Spike’s limbs jerked spasmodically as the clamp on his spinal chord at the base of his skull was released. The removal of the feeding tube down his oesophagus caused him to retch helplessly several times.
“Come on, Seventeen. You’ve got work to do,” a familiar voice barked as the lid of the pod slid open.
As always, Spike was surprised at how easy it was to walk. His limbs seemed not to mind the fact that since his last job they had been rendered useless – paralysed by the nerves being squeezed so tight.
His handler’s grip on his elbow was all that Spike needed to guide him to the preparation room.
“Here.”
A bundle of clothes was pushed into Spike’s hands and the vampire stepped into the navy coloured all in one jumpsuit and zipped up the front of it. Spike cringed as he slipped his feet into a pair of plimsolls. He still missed his boots and he couldn’t even let himself think of what had happened to his leather coat.
A few moments later and he was in the transporter. Wrists shackled to bars at either side of his seat, even though he no longer even thought about escape. His handler was just following correct protocol.
The journey was a long one, they often were, and Spike began to think back over what had befallen him to lead him to his current predicament.
His return to Sunnydale to kill the Slayer had backfired rather spectacularly. Spike supposed it was payback for breaking his deal with her. Squeezing his eyes shut momentarily, he shuddered at the memory of what he’d been subjected to in those early days.
He’d fought.
He’d fought with all his might but it had made no difference. They’d said on his first day of captivity that he was never going to be free again and it had been true. His last desperate act of defiance – the almost successful attempt to kill one of his trainers by strangulation – had resulted in a beating so severe he still bore the scars on his torso and the loss of both thumbs.
The operation to remove them hadn’t been done until he had fully recovered and of course, no anaesthetic had been used.
So he cooperated.
He let them run their tests on him without further trouble. Even built up a sort of rapport with a couple of the less sadistic trainers.
His sense of smell impressed them. Apparently, his hearing wasn’t as good as they thought it should be probably due to the beating, but his sense of smell was off the scale. Spike remembered feeling ridiculously proud of the fact when the trainers brought the senior management down to watch him get put through his paces.
A full day of trials was completed without error. He could track a trail left by a person’s footsteps. He could single out a particular scent from clothing and follow it unerringly through a myriad of other scents. He’d turned to look at the bigwigs when the last trail had been completed and smirked as they stared back at him. A couple appeared embarrassed by his nakedness but the woman gazed impassively at his half hard cock before turning to the trainers.
“Impressive.”
Spike’s smirk grew wider and his cock harder. A part of him hated that praise had that effect, but perhaps it was more likely due to the fact that when he did well he got fed human blood not the usual shite he had every day.
“Take it to the O.R.”
Spike’s smirk disappeared.
“What?” He stared at the approaching trainer in panic. “Please no. I’ve been good haven’t I?” Fuck! He hated how weak he’d become. He glanced back at the woman. “I did well.”
Maggie Walsh smiled. “It’s alright, Seventeen. You’ve done very well. But we’re sure you can do even better.” She nodded to the trainers who led him away.
Strapped to the operating table so securely that he could only move his fingers, toes and eyelids, Spike fought the rising panic as the technicians prepared their instruments.
“Oh, shite, no,” Spike said desperately as his testicles were shaved and swabbed. He knew that some of the vampires in the program had been castrated and began to pant heavily.
“Don’t worry, Seventeen,” remarked the tech who had shaved him. “They’re staying where they are – just protocol to remove body hair before getting transferred to your new quarters.”
“There you go,” said the tech, giving the now silky smooth balls a squeeze. “What was all the fuss about?”
He was left alone for a time after that once his body and head were devoid of hair. The fear of what was still to come grew with each passing moment. They’d be back. Sure enough, Spike eventually heard several people re-enter the room.
Maggie Walsh bent over him, ensuring that he could see her. A cold liquid was painted on his stomach and he shivered.
“Don’t worry, Seventeen. You’re too valuable to us for us to damage you. This will just enhance your skills.
His vision began to grey out and with a jolt, he realised that he’d been anesthetized. Maggie Walsh’s face was the last thing he saw as he lost consciousness.
A pothole in the road jarred the vehicle and brought Spike back to the present.
“You alright back there, Seventeen?” asked Jerry, his handler.
“Yes,” he replied after a moment’s hesitation.
“Man, it’s like satellite delay when you talk to these freaks,” sneered the driver, whose name Spike couldn’t remember but whose body odour made him unforgettable.
“Shut up,” replied Jerry. “It’s not his fault.”
A microchip, buried deep into his brain on completion of his training, blocked all speech unless a question was asked and kept responses to the minimum. Spike wasn’t sure why it still allowed him to scream when punished, but it did.
“We won’t be there for another couple of hours. Do you want me to recline your seat so you can catch some sleep?” asked Jerry.
Again the pause. Again the simple response of yes.
The handler climbed into the rear of the transporter and raised the handle on Spike’s seat to allow the backrest to lie flat.
“Is that okay?” he asked once the vampire was horizontal.
“Yes.”
“Hell, is that all it can freaking say?” the driver complained.
“Can it, Mac,” growled Jerry. “He can say other stuff. Hey, Seventeen. Do you like Mac, here?”
Was it the humans’ imagination or was the hesitation shorter this time?
“No.”
Jerry laughed and stroked Spike’s arm. “Correct answer.”
Spike squirmed in his seat as the words sent a little chip induced thrill through his body. It was the nearest thing to an orgasm that he could achieve. He wasn’t sure if his blood was laced with drugs or if it was a side effect of being paralysed so regularly. But the end result was the same – little Spike hadn’t been up to play since the day he graduated his training.
The handler smiled at his vampire. If the management realised how responsive they were to pleasure, then the program would probably find training took a lot less effort. He suspected that they knew but enjoyed beating their subjects into submission.
“Was that nice, Seventeen?”
“Yes.” Spike scowled with the effort it took to add another word. “Nice.”
“Correct,” whispered Jerry. “Now get some sleep. It’s probably going to be a long night.”
Spike wished he could thank him as another wave of pleasure washed over him, but adding an extra word when asked a question was difficult. Offering a word without was almost impossible.
Sleep eluded him but the memory of waking after the procedure did not.
“He’s waking up.”
The voice seemed to pull Spike from oblivion. He’d expected pain, but to his surprise there was none. He turned his head towards where the voice had come from and opened his eyes. Nothing changed. The darkness was absolute. He panicked. A vampire – even a captive one – is ruled by its senses and to lose one was terrifying. Thrashing uselessly against his restraints, he screamed until he could scream no more.
Maggie Walsh and her team of technicians waited until the vampire calmed down a little and his screams were replaced by harsh panting breaths.
“Are you quite finished?” she asked mildly.
Spike’s only response was to try to blink away the tears that streamed down his face.
“We haven’t taken your eyes,” the vampire shuddered violently, “to punish you. It will merely serve to enhance your already amazing skills at tracking by scent. Without sight to interfere, you will become even more focused on the trails you will be following.”
Spike turned his face away from the sound of her voice. He tried to visualise other things, but all he could think of was how she was the last thing that he would ever see. He had no doubt in his mind that whatever they had done was permanent. Her fingers gripped his chin and pulled it back so that she could see his face.
Since being in training for scent work, Seventeen had been kept in a purely vampiric state, needing the enhanced senses of the demon to help with the work. His fangs had long been removed though and the remaining teeth blunted regularly. The artificial eyes were an improvement on those dull yellow eyes that all vampires had. She’d remembered how Seventeen’s human face had vivid blue eyes and so had used that colour as the base for the replacements.
Not that the eyes looked in anyway human. Blue they might be but there were no pupils in either eye and the left one showed his barcode I.D. and the right was home to a tiny digital camera that would enable the team to see where the vampire was going while on the hunt.
It had taken Spike six months before the loss of his sight no longer affected him while tracking. Vampires were nothing if not adaptable. As Maggie had predicted, the other senses heightened to compensate and anyone watching Seventeen jog along a trail wouldn’t realise that he was blind.
When he had reached the level that Maggie Walsh wanted him to achieve, she sent Seventeen to the O.R. for his final procedure. She’d needed him to be able to let them know what he was thinking when he was adapting to his circumstances but now it was complete there was no reason to listen to the creature’s complaints.
With his speech impeded, Seventeen was ready for his first real case. The police had been sceptical of the use of vampires instead of tracker dogs but they soon used them by choice. The results spoke for themselves and if anyone was freaked out at the sight of a blind demon unerringly running across country then it was never mentioned.
*~*~*~*
The transporter drew to a halt outside a smart suburban home. A couple of police vehicles were there, blue lights flashing and the inevitable press van waiting to catch a glimpse of the tracker.
Jerry raised the rear of Spike’s seat and faced the vampire as he remotely activated the camera in the vampire’s right eye. Spike shook his head as the camera came into use with the familiar irritating vibration.
His handler checked with control that the camera was working before he unshackled Spike’s wrists and guided him out of the vehicle.
The human blinked against the flare of camera flashes as he led Spike up the path to the residence.
Spike heard the chatter of the reporter that he guessed was the source of the strong floral perfume he could smell.
“The tracker has finally arrived and it is obvious now why there was a delay in getting one to the Walker’s house. They have brought in Seventeen, their top tracker from its location in Southern California. I’m certain that little Verity Walker will be found tonight – what we don’t know is whether she’ll be dead or alive…”
Her words were muffled by Spike’s entrance to the Walker’s house.
“What do you need to do with that thing?” growled a male voice as soon as Spike and Jerry had set foot in the place.
Jerry wasn’t fazed by the detective’s aggression. They often came across one who hated it when the tracker unit was brought in despite knowing that it meant the case would be solved.
“We need to go to the girl’s room. Her scent will be strongest there.”
“Up the stairs – second door on the right.”
Jerry guided Spike towards the stairs but found their way blocked by a distraught woman who Jerry accurately identified as the mother. Spike took a startled step back as his hand was grabbed and squeezed tightly.
“Find her for me. Please find her.”
Spike pulled his hand free and turned his head towards Jerry, unnerved by the grief pouring from her.
“Ma’am, you need to step aside and let the tracker do his job. He’s the best we have. He’ll find your daughter.” He glanced at Spike. “You’ll find this lady’s child, won’t you, Seventeen?”
Spike nodded. “Yes.”
Jerry eased the vampire past the woman and up the stairs. Once at the girl’s bedroom, the handler kept back to allow Seventeen to go to work. He could see why working with trackers freaked some of them out – it was kind of creepy to see the vampire move slowly around the room, picking up items of clothing or favourite toys to sniff and sometimes even lick. Spike had been in the room for almost ten minutes when he turned to face Jerry and nodded.
“Ready?” asked the handler.
“Yes.”
The hesitation that the vampire had shown when he’d first walked into the house was gone as it strode down the stairs and outside. As soon as his feet hit the grass, he began to jog. It was a slow measured pace, designed so that he could keep it up for the whole night without running the risk of losing his handler.
It never failed to amaze Jerry when Seventeen began the hunt, how his movements were so positive. He wondered just how much quicker the vampire would be if he still had his sight.
Spike paused at the back of the house – directly beneath the girl’s bedroom window.
“Did someone take her from her room?” prompted Jerry.
“Yes,” replied Spike then struggled to add something that struck fear into Jerry’s heart. “N-not human.”
“Oh, crap!” Jerry touched his earpiece. “You guys get that? We’re dealing with a demon kidnapper – repeat the snatcher is not human.”
Spike was already jogging across the yard as Jerry got the response from the back up team.
“Affirmative. We copy. We’ll notify the Slayer. She’s been on standby.”
“Thank fuck for that,” muttered Jerry as he ran after his charge.
The night air was cool and Spike relished the feel of the damp grass beneath his feet. The scent was so strong that he could almost see the trail in his mind. The scent of the demon was there too– almost overpowering that of the little girl but he concentrated hard to filter it out.
Adrenaline was coursing through him. He hadn’t caught the scent of a demon in years. His chamber at the facility was hermetically sealed to prevent any scents reaching him when he wasn’t needed. The last time he’d tracked a demon it had been a Fyarl demon that had taken a woman. The hunt that night had been to find her body. He’d known instantly that she’d been killed. But this scent was different; it smelled like…he came to a halt…it smelled like he did.
“What’s wrong? Why have you stopped?” Jerry asked sharply. He’d never known Seventeen to freeze mid-hunt before.
Spike turned towards Jerry and said simply, “Vampire.” Then he loped off along the scent trail once more.
“Shit, shit, shit,” muttered Jerry, in time with his strides. “The demon that took the girl is a vampire,” he said clearly into his mic. “Get the fucking Slayer here – vamps are her job not mine and we can’t afford to get Seventeen injured.”
Forty minutes later, Spike slowed down and then stopped altogether. They were in front of an old derelict mansion.
“Are they in there?” whispered Jerry.
“Yes.”
“Is the child alive?”
The pause before Spike replied seemed to be an age, not merely seconds. “Yes.”
Jerry sagged with relief. He hated it when they were too late.
The scent of the vampire was overwhelming and Spike found it exciting and terrifying at the same time. The trainers didn’t know it, but each hunt he went on re-awakened an echo of the bloodlust that a pre-capture hunt evoked. The added scent of the vampire made his mouth water and he fidgeted from foot to foot.
“What is it, Seventeen? Tell me what you are thinking?” asked Jerry, unnerved by the unfamiliar response from his tracker.
Spike tilted his head on one side and sniffed the air; a thrill went through him almost as if he’d been rewarded with that lovely word. “Vampire,” said with awe. “Going to kill – feed.”
Jerry pushed a button on his controller and Spike yelped as a sharp pain ripped through his head.
“Sorry, buddy, but you kind of lost focus there. Do you remember whose side you’re on?”
Putting a hand to his temple, Spike nodded. “Your side.”
“Good. Now stay alert – if that vampire starts to snack I need to know – hand signals remember – so we don’t lose time with the delay of your speech.”
Spike curled the fingers of his left hand in what passed as an 'okay' sign and turned to face the mansion again.
Touching the mic, Jerry said, “How far away is the Slayer? We have a situation here – live kid but the vamp’s getting ready to chow down.”
“You should be hearing the chopper now,” replied control. “Unless you have to – do not engage until the Slayer is on the ground.”
The words had barely been spoken when Spike gestured with his hand indicating that the vampire wasn’t going to oblige them by waiting for the Slayer. The chopper was still some way off, and Jerry cursed under his breath and pulled the stake out from its holder on his belt. Apart from the controller for Seventeen’s chip, it was the only weapon he had. When you were running after a tracker you had to travel light. The stake was regulation just in case the tracker turned vicious.
“You stay back once we’re in unless that vamp goes for me, okay? I’ll get the kid.”
Spike nodded. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet. Something was off about this hunt, but he wasn’t sure if it was in a bad way or not. Either way, he wanted to get into that house.
Together they crept forwards, the blind vampire making less noise than the sighted human – that always pissed Jerry off. The handler eyed his charge curiously. Normally the tracker was reluctant to go into a situation like this – even when the thing inside was human – being blinded had taken away what little aggression the program had left in its psyche. Seventeen knew that he was vulnerable and had been reprimanded a couple of times for freezing up when his handler had been attacked.
Unsurprisingly the door was locked and Jerry indicated for Spike to kick it down at the same time the helicopter landed a couple of hundred yards away. Reassured that the cavalry was coming, Jerry ran inside with Spike on his heels.
He stopped so suddenly that Spike bumped into the back of him. The vampire was female. Tall and willowy with long, flowing dark brown hair. To Jerry it looked like she probably hadn’t changed the style of her dress since she’d been turned. She turned to glare at the interruption, amber eyes glowing in the dark. Her mouth was bloody from the bite she’d just taken out of the child’s neck.
Behind him, Spike whimpered as the scent of fresh human blood reached his heightened sense of smell and he wiped the drool from his mouth with his right hand.
The glance over his shoulder at his tracker made the hair on Jerry’s neck stand on end. His vampire looked like it was close to losing it. He turned back to the female.
“Look, let the girl go and you won’t be hurt,” said Jerry, pleased at how firm his voice was.
He couldn’t believe his eyes when she roughly threw the semi-conscious child away. Maybe vampires weren’t so tough these days? Their numbers were dwindling rapidly thanks to the Capture Squads.
The vampire giggled and ran a hand through her hair. “The pixies say that you’ll make me like him.” She waved her hand towards Spike and Jerry had to admit that she had a point.
Spike fell to his knees and groaned with the effort of speaking unprompted. Reluctant to take his eyes off the target, Jerry spoke, “What’s wrong, Seventeen? Tell me what you’re thinking.”
With a sob of relief, Spike said, “Drusilla.”
The female vampire took a couple of steps to the side to be able to clearly see the pathetic creature beside the human. As she watched, he held a hand out towards her.
“Sire!”
“I am the other that gave birth to you?” Drusilla asked, with a frown.
Jerry glanced at Spike. What were the odds of this? He hoped that Seventeen wouldn’t make him stake him. Old Walsh would be livid if she lost her favourite puppy.
Spike raised his head as Drusilla spoke and flinched when he heard her hiss.
“I haven’t sired any since my Sweet William and he’s long gone. You’re not my pretty Spike. Spike’s eyes were beautiful, they showed what an evil demon he was – yours are —”
Whatever she was going to say was lost as the Slayer ran in and with the panache of one well used to firing crossbows took aim, and nodded with satisfaction as the bolt struck the heart causing the vampire to explode into dust.
“You’re supposed to stake them, not talk to them,” she said, striding past tracker and handler to pick up the bolt from where it had fallen. “Tell the paramedics it’s safe to come inside – I didn’t get wired up.”
Obediently, Jerry contacted control and informed them of the all clear and need for the medics.
Ignoring the girl completely, the Slayer nudged the tracker with her boot. “What’s wrong with your vamp?”
Jerry looked down and saw that Spike had crawled to the dust and curled up, running his hands over his short bristly brown hair, moaning softly.
“Seventeen, on your feet!” Jerry flushed under the stern gaze of the Slayer. Trust Seventeen to choose now to make him look bad.
Spike stood up, but kept his head down as if he could see the remains of the dust that covered the floor.
“Oh, wow. This is Seventeen. He’s supposed to be the best.” She stepped to the side to allow the medics in to tend to the girl who had begun to move feebly. “Funny – I thought he’d be taller.”
“He doesn’t need to be tall to track,” replied Jerry, bristling at her criticism.
“Fair enough,” replied the Slayer cheerfully.
Still annoyed, Jerry added, “I thought the Slayer would be younger.”
The Slayer narrowed her eyes and Jerry felt his balls contract with fear, then she shrugged. “Yeah, life expectancy wasn’t great back in the day but these days with you guys working on captures and training my job is a lot easier than it was.”
The paramedics stretchered the girl away.
“She going to be okay?” asked Jerry, belatedly remembering that he hadn’t exactly done a great job – or any job – of helping the child.
“She’ll be fine,” replied the medic. “Physically, anyway,” he added softly as he passed them.
They watched them go and then the Slayer held out her hand. “Nice working with you, I’m –”
“Buffy!”
Both humans started and stared at the tracker.
“I thought they weren’t supposed to talk unless asked a question?”
“They’re not.”
“So how does it know my name? It’s not public knowledge.”
Jerry shook his head. “Seventeen, pay attention. How did you know the Slayer’s name?”
In the pause before the tracker could speak Jerry said, “He said the one you offed was his sire – called her Dru something or other.”
“That was Drusilla?” said Buffy staring at the dust. It’d been years since she’d last seen her. “The only childe of hers on record is,” she glanced at the tracker as it lifted its face, “Spike!”
Spike took a step back. It had been a long time since that name had been used. “Made a deal with you but came back. Wanted to kill you,” said Spike answering the question.
“Holy crap! It is Spike,” Buffy’s mouth gaped at the vampire turned to face her.
She’d seen plenty of trackers in her time but it had never before seemed so cruel to take the eyes from a creature as it did with one she had known. Smiling at the memory of him sitting awkwardly in the living room with her mom as they hatched out the plan to stop Angelus’s attempt to destroy the world, she couldn’t help but mourn the loss of those beautiful blue eyes.
“Do you remember when we worked together?” asked Buffy, unable to take her eyes from the vampire’s face. Jerry began to say something but she silenced him with a look.
“Yes.”
“Look, Buffy, ma’am, I have got to get Seventeen back to the transporter. Dawn isn’t far off.”
She glanced out of the window and nodded, “Okay. I’ll come with.”
Jerry thought better of protesting so just said to the tracker, “Take us to base.”
“What? We have to go all the way back to where you set off?” said Buffy. “No way will you make it before it’s light.”
Jerry grinned. “He’s trained to find the vehicle. It’ll only be a block away or so.”
Spike turned to the door and Jerry was sure he made more of a show sniffing the air than he usually did, before he walked outside and jogged away.
As Buffy ran along beside Jerry, watching Spike, her mind was racing faster than her feet. It had been years since Spike had helped her in return for Drusilla being given a pass. How soon after that had he been caught? She’d never questioned the morals of what was done with the vampires in the program. It meant that she’d been able to have a fairly normal life and had even managed to juggle the life of the Slayer with that of being a wife and mother to her two children – both boys, thank goodness - no chance of them ever being called. So why did the sight of the short measured steps that Spike was taking and the hardware in his eye sockets make her feel sick to her stomach?
The transporter was within two blocks as Jerry had predicted and the side door slid back before Spike got to it. He climbed obediently in and took his seat in the rear, holding his wrists against the shackles in preparation of them being locked.
Buffy’s heart lurched when she saw him sitting like that, staring straight ahead.
The camera in his eye shut down and Spike moved his right hand up to rub at it.
His thumb!
Buffy was horrified at its loss.
“Stop that,” ordered Jerry and Spike whined but put his wrist back against the shackle.
Jerry snapped the locks shut and rummaged in a cooler behind the driver’s seat.
“He always does that when the camera is switched off – he hates the vibration it makes,” explained Jerry, moving back to his tracker. “Here you go. You did a good job.”
Spike opened his mouth and Jerry dropped the cube of frozen blood onto his tongue, then grinned as he said, “Correct. Correct. Correct”
Buffy had to look away as Spike shifted in his seated and moaned softly. It was all too apparent what affect the words and the blood had on him.
“Sorry about that,” said Jerry sitting next to Buffy. “But it’s important that he gets his reward after each job. It’s the only time that he gets to taste blood – when he’s not being worked, it’s tubed in.
Buffy got permission to travel back to the facility with the tracker. Up to now, she had never wanted to see what went on in there, but she was fascinated to find out more about Spike.
The waves of pleasure slowly died away and he tried not to swallow in an attempt to savour the flavour of the blood. Aware of his surroundings again, he was surprised to learn that the Slayer was still with them. He jerked against his cuffs and growled loud enough to make Jerry give a short blast of pain fro the chip and Spike trembled as his snarl turned into a whimper.
“Why did you growl, like that Seventeen? Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“Killed my sire. Killed my princess. Promised she wouldn’t.”
“What’s he mean?” asked Jerry.
“He helped me save the world about…gosh, it must be fifteen years ago…in return that I let his mate live.”
“You struck a deal with a vampire?”
Buffy didn’t need to look at Jerry to know that the guy’s eyebrows had disappeared into his unruly dark hair.
“Yeah. Things were different back then. I needed help – he offered and it worked – no end of world.”
“Weird,” replied Jerry.
“And blinding them and using them as bloodhounds is so normal,” retorted Buffy, unsure why it pissed her off so much. “And tell him to stop looking at me!”
“But—”
“I know he’s not actually looking but I can’t look at his face, okay? I just can’t.”
Without waiting to be ordered by Jerry, Spike turned his head away. Whatever they had done to him, it must look hideous if even the Slayer couldn’t bear to look at him. He shifted his shoulders, trying to turn away but the cuffs on his wrists prevented him from doing so.
“Why don’t you sit up front? I’ll just recline Seventeen’s seat and then I’ll join you, okay?”
Buffy walked into the front section as Jerry tended to Spike. “There you go. Try to get some sleep. Correct. Correct.”
He didn’t see the tears tracking down Spike’s face as the vampire saw the thrill as what it really was – just another violation.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Banner and Betad by the amazing dawnofme.
Additional warnings for surgical procedures.
Additional warnings for surgical procedures.
Chapter End Notes:
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