A/N: A huge thank you to the wonderful Mandi (Vampkiss) for the gorgeous banner.

More huge thanks to my lovely betas - and authors extrodinaire - Megan and Schehrezade, for their continued skill and support. Not forgetting the delicious input from the lovely Angelic Amy.

Last, but not least, thank you for the feedback! Very, very much appreciated.

Additional Note: My apologies. I should have made this clearer before but would like to state now that this story is NOT in response to a challenge here on the lovely BSV site. I was not aware of the challenge before I posted and therefore developed the fic without the challenge criteria. If it had been I would have credited, as would only be correct. I am sorry if this has caused confusion. But do hope you will still read!

Chapter 3

Spike had been pleasantly surprised when he’d looked up to find the blonde girl standing in front of him.

She seemed … nice.

And there hadn’t been a lot of nice in his unlife since he’d been electronically neutered. When she gave him that shy smile the vampire reacted instinctively, luxuriating in her blush and rising heartbeat. Been a while since he’d managed to get a response like that and it felt … soothing and reassuring. Any sort of attention from the fairer sex was something to be treasured. Alone again, Spike had allowed himself to feel hope that maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t the end that he’d imagined.

A few minutes later all hope was gone. The man in the smart dark suit exuded power and smelt of the devil. One quick glance was enough to know the soul had been forsworn. Spike didn’t need to be told the name of the law firm he represented, he could smell it on him: Wolfram and Hart. The man didn’t say a word, just stared at him for a few moments, long enough to drive fear into his undead heart, then turned and left with a satisfied smile.

The trembling that took control of his body disgusted Spike. But that had been the way of it in what felt like forever. These last years had stretched to an eternity making his previous century, and more, seem like the blinking of an eye. The difference between existing with pain or pleasure had never seemed more defined. Pain made every second a year, every minute a decade. Whereas pleasure was fleeting, needing to be sought over and over to be remembered. And Spike found it so hard to remember how pleasure felt.

Pleasure was now something to be taken by others in their use of him, and he’d been left with the clear understanding that he was not deemed worthy to receive such a gift. Only a miracle would see him being in a position to experience joy in sex again, sharing something other than parts of his body. Spike believed it would take another miracle for him to want to give anything of himself, anything other than the base mechanics that the act demanded from him.

Time seemed to be passing quicker now; his fear of going into the arena again making the sand fall faster in the hourglass holding his fate. Too soon, far too soon for Spike, Josh was taking him from his cage and leading him to where Doug would take control of Seventeen, the last lot in the auction.

***

Buffy and Tara were escorted to an almost empty room and led to a secluded box. They’d passed groups and individuals walking in the opposite direction; some had looked satisfied, some not, but all had made Tara’s skin crawl.

It was like walking into a cinema after the lights had gone down, taking time to adjust their sight in the gloom. The only lighting was on the stage below them, illuminating Mike, the auctioneer, and an empty spot to the side of him. Within moments a shuffling and clinking sound heralded the arrival of the last lot in the auction – Seventeen. It seemed that there was very little interest in obtaining this final exhibit of the day.

Buffy caught her breath at her first real sight of Spike after so long. The almost shaved head served to accentuate the angles of his face and it shocked her to see how his mouth was distorted by the gag. It shocked her even more to notice the huge tent in his pants, finding it hard to drag her gaze away. ‘Shit, they’re treating him like an animal. Don’t they know they’ve got a master vampire there?’

The man who’d accompanied Tara into the hangar earlier, Doug, guided the vampire until he stood in the spotlight, head bowed and shoulders slumped. The whole setup sickened Buffy. She tried to put herself in Spike’s shoes – or she would, if he were wearing any - but shuddered before she could get beyond being shackled and paraded in front of strangers. Mike started speaking so she focussed on him. The bidding was about to begin.

Mike had a problem.

A big problem.

And he had no idea how he was going to sort it out. The auditorium was virtually empty, only the two sets of bidders occupying it. He’d hoped there’d be only one. The presence of the Wolfram and Hart representative had surprised him earlier. When the man had sat through the rest of the auction, without bidding once, Mike had experienced some serious misgivings. Now, with the last lot up and his instructions to please the VIP burning in his head, Mike faced the miserable task of upsetting one of their most prestigious clients. He was determined not to let the petite blonde VIP down. As Mike went into his spiel, giving details of Seventeen’s previous experience and opening the bidding, he prayed that he would be able to come out of this with some credibility.

The moment the bidding started, Buffy reached over to the button that registered bids. As her finger was poised to depress the large red button, Mike accepted a bid from someone else. Buffy frowned and looked across at Tara who shrugged before firmly depressing the button. This started a virtual ping pong match.

Spike might not have entered into her thoughts on a regular basis since she’d last seen him but, as the only Tara-approved vamp here, Buffy was not about to let another get their hands on him. No way was she ever coming here again. With determination Buffy concentrated on winning against her unseen competition.

Mike could barely keep up as the bidding started at five thousand dollars and then rose in five thousand dollar increments. In no time at all it had reached one hundred thousand dollars and the increments increased to ten thousand dollars.

Buffy was enjoying herself immensely, something she hadn’t felt in a while. At first she’d been surprised that someone else was fighting her for Spike, the bottom of the auction barrel. But then she got the bit between her pretty white teeth and enjoyed the feeling of spending the Council’s money. ‘Giles is so gonna have a fit!’

There was a pause when the bidding stopped at two hundred and sixty thousand, in Buffy’s favour. Unknown to the Slayer, her opponent had reached his ceiling and was frantically trying to connect with the CEO of LA’s Wolfram and Hart office on his cell phone for permission to go higher. Mike seized this golden opportunity and closed, wiping the gathering sweat from his brow in relief.

Buffy and Tara hugged briefly before Buffy turned to look back at the stage. Tara sighed with relief that the vampire would be in a safer place; a glance in the direction of the other bidder had revealed to her an aura blacker than any she had seem from within the cages earlier. She shuddered to think what would happen to Spike in his hands.

Spike was already being led away and, at that moment, they were being encouraged to go as well to complete the paperwork. Buffy’s satisfaction in procuring Spike at such expense – thoughts of Giles’ reaction was firmly pushed away for now – was strangely tinged with a feeling of regret at seeing him in this position. Buffy was glad that she had made some effort to provide at least a comfortable bed for him in the basement, even if she hadn’t known that it would be Spike resting there. He had certainly looked as though a rest would do him good.

Buffy turned to accompany Tara and sign on the dotted line for her vampire.

***

Spike was in shock. As he made his painfully slow way onto the stage - it was surprisingly difficult to walk with an aching erection - he’d fully expected to find himself sold to Wolfram and Hart within moments. When a bidding war had started up he’d fought to dampen the growing hope that he would escape their clutches. And now he was being led away, not knowing to whom he would be passed in a few minutes. Maybe it would be the pretty blonde from earlier. And if it was, maybe her friendly face hid someone with traits to compete with Angel’s artistic cruelty.

Fresh anxiety added to the present fear he was feeling. Spike knew from experience that an inordinately high price had been paid to buy him. Who other than Wolfram & Hart would pay that sort of money for a not too highly recommended chipped vampire? Someone wanted him bad if they were prepared to part with that amount of money, and he didn’t think it was with the intention of placing him in the lap of luxury. Struggling to find the last shreds of dignity he possessed, Spike dragged from memory the cloak of attitude he’d used to wear naturally. Trying, with all he had left, to give at least the appearance of still being someone, not just some thing. Nothing he tried completely stopped involuntary shivers from dancing through his frame.

***

Tara bit her tongue to stop herself from spitting out her anger at the auctioneer. Mike had been with them within moments of their own entry to the office and had launched himself into an obviously well-rehearsed monologue. He’d mentioned something about a ‘no return’ clause on Seventeen – which made Tara grind her teeth – and then continued with a list of things that Buffy should take into account with regard to her acquisition. Glancing at Buffy from under her lashes, she could see that her friend was finding it just as difficult to contain her rage.

Tara made a note to herself to get Willow to use her computer skills to investigate exactly what the chipped vampires were being subjected to; get the technical details that were held secretly. She knew Willow would leap at any chance to help Buffy in any way.

‘Don’t hit him, don’t hit him, and don’t hit him. Damn, I want to hit him!’ Buffy fidgeted in an effort to calm herself and only listened to half of what Mike was saying, and that was bad enough. She’d already signed the necessary paperwork and been given a copy. There’d also been the presentation of a complimentary chest with ‘necessary discipline and containment’ equipment. A set of keys had been passed to her, ‘spares are in the chest’, a copy of the file she had failed to read earlier, and an instruction manual. It was the small control device, ‘sends shocks to his brain’, that had the man before her in more danger than he could ever imagine. Mike had just started to assure them that Seventeen would be perfectly happy travelling in the trunk when a disturbance in the doorway had them all turning to see the cause.

If Spike breathed, which in all honesty he often did, he would have heaved a heartfelt sigh of relief when he spotted the blonde girl he’d seen earlier standing inside the doorway to the office. But that incipient relief was soon displaced by sheer panic.

It had been a long time since he’d sensed this, felt that prickling sensation crawling over the back of his neck, but there was no forgetting it. Slayer. ‘Bloody hell. She’s going to take me to him. The fucking Slayer is going to take me to that bastard with a soul.’ Spike had never forgotten the closeness that Angel shared with the Chosen One. Maybe he’d been wrong about the Wolfram & Hart guy being in Angel’s employ; he could just as easily have been from another branch. How more likely was it that Angel would get the Slayer to do his dirty work for him? And that’s when he started to struggle. Spike knew it was hopeless; he was trussed up and on a fucking leash, but that didn’t stop him trying.

Spike pulled back on the leash, ignoring the burn as it cut into his neck and using all of his strength to keep from being dragged into the office. His head started to shake from side to side in denial of his situation. Stumbling backwards as the leash fell slack, he stumbled over his chains and fell into an untidy heap on the ground, still attempting to shuffle away from the office. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Doug raise a nightstick and, closing his eyes, braced for the blow.

When it didn’t come he cautiously opened his eyes to see the Slayer holding Doug away from him. Doug’s face reflected his disbelief at a small girl being able to halt him. Releasing the man, the Slayer turned to Spike and crouched down beside him. When he would have wriggled further away she reached out and put a gentle hand on his shoulder. It was the lack of force that stilled him.

Buffy looked into the eyes of the vampire, understanding that he was almost beside himself with fear but not knowing why. She couldn’t believe that she was instilling this panic in him; she never had before. But a lot had happened to both of them since their last meeting and now was not the time to catch up. There was irony here somewhere, a slayer wanting to soothe a vampire.

Softly, so softly that only Spike would hear, she said, “Spike, it’s okay. You’re safe with me.”

When this elicited no reaction, Buffy tried again. “I’ve never lied to you, Spike. It’s gonna be okay, you’ll see.” Shifting her grip to his arm, Buffy pulled Spike up with her and turned to face Mike. “I think we’ll be going now. Thank you for all your help today.”

Without waiting for an answer, Buffy gently tugged on the terrified vampire’s arm to get him moving towards the car park. Within moments Tara had fallen in beside them and they made slow progress towards Tara’s car. Once they reached it Mike appeared with Doug pushing the chest along on a dolly. It was quickly installed in the trunk. Despite Mike’s protests that the vampire should join it, Buffy opened the back door of the car and pushed Spike gently inside before following him. When Tara had settled in the driver’s seat they made short work of leaving the depressing place behind.

***

Without any need for instruction, Spike had slipped into the foot well and huddled there as best he could within the confines of his bindings. Moments later he was pulled up and onto the seat beside the Slayer, sitting awkwardly on his chains. He tried to keep his head down but a soft hand touched his face, almost making him jerk away as it firmly turned his bowed head towards her. Spike glanced up briefly in the darkness of the car and finally looked directly at the Slayer. He wanted to shift face so he could see her more clearly, but that didn’t seem like a good idea. He couldn’t stop the trembling that had taken control of his body.

“Tip your head forward, Spike. I want to take this thing off.” Buffy touched the gag and collar briefly – seeing these things in use on Spike made her all sorts of uncomfortable - before speaking to Tara. “How long before we’re home, Tara?”

“Should be quicker at this time of night, maybe an hour and a half, if we’re lucky.” Tara concentrated on getting them off the dirt track and back onto tarmac, eager to put her foot down and put distance between them and that sickening place. She glanced in the rear view mirror finding it fascinating that she could only see Buffy dimly reflected in it.

It was the mention of home, and the time it would take to get there, that finally made Spike let go of his belief that he was being taken to Angel. Tipping his head as instructed, he felt the Slayer’s warm hands fumbling with the straps that held the gag in place.

In frustration Buffy turned on the interior light and made short work of the confining buckles.
Gently, she removed it from Spike’s mouth and dropped it onto the seat beside her before turning her attention to the collar. Fishing in her coat pocket she pulled out the keys she’d been given. “If I take off these chains are you gonna behave? I really don’t want the hassle of an escape attempt right now.”

Head still bowed, Spike nodded once and shifted his wrists towards her. It took a few tries to find the right key but then the cuffs were gone. Moving to settle against the door, Spike raised his ankles and presented them to the Slayer. Soon he was able to stretch his arms and legs, working out the knots of tension before huddling as far from the Slayer as he could get. He was tempted to thank her but knew only too well the punishment for talking without permission.

Buffy frowned at Spike’s silence. She’d half been expecting him to launch into one of his annoying rants the moment he had his mouth free. Instead he’d curled up as far away from her as he could. It was chilly in the car and Buffy had pulled her coat around her before remembering the rug and flask she’d brought with her. She was about to reach over to the front seat and grab them when the car swung left sharply and bumped off the track and onto tarmac. The movement caused the vampire to slide across the seat into her and, without thinking, Buffy put her hands out to steady him.

Spike froze, little pants coming unbidden from his mouth. He hadn’t been touched by a female for years, barely been in the presence of one. Despite it being the Slayer’s hands that had touched him several times already tonight, his senses were becoming overwhelmed by this close proximity to a woman, two women. Their scents were driving him mad, his manipulated erection now filled out by his own desire.

He could smell the faint sweat that had now dried on their bodies, the mixed aromas from bathing gels, sweet and floral, sensual and musky, power and magic. The girl in front, Tara, had had sex earlier today, but not with a man. Spike felt a vague recognition of her partner’s scent, but couldn’t quite place it. The Slayer had no trace of sex anywhere on her, which Spike found strange recalling the last time they’d fought and his taunting of her over a one night stand. Perhaps she was choosier now; perhaps those dimpled knees were harder to pry apart. A twinge in his cock almost had Spike groaning, teeth biting into his lip to prevent any further humiliation.

As the car settled, Buffy pushed Spike upright before leaning over and retrieving the rug and flask from the front of the car. She could see his surprise when the rug was thrown over his shoulders and wrapped about him.

“It’s cold,” was Buffy’s response to Spike’s bemused look. She thrust the flask towards him, waiting until he slowly took it from her. “Blood, pig’s, probably not too hot now. But it’s the thought that counts, right?”

She felt satisfied when Spike nodded and set to work opening the flask. The smell had him changing face, bumpies and golden eyes directed towards her before he downed the contents straight from the flask. After the dross he’d been supping lately even pig’s blood, especially almost warm pig’s blood, tasted like nectar to Spike. He relished its feel as the blood slid down his throat and set to work on his still healing injuries, taking away some of the ever present sting from the lash marks that liberally covered his body. With a last lick across his fangs, having captured every last drop, he changed back to his other face and passed the flask back to Buffy.

The Slayer confused him.

Spike studied her from under his lashes, harder to do now that she’d turned off the interior light. He was grudgingly impressed that she was still the Slayer after all this time. Seemed that he wasn’t the only Big Bad who’d been unable to off her.

And she smelt divine. There was an extra richness about her now, like a fine wine that was reaching its peak of perfection. Not quite there yet, but close. Her face was thinner but that was to be expected now that she had reached womanhood. But the biggest change was the way she acted towards him. He’d been treated better since he’d entered this car than at any other time since his capture, and that astounded him

Spike knew that he couldn’t base his future treatment on this latest experience in her company, but out of all the people he knew, the Slayer probably had the most justification for taking revenge on him. He shuddered slightly. If she wished it, she could use her strength to seriously damage him, perhaps permanently. Spike really didn’t fancy finishing off his unlife any more of a cripple than he already was.

Wondering what would happen when they reached Sunnyhell, what the bitch called Fate would have in store for him now, Spike settled back into his corner and shut his eyes. He’d be finding out soon enough.

A/N: Feedback most welcome. I will do my best to update next Monday but - as I am away next weekend - there may be a delay of a day.