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48. An eye for an eye


Warren’s grin widened as he replayed Buffy and Spike’s argument. As usual, Spike didn’t have a clue what was going on. It was almost too funny. He laughed out loud when the bit came out about the condom. He hadn’t even thought of the possibility that Thorndale might get the traitorous bitch pregnant, but really, it was better than she deserved. If he had his way, he’d force the bitch to carry it to term too – it really was too bad that abortions were legal in California.

Then again, if that news ever got back to Spike, (and Warren would make certain that it would), well, if Spike learned that Buffy had aborted his child, it would just about kill Spike. A child was the one thing that Dru would never give him. Had never even considered. And Warren knew Spike well enough to know that at this stage in his life he wanted a child desperately.

Nevertheless Warren sobered up immediately when Buffy noticed the powder staining her glass. It hadn’t dissolved completely. That hadn’t been part of the plan. He hadn’t expected that.

It was something that he would have to work on. But it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, he reflected. It made the fireworks the morning after that much more explosive. Buffy railed even more against Spike, instantly assuming that he must have been the one to put the chemical in her wine. Warren giggled as he stroked Katrina’s sweater. Really, the two of them were made for each other.

He watched with glee as the little ingenue streaked out of the house wearing nothing but Spike’s shirt and clutching her shoes and bag to her chest. She must have called some one to come get her – and that was the sound he heard outside his window.

Gazing raptly in anticipation, he wondered what Spike would do now. He tried to hold back his giggles as he watched Spike wallow in despair. His little harlot was gone, and she wasn’t going to come back. Even Spike knew it was true this time.

Good riddance, was all Warren could bring himself to think. Though he would have enjoyed watching the two of them fuck each other silly several more times, it was better to have the bitch out of the house and out of their lives. She was far too dangerous to keep around.

He tensed as he watched Spike examine the wineglass himself, sniff the powder on the rim. He could almost see the instant when his face hardened, and Spike came to his own conclusions.

He wasn’t wallowing in grief anymore. No, he was determined as he quickly and efficiently slipped into his jeans and boots, then opened the cabinet next to his dresser. It looked like another armoire, but it wasn’t.

Warren began to sweat as he watched Spike peruse the various implements the case contained, and finally settled on a wicked looking hunting knife.

Realization finally dawned. Warren heard the slam of the front door downstairs. He’d been so engrossed in watching the tape, he’d forgotten that it was pre-recorded.

Thorndale was already downstairs. And he was pissed.

It was too late to run. Too late even to pretend that he was still sleeping. All he had time to do was stop the playback and pocket the disc. No need to have his employer find out about his private video collection. It was going to be next to impossible to deny any involvement, but if he played his cards right, maybe he could convince Spike that it hadn’t been malicious.

If only she hadn’t have noticed the glass!

One look at his employer’s face and Warren knew that he would be lucky not to be flayed alive. The little bitch had figured out that something was up – and after that it wasn’t hard for Spike to figure out that Warren must be behind it all. After all, Warren himself had made the pitch to Spike about the possibilities of his new wonder drug.

Sold as a legitimate pharmaceutical, a female Viagra, the drug was a potential gold mine. And there were other possibilities as well. Sold in larger doses on the black market, the drug had great potential as well. Either way the inventor of the drug stood to make a not so small fortune. Warren couldn’t understand why Thorndale was sitting on it.

So far Warren had conducted only private tests, and as far as he could tell the drug was virtually fool proof and free of nasty side effects. This was the first time the girl in question had noticed anything amiss.

If Spike had had any sense at all the drug would have been in production already. Then there wouldn’t have been a need for Warren to see how well it would work on Buffy. Except of course as a tool to get rid of the interfering harridan.

Putting on his best innocent face, Warren turned to face his employer. “What’s wrong?” he lied. “Are their intruders on the premises? I heard a car not too long ago.”

“You bloody well know what’s wrong, you little pissant. Decided to play your games on my girl – did you? I don’t find it amusing. You can forget about that fortune you were so set on – I don’t need another new drug to make me rich. I’m rich enough as it is.” Spike smiled and looked at the knife in his hand. It wasn’t a nice smile at all. “Won’t do me a bit of good where Buffy is concerned, though, will it? You made certain of that. She’ll never believe that it wasn’t me.”

“You’re unhappy?” Warren deadpanned. “Did the drug not work well? I’ve never had it fail, Spike. I promise you. Not once. I thought you’d be happy.”

“Happy? You thought I’d be happy?” Warren began to reassess his options as Spike menaced closer. “I ought to slice your prick off for what you’ve done to me – what you’ve stolen. Did it never occur to you that Buffy might not be pleased in the morning to find out she’d been as good as raped? Or is that a concept you don’t understand?” An evil glint replaced the rage in his employer’s eye, and Warren wasn’t at all sure that it was an improvement. He ducked and tried to slip past the hunting knife and make a break for the door, but Spike caught and held him easily. Whispered into his ear, “Well, you’re gonna understand, boy. I’m gonna make sure of it.”

Brandishing the knife threateningly, Spike pushed Warren back into his own bedroom and against the headboard. “Where do you keep it? Where’s your stash?”

Afraid for his life now, Warren could barely speak, let alone think.

“What?” was all he managed to stammer out before the point of a very sharp knife drew a bead of blood just under his left ear.

“Listen very carefully, Warren. You’re gonna hand over your stash of the drug to me, and then I’m gonna watch as you swallow a double, no a triple dose. We’ll call it a test, see how you react. That was always the question, wasn’t it? How far someone would go under its influence? Would it only enhance the attraction, the desire, or would it create it? Hmm? Well, we will see what happens, using you as our guinea pig.”

He thought for a few moments. “We’ll wait for dark. Give you some time to think about what’s gonna happen to you. Then, after I’m sure that you’re under the influence, I’m gonna have your mates drive you to that bar down by the packaging district. Time was, I used to go there a lot, but I hear their clientele has changed. I’m sure some passing bloke will take a fancy to you and take you home for a bit of the heave ho. And see, it won’t really be rape, because you’ll be the one asking for it. And if you ever do wake up and come to your senses, if you EVER show your face around here again, I will kill you.” It was cold the way he said it. Like it wasn’t even a threat at all, just a statement about the weather. “Any questions? No, good then.”





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