Chapter Thirty-Two
Viewing Day
Nemol timed the visit when he needed to prepare Spike to the perfect moment. The withdrawal pains were just starting but not yet debilitating him.
“Hello Spike,” he said, tapping the glass.
Spike lifted his head from his knees and regarded him balefully.
“You know that if you disobey me that I shall take away the blood, don’t you?”
Spike nodded, “Yes.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“Whatever you want me to do,” said Spike, hating himself for it, but his body was starting to tremble with craving for the blood and he just couldn’t bear the pain that followed it. He needed that blood more desperately than he’d ever needed it as a vampire.
“And to think that you were once the ‘Big Bad’,” sneered Nemol.
Spike cringed inwardly but his eyes never left the mug of ambrosia that Nemol was holding. Nemol walked away and chuckled as he heard Spike’s faint whimper. He put the mug down on a ledge on the wall opposite Spike’s cell. Then he came back and opened the door.
“Go and stand between those two posts,” ordered Nemol, indicating two ornately decorated posts in the centre of the room.
Spike stood up and walked to the posts, his gaze going from Nemol to the mug. The trembling was getting a little worse. Nemol pushed Spike’s feet further apart with his own and then knelt down and chained Spike’s ankles securely to the floor. He unlocked the shackles on Spike’s wrists and in turn he pulled his arms out and fastened his wrists to the posts, so that his arms were outstretched at shoulder height.
Spike was now really starting to shake, “Please, can I have it now? I did what you wanted. Please?” he begged, aware of nothing but the need for the fix of Yenomi blood.
Nemol walked over and got the mug, holding it to Spike’s mouth for him to drink. Spike’s eyes closed in ecstasy as the blood soothed the tremors. He then looked startled as he realised he was now spread eagled in the centre of the room.
Nemol laughed, “Moved you a little whilst you were elsewhere.” He lightly slapped Spike’s face. “Wanted you aware of the next part.”
He went over to the far side of the room and pulled a small yellow skinned demon out of a box near the wall. It wriggled ineffectually in his strong grip.
“Can you see this little fella’s lovely collar?” he asked, holding the hapless creature up for Spike’s inspection.
“Yeah, what of it?”
“It’s going to be yours soon.”
Spike looked at him, puzzled.
“It’s a ‘special’ collar, Spike. Let’s see what happens when the creature wearing it goes out of this room, shall we?”
The demon obviously knew what was going to happen as it began to shriek, so high pitched that it hurt Spike’s ears. Nemol casually tossed the demon through the room’s open door. As soon as it passed the threshold, its head exploded with a sickeningly wet sound and its body lay twitching on the floor. Spike thought that he was going to throw up.
Nemol went over and picked up the collar, kicking the body out of sight. He pulled a tool out of his pocket and opened it before sluicing it under the some water to remove the gore. He walked towards Spike who leaned back as far as he could, which was only a couple of inches. The collar snapped shut around his neck. It was uncomfortably tight. Nemol held up the small tool he’d used to unlock it.
“Unless this is touching the collar as you walk through the door that is what will happen to you. Understand? Your new owner will be given it. If we get interrupted before the auction is complete I will turn you lose and put a mug of Yenomi blood in the corridor. How long do you think it will be before you can’t help but go to get it?”
Spike looked at him in horror. He knew that once the tremors began he’d go for it regardless of the consequences.
“Right, well I’d better get you looking your best. We’ve got the first viewings soon. They’ll all get two minutes to inspect you and declare their intended use for you.”
“Just fuck off,” said Spike wearily.
Nemol laughed. “If I’d stated that they could have five minutes it would most probably have been ‘fuck you’. But I didn’t want to run the risk of them injuring you before the sale.”
Spike visibly paled.
Nemol walked to a cupboard and took out a large bottle of oil. He poured some onto his hands and then rubbed them all over Spike’s body and hair until he was slick and shiny.
“God, I could almost take you myself,” sneered Nemol as he stood back to admire his handiwork. “There’s only one thing that’s spoiling it.”
He put the cap on the bottle and returned it to the cupboard. He put on a pair of latex gloves and picked up a small jar made of black glass and approached Spike again.
“Got to be careful with this stuff, its effects last for twenty-four hours and …well, let’s just say it could be a problem in polite company.”
He dipped his fingers into the pot, smearing the oil over both gloves before reaching out to Spike. Spike wasn’t surprised what part of him got the attention; it was the only part not already coated with oil. He tensed as Nemol caressed his genitals and then hissed as the oil began to have an effect, his body responding unbidden. It was a fabulous sensation but the thought of twenty-four hours without release made Spike shudder.
“Yes, I’ve heard that the first few minutes or so are quite enjoyable,” chuckled Nemol. This was always one of his favourite parts of the pre-sale preparation. “But twenty-four hours…? I’m not so sure. You won’t be able to ejaculate before then, even if a prospective buyer plays with you a little.”
To Spike’s revulsion, Nemol smeared a little of the oil around his anus.
“Just in case,” Nemol laughed, slapping Spike’s bare ass as he tensed at his touch.
“You sick bastard,” growled Spike.
“Oh yes, that reminds me,” said Nemol conversationally.
He walked back to the cupboard, putting the small jar away and carefully discarding the gloves. He picked up the last piece of equipment that he needed so that Spike was ready for viewing.
When Spike saw him carrying the gag he glared at him, “Why don’t you just give me some more of that stuff that made me mute?”
Nemol looked at him coldly, “Because some clients will want to hear you scream.”
Before Spike could react Nemol thrust the leather contraption into his mouth, fastening it tightly at the back of his head.
00000000
By the time that Angel had told Brad and Laura just about everything that he could think of, including Spike being a re-humanised vampire, Buffy had joined them. There was a short silence when Angel finished speaking.
“Well I guess I won’t be writing those papers for the medical journals after all,” said Brad, prompting them all to laugh a little.
“So this could be all kinds of bad for Spike then?” asked Brad, his mind still reeling from the facts that he’d been told.
“Yes, we don’t even know where to start looking,” replied Angel.
“I’ve been in touch with Willow,” said Buffy. She turned to look at the others, “She’s a witch…”
“’Course she is,” muttered Brad dryly.
Buffy giggled despite her worry. “Anyway, I asked her to do a locator spell on him but it wouldn’t take. The place where he is must be cloaked somehow. Giles is getting one of the seers at the coven in Devon to try to get a handle on where there’s a focus of the magics involved with cloaking. But until then, we have nothing.”
Disheartened they all went down to the apartment for breakfast. It was the only part of the hotel that had food in it and no one wanted to go out to find a diner. Angel didn’t join them, figuring that they’d all had enough to take in without watching him drinking blood as they ate. Instead he went into his office and sat brooding about the situation.
“Spike, where the hell are you? Are you still okay?” he muttered.
000000000
After two hours and at least fifty prospective bidders, Spike was beyond humiliated. He’d been prodded and poked in just about every part of his body. He’d had his erection manhandled by each and every bloody one of them, all carefully wearing gloves lest some of the oil get on them. He didn’t even want to think where their well-lubed fingers had also quested. He almost longed for Nemol to forget the blood. The all-consuming pain of withdrawal would be easier to take than this. But no, Nemol made sure that he got it just as the tremors started, just when he couldn’t refuse it.
Each viewer had to tell Nemol what he, she, or it, intended to use Spike for and what, if any, procedures did they want performed on him before transportation should they place the final bid. This was because all customisations were charged extra.
So far most of them wanted to use him as a sex slave of some sort, hence the much groping of his parts. His reputation of being argumentative must have preceded him because most called for the removal of his tongue. Some wanted castration as he was to be used as a vessel for their own pleasure and they didn’t want him sexually capable of any of his own. To start with their words struck fear into Spike’s heart but as more and more said the same thing he began to find it all rather amusing.
“Christ, does no one have anything bleedin’ original to do to a soddin’ slave?” he thought a touch hysterically.
He was getting to the end of his endurance mentally. Frankly he was starting to look forward to his mind just snapping. He didn’t want to be aware of anything any longer. He’d started to zone out, not taking much notice of the steady parade of creatures into the room. Nemol’s sales pitch was the same for every viewer. He suddenly became aware of a demon as it walked in. Spike’s wandering mind found focus. It was a Polgara and an old one. No doubt this was the one that had ordered the hit. As it walked towards Spike it unsheathed its bone skewer weapon.
“You can’t harm him before you buy him,” warned Nemol.
The demon gave Nemol a stony stare. “It stands again? I was told that it was crippled.”
“I’m not a bleedin’ it,” said Spike furiously, not that he was understood as he was still gagged. His jaws ached and saliva dribbled down his chin as the gag prevented him from being able to swallow properly.
“He was, but I speeded up his already enhanced healing so that he would attract more buyers. Is there a problem with that?” asked Nemol.
The Polgara touched Spike’s left leg just above the knee. “When I buy him, I want this leg cut off here.” He dug the sharp edge of the bone skewer into Spike’s flesh, leaving a small cut.
“No need to mark the merchandise,” reminded Nemol.
“It must be conscious when you do it and I want to watch.”
“Sure thing, not a problem,” said Nemol, noting it down.
“It must be castrated.”
“Yep, anything else?”
“Isn’t that enough?” thought Spike, “Least it’s something different though, well, apart from the castration thing anyway.”
“That will be all before transportation. The remainder will be done once it’s back in my dimension. You said it has enhanced healing?” said the Polgara.
“It does, not as quick as when he was a vampire but a lot quicker than a normal human being,” replied Nemol.
“That’s good. It will last longer on display then.”
The Polgara stepped close to Spike and grabbed his face, forcing their eyes to meet.
“You shall be mine, murderer.” Its fetid breath made Spike heave. Then it walked away.
0000000000
Buffy, Angel and the others had spent a frustrating day still with no news of Spike forthcoming. So far the seer had had no luck in tracing possible places where he could be held. Buffy and Brad ended up roaming the streets together simply because neither could bear to stay in the hotel doing nothing.
Laura had been very quiet since the revelation of Angel’s vampirism and so Angel left the two women alone to allow Moira to find out how Laura was doing. It turned out that Laura had a little revelation of her own. She had precognitive dreams. She hadn’t told Brad of them fearing that he might think that she was a flake. Since being a young child Laura had had dreams of events that had yet to occur. The strongest one she’d ever had was when her mom was going to fly to visit her grandmother. Two nights before she was due to leave Laura had had a dream that the plane would crash. She was so distressed by it that her mom put off her trip and sure enough the plane had crash-landed with several fatalities. Ever since then Laura trusted what she dreamt.
Laura had been very quiet because she’d dreamed of Spike. Like most of her dreams it was fairly vague but it told her that when they thought that they’d got Spike safe – he wouldn’t be. It was something to do with a piece of metal of some kind. She decided to tell Moira of the dream since no way could it be weirder than being told that someone was an actual vampire and that someone else used to be!
Together, they went to find Angel, who was moping in the foyer feeling pretty useless.
“So you think that we’re going to find him and that he’s okay?” Angel asked Laura after she’d told him.
“I think so. I got no impression of him being harmed up to being found but the danger won’t be over when you think it is,” said Laura, “I’m sorry it’s so vague.”
“Hey,” said Angel, “That’s not vague at all. It’s a real help, Laura. It means that we’re going to find him.”
“But we still have no clue as to where he is,” said Moira in frustration.
A loud banging at the door startled all three. A short, stout warty figure was knocking frantically on it.
“Angel! Are you there? Let me in,” it shouted in a gravely voice.
“Who or what is that?” asked Moira, beginning to realise that Angel being a vampire was only the tip of the iceberg of the world she was now aware of.
“It’s George,” said Angel as he went to unlock the door, “He’s a Ruoloc demon.”
Laura and Moira looked at each other and giggled.
“George?” mouthed Laura.
Moira shook her head as they tried to stifle their mirth. Such an ordinary name for such an extraordinary creature. Imagine a sort of humanoid toad and that was George.
“Hey George, come in,” said Angel as the little demon almost fell through the door in its haste.
“Angel, I know where Spike is. There isn’t much time,” gasped George.
“I’ll get some weapons,” growled Angel, his eyes flashing amber, “Where is he?”
“No! If you do than he’ll be killed for sure. I’ve got a plan.” George glanced at the two women who were now staring at him intently. “Can we go somewhere…er…less human?”
“It’s all right, George, they’re cool. So how much time do we have?”
George glanced at his top of the range Rolex on his chubby wrist. “Exactly one hour and twelve minutes, and you’re going to have to give me money and lots of it.”
Angel pulled out his cell and called Buffy. “Come back now. We’ve got a lead,” he said curtly, severing the connection without waiting for a reply.
“So what do we need to do?” he asked George.
tbc
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BANNER BY DAWNOFMEAuthor's Chapter Notes:
thanks as ever to Carol and for everyone who is reading and reviewing :)