Deadly Demon

Disclaimer: I own nothing that you'd want to sue me for.

Summary: Terror and nightmares.

Reviews: Yes please. Readers Rock but Reviewers RULE!

A/N: Thanks to WayWard Childe for his input and continued support.

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Late Sunday afternoon, Summers house…

Sunday passed much the same way Saturday had. Giles spent his afternoon at the Summers residence taking to Joyce and attempting to figure out the best course of action in caring for the feral vampire ensconced in the basement. Xander had stopped by but after they'd gone over the information the third time, he decided to go home try to sleep. He confessed to the adults that he was suffering nightmares of being captured and tortured by faceless soldiers. Neither Joyce nor Giles could offer the younger man any helpful advice.

Buffy hummed happily as she virtually danced up the sidewalk of her house. She'd met that nice Riley Finn for a mid-afternoon coffee date and they had hit it off enormously. She was more than ready for a normal relationship with a normal guy. He'd been so sweet when he'd hesitantly asked if he could kiss her good-bye when he'd dropped her off at the dorm. After nearly half an hour of good-byes she'd finally floated into her room to interrupt Willow's homework with a gushing description of the afternoon.

Joyce looked up as Buffy entered the kitchen and dreamily went over to the refrigerator for a bottle of water.

"Hello, Dear. How was your date?" Joyce asked.

"Absolutely perfect." The blonde sighed.

Giles frowned and cleaned his glasses. "How much do you know about this young man?" He asked.

Buffy sat down and glared at the nearly silent monitor. She chose to ignore the question her father-figure asked. She could hear a low grumbling from the apparently sleeping vampire. "How's the beast in the basement?" She asked, sipping her water.

"Buffy! Don't call him names." Joyce admonished.

"He's defenseless. Dependent on us for his existence, it wouldn't hurt you to show a little compassion." Rupert told the slayer.

"He's a vampire. Compassion was not part of any training I got about them." Buffy finished her water and stood up. "Has he been fed yet?"

Giles went over and removed several bags of blood from the refrigerator. "No. Are you volunteering?"

"I guess." The slayer mumbled resentfully. She took the offered bags and carried them to the microwave. "All part of the agreement, right?"

"That's right, Dear. Thank you for remembering." Joyce allowed a small smirk as she watched her daughter resentfully heat the blood. As he resumed his seat, Giles noticed the expression on the woman's face. He had to hide a tiny smile at the sight. Joyce apparently had a little bit of an evil streak. The adults watched as Buffy stacked the bags on a tray and disappeared through the basement door.

"I do believe you enjoyed that just a bit." Giles commented dryly.

"Who? Me?" Wide eyed innocence accompanied the denial.

Downstairs…

He was cold. The floor beneath his nude body was freezing. He curled even tighter, trying to stop the shivering that seemed to be a permanent part of his existence. He ached from the last round of 'lessons'. The electricity that had been sent through his system every time he'd opened his mouth to speak made his muscles clench and burn. He didn't know how, but they knew exactly how much electricity they could use and not dust a vampire. And they used their knowledge to devastating effect. He couldn't figure out why they were torturing him the way they were. They didn't want him to talk. They told him repeatedly not to even think. He was a thing, therefore thinking and speaking were forbidden. He buried shaking fingers through his mussed hair, clutching his aching head. He wanted to be out of there. He wanted to go find Dru even though she'd left him again and told him not to come back. He wanted blood that didn't make him dizzy and weak but still awake enough to feel every cut and probe they inflicted on his body. A small sob escaped as he realized what he really wanted more than anything. He wanted Joyce. She'd soothe him and tell him everything would be all right just like she did when Dru had left him the first time. He wanted home

The demon sleeping on the cot shifted and whimpered in his sleep. Buffy glared at him as she walked closer with the tray of blood. She put it on the chair and put her hands on her hips. "Hey, wake up. Dinner's here. Eat it or I'll take it back upstairs."

The scent of one of those people roused the demon faster than a splash of cold water. He woke and jumped up to kneel on the cot, swinging his head from side to side trying to find the source of the scent. The only human in the room was the small female he'd seen before. She hadn't smelled that way then. He got to his feet, standing in the center of the bed. His chains clanked and rattled with his movements. A growl began low in his chest and grew in volume until he was roaring. His fangs flashed in the light and he leaned forward against his restraints. He jumped from the mattress onto the floor by the bed. He advanced slowly on Buffy causing her to back up out of range. As he got closer, the scent got stronger until it was all he could smell. Rage welled in his chest. It was one of them. One of the humans who had hurt him and kept him in that cell. His scent was all over that female standing in front of him. He leaned toward the female, straining against his chains. His arm muscles bulged as he fought to free himself from the enchanted links, leaning forward with his arms dragged backwards as his body strained. All of his attention was focused on freeing himself so he could kill the source of the scent.

Giles and Joyce looked at each other in shock when they heard Spike's enraged roar. As one, they shoved away from the table and rushed to the basement door. They clattered down the steps and stopped in shock at the sight of the furious demon apparently trying to pull his arms off to free himself and get to Buffy.

"Spike! Stop!" Giles yelled. He pulled the tranquilizer gun from his pocket and aimed at the infuriated vampire. Feral golden eyes swung around to glare at the Watcher. A warning roar echoed in the spacious basement. Joyce stood slightly behind Giles. Her hand covered her mouth as her huge eyes welled with fresh tears. "Buffy! Get out of here!" Giles ordered.

The slayer scooted around the adults and raced up the stairs. As soon as the source of the scent was gone, Spike relaxed fractionally. He began pacing along the cot. He kept pulling at the cuffs surrounding his wrists and Giles noticed with a sick sinking in his stomach that the skin on Spike's wrists had rubbed raw from his struggles. Blood was beginning to drip from his fingers as he prowled to the end of his chains and back again. Rupert felt a trembling hand grasp his upper arm.

"Oh, God. He's bleeding. Do something." Joyce whispered. Spike's head swung around and he fixed his golden gaze on her. He stopped pacing and stood watching the humans for long moments. Giles' arm had started to drop but he pulled it back up to aim the gun at Spike again.

"I'm sorry." He murmured as he pulled the trigger.

Later Sunday night, Xander's basement…

The brunette Scooby tossed and turned on the pullout sofa he used for a bed. Under normal circumstances it was uncomfortable in the extreme. He shifted restlessly as his dreams were invaded by unknown men in camouflage uniforms. He gasped in his sleep as he tried to escape their pursuit. Sweat bloomed on his forehead as his unconscious fear flooded his body.

He ran through the cemetery as fast as humanly possible. Glancing back at his pursuers, he dodged yet another headstone. They were closer than they had been only a few seconds before. His breath wheezed out of his overworked lungs and he could feel his legs tiring. 'Why are they chasing me? What did I do?' Xander's thoughts raced with his feet as he sought to find a place where he could hide from the commandos. With a yelp, Xander tripped on a flat grave marker. He cursed as he hit the ground hard and rolled over in an attempt to hide in the bushes. Waves of agony shot through his body as the prongs from a tazer attached themselves to his torso.

Xander woke with a cry of imagined pain, shuddering as he pulled gulps of air into his laboring lungs. He picked up the television remote with a violently shaking hand, knowing he wouldn't get anything resembling a peaceful night's sleep any time soon. He huddled in the corner of his sofa bed and stared at the flickering screen until his eyes could no longer remain open.

Restfield cemetery…

The commandos were patrolling in teams of twos, one team to an area. The vampire watching in the shadows smiled with vicious glee when it was noted that they were leaving themselves so open. A silent glide brought the predator close to a soldier who'd lagged behind his partner. A preternaturally strong hand clamped over the hapless soldier's mouth before he had a chance to utter even the tiniest of sounds. Fangs flashed in the dim light of the cemetery and the soldier was drained of his life. The vampire dropped the dead man onto the hard packed dirt and drifted up to the victim's clueless partner. Another stealthy movement and the second victim of the night was dispatched efficiently. A low chuckle floated across the still air of the cemetery as the deadly figure seemingly melted into the shadows again, fading away like a wraith and leaving behind the corpses of two of the humans who'd done so much to hurt the Childe.

Summers house, later…

Giles packed the first aid supplies back into the kit and closed it up. He moved it off his lap onto the chair they'd been using as a table. With his hands free, he succumbed to habit and removed his glasses. He pinched the bridge of his nose wearily before pulling out his handkerchief and distractedly began polishing the already gleaming spectacles. He gazed thoughtfully at the slumbering vampire. The first tranquilizer dart had knocked him off his feet but Rupert had been forced to use a second more potent dose to send the furious demon into unconsciousness. He replaced his glasses. Reluctantly, he refastened the cuffs around the fresh bandages he'd applied to the badly bleeding wrists.

Standing, he paused for long moments visually cataloging the appearance of the damaged vampire. The normally slicked back platinum hair was tousled and curled wildly around his head. The roots were longer than Giles had ever seen them, giving the Watcher a clue to the original color of Spike's hair. The all black uniform of t-shirt and jeans was faded and tattered as if he'd been unable to obtain new ones when the old ones wore out. Regular feeding had begun to fill out the too-thin frame of the already slightly built young vampire but he was still woefully undernourished. The porcelain skin of his lean face was still paler than was normal and had an ashen hue. The demon visage was still firmly in place, an anomaly that puzzled the Watcher tremendously. Giles wondered what sort of tortures Spike had been subjected to. He both cursed and blessed the fact that vampires tended to heal without scarring, erasing any evidence of injuries.

"What did they do to you?" Giles asked softly, the question full of frustration. He'd given up expecting an answer. He was close to giving up on ever finding out. It had to have been horrific for the demon to come to the fore and stay there without showing even a shred of the humanity that Giles knew resided in the annoying blond vampire.

He looked around the otherwise empty basement, Joyce having gone back upstairs to find out what had happened to make Spike try to attack Buffy. He sighed and returned his sage green gaze to Spike. Even heavily tranquilized, Spike was restless. His hands were twitching and his legs jerked spastically. Distractedly, Giles noticed there was blood smeared on the back of his hand. Reopening the first aid kit, he took out a prepackaged alcohol wipe, opened it and rubbed at the red streak.

The demon twitched as the smell of the antiseptic hit his nose. Fear welled in his chest and he whimpered in his sleep. Giles noticed Spike's increased distress. The unconscious vampire's head began rocking back and forth on the mattress. His chest started rising and falling as he panted needlessly. His whimpers grew louder as he started to wake up. Anticipation of the pain he associated with that smell forced his eyes open. Giles watched closely and started when the thick dark lashes lifted suddenly. The human recoiled at the fear he could see in the hazy golden depths. Rupert knelt next to the cot and extended his hand slowly. Spike sat up and pulled his knees up to his chin, obviously trying to become as small as possible. The trembling that began in his hands and spread through his lean body caused the chains to clink softly.

Giles bit his lip and gently placed his hand on Spike's bare foot. He'd removed the vampire's battered boots hoping to make him more comfortable. Fearful eyes followed the warm hand as it approached. He jumped as the fingers made contact.

"Spike. Talk to me. Tell me what they did. I don't know how to help you." The soothing tone the older man used surprised the terrified vampire.

The demon took a long unneeded breath. He opened his mouth. He knew he should try but was afraid it was a trick. They had done that before. Shown him kindness and then punished him when he spoke. He eventually learned not to think, not to speak. He was a thing. That's the lesson he'd learned. That he wasn't allowed to think or speak. He knew he was breaking the rules even then by trying to reason it all out. He tilted his head, looking warily at the human kneeling next to the narrow cot. This human seemed different. He didn't smell like anyone who'd been in that place.

"That's it, Spike. You can talk. It's all right. Tell me what they did. They will pay, I swear. Somehow they will be stopped." Giles urged softly.

Long tense minutes passed while Spike studied the man encouraging him to break the rules. But the lessons were too strong, too severe to be ignored. He closed his mouth and turned his face away towards the wall. His thin shoulders shook as his pants began to resemble sobs. Giles dropped his head as he realized that there would be no progress in Spike's recovery just yet. He removed his glasses with trembling fingers as he pulled his other hand back from the demon's foot.

Standing, he collected the first aid kit and made sure the blood was within easy reach. Fatigue dogged his steps as he walked over to the stairs. With one last glance back at the still shaking vampire, Giles returned to the kitchen to check on his slayer.

Later…

Wearily, Giles unlocked the door to his apartment. It had been an exhausting weekend. He was at a loss for a solution to Spike's condition. Buffy had denied antagonizing the feral vampire and since both he and Joyce had heard everything that had been said, they could not refute her story. There had to be a reason why Spike had tried to attack the slayer but until they could get him to speak, that reason would remain a mystery.

Rupert dropped his keys on the coffee table and strode purposefully over to the bookcase that concealed his liquor supply. He poured himself a large quantity of his best Scotch, tipping a good quarter of the glass down his throat immediately. With a tired sigh, he walked back to the sofa and collapsed onto it.

Outside, the vampire had waited patiently for the Watcher to return to his home. The whereabouts of the Childe were still a mystery but one that would be solved soon. In absolute silence, the predator glided up to the apartment door. A ghostly white hand raised and knocked purposefully.

Giles groaned as the knock sounded. He heaved himself up and made his way back across the room. In his exhaustion, he forgot to check the peephole and swung the door open. Fear shot through his body as he saw who stood on his doorstep. He fell back on aggression to cover his terror. Hatred colored his vision red and he spat out his question.

"What do you want?"

TBC