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Ring Around the Buffy - Conclusion by anaunthe
 
13. Excuses, Excuses
 
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Chapter 13: Excuses, Excuses

“All right,” the pompous troll announced as soon as they reached the door to his office. “Let’s hear your explanation. Fighting at Auction is a serious offense. So you had better make it good.”

He enjoyed the opportunity to make a master vampire like Spike sweat. There was no reason to let Spike know that he had already decided to let himself be persuaded. The little Slayer would live long enough to be sold to the highest bidder, and make him a small fortune in the process. Her punishment would begin soon enough after that. If it took a little longer for her to finally die, well, so much the better.

Spike had used the walk over to work on his excuse. He wasn’t completely happy with it, and he knew that the Slayer would be furious, but it had the virtue that it would probably work.

Closing the door behind them so that neither the Auctioneer’s assistant nor the guards could overhear what they discussed, the Auctioneer took a seat behind his desk. Spike sighed as if he really didn’t want to tell the tale while taking the only other chair in the room. Buffy, of course, as the slave, remained standing.

“You heard the whole sorry story already, haven’t you?” Spike began. “How I pretended to let the Slayer tame me until I could turn the tables on her and get her under my control?”

He waited for the obsequious vampire to nod his agreement. He had told this story to Anton, and no one else, but these things had a way of getting around.

“Well, then you heard why I wanted to sell her, too.” Spike didn’t need to pretend to be embarrassed. “I told Anton and his cronies, so you must have heard that part of the story too. I couldn’t keep up the thrall and fuck her at the same time.”

Buffy was going to kill him when she got the chance. He wished he had gotten an opportunity to speak to her alone and explain what he was trying to do. She’d barely contained her rage the first time he’d told this story, and that was in a room full of adversaries. He could only hope that Buffy realized that this situation was just as dangerous. Even though he was only one vamp, if they dusted the smarmy little Auctioneer, they’d never make it out of the office. The guards outside would call for backup immediately, and they’d have to fight hundreds of vampires and demons before they could even clear the backstage area.

Spike tried not to even glance in his slaves direction. Thank the Powers that Be she was keeping up appearances and pretending to be under his control. Otherwise he knew she’d be the one staking his ass right about now, let alone the smarmy little Auctioneer.

“She’s too volatile to keep under lock and key,” Spike continued. “I don’t have the facilities. And I can’t keep up the thrall forever. So I thought selling her would be a good solution. Let some other vamp worry about what to do with her. I still get the fame and glory of having captured her – to say nothing of the tidy little fortune I stand to gain.”

“We understand that’s why you came to us,” the official agreed. “But you haven’t yet explained the violence back there…”

“I’m getting to that part,” Spike growled. “See, back there, before those wankers came barging into the store room where they didn’t belong, I finally had my chance at her.”

Swallowing hard, Spike licked his lips and hoped that Buffy wouldn’t stake him for what he was about to do. Pulling her to her knees before him, he ran his hands over her shoulders and through her hair, caressing her body until he heard her give a little sigh, her body calming once again to his touch. Glancing up at their audience, Spike saw the little vamps eyes whirling between black and gold as he eagerly watched the pair.

Spike waited to speak until Buffy’s pulse was steady and even, her breathing shallow and thoughts quiet. Each time he initiated the thrall it was becoming easier. He’d have to be careful in the future, lest the temptation become too great.

Sure now that she would remain compliant, he let his palm run up her thigh and carefully lifted the hem of the Slayer’s costume to reveal her lack of panties. Just the hip and a bit of her rump; he wasn’t letting anyone get a gander at the Slayer’s jollies. The Slayer’s unmistakable aroma permeated the little room, and he let the skirt fall back into place again.

“After months and months of frustration, I was finally going to get to put it to her.” Spike wiggled his eyes suggestively and punctuated his words with a rude gesture that left the officious vamp in no doubt what he referred to. He hated to be so crude in front of Buffy, even if she wouldn’t remember it.

“Until those tossers barged in and ruined the mood. I mean, just look at her now. Smell her.” The scent of Buffy’s arousal perfumed the air around her. In this small space it was hard to miss.

“Don’t you see? I’ve finally found the answer.” He lowered his lids, trying to suppress the matching desire Buffy’s arousal brought out in him. “She’s the Slayer.” Spike swallowed, only now realizing just how true what he was about to say really was. “Forcing her to submit is utterly foreign to her, though I wouldn’t mind...” Not really the point. “Anyway, she needs something, someone to fight, get her blood boiling. Couple that with the illusion of control…” Spike struggled for words, then settled for what came readily to mind, “I can finally put it to her. Give her a bit of the old rough and tumble. Roughing up that minion back there that slapped her arse – that must have started her motor. Had to find some place private to take her. Back in that room she was practically begging me for it. So yeah, when those idiots barged in, interrupting us – I went a little nuts, and started ripping off heads.” The scent of Buffy’s arousal was getting to the other vampire too, and Spike knew that he had won. The last thing the greedy little troll wanted was Buffy dead. He pressed his point home. “Those vamps were a bunch of nobodies anyways. No one that will be missed.”

Troll vamp swallowed and licked his lips over the fangs that had protruded without his conscious thought. “Let me understand you. What you’re saying is that anyone can hold her in thrall and fuck her as long as they prime her first by with a bit of violence beforehand?” A drop of drool fell onto his desk blotter, the little troll could barely take his eyes off where he’d gotten a glimpse of the Slayer’s snatch to look up at Spike, “That right?”

“Well, I suppose,” Spike admitted reluctantly, stroking her golden hair and thanking his lucky stars that he hadn’t yet released his thrall on Buffy. He wasn’t sure he liked where the little ingrate was going with this discussion. Buffy would like it even less, if she were aware enough to hear it.

“What’s it matter?” He needed to keep up pretenses with this oily bastard. But he needed to get Buffy out of here fast, before she started to wake up and conned on to what was being discussed. “All I know is that I can fuck her now.”

Terrified that Buffy might begin to struggle against the thrall at any minute, Spike needed to end this discussion fast. She’d stake him sure if she heard what either of them had said.

Jerking her leash sharply, he stood abruptly and spoke to the official harshly, “Seeings how we’re done here, I’m off to do just that. We’re leaving. Sale is off.”

Spike had made an executive decision. This whole auction idea had become far too dangerous. They would find another time and place to rescue Tara.

As Spike opened the door to leave, the auction master nodded to the guards outside who moved to bar the door.

“Sorry,” he sneered. “She’s already been registered and we have your consent on file. You can’t break the contract now. She goes up for sale whether you want her to or not.” His tongue flicked out between his fangs and caught a last drop of spittle before it could join the others on his desk. “But in light of the circumstances, we’ll save her to the last lot.”

“Now wait a minute. She’s still mine until the auction-”

“No one is saying she isn’t. Until the auction, you can do with her whatever you like. But you did sign a contract with us. A very binding contract, you’ll find. Spelled for us by witches under the direction of Wolfram and Hart, and shall we say, the darker side of the law. It’s really quite unbreakable. You wouldn’t believe the demons that used to try to back out of a deal. We added that enforcement clause to the standard contract more than a hundred years ago. Still, it doesn’t seem to be common knowledge. Everyone is in such a rush these days. If you’d bothered to read the fine print, well, I can guarantee you won’t like the consequences if you try to renege.”

With a last moan, Buffy blinked her eyes, and slowly began focusing on the conversation around her again. Wondering what she had missed, she made a vow to herself not to be spacey girl in the future. Especially when what was going on was important. She supposed that all the stress of being the Slayer was finally getting to her. It wasn’t like her to just zone out like that.

Most importantly it seemed that the Auctioneer had accepted Spike’s excuses. Whatever it was that Spike had said, Buffy figured she was safe, until the troll-like vamp looked her up and down and then leered.

The oily bastard knew that he could afford to be generous now that he’d gotten what he wanted. An excuse to allow the Slayer to stand at auction, and one that would increase her potential sale price exponentially.

He could work with that. The smarmy vampire smiled. By delaying her sale it would allow news of this latest development to spread, and allow even more time for any late arriving big players to register to bid. He stood to make a fortune on his share of the commission alone.

“You’ve got a couple hours to have your fun, but then she’ll be on the block.” He could tell that the master vampire in front of him was not happy with this pronouncement. But this was his turf – in this hotel his word was law, and he had the demon power to back that up. But it wouldn’t hurt to let the current master wear himself out with his little toy – just in case he had any further ideas of protesting the sale. Besides, it wouldn’t hurt the Slayer’s value any if she looked just slightly…used.

“That’s not to say that you can’t buy her back yourself, if you can raise the cash,” the smaller vamp gloated. Spike might have won himself a reputation as a fighter, the self-proclaimed ‘Slayer of Slayers,’ but he wasn’t known for his wealth.

Unctuously, he ushered the pair outside the door, where more of his guards were waiting.

“You might even manage it,” he sneered, “since you’d only be liable for the twenty percent buyer’s premium. I imagine a trained Slayer will sell for quite a lot.”

He knew, as must Spike, that the captive Slayer would fetch far more as a sex slave than she would as feeding stock. Especially since she was a looker. This one commission alone would earn him enough to set him up in style for decades. He gestured for his assistant to join him in his office while more guards were called to escort the Slayer and her current master back to their room. Before they could leave, he forced Spike to stop and listen to his final pronouncement, as if it wasn’t obvious enough already.

“By the way, my boys here will accompany you to your room, and escort you back when it’s time. We wouldn’t want another unfortunate incident that might jeopardize the sale.”

Spike merely snorted and reached for his property, pushing her past the guards and back the way they had come. The little vamp wasn’t finished, and called out after them one more time, “If you’re not down in time, we WILL sell her without you, and take her from you by force if you protest. If you wind up ashes, or worse, it will be your own fault. I’d suggest that you take a minute to read the contract you signed.”

Behind them, the avaricious vamp smiled as the pair walked down the hall. As far as he was concerned, events had turned out quite well. Whatever happened, he was assured the commission of a lifetime.

He set his assistant to find records on the last time a Slayer had been sold at auction, and to figure out how much she had sold for in terms of today’s dollars. It wouldn’t hurt to have a point of reference.

Then he picked up the phone and called his boss. Maybe he could convince the demon to purchase her himself, or on behalf of the company, and let her travel with the slave auction. He was sure that she’d be a huge attraction. Vamps would come by the hundreds, just for the chance to taunt her. Hell, they could probably charge admission.

And if it was possible to ‘prime her and pump her’ as Spike had suggested, they could sell her services as well. Both he and his masters could make a fortune pimping her out. There wasn’t really any other way he could see a middle management type like him getting to have a go at her.
 
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