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If you are squeamish, skip the last starred section - you'll figure it out.
49. Consequences



How Buffy managed to get herself home from the clinic she really wasn’t sure. The first thing she did was take a really long hot shower. She stayed in the tub until the water ran so cold that she was forced to get out.

Then she dressed in her most comfortable sweats, and then pushed herself to eat something. She should probably call or go over to Tara’s but she didn’t really feel like it. At some point, she knew that she had to get Dawn, and she wanted to feel more like herself before she did. If it got late enough, Tara or Willow would bring Dawn home on their own.

If she was lucky, she wouldn’t actually have to talk to either of her friends. But she would have to see Dawn. Buffy was pretty sure that she wasn’t going to say anything to anyone about what had happened. Not until she had more time to come to grips with it herself. She settled down to her chicken noodle soup with crackers, and determined to pretend as if nothing had happened.

~ * ~

Aside catering to a different crowd, the bar they remembered had gotten seedier than Jonathan and Andrew remembered. More run down, and a lot scarier. As instructed, they left Warren, and headed back for the safety of home.

Spike had told them that Warren wasn’t to be allowed back onto the estate for any reason. They were to pack up his stuff, and wait to see if he called either of them with a forwarding address. If a week went by without hearing anything, he told them to call the good will people to come and pick it up.

Jonathan had protested at first, but when he heard what Warren had done, he figured he would have fired him too. They were both grateful that Spike hadn’t found out about Warren’s clandestine collection of tapes. If Spike had, Jonathan knew he would have had a hard time explaining exactly why he and Andrew had known about it, but had not informed their employer. He had a feeling that Warren would not have been the only one on Spike’s hit list. As soon as they dumped off Warren, Jonathan was going to head back to the gatehouse and destroy (or at least hide) all the tapes he could find. As soon as possible, he was going to dismantle the camera feed from Thorndale’s bedroom, so Spike would never find out what his loyal employees had been up to. They had been lucky so far that Spike’s rage was confined to Warren. Jonathan didn’t want to know what it would be like to be on the receiving end of it.


~ * ~

“Got some fun going on out back tonight, if you’re interested.” The voice was not entirely unexpected, but it always grated on his ears. After all this time, he had become used to a more refined way of speaking.

“What kind of fun?” the large man replied, feigning disinterest. “Another cock fight?” The seamy bar could almost always be counted on for a good time, not all of it strictly legal. Sometimes there was a high stakes game out back, and then Angelus knew he could make some quick cash – or get a few of the unlucky into his debt. That always worked out well for Angelus, even if the cock fights were more fun.

“Not exactly. Some rummy new kid showed up tonight stoned as hell and wearing some kind of pink sweater. The boys are making him feel real welcome.”

“Really? Sounds like a fraternity stunt gone sour. Nobody was with him?”

“Nah. Two dudes that dropped him off left pretty quick. My guess is that they wanted him to get what’s coming to him.”

“Huh. Didn’t have the stones to do it themselves I wager. I trust he’s being shown a good time?”

“Oh yeah. If it wasn’t for his pals knowing where they dropped him off, he might not last the night. Even so, if he’s stupid enough to actually go home with one of the regulars – well, I didn’t see nothing.”

Angelus grinned, slipped the bar owner a hundred. “Let me have a look, then. Make sure the boy’s enjoying himself.”

“That’ll put you at the front of the line,” he announced, pocketing the money quickly. “Come right this way.”

The alley was even more grimy than the bar it backed, used as a dumping ground for all the legal and not so legal establishments that lined this part of the city. In this one instance, the stench of the rotting garbage was almost over powered by the smell of sex. They must have been back here for a long time already.

The boy in question was badly bruised and bleeding from a cut over his eye. It was hard to make out his features, because his head was being held by a brute of a man who was forcing his cock into the boy’s mouth. All that Angelus could tell was that the boy was thin… and young.

A second man was ramming into the unfortunate youth from behind. Several others stood on the sidelines cheering them on. It wasn’t clear if they were waiting their turns or if they had already had a chance at the newbie, and were simply enjoying the show

The boy’s pink sweater lay in tatters on the dirty ground, but Angelus was surprised to notice that the boy still wore an expensive looking wristwatch. No one would try to steal it while the others were watching – but if anyone managed to get the boy alone – silently Angelus agreed with the barkeep’s assessment. He didn’t think much of the boy’s chances with any of these thugs.

Intrigued, Angelus stepped into the light cast by the single streetlamp that illuminated the dingy alley, making his presence known. A few of the onlookers scattered, word traveling quickly that a bigger fish had finally arrived.

The two who were working the boy continued on, oblivious.

“I think you’ve about finished,” Angelus stated quietly.

He was used to being obeyed, and he wasn’t disappointed. The man in front thrust once more and came in the boy’s mouth, the cum dripping unnoticed from the youth’s slack lips. The man simply dropped the boy’s face, did up his trousers and began to walk away.

Without the support of the man in front, the boy nearly fell face first into the refuse pile, and would have if not for the second man’s grabbing his hips and continuing with a last few brutal strokes. Amazingly, Angelus noted that the boy himself was hard. Was it possible that he was enjoying this? Taking in the bruising and the cuts, he doubted it.

Now it was just Angelus and the barkeep alone in the alley with the exhausted youth. Angelus pulled him off the refuse pile and examined his face. His pupils were clearly dilated, his breathing uneven, but that could have been the rough treatment. Idly, he wondered what the boy was on that he didn’t seem to care what happened to him. It wouldn’t be much fun to abuse the boy further – he was already filthy mess. He was about to turn and head back to the bar when a sound caught his ear.

“Angelus.”

Was it possible that the boy knew his name? Taking a second look, Angelus swore he didn’t know the kid. Yet it wouldn’t be in his best interests if all the boy remembered of this encounter was HIS name. It might bring ugly questions out, even if Angelus hadn’t even touched him.

“How do you know me?” He asked the youth, weighing in his own mind what he needed to do depending on the answers the youth gave.

“You are Angelus?” The boy began to giggle hysterically, which turned into a series of coughing fits. When the coughing passed, Angelus could tell that at least a little bit of sanity had returned to the man. He wasn’t as young as Angelus had first supposed, but then he didn’t think anyone was about to start complaining.

“Take me with you.” The man stuttered. “I’ve got something you want.”

Angelus scoffed. “I hardly think that’s likely. If I wanted what you’re offering, I could get it from any of a dozen men inside, who aren’t quite as well used as you are today.”

“Not, not that,” the boy winced. “I can help you. I know what you want – and I can help you get it.”

“Really? And how could you possibly know what I want – and even supposing you did, what makes you think I would want your help? You weren’t in any position to help yourself tonight, were you?”

Angelus turned again to walk back into the club, but another name stopped him cold in his tracks.

“Spike.” The boy called after him. “William Thorndale.”

As Angelus turned back around again, the boy positively glowed with glee, even lying broken, beaten and naked on a pile of filth. “You want Thorndale. Want to see him destroyed. I can help you. You need me more than I need you.”

“That so?” Angelus was beginning to like the insolent tone that must be the boy’s natural way of speaking. Every minute he seemed to be coming back more and more into himself. And besides the obvious, what could the boy possibly offer that he didn’t already have?

“Yes. I can get you anything you want. The codes to his office, his house. His daily routine. Access to someone still on the inside. Whatever you want.”

“And just how would you be privy to all that information?”

“Used to work for him. Lived in his house. I can help you, Angelus.”

Angelus thought for a moment.

“Why would you want to? What would you get out of it?”

“Same as you, revenge. Who do you think put me here?”

That did surprise Angelus. He didn’t think that Thorndale had it in him. Whatever the boy had done to earn him such treatment must have made quite an impression. But Spike had made a crucial mistake. If he was going to throw away such a valuable asset, he should have killed him outright. Not left a disgruntled former employee free to plot his own revenge. Especially if he had any of the inside knowledge he claimed to.

“Fine. We’ll talk in my car. But if I find you’ve been lying to me, if you have nothing of worth to offer me, you’re gonna find that this was just a walk in the park. Betray one master, you may betray another. So you’d better make yourself useful – understand?”

“Of course.” Rising, Warren was forced to stop again to vomit into the pile of garbage he had just crawled out of. Grabbing what was left of his clothes, he followed Angelus out of the alley and into his gleaming new car.

“I’ll have to have the car fumigated after you’ve been in here. And if you vomit in my car, the deal’s off, no matter what you have to say. Got it?”

“Yes.” Feeling the pocket of his jeans, Warren was relieved to find that the little video disk was still there. “I understand perfectly. But I think you’ll like what I have to say, regardless.”

“Really? You think your information is worth that much?”

“I think it’s worth more. But I’ll let you be the judge.” Warren lay back on the leather, trying to find a position that was comfortable. “Just get me somewhere I can shower and something decent to wear, and we can discuss the details over a cup of coffee. I’m starting to feel more like myself, but it may take a few more hours to get the drug completely out of my system.”

“That must have been one hell of trip. What were you on, anyway?”

“That’s one of the things we need to discuss. I think I’ll wait and see how our relationship goes before I share all my cards.”

“Pretty sure of yourself, are you?” Angelus sneered. The punk had balls, that was for sure.

“Yep,” Warren glanced over at Angelus so he could gauge just how his revelation went over. “See, I invented the stuff. I knew it was pretty powerful, but then I never expected to be a test subject myself.” Swallowing hard as he closed his eyes and tried to relax his jaw, he continued, “Just one more in a long line of grievances I have against Thorndale. He’s the one who did this to me. So you see, we have a common goal. After this, killing the man isn’t near good enough. That’s why we need each other. I know what will hurt Thorndale most, and between the two of us, we’ve got the connections to actually do it.”


A/N: Not really my favorite chapter, but it wasn't going to get any better sitting on my hard drive. Now we can all move on.





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