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banner created by AJ Hofacre © March 10, 2008

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...part XII...
.:the trials of a hero:.
part one of two

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Two terrified demons managed (with difficulty) to drag a snarling, pissed off man with snapping jaws into the room, despite the fact that his arms were tied securely behind him, and his legs barely had the room to walk. Upon hearing the colossal noise, Glory dropped the magazine she'd been boredly flipping through and stood up from the couch, her eyes wide and gawking.

"Wait, I was right? The Slayer's groin buddy is really a green glowy ball of my energy?" she asked, obviously torn between total disgust and delight at the prospect.

Her current favorite minions, Jinx and Murk, struggled to get Spike upright before they straightened and gazed at her in adoration, nodding fervently. "Oh, Stunning One, it is true - we believe he is the Key!" Murk stated, Jinx pitching in on the last two words. Spike, meanwhile, looked back and forth between the demons and Glory in disgust, shaking his head and snorting in disbelief.

Glory gave a cold, satisfied smile. "Really? That's fantabulous!" she exclaimed, walking toward them. But as she neared Spike, she frowned again, then turned and shoved Murk. "And impossible." She eyed Spike warily, then began to circle him like a shark. Spike kept his eye on her the entire time. "He can't be the Key, because, see, the Key? Has to be pure."

She stopped in front of him, and sniffed twice like a dog at a fire hydrant. Spike grimaced, backing up and looking thoroughly uncharmed by her sudden need to see if he had that nice, fresh feeling. Straightening, she looked at him in surprise, then began laughing. "Oh, wow. You're a vampire? The Vampire Slayer is dating a Vampire? How freaking funny is that?"

Spike stared at her in alarm. Bloody hell, she can tell what I am by sniffing me? And -- what exactly about Buffy and me?

This whole situation was screaming, What the fuck?!

Glory's laughter suddenly died, and she spin around to glare at her minions, smacking one upside the head. "Rule number one, idiots -- vampires equal impure!"

Okay. Spike was beginning to see why Glory was insane. At the moment, the bitch's hot and cold taps could give Drusilla a run for her money. "Yeah, you're damn right I'm impure!" he sputtered. "I'm as impure as the driven yellow snow, now lemme go!"

Glory ignored him. "You can't even brain-suck a vampire," she sighed, patting Spike on the chest. "He's completely useless."

Spike frowned at that, opening his mouth to protest indignantly, when the Panic button in his mind was pressed. Idiot! Don't argue with the Hell God! He quickly changed tactics, nodding fervently. "Right! So, I'm just gonna let myself out then --" he said, attempting to dart away.

Unfortunately, he was stopped in his tracks by the smug, ugly grinning little face of Murk. He grimaced and backed up again. "Or, not," he muttered.

Jinx gave Glory a confused look. “But, your holiness... we observed the Slayer. She preferred the company of this one above all the others.” Glory looked over her shoulder at Spike, who was glaring at Murk and eyeing her carefully. “She treated him as precious."

“Really? Precious?” Glory asked, the final consonant of the word becoming a hiss. She tilted her head, pushing Jinx aside and walking over to Spike again. Looking him up and down, she said, “Let’s take a peek at you, precious."

Spike managed to muster up some of his trademark insolence, despite knowing how stupid is was of him to taunt a woman who could bench press an entire football stadium of people and not even break a sweat. “Sod off,” he growled softly, scowling at her.

Glory raised her eyebrows, and laughed. “Oh...” The amusement disappeared and she grabbed the front of Spike’s shirt, bringing him in close to her face. “Watch what you say, sweet cheeks. Didn’t anybody ever tell you not to piss off a god?” With that, she hauled off and punched him in the nose. Spike went flying, catapulting backwards until he hit the wall. He moaned softly in pain as he slid down it, blood trickling out of his nose and down over his lip.

Glory walked toward him and tilted his head up, forcing him to look at her. She sighed. “He doesn’t look very fancy to me,” she muttered, then grabbed Spike’s bottom lip, lifting him up.

Spike yelped. “Hey! Watch the lip!"

Glory continued. “But if the Slayer protects him, maybe appearances are deceiving."

She threw Spike onto the circular mattress that was her bed and grinned in approval when he landed on his bound wrists, crying out in pain. She followed and climbed on top of him, straddling him, then trailed one long, perfect red nail down his chest. She looked up and caught his eye. “Maybe there’s something on the inside."

With that, she thrust the finger into Spike’s stomach, laughing in pleasure when Spike screamed out in agony. Leaning over him as she twisted and wriggled her finger inside of his stomach, she brushed his chest with the other hand in a comforting gesture. “Shh... What do you know, precious?” She jabbed at him once, harder. “What can I dig out of you?"

Spike writhed in anguish.

---

At the same time, about two hundred feet outside the apartment complex, Buffy screamed in agony and dropped to the ground, grabbing at her stomach. Giles rushed over immediately, bending down to help her up. “Good God, Buffy, what is it?"

Xander stared at them in confusion. All he knew, all he could see, was that something was hurting Buffy, but... there wasn’t anything around to hurt Buffy. Maybe it was cramps. “What’s wrong, Buff?"

Buffy moaned softly, squeezing her eyes shut. “It’s the claim. Something’s going on, Glory, somebody, is hurting Spike,” she groaned. Taking a deep breath, she managed to get to her feet with Giles’ help, then wrapped her arms around her stomach, pushing against the pain. “Oh... Christ, we have to get to him!"

She began walking off toward the compound again, holding her own quite well despite the pain she was under. Xander and Giles exchanged a look, then raced after her.

The group had gathered as many weapons as they could carry, and Buffy had sent Willow and Anya ahead to stake out the complexes in an effort to see which apartment could be the one that Glory was holed up in. Now, as Buffy, Giles and Xander approached them, the two girls stood outside the very building where Spike was being held captive, staring almost reverently. Then a loud scream pierced the air, and Anya jumped, then jumped again when Buffy echoed it, keeling over into Giles. Willow’s eyes widened.

“Oh, no. Oh -- it’s the claim, isn’t it? What are we gonna do, Giles? How can we help her? Ohhh, this is not good, not good at all, what’s going to happen if the Slayer is under assault injuries that haven’t even happened to her, huh, Giles, what’s going to--"

Buffy stood straight up, cutting off Willow’s rambling by holding her hand up. “I’m fine, Will. But right now...” she swallowed hard, squeezing her eyes shut. “Right now, we have to get to Spike.” Sucking up every ounce of sheer will and strength she had, she forced the effects of the claim away and drew a deep breath. She looked toward the buildings, then turned her head to the side in Xander’s direction. “Xander?"

The dark-haired boy instantly recognized the unspoken command and began unloading the weapons they had taken from the shop from a duffel bag that hung at his side. Earlier, when Buffy had tried to walk out on her own, he’d run out after her, talking her back in, and convincing her that a sloppy Slayer was going to get Spike killed. She’d complied and they’d sorted through every single piece of weaponry that Giles owned -- or at least stored -- at the shop, and now Xander pulled out two crossbows, handing them to Willow and Anya, along with several bolts. He offered the Slayer a machete and a dagger, and she fingered the trigger of the crossbow she still carried impatiently as Xander gave the Watcher a very long sword with a very broad blade. Xander himself took the handle of an axe with a very large, very sharp looking edge, and yet another crossbow, which he slung over his shoulders.

Buffy slipped the machete onto her back, then mimicked Xander’s actions, slipping the crossbow around her shoulders. The dagger she holstered through the belt loop of her pants, and she grimaced as she rubbed the tender skin of her stomach. She glared hard at the room where Spike was apparently being tortured.

“Let's go,” she growled in a tone that would very much rival Spike’s own. She stalked toward the buildings, gold-colored fury building in her eyes. The Scoobies swallowed at the threat in her voice, but nevertheless followed the Slayer.

They arrived inside the building and Buffy again became into general. “All right, here we go: Anya, Willow, stick together, search the second floor, Xander, Giles, explore the lobby, I’m going up to the third floor to see if I can find Spike. Go!"

She began moving up the staircase, Anya tailing after her and Willow pulling up the rear. Only they heard her quietly utter, “Bitch is gonna pay."

In her head, Buffy’s subconscious echoed that sentiment. Yeah. And if you don't get to Spike in time -- then so will you.

---

Willow watched Buffy worriedly as the Slayer continued up to the third floor of the building, until the Wicca forcibly had to turn her head away, stopping off at the second floor with Anya. The former demon was looking around nervously, and she jumped slightly when Willow cleared her throat. The ex-demon whirled to face the red-haired witch.

“Could you not do that, please?” she hissed. “There’s a god somewhere in this building, torturing Spike, an incredibly strong supernatural entity in his own right, and I really don’t want to see what happens if she decides to see what the difference between a demon and an ex-demon is."

Willow pursed her lips apologetically. “Sorry... But do you... I mean..." Willow shook her head, cursing herself for even thinking the thought, let alone wanting to say it out loud. She looked back up at Anya, frowning. "Do you think this is worth the trouble of... of saving Spike?"

Anya turned her gaze on the red-head in disbelief. “What are you talking about? There’s no question about it, Spike has to be saved, otherwise everything goes ker-plooey. And not only that, but he’s claimed Buffy. So if he dies, she is going to be in some serious physical pain."

Willow chewed her lip as they began to walk carefully down the hall. “I-I know, but... but what if Buffy doesn’t get there in time? A-And Spike tells? Having a god torture you can’t be all that fun and, and Spike wasn’t ever really reliable in the past anyway." She stopped, then voiced what was really bothering her. "What if he tells Glory about the Key?"

Anya glared at her. “Spike wouldn’t tell. He couldn’t tell -- have you even seen the way he is with Dawn? And he’s crazy about Buffy, so if he told, heh, well so much for the lovin’ there."

Willow sighed. “Again, I know. I’ve seen how he looks at Buffy. He’s in love with her, and she told me that she feels the same way. But still, this is Spike we’re talking about. He’s the one that held a broken bottle in my face and threatened to cut me two years ago, he’s the one that started a massacre at the high school on Parent-Teacher Night just because he was impatient... Maybe he has changed, but torture could make him unchange in an instant. I know he loves Buffy, but...” She looked up toward the third floor as another pained, very Spike-sounding scream rang out. She glanced down at her feet. “What if it’s not enough?” she finished quietly.

Anya followed the Wicca’s gaze up the steps and frowned, worrying her lower lip.

If that wasn’t enough, then oblivion was imminent.

If love wasn't enough... then what did that mean for the rest of them?

---

Glory was having fun. She couldn’t help it. She hadn’t tortured someone since she’d been banished from her home sweet hell and latched on to that stupid bastard, Ben. And that had to have been, given Ben’s age, almost 26 years ago. Maybe less, but who was counting, really?

Point was, she had her very own vampire to maim and break and cut, and sooner or later, he was going to give in.

And if he didn’t, she would make him.

At the moment, though, the vampire wasn’t talking, and that was just giving her more opportunities to test her torturing skills. God, it was fun trying to weasel the info out of him. Her minions were standing in a circle around them, in order to keep him from escaping, which was pointless since the little bloodsucker was chained to the ceiling, his boots barely touching the ground.

The demons were watching in eager fascination -- or not so much fascination as it was apprehension. Glory knew that they realized that this could happen to any one of them if they pissed her off the slightest bit. She was proud of that fact.

Glory was insane, but she wasn’t to the point of humbling herself.

Spike, meanwhile, was fighting a losing battle for consciousness, though he kept trying, simply for the fear of what the crazed deity would get the urge to do to him if he did conk out. He’d already endured so much from her as it was. For starters, his nose was broken. Again. Glory had taken an interest in his face, and he was now sporting two black eyes, both so swollen that he could barely see save for squinting. Glory had gotten extremely brassed off and frustrated at one point, and there were scratch marks across his face to show that -- dark, bleeding furrows dug deep by her claw-like nails. He could barely see from the blood that was trickling down through his eyes.

His chest was beaten to a pulp, black and blue bruises all over, and there was one, perfectly circular, perfectly ugly wound where Glory had pushed her finger into him. She'd somehow decided to leave his legs alone, probably figuring that he couldn't run anywhere as it was. Glory finally turned away from him, and he allowed himself to relax a bit, unable to do much else besides hang there. He’d been attached to a chain that had been looped around something in the ceiling, and all his muscles were straining downwards. Any second now he was sure they were going to rip right off of his bones.

Oh, god, what would it take for her to stop?

Oh -- wait. Telling the bitch about Dawn.

Spike took a deep breath and braced himself for the next round of punishment.

Glory turned around again and he raised his head, swallowing hard and tensing up when he saw her hands behind her back. Whatever was coming next could not be good. Christ, this woman was worse than Dru was when at her best.

How could this be happening to him?

Glory walked up to him, a falsely innocent smile on her face, and Spike shied away from her wearily, unable to get very far due to his suspension. Casually, the goddess brought out her hands and Spike’s eyes widened in fear: a stake in one hand, and a long, ornate silver dagger in the other. He wasn’t sure which one was worse. The stake had its up side, because she could stab him, and the pain would last but a second. On the other hand, she could push the thing in as slowly as possible, and torture him even further. Besides, he really didn’t want to die.

And then there was the dagger. And he knew -- he knew -- that Glory would use the sharp blade to every single advantage, and he’d look like a demolished Rose-Phase Picasso painting when she was done. But at least he couldn’t die from it.

Unless he lost all his blood.

Either way, he was now scared shitless.

Glory smiled at the terrified look on his face, and pretended to dither between which weapon to use, then slowly put the blade down. Walking up to him, she gently pushed away the shreds of his destroyed T-shirt and lightly trailed the tip of the very pointy, very lethal wooden stake over his chest. Spike let out a soft whimper, trying to push away from her, and Glory reached up to touched his cheek.

“Shhh... I know, precious, I know,” she said in a soft, kind voice. “Do you want the pain to stop?” Spike nodded his head desperately. Glory smiled. “Then it will,” she continued, running her hand from his cheek to his pecs. “All you have to do is tell me who the Key is. Then the pain will stop for good, and I promise that I’ll let you go."

She said it sincerely enough, but Spike was looking in her eyes, and he knew instantly, as well as from common sense, that he would die whether he gave up Dawn or not.

He braced himself for the "not."

His hesitation was quick to irritate Glory, and her impatience rose. She moved the stake up toward his heart, settling it in about two inches above the vital, un-beating organ. “Now, now, baby doll. Tell me who the Key is. Unless you actually enjoy the feeling of wood going through your skin."

He closed his eyes and pressed his lips together tightly, not saying a word.

Glory scowled. The stupid vampire still wasn’t talking. Shaking her head, she pushed the stake in, pressing it into the same area that had been abused by the stake from Riley just a few weeks before. Spike threw his head back and cried out as she pushed it in one, two, three inches. The stake was now lodged above his heart, right between his shoulder and collarbone, and blood was seeping out of the wound, drenching the wood and running down his chest.

The goddess let out a soft, irritated growl. Either this guy was really loyal, or he was really stupid. She just couldn't understand it -- his unlife rested in her hands, but he wouldn't talk. What the hell kind of vampire was he? For all her experience with the disgusting little half-breeds, they only cared about three things: sex, blood, and violence. This guy was not fitting the mold. Frustrated, she yanked the stake out violently, and somehow it caused him more pain than it had when the stake had pierced his skin. Blood gushed down his chest from the injury like a waterfall, but Spike kept his head down, shuddering and whimpering in pain.

Glory sighed and tossed the sullied stake over her shoulder, unknowingly beaning one of her demons on the head with it. She walked back to where she had left the knife, then moved behind Spike with it. “I have a riddle for you, precious,” she began, stroking his face with her free hand. Grabbing the back of his head, she pulled him backwards until he was suspended horizontally, his legs hanging limply in the air, then rested her cheek against his, smiling. “How is a vampire that won’t talk... like an apple?"

She raised her dagger-occupied arm, then pressed the blade into his skin, dragging it viciously down his chest. Spike moaned in agony, tears of frustration running over his cheeks and bloodying up his vision even more. The blade ran cleanly through his skin, cutting it up like butter, digging through the muscle, and it was all he could do not to give in to the beckoning oblivion. Glory grinned, proudly displaying the large ‘G’ that she’d carved into his torso to her minions. “Think I can do you in one long strip?” she asked, positioning the knife horizontally, preparing to slice down.

That was it. He couldn’t take anymore.

“Enough. No more,” he wheezed weakly. “I’ll tell you who the soddin’ Key is."

---

Buffy winced and knelt to the floor as another scream sounded and a sharp pain ran though her chest. She’d barely been given a few moments to recover before another, sharper pain ran along her stomach.

Great. Thanks for the claim, Spike she grumbled inside her head. It took all her willpower to stand up once again, one arm pressed against the pain in her stomach, the hand of her other arm pressed against a section near her shoulder. She stopped, squeezing her eyes shut until the pain faded away, then sighed in relief. She wiped her hand across her face, then frowned as something sticky, with a coppery smell to it covered her skin. She looked down at her hand.

Covered in blood.

She looked at her other arm.

Yep, that one too.

Glancing down at her shirt, her eyes widened in horror. The pain in her chest had taken the form of a circle, and blood was seeping down her front like she’d been wounded. Further down, on her stomach, blood had pooled out into the form of a letter ‘G.’ Quickly, she pulled the shirt up and searched for any wounds.

Nothing.

And the same went for the circle on her chest.

“Okay, this is getting a little too weird for my tastes,” she said out loud. No wounds, but she was bleeding. The same way the pains appeared even though nothing was around to cause them. It was Spike’s claim. It had to be; there was nothing else it could be.

Which meant that Glory was starting to get stake-happy.

Buffy’s eyes widened in panic at the thought, and she raced up the rest of the stairs. She passed a window in the hallway as she ran, noticing that the sky was beginning to lighten, signifying morning. They’d been out all night.

If she didn’t get Spike back by the time day broke, she was never going to forgive herself.

---

Glory sighed as the walking, talking corpse in front of her panted and gasped -- he wanted water this time. Snapping her fingers, one of her minions ran off to the kitchen, and was back within a minute, wielding a glass. This was the second thing the vampire had asked for since he'd broken down and agreed to spill the beans, and Glory’s impatience was again getting the best of her.

She took the glass and lifted it to Spike’s lips, carefully tipping it as he swallowed greedily. Blood ran down his face and into the water, but Glory really couldn’t care less. He was a vampire -- he drank blood, anyway, it didn’t matter if it was slightly diluted with water; also, he was nothing but an informant to her. Why the hell should she be hospitable?

When he was done, she pulled the glass away, and put on her tender, loving face.

“Is that better?” she asked gently. Spike coughed softly as a reply. She smiled softly. “Do you think you can try to talk again now?” Spike nodded slowly, swallowing and exhaling the air he didn't need as he looked up at her. “Good."

The women seriously needed anger management. She whirled on him. “Because I’m tired of these games!” she yelled, smashing the glass into his face. It shattered into pieces, hitting the floor. She turned away, throwing her hands in the air. “’I need time, I need a drink,’ you’re a very needy little bloodsucker,” she accused, flopping onto the sofa and crossing her legs. “And it’s not very attractive.” Spike scowled at her, mentally stirring up ways to maim and torture her -- if he could, anyway.

“So start talkin’,” she continued, folding her arms.

---

Buffy crept up to the door she’d seen open. Crashing noises had emanated from it, as well as the sound of Glory’s eternal bitching, so it was obvious that this was the place. Peering in, she caught a glimpse of a room overflowing with satin pillows, silk sheets, and cashmere drapery. And in the middle of it all was Spike.

Oh my god she thought, eyeing his body. He’d been brutalized. Glory had truly gone overboard.

Unless the goddess was only just getting started, in which case, Buffy had to get Spike out of that room now.

How had he managed to survive this long? It was impossible! If he'd been human, Spike would’ve been in a very deep coma or worse, dead by this point. Of course, given that he was a vampire, and already dead...

Something caught Buffy’s eye on the floor of the room, and her eyes widened in alarm. She had just come incredibly close to losing her lover.

The stake. And by the looks of it (the small puddle of blood around it probably gave it away), it had been thoroughly used on Spike. He had a big hole in his chest, in the same position that the circle of blood had appeared on Buffy’s shirt, and it was looking really bad. Buffy's eyes narrowed as her gaze lowered to Spike's stomach. Glory seemed to have put a little claim of her own on Spike. It should’ve been obvious when that big ‘G’ had shown up on her shirt.

Her head lifted and she watched silently when Spike cleared his throat and began to talk.

---

Spike nodded. “Yeah. Okay. The Key. Here’s the thing...” he began, fiddling with the chain binding his wrists together. He was weak, but it was worth a shot at getting away anyhow. He twisted them around, trying to loosen them. “It’s that guy... on TV... what’s-his-name?"

Glory frowned at him, not comprehending. “On the television?"

Spike nodded again. “That show... the prize show... where they guess what stuff costs?"

Murk, who had approached Glory with Jinx the moment she’d thrown herself on the couch, tilted his head. “The Price Is Right?"

Jinx’s eyes lit up. “Oh, Bob Barker!"

The demons twittered excitedly, and Murk stepped forward. “We will bring you Bob Barker! We will bring you the limp and beaten body of Bob Bark --"

Glory jumped up angrily. The demons instantly shrank back. “It’s not Bob Barker, you scabby morons! The Key is new to this world...” She turned to glare at Spike. “... And Bob Barker is as old as grit.” She smiled coldly. “The vampire... is lying to me."

Spike weakly broke into a case of hysteric giggles. “Yeah... but it was fun. An’ guess what, bitch?” He tried tugging at the chains again, desperate freedom before Glory could really do some damage for what he was about to say. “You’re never gonna get your soddin’ Key. ‘Cos you might be strong, but in our world?” He leaned forward and glared at her. “You’re an idiot."

---

Buffy’s face could’ve cracked; she was grinning so hard that even the Mona Lisa's secret grin couldn't compare. True, Spike was doing something incredibly stupid by baiting an extremely volatile hellgod, but then again, this was Spike. He wouldn’t be himself if he didn’t; he was practically known for doing incredibly stupid things.

Glory was getting beyond angry, she could tell, and Buffy officially had Spike to thank for that. The second they got out of there, the moron was getting a kiss.

Maybe more.

A kiss was all she could offer at the moment, though. It wasn’t like she could throw him down and rape him. Vampires liked pain when it came to sex, but not in the situation Spike was in. That was too much. And besides, they would be in the middle of a battle, and she couldn’t abandon her friends. Couple fun would have to wait.

For now, though, Buffy just sat up and enjoyed the show.



continued in part 2...