Chapter Thirty-One
More Shocks
Nemol whistled happily and tunelessly as he led Spike to the room where the viewings would take place. He watched the former vampire carefully as they walked along. He was amazed at how well the healing had gone. Spike had a very slight trace of a limp on his right leg but it was incredible that literally the day before he had been able to stand only by clinging to the metal frame he had. Nemol had seen him use it in the room at Rosedene.
Nemol paused when he got to the viewing room. Should he secure Spike ready for viewing or should he let him be a little more comfortable in the small glass cell in the corner? He opted for the latter deciding that he would prepare Spike later in the day. He had to take into account that this was actually the first time he’d be auctioning a human and so his levels of endurance would be less. He couldn’t afford to have Spike looking too weary for the prospective purchasers. Plus he was going to change the combination of drugs a little. He wanted Spike to be fully aware of what was happening to him. The addiction to the Yenomi blood would be enough to control him. Nemol smiled nastily. Yes, that would make it even better, without the drugs clouding his mind and making him obedient Spike would suffer that little bit more.
They reached the cell. Nemol opened the door.
“Spike, look at me.” Spike turned to meet his eyes. “Kiss my feet and then get into the cell.” “May as well have a little fun along the way!”
Nemol laughed as Spike immediately dropped to his knees and kissed each of Nemol’s feet before crawling into the cell and turning back to look at him.
“Good boy, Spike,” smirked Nemol, stroking his head as if he were a pet. He slammed the door shut and walked away, leaving a puzzled-looking Spike behind.
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Buffy tossed and turned on the bed, too exhausted and worried to sleep.
“Willow!” she cried suddenly, sitting up and reaching for her cell phone, “Why didn’t I think of that earlier!”
She dialled her friend’s number with trembling hands.
“Hi, Buffy,” said Willow’s cheerful voice, having seen who it was from the caller I.D.. “How are things?”
“Spike’s gone,” said Buffy abruptly, “Something has taken him and I need you to do a locator spell.”
“Oh? Um…okay…I’ll get on it right away,” replied Willow, knowing Buffy too well to try to get the details now, “I’ll call you back as soon as it’s done.”
“Thanks, Will,” said Buffy gratefully.
She sat and counted the minutes until her cell rang again. She snatched it up and answered it.
“Did you find him?”
Willow held the phone away from her ear as soon as she spoke. She knew that Buffy wouldn’t like her answer.
“I’m sorry, Buff, but the spell just kept bouncing back. Wherever he is it’s cloaked, impermeable to spells.”
“No!” yelled Buffy, “What are we going to do, Will? I’ve got to find him.”
“Giles has asked the coven in England to get their seer to try to trace the magics involved in cloaking something so successfully. You’ll be told as soon as we hear back.”
“Thanks, Willow. Sorry for yelling, it’s just…”
“It’s Spike,” supplied Willow, “I understand, Buff. You sound exhausted.”
“I am but I’m just too wired to sleep.”
“Ah,” thought Willow, “that I can help with.” She muttered a short Latin phrase and then advised Buffy to try to sleep again.
To Buffy’s surprise she yawned as she hung up and was asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow.
Willow smiled as she put the phone down. That little spell would give Buffy at least a couple of hours of dreamless sleep.
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Spike lay on his side. It had been over two hours since he had last had any of the blood and he was suffering terrible withdrawal pain. The couple of mugs that he’d had since he was put in the glass cell hadn’t had any other drugs added. His voice had returned although it sounded hoarse now from screaming abuse in protest at being held captive. Nemol had told him that if he didn’t quiet down that he wouldn’t get any blood. He hadn’t and now he was regretting it. His body felt like it was being eaten from the inside out. His whole body was trembling uncontrollably and had been for hours. He needed that blood.
Through his haze of pain Spike became aware of Nemol standing outside the cell. Spike nearly wept with relief when he saw that he was holding the beloved mug of blood in his hands this time.
“Are you going to behave now?” asked Nemol.
“Yes,” gasped Spike, struggling to his knees, “Please give it to me.”
“So you want this then?” smirked Nemol.
“Yes, please, I need it.” He crawled to the front of the cell and put his still cuffed hands against the glass.
“Wouldn’t you rather that I let you go?”
Spike shook his head; the only thing that he wanted was that mug.
“I could take you back to the Old Hyperion. They’ll all be waiting for you.”
Spike frowned. He wanted to go back to be with them. Then his body was wracked by another bolt of pain.
“Will they have the blood?” he whispered.
“No.”
“I want to stay here then,” whimpered Spike, “Please, can I have it if I stay here?”
Nemol laughed heartily. He’d gotten Spike exactly where he needed him to be.
“Of course you can, Spike.”
He opened the door. Spike reached out with his hands.
“Not so fast.”
Nemol dipped a finger into the blood and offered it to Spike. He looked at him with delight and licked it off.
“Now kiss my feet.” Spike duly obliged, kissing each foot repeatedly. “That’s enough.”
Spike sat on his haunches and looked up at the mug eagerly.
“Here you are. This will make you feel better.”
Spike drained its contents as fast as he could before giving the mug back to Nemol, who closed the door and walked away chuckling. Spike sighed with pleasure as the pain began to subside. As it did he was hit by the knowledge that he’d been offered the chance to leave. He knew that his captor would never have allowed it but the fact that he had refused the offer drove him to despair. All he’d thought about was the blood. He sat with his knees drawn up to his chest, head bowed. He hoped that Buffy and Angel would come for him soon because he knew that as soon as he began to crave the blood again that any thought of escape would disappear.
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Brad woke with a start, knowing that he’d slept too long, that Moira should have called him for watch. He glanced at Laura sleeping beside him and eased carefully off the bed. He crept out of the room and down the corridor. The place seemed deathly quiet. He went cautiously down the stairs and into the foyer.
“Moira? Are you here?” His voice just echoed back to him.
He jogged through the rooms downstairs. He stopped short when he saw the blood on the floor in Angel’s office.
“Oh, Christ!”
He raced back up stairs to check the room that Moira was using. In his panic he opened the wrong door. He slid to a halt as he saw the figures of Angel and Moira on the bed. Angel was sitting with his arm around Moira, who had her head on his shoulder. Both were asleep.
“Moira! Angel!” he shouted, making both startle awake.
Angel was on his feet in the blink of an eye.
“Brad, what is it? What’s wrong?”
“There’s blood downstairs…I thought it was Moira’s…Where’s Buffy?” He glanced around wildly.
Angel approached him, “It’s okay, Brad, she’s safe.”
“But the blood…?” He glared at Moira. “You’re supposed to be keeping watch, not freaking making out. Why didn’t you wake me? What if we missed the call about Spike’s ransom? I don’t know what you’re playing at but I’m calling the cops. This has gone on long enough.”
He turned and went for the door. In an instant Angel had hold of his arm.
“Wait.”
“Get off me!” roared Brad, spinning around and punching Angel in the face with all of his might.
Angel staggered back and Brad yelped and held his hand, shaking it gently.
“Don’t fucking try to stop me again,” he said, his voice dangerously low.
“I can’t let you call the cops,” said Angel.
“Well I’m gonna,” growled Brad.
Moira stepped between them, putting a hand on each chest.
“Just settle down, the both of you.” She looked at Brad. “You can’t call the police, Brad.”
Brad angrily stepped back a couple of paces. “Why are you agreeing with him, Moira? You want to get into his bed?”
Moira slapped his face. He stared at her, his cheek stinging.
“I’m sorry, that was out of line,” he muttered.
“Yeah, it was,” said Angel.
“I don’t need your opinion. I’m going to call the cops unless you give me one good reason not to.”
Moira and Angel exchanged a look that made Brad feel even angrier.
“Show him, Angel. You know it’s the only way,” said Moira.
“Brad, just wake Laura, leave here and forget all about this,” said Angel.
“Not gonna happen. I like Spike. I’m not just walking away from him. What the hell is going on? Moira?”
He glanced at her, unable to read her expression. He looked back at Angel.
“What the f…?” He staggered backwards, hit the wall and almost fell.
Angel shook his features back to human and smiled at him. “I think you’re going to have to sit down when you hear what I’m going to say. You’d better get Laura, it’ll save me having to say it all again.”
Brad was staring at him open mouthed.
“Do it again,” he said quietly.
Angel slid into his game face and for good measure bared his fangs and growled.
“Fucking hell,” breathed Brad. He glanced at Moira. “Did you know?”
She shook her head. “Not until this morning.”
Brad looked back at Angel. “I’ve seen enough movies. So you’re a vampire?”
Angel grinned and nodded.
“Fucking hell.”
“Exactly,” said Angel with a chuckle, “Go and get Laura. There’s quite a story for you to hear.
tbc
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BANNER BY DAWNOFMEAuthor's Chapter Notes:
thanks as ever to Carol for her beta work! :) Thanks for all the reviews! :)