Chapter 21. Action

There was some muttering in the crowd, and the Auctioneer looked almost apologetic.

“Nice as that was – I think we will need the FULL demonstration. As you have clearly said, its one thing to be able to bite her – quite another to be able to bed her…”

Spike snarled his displeasure. He hadn’t thought the bite would be enough, but it had been worth a try. He had one more card yet to play. But the emcee was way ahead of him.

The emcee held up a hand to quiet the crowd. “I think I may understand your problem,” the little vamp leered.

“Believe me, we all know you’ve been busy already this evening.” The little troll snickered and made a rude gesture, and the rest of the crowd began to laugh with him. “Trying her out as it were. Let me assure you that if you do not feel UP to the task one more time, a suitable replacement will be found for you.”

The smarmy weasel was practically salivating over Buffy, and Spike had no illusions as to what he was implying. If Spike tried to claim that he was too exhausted for another round, Buffy would be required to perform tha act on another vamp, and the Auctioneer was more than willing to volunteer. “After all," the leacherous weasel continued, "no one wants anything to interfere with your getting top dollar for such prime merchandise.”

He reached out a hand to stroke Buffy’s nearly bare breast, but thought better of it as he got a closer look at Spike’s face. Still, business was business, even if it wasn’t always pleasure. Besides himself, he had his employers and a roomful of horny demons to please.

“You’ll have to believe me when I say that we will not be satisfied with anything less than a FULL demonstration.” The throng roared their approval, stomping feet, whistling and cat calling so loud it made Spike’s ears hurt.

He had known that it wouldn’t be so easy, and mentally kicked himself for not trying harder to convince the Slayer that this was what she would be required to do.

“If you can’t get the Slayer to comply, that will be taken as evidence of your lack of control – and I’m afraid that we will have to cancel the sale.” Spike’s brief peak of elation turned to dread as the Auctioneer continued, “I know we’ve had this discussion before. And I still feel the same. It would be a shame if that happened.” Paying no heed to the snarling master vampire who appeared ready to rip off his arms, the snake raised his hand to caress Buffy’s face.

“It would be such a waste to have to destroy so valuable a commodity. But my superiors have decided that an uncontrolled Slayer is far too great a risk to let loose amongst us. Even with the disclaimers. If it has to be done, it will be done here and now.”

The weasel sighed a fake sigh. His masters were determined that there was going to be a show tonight. If they couldn’t get sex, they’d have to settle for violence. The little Slayer’s death would be as drawn out and gory as he could possibly make it. Either show would play well with this crowd, and the video rights alone would go a long way towards offsetting the loss of his commission.

Of course, if they had something still alive to sell at the end of the show, that would be even better. After all, if they didn’t quite kill her, she would heal eventually. She would still have some value, if a demon were patient enough. He was curious as to whether a Slayer could regenerate lost appendages.

If he personally wasn’t going to get to have his hands on her – well, it didn’t make that much difference to him, one way or another. Of course his commission on the sale would be so much larger if they sold her intact. “So many creatures are into law suits these days,” he finished sadly.

Buffy hadn’t heard any of it. She was still in her own world, and all she could see or hear was Spike. She was still trembling, recovering from the orgasm that had rocked through her body. She vaguely knew that she was not fully aware of what was going on around her, but she felt comforted by that rather than afraid. Her world had narrowed down to herself and Spike, and nothing else seemed to matter.

She could sense Spike’s unease through the bond they shared, and tried her best to reassure him. It bothered her that something was troubling him, but she could only get brief flashes of his thoughts, and he was refusing to speak mind to mind. The pictures she was getting kept shifting between images of sex and violence. If she didn’t know she was awake, she would have thought she was having another Slayer dream.

First she saw herself as she must appear now, in red leather, collar and leash, and then she saw Spike, proud and evil-looking, holding her on stage. But she also saw flashes of herself and Spike pitted in combat, then writhing together on the floor in ecstasy. She saw Spike prone beneath her with the chain of her leash wrapped around his neck. She saw herself in chains screaming in pain as something burned her shoulder. Then she saw Spike in the shackles, bloodied and broken, his hair longer and darker, but wearing nothing but a snarl and her slave collar, followed by a vision of Anton’s leering face and Tara’s eyes staring at her blankly, without recognition.

The delay was making the crowd unruly. Creatures of all types had been holed up in this ballroom for far too long. They had been promised a show, and by damn they were going to get one. A little blood play wouldn’t be a bad thing, but mostly they wanted to watch while the Slayer was brought to heel, one way or another.

Spike knew what they wanted to see. And it wasn’t a simple bedding. After all, any roughly anatomically compatible demon imagined that he could take a Slayer by force, if the circumstances were in his favor. If she were bound and gagged, or simply unconscious, any creature with the necessary parts could do the deed.

What made this exhibition so sweet to them was the fact that force would NOT be necessary. This was all about revenge and humiliation. This was about control. What her master could get the Slayer to do ‘willingly.’

Spike was trembling at the thought of what would be required of her - of them both. The aborted foreplay earlier, in addition to the aphrodisiac of her blood, had him on fire. The man in him that loved the Slayer despised the situation, and recognized that it could only lead to badness in the near future.

But his demon wasn’t put off at all by the crowd, or the forced nature of the Slayer’s compliance. His demon reveled at any chance to take Buffy for his own, especially here, in the sight of his peers. His engorged cock was long past painful, pulsing with a life of its own. It didn’t help that Spike could tell that the Slayer was aroused by his close proximity, the bond they shared, and everything that had already passed between them.

One way or another, he’d have to convince Buffy to put on a show, or they would have to fight their way out of here. The Slayer might make it. They would have to forget about rescuing Tara (for now at any rate). But with Spike and the Slayer in a coordinated surprise attack, she might make it if he fought with no regard for his own safety. But after he was dust, Buffy would be on her own in an unfamiliar city, wearing an outlandish costume and without money or transportation, suddenly the prey and not the huntress. Her had very little confidence in Willow’s ability to be of any help whatsoever.

Buffy’s mind was cloudy, but Spike knew that he had to give her a real choice, or he’d regret it later, provided he lived that long. Spike would abide by her decision. He didn’t really know whether he COULD force Buffy to do what was necessary against her will – but he knew for sure that any coercion would only be a temporary thing. After it was over, she might kill him once and for all in retaliation. He wasn’t fool enough to believe that he could really keep the Slayer under a thrall indefinitely, and he certainly didn’t want to try. He needed to bring her out of the light trance she was in – she needed to see what was going on around her – if only for a moment.

All this went through his mind in a split second. He needed to bring her out of the thrall quickly, give her the opportunity to make one last choice. Suddenly remembering what he had told the Auctioneer earlier, he decided on a risky course of action. Nodding to the diminutive vamp, Spike gestured for him to stand back.

“Gonna be a bit of a rough and tumble first,” he explained, “Best to be prepared, and well out of her line of fire. I’m gonna let her come up for air for a minute, and she’s gonna come up fighting. But don’t let your goons interfere unless I’m dust. If I can’t get her back under the thrall, well, I won’t be around to see what happens next.”

Rather than let the thrall dissipate slowly, he dropped it all at once. Allowing the Slayer no time at all to take in her surroundings, he rammed his fist into the Slayer’s unprotected midsection.

His actions had the affect he intended. Confused and disoriented, Buffy struck back at her attacker viciously, without thought or recognition. Reeling from a flurry of full strength kicks and punches, Spike struggled to defend himself while trying to reestablish a light rapport, or at least get Buffy to stop long enough to recognize who he was.

‘Listen, pet you have a choice,’ he thought through the bond. ‘I won’t choose for you. I was hoping that it wouldn’t come to this, but it has, and there’s nothing we can do about it now.’

The barrage he was under slowed momentarily as he finally made contact with her mind, and Buffy seemed to come back to herself a little. Relieved when she began pulling her punches, he grinned as he got a few false hits of his own in. ‘Let them think I’m winning,’ he suggested silently. ‘You’ve got to decide how you want to play this. If we coordinate it, I think we can take out the guards before they realize what’s happening. Then we’ll have a good chance of making a run for it. It’s either that…or the other thing.’ He sent her a mental image of her options.

He eyes widened at first, then winced. But the more she thought about it, it didn’t seem so awful. Everthing seemed so surreal, too vivid, yet blurred at the edges. It was just like her dream – maybe she was dreaming still. And what did it matter what she chose to do in a dream?



A/N: Sorry, if this wasn't the "action" you were hoping for. You'll have to wait for another post to see what happens. But don't expect any last minute rescues by Angel. Some reviewers (here and elsewhere) have asked about him, and aside from the fact that I don't want to cast him in that role... well, I don't want to cast him in that role. Besides, I don't think it would go well for Spike if I did. Angel is the jealous and overprotective type. Since this fic was originally set sometime during season 5, I have decided that Angel is off in Pylea, where he is, as usual, off in his own world, and of no use to anyone. Sorry if I didn't make that clear earlier. But for the majority of readers, I don't think that's a loss.