The Worst Betrayal


His skin was cool and smooth beneath her own. She rode him with wild abandon, throwing her head back so that her recently shortened blonde hair tickled her own shoulders. His hands were skating over her body, moving across her hips and down her legs. Buffy knew without looking that he was staring at her with complete adoration.

Her hand moved over his body possessively, marking him as hers – her toy to play with. His hard chest and abs felt wonderful under her fingertips. His hips bucked hard, thrusting up towards her so that he could bury his cock deeper inside her. All the while he was soundless – a near impossibility.

Pleasure was all that she wanted or needed from him.

When she looked down at his beautifully sculptured features, she decided once again that the shiver that went through her body had to be no more than simple lust. His deep blue eyes never left hers – once she finally allowed him to see them. He had no soul of his own, and yet somehow, he was stealing hers.

He had to be stopped.

Before she could even comprehend where it had come from, the stake was raised in her hand. She brought it down swiftly, slamming the pointed wood through flesh and rib, into her lover’s unbeating heart. His eyes widened, and his body stilled, the look he gave her one of confused betrayal. The word ‘hurt’ could not even begin to describe the agony she saw in his eyes.

Buffy felt his fingers close around her wrist, and she looked down at their hands – hers still gripping the weapon she had shoved through his chest, his still holding onto her.

She looked back up at his face, gasping in surprise. His beautiful features were suddenly swollen and disfigured. One sharp cheekbone was shattered, his lips split in three different places, and one eye was swollen completely shut.

The Slayer wasn’t naked anymore. She was fully dressed, crouched on top of her beaten vampire lover, who was lying on his back on cold concrete. The sounds of a familiar police station were not far away, the smells of the alleyway assaulting her senses.

All of these barely registered in Buffy’s mind.

The one she’d wanted to kill quickly, mercifully, to save both him and herself, was lying beaten and broken beneath her. Before she could even begin to do or say anything to make it right, he’d arched his back, opening his mouth wide in a scream of agony – that was completely silent.

His body crumbled to dust beneath her, and she was left on her hands and knees crouched on the cold stone – alone in the dark.

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“NO! Spike!” Buffy sat up quickly, reaching out desperately to grasp nothing but air. She breathed in harsh, ragged gasps that she refused to believe could possibly be the beginning of sobs.

Not for *him*!

The undeniable presence of the tears on her cheeks only served to further confuse her. She sighed heavily, wiping away the useless tears as she peered around her dark room. A storm had begun outside – like an omen stirring up the bad feeling inside her even more.

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If it was possible, tonight the graveyard seemed even more depressing than usual. The steady drizzle that had started the night before hadn’t eased – which was more than a little unusual.

It wasn’t often that such damp weather visited southern California.

Buffy had not slept since the last dream she had had about Spike. She had had five of them in the past two weeks. The very first had been the night after she’d beaten – the last night that she’d seen Spike, in the alleyway behind the police station. He hadn’t even shown up at her birthday party, two nights ago.

Of course, she hadn’t wanted him there – really, she hadn’t – but she had still expected him to try to poke his nose into it, anyway.

She wasn’t disappointed – not at all.

She hadn’t seen him at all since that night at the police station. She’d actually managed to stay away, not to seek him out, no matter how unusual his behavior seemed – no matter how badly her body ached for him.

But by tonight, Buffy had decided that enough was enough. Their apparently mutual avoidance could not go on any longer. Patrol had been beyond boring for the last week. She had not seen him at all, and a part of her could not help but anxiously wonder…

…not that it was important. What the undead bleached menace thought of her didn’t matter. He shouldn’t have gotten in her way, shouldn’t have…

Buffy found herself in front of the vampire’s crypt sooner than she had expected – and before she was really prepared to be there. Swallowing hard, she willed her chaotic, confusing thoughts to silence.

Suddenly remembering her dream, she put her stake back into her coat pocket. Then, after a moment’s reconsideration, she took it out and tossed it aside completely. No sense taking any chances, she shrugged.

She then spent a few *more* tense moments trying to convince herself that her hand was *not* trembling as she reached towards the door.

“If I might interrupt whatever it is you’re doing…”

The Slayer gave a very girly yelp before whirling around. At first, her heart leapt, thinking that maybe it was Spike, who, much to her embarrassment, had often found her lingering near his crypt.

She had to ignore the way her heart fell when she set eyes on a demon of average height standing behind her. He was probably no more than two inches taller than Spike, but his skin was a shade of green that definitely didn’t belong on the blonde vampire.

The forest green scales gave way to many small gray horns all across his eyebrow ridges, and down each cheek. If she hadn’t known that demons were immortal, she’d have said that he had aged poorly. His face had deep lines around the eyes and around his thin-lipped mouth. His hair was gray, falling haphazardly down around the base of his neck.

“You know,” Buffy spoke once she’d calmed down, “if you wanted to get the drop on a Slayer, it’s usually not a good idea to politely call their attention. Though, gotta say, it’s kind of refreshing. It’s not often I get a polite demon to slay.”

He raised his hands, which would have been very human-looking if not for the green scales across the backs, in a gesture of surrender. The skin of his palms seemed thicker as well. “I assure you, I mean you no harm. In fact, on the contrary, I wish to enlist your help.”

Buffy stared at him incredulously. “What is it about demons around here wanting to call truces? You guys keep forgetting one very important thing – I’m the *Slayer*. That means I kill you – I don’t help you.”

“You help those that are innocent.”

“Yeah, which doesn’t include demons or vampires.”

The strange demon before her smirked. “And what of vampires with souls?”

Her eyes turned cold. She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to look as nonchalant as possible. “Alright, so you know about Angel…what does this have to do with him?”

“Who said he was the vampire of whom I spoke?”

Buffy laughed. “Are you saying there’s another vampire with a soul?”

His expression grew suddenly somber and troubled. “My dear, I’m saying there are many. And right now – each and every one of them needs your help.”

All the Scoobies were gathered, each and every one in their own spot in the living room of the house at 1630 Revello Drive. The only one that didn’t belong was the green demon – Buffy’s new graveyard stalker – standing there before them all, like a professor preparing to give a lecture.

“Imagine if you would…a pocket between worlds…between dimensions,” he began. “It acts as a gateway…docking, or transit…it can also be use for hiding, or business. These pockets are places that exist in between, small worlds all their own. They’re places that only those who know of them can travel…and usually only by invitation. Time passes differently in these places…not as slowly as it does here, but not as quickly as it does in most hell dimensions.”

“Yeah, uh…” Xander raised his hand from where he sat, perched on the edge of the couch. “That’s all well and good…but what does this have to do with vampires with souls and truces with Slayers?”

“I was getting to that.” The demon showed his first sign of irritation at the interruption, but managed to reign it in. He turned a patient smile towards the Slayer, then took a look at all of her companions.

“You’re all demon hunters…” His gaze fell on Dawn, who was twirling her gum around her finger. “…of sorts. I’m sure you know much about demons…” He purposely tried to ignore some of the blank looks he was receiving. “My name is Durrak. I am a Thorshosh demon. My kind…we are mostly businessmen of the demon world. That is how I know about this newest…pocket. For the last several centuries, the biggest business in our world – in many worlds, in fact – has been slaves.”

Silence fell over the living room. Buffy swallowed hard, not liking the sound of where this was going.

“I-is…is this where the vamp-pires with souls come in?” It was Tara that spoke up first.

Durrak nodded. “At first…when the slave trade really began…it would be other demons that were enslaved. When clans warred among one another, the victims would be brought in for profit. Unfortunately, this only caused many more wars. After those actions were abolished as war crimes in most of your standard dimensions, and even most of the ‘pockets’ in between that I’ve described to you…well, then the slavers had to find some other source of – er – merchandise. Eventually, their efforts became concentrated mostly on humans.”

Buffy’s interested gaze all at once became a hard glare, her lips thinning. Her expression gave Durrak the distinct impression that he had a very limited time to get through his explanation.

“However, times have changed,” Durrak explained quickly. “Humans were…weak. They made fragile slaves, and never lasted long. Eventually, they became more trouble than they were worth. Most demon species that bought them at all only liked them because they were…pretty, and soft. And they…screamed well.”

“Ok…um…ick?” Willow spoke up now. “Not really the best way to get our help.”

“My apologies,” Durrak nodded ingratiatingly towards the red-headed witch. “Fortunately, as I said, those days are long gone.”

“Ok, I’m confused.” Buffy raised her hands in exasperation. “Why are you giving us the big history lesson?”

Durrak sighed softly, then shifted most of his attention to the slayer. “There is a gateway, here in Sunnydale…one that leads to one of these pocket dimensions…one that is currently being used as a slave brothel.”

“So why ensouled vampires?” Anya asked. “And how did they get enough for an entire brothel?”

“I’m coming to that,” Durrak assured her. “Even during the time when humans were still used as slaves, some of the brothels had already begun using halfbreeds…those that are part human, part demon. Some of them are born with human souls. You see, a half breed is considered nothing in the demon world…far below second class. To many species, they are worthless. It is these that became the slaves first. As for the vampires…” He sighed heavily, beginning to pace slowly across his small space in the living room.

“Vampires, despite their human appearance, are still considered demons. It was declared as much a crime to enslave them as it was to enslave full-blooded demons. But, when the owners of this particular brothel heard of the existence of a vampire with a soul…then, they were intrigued. A vampire with a soul is no longer considered a true demon, has no standing in the demon world…thus, there would be nothing and no one to object to that vampire being used as a slave.”

Buffy clenched her teeth hard, trying to remain calm. “Are you saying they went after Angel?”

He laughed. “Oh, of course not…Angelus has made quite a reputation for himself in Los Angeles…none of them desire to take the risk of trying to capture him. And why would they need to, when they could simply make more?”

“Make more?” Willow asked. “As in, ensoulling other vampires?”

“Precisely…it isn’t that difficult. And if you can trick them into asking for it willingly…well, then it stays put. You have a slave that you don’t have to worry about any demon race demanding that you set free.”

“Why would any vampire want to willingly accept a soul? From what I hear, it sucks.” Anya pointed out – then glancing anxiously around the room for the reactions of the others, shrugged and added self-consciously, “For them, anyway.”

“The slavers have…methods of persuasion. They make a great deal of money from their brothel…it’s become quite large over the last month alone. They have telepathic creatures working for them, shape shifters…and of course, they employ the best torturers in any dimension.”

“They’re that big?” Tara asked, the worry on her face enough to tear at the heart. “B-but how? Wouldn’t we have heard something about them by now? I mean, if they’re somehow working in Sunnydale…”

He smiled softly at the blonde witch. “Time works differently in that small dimension, as I said. While here it’s only been a month, in their pocket dimension, they’ve been building for years. And all they must do to acquire their slaves is to simply skip over to this dimension, lift a fledgling or ten every one of your days…and would you ever notice, with the abundance of vampires that Sunnydale seems to have? Then, they simply return to their sanctuary to restore the poor creature’s soul, train it as a slave – and it spends the rest of its miserable existence in the service of these brutes, to make them money.”

“So what are you saying...?” Buffy felt numb as she asked. “That there are…how many…?”

“Nearly a hundred,” Durrak said. “Since not all of their vampire slaves are taken from the Hellmouth.”

“Hundred…” Buffy tried hard to wrap her tongue and her mind around the word. “A hundred…ensouled…enslaved…vampires.”

He nodded.

“Alright…” She folded her arms across her chest, trying to hide the shaking of her hands. “Say I believe you…what’s in this for you? Why would you tell me this? Why try to help them?”

“This brothel…its owners…” He sighed softly. “They are former business associates of mine. They consider me to be in debt to them, because they helped me and my family gain safe passage through dimensions. They want…” He looked down, unable to meet the Slayer’s gaze. “They want my daughters…for the brothel. I have twelve offspring, only two of them sons. They are all partially human – thus considered to be fit for slavery.”

The Slayer studied the demon before her for a moment, wondering if such an unselfish reason could really be his motive. But then again, hadn’t another demon done unselfish things before, for no other motive but his love for her?

She looked down, putting her hands in her lap and trying to keep her mind on the situation at hand. “I’ll need proof of this. I’ll need to know where this gateway is…and I’ll need some clue as to how to stop this.”

“Of course,” the demon nodded. “Do you have…um…a, uh…” he held both hands up, making a box shape in the air, “video recording device?”

Buffy stared hard at him. “You want to use a video camera?”

“Did you have…another idea, perhaps? For proof?”

“Uh…well, I guess that is a pretty good idea – just – not exactly what I expected,” she admitted as she turned to meet Xander’s gaze. “Don’t you have a video camera, Xander? Could you get it for him?”

He nodded hesitantly. “Sure, Buff…” He made his way towards the door, keeping a few feet of distance between himself and the new demon. “I’ll just…be right back.”

Durrak watched the carpenter, taking note of his obvious suspicion. He turned his attention back to the Slayer. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll just take a step outside. I’d very much like a little fresh air at the moment.”

Buffy nodded numbly.

When the demon left the house, the Slayer turned to her red-headed friend. “Willow, I need to do all the research you can about Thersoshie demons.”

“Uh…I think it was…Thorshosh.”

“Fine,” Buffy sighed. “Some research on these space…dimension…pocket thingies would be great, too. But do the research on this Durrak guy, first. If things go bad, I need to know how hard he’ll be to kill.”

“What if he’s telling the truth?” Willow asked. “What if there are really all these vampires with souls that need our help?”

“Yeah, and what if he’s leading us into a great, big, trap?” Buffy stood, rubbing the back of her neck. “We need to know…just in case. If he’s telling the truth, I’ll go in and take care of the problem. There will be no slave trade on the Hellmouth, not on my watch.”

“Yo-you’re going to go alone? To another dimension?” Tara asked.

Buffy shook her head. “No, I…I’ll take Spike with me, he can hold his own. I doubt he’ll mind dimension traveling…” she shrugged. “…as long as he gets to kill something, anyway.” She made her way towards the stairs, then trudged tiredly up to her room.

Tara turned her attention to Dawn, who was still seated, and was suddenly very surprised to realize that the girl had stayed silent throughout the entire explanation, boring history lesson included.

“Is something wrong, Dawnie?” she asked, concern in her hesitant voice.

When the younger Summers girl looked up at her, Tara was struck by the worry in her eyes. Dawn swallowed hard, her voice soft, as she whispered her dread-laden question.

“Has anyone seen Spike lately?”

The warm water was soothing to Buffy’s tired muscles and weary mind. Everything just seemed so exhausting to her – even just staring up at the bathroom ceiling and thinking.

Mostly thinking.

The shock of Durrak’s claims had taken her for a long ride down the highway of moral dilemma. There were never-ending questions running through her head over and over, as to what she should do about what he had told her – not to mention whether or not she even *could* do anything at all.

She needed a break.

She needed a good – stress reliever. Unfortunately, her own hand was not proving to be a very good substitute. Arching her hips, she stroked herself harder. As her fingertips teased her body, she tried to imagine that the stroke against her clit was made by a cool, skillful tongue.

How was it that he could make her body sing like a musician on a familiar instrument, while she herself struggled to bring about her own release?

She no longer pretended to imagine that it was Riley with her – or even Angel. In her mind’s eye, it was always a lean, compact, but muscular body that she saw. Blue eyes, dark with lust, watched her as she squirmed. Soft lips, the bottom one full and inviting, curved into a wicked grin of pleasure. Usually, there was also a deep voice with a cockney accent, teasing her with dirty whispers.

“Cum for me Slayer, I know you’re close…love to watch you cum. Want to taste you…”

This time, there was no voice. Without warning, the dream came rushing back to her in full force. Those lustful deep blue eyes were suddenly pleading and betrayed, over sharp cheekbones shattered and bruised, mouth wide open in a scream of pain that for the life of her, Buffy couldn’t hear.

A knock at the door had her sitting up straight with a startled yelp. Swallowing hard, her eyes searched the bathroom, as if expecting Spike to pop up out of nowhere.

The knock came a second time, more urgently “You alright, Buffy?” Willow asked.

“Um…y- uh, yeah! What’s up?” She pushed wet strands of hair off of her face, trying her best to sound as if everything was normal.

“Xander and Durrak are back…Xander says Durrak just walked away from the truck a little ways, then disappeared into thin air. He came back a couple minutes later, and he says he’s got our proof on Xander’s ancient video camera.”

**********************************************************************

Static.

The tape took a few seconds to actually play. When it began, all they could see at first was a long, dark corridor. As the picture came into better focus, they could see that both walls were lined with cells. The hall looked filthy, the shadows filled with slightly darker shadows scuttling back and forth – shadows that looked suspiciously like rats. Two guards patrolled up and down the corridor, stopping only occasionally to peer into a cell here or there.

“Vampires are not that difficult to break in preparation for becoming slaves,” Durrak remarked in a quiet, solemn voice. “Usually, acquiring the soul does the job quite well all on its own.”

The camera was now pointed into one of the cells. A male vampire was huddled naked inside, curled up against the wall and whispering to himself. His skin looked even paler than it normally should have appeared, his body thin and haggard.

“In mild cases, these vampires must be watched for any makeshift weapons they might harm themselves with, or even be force fed their blood. In the more severe cases – “

The screen went blank, before lighting up again to show another cell. Blood splattered the walls in chilling streaks obviously left by desperately gripping fingers. A female huddled in the center of the room, now looking afraid to go near the walls. Her hair was matted and dirty, and in some places pulled out. She was weeping and raving uncontrollably, her filthy fingernails tearing jagged marks down her face, streaking it with more blood and grime.

She was attempting to scratch out her own eyes.

Darkness mercifully filled the screen again for a few moments.

“Those that are not broken simply by being ensouled…” Durrak began, before falling silent again – allowing the video to tell the story for him.

On the screen, a new corridor led to a small stone chamber. Inside this chamber was a small wooden table against the wall, with a female vampire seated on top. She had been forced to sit up against the wall, with her legs bent and spread wide. She was naked and trembling, whimpering with tears streaming down her cheeks as thin needles were forced into her body. Two needles had already been put through her nipples, two through her feminine folds, while one each was forced underneath all of her fingernails and toenails.

Her torturer had just begun inserting more needles, these ones into her gums, right above her fangs.

“Physical tortures such as these are often used. But these slavers have discovered that psychological tortures often bring the best results.”

Another room. A male vampire was strapped down to a table, being force fed a clear liquid while he tried his best to struggle against his unrelenting bonds.

“The ensouled vampires are often fed poisons and hallucinogens for weeks, until they can no longer tell the difference between reality, and the images created by the poisons in their minds. It is then that the psychic creatures and shape shifters are employed…to rip images from their minds – to find their greatest pains and fears to use against them.”

A beautiful woman had walked into the room. The male vampire suddenly stopped his struggling, staring at her with wild-eyed hope. The woman had dark hair trailing down to her lower back, a warm smile and light green eyes. Her delicate features lit up like the sun when she saw him.

Recognition was obvious in the expression of the vampire being held down. His torturers had stopped forcing the liquid down his throat, and even untied his arms, allowing him to sit up on his own to greet his guest.

The strange woman tilted her head, not seeming to notice the blood that was suddenly pouring down it. When the vampire’s eyes widened in alarm, she reached a hand up to her forehead. She looked down at her blood-soaked fingers, just as skin seemed to peel away from her face. When she looked up at him again, her body was falling apart, piece by piece.

Screaming in terror, the vampire tried to back away from her. He shook his head vigorously, trying to deny what he was seeing. He lashed out at his demon captors, who were once again holding him in place, unable to retreat, as the rotting woman continued to approach him.

The room was silent as the screen went blank again. No one had said a word, so Durrak continued.

“After they are properly broken -- slave training begins. As I’m sure you all realize, this is not a brothel of *labor* slaves.”

The next scene to come across the screen was of a literal dungeon of horrors. Demons stood along each wall, watching the center of the room impassively. Six other demons stood in the center of the chamber, all of them naked. A door was opened to a cell containing dozens of vampires, packed in impossibly close together.

A female vampire who couldn’t have been more than nineteen years old when she was turned was carelessly tossed into the middle of the group of male demons. They immediately shoved her trembling body to the ground, as she stared up at them fearfully through wide eyes, half-covered by her long, tangled blonde hair.

As she was commanded to put on her human guise, and her fangs and eye ridges receded, all at once, she looked like nothing but a trembling, terrified girl.

The demons then commanded her to get on her knees.

“Oh goddess…” The soft cry interrupted the perverted show and tell. Tara was trembling hard, a sob torn from her lips.

Willow, her recent nervousness around her recently estranged girlfriend forgotten, gently wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close. Her hand guided her head to rest on her shoulder as she murmured soothingly, “Don’t look, baby…”

The girl on the screen didn’t bother to beg. Her watery brown eyes remained on the floor, not daring to look up at her trainers, as she brought herself up on trembling hands and knees. Her hair was suddenly grabbed and jerked back, and she bit back a cry of pain. As one of the demons positioned himself behind her, she began to shake her head. She whispered softly, inaudible words, as she shook her head harder in denial – as if in utter disbelief that such a thing could be happening to her. Her hair was jerked again in a pitiless command to still her movements.

Her taking was hard and brutal.

The demon dug his talons into the soft flesh of her hip, drawing blood, as he pulled her back against him, forcing her into a more and more submissive position before him, before slowly forcing his raging member into her trembling body. He thrust himself into her completely, and she finally screamed out in pain.

She was slapped by one of the other males gathered around her for her outburst. She quickly choked back a sob, being as still as she could while her body was used without mercy. Another male knelt down in front of her, stroking her body at his leisure. He then positioned his cock at her lips, and she opened her mouth without having to be commanded.

Once they had finished with the wretched girl, a male vampire was brought out, one with short black hair and dark eyes. He was pulled forcefully from the holding cell and shoved into the center of the room. The demons closed in on him and forced him to the ground.

He fought back.

The punishment was swift and severe. His hands were taken and held above his head, where chains dangled from the ceiling. Once his wrists were manacled, the chains were pulled until the vampire was lifted off of the ground, his legs kicking in protest.

The stick they used was far thicker than a cane, heavy and strong enough to be a formidable weapon. They struck hard, aiming the first blow for one of his knees. The vampire screamed in agony as the sound of his kneecap shattering was clearly heard.

They aimed the next blow at his back, leaving a massive welt. He stopped his kicking, obviously in fear of more pain, his body trembling and his head bowed in submission -- but still they beat him. The sound of ribs breaking could be heard above the menacing snarls of the demons that surrounded him.

When he finally hung limp and unresisting, they took their turns using his body, taking him hard, as if trying to make sure he bled and suffered as much as possible, leaving him hanging by his wrists when they were finished with him.

“Please…stop…” The plea came from inside the Summers living room.

All eyes turned to Buffy, who was huddling further and further against the arm of the couch. “Just…stop this,” she pleaded softly.

Durrak spared her only a brief glance, insisting firmly, “We are not finished yet.”

Already, the scene on the screen had changed. In a drastic change from the settings of the previous sequences, this scene took place inside a lavish room, where a female demon with soft brown skin stood with her legs spread wide. A male vampire with dusty blonde hair knelt at her feet.

Willow blushed and looked away from the screen. “Oh, goddess…we shouldn’t be…”

“The slaves are taught to give pleasure on command -- usually while enduring pain,” Durrak explained, in barely adequate explanation for what they were about to see.

Each of the Scoobies tried to pretend that they were not morbidly curious, as they watched the vampire’s tongue explore the demon’s feminine folds, stroking and teasing.

In the demon’s hand was a bottle of holy water.

She licked her lips as she watched the slave service her, keeping a tight grip on the chain around his neck. She pulled tightly on it, making sure that he could not struggle too much before tipping the bottle, watching the deadly clear liquid move down her slave’s back.

He muffled a sharp cry of pain, obviously with some effort. His body went rigid as the smoke rose from his back. The skin bubbled in a straight line down, all the way to the top of his left buttock. Still, he obediently continued the teasing strokes of his tongue.

“That’s enough,” Buffy whispered softly, but with an edge to her voice that had not been there before. Something about the scene was suddenly striking to close to home for her comfort.

“No, it isn’t,” Durrak said. “You have yet to see the worst of it.”

Static returned to the screen, as the tape came to an end. The first tape was ejected, and another put in its place.

“You have only witnessed the breaking and training of these vampire slaves. You have yet to see the punishments these creatures suffer for disobeying the strict rules they are trained to obey.”

He paused before continuing his explanation.

“These slaves can be sold to individual owners, or put out for public use. Either way, they never leave the brothel. Masters and Mistresses may give their slaves pain for the amusement of it…but true punishment is another matter. They can be punished for many things -- not kneeling to proper authority -- running, hiding from their owners -- for speaking out of turn, especially. If a slave was to resist his Master, or deny him in some way…that would merit one of the most severe punishments.

The most common of these punishments is simple public beating. Another popular punishment is the burnings, which was later made into a popular public game, and also used for some executions. The slaves are put into a pit, thirty feet deep. The walls of the pit are covered in crosses, and the ground is drenched in at least a foot of holy water. If any of the vampires make it out of the pit, they are allowed to live.”

Durrak was silent for a moment before adding grimly, “It is possibly one of the slowest deaths a vampire can suffer – yet there are some slaves that do not even bother to try to escape.”

The Scoobies listened with growing horror and disgust, all of them looking pale and sickened – all but Anya.

Static was once again replaced by horrific images that filled the screen. This time, it looked like the set of a gruesome snuff film. The camera had been taken into a torture chamber that seemed to stretch on for a mile. Instruments from every nightmare imaginable lined the walls.

Slaves were on their knees, chained by their necks and wrists, when they weren’t being dragged farther into the room by heavily armored slavers. Those few who had previously been allowed some small amount of clothing, were now stripped and forced onto tables or metal chairs, or bound to poles.

A tall, almost Amazonian looking female vampire was forced into a metal chair. Metal spikes were put through her hands and feet to hold her in place while in the background of the scene, several hot pokers were taken out of a blazing fire.

“Please…p-please, Master, please!”

The sobbing voice coming from the television sent chills down everyone’s spines. The sound of the sizzling flesh and the desperate scream of pain was the last they knew of that unfortunate female vampire. The camera had moved on, deeper into the chamber.

“This is commonly called the obedience chamber. It has many names, but all slaves look to it with dread. This is where Slaves are brought when they’ve shown great disobedience to their Masters -- when they seem too rebellious, or when they dare to strike out, whether verbally or physically. Verbally -- that sort of defiance is punished more severely than you might think. It is thought by the slavers that if a slave believes he can speak freely, he may believe he can maintain freedom in other ways, as well.”

“There are two ways to punish a slave that speaks rebelliously. For the serious offense, their tongues are ripped out by the root. It normally takes a month or two for the tongue to grow back completely. For those in almost constant service, who cannot afford to lose their tongues, a more discreet method is used. Their throats are cut open cleanly, so as not to damage the flesh for too long, and then holy water is used to burn away the vocal cords…”

Buffy placed a hand over her own throat, closing her eyes tightly in denial of the horror of his words.

The screams on the screen suddenly reached a peak of terrifying proportions. All eyes were riveted to it, as a demon put a heavy metal clamp over the jaw of a helplessly restrained vampire. The clamp was then slowly forcing the jaw open, until there was a sickening crack of broken bone.

The slave flailed desperately in agonizing pain and wild panic, watching as his torturer brought a wicked looking instrument slowly closer to his mouth. The instrument closed around the base of his tongue, and then there was a wet tearing sound and a flood of blood poured from his open mouth…

“Oh god!” Xander rose suddenly from the couch, pushing Durrak right out of his way and running out the door. The sound of his retching outside could be heard by everyone still in the house.

“That’s enough!” Buffy’s demanding voice was nearly a shout this time, as she rose from the couch and stormed towards the television, grabbing the old VCR and yanking it away from the cords that connected it to the wall. With vengeful force she threw it down onto the ground, heedless as it shattered.

Tara was sobbing outright by now, holding both hands over her mouth as she buried her head against Willow’s chest. Willow stroked her soft blond hair tenderly, even as she stared blankly at the screen full of static. She did not even notice the twin trail of tears moving down her cheeks.

Durrak remained silent as he watched the group of humans. Each seemed shaken to the core by the horror of what they had just seen.

Buffy’s entire body trembled. She looked down at her shaking hands, unable to think of anything to do with them. She stumbled back from the VCR as if it were a disease, the bile rising in her throat without warning. The Slayer fought it back, turning and running out the front door to join her friend.

The fresh air was a shock to her system, and it gave her just enough strength to keep the contents of her stomach down. She breathed in deeply, closing her eyes and trying to center herself. When she heard heavy footsteps on the porch, she opened her eyes to find a still somewhat green looking Xander staring back at her.

“We have to stop it, Buff.” Xander spoke first, surprising her with the determination in his voice. “No one deserves that. Vampire or not – soul or not – there’s not a person or creature in this world that deserves that. Quick dusting – yeah, I’m all for it. But – not that.”

Buffy nodded, her body still trembling. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself as she stared out into the front yard. For some reason, her gaze seemed drawn to the tree that Spike always hid behind when watching her house. “I’m just glad that I sent Dawn to her room…if she’d had to see that…” she shook her head helplessly, lost for words.

Xander nodded. “Yeah.”

“We’re stopping this.” There was deadly venom in the blonde Slayer’s voice, as she made her declaration of war. “We’re stopping this, now.”

Buffy stormed back into the house with all the deadly force of a small hurricane. Everyone but Anya and Durrak had already vacated the living room, needing to somehow distance themselves from the horrors they had seen. When the green-skinned demon spotted the Slayer, he immediately turned to greet her.

Before he could manage it, Buffy had him by the shoulder, and had shoved him violently up against the wall.

“What are you doing?” Anya asked in alarm, finally bothering to stand.

“How did you do it?” Buffy demanded of the demon she had pinned to the wall, clear menace in her eyes.

“How did I do…?” Durrak raised an eyebrow ridge as he let his voice trail off, shaking his head slightly, at a loss.

“You got all that footage…holding cells, rape, training, torture…how’d you get all that without someone noticing you sneaking around?” the Slayer demanded suspiciously.

The Thorshosh Demon gave a put-upon sigh as he realized the meaning of her question. “I have no need to ‘sneak around’,” he informed her with a slightly offended note to his voice. “I am employed at the brothel.”

The Slayer gritted her teeth hard, willing herself not to launch a full-out interrogation of the demon who had so far been only helpful – as far as she knew. “Doing what?” she asked him, her voice still hard, though somewhat calmer.

“I’m a bookkeeper. I keep records of the slaves…who captures and sells them to the brothel, evaluations on how much they’re worth, their past histories…I have access to whatever I choose.” He paused before adding in mild exasperation, “Do you really think I would come to you for aid in stopping the slave trade if I did not have some means of helping you to do it?”

Anger still seething under the surface, but now firmly under her control, Buffy finally released him. She stepped back, giving him enough space to straighten himself up. “And what exactly do you have to offer in the way of helping us?”

“Living quarters at the main offices of the brothel, where you can be hidden while in preparation for your mission…as well as complete knowledge of the entire brothel, including hidden corridors that not even most of the owners know about.” Durrak replied without hesitation.

Buffy considered for a moment before she nodded, her jaw set in determination. “I really do hope you’re with us all the way, on this, Durrak,” she warned him quietly. “Because we’ll be leaving very soon.

**********************************************************************

In the kitchen, Tara dabbed at her eyes with the paper towel Willow had just handed her. They were sitting close together at the island in the center of the room. Tara was still hunched over, appearing to be just on the edge of recovery from the shock of the video tape. Willow had been rubbing her back soothingly, until just a few moments ago, when the shock had worn off enough to allow the memory of their very real estrangement to surface in her mind again.

Fortunately, Tara did not seem bothered by the physical comfort she had instinctively offered. “It’s just – it was so – I-Im s-sorry, I couldn’t just watch that and – Willow, they were in so much pain…”

“I know, sweetie,” Willow shook her head in a gesture of understanding. “Don’t ever be sorry for reacting that way. You’ve got a gentle heart, and there’s no way that it couldn’t bleed after seeing something like that. That’s the reason why I l-” her eyes widened as she realized what she had almost let slip, and she quickly forced herself to stop talking.

Tara looked up from the counter, meeting the redhead’s gaze for the first time that night. She studied the tears that the other girl hadn’t even realized she had shed. Reaching out, Tara brushed them away with her thumb. “You’ve got a kind heart too, Willow.”

Willow blanched, looking down. She enjoyed Tara’s touch, any excuse to have it…but she didn’t want the reason to be a lie. “Not so much anymore, I don’t think…and it kind of worries me…sometimes, I’m afraid I’ll lose that part of myself completely…”

“It’s still there,” Tara whispered reassuringly. “You might not see it, but I do. You just have to let it out again.”

**********************************************************************

Her fingers itched to pick up the phone. Buffy had stood simply staring at it for three minutes, before she had taken it with her into the dining room and stared at it for another ten. Finally, she had made her decision, looked up the number, and forced herself to dial it.

“Angel Investigations,” the familiar voice answered.

“Angel…”

“Buffy?” he asked in a voice of soft surprise.

“Yeah, um…” she swallowed hard.

“What’s wrong? Has something happened?”

“Yeah.” Her laugh was forced and strained. “A lot’s happened – and I don’t know what –I – I’m not ready for…”

“Do you need me to come down to Sunnydale?” There was concern, and yet, surprisingly, a bit of reluctance in his voice.

“No – I just – there’s something that you should know. I may need some advice, soon, too – a lot of advice, actually.”

“Tell me,” he spoke gently.

“What was it like to get your soul?” she asked him a bit breathlessly, before she could stop herself. “You mentioned that it was hard – painful…but beyond that, what was it like for you?”

He was silent for a moment before asking cautiously, “Why do you ask?”

“Angel…something’s happened…someone…I don’t even know how to explain it to you. But I don’t think you’re the only vampire with a soul, anymore.”

The pause was considerably longer this time. Finally, Angel asked in a cautiously emotionless voice, “How?”

“Someone’s been capturing vampires…ensouling them, selling them as slaves. We’re going to help them, set them free, but – after that, I don’t know what to do.” She tried to keep the tears from her voice. “What if they’re…?”

“Broken?”

“Yeah, to say the least…”

“Are you sure you don’t need me there? I could find a way…”

“No.” Buffy suddenly thought of Spike, whom she had planned to take with her. “No, I’ve got help. We can take care of it. I just…I thought you should know.”

“Thank you,” he still sounded beyond stunned. “Call me when…”

“I will,” She hung up abruptly, not sure why the conversation should feel so hard. She set the phone down on the dining room table and leaned over it, rubbing the back of her neck.

“Did you have to call him?”

Buffy turned, surprised to see Dawn standing in the doorway. “What are you doing down here?” she demanded, more sharply than she meant to in her concern for what her little sister might have seen.

Dawn shrugged. “Video’s over, right?”

There was an alarmingly haunted look in the younger sister’s eyes.

“Dawnie, did you – did you see…?”

Dawn shook her head, reassuring her sister only partially as she admitted softly, “I heard the screams.”

Buffy nodded, looking back down at the phone on the table.

“You’re going to help them, right?” Dawn’s voice was soft. For a moment, she sounded even younger than she actually was.

“Of course.” Buffy assured her.

“I mean – no matter what, right? Even if there were vampires that – that you knew, or didn’t like? If there was a vampire there that…”

“I am *not* going to leave anyone there. It doesn’t matter what they might have done before, they all have souls now – and even if they didn’t – no one deserves that.”

Dawn nodded, visibly relieved, but there was still a troubled look in her eyes. Buffy wanted to ask what was wrong, but she had already turned away, and soon the Slayer could hear her younger sister’s footsteps as she moved quickly up the stairs without another word.

************************************************************************

It was the first time in over a year that the crypt actually felt like a crypt. Buffy had spent long moments pacing outside the door, working up the courage to face the vampire she’d had sex with, beaten – and then left behind in the alley. She had forced herself to think instead of the vampires that needed her help – with no small irony at *that* unusual thought for a Slayer to have.

She’d decided to just act casual, bursting through the door, like she always did. Expecting to see the bleached blonde sitting in his old, ratty chair, watching TV and getting drunk, she was surprised to be confronted instead by shadows, dust, and the smell of something rotted.

Covering her nose with one hand, Buffy looked around the crypt. There were new cobwebs strung everywhere, and dust covered the television screen. Several bottles, half empty, lay abandoned on a sarcophagus.

How long did it take for dust to build up this much, anyway? Buffy wondered. She was surprised that Spike had allowed it to happen at all, since he had usually kept his place surprisingly clean for a hole in the ground.

What really surprised her was the half-empty glass and bag of blood on the sarcophagus, next to the booze. Dried blood was crusted to the glass, as if it had rotted in it. The bag of blood was mostly dried; the blood in the center had long since gelled and coagulated. Gnats and flies buzzed around it, some of them crawling into the cut that had been made in the bag to pour the blood out.

Except – no one *had* poured it out.

“God, Spike!” Buffy continued to hold her nose as she moved further into the crypt. “Where are you?”

The lower level was next. Buffy stopped at the ladder, for a moment unable to go further inside. There were no tingles on the back of her neck, warning her of the presence of a vampire. In fact, the place felt completely empty…

The bed was made, and looked completely untouched. There were no recently discarded cigarettes in the ashtray beside it. The carpet was still wrinkled, looking exactly as it did after they’d been under it.

“Spike…?” She already knew he wasn’t there. The fact that he’d obviously been gone a while was threatening to hit her hard.

*Would he have really left, after…?*

Her mind refused to contemplate anything that might have followed that “after”.

She picked up a discarded pair of black jeans that had been half draped over a fallen lamp. She recognized it by the tear around the zipper. They had stumbled into the crypt, tearing at one another’s clothes, and Spike’s jeans had been a casualty. There was something white poking out of the back pocket. Frowning, she pulled it out…and her frown deepened as she stared down at her own thong.

“So that’s where my underwear keeps going...”

Sighing, she tossed the jeans aside, stuffing her left-behind thong into her own pocket, and then made her way towards the bed. There was a thin layer of dust across the blanket that sent a chill of dread down her back. She couldn’t understand her bad feeling, couldn’t force herself to comprehend what it might mean – she just knew that she wanted it to stop.

Something metal caught her eye then, and walking around the bed, Buffy noticed the familiar set of handcuffs on the floor. She picked them up, bending over just long enough to also catch sight of something poking out from underneath the mattress. She shouldn’t look – she knew she really had no right to be poking around in Spike’s personal things, but she couldn’t help her curiosity.

The thing halfway under the mattress turned out to be a picture. Flipping it over, Buffy’s eyes widened as she stared at the faces of her own family. Her mother looked healthy and was smiling brightly, with one arm wrapped around Dawn and her other hand resting on Buffy’s shoulder.

The brief thought that Spike could be starting up his shrine again flashed through her mind; but somehow, that wasn’t what it felt like. She had felt totally creeped out when she’d found all those pictures of herself in his crypt before, but then, those had been pictures of only her. Finding a picture of her family hidden under his bed just seemed so…sentimental, not stalkerish.

*Still – ought to make sure there is no actual shrine…you know…just in case…*

Lifting up the mattress, Buffy searched for more photos, and found only one, face down. She took it out and set the mattress back down, taking a seat on the bed before she looked at the picture. Turning it over, she was greeted by the surprising sight of all of the Scoobies, together as they had not been in reality, in far too long.

It had to have been taken around the time of Thanksgiving, a couple of years ago. It was a picture that Dawn had taken, on one of the rare occasions that her mother could convince Buffy to let her tag along.

At least – Buffy *remembered* Dawn taking the picture.

A wistful feeling came over her, as she reminded herself that her little sister had really not been there at all.

In the photo, all of them were gathered in the living room, holding research material, each of them giving little half-smiles towards the camera to humor Dawn. Spike was tied to a chair in the background, only a small distance away from them, glaring menacingly.

Buffy had no idea why the picture was threatening to break her heart.

She had no idea whether to laugh or cry, but she desperately wanted to do both. She wasn’t sure if Spike had actually started considering the Scoobies his friends, or if he had only kept the picture because it could possibly be the only picture in existence with both of them in it…but either reason brought more tears to her eyes.

Dropping the picture as if it was on fire, she quickly wiped her tears away. There was a terrible dread welling up inside of her again, and she refused to examine it. There was no time, and there was no reason. If he’d decided to leave Sunnydale, or…

The door to the crypt opened again, and Buffy jumped slightly when she heard the creaking sound upstairs. Her heart leapt up into her throat, then settled again to thud rapidly against her chest. “Spike…?”

She ran quickly from the bed, climbing the ladder in record time. “Spike!”

Xander stood in the doorway, peering into the dark crypt, obviously looking for both blondes.

The disappointment Buffy felt seemed heavy enough to crush her, but she tried not to let her friend see it. Her hands shook with it as she finally pulled herself back up to the first level, but by the time she was close enough to Xander to allow him to see her face, she had wiped away all signs of it. She pushed the feeling aside, deciding to replace it with anger, instead.

She did that so often, these days – she was getting used to it.

“Where’s the bleached menace?”

She shrugged. “Gone.”

His eyes widened. “Gone?”

“Yeah. He’s left town. Just found out.”

“Left…left town?” Xander stared at her like she had grown a second head. “He didn’t even leave town when you were dead, and he leaves *now*?”

Buffy stiffened, keeping her expression stoic, not allowing the effect Xander’s point made on her to show in her face. “Yep. He left.” She walked past her friend, out the door into the cemetery.

“Why would he…?”

“It doesn’t matter why!” she snapped without meaning to, her back turned to him.

Xander followed after her, closing the door of the crypt behind him. “Buff – are you alright?” he asked cautiously, unable to miss the sharp edge to her voice.

“Fine,” she lied. “It’s just…I’ve…I’ve got no backup now…he’s gone, so that means I have to go to this pocket dimension thingy alone.”

“No way,” Xander insisted, suddenly stepping around to stand in front of her. “There’s no way you’re going alone.”

“And what choice do I have?”

“I come with you.”

She shook her head firmly. “No way, Xander. You might get hurt.”

“Yeah, and you might, too. In fact, what happens if you get hurt, somewhere off in another dimension, and no one here even knows it?”

“I’ll…I’ll find a way…”

“Un-uh,” Xander shook his head. “No trying to find someone else. Right now, you don’t *have* someone else. You’ve got me.”

He waited a moment, allowing that to sink in, before adding softly, “It’s just you and a demon we don’t know, going into something pretty close to a hell dimension. Most of us need to stay here, I get that. There’s no way Dawn’s going. Tara and Willow need to stay here in case something goes wrong with the gateway. Giles is on the other side of the planet, Dead Boy’s got his own problems in L.A., and Dead Boy Jr. just split town.”

“Yes, but…”

“You need *someone*, Buffy. I swear I’ll hold my own.” He shrugged, giving her a little half smile as he admitted, “Mostly, I’ll be staying out of your way. But if nothing else, you need someone there to run back through the gateway and get the others if something goes wrong, or if we’re double-crossed.”

“And how exactly do you expect to be able to run out the gateway if we’re double-crossed?” she asked wryly.

The carpenter shrugged. “Don’t underestimate my running-away skills, missy.”

She sighed heavily, obviously still not too pleased with the idea. “Fine…fine. If you promise me that you’ll stay safe, that you’re only there in case of an emergency…fine, you can help me with this one. But I hope you’re ready for this, Xander…because we don’t have time for you to *get* ready. We’re leaving right away. I can’t wait to tear these bastards apart.”

************************************************************************




This, she had not been expecting.

Buffy wasn’t sure exactly what she *had* been expecting when she had been told that they were approaching the gateway to the slave brothel – but she certainly hadn’t expected to find herself in the middle of the peaceful, moonlit park.

It was dark and quiet, and the Scoobies and the Thorshosh demon leading their quest were hushed and subdued as they stood there, making the last of their plans and farewells.

“Are you sure I shouldn’t go with you too, Buffy?” Willow urgently suggested – not for the first time. “I mean, I could…”

“The fewer people that go, the better, Wills,” Buffy repeated firmly. “Besides, we need you here in case something goes wrong with the gateway. If anyone will know how to get us back to this dimension, it’s you.”

A hint of guilt flashed across Willow’s face, but she tried to shrug it off with a grin, and nodded. “That’s me, good with the research, and…” Willow’s gaze shifted momentarily to Durrak, and she leaned in closer to Buffy to whisper into her ear, “…by the way, a Thorshosh demon can be killed by the standard decapitation, or by a massive blow to the head.”

Buffy gave a little half-smile, and she nodded. “Thanks. I’m kinda hoping it doesn’t come to that, though…”

“Now don’t you get stuck in that alternate dimension, Xander Harris.” Anya was scolding her husband-to-be. “Our wedding is in just a few short weeks – and that means I can’t have you there in that slave brothel giving orgasms to other demons.”

He stared at her with wide eyes, unable to even begin to think what part of that statement he found most wrong. “Not planning on it, Ahn,” he assured her.

She smiled, seemingly satisfied with his answer, and embraced him in a firm hug.

Dawn caught Buffy’s eye for just a moment, but almost immediately looked away. The Slayer made her way towards her sulky sister, trying to decide what to say, before finally just wrapping her arms around her in an awkward hug.

“It’ll be fine, Dawnie,” she tried to reassure her sister.

The younger Summers could only hug her back, and even then she pulled away as quickly as she could manage. “Yeah – sure it will.”

“What’s wrong?” Buffy gently pressed her.

She shook her head. “Nothing…it’s just…” Finally she looked up into her older sister’s eyes, searching for something. When she didn’t find what she was looking for, she gave another half-hearted shrug. “It’s nothing, really…just be careful.”

Before Buffy could argue further, there was an ear-splitting crack. A bright flash of light blinded them all, but faded away within seconds. They all immediately looked towards Durrak with expectation, but he was still standing serenely as if nothing had happened. The park looked exactly as it had seconds ago.

“We’re ready,” he told them. “The portal is open. Come, quickly!”

Sighing, Buffy looked at Xander, a question in her solemn gaze. “You sure about this?”

He simply nodded, hoisting his bag of weapons higher on his shoulder. And turning to give one last kiss goodbye to his future wife. Buffy led the way to Durrak’s side. He watched them calmly as they made their final preparations, and then motioned towards the empty space in front of them.

“We will not see the gateway,” he explained. “When we reach the other side, however, we will see several. We must take note of which doorway we’ve entered through. When it is time to leave, we must exit through the same gateway through which we came, or we could end up on the other side of the world.”

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Buffy stepped forward first. The air around her rippled, as if she were stepping into a pool of thick liquid. She took another brave step forward – and then disappeared entirely. Xander swallowed hard when he could no longer see his friend, turning around uncertainly to see the others watching him expectantly. He raised a hand to wave goodbye to all of them, before turning and disappearing into the rippling gateway.

Once Durrak had followed after them, and the park was still and silent once more, Dawn crumpled to her knees. Two tears trailed down her cheeks and she rocked herself back and forth, inconsolable. Tara was the first at her side, crouching down and wrapping an arm around her in an offer of comfort.

“It’ll be alright, sweetie. They’re going to be fine, you’ll see…”

When Dawn whispered her response, Tara couldn’t catch the words at first. “What?”

The young girl sniffed hard, then willed herself to speak. “I think they took Spike.”

Tara’s eyes widened, and she pulled back in alarm. She turned Dawn slightly around to face her. “What do you mean, Dawnie? You don’t think…?”

“The slavers!” The words brought fresh tears, but Dawn brushed them away. “I haven’t seen Spike in at least two weeks. and…I…” She looked down, determined to finish, and aware that she never would, if she let herself meet Tara’s compassionate gaze. “I went by his crypt…just for a visit, you know? I hadn’t seen him in a while. Well, when I got there, he was gone…he wasn’t there, I could tell he hadn’t just been there, either…but everything was out…even this old glass of blood that looked like it had been left out for a few days…”

Tara shook her head. “That doesn’t mean…”

“I’ve been visiting his crypt every other day ever since!” Dawn interrupted. “He hasn’t been back, Tara…not once. None of us have seen him -- not even Buffy could find him. Spike’s in love with her, he would want to help her…don’t you think it’s a strange coincidence that Spike goes missing just as these slavers, who only kidnap vampires, happen to show up in town?”

The blonde witch could not avoid the feeling of dread rising up inside of her. She peered up at Willow, as if hoping the red-head could say something more reassuring than the feeble attempts that she had managed.

Willow even looked worried, but she shook her head in denial. “Dawn, maybe…maybe Spike just…” she shrugged. “…left town, like Buffy said.”

Dawn’s sorrowful gaze turned into a steady glare, as she shook her head in stubborn denial.

“Spike doesn’t just leave.”

*********************************************************************

The cold air surrounding them felt as thick as water. Buffy watched her hand as it pushed through the strange atmosphere, creating ripples around her, before finally pushing through to form an opening. Her movements were slowed, and it was an effort just to take a single step. Finally the coolness faded, as she struggled through to the other side.

Again, it wasn’t quite what she expected.

A high stone ceiling towered above them, and through the square, glassless windows she could see a sky that was pitch black, lit only by frequent bursts of lightning. The room was lit by torches.

Durrak had been right -- the gateways on this side, were not just invisible spaces of thickened air, but actual gateways…round portals of crackling blue energy, each with a symbol above it. Across the room Buffy could see five corridors, each leading in a different direction.

“Nice place,” Xander commented. “If you’re going for the whole ‘Dungeons and Dragons’ look.”

*********************************************************************

The narrow passageway down which Durrak had led them gradually gave way to nothing but shadow. The scuttling of insects and the flickering of the torch flame were the only sounds in the darkness that surrounded them.

“Are you sure these tunnels are stable?” Xander asked their guide. “They look to me like they could crumble at any minute…”

“They’re stable enough,” Durrak replied. “Besides, if we traveled the same tunnels the guards used…well, your presence here is something we should keep a secret until we decide how best to strike.”

“I was thinking with my fists,” Buffy answered from behind them both. “And maybe a nice axe.”

“It is not wise to go rushing into such a dangerous situation without a well-thought-out plan.”

The two humans stopped when the sounds of screams suddenly reached their ears. Both of them looked shaken as they glanced around, trying to find the source of the horrible sounds. Buffy finally seemed to get her bearings, pressing her ear against the stone of the wall to her left, through which she could hear the terrible sounds of suffering more clearly. “What’s happening?”

“They must be transporting new slaves. The sound will fade. Now, come, we’ve almost reached the main hall.”

Fifteen more minutes passed in silence, as neither the Slayer nor the carpenter could find words for the horrors that they knew were going on not far from them. The tunnel twisted and turned, and seemed to go on forever. When Durrak finally halted, neither of them could see any real doorway. The tunnel just branched out in four different directions, each of them as dark as the others.

Durrak rummaged through a bag that he’d carried with him, and pulled out two matching cloaks of some dark, coarse material, tossing them to the two humans. “Put these on, and keep the hoods up at all times, and you’ll be well hidden. From a distance you might appear as slaves, but up close anyone here would know by looking that you were human.”

The two of them put the cloaks on without further instruction, pulling the hoods up to cover as much of their heads and faces as possible. When Durrak was satisfied with their appearance, he reached high above his head and gave the ceiling a hard shove, and the sound of grating stone filled the air.

The Thorsosh demon was obviously struggling, but still managed to push the stone covering up, and then finally to the side. What remained where the heavy stone ceiling tile had been was a square hole that appeared just large enough for them to squeeze through.

Buffy was the first to climb through the small hole. She spared just a brief glance around her to be sure that there was no immediate danger, before hoisting Xander up by the hand he offered. She then took Durrak’s hand and pulled him up, before turning to inspect their surroundings a little more thoroughly.

They were outside.

The sight of the completely desolate area that surrounded them, spreading out on every side as far as the eye could see, took the Slayer’s breath away. Even Xander was speechless – and that was becoming a very strange habit for him.

The sky was pitch black, just as it had been before. Not a single storm cloud was visible in the smooth, clear darkness – and yet lightning rippled back and forth across the sky like constant sparks of static electricity. The ground beneath their feet was cracked and dry.

In all that expanse, Buffy could not see a single living thing besides the three of them.

Massive stone buildings stood all around, casting even deeper shadows. Where they stood just happened to be directly in front of one of the smaller and plainer ones.

It was the most depressing place Buffy had ever seen.

“Quickly!” Durrak assured them from around the side of the building they had just emerged behind. “We must get inside, and out of sight!”

He led them through the doorway, into a very large, brightly lit chamber – a sharp contrast to the darkness and gloom that had greeted them outside. Instead of a plain stone room to match the exterior of the building, the room they found themselves in more closely resembled a ballroom.

The floor was of polished jade, and every one of the demons gathered at the center of the room was dressed in its finest – even if its finest happened to be armor and leather and freaky necklaces made of teeth strung together.

Buffy was immediately worried about the danger of being spotted, but soon saw that there was no need to be. Everyone’s attention was focused on the center of the room, where there was a large stage, and a speaker calling everyone’s attention.

On the stage with the speaker were about a dozen slaves, all chained and naked.

Five were male vampires, and the rest were female. None of the heartbreakingly vulnerable creatures seemed able to look anyone in the eye, instead keeping their eyes focused on the ground in front of them, even as they were paraded across the stage to show off their assets. As the Slayer watched the speaker openly fondle one of the females as he opened the bidding, she could feel her blood begin to boil in rage. Her hands curled into fists, and it was only the insistent tugging of their guide towards one of the smaller corridors that kept her from leaping into action right then and there.

“There is time to play savior later.” Durrak insisted, unable to miss the Slayer’s fury.

“Man, that was sick.” Xander couldn’t keep the contempt from his voice as they made their way away from the disturbing display.

The corridor they were traveling down now was dimly lit. Doors lined the hallway, which was far enough from the auction room that the voices had already begun to fade.

“Where are we going?” Buffy asked once she could find her voice again.

“My office, close to the record room. It is the one room in this place where you can sleep in safety.”

The room he led them to was certainly large enough, but barely furnished. On one side of the room was a bed barely big enough for one. In the corner was a desk littered with various papers, and behind it, shelves upon shelves of files. Covering the center of the floor was a rug made of some sort of fur that Buffy couldn’t possibly recognize.

But what drew the most attention, of course, was the cage that took up the entire wall across from the bed. Several chains were scattered across the floor inside, while others were attached to the wall.

Xander was the first to speak up. “What…is that?” he asked in a low, heavy voice, as he pointed weakly toward the cage.

“That is for slave evaluation.” Durrak explained, as he closed and bolted the office door behind them. “Slaves are captured by independents…they capture them and bring them to the brothel owners to be sold. First, they are brought here, before a price is negotiated. Then, after they are broken, they’re brought here again. It is us, the keepers of records and payment, which decide whether a slave should be put to public use, or sold privately.”

Buffy couldn’t keep the sound of her disgust from her voice as she informed him coldly, “I think you want to stop talking now.”

Durrak wisely complied.

Buffy and Xander began opening their bags, rummaging through them and taking stock of the weapons they had brought. Axes, crossbows, stakes, and swords were soon piled in a rather impressive stack near the bed.

A knock at the door interrupted their progress. Without hesitation Buffy picked up a sword and whirled around to face Durrak. Xander chose an ax, as he looked at the demon skeptically.

“Expecting someone?”

“As a matter of fact…” Durrak held up a hand in an appeasing gesture as he approached the door, unlocking it and opening it just enough to peer outside. He then stepped aside, opening it wider and reassuring the Slayer and her companion. “It’s all right.”

“Says who?” Buffy tightened her grip on her sword.

Two figures stepped inside, both male demons, apparently of Durrak’s species. But when they turned to face Buffy, she was surprised to see far more human-looking features on their faces. The green scales that covered some parts of their bodies were the same shade of green as she saw on Durrak.

One of them was shaved bald, a line of very small horns going from his forehead to the back of his neck. His dark eyes danced with mirth as he watched the two humans, tense and ready for a fight. The other had long, silver hair, bunched together at the base of his neck in a leather band. He kept his eyes on Durrak, barely acknowledging the two humans in the room.

“These are my sons,” Durrak finally said. “Tymok” he motioned to the bald one. “And Slimosh” He pointed to the long-haired one. “They will be helping us.”

“Tim and Slim,” Xander nodded, visibly relaxing as the demons were identified as a non-threat. “Sounds easy enough to remember.”

He in no way acknowledged the twin glares sent his way by the demon brothers.

********************************************************************

A giant map had taken the place of the scattered papers on the simple wooden desk, and everything else had been tossed aside to make room for it. The map itself was of the entire brothel, all six stone buildings and every tunnel underground that led to each.

“This,” Durrak pointed to the small, simple stone structure depicted in the center of the map, “houses the gateways, where we entered this dimension.” He pointed to a domed structure next. “This is the arena, where slaves are often brought to fight for entertainment. This is also where public punishments and executions take place.” He pointed to two identical buildings, on either side of the arena. “This one is where the slaves for public use are kept, and this is the one that houses the privately owned slaves. They are kept in much finer chambers, even when their Masters are away in other dimensions.

“We are here…” He pointed to a small building north of the others he had just pointed out. “This is the building where the auctions take place, and where the employees are housed. And this…” he finally pointed to the largest building with a stone tower in the center, to the north of the building they were housed in. “…is where the owners live, up in the tower. At the base is where the slaves are first taken after they’ve been bought…to be broken and trained. Underground is the obedience chamber, and where they’re taken for more private punishments, or for the degree of their punishments to be decided if their masters want nothing more to do with them.

“This is our main goal,” he explained. “If we can take care of the brothel’s owners, the rest should be simple enough. Now, we have followers, supporters in each of the brothel houses…”

The Slayer’s wide yawn stole everyone’s attention from Durrak’s long winded explanations. When she noticed that all eyes had come to rest on her, she quickly covered her mouth and gave a sheepish shrug. “Sorry…it’s just been a long…”

“How selfish of me,” Durrak apologized. He rolled up the map and pushed it aside. “You should both be resting, before we even think of beginning. I’m afraid I become over-zealous at times.”

“No, really, I didn’t mean…”

“You will rest,” the demon insisted. “I’m afraid the room doesn’t have much space, but at least it is safe.”

***********************************************************************

Skin against skin… rough and brutal motions…grunts and moans of pleasure, both female and male. A demon with red eyes dug her sharp claws into his perfect marble chest, scoring him deeply. The whip followed, flawless pale skin was torn open under its sharp lash.

Blood trickled slowly down the wall, and pooled on the floor, smearing across the pristine canvas of smooth, pale flesh that hadn’t seen the sun in so long…chains rattled as the body they held was ruthlessly used and broken.

He’d stopped trying to cry out.

The fight had left him completely. There was nothing, now, nothing but shadows and threats, brief glimpses of a stone stairwell that spiraled upwards to lead to some flickering light – but it only promised more pain.

Finally, there were those eyes…deep blue eyes that had once spoken of passion and devotion stared blankly up towards the far away light. But there was no longing for it, no light left inside those eyes…

Buffy heard her own words shouted, loud and clear…

*You’re dead inside!

And then, the echo of an ominous warning…

*Time is running out…*

********************************************************************************************


The Slayer sat up with a gasp and a barely contained scream. Even once she had fully awakened, she couldn’t get the images out of her mind, couldn’t banish the single thought circling around in her brain…

*Time is running out…*

Xander sat up beside her, awakened by her heavy, labored breathing.

“Buffy…? What’s…?”

She got up before he could answer, looking panicked. “I can’t let it happen…I have to stop it, I can’t let it happen!”

“Can’t let what happen?” He struggled to untangle himself from the furs they had covered with to sleep.

“I…” There was a tear trailing down her cheek as she shook her head, searching her mind for the words to describe what she had seen. “Almost out of time…Xander, it’s going to be too late!” She turned suddenly, yanking open the door to the office and running full-tilt down the hall.

“Buffy!”

************************************************************************

She didn’t remember the map, or the instructions. She didn’t remember to bring her cloak and keep her hood up to keep from being seen. All Buffy knew was that she had to follow the signs, follow her feelings – and she had to hurry.

Buffy ran across the dead field outside, not leaving even a footprint behind in the cracked ground. She didn’t let the sight of the few demons still going about their business at this hour stop her. She had no doubt that to them, she probably looked like a run away slave – except that she was running straight toward the source of any slave’s night-terror.

She burst into the largest of the stone buildings – only to find that the main hall was deserted.

She didn’t know why there was no question in her mind as to the direction she was going. She went down a narrow corridor, dark except for the vague light ahead. When a demon passing in the opposite direction tried to grab her and stop her progress, she snapped its neck without a thought.

She easily killed three more along her way.

Finally, her destination was in sight. She ran down a set of narrow stone stairs, almost tripping several times. Finally, she came to the massive underground chamber Durrak had earlier described…and the suffering she saw there almost took her breath away.

There was no question that this was the ‘obedience chamber’. The screams and gurgling cries of the poor creatures being tortured surrounded her, overwhelming as the heat from the fires that held pokers and other instruments of torture. She was noticed immediately by a few of the demons that stood near the vampires that were bound and waiting for their turn.

It didn’t matter.

Buffy wasn’t paying attention to any of them, wasn’t even sparing them a glance.
Her eyes were scanning the room, paying no attention to the danger she was putting herself and her entire mission in.

All she knew was that she had to find…

*There*.

At the far side of the room, a male vampire was tied to a post, his wrists bound tightly above his head. His lean, muscular body was bare, exposed for all to see – but the Slayer could only catch a small glimpse of him, around the heavily armored, thick skinned demon standing in the way, a whip raised over his head. As she watched, he brought it down swiftly, the sound of it as it hit his flesh audible, even amidst the constant screams that filled the torture chamber…

But no scream followed that blow.

The prisoner hung limply, his legs barely supporting him. When he was struck, his back arched against the pain and his head flung back as if to cry out, but Buffy could hear no voice.

Her heart raced with a sudden indescribable fear. Her feet led her in the direction of the bound slave without pause. When she felt a demon’s clawed hand grasp her arm, she calmly reached back and broke the wrist with a hard twist. She did not take her eyes away from her goal, all the while a litany of denial racing through her mind.

*No….no....no…no, no, no, no…*

She brushed past a demon that had been headed in her direction. This time, she did look back. An elegant female face with sharply defined features stared back at her from under a heavy hooded cloak. Delicate forest green scales lined the high cheek bones, and the forehead and chin. Her dark eyes were knowing as she stared evenly back at the Slayer. Her gaze then shifted to the prisoner being whipped on the other side of the room, before returning to Buffy again.

A chill of dread went down the Slayer’s spine, but she turned, determined not to let it stop her. The female did not pursue her, and she picked up her pace. Soon, she was running.

Before she could reach the demon and its captive, the ground suddenly began to shake beneath her. Silence reigned for a moment in the massive chamber, even from the screaming victims. Then, a sudden explosion rocked the room, and the screams began again, this time from the torturers as well, as fires began to spring up at various places across the chamber, engulfing half of the vampires and demons inside it.

Buffy was flung hard to the ground. She rose to her elbows and gasped in horror as she watched some of the vampires crumble into dust, some of them still strapped into devices of torture. Some demons caught fire and flailed for their lives, while others hurried to free the slaves from their bonds and lead them out so that they wouldn’t be destroyed.

Cracks spread across the ceiling, and large chunks of stone fell, as the Slayer tried to scramble out of the way, while also trying to keep from being trampled under the feet of the fleeing demons.

Buffy took her attention away just long enough to search for the slave that had caught her eye before – and it turned out to be just long enough. A booted foot belonging to a retreating demon guard slammed into her face, disorienting her and sending her down amidst the panic.

Her.

Even now, it all seemed to come down to her. Her presence was overpowering – even though he knew by now that it couldn’t possibly be real.

He was barely aware of the punishment he was receiving anymore. It only left more marks that, in time, would fade like all the ones that had come before them. His entire world and entire being could crumble, and wouldn’t leave a single permanent mark. His body jerked with each punishing blow of the lash, but nothing he was feeling was anywhere near strong enough to even stir his deadened thoughts.

Until he felt *her*.

Turning his head to search for her, he had seen it – that golden hair. He could do nothing but stare as the masters and punishers were shoved aside by the small blonde. Her green eyes were wide and shocked, her lips moving with words he couldn’t hear. She had been moving straight in his direction – wanting to get a few more blows in before it was all over, no doubt.

After the explosion, he couldn’t see her anymore. For some reason, he had found himself trying to laugh, even as flaming bits of oil and hot rock had landed across his back and shoulders, almost catching his skin on fire, as his punishers roughly smacked it out and unchained him, intent on getting him out of the room before he was completely destroyed.

He fell limply into their arms. Hot, flaming pieces of rubble were still falling all around them – but he couldn’t have cared less if they had ignited.

He realized vaguely that this was the longest period of complete awareness he had had in a long time.

The vampire couldn’t be sure what was going on, or why things seemed to be changing so quickly. It didn’t really matter. They were taking him down the spiraling stone staircase again, to make it hurt more. In the end, this momentary interruption didn’t matter at all.

They were going to make it hurt again.

And then – they were going to make it end.

Very soon, oblivion would welcome him like a mother’s warm womb.

**********************************************************************

“Buffy!”

The panicking crowds were not easy to push through, but Xander was not about to give up. He was smaller than most of the demons that surrounded him, and in their haste to escape, no one really paid him much attention. He was kind of glad about that, having no desire to be mistaken for a slave and hauled away with them.

His best friend was lying on the ground, trying to rise, though she looked as if she would be caught under the stampede of fleeing demons before she could manage it. Xander made his way quickly to her side, taking hold of her arm and pulling her up to her feet.

“Buffy, we’ve got to get out of here!”

“I-I can’t…” Buffy was trying to pull away from him, still dizzy and dazed. Her legs were about to give out under her, but still she pulled against him, staring toward a dark doorway on the other side of the torture chamber. “I have to…”

“We’ve got to get out of here!” Xander insisted. He picked the Slayer up off of her feet, marveling that for once he was actually capable of overpowering her, though it *was* for her own good. It was obvious that she was in no position to argue, as her head lolled onto his shoulder and she began to fade again.

“Great…” The chamber was nearly empty, except for the few demons remaining to try and put out the fire. It made it easy to navigate, at least.

Xander retreated to the far side of the chamber, feeling around the wall. “Damnit, where…?” He pulled the crumpled, and now stained map he had swiped from Durrak’s office out of the small bag he’d brought with him, struggling to open and read it around his armload of barely-conscious Slayer. “Man, that demon’s going to be pissed…”

He ran his hand all along the wall, but it wasn’t until he reached high above his head that he found the loose stone. He pushed hard, then shoved at the wall with his entire weight, before suddenly falling forward into the hidden tunnel. Before any passing demons could notice the opening and investigate, he shoved the hidden door back into place with his foot.

Buffy was beginning to show more signs of life. She frowned, rubbing at her bruised forehead, even as she continued to lean back against Xander.

“What were you doing?” Xander couldn’t help but ask. “Why’d you run off like that?”

“I-I didn’t…” Buffy looked as if her entire world had been blown out from under her. Xander helped her to stand, and they both stumbled along the hidden corridor, back towards Durrak’s office, as she tried again weakly to explain.

“I thought…I thought I saw…”

“What?” Xander demanded. “What did you think you saw that was so important that you went rushing off without even saying where you were going?”

The Slayer gave her friend no answer. She still looked to be a million miles away, but more alert at least, constantly glancing over her shoulder as they headed down the corridors. Still, Xander found himself in the lead, trying to decipher the ever-winding tunnels, and even having to draw her attention back when they finally came to the opening on the roof.

***********************************************************************

Durrak’s office was a welcome sight.

The corridors were, thankfully, mostly empty. They had heard only their own footsteps ever since they had emerged from the tunnels, neither of them willing to bring up the subject of the Slayer’s spazfest. The Slayer in question looked constantly worried, as if something were pulling her in the exact opposite direction from the one in which they were going.

The sound of laughter broke the silence just as they reached the door. Frowning, Buffy placed a finger to her lips to motion for Xander to be quiet, then burst through the office door.

Durrak’s two sons sat at the desk, a bottle of something looking very much like alcohol sitting between them on it. They were laughing heartily and throwing their hands up in the air, making noises that sounded suspiciously like ‘Kaboom!’ When she crashed through the door, their attention suddenly focused on the Slayer and her friend.

“What’s going on?” Buffy demanded.

The two half-demons turned to regard them with grins. “Kaboom!” one repeated gleefully.

“Yeah, we kind of noticed.” Xander dryly replied. “There was a great big explosion in this torture chamber…”

“We made,” Tymok said, nodding eagerly. He held out his hands wide. “Big boom! First strike complete, we destroyed the…”

His words were suddenly cut off with a strangled gasp for air as the Slayer bore down on him, pressing him up against the wall with a powerful hand locked around his throat.

“That explosion killed slaves!”

“Twenty,” Slimosh interjected. He grinned widely, obviously proud of the number. “Killed twenty slaves.”

“You…you killed…you *purposely* killed…” The Slayer looked bewildered – and beyond angry. She raised her fist to strike out at the half-demon she held by the neck, but a strong hand closed around her wrist before the blow could fall.

When Buffy whirled around to see who had stopped her, she immediately grabbed him by the neck and slammed him against the wall beside his son. Durrak did not struggle against her grip, simply looked down at her calmly. He had entered the office in the midst of the confrontation, while his sons were distracted by the Slayer’s death threats.

“You owe me an explanation, now,” Buffy informed him coldly. “Your sons just killed slaves – innocent slaves – while we were supposed to be coming up with a plan to rescue them!”

“I am sorry.” Durrak’s voice was low, humble. “We had no choice but to deceive you.”

“I’m not liking hearing the word ‘deceived’ in anything you have to say right now – so I’d suggest you do something about that.”

“There was no other way,” Durrak said calmly. “You must understand…we needed your help to stop all of this…but you would not have come, unless you believed that you could save them.”

“Save...?”

“The slaves. If you had known, you would not have come to our aid.”

Buffy’s face looked pale. Her grip loosened as her dread began to grow. “Known what? What about the slaves?”

“They cannot be saved.”

A startled hush fell over the office. Durrak pushed away from the wall, carefully untangling himself from the Slayer’s suddenly weakened grip. She’d stepped back from him, distracted with the effort of understanding his words.

“You see,” he continued. “This was never about the slaves…not completely. We brought you here to put a stop to the slavery, yes…to make sure that no more can meet this fate… but the slaves already here…” He shrugged. “Well, they’ve been damned all over again.”

“Why?” Xander shook his head in confusion.

“Simply because no slave can leave this dimension alive.” When his words were met with the stunned and slightly blank faces of the two humans, he sighed. “When a slave is brought to this dimension, many…precautions are taken. These precautions are to ensure that the slaves never have any hope of escaping. When a slave is captured by an independent hunter, said hunter is responsible for embedding the slave with a Fire Stone before the slave is sold to the brothel. The Fire Stone is a rare gem, known only to this dimension – simply because it cannot exist outside of it. If the stone were to be taken outside this dimension, through one of the gateways…it would…well, that’s to say, its magical properties would cause it too…”

“To what?!” Buffy’s increasingly short fuse was threatening to blow.

“It would explode.” Durrak tried to hide the fact that the short blonde’s outburst had caused him to jump in a most undignified manner. “And with the stones being surgically embedded in the vampires…any attempt to leave this dimension…and, well…”

“Vampires go poof,” Xander finished for him.

“Precisely.”

The Slayer had to take a moment to collect her thoughts. “Ok…ok so…so we have to find a way to get rid of these stones, right? I mean, there has to be a way-“

“My dear Miss Summers,” Durrak spoke gently. “You are about to declare war on every demon inside this dimension. We will have to strike fast, and then get you out just as quickly. I hardly think that you will have the time to find every fire stone, in every slave, and set them free while you’re at it.”

She shook her head. “So…so what? What are you suggesting we do? Just-“

“The best thing…the most humane thing…would be to destroy them.”

Buffy could only stare blankly for a moment.

The two brothers began to shuffle their feet, moving cautiously to the other side of the room. Both were grateful that the attention and wrath of the Slayer were no longer directed at them.

“Des-destroy them?” Buffy swallowed hard. “You brought me here…to slaughter them?”

“It is the only way you can help them.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Her laugh held no humor. She looked over her shoulder at Xander, as if to see if he was buying any of it, then looked back at Durrak. “You’re asking me to kill innocents!”

“I am asking you to set them free! Think of them for just a moment…if you deny them the freedom of death, then you condemn them to an eternity in this place! Whether they are slaves or not when you leave them here, their suffering will still continue! They will be trapped!”

“So you’re just saying we should kill them all and save ourselves the trouble?”

“Just think about this!” Durrak raised his hands in an appeasing gesture, even as he was raising his voice in frustration. “These creatures…they were taken from the freedom of wandering where they would, killing when they needed to, being supernatural powers in the world…their minds have been broken, their bodies used – some of them haven’t known freedom or the outside world for years. They now know only terror, obedience and pain. Even if you did find some miraculous way to set them all free, what sort of life could they have outside this dimension? They couldn’t possibly function on their own!”

“I am *not* going to...!”

“Maybe he’s right,” Xander suddenly spoke up.

Buffy whirled to face her friend, eyes wide.

Xander swallowed hard, but continued on. “Buffy…these are vampires we’re talking about. They’re not humans that have been enslaved, they’re *vampires*…”

“You said that you didn’t believe any creature deserved this…are you taking that back now?”

“Of course not!” Xander shook his head. “They don’t deserve this…but that doesn’t mean they deserve to go free, either! They’re killers, Buff. Yeah, I get that they have souls now…but if he’s right, and they’re beyond help – maybe insane, even…”

“Then, what?” Buffy backed away from him, her disgust obvious. “We just put them down? We don’t even give them the chance to get better?”

He sighed. “This is your job, Buff…this is what you do. We slay vampires, remember?”

“I don’t want to hear any more of this.”

The carpenter took a step closer to her. “Buffy…”

“I don’t!” The pitch of her voice made Buffy’s distress obvious. “I don’t…I can’t…” She shook her head, a tear finally escaping and trailing down her cheek. The sight of the tear shut her friend up, immediately. “Don’t you get it? I can’t do it, you can’t ask me to…these are innocent people, Xander…you may not see them that way, but they are. They have souls! And…and they’ve been destroyed inside, and you’re asking me to do is to finish the job…”

“Buffy…”

“It’s *murder*, Xander! You’re not asking me to do my job, you’re asking me to murder them!” When none of them could raise an objection to her words, Buffy backed away towards the door. She flung it open. “I can’t look at you right now…not any of you. Just…give me time to think, ok? Don’t follow me, Xander…I mean it.”

The slam of the door echoed through the office. It was only then that the demons in the room could finally bring themselves to relax.

“It is dangerous to allow her to wander off on her own,” Durrak cautioned the Slayer’s friend.

“Yeah, well…not as dangerous as trying to stop her.”

Buffy was surprised when she found moss growing on the walls of one of the tunnels. It was the first sign of earthly life she had seen since arriving in this awful, dreary dimension.

She followed the moss-covered tunnel, though she soon began to regret it. There was water dripping lightly from three different places in the stone ceiling, and loud noises penetrated the walls, echoing all around her. There were roars of approval and applause – almost loud enough to drown out the screams of agony.

Her feet couldn’t take her far enough, fast enough – and within a few moments, Buffy found that she was completely turned around. She no longer remembered which direction the ‘Obedience Chamber’ was in, so there was little chance of her finding her way back to it, *or* to Durrak’s office.

All she knew was she desperately wanted to get away from the screaming – from the undeniable proof of the suffering of those that she had just been told that she could not help.

When she finally stopped running, and leaned against the wall to catch her breath, she found that it was dry and gritty again, with no traces of the dripping moisture or plant life that had marked the other walls.

The sounds of suffering, however, had not ceased.

Someone was crying.

Buffy tried to ignore the sound, trekking on; but she stopped when she spotted an indentation in the wall that marked a doorway.

The cries and moans of anguish had grown louder, and Buffy suddenly realized that the source of the sound was right behind the door she had just found. She could tell by the voice that it was a male someone, and tears filled her own eyes as she listened to the heartbroken sobs of a desperate and devastated creature.

She couldn’t bring herself to ignore the sound. She knew she should, knew that she had to find her way back – but she just couldn’t bring herself to walk away.

The wall was jagged and harsh under her palm. The Slayer listened carefully to make sure that that voice was the only one she heard on the other side. She then pushed hard against the doorway, wincing at the sound of stone grating against stone. She stopped for a moment to make sure her presence wasn’t detected, but the sobbing just continued.

The area on the other side of the door was dim, lit only by a few scattered torches. Buffy found herself in a long corridor, with cells on either side. She came out just beside a cell, one with the door left wide open.

There was a reason the door was open. The prisoner inside wasn’t going anywhere.

Buffy covered her mouth to keep her horrified gasp to herself. The male vampire was lying on the cold stone floor, an unnecessary shackle binding what was left of one of his legs. He no longer had feet at all, only mangled stubs just above where his ankles should have been. His entire body was covered with deep, livid burn marks. On his arms and shoulders, and occasionally on his chest, there were a few even deeper burns in the shapes of crosses.

As the Slayer moved hesitantly closer, she could see that his arms had suffered almost as much damage as his legs. One hand looked almost completely melted away, while the other had only two fingers left, the rest of them cruelly burned away.

The only thing left untouched by the burns was his face.

He couldn’t have been any older than twenty two when he had been turned. He had handsome boyish features and warm brown eyes, and his hair was a shaggy mess of dark blonde. Even in complete misery, with dirt and tear tracks streaking his face, he could have been considered beautiful.

It did not take long for him to sense her presence.

The crying suddenly stopped, his sobs forced back. His eyes darted towards Buffy as she came closer, and then immediately away. He kept his gaze carefully down, away from her face, attempting to curl up away from her on his side – but the mere attempt at movement caused a hiss of pain to escape through his lips.

“No,” Buffy spoke as softly as she could. “It’s alright…I’m not here to hurt you…”

His body shook and trembled. He swallowed hard, not saying anything, not really reacting at all – until the sound of a normal, human heartbeat reached his senses. He inhaled sharply, taking in the Slayer’s scent. His eyes darted back to her, still afraid to meet her gaze, but beyond curious at her presence.

His eyes widened when he noticed the stake in her belt.

Buffy noticed the direction of his gaze and immediately put her hands up in a peaceful gesture. “It’s ok…that’s not what I’m here for…”

She knelt by his side, taking closer inspection of his body through the glimmer of tears in her eyes. When she could meet his gaze again, she saw his deep fear as he watched her, but also a faint look of hope.

“It’s alright,” she reassured him in a faint whisper. “I’m here to help you.”

The hope blossomed. He nodded, swallowing hard to clear a throat that was raw from crying and screams. “Please…yes, please…”

The Slayer inspected every injury, and their surroundings. She was trying to figure out a way to get him back to Durrak’s office without causing him even more excruciating pain.

“What’s your name?” She decided to try her best to distract him until she could figure out the best thing to do.

She was shocked to see that he had become completely silent, obviously having to think about her question for a moment.

“Mat-Matthew…” he finally replied, hesitant and uncertain.

Buffy smiled pleasantly. “Where are you from, Matthew?”

Again, he had to think. “S-Sunnydale…California.” He nodded, as if assuring himself that he had answered correctly. “Mistress!” he added fearfully afterwards, his body shuddering at some remembered punishment.

She shook her head, moving closer still, leaning over him. “No, it’s alright, Matthew. I’m not a Mistress. I’m just here to help you.”

He nodded, his plea beginning again. “Please…please, god yes…” He reached out to her, the two remaining fingers of his mangled hand hooking onto her shirt. He used his grip to pull himself closer to her.

Buffy was startled, certain that the contact with his terrible injuries had to be unbearable for him. “Hey, easy…” She wrapped an arm around his shoulders, supporting his head against her own shoulder.

Rocking himself against her body, Matthew’s shoulders began to shake with sobs again. “Please…please, please, please…” Tears began to course down his face and soak into her shirt, but Buffy held him anyway. She brushed his hair gently away from his face, and his brown eyes shot up to meet her green ones for the first time. “Please…” It was nothing more than a whisper now.

“Please…kill me…”

Shock hit the Slayer hard. She was looking down into eyes shining with hope – not for rescue, but for a merciful end.

She shook her head. “No…no, Matthew, I can’t do that…that’s not why I’m here…”

The hope faded from his eyes instantly, leaving them dead and empty. A wretched sob tore through him, and he buried his face against her shoulder again in hopeless misery.

She tried quickly to fix her mistake. “Matthew, I’m here to *help* you. I’m going to get you out of here.”

He shook his head, his shoulders trembling. “No…no, no…p-please…please, kill me…I don’t want to be here…I don’t want to be anywhere, not like this…” He raised his mangled hand, curling the two fingers that were left. “Please, just let me die!”

A tear trailed slowly down Buffy’s cheek at the sound of the helpless anguish in his voice. “I can’t…”

Matthew raised his tearful eyes to hers again. He breathed in hard, trying to hold back his pain and stare back at her bravely. “It’s a trick, isn’t it? Just another trick…” His lips trembled as his attempt to be brave began to gradually fail. “I thought someone sent me an angel…but angels don’t help things like me.”

Buffy closed her eyes in pain at hearing his hopelessness. She forced herself to stay calm, for a moment remembering the only other time she had really killed anyone with a soul…when she’s sent Angel to hell.

It had been devastating for her to do such a thing, but she’d had no choice. She had had to kill him to save the world – but this wasn’t that kind of circumstance. Matthew’s existence was not a danger to the world; the worst crime he was committing was smearing a bit of ash and blood on her shirt.

Could she kill this innocent man?

He had been a man – a man from Sunnydale, no less, that she had failed to protect from vampires. Now, he was an ensouled vampire that she had failed to keep from a far worse fate.

Swallowing hard, she opened her eyes and gently ghosted her fingertips across his face.

“Close your eyes…”

He obeyed her without hesitation.

“Now, I want you to do me a favor…” She slid the stake from her belt, then positioned it above his chest, making sure not to alert him to what she was doing by pressing it up against his skin. “I want you to think…of the happiest time of your life. Ok?”

“My eleventh birthday.” It was the only question he had required no time to answer.

“Yeah?” She managed a small smile. “Why that day?”

Matthew kept his eyes closed, a small smile appearing on his face. “That’s the day I met Jenny…”

“Jenny?”

“Jenny Swanson,” he answered. “That day…I remember it really well…dad was still alive, and mom wasn’t sick yet…the whole family was together. It was really warm, bright and sunny out…they threw this big get together for me, a big party held in our own back yard. There were even four-wheelers, and me and my friends and my brother raced. My best friend, David, had to bring his cousin Jenny along…” He laughed a bit at this. “And I griped because I thought a girl was going to ruin the fun. “

Buffy managed a small laugh.

“She kicked David off the other four-wheeler; we raced, and it was a tie. I demanded a rematch, and we raced each other three more times, before she finally beat me. After that…” He shook his head. “…that was it. I was in love. And it’s been me and her, ever since…we were Matthew and Jenny, you know? One couldn’t be without the other…”

“What happened to her?” She tightened her grip on the stake.

Matthew shook his head. “We were…inseparable…for years. We even went to the same college…then I got turned…” The shame in his voice couldn’t be masked. “I went to her one night…she invited me in…I was going to turn her, make her like me…then she saw my face…” The tears started again, one trailing slowly down his cheek. “She was afraid of me…my Jenny was afraid…and part of me wanted to get off on it…but no matter what I had become, I couldn’t stand that…I couldn’t stand to see the fear when she looked at me. I couldn’t go through with it. I couldn’t hurt her…”

“Sh-she accepted me, you know…she invited me back in…and she said it didn’t matter what had happened to me. But she was lying…” His voice broke after this.

“What do you mean?” Buffy held him close.

“She…she said…a-after I was brought here…she said that I was a monster…that she could never love me, not as a monster…that I was disgusting, she wanted nothing to do with me…”

As she listened to his heartbroken words, Buffy remembered Durrak telling them about the psychic creatures and shape shifters that they often used to confuse and break their prisoners.

“Don’t think about that,” she advised him in a soft whisper. “People say things sometimes…when they’re confused or afraid…she didn’t mean it, Matthew. I can almost guarantee it. She didn’t mean it. Tell me more about your eleventh birthday, Matthew…” Tears obscured her vision for a moment, but she managed to keep the sorrow out of her voice. “I want to hear how happy you were.”

He told her about how golden Jenny’s hair had looked under the bright sunshine, and how his mother had laughed as the boys wrestled and fought over who would race next. When night had fallen, his father had given them sparklers to light up the backyard. This was the same father that had started a small food fight. Jenny had kept up with all the boy’s games, and had even sneaked a small kiss on the cheek before she’d had to go home.

When the stake finally plunged into his chest, Matthew barely took notice. When he realized what had happened, in the instant before it was over, he opened his eyes briefly to look up at Buffy with a world of gratitude shining within them, and then closed his eyes and sighed as he crumbled to dust.

***********************************************************************

“Buffy?”

The Slayer standing at the office door looked shaken. Her face was pale and her eyes round and bloodshot. There was ash on her clothing, and on her hands.

“I’ve thought about it.”

Xander could barely hear her, her voice was so small at first. “What did you…?”

“I’ll consider it.” Buffy looked from her friend, to Durrak, who was waiting at his desk. “What you said, about the slaves…we’ll take care of the slavers, first. But, if we don’t find any answers…anything to do about the slaves…then I’ll consider what you said. I won’t leave them here; either way…I won’t let them suffer like this.”

They had a plan.

All five of them were heavily armed. They had decided that it was time to take action, for better or worse. Durrak’s allies were waiting in each building for his signal: a fire to be lit at the very top of the tower.

It was time to take the tower.

First, they had to move through the tunnels undetected, and emerge beneath the Obedience Chamber, where they had set off the explosion as an announcement of their intent the day before. They were hoping that the chamber would still be mostly empty, but if necessary, they were prepared to fight their way up to the tower.

All they really needed to do was to destroy the owners – and the place would fall into chaos.

At least – that was the plan.

The tunnel they were moving through was a bit more narrow than most of the others. They had to walk through it single file, until finally reaching the opening above their heads. One at a time, they climbed up into an unfamiliar, dark chamber.

It was underground, and very dark. Even the stone of the walls was black. There was no light at all, until the small group brought their own torches up into it. There were only five cramped cells on each side, and a spiraling stone staircase leading up to what could only be the Obedience Chamber.

A sudden feeling of dread hit Buffy hard. Familiarity was the worst feeling when entering a place like that, but it was exactly what she felt. Her eyes were drawn to the staircase, and she found that for some reason, she could not look away.

“What is this place?” It was Xander who had spoken. He peered into the cells, and found that only four of the ten were occupied. One by one he saw the beaten and abused prisoners, many with very fresh wounds, huddled back against the walls of their cells, as if afraid to move.

“This is where the condemned are kept,” Durrak explained as he helped his sons climb out of the tunnel, “those slaves who have committed crimes against their masters so heinous that they must be executed.”

Xander finally reached the last occupied cell, the one closest to the staircase. His eyes widened as he saw that the prisoner inside wasn’t huddled against the far wall, but hanging from the ceiling by his shackled wrists. His feet could not even reach the ground, but it did not look as if he was up to trying, anyway.

He hung limply from his chains, his back to them, blood dripping down from his wrists, and from the many lash marks that covered his back, shoulders, buttocks, and the backs of his legs. Long, dark hair was matted against the blood that soaked his back. Blood moved slowly down the backs of his thighs from an injury that Xander didn’t even want to think about.

“Poor bastard…what could any of them have possibly done to deserve something like that?”

“This one is quite well known.” The demon stood beside Xander, looking in on the prisoner. “His trial was much talked about. He is said to have murdered three of his Masters, and a Mistress. He is to be put to death very soon. For crimes such as his, his death will certainly be slow and painful.”

The carpenter shook his head, trying not to imagine what the vampire inside the cell had already been through. He still held no great love for vampires, but he also had no more desire to see them suffer – not like this. He put down his axe, then began to load his crossbow.

“Yeah, well, I think they’ve had enough fun with this guy…”

Buffy’s attention was finally drawn away from the staircase. She tried to brush off her feeling of foreboding. Finally, she moved forward to take a peek at what her friend was looking at – and it felt as if her heart had frozen in her chest.

Pale, smooth skin, ripped apart by a whip – a strong muscled back – long, unfamiliar dark hair, with familiar curls. There was the familiar curve of a backside and strong thighs that her nails knew well. Above his head, shackled, and untouched save by a few bruises, were hands that had known her body better than she ever could.

She knew…

“…think we should just put him out of his misery, before they can cause any more of it.” Through her racing thoughts, she managed to catch the tail end of what Xander had been saying. His crossbow was raised, aimed at the vampire’s back…

“Wait!” Buffy quickly slapped the crossbow down, the bolt skittering across the stones just a foot away from its target.

“Buff, what’s wrong?”

She ignored him completely, not even hearing his question. Her eyes were locked on the slave in the cell. “No…no, it can’t be…”

“Can’t be *what*?” Xander was obviously growing impatient.

The Slayer made her way to the cell, hands clutching the rusted bars. “No…no…” She suddenly yanked hard, pulling against the cell door, before pushing hard against it. She repeated the motion several times, rocking back and forth until the sound of old metal groaning and giving way could be heard.

“What are you doing?” Durrak demanded. “You’ll alert the guards! They’ll hear us!”

Over and over again, she just repeated the same thing, “No…no, no…”

Finally, the lock snapped under the force of her assault. Buffy yanked the door open and ran inside. She immediately went to the hook on the wall, where the chain was attached, and unwound it quickly, her hands trembling as she continued repeating her denial under her breath.

The chains lowered, and Buffy moved quickly to catch the vampire by his shoulders before he crumpled to the ground completely. She slowly lowered him, kneeling on the ground so that she could hold him, his head rested against her arm. “No no no no, please, please no…”

She didn’t want to see – but she knew that she *had* to see.

Buffy was surprised at the level of concern that flooded her heart for the vampire in her arms, but silently decided that she would have officially given anything for her fear to be proven untrue, for him to be back at his crypt right then, safe and sound and untouched…

Placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, her breath caught in he throat. Blood loss from his injuries had made his skin so much colder even than it was ordinarily. She turned him gently, cradling his upper body in her lap. His head rolled back, and Buffy began to brush the dark hair away from his face.

“No….” she moaned, as her action revealed sharp cheekbones and a straight nose that she knew better than anyone knew she did.

Bruising covered one side of his face, but the rest was left untouched and beautiful. The full lips were next to come to her attention, before her gaze darted to the eyebrow with the familiar scar. She traced her fingertip gently across that scar, not even noticing the way her hand trembled. Finally, there were the eyes…deep, beautiful blue eyes that stared almost lifelessly up at the ceiling, not even seeing her face, as she whispered his name in heartbroken desolation.

“…Spike?”

“…Spike?”

Buffy’s voice was little more than a horrified whisper at first. Her horror only grew when the vampire in her arms didn’t respond at all. His eyes were unfocused, staring blankly up at the ceiling. His naked, abused body was finally in full view as the others crowded around the door to the cell, bringing their torches with them.

“Spike,” she whispered his name again, gently shaking his shoulder. Still, he did not move. His eyes did not move to meet hers, nor did his chest rise and fall in the ritual of breath which he normally forgot that he did not need.

“Spike, come on…” She tried to pull him closer to her own body, but her efforts met with resistance. She looked up to see that the shackles that bound his wrists were attached to both the chain that held him up, and another chain embedded in the stone wall. She grabbed it firmly and tugged, trying to pull it out of the wall, but found that it would not budge. Though the bars of the cell were rusted and aged, the chains were new and still strong enough to restrain vampire slaves – and apparently a slayer.

Her arms shook and trembled from the very idea that she might have to leave him in that cell. “Help…” Her voice rose in pitch, as she looked helplessly around the cell, not seeing any way to rid the vampire of his chains. “Help…help me…Xander, help!”

The Slayer had never sounded so desperate, had never before had the need to plead with him for anything, and the sound of it immediately set Xander on edge. He pushed through the demons in his path and marched into the cell. “Buff, what the hell is…?” His voice suddenly broke off in horror.

Xander had never seen the vampire naked before, and he did not recognize the long, darker hair – but the face was unmistakable.

“Oh my god.”

Buffy’s face was pale when she looked up at him. There was a desperation in her eyes that he did not understand, and did not like to see.

“We need to find a key,” she quickly explained. “There’s got to be one around here somewhere…Xander, we have to find it now!”

“Ok,” he nodded, backing out of the cell. The fact that the irritating but powerful master vampire they had all known could be reduced to the devastated slave staring blankly up at nothing was about to blow Xander’s mind completely, regardless of how he might have felt in the past about that particular vampire. “Yeah…I’ll find it.”

“Hurry!”

He stumbled out into the darkness, but the two twins stood in his path. They crossed their arms over their chests, looking obviously disapproving of the entire situation. They began to mutter to one another in a language that Xander could not even begin to understand.

It was Durrak that translated for him, giving his own view as well with the translation.

“This is ridiculous.”

Xander turned to face him. “Yeah, well…a lot of things we do don’t seem to make a lot of sense.”

“We are going to be heard, going to be found – stopping to free this single slave is going to put everything in jeopardy!”

“Do you want to be the one to argue with her?” Xander spoke quietly, not wanting Buffy to overhear. He knew that Durrak was correct, but somehow felt as if finding someone they knew in the brothel had changed everything. “Look, you guys know this place better than I do. Would they keep a key in here, or not?”

Sighing in exasperation, Durrak opened one side of his robes and withdrew a small key from an inner pocket. He handed it to Xander and nodded toward the cell, still looking less than pleased.

The carpenter did not even want to question why Durrak would have a key to such a place. He hurried quickly back into the cell, where he stopped for a moment and watched as his best friend rocked Spike back and forth in her arms, her head rested on his and her eyes glistening suspiciously.

Deciding to ignore this proof of something that he really did not want to think about, Xander knelt beside the two and set about removing the shackles binding Spike’s wrists.

************************************************************************

“Hey, can we hurry this up?” Xander groaned from the back of the group. “I’m getting a little tired of having to look at Spike’s dangly bits.”

Buffy glared at her friend as she walked backwards through the corridor. She held Spike’s upper body, and Xander carried his legs, in an attempt to ensure that the vampire was put through as little additional pain as possible.

It made the traveling slower, but Durrak had assured them that it was not an uncommon thing to see a severely injured slave being carried through the halls. They only had to make sure that the two humans were kept covered by their heavy cloaks – which unfortunately made their own visibility all the more limited.

The two half demons walked ahead of them, and Durrak took up the rear. Durrak had been unusually silent during the entire trip, while the twins up front had not ceased their bickering. They made sure to talk only in their own language, but it was obvious to Buffy and Xander that the argument was becoming more heated by the minute.

“Hey Tim, Slim!” Xander called out to the two. They immediately stopped their arguing and cast twin glares at him over their shoulders. “Why don’t you guys do something useful, and get the door?”

The office was finally in sight.

The two males sped up their pace, but not without a resentful look in Xander’s direction. He ignored them, instead studying the very few demons that passed them on their way. Only five had really come close to them so far, and three of them had been holding leashes, attached to very subdued vampires who followed, with their eyes carefully cast down. They were silent, obedient – and very naked.

Xander tried not to pay too much attention to the nakedness of the vampires – especially not the nakedness of the one that he was helping to carry.

His attention was suddenly drawn to another figure, passing closer to them than the others had. Unlike the others, she looked directly at them – specifically, at him, Buffy, and Spike. Her gaze met his for a moment with a knowing smile.

Before any alarm bells could ring in his head, the thought that she looked like one of Durrak’s kind struck first. Green scales could be seen along her elegant features, and just a bit of silver hair draped down her shoulders. Her face and hair were the only features he could really see past the cloak.

Before he could call the attention of the others to her presence, she turned sharply and headed down another corridor. Blinking away his confusion, Xander returned his attention to the task at hand.

**********************************************************************

Tymok opened the door to the office, ushering the others in ahead of him. Slimosh opened the door to the cell, obviously expecting Spike to be carried inside.

Buffy glared daggers at him for the very thought. “No way in hell,” she declared.

She and Xander carefully lowered the injured vampire onto the fur rug, where they had slept the night before. Buffy knelt down, wrapping an arm around him and returning to her position of cradling him close, positioning his head to rest on her shoulder. To her relief, his eyes were closed now. While Buffy was not quite sure whether or not that was a good sign, it was at least less disturbing than watching him stare blankly into nothing.

Durrak waited until he had slammed the door shut behind him to begin his tirade. “This is insane! You’ve ruined our plan, and all for the sake of a single vampire slave that cannot even walk on its own!

Buffy’s eyes were like green fire as she glared up at the demon in seething defiance. “You do not want to have this argument with me right now. Just give me time to…”

“You’ve *wasted* our time!”

“Fine. Then just get out of my way.” The Slayer’s voice was colder than Xander had heard it in a long time.

The demon’s eyes narrowed. He and his two sons looked upon the humans with harsh suspicion for a few moments longer, before finally, Durrak nodded to the other two males and turned, leaving the office without another word. The half demons followed, closing the door silently behind them.

“Ah, Buff,” Xander sounded nervous. “I don’t think that was a good idea…”

“Not now, Xander.”

Her gaze had already returned to Spike. She was gently stroking his matted hair, looking over his injuries, now that they were cast in better light from the candles that had already been lit around the office.

Lash marks covered his entire body, instead of just the back side as she had seen in the cell. The Slayer gently traced her fingertips across some of the lashes on his chiseled chest. She was grateful to at least see that though he’d lost a lot of blood, he did not seem to have been starved regularly.

*Probably to keep him as pretty as possible while they used him…*

A shiver of disgust ran through her body at the thought. Reality threatened to hit hard again, and she closed her eyes against it. “Oh, god…” Forcing herself to open her eyes, she gently traced her fingertips across the hollow of his cheek. “Spike? Spike, can you hear me at all?”

***********************************************************************

Warmth.

One side of his body was nestled against the unfamiliar sensation of warmth.

For once, it was not the never-ending cold of hard stone and other dead bodies around him, nor was it the insufferable heat of some demon species pressed up against him. He was held gently against the soft warmth of a living, breathing human.

A woman.

His demon threatened to rise, his fangs itching to come forward at the instinctive knowledge that there was fresh human blood available, to help heal his wounds. And yet, it only took moments for his gentler side to speak up in defense of the human’s life.

This was more than just a meal, it said. It was a living, breathing, human woman, whose soft and gentle arms he was being held in. That simple fact alone was almost enough to overwhelm him. It could not be real, of course; it seemed like a far away dream that had come to comfort him.

Gentle fingertips, now. Soft touches and a rocking motion that brought attention to some of his wounds, but also brought comfort on a deeper level.

He did not want this dream to end – not just yet.

Then the voice came. It was softer, gentler than he had ever heard it before, directed at him – and still it sent a bolt of terror through him. His body stiffened, screaming in a protest of pain at any attempt to move – but he *had* to move!

***********************************************************************

Buffy felt him beginning to stir in her arms. She held her breath, eyes wide and nervous.

How long had it been for him?

His head turned, his nose brushing against her neck. Spike’s body was automatically trying to move closer to her, even as he hissed in pain at the movement.

“Shhhh,” She held him up against her, trying to comfort him with her presence. “It’s all right. Try not to move, ok?”

Spike’s body stiffened. He stopped moving completely, except for the sudden, sharp breaths he was taking. His nostrils flared, and his eyes opened, blinking repeatedly in an attempt to focus.

Green suddenly met blue, and Buffy tried to smile reassuringly – before she realized that those blue eyes were quickly filling with agonized recognition. Next came fear, as he violently jerked away from her.

“Spike? Spike, it’s ok…”

He pulled away from her hard, finally gathering more strength. He could not quite pull himself to his feet yet, so instead he crawled backward away from her, and right into the cell on the other side of the room. He didn’t stop until his back hit the stone wall of the cell, his breathing harsh and ragged, his eyes wide as he stared at the Slayer, not even acknowledging her companion.

And then, fear began to melt away, in a moment, replaced with blinding rage. Blue eyes melted into yellow, and his strong emotions gave him enough strength to finally pull himself to his feet.

Xander’s eyes widened, seeing the threat before Buffy did.

She was still sitting where she had been, staring dumbly at her former lover, who had scrambled away from her in horror – and now seemed to be preparing to attack.

Spike curled back against the wall for a moment, before he leapt into the air toward her. Xander dashed into action, moving forward and kicking the door of the cage hard so that it swung back into place, the lock clicking shut as soon as it impacted. Spike reached it just as it closed, grasping onto the bars and slamming his feet against them repeatedly, his fangs bared and mouth wide open in a roar…that was completely silent.

Though deafening to all of them, the silence seemed to ring loudest to the enraged vampire.

Hearing nothing from his own throat, he seemed to remember all at once who and what he was.

All life left him, and he slid down the bars to the floor, back onto his knees. His hands followed, and he backed away again, the fear returning to his eyes. His body shook and trembled under the weight of his pain, and the added fear of even more pain to come, as punishment for his defiance. He crouched against the wall, arms wrapped around himself and head bowed until it was almost touching the floor.

He would not look at them.

Buffy was beyond stunned. She crawled towards the cage, keeping low to the ground. As she neared the cage, she reached through the bars, but Spike shrunk away from her, closer to the wall. He was just out of her reach – in more ways than one – and the thought nearly brought tears to her eyes.

“Spike…its ok…it’s us…” Her voice broke for a moment, but she was determined to stay strong. “I know you’re in pain…I know you’re afraid, an-and…” She shook her head, feeling helpless. “No…I don’t know, do I? But it’s ok now…I do know that. We’re going to get you out of here, bring you back home…”

“Buffy, get away from him! He just tried to attack you!” Xander tried to take hold of her arm and pull her away, but she yanked her arm from his grasp.

Spike hadn’t responded at all to either of them, except for a wince at Xander’s harsher tone. He turned his face away, moving closer further back against the wall, as if in an attempt to somehow disappear inside it.

“Spike,” Buffy whispered softly. “It’s Buffy…do you know me at all?”

“Am I interrupting?” A female voice suddenly joined the general chaos of the scene.

The two humans whirled around toward the office door, taking in the sight of emerald scales and long, silver hair, under one of the familiar dark cloaks.

The female demon Xander had seen in the hall was now blocking the doorway.

“You!”

Buffy and Xander both shouted the word at once – and then looked at one another suspiciously. They turned their gazes uneasily back to the female demon standing in the doorway.

“I’ve seen you before…in the Obedience Chamber,” Buffy said.

“And I’ve seen her just out in the hall…”

Buffy narrowed her eyes at Xander. “And you didn’t think to mention this until just now?”

“Am I supposed to point out every demon I happen to notice, in a demon *dimension*?” Xander held up his hands in surrender.

The female in the doorway could not quite hide her smirk of amusement. “I suppose that where you come from, this might be considered formal introduction.”

“There are no introductions necessary.” Buffy made an attempt to take back control of the situation. “You’re *really* in the wrong place, at the wrong time. It would be much better if you just turned around, and left. *Now*.”

She shook her head. “I do not think so, Slayer.”

Buffy’s eyes narrowed, and she very calmly headed towards the bed and hoisted up a sword in her hand, her pointed gaze leveling on the eyes of the female demon again.

The demon just smiled, as she lowered her cloak, revealing her long, full mane of silver hair. “Are you always so quick to violence? I suppose it’s wise, with your occupation… but completely unnecessary, in this case. Yes – I know who you are. Yes - I have been following you since you arrived, and also know why you’re here. However, I must admit I was surprised,” she remarked as she spared Spike a glance, “to notice your intense interest in this particular slave.”

The Slayer’s gaze hardened, and she took a protective step closer to the cage that the vampire huddled in. “He’s not a slave. Not anymore.”

The female demon arched a fine eyebrow ridge. “Really? Does he know that?” She returned her attention to Spike then, suddenly barking out an order in her own language.

“Inta quad noshmid!”

Spike raised himself to his knees without hesitation, head bowed and arms thrust forward and crossed at his forearms. His gaze was blank, locked on the floor directly in front of his knees – clearly waiting to be shackled.

Buffy’s eyes widened and she shook her head, looking from one to the other. “What did you just do?”

“The Trainers are masters of mental manipulations…you will find that, as a result of his training, there are now many commands that he has little choice but to obey.”

Xander had to swallow down some of the bile rising to his throat. “Convenient.”

Buffy’s lower lip trembled as she stared down at the vampire, kneeling in a submissive position. She tried to bring to mind the Spike she had known before, easily seeing his vibrance, his rebellion and easy smirks. There had been something teasing said almost every time they had spoken – something wild and intense in his nature that had always shone through – but now, it appeared that that something had been shattered.

The vampire in the cell had an empty expression, as if he didn’t dare even to *feel* anything. His body shook and trembled with the effort of staying upright, on his knees, despite his injuries.

The female demon studied Spike curiously as she stepped closer to the cage. She looked over her shoulder at the Slayer, raising an eyebrow ridge in her direction. “Did you honestly believe that Durrak had brought you here to *help* the slaves?”

Taken by surprise, Buffy returned her gaze to the strange demon, with an effort focusing her attention on her rather than Spike, for the moment. “He…he, um…” She swallowed hard past an apprehensive lump in her throat. “He wants us to put a stop to this…to save his daughters…they want to enslave…”

Laughter.

The demon was laughing at the Slayer – and so hard that she almost had to hold herself up by the bars of the cage in order to stay on her feet. “My dear, I’m his eldest daughter …and he sold me himself.”

“But…but he…”

“My name is Danaia,” the demon said. “My father, Durrak, sold me as a slave five years ago. Before my actual training could begin, it was discovered that I did not possess a human soul, and thus I could not be a slave. I was set free, and later married a keeper of records…” She looked around the room. “He used to reside in this office – until he was murdered eight months ago.”

The two humans were stunned into silence, not able to say anything in the face of her startling revelations.

Danaia continued, “My two brothers do not have souls either, or they would have been sold into the same fate I almost met. Unfortunately, my younger sisters do have human souls. Two of them have already been sold into slavery, while the others have fled. They’ve left this dimension, and I’ve yet to find out where they’ve gone.”

She paused for a moment, before informing them quietly, “Durrak is not a record keeper…he is one of the brothel’s owners.”

She seemed almost amused to find them now gaping at her in stunned disbelief.

“He brought you here to fight his little war…it was never about the slaves.”

“But…but why?” Buffy shook her head. “If he’s one of the owners, why would he bring us here?”

“Because he wants to be the *only* owner.” She smirked. “My father is quite the gambler…and he’s acquired a great deal of debt. Because of his great debts, the other owners wish to take his share of the profits, and leave him with nothing. A greedy man like my father, he cannot have that – so he brought you here to eliminate his partners. Once that was accomplished, all of this would have been left to him.”

The Slayer could seem to say nothing, looking more than a little shell-shocked by the deceit. It was Xander who spoke up first.

“So, uh…guess we’ve been fighting for the wrong team this time?”

“There is more.” Danaia had barely taken her eyes off the Slayer, gauging each reaction cautiously. “When one is in a great amount of debt, one of the easiest ways to be rid of a good deal of it is to become a slave hunter. The brothel gives a great deal of money for their vampire slaves – especially those with well-known reputations.” Her gaze settled on the vampire still kneeling, waiting, before moving quickly back to the Slayer. “I’ve brought you something.”

She lifted one side of her cloak and began to rummage inside. Seeing her reaching for something, Buffy raised her sword, settling it mere inches from the demon’s neck.

Danaia gave a quick eye roll that seemed surprisingly human, before pulling out a thick folder. She held it up against the tip of Buffy’s sword. “It’s a file…these records are public.”

“File…record of what?”

She nodded towards the cell. “Your vampire’s file. I thought the very first record written for him would be of interest to you.”

The half demon offered her the file, holding it out to her with a sort of challenge in her eyes. Buffy swallowed hard, suddenly finding herself very reluctant to look at what was in that folder. It would be like the horrified shock of discovering Spike’s fate, all over again.

She hesitantly put the sword down, then licked her dry lips and wiped imagined sweat off her palms. She took the folder, marveling somewhat at the thought that it looked just like any other office folder, except that the paper seemed thicker, and was a sickly yellow color.

Buffy hoped that the yellowing was not from age.

Opening the folder, she scanned the first sheet. Not surprisingly, at the top, it was labeled clearly: “William the Bloody”. She had no idea why her heart suddenly sank within her, at the simple confirmation of the terrible truth she had already known.

Swallowing back her dread of what the file held, Buffy steeled herself, and began to read.

The form went on to describe Spike fully: height, weight, skin color, eye color, full history…she blushed when she came to descriptions of things that she had already had intimate knowledge of.

Finally, on the very bottom, she caught sight of what she was suddenly sure she was supposed to see. It was listed there: the name of the one who’d caught him, sold him to the brothel. Durrak’s name was signed in bold lettering, and the sight of it made Buffy’s hands tremble. Her sight wandered to the floor, unable to look at it again. She handed the folder numbly back to Danaia.

“Xander…” she tried to summon strength and authority to her voice, but she felt as if there was no more strength to summon. “Watch her…take the sword, and watch her, make sure she doesn’t try anything…and don’t let her go anywhere near Spike.”

Her friend looked clueless. “Buffy, what’s going on?”

“Just do it. I’ll be right back…” She stood in the doorway of the office, looking out at the stone corridor. She hesitated a moment in her step, then stopped all together. She cast a glance over her shoulder, her eyes locking on Spike, who still knelt in submission. His body had begun trembling harder. “Just tell me one more thing, Danaia…how long? How long has he been here?”

The half demon took a glance through the papers in the folder, before looking back at the Slayer. “Ten years. Your friend has been a slave here for ten years.”

Author’s Note: Much thanks to my wonderful beta, DreamsofSpike, and to my many readers, and those that have left reviews.



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They were everywhere.

Everywhere she looked, vampires were suffering. She was sure she had only passed a few in the halls, but if felt like so many more, and though they would look no one in the eye, Buffy felt as if each one was glaring at her with painful accusation.

She had only just remembered to put on her cloak, wrapping herself up as if she could hide away. Still, the truth followed her down the long stone corridor. She had trusted the wrong demon, and had almost cost these creatures more pain. And as it turned out, her lover had suffered unspeakable torments because of the very demon she’d made the deal with.

Ten years…

Could any crime he’d ever been guilty of be worth that kind of pain?

Ten years of suffering, of being led around naked in chains, eyes downcast and unable to speak for himself, whether by rule or by injury. Ten years of the humiliation and agony of slavery…

Buffy came close enough to the auction in the main room to see the demons in the fancy dress, and the slaves being paraded. They were naked, shackled at the wrists and the neck. Their bodies were explored by every eye, and the hands of the demons leading them, to better show off their assets.

Bile rose in the Slayer’s throat as she watched one female bent over, her breasts thrust out to the customers waiting to bid while the announcer petted her liberally.

Had Spike been on the auction block? Against her will, her mind summoned images of a broken and empty looking Spike, naked, shackled, being led around like a dog and pawed at by the very announcer that stood on the stage. The thought made her blood boil, and a thousand questions bombarded her at once.

Who had he been sold to? What had been done to him, body and mind, in those ten years? Was there anything left of him? Did he remember her at all?

There he was.

Durrak was entering the building, head bowed under his cloak. He gave a brief glance to the stage, before moving towards the very corridor Buffy stood in. At that moment, the Slayer had only one question, and she knew exactly whom she wanted to ask.


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“This is just too weird.” Xander couldn’t help staring at the dark haired vampire.

Once Spike had been allowed relief from his rigid submissive pose, he’d lain down on his side in the cell. His body trembled with exhaustion from the effort it had taken to keep himself upright.

Danaia noticed his stare immediately, and also studied the vampire in the cell. “Weird? In what way?”

Xander shook his head, taking another step away from the cell. He sat himself down on the cramped bed, a sword held loosely in his hands. “You wouldn’t know…not if you hadn’t met him before. Let’s just say, trouble tends to follow him. But this…” He shook his head. “Things like this don’t happen to him. I mean…he’s Spike!”

“And what difference does this make in whether or not he’s a victim?” When the female demon noticed that the human wasn’t willing to answer, she took another step towards the cell and leaned against the bars. “The Slayer seems to care a great deal about this one.”

“Buffy?” He gave a half hearted laugh. “Well…the Buffster cares about everyone we work with. The former bleached wonder used to fight beside us…and even though it wasn’t always his choice, I guess it kind of makes Buffy think of him as one of us. He’s a pest and nothing more, but he’s kind of been our pest for a while. She’d feel just as bad if it were any of the others.”

Spike had finally begun to take more interest in his surroundings. The vampire had pulled himself up to lean against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest protectively as he peered around at the cell and the office on the other side of the bars. He would glance nervously towards them every now and then, but never look them in the eye.

“What will she do with him?” Danaia asked casually.

Xander blinked, his mouth gaping open for a moment. He finally managed to look at Spike again, and when he did he had to fight hard against mental images of the horrors he’d seen on the video. Unexpected sympathy welled up inside him, as well as a strong urge to vomit. He pushed them both away, leaning his head back against the wall so he wouldn’t have to look at him.

“I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it. I mean, he’s dangerous…he tried to attack Buffy! After we rescued him, that’s a little ungrateful…”

She arched a fine eyebrow ridge. “He’s been tortured for a great deal of time. I somehow doubt he even knows he’s been…‘rescued’.”

“Well, yeah, there’s another thing…what if he’s completely insane? I mean, we can’t exactly coddle him and take care of him forever…” Xander shook his head. “He’s not even himself anymore. And who knows if we’re going to be able to get him out of here? I don’t know…it seems almost as if it would be more humane just to…” He sighed as he closed his eyes and bowed his head.

“’Put him down’?” Danaia guessed.

The Carpenter shrugged his shoulders, unwilling to put too much more thought into it, deciding to do what he and the others always seemed to do, and leave the final decision in the hands of the Slayer.

“Buffy’ll do the right thing. She always does.”


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The Slayer followed the hooded demon down the corridor. She made sure that the sounds of the auction had faded into mere background noise, and there was barely anyone passing them by, before taking action. She had kept a good distance, not wanting to be detected until she was ready. By the time she *was* ready, her rage was boiling until she could almost feel it right beneath her skin, like a living, pulsing force.

Buffy struck quickly, grabbing Durrak by the arm and twisting it behind his back, until she heard a pop of complaint from his shoulder. To prevent him from crying out, she slammed his face into the stone wall. She then spun him around, throwing him hard, right into and then through a wooden door.

The wood splintered under Durrak’s weight, and he rolled across the floor. Buffy stepped calmly inside after him, finding herself in a large storage room. The chains, collars, and instruments of torture around her only made the anger boil hotter.

Durrak had climbed to his feet, trying to keep calm. He held his hands up in a placating manner…until he saw the face of his assailant. His eyes widened, and for a brief second there was a flash of white light from his pupils. “What…? Slayer! What the hell are you…?”

She had grabbed him by the throat before he could go on, tossing him back and into a pile of chains.

“How?” She suddenly asked. “I want to know how. I don’t want to know why you did it, or any ridiculous excuses about demon morals or ways of life…I just want to know how.”

There was an unfamiliar trembling to her voice.

He stood again, wiping blood from his nose. His steps were shaky as he tried to keep his distance from the torture instruments around them. “I do not know of what you speak…”

She lunged forward with such speed that he did not have time to prepare. She sent a hard punch into his jaw, causing him to stagger back. “Don’t lie to me!”

It looked like he was going to straighten again. Instead, he lost his calm and kicked hard at the Slayer’s gut. When she doubled over, he took a swing, sending her into the pile of chains he had fallen into earlier.

“Insolent child! I have no idea what you’re talking about!” He grabbed her by the arm and hauled her up to her feet.

She grabbed his wrist and twisted it hard. After she’d had the satisfaction of hearing his loud cry of pain, she slammed his head into the wall again. She heard the cracks of some of the horns on his face. When she turned him to face her, he was swaying on his feet, the small horns across one cheek broken. Buffy then grabbed one of the sets of chains hanging from the wall and wrapped it around Durrak’s neck, tugging hard.

The demon’s eyes widened and he grasped uselessly at the chains. His legs kicked out just as uselessly, and he found himself pinned between the wall and an enraged Slayer.

“Tell me,” she hissed at him as she tightened her grip. “I want to know!”

He could only shake his head helplessly.

“Spike,” Buffy clarified. “His name is SPIKE! William the Bloody…you should know that name at least, since it’s the one written on his file!”

His eyes widened in a telling manner, and the Slayer knew she had hit the mark.

“You’re going to tell me…I want to know how you did it.” Her voice was trembling, and she loosened her grip on the chain, only enough for him to barely breathe, and only possibly talk. “He was a master vampire…I want to know how you could have *possibly* captured a *master vampire* and brought him to this place…”

“…olice…”

She frowned. Buffy was reluctant, but she loosened the chain a bit more to allow him to respond. “What was that?”

He gasped as he finally received a little more air. Durrak’s vision was spotted, and he didn’t bother trying to get away from the wall. “Police…” he said again. “An alley…he was in an alley, behind the human’s police station…it’s where we found him…” He took another gulp of air.

Buffy’s face paled.

“He was…beaten, bloodied…he was too injured already to move well on his own…he could not open his eyes, didn’t remain conscience for long…” He shook his head, trying to keep the Slayer as calm as possible. “He never saw us…never knew what was happening, until he was already here…and we didn’t know what a catch we had until after the psychics had torn apart his mind…”

The Slayer couldn’t hear him anymore. Buffy’s mind had stopped absorbing what her captive was saying after he’d mentioned the alley, and Spike’s beaten and bloodied state. She felt suddenly weak, and she lost her grip on the chain completely. It clattered to the ground, leaving Durrak free. Her knees gave way, and she sank slowly to the ground, her hand still trying to grip the demon’s clothes to stop her descent.

Durrak stared down at her in confusion, but was quick to take advantage. He slipped easily out of her grip, and half limped, half shuffled to the splintered door. The demon retreated from the storage room as quickly as he could.

Buffy barely noticed when he was gone. She stared blankly ahead, even as she crawled towards the door. She wanted to put up the litany of denial again, but it was torn away by the image of Spike’s face in the alleyway, after she had beaten him. He hadn’t fought back. She had walked away from him without a glance over her shoulder…

If she had glanced over her shoulder…just *once*…would he have been there? Could she have stopped it all?

The wall broke. She wrapped her arms around herself, but it was no comfort as the agonized scream ripped from her throat. It felt as if she was screaming for the vampire who could no longer do it himself; screaming in absolute horror as she realized her lover was in that horrid place because of her.

Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all characters belonging to the show are not of my creation. I take no credit for them, and unfortunately I don’t keep them with collars and leashes to lead them around on parade.

*********************************************************************


Buffy wasn’t sure how long she had been kneeling and screaming. Her body shook with each scream, and her throat felt hoarse and raw. She again tried to crawl towards the door, but only fell forward when her arms gave way beneath her. Her screams were becoming sobs, and she barely noticed when warm, comforting arms wrapped around her.

She immediately began to fight when she was pulled up and against a warm, male body. Her blows were weaker than they should have been, pummeling hard against the chest and shoulders of the one trying to offer her comfort.

“Buff-ow! Buffy, stop!” Xander’s voice protested the abuse.

Still, she kept hitting, each blow becoming weaker. “It’s my fault!” she shouted. “I did this to him…” Her blows weakened until they were merely hard slaps as a sob wracked her body. “He’s here because of me!”

When she’d stopped fighting him, and Xander was sure he didn’t have a broken rib or two, he pulled his friend more firmly into his embrace. He held her tightly, confused by the sobs that caused her body to tremble. It was only after she’d rested her head against his shoulder that he dared to say anything.

“Buffy…what’s going on? What’s wrong?”

Buffy swallowed hard, her tears soaking into her friend’s shirt. “Spike…it’s Spike…it’s my fault he’s here…”

“No way!” Xander shook his head. “Buffy, whatever trouble Captain Pero…whatever trouble Spike got himself into, it isn’t your fault.”

She shook her head, forcing back another sob. “It’s because of me…I was there, with him right before…” She buried her head against his shirt. “I just left him…Xander, he was injured, and I just left him…”

“He’s a vampire, he can take care of himself…”

“I’m the one that injured him, Xander.” Her confession was barely audible, her face pressed up against his shoulder, as if to hide from the truth. “I beat him…and then I just left him there…” She shook her head. “He couldn’t even get up…”

“Well…” He looked down at her in confusion. “…what did he do?”

Another sob was muffled against his shoulder. “Nothing…I mean, he did…he did *something*…but nothing to deserve that…and sure as hell nothing to deserve this!”

“Ok, ok…” He stroked Buffy’s hair softly, then her back, rubbing it in soothing circles. He was trying to keep her calm, so he wouldn’t have to hear her sobbing her heart out over a vampire’s fate. “Ok, Buff, look…Spike…he’s been your stalker for years now, right? Whatever you might have done…I’m pretty sure it wasn’t completely uncalled for. He’s had this weird obsession over you, following you around…if you did something to discourage him, no one can blame you.”

Buffy closed her eyes, a wave of self-disgust washing over her. She lay silently in Xander’s arms for a moment longer, trying to work up her courage. “Xander…there’s something…” She swallowed hard. “When all this is done…when we’re finished here, and we get back to Sunnydale…there’s something I need to tell you. I need to tell all of you…”

Xander stared down at the blonde Slayer, who still hadn’t met his gaze. “Why do I get the strange feeling that I’m really not going to like whatever you’re going to say?”

She shook her head. “Its…” Her eyes widened suddenly, and she pulled back with a sharp jerk. “Xander…what are you doing here? You were supposed to be watching Danaia… please, PLEASE tell me you didn’t leave her alone with him…”

The carpenter shook his head, raising both hands in a peaceful gesture. “No, of course not!” He said. “She went to go get Spike some blood. I found the key to the office, and I locked it behind me before I came looking for you. It’s locked, Buffy. She can’t get in until we get there.”

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Danaia struggled to keep hold of the containers of blood, and bags of food and supplies in her arms. She shifted everything to support it with one arm and hip while she attempted to open the office door...only to find it locked. She frowned for a moment, then rolled her eyes before rummaging through a pocket and pulling out her late husband’s key. She shoved it into the rusty lock and wrenched it to the side, shoving the door open.

Once inside, she dropped the food for herself and the humans by the door. The demon then glanced towards the cage before taking a look around the office, then right outside it.

She set down the rest of the supplies, all but one small bottle of blood, and a glass. She pushed back her hood, freeing her long silver hair to fall haphazardly down her shoulders.

The vampire was alone.

He was locked into the cell used for evaluations. In his exhaustion, he had fallen asleep, curled defensively on his side.

Danaia took a moment to study him as she moved slowly closer. His smooth, pale skin was a tempting sight. His long dark hair was tangled, and reached all the way down to his lower back. His features were pleasing to the eye, and despite his curled up position, she could tell that his size was certainly enough to please a female…

Her hands fiddled with the lock on the door. The key was on the desk, and she snatched it up and unlocked the cell.

As soon as the sound of the cell being unlocked was heard, Spike’s eyes snapped open. He scrambled up immediately, trying to back even further into the wall. When it was obvious that escape was impossible, he got on his hands and knees, head bowed and eyes cast to the ground.

She stepped inside and closed the cell door behind her. She studied him once again, watching his body tremble with the weakness of blood loss. When she was close enough, she brushed her fingertips across his back, immediately noticing his slight flinch away from her touch.

Smirking, she took a seat calmly in front of him. “Look at me, Vampire.” She spoke in a firm, commanding tone.

Spike hesitated, swallowing hard before reluctantly raising his gaze. His eyes lingered on her face, her lips, cheeks, and the green scales…before he forced himself to meet her gaze.

“Do you know me?”

Confusion crossed his face for a moment, before he gave a small shake of his head.

“No, of course not…” Danaia sat back casually. “But you do know my sister…in fact, the two of you shared a Master…the last Master you killed, I believe…”

There was a flash of fear and guilt in his gaze, before he quickly shook his head.

“Do not play your ‘innocent’ games with me!” Danaia’s tone was harsh. “I had no love for the bastard, and I’m certainly not one to mourn him. I can think of many reasons why you might have done it, but I honestly do not care. What I want to know, is if you know where or to whom they would have sold my sister after your Master’s demise.”

His gaze dropped from hers, back to the floor. There seemed to be a flicker of something harder in his eyes for a moment. His jaw set, and there was a look of almost…defiance?

Danaia grabbed his chin, forcing his gaze back to hers. “A simple nod or shake of your head would suffice…do you, or do you not know who Elaise was sold to?”

When he still had no answered, the demon lost her temper. She grabbed him firmly by the throat and lifted, shoving him back. He fell from his knees and hit the ground on his back, the sudden movement jarring a few ribs that were already cracked.

His training dictated that he not fight back, so he forced himself not to move a muscle, even as her fingers squeezed hard around his throat again. He stared straight up towards the ceiling, not daring to meet her angry gaze.

There was a sorrow in his eyes that took Danaia by surprise. She stopped long enough to wonder at his motives for not answering. Finally, she placed a hand under his head, her fingers moving through the tangled hair, and raised it from the ground, making sure that he at least saw her, even if he wouldn’t look her directly in the eye.

Danaia raised her hand directly in her line of vision, then began to move her fingers in quick motions, symbols that made a silent language that only slaves knew.

Spike’s eyes immediately focused on her hand, then snapped back to her eyes. He tilted his head, looking slightly bewildered as he studied her. When his gaze returned to her hand, he just managed to catch her question.

‘Please, tell me. Who has Elaise? Where is my sister?’

He took a moment longer to study her, and Danaia was struck by just how piercing the slave’s gaze was.

At last, he raised a hand, his fingers moving slowly to spell out the name. ‘Kondosk. Said he’d like to make her his Little Princess.’

She sat back, closing her eyes and nodding her thanks. She gently laid his head back down, composing herself before speaking again. “I have something for you.”

*********************************************************************

Danaia poured some of the blood into a very small glass, then set it aside. She looked down at the vampire, who was still lying flat on his back, now watching her cautiously.

“I’m going to take away the pain,” she told him.

His eyes widened a bit, and he swallowed, nodding desperately.

“I cannot kill you,” she clarified. “I’m not entirely sure what these humans have planned for you…but I can make the pain less, until the end comes.”

She ground up a fragrant herb in her hand, waiting until it was crumbled into tiny pieces before sprinkling it into the small glass of blood. She picked up the glass and swirled it, waiting until most of the herb had disappeared into it. Danaia then placed a hand under Spike’s head, raising it off the ground and pressing the glass to his parched lips.

He drank quickly, not giving her the chance to take back her kindness. His body shuddered, and he nearly sobbed in relief as the small amount of blood coursed through his system, accompanied by the potent drug inside it.

After setting the glass down, Danaia cradled the vampire’s head in her lap. She brushed away some of the dark hair, simply watching over him as the drug began to take affect. He met her gaze once again, his eyes filled with a gratitude he couldn’t speak. Tears filled his eyes even as he tried to blink them away stubbornly. Two fell, but the demon brushed them gently away.

“Shhhh…rest, now…”

Spike’s eyes closed, the tension left his body, and he slipped into the first real sleep he’d been allowed in far too long.

Disclaimer: They aint mine, don’t take me to court.

Author’s Notes: Many many thanks to my wonderful beta, DreamsofSpike, and to my wonderful reviewers. Feedback on the weird things that come out of my head is always good.
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Danaia was waiting for them outside the office, arms full of supplies and foot tapping furiously. Her glare was ignored as Xander led a shell-shocked looking Slayer by the hand. He unlocked the door for them, then glanced both ways down the hall to make sure that no one was lingering or following before shutting them securely inside.

Buffy made a beeline for the cage. She let nothing get in her way, and didn’t even acknowledge the other two as Danaia suggested sitting down to discuss the plan.

Kneeling beside the vampire, Buffy was actually relieved to find him asleep. As much as she wanted to make everything right, she was nowhere near ready to face him.

Could she even make it right?

The rest of the world disappeared. The Slayer barely knew it when Danaia and her friend began speaking about the old plan, and trying to make a new one.

She wrapped her arms gently around the vampire lying on the cold, stone ground, lifting him until his upper body rested against her lap. Her eyes wandered over his face, his body. He seemed so familiar, and yet so foreign to her. At the touch of his skin, her body was instantly aching for him, even as her heart just plain ached, and her mind shrank back in horror.

Her thumb brushed against his eyebrow, tracing the familiar scar again. She then moved her fingertips down his cheek, then across the full bottom lip. “Spike…”

The wall encasing her emotions was gone. She felt exhausted by her sorrow, and the overwhelming guilt she felt now, when presented with the evidence of all that had happened to him.

‘And why had it happened to him?” a cruel voice in the back of her mind whispered. ‘Why has he been tortured, torn apart and nearly murdered? Why has he been in hell beyond hell for ten years? Because he dared to call you ‘his girl’?’

Against her will, her mind began replaying the things she’d seen on the video Durrak had brought them as proof. The tortures, the screams, the things they’d made the vampires see and do replayed in her mind again and again. She remembered the male that had been chained up, suspended from the ceiling and brutally beaten and raped because he had dared to fight his training.

Spike would have fought.

Buffy wanted to kick, and fight, and scream, and kil,l and throw up, all at the same time, as she realized with startling clarity that Spike would have fought the whole way -- and she knew that they would have made him suffer terribly for it.

Her fingertips stroked his cheek gently, soothingly, before her hand moved down to his shoulder. She examined his injuries, her hand moving gently down his chest and then to his side. His skin still seemed cold to the touch, and he shivered under her hand.

Buffy moved her gaze back up to his face, and noticed his troubled expression. Nightmares seemed to be creeping up on him, and Buffy wondered if he was shivering from something far worse than the cold. Vampires weren’t usually affected that much by the cold…

Still, it was the only way she knew to comfort him. She bent back and reached outside the cage, grabbing hold of the furs laying on the ground and dragging them into the cell. She draped one of the softer ones over Spike, then shifted him to tuck them underneath his body.

“Don’t be afraid…” she whispered as she rocked him gently, holding him close.

He didn’t pull away this time. Spike’s nostrils flared, and Buffy knew that he was taking her scent in, even in his sleep. His shivering continued, and even though he was still asleep, he moved closer to her warmth. His head rested on her shoulder, his nose and lips brushing against her neck as she rocked him.

“Blood…y-you need blood…where’s the blood?” She finally acknowledged the others in the room by shouting in their direction. She didn’t want to leave his side to look for it.

The two sitting at the desk stopped their discussion. It was Danaia that rose, retrieving one of the bottles of blood and a glass. She made her way to the cell and set them both down beside the distressed Slayer before returning to her seat in front of the desk.

They both watched her intently, but Buffy didn’t even spare them a glance.

Before she could even pour him the blood, another fact hit her like a freight train. In all the turmoil, in the agony of finding him there, in the realization of just how much pain and just what horrors he must have experienced, she had forgotten it completely.

He had a soul.

Spike, William the Bloody, Slayer of Slayers, pain in her ass, her shadow, her ally, her friend, her mortal enemy, her secret lover…had a soul.

Why wasn’t it the first thing she’d thought of?

She knew that it should be more important, should be the reason why she was so torn up over him. Buffy knew that she should be happy about it, or feel relieved, or think that it was what he deserved…but the only thought that could really come to mind was…

Was he even the same vampire?

Was he the cocky, arrogant vampire that had let himself be tortured to keep her sister’s secret? The one that had held her hands so tenderly and spoken so gently to her when she’d first returned from the dead? Was he the same one that had fought so hard, so fiercely by her side? Or was he some stranger that had died in an alley in London long before she had been born?

Or, was he neither? Just some broken, hollow and traumatized shell of what he’d once been?

The image of the girl from the video came to mind, the one that had huddled and screamed and sobbed, newly ensouled, her nails covered in blood from trying to scratch her own eyes out…

Buffy shook the image away as best she could. She poured the blood into the glass and lifted Spike’s head from her shoulder. She gently opened his mouth and placed the glass to his lips. Once he had the taste of blood in his mouth, he began to swallow automatically.

“That’s it…” She couldn’t quite stop herself from dotting small, comforting kisses across his forehead.

Spike’s body shuddered in her arms, though whether from her touches or from the blood he needed so badly, she didn’t know.

She watched him drink down the blood in the glass, then set the glass aside. She suddenly felt that there was something she needed to know, before she continued to feed him. She lifted his head gently, tilting his head back…and saw a very thin, white scar at the center of his throat. Buffy swallowed hard, Durrak’s words echoing heavily in her mind.

‘Their throats are cut open cleanly, so as not to damage the flesh for too long, and then holy water is used to burn away the vocal cords…’

“Oh god…”

Buffy held him firmly against her, as if she could somehow protect him from the horrors that he’d already endured. She had to take a moment to compose herself before she continued her inspection. She opened his mouth again, dreading what she might see...or not see…but willing herself to look anyway. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw his tongue, still there.

Until she realized that the tip of his tongue *wasn’t* there.

It looked almost as if…as if…it was *almost* done growing back.

*******************************************************************

Danaia watched the Slayer’s face carefully, noticing every emotion that she showed so vividly. She saw the emotion both when she was studying the vampire’s throat, and peering into his mouth…

“So…” she mused. “…they removed his vocal cords *and* his tongue.”

Xander grimaced. The removal of the tongue was exactly what had made him vomit when they’d been watching the video, back at Buffy’s house. He was sure the sight and the horrific sounds would stay with him for the rest of his days.

“Man…sounds like someone went through a lot of trouble to keep him quiet.”

The female demon turned to face him, pondering his words. “The last owner he killed was a Mistress, from what I heard…a very respected political figure, which would be why his trial was so public…a very entertaining circus that took the brothel by storm.” She smirked. “Meanwhile, he couldn’t speak a word throughout it.”

**********************************************************************

She should have known.

Buffy was sure that she should have known about his fate far sooner. Part of her was sure that she had. She had shut that part away, silencing it as soon as the truth threatened to be more than she could handle.

What if Durrak had never come to them with the deal? If he hadn’t brought attention to the slave brothel, Buffy would have never known why Spike disappeared. She would have never known, and he would have remained here to be executed…

“I’m sorry…” Buffy knew that it was far too little, far too late. She also knew that it was the first of many apologies that she owed him, that she wasn’t sure he’d ever be able or willing to accept. “Spike, I’m so, so sorry…” She placed tender kisses on his cheeks, tears threatening to spill all over again.

She paid absolutely no attention to the others in the room, to their conversation, until Danaia asked something that brought her back to the mission.

“What exactly did Durrak tell you about the stones?”

“Well,” Xander struggled to think back on the conversation. “He said the fire stones were natural only to this dimension, that they couldn’t exist outside of it…”

“The stones are natural to this dimension,” Danaia said. “But it’s the magic within them that keeps them from existing anywhere else. The stones are natural here, the magic isn’t. The magic is the work of the owners.”

“You mean…we could actually do something about those?” Xander sat forward. “Like, I don’t know…take the magic out of the stones? Then the slaves could leave, right?”

Danaia laughed. “Take the magic out of the stones? Out of all of them? You’d need an extremely powerful witch for that…I’ve been known to more than dabble in spells, but I don’t have the kind of power it would take to remove the power of the Fire Stones.”

“We need Willow.” Buffy finally spoke to them.

Xander shook his head as he shifted his attention to Buffy. “Willow doesn’t do magic anymore.”

Buffy looked over her shoulder at them, eyes hard and voice clipped and as cold as ice as she simply repeated the words, leaving no room for argument.

“We need Willow.”

Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all…oh, hell, you all know its not mine, right?


Author’s Notes: Much thanks to my beta, DreamsofSpike, who has made this chapter bearable to read. Also, much thanks to all my lovely readers and reviewers, and much much MUCH thanks to whoever nominated this story at the Fang Fetish Awards! ^_^


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Games



The air crackled and split. The two witches crouched on the ground with the teenager between them could feel the change immediately, and the former vengeance demon wasn’t far behind them in figuring it out.There was a bright flash of light, and then everything appeared normal again, before the space in front of them began to ripple, like water and a sweaty and dirt-smeared Xander stumbled back into their existence.

“Xander!” everyone seemed to shout at once, as they immediately got to their feet.

“Willow!” Xander replied, barely acknowledging the others.

She spared a brief glance at Dawn’s tear-streaked face, even as the teenager attempted to wipe the evidence away, before focusing on her friend. “Xander, what’s going on? You haven’t even been gone for…!” When Willow rushed forward to meet him, he grabbed her by her arm and began dragging her back towards the portal. “What are you…? Xander!”

“Sorry, Wills, we need you.”

“But, with what? Research? But, my books are over…” She tried to turn and head back toward Tara and Dawn, but he continued to tug her toward the portal.

“No time.”

Tara was about to follow, but they immediately disappeared into thin air, and the sharp crack that followed informed them all that the gateway had closed again.

***********************************************************************

Danaia kept her head bowed as she walked among the servants. The obedience chamber was already mostly rebuilt, with rumors buzzing about who was responsible for the destruction. She made her way to the very back, where four slaves were lined up, each naked and kneeling, chains around their necks and wrists.

A guard stood beside the small group. He was waiting for the servants to step forward, each in turn, to be handed the chain of one slave each. Danaia was given a female vampire with black hair and dark eyes that stared down just as blankly as the others. She did not attempt to meet the slave’s gaze as she turned and made her way down a dark corridor, then up the wide stone staircase, leading to the tower.

Up they all went, passing personal chambers on either side. Finally, they reached a library. The double doors were opened for them by two guards, and the servants and slaves filed inside. Three council members sat at a heavy table in the center of the room.

They looked up as the servants entered.

Danaia chanced a quick glance around the familiar room. Shelves lined each wall, each shelf piled with scrolls. Some looked relatively new, while others had gathered dust and cobwebs.

“Bring the slaves forth,” one of the council members commanded.

His skin was a muddy brown, thick and leathery in appearance. He had no horns, simply large swollen places on his face that looked like boils. Each one was filled with an acid that gave the boils a green tinge.

The servant in front of Danaia brought a male slave forward. His skin and eyes were dark, and his head shaved.

“This one is the center of a dispute between two masters,” the servant explained. “They are no longer partners, but he was property of both. They wish to take the case before the highest court.”

“Tell his masters to appear here tomorrow, to plead their cases.” He waved his hand dismissively, and the slave was led from the room.

Danaia stepped forward next, leading the slave with a sharp jerk of the chain. “This one was abandoned by her master. He has forfeited his ownership.”

A dark haired demon with red skin leaned forward beside his fellow council member. He studied the female vampire, eyeing her up and down. She was thin, her hair hanging lank around her shoulders. “Take this one to the council’s chamber. She will serve us until she can be resold.”

Bowing her head with respect, Danaia led the slave towards the back staircase through another set of double doors. She quietly made her way up, sparing a brief glance over her shoulder to be sure that no one else was following after her.

The chamber of the Council of Owners was situated at the very top of the tower. It was a completely circular room, with massive windows on every side. What few torches were on the walls weren’t enough to chase away the never-ending blackness outside. In fact, most of the light came from a pit in front of the south window. The pit in the floor was filled with many blood red stones, each of them shining with a spark of orange at the very center. Leaning over the pit, Danaia watched the flickering lights from the gems dance like flames.

The slave beside her whimpered.

It was the first sound she had made. Her nervousness was betrayed as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, but still she avoided looking up.

“Shhhh,” Danaia attempted to sooth the slave with a gentle hand on her arm, before leading her by the chain to the wall.

The vampire knelt as she knew she should, and Danaia attached her chain to a hook in the wall.

“You will remain here until one of the owners has use for you,” Danaia explained.

Once the slave was taken care of, the female demon began to explore the chamber. She gave another glance toward the pit of Fire Stones before heading towards the altar at the opposite side of the room. The old stone was cracked and engraved with symbols of five different dialects. Crouching down in front of it, Danaia traced them carefully. She then stood and made her way to the shelf behind the altar, quickly sweeping up the rarely used, but somehow most important scrolls. She hid them carefully in her cloak, her layers of servant’s garb concealing her load well.

She quickly buttoned her cloak, hiding as much of herself as she could, before heading back towards the double doors. Danaia stopped just long enough to glance at her last object of interest – the gateway.

Most of the gateways were located in the smallest building in the center of the brothel. There was only one gateway outside of that building, right there in the council’s chamber. It wasn’t activated, sitting dusty and idle, but was kept specifically for the purpose of evacuation, or hiding the all-important owners of the slave brothel.

The beginnings of a plan were taking shape in Danaia’s mind.



*********************************************************************

The blood was slowly washed away with a warm, wet rag under a gentle touch, as Buffy carefully bathed Spike’s abused body, wishing that her touch alone could somehow take away the pain. The lash marks weren’t healing yet, despite the blood he had been fed a few hours before. The faded bruising across one of his cheeks glared up at her like an accusation, reminding her of her own crimes.

Warm, soapy water was in a large bowl right beside her, and Danaia had told her that she would bring more, so that Buffy could also bathe. The Slayer could only hope that they weren’t being deceived again.

“Its going to be ok, you know,” she told the vampire. “We’re going to get out of here soon, and then you and I can experience a real bath again. We both need it…” With gentle caresses with the washrag, she cleansed his arms of the dried blood that covered them, trying to ignore the deep gouges from the shackles that had been around his wrists. She washed his chest next, taking in the chiseled muscles and hard planes of his body all over again. “I bet it’s been a really long time for you…you know…to just enjoy a warm shower or something…” His abs were next to be cleansed of the dried blood, before she hesitantly moved lower.

Once, a week before he had disappeared, Buffy had crept into his crypt while he was still asleep. She hadn’t wanted to rush, and hadn’t wanted to deal with his mouth while it was active (and not in a good way). The Slayer had simply watched him as he slept for a while, then had removed the blanket from his naked form and gently explored his body with her fingertips.

Ever since their first night together she had been curious about every little (and not so little) detail. When her fingers had found a particularly sensitive spot, his body had arched off of the bed to meet her touch. His pleasured sighs and groans had driven her into a frenzy of lust. She’d moved her teasing fingers between his legs, fondling his sack before stroking his raging erection. She had then proceeded to wake him up with a firm hand and teasing tongue.

Now, when she moved her hand between his legs to clean him, he closed them with an urgent terror that sent a sudden pain to her heart. His eyes opened suddenly, and he rolled away from her, immediately awake and alert.

He pulled himself painfully up on his knees, crouched on the other side of the cell with his back to the wall, apparently trying to keep himself as close to the wall as possible.

“Spike…” She put the bloodied rag down in the warm water. “Spike, its ok…”

His shaking disturbed her, but at least she knew it wasn’t from hunger this time. Buffy knew that he still had to be in a great deal of pain. He also had to be absolutely terrified. She had never seen the vampire so afraid, and it tore at her deep inside in a way that she didn’t want to think about.

The once cocky and arrogant vampire wouldn’t even look her in the eye.

“Spike…” She crawled slowly closer. Buffy made sure to keep almost as low to the ground as he was, trying not to intimidate him. “It’ll be ok…you don’t have to be afraid.”

His head remained ducked, and he was on his knees, but he didn’t seem to be backing away from her any more. He lowered himself further so that he was on his hands as well, drawing himself into an even more submissive pose.

Shaking her head, Buffy gently reached out to him. She touched the back of his cool hand, stroking it softly with her thumb. “No…Spike…can--can you look at me?”

When he did not respond or raise his head, Buffy spoke in a much firmer tone.

“Spike, look at me.”

Finally, he raised his head from its bowed position. His blue eyes locked onto hers, and for a moment it seemed as if neither of them could look away.

Buffy stared into his eyes breathlessly. There was more weariness than fear there now, and his gaze was much clearer. He was looking at her…actually looking at her, and seemed much more aware of his own surroundings.

Of course, now that he was actually looking straight at her, for only the second time since they’d found him, all her well-thought-out words of comfort flew from her mind.

“Hey…” She tried to speak anyway, smiling softly. “Hey, handsome.” She lifted her hand from his, then placed it gently against his cheek.

Spike’s body tensed from the touch, but he didn’t pull away this time. He stared at her in confusion.

“Do…do you recognize me, Spike?” She traced her thumb gently across his bottom lip, then over his cheekbone. She moved it slowly back and forth, stroking tenderly. “Do you know me, at all?”

The vampire did not nod or shake his head in answer, but instead closed his eyes. His expression was guarded, but still, Buffy could see the beginnings of awe on his face. He tilted his head, leaning into her touch, practically rubbing his cheek against her palm.


************************************************************************

No more games. No more mind games.

He had hoped, pleaded with powers that never listened for it to be over. Spike had been sure that they were finally going to give him his end.

Instead, they were playing the same old mind tricks. But, it was different this time. Different made it more dangerous. Things were unexpected, which meant that they might be trying to make the pain catch him off his guard, maybe even break him one more time.

She stared back at him with eyes full of compassion and a sadness that he couldn’t figure out. Why would she be sad? And why had she still not aged a day?

*See? More tricks…that’s all it is…*

His thoughts were in scattered pieces, flitting in and out of the darkness that he let himself fall back into most of the time. As long as he retreated to the dark, the pain was always less. She couldn’t touch him, there in the dark. She was pure light that was only occasionally sent to burn him.

But not in any time, in all of his memory, had she ever looked at him like that. And then, she’d touched him, so very softly.

He’d felt a soft touch from her before -- and it was always deceitful.

Spike forced himself to follow his training, and not move away from her. He held still, letting her take and touch as she wanted. But her hands were not violating, and were not hurting.

He wasn’t a fool, of course.

She’d hurt him when she chose, when she decided to drop the game.

But by all the stars that no longer seemed to exist – her touch was so *warm*. There was a gentle heat that belonged only to her that he hadn’t felt in so very long. It swept away pain and gave warmth to what was dead in him, even as it only touched his cheek.

Even as he cursed himself for a fool, he couldn’t help but lean into it.

***********************************************************************


The Slayer and the Thorshosh demon stood stiffly side by side, both naked and washing with what little warm water and soap they had.

Buffy was grateful for the chance to bathe. Danaia had even brought food for them. Still, thinking of returning to her gritty, sweaty, and grimy clothes right after washing herself was keeping an almost permanent sour look on her face.

Danaia, meanwhile, was watching Spike, which kept Buffy watching Danaia, even as she tried not to watch the female bathe.

Spike was sitting up, his gaze clearer and less fearful as he cast the occasional curious glance in their direction. Every time he did, the Slayer attempted an encouraging smile, and tried to ignore the disappointment as he quickly looked away from her again.

“He is quite active, for a slave,” Danaia commented.

Buffy smirked. “If you want to see active, you should see him when he gets better. He’s not the type that can normally hold still, even if his life depends on it.”

“Here, it usually does.”

The comment was casual, but still sent a chill up Buffy’s spine. What little good humor she had found in the light of Spike’s return to partial sanity had fled. She turned to Danaia, dropping the rag she had been using back into the warm water.

“There’s something I have to say,” she informed the demon. “And I’m only going to say this once.”

Danaia turned towards her, raising an eyebrow ridge nonchalantly.

“I don’t know you,” Buffy said. “I don’t trust you. I don’t care to, either. I’m not going to pretend to know why you’re doing this, and I don’t want to hear some sob story explaining it all. I don’t care about your motives, or about what you really want. If you get in my way in any way, I’ll take you out of it. If you betray us for whatever reason, you won’t last long enough to brag about it, or for it to get you very far.”

Before the Slayer could continue her tirade, they both heard the lock of the door. They turned swiftly towards it, and Buffy grabbed her rag like a weapon and held it above her head, water flinging from it and dripping everywhere.

The door opened wide, and Xander was soon standing in the doorway. “Rejoice! For I return with…” His eyes had gone wide, and his jaw slack.

Green eyes just as wide, Buffy quickly brought her makeshift weapon down to cover her chest. Of course, it didn’t change the fact that Xander had just gotten an eyeful, and was in fact still ogling her. “Xander!”

Harris couldn’t help it as he took in the sight of the girl that he had fantasized about since high school. Her body was wet and glistening. And whether he wanted them to or not, his eyes then wandered to the demon beside her.

Though Buffy looked horrified, Danaia was staring evenly back at him. She stood tall and proud, more than comfortable with the fact that her body was on complete display. And why wouldn’t she be? She was fit and exotic, with long silver hair and soft, human looking skin, except where green scales framed her large breasts and trailed down her sides and her hips. When Xander found his gaze wandering down to silver curls between long, slender, but strong looking legs, he forced himself to look away.

“Sorry…uh…I’ll just, uh…go…” He motioned towards the door as he stepped back out of it. “…think about my wedding.” Within moments he had disappeared back out the door.

The redhead walked in next, an expression of confusion on her face. “What’s going…?” Her eyes widened as she caught sight of the two. “Oh, Goddess.”

Buffy’s face flamed red, but she was relieved to see that her best friend’s stare was mostly directed at the half-demon.

Xander suddenly appeared again, grabbing Willow’s arm firmly. “You’re gay, you have to leave too!”

As he dragged her away, he made sure to close the door so there could be no more peeping. Both of the females in the office could hear the witch protesting.

“But…hey!”

Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all characters belonging to the show are not mine, and I take no credit for them. If I occasionally make them do the hokey pokey, that’s my prerogative. Don’t take me to court over it.

Author’s Notes: As always, much thanks to DreamsofSpike, my beta, and to all my wonderful reviewers.
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Willow kept her eyes mostly to the ground as she was led back into the office. Hiding in one of the rarely used tunnels while waiting for your best friend to dress – especially after accidentally viewing her naked – was an awkward experience, to say the least.

Shuffling her feet, she allowed Xander to lead her where he would. Since he’d literally dragged her into the portal, she hadn’t had much of a choice so far. When she had been covered by a heavy cloak too large for her and smelling of something else’s sweat, she’d tried to protest. When she’d been shushed, she had begrudgingly followed down the dark corridors, trying her best to ignore the sounds of screams and wails of agony that brought back images from the video tape.

But then, she had seen her best friend and a strange demon naked.

‘Hush!’ she silently scolded herself. ‘Don’t think of that. Thinking of a naked Buffy is weird. Thinking of a naked demon is slightly weirder. Think of Tara. Naked Tara is always a good thought.’

Thinking of Tara made her think of how they’d parted, and the brief conversation that had come before. The witch barely managed to hold her tongue long enough for Xander to lead her into what looked like an office.

“Hey, guys…just so you know, Dawn kinda thinks that Spike is…” Her eyes widened as she saw the cage, and an alarmingly familiar and even more alarmingly naked vampire staring back at her. “…here.”

Buffy made her way toward the cage as Willow stared in shock, stopping to stand by the bars, and place a supportive hand on the shoulder of the kneeling vampire. Spike barely seemed to notice at first, simply watching the witch with narrowed eyes.

“Is this the witch that is to help us?” The female half-demon stepped forward, ending the spell of shock.

“Uh…” Willow nodded, still staring somewhat blankly at Spike, and the Slayer standing so protectively over him. “…yeah.” She shook her head and tried to shift her attention . “Yeah, um…what do you guys need? Research? A translation?”

“No translations are required,” the female answered. “I know the language well enough, and will be translating for you. The scrolls I have taken should be all you need to produce a spell that will…”

“Spell?” Willow finally gave her full attention to the others in the room, scanning Xander’s face, while he looked down at his scuffed boots. She then looked at the stranger that seemed to be taking charge, and finally her best friend.


************************************************************************
“No way!” Willow tried not to fidget under the Slayer’s fierce gaze. “Buffy, I don’t do magic anymore! You know I can’t handle it! Last time…”

“I don’t care about last time!” Buffy’s shout startled even her. She was suddenly glad that they had been left alone to debate. “I don’t care about that time, or the time before, or the time that’ll eventually come after this. I need your help, Willow…a lot of people need your help right now.”

The witch shook her head, trying to look at anything in the room but Buffy as she quietly protested, “You don’t understand…”

“What is there to understand?”

She whirled around to face the blonde again. “I could lose Tara!”

“I’m asking you to risk it!”

The sudden silence between them was as harsh as a blow. Willow stared at her with disbelieving eyes as she slowly sank down into the chair beside the desk.

“Willow…” Buffy brushed strands of wet hair away from her face impatiently. “I don’t think Tara left you just because of the magic. I think she mostly left…because you were using it selfishly.”

“Selfishly?” Willow’s voice rose in pitch in her hurt. “Buffy, the magic was never all about me!”

Almost growling in frustration, Buffy marched forward and took her hand, almost yanking her out of the chair and pulling her towards the cage at the far end of the room.

As soon as Spike realized that they were marching towards him, he scrambled back away from the door, pressing as much of his body against the far wall as he could, watching them cautiously.

“Take a good look, Willow.” The Slayer forced her best friend to stand as close to the cage door as possible. “Please, look long and hard…

Willow met Spike’s eyes only once, before both of them looked away. When the witch realized that the once brazen vampire was even meeker than she usually was, her gaze was drawn back to him. She took in his injuries, the long hair, the way he wouldn’t look up at them, and the slight trembling of his body…

“Buffy…he’s a stranger…”

“This is the price he’s had to pay…that they’ve all had to pay…for being at the wrong place at the wrong time. They’re trapped here, Willow. It doesn’t matter if we defeat their owners or not, they can’t leave. They can’t leave without your help.”

The redhead felt a shiver of fear. “Buffy…”

“This isn’t about you or me,” the Slayer interrupted. “But, still…if you do this, I’ll forgive you.”

Eyes wide, Willow turned to face her. “What…?”

“I’ll forgive you, Willow…do this for me, or just for them…but either way, I’ll forgive you for everything. I don’t hate you for bringing me back, Wills…but I didn’t think I could forgive you, either.”

Her friend looked down, forcing back tears.

“I know you didn’t mean to do what you did – to pull me out of heaven. You thought I was in hell – but I wasn’t.” She sighed, before continuing. “Spike is. Please, Willow,” Buffy finished softly, her voice barely over a whisper, “get him out of here, and I swear I’ll forgive everything, even what happened with Dawn.”

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Willow had never been intimidated by research before; but with all the maps and charts, books of laws, slave files, scrolls, translations, and spell books spread across the desk and littering the floor around it, she could feel her breath coming a little harder than normal. She was lost in a sea of data, which normally wouldn’t be bad…but she was in another dimension, and wasn’t even sure how well she would perform any spell, much less one as drastic as the one she was being called on to do.

“But…but what about spells for the fight?” she had implored some of the others..

“I am a magic user,” the female demon had assured her. “I do not have the power your friends seem to believe you have, but I am no novice. I will worry about any little distractions along the way. You just take care of the stones.”

Swallowing hard, Willow nodded. She then held her hand out toward the female. “I’m Willow, by the way. I just thought I would mention that…though, usually, I mention that before seeing someone naked…”

The demon looked down at the offered hand and raised an eyebrow. “Danaia,” she said simply, without taking it.

Translating the scrolls had taken hours. Danaia had poured over them, barely looking away. The only time she stopped was to briefly rub her eyes. Xander had poked idly at maps, and usually helped by providing a distraction by pacing or whistling, while Willow jotted down spells and materials that they would need for them.

Buffy did not leave Spike’s side.

As the spell took shape and the plan began to form, Willow’s apprehension grew.

“Uh, Buffy?” She cast a glance in the direction of the Slayer, who had not moved away from the cage the entire night. Willow was trying not to think too hard about the haunted look in her eyes every time she looked at the vampire, who had remained huddled against the wall all night. “Buffy…I think there might be a problem.”

She had the Slayer’s attention immediately. “What kind of problem?”

When Buffy stood, Willow scooted her chair over to make room for her at the crowded desk. “It’s the spell for the stones, Buffy.” She shook her head. “This is big…and there are a lot of them. We’re not exactly going to be able to remove the power one stone at a time…but, luckily, the magic is connected. That means that we can draw it all out at the same time…”

“So what’s the problem?” Buffy leaned against the desk and picked up one of the Wicca’s many notes.

“We’ve only got one shot,” she whispered to her. She cast a glance in Spike’s direction, but then quickly looked away. “It’s all connected, like I said…and if we try to take the power out of all the stones at once…well, we’ll either succeed…or they’ll kind of…um…go kablooey. All of them. At the same time. We’ll be freeing a whole lot of dust.”

There was a very long moment of silence. Buffy seemed to have drawn inward, slowly stepping away from the desk and pacing the length of the room. When she found herself in front of the cage again, she leaned against the bars.

Half-curled on the floor, Spike had fallen into another exhausted rest. His brow was wrinkled in silent distress, his fingers occasionally twitching. Buffy watched as his mouth opened, and wondered if he would be crying out in his sleep, if he could.

“Is there any other way?” she asked. “Is there anything else we could do to get them out of here?”

Willow rubbed at her tired eyes. “Maybe if I had about a week to research another spell-”

“We do not have a week,” Danaia interjected. She then sent a sharp glance in the Slayer’s direction. “Especially since we have enemies that already know of our plans.”

“Ah, come on.” Xander occupied the sole bed in the room, leaning against the wall, eyelids drooping. “Let’s leave your daddy out of this.”

Danaia’s lips drew away from human-looking teeth, but the hiss she sent in Xander’s direction was far from human.

“Enough,” Buffy said wearily. She didn’t raise her voice. She looked as tired as the rest of them. “Danaia’s right…we don’t have time.” She turned to face the others, leaning back against the bars. “This is our only shot. Do what you have to do, Willow.”


***********************************************************************

Xander’s snores threatened to take up the remainder of Willow’s concentration. One of his arms dangled over the bed, and he occasionally twitched and turned in his sleep. The only other noise in the room was the repeated tapping of Danaia’s nails as she stared, absorbed in her own work, though Willow doubted that they would need any more of the scrolls translated.

Something was itching in the back of the witch’s mind, and she just couldn’t put it to rest. She’d felt strange and off balance ever since she’d stepped into the portal.

‘Well, more like got dragged into the portal…’ she mused.

Now, if only she could concentrate enough to figure out what her weird feeling was stemming from…

Glancing over at Xander, she decided firmly that he was the bigger annoyance.

Discreetly leaning down to pick up a book from the floor, she gave it a toss that was not quite so discreet. The dusty volume landed directly on the carpenter’s gut, startling him from his sleep with a half snore and half snort. He jackknifed in alarm, sitting up quickly and blinking around at the room.

“Huh?”

One of the menacing noises taken care of, Willow allowed her thoughts to drift inward. She attempted to quiet her mind, and get a better sense of her surroundings. Tara was always the more sensitive one, more observant of the energies around them, but the redheaded witch had a nagging suspicion that what she felt in the air could have a profound effect on what would happen with the spell.

Something crackled all around her when she tried to meditate. The air itself seemed to shift and shudder, and there was nothing steady about the pulse of magic that she could feel from it…

Her eyes snapped open, and she looked at Danaia with alarm. “I need to go out.”

The half-demon raised her head. “You what?”

“I need to go outside…I think there’s something wrong.”

************************************************************************

Lightning struck in the distance, and the thunder rumbled in constant waves. The sky was pitch black, dark enough to swallow every gaze, if not for the random bursts of light.

It was the darkest, dreariest place that Willow had ever seen. She was sure if Tara were standing there with her, the blond witch would weep. There was no life in anything, except for the demons that traveled between the towering stone monuments. Most of them were heading towards the domed building that Danaia had told her was an arena for condemned slaves to burn by holy water and crosses, climbing for their lives even as their limbs burned away, past the point of use.

“Why are we out here, again?” Xander’s voice was muffled by the heavy black hood covering most of his face. “It’s creepy out here. Not that I can see much…and now that I think about it, it’s a little less creepy than watching Buffy cuddle with a vampire. So, by all means…let’s camp out!”

“Shhh!” Willow warned him only once before removing the hood of her cloak. She stared up at the sky, as if entranced. “Does anybody else see the moon…or, should I say, lack thereof? A moon, stars, anything?”

“There is no moon,” Danaia told her. “And there have never been visible stars.”

“And there are no clouds…” Willow noted. “So why all the lightning?”

Not waiting for an answer, she closed her eyes, focusing her energy inward. She began her meditation again, drowning out all other sounds. Finally, she attempted to connect with the energy around her. She felt the sharp bursts of power, spiraling out of control all around her. When she tried to grab hold of it with her own energy, it struck out at her with the force of a small electric shock. She gasped, tumbling backward onto her butt.

“Willow!” Xander knelt beside her, looking perplexed and concerned. He had seen nothing that would have caused her to fall. “You okay?”

She stared with wide eyes at the sky, before turning her gaze to Danaia. “I need you to start translating only the oldest of the scrolls. I need to know as much about the history of this place as possible.”


**********************************************************************


Buffy tried to give the vampire as much space as she could while still inspecting his wounds. She held Spike’s hand tenderly in her lap, gently examining some of the lash marks on his arms. He had retreated when she had entered the cage again, sitting against the wall with his knees drawn up against his chest.

But at least there wasn’t absolute terror in his eyes anymore, – just weary curiosity.

She cringed as her fingertip traced one of the wounds on his arm. “These aren’t healing like they should be.”

He gave no answer, simply watching her with an unblinking stare that was beginning to unnerve the Slayer.

Buffy ducked her head, trying to hide her nervousness. She stroked his knuckles with her thumb. “Willow found a spell…something that will help get you out of here.” She glanced up at him through her eyelashes, hoping to catch some sign that he’d understood her, some shred of hope that he might still have for himself.

Instead, his eyes were trained on the hands holding his. His fingers began to imitate hers, his thumb moving in slow circles against her palm. The soft caress made Buffy want to cry. A suggestive smirk or a look of longing would usually follow a touch like that, but there was no such expression on his face. The Slayer had never thought there would be a time that she’d want to see it so badly. The detached curiosity was far too cold for an emotional creature like the Spike she had known.

“Buffy…”

She was startled by her thoughts and looked quickly up at the redhead, standing right outside the door. She wasn’t, however, distracted enough to notice the way Spike pulled his hand from hers, an almost guilty expression on his face.

Sighing softly, she stood and brushed her wrinkled pants off. “What is it, Wills?”

“I, um…” Willow cast an awkward glance in Spike’s direction, before returning her gaze to her best friend. “I think we should re-think the spell.”

“What?” Tired green eyes widened in dismay. “Why? You don’t think it’ll work?”

“Buffy…” Willow was silent for a moment, trying to think of a way to explain. “Danaia and I just did some digging…i-its not the spell…its this dimension.”

Buffy shook her head, at a loss.

“Ok,” Willow began. “The dimension…it’s not stable. I felt it as soon as I walked through the portal. The energy in this place…everything’s out of whack. And, I kinda think I know why now…” She fidgeted with the front of her green shirt, trying to smooth invisible wrinkles. “The dimension isn’t natural, Buffy…it’s not supposed to be here.”

The Slayer shook her head. “What do you mean? How is it not supposed to be here?”

“Well, from what I can get from the scrolls, it was kind of…created.” She frowned, as if offended. “It’s stolen, Buffy…it was created from stolen time and space from the two dimensions it’s between. That’s why everything’s so unstable here…it’s not even supposed to exist. It’s barely holding itself together…” Willow sighed wearily. “Buffy, this spell takes a lot of energy…a natural dimension has a firm balance to it…this place has no balance at all. If I perform a spell this big, here…” She shook her head, frowning. “Well, I’m not sure what it would do to this place…I mean, I’m pretty sure the spell isn’t anywhere near big enough to bring the sky crashing down on our heads and destroy this little pocket dimension, but-“

“Could you do it?”

Willow frowned. “Could I do what?”

“A spell that big.” There was a dangerous gleam in the Slayer’s green eyes. “Could you perform a spell, big enough to destroy this pocket dimension – to wipe this place right out of existence?”

Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all characters belonging to the show are not my creations, and I take no credit or make any dosh off of writing these stories.
********************************************************************


She was watching him again. She always seemed to be watching him now. Why Spike had suddenly piqued the Slayer’s interest again, he had no idea.

And now – she was touching him.

He tried not to allow his body to shake or tremble, holding himself very still. The wall had become his sanctuary, hiding at least part of his body from the staring eyes of the others in the room. Spike held himself against the cold stone, as she whispered soothingly to him, and touched him with hands that had never been so gentle with him before.

“Tell me what I can do,” she whispered to him softly. “Tell me how I can make this right…”

Her fingertips gently stroked across his palm and he felt hypnotized, just watching her. However, when her hand began to move higher, up his arm, he grew nervous, his body tensing under her soft touch.

“Shhhh…” Buffy kept her voice low as she leaned closer to him, her body almost touching his. “It’s okay…it’ll all be okay, now.”

Spike followed his training, remaining as still as he could while she moved in closer. Soon, one of her hands rested on his chest, while the other reached into her back pocket for something that he couldn’t see.

“I’m doing this for you, Spike. It’s all for you…” Buffy leaned closer to him, brushing her pouty lips softly against his.

He jerked his head back in surprise, wide blue eyes staring down at her in shock.

The object she pulled from her back pocket was a knife.

“I’m going to take it out of you,” she told him. She then raised the knife and plunged it into his chest, ruthlessly carving into him, as if searching for something to cut out. “It’s for your own good…”

***********************************************************************

Spike gasped and nearly choked on a silent cry of pain, covering his chest protectively with his hands, as he rolled over onto his side. He touched his chest repeatedly, looking down for the wound, only to realize that there wasn’t one. Frowning, he rolled back over to look around the room.

He was alone.

No one was in the cage with him, and for once, the blonde Slayer wasn’t hovering right by the door, either. Instead, he saw the redheaded witch standing there, watching him pensively.

Willow frowned sadly as she watched the vampire in the cage. “Bad dream?”

Spike did not answer, still drawing in hard, unnecessary breaths as he tried to recover.

The witch swallowed hard, moving hesitantly closer and kneeling down in front of the cage door. “You can’t talk, can you?” she finally asked. “I mean, you haven’t…not a word, the whole time I’ve been here…and you know that’s kind of odd, for you…”

Willow squeezed her own fingers, not entirely sure why it hurt so badly when Spike wouldn’t look at her, wouldn’t even shake his head yes or no. There was something so empty in his gaze…

“Those things…they really happened to you, didn’t they? They did those things to you, wi-with the tongue, and the tortures, and…” She looked up, and noticed that Spike had backed even further away from her. She bit her bottom lip. “Dawn figured it out, you know. She’s really worried about you…”

The moment she said the girl’s name, Spike’s eyes were no longer on the floor. They were staring at Willow, through Willow, with intensity like the redhead had never seen before. He narrowed his eyes at her, then tilted his head.

“Willow.”

The witch gasped and gave a little jump, then sighed and rolled her eyes at her own tension. She turned to see the Slayer standing behind her. Frowning in worry, she took in her best friend’s haggard appearance and the dark circles under her eyes.

“It’s time,” the Slayer told her.

**********************************************************************

Spike was led out of the cage. Danaia had told them a command to give him that would make it easier to lead him anywhere, but none of them could stomach the idea of actually using it. Instead, Buffy had tried to gently coax him to come out. When that hadn’t worked, she’d taken him by the hand and led him.

The female demon handed leather packs to Xander and Willow. As the two humans slung the packs over their shoulders, she began to explain.

“Remember, the white is to freeze. The red is for fire. They are like the firestones, but far more delicate. Do not use both at once. And if you happen to fall from a great height and land on them, there will be nothing remaining of you to find and bury.”

Xander stared at her with wide, unblinking eyes. “Comforting.”

Danaia was the one to place the shackles on Spike. There was one for each wrist, with chains attached to the one that went around his neck. He kept his eyes downcast and his hands held out obediently throughout the process.

Everyone wrapped their heavy cloaks around themselves for disguise, except Spike, who was expected to remain naked.

“Are you sure we can’t give him something?” Xander asked, staring at the chained and vulnerable looking vampire. “I mean, come on, the guy’s had to have been naked for a long time…”

“And he cannot wait another day?” Danaia raised an eyebrow.

“She’s right, Xander,” Buffy said. “It would probably draw suspicion, anyway. In case you haven’t noticed, most slaves around here aren’t real big with the coverage.”

Xander sighed, then took a long look around the room. In fact, he was looking anywhere but at the vampire slave. “We’re not forgetting anything important, are we?”

Buffy counted on her fingers. “Weapons, clothes we came with on our backs, magic supplies, Spike…nope, we’ve got everything.”

“Good,” Danaia sighed. “Then let’s stop wasting our time.”

“We’re just making sure,” Willow grumbled. “Pushy pants.”

Xander took his place beside Spike, taking one of the lead-chains in his hand. The Slayer put a hand on his to catch his eyes, then shook her head. “Would you…give us a minute? Please, Xander? We’ll catch up.”

“You sure, Buff?” The carpenter glanced between the Slayer and the chained vampire uncertainly.

The Slayer nodded, then waited for her friends to file out of the room. She didn’t pay any attention to the chatter between them, or any more of Danaia’s instructions. She couldn’t quite take her eyes off of the vampire in front of her.

How long would it be before he’d be able to meet anyone’s eyes without hesitation, or having to be told to?

“Hey.” She placed a gentle hand on one of his arms. Her other hand moved to his cheek.

He looked up at her without further instruction, though his head remained bowed. His eyes were dull, his gaze lifeless. It sent a chill of dread down the blonde’s spine.

“You know this is only temporary…right?” Buffy put a hand on the chains. “It won’t be for long. When this is over, no one will ever be putting you in chains again.” She blinked at her own statement. “Well, unless you wan…” Looking up at him again, she realized that his expression had not changed once. “Uh…never mind. I-Im sorry…oh, god, that came out…”

*And *why* exactly did you want this moment again, if all you were gonna do was screw it up so badly?*

She shook her head, taking hold of one of the leading chains. Placing a hand gently on his back, she led the reluctant vampire out of the office. “Come on…we’d better catch up.”

**********************************************************************

“It’s just too weird, you know?” Xander shuffled along beside his friend, keeping his entire body hidden by the cloak he wore. The hood covered his face, and he followed the sight of Willow’s shoes. “But at the same time…it’s suddenly really hard to just hate the guy.”

“Yeah…” The witch sighed softly. “He’s just…is he even him anymore? Or is it, like, the whole Angel/Angelus thing? Or, is he even…you know…sane? At all?”

“Well, so far I’ve seen him injured, indecent, playing with chains, and attacking Buffy one minute and kneeling at her feet the next. I don’t know, he could be the same Spike.”

Danaia barely paid attention to the humans behind her. She led them through the hallways, hoping that they would be wise enough to quiet down whenever they were passed. Her hood remained up, and she carefully scanned the faces of everyone that passed them.

A male half-demon was close. He was walking slowly, dressed in servant’s garb, and staring straight ahead. Danaia adjusted her direction, eyes cast down as they passed… hand reaching out and brushing his fingertips. She slipped a piece of parchment into his hand, and he walked on without glancing at her.

The servant quickened his pace, fist clamped tightly around the parchment. Finally, he turned the corner, glancing around him to make sure he hadn’t been followed. Once he knew he was alone, he unfolded the parchment. His instructions were laid out before him in three words.

‘Signal by Fire.’

***********************************************************************

All five of them approached the building that housed the worst of the torture chambers. They stood at the base of the tower, and four of them looked up at it with apprehension.

Spike did not look up, but had already begun to tremble. Buffy squeezed his arm softly, trying to be discreet so that no one would see her comforting a slave.

Sighing heavily, she took one side, holding the chains firmly, while Danaia took the other. They led the vampire inside, with Willow and Xander trailing behind. The demon throng was oppressing, and the sounds of suffering could be heard right below their feet.

“Let me be the one to speak,” Danaia advised them.

As they made their way up the winding staircase, they managed to blend in with the other servants. The only difference was that theirs was the only vampire being escorted by more than one. They drew the occasional curious glance, but were not stopped by anyone.

The great double doors leading to the council’s library loomed ahead.

“We sure we’re ready for this?” Xander suddenly asked.

Buffy reached inside her cloak, her fingers closing over the hilt of her axe. Her gaze settled on Spike’s arm. Even there, there were half-healed lash marks, evidence of the abuse he’d suffered. Her fingers tightened on her axe until her knuckles turned pure white.

“I’m ready.”

“Ready or not…” Danaia pushed open one of the doors, leading the group inside.

*********************************************************************

Two members of the council of owners were sitting in the library. One was silver-skinned, eyes almost pure white and ghostly. His thick horns curved back over his skull, and he was dressed in impeccably well kept clothing. He looked almost like a general, sitting well groomed and regal across from his hunched companion.

The haunting white eyes settled on the group that had just entered. Without being addressed further, Danaia stepped forward and bowed her head. “A slave for your…”

“Danaia,” he interrupted her. “How good of you to join us.”

The female half-demon looked up quickly.

He stood slowly, along with the companion that was sitting across from him. When the other council member turned, Danaia spotted familiar green scales, and an even more familiar and infuriating look of smug satisfaction.

Durrak stood beside the other owner calmly, with his hands folded in front of him.

The other demon continued to address Danaia. “Your father has just been telling me about your latest scheme.” He shook his head, looking disappointed. “Really, Danaia… allying yourself with a Slayer?”

Demons seemed to emerge from every shadow and crevice. They were dressed heavily in thick leather armor, the majority brandishing crossbows. They poured out from shadows, and from the two staircases, surrounding the group by the doorway.

“So,” Xander lifted his hood enough to glare in Durrak’s direction. “Daddy tattled, hah? Funny, considering that he was the one that allied himself with the Slayer, first.”

Durrak smirked and shook his head, but otherwise ignored the comment. “Did you know that the Slayer brought along human children to aid her in her fight, Kaushal?”

Buffy pushed back her hood. She stared hard from one demon to the next, then took in the numbers surrounding them. She still kept one hand on the hilt of her axe, while the other tightened on the chain in her hand.

“And a slave…” Kaushal noted. He strode towards them confidently, stopping only feet in front of the Slayer and the vampire beside her. “And an interesting slave she has grown attached to…”

Spike kept his gaze focused intently on the floor. Buffy hadn’t seen a single emotion pass across his normally expressive face.

They struck too quickly to be stopped. The guards swarmed closer around them, and despite the human’s protests, they were grabbed and restrained. The Slayer barely paid attention to any of them, because Spike was suddenly taken from her, led forcefully away by Kaushal.

“No!” Her eyes were wide, and her jaw set. “Don’t touch him!”

Xander watched Buffy for signs of a signal. Willow stood silently in the back, lips pursed in worry. Danaia kept her narrowed eyes straight on her father across the room, one hand hovering over a leather pouch at her side.

The demon guiding Spike by the collar turned to regard the Slayer. He shook his head and sighed. “I hold a great deal of shares in this brothel. Tell me, why would I not touch what is essentially my property?” He turned back to Spike, reaching out to push long, dark hair away from his downcast face. “Intra quad noshmid!”

Spike fell immediately to his knees, head bowed and arms thrust out and crossed in front of him. His stare was directed at the floor, and eerily blank.

Buffy gave a brief struggle against her captors, but they had her firmly by the arms, and she wasn’t sure what it would cost her friends if she went to Spike’s rescue. She swallowed hard, feeling sick inside as she watched the vampire in his submissive pose.

“Don’t you dare…”

“You care for the creature.” Kaushal circled slowly around the kneeling vampire, even as he addressed the Slayer. “Odd, how protective you are of something that exists only to serve. Odder still that you would choose this slave…”

“He’s not a slave…” The Slayer nearly growled in fury. “Not anymore.”

The demon raised an eyebrow ridge. He stood in front of Spike, then reached down and grabbed a handful of dark hair. He yanked it back, forcing the vampire to stare straight upwards, his gaze not even showing a flicker of pain.

“Did you hear that?” Kaushal asked. “You’re not a slave anymore.”

The vampire’s gaze remained empty. He stared past the demon that clutched his hair in a cruel grip.

Kaushal released his hair and shoved his head down so that it touched the floor, putting him in an even more submissive pose. “This one is dangerous,” he informed the Slayer, ignoring the heated glares and the way her fists clenched with the need for violence. “I’m not sure what a Slayer would want with one of our slaves…couldn’t you have captured a vampire yourself? No need to steal one…

Spike’s body trembled as Kaushal’s hand moved slowly over his back. “So, you’ve come to, what?” he asked the Slayer. “Free all the slaves? Why would a Vampire Slayer concern herself with the well-being of vampires?” He laughed at her look of indignation. “Your kindness will be your downfall, just as it was for this slave’s last mistress.”

No one noticed Spike’s gaze as it shot up from the floor, and straight at Kaushal’s back.

Kaushal approached the Slayer and her group, tilting his head and studying the blonde with milky-white eyes. “Did your cohort not explain his crimes? The things he’s done to his owners?”

Buffy rolled her eyes. “How about what they’ve done to him? ‘Cause somehow, I can’t seem to find an ounce of sympathy for them.”

“A slave must be tamed with a firm hand. Discipline is essential, if they are not to get out of hand.” Kaushal made his way away from the Slayer, circling around Spike’s form before standing in front of him again. “His last mistress was lenient…even kind.” He faced the group, turning his back on the slave behind him. “She was a fool. She was ignorant when it came to beasts like these, and she paid for it with her life, at the hands of this very creature you’re leading around like a favored pet.”

None of them were paying his words any attention anymore. The captors didn’t look at him, but instead behind him, their eyes widened. The human male even looked as if he was about to speak.

Spike rose slowly to his feet, his former position of submission abandoned. His eyes blazed yellow, and his fangs descended. When Kaushal realized he no longer had the attention of the entire room, he turned. Staring back at him were demonic eyes full of pure hatred and rage. The demon was frozen, staring in shock, even as the vampire reached forward and grabbed him by the chin and the top of the head, giving a violent twist.

The sickening sound of snapping bone shocked everyone into silence. The silence lasted as Spike released the dead body in his grasp and watched it crash to the floor, sprawled in an awkward position. He watched it as if thinking it would move again, his fangs bared in a silent growl, his breathing heavy.

After the long moment of deafening silence, the demons surrounding them all seemed to realize that a slave had murdered an Owner.

“Kuonosh min!” one of them shouted.

Spike’s vampire visage immediately melted away to his human features. That familiar blank look in his eyes replaced the fury that had filled them moments before. He stared idly towards the demons as each and every one raised their crossbows, directing them at his heart.

“Spike!” Buffy took advantage of the distraction and yanked away from her captor. “Get down!” She quickly tackled the vampire and sent them both to the floor, just as the arrows were released.

Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all characters belonging to the show are not my creations.

Author's Notes: As usual, many thanks to DoS, my wonderful beta and partner in crime for quite a few projects now. Also, many MANY thanks to Tamakin, who has made me a beautiful banner for this story. The banner is mostly the reason for the NC-17 rating, in case you can't tell.

BTW, chapter is named for Kathleen, one of my very loyal and wonderful reviewers.


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Only a second after Buffy managed to tackle the vampire to the ground, the air was filled with deadly arrows. She purposefully knocked a table beside him over, so that when they fell, the table granted cover. Metal points embedded into the wood, the tips of some breaking through to the other side. Some of them rained over the two of them, striking only inches away.

The Slayer’s three companions went to work immediately. Danaia took the two humans by the arms and led them into a sprint, crossing to the far side of the room in moments. When she released them, they nearly fell into the book shelves.

Their sudden movements drew the attention of half of the demon guards. They approached, clad in grisly armor of thick skins and rusted metals. Some of them grinned with malicious intent, their fangs protruding over their upper lips.

Danaia gave them a small smile, before pulling something from the bag at her side. She opened her hand.

A tiny, clear pebble rested in the palm.

She slammed it hard into the ground, three feet in front of her. The air seemed to freeze. The stone imploded, and the air thickened, taking on the appearance and feeling of a thick gel. Danaia removed two more pebbles from her pouch, and threw them both.

The thick air spread, soon covering half the library, and completely blocking the entrance. Each demon touched by it was trapped, unable to move far. Arrows were captured from mid-air to spin uselessly, several feet, or sometimes only mere inches from their intended targets.

“Ok…that’s…” Xander stared. “That’s just…” He turned to look at the red-headed witch beside him. “No offense Will, but you’ve *never* come up with something *that* cool.”

“Hey!” Willow frowned at her best friend. “I’ve done cool before…you haven’t seen half of the cool stuff I’ve done!”

The few demons left rushed the three of them, forgetting all about their former targets.

Two of them rushed Xander, and he quickly ducked, drawing his sword and swiping one across the gut. The injured one stumbled into the other, and the carpenter gave both just enough of a shove to send them into the growing mass of congealed air.

Willow watched with wide eyes as one of the demons approached her, drawing a small knife. He looked her up and down with a hungry gaze, before beginning to back her into a corner. “Hey, you know…you don’t look, um…very friendly…” She kept her eyes on the knife, which he was raising threateningly towards her face. “Neither does that…”

The demon moved the blade slowly across her cheek, attempting to intimidate her with the cool touch of the metal. He blinked in surprise when a slow smile appeared on her face.

She shook her head. “Really not gonna work out for ya.” The witch slammed her hand onto his chest, and a pulse of unsteady power sent him reeling back through the air, and straight into the same prison that trapped his comrades.

Willow gasped, the unstable power that she had drawn in pulsing and pounding through her body, until gradually fading away. She frowned, wondering how the unbalanced elements might affect her much larger spells…

Buffy finally rose from behind the table, immediately going into action. She picked an arrow from the ground and sent the tip into one of the demon’s eyes. Before the demon could fall, she used his shoulders to swing up, and wrapped her legs around another’s head and gave a hard twist, breaking its neck. She landed in a crouch as the two fell.

“Is that it?” Xander peered around the library, looking down at the bodies, then over at the ones still entrapped in thin air. “Is that all of them?”

Danaia frowned, also peering around the room. Her gaze went from one body to the next, searching…

The double doors suddenly burst back open, and a crowd of guards came pouring in…only to be immediately stuck in thin air, their mouths wide open in unvoiced protests, and their limbs working in slow motion to continue their attack.

Willow’s eyebrows rose in appreciation. “Nifty. At least we know no one’s going to be sneakin’ up on us that way.”

Spike rose from behind the cover that he’d been forced to take. He shook his head as if in a daze, before looking back behind him…and freezing at the sight of the Master he’d killed. Tilting his head, he took note of the awkward angle of his neck and head.

Buffy stood beside him, looking at the same thing. “That…that was…” She grabbed his arm and turned him around to face her. “That was…idiotic…” She pointed down at the demon, her voice trembling. “And reckless, and…and *foolish* and stupid…” The slayer looked up into Spike’s eyes before flinging herself closer, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her head against his bare shoulder. “Oh my god, that was so *you*!”

The Vampire’s back became rigid, and he stiffened under her touch.

“I knew…” Buffy closed her eyes and pressed her body closer to his. “I knew you were still in there, somewhere…”

Spike’s hands hovered at her sides, before he awkwardly placed them on her back. His body shook under her touch, and Buffy reluctantly pulled back to look him in the eye again. But his eyes were not on her, but were instead on the demon – the former Owner that he had killed.

Buffy swallowed hard, before turning to her three other companions. “Do you think you guys can take care of the Owners…Masters…council of whatevers?”

Danaia snorted. “*That* one could likely take care of them on his own.” She pointed at Xander.

“Gee, thanks…” He blinked. “I think.”

Willow picked up a discarded crossbow, quickly loading it. “We can take care of some all-important demony geezers, no problem.”

“Guess we’d better hurry.” Xander watched as two more guards stumbled on the scene and became trapped in the soupy mess. “Before they find another way to get in here.”

Danaia pointed to a small staircase. “This way, children.”

Xander took the lead, hefting his sword up in front of him. He climbed the dark stairwell, keeping a hand on the stone wall to guide him. Willow began to follow after, until Danaia put a hand on her arm and quickly yanked her back.

“Remember,” the half demon whispered. “Once you have hold of the fire stone’s power, do not let go. If you lose control at any moment, you will destroy every slave in the brothel.”

Willow stared back at her, eyes wide as saucers. “Well, no pressure or anything!”

The witch pulled away from their guide and turned, heading up the stairs after her friend. Her fingers were now trembling in apprehension, so she tried hard to keep them away from the trigger.

Danaia watched the two leave before turning to the Slayer. “You do not plan to join them?”

Buffy had remained close to the vampire the entire time. “Not just yet.” She suddenly marched away from them, towards a dark corner of the room. She reached into a small alcove between two of the towering bookshelves, grabbed hold of something that seemed to struggle, then yanked a Thorshosh demon from hiding.

Durrak grabbed the Slayer’s wrists and tried to wrestle free, but Buffy shoved him hard against the shelves. Books toppled down onto the floor and scattered at their feet.

Snagging a discarded crossbow, Danaia quickly approached. She made sure it was loaded before aiming directly for her father’s head.

“Wait.” The Slayer’s voice was cold as she instructed the enraged female. She held a tight grip on Durrak’s throat.

Soon, the male stopped his struggling. He tried hard to breathe past the Slayer’s grasp. He spared a brief glance at Danaia and the weapon in her hand, before his eyes searched the blond Slayer’s.

Buffy waited until he was desperate in his need to breathe before finally releasing his throat. She ignored his relieved gasps and shoved him back hard by the shoulders.

“What do you want?” Durrak asked, once he’d recovered his composure.

The Slayer smiled unpleasantly. “I’m giving you *one* chance to live.”

**********************************************************************

“Hey, uh, Wills?” Xander slowed his approach once they’d passed the staircase. The double doors loomed ahead of them. “Shouldn’t the daddy-hating-demon-gal be following us? And now that I think about it, why isn’t Buffy?”

“Why?” Willow gave her friend a nudge with her elbow, trying to hide her small grin. “Afraid of striking out on your own all the sudden?”

“No,” Xander immediately denied the attack on his manly courage. “I was just thinking…you know, Slayer here…Slayer fight…green half-demon fight, too. That was the plan.”

“Well, new plan,” Willow insisted. “They’ve already taken out the guards. The guards were the real threats. I mean, what kind of damage could these guys do?”

Together, they forced the double doors open, groaning under their weight. Willow was the first to stop, gasping as she stared into the Owner’s Chamber.

Wooden stocks were situated in the very center of the room. A single female slave was trapped inside of them. Her neck and wrists were bound inside the stocks. Her hair was wild and covered most of her face, stuck to her skin by tears and blood from blows across the face. Her body looked frail and starved, with bruises from hand marks and crops.

And she had been violated.

“Oh, god…” Xander caught sight of the trembling female only a moment after the witch.

“Okay…” Willow swallowed hard. “So, they can do a lot of damage.”

***********************************************************************

“What are you doing?” Danaia demanded.

“You don’t think I paid attention, do you?” Buffy asked Durrak as she pressed him hard against the bookcase. “You told me that the slaves were captured by independent hunters. It was up to those independents to implant a firestone in every slave before they could be sold to the brothel, right?”

Durrak watched her with a weary gaze, before finally nodding silently.

The Slayer yanked him away from the bookcase, and slammed him down on a table near the center of the room. Spike, only a few feet away, jumped at the sudden violence. His attention was soon trained completely on them. Durrak spared him a brief glance, before peering back up at the Slayer that had him pinned.

He wanted to rub the back of his aching head, but he dared not move.

“You caught Spike,” she finally pointed out. “You were the one that captured him, so you’re the one that implanted that thing inside of him. Which means –“ She slammed his head back against the table again for good measure. “You’re the one that can take it out.”

***********************************************************************

The two slowly approached the entrapped vampire. They knew the slave was aware of their presence when she stiffened, then her legs began to tremble in terror.

“Easy…” Willow slowly placed the crossbow down on the floor. She glared at Xander until he put his sword away, and then began her approach again. “It’s ok, I promise…” She tried hard not to sound condescending, but the whole situation reminded her of approaching an abused animal…

She scolded herself immediately for the thought. Despite all of her years on the hellmouth, she still couldn’t imagine such horrible things happening to people…real people…and had no idea how to handle the reality of it.

“Willow…” Xander placed a cautioning hand on her shoulder. “I don’t think we’re about to convince her that everything’s ok.”

“No…” Willow admitted. “But we have to let her out…” She grimaced. “God, look at her, Xander…how could anyone…?”

“Demons,” he pointed out.

“That’s no excuse…”

The witch tried to keep herself calm, not wanting to frighten the female vampire anymore than they already had. She moved even closer, and could soon hear the creature’s panicked, unnecessary breathing.

There was a simple locking mechanism just outside the prisoner’s reach. Willow unlatched it, and was soon able to lift the top-half of the stocks. “It’s ok…we’re going to get you out of here, okay?” She tried to smile reassuringly.

When she tried to place a reassuring hand on the slave’s back, the vampire flinched away violently, stumbling on weak legs.

There was suddenly movement from all corners of the room. Figures that had looked like mere shadows or statues began to move forward, into the light.

“By what authority do you free this slave?” A deep voice suddenly demanded.

Both humans yelped and whirled to face the approaching figures. The pair of friends moved back to back and turned slowly in a circle to take in the sight of each shadowed figure in turn.

“Great googly moogly!” Xander clutched at his heart as he spoke to Willow in a stage-whisper. “I hate it when they can do that!”

********************************************************************

“Are you insane?” Danaia no longer appeared calm, her eyes blazing with her fury. “Why would you be willing to trust him for even a moment? Your friend will already be deactivating the stones-!”

Buffy whirled on her, pulling Durrak back into a standing position. “And she could fail! You said it yourself; if she loses control it’s over for all of them! And I am *not* going to take the chance of that happening to Spike!”

The green skinned demon kept his hands up in a supplicating manner. He looked from his daughter to the Slayer. “A wise precaution…I will not hurt your vampire any more than I need to. I will require a knife and a set of chains, however…”

“Chains?” Buffy’s eyes widened. She took a brief look at the vampire in question, and her heart sank to see him pressed against the wall, hunched into himself to try and escape all the screaming and the consequences it might bring him. Swallowing hard, the Slayer forced her attention back to Durrak. “He’s already chained. I’ve already had to do that to him, make him a prisoner all over again. What makes you think he needs *more* chains, more restraints?”

“We have little choice,” Durrak spoke calmly. “He will panic during the process; I have no doubt of it. If he thrashes too hard, I could injure him severely.”

Buffy clenched her fists and tried not to do the same with her jaw.

***********************************************************************

“You do not belong here.” A red skinned demon stepped forward, eyeing the two humans in the center of the room suspiciously.

“You are but a pair of humans…” A smaller, elderly looking demon sounded amused.

“Why have you come?” A demon with skin as black as pitch asked.

“We’ve come to free the slaves,” Willow announced, chin jutted proudly.

The laughter was unsettling. Xander shivered as he recalled his previous hyena possession. They reminded him of a pack of them.

Each demon was hidden under a cloak of soft, golden fabric. The entire group appeared ceremonial.

Xander took a look at the female vampire, her long hair sticking to her face and back. He noticed immediately that she seemed to be ignored, no longer important, if she ever had been. And yet, the owners seemed dressed up so fancy…he snorted. “Wouldn’t be surprised if there was such thing as a ceremonial rape here…”

The red skinned demon stepped forward, circling closer to the two in the center of the room. “You two would be slaves yourselves, if it weren’t for your fragile natures.”

“You mean we wouldn’t last long, the way you like to rape and torture?”

Willow’s voice had a hard edge that Xander wasn’t used to. He’d seen tough Willow more than enough times, but he’d rarely seen cold Willow. He turned, trying to get a glimpse of her face.

“They are slaves,” another of the demons answered, as if it explained everything.

The red demon smirked, letting his head down and giving a better glimpse of his face, and the yellow horns that adorned his head. “How we treat lesser beings are not your concern. The ways of demons-“

“I’m not here to be your judge,” Willow interrupted in a cold voice. “I’m here to be your jury and executioner.”

**********************************************************************

Durrak placed a hard hand on the back of Spike’s neck, before slamming him forcefully over a table. Buffy and Danaia raised their crossbows simultaneously, keeping the arrows trained on his head.

“Don’t you *dare* hurt him.” Buffy managed to speak through her rage. “Not more than you…have to…”

Spike trembled as he stayed obediently draped over the hard wooden surface. Durrak watched as the vampire clenched his fists, but otherwise did not fight. He nodded to the Slayer to acknowledge her warning, before tugging on the chain connecting the shackles around the vampire’s wrists. He wrapped another chain around it, this one connected to a bolt that had been driven into the stone floor. It kept him positioned just the way he was, and wouldn’t allow him to escape.

“I am ready to begin.” He held out his hand expectantly towards the Slayer.

Sighing, she knelt down just long enough to pull a dagger from her boot. She then handed it to the horned demon, watching him carefully for any signs of deceit.

Durrak took the dagger, then turned it around and studied it while he held the vampire down by the back of its neck. He gave the Slayer a brief smile and wink, before plunging the blade into Spike’s back. He watched as his captive arched his back and let out a completely silent scream of pain.

************************************************************************

Their laughter was grating, and Xander was surprised that his friend could stand so stone-faced against them all.

“I am not one to be trifled with,” she told them.

“Uh, Wills…” Xander leaned close to whisper to her. “I thought you said you couldn’t do much magic…you’ve gotta save mojo for the-?”

“Shut up,” she squeaked.

A pointed ear on the black-skinned demon twitched. He grinned, jagged teeth exposed in malicious humor. He turned to the demon beside him and whispered in his ear. That demon did the same.

“A witch,” Red remarked blandly. “And you think you are a threat to us, here, in our fortress?”

The vampire slave that no one had given another thought suddenly leapt from the wall she had been cowering against. She wrapped her legs around the red-skinned demon’s hips and her arms around his shoulders. Her fangs sank into his neck, ripping and tearing and gnawing into golden, foul smelling blood overflowed from her mouth. The demon’s scream was lost in a gurgle of protest, and he flailed as little as he could.

Taking advantage of the shock in the room, Xander drew his sword and charged with a battle cry. An owner with leathery green skin was impaled, and gave a final gasp. The carpenter kept up his charge until he came to one of the massive, open-air, stone window sills. He gave his victim a hard shove, before realizing that the sword was thoroughly stuck on a rib bone.

“Uh oh…” he tried to keep his balance, swaying dangerously before he let go of the sword, and let both his weapon and the victim he impaled tumble to the ground far below.

Willow also took advantage of the distraction. She raised her crossbow and fired at the black-skinned demon. The arrow embedded itself into his throat, and he raised a clawed hand to try and staunch the flow of bubbling black blood that looked more like tar.

************************************************************************

Spike pulled hard against his restraints, his mouth wide open in a silent scream of pain and rage. He jerked back and forth, trying in vain to evade the blade that was slowly carving into him, right beside his spine. What little was left of his logical mind attempted to remind him that disrupting the blade could cripple him, but it was a useless thought in his panic.

“Holding him still would be useful!” Durrak grit his teeth in frustration as he tried to cut in a straight line, the incision getting deeper. Blood poured from the jagged wound.

Buffy bit hard on her bottom lip as she watched the vampire’s suffering. His mouth was open in the same expression of agony that had haunted her dreams…

She turned to Danaia, putting her own crossbow down. “Keep that thing pointed at Durrak. If he gets even so much as a sly look on his face, shoot him.”

“Gladly.”

“Always the dramatic one,” Durrak remarked.

“Shut up and do your job.” Buffy spared him only a single glare before draping herself across the table next to the struggling vampire. She reached up and took his clenched fists in her hands, gently stroking them as she whispered soothingly. She laid her head against the back of his neck, trying desperately to comfort him in his fear.

“Shhhhh…Spike, its ok…I swear, it’s going to be ok…” She kept one hand on both of his, but moved the other to wrap around his waist and help to hold him still.

Spike shook his head in denial and bucked, as if trying to knock her off. When the Slayer wouldn’t release her hold, he went suddenly slack.

Durrak waited to see if the brunette vampire would struggle further. When he remained still, he began cutting again, moving deeper and closer to the spine. The only sign of the pain it caused was the shaking of Spike’s body.

**********************************************************************

The demon looked down at its own hand. Its blood looked like sludge between its fingers. It rolled its eyes towards Willow, and then slowly began to stumble towards her.

It attempted to pull the bolt out of its own neck, but ceased when it only succeeded in spitting up more blood. It held out its hand towards the witch, but fell to its knees, then onto its face before it could reach her. Only when it lay still did the red head allow herself to breathe a sigh of relief.

With a high-pitched scream, the last demon rushed her. He looked like a younger version of the one the vampire slave had attached. His skin was red, and his claws and horns yellow. His claws extended as he brought them down towards Willow.

The witch quickly raised her crossbow to block. The crossbow was cut in half by her attacker’s vicious swipe. Gulping nervously, she quickly backed up and tossed the pieces at him. He ducked and snarled, but quickly charged forward.

“Eep!” Willow turned and fled in the other direction, knowing that she couldn’t possibly get far.

Xander watched Willow flee from the demon, then turned to see the vampire slave. She was still wrapped as tightly as a snake around the Owner she had been tearing into. His blood coated them both. The yellow fluid made them look like a strange, intertwined creatures from an abstract painting.

He glanced from the vampire to the demon that Willow ducked and weaved from.

“Hey!” he suddenly called to her. “Hey, great job, there…you can help us out with that guy, can’t you?”

The female vampire glared at him, idly licking some of the blood on her hands. The younger red demon suddenly lost his interest in Willow, turning his attention to her instead. His eyes burned yellow with rage, and the slave’s body began to tremble as she watched his anger.

Yelping in terror, she disengaged herself from the body. She grabbed at its shoulder and began tugging it towards her, like a long-prized possession.

“Donyash!” The younger rushed forward, snarling in rage at the vampire that dared to harm one of her owners. “You worthless animal, you have murdered my brother!”

The vampire stood quickly, backing up even further and dragging the corpse with her. She soon found herself stepping into empty space, tumbling backwards out the window.

Xander’s eyes widened and he rushed forward to attempt a rescue. He was knocked violently aside as the younger demon dove and caught his brother’s ankle. The slave hung onto the body’s wrist, kicking into empty air.

***********************************************************************

“I’m sorry…” Buffy held onto the vampire as tightly as she could, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. “I’m so, so sorry, I had to…”

Spike had begun squirming again as the blade of the dagger sliced further into his flesh, and had begun digging just underneath his spine.

“Spike, you have to hold still,” Buffy begged. “If something goes wrong he could-“

“I have it!” Durrak dug in deeper, gritting his fangs in concentration. He used the blade to dig out the stone that had been embedded in flesh for years. He used his fingers to finally extract it from the wound. “Under the spine is always guaranteed to be difficult to locate, and most affective-“

“Shut up!” Buffy sighed in relief as Spike stilled. He had been crying out silently, and simply watching him in his pain had brought tears to her eyes. “You see?” She finally told him. “It’s over…we can get you out of here now, you’re safe. No more exploding-“

Durrak suddenly lifted the Slayer off of the table by her shoulders and kicked her hard in the gut, sending her slamming into a chair across the room with surprising strength. He yanked hard at Spike’s chains, pulling the restraining metal right out of the ground. He then pulled Spike back onto his feet as Danaia was aiming. He forced the vampire in front of himself and held the bloody dagger to his throat.

Danaia took aim, prepared to shoot through the slave’s chest if she had to.

“No!” Buffy shouted as she brought herself back to her feet. “No, don’t move!”

************************************************************************

“Hold on!” Xander shouted. He dropped himself beside the red demon, ignoring the threat as he attempted to reach far enough to grab the frightened female’s hand.

She whimpered as she peered up at the dead demon she held onto, and the live one trying to pull her in to rip her apart. She then looked below, a wistful expression on her face.


“No!” Xander cried, stretching out further beside the demon that was still ignoring his presence. “No, don’t! Just climb!”

Green eyes peered up at him sadly. She mouthed a silent ‘thank you’ before releasing her hold and plummeting towards the ground.

“Xander, move!”

He looked over his shoulder to see Willow behind him. When he turned back around, the demon beside him took a swipe at his chest, knocking him back with a vicious blow. He gasped for air as he writhed on the floor, looking down at himself to make sure nothing was cut open. “Oh…good…” he gasped as he felt his bruised ribs. “Demon fist…not…so much…the claws.”

Willow approached the demon that was now pulling his brother’s body back into the tower. In her hand was a metal rod she had found. From the signs of blood on it, she had guessed that it was used for punishing slaves, or simply causing them pain for amusement.

She brought it down with a hard swing against the creature’s foot. He howled in pain as the smaller bones broke. The witch quickly did the same with the other foot, feeling the heel break under the heavy metal.

“Xander, help me!” She dropped the rod and began shoving at its back with her foot, trying hard to push it back towards the edge.

Immediately catching on to her plan, Xander stumbled back to his feet, before taking a running leap and curling up, bowling into the demon as it tried to recover. It quickly lost its balance, and with a curse and a scream it fell from the windowsill, spinning through the air in a deadly dive.

Willow held onto Xander by the shoulders as he almost went over himself. They both scrambled away, falling to the floor and gasping in relief.

“See?” Willow made a face as she lifted her hand out of black blood that had spread across the floor in a pool. “Demon geezers, not so tough.”

“Disrespectful little worms…”

The voice made both humans turn as swiftly as hey could manage while sprawled on the floor. They scrambled backwards, moving towards the safety of the wall as another demon walked calmly into the chamber.

“Oh, god…” Xander winced in disgust, still clutching his ribs.

The demon had earth brown, leathery skin. It also had boils that spotted its entire body, and each one was filled with a putrid green liquid. Its eyes held a green tinge.

“You shall be taught proper respect for your betters…”

As the two watched, the demon seemed to contort and become even more deformed. Its boils inflated further, making it look as if parts of its face and body were swelling and it would burst at any moment.

Finally, they did burst. And just as they did, the air froze.

A clear jell seemed to form around the demon, entrapping him and his ooze in a slow-moving bubble. What little of the green liquid had escaped fell to the stone floor, and smoke rose from it as it bubbled.

“Acid.” Willow nodded, holding up a second clear stone, hoping she wouldn’t have to use it.

Xander smiled at her. “You know, in a moment of complete panic, I kinda forgot we had those.”

“Yeah,” she nodded, looking down at the pebble in her hand. “You were right, these are nifty.”

************************************************************************

Buffy circled Durrak, ready to strike the moment she got the chance.

“What do you think will happen if you hurt him?” she asked. Her voice nearly trembled with rage. “Do you think for a minute that I’ll let you get out of here alive?”

“Just let me shoot,” Danaia insisted.

“No!”

Durrak laughed, pressing the dagger harder to Spike’s throat. The vampire remained utterly still, staring up at the ceiling as if the events taking place were common and undeserving of attention.

“Still holding a grudge, my dear?” Durrak smiled almost tenderly at the half-demon.

“Do not speak to me.” Her voice was as hard as stone.

“Do you hurt?” he continued to taunt.

“Do not speak!”

“You may not have a soul…but you’ve always been far too…” He studied his child’s face with something akin to pity. “…human.”

Buffy suddenly struck, coming at him from the side. She grabbed the hand holding the dagger and yanked back his thumb, immediately breaking it. He snarled in pain before shoving Spike into her, sending them both on the floor before turning swiftly and backhanding Danaia. When she hit the floor he fled towards the stairs leading to the top chamber of the tower.

He jerked forward with a gasp. He took a jerky step forward, then another, still trying to flee even as one hand reached back to touch the arrow buried in the base of his skull. Durrak’s tongue lulled out and his body jerked again, before he fell face-first onto the floor.

Buffy sat up, pulling Spike close to her body. He practically huddled on her lap, his eyes closed and his jaw clenched. She stroked his long hair softly before looking up at Danaia, who still had the crossbow raised. Her gaze would not leave the body.

“That was wrong,” the Slayer suddenly said. When the half-demon looked at her in surprise, Buffy merely stared down at her lover, watching as he recovered from his confusion and rage. “It was too quick…”

Signal by Fire

Buffy had one of Spike’s arms draped over her shoulder and she kept the vampire marching at a quick pace up the stairs. She had removed his chains, which allowed her to position him easily. Danaia was in the lead, and she turned and beckoned the two inside the council chambers before closing and barring the door behind them.

“What kept you guys?” Xander frowned when he saw the blood running down the vampire’s back. “And what happened to him?”

“I’ll explain later.” Buffy allowed the vampire to slump against the wall a few feet from the window closest to the door. “How’s that spell coming, Wills?”

Willow stared down at the inside of her bag in dismay before looking once again at the pit of glowing stones. “It’s…” she sighed. “It’ll be as ready as it’s ever going to be in two minutes.”

“Good. Danaia? We need that gateway.”

The half-demon nodded as she brushed her hand over the stone of the one gateway on the south side of the room, behind the alter. “I shall require less time than the witch for this.”

Willow grumbled under her breath in a low voice. “I shall require less time…”

“Easy Wills,” Xander crouched down beside his best friend. “We all know who’s got the big mojo here. I’d take your cajones over hers any day.”

The red head flushed with embarrassment as she drew symbols in front of the pit. “Can you hand me one of those glowy stones?”

Buffy felt Spike’s weight sag against her shoulder and she slowly lowered him onto the ground so he could resume what she had come to think of as his normal crouched position. It hurt to watch him make himself as small as possible, but she wasn’t going to be able to stop that hurt until the job was finished.

“Hey…” she was crouched down in front of him, refusing to be anywhere but at eye level with him. “Spike, look at me, ok?”

She was immensely encouraged when the vampire barely hesitated to look her in the eye. His brow was wrinkled in confusion, and his eyes would dart away, over the slayer’s shoulders to take in the rest of the room, but they would always come back to her, waiting for her explanation or for the next piece of the puzzle.

“I need you to do something for me…I need you to stay here with Willow…” she frowned then pointed back towards the red-headed witch, never taking her eyes off the vampire. She made sure that he looked that way before looking back at her. “Willow,” she repeated, unsure if he even remembered half of them. “You have to stay here with her, and you have to do absolutely EVERYTHING she says, understand?”

Spike’s stare was unwavering at first, but soon he bowed his head, a sign of submission that always disturbed Buffy when she saw it.

Willow set a small wooden stand to the left of her symbols and set a thin stick of sandalwood incense on it before lighting it. She then breathed in deeply.

“Is that mystical incense or something?” Xander asked.

“No…that’s just to keep me calm.”

Buffy watched her two best friends before turning back to the vampire. His eyes had lost focus and he was shrinking back against the wall, his shoulders hunched. She placed a hand on his shoulder, rubbing the cold skin with her thumb and then raised his chin with the other hand. His gaze was still cast down, even as the slayer tilted her head and pressed her lips reverently to his.

It was impossible to believe as she reacquainted herself with his mouth that for him it had been ten years since their last kiss, when for her it had been only weeks. The softness of his lips was unimaginably familiar, even if the softness of the kiss was foreign. The only time she could remember such a tender touch was when she had thanked him for allowing Glory to torture him to keep Dawn’s secret safe. And sure enough, when she lifted her head and opened her eyes it was like they had never left the crypt; he even had same searching look on his bruised face.

“Stay safe,” she told him.

Xander’s gut clenched him contempt as he watched the pair on the opposite side of the room. ‘Isn’t that just great?’ he thought. ‘Vampire plus soul equals ‘at least Buffy doesn’t need a condom’.’ He looked away and shook his head, refusing to let the rising bitterness have a single speck of his attention before their mission was over.

There was a crack and a flash and the air within the gateway wavered like disturbed water before settling again.

“It’s opened,” Danaia informed them. “We don’t have much time.”

“I’m ready.” Willow was sure she would have sounded much more convincing if her throat hadn’t threatened to close around her vocal cords and turn her voice into a sound that only dogs would enjoy.

It was Buffy’s custom not to say goodbye when separating for a mission. She squeezed Spike’s shoulder reassuringly before standing and taking her place by Xander’s side. Danaia joined the two of them, her lips tight with impatience. Buffy looked down at Willow and managed a small smile. “Good luck, Willow. And no matter what happens, get yourself through that portal.”

The witch nodded, giving her a bright smile of her own. “I will. You guys make sure of the same thing. And don’t worry, I’ll take care of Spike.”

Xander removed three wound pieces of rope from his back sack, each with thick metal hooks on the end. Each of the departing took their rope and hooked the metal tips onto a windowsill, then each put on a pair of thick, black gloves.

“I hope this holds…” Buffy pouted before swinging her legs over and dropping a few feet, wincing from the thought of the rope burn she would soon have despite the gloves they had brought. Danaia followed, soon surpassing the Slayer who bit her lip and wondered if Xander would be able to keep up.

Xander waved to Willow before looking at Spike one more time. “Keep an eye on him…” he warned his friend. “I know you’re going to be busy, but also keep an eye out.”

“I will,” Willow’s voice was soft, absent, because her mind was elsewhere. A stone lay cradled in her palm, and its light cast an orange glow on her face.

“Right…” Xander grunted as he climbed over the window and gasped as he lost his balance and barely caught himself with the rope in time. He swung and scraped his knuckles against the stone, and clamped his eyes shut to keep away the nauseating view.

“Xander!” Buffy was a fifth of the way down the wall and terrified that she wouldn’t be able to catch her friend of he fell.

“I’m fine! Just great…” Xander braced his feet against the wall and hesitantly leaned back, thinking that the feeling of vertigo was going to send his lunch (or lack of) straight down on top of the two women beneath. He was also afraid of the idea that he might not make it at all, that he’d be stuck half way in between like a cat on a high branch. The idea of guarding Willow from the supposedly former evil vampire suddenly had an appealing –“

“No,” he told himself firmly. “Just…try to think of it as extended rope climbing in gym class…” He lowered himself a little, and then a little more. “…which you were always bad at…” By keeping his eyes on his hands and the wall he was able to pick up speed.
….......................................

Willow could see only flames. The room around her and the fear washed away, and all she could see was the little flame that had washed over her awareness. It felt alive, like a tiny pulsing heartbeat trapped cruelly in an even tinier prison.

“You want out, don’t you?” She whispered, barely hearing her own voice. “But if I let you out, you’ll extinguish…and you may take many, many souls with you…”

She closed her eyes, not letting herself be distracted by the pretty flame anymore. All she needed was to feel the magic trapped inside. When she tried to touch the flame with her mind it felt like the air that should be still became a vibration, and she knew she had to be stronger than it could be. “Sorry…” she whispered to it softly. “I can’t let you go; I can only use you up.”
…...............................................

Grunting and sweating heavily, Xander hung in midair on slack arms. He looked down at the two women, only twelve feet below him, on the ground. They had cut the rope to make sure that no one could climb up the tower from the ground on the ropes they left behind.

“Come on, Xander. It’s not that bad. It’s only twelve feet. Just don’t stiffen your legs when you land. Keep limber.” Buffy smiled encouragingly from below while Danaia sighed.

“Limber…” he kicked his legs futilely. “Right…”

He let go and dropped, his legs barely getting any force since he fell almost immediately onto his ass. The shock to his tailbone made it impossible for him to breath and he tried not to gasp like a fish.

“Are we done wasting time?” Danaia had her arms crossed in front of her.

Buffy wished she knew the half demon well enough to dig her elbow into the woman’s side. Painfully. “We only had to wait two minutes for him.” She held out her hand to help Xander up. “You ok?”

Xander raised his hand and shook his head, turning down the help. “I’ll be fine. My manly pride broke my fall.”

Danaia turned, heading towards the gateways without them. “This way! We must hurry!” She shouted back over her shoulder.

Buffy sighed. “Come on. Time to go to work.” She followed the green skinned female.

Xander sighed, already feeling useless. He took a second to look around himself, again becoming familiar with the bleak surroundings, noticing again that not a single bit of life existed in or on the ground he had landed on. The earth was cracked and dry…all except for blood pooling around the corner of the building.

Eyes wide, Xander stood, ignoring the soreness of his muscles. He stepped further around the building and saw hair in the blood on the ground. With another step he finally saw the vampire that had jumped. She had landed right beside the wall, her hips twisted at an unnatural angle and blood pooling under her head. Her ink-colored eyes were open and staring blankly at the black sky.

“Oh man…” he crouched down beside her and waved his hand above her face, looking for any sign of life. “It just doesn’t end for you, does it?”

“You know, I’ve always been told you should never move someone with a head injury,” he said as he put an arm under her legs, and then another under her shoulders. “I don’t even know if I’m helping or not…right now I just really hope you don’t wake up.” He scooped her up and made sure to support her head with his upper arm.

As he jogged to catch up with his companions he tried not to think of the sticky blood soaking his sleeve or the fact that he could very well be carrying another Drusilla in his arms.
…..............................................

Willow finally connected her will with the magic inside the stone, and was almost thrown back out. Exercising her will at all was becoming a challenge when the energy of that dimension was threatening to bounce her back and forth like a balloon caught in a storm. She realized immediately that if she tried to seize complete control the power would burst free from her in no time and kill every slave the stones were embedded in. Instead she let the power she grasped onto take her where it would. She rode it like a wave that split her into multiple minds and took her into a hundred different directions, until the awareness of tiny power sources opened up everywhere and she could feel the location of every slave.

All at once she knew she could not force this power at all. And why would she need to? It was looking for a place to go, some stability…

Instead of pushing, she began to pull. She beckoned the power within the stones to find stability in a foreign home. She pushed the violent energy of the dimension itself away from her body very suddenly, creating not only a warm embrace for the power rushing from hundreds of directions to meet her, but also a sudden vacuum that made her a conduit.

Willow opened her pitch black eyes and clenched her hand around the suddenly burning stone. “Oh…Goddess…”
…..............................................

When Xander entered the building that housed the gateways he passed both women without a word and knelt down in front of the portal that he knew led to the California hellmouth. As gently as he could, he leaned forward and gently placed the unconscious vampire on the ground on the other side of the gate. With a crackle of energy, he watched both the vampire and his arms disappear, even as he felt the cool grass he laid her down on. After depositing her he yanked his arms back, thoroughly disturbed by the idea of his body in two different dimensions at once.

“You two have to stay here,” Buffy suddenly said. “You both need to lead the vampires that I set free to these gateways. Try to heard them to that one if you can,” she nodded to the gate that Xander knelt in front of. “But the most important thing is just getting them out.”

There was a roar of noise that drowned out all other sounds, and all three turned. The top of the tower that they had just left had been blown off, and pieces of debris flew everywhere. A mass of flame rose into the sky, and then came crashing down in another direction with resolute purpose.
…...............................................

Demons of various species sat in rows of seats that surrounded a pit in the ground. The walls of the pit were covered in crosses that the vampires below began to use as foot and hand holds to get away from holy water that was being poured into the pit until it was ankle-deep. Five of them had severely burnt toes because they had been too terrified to climb the walls until they had felt the agony they would endure of they refused.

They climbed quickly and the skin of their palms and soles bubbled after the first row of crosses. The screams didn’t begin until they reached the third row, when the muscle began to burn and cringe towards the bone. One girl, who appeared no older than eleven, froze half way up the wall, terrified and unable to continue after the first digit, a ring finger belonging to a male climbing above her, dropped by her ear and bounced off her ankle, sizzling and dissolving as it hit the holy water below. The girl screamed in agony and watched her hands smoke. She choked on panicked sobs that were drowned out as the crowd stood and roared their approval.

The crowd’s roar was drowned out by another one, and the dome shattered like glass. Heavy pieces of stone the size of Buicks rained down and crushed observers in the stands, silencing them but encouraging screams of survivors that leapt from their seats to flee but were almost instantly consumed by flame.

Heavy chunks of stone fell into the pit and one struck the girl. When she fell onto her back and into the holy water another rock fell on top of her, crushing her body from the ribs down while her back, sides, legs, shoulders and scalp began to sizzle and melt. Unable to make a sound to express her horror, she watched as the vampires still climbing the walls were consumed by flame and flung her hand upward to reach for the cloud of fire that was barreling down on her at the speed of a freight train.
….............................................

When he could see again, Spike stood up and with mouth wide open and took in the sight of the scorched debris littering the floor, which was all that was left of the ceiling that had been over his head a moment ago. He raised his hands to examine his skin but found no new marks, and across the room the witch’s hair hadn’t even curled from the heat. He stepped carefully over each rock and felt grit digging into his feet. He soon stood at the north side of the room, holding on to what remained of a wall as he took a long look at the woman’s face.

Willow’s eyes were pitch black and her face expressionless. She held the stone she had used, now without its glow, in front of her before dropping it into the small pit with all its lifeless cousins. And as if on cue, part of the floor between the pit and where the wall had been crumbled and fell away to the ground bellow, and the red pebbles followed behind like a crimson rock slide.

Spike raised his eyebrows before looking out over the landscape. The rubble that had once been the arena was still on fire, but the flames were quickly dying out. He could hear screams, shouts and orders and see figures running in a panic below them. The vampire decided without any doubt that if it was all a dream – he liked it.

The roaring glory of the fire consuming the arena drew every eye like a hundred-foot--tall red gem among the glowering gloom of the landscape. Screams faded under the sound of crumbling stone walls and the usual crackling of the atmosphere.

“Way to go, Willow,” Xander’s voice was a whisper of awe.

“No time to gloat.” Buffy turned to Xander and Danaia. “I’m going out there. You both have to stay here, do you understand? I’m going to release as many slaves as I can, but someone has to be here to guide them out of this place. There’s going to be panic. They may not think to go through the gateways.”

Danaia stared somberly back at her while Xander gave a little salute. “Good luck out there, Buff. Take care of yourself. We’ll hold down the fort.”

Buffy smiled wanly at her long-time friend, but her eyes lingered on Dania with a feeling of heavy dread at the pit of her stomach when the half-demon stared back at her with eyes like flint and no response to her command.

She gave her friend one more severe look. “Please, be careful.”

“Don’t worry about us, Buff. You go save some souled vampires.”

The slayer looked between one of her two closest friends and their new ally, then turned reluctantly and with one last look towards the burning arena, dashed back towards the tower without its roof with all her slayer might.

Xander looked at the female demon beside him. “Definitely one of the top five things I never thought I’d say in my life.”

Danaia didn’t acknowledge him, but simply watched as the slayer ran for the tower.

***

The smoke from the incense that had risen benignly towards the missing ceiling took on a new life. It danced, kinking back and forth like the sway of feminine hips before flowing and circling the black-eyed witch like a serpent come to life. She breathed in, inhaling the wisp of it the way a dragon would exhale it.

She spoke softly. “Gods of all free beings...gods of the Norse, the Greek, the Mayan...gods of demon worlds, hear me.”

Lightning sparked and illuminated the wasteland below. The flames rising from the arena made light dance across the witch’s face and the pitch pits of her eyes even from the immense height of the tower. The screams of confusion and panic below were muffled to her.

“Hear and answer me.”

***

When the slayer disappeared into the tower of torment, Danaia slung her crossbow over her back and made towards the exit.

“Hey,” Xander put a hand on her shoulder. The half-Thorsosh demon halted stiffly. “Buffy said to stay here.”

***

The blonde slayer kicked the doors of the auction floor open. The bang of them slamming against the walls to either side echoed, halting bids. She marched in fearlessly, finally free of the cloak and dagger routine that she and her friends had employed their entire time in the hellish pocket-dimension.

The auctioneer had been looking towards the ceiling suspiciously, his horned and scaled face wrinkled in concern from the unfamiliar sound of explosions. The crowd of various species rose from their seats. The nude and shackled vampires on the stage stared towards the floor, shivering and vacant-eyed.

***

The demonic auctioneer in his three-piece gray suit flared his nostrils, then grinned, exposing needle-like teeth. “A human…”

A pig-faced guard with tusks drew a jagged dagger and charged the small blonde. With a bored expression, she drew her battle axe and sliced its head from its neck. Its body fell to the floor.

“That’s Slayer to you,” she corrected. “comma The. And if you want to keep the extensions that have been touching those vampires without consent, you’ll take the the chains off them and leave, now.”

***

Danaia’s body was rigid under the carpenter’s touch. “If you value your person, you will remove it from mine.”

He yanked his hand away from her shoulder as if burned. “Sorry. The Buffster just told us to stay here.”

“Your friend presumes to order. That presumption is not my concern.”

The human male held up his hands in a placating manner. “Buffy knows what she’s doing. Just wait until she gets back--”

Danaia whirled and slammed her crossbow butt across Xander’s face. He crumpled onto his side on the ground. The demon looked down at him with contempt before slinging her weapon across her shoulder again. She scanned the wasteland for signs of the slayer before leaving the squat stone building housing the gateways, and Xander unconscious and alone.

***

Demons of all colors, species, and sizes, dressed in fine gowns and shining armor, all scattered from their seats in panic.

They pushed and shoved one another to get to the passageway deeper into the tower in the opposite direction from the small-statured slayer blocking the doorway to the outside.

“Now now, let’s stay calm, we have fine merchandise here, don’t let a little girl…” The auctioneer watched his customers scatter like rats abandoning a ship. “...crog.” He looked at Buffy. “Well little lady, I’m just gonna have to make sure you leave. You’re bad for business.”

He motioned towards the two remaining armored guards standing by the stage. They drew swords and charged. Buffy strode calmly towards the stage. She blocked both their strikes with her axe, hooked their weapons with the curve of her blade, and turned sharply to yank them from their hands and send them skidding across the floor. She ducked their swings and sliced them both in half at the waist.

They stared down at her dumbfounded before their upper bodies slid off of their lower bodies and their lower bodies tipped and fell.

***

The incense sticks Willow lit to keep calm lifted from the ground and floated in the air around her, the smoke still curling around her like serpents and drifting up her nostrils like reversed dragon smoke.

Other items lifted from the floor: broken pieces of wall, discarded clothing, weapons, and Spike. When his feet no longer touched the stone floor he latched onto a windowsill and pulled himself back downward. He grasped one stone, then another, until he maneuvered himself back to the original wall he had huddled against when he was first brought to the topmost chamber of the tower by the figments in his head of the people he’d known from Sunnyhell California.

He grabbed hold of the altar and the outer lip of the portal and pushed his floating body back towards the floor. He hovered as close as possible, curled his body in a tight ball, but couldn’t help peeking over at the figure of the red-headed witch.

Willow sat calmly, cross-legged, and stoic among the objects floating around her. She spoke to the pitch-black sky. “Agni, Prometheus, Mahuea, Pele, Ney-Anki, gods and keepers of fire, take back what was stolen.”

***

Masters and Mistresses with singed clothing who managed to escape the burning inferno of the arena huddled together in a loose crowd and watched the building burn in bewilderment. The roar of it was deafening, but the sudden silence when it shrank before their eyes and snuffed out to leave a blackened husk was more so. They looked at the ruins, breathless and confused, the only sound in the empty world around them the crackling of the ever-present lightning and distant screams..

All around the pocket world, torches in every building snuffed out.

***

The auctioneer watched the bodies of his guards hit the ground and their green-sludge blood pool. “Well…” he shrugged.

When the Slayer began her stoic march towards the stage, the demon extended his thick brown claws with a roar and reached towards the diminutive naked female vampire beside him to take a hostage. Buffy threw her ax and it spun end over end through the hair and through his skull, splitting it like a watermelon.

Chunks of brain splattered the black-haired vampire’s human-looking face and she blinked, taken out of her vacant trance. She looked up from the floor, and saw the excessively-armed blonde heading towards her with a look of determination on her face. She jumped when the body of the demon that had pawed and took bids for her slumped onto her feet. She screamed.