A/N: Thanks to my wonderful beta, Immortal_Beloved! :)




That day, Spike slept in peace for the first time in months.

His rest was peaceful and uninterrupted by the nightmares that had plagued his sleep for so long, whether in the form of actual dreams or the living nightmare of Siron, dragging him from his bed to forcibly have his way with him.

Of course, Spike knew that the sleeping potion Ethan Rayne had offered him just before he had lain down had probably had something to do with it -- but for once, even the use of magic could not induce him to complain.

It was good just to be able to wake from a full, blissful period of much-needed rest.

As Spike sat up in the bed where he had spent the last -- bloody hell, fourteen hours! -- he glanced around the room, relieved to find that he was finally alone. No hostile Slayers watching him suspiciously, no well-intentioned Watcher looking on while he lay vulnerable in the bed.

As he took in the lush, comfortable room that surrounded him, Spike began to allow himself to feel a vague sensation, one that had almost been lost to him completely over the past few painful months.

Hope.

He rose from the bed and removed the pair of jeans that had been his only garment since his escape from Siron, slowly and methodically looking himself over for any trace of the wounds his former master had left on his body.

There were a few nearly faded bruises, and the faint remains of what had once been a deep, livid gash across the side of his face -- a remnant from one of many beatings that Siron had dealt him with his favored weapon of choice -- but other than those relatively mild remaining marks of his slavery, Spike was outwardly healed.

*Not the outside that bloody counts, though, is it, mate?*

He deliberately ignored the dour voice of his own self-doubt as he regretfully put the dirty garment back on, not because he felt any shred of confidence in his own ability to eventually recover from the horrific things that had been done to him, but because he simply did not want to think about it any longer.

He wanted to enjoy the first moments of solitude granted him in as long as he could remember.

He went to the closet and opened the door, easily locating the soft robe and clean change of clothes that Ethan had told him he would find there. Gathering the clothes in his arms, he stepped cautiously out into the hallway beyond his room, heading in the direction in which Ethan had told him he would find the bathroom.

It had been months since Spike had enjoyed a long, hot shower.

He set the robe and clean clothes down on the counter and turned to close the door firmly, frowning when he found that there was no lock on the door. Of course, he was not accustomed to any semblance of privacy at this point anyway, but it was still a little unsettling.

*Oh, well…nothing you can do about it anyway. And after all you’ve been through, ’s a small price to pay...*

He carefully adjusted the water, bringing it to just the right temperature, before climbing in under the steaming spray and pulling the curtain closed behind him.

Within moments, his worries about the unlocked door had vanished.

Spike could not remember the last time he had experienced such sheer, simple bliss. Not needing to breathe was a definite advantage, as he stood directly under the stream of hot water, allowing it to flow down over his aching, weary body and soothe away the stress and worry of the last few months.

A little of it, anyway. He was fairly certain that, for him, the last few months would never be really over.

*Don’t think about that…Don’t let it…Don’t think…*

Spike’s acute hearing picked up the faint sound of voices in quiet conversation, and he tensed automatically, his eyes opening under the water. But it was quickly apparent to him that the voices were distant, coming from at least as far as outside the bathroom door.

*Not a threat, not a threat…Just some blokes talking, you stupid ponce…*

He mentally berated himself for his silly fears as he picked up a bottle of body wash and poured a little into his hand. The fresh, clean scent was soothing to his frayed nerves as he smoothed it over his body with his hands, bringing some of it up to wash his tangled, dirty blond hair.

When the same voices he had heard before passed in the hallway again, this time headed in the opposite direction, Spike steeled himself against the momentary instinctive flight reaction, breathing deeply as he focused on the pleasure of the shower rather than his groundless apprehension.

He lathered up a second time, already clean, but unwilling to leave the shower just yet -- for more reasons than one. He was not quite ready for the pleasurable sensations to end…and he was not quite ready to face the world outside the bathroom door, either.

*You’re safe now,* he insisted to himself with irritation at his own weakness. *You’re with the bloody good guys, so stop acting like a bleedin’ poufter and buck up, or you’re never gonna…*

The thought cut off abruptly, and his heart leapt up into his throat as he heard another, very different sound coming from outside the bathroom door, though he could not quite tell from which direction it was coming with the sound of the running water filling his ears.

It was a scream.

Spike froze, allowing the water to wash the fresh lather from his body as he listened closely…but did not hear the sound again.

*Imagined it…losing your bloody mind, is all…nothing out of the ordinary…*

But a few moments later, he heard a second cry, a strangled groan of pain and terror, and knew that it was not just in his head.

He swallowed hard, dreading the idea of facing whatever was going on outside the bathroom, but knowing that he could not simply ignore it. He leaned down and turned the water off, stepping out onto the bathroom rug and reaching for the soft, terry cloth robe.

Another voice was clearly heard outside the bathroom, though Spike could not tell by the sound how many walls separated him from the owner of the voice. And this voice did not sound calm and conversational as the voices had sounded before.

“Please…*please* don’t…no, no, I’m sorry, *don’t*…”

Spike’s hands began to shake as he quickly dried his body and hair and pulled on the clean clothes Rayne had left for him. He took a deep breath, his hand on the handle of the bathroom door, hesitating a moment before opening it.

*This is a top secret organization…’s likely they’ve captured a spy or two in their time…Perhaps that’s all it is…gotta be all it is…*

Spike stepped cautiously out into the hall, looking one way and then the other, but the dimly lit hallway was deserted. Not really sure where he was going or why, Spike wandered down the hallway, frowning slightly as he stopped outside the first door on his left, pausing to steel himself before pushing the door open.

It was dark and empty.

As Spike quietly closed the door, he heard another desperate cry for mercy coming from much nearer now and across the hall. His throat felt hot and dry as his trembling hand rested on the handle of the door, two doors down and across the hall from the first one he had opened. Steeling himself for whatever he might find on the other side of the door, Spike slid it silently open.

The sight that met his eyes was a shocking one indeed.

Across the room, two vampires, one male and one female, were chained to the wall at their wrists and ankles, their bodies naked and vulnerable and spread out, clearly to the great amusement of the two human males who were standing in front of them.

The man standing in front of the female vampire was holding a black leather whip in his hand. As Spike watched in horror, the man drew it back and brought it down sharply across her bare thighs. Spike winced at her hiss of pain and the sight of the bright red welts that instantly sprang up on her pale skin…not to mention the agonizing memories, only days old, that the scene drew to his mind.

“Master…please, more, Master…please punish me more…”

Spike’s eyes widened in surprise at those unexpected words from the girl’s lips. Her tone was low, subservient, and yet fervently pleading. She genuinely sounded as if she really wanted more of the human’s lash.

*Willing…kinky as all get out, but a consensual act between two willing partners…*

Spike turned his attention momentarily to the other pair just in time to see the human unchaining the male vampire’s wrists and pushing him roughly to his knees on the floor. The vampire did not resist, did not offer any protest, but he was barely kneeling before the human had backhanded him hard with one hand while unzipping his pants with the other.

“Suck it, bitch!” he snarled.

The vampire’s true face came to the forefront in reaction to the blow, but he did not attack. Obediently, he took the human male’s swollen erection first in his hand, and then in his mouth, tending to it with an intensity that made Spike think that however violent, this must also be a consensual act.

*It *has* to be…Can’t be what it looks like; it just can’t…*

Just then, the female vampire’s eyes locked with Spike‘s, and he felt an unreasonable sense of panic, suddenly certain that he could not let the humans in the room know he was there. He backed quickly and quietly out into the hallway, closing the door silently behind him, panting as he continued backing away until his back was against the opposite wall, still staring at the closed door and seeing the things that were going on beyond it.

*It was just a game…just bloody games that they were playing, nothing more…nothing to get all bloody worked up over…*

But no matter how hard he tried to convince himself, something kept pushing at the edges of his mind, trying to make its way through despite his subconscious efforts to evade it.

Finally, it occurred to him.

Although there had been a considerable amount of violence involved in the sexual encounter upon which he had accidentally stumbled, no one had been screaming in agony. No one had been pleading for mercy and sobbing, begging another not to hurt them.

*If they weren’t making those sounds…saying those things…then who was?*

As if cued by his thoughts, Spike suddenly heard a panicked, agonized scream yet again, coming from a few doors further down the hall.

*Don’t…go the other way…don’t open that door…*

But it seemed that he could not resist. Something in him pushed his legs forward, his hand already outstretched toward the door handle that he was terrified to turn.

“Please…please, don’t…*no*!” someone screamed in desperation before his words were abruptly cut off with a hoarse, choking sound.

Spike stopped outside the door, sure now that he had the right room, but unable to bring himself to actually open the door.

“Shut up!” he heard a menacing snarl from the other side of the door, followed by a resounding slap.

All was quiet for a few moments, besides the hoarse, ragged breathing of someone – most likely the one who had been screaming and crying – and the rather strange, monotonous sound of someone chanting in a language that Spike did not understand.

After a moment, the pleading voice rose again, panicked beyond control.

“N-no, *no*, please, I’ll do anything! Please don’t, please, *please*!”

This time, the cries all at once became muffled, and Spike knew that the pleading victim had been gagged.

“There,” a satisfied voice spoke above the hushed whimpers that could still be heard. “That’s much better. Easier to concentrate.”

Apparently the victim had been gagged not because his tormentors were afraid of being caught, or they would have done so long ago, but rather simply because his incessant crying and screaming was a source of irritation to them.

Afraid to do so, but somehow unable to do anything else, Spike slid the door open just a crack, then just a little more, until he could clearly see inside the room. Three humans in black robes stood around what appeared to be a magical symbol on the floor, and one of them was holding a candle and chanting. The other two were standing on either side of a long stone slab that appeared to be an altar of some kind.

It was what was on the altar that transfixed Spike’s horrified attention.

A male vampire, his face streaked with tears and blood, was bound to the stone, his body stretched taut so that he could not move at all. One of the humans held a knife in his hand and was slicing into the naked vampire’s exposed abdomen while the pitiful creature’s body arched with pain, and he screamed against the gag that silenced his cries.

As Spike watched, the human lifted the vampire’s non-vital organs from the cavity of his abdomen, dripping with borrowed blood, and placed them carefully in the center of the symbol on the floor as the vampire on the stone went still, his body trembling violently, but his eyes distant and glazed with pain, clearly in shock.

All at once, the human woman who was chanting looked up from the book in her hand -- directly at Spike.

Her eyes widened, and she drew in a sharp breath.

One of the men turned to follow her gaze and saw the intruder in the doorway.

“What are you doing?” he demanded angrily. “This is a private proceeding! Do you want to ruin it? We’ve paid good money for this room, not to mention the sacrifice! You think you can just barge in here any time you want?” The man’s question trailed off as his eye seemed to be caught by the silver bracelet on Spike’s wrist. A slow, cruel smile rose on his lips as he met the vampire’s eyes and added, “*Slave*?”

Spike’s mind stubbornly resisted putting the pieces together, fought against the dreadful truth…until his own eyes found something that made it horribly undeniable.

The glint of silver on the bruised wrist of the naked and bound vampire sacrifice.

Spike shook his head slowly, backing away, his eyes locked onto the silver bracelet – a perfect match for his own.

“Hey…wait a minute…easy…” the man warned him, his hands stretched out in a soothing gesture, his tone suddenly solicitous and soft. Dawning understanding in his eyes revealed that he was just figuring out that Spike did not know about the ways of this place just yet. “Wait just a second. Don‘t…”

Spike backed away faster before stumbling slightly and turning away from the man.

“Wait!” the man demanded, the sly softness gone from his voice. “Hey! Somebody help here!”

Spike did not wait to see who would answer the man’s request or what they would do when they did. All he knew was that he had to get away, had to escape this dreadful place.

Despite the frantic cries of the humans now in the hallway, Spike took off running as fast as his shaking legs would carry him.