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Author's Chapter Notes:
No Buffy in this chapter.
Chapter Four


Spike cocked his head and listened. Something was going on. What, he couldn’t work out. Unable to hear more than muffled voices, he shrugged and returned to his bed, sitting on it and resting his head back against the wall.

He closed his eyes, relishing the fact that he could. More and more often, his ability to blink was blocked, as he began to be used during the training of subjects in addition to still hunting. They had never considered that a trained vampire could assist in the training of others until they had seen how Spike reacted to a new inmate who freaked out when he saw what had been done to Spike’s eyes.

They’d watched in amazement as Seventeen calmly walked up to the vampire and held it by its throat as with his artificial thumb he pressed into the creature’s left eye. Unaffected by its screams he repeated the action with the right and then dropped the blinded vampire at his feet.

“I think you’ll welcome eyes like mine now, won’t you?” said Spike, before calmly walking away and licking the blood off his thumb.

The trainers had fewer problems in getting obedience from the group that had witnessed that act than before and from then on they called on Seventeen to help discipline any rebellious ones.

A part of Spike hated that he helped to turn them into drones to be ordered about by the Initiative but another part relished the fact that he was allowed to get violent with them. He hated seeing their fucking eyes and couldn’t wait for them to have the surgery to replace them with cameras. But when they had he hated knowing that his eyes also looked so inhuman and artificial. How had Buffy been able to look at him? Had he imagined the love she had given? It seemed so long ago – had it really been real?

The door at the end of the corridor clicked open and Spike, like all the vampires in that section, began pacing back and forth, cocks half hard, hoping that they would be selected to hunt.

To Spike’s relief, he saw his handler when his door slid open. He hadn’t hunted for almost a week and craved the release it gave. Shaking his head at the weird sensation of his eyelids being frozen in their open position, Spike followed his handler along the corridor and into the little room where he was given plimsolls to wear, but no other clothing. Spike grinned. This meant that the hunt wasn’t in a populated area and he loved hunting in the wilderness. As the Capture Squads got ever more efficient, free vampires and demons began to pull out of the more populated areas, hoping to find sanctuary out in the wilds.

They were wrong.

Unlike trackers, hunters worked alone, their handlers followed in the helicopter and so it was the closest thing to freedom that they ever got. Spike relished it and let his mind narrow until all he was aware of was the need to find his prey.

It wasn’t long before he was lost to the sensations created in his stimulated penis once he’d led them to the vampires, and he rocked back and forth as the orgasm ripped through him. No longer was he embarrassed by it, in fact it amused him when the humans got a little sweaty at the sight of him writhing about on the ground.

Back in his cell after being hosed down, his belly full of top grade human blood, Spike soon fell asleep.

*~*~*~*

Spike followed his handler to a room he’d never seen before. It revealed a plush office with dark panelled walls and a pair of overstuffed leather armchairs facing a large desk. Spike couldn’t prevent a low hiss escaping when he saw the person sitting behind it.

“Sit down,” said Maggie Walsh.

Mark, Spike’s handler, sat. Spike, as was expected, did not.

“So, how are you finding Seventeen’s performance?” she asked, not even glancing in Spike’s direction.

“Faultless, ma’am. And he can be a vicious devil with the new intake – brings them in line right away.”

Maggie leaned forwards. “Vicious? How is it with discipline?” She raised her head to stare at Spike. “Does it give you any trouble?”

Spike dipped his head, unable to keep eye contact.

“No, ma’am. Not a hint of trouble.”

The vampire shuddered at the thought of what he’d become.

“Because if it is, we can always use the leverage again.”

“No!”

Maggie stared at Spike and Mark swivelled in his seat, eyes wide.

“Please,” continued Spike, looking from one to the other. “He told you that I behave well. Don’t…”

“Don’t what, Seventeen? Are you giving me an order?”

“No. It’s just…please don’t hurt them again. I’ll do anything you want.”

“Anything?” said Maggie, in a tone that put ice deep in Spike’s gut.

He swallowed hard and nodded. “Anything if it will keep them safe,” he whispered.

“Excellent!” Maggie grinned. “Mark, take it back to its cell.”

“But, ma’am?”

She silenced him with a hard look. Mark shoved Spike hard in the side. “You heard. Move it!”

Spike turned around and walked as slowly as he could on the way to his cell. He knew that something would happen to him and his imagination was running away with him.

Sure enough, not long after Mark had left him, several guards came and escorted him to theatre.

*~*~*~*

The whole of the facility was buzzing with the news that a select band of trainers, handlers and their charges was being transferred to Europe.

Spike woke blearily in his cell and glanced around. His brows furrowed as he looked down at his body. Nothing had been done to him this time as far as he could see. He’d got the usual post OR headache but nothing else. Sitting up, he scanned the room more carefully but nothing was amiss. The bed was still the only item of furniture and the camera high up on the wall in the rear right corner was still blinking away as usual. So why did he feel that something was off?

His puzzled thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of a couple of pints of blood. By the time he’d finished it all, the feeling had left him.

*~*~*~*

Mark came and led him to one of the rooms he frequently was taken when the techs needed to do something new to his vision. He sat in the chair and let them strap his head so it was immobile. Electrodes fixed on his scalp in the places that they kept free from hair and to his surprise images of three people flickered into life in his vision. He blinked a couple of times but the images remained. A slight blonde woman walking with two boys. The older of the boys’ right arm seemed to sit at a slightly odd angle and the younger slouched behind them.

When the images disappeared, Spike could see the expectant looks on the techs’ faces and Maggie Walsh was standing right beside him.

“Um…” He didn’t know what to say. Although his speech wasn’t hampered by the chip, like most of the other vampires in the Initiative, Spike seldom spoke voluntarily. “Did I get shown the right film? They’re not vampires, if that’s what you needed to know.”

“So you don’t recognise them?” asked Maggie casually, but her jaw tightened and Spike felt a twist in his guts at the thought that he had done something wrong.

He tried to shake his head but it was still strapped down so he said, “No. No I don’t. Should I have? Have I missed something in training?” He could hear the apprehension in his voice.

Maggie smiled. “No. You did very well, Seventeen.” She turned on her heel, saying over her shoulder as she left. “Reward him and then take him to get ready for the mission.”

Spike smiled up at Mark, knowing exactly what was coming. His handler grimaced at the eager vampire and pressed the button to stimulate the homing device. As his penis filled, Spike wished that he had been untied. He loved to watch his cock with his left eye, watching as it heated up, changing from the blues and greys that it normally was to a red tinged yellow. But Mark kept him shackled and turned his back when Spike thrust up with a yell as he came, rivulets of semen, spilling stickily onto his stomach.

When his vampire had recovered sufficiently, Mark untied him and led him out of the room. Spike baulked when he saw several pods in the room as they walked in. He turned to look at Mark.

“I – I’m not a tracker anymore,” he said quietly.

“It’s all right, Seventeen, you haven’t been downgraded. It’s just we have a long journey ahead and it will make it easier if you travel in the pod.”

“Okay,” replied Spike unconvinced.

Easier for who exactly? He climbed inside and couldn’t suppress a tremble as he lay his neck down against the object that in a couple of seconds would paralyse him.

“I’ll see you when we get there,” said Mark.

He activated the pod’s lid and at the same time, there was a sharp pain at the base of Spike’s skull and his limbs went lax. He whimpered softly as seconds later the feed from both eyes went dark.

*~*~*~*

Spike had no idea how long he’d been in the pod but he gave a small sigh of relief as the lid to the pod slid open and his limbs jerked as the paralysis faded. His eyes remained blind though.

“Out you get, Seventeen. Got a bit of a technical hitch with the cameras so I’ll take you to your cell and you should be able to see in a couple of hours,” Mark said.

“Where are we?” asked Spike as he climbed out of the pod. “Smell’s different.”

“We’re in London, though quite why I’m telling you that, I don’t know,” replied Mark with a chuckle.

Spike’s steps faltered. London. Back to where he’d been born. If his Victorian self could have been told that he’d be back here well over a century later he would have thought it impossible.

“Come on, haven’t got all day.” Mark gave Spike a push and he staggered forwards for a few paces before resuming his walk.

Mark pushed a button to what would be Spike’s new home and smiled with approval at the specification of the cells. The glass fronts allowed people to see inside but from within was mirrored so the vampires couldn’t see out. That way they couldn’t excite each other when waiting to be selected for a hunt. He told Spike to walk forwards and as soon as the vampire stepped over the threshold, he closed and locked the door behind him.

Disorientated by the change of the layout in this new facility, Spike shuffled sideways until his fingers touched the wall and then he slowly made his way around the room until he found the bed. That was familiarly narrow and hard. He sat down and waited.

The techs solved the hardware problem and managed to remotely turn on the vampire’s eyesight. Spike blinked a couple of times as the focus took a little time to settle and then peered around the room. Apart from the mirrored wall, it appeared very similar to the one he had before. Then it hit him. He could hear nothing at all. The cell must be soundproofed. Pulling his knees up to his chest and hugging his arms around them, Spike felt very alone.

*~*~*~*

Jerry wondered whether his promotion was really all that it was cracked up to be. Right now, he was going through his predecessors’ somewhat haphazard records of the trackers and hunters that were sent out to be the basis for the new London branch six months earlier.

Sighing with frustration as he found yet another misplaced file, he opened it and scowled.

“What’s wrong?” asked Lesley, the personal assistant that he’d inherited with the new job.

“Nothing, I just didn’t realise that we re-used numbers for the vampires,” replied Jerry, flicking through the papers.

“We don’t.”

“What?” Jerry’s heart clenched, and he snapped the folder closed.

Lesley rolled her eyes. “I said we don’t re-use the numbers assigned to the demons. It’s against regulations.”

Not taking his eyes from the cover of the folder, Jerry said, “Go to lunch, Lesley.”

“But it’s only eleven thirty. I usually have lunch from one to two p.m.”

“Go now, Lesley, and come back at two as normal,” snapped Jerry.

Lesley stood up and walked briskly to the door. “Thank you.” She smiled as she walked away. Maybe this boss would be a good one. Only here a week and already he’d given her a long lunch and she hadn’t even had to flash some cleavage to get it.

Jerry stared at the battered card folder. Top right corner stated Subject No. V17.

Spike.

Why was his file in with the ones that were now in England? He re-opened the folder and with trembling hands picked out the sheet that had prompted him to get rid of Lesley.

The paper listed Spike’s statistics and had been over-stamped in bold red ink with the words ‘EXPORTED - LONDON’ and then the date. But it couldn’t be. Spike was dead. He’d been to see Spike only a couple of times after he was taken home by Buffy Summers, but the visits had been such an obvious failure that he’d stopped. While he was there, Spike had struggled to behave normally in his presence. Since the reason Buffy had taken Spike in was to try to give the vampire who had saved the world a reprieve, he’d contented himself with the occasional telephone conversation with Buffy to keep up with how Spike was doing.

The contents of the file were sparse. His early training was there, but then nothing after his sale to Buffy apart from that single piece of paper declaring his export. Jerry glared at the computer sitting on the desk. Would that hold the answers? Records had been computerised from the start but there should always be a paper file as back-up. If the papers explaining things were lost – would the stored data be intact?

An hour later, Jerry had all of Spike’ records downloaded to disc. The only problem he had was that the whole lot was encrypted with a code he hadn’t come across before. He put the discs in the pocket of his jacket and got back to doing what he was supposed to do – sorting out the mess.

By the end of the working day, Jerry felt that the discs were burning a hole in his pocket. He knew that six trackers and ten hunters had been exported. That fact was well documented and film of the sixteen pods being loaded onto the airplane had been beamed world wide. On the right hand side of his desk were the files of six trackers and nine hunters. The folder marked V17 lay in front of him. Without adding it to the pile – he didn’t have all exported vampires accounted for. But Spike had been a tracker – how could a lame tracker be turned into a hunter? Especially difficult seeing as he was dust.

The Initiative had a policy of not doing orthopaedic operations. The last tracker Jerry had handled had been retired due to injury – just as Spike had been. He’d pleaded with them to fix his vampire, six forty had been a good worker, but they just sent him to the retirement sheds, where for the past several years he’d been harvested for semen.

The top brass had decided that Jerry had begun to get a little too attached to his charges and had shunted him off to the administration department. It had taken him years to get them to take him seriously again and the promotion was his reward. But now, his faith in the facility was shaken to the core again.

Driving home, he knew that he needed help. The question was who could he trust enough to ask?


Chapter End Notes:
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