Shattered Shards

 

Author:NA42

Fandom: BtVS/AtS

Pairing(s): Angel/buffy; Angel/Spike/; Angel/Dawn;

Warnings: NC-17; Rape, non-con, slavery, abuse, torture, anything and everything bad and not nice. Do not read if you are squeamish. Het, slash, and possibly other things down the line, just not yet.; WIP

Spoilers: none really, sometime during AtS season 5

Summary: Wolfram and Heart took out Angelus's soul, and Angelus has Dawn and Spike and Buffy prisoner. He's having fun breaking them, torturing them, and pretty much making their existance a living hell.

 

 

Nominated Category:

Best slave!fic: Acted - TV & movies - Other

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Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

 

Chapter 1

 

She woke up to the steady sound of dripping. The sound seemed to echo as the drops hit the stone floor, splashing outwards, spraying the walls. She blinked carefully, her mouth as dry as parchment. Carefully she swallowed, feeling the sand paper dryness of her throat and mouth, which only triggers more convulsive swallows until her throat is properly lubricated. Carefully she lifts her head, confused why it seems to be hard to balance on her neck. Moving to rub her temples to ease the throbbing, she finds she can’t. Something cold and metal encircles them; the loud sound of rattling chains seems to go with each movement.

 

“Wh-wh-what?” she stammers out, confused, her voice rusty from disuse, her mind unable to focus, feeling like someone had scooped out her brains as she slept and stuffed cotton balls in their place.

 

Cold laughter echoed through the space, and recognition of its owner showed away the drug induced haze. The soot stained stone came suddenly into painfully sharp focus.

 

The smell hit her then. The stench of rancid blood and putrefied flesh dancing for dominion over the other, causing her stomach to roll and protest. Her eyes darted around wildly, identifying the sources of the stench. Bodies in various stages of decomposition piled against the walls in no obvious order or care. She watched drops of blood trickle down an outstretched dead arm, welling at the finger tips only to fall unremarked onto the filthy stone floor to splatter and stain.

 

“Buffy…” Her name sighed through the room, drawing goose bumps along her bare flesh… which was when she noticed she was nude, with only steel manacles upon wrists and ankles as adornment and for function. Buffy stared incredulously at the manacles, at the chains they were attached to that disappeared into the wall. Her arms were stretched above her head, loosely so she could still struggle but taught enough that struggling wouldn’t accomplish anything. The same was done for her legs, ankles securely fastened. Each chain had quite a bit of length to them, but the length was shortened by placing a link of chain into steel railway spikes that had been driven deep into the floor. It made it easy to control her ability of movement, without having to attach new chains when a different length was needed.

 

She took stock of her situation. Flat on her back, chained spread eagle, without a scrap of clothing, and… he was calling her name. Again that chilling laugh seemed to engulf her with fear, dread and horror.

 

“Angel?” She whimpers out, ashamed her voice quavers and cracks, instead of coming out strong and confident.

 

“Oohhhh so close… but so very very wrong…” the sing song voice calls out.

 

Buffy can feel tears building up in her eyes, unbidden and out of her control to deny. Drawing in a ragged breath, she instinctively holds it when he calls out again.

 

“Oh Buffy… the smell of your fear…” She can hear him draw in a happy delightful lungful of air, “has always aroused me. Your scene just fill me… until it feels like I’m just going to burst from anticipation alone,” he groans out, suddenly at her head, leaning against the wall wearing nothing but dress shoes and thing cotton slacks held to his body with a thick leather belt. His erection was clearly visible to any who would look, and Buffy couldn’t help herself from looking, quickly dancing her eyes away from the thick and heavy looking bulge.

 

He chuckled darkly as he noted her gaze, which only made her blush darkly in response.

 

Swallowing back a whimper of fear, she spoke. “Angel, you don’t-”

 

A sharp slap sent her head spinning, and the words flew out of her head before she could finish saying them. She felt him sit on her hips, straddling her, holding her down. Buffy clenched her eyes tightly shut, and licked the small trickle of blood seeping from her split lip… and felt him squirm on top of her, felt the movement of cloth as his cock pulsed at the sight of her blood, the scent.

 

He let out a breath slowly, and she felt soft shudders and shivers moving down his body as he exhaled. Suddenly his eyes opened, and her lunged towards her, game face on, mouth wide open. She screamed trying to throw him off her, wildly trying to keep him away from her neck, only to freeze when he lapped at her split lip instead. He licked the cut softly, tenderly, gently kissing it. Again he breathed in and let out another shudder, this time unable to hide the moan. “You’ve always tasted so good Buffy. I used to dream about the other tastes I’ve had, wanting nothing more then to taste it again… and now I can.” His face returned to its human mask. “You’re all mine Buffy.” He laughed brightly, clapped his hands and jumped up, doing a spin, and excitedly walked over her body.

 

“Angel, please, don’t do this.”

 

“I’m not Angel pet, and trust me; nothing is going to stop me.” And with that, he walked away, out of her line of vision. His footsteps echoed in the empty space, and then stopped. There was a soft rustling, and then he re-appeared, quickly jumping to tighten the chain, stretching her to utter immobility when he placed another link of the chain around the spike at above her head and below her feet. Her shoulders felt like they were going to pop out if he tightened the chain even another inch.

 

He cheerfully straddled her knees, and sat on them, something held behind his back. “Buffy, sweet dear Buffy… you’ll always be mine, always.” And with that, he plunged a white hot branding iron into the flesh just above her mons, on the left side, where her thigh met her lover tummy. She screamed. She couldn’t help but scream as he held the iron in place for a few seconds, pressing down hard to make sure the imprint was clear. He threw the branding iron across the room, the sound of it clanking and hitting objects was loud in the room, as Buffy quietly sobbed, and Angelus bent down to kiss her owchie better. “Mine,” was all he said, as he got up, a possessive look on his face.

 

“Angelus, what do you want-”

 

A sharp slap sent her head spinning, and the words flew out of her head before she could finish saying them.

 

"What I want, dear little Slayer, is for you to shut the fuck up." He smiled then, sweetly, almost tenderly, the smile that would make her knees melt, and her thighs to part. "Unless it's begging. I like begging, and whimpering, and moaning... pretty much any sound that bypasses your mind, and is just.... instinct." He drew his hand along her right side, stroking softly, his thumb gently flicks her nipple. She drew in a sharp breath, and bit her lip, and he smiled again. "Just like those ones."

 

She struggled to sit up, to move away from his cold touch, but the chains didn't let her move beyond her supine position. He laughed softly, and did it again. "You squirm, and little Angelus squirms, see?" She couldn't help but look as his hands dug cruelly into her hair, his nails digging into her scalp, turning her head to look at his crotch. She looked, saw it jump in his slacks, and quickly closed her eyes, looking away as much as she was able.

 

He let go of her head, letting it drop with a thump onto the stone floor. Swiftly, before she had a chance to register his movement, he slapped her hard, open handed across the left side of her face. She felt a bruise start to swell up, her eyes watering, the left one starting to close up. Tasting blood in her mouth, she spat it out, tongue stroking her split lip.

 

"You are going to be so fun to break. I plan on shattering you, into millions of little pieces, little princess. I'm going to make what I did to Drusilla look like ..." He dipped his fingers in the blood she spat out, and licked them clean, sighing softly, as his tongue snaked out to make sure none was wasted.

 

"Slayer blood... is truly an aphrodisiac..." And with that, his face morphed into the demon, and he lunged forward, fangs piercing the skin of her breast, just over her nipple, so he could drink, and play with the nipple at the same time. She screamed, she couldn't help it, it was sudden, vicious, painful... and before the scream left her lips, he was holding her closer, one arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her body against his, rubbing his clothed erection against her bare hip, as he suckled at the wound, and nibbled gently at her nipple.

 

Gently, he pulled away, licking softly at the wound, kissing across her chest to her other breast, to lick and suckle at her other nipple. She stayed tense beneath him, expecting another vicious attack, another bite... but he stayed gentle, almost tender. She knew Angelus was an artist. Knew he would always leave her guessing, playing his torturous games on her. She knew what he was capable of, and it scared her, she accepted that. She knew most people would be terrified of being at Angelus's mercy, but she also knew he wouldn't be able to break her. She knew his games too well, and she was a damned stubborn bitch when she had to be.

 

What she hadn't counted on was Angelus knowing her as well as Angel did. He knew she wouldn't break easily, that was half the fun! But he also knew how to break her. Attacking the Slayer was a start, torturing her was fun, but it wouldn't get the job done. She'd rather die then break in his hands. But he knew her weakness. Her weakness was love. Love for Angel, for her friends, even her mystical not-quite-sister... and for Spike. He knew about their affair, their emotions for each other, who wouldn't? Who couldn't smell the lust in the air as soon as they got close to each other? He was stunned her friends hadn't caught on sooner then they had, but hey, stupid mortal morons.

 

He knew, for her friends, she'd do anything. She'd died for them, over and over again. She'd abused her body in training, and missions, and just general patrolling. She knew her role was protector... and that was what he'd use. He got up from her body, licking his lips clean, watching the blood trickle down her right breast, pooling between them. He grimaced softly. "You lost weight Slayer. Too much weight, really. No more curves, no more places to hold you that don't feel like holding a chicken wing. Really, you should take better care of yourself. We'll see to it you are fed, properly. Add a little padding, re-create that arse you used to have, and watch those breasts grow so we can at LEAST get a handful out of one."

 

He got up, and puttered around for a bit. His back was to her, and she couldn't see what he was doing at the counter across the room from her. When he turned to face her once more, his hands were behind his back, but she could hear a faint jingling, almost like bells, coming from his hands. He straddled her body, and sat on her tummy, his back to her face, his hands before him, again hiding what he had, what he was going to do. He made her lift her hips by pulling on her dark blond pubic hair, pulling up until she finally lifted her hips. He slid what felt like leather beneath her arse, and quickly, without warning, slides a pocket rocket into her cunt, and one into her arse. Swiftly, he did up the buckles of the leather panties, holding the vibrators in place, so she couldn't push them out.

 

"There we go!" He slapped her leather clad cunt hard, making the vibrators jump inside her, making her gasp in surprise. "All better." He took a small remote from his pocket, and played with the dials, making the vibrators change patterns and intensity independently of each other. "You are going to be fun Slayer... it's going to be like nothing you've ever dreamed of... nothing you've ever imagined... what would be the fun in that, doing what you expect? I like to keep my pets jumping, squirming, and begging for me... but for you, dear Slayer; it's going to be hell. Just like the one you sent me too." She saw his jaw tighten, his gaze go steely, and watched as he got off her. He cruelly flipped her onto her side, making her twist her arms above her head, and her legs, so she could see more of that side of the room. She saw a curtained off partition, and watched as her former lover pranced over to it, suddenly in high spirits again.

 

"I have a surprise for you! TADAH!" and he opened the curtains, revealing a pale, huddled form. She took in the bruises, from black to yellow, mottling the skin. Blood oozed from burns here and there, it wasn't until she saw the burns in the shape of crosses that she understood it was a vampire, shuddering and shaking on the floor. It took her even longer to recognize the vampire as her lover and friend.

 

"SPIKE!" She screamed, struggling again in her chains, hearing them rattle, and strike the stone floor. Her eyes were locked on Spike, as she struggled to break the chains, to get free, to save him. She only stopped when she realized, Anglus was just watching her, a small smirk on his face, his hands stroking his rock hard cock.

 

"When you struggle... and scream, it really is quite a sight. Makes me want to just eat you alive. Thankfully, I have more control then that. Wouldn't do to end the party so soon, now would it? William now... William is re-learning his role. I'm somewhat surprised at how long it took to break him, but I think the whole 'he has a soul' thing probably had something to do with it... but he's mine now Slayer. He has his moments of defiance, as any good vampire would have, but he still knows his place, don't you Spike?" He kicked the huddled body harshly, connecting with a very dark bruise, making Spike jump, and cry out. Carefully, hands flat on the floor; he lifted himself to his knees, and crawled towards Angelus. Buffy saw a collar attached to a chain, which was in turn attached to a ring embedded in the stone floor. She saw old bruises, and patches of skin rubbed off, where manacles had once been on his ankles and wrists. His roots had grown in, showing up under his blond dye job, telling her he'd been there for quite some time. She watched him crawl towards Angelus, deaf to her cries, on bleeding knees, to kneel before him.

 

Angelus took the remote out of his pocket, holding it in his hand, and she watched, horrified, as Spike dutifully undid Angelus's belt and pants, carefully taking them off, folding them, and placing them beside Angelus. She heard Anglus chuckle, and watched as he stroked Spike's hair, almost tenderly, before grabbing it in his fist, and slamming his cock into Spike's open and waiting mouth.

 

Buffy watched as Angelus skull fucked Spike, watched as his bruised and battered body was subjected to even more torture and degradation. Spike crossed his wrists behind his back, like a programmed robot, holding still except for what Angelus made him do. He was silent; eyes staring blankly ahead, all emotion and reaction seemed to have been drained from his face. Buffy looked away, horrified at what had become of her most recent lover, and her first. She twisted her arms and legs, and lay on her back, jaw clenched, staring at the ceiling. She didn’t expect the vibrators inside her to suddenly flare into life, pulsing, stroking, and vibrating away inside her. The pattern changed as soon as she understood what it was. She tilted her head, and glared at Angelus, seeing him fuck Spike’s mouth, one hand in his hair, the other holding the remote, and playing with it. She heard Angelus giggle, and saw he was smiling, laughing, enjoying her reactions, and the blow job. He suddenly threw back his head, and looked all serious, grunting softly, he held Spike’s head against his pelvis. Buffy watched as Spike’s throat convulsed, swallowing Angelus’s load of vampiric semen, and left out a surprised moan as an orgasm raced through her.

 

She arched on the stone, and stilled, panting. Confusion on her face, loathing, fear, surprise, denial…. Angelus read it all, and slowly turned down the vibrators, revving them up suddenly, he held it there for a three count, before turning them off. He laughed as her eyes rolled back for that three count, back arching… before she fell again, panting, licking the sweat from her upper lip, turning her head slowly, she looked again at the pair. Her face slowly shifted from lust glazed, to horror, and confusion. He laughed again, smiling brightly, as her scent wafted over him; un-satisfied lust was a heavy scent, cloying and thick about him. He threw back his head, and arched his back, driving his again hardening cock deeper into Spike pliant mouth. He pulled back slightly, emptying Spike’s throat of his cock, allowing Spike to drag unneeded air into his lungs, which was when he blinked, and he slowly seemed more animated, more himself then a well programmed robot. Angelus’s cock popped out of his mouth, and he turned his head, slowly, eyes growing huge, and filling with tears as he recognized the scent.

 

“NO!” He screamed, lunging towards Buffy, his instincts screaming to protect her, save her, only to be pulled up short by the chain. He coughed and retched at the strength of his self choking, reason climbing slowly into his brain. He hurried, and kneeled in front of Angelus, hands outstretched in supplication, his tear filled blue eyes meeting Angelus’s brown ones. “Please, Angelus, don’t. Let her go, please, I’ll do anything, please Angelus…” His babbling was cut abruptly short as Angelus raised a single eyebrow. Angelus leaned over, and patted Spike condescendingly on the head, “But you are already mine, and already do everything I want… because you have no choice. You’ve got nothing to offer boy. She’s always been mine boy. I just waited to mark her until today.”

 

Slowly spike broke down into soft sobs. Utter defeat in every line of his body. This had been his one sanctuary, knowing Buffy, his love, was safe. He’d been able to endure, and accept, because he knew she’d be safe… and now that was taken from him. Angelus chuckled, and squatted in front of Spike. “She’s always been mine boy. You’ve just been too stupid to notice.” He smacked Spike once on top of his head as he got up, and walked over to Buffy, taking off his shirt, and throwing it to Spike to be properly folded.

 

He leaned over her prone body, and picked something up off a shelf she couldn’t see from her position. He sat down on her knees, and held out a clear amber jar full of some transparent fluid. He popped off the stopper and dug his fingers into it, pulling out a faintly amber jelly-like coating on his fingers. “I didn’t think it would be so easy, but dayum baby, Spike must have been keeping you primed. This,” he said, slathering the goop on her brand. Instantly the pain faded and disappeared, “is a reward. You were a good girl, so you get the quick healing salve. It will still scar of course, but at least you won’t get an infection. I’d hate to cut you up to remove an infection. I’d much rather cut you up to make ME happy.”

 

With a vicious twist of her nipple that caused her to yelp, he climbed off her, putting the jar back on the shelf. He looked back at Spike, and frowned. Spike was holding Angelus’s shirt in his hands, bunched up in fists, as he rocked silently back and forth, staring into space.

 

“Spike, what’s the matter with you?” He barked sharply.

 

Spike jumped, startled out of his thoughts, and looked up, sideways, to see Angelus stalking towards him. Spike backed up to the ring he was chained to, and stood up, the length only permitting him to stand in that one place. He tore the shirt in two, throwing the pieces aside. “Sod off, wanker!” and spat on the floor.

 

Angelus picked up his neatly coiled belt, and stood over him.

 

“That’s thirty whelp.” Spike visibly blanched, even with his natural graveside pallor.

 

“I’m the one that misbehaved. Not her. Don’t you touch her!” He tried to lunge again, and again was brought up short by the chain. He struggled uselessly, to attack Angelus, to rip off his metal collar from his abraded throat, to pull the chain from the anchor in the floor.

 

Buffy watched, stunned, at his protectiveness, his out right fear of what Angelus was capable of. She felt fear, but also confusion. Thirty strikes with a belt, she could handle. She’d handled worse, and came out of it alright. “Spike, I’ll be fine, calm down, please stop hurting yourself.” She stopped pleading when Angelus laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

 

“You really are that self absorbed, aren’t you? This isn’t about YOU Buffy. This is about me, my pleasure, my joy. You aren’t the only one I love to hear scream.” With a smirk, he moved behind Spike, to yet another partition Buffy hadn’t seen. This one was made of Chinese silk, a folding screen that was slightly larger then the ones Buffy had seen in stores. He folded it up, and leaned it against a stack of decomposing bodies, revealing a slender girl with long brown hair kneeling, and facing a stone wall. Her hands were manacled above her head, her throat was collared, and a chain leading from that collar embedded itself into the wall, immobilizing her quite effectively. Buffy stared as Spike grew more frantic, more desperate, as Angelus got closer to the kneeling girl. Her back was covered in bruises, and cuts, and burns. She looked like she’d barely survived some hideous torture. Buffy felt her heart ache, thinking this must be Spikes new girlfriend, that Spike must love her so very very much to be this frantic to save her, protect her.

 

Angelus buried his hands in that long hair, absurdly clean, well brushed and maintained. “You knew what would happen Spike. You just forgot your lesson, so I’m teaching it to you again. You have no one to blame but yourself.” He carefully moved the silky long hair over her shoulder, to bare her back even more to his scrutiny. Without warning he struck her exposed back with the folded over belt. Mercilessly, he struck, without a pause or break, and stunningly, Spike counted the strikes, though he looked away, unable to watch.

 

The first blow fell, and Buffy heard a voice sobbing that she recognized. As the strikes rained down, the girl started screaming, trying to struggle helplessly against her restrictive bondage.

 

“DAWN! You sick sadistic son of a bitch, I’m going to KILL YOU! LET HER GO!”

 

He ignored her, instead concentrating on his work. Dawn screamed and tried to struggle away, but there was no where to go. Spike snarled, and struggled to get to her. Buffy struggled to get to Dawn, Spike, to kill Angelus, anything, but couldn’t move.

 

When Angelus was finished, he tossed his belt onto the pile of clothing, and looked over at them. The room was suddenly silent, except for Dawn’s steady weeping.

“That was refreshing!” He said cheerily, wiping his hands clean of imaginary dust. He walked towards Spike, and waited a measured distance from the blond vampire. He lifted a single eyebrow, and waited as Spike fell to his knees, and crawled towards Angelus. He fell to his belly when that was the only way to move closer to Angelus, and kissed his feet. Angelus kicked him in the teeth, sending him flying as far as the chain would allow, only to thud heavily on the floor. Spike shook his head, and got up on his elbow, glaring at Angelus.

 

“Now Spike, do you want another thirty?” and Spike looked down, the muscles in his jaw jumping as he gritted his teeth. “Some more work on you, I’m sure, but you know your place. You’ve always known your place.” He walked out of the room, whistling to himself. “I’m sure you guys have a lot to catch up on…” he chuckled darkly, and left them on their own, among the stink of death and decomposition, filthy bodies, fear, and everything else that had made Angelus the Scourge of Europe.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

“I’m sorry Buffy. I tried. I tried so hard, I’m so sorry Buffy.” Spike whispered.

 

“What happened? Why is Angelus back?”

 

“Wolfram and Heart pet. They took out his soul. We didn’t even know what was happening. They locked Wesley and Fred and Gunn in some holding dimension, but they left me out, because he asked for me. Apparently he missed having his little pet.” Spike lay down on his back, staring at the ceiling, telling his tale with as much detachment as he could muster.

 

“Angelus brought me here months ago, maybe even over a year ago, I don’t remember anymore. I thought he was Angel, he said there was a nest here, that we would have no problems getting them. There were piles of bodies, everywhere. There had been a massacre… he’d killed all of them, I know that now, but then, he told me it was the nest.” He cleared his throat, voice raw from screaming, and was silent for a heart beat.

 

“He brought her here later. Told me he made it look like she ran away… that she found a demon lover, and that you didn’t approve, so she bolted.”

 

Buffy frowned, her brain a muddled mess from whatever it had been that he’d used to sedate her. “I remember. She had a boyfriend, but wouldn’t let us meet him. She was nervous about what we’d think of her first real boyfriend. She seemed happy, so we let it be. We came home one day, all her stuff was gone, and she left a note, saying how we’d never approve, and she went to live with his kind, who would accept her. We’ve been looking for her ever since, but that was just a few weeks ago.”

 

“No, pet, that was a few months ago. She’s been here ever since. Angelus got Wolfram and Heart to give her a boyfriend. He got them to convince her she couldn’t tell anyone who her boyfriend was, he orchestrated the whole thing. He knew what he could make me do… to keep her safe. I tried Buffy, I tried to keep my promise to keep her safe, but I failed. I failed, and she’s here, and there’s not a damned thing I can do about it.”

 

“How could you count each strike Spike? How could you just… count like that.”

 

“If I don’t, he doesn’t stop. If I loose count, he starts it over at one, if I miss one, he starts it over at one… I have to count, it just doesn’t stop. He’ll kill her Buffy, and you, and me, and not care. Well, he might get annoyed at having to kill you after it’s been done, but he gets over these things, rather quickly.”

 

“Dawn?” Buffy called, “it’s me, it’s Buffy. Dawn, talk to me.” The girl didn’t even stir at her name.

 

“She won’t answer you. He broke her Buffy. She’s not in there anymore. She’s not you, she’s not me, she doesn’t have our strength. She’s just human… and she broke. Don’t hold it against her, she couldn’t help it. No human could.”

 

“But it’s only been a couple of weeks! He couldn’t break her so soon, she’d have held out for us, I know she would have!”

 

“She tried pet. It lasted a week and a little more. He took his time breaking her, he liked to watch her bristle, and say you would come for her, that you’d all come for her, but that was months ago. I’m guessing he had you under some spell, like sleeping beauty, asleep with no need for food, or drink. You’d have been healthy in every way, just, asleep, waiting until just the right moment to bring you out. I tried pet, but I don’t have much left in me. I can’t watch him torture her again, or you. I can’t. I’d rather be dust then see that, then hear that, then be forced to help him, to be held accountable for each … for every… I can’t. I’d rather be his dog.”

 

“Spike, we can get out of here, I know we can, the rest of the Scooby gang have got to be looking for me at least, and I know they’re looking for Dawn.”

 

“Buffy, they aren’t looking for anyone. The apocalypse has started, they’re either dead, captured, or fighting, but they won’t have time, much less resources, to look for any of us. Either the world ends and we all die, or we get tossed into a hell dimension, or the good guys win. It would be a miracle if the Scooby’s survived.”

 

“They’ve done miracles before Spike. They’ll find us.”

 

“If you say so pet… but I won’t hold my breath for it… and I’m the one that doesn’t need to breathe.”

 

They fell silent, as they heard footsteps echo on the stone floor, coming towards them. Angelus was there, leading the way. Behind him was a non-descript minion, carrying a covered tray. Buffy looked curiously at it, Spike just ignored it, and Dawn just continued to stare at the wall, shivering silently. The minion knelt beside her, and uncovered the tray. Dawn slowly turned her head, resting her cheek on the stone wall, facing the minion, her lips parted, mouth open slightly. Carefully the minion fed her, cooked vegetables, steak, rice, and milk. Dawn silently ate, not moving from her position and the minion carefully continued, not daring to spill so much as a grain of rice.

 

Angelus leaned on the wall, and gently pets her head. “She’s been a good girl, so she gets rewarded, don’t you Dawnie?” He bored with her quickly, and walked over to Spike, who rolled onto his stomach, to place a kiss on each of his feet with his bruised and bloodied lips. Angelus chuckled, and squatted to pet his head. “See Buffy? One great big happy family.”

 

He walked back towards Dawn, as the minion was cleaning her face with a wet nap. Silently the minion picked up the tray and everything he had brought with him, stopping only to pick up Angelus’s folded clothes, and the torn shirt, before scampering away. Angelus kneeled beside Dawn, watching her lick her lips, before she silently faced the wall again. “Dawn, I think we need to show them just how obedient you are, just how well trained. What do you think?”

 

In the stillness, Buffy heard Dawn’s quiet, “As Master wishes.” Buffy watched, wide eyed, as Angelus gripped the chains. A flash of light as the magic lock undid itself, freeing Dawn. Other then lowering her hands to her side, she didn’t move. Buffy kept trying to will her to fight back, run, anything, but she just knelt there, facing the wall, obediently waiting for Angelus’s command.

 

Angelus stood, and hooked a finger through Dawn’s collar, lifting her to her feet. She bent over at the waist, her head in level with Angelus’s grasp so he didn’t need to strain himself in any way. He led her to the stretch of empty space between Spike and Buffy, pushing downwards on her collar. She knelt, and kept her head bowed, silent, facing neither Buffy nor Spike.

 

Buffy looked away from her nude sister, only to look back again, confused. Her back was one huge bruise, dripping blood where the belt had cut it, and re-opened old wounds, but her front was perfect. Dawn’s hair wasn’t the only clean and well maintained part of her body. She had on carefully applied make-up, her skin was pale, but healthy, clean. Not a single mark marred her front, not a single blemish, or scar.

 

Angelus loomed over Buffy, making her start in surprise. “You’ll want to watch Buffy.” He said, as he unhooked the link of chain from the spike over her head, but leaving the one at her feet still looped over the spike. “Sit up girl, c’mon, you can do it” he said while lifting her up to her knees by one arm. Buffy winced at his rough treatment, and the sudden movement after so long being held immobile. Suddenly she lunged at Angelus, and fell down flat on her face, her muscles hadn’t quite recovered from their month’s long slumber.

 

“Stupid little Slayer, it doesn’t work like that.” He smacked her upside the head, she looked up to glare at him. “Now, either you sit up, and watch, obediently, or I make her scream again. Do you understand me?”

 

She sat up, silently, and crossed her arms, her back against the cool stone, her knees drawn up close to her chest. She clenched her jay, and stared straight ahead, which happened to be where Dawn was. Angelus chuckled, and walked towards his obedient little girl.

 

Buffy watched, helpless, as Angelus stood over her kneeling sister. Dawn kept her knees parted wide apart, her hands rested on her thighs, palms upwards. Her fingers curled gently towards her palm, in a relaxed pose, as she gazed silently into nothing, eyes downcast.

 

Angelus moved a box over to Dawn, and placed it before her on the ground. He opened the snaps, and laid the box open, revealing the array of medical looking equipment inside. Angelus snapped his fingers, and a minion brought him a chair, so he could sit directly in front of Dawn.

 

“Dawn, sterilize the skin on the tops of your breast.” Angelus said, and watched as she obeyed. She took out a squirt bottle full of betadine, and carefully scrubbed the dark liquid into her skin with a sterile gauze pad. She put the used gauze into a plastic bag taken from the box, and replaced the bottle.

 

“Good girl. Now I want you to put the rods into the skin on the top of your breasts, under at least a quarter inch of flesh. You only need to use one in each breast.” Dawn carefully reached into the box, and pulled out two slender metal rods. Even from the distance Buffy was to her sister, she could see the tips were razor sharp, and thin tendrils erupted from the ends that weren’t sharp. Buffy frowned, confused, and watched in stunned shock as Dawn did just that, grunting, and wincing in pain and exertion, as she slowly drove the thick nail like rods under her skin.

 

Dawn fell forward slightly when each rod came out the other side of her breast, breathing heavily, her jaw clenched in determination. When she was done, she straightened, her chest shuddering with held in sobs.

 

Angelus smiled softly, and softly said “hook them up.”

 

Buffy watched as Dawn took the strings hanging from the ends of the rods, and put the ends in the box, fiddling for a moment, as if to affix them inside. Once more she straightened, hands resting on her thighs, as she waited, silently, for her next command.

 

Angelus leaned forward and stroked Dawns hair tenderly, and settled back again. “Level one Dawn, increase as per my command.”

 

Dawn reached into the box once more, and seemed to fiddle. Her breath caught, and tremors raced along her body. Buffy stared, and heard Angelus say, “Two”, and watched as Dawn started to shudder and convulse. That was when Buffy realized those hadn’t been strings at all, they’d been wires. Dawn was electrocuting herself, and the path of electricity was right across her heart. Dawn was knowingly putting her life in danger, and all because that bastard’s twisted whim.

 

“Stop it. Angelus stop it, you’re going to kill her” Buffy begged, starting to crawl forward, towards her sister and her sister’s tormentor.

 

Angelus looked at her and smiled, “three…”, and Dawn fell to the ground, involuntarily twitching, and convulsing. “She knows that Buffy. She did it to herself, all of it, because I simply asked. She’s mine Buffy dear. And there is nothing you can do about it. Four”

 

Dawn somehow managed to get her hand into the box despite her convulsions, and reached for the button. Buffy panicked, and screamed, “Angelus, STOP, please, stop, I’ll do anything you want, PLEASE Angelus, don’t kill her, please please please don’t kill her Angelus.” She started to cry, reaching for them, stretching her body towards then, already at the end of her tethered legs. Buffy stretched herself before Angelus, on her stomach, groveling for her sister’s life.

 

Angelus lifted his hand, halting Dawn’s next step, and motioned for her to turn it off. Dawn’s body slowly stilled, as the electricity was slowly turned off, and after a few breaths to collect herself again, she knelt in the same position, her head lowered, staring blankly at the floor. All that could be heard was Buffy’s pleading, her voice reaching the ears of everyone present. It sounded like a prayer, as Buffy slowly curled up on her side, rocking softly, begging quietly.

 

“I know you will Slayer… and now you know too. Get back to where you were. Dawn, remove those things, you are allowed to use the healing ointment. You’ve been such a good girl Dawn. You’ve gotten to be so good at all your duties, I really have no reason to punish you, but it’s your sister and her lovers fault. They just can’t seem to behave.”

 

He looked up to see a tear streaked Buffy back with her back against the wall, and Spike, sitting, and watching. “He’s learning though. Look at him watching. He knows what would have happened if he hadn’t watched, even though I hadn’t told him. He’s learning. I think that means he should get rewarded. Crawl to him Dawn. Offer yourself to him.”

 

Buffy watched her obey, as Spike looked wary about the proceedings. She crawled until she was close enough to whisper in his ear, and knelt backwards. Her thighs stayed spread, but she tilted her head to the left, baring her throat, holding her wrists outwards, her soft inner wrist upwards, she offered herself to Spike. He watched Angelus carefully, looking for any sign of displeasure, for any indication of what his next command might be.

 

Angelus leaned further back, and stretched his bare legs out in front of him, crossing them at the ankle. He nodded, and gestured with his hand, and laughed as Spike stayed still. “Feed boy, go ahead.”

 

Buffy let out an almost silent whimper, but it wasn’t silent enough to escape the notice of the vampires, as Spike slid into game face, and bit Dawn’s offered wrist. She called out his name, the instant he bit, but he didn’t hesitate. His fangs slid into her soft skin, and her hot blood flowed into his hungry mouth.

 

He got two swallows before Angelus said “Enough”. Spike instantly pulled his teeth from her skin, pulling his mouth away from her wound. He licked his bite clean, letting his spit heal her wound. Buffy watched as Dawns eyes rolled back, and then closed as she moaned softly, and tilted her head backwards. Spike continued to kneel, panting heavily, detesting being forced to feed only from Dawn, at Angelus’s tight control on how he eats, and how much. Dawn held her wounded wrist to her chest, pressing it hard against her breast to staunch the flow of blood.

 

“Come back here Dawn, kneel beside me,” and Dawn obeyed. After she was settled, Angelus leaned forward and looked at each of them. “See kids, this is how it is. If you are bad, you are punished, in one way or another. If you are good, you get rewarded.” His hand absently stroked Dawn’s hair.

 

He smiled gently, looking at Buffy, and motioned a minion forward. “Take Dawn to my rooms, I think I’ll want the services of a bed warmer tonight.”

 

As the minion led the unresisting Dawn away, Buffy clearly said “You lay one hand on her you sick bastard, and I’ll make you regret it.”

 

Angelus laughed from his seat. “Are you offering to take her place? I have no body heat Buffy, I need someone to warm my sheets… and she’s oh so good at her duties.” Buffy looked at him with horror on her face, and he laughed. “I didn’t think so.”

 

As he heaved himself to his feet, Buffy spoke again, “Don’t touch her, please Angelus.”

 

He laughed again, “What do you think I’ve BEEN doing for months? You can’t change what she is. Just like you can’t change what you are, or what I want. It has nothing to do with you. You’d think you’d understand by now, this is about ME, and I want to slide my cold cock into her hot cunt, arse, and mouth. I want to piss on her, and make her drink it. I want to make her scream, and beg, and plead, and pray. I want to make her bleed, so she’ll stain my sheets. I want to do so much to her Buffy, and I’m going to do it, now, and again whenever I want to, however many times I want to. You can’t stop it; you have no power over me.” And with that he chuckled, and walked out, happily whistling.

 

Buffy stared after him, shaking her head from side to side, appalled and staggered. She kept shaking her head as tears leaked hotly from her eyes, until she fell unconscious, the strain of the day taking its toll.

 

 

---

 

Chapter 2

 

She woke up, groggy and stiff from sleeping on the cold stone floor. She lifted her head, and looked about. The curtain had been lowered; Spike was no longer in view. She didn’t even know if he was still there. Her wrist chains had been left as loose as Angelus had permitted them; her ankle chains were still as tight as he had made them. Carefully, she stood up; stretching the stiffness out of her muscles, hoping the previous weakness was over and done with.

 

As she stretched, she saw the fresh scar near her mons, the brand he had placed upon her. She looked down at the cursive capital A, with the rose beneath it. Gently trailing her fingers over it, she felt the scar, felt how sensitive the skin was. Her chains rattled with each movement, but she ignored it, there was nothing she could do about it for now, so no point wasting breath thinking about it.

 

She expected to die here, if everything Spike said was true, it the apocalypse had already started, and her friends were already fighting for their lives, if not dead already. She expected to die here, but she’d be damned if she’d go without a fight, or without her sister and Spike. She wasn’t going to leave them here to be tortured and tormented by Angelus. She held no hope for getting Angel back. She knew nothing about the spell they used to take his soul out of him, or anything about putting his soul back in, other then needing an esoteric crystal orb which she didn’t have access to.

 

She’d pulled her punches before when faced with Angelus. She’d been unable to kill him until he’d opened the portal. Then it had been her love, or the world. She chose the world. Now she chose herself, and damn him from trying to break her, for what he’d done to her and hers.

 

She looked around the room, at the corpses piled against the walls in heaps. She saw the shelf where Angelus had kept the ointment, it was empty. She walked as far as her chains would let her, looking for anything to use against him, anything to break the chains, anything that could possibly help her. The only things in her reach was the stone floor, stone wall, her binding chain, those iron stakes, and her manacles.

 

She went through her mental list, and frowned to herself. The only thing she could possibly use would be the iron spikes, so she went over to the one holding her ankle chains short, since it was the only one she could get to. She reached down to unhook her chain from the spike, and got thrown backwards with a magical barrier. The breath was knocked out of her, and she saw stars as she lay on her back, her hips horridly wrenched from the limit her chains put on her. She gasped in pain, and held her hips, feeling they had almost dislocated from the force of the throw.

 

“Yeah, should have mentioned, whole place is enchanted. Even that curtain between you and Spike. It’s as thin as velvet, and twice as light, but it’s like three feet of solid concrete. No noise or light, or anything will pass through.”

 

Buffy started at the voice from the shadows, seeing Angelus walk towards her, wearing black cotton slacks, and a silk shirt, the colour of a black pearl. His patent leather shoes echoed softly in the room with each step, as he walked towards her.

“At least you’re still predictable. Escape, kill me, save Spike, save Dawn… it’s all on your face. It can’t be done. This place is mine Buffy. It’s built to my specifications, including laws of physics and reality.” He squatted in front of her, just out of her chained reach. “We have bets going on how soon you’ll break you know. I think Vordak from receiving won yesterday, when you crawled to me, and begged. I actually thought you’d last a little longer, since she’s not even really your sister, but your bleeding heart morals won out on that. Kinda disappointed in you Buffy. I expected more of a fight.”

 

Buffy spat at him, “You’re going to get it you bastard.”

 

“You know, I’m actually NOT a bastard? Mum was married to dad when she boinked him and made me. Kinda sad really. Thought your Scooby’s would have found out that tidbit in your research of me.” He shrugged and stood up.

 

He smiled suddenly, his eyes misted, and far away as he remembered… “You know how long it got me to get her to scream out my name? Not even a half hour. For a virgin she was damned easy… I think she even got off on the pain at first.”

 

Buffy lunged at him, and was brought up quite short, by her chains. He chuckled again, not even looking at her, “She really is something. Those monks did a great job.” Buffy painfully got to her knees, as he absently lick his lips, and then bit his tongue, a goofy smile on his face.

 

“Get your bed warmed just the way you wanted it, freak?”

 

“Now that was a pathetic insult coming from you Buffy. I don’t know, you used to be stronger, smarter… or maybe Angel just idolized you a little too much. As for my bed, yes, it was perfectly warmed. She’s… recovering right now. You might not see her for a while yet.”

 

“What did you do to her, you sick sadistic fuck?”

 

“Whatever I wanted to do,” with that, he got up, and walked away, towards a door in the corner. Buffy stayed on her knees, and pulled in vain at her chains, and quickly brushed her tears angrily away.

 

She sat with her back to the wall, knees drawn up, and plotted silently. Not like there was anything else to do.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

What felt like hours later, Buffy heard bare feet on the stone floor, and looked up to see Dawn coming into the room.

 

“Dawn, Dawn look at me. SAY something Dawn. I know you’re in there, talk to me, please Dawn.”

 

Buffy kept pleading her silent sister to talk to her, and Dawn acted like she didn’t hear it. Dawn pulled back the curtain separating Buffy from Spike, and left the room again. Buffy couldn’t watch her leave, the scars and injuries on her back made her nauseous, the blood smeared along her thighs disturbed her and Dawn’s pallor worried her. She called her sisters name again, halfheartedly asking for a response, a reaction, and saw Spike glaring at her. He waited until Dawn had left, before snarling at Buffy.

 

“What the hell are you trying to do? If she’s IN THERE do you want her to come out again, IN THIS? He’d only break her again, he’d only make you and I suffer with what he does to her. If you want to try to find the real Dawn in there, do it when she’s safe. I can’t believe you are so… never mind. If he hears you talking to her, begging her to come out of her shell, he’ll just use it against you. He’ll use it against me, and use it against her. You know he’s sadistic. He wasn’t called the Scourge for nothing”

 

Buffy fell silent, turning over what Spike had said in her mind. She shuddered silently, as the reality of where she was hit her, as the reality of who held her as prisoner really was. She remembered all the stories, all the proof they had uncovered about Angelus. She remembered what they knew about Drusilla and how she was turned, how other creatures still reacted when Angelus’s name was mentioned, what they said. She was at his mercy, totally vulnerable, along with two people she cared for, loved, and bled for.

 

Buffy suddenly hurried to as far as her chains would let her go, and retched, throwing up nothing but stinging bile. She felt it sting her nose, and burn her throat, as her head started spinning. She moaned and fell to her knees, and kept retching, dry heaves making her body arch and tremble.

 

Finally when she was done, she spat out as much as she could, and crawled back to her previous position. Spike watched all of this silently, concern on his face. When she was finally settled, he spoke, “Finally understand what’s happening then?”

 

Buffy didn’t answer, just put her forehead down on her knees, and shook. “Buffy… just do what he wants. If you don’t, he’ll hurt her again. He might even make her torture herself to death just to teach you a lesson.” He fell silent again, and sat up, crossing her legs, and lowering his head.

 

He spoke again softly, not lifting his head, “Don’t hate me Buffy… please. I’m doing the only thing I can to keep her safe, to keep you safe. I’m sorry I failed you Buffy… please don’t hate me.”

 

Before Buffy could respond Angelus was in the room, repeating what Spike had said, mocking him, “Please don’t hate me Buffy, I’m sorry I failed you Buffy. Whine whine bitch whine bitch. That mouth of yours has other, better uses boy.”

 

Spike looked up when he first heard Angelus, and looked quickly down when he saw him. Spike crawled forward on his belly, his chain rattling loudly, as he pressed his lips against the shiny leather of Angelus’s shoes.

 

“That was one of them.” Angelus squatted, and lifted Spike by the chin, making their eyes meet. Spike tried to consciously relax his clenched jaw before Angelus gripped. He looked calmly into Spike’s eyes. “I know you aren’t broken yet, but you are obedient, somewhat. Don’t worry Spike, we’ll get you there.” He let go of Spike and walked over to Buffy.

 

He gestured towards the door way, and Dawn walked towards them, carrying a heavy covered tray. She knelt closely beside Angelus, facing Buffy, and with a nudge from his foot, she placed the tray on the ground before her, carefully removing the heavy metal cover. Buffy looked down at a large bowl of beige liquid, beside it was a large soup spoon, and on the other side was a large funnel.

 

“This is a high protein, high fat, vitamin enriched meal. They use it in hospitals for coma patients with feeding tubes and the like. It’s rather bland, what with being partially pre-digested, and since coma patients can’t complain, it’s perfect. I made sure this one was high fat, so we could get started on building your curves again.

 

Now you have a choice; either you eat this yourself with the spoon, or we shove the funnel down your throat and pour it in, while you pray you don’t choke. IF you puke this up, I will be VERY disappointed,” he said with a pointed look at her puddle of bile.

 

Buffy reached for the spoon while looking up at Angelus. He smiled and started to walk away, turning to face her as she took her first spoonful, and laughed at her look of disgust. “If that bowl isn’t licked clean by the time I get back, you won’t like the results,” and he walked away, snapping impatiently for Dawn, who scurried to follow him, carrying the cover, but leaving the tray with the bowl and funnel, as Buffy stared after her fleeing form.

 

Buffy stuck out her tongue, and shook her head, shuddering, “This stuff is NASTY. I don’t know if I can eat it.”

 

Spike was back on his back, hands beneath his head, staring at the ceiling. “Eat it. You won’t like what he does if you don’t.”

 

“What will he do?”

 

“I don’t know I just know you won’t like it. If I know him, he won’t give you enough time to finish it, so you better just slurp that stuff down. Hold your nose if you have to, just get it down.”

 

Buffy stared at the bowl, stirring it with her spoon, and dribbling it into the bowl from her spoon, sticking her tongue out at the watery consistency.

 

“Eat it Buffy,” Spike said, quietly. He stared at the ceiling, looking defeated, and worn out. He’s told her, warned her, and she was still playing squeamish girl. She’d learn, she’d learn like they’d all learned.

 

Buffy managed another spoonful, gagging as the sludge worked its way down her throat, and then the spoon was taken from her hands by Angelus’s cold ones. She had been so intent on trying not to puke, she hadn’t heard him come in, or approach her. He smiled softly, and twisted her arms behind her back, the magic lock on each opening, and sealing to the other, leaving her hands manacled together behind her back. She didn’t even have time to struggle as Angelus grabbed her hair, and pulled her head back, jamming the funnel down her throat. He picked up the bowl, and held her head still as Buffy struggled to get away, and poured the entire contents of the bowl down the funnel.

 

Angelus heard her stomach rebel as her gag reflex was triggered, and he let her go, so she could puke on the floor, spewing out all of the gruel in a few long heaves. He laughed as she threw up, and called for a chair to sit and watch. When she was finished, he settled back comfortably, and rested his thumb and forefinger along his jaw. “Eat it”.

 

“What??” She shrieked, trying to back peddle away from him.

 

“I said, eat it. Lick it up, and eat it, every drop.”

 

“I’m not going to eat THAT, that’s disgusting!”

 

“You will eat it Buffy, and keep it down, or Dawn will castrate Spike with a rusty pocket knife.” Each word raised his anger and his voice, slowly bending him forwards towards Buffy, so his breath struck her face, and his teeth was all she could see. She leaned as far back into the stone wall as she could, trying to get away, when she heard Spike call her name.

 

She looked over at him with wide eyes, seeing Angelus’s minions chaining him tightly spread eagle, face upwards. He looked at her beseechingly as Dawn slowly walked towards him from out of her line of vision. She knelt gracefully between his knees, and held out a single delicate manicured hand out, palm up. A minion placed a dirty old Swiss Army pocket knife in her hand. Silently she flicked out the blade, and grabbed his testicles and cock in one hand. She pulled them taught away from Spikes body, and lifted the knife.

 

“WAIT, Angelus, wait, I’ll do it, just, undo my chains, I’ll do it,” she told him, hearing Spike struggle in his tight bindings, and laugh in nervous fear. Dawn hadn’t stopped, the blade was pressed against Spike’s skin, and she slowly sawed with it, blood started to flow, and Spike started to scream. Angelus held up his hand, halting Dawn’s movements.

 

“Who said anything about undoing chains?” He dragged her to her pool of puke, and pressed her face first into it. “Eat it Slayer.” He pressed his foot hard against the back of her neck, pressing the whole side of her face hard into the mess.

 

Buffy felt her teeth cut into her lips from the pressure, as she slowly stuck out her tongue, and started to cry, licking at it. He let her go, and she straightened slightly, so her face was no longer pressed uncomfortably into the stone floor. She stayed pressed against her own vomit, and pitifully licked at it as Spike cussed in the background.

“If you don’t hurry up, she’s going to start again Buffy.” She started to lick more animatedly at the puke, gagging now and again. The room waited silently for her to finish her noisy task.

 

When she was finished, she sat up, and kept her puke smeared face lowered, her face partially hidden by her long vomit soaked hair. She couldn’t stop gagging, throwing up again in her mouth from time to time, only to swallow it. When she stilled, Angelus patted the side of his leg, and Dawn came running to kneel beside him.

 

Minions came out of the shadows, and silently unrestrained Spike, leaving him in just his collar and chain like he’d been before. Spike curled up on his side, holding his groin with both hands.

 

Buffy shook under Angelus’s silent scrutiny. “I told you that you wouldn’t like it if you didn’t eat it while I was gone. You really should listen to me. Dawn my love, you’ve been such a good girl, I got you a present.” He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a long chain covered in tiny metal bells. They jingle and jangled as he held it in front of her. She looked up at his offering, and looked confused. “Place your left foot flat on the floor, bent knee towards the ceiling. Now point your toe.” She obeyed silently, still watching, confused and curious.

 

Angelus looped the chain around her ankle seven times, before clasping it. A bright flare of light indicated yet another mystical lock sealed shut. “Walk around the room, I want to hear it.” Angelus closed his eyes, smiling softly to himself as he listened to the musical slave prance about the large empty space. He patted the side of his leg again, and once more Dawn came running to kneel, this time accompanied by a frantic jangle of her new bells.

 

Gently Angelus stroked her long brown hair as Dawn silently knelt. Her soft full lips, tinted slightly pink, were slightly parted. She kept her blue eyes carefully downcast, Buffy wasn’t sure her sister had even looked at her since her capture. Buffy coughed loudly, and belched as more stomach acid tossed and turned inside her. Her body was not happy with what she had forced it to ingest.

 

Angelus tapped his lap, and Dawn swarmed into it, sitting on his right knee and resting her head on his right shoulder. She wrapped her arms around his midsection, shivering slightly when his fingers stroked her along her skin, wincing and gritting her teeth when he found a cut or bruise and cruelly pressed into it. He seemed to enjoy the dance he was creating out of her supple obedient body. Dawn softly placed a kiss on his neck, her soft pink tongue coming out from between her lips to lick at his pulse.

 

Buffy stared in horror, watching her tortured and bloody sister showing such affection to her captor and the one that had orchestrated her suffering, and theirs. She looked away as Dawn tilted her head for a brutal kiss, squeaking when Angelus bit her tongue, the blood welling out of their joined mouths to dribble in a single line down her chin. Angelus released her mouth, and licked the track of blood clean, swallowing contentedly.

 

He stood, suddenly, and dumped Dawn on her knees before him. She looked up and saw the bulge in his pants, and quickly undressed him, ever obedient and well trained, folding each item with utmost care and respect, as Angelus stood there, Spike watching, and Buffy trying not to watch. When Dawn finished, she placed her own kisses on Angelus’s feet, and knelt, waiting for her next command.

 

He gripped her hair in his fist and dragged her over to Spike, who was starting to sit up. Angelus waited while Spike pressed his partially healed lips to his feet, and kicked him in the side, making him curl up in the fetal position, protecting what must have been a bruised or broken rib.

 

“Hands and knees puppy, keep that back straight and level.” When Spike complied, Angelus laid Dawn on her back on top of Spike, her hair falling to cover his face as he was used as furniture; their backs pressed tightly together, her head resting on his. “If she falls off, I’ll take it out on Buffy,” Angelus told Spike, like reporting the weather, totally detached from any emotional meaning of the statement.

 

Angelus snapped his fingers, and motioned to his clothing, a minion ran and retrieved the plain grey remote, and brought it back to him. Angelus put the remote on Dawn’s belly, and then lifted her legs over his shoulders, baring her opening at the perfect height for a nice hard fuck. He picked up the remote, and thumbed it to a random pattern, causing the vibrators still deep inside Buffy to twitch to life, pulsing and thrumming away inside her.

 

As soon as Angelus heard Buffy’s first gasp of surprise, her rammed his aching hard cock into Dawn’s well used cunt. He put the remote on the ground, and picked up his speed, changing his angle as Dawn writhed beneath him, crying out softly, then louder and louder, finally calling out his name in her heightened passion.

 

Buffy squirmed on the ground, unable to look away, feeling her body respond to the vibrators within her. When Dawn’s cries started to reach a fevered peak, when she was barely able to articulate Angelus’s name, he threw her off Spike’s back, and rammed his slick cock hilt deep into Spike’s unsuspecting ass.

 

Buffy heard Spike holler, heard Angelus laugh, heard Dawn whimper in need and desperation, and heard herself moaning as her body was thrummed towards a climax. Dawn crawled between Angelus’s legs, her mouth open as she licked his asshole, sucking his balls into her mouth, tasting Spike’s blood on them as Angelus raped the smaller vampire beneath him.

 

Angelus’s face shifted from its human mask to the vampire visage, as he hammered mercilessly into Spike, ignoring his cries, and grunts, but no pleading. Spike would not plead for Angelus to stop, at least when he was raping Spike… that was all he was doing, and everyone else was safe enough, for now.

 

Buffy watched in amazement as Spike’s cock rose of its own accord, hardening under the onslaught. With a grunting cry, Angelus filled Spike’s ass with his seed, as Spike trembled beneath him, as Buffy cried out with her own orgasm. As soon as he pulled out of Spike’s ass, Dawn’s head darted forward, hungrily licking, and sucking Angelus’s sperm out of Spike’s ass, at the blood spilling out of it from the tears and rips of his rape. Dawn reached her hands forward and carefully separated Spike’s ass cheeks, to get more of the mixture.

 

The site shocked and revolted Buffy, making her hard earned full stomach start to rebel once more. She swallowed convulsively, trying to force the meal to stay where it was, instead of spilling it once more on the filthy floor. Another orgasm rushed through her, making her cry out more loudly then she had intended, making Angelus laugh.

 

“I don’t think she’s had enough, do you Buffy? I don’t think she’s been satisfied, I think she needs a little more attention, don’t you?” He grabbed Dawn’s hair once more, directing her to clean his blood and cum streaked cock, laughing as she avidly obeyed, as she moaned and whimpered, trying to get him hard again.

 

Buffy watched as her traitorous body once more arched with another unbidden orgasm, and she cried, sobbing into her filthy hair, as the stink of decomposing flesh and rotten blood and vomit filled her nose. She rolled onto her back, feeling weak and disoriented no longer fully conscious. She came to when he heard Spike snarl on the negative, and looked over, her hair now crusty and dry, rubbing harshly on her face as she watched Dawn straddle the chained down and prone Spike.

 

Dawn shivered, dancing the tip of Spike’s cock against her nether lips, stroking it up and down, as Spike seethed beneath her, his jaw clenched tightly, muscles jumping and popping in his jaw line.

 

Angelus stood over them, watching intently, as his left hand stroked his hard and heavy cock. “Bend over further… I wasn’t to see it go in…” Angelus murmured. He flipped the vibrators back on, keeping them at a low setting.

 

Buffy yelped as she squirmed at their sudden action, she hadn’t noticed he’d eased them off, and turning them back on teased her sensitive and excited flesh.

 

Dawn’s lips danced along Spike’s jaw, licking at the hollow underneath his ear, her hips pulsing softly as her pert, round, heavy breasts pressed against his chest. Angelus softly said “now” and sighed softly as her hips lowered, her twitching and well fucked pussy slowly enveloping Spike’s straining cock, the tip weeping from the pressure of the cock ring keeping his undead blood in his cock, keeping him hard and unable to be satisfied, or climax.

 

Spike arched his back, his head rolling as his mouth opened in a silent grunt, feeling Dawn’s slippery softness enveloping his rod. His arms struggled to reach for Dawn, to push her away or pull her closer, Buffy couldn’t tell, Angelus just laughed.

 

“Slowly Dawn, I want you to draw it out, slowly fill yourself with him.” He leaned back slightly for a better viewing angle, and chuckled as Dawn shivered, and moaned, sweat breaking out on her skin, scenting the air.

When she finally sheathed his cock deeply inside her, she grunted, and laid her body on top of his. When her teeth found Spike’s skin along his pulse point, he started to growl, biting it back when Angelus raised a single eyebrow.

 

Buffy looked away when Angelus knelt between Spike’s legs, one hand on her sisters ass. She clenched her eyes shut, and tried to block out the sensations the vibrators were causing inside her.

 

“If you don’t watch Buffy my dear, I’ll just have to do it again and again and again, making her scream a little more each time… hell, maybe just make her scream over and over. She can go for quite a while before she looses her voice. Quite a set of lungs on her.”

 

Buffy looked over once again, trying vainly to force the vibrators out of her body, and failing miserably. Her fingers reached for the buckles, to undo them, and free herself of the devices forced within her, only to get a rather agonizing electric shock. Angelus laughed again, “MY world Buffy,” he snarled, as he forced his cock into Dawn’s lifted and waiting ass.

 

Dawn screamed and Buffy struggled to get closer to her, to force Angelus off her sister. Dawn screamed again and again, as he forced himself deeper and deeper into her dry tightness, using blood from her tears to ease his way inside her. She struggled beneath him, trying to get away, sobbing and crying, gulping for air.

 

Buffy screamed “MERCY! Uncle, anything, everything, PLEASE STOP! You’ll kill her you bastard!” Angelus just fucked her, Spike huffing softly underneath the two bodies atop him, feeling Angelus’s cock trusting against his own, only a thin membrane separating them.

 

Spike clenched his eyes shut, holding his un-needed breath in, as he felt Dawn struggling on top of him, stirring deep within him the demon he sheathed inside his soul. He remembered when Angelus and he would enjoy the flesh of their victims this way, draining them, as they struggled between them. He flashed back to memories of girls sobbing breathlessly, barely conscious from blood loss, as he raped the life out of them, Angelus helping, leading, or killing his own right along side. He remembered boys sobbing for their mothers are they bled to death from internal damage and his insatiable hunger.

 

He started to cry. Soft shuddering sobs as his minds eye replayed the tortures and torments he once inflicted for his personal enjoyment before earning his soul. His demon and soul fought within him, and for one horrifying moment, he felt his soul quaver within him, and his demon get a foot hold. He shuddered in dread, wondering what was happening inside him, was this what loosing your mind felt like, he wondered.

 

As his Sire came inside Dawn, Spike snarled in frustration, the cock ring holding the base of his shaft making his own climax utterly impossible. He bucked in his chains, frustration pulling his human mask off, as he seethed in his denial.

 

Angelus pulled out of the sobbing, drooling Dawn, her breath catching in her throat as she sobbed continuously. Her legs twitched and shuddered as she tried to hold still, as Angelus towered once more over her.

 

“Twice in a few hours of each other, and you don’t do anything but take it. Dawn, I broke you well,” he smiled to himself as he gestured for a minion to take care of her wounds. “Put her back in my bed when you’re done, I want her arse nice and healed and healthy.” He looked over at his minion, and back handed his lecherous gaze off his face. “If you so much as touch what is mine in ways I have not EXPRESSLY permitted, you will find your head mounted on a pike, your body emptied but for your heart as your skin is stretched across the wall. Do you understand?” The minion nodded, looking contrite, and terrified, as he picked up the still crying Dawn, and carried her off.

 

Angelus looked over at Buffy, and smiled charmingly. “The senior partners are ecstatic about you being here Buffy. They can’t wait to see what becomes of you.” He lay down on his side, his back to Spike who was starting to struggle in his chains a little louder. He’d been denied his own climax for so long he was starting to get a little pissy about it. Angelus got up and released the joining of the manacles behind her back, re-attaching them to the chains.

 

“Angelus… I… I need to go to the bathroom.” Buffy stammered out, quietly, blushing bright red.

 

“What’s stopping you?” He countered.

 

She looked at him confused, and lifted her chains, rattling them. “Can’t exactly walk myself to the ladies room to powder my nose, now can I?”

 

“Who said you’d be using a toilet, never mind privacy in a bathroom? You’re my little chained animal. Squat in a corner, you’re chains will let you.” He chuckled at her shocked expression.

 

“Wh-what about… what about the… thing, this thing,” she motioned towards the leather encasing her crotch, keeping the vibrators safely inside her.

 

“True, getting it all nasty wouldn’t be ‘nice’ now would it? Neither would your being forced to keep it on after you go… so go squat in a corner, and go.”

 

Buffy stared at him, tears of humiliation in her eyes, and moved to stand, halting when he lifted a hand. She glared at him, and crawled as far away as her chains would allow, and squatted, letting loose a long stream of urine dribbling out from beneath the locked leather panties, coating her thighs, and shins and feet in the pale yellow fluid. She looked away from all the rooms occupants, keeping her eyes locked on the ceiling as she emptied her bladder.

 

She crawled away from the stream, back to where she had been, keeping her eyes averted from Angelus. She knew he’d been watching, his soft laugh told her he noticed her shame, her blush, and her humiliation. He knew what he was doing, and how humiliated she felt. He leaned towards her and wrinkled his nose.

 

“You stink Buffy.”

 

She looked up at him, hatred on her face, “No shit Sherlock. I’ve just pissed myself, puked all over myself, have food clinging to my body and hair, and who knows HOW long I was kept here without the ability to bathe myself for your olfactory pleasure.”

 

He nodded at her outburst, and stretched out on his side once more, keeping his eyes locked on her face, as she kept hers on his. Suddenly an icy blast of water hit her. She yelped in surprise, and tried to get away from the spray, only to see she’d been surrounded by minions with hoses turned on full blast, aimed directly at her. She sputtered, and covered her face, keeping her eyes clenched shut, shuddering as the cold seemed to seep into her very bones. She turned and lay flat on her stomach, turning it into a fetal position, trying to keep the frigid water from her front and face.

 

Over the roar of the water, she heard the roar of Angelus’s laugh, and the roar of Spike’s scream of impotent rage. Buffy felt the water turn off, her body numb from the freezing water. She sobbed, and screamed as her body started to warm up. Tingles, and needles, and lacing pain danced through her entire body as shudders and shakes worked their way through her. She convulsed, gritting her teeth, her body loosing any real connection with her brain other then sending the message she was in agony over and over again.

 

When she started to calm down, swallowing whimpers of pain, someone threw a comb at her head, and another gave her a large metal bowl full of water with a wash cloth floating in the bowl. “Clean yourself off Slayer, comb your hair, make yourself presentable, you are about to be viewed by… a client of sorts.” He hopped up to his feet, and happily whistled his way out the door, leaving her on her own in a room with minions hidden in shadows, and Spike chained onto his back.

 

She looked at Spike, and called his name, but he didn’t answer. She would have thought him asleep, if it wasn’t for the fact he was snarling, shaking his head, struggling against his bonds and crying at random intervals.

 

She debated her next step, knowing Angelus would be displeased if she didn’t tend to herself, and not caring… but she knew he wouldn’t take out his dissatisfaction out on her, but on someone she loved, and cared about, so she got to work. Working the tangles out carefully with the comb, she used the water in the basin to rinse her hair clean, though she wished for soap and shampoo. She was pleased to see that as soon as the water was used up, or got dirty, a minion came quickly with another basin full of clean water, another clean wash cloth. She cleaned herself up as best she could, and sat and waited for Angelus to re-appear, drawing her knees up to her chest, trying to stop her trembling, trying to convince herself it was from the cold, and not from outright terror as to what was happening to her, what had happened to her. Part of her mind wondered if this was shock, another part was babbling incoherently, and the rest was a pregnant silence, waiting to spill out the horrors within her mind in a horrific birthing.

 

She heard a woman talking, a heavy male voice replied. As the voices came closer, Buffy tried to understand what they were talking about, and found it was nothing but empty pleasantries, devoid of actual content. Angelus led the way into the room, indicating it with one sweeping hand, as a tall and regal woman entered. Her body was covered with a long dark green dress, encrusted with silver embroidery, and precious stones. Her pale face was severe, and regal, a woman used to authority and her every whim instantly delivered. Thick coils of black hair tumbled out from underneath her crown past her knees. Distantly Buffy wondered if that hair was real or a wig or extensions of some sort, and started when she saw the hair move of its own volition.

 

The woman led a nubile young woman on a leash; the collar showing glinted in the light of the room, precious stones hiding the metal used to encircle her slender throat. Her long straight brown hair cascaded down her bare back. Diaphanous tan colored silk about twenty centimeters wide fell from a chain belt about her waist to her knees in front and behind. Buffy frowned, and looked the girl over again, and stared at the Dawn look-alike. Her eyes were a dark chocolate brown, and her lips were different, but if Buffy squinted, she could have sworn it was Dawn before her.

 

She tuned into the discussion, and watched Spike, as he watched the girl. He licked his lips, and just stared, holding still, smirking silently to himself. Minions appeared around him, unchaining him from his position, lengthening his neck chain considerably, but he stayed on his back, panting softly.

 

“He’s the one chosen?” The woman scornfully looked Spike over, eyes lingering on bruises and cuts, and finally settling on his still aching cock.

 

“This is William the Bloody, I assure you he will do quite well as a stud,” he smirked at Spike. “As long as the wench is fertile, things will move smoothly.”

 

The strange woman unclipped the leash, and the girl moved forward on trembling legs towards Spike. She knelt beside him, and undid the cock ring, only to let out a scream of pure terror as Spike launched himself at her. She tried to run, but was easily over powered by the lust filled vampire, and was tumbled until she was pinned beneath him. He loomed over her, and his face shifted to its demonic form, and laughed maniacally.

 

She shrieked, and struggled beneath him, trying to get free of his chilling embrace. Easily Spike slide his knee between hers, and spread her legs roughly apart as he climbed atop her. She kept struggling, and started to cry as Spike plunged his aching cock inside her. He fucked her ruthlessly, seeming to find some problem at the beginning but vigorously plunged his cold cock into her unready body.

 

As Spike raped the girl, the rest of the room watched in stony or shocked silence, depending on their personal values. His grunts seemed to echo in the space, as he filled her with his demonic seed. She lay beneath him, trembling, tear streaked, but calm. She didn’t try to get away, just waited for Spike to climb off her, and was rudely brought back to reality as he just started fucking her again.

 

Bruises sprouted along the girl’s arms as Spike held on to her savagely, not letting his fuck wander away from his pounding cock. He flipped her onto her hands and knees, plunging in again without a pause, pushing her head down with his vampiric strength with one hand to open her up to easier access, and the other added a new mottling of bruises along her hips and ass as he kept his savage grip upon her body, making sure she didn’t move from beneath him, as he smiled above her, jaw clenched tight as his eyes rolled backwards in his head. Animalistic pleasure in every line of his body, as he filled her again with his cold seed, body shuddering in ripples from his head to his knees. He grunted twice with two more strokes, and seemed to calm.

 

Angelus walked towards Buffy, and pulled her away from the wall by her ankle chains. Stripping in sure movements, he walked towards her, and stretched himself out between the wall and her body, making sure her view of the proceedings wasn’t interfered with. She glared up at him, and got up onto her elbows. She drew in breath to insult him, and let it out with a soft involuntary moan. His cool fingers had found her nipple, and he was rolling it between his thumb and forefinger, pinching it lightly from time to time, teasing another moan from her lips.

 

Her eyes drifted closed in bliss, only to open and lock on Spike as he let out another snarl, starting to thrust into to girl again. Cool lips locked on Buffy’s throat, causing her to stiffen, her breath caught behind a ball of panic lodged in her throat. She drew in a ragged breath when Angelus’s cool tongue licked along her pulse point, and found the sweet spot behind her ear. She whimpered when he drew her earlobe into his mouth, and gasped softly, her lips parting involuntarily like her thighs when he sucked it, nibbling with blunt human teeth.

 

She tried to look away from the brutal coupling below her, to concentrate on the tender hands and lips of Angelus, when she felt him force her to keep watching Spike. Reality started to bubble up from the haze of desire he had built on her, and from the musk of his magicked cologne. This was wrong, what was happening? She started to push again Angelus, and drew in a breath to add strength to her muscles, but she drew in the scent of the cologne along with fresh air into her lungs, causing the mists to envelope her again, blinding reason, leaving only desire in its wake.

 

Angelus nuzzled her neck, watching her arch her neck, bearing her throat to his lips. His hand traced a feather light path from where it had been restraining her head to keep her facing the coupling, down the side of her body. Nimble cold fingers traced the curve of her breast, teasing a nipple, before continuing its journey down her body.

 

She arched into his hand, licking her lips as her eyes glazed over with lust. When he unlocked her leather panties, she groaned with need, her hands reaching down towards her pussy, one plunging three fingers inside her dripping hole, the other tweaking her nipples.

 

Angelus laughed, and watched, nibbling her shoulder while his hand stroked her bare breasts, tweaking and fiddling with her nipples, pressing his cold body against her hot one, his firm erection pressing against her, sliding between her ass cheeks as it pressed against her back. She leaned back into it, moaning again, letting her eyes flitter shut in ecstasy. His hands left her flushed body to whack her once on the head, “Watch it, don’t look away,” and bit her earlobe gently, sucking it again when she opened her eyes to watch.

 

She watched Spike give a particularly harsh thrust, and came, her legs kicked out as her juices shot out of her pulsing pussy to cover her hands. Angelus reached down, and grabbed her hands away. He slid his left arm under her neck, cradling her head, and grabbing her left hand in his. His right hand grabbed hers, and bent it behind her back, to grasp his rigid cock. When she moaned and grasped it tighter, gently pumping it with her small hands, he let go and reached over her, to play with her clit.

 

She arched against his hand, her soft mewling a counterpoint to Spike’s animalistic grunting, as the girl beneath him started panting. The woman in her regal dress started chanting under her breath in a language that Buffy couldn’t identify, watching the proceedings avidly.

 

Angelus brought Buffy to another explosive orgasm, but held his own in check, nibbling with dull teeth on her throat and ear, before starting his fingers inside her again, his thumb slipping against her clit as her hips gyrated beneath his touch.

 

Suddenly, the girl began to cry out in ecstasy, her orgasm ripped from her, unbidden, as Angelus squirted his cold silky load onto Buffy’s back. A silent shockwave seemed to flash through the room, and the chanting woman stopped, nodding in silent approval. Angelus pulled his fingers out of Buffy, and carefully locked her manacles to her collar, leaving her unable to touch herself. Buffy struggled fervently against the chains, trying to touch herself, whimpering in need as she struggled.

 

Spike seemed to come more into himself after the shockwave. He pulled back from the girl, seeing her bruises on her body, her long brown hair tousled and tangled in her struggles and his thrusts. He scrambled away from her, abject horror in his every line, “Dawn…,” he choked out before turning to retch. He gagged as the horror of the thought of having raped Dawn in that manner, in that way, and the certainty he felt that he’d done it.

 

The woman held out her hand, the leash wrapped around it, and the girl struggled to crawl to her, aching, bruised and battered from Spike’s brutal rape. The woman clicked the leash, and led the girl away, while Buffy gasped at the site of blood trickling down the girl’s inner thighs.

 

Spike fell onto his side in a shuddering heap, staring into space as the horror he had just done replayed over and over again, his mind reeling at what he had done to Dawn.

 

The drugs reached their peak, and Buffy lost consciousness, trembling with need.

 

---

 

Chapter 3

 

Buffy woke, stiff and sore from yet another night on cold stone. She groaned to herself, and rolled over; surprised she still had so much slack in her chains. She looked at Spike, staring dully into space, curled up tightly on his side, a thin pallet underneath him.

 

“Great, fuck a girl, get a pallet… watch a girl get fucked, sleep on stone.” Buffy muttered to herself, as she stood up, and began to stretch out the stiffness in her muscles. She looked carefully at her manacles, struggled briefly with them, and sighed, dropping her arms. “There has GOT to be a way to get out of here.”

 

She looked carefully around her prison, ignoring the twinge between her thighs, and the heat of need. She didn’t have time for this shit. The room was large and she noticed with some appreciation that the decomposing bodies had been all removed, but the dried blood had been left on the stone floor. There were no windows in the high ceiling room, but some areas of the stone walls had been covered in thick and heavy drapes like the one Angelus had encircled Spike with, no doubt to keep out sound from passageways, so their activities might not disturb other members of this twisted household.

 

She pulled against the chains binding her, struggling to lower her wrists from their position attached to her throat, and other then making a great deal of noise, nothing else happened. She sighed to herself and got up; walking as far as the chains permitted her, feeling along the stone walls for a hidden passage, anything, and found nothing for her troubles.

 

She knelt as close as she possibly could to Spike, and softly called his name, and kept calling it till he stirred. “Spike, look at me, that wasn’t Dawn, Spike…. Spike look at me.”

 

He lifted dull eyes to look at her, and shuddered, “I…”

 

“It wasn’t Dawn Spike… it was some girl, I think a slave. Her owner brought her here to breed with you, it wasn’t Dawn Spike, she just kind of looked like her.”

 

“Vampires can’t have…. They can’t…” He didn’t seem to be able to form a complete sentence, words sounded almost slurred as he forced them out.

 

“This is Angelus’s world, remember? Who knows what he’s done to you, to me, to anyone that walks in here. Just trust me, that wasn’t Dawn.”

 

“Wasn’t…?” he blinked, and looked up at her, hope starting to shine beneath the dullness of his eyes and face.

 

“No, it wasn’t, it just looked a lot like her. Trust me, you didn’t… do that to her.”

 

“I didn’t...,” he looked around a bit, confused. “Why am I on a pallet?”

 

“I’m guessing that was your reward for a job well done. I wasn’t really conscious when that happened.”

 

“What…,” he cleared his throat, “What happened to you?”

 

Buffy looked away to the side, making sure no one was around, and looked back at Spike as he slowly sat up on the pallet. “He made me watch… and drugged me with something, I don’t know, and… did… things. It’s okay, it wasn’t that bad, he didn’t hurt me or anything, he just… stopped before I got to… finish…” she stammered out her side of the story, a light blush blooming on her face, and spreading down towards her collar bone.

 

“Drugged you… with something.” He frowned, and drew his legs to his chest, thinking. “Let me guess, you got aroused, couldn’t help yourself when he approached you… and didn’t want him to stop.” When Buffy nodded he nodded to himself. “It’s not the first time he used that stuff, it’s called Aphrodite’s Seduction… makes the recipient… horny as all hell, and very pliant. Anything for a touch, a caress… he used to have fun watching those poor sods tear themselves to pieces just to be able to feel his hand in their hair. What did he make you do?”

 

“N-nothing, just… let him touch me, me touch him… he didn’t make me do anything… else.” His questioning made her remember the night before, slightly hazy, but certain parts were quite clear. Her blush deepened as moisture started to spread from between her thighs as memories stirred her need. She got up, and started to pace the length of her tether.

 

Spike stretched out on his side on the pallet, watching her warily. Her scent was wrong, the drugs hadn’t worked their way out of her system yet, and he knew how unpredictable that could make someone. He’d never seen the drug used on a Slayer before, and he was suspicious of what might happen. He saw her hands beginning to tremble, and the scent of her arousal was beginning to become overpowering. Suddenly, he got up, and went as far as his chain would let him, which was surprisingly far into her territory, and spread the pallet out again, sitting on it. He patted the empty space on the pallet beside him.

 

“Sit, you’re going to wear yourself out if you keep this up.”

 

Quickly she sat, holding tightly to her legs as she drew them to her body, gently rocking. Spike drew in a breath heavy with her long remembered scent, and let it out with a soft shiver. Slowly and carefully, he wrapped his arm about her shoulders, pulling her closer, offering what comfort he could. When her soft warm lips pressed against his throat he froze.

 

“Buffy, this is the drug talking.”

 

“No, Spike, I’ve missed you… I missed you so much,” she mumbled against his neck, gently nibbling, reaching towards him, and pressing her body against his. She lifted her face, and started kissing him hard, her tongue invading his mouth, as she dragged him beneath her, straddling him, forcing him onto his back.

 

He was responding to her kisses, her touch, her scent, but reality wiggled its way into his brain. He grabbed her by her upper arms, his pale fingers digging painfully into the muscle, as he pulled her away from him, trying to sit up.

 

“Buffy, we can’t. This isn’t you, it’s the drugs, and I can bloody well guarantee you if we do anything without his precise say-so, we’re going to pay for it. I can’t do that again Buffy, especially after last night.”

 

“What, I thought Vampire constitution meant you didn’t have to wait days between fuckings, come on Spike, fuck me, please fuck me,” she whined and rubbed her slippery wet cunt against his slowly hardening cock.

 

He sat up, rudely pulling her off him, and pinning her to the mat. “I am not your sodding fuck toy Slayer, I haven’t been for years. Now if you don’t mind, I’m still trying to come to terms with what was done to me last night, and I don’t WANT to fuck you.”

 

In response Buffy whined and rubbed against him from underneath, pressing her soft lips along his arms, his chest, arching her back to press her hot body against his cool one. He snarled and tossed her away from him, leaving her sprawled on the floor. He watched with wide eyes as she got onto her hands and knees, and launched herself at him. Spike back peddled, scrambling to get away from the lust crazed Slayer, and let out a sigh of relief as her chain kept her short of him.

 

When she realized nothing she could do could get her closer to Spike, she crumbled and cried. Great heaving sobs wracked her body as quiet clapping echoed through the room. Angelus leaned against a wall, and calmly clapped with a languid beat, a lazy smile on his face.

 

“Well done Spike. I didn’t think you would have been able to stop her. I’m impressed. Buffy, get over here,” he said, snapping his fingers once, and pointing to the ground in front of him. She looked up at him, sniffling, wiping her nose on the back of her hand, and scowled.

 

“I’m not your pet Angelus”

 

“Not yet, but you will be, now get over here now, or you won’t enjoy what comes later.”

 

Grudgingly she got up, and on trembling legs walked towards him, standing at the spot indicated. She wrapped her arms about her torso, hugging herself tightly. She couldn’t bring herself to look him in the face, so she averted her eyes. She didn’t see his hand lash out, fingers wrapping in her hair before turning into a fist. She cried out impotently, as he forced her to her knees.

 

“Now, I cut you some slack, being new to all of this and all, but that slack is well used up. You will not stand before me, you will always kneel. Unless I specifically say so, you will crawl on hands and knees like the bitch you are. I give a command and it is followed, every time I have to repeat it will be one white hot poker slowly slid into Spike’s abdominal cavity,” he motioned with his head towards a brazier in a corner of the room, the embers glowing and evil pale red, with long pokers sticking into the molten heat. “If you need to go to the bathroom, you will ask. If permission is given, you will use your brand new human sized litter box unless something else is specified.” He said while motioning towards a plastic green shallow bin full of clumping cat litter, large enough for her to squat in. “If no one is here to ask permission to go, you will wait. If you have an accident you be made to lick it clean, if you use the litter box without permission, you will be made it eat it. New rules will be introduced as things progress…” he smiled evilly, and chuckled. “The most difficult rule for you is you will not speak until given permission to do so. Don’t think I won’t be listening, because I always am. If you must speak before permission is given, you will ask for permission to speak. You will refer to me as Master, Sir, or Master Angelus unless otherwise directed.”

 

He shook her head hard, and spoke through clenched teeth, eyes boring into hers, “is that all understood?”

 

“Y-yes…”

 

He backhanded her viciously, and would have sent her flying if not for the firm grip he had on her hair.

 

“What?”

 

She worked her jaw, feeling a bruise beginning to bloom. “Yes Master Angelus,” she whispered, keeping her eyes well lowered. A soft whimper floated past her lips, as she shifted uncomfortably on her knees, clenching her thighs tightly together, thrusting her pelvis against her clenched thighs with minute movements.

 

Angelus drew in a long deep breath, letting it out with a happy delighted shiver. “Your excitement is alluring Buffy, enticing, arousing… do you see what it does to me?” He lifted her face to his crotch, to his erection straining against the cloth of his pants. When she kept her face averted, he pressed it against his cock, mashing her cheek against his erection.

 

Buffy struggled briefly, opening her mouth to object, but she didn’t, either from his lecture, his rules, or her drug induced arousal. She tried to suck along his shaft through his pants, her tongue and lips dampening Angelus’s cock’s cloth prison. He laughed at her eagerness, and the soft moans that floated past her parted lips.

 

“If you want it so much Slayer, take it out… I know you know how,” again, that wicked smiled caressed his lips, his tongue snaking out to lick his lower lip before curling in his mouth.

 

Buffy’s fingers shook as she reached up to his belt. Clumsy bound hands worked at his pants, as she whimpered in frustration. Desperation, and a vision hazed with lust and drugs made the going difficult. With an exasperated sigh, she got his pants undone, and reached hurriedly inside. She slipped cool fingers around his cooler member and pulled him out. She gazed longingly at his erect cock, licking her lips, trying to stretch towards it, to taste it, kiss it, anything, but Angelus’s fist wrapped in her hair kept her from moving. She whimpered, and tried again with less success.

 

“Beg for it, if you beg pretty enough I’ll let you have a taste,” Angelus chuckled, and shook her head roughly when she hesitated.

 

Buffy gasped in shock, the world spinning as he shook her head, before whispering, “Please….”

 

Angelus laughed, before snarling softly, “Please what bitch?”

 

“Please Sir… Master, please let me… let me suck it… a taste, please,” she whimpered out as she squirmed on her knees, struggling to stimulate her throbbing clit. As she parted her lips to drag in air to moan, Angelus shoved his cock into her mouth, forcing it in until she gagged on it. Before she had a chance to retch, he pulled out, allowing her a precious lungful of air, before slamming it in again. He gripped her hair tighter, and kept forcing his cock down her willing and pliant throat.

 

With a gleeful laugh, he pulled out of her mouth, thrusting into his fist twice, before ejaculating all over her face. He sprayed his thick white cum over her upturned face, and rubbed the cool creamy ejaculate into her skin with his cock. He wiped himself clean on her hair, before chaining her wrists tightly together behind her back.

 

“Lay there and writhe little slayer. Squirm about like a bitch in heat; try to hump anything you want… I gave you an extra heavy dose. This won’t wear off for at least a day. You’ll stay nice and horny no matter how many times you get off, and in your current position? You don’t be getting off at all… poor thing. Maybe I’ll send some of the boys down to taste of your technique… I know you won’t turn them away.” He casually tossed her onto her side, and sauntered out, a happy little skip and jump in his step.

 

Buffy grunted softly as she fell onto her shoulder, squirming to get to her knees again. She rolled her tear filled eyes wildly around the empty room, looking for something that obviously wasn’t there. She snarled and got up to her feet, and began pacing. One extreme of the chains limits to another, she paced, slowing down and sometimes pausing in front of Spike. She hesitated in front of him a dozen times, before starting her pacing again.

 

Finally she stopped, and walked as close to Spike as she could, and turned her pretty cum smeared face towards him. She licked the salty substance from her lips, and moaned, getting onto her knees before him. “Please Spike… touch me? Spike, please… touch me, anywhere, everywhere, however, just please touch me Spike. I need to be touched. Please touch me. I’ll let you fuck me Spike, anyway you want, however you want, for however long you want, please fuck me, stick me with it, fill me with it. Spike, PLEASE don’t leave me here like this, I need you, I need your cock, please Spike…” She kept up her breathless begging as she squirmed on her knees, clenching her thighs together, feeling her engorged clit pulse gently with each beat of her heart. Her thighs were slick with pussy juice, as the need swept through her again and again.

 

Spike looked over at her, the scent of her arousal as unmistakable as the scent of Angelus’s cum, and as clear as the scent of the drug in her system. He knew this wasn’t her begging, not really, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t saying things he had wanted to hear for so very very long. He pulled his pallet away from her, and folded it, sitting on it with legs crossed. He made sure he was far enough away that she couldn’t reach him, but he got as close as possible.

 

“Buffy, calm down, try to think about something else, if that helps.”

 

“Why don’t you want to fuck me Spike? You’ve never said no before. Touch me, hug me, fuck me, stroke me, lick me, grope me, anything, everything Spike, just please don’t leave me like this.”

 

“You know I can’t do anything, Angelus hasn’t permitted it. Personally, I’m not looking forward for more punishment just so you can get off. Try thinking about something else.”

 

“I can’t… Spike, I can’t, all I can think about is you, and how you felt that first time… oh god that first thrust. I saw stars Spike, it felt so perfect, so… so what I needed, what I wanted. Spike it felt so good… I know you can make me feel good again.”

 

He sat there silently, listening to her whimpers and soft groans as she writhed and squirmed before him. He couldn’t deny this made him hard, the proof was standing at attention, dripping silently as it strained towards her. He kept his hands carefully away from it, clenching his hands into tight fists, and resting them on his knees. He remembered her tight slippery heat, the feel of her silky skin under his lips, the scent of her sweat, the way each patch of skin had a different taste. He remembered the sounds she made, and the reactions he pulled from her responsive body. He remembered the taste of her lips and the feel of her hands on his skin… and stared at his cock as it drooled stupidly in lust.

 

He cleared his throat, “Buffy, I can’t.”

 

“Spike… please…,” she started to tear up, whimpering louder.

 

“She wants you to, so go ahead,” said a voice from the shadows. Angelus’s chuckle trickled out as he saw Spikes pained expression. “Go ahead Spike, have a little taste of the Slayer, fuck her, fill her with your demon seed, just not in her cunt… anywhere but in her cunt.”

 

“Angelus, I can’t…”

 

“You can, and you will. Fuck her well Spike, and if you do it well enough, I’ll even let you taste her blood… go on Spike, let her cum all she wants, cum all you want, just fuck her good.”

 

“And what price will you wring out of my hide for daring to enjoy myself, or let her enjoy herself?”

 

“You stupid git, do it, or I’ll have my minions do it, and I guarantee they will be somewhat less sensitive to her all too human limitations. I am getting rather annoyed at your lack of obedience Spike.” He smirked to himself, tasting the anger rolling off the chained vampire on the air. “Besides, I’ll do to you whatever I want to do to you. You can’t stop me, can’t bribe me, and can’t entice me to halt my actions or desires. So fuck her yourself, or I’ll get someone else to do it, just nothing up her cunt… I’m saving that for later.” He smirked again, licked his upper lip, and chuckled.

 

Spike looked away, and gritted his teeth. He knew the longer he hesitated, the worse the punishment would eventually be. He eyed Buffy out of the corner of his eye, not lifting his head towards her. He got up reluctantly and flipped the pallet from its folded position to open. He dragged it closer to Buffy, and placed it at the center where their chains would lead them, to give them both the most movement. He didn’t bother hiding his hard on, Angelus had seen it plenty of times, as had Buffy, as he leant down to pick her up in his arms. She moaned, and tried to rub herself against him as he moved her to the pallet.

 

He laid her down, and watched her with heavy lidded eyes as she panted, and moaned at his feet. He stretched out on his side along her body, “Does she have to remain bound?” he asked hoarsely, shooting Angelus a glance.

 

“Absolutely…” he said, watching carefully, resting his thumb on his lower lip.

 

Spike reached out to cup one of Buffy’s breasts, flicking a nipple with his thumb. He watched her arch, and spasm at the light caress, soft mewling cries spilling from her throat. He reached down and latched onto her other nipple with his lips, sucking the hard and sensitive nub. Her cries undulated with each stroke of his tongue on that flesh he kept trapped between lips and teeth.

 

His hand left her breast and lazily traced down her chest and abdomen, leaving a trail of goose bumps in his wake. Buffy arched into his hand, crying out softly when he cupped her hot pussy. He felt the heat throb with her pulse, as she squirmed, trying to press his palm against her clit. She sobbed softly as Spike’s touches remained light and tender against the need burning inside her like an inferno.

 

Buffy squirmed, and managed to get on her side, pressing her body down the length of his. She wrapped one leg around his hips and drew him closer to her. She felt his erection press against her belly, and she squirmed even more to get it between her legs. Spike grabbed her shoulders, and pressed them flat against the ground, struggling briefly to keep her pinned.

 

“Stay down,” he said; his voice husky and rough yet strangely quiet. He leaned forward and gently pressed his lips to the corner of her mouth. At her gasping moan he suddenly laid his hands flat on the ground, and glared up at Angelus over his shoulder.

 

“I can’t do this, not with the damned drug, and not with you watching on.”

 

Angelus smirked, and then laughed, throwing his head back in abandoned mirth. “Gonna suck being you, then won’t it Spikey boy?”

 

“I sodding well can’t!”

 

“Alright.” He smiled lazily, and walked around the two prone figures, and suddenly grabbed Spikes leash, dragging him towards the spike that held its length in tight control. He left the chain two feet of leeway; the rest was secured, leaving Spike with very limited mobility. Spike clawed and struggled against Angelus’s harsh dragging. His knees were covered in his own blood and missing patches of skin, as he struggled vainly, pulling at the chain with bloodied hands. Angelus walked past him, and kicked him once, in the stomach, hard enough to make him slide the length of his chain and come to a sudden stop as he got to the end. He lay retching and immobile under Angelus’s stern gaze.

 

“I gave you a chance to make it all peaches and cream, tender and sweet. Not my fault you’re an idiot.”

 

Spike coughed and struggled to talk… and knowing nothing he could say would change a thing.

 

Buffy mewled and writhed in front of the men, arching her back, spreading her thighs before tightening them against each other, again and again. Angelus watched her with amusement written plainly on his face. He knelt on one knee, and gently cupped her face in his palm, his thumb wiping at the sweat beading her upper lip. “He could have made this a little easier on you,” he murmured very quietly. “Spike can be so selfish at times, thinking his pain is greater then anyone else’s… and he’s had it so easy here.”

 

Buffy’s tongue snaked out from between her parted lips, and hungrily licked at Angelus’s thumb. She nuzzled his palm as she dragged his unresisting thumb into her soft mouth, and sucked on it, sensually swirling her tongue along its length.

 

Angelus looked towards Spike, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk. “You have the choice Spikey! Who gets to have their way with your good old friend Buffy?” Angelus drawled slowly, “The minions… or me?” Spike stared at Angelus, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Five, horny, desperate fledges who’ve not been… serviced since their change, or the sadist who made you who and what you are?”

 

 

---

 

Chapter 4

 

“I can’t bloody well decide something like that!”

 

Angelus got up, and stalked over to Spike, kicking him in the face without an ounce of warning. He knelt beside the bloody faced vampire, and spoke softly in his ear, the cavernous space amplifying his words so everyone could hear, “The devil you know, or five you don’t Spike… what’s it going to be?”

 

Angelus waited as long as three of Buffy’s frenzied heart beats, before smiling condescendingly. “If you don’t choose, she’ll get both, a little bit alone with the minions, a little with me helping them out, some time alone with my attentions…” he leaned forward and licked at the trickle of blood oozing out of Spike’s split lip, sucking the blood out of the cut before it dried up and healed. Angelus let Spike’s lip go with an almost audible pop, before he licked his lips, and leaned back.

 

Spike glared up at Angelus, black hate boiling in his eyes. He tried to lunge, but was brought up short by the strictly limited length of chain. He struggled against it anyway, rubbing the skin around his neck raw. When he gave up, he averted his gaze, unable to look at Angelus, unable to look at the woman whose fate he was in charge of. The only sound in the chamber was the soft panting and desperate moans echoing off the stone walls of one very needy Slayer.

 

He thought madly about his situation, trapped, unable to stop what was happening. If he didn’t choose one or the other, things would get worse. He knew Angelus would only escalate things. If he chose Angelus, Spike knew Buffy would suffer under his perverse needs and desires. He knew what torment Angelus could wring from human flesh that was only too mortal. Angelus knew what heights of depravity he could strum out of his human instrument, and how to make them scream. Spike didn’t think Angelus was going to destroy Buffy immediately, he enjoyed the small defeats way too much to just push onto the big one… or so he hoped and prayed. The minions were fledges, newly changed, and likely didn’t know the intricacies that Angelus did, and would only sate their base appetites of feeding and fucking. So Spike bounced from one to the other, a gang bang by a group of vampires that would likely not go easy on their human toy, or the tender cruelties of his Sire.

 

Spike sat up with difficulty, and leaned back on his elbows, stretching his legs out straight before him, long pale legs crossed at the ankle. He smirked, and pressed his tongue behind his upper teeth, the thick coating of blood that had erupted from his nose and his awkward position making his classic expression somewhat disturbing.

 

“You know I can’t stand sharing you Peaches, I get all jealous when you look at the girls. Let the fledges have her…” even to his ears his false bravado sounded hollow and panic laced. He locked his pale blue eyes with Angelus’s warm brown one’s, and struggled not to look at the apparently oblivious Buffy. He fought to keep his stance relaxed, his attitude care free, to keep Angelus from seeing how this decision was tearing him up. His bluster and false bravado was immediately obvious to Angelus who only smiled.

 

Five vampire fledglings seemed to ooze from the shadows, stalking at leisure their bound, needy and helpless prey. Angelus stood, and smoothly shed his clothing with methodical grace, letting it pile loosely about him. Spike gritted his teeth, and snarled, “You said I could choose, not you AND them, just them. Welching on your deal isn’t part of the rules!”

 

“The rules are whatever I want them to be Spikey, but as it is, they get her, I get you…” his lips parted in a lazy dangerous smile. His calm gaze took in the muscle jumping in Spike’s jaw as he gritted his teeth, biting back expletives.

 

Spike held still, trying not to move, or show weakness or fear. He wasn’t surprised, not really. Upset, definitely. Surprised, no. He did the only thing he could do, the only thing he could think of to make things as easy on him and her as he could. He submitted to his Sire. Clenching his eyes and jaw tightly shut, he pressed his forehead against the cool stone floor. Keeping his arse in the air, he reached behind himself with both hands, spreading his cheeks for Angelus’s view, use, approval… whatever he wanted of it. Spike let him know he was accepting his fate… and his Sire’s dominance of him.

 

Angelus took in the view of his childe displayed before him. He took a deep breath, and caught the scent of Spike’s anger and shame, Buffy’s roaring arousal nearly drowned out the scent of Spike’s fear, but he caught the scent anyway. He looked over at the minions circling the Slayer, drinking in the sight of her helpless body and the sounds that escaped her lips, letting all who heard her know of the need consuming her from the inside out. Her body was slick with sweat, her chest heaved as she panted for breath bringing attention to her soft round breasts with pert pink nipples.

 

“Nothing in her cunt boys, don’t kill her, don’t maim her, and above all else do NOT drink from her… you haven’t earned that yet.” He smirked, and then chuckled darkly as he stalked towards Spike. He heard sounds of distress from Buffy, but ignored it. He didn’t care about her, not now. Spike was waiting for him, his errant childe, his William the Bloody. Angelus would see just how bloody Spike could get.

 

He made a gesture and a metal cart was wheeled to him. It had three metal shelves the highest one was four feet off the ground, the lowest was only a half foot off the ground, and the centre shelf was precisely in the middle of them. Each shelf was covered by thick dark purple velvet, under which various lumps and shapes could be discerned. Angelus reached beneath the top layer and pulled out a gleaming wickedly sharp metal scalpel. He lifted it to his face, dark eyes examining it for any flaws and imperfections. Finding none, he closed his eyes, a look of bliss taking over his stony features. Satisfaction and an eerie calmness suffused his features as he lazily tilted his head to the side, and cracked his eyes open a fraction. His eyes found their mark, focusing on the hairless pucker bared before him, stretched almost obscenely wide by hands that barely shook.

 

Angelus smirked, and rested his free hand on the small of Spike’s back, and smiled wider at the nearly unperceivable flinch from his touch. Spike turned his head, resting his weight on his cheek, unable to look away from the ravishment he had called upon his beloved Buffy. Everything that happened to her, he had caused, and he had to watch it all.

 

He watched as she screamed and thrashed, the five having wasted no time at all to get to the parts they most wanted. One had his sad four inch chubby forced in her mouth, his yellow eyes rolling back in his head as Buffy suckled the turgid flesh. He grunted like a pig in heat, squealing now and again, presumably when her agile tongue stroked him just right.

 

A second vampire had his face buried in the Slayers twat, rooting about like he was searching for truffles in her soft pink folds. His ministrations left much to be desired, as he only elicited an occasional grimace, and an infrequent expression that looked almost like he had found something… just… right… before slipping off, making Buffy twitch her hips, trying to get him to touch her the way that felt so good, that he never quite seemed to find.

 

A skinny blond vampire with bony hands molested her breasts, squeezing them between his skeletal digits, massaging them, feeling their fullness. Now and again he tugged at her nipples, stretching them out until tears streaked down her cheeks out of pure pain, but still she begged for more attention, begging them not to stop, to keep touching her, feeling her. He pulled at her breasts, tugging them away from her body, watching as her back arched, and he lifted her upwards by them, the other minions snarling at his shifting her position.

 

A dark haired vampire suddenly picked up Buffy’s unresisting body, snarling and snapping as the others resisted and fought him. He got the Slayer onto her knees, and started licking her arse hole, his tongue stroking around her little bud, and slipping inside. She let out a squeak as his tongue broached the ring of muscle holding her arse closed, and then moaned, pressing herself against him. He slicked up her arse hole as much as he could, before getting up to his knees between her spread one’s, and pushing his long and skinny cock into her hole.

 

Buffy gasped at the intrusion, so close and yet so far away from the raging inferno of her cunt. She rocked back into the vamp fucking her arse, feeling his ball sack slap against her puffy and red labia. She whimpered, and struggled to get his balls to hit her aching clit, and found out she couldn’t aim well enough for that. Buffy moaned at that realization, she still wouldn’t get off, no matter how much she wanted to, she couldn’t.

 

The last one leaned backwards, standing over the scene. His right hand was wrapped around his cock, pumping it furiously, while his left stroked and massaged his balls. He started to grunt, almost squealing in his eagerness as his climax broached him, making him shoot his seed all over the writhing girl, and the other four enjoying her flesh. He gritted his teeth, and then snarled, pushing one of the minions away from Buffy so he could have his go. A small scuffle ensued before the vampires all seemed to shift to a different position, each one moving to revel in a new sensation of the Slayers flesh.

 

As far as pure torture went, this one was well below what Angelus could devise. A needy Slayer, begging for release that never came, vampires chosen for their inept bedroom skills, a drug that made even their incompetent ministrations maddening and infuriatingly arousing instead of just pitiful and boring and excruciatingly painful. The scent of pure lust rolling off the slayer choked the air and spurred the five onwards, even as she lapsed into unconsciousness from over stimulation and pure exhaustion of trying to get off for what seemed like hours without a moment of success. It didn’t stop them though, they just kept at it, moving her unconscious form to better suit their needs, twisting and bending her in positions that must have been excruciating had she been conscious.

 

Angelus, seeing that they weren’t done with her, started on his own toy. With precise, quick strokes, he cut around Spike’s pucker, and breathed deep of the scent of spilled vampire blood. The minions seemed to slow down; one even looked over at Angelus before a low voiced growl sent them back on their task. Spike’s growl of pain, and momentary struggle as the pain lashed through him caused Angelus to chuckle, and slice through the same flesh again, deeper, bringing out another rush of blood.

 

Spike growled “BOLLOCKS!” as the pain hit, his whole body trembling as he tried to keep his position, to stay pleasing to his Sire, lest he decide the deal was off and return his attentions to the Slayer. Spike gritted his teeth, and tried to settle down. This was the only gift he could give her, the only way he could protect her. He knew it was pointless, in the end Angelus would do what he wanted when he wanted and how he wanted, but Spike fantasized that he was keeping her safe, and therefore keeping himself sane, of sorts.

 

Blood ran a river down his thighs, coating them, dribbling between them to dribble off his smooth and hairless scrotum. Blood pooled between his trembling knees, and Angelus laughed.

 

Angelus pressed his own hands on top of Spike’s, spreading his arse cheeks even wider apart, tearing at the cuts, causing Spike to grunt and grimace in pain, and even more blood to well and flow from the precise cuts. Angelus leaned forward, and licked at the bleeding wound, laving the tight pale brown hole, teasing the sliced flesh, and drinking of his childes blood.

 

Spike made inarticulate sounds, first of pain, and then of barely restrained disgust and revulsion. Angelus knew of his childes weakness, he knew of the horrors Spike had endured, freshly changed, and buried under six feet of dirt in a well built coffin. Something had found its way inside the wooden and silk confines. It shared the space with Spike, and was busily trying to burrow its way inside, to feast on the soft and tasty flesh within the apparent cadaver. It had torn and bitten its way through the pants he’d been buried in, and was busily trying to struggle and claw and chew through Spike’s arse hole. He’d woken up with a shout, grabbed the struggling hindquarters of the offending vermin, and pulled it out of his own body, crushing it to death with his preternatural strength he hadn’t yet known he’d possessed. That was the first memory of his new existence, and it stayed with him from that day onward.

 

When Angelus had found out what had happened beneath the dirt, in the cramped wooden womb of his childes unnatural birth, he’d been elated, he’d even let out a laugh and cackle. What a perfect torment for this new infant of the night, to be raped, and made to relive that horror, night after night of torment and punishment should he ever cross his Sire… and he used his knowledge this night, provoking Spike with what he knew would disgust and traumatize him the most.

 

The blood flow retreated to a trickle, and Angelus got up on his knees, pressing the head of his engorged prick at Spikes entrance and slowly pressed forward, holding Spike’s hips immobile in his large handed grip.

 

A low pained growl erupted into a full throated scream of anguish as the cuts Angelus had strategically placed tore Spike’s sphincter to shreds, giving way to Angelus’s cock’s invasion. The vampire spit and blood concoction acted as a poor lubricant for his tight passage, and he screamed himself raw as Angelus remorselessly forced his lengthy and thick cock into him. When Angelus was hilt deep inside, Spike started to shudder and couldn’t stop. His body shook, his whole frame felt like it was coming apart at the seams.

 

Angelus looked down the length of Spike’s back, and grabbed Spike’s elbows in an immovable vicelike grip, not caring that it meant Spike let go of his own arse cheeks. He started to violently slam his cock into Spike’s resisting torn and bloody flesh, marvelling at the feeling wrapped around him, letting out an almost girlish giggle as Spike started struggling, screaming himself raw and voiceless.

 

Spike felt tears dampen his cheeks, blurring his vision of Buffy’s defilement as his own body was ravaged. His voice abandoned him, leaving behind impotent mewls and whines, as he started to sob. Angelus’s grip on his elbows brought him up, his body at perfect 90 degree angles as he was hammered into submission. He hung his head limply, sobs wracking his body as Angelus laughed above him.

 

Angelus hammered into him with glee, chortling and giggling with every shudder and sob he elicited from his hapless victim, before he spent himself in the torn and bloody insides. He threw Spike aside the moment he was finished with him, and got up, clapping his hands together as if to get rid of a coating of dust.

 

“That was fun, let’s see what’s next!” and with a flourish, he uncovered the top tray. Spike just clenched his eyes tightly together, and shuddered in surrender. This was the trade he had made, and he accepted it… as much as he could. At Angelus’s soft tsking, his pale blue eyes flew open again. He looked resignedly at the bared shelf, a soft shudder dancing down his back as he recognized Angelus’s tools of his trade. Implements to rend flesh, to slice cleanly and shred to bloody bits, tools to insert and remove, forceps and clamps to spread open incisions and rip out organs or offending tissues, medical grade sutures and needles along with coarse strings, and twine, autopsy sutures, and so very much more. A maniacal sadist’s wet dream of medical tools and butchers implements was spread before him on each shelf, some gleaming in sterile cleanliness and others covered in rust and filth of previous sessions.

 

Spike lifted himself onto an elbow, trying not to grimace, to stoically accept the rape he had endured and received, to not let the bastard hear his whimpers of pain and apprehension. He tried to clench tightly at the fear unwinding inside him, racing through limbs and muscle. He felt sick, like he should be throwing up, retching out the horrors he’d endured, flashing back to that one night of innocent unintentional torture by an animal working on base instincts, and the seemingly endless chain of nights following it of torture based on it, and expanded beyond any mortal sadists abilities. He felt like crying like a small child, begging for his salvation and freedom, for a stake that would end his existence and free his cursed soul. He tried to hide it all behind his mask of passivity.

 

Angelus read all of it on his face anyways, his upper lip curved into a darkly pleased smirk. Spike was much closer to being shattered then he was aware. The cracks weren’t only showing and spreading, but little pieces were falling out, leaving empty spaces behind. Just slivers now, but he could see it, even if Spike couldn’t… but Angelus thought he might start getting that message quite soon.

 

Angelus chuckled as he picked up a large sized butt plug with a plain brushed steel appearance from the tray. It gleamed dully in the light of the chamber as he held it up to examine it. He ran his fingertips along the extra-fine sandpaper like texture lightly, the smirk slowly blooming into a comfortless smile. He held the plug by two prongs at the base of the plug.

 

Teeth bared in corrupt glee, he looked down at his bleeding, bruised and tormented childe. “You really aren’t going to like this William my dear…. Since the last time we played, you know they came up with even more wonderful contraptions…. I love the way how technology keeps marching forward, and with each lurching stomp, I find new ideas and inspiration for things to do to you. Even with that damned soul, I listened, learned, thought. I dreamed of the day I would have you at my feet again, and what wonderful tortures I could inflict. At least you’ll never think I’m boring, something new every time!” He laughed, and slapped Spike’s arse, laughing again as he let out a throat sore grunt of pain.

 

Angelus guided Spike back to his previous position with sharp slaps and blows. When the pain suddenly flared and Spike hesitated to spread his arse cheeks apart, Angelus punched his arse hole, hard. A sickening wet thud echoed in the room as he snarled at Spike to hurry up.

 

Spike let out a hoarse scream, and began to whimper as he took his position again. He hissed sharply as the pain laced through him like lightning, letting his breath out in a sob so quiet it was almost missed… almost, but not quite.

 

Angelus put the plug on a tray, and knelt between Spike’s knees. His big, heavy hands massaged Spike’s thighs, and calves. It would have felt soothing, almost calming, if the pulling and stretching of the skin along his legs hadn’t pulled and stretched at the lacerations along his arse hole. Spike let out a blubbering sob, his voice heavy and thick and full of shed tears… and just waited, like a good little boy.

 

Angelus looked thoughtful, hearing Spike cry softly beneath him, knowing what his boy felt, the terror, shock, knowing it wouldn’t end, would only get worse, and yet he waited. He held himself ready, unmoving. Angelus felt the desperation boiling around him; Spike was so close to his edge, just a breath of wind would knock him over.

 

Angelus almost giggled with glee as he thought, “just a breath, why not a gale?” and swiftly reached up to the shelf for the plug, and rudely rammed it into Spike’s gaping bloody hole. Spike reared up in agony, breath locked behind his pain constricted throat, before falling back downwards, Angelus’s hand around his waist keeping his arse pertly in the air. The sharp white pain of his cheek breaking from contact with the floor caused stars to erupt in his vision, bright blues and reds with occasional glittery gold ones. He stared dumbly forward, eyes unfocused, almost glassy in their vacant stare.

 

Angelus screwed wires to the two prongs sticking out of Spike’s arse, and hooked them up to a small device. With almost gentle hands he slipped a leather device around Spike’s waist, pulling his cock and balls through a hole in the front. Angelus fastened the straps between his thighs, and the one around his waist. Effectively, it was a thong, holding the plug in, and leaving his genitals out. Loops, and metal D rings adorned the belt, giving ample anchor points should restraint be needed of one kind of another. They also clinked against each other, the jingling reaching every corner of the room.

 

“So pretty…” Angelus murmured, stroking Spike’s flanks, fingers now and again digging painfully into muscle, before stroking tenderly again. Spike started to tremble and shake, tears wetting his cheeks and chin as he cried… and cried… and cried.

 

“Relax William…,” Angelus murmured softly, soft and tender kisses floating to cover his upturned backside, shoulders, arms… Angelus even leaned down, and kissed Spike gently on the lips, tongue darting out to taste his cool tears on his cooler flesh.

 

Spike shuddered and went still, seeming to slip into shock in a catatonic state. He no longer reacted to anything Angelus did to him, to which Angelus smiled softly. He knew it wouldn’t last forever; Spike still had a sliver of himself away from this mental and emotional carnage.

 

Angelus laughed, and walked away, snapping his finger to get his minions off Buffy, to leave them in their current state. He shook his head at a minion's mention of getting the slayer cleaned; let Buffy wake up covered in the minion’s spunk, her small body sticky with her secretions as well as theirs. She wouldn’t be able to deny it to herself then.

 

When one asked what he wished to be done to Spike, Angelus said nothing. Let his poor boy deal with things how he could. He left the pallet there in the room; maybe one would use it, maybe neither, maybe both. He’d see what happened, and react accordingly. Life was so much more fun when he got a few surprises now and again… new situations to adapt to.

 

In his realm, created just for him by Wolfram and Hart, he was rarely, if ever surprised. Everything here was under his control, only those he wished to be here were here, nothing happened that he didn’t, on some level, expect. Part of him felt almost sorry about that, but the realist knew who he was dealing with, and what they were capable of.

 

A little boredom now and again was a small price to pay for security. He might visit the human world for a bit. Apocalypse or no, there had to be something there to beat into submission, or tantalize his senses… Earth always had such lovely distractions and pleasures…

 

His mind made up, he decided to look at his schedule and see what he could do about some time off… create a little mayhem or something.

 

Whistling softly, he walked away, leaving the room with two fragile creatures… knowing they’d be there when he got back to them… they always were, this was his place after all.

 

 

---

 

Chapter 5

Feet, he saw feet. Rather, he saw feet in shoes. Some beat up running shoes, coated in slime and muck, scuffed within an inch of their life. He blinked his eyes, trying to focus on what was before him. His eyes skittered upwards, the rest of him unmoving, to take in the beat up jeans, and further upwards, a dark green t-shirt stretched over a set of well muscled shoulders. He blinked again, something was wrong, minions never dressed this casually in Angelus’s employ, and he looked further upwards with painfully straining eyes, into a cheerfully smiling face framed by loose and shaggy brown hair.

 

Spike was still confused, trying to put things together. He knew something was up, he just couldn’t understand what. Dawn was in the room, he could tell that, he saw her with her head lowered, a chain leading from her collar onto a bracelet worn by the one standing above him. Spike looked up again and soft doe eyes looked into him.

 

“Shock,” Spike thought, “this is shock. I’ve bloody well started to hallucinate again. This can’t be real. If it was real, then I’d…” and with that he let out a low moan, the pain of his abused body drowning everything else out. As soon as he was aware of his body again, he registered the pain, and when he realized where most of the pain was, he remembered what had happened, and felt sick to his stomach. His hands trembled, even though he hadn’t been fully conscious, and who knew how much time had passed, he hadn’t moved… and that immobility had caused muscles to tense and knot, locking him in place so even flexing to START moving caused him agony.

 

Pain was real. He’d never felt pain when he was hallucinating before. Well, he’d felt MENTAL pain and anguish, but nothing physical, nothing like this. That meant his pain was real… that meant he was awake… he looked up again, confusion and dawning recognition and hope on his face.

 

“Hey there blood breath. Thought ya might want an escort outta here.”

 

Spike lost all control of his body, the careful pose held from the night before came flying apart at the seams as he fell over onto his side in shock… and started crying. Soft large tears fell from his pale blue eyes which gazed at Xander with a look of utter gratitude. Xander was here! Xander was here, and that meant someone had come to save him. It meant he hadn’t been forgotten, it meant someone had thought he was valuable enough to risk putting themselves in danger just to get him. It meant… someone cared.

 

“C’mon Spike… let’s get you three out of here.”

 

And Spike cried on.

 

Xander tried to undo the belt around Spike, but gave up quickly, “We’ll take that off when we get out of here, c’mon.” He grabbed Spike’s chain, and the metal bracelet on his arm glowed faintly, matching the glow from the chains. Xander smirked as Spike stared. “It’s a keeper bracelet. Angelus gives them to his most trusted minions so they can ferry the captives, or lengthen chain or change positions or equipment or…” he trailed off, and looked sheepish at his babbling. “Willow conjured one up when we found out where you were. She’s also the one that made the key to open the gate. I can’t get the chains off you till we get out of here though, and you three will be stuck together, and stuck to me. It’s a safeguard of the bracelet,” he looked almost apologetic.

 

“I can’t take one of you at a time, we might get caught too quickly, and I can’t carry both you and Buffy…” Xander looked over at both their injuries, and was tactfully silent about the hard to miss rape evidence. He undid Buffy’s chained hands, a soft glimmer showing the magic in action. Buffy woke with a start.

 

“What… Xander!” she called out, ecstatic. “I KNEW you guys would find us, I told you Spike; I told you they did miracles!” She got up quickly but not smoothly, wincing with pain and remembered injuries, reaching up to give Xander a hug. He deflected her approach when he picked up Spike into his arms.

 

“Later Buff, we gotta get out of here now, hugs for AFTER the rescuing.” and quickly grabbed her chain, again resulting in that faint glow. He now had a shiny silver looking bracelet with three chains leading off it, each one secured to a collar. “Buffy, walk behind me, mimic Dawn as best you can. You three are well trained slaves being moved to a pleasure chamber. Stay silent, keep your heads lowered, keep three feet back, and ONLY do what I tell you to do, and do it WHEN I tell you to.” He shifted his grip on Spike, feeling the blonds head settle in the crook of his shoulder as Spike lost consciousness.

 

Xander led them through a maze of halls and chambers, before going underground into the sewer tunnels. Everyone who saw them saw Xander’s confident stance, and the magicked bracelet, and let him be, asking him no questions. The apparent slaves were docile, the petite blond barely reacted when a minion stroked a hand down her arse. When they went into the tunnels, Xander slowed slightly, trying to quiet the jingle and jangle of all the chain and Spike’s fancy new leather thong.

 

Buffy caught on, and gathered up her and Dawn’s chain, trying to help them become quieter. Dawn seemed oblivious to all of it, keeping at the proscribed three feet from Xander and following as smoothly and quickly as she could.

 

Again Xander led them, this time through slime coated tunnels, and awkwardly low ceilings. Now and again, Xander had to put Spike down, dragging him through the muck of the tunnels till he could stand up and carry Spike again.

 

Every now and then Xander would freeze, and motion the others back, or into hiding in deep pockets of shadow. First they had to avoid Angelus’s patrols, and then just the general demon population of the sewer systems. It galled Buffy to no end that they had to run away from even the most minor of demons, but they were in no shape for a fight, not like this.

 

Finally they emerged from the tunnels in a nicely appointed chamber. Thick carpets covered the walls and floor, and the ceiling was hidden by silk hangings. There was a large roaring fireplace, feeding the room with heat and comfort. A monstrously large bed dominated the room, curtains of thick velvet were bunched up at the posts, but a quick tug at the sash and the curtains would fall closed again. All in all, it felt like being in a warm, cozy, if slightly suffocating, cocoon. Buffy didn’t hear anything but them as Xander led them out of that room, and down a short hall, into a large communal shower.

 

“Sorry, you guys can talk now, we’re out of there.” Xander said, hurriedly moving about, turning on taps to get the showers going. His ruined clothes were quickly stripped and thrown aside in the room as steam started rising swiftly, cloaking the room in shimmering veils

 

Xander eased Spike into an assisted bathing chair. It cradled him in soft cloth and waterproof padding, keeping him safe from falls as Xander stood beneath the spray, fiddling with the dials to get them at the right temperature.

 

“This is a safe house. Don’t worry you guys, Angelus won’t find us here, and even if he does he can’t get in. I thought you’d all want a shower as soon as possible, some of those tunnels were negative in the hygiene points, and it wouldn’t be good for you guys to get sick from that stuff either. There’s soap and stuff at each shower head. Buffy, you can help Dawn, I’ve got Spike.”

 

Buffy suddenly laughed, and ran forward to hug Xander, “Xander, you found us, how’d you do it? I knew you would find us, I knew you guys wouldn’t give up on me,” she said, hugging him tightly. She suddenly blushed hotly, realizing she was hugging a naked Xander while almost hot water danced along their skin, making contact slippery, and unsure. This could so lead to something she didn’t want to have with Xander, but he chuckled, and gently moved her a step or so back from him. Buffy leaned towards him again, feeling flush at the contact flesh to flesh had brought. Guess the drug is still in my system, she thought fuzzily. It was the only excuse she could think of about her actions and attitude since she had been woken up. It was also what she blamed the need that seemed to spark awake inside her.

 

“Willow found you. She did this really weird locator spell, looking in alternate dimensions, and pocket realms. It took her a while, but she finally found you. It took her a little longer to figure out how to build a key to get through into your holding dimension. Willow was able to scry into it, to see how you guys were chained and restrained… you know, help us come up with a game plan.” Xander dropped a dollop of shampoo onto Spike’s hair, gently massaging it in, and rinsing it out as he talked. He watched as Buffy got to work on Dawn’s hair.

 

“So Willow made this bracelet so we could access the chains, and a key to get into the dimension, and here I am, and here you are.” He kept his eyes adverted as he gently cleaned Spike’s body with a wash cloth, the gentle touches and hot water bringing Spike back to awareness.

 

“Hey fang-boy! Glad to see you’re awake!” Xander chirped, finished with his cleaning, but leaving the belt on Spike, and got to work on his own. He frowned as Spike tried to move, and froze as pain laced through him.

 

“Now now, no moving. We need to get you patched up; you aren’t in a healthy place. We need to look at each injury… thing carefully, just because I’ve given you a quick shower doesn’t mean you are alright and should be up and walking around. Sit, stay, and stop with the moving. We’ll be out of here soon.” Xander scowled at Spike until he stopped moving and got back to his own bathing, watching from lowered eyelids, and casual side glances as the girls bathed.

 

Shampoo bubble clumps rinsed away from clean hair, skating down their bodies to puddle at their feet before being ushered to the drain by softly falling water. Water sluiced down their bodies, rinsing them clean, as Buffy reached for the wash cloth. She cleaned Dawn as quickly, efficiently and impersonal as she could, but that didn’t mean Xander didn’t appreciate the show.

 

Xander kept a careful watch on them, soaping himself carefully as he stared without drawing attention to his staring. Spike seemed to have drifted off again, or at least had stopped moving, closed his eyes, and looked asleep. He watched as Buffy’s long blond hair became a thick cable from the weight of the water, straight down her back and pointing suggestively at the crack of her arse, drawing attention to the fact she was cleaning herself off the minions lingering touch. He turned his back, and said carefully, “There should be some douche things on the shower caddy, if you need them.”

 

Buffy looked up, startled. “I… no… I should be fine, thanks” she stuttered through wooden lips. Stunned that Xander would know about such things, never mind that he’d have the forethought to mention them, and bring them here.

 

“If it’ll help you feel… clean, go for it. I promise to keep my back turned, and be a perfect gentleman. Don’t stand on bashfulness on my count. I know what it’s like to want… to get rid of memories. Besides, as much as STD’s and pregnancy aren’t a part of a vampire’s existence, filth is.”

 

Buffy listened, and blanched, thinking about Dawn. She fumbled about on the metal shelves of the shower caddy, and found a few packages of the mentioned feminine hygiene product. She got on her knees, and stalled, not sure how to proceed.

 

“Dawn, I need to clean you out, but if things get… weird, just… let me know and I’ll stop.” Dawn’s response was to spread her legs, and place one pointed foot on Buffy’s knee, exposing herself with apparent practised ease. It seems that Angelus liked his girls clean, now and again. Buffy concentrated on her task, inserting the nozzle, and flushing her sister out carefully and thoroughly. Dawn didn’t seem to react. Buffy used another package of the cleanser, and then quickly used one on herself. All done, she made sure she was fully rinsed, that Dawn was fully cleaned off and rinsed, and walked over to Xander, hugging herself modestly.

 

“I… I think we’re done now. Thank you Xander,” Buffy murmured, wanting to hug him again, but decided she should wait until there was clothing separating the hug-ies. He just smiled, and nodded, keeping eyes low, giving Buffy a sense of modesty if nothing else, and lead them out, back into the carpeted room, wheeling Spike in on the bathing chair.

 

Xander handed her a couple of large fluffy towels, and told her to dry herself and Dawn off while he took care of Spike. Buffy buffed her sister to a soft pink glow, and worked herself over with the next. She let out a happy sigh, delighted to be clean, wincing now and again when the towel stroked an abrasion or laceration. Her fingers danced over her ribs, feeling the skin pulled tight on them.

 

Maybe Angelus was right about something, Buffy thought. She had definitely lost weight since Angel had met her; her curves were almost all gone. She didn’t care what Angelus thought of her, but she knew she couldn’t have been all that healthy, that skinny, without any real balanced meals for months, if not off and on for years. With a definitive nod of her head she decided to rectify that situation. She’d make sure she ate regularly, and healthy foods. No more on the run, now and again nibbles of pasta, nope; she was actually planning on eating salads, and steak, possibly a burger now and again. She wrapped herself up in the towel, and did the same for Dawn before settling them both down onto a pile of cushions.

 

“Where is everyone?” She asked, curious and concerned. She’d only seen Xander, hadn’t heard or seen anyone else. When he didn’t answer right away, Buffy looked at him as he dried Spike with careful movements. “Xander?”

 

“I don’t know Buffy.” He cleared his throat, and kept looking away.

 

“What do you mean, you don’t know? Willow, where is she? What about Andrew, the other potential Slayers? Giles? Anyone?”

 

“Willow made with the magicks, and then got called away, and right after so did I. Things haven’t settled down Buffy, the apocalypse is still raging, areas of the good old U.S. of A. have been taken over by demons, and vampires, dragons even… We were still fighting, and we just didn’t have the time to… save you two right away. I got sent to pick up a potential, or rather, help her fight off a nest of vampires, and Willow was called to do the magicks, and when I got back… she wasn’t there. I grabbed the bracelet, and the key, and just… ran, before something came up and made it impossible. I came, I got you out, I don’t know where anyone else is. I think something happened while I was gone, but I don’t know. I’m sorry Buffy, I just don’t know.”

 

Buffy listened to everything carefully, calmly. “Then we’ll have to find them, right? They didn’t stop searching for me, for Spike, for Dawn… we have to find them.” She looked down, and found she was standing, in that ever confident “Buffy is lecturing” pose, while wrapped in a towel, wearing metal manacles on wrists and ankles, and a chain leading from her collar to Xander’s wrist. Not very confidence inspiring, and slightly nutty looking.

 

“Uh… would you have something for me to wear Xander? I know I can kick ass while wearing almost anything, but I think I’d prefer to wear something a little more substantial than a towel.” She smiled big, trying to make light of the apparent nudity of almost everyone in the room.

 

Xander got up from kneeling in front of Spike, a towel slung low on his hips. Buffy tried to look away, blushing hotly as Xander looked right at her, and took off the bracelet. A soft flash of light, and the bracelet was gone, but their chains were now attached to rings in the floor, previously hidden under the carpets.

 

“Now why the hell would I want to do that?”

 

 

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Chapter 6

 

“Xander… wha…” Buffy couldn’t seem to think in complete words. Her face felt numb, her spine felt like it was a long blade of ice. Her finger tips tingled as a faint roaring in her ears grew until she was sure she was going deaf.

 

He just shook his head, and walked out of the room, returning shortly with a pile of wash clothes, a first aid kit, and a big bowl of faintly steaming water. He knelt in front of the unconscious Spike, and settled himself between his knees. He reached into the pile of wash cloths, and spread a few carefully under Spike. With nimble fingers he undid the buckles of Spike’s belt, and gently eased it off. Buffy just stared dumbly while Dawn reclined on the cushions, apparently waiting for her next command.

 

“Buffy… just relax. You’re safe for now, food and stuff is on its way. Just relax, shut up, and let me work.” He didn’t even look at her, intent on his task before him. He eased off the belt, wincing in sympathy and feeling his gorge rise as he saw the severity of the injuries, and what had been done. Vampire healing was amazing, but lack of proper feeding had slowed it down to a trickle. Every bruise and laceration was visible, the tears, cuts, every bit of damage Angelus had inflicted on his childe blatantly obvious.

 

Xander soaked a wash cloth in the water, and tenderly cleaned up Spike’s wounds as best he could, unhooking the wires from the butt plug, but leaving it inside him for now. Suddenly he looked up, as if hearing a secret signal. He got up quickly, hurrying towards a cupboard, opening it and bringing out a tray with five large glasses, all brimming with blood. He scampered quickly, and placed them near Spike, before going back to the cupboard, bringing out a large serving tray holding several large covered dishes. He knelt in front of Buffy and offered the tray to her.

 

“It’s food Buffy, safe to eat, I promise. Please eat some, and get some into Dawn. There’s a lot of choice, but feel free to finish it off, there’s more where that came from.” He seemed to be babbling, and hurried back to the cupboard, this time coming out with another tray, carefully balancing two decanters full of juice and one of water, with three glasses beside them. He placed all of this near Buffy, and went back to his care of Spike.

 

Buffy seemed frozen, didn’t even respond to what Xander had said, or what he’d put in front of them. She watched as he carefully washed away the old blood and useless tissue from Spike’s wounds. She shook her head, confused, and thought.

 

Xander was being tender, almost caring towards Spike, and it was totally out of character. Buffy frowned and thought back.

 

Xander wasn’t known for his love of the vampire named Spike, especially after what he tried to do in that bathroom, all those years ago. Xander would never have been this tender and caring, this attentive to needs. She frowned deeper and thought further back.

 

Xander had seemed uncaring about his nudity in front of Spike, and the girls. That wasn’t right. Even when he’d finally accepted Buffy would never see him for the stud muffin he could be, he’d still carried a torch for her. He’d still been bashful, and shy at times, self conscious… he’d never have stripped in front of her, and even if he’d gotten over his feelings towards her quickly, he’d NEVER have done anything like that in front of Dawn who was like a kid sister to him, or Spike who was like… well… like a really irritating, annoying vampire who he never trusted.

 

Thoughts began spinning in her head, images started flashing. She remembered how Xander had deflected any attempts at her touching him until… until they were in the shower… and then only when he’d spent some time under the fall of almost hot water from the showers which would have warmed his skin up quite well from a graveside chill.

 

She mentally kicked herself. She should have known, she should have noticed. Nothing was right, nothing was normal. Xander was seemingly going out of his way to give her hints and here she was unable to understand them. Was this another Angelus trip? Was all of this just a plan to get her hopes up, and then giggle and laugh as she fell apart because of her best friend’s apparent betrayal, and possible death?

 

She carefully emptied one of the trays, putting each item on the ground, pouring three glasses of juice. She kept watching Xander out of the corner of her eye, to see if he suspected she knew. Carefully Buffy put the decanter on the ground and picked up the heavy wooden tray. She closed her eyes and with a barely audible sob she whipped it around, slamming it against the back of Xander’s head.

 

Xander went sprawling, dazed. Buffy quickly picked up a sliver of wood from the shattered tray. With tears in her eyes, she quickly straddled Xander’s prone form, pressing the sharp wood over his heart, hard enough to dimple the skin and let out a bead of blood.

 

“Who the hell are you, and what the hell do you think you are doing?”

 

Xander looked up at her blankly, stunned; a fair sized goose egg starting to grow on his head where she’d attacked him, blood seeping from the ruptured skin. He lifted his hand carelessly and before Buffy could restrain it, her chain suddenly shortened to half a foot in length, sending her flying across the room to land upon the piled plush carpets with a resounding thud.

 

“Buffy, why the hell did you DO that? I’m trying to help you out here.”

 

“Help me? HELP me? Leaving me chained and naked in someone’s bedroom is HELPING me? Leaving DAWN here? And what about Spike? This is HELPING me?”

 

Xander shook his head and got up, frowning. “You’re better off here then there… here I can keep you safe.”

 

“Xander, what the hell is going on?” Buffy demanded through gritted teeth. She tugged ineffectually against the chain, and gave up grudgingly. She had to get out of this, this couldn’t be her Xander.

 

He gritted his teeth, and sat down near Buffy, but far enough away that she couldn’t reach him. “It’s bad Buffy, out there. It’s really really bad. The Slayerette’s are doing their job, holding their own most of the time, sometimes one even kicks so much demon butt they compare her to you. A lot are surviving, and that’s thanks to your initial training and the programs you set up, but no matter how many Slayers are alive and active, there are just too many… things out there. They ferret out a vampire nest only to find out there was a nest of Ornmak hatchlings that had sprouted up on the other side of the country. They destroy a flock of Hurrocks, and as soon as they leave they find out there was a nest of Spidrens that hatched and ate everyone they’d saved. They try to protect what little human life is left, and still get them food, and medical attention, while all supplies are running out and there is no way to make any more. Buffy… we aren’t doing well.”

 

She glared at him, and hissed out, “What are you saying Xander? That you gave up? Is that what you’re telling me?”

 

“I was cornered dammit!” Xander looked like he was starting to cry. He got up and paced the confines of the room while the words tumbled out of him in a rush, “It was either submit to him, or die, right then and there. He bound me to him Buffy, I can’t leave his service, I can’t even actively betray him, if I do it feels like… like… I can’t even describe it. I thought… I thought you guys might rescue me, might save me like Willow had gotten ready to do to you. He got me before I could make it home, he knew who I was, and my connection to you. He knew you’d been missing and he asked what we’d done to find you.” He fell to his knees in front of Buffy, grabbing her hands in his, as he continued earnestly, “He made me tell him, he made me steal the damned key and bracelet. I couldn’t STOP Buffy, please forgive me,” he swallowed thickly, and his eyes seemed to loose their focus as his pent up tears fell from his eyes in a wet curtain down his cheeks, dripping off his chin in silent droplets. “I couldn’t stop, I couldn’t stop, I couldn’t stop...” He kept repeating it, over and over, rocking back and forth while his voice gradually drifted off into silence.

 

“… What?”

 

“Buffy… I’m going to try to make this as easy on you guys as possible, ok?” Xander seemed to force himself out of it. His words re-start in a halting cadence, slowly gaining speed like a run away train. “I have some sway, I can get you good food, good drinks, make sure you’re allowed to shower every day… and you don’t have to entertain Angelus anymore… He even said he doesn’t actually want you guys, he’s just… trying to get Angelus’s attention. And we can get whatever we want, apocalypse or no, he’s got connections, or a portal to another universe, or something. Anything you want, really!”

 

“Wait, what?” Buffy seems to have a hard time understanding Xander’s babble. A faint roaring had begun in her ears again, washing up, louder and louder, blocking out most sound. She licked her wooden lips with a heavy tongue. She shook her head, trying to clear it.

 

“Who has you Xander?” she mumbled, thinking, once that was answered the rest had to make sense…. It had to right?

 

Xander fidgeted.

 

“Xander…”

 

“If I tell you, you have to promise not to laugh.”

 

“What? Xander, why would I laugh?”

 

“Just… promise me Buffy.”

 

“Alright… I promise not to laugh Xander.” Buffy looked faintly amused, the banter bringing her back to herself slightly.

 

Xander mumbled something incoherent.

 

“Xander, just tell me already. I promise I won’t laugh, Scouts honour, and by the way, can you let me up now? I’m getting a cramp.”

 

Xander looked up, surprise on his face quickly followed by shame, and then with a nice dark blush that coloured his face to the roots of his hair. “Oh… uhh… right.” He made a gesture like pulling, and the chain loosened up, letting Buffy sit up normally and look him straight in the eye. He quickly looked away as she fiddled with her towel, making sure it was secure again after her flying lesson.

 

Buffy pointedly stared at him, so when he looked up, he immediately looked away again. The weight of her stare drew the name out of his reluctant mouth.

 

“Bacchus,” Xander mumbled.

 

“Who?”

 

“Bacchus…,” he said a little clearer. He straightened up and looked at Buffy, “you know, Roman god of insanity, alcohol, intoxication, ecstasy … and… uhh… sex.” Again that blush graced his cheeks, darkening, and spreading down to his collar bone.

 

“A god, has taken you as his… what, servant? Indentured slave?” Buffy looked incredulous, confused, and very much like Xander might have lost too many French fries to be considered a happy meal anymore.

 

“What, Gods don’t exist? We all helped to kill one! Or is it the thought that one would want me? Is that it? Good enough to fetch donuts and run errands, but not desirable enough to be wanted for me? And not just my buttmonkey attraction, or my demon magnetness, but actually want me?” Xander was whining. He knew he was whining, so he just shut up.

 

A soft whimper from the cushions brought Xander back to Spike. He kept his tousled head bent as he gently cleaned Spike up as best he could, then held out a large glass full of blood with a bendy straw. He slipped the straw into Spikes parted lips, and told him, softly, to drink.

 

Spike had his eyes closed, but at the soft command, his lips sealed around the straw, as he slowly drew the blood into his mouth. At his first taste, his eyes opened, blue eyes frozen in shock.

 

Xander sighed, “Just drink it blood breath, freely given and all that.”

 

Buffy looked from one to the other, confused, and astounded by how quickly Spike could drain a glass of blood through a straw. Guess not needing to breathe helps, Buffy thought.

 

Xander quickly offered the next glass, and the next, making sure he drank every drop he’d been able to bring. Spike looked up at him with ice blue eyes full of gratitude and amazement, as Xander looked back with calm compassion. “I’ll give you a few minutes, to let the blood start its work. I’ll… remove the… uh, plug… then. It should… hurt less this way.” Xander seemed to have mastered the art of a perma-blush, his skin warming from the roots of his hair to just below his collar bone.

 

Spike nodded, and let his head fall back, eyes closed. The blood was potent, and he felt it working already, bruises and broken bones mending themselves. This was the best feeding he’d had in months, since his capture. Injuries that couldn’t heal before because of his vampiric malnutrition quickly repaired themselves.

 

While waiting for the blood to work its magic, Buffy grabbed one of the glasses of juice, and a plate of chicken fried rice and chicken balls with sweet and sour sauce. Alternating between herself and her sister Buffy cleared the plate, and two of the pitchers of juice. She was working on a large and crouton filled Caesar salad when Spike lifted his head, and caught Xander’s eye. Wordlessly he nodded, and shifted upon the cushions slightly, baring the plug, and giving as easy access as possible.

 

“I’m sorry Spike…” Xander rested a large warm hand on Spike’s thigh before grasping the plug and gently easing it out. Spike whimpered, throwing his head back as he cried out softly. Buffy had to stop eating as Spike writhed before her, tears trickling from his eyes as the offending metal was slowly manoeuvred out of him. A sickening popping sound filled the room, as refuse and congealed blood leaked from his anus. Xander quickly cleaned him up, wiping him clean, wincing as each towel stroke elicits a soft whimper from Spike.

 

“What’s going to happen to us now?” Buffy asked, looking away from Spike’s pain, and concentrating on feeding Dawn.

 

“I… you guys will be staying in my room. Bacchus doesn’t want YOU… he wants to get Angelus’s attention. He’s using you guys are gambling chips. He sent a message…” Xander fell silent, seeming to forget what he was doing.

 

“What kind of message Xander? What did he tell Angelus?”

 

“You know how Angel lost his soul, the first time…” He blushed again, knowing Buffy knew, more then anyone else. Buffy stayed silent, waiting for him to continue.

 

“Bacchus thinks… he thinks Angelus should worship him… you know, sex, insanity, it just… seems to fit in his head. He wanted you guys taken, if Angelus becomes a follower of Bacchus, he’s going to send you back.”

 

“What?? BACK? We can’t go BACK to that Xander, Angelus will kill us! And if he doesn’t, he’s going to make us wish we were dead! You’ve got to help us escape Xander; you can’t give us back to that… that…”

 

“I don’t have a choice Buffy… I can’t betray him… but while you are all here, I’ll take good care of you, I promise. Spike will get enough blood, Dawn won’t be… won’t be used… and you can…,” suddenly he exploded into motion, pacing angrily as he hugged himself tightly, as if afraid he’d fly apart, “I know this sucks! I know it! You think I don’t want to help you? To save you? To keep you away from that maniacs grasp? To protect Dawn? You think I haven’t been dying inside knowing his plans, and my part in them? You think I’m not afraid that Bacchus might just toss me in as an added bonus to his new supplicant?” Xander looked terrified, his large brown eyes again filled with unshed tears as he started to pace. He was angry, angry at his situation, at his lack of ability to DO anything, blaming himself for all of it and terrified about it at the same time. He was breathing harshly, looking like he was one step away from hyperventilation.

 

“If I could help you, I would. If I could get out of here, I would. I can’t, you can’t, none of us can. We’re stuck in this demon and Gods wonderland of earthy goodness… and we’re alone.”

 

“We’ll find a way Xander… we always do.” Buffy eyed him warily, wondering if he had finally snapped under the pressure. She carefully kept Dawn’s mouth full of food, while keeping a very close eye on Xander and his sudden explosions. Dawn ate everything calmly, her eyes half closed as her head nodded now and again. She must be so exhausted, Buffy thought, who knows how much rest Angelus let her have?

 

Buffy fretted about Dawn’s catatonia, her apparent inability to do anything herself, act for herself in any way. Will she ever be able to heal? Will she ever be Dawn again? Buffy fed her another spoonful, Or am I going to have to take care of her like this, forever? DAMN you Angelus. Damn you to hell, and back, and down to hell again. You hurt my sister, you hurt my friends… I owe you pain.

 

Xander stalked over to the cupboard and got out more food and drinks, putting them down in front of Buffy, helping himself to a plate full of French fries.

 

“All we have is hope Buffy… and I’ve lost mine.” He couldn’t even bring himself to look at her, to look at Dawn. Instead he kept his eyes locked on Spike, just making sure he’s still… well, fine, he doesn’t BREATHE, but making sure he’s still comfortable? Sure that works.

 

“Then you’ll just have to take some of mine. We’ll be saved, or we’ll save ourselves.”

 

Buffy sounded so confident, but it didn’t seem to rub off on him. “Buffy, I’m sorry… I’m so so sorry.”

 

“It’s not your fault Xander, I don’t blame you. You got us out of there, for a time at least, and gave us some breathing room to try to come up with our own plan.” She spoke quietly, as if to an injured child, or animal.

 

Xander fell silent, keeping his eyes lowered, while a tall imposing gentleman entered the room. He wore long rich amethyst coloured robes decorated with embroidery of grapes, and fornicating nymphs. His face looked human, with a salt and pepper goatee, his hair falling in gentle waves past his shoulders, but his rich purple eyes told a different story. He spoke with a deep and melodious voice, a voice that was used to being listened to, and instantly obeyed.

 

A slow smirk graced his full lips, “Or you could all be good pets, and entertain my guests for the evening.”

 

“You said they wouldn’t have to entertain you Master, you said they’d be safe…” Xander’s voice was low, subdued, and trembling in fear… or possibly rage.

 

“They won’t be entertaining ME, but my guests… and my guests know the rules to not damage the playthings…” he chuckled low in his throat, “and I want to see what Angelus has trained them to do. Get them ready, you know what must be done.” And he calmly walked out of the room, authority and power radiating from him.

 

Xander looked up when his Master had left, tears in his eyes, and defeat in every inch of him, “I’m sorry Buffy… I’m so sorry.”

 

 

---

 

Chapter 7

Xander looked around the immense and opulent room and strove to take in every detail. No matter how many times he’d come to his Masters “parties”, the interior kept shifting about in look and feel. Sheer silk hangings and tapestries hung from the ceiling on unseen supports to fall and brush the pale marble floors. They covered every wall and about the room occasionally sectioning off areas into various sized “rooms”. He could see the cavorting bodies within as they writhed on thick piles of satin cushions performing intimate acts upon each other. The room seemed to echo with the cacophony of voices in various throes of passion, occasional laughter, encouragements, directions… filling his head with the lusty noise.

 

The air was heavy with perfume, adding its own mind numbing properties to go along with what they’d already been forced to take.

 

“It’ll make it easier, I promise…”

 

“Xander, I don’t… I can’t…”

 

“It lets you… it makes you less clear headed. Think of it like really really amazingly strong wine. It blocks inhibitions, and… makes you very horny.”

 

“That won’t mean I’ll be a willing-”

 

“Yes, it will. Remember, insanity, drunkenness, sex, euphoria… he knows how to bring that out in people. It wears off, I promise, and… and you won’t really remember much about… what happens. It stops you from thinking, and makes you just… enjoy. Don’t fight it Buffy, it’s the only way.”

 

“Xander, I won’t. I won’t be used by some… some… deity!”

 

“You don’t have a choice…”

 

Forcing her. He remembered forcing her. He remembered pouring it down her throat till she choked on it, remembered Dawn’s silent acceptance, how she obediently drank what was offered, and voiced no complaint. He remembered Spike’s eyes, oh god those eyes, so pale, so hopeless, so lost. He looked defeated in a way Glory had never been capable of doing, not the government commando’s, nothing had broken him like this… except maybe Buffy’s death, but Xander hadn’t paid much attention to the vampire then. Oh god, this was all his fault.

 

 

“Oi, weren’t you a Cyclops mate?” hoarse voiced Spike, his throat sore from screaming, begging, abuse… who knew what Angelus’s had forced down the vampires throat, or how far…

 

“Yeah, Bacchus didn’t like that. Said it took away from my beauty, so he gave me a new one.”

 

Spike had chuckled, almost giggled, head lolling back on the plush pillows. “Perks to service, I see.”

 

 

He looked out of the corner of his eyes, and saw Buffy, Spike and Dawn walking dull eyed partially behind him. He controlled them, tonight. All the better for Bacchus to do his own thing. He knew Xander would be a good little slave, and keep to the rules. He didn’t get the pleasure of a full dose, he still had the chore of thinking through the night… he still had the responsibility to keep them safe, and obedient… he also had his regular chore of remembering every single thing he did that night, every single thing he let others do to him, and every single thing he was forced to enjoy, and beg for. Oh god, what had he done?

 

 

The anger and betrayal oozed slowly out of Buffy’s eyes, the drugs doing their work. Tears in his eyes, he’d cleaned them again, paying more careful attention to the girl’s girlie bits, and Spike’s torn hole. Spike seemed to be healing disturbingly fast, the magical and mundane supplements he’d been taking for weeks before he donated his blood made his offering to the blond vampire all that much more potent. He knew Spike would be healed in no time…

 

Carefully cleaning out their insides, he tried to avert his eyes, tried to give them at least the semblance of decency, but enema’s, and douches weren’t that easy to deliver in a non-looking-way. He remembered the special syringes, full with lube, with no needle on the tip. He filled their arses with the slick, and the girl’s cunts too. He knew they’d be wet in no time, giving their own lubrication to the festivities, but just in case they didn’t produce any before their first… encounter, at least this way it wouldn’t hurt… as much.

 

 

He looked around at the people this time, seeing old familiar faces of his Master’s friends, and some new ones. He saw new slaves being showed off; their Owner’s proudly displaying various aspects of their newest pets. The edges of his vision were slightly blurry; it took some concentrating to change focal points from near to far. He thought he heard a familiar girlish laugh, but by the time he turned his head in that direction, it was gone.

 

He led his friends up some marble steps, to the top tier in the middle of the room. There was a lip all along the edge of the thick marble slab that the pillows were piled on, to keep them from sliding off. The silk and satin pillows were in a riot of colours. Yellows, reds, purples, greens, browns… large ones, small ones, medium ones, some came in odd shapes, some had fringes and embroidery, others were plain, some were so simple, but at the same time so elegant.

 

His friends lounged, snacking off a plate of grapes someone had laid out nearby, reveling in the exquisite taste that seemed to explode off newly awakened taste buds. They were moaning softly, eyes half closed in bliss, arching their backs, fingers trailing from softly parted lips, down the smooth column of their own throats, feeling their own skin as if for the first time. It was almost funny, how each was totally lost in themselves, yet seemingly working in carefully choreographed synchronicity.

 

 

“Xander…. I feel funny…”

 

“I know, it’s the wine, working… just don’t fight it. If you fight it, you might get sick, it’s easier on your body if you just… let it work.”

 

Dawn stared glassily ahead, her expression, and responses hadn’t changed a single iota from when he’d first seen her in Angelus’s chambers, to now when the drug should have been rampant in her system. Xander wondered if it could work on someone in her state, or if it would just make things worse.

 

“Xander, how could you do this to us?” Plaintive, breathy… she wasn’t going to be able to retain her grip on reality for long.

 

He watched tears filling her eyes, as they slowly dimmed.

 

She lay bound on a large cushion, legs splayed, displaying her womanly bits in a lewd yet almost clinical way. He saw the lubricant glistening in her shaved pussy, oozing out of her arse. He looked at her, at Dawn already prepared, kneeling, waiting. He looked at Spike, who wouldn’t even look him in the face, just curled up on his side, obviously waiting for the drugs to kick in.

 

He knelt beside the pale vampire, and stroked his hair. “I am sorry you know… I didn’t… want to do this. It’ll be better here, I promise. Bacchus isn’t into pain, humiliation… he just wants obedience, and his subjects to… enjoy themselves… according to his rules.” Thick fingers corded through the bleached blond curls. He wondered, briefly, why Angelus had kept Spike’s hair dyed… then decided it didn’t matter.

 

“Spike, I’ll do my best to take care of you, to take care of them,” his fingers didn’t stop moving, smoothing, petting, weaving through the blond curls, but Spike never once looked up.

 

When he finally spoke, it was so softly, and so carefully, Xander almost missed it. “Thank you, for saving them… for me.” He kept his gaze averted, lips barely moving as he tried to emotionlessly go on, “I tried, so hard…I kept trying, always, I never gave up… I just couldn’t… I couldn’t win.” Xander heard him swallow thickly. Admitting defeat was never an easy thing for the vampire, Xander knew, so he kept quiet and just listened to his confessions. “I just made things worse, for them… for me. Even if we get sent back, at least they were out of it for a while. At least… they didn’t have to suffer for this little while.” Tears. Xander saw tears trickling from his eyes, down his face. He didn’t mention them; it wouldn’t have been productive to bring his attention to this emotional spilling.

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

 

Dawn was stroking an unpeeled banana she’d grabbed from the fruit tray inside her pussy, thrusting it inside her own body, using the curve of the fruit to great personal advantage. Her hip undulated slowly and gently, speeding up as the girl’s pleasure increased. Xander saw the hungry looks his Master’s guests cast her way, some with obvious intentions of taking the place of the banana.

 

Spike had found Buffy, his lips pressed reverently to hers. Xander saw her lithe body arching gently, pressing its length along side his. Pale hands danced along honey coloured skin, eliciting soft cries, and hungry mewls from the Slayer.

 

Xander found his body moving behind Spike’s, spooning him gently, as he kissed and fondled the Slayer. With seeming intimate familiarity, Xander kissed down Spike’s neck, pressing his hot erection between the vampires smooth arse cheeks loosing himself in the needy moans he seemed to pull from him. He lifted a cool well muscled thigh up along the side of his body, leaving Spike’s ass well exposed. He reached, and grabbed his own cock with his free hand, and slowly slid inside Spike.

 

Xander felt Spike shudder at the sudden intrusion, barely tensing up before arching back into Xander’s gentle thrusts. He felt Buffy’s leg draped over Spike’s hip, and over Xander’s back, as she opened herself to Spike. The three moved with each other, against each other, soft cries, grunts, begging… and the crowd grew, as more and more people watched the show.

 

Xander hid behind the haze of the drugs, letting his body act and react without him. He felt the pleasure, the need, but nothing else penetrated his drug shrouded mind. He felt his body move, felt the silk, the skin, the tight sheathe of Spike’s arse, but he wasn’t in control, his body moved of its own accord to bring itself pleasure, he was just along for the ride.

 

He lost himself in the pleasures of the flesh, loosing track of time, and whose cock was where, what girl did what to whom. He felt himself spend his seed numerous times, sometimes inside someone, or something, sometimes in the air, to coat something or other. He didn’t know what was going on around him anymore, he locked his conscious thoughts away, as he always did, in this situation.

 

His heavy lidded eyes danced about the room, not really looking at anything, just changing positions. Again he heard that laugh, seemingly filling his head, it started to echo through the room, through my head?

 

He saw the small lithe pale body kneeling near the platform. Downcast eyes beneath soft red eyebrows wouldn’t rise to meet his. Xander forced himself to look, to see… this person was so familiar. He saw the thick leather collar with large metal spikes adorning the slender column of throat, the heavy chain leash leading off it. Xander finally focused, and realized it was a male, the rapid rise and fall of his chest looked like he was hyperventilating. Xander wondered why he didn’t look up, why he kept looking away, when suddenly green eyes locked with his.

 

Oh…. Shit, OZ!

 

Oz quickly looked away, but looked back sharply when his leash was tugged harshly. Xander followed the line of the chain with his eyes, saw it fisted in another pale slender hand. Fingernails painted a deep dark red, like old dried blood, delicate wrist, forearm… When his eyes rested on the face of Oz’s captor, he felt his heart freeze.

 

“Willow?” words muffled by Dawn’s pussy on his mouth. She arched above him, enjoying the vibrations dancing along her slit, Xander stared as Willow smirked, obviously recognizing her name. WILLOW??? Willow?!!!?! Willow…. Oh gawd, it’s Willow… WILLOW IS HERE! Willow is watching… Willow has Oz on a leash, kinky. WILLOW!??!

 

Xander saw her slender fingers pet gently at Oz’s red hair, before she lifted that hand and used it to blow Xander a sultry kiss. Her lips curved back into a smirk as she uttered a single word, “amoveo”.

 

Is this what it feels like to be a bug trapped in amber? Xander thought, as the world slowed, and seemed to suddenly lurch. He noticed the silence first, the only sounds of their making. He looked around the room, and everyone seemed frozen.

 

Willow reached over, touching each of them, the blissful feelings they had been wrapped in evaporating like they’d never been, the drugs fled their system in an almost painful hurry.

 

She leant over; to breathe in Xander’s ear, “Mine now…”

 

---

 

Chapter 8

 

The three leash handles in his sweaty hand felt slick, almost unreal in what they symbolized. What was left of his friends followed him blankly, dull eyes staring ahead unseeing. He stifled a sigh, and kept trudging through the ever present tunnels, gaze locked on the filth and sludge of the tunnel floor. His Mistress kept his leash short, making sure he was bent at the waist as he hurried after her, in a constant position of obedience, subservience… she liked those reminders to her power, they entertained and amused her, and Oz wanted her entertained and amused. At least then she didn’t have to come up with more interesting, and therefore to him more painful, humiliating and soul breaking things to do.

 

He’d heard everything, of course. She saw no need to keep him in the dark, there was nothing he could do to stop it happening, and he suffered so sweetly in the apprehension of the act. He shivered silently, pleas for pity, for mercy locked behind his soft lips, knowing better then to let them free.

 

They emerged from the tunnels into an airy foyer made of dark stone. The witch mumbled, waving her hand airily over them, and the filth and grime covering their bodies evaporated into nothing. Willow preferred her guests and pets to be clean, smell clean… he remembered that lesson too.

 

He led the enchanted group to his Mistress’s chambers, carefully attaching their leashes to eye bolts at the foot of the large and sumptuous bed. He made them kneel there, fingers curling softly towards the palms of their hands as they rested on gently parted thighs. They leant back slightly, onto the footboard of the bed, but no other comfort was given them. Oz walked away, to curl up on the bear skin rug in front of the roaring fire, circling a spot three times before settling his slight frame.

 

Four words danced circles in his head, as he fought to think of nothing else, trying so hard to be a good boy. It’s all he heard, it drowned out the crackling of the fire as he stared into the violently changing depths.

 

“Be a good boy, be a good boy, be a good boy, beagoodboy, beagoodboy, beagoodboybeagoodboybeagoodboybeagoodboy”

 

The words ran faster and faster, slurring, and blurring, becoming one long breathless mindless chant that bounced off the walls of his mind. He knew the better he played his role, the more content she’ll be. The more he flouted the training she’d instilled, the more pleased she was at her good doggy, the less likely she’d be to lash out at her new toys. It’s not like he had any self respect left anyways, not like he had a single shred of dignity. That’s what being owned by someone like who his Willow had turned into did to a person… what he suspected would happen to those of Angelus’s care. He hoped they were well trained, that they behaved. Things were so much calmer and safer then.

 

He heard her come in, and lifted his head instantly. His pavlovian erection strained against the collar like cock ring, magicked to stay on, stay tight, no matter what. He may not be able to cum with it on, but it wouldn’t fall off on its own either. A single word, a gesture, even a thought from his Mistress and it would become loose and lax enough to climax, or to clean under it, but it won’t come off, because she didn’t want it to.

 

He wasted no time, and crawled obediently to her, head low, submission in every line and motion of his mostly nude body. He sniffed her leather boot, from toes to knee, the laces abrasive against his cheek. His nose followed up the soft inner curve of her bare thigh, coming to rest under her short but flared leather miniskirt, buried in the nest of flame coloured curls damp from her need and excitement. He breathed deeply, enjoying the smell, the texture of her pubic hair against his face, his eyes closed in bliss and enjoyment.

 

He felt her slim fingers weave themselves into his hair, and went still as a statue, trying to hide the tremor of need, of outright terror, from transmitting itself to her. When her hand did nothing but pet, and stroke, and he heard her murmur “good doggy”, he calmed, trying to hide his shudder.

 

He sat back on his heels, and gazed up at her through his lashes, skimming along her black leather boots, and black leather skirt, lingering over the soft leather basque that cupped and cradled her form so perfectly. She shrugged out of the black silk shirt she’d worn loosely over it, and tossed it aside onto an empty chair. He marvelled at her bare arms, the soft shoulders, the delicate hands, and again marvelled at the strength in her slender frame.

 

He kept from looking at her in the face, though he ached for it. He’d been so foolish, so horridly foolish when he had left her all those years before. He had been terrified of the beast within him, terrified of its urges and needs and wants, of the violence blatant in its very existence. He’d been so scared he ran away to train himself to train the beast, so it wouldn’t harm those he loved and cared for, so no innocent would ever suffer because of his furry alter ego. He never paused to think of what other options existed, what else he could do to tame the animal that existed in his every breath, his every motion, his every thought and reaction.

 

He hadn’t even pondered a possibility that something else could exist to tame him, until she showed him… until she showed him exactly what it took to leash the wolf.

 

“Good boy, go back to your rug puppy, lay down.” She ruffled his hair carelessly, but he leaned into the touch, aching for any kind of contact that she would bestow upon him, before scampering to obey, a soft whine trickling out of his throat when her physical contact ended. He circled a few times before settling on the fur rug, basking in the heat of the fire, and trying to ignore the painful erection still straining for attention.

 

He curled himself up on his side, back to the room, acceptance and even trust in his posture. It’s what she wanted of him. His obedience, his trust, his life, his existence… it was all hers. That didn’t mean that he didn’t listen intently to her as she moved about the room, his keen hearing almost as good as seeing her himself. He picked up the sounds of her kneeling in front of the leashed four, knew she stroked fingers through hair. He heard her finger tips stroking along someone’s cheek, soft murmurs of approval, fingers in hair, gentle touches, so soft and tender. He hoped she’d stay that way.

 

He lost himself in the dancing flames, and remembered…

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Running. He remembered running through the woods. His paws feeling hot, the wind in his fur, and the scent of a rabbit almost overwhelmed by the scent of its fear, he remembered the scent of the trees, and stench of rotting refuse and undergrowth. He remembered the rabbit squealing in fear as he caught up and lunged at it, crushing it to death in his powerful jaws, before gobbling it down.

 

He had taken to changing his form to feed, what little provisions there were went to those that couldn’t eat anything else. Sometimes he’d even bring in bigger game, to feed the human populace of this lone outpost in the middle of nowhere that he’d help start. His control over his shape shifting was well known to a precious few, the rest assumed that the dogs he kept in a kennel behind his single room dwelling were the ones going out to hunt, and that he was simply their trainer. People may now know about what goes bump in the night, but that just meant they were even more terrified of those which weren’t normal, weren’t human… he didn’t see a reason to teach them the truth when his pelt was the one in question.

 

He remembered settling down for a post-hunt nap, when something… something disturbed him… and then he woke up in a cage, not remembering falling asleep or passing out, back in his human form. A thin blanket covered him, and flimsy padding was between him and the mesh on the bottom of the cage.

 

He remembered the first sight of her, after all those years apart. His breath caught as she looked up at him, a soft smile on her cupids bow lips. Her green eyes seemed to sparkle with mirth, as she put down the heavy tome she’d been reading, curled up in a wingback chair before the hearth. He remembered staring, like a man starved for drink and shown a waterfall, as she unfurled her legs, and stood up, wearing a very short robins egg blue silk kimono.

 

In his amazement it took several minutes of gazing at her before he realized something was wrong. He breathed in deeply, running the air over his palate, tasting as well as smelling, when it hit him… the faint stench of decay, and none of his Willow’s soft strawberry like scent. Once he realized that, the scent that permeated the room assaulted his senses; heavy with musk, reeking of power and magic, and that ever present stench.

 

His beloved was dead.

 

The joy he felt at seeing her soured into pangs loss, slowly blooming within him into fear. Vampires used to terrify him, but his cool exterior never let on. When he grew to understand them, the horror abated to wary caution… but his Willow… oh his sweet Willow was not just a common vampire. His Willow was a witch with unimaginable powers and potential, rage that boiled just beneath the surface that was so easy to tap and overwhelm her common sense and natural sweet caring nature, and a burning intelligence that rivalled even his own.

 

The instant he puzzled his way through the various smells and realized the truth, Willow’s sweet soft smile turned into a leer of contempt and arrogance. She lifted herself from the chair, and walked the few steps towards the cage, bare feet silent on the soft pile of the hand woven rug. She knelt in front of the cage, then tilted to the side, lounging and stretching out her legs, head pillowed on her arm, the silk parting to show the soft swell of a breast, a pink erect nipple peeking at him coyly.

 

He remembered after that too. She let her demon confront his, and dominated it. Sounds so simple, but that’s exactly what happened over a stretch of weeks. She became his alpha, and with that she gained a fierce protector, a devoted lover, an obedient subject. What good is a broken werewolf, when she could have all of this at her disposal instead? He kept his cunning, his strength, intelligence, even his individuality, by using his wolf’s instinctive devotion and submission to a stronger pack member, and since she treated him well he had no need to assert himself on her, he was happy in his place. The only times he dwelt on what she’d done to him, really thought about the humiliation, the degradation and the sweet agony was when he obeyed an order that disturbed him, that went against his human nature… but he always obeyed… he’d learned well to obey.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Spike drifted in a haze of magick, totally disassociated from his body, and enjoying the peace and painlessness of the place he found himself. No more screaming muscles, or dull aches of bones still knitting, no more pain from his almost constantly used arse, no more fear or apprehension, everything was fine.

 

And then he was back.

 

And the lack of physical pain confused the hell out of him. … the hell? What’s Angelus up to… no wait… something… something happened, what was it? Someone came… someone, who? Slowly the memories trickled back, he got to the part of Xander feeding him in his wounded state with copious amounts of enriched Xander blood his lack of pain suddenly made sense, and when he got to the part of Willow, he finally snapped open his eyes, breathing in a gasp of shock.

 

He was fine. He really was fine. Nothing hurt, nothing ached, and he had a soft thick pallet under him, and a soft heavy blanket on top, and even a comfy pillow. His legs ached, but when he tried to stretch out he realized he couldn’t.

 

His eyes focused on the thin mesh of the dog crate around him, he had enough room to sit, or curl up on his side, lay on his back with his knees towards the ceiling, but not much else. There was a bowl of kibble attached to the side of the cage, and a sipper bottle of blood. He lifted his head, and looked around the room. The others were stirring in their own cages, arranged nose to tail along a dark ruby wall; first was Dawn, then Xander, then himself, and finally Buffy.

 

He heard a rattling sound and looked over at the sound; Dawn was already up on hands and needs, drinking from her water bottle, and eating her kibble. Spike remembered his own time in a cage at Angelus’s command, and shuddered at the thought of her enduring the same kind of training. He reached out towards the thin wires of the cage, laced his fingers through the square openings, and clenched his fist as hard as he possibly could. The wires stayed thin, and straight and totally uninfluenced by his attempts, though they cut into his fingers, and drew thin lines of blood. Right, Willow… of course they’d be magicked to withstand me.

 

The rest of the room seemed a little off, he couldn’t quite place it. He saw oddly curved walls towering on either side of him, but a large ornate door directly in front. He finally placed himself in a foyer, between two main staircases. Now the question became, were they coming in, or going out?

 

“Buffy, Xander, you two awake?” His softly pitched voice still seemed to fill the whole room.

 

“Spike… where are we, wh-what’s going on?” Buffy’s voice wavered, and he could hear her swallow thickly, her heart beating loud enough, and quick enough to make him worry about her passing out from fear.

 

“Dunno, just woke up. I think we got taken by Willow from the party… but I can’t quite remember what happened.” He heard Xander hyperventilating in his cage.

 

“I’m out of there? I’m really out of there? Willow came and got us out! I saw her, I saw Oz, she got us out… why are we in cages if she got us out? Spike, why are we in cages? Can you get out?” Xander babbled as he looked wildly about the room, trying to understand his situation.

 

“Xander calm down. I don’t know. I remember Willow, but not anything after… and since we’re all caged I’m guessing we aren’t free. Be quiet, be obedient, eat and drink while you can because you never know when you’ll earn another meal. Buffy no more squeamishness, eat the damned food. Dawn’s already done that, and settled down again, I suggest we all do the same. Take these luxuries while we got ‘em, dunno when we’ll get ‘em again.” He pulled his blanket back over himself as he settled down to wait. He ignored the bitching and complaining from Buffy, and the quiet reassurances of Buffy, instead stuck on the utter silence and acceptance of Dawn.

 

He wondered how long until Buffy was broken like that, or Xander… and finally how long he thought he had for his own personal breaking. He thought about what had happened with that girl he was made to breed with, how he’d felt afterwards. He wouldn’t last long, he realized, unless Angelus wanted him to last… wanted him to suffer longer and longer, stretching out his torment. He clenched his pale eyes tightly, trying to keep his tears from falling as he realized Angelus would stretch it out, of course he would, what’s the fun in not?

 

He prayed in his unbreakable cage with its comforts of dubious origin and intent. He curled up tightly on his side, and pressed his clenched fists to his furrowed brow as he prayed to any deity that might possibly be listening with an indulgent ear that they never go back to Angelus. He had healed, his humans seemed to be doing alright. No one had any injuries, everyone had sustenance, and they had blankets and pallets and even pillows. This was so much better than things had been. This was heaven compared to before. He couldn’t take it if it went to what it was before. He rhythmically punched himself lightly on the forehead as he kept praying silently, his eyes clenched painfully tight, knowing it was futile, knowing no god would help someone as damned as he was, but praying none the less... it was his last hope.

 

He let out a sigh, and easily moved to his hands and knees. He sniffed the blood and kibble, but it smelled fine to his enhanced senses, of course it could still easily be drugged, or magicked, or cursed, or poisoned, but it didn’t matter. If she wanted to do those things she’d do them anyway, he couldn’t exactly stop her. He slowly drank down the blood, using his tongue carefully to stroke the ball of the sipper bottle, and occasionally trying to stick it in, wiggling it against the ball as the thick nourishing human blood trickled down to coat his tongue. He finished the kibble between trips to the bottle as he alternated between the crunchy solid food and his natural vampiric diet, minus the screaming victim, and plus the humiliation of his current situation.

 

He rolled his tongue around his teeth, cleaning them of flavourless, and granulated leftover kibble. He wondered why she bothered giving it to him, but decided it likely didn’t matter, and besides, it filled his stomach up for a while so he’d be less hungry later.

 

Footsteps echoed in the high vaulted chamber as a pair of stiletto shod feet were followed by a pair of bare ones. They turned at the base of the stairs and made their way towards the caged captives. Spike leaned up on his elbow to see their approach clearly.

 

Willow. Sweet Willow with long auburn locks floating free, the layers to her hair giving her a carefree, almost relaxed look. She wore form fitting black slacks, and a leather basque covered by a black satin blouse left open and unbuttoned. She smiled tenderly at the quartet as Oz came up from behind her, wearing a scrap of tan loincloth, the collar and leash from before, and pushing a large dolly. He carefully loaded each crate onto the dolly as Xander and Buffy tried to talk to him, ignoring his soft snarls and growls, trying to appeal to the friend he had been.

 

Spike kept his eyes locked on Willow’s green one’s, trying to get an idea as to what was going on. Oz loaded them, Buffy and Xander on the dolly side by side, with Spike and Dawn on top of them. When they were fully loaded Willow smiled.

 

“You four have really saved the day you know. Without you I never would have gotten in to see Angelus… he misses you terribly you know, and Xander, he’s got some cross words for you mister! Stealing his property, letting someone else play with his toys; you’ve been such a bad boy Xander” She waggled her finger at him, looking stern.

 

Spike felt the knot in his stomach tighten, he suddenly wondered if he’d be able to keep his meal down. He dropped to his side, and curled up tight again, rocking slightly as he fought to hold back tears. He really was damned, really was here to suffer in his own private hell. This must be his payment for all the crimes he committed, all those lives he took, and all those innocents he destroyed… he could accept that. He knew he could accept his punishment, but the fact that everyone he cared about had been dragged down into his hell with him was what hurt. They didn’t deserve this, they didn’t earn this for themselves… he was the cause, and it tore him up inside, left him bleeding from his fought for soul.

 

“Please,” he whispered. “Please don’t. I’m begging Red, please don’t send us back. Anything, I swear, anything I can do for you, just don’t send us back.” He choked on a sob.

 

“Silly Spikey, you’re my ticket into the lions den. You’re the only reason he’s giving me an audience, and if I didn’t get an audience with the great Angelus, that wouldn’t be good at all, now would it? Ssssssshhhhhh…,” she soothed as he silently sobbed, body shuddering in soft spasms as he held in his cries. “You’re going to be where you belong Spike. You all are.”

 

“Oz, please, talk to her. Please Oz, don’t let her send us there…” he reached through the bars to the slight redhead, his face blotchy from crying. Oz ignored his pleas, instead moving behind Willow, and sniffing her neck possessively before falling to his knees at her side, his head pressed into her thigh. Spike gave up his pleading, his cries obviously going unheeded.

 

“Sleep,” Willow said, motioning towards them, and watched as they all slumped into a deep dreamless sleep. She nodded to herself, and nudged her pet to his feet. He quickly threw a blanket over the pile of crates and secured it with clips, making sure no light reached inside. He loaded the whole thing onto the back of a truck, secured it tightly, and scrambled back out on quick feet. He slammed the truck’s doors shut, and got into the driver’s seat, silent, and obedient. This had obviously been well planned.

 

“This is going to be so fun” crowed Willow, as she laughed and stalked out of her home.