After Adam's defeat, the spoils of the 314 project are up for grabs and Spike finds himself at the centre of a web of intrigue.
Disclaimer: Any characters and locations from Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel the Series are the property of Mutant Enemy.
Chapter 1: Spike contemplates a bleak future.
Spike was pacing, as he had paced for hours now. In truth, it didn't really help but still he continued. After all, he had already destroyed everything he could lay his hands on and, with the sun still high in the sky, there was little else to do to keep despair at bay. His best hope for freedom had gone, in the death throes of Adam, in the ashes of the Initiative. The previous night he had watched as the army had moved in and could imagine their subterranean labours - a human sized swarm of worker ants systematically destroying any trace that the place had ever existed and carting away the information that might have helped him.
He cursed under his breath, a constant litany in counterpoint to the sound of his pacing feet. Ancient phrases culled from the experience of more than a century of years spent in dingy taverns and gin palaces, more recent obscenities from the crowd at the White City and Trafford Park and the punks at the Marquee on a Saturday night. None of it helped. A millennium of curses wouldn't, couldn't have helped now.
He'd never been given to patience and some nights he thought about just saying "to hell with it all" and walking away. But in the end reason always replaced rage. Maybe freedom seemed impossible just now, but the Hellmouth was the place where the impossible roamed the streets on a nightly basis so he was staying put in Sunnyhell until he found a way out of his bondage and made the Slayer pay. After all, it was her fault; the whole damned lot of it. Because of her he had been captured...violated...emasculated. And now he was rapidly reaching the unpalatable conclusion that it was to her and her little friends that he would once more have to turn to ensure his continued existence, at least until that one impossible chance came by. Hell, the demon world was closed to him now; the satiation of violence long held captive had seen to that. So what was left? Only the human world - and that meant the Slayer's world.
Days had lengthened into weeks as he had tried to ignore this truth, but now he needed to face the fact that somehow he was going to have to worm his way back into their little society, and that wasn't going to be easy. He had tried to split up their little gang, tearing open the festering wounds that lay just below the surface of their friendship. He had betrayed them to their enemy and tried to lead the Slayer to her death. He doubted that "Hey, it's not my fault that you forgot I was a bloody demon" was going to cut much ice this time round. Still, there had to be a way and if he just paced a bit more he was bound to come up with it.
His unpleasant reverie was abruptly disturbed by sounds from just beyond the crypt door. He didn't recognise the soft footfalls, and the smell was unfamiliar - human though, that was for sure. He eyed the stone sarcophagus that had served as refuge on previous occasions when unwelcome visitors had come a-calling, but the soldier boys were gone and he was damned if he was going to hide from any stray mortal whose path had led them there. Instead he struck a nonchalant pose against the edge of the stone slab and waited.
The man that stepped through the doorway was unremarkable, though hardly the sort you found hanging around graveyards. Of medium height and build with mid-brown hair and the kind of features that melted into a crowd. The only thing that marked him out was the exquisiteness of his tailoring. Despite appearances, Spike knew quality clothing when he saw it and that suit could have only come from Savile Row.
The man paused for a second in the threshold, eyes adjusting to the dim interior of the tomb.
"Mr, ah, Spike I presume?"
"Well it's not bloody Dr Livingston, mate."
The vampire bit back his surprise at the Suit's knowledge of his name, contenting himself with a sardonic lift of his eyebrow before he continued,
"Well? Get on with it before I have your bleedin' guts for garters."
The Suit remained unperturbed. "There is a matter which I would like to discuss with you, something to our mutual benefit. And, before you make any more threats relating to the continuance of my bodily well being, I should inform you that I am aware of your current...limitations."
Spike fumed silently. Did everyone in this misbegotten town know about the soddin' chip? But he wanted to hear more and, forcing down his anger, he asked: "So, what's this proposition?"
"Please let me introduce myself. My name is Felix Radburn." He handed the vampire a slim, white card. "I represent the interests of Reculance, the Corporation which has purchased the site formally known as Lowell House. The whole site - I think you know what that means?"
Spike had been fingering the white card, absently noting the black copperplate writing, but at these last words he looked up sharply.
"The Initiative? But that's been destroyed. I saw it being destroyed."
"My client has certain connections with the Military and, ah, persuaded them to hand over the premises largely undamaged. The work you saw was a diversion necessitated by the appallingly lax control the former occupants exercised over what should have been highly classified information."
"If your client is so bloody well-connected then what do you need with the likes of me?"
"My client believes that the head of this particular arm of the Reculance Corporation is acting against the best interest of the company as a whole. They have somewhat specialised needs with regard to certain of their employees and we have reason to believe that they will be approaching you. I am here with a pre-emptive bid for your services to provide us with a man on the inside. Of course I use the word "man" in the loosest possible sense. Ordinarily, we wouldn't trust one of your ilk, but needs must when the Devil drives and I believe that I can make you an offer you can't refuse. Through Reculance, we have access to certain cutting edge technologies in which you might have some personal interest."
"So you're saying that if Spike's a good boy, he'll get his chip removed. Well, been there, done that and it was a bust"
"Ah yes, the Adam affair. An unfortunate incident, but what can you expect when you let the Military play with sharp objects? We on the other hand, do not jeopardise valuable commodities such as yourself. Complete this assignment successfully and you will not only have access to our research, but will also be offered further employment, some of which may prove to have a certain personal satisfaction attached."
"And the blokes you're after - why should they come to me?"
"You come highly recommended."
"Friends in all the right places, huh?"
"Enemies in all the right places."
Spike's curiosity was piqued. He took a cigarette from the packet in his pocket and lit it, drawing smoke deeply into long-dead lungs. "So what'd I have to do?"
The Suit sniffed faintly with disapproval and Spike was almost amused that a man so obviously accustomed to doing business with creatures that drank human blood thought that smoking was a filthy habit. Suppressing a grin, he looked enquiringly at the Suit.
"Well?"
"For now just watch and learn. You will receive further instructions in due course."
The wheels in Spike's mind were turning. This seemed too good to be true. Only moments before he had been reduced to thinking of ingratiating himself with his worst enemy just to survive and now here was a chance for money and freedom. Plus the prestige that accrued from association with what was obviously a powerful organisation. Given his recent run of luck this seemed way too good to be true but, whatever lay in store, it still had to be better than any alternative he had come up with so far.
A question occurred to him. "How much leeway will I have in the way I operate?"
"We like to hire operatives that can think for themselves. You will, of course be limited by our usual contract of employment containing standard clauses on remuneration, confidentiality, vengeance curses in the event of dereliction of duty etc. but beyond that you will be free to act in any way you see fit - so long as it is in our interest."
Spike smiled and reached for the contract.
Disclaimer: Any characters and locations from Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel the Series are the property of Mutant Enemy.
Chapter 1: Spike contemplates a bleak future.
Spike was pacing, as he had paced for hours now. In truth, it didn't really help but still he continued. After all, he had already destroyed everything he could lay his hands on and, with the sun still high in the sky, there was little else to do to keep despair at bay. His best hope for freedom had gone, in the death throes of Adam, in the ashes of the Initiative. The previous night he had watched as the army had moved in and could imagine their subterranean labours - a human sized swarm of worker ants systematically destroying any trace that the place had ever existed and carting away the information that might have helped him.
He cursed under his breath, a constant litany in counterpoint to the sound of his pacing feet. Ancient phrases culled from the experience of more than a century of years spent in dingy taverns and gin palaces, more recent obscenities from the crowd at the White City and Trafford Park and the punks at the Marquee on a Saturday night. None of it helped. A millennium of curses wouldn't, couldn't have helped now.
He'd never been given to patience and some nights he thought about just saying "to hell with it all" and walking away. But in the end reason always replaced rage. Maybe freedom seemed impossible just now, but the Hellmouth was the place where the impossible roamed the streets on a nightly basis so he was staying put in Sunnyhell until he found a way out of his bondage and made the Slayer pay. After all, it was her fault; the whole damned lot of it. Because of her he had been captured...violated...emasculated. And now he was rapidly reaching the unpalatable conclusion that it was to her and her little friends that he would once more have to turn to ensure his continued existence, at least until that one impossible chance came by. Hell, the demon world was closed to him now; the satiation of violence long held captive had seen to that. So what was left? Only the human world - and that meant the Slayer's world.
Days had lengthened into weeks as he had tried to ignore this truth, but now he needed to face the fact that somehow he was going to have to worm his way back into their little society, and that wasn't going to be easy. He had tried to split up their little gang, tearing open the festering wounds that lay just below the surface of their friendship. He had betrayed them to their enemy and tried to lead the Slayer to her death. He doubted that "Hey, it's not my fault that you forgot I was a bloody demon" was going to cut much ice this time round. Still, there had to be a way and if he just paced a bit more he was bound to come up with it.
His unpleasant reverie was abruptly disturbed by sounds from just beyond the crypt door. He didn't recognise the soft footfalls, and the smell was unfamiliar - human though, that was for sure. He eyed the stone sarcophagus that had served as refuge on previous occasions when unwelcome visitors had come a-calling, but the soldier boys were gone and he was damned if he was going to hide from any stray mortal whose path had led them there. Instead he struck a nonchalant pose against the edge of the stone slab and waited.
The man that stepped through the doorway was unremarkable, though hardly the sort you found hanging around graveyards. Of medium height and build with mid-brown hair and the kind of features that melted into a crowd. The only thing that marked him out was the exquisiteness of his tailoring. Despite appearances, Spike knew quality clothing when he saw it and that suit could have only come from Savile Row.
The man paused for a second in the threshold, eyes adjusting to the dim interior of the tomb.
"Mr, ah, Spike I presume?"
"Well it's not bloody Dr Livingston, mate."
The vampire bit back his surprise at the Suit's knowledge of his name, contenting himself with a sardonic lift of his eyebrow before he continued,
"Well? Get on with it before I have your bleedin' guts for garters."
The Suit remained unperturbed. "There is a matter which I would like to discuss with you, something to our mutual benefit. And, before you make any more threats relating to the continuance of my bodily well being, I should inform you that I am aware of your current...limitations."
Spike fumed silently. Did everyone in this misbegotten town know about the soddin' chip? But he wanted to hear more and, forcing down his anger, he asked: "So, what's this proposition?"
"Please let me introduce myself. My name is Felix Radburn." He handed the vampire a slim, white card. "I represent the interests of Reculance, the Corporation which has purchased the site formally known as Lowell House. The whole site - I think you know what that means?"
Spike had been fingering the white card, absently noting the black copperplate writing, but at these last words he looked up sharply.
"The Initiative? But that's been destroyed. I saw it being destroyed."
"My client has certain connections with the Military and, ah, persuaded them to hand over the premises largely undamaged. The work you saw was a diversion necessitated by the appallingly lax control the former occupants exercised over what should have been highly classified information."
"If your client is so bloody well-connected then what do you need with the likes of me?"
"My client believes that the head of this particular arm of the Reculance Corporation is acting against the best interest of the company as a whole. They have somewhat specialised needs with regard to certain of their employees and we have reason to believe that they will be approaching you. I am here with a pre-emptive bid for your services to provide us with a man on the inside. Of course I use the word "man" in the loosest possible sense. Ordinarily, we wouldn't trust one of your ilk, but needs must when the Devil drives and I believe that I can make you an offer you can't refuse. Through Reculance, we have access to certain cutting edge technologies in which you might have some personal interest."
"So you're saying that if Spike's a good boy, he'll get his chip removed. Well, been there, done that and it was a bust"
"Ah yes, the Adam affair. An unfortunate incident, but what can you expect when you let the Military play with sharp objects? We on the other hand, do not jeopardise valuable commodities such as yourself. Complete this assignment successfully and you will not only have access to our research, but will also be offered further employment, some of which may prove to have a certain personal satisfaction attached."
"And the blokes you're after - why should they come to me?"
"You come highly recommended."
"Friends in all the right places, huh?"
"Enemies in all the right places."
Spike's curiosity was piqued. He took a cigarette from the packet in his pocket and lit it, drawing smoke deeply into long-dead lungs. "So what'd I have to do?"
The Suit sniffed faintly with disapproval and Spike was almost amused that a man so obviously accustomed to doing business with creatures that drank human blood thought that smoking was a filthy habit. Suppressing a grin, he looked enquiringly at the Suit.
"Well?"
"For now just watch and learn. You will receive further instructions in due course."
The wheels in Spike's mind were turning. This seemed too good to be true. Only moments before he had been reduced to thinking of ingratiating himself with his worst enemy just to survive and now here was a chance for money and freedom. Plus the prestige that accrued from association with what was obviously a powerful organisation. Given his recent run of luck this seemed way too good to be true but, whatever lay in store, it still had to be better than any alternative he had come up with so far.
A question occurred to him. "How much leeway will I have in the way I operate?"
"We like to hire operatives that can think for themselves. You will, of course be limited by our usual contract of employment containing standard clauses on remuneration, confidentiality, vengeance curses in the event of dereliction of duty etc. but beyond that you will be free to act in any way you see fit - so long as it is in our interest."
Spike smiled and reached for the contract.
