Buffy’s first reaction as she stepped into the darkness of the Nex was to give in to a coughing fit. The smoke was thick with both legal and illegal substances, and the Slayer was having a hard time breathing. She let Spike push their way through the demons loitering by the entrance, keeping her eyes respectfully to the ground. She didn’t want to have to meet their gazes as they were roughly jostled out of the way.

Curiosity getting the best of her, the young blonde took a quick moment to look up and take in her surroundings. The place was vast--much bigger than the Bronze--and it was packed with all kinds of demons, although most of them seemed humanoid in appearance. Maybe it was a cheap cover night for vamps or something. There was a second floor, where she could see a bar, some tables, and maybe even some gaming. Of course, demons and gambling went hand in hand.

She felt herself being pulled through the crowd and could tell that they were approaching the stage, where the band was playing very loudly. She stretched to look over the crowd and see what this band looked like, but didn’t have any luck. Still trying to take a peek, she walked right into Spike who, surprisingly enough, didn’t reprimand her as a proper master should have. Meekly looking up at him, she saw that he had removed his human mask. Following his gaze, she saw that he was transfixed with something out by the stage. Moving behind him, she waited for him to make the first move, trying her best to quell any urges to elbow him in the ribs.

***

It felt so right to be back among his own kind. He’d missed being surrounded by other demons, not having to watch what he said or did, like he had to in Sunnyhell. Slipping comfortably into game face, Spike took in all the sights and smells his super-developed senses detected. If the music was loud before, it was nearly deafening to his demon--but he didn’t mind that, music was always better way louder. Breathing deeply, he could smell all the emotions, from the anger and exhilaration in the mosh pit to the arousal of the couples hitting on each other. It was all amplified, just as it should be. Life shouldn’t be lived in pastels when everything could be experienced in Technicolor.

Pulling the Slayer along, he stopped where he could watch the band. He felt Buffy bump into him, but paid her no mind. His attention was fully occupied with the Headstones and the frenzy in which they’d whipped the crowd. The lead singer seemed to be wearing more hair gel than the poof himself, dark hair spiked high. Apart from that, though, they pretty much seemed like normal blokes, wearing jeans, black t-shirts and cargo shorts. They were in the middle of a number, and Spike listened to the lyrics.

Yeah, he’d listen to these guys. He took his eyes away from them for a quick moment, to make sure that his pet was still with him. He looked down and noticed that she was fidgeting--she wasn’t used to standing still, especially not with so many demons around. He assumed that her Slayer senses must have been tingling overtime. He brought his gaze back up to the band, pulling apart from the crowd. He’d have to get Red to see if she could steal some of their music on that Napster thing he kept hearing about.

Even over the whooping of the crowd, Spike still caught the “Eww...” that came from the young woman trailing behind him. Snickering, he led her away from the music. “Follow me, pet.”

***

When they broke from the crowd, Buffy found herself taking deep breaths. Ok, not deep healthy breaths, but she was sure any air was better than the limited oxygen she’d been exposed to near the stage. That was the crappy thing about being short (well, one of the many crappy things about being short)--lack of air in crowds.

Spike led them to a booth and told her to sit down, walking away in the direction of the bar. As she watched him saunter away, she noticed for the first time just how much attitude he’d regained while in the Nex. Head up high, cocky swagger and billowing duster, sneer on those soft lips of his... Great, he’s treating me like a pet and all I can think about is how kissable those lips are. It was as if she was back in the company of the Spike she’d first met about four years ago.

Staring at the retreating form of her ‘master’, Buffy never noticed the large horned demon until it was sitting beside her. She turned quickly, looking at it, before remembering her ruse. She edged away from it a little and brought her eyes to a spot on the tablecloth. Maybe if she ignored him he’d go away. Yeah right, he’ll just kill you whether or not you look at him. What else do very, very big horned demons do?

As if the question had been asked out loud, the demon began to howl. Nearly jumping out of her skin, Buffy looked askance and noticed that he was... crying?

The demon began to play with her hair, bawling and talking at her in some weird language. No longer afraid, the young woman was embarrassed beyond words. She just wanted to crawl under the table and wait for Spike to throw ol’ Horny (ugh--that doesn’t sound so good)... ol’ Whiney out on his ass. Throwing a glance around the room, where the hell is that bleached wonder?, she noticed that many of the patrons were looking in her direction and laughing. Great--she could just chalk this up on her list of things she’d never live down.

When Whiney began to blow his nose on the tablecloth, the Slayer decided that enough was enough. She made a move to get up--find any excuse to remove herself from the blubbering demon’s proximity--when she saw a flash of black.

“Sit back down, pet. I told you to stay put.”

A drink was placed in front of her, and she’d downed half of the glass before noticing that whatever it was, it contained no alcohol whatsoever. Looking up at the bleached vampire under hooded lids, she saw that he was smiling at her predicament. She fought the urge to kick him under the table--that may have been acceptable at the Calico, but not at the Nex, and certainly not with the roles that they had taken. Smug bastard--he’s so getting it when we get out of here...

It was just his Slayer’s luck to have attracted a Raumnek demon. They were scary looking--big, hulking horned things, but they were about as harmless as the kittens for which he’d played poker. They were a drag to be around, though, their constant despondency almost as depressing as Peaches’ brooding. Catching the quick warning in his pet’s eyes, he figured it was about time to get the crybaby away from the table. He was in enough trouble as it stood.

God, he was so whipped...

As Spike stood up, Buffy felt a temporary pang of sadness at the demon who was crying on her shoulder. Something bad had happened to him, and now he was going to be pummelled by an angry vampire because he chose the wrong woman on whom to unload. She looked away as the bleached blonde put his hand on the demon’s shoulder, but her head snapped back around when no violence came.

Spike was crouched down, hand on the demon’s shoulder, and was speaking to him softly in his own language. His face was sympathetic and patient, and his body language seemed to speak that he was used to this kind of thing. When the horned demon sniffled and nodded, the vampire stood up and stepped aside, letting ol’ Whiney walk away. They waved their good-byes like old friends.

The Slayer was itching to find out what that was all about but, remaining in character, kept her eyes focused on the tablecloth and her mouth clamped shut.

Spike sensed his pet’s curiosity--she was concentrating way too hard on the tablecloth and she was fidgeting, whether or not she was aware of it.

Slipping back into his human guise, he addressed the Slayer. “Look up at me, luv. We can talk while we’re here--no one’s going to question if I decide to have a conversation with my pet over a drink.” He tipped his glass and took a deep drink of what looked like molasses with froth. It had been a while since he’d had some real beer.

Happy to be released from her imposed silence, the young woman threw a barrage of questions at her companion. “Ok, what was that thing, what was it crying about, and why didn’t you kill it? Oh yeah, and where did you learn to speak all these demon languages--you speak Fyarl too, right?”

“Lots about me you don’t know, pet. When you’re immersed in the demon community for over 120 years, you have to be open to learning different languages to be able to communicate with different species. It’s not like English is the universal language of demons--nice as that’d be.” He paused, taking another sip of his Guinness. “God I missed this stuff... Anyway that was a Raumnek demon. They’re the pathetic whiners of the demon world--always cryin’ over lost loves, lost treasure, rainy weather... Anything worth complaining over. He was sobbing that his business partner disappeared with his mate and all the money. Oh yeah--they’re also incredible suckers.” Leaning back, his blue eyes seemed to be lost in a daydream. “I remember once, I got into a business deal with a Raumnek, and I...” The vampire stopped right there, noticing the look on the Slayer’s face. “Uh, that’s not important anymore. Never mind that, pet. You asked me why I didn’t kill him? First of all, he might be whiney and seem kittenish but he probably could have beaten me to dust with my left leg--they’re real strong when they’re pissed off. Second, well... it wouldn’t have been real sporty to take a shot at a heartbroken demon who wasn’t really hurting anyone, now would it? Demons do have a code of honour, you know.”

As he finished the last of his draught, Spike caught the Slayer observing him, a slight crook at the corner of her mouth. She was dragging the tip of her finger along the rim of her now-empty glass, staring at him oddly. For the hundredth time since setting foot on British soil, the master vampire wondered what the fates had in store for him. From the embarrassment of being William, to Dru’s enticing offer of a better life, to the Slayer and the Nex. He was sure his life could be weirder, but it would probably involve two-headed goats and country music. Nope, his life was just weird enough for his taste.

Buffy didn’t believe what he’d said about the ‘demon code of honour’. For some strange reason, she thought that Spike could identify with what the Redneck demon went through, what with Angelus and Dru going at it when he was paralysed. He’d strongly deny it, but the blonde vampire had a soft spot--maybe there was some good in there trying to get out.

Spike was first to break the silence. “Well, pet, won’t get anything accomplished lounging around, will we?” He got up and motioned for her to do the same. As he did this, all emotion left his features. His jaw was set tightly and his eyes were cold. He brought his game face forward again, scanning the club. There! Should’ve known they’d be playin.’ He took hold of Buffy’s wrist and led her towards one of the staircases.

***

Buffy was led to the gaming area of the club. They stopped near a table where a Fyarl seemed to be losing to a purple demon with dreadlocks. There was a crowd around the table, but the Slayer spotted another human girl standing against the wall, behind the rasta demon. She seemed to be about the same age as Buffy, but she looked much worse for wear. Her dark hair was dirty and hung limply around her gaunt face, her clothing was tattered and her posture screamed servility. If that’s what it was like to be a slave, Buffy didn’t think she was pulling it off too well.

Both demons put their cards down and the purple one got up and cheered. Livid, the Fyarl threw his cards at the table and pushed his chair back. He stood, reached into his pocket, and tossed a pouch onto the table. Not waiting for the purple demon to count his winnings, he stormed off.

Spike knew that this was his chance at gaining some information. He had to play the demon right, both with the cards, and with smooth words. When the Pelorak threw his challenge for another competitor, the master vampire stepped up.

“Evenin’ gentlemen.” He pulled a chair back and sat across from the still gloating Pelorak. Wearing a shit-eating grin, he slouched in his chair. “Never could pass up a chance at kicking Pelorak ass at cards.”

That got the purple demon’s attention. He grumbled something unintelligible and pulled his chair back to the table. Taking the cards in hand, he began to shuffle the cards. Sneering, he replied in halting English. “You seem very sure of yourself vampire. I doubt you’ve ever beaten a Pelorak at any game before--nobody beats us at anything.” He narrowed his eyes at the bleached nuisance who was sitting across from him. Imagine that--the nerve of a vampire of all demons, claiming that he could beat him at cards. He’d show that undead poser. Maybe win his slave, too.

Spike chuckled. “Well, you can ask Ka’har, son of Gla’rok, son of bloody whoever else, who he lost his prized DeSoto to, after losing a dozen Siamese kittens and a few thousand quid. Betcha the overweight ponce will have something to say about bleached vampires.” He straightened up in his chair and pulled it up the small wooden table. Lighting a cigarette, he looked across at the Pelorak. “Now if the posturing’s over, how ‘bout we play ourselves an actual game of cards, eh mate?”

Buffy remained still behind Spike, eyes cast low. She nearly died of embarrassment when her stomach decided to growl, letting everyone within demon earshot know she was hungry. Even though she was looking down, she felt all eyes on her small frame--this caused her cheeks to flush a bright red. She wanted to crawl under a table and disappear.

That seemed to be happening rather often tonight.

When the hand was over, Spike spoke up. “Look, why don’t we send our pets to sit at another table? It’ll be easier to concentrate on the game without all these bleedin’ bodily noises going on.” He turned to the Slayer and got an evil gleam in his eye. “Anyway, we don’t really need the distraction, if you know what I mean.” Buffy yelped as she felt him pinch one of butt cheeks. Biting her lip, she forced her arms to remain at her sides. Wouldn’t do either of them much good to give in to her temptation to give him yet another bloody nose.

The Pelorak laughed out loud at the vampire’s lewdness. “Fine, they can sit at that table.” He pointed to a small table for two that rested against the wall, about 15 feet away from their own table.

As both slaves made their way to the table, relieved to be out of the presence of their masters, Spike waved a barmaid over. “Hello, pet. Why don’t you be a love and bring me another pint of Guinness, and another of whatever my friend here’s been drinking.” The woman nodded and turned to walk away when the vampire took a hold of her elbow. “Just a sec. Not done yet. Do you have those big plates of nachos, the ones with everything on them?” When she replied in the affirmative, the blonde vamp smiled. “Good--our pets are sitting over there” he pointed at the girls’ table “bring them one of those big platters.”

When the barmaid left with her order, Spike turned to find the Pelorak staring at him. Shrugging, he answered simply. “Don’t believe in starving my girl. She looks better with a bit of meat on her bones.”

***

Finally out of the watchful eye of the few dozen demons surrounding the gaming table, Buffy was happy to be able to be herself. Sighing, she stretched her limbs and cracked her knuckles. Yeah, it was a gross habit, but... whatever--she didn’t care who she grossed out. She turned to the girl who was sitting across from her and took a good look at her. She was older than Buffy had initially believed--she just looked younger because of her demeanour: she was withdrawn, trying to make herself look smaller to avoid attention.

Deciding to try her hand at breaking the ice, the Slayer spoke up. “So, if we’re going to be sitting together tonight, we might as well know each other’s name. I’m Buffy.” She didn’t dare offer her hand--that would be tempting the fates a bit much. Just by talking, she was probably breaking a dozen slave rules.

The girl remained silent, but her eyes darted up to meet Buffy’s before moving back down to the tablecloth. The last thing she needed was to get into trouble, again. No, she valued her life too much for that. No good getting beaten just for another slave. She tried to give the blonde slave a hint. “We’re not supposed to speak unless spoken to by our masters.”

Buffy couldn’t believe it. How long had this poor girl been a slave? She leaned in closer to the other girl and smiled. “Well, I wouldn’t worry much about your master--he’s got his hands full keeping an eye on Spike to make sure he doesn’t cheat.”

Quickly, the other girl threw a glance over at her master. Sure enough, he wasn’t paying any heed to her, his full attention directed towards the game. She sighed. It would be so nice to finally have someone nice to talk to. Even if she got punished for it, this might be worth it. “My name’s Hilary.”

Glad that Hilary was opening up, Buffy continued the conversation. “So, how long have you been a...” God, she couldn’t even say it, because Hilary was the real thing. For her, it wasn’t just some act to pry some information for a mission.

“A slave? You can say it--we’re both in the same boat. Although your master seems a lot nicer than mine.” Hilary watched as Buffy turned her head to look at Spike. Funny. She didn’t look at him with reservation, or with fear. It almost seemed like...affection? Nah, that was ridiculous.

The young blonde found herself looking at her ‘master’ fondly. “Well, he can be a pain sometimes, but underneath it all he’s an ok guy.” And an amazing kisser. But she wasn’t going to tell Hilary that. She turned her attention back to the dark haired girl. “So how long have you been a slave?”

Hilary looked a bit embarrassed. “Actually, I’m not sure. It’s not like it’s been an easy task keeping track of time--my life was kind of turned upside down when they took me. I guess it might have been about a month. Maybe five weeks? I’m not too sure...”

Five weeks? It could be a coincidence, but then again... “Where did they take you from?” Maybe Spike wasn’t going to be the only one doing some detective work.

“I was hired as a nanny for a really nice couple, who had a newborn. She needed help with cleaning, and taking care of her other child. The baby had only been back from the hospital for a few days when he” she nodded towards the purple demon “and his friends broke into the house.” Hilary closed her eyes, trying to remain calm. She bit her lower lip, which was quivering, and put her hands palms-down on the table. Taking a couple of deep breaths, she felt like she was ready to continue. She hadn’t allowed herself to think of that night since it had happened--the memories were too raw, too horrific. Wiping away a few stray tears, she continued her story. “They killed everyone: the baby’s parents, her grandparents, even little Celia--she was only three years old.” Her body was racked by sobs. She sniffled and found her courage. “But they kept me and the baby. There was a man there--he wasn’t very old, maybe in his thirties. I... I was hoping that he would help us, that he would save us from the monsters, but all he wanted was the baby. He looked crazy--he kept laughing, saying he finally had his key.”

Buffy tried hard not to react too strongly to her story. She had found the key to their mission--given a little time, Hilary could really help them along on Blakeford’s trail. All they needed to do was to get her away from the Pelorak. Damn! She needed to speak to Spike, but she couldn’t. It wasn’t as if she could just walk up to him and tap him on the shoulder. Think, Buffy, think!

Hilary was trying to calm herself when the food arrived. She hadn’t eaten anything apart from scraps for over a month. She knew she looked horrible--she almost laughed out loud when she thought back to all the times she’d never been able to stick to a diet. Guess getting kidnapped by demons is a sure-fire way of losing weight. She watched Buffy dig in before helping herself to the cheese-slathered corn chips.

Oh, gooey goodness. And it isn’t that low-fat sour cream either... The Slayer began to make a dent in the nachos. “Come on, eat some more--you look like you need it more than me.” At the other girl’s hesitation, she felt a need to add: “And don’t worry--I’ll find a way to get you out of this mess.” She concentrated really hard on getting the bleached vampire’s attention--he certainly couldn’t ignore all those Slayer vibes heading his way.

***

Spike couldn’t believe it. He had won the majority of hands, and he hadn’t even resorted to cheating--yet. This couldn’t be a real Pelorak. Maybe someone in an ugly purple bodysuit? He had lied about winning against their kind before--he’d never been able to best one, not even while cheating. He shook his head and squinted as the back of his neck began to tingle. What the? He scratched the itch and tried to concentrate on his hand, but the tingling continued. For some reason he couldn’t comprehend, he was compelled to look over at Buffy.

The Slayer was trying her best not to look obvious, but she was doing a piss-poor job of it. When his eyes met hers, for a split second, she looked back down, but her hands were trying to sign something. Now what the bloody hell is the bint trying to do now? Get us both killed? He turned his attention back to the game and finished the hand, losing to a pair of aces and a pair of jacks. “Shit. Look, mate, can you hold on for just a sec? I’ll be right back.” He got up and walked to Buffy, pulling her rather roughly from her chair.

“Ok, what kind of game are you playin’, Slayer? If you got any more obvious, you’d have been jumping up and down flappin’ your arms.” He held her up against a wall, hands on her upper arms.

“Sorry, Spike. I didn’t know any other way of getting your attention. The other slave--she’s the baby’s nanny. You know the baby--the key, the prophecy?” The last words were uttered so quietly that even Spike’s vampiric hearing hardly picked them up. “We have to get her out of here. I’m sure she can tell us where Blakeford and the baby are. And ease off on the arms, that actually hurts.”

Spike pulled away, wheels turning in his brain. He knew exactly how to get both slaves out, but Buffy was sure to stake him for it. “Buffy...”

He hardly ever called her that. The young blonde winced at what he was going to say.

“What?”

“Do you trust me?”

Buffy couldn’t help but look up into his blue eyes. Eyes that were looking at her with undisguised affection. The eyes of the man who had changed so much since they’d been in London--no longer the sarcastic irritation she knew in Sunnydale, this vampire was gentle, caring, sexy, ok--still irritating, but that would never change and she knew it.

“Yes, I trust you.”

They both knew that her answer meant much, much more than it was supposed to. It reflected the change in their relationship, in how they viewed each other. It also meant that they had better chances of succeeding on this mission.

“Good. You’re not going to like what I’m going to do, but I want you to trust me on this. It’s a gamble that I’m going to win, no matter what. When I stand up from that table, I want you and the other chit to follow me and not look back. You understand?” Please, please don’t fight me on this.

She already didn’t like what was about to happen. Spike was almost grovelling--this didn’t bode well in the least for her, but she said she trusted him and, well, she did. “Ok, Spike. But you better know what you’re doing.”

“Don’t worry, pet. I know exactly what I’m doing.”

With a swagger, he returned to the table. Looking the Pelorak in the eye, he smirked. “How ‘bout we raise the stakes a little?”

Author's Note: Ooh... what does Spike have up his sleeve? Hope you guys liked the Nex. It wasn't as horrid as Spike remembered, but I figured that even demon clubs would reflect more modern tastes. Anyway, thanks to all who reviewed; you keep feeding my muse :)