After Adam's defeat, the spoils of the 314 project are up for grabs. Spike & Willow find themselves 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 8: Spike is fingered for a special mission.
A few evenings later, Spike was doing his rounds when one of the grunts brought him Nat's summons. The grunt seemed agitated, but given Nat's taste for the melodramatic, that didn't necessarily mean that anything serious was afoot. Nevertheless, Spike found himself metaphorically girding his loins as he walked through the featureless corridors to Nat's office. His concerns appeared to be unfounded, since Nat appeared to be in an ebullient mood.
"Good news," he said, "the programme's going well and they're ready to begin testing so we've got to start filling up the holding pens. The boys are going to be going out to round up some warm ones and I want you to go with them."
Spike shrugged, "if you want, but I'm not going to be much use. You know I can't hurt humans."
"That's why I want you there. The boys have got their orders, but there's too much potential for a feeding frenzy. You can't join 'em so you're the perfect one to put the brakes on if it looks like happening. 'Sides, I wager you'd get a kick out of stopping them from enjoying something that you can't."
Spike had to admit that Nat's assessment was dead on. He was damned if he would stand back and let the others have the fun he'd been denied for so long.
"Any specifications?"
"Yeah plenty, that's going to be the challenge." Nat picked up a sheaf of papers "They want a wide range of types, young, old, male, female, black, white - you get my drift. They've got to be people who can disappear without too much of a fuss being made, but they need to be healthy, so you can't just go around picking up the deadbeats and junkies. Don't take too many from one part of town either - this place may make looking the other way into an art form but you can press your luck too far."
Spike had long held his own views on what he termed the "Sunnyhell Effect". The fact that the residents of the town seemed totally oblivious to the bizarre things going on under their noses was enough to pique his more than usually lively curiosity. His favourite theory was that the Hellmouth under the town was protecting itself. If it made the place attractive to humans and dulled their sense of perception that meant that there was plenty of fodder for demon types. Plenty of demons equalled plenty of minions for whatever came out when the gate was opened. That way everyone won - except for the fodder, of course.
Bringing his mind back to the subject at hand, Spike leafed through the papers.
"They don't like to make things too easy for us, do they?"
"Come on," said Nat "You used to be Master of this place once upon a time. You had to deal with this sort of thing on a daily basis."
Spike grimaced, "Yeah, but that was small regular kills, I wasn't managing anything like this kind of volume all at once."
Nat just shrugged, "this is the way it has to be. You've got until the weekend to put the details together. Tests start on Monday."
Spike took this as his dismissal and started for the door but before he could reach it Nat's voice stopped him.
"Oh, and Spike...get this right and there'll be a nice little bonus in it for you."
Spike didn't need to turn his head to know that Nat was smirking. He knew the other well enough to know that it wasn't money he was talking about and, broad though Spike's taste may have been, he wasn't entirely sure whether whatever the "bonus" was would be entirely to his taste. He paused and then turned slowly and replied in carefully neutral tones:
"Sounds great - what you got in mind?"
Nat's smirk grew broader. "Shall we say it's a little something to help you relax. I couldn't but notice you've been a bit tense of late and it seems to me that it's well past time you got your end away. "
"Yeah, it's been a while, but then I'm hardly Mr Popular on the demon circuit and a human's no good to me unless she's willing."
"You make sure to operation goes well and we'll make sure she's willing."
Nat winked and turned back to the papers on his desk as Spike left the room, mulling over the offer. He didn't like the idea of Nat having to provide his "entertainment". For all that he accepted his limitations, the idea that he couldn't pull a bird for himself pissed the hell out of him. Still, at the very least it might take his mind off of Willow, where it had been resting far too often of late for his comfort. Plus, if whoever it was was sufficiently drugged up he could find out if the chip would prevent him from biting a willing victim. Despite carrying it within his brain for nearly a year now he still had no real idea of how it worked. There was always a chance that it mightn't go off if his motives were something other than purely violence. Anyhow, the question was moot, there was no way he wasn't going to earn the bonus and no way that he could turn it down without seeming suspicious.
Of course, the worst-case scenario was that if he didn't appear to be sufficiently grateful Nat would take it upon himself to be the entertainment rather than simply providing it. It wasn't that he was particularly averse to that kind if thing, Angelus having provided him with an extensive education in that respect, but he knew of Nat's taste. He was already chafing against the dominance inherent in the pseudo-Sire status that Nat had assumed with respect to their relationship and being on the receiving end of Nat's recreational attentions would be one step too far. If it happened he didn't think he'd just be able to close his eyes and think of England, which could lead all sorts of fireworks of the non-sexual kind.
Still, there was no sense in expecting the worst because, whatever you expected, fate had a habit of topping it. Putting these thoughts behind him he headed for the crypt to make his plans for the operation.
Disclaimer: Any characters and locations from Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel the Series are the property of Mutant Enemy.
Chapter 8: Spike is fingered for a special mission.
A few evenings later, Spike was doing his rounds when one of the grunts brought him Nat's summons. The grunt seemed agitated, but given Nat's taste for the melodramatic, that didn't necessarily mean that anything serious was afoot. Nevertheless, Spike found himself metaphorically girding his loins as he walked through the featureless corridors to Nat's office. His concerns appeared to be unfounded, since Nat appeared to be in an ebullient mood.
"Good news," he said, "the programme's going well and they're ready to begin testing so we've got to start filling up the holding pens. The boys are going to be going out to round up some warm ones and I want you to go with them."
Spike shrugged, "if you want, but I'm not going to be much use. You know I can't hurt humans."
"That's why I want you there. The boys have got their orders, but there's too much potential for a feeding frenzy. You can't join 'em so you're the perfect one to put the brakes on if it looks like happening. 'Sides, I wager you'd get a kick out of stopping them from enjoying something that you can't."
Spike had to admit that Nat's assessment was dead on. He was damned if he would stand back and let the others have the fun he'd been denied for so long.
"Any specifications?"
"Yeah plenty, that's going to be the challenge." Nat picked up a sheaf of papers "They want a wide range of types, young, old, male, female, black, white - you get my drift. They've got to be people who can disappear without too much of a fuss being made, but they need to be healthy, so you can't just go around picking up the deadbeats and junkies. Don't take too many from one part of town either - this place may make looking the other way into an art form but you can press your luck too far."
Spike had long held his own views on what he termed the "Sunnyhell Effect". The fact that the residents of the town seemed totally oblivious to the bizarre things going on under their noses was enough to pique his more than usually lively curiosity. His favourite theory was that the Hellmouth under the town was protecting itself. If it made the place attractive to humans and dulled their sense of perception that meant that there was plenty of fodder for demon types. Plenty of demons equalled plenty of minions for whatever came out when the gate was opened. That way everyone won - except for the fodder, of course.
Bringing his mind back to the subject at hand, Spike leafed through the papers.
"They don't like to make things too easy for us, do they?"
"Come on," said Nat "You used to be Master of this place once upon a time. You had to deal with this sort of thing on a daily basis."
Spike grimaced, "Yeah, but that was small regular kills, I wasn't managing anything like this kind of volume all at once."
Nat just shrugged, "this is the way it has to be. You've got until the weekend to put the details together. Tests start on Monday."
Spike took this as his dismissal and started for the door but before he could reach it Nat's voice stopped him.
"Oh, and Spike...get this right and there'll be a nice little bonus in it for you."
Spike didn't need to turn his head to know that Nat was smirking. He knew the other well enough to know that it wasn't money he was talking about and, broad though Spike's taste may have been, he wasn't entirely sure whether whatever the "bonus" was would be entirely to his taste. He paused and then turned slowly and replied in carefully neutral tones:
"Sounds great - what you got in mind?"
Nat's smirk grew broader. "Shall we say it's a little something to help you relax. I couldn't but notice you've been a bit tense of late and it seems to me that it's well past time you got your end away. "
"Yeah, it's been a while, but then I'm hardly Mr Popular on the demon circuit and a human's no good to me unless she's willing."
"You make sure to operation goes well and we'll make sure she's willing."
Nat winked and turned back to the papers on his desk as Spike left the room, mulling over the offer. He didn't like the idea of Nat having to provide his "entertainment". For all that he accepted his limitations, the idea that he couldn't pull a bird for himself pissed the hell out of him. Still, at the very least it might take his mind off of Willow, where it had been resting far too often of late for his comfort. Plus, if whoever it was was sufficiently drugged up he could find out if the chip would prevent him from biting a willing victim. Despite carrying it within his brain for nearly a year now he still had no real idea of how it worked. There was always a chance that it mightn't go off if his motives were something other than purely violence. Anyhow, the question was moot, there was no way he wasn't going to earn the bonus and no way that he could turn it down without seeming suspicious.
Of course, the worst-case scenario was that if he didn't appear to be sufficiently grateful Nat would take it upon himself to be the entertainment rather than simply providing it. It wasn't that he was particularly averse to that kind if thing, Angelus having provided him with an extensive education in that respect, but he knew of Nat's taste. He was already chafing against the dominance inherent in the pseudo-Sire status that Nat had assumed with respect to their relationship and being on the receiving end of Nat's recreational attentions would be one step too far. If it happened he didn't think he'd just be able to close his eyes and think of England, which could lead all sorts of fireworks of the non-sexual kind.
Still, there was no sense in expecting the worst because, whatever you expected, fate had a habit of topping it. Putting these thoughts behind him he headed for the crypt to make his plans for the operation.
