Service Unit

Chapter Twenty Four – Prophecy

"So… he's coming here. Angel."

Buffy nodded. "After that call I made, I don't see how he couldn't, but if he doesn't, then we'll go there… when you're ready. One way or another, he's going to answer for what he's done to you."

Spike had managed to keep himself from pulling away from her touch, and he'd contributed to the conversation – asking questions and clarifying points – but the struggle against his training was obviously starting to wear on him. He closed his eyes and pressed his head further into the pillow, swallowing against the pain in his overtaxed throat. "Do you know why he did it?"

Buffy shrugged. "Your trainer said something about a bargain. I don't know all the details, which is surprising, considering how OCD the guy is, but I'm guessing he wasn't in on it, so that's why he didn't record them."

Spike turned his head and looked at her. "He's in the guest bedroom, isn't he? My trainer."

Buffy nodded. "Yeah. I don't think I really need his help anymore, since you're kind of you again, but I don't really know what to do with him. I don't want to let him go back to his dimension to keep torturing others, but… what happens there isn't really my business, is it? It's not my jurisdiction, really, unless they've kidnapped humans from this dimension or something… Have they?"

Spike rocked his head back and forth on the pillow in a negative gesture. "Not that I ever saw. Humans wouldn't hold up very long over there, too fragile… probably wouldn't even make it through the training. You have to be a demon to… to…"

Buffy laid her hand on his arm. "You don't have to say it, Spike, I understand. So I don't know what to do with him, and… I thought I'd let you decide. If you want him dead, he's dead. I'll get my Scythe and go chop his head off right now, unless you want to be the one to do it. And if you want him to suffer even a little bit like you've suffered, I'm up for that, too."

Spike turned his head away, but Buffy caught the look of fear on his face and could hear it in his voice. "I can't. He's… I still…"

"You're afraid of punishment if you go against your trainer."

Spike nodded. "Yes. Now that you own me he doesn't have the authority to punish me unless you give him permission to, and I know you wouldn't do that, but… for so many years…"

"You lived in fear of him. I get that, Spike, and I don't expect you to just get over it immediately. How about this… I'll go talk to him and you listen in. Maybe that will help you decide what you want to happen. Like I said, if you want him dead, his chopped up body parts will be in the incinerator before his blood has even dampened the carpet." Spike nodded miserably and Buffy patted his arm then stood up. "You'll be able to hear everything from here, won't you?" He nodded again. "Okay. If you need me to come back in here and don't want to yell at me, just knock on the wall there." She indicated the wall behind the headboard. "That will get my attention and I'll be right here."

Spike glanced at the wall then nodded. "And I know you've been fighting the training; all the twitching and shifting you've been doing… It's been telling you to get out of my bed, hasn't it?" Spike nodded. "That's what I thought, so I'm going to command you so you can rest, okay? Spike, I want you to stay right here in bed until I come back. And if you feel like going to sleep then go to sleep."

Spike visibly relaxed into the mattress and looked up at her. "Thank you, Buffy."

"No problem. Anytime you're getting tired of fighting and need me to tell you to do something, just let me know." At Spike's look of shame, she bent down and gently kissed his forehead. "Eventually, you won't need me to do that anymore, Spike, I know it. You're strong enough."

He didn't look convinced, but he nodded anyway, and she stood up. "Time to talk to the creepy demon." She walked briskly out of the room and into the hall, rapping sharply three times on the door before pushing it open. She stepped into the room and crossed her arms over her chest as she glared at the yellow demon perched on the edge of the bed. "I wouldn't really call myself satisfied, but I don't think there's anything else you can help me with." The trainer nodded and started to rise and Buffy held up her hand. "Uh, hello… did I look like I was done talking?" The trainer shook his head. "Yeah, I didn't think so, either. Sit your ass back down." The trainer lowered himself slowly back onto the bed. "So… I read through Spike's records, and I've gotta say… you did a great job with the details. It painted a very vivid picture of what he's been through… what you did to him."

Buffy paused for a few seconds to let that sink in and her voice was full of Slayer rage when she spoke in a quiet, measured tone, "You spent years torturing and raping the man I love. Do you really think I'm going to just let you walk out of here to go back and do the same things to others? You really don't get who I am, do you?"

The trainer started to stammer something that was cut off by Buffy's hand wrapping around his throat. "I didn't say you could speak. No. You're going to listen. I know that all the horrible things you do don't happen in my dimension, so I really don't have the authority to stop you from doing them, but here's the thing… You aren't in your dimension… are you?" The demon gulped under her hand and Buffy pushed him roughly back onto the bed then wiped her hand on her pants. "You own other slaves, right?" He nodded. "How many?"

The trainer said very quietly, "Nine. Each trainer is only allowed ten slaves."

"Uh-huh… and what happens to them if you just disappear?"

The demon's eyes widened in terror, but he still managed to stammer, "They will be ranked by earnings then reassigned to other trainers until all openings are filled. Any that have not been reassigned will be… disposed of."

"You mean killed?"

"Yes."

"So how many of yours will be reassigned?"

"When I left to make this delivery, there were only three openings."

"Right. So six of your slaves will be put out of their misery if I kill you. I know that killing them isn't the most pleasant choice, but since I doubt they can be rehabilitated, it's probably the most humane one. At least they won't be suffering anymore."

"Madam, please…"

Buffy barked, "Please? Please what? Have mercy? Did you show Spike any mercy? At all? Huh? No, you didn't."

"I only did what was needed… what he deserved. I took no pleasure in…"

The trainer's voice was cut off as Buffy's hand clamped tightly around his throat again. She lifted him clear of the bed then backed up and turned, slamming him into the wall hard enough to knock down the half a dozen framed photos that were hanging on it. "You took no pleasure in it? How stupid do you think I am? I read your notes, you complete moron! I read EVERYTHING you wrote down! You took all kinds of PLEASURE in raping him! Torturing him! Beating him! And you think he DESERVED that? Why? Because he didn't want to follow your commands? Because he didn't want to be raped and tortured by anything with enough money to buy his service!?"

She pulled him away from the wall then slammed him back into it. "You ENJOYED every single thing you did to him. Every. Single. Thing. And now HE gets to decide what happens to you." Buffy pulled him back again and was about to slam him into the wall once more when she was interrupted by several sharp knocks on her front door.

Her head whipped around and she glared in that direction, still holding the gasping trainer dangling from her hand. "Really!? Was 'I'm not answering the door' unclear? Was 'leave us alone' too vague?" She turned and tossed the trainer onto the bed. "Don't fucking move."

The trainer sucked in air as his throat was uncompressed and nodded, managing to rasp out, "Yes, madam."

XXXX

Even though being in pain was tiring, Spike wasn't even the tiniest bit sleepy, so he sat up and scooted up to lean against the headboard. He could still feel a little of the sluggish lethargy that comes with a really intense orgasm, but that was quickly being replaced with a nervously sick fluttering in his belly as he clearly heard everything that was going on in the guest bedroom. Buffy's naked anger flared hotly and contrasted sharply with the trainer's mortal terror. Spike's hands clenched into fists when his trainer said, "I only did what was needed… what he deserved. I took no pleasure in…" and he barely had time to think the word, 'liar,' before there was a loud thump on the wall behind the headboard. Spike startled violently at the first loud thump then twitched at the several smaller thumps and the sound of breaking glass.

He scooted down the bed just far enough to be able to turn and look at the wall as he listened to Buffy shout at his trainer. There was another loud thump and the wall shook with the force as she continued to shout. He turned back around when he heard someone knock on the front door and his stomach twisted into a knot. That must be Angel. Oh joy.

XXXX

Buffy stalked into the living room, muttering angrily under her breath, "I swear, Xander, if that's you out there waiting to tell me how bad Spike is for me then I'm going to rip your eye patch off and stuff it down your throat." She pushed the chair out from under the knob, quickly released the locks, and jerked the door open, startling the person on the other side. She stared at him then reined in her anger and tried to smile as she said, "Uh… hi, Paolo. What's up?"

He answered her in heavily accented English, "There is a gentleman waiting in the lobby to see you, Miss Summers. I phoned to tell you, listened to your message, then explained to him that you didn't wish to be disturbed, but he is insistent."

"Did he give you a name?"

"No, Miss Summers, he did not."

"What's he look like?"

Paolo raised his hand to nearly six inches above his own head. "About this tall, broad, large forehead, and his hair is…"

"Standing straight up?"

"Yes."

Buffy's voice was nearly a snarl. "Angel."

Paolo's eyes widened. "He is the one you told me about, yes? The vampire?"

Buffy nodded. "Yeah. And I don't think he's really himself right now, so… um… I need about ten minutes before you send him up, but I don't want you to try to stall him or anything… he might eat you… uh… can you just take the long way back down?"

Paolo paled quite a bit then nodded. "Yes, Miss Summers. I'll make sure you have your ten minutes."

"Thank you, Paolo."

He nodded at her then said quietly, "Please be careful."

Buffy smiled. "Don't worry; I can handle fang-boy." He nodded again then turned and started walking slowly down the hall. Buffy closed the door behind him, not bothering to lock it, and headed for the bedroom, quickly stripping out of her sweats on the way. She kicked them into a corner as she stepped into the room.

Spike startled slightly when her pants suddenly flew past the end of the bed and whispered, "Angel's here."

Buffy nodded. "Yeah. I'm going to get him restrained and then we'll find out what the hell his damage is, okay?" She ducked into her walk-in closet, pulled her shirt off and dropped it to the floor then took a red silk button down off its hanger and slipped into it, only buttoning three buttons in the middle. She turned and looked at herself in the full length mirror mounted on the closet door and reached up to tousle her hair into what looked like a 'just had sex' mess – not that it needed much tousling. Her lips were still a little puffy, like she'd been kissed… a lot… and she used both hands to pinch up a few fake love bites on her neck and upper chest.

Satisfied that she looked freshly ravaged, she headed back out into the bedroom. "Can you smell yourself on me?"

Spike inhaled deeply through his nose and his eyes drifted shut for a few seconds before he opened them and smiled proudly. "Yes."

Buffy walked quickly over to the bed and climbed on, straddling Spike before diving in for a long, tongue-filled kiss. She pressed her forehead against his and whispered, "Good. That'll piss him off and distract him enough that I'll be able to get the drop on him without damaging him too much. We need him strong for the ritual, not healing from several broken bones." She leaned back and smiled. "Just stay in here. I'll come get you when I've got him secured and then we can find out what the hell is wrong with him."

She climbed off him then reached for his hand and squeezed it. "I'll be back soon." She let go and headed out to the living room, stopping long enough to tell the trainer – still lying exactly as she'd left him – not to make a peep if he wanted to keep breathing. She pulled something from her weapons chest and leaned it against the wall by the door just as someone knocked. She counted to sixty as she tugged at the shirt so that it drooped off one shoulder, then she opened the door and said sleepily, "Angel? What are you doing here?"

He blinked at her then stammered, "Uh… Are you all right?"

She made a show of looking down at herself then tugged the shirt back up over her shoulder with one hand as she tried to smooth down her hair with the other. "Oh, I'm fine. Just… um… I've been busy."

He looked her over then sniffed at her and his face darkened into a scowl. "Busy… right. Uh… where's Spike?"

"The smelling thing is still creepy, Angel. Knock it off." She nodded over her shoulder as she took one step sideways toward the wall, concealing the Louisville slugger that leaned against it. "And Spike's asleep. Like I said, I've been… busy. Think I finally wore him out." She waved toward the living room. "Do you want to come in?"

He nodded and took a small step forward then stopped before he met the barrier. "I… uh… need more than that, Buffy."

She smiled a little sheepishly. "Oh, right. Come on in." She waved at the couch. "Have a seat and I'll go get dressed."

He stepped across the threshold and started for the couch, blatantly ogling her half-naked form as he did. Once he was two or three steps past her and had turned his gaze to the couch, Buffy wrapped her hand around the bat and brought it up in a vicious arc that connected solidly with the back of his head. He crumpled to the floor in a heap and she wrapped her other hand around the handle of the bat then raised it above her head as he moaned in pain and started to turn over. "You son of a bitch!" She brought the bat down like she was chopping wood and it connected solidly with his head again, making a sickening crunching sound as it hit. She stood over him, wanting nothing more than to keep hitting him with the bat, but she needed him in mostly one piece for the ritual, so she propped the bat on her shoulder and nudged him with her foot. He was unconscious and there was a small trickle of blood dripping out of his hair to pool on her living room rug.

She leaned the bat back up against the wall by the door and stomped over to her hall closet, coming back with the two sets of manacles. She pulled his arms up onto his back, not being at all gentle about it, and secured the manacles tightly around his wrists. Then she took off his shoes and socks and fixed the other set of manacles around his ankles. She stood up and brushed her hair back from her face then wrapped her hand around the chain that connected the manacles on his ankles. She pulled him across the floor, hoping he was getting a serious case of rug burn on his cheek, and dragged him toward her hall closet.

She stopped at the edge of the area rug in front of the couch and let go of the chain in her hand. Angel's feet thumped to the floor and he moaned quietly. No… putting him in the closet wouldn't work. He needed to be where she could keep an eye on him. She looked around the living room and her face morphed into a wicked smile. The sex chair. Perfect.

She picked up his feet again and turned him around then started dragging him toward it. She could see the large damp spot on the seat where her and Spike's spendings had mixed as they'd sat there trying to recover from their mind-blowing orgasms. Angel would be surrounded by the scent of their coupling and it would hopefully keep him off balance enough that she'd be able to get some answers out of him.

She bent down and fisted her hands in his shirt, intending to heft him into the chair and then chain him to it, but she paused when he moaned, "Buffy? What's going on? Why did you hit me?"

She let go of him and stood up. "Why!? You've got the balls to lay there and ask me why? After what you did?"

He turned his head and looked up at her with one eye, his face the picture of innocence. "What did I do?"

Buffy's mouth dropped open. "What?"

"What did I do?"

Buffy sputtered, too angry to actually get any words out, and she had to take a step back then stand there taking deep breaths until she'd calmed enough to be able to speak. "You have got to be kidding me. Are you telling me that you don't know why I'm pissed?"

Now he looked confused. "No, I don't."

"So you didn't ship Spike to me in a packing crate?"

His eye widened and he sputtered, "W..what? No!"

Buffy crossed her arms over her chest, her toe tapping angrily on the floor. "Then how did he get here? Hmmm?"

Liam worked to control his expression. It was crunch time and he needed to be convincing, because if she doubted his sincerity at all, she'd probably cave his head in with whatever she'd hit him with. He looked up at her and did his very best to morph his features into something that would say, 'I'm Angel and I would never lie to you. I love you, Buffy,' then he took a breath and lied his vampire ass off, "He flew over on the firm's jet the day you called. I told him you wanted to see him and he checked himself out of the infirmary – against the doctor's orders – then forged my signature on a flight order before he stole my Viper and left it parked illegally in a no-parking zone at the airport. If he'd waited a few hours, I would've had Harmony arrange his travel, but you know Spike… running off half-cocked all the time and leaving me to clean up his mess. I had to go get the Viper out of impound and pay off the porter Spike punched when he told Spike he couldn't park there. I spent $800 for the impound fee, $200 for the parking ticket, and $2000 for the pay-off."

Buffy's toe was still tapping. "So you came all the way over here to get money out of Spike?"

A calculated deep sigh to convey frustration at the younger vampire's antics. "No. He doesn't have any money."

Still tapping. "Then why are you here?"

A pleading look, dosed with just enough urgency to prod Buffy into acting without thinking. "I need your help, Buffy. There's a prophecy."