easy now, sleep if you can. Tomorrow you’ll have plenty of company to keep you occupied.”

When the door closed, Spike slowly raised his head as his mind cleared for the first time in months. He had one thought, fleeting as it was – he wanted to breathe as though it made a difference, just for a little while. The feel of oxygen running through his lungs, bringing new vitality to his system; this he craved - so he could stop breathing voluntarily and end it once and for all.

And when he closed his eyes, it all slipped away once more.

~*~

As soon as Dante’s opened for business, Pret sent the first of many demons into Spike’s room. Another vampire, for starters. Start him off nice and easy with one of his own kind.

The first client walked into the room – a short, rather stocky vampire in gameface, dressed in ratty blue jeans and a blue flannel workshirt.

“Wake up, you fucking whore! I’m not starting my hour ‘til my balls are knockin’ on your chin.” A violent tug on his neck chain accompanied the yelling, pulling Spike out of his sleep and onto the floor. “On your knees, bitch – and make it good.”

Spike had no clue as to who was screaming at him; didn’t much matter either. Must be the ‘date’ his owner had spoken of, which meant obedience.

The vampire scrambled to his knees with no problem, since simple commands and positions had become ingrained behavior. However, he stared at the drooling cock being waved in front of him with no comprehension. Pret had never taken his mouth, and any past experience he might have had was lost to him.

“You must be the stupidest whore I’ve ever run across. Let’s make things simple for you,” the customer snarled, grabbing Spike by the chin with his free hand and tugging downwards until his mouth opened. With his other hand he guided his cock inch by inch past the vampire’s lips, until he was fairly well seated – and waited.

And waited.

Infuriated by the lack of movement, the irate vampire lashed out with a vicious punch to Spike’s temple, sending him sprawling.

Beaten for the first time since he’d been sold, full of fresh blood, something sparked deep within the vampire’s sluggish mind, rousing the demon within. Without thinking, the demon in him rose to the fore.

He attacked.

But, hampered by slowed reflexes and the neck chain, the other vampire had no difficulty in getting away.

Tucking himself back into his pants and cursing a blue streak, the customer slammed out of Spike’s room, bitterly cursing and complaining to the management that “their whore needed to be taught some fucking manners.”

Pret stormed into the little room and confronted Spike, still in gameface. “Not an auspicious beginning, sweet thing. Can’t have you attacking your clientele. Since you can’t seem to control yourself, gonna have to make you harmless.”

Wielding a pair of pliers, the demon sat down on the cot, grabbed Spike by the hair and secured his head between his knees. “Don’t you move now, boy – get this taken care of and it’s back to business. Now open that damned mouth. You make any attempt to bite me, and your tongue goes next.”

He knew what was coming. Angelus had done it before. And knew enough not to fight .

Only a few pained cries issued from Spike’s mouth as his incisors were twisted and ripped out of his gums, leaving him huddled on the floor, whimpering in a pool of his own blood.

“This is your one and only warning, boy – one more fuck up and you’ll think the last few months have been a picnic with the Queen.”

Pret left, muttering to himself about “mistakes” and “more trouble than it’s worth” and went off to send in the next demon on the schedule.

The S’lugith simply smiled as the door closed behind the Fyarl. No irritated noises from the demon; that was good. He waited, then whistled softly to himself as Spike’s screaming began.

Better. Much, much better .
 



Hell Is In the Details – Chapter 5 – Casting Stones

~ Nine Months Later ~

Angel’s mind was filled with happiness as he looked out his office window. Unlife could not get better than this. Life had settled down to a satisfying routine – paperwork, delegation, and the occasional meeting. Decisions he made were responsible for saving lives on a larger scale than the old one-by-one he and the AI gang had been used to.

His friends had stopped asking about Spike after the first few weeks. He’d sold them some cock and bull story about the bleached pest using his head for once and leaving Los Angeles – actually, leaving the country altogether after their last fight.

He felt totally justified in removing Spike from the picture. Nobody cared about him. Angel felt free for the first time in ages. Free of his past, free of the monster he’d created in his own image. Now, if only he knew where Drusilla was – maybe…

Nah, he wouldn’t worry about her now. Buffy was more fun to think about. Ah, she was the pure cream in all of this. She’d never found out that Spike had made his brief reappearance, so he never had to lie to her.

She had called about a month ago, telling him about her life now – how she’d decided it was time to stop actively mourning for lost friends and possibilities and move on. She’d told him she was lonely, and tired of it.

Now she’d decided to come back to him. Well, to be totally honest, to come back to Los Angeles and see where they stood. No promises, other than to try. What more could a vampire ask for? With his soul firmly anchored, they were free to pursue a full adult relationship. Just another benefit of working for Wolfram & Hart.

The ability to give Connor the life he deserved was the primary reason for listening to their offer, but the guarantee of finally anchoring his elusive soul is what put the deal over the top. A total win-win situation.

Ever since the spell had been cast, Angel felt more comfortable within his skin. The demon no longer raged to escape – it seemed far more content. As if it were more integrated with the soul – creating a single being. He felt more like Liam than he had in decades. Liam – with power.

Looking like the proverbial cat that ate the canary, Angel strode through the hallway with a song in his heart and on his lips, singing:

Oh Buffy,
Well you came and you gave without taking,
but I sent you away.
Oh, Buffy,
Well kissed me and stopped me from shaking,
and I need you today.
Oh, Buffy!

…discreetly to himself, since nobody appreciated his musical efforts.

Walking past the mailroom, he heard a muffled thud, followed by a startled “Shit!”

He didn’t bother checking, but continued on his merry way. Wolfram & Hart had mailroom staff for a reason, he figured. Picking up a dropped box didn’t constitute an emergency for the CEO.

~*~

Lorne felt like his head was going to explode. One moment he was sending out a package of publicity photos for some starlet or other, the next moment his mind was assaulted by blackness and betrayal. The level of ‘wrongness’ was so overpowering, the green-skinned demon couldn’t immediately discern who had revealed such malevolence.

Using the packing table for support, he levered himself up and brushed the mailroom dirt off his cream colored linen pants. Maybe he had time to find out who was throwing off such harsh vibes.

He peered around the door and saw Angel striding towards the elevator. Ah, no. No, no, no! Someone’s trolley has jumped the tracks big time. Making a concerted effort, Lorne launched himself down the hallway, hoping to anyone who would listen that the elevator didn’t get there before he could.

He caught Angel just in time.

“Whoa there, big fella – you’re in an awfully good mood today. Wanna tell your old pal Lorne what’s makin’ you so happy?” He nudged Angel playfully in the ribs. “It still is Angel , right? No ‘got a happy issue and the Evil One is back for a visit’ scenarios?”

“Things are good, Lorne. It’s a beautiful day outside, demon problems have been minimal lately and I might be getting a handle on my love life at long last.”

Lorne’s raised eyebrow spoke volumes.

It took a moment, before Angel figured out just what he’d said to put the amused look on his friend’s face.

“Very funny, Lorne – who do you think you are, Sp…” The vampire caught himself just in time – it certainly wouldn’t be good to bring that name into play, raising questions that were better left unasked. “Never mind. For once, if everything worka out, I’ll have my job, my friends and my girl. For the first time I can see some kind of future for myself. That’s all I need to be happy. I’m a simple kind of guy.”

“I’m just playin’ with you, cupcake. It’s not like you’d still be fighting the good fight with all your chums if you were back to being devil’s food again. No worries here.”

~No worries my Aunt Fanny~ There was something off, really wrong with the vibrations Angel was giving off. It set Lorne’s teeth on edge – a bit like chewing on tin foil. Nothing inherently evil in and of itself, but it sent little prickles of warning running up and down his spine.

“Where are you off to, Angel-cakes? Want me to come with?” Lorne tried for casual, hoping to pick up on whatever it was setting him on edge.

“Nah – I have a meeting with the head of some demon cabal on the far side of town. The lead item on their agenda is whether or not they should be allowed to eat the homeless. I mean, really – it’s important, but you’d be bored. Thanks for offering, though.”

Lorne knew he couldn’t push the matter; he didn’t want to raise suspicion by grilling the boss. Definitely not a smart move. Just when he was about to give up for the time being, the green-skinned demon caught a break.

Angel began to hum.

This time, Lorne was prepared for the wave of animosity he’d experienced earlier passing by the mailroom. It was strong and constant, but not exactly current. Something bad had gone down, bad enough to have marked the vampire permanently. There was also the distinct crackle that signified the use of magicks directly aimed at Angel. The empath demon couldn’t feel anything sinister about the spell – something he’d have to ask the boss about another time, or dig into on his own. Probably.. yeah, probably better on his own.

The elevator finally arrived at their floor. Angel smiled, and told Lorne he’d see him later. Before the door could close, the Anagogic demon reached out to impede its progress.

He’d had a clear snippet of a vision flash through his mind – of platinum blonde hair, a swathe of black leather and a gun. Closing his eyes, he could feel pettiness, jealousy and vindictiveness surrounding the incident he was sensing. This was the focal point of all the badness he sensed.

“Angel-kins, before you go off to tilt at the homeless’ windmills, can I ask you a question?”

“Sure, pal – anything for you. What’s up?”

Troubled waters, Lorne, but… he stuck his oar in. “For some reason, your duster made me wonder if you’ve heard anything from your prodigal childe lately?”

“Any particular reason you’re asking me?” Angel’s expression gave nothing away; he was cool and collected when he continued. “It’s not like you ever got to know him. Why do you care?”

“No real reason, my little peach-pie. It’s just something about the black leather that sparked a memory. I guess I’m just curious about where he might be, and whether he’s found some happiness after all he’s been through.”

Angel frowned. “You know, I truthfully haven’t given him more than a moment’s thought since he left the building. Knowing him, he’s off being a pain in the ass somewhere. I wouldn’t worry – Spike always manages to look out for himself.”

Lorne let the elevator door close after bidding the vampire adieu, with the uneasy suspicion that Angel was hiding something big and bad.

“Well, there’s only one thing I can do while the cat’s away,” he said aloud. “Snoop through the boss’ office and see if anything reeks of discord.”

There was nobody in the vicinity of Angel’s office, and Lorne’s relief was palpable. He harbored no delusions about video security – he’d just have to bribe the guard with tickets to his favorite show. No skin off his green nose. Working with evil had its plus side.

~Now, if I were evidence, where would I hide? ~

He sat at Angel’s desk, opening drawer after drawer, finding nothing even remotely personal. Office supplies, a tranquilizer dart gun – always paid to play things safe. None of the regular flotsam that most people accumulated by existing.

The bottom drawer was locked. With a quick poke of his tie pin, the demon managed to bypass the catch. “Let’s see what you’ve been hidin’ on us, Angel-cakes.” There’s a picture of Cordelia – good to see she’d not been forgotten. A picture of a small baby which was puzzling, but nothing to be concerned about.

But then – “Hello, what’s this?” Underneath a manila folder, there was a small plastic bag. Just as he was about to open it to examine the contents, Gunn walked into the office.

“Yo, Jolly Green, what’re you doing in the boss man’s office?”

Refusing to be rattled or distracted from his task, and knowing he’d need help from someone, Lorne decided to take the bull by the horns.

“Have you noticed anything unusual about our head honcho lately? Is he acting strange, or setting off any mental alarms with you?”

“Not particularly, no. In fact, I’ve never seen him so at ease with himself and other’s. He’s smiling more, and he’s not broo… wait, is that what you’re talkin’ about? Damn, man – that is out of character for him. What’s he got to be so happy about?”

“That’s what I’ve been wracking the old noodle about, my little cup of java. He’s still Angel – no worries there, but he’s different. And it’s giving me all kinds of ookie feelings. I’ve felt some bad things coming off that boy – heard him singing in the halls earlier.”

“God, no – don’t tell me he’s still doin’ the Manilow bit? That would make anyone feel ‘ookie’ as you put it.”

“Oh yeah, and I got a headache from it that just won’t…” Lorne freezes, a wave of overwhelming pain ripped through him. He’d been toying with the bag as he spoke with Gunn – and the small silver ring inside had slid into his palm, unnoticed. Well, he’s noticing now… it seared his hand like it was snatched out of the flames. Again, an image of black leather and platinum hair. This was too much to be a coincidence.

“You alright, man? You look a bit… well, greener than usual.”

“Do you remember seeing this ring before? Is it familiar to you?”

Gunn peered at it. “It’s been awhile, but I think I remember seein’ it on Blondie, when he first showed up here. Where the hell is he? I thought for sure he’d be here tormenting the boss man forever. He took such joy in it.”

“That’s just it. I asked Angel if he’d heard from him, and he claims he hasn’t given him two thoughts since he walked out almost a year ago. But everything I’m reading from him and this ring… says our blonde piece of fluff has met with serious harm.”

“So, what’s the what with that piece of paper still in the bag?”

“Seems to be a receipt of some kind – it’s dated… Oh great green mother earth… it’s dated the last day Spike was in the office. The logo says Dante’s – ‘Property Delivered’ received by Pret, cost – one dollar.”

“You ever hear of a place called Dante’s with all your connections? Got a feelin’ it’s not a flower shop we’re talkin’ of.”

“Tell you what, pumpkin – why don’t I go check with entertainment, see if they’ve heard of this place, maybe give us a clue as to what we’re facing?”

“Sounds good, I’ll head down to records, to see if there’s somethin’ the boss wanted hidden that corresponds with this date.”

“Let’s get this show on the road, then. How about we meet at my place in a couple of hours? After work, say six o’clock?”

“Works for me, man. See you there. Gotta tell you, I’m not feelin’ real good about this.”

“Me, either, buckaroo. Me, either.”