Spike stood at the bars after throwing his jacket on the bottom bunk. Looking out, he studied the adjoining cells. Directly across the two yard wide hall, he watched the inmates going about their non-business. The majority of the inmates have gone past the threshold of boredom and were settling nicely into catatonia.

A fair-skinned, dark haired girl that looked human and no more than twelve stood leaning on the bars facing him, watching him. It was a rather intense stare from a child, and he guessed that since she looked so young that she definitely wasn't human. Also considering her roommate, she had to have strength or power of some kind.

Her roommate looked like your run-of-the-mill demon beast with some intelligence, since it was reading a newspaper. It had a purple hide, flabby pincers for hands, and a face that made a bulldog look like a perfect specimen. It was also one of those demons that didn't wear clothes. Most demons that weren't humanoid in shape didn't wear clothes, really. Spike squinted at the paper it was reading. He couldn't make out the lettering to tell him anything about the newspapers origin, which would tell him where in the hell was this hellhole's location.

Looking down each way of the hall held other—

Spike stumbled forward a step when his jacket smacked against his back and draped over his head. Fumbling quickly to get it out of his view he swiftly turned and put up a guard.

…against no one.

"What…?" Still confused, he slowly came out of his stance and gathered his jacket to put back on his bed as he took a couple sniffs of the air. He walked slowly back to the bed, his sight going to all corners, even under the cot. "Alright, who's here?" He warily turned in a circle, using all his senses to suss out the…phantom.

Nothing.

Keeping a wary eye out, he laid the jacket back on the bed. Shrugging the event off as probably a quirk of the place, he turned to the sink and—

The jacket smacked into his back again.

Spinning, he snarled into game face behind him. Still nothing. No sound, scent, or visual. Not even the heebie-jeebies of a ghostly presence.

"Show yourself, you coward. Can't face me huh?" He snarled through a leer.

"I would, but that's beyond my ability at the moment." A wry voice. A male voice, with an accent identifying him as mid-western standard American.

But nothing else. Scent was something that most take for granted. It was one of the hardest things to mask. This man apparently could, and it made Spike's hackles rise in threat. Though, now that he was focusing on the intended target, he could make out a faint heartbeat. It sounded a tad muffled, which Spike couldn't make sense of how this man was doing it. The noise of the facility wasn't making it any easier.

"Who…Where are you?" Spike let his tone mean business with a low growl accenting each word, and backed himself against the wall.

The voice replied from somewhere several feet in front of him, though the stone walls were making it hard to decipher accurately. "I…am your mo-ral sub-con-scious…" He made it sound like an 80's cheesy ghost voice. At that, Spike raised one incredulous eyebrow.

"Right. I might've believed you, if I had a soul." Spike stood back up to his full cocky height and hung his thumbs through his front belt loops.

"Well it was worth a shot. You should've seen your face earlier, you know, if you had a reflection." That last bit came out with a chuckle.

"Speak for yourself mate." Spike felt sure he knew where the man stood, and before the 'phantom' could react Spike leapt forward. With both hands he grabbed at an invisible man-sized object and slammed him against the far stone wall.

"Hey easy!"

"Now then." Spike pressed one arm into his throat, and the other across his abdomen. Spike felt the man grab at his arms and try pushing him off, but Spike's strength was too much. Spike brought forth his demon visage. He licked his fangs.

"Glrk!" The man choked out. Upon touching, Spike could feel the pulse point at the throat, confirming to him that he's a living being of some kind, and not just a phantasm with a few tricks.

And a living being has blood.

Suddenly the man stopped struggling against Spike, and it felt like he was trying to turn in his hold. It seemed like he was giving up, and Spike leaned forward to try the taste his blood. He was quite hungry.

Suddenly from the wall in front of his face, a beam of morning sunlight speared right into Spike's face. With a shout of painful surprise, Spike jumped back and to the side. He slammed his shoulder into the opposite wall far across the cell. He felt his right cheek and neck sizzling where the deadly rays burned him.

"That'll teach ya, punk. Ha! William the Bloody ain't so tough now."

Spike snarled, "So you know who I am." He stood up to face the invisible man. "And who the bloody hell are you? Griffin the Invisible Man?"

"Ohh, color me surprised! We have ourselves a reader of classics. I wouldn't have guessed. Now while I can relate a bit, no, I am not him. In fact, it's because of that novel I am the way I am."

"Yea, and how's that?"

"I'm actually a practitioner of magic. Enough to turn myself invisible, but not back to normal. I've been like this for…gosh, almost ten years! My my, how time flies…" The last bit ended in a murmur to himself mostly, though Spike could hear him just fine.

"If you were invisible, how did you end up here?"

"Ohh…" There was a hitch to his voice that sounded like he flinched at recalling the memory, "Well, like poor Griffin, I kinda went a little crazy for a time. I mean, how empowering do you think it is when no one can see you? Also, it's was rather frustrating at first when no one knew you were standing or sitting there. Finally got caught stealing from some casino and starting a fight with the guards as I attempted to run."

Spike let out a snort. "Wanker."

"Hey! Want another dish of sunny delight? Turning other things invisible is one of the tricks I picked up here. I can make that protective dark wall there go bye-bye and a lot bigger than a handprint size. And make dust of you, vampire."

Spike just stared for a moment at the area the voice was coming from. "You…can make the wall-"

"No no no! Not physically disappear. You think I like living here? No, I can only extend my invisibility to objects I want, though there are some limits, of course."

"Hn. Well that's-"

Suddenly the bar doors from the all the cells in the hallway slid open and a buzzer vibrated through the facility.

Spike felt a hand clap him on his shoulder startling him. He attempted to shove the hand off, but it was already gone. Spike heard the man's voice coming from the entrance of the cell door.

"Well come on, roomie. That was the bell for breakfast, and it's time for you to meet everyone who wants to kill you." A slight pause before he continued with what sounded like a shrug in his tone, "Or worship you. You've made quite the name for yourself."

Spike smirked, "That was the point." He walked forward to join him, "So, what do I call you?"

"Biv."

"Slayer!" A cheery sounding voice boomed with a clear warble to it, and Buffy cracked an eye to look at the speaker.

Green, gelatinous, and large. She opened both eyes as she crinkled her nose in disgust. That slime better not come near her. She looked up to its head and its….many faceted eyes.

Ugh, it was like an expired lime gelatin dessert had a baby with a slug the size of horse.

"Not a talker, huh? That's okay. I'll do the talking anyway. I'm sure you have many questions. Or maybe you don't. Slayers never struck me as that bright being they willingly work for that organization of Watchers. That, and they always died like mayflies.

"So!" It clapped once, she noticed that it was two of six very long spindly arms, "Let's see…You were captured along with the vampire William the Bloody. At first, my men were going to drop you off at the local hospital of Sunnydale, but Lo and Behold!" He extended his thin arms forward to indicate her whole self, "Turns out we captured the Slayer too!"

Buffy jumped when she felt hands on her other side wipe her arm with a cold cloth on a wound from her fight earlier. She watched him for a moment. He looked human, and her senses weren't buzzing, so there was that. He wore a white doctor's coat, though no name tag. Short blonde hair, and fairly average looking. She turned her attention back to the Jell-O monster. It…was going on and on.

She had to interrupt, "Who are you? Where am I?" Her voice was scratchy.

"Oh! My apologies, I didn't realize I was being so rude. Got ahead of myself there." He cleared his throat, though Buffy had a feeling it was for show instead of a needed thing, "I am Mah Zinn. Curator of this fine establishment called Mosaic: Where mutant enemies learn to be mutant friends."

There was a moment's pause as he let her take it in.

"…Are you serious?"

For a moment - and Buffy was assuming male based on its voice – his facial expression showed surprise, "Well yes. I wouldn't lie about my facility. Too much work and money invested in it to make up such an elaborate lie." Buffy tugged at her arm straps again. "Ah-ah-ah. One other thing, Slayer. I understand you were unconscious when you were brought in. Let me make one thing clear to you."

He brought up one of his spindly arms and curled his fingers around her sore ear. "Inside here you have one of my many creations. You cannot leave this facility without my consent. Go out of range, and well, it's best to show you…"

A screeching nails-on-a-chalkboard began beating at higher and higher frequency inside her head until all that was left was the tearing pressure on the verge of exploding her ear canal. She could do nothing but scream. She couldn't even hear her scream over the vibrating sensation wiping out all her senses to where even her vision had gone triple. It was minutes later she realized she was still wheezing out half-screams that the pain had stopped for some time, but her ear was still throbbing a fast staccato along with her heart. The room continued spinning.

"There. Imagine that never ending. Only growing stronger until 'Boom!' your head goes. This is only if you try to escape. Now another bit a news: I, or any one of my faculty can activate these on the premises too. Should you step out of line, one push of a button, and the screeching starts."

Buffy didn't want to show tears, but the pain caused involuntary streaks run from the corners of her eyes that slid back to her hairline. She really had nothing to say. She was a prisoner for the foreseeable future, and no one knew she was there. Wait! Maybe Willow and Giles would eventually fire up a tracking spell, and once they got her location, she was out of there.

She only had to wait...

Just then, two guards dragged a food-splattered Spike in and stopped behind His Imperial Gutter Snot.

Spike saw her with an expression that crossed his face resembling surprise, but brought his attention back to Mah Zinn and scowled. There was a burn mark on his right cheek buried under all the random bits of food.

"So you must be the miserable sod that runs this joke of an asylum."

Mah Zinn's many eyes narrowed, "It's a rehabilitation facility, not an asylum." Mah Zinn slimed around to face Spike fully. "Take off your coat and shirt."

Spike snapped his head back in surprise, "Whoa there Slimer. I like to wait until we've at least had dinner and a movie first. Coming on kinda strong-"

Spike screamed in sudden acute pain. A second later it stopped, and he staggered without falling. "wha…What the fuck?" He began to growl when he let out another piercing scream, this time holding his head right over the same ear Buffy had her implant.

The strangest thing she noticed was that while Spike was getting an object lesson in obedience, she could feel a faint thrumming in her ear too. Yet the screeching wasn't giving her pain. It clicked that Mah Zinn could direct the shock treatments to whomever he wanted. It was only the close distance that was probably picking up the trigger of whatever Mah Zinn was throwing at Spike's ear-bug.

Spike was panting as he struggled to stand.

"I won't ask again William." Mah Zinn's earlier joviality was gone.

With staggered movements, he managed to drop his jacket and shirt against the wall.

"Now lean back against this," He indicated with a spindly arm an upright platform in the shape of a cross the size of a man. It had straps for tying outstretched arms and binding legs down. Spike looked at it then back at Mah Zinn, clearly debating about following the command, because he knew what it was going to be used for.

"Now William." A hint of anger crept into Mah Zinn's tone.

Spike leaned against his future torture device with great reluctance. The guards began strapping him against it. Mah Zinn picked up a large scalpel and rolled it between his finger and thumb as he waited for the guards to finish. Once they were done, he slithered right up to Spike's face, mere inches away.

"I bet you're wondering why you're here."

"Not really."

There was a pause of consternation at being interrupted, and before Mah Zinn continued, he sliced three times in random places quickly. They were shallow cuts, and beads of blood began forming and running down slowly. Spike kept himself from giving him the satisfaction of a reaction.

Part of Buffy, a very very dark part of Buffy, felt satisfied that Spike was finally getting some form of punishment. He was never a ray sunshine or anything pleasant in their shared past, so she held little regard for him. But a larger part of Buffy, the human part, felt sickened and sympathetic for anyone receiving the torture that Mah Zinn was inflicting. Punishment is one thing, but torture is something no one deserves.

For almost an hour, Mah Zinn alternated between quick slices and slow meandering ones. All the while he was going on and on about the technique, it origins, those who administered it, the famous ones who died from it, and sometimes he would demand Spike to beg for it to stop. Spike never gave in, never cried out, though his pinching face showed it was wearing on his endurance. She couldn't understand how the two guards standing by, waiting for a directive from Mah Zinn, would do nothing to stop this. The blonde male doctor from earlier had walked off after only five minutes and hadn't returned.

Buffy wasn't receiving any attention, but still felt twinges of sympathetic pain by being forced to watch. And after the length of time he was taking, Buffy was on the verge of throwing up. The cuts weren't flowing in rivers of blood individually, but the amount, countless now, accumulated down Spike's body that it was dripping from the bottom hem of his pants over his shoes and was making a mess all around him on the white tiled floor. Cuts he made in the beginning had already healed over, but the more blood loss meant slower healing, which showed in his most recent cuts as they stayed open and leaking.

A couple of times Spike would insult Mah Zinn with more and more colorful descriptions that only earned him a beating from the guards before Mah Zinn held up a hand to stop, then he would continue administering the shallow cuts at a random pace. It kept Spike from expecting and bracing himself against the cuts.

Spike groaned after an especially hard punch from a guard. Suddenly he started chortling. Mah Zinn paused watching Spike let it out.

Spike took a breath after his laughing died down to intermittent giggles, "You think this…is gonna to hurt me? Break me? Apparently…you haven't met Angelus. Maybe you've heard of him." Spike spat blood twice, once at the guard who punched him and once at Mah Zinn.

Mah Zinn's tone was flat, "I've broken vampires with more mouth than you. We've only just begun." Mah Zinn lifted Spikes chin to make sure he was looking into his eyes, "You're here for punishment because you've been seen thieving from our shipments of blood that are meant for our vampires receiving treatment. We'll keep at this until you feel properly chastised for stealing."

"What? No!" Spike scoffed, "I was in Sunnydale for a while now, havin' a bit o' fun on the Hellmouth. I haven't stolin' any packaged blood in a while."

Mah Zinn tsked, "William, William, William…It took us some time to track you from where you stole the shipments in Las Vegas, but we did. Not only are you being punished for stealing my supplies, you are also being punished…well, for a lot of things. Though, I do have to thank you for one thing."

"Yeah, an' what's that?"

Mah Zinn turned slightly and indicated Buffy, "For helping us capture the Slayer." Buffy stiffened, but Mah Zinn continued, "At first when I learned she was taken in too, I thought maybe I should kill her." He chuckled, "Didn't want any Slayer or her Council sticking their nose's where they don't belong…Then I had a crazy thought!"

"Just one?" Spike muttered.

Mah Zinn ignored him, "I figured that, as the saying goes: 'One girl in all the world, she will stand against the darkness', blah blah, yadda yadda…but what really stopped me was that 'when ones dies, another is chosen'. Why let the Slayer go free, the Slayer lineage I mean, go free?" Buffy's expression had gone from shocked to slowly dawning horror at realizing his plans. Mah Zinn stared at her with his many faceted eyes, every one creased in amusement as he continued, "rest assured, girl. You will be the longest lived Slayer. Ever."

Buffy's voice shook in suppressed fury born from fear, "My Watcher…My friends will find me. And when they do-"

He barked out a laugh. "You think I would attempt to keep you if I thought your cavalry would arrive? I hate the Council of Watchers. But that doesn't mean I'm willing to go up against them and their magi's." He made an all-encompassing wave at the walls, "This placed is shielded from scrying. Tracking spells go nowhere. Psychics are left confused. And escaping isn't an option either. As I made aware to you earlier about my precious children I have implanted in all the patients here." He made a conciliatory pat on her shoulder, "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a Vampire that isn't done with his punishment yet."

Spike sucked in a breath and pinched his lips, but said nothing. Buffy just stared at Mah Zinn as he turned to face him.

She had hoped that she merely needed to hold out for her friends to call up a tracking spell and come fight to get her out. Or call up the Council…but that wasn't going to happen. She was on her own. She was a prisoner in a hellhole in gods-know-where. She had no resources here. No friends.

Mah Zinn ordered the two guards to begin tasing Spike with their attached cattle-prod arm pieces. If their fists didn't do the job, their backup tasers followed through.

And if this was a facility for creatures too terrible to make it out in the real world, or those that got caught crossing the wrong powerful being…then she was surrounded by enemies.

Buffy felt cut off. Alone. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time and got caught too. Something deep inside her, which somehow felt like a far away storm, began to stir within her…

The two guards had laid into Spike several times. He was a patchwork of swelling bruises and welts on top of all the hardly-healing cuts crisscrossing his torso. His head hung too tired to keep up the pretense of being tough. Though he was still conscious.

Buffy watched. She wasn't the smartest girl. She was only the strongest. She was thinking furiously for something…

Mah Zinn began cutting into Spike again. Picking up his earlier conversation about Spike's past crimes, but Buffy wasn't listening anymore.

She is the strongest fighter.

She was built to kill these creatures on a nightly basis.

But she couldn't do anything tied to a stretcher for the rest of her long life.

"Hey!"

Mah Zinn stopped his guards from their return to pummeling Spikes ribs. Judging by his lack of response for the past ten or so minutes, his breathing must be painful. Quite possibly from several, if not all, broken ribs. He had stopped trying to suck the blood back in from running out his mouth. Mah Zinn only turned halfway to look at her sideways, he waited for her to speak.

"I have a…an idea. For you." She licked her lips as her mouth ran dry.

"Go on."

"You have me. Trapped here…forever. But you don't want me strapped down for the rest of my life."

"No, I'm pretty sure I do."

"You have all these…patients. Possibly several bad ones." He didn't interrupt. Too curious to see where she was going with this. "What if…you employed me to...take care of them? As the Slayer is meant to do…" Her stomach quivered, thinking of what she was doing: Willing to work for a monster.

There was a pause of surprise in his breath, "You…want to act as my…executioner?"

"No!" She will not be an executioner to every single being trapped here. She will be The Slayer. Even if she was going to be stuck, she at least needs to continue doing her duty. Right?

She continued to elaborate, "Not an executioner. The Slayer." She saw just barely around Mah Zinn that Spike was looking at her through swollen purple eyes. "You set me up against your trouble cases. Those who have caused harm and refuse to try and be good…and I'll take care of them." She continued staring at Spike and saw him swallow at that.

"And what? You expect me to let you walk about freely?" He let out a huff and a soft chuckle. "Nice thought, but…" He paused as though another thought struck him. "Noo…that may work, but with a little more…show to it."

Both Spike and Buffy looked at him in wary confusion. Mah Zinn's pacing was more like slithering back and forth around his trailing slug-like tail. He left a track of slime behind. He muttered too incomprehensible even for Spike to hear as he mulled over the idea more.

Mah Zinn stopped slithering and faced the Slayer, "Yes. That'll do. Instead of just killing them, I'll put on a gladiatorial show for the assembled building. A fight between the Slayer and a chosen fighter. Depending on how these fights turn out, there could be multiple a day or week. It works out well because I have been running at max capacity for years. They usually kill themselves off for me, but that always causes so much property damage, and that gets expensive! But if you set an example that bad behavior…well you know." He shrugged with a small grin. He looked at her, waiting for a response.

Buffy had none.

He waved it off, "Well it won't happen immediately. Got things to get in order for it first." He turned his back on them all and headed towards the door. "Guards. Get William back in his cell. And get the Head Mistress to work out a place to put The Slayer up for the time being. I'll be in my office."

Buffy and Spike stared at the swinging doors as they shut, then at each other. The guards began unstrapping a weakened Spike.

Buffy's eyebrows drew down in anger. "You. This is your fault."

Spike sputtered. "My fault? You're the one with the big idea 'bout killing us all!"

"I'm not going to kill them all. Just you. Slowly. And with great satisfaction."

His gaping mouth resembled a fish for a moment before he pursed his lips in anger, "Well now you've done it Slayer. Congrats. You're the resident executioner."

"I am not-"

"You are! Out there, or in here, you're an executioner. That's what Slayer's are! Judge, Jury, and Executioner of demon kind." He paused in a wince at breathing so much, but continued in a subdued voice, "Only difference now is that you're no longer making the calls. You're at the whim of that…monster."

"You're a monster too. As are the rest of the beings here apparently."

Spike pressed his lips as a strange expression crossed his face. It looked…sad. Or like pity.

His voice was a quiet rumble as the guards snapped the arm cuffs behind his back, "There are different kinds of monsters in the world Slayer. Different levels of evil. And now you've given yourself over to one." He tilted his head to the side as he gave her a small smirk. "Like I said earlier, congrats. Hope you survive comin' out the other side." The guards escorted him out and left her alone in the formerly white-tiled, now blood-splattered, hospital room.

A chill skittered down Buffy's spine.