Takes place just after the Angel episode 'Damage' then goes AU.
Spike's hands were cut off, but that's just the beginning of his trouble. Will he be strong enough to survive? And will Buffy be able to help him?
****WARNING****
This story is graphic. Extremely graphic. One of my beta readers (no_promises) cautions that this story should not be read while eating. It doesn't simply allude to torture and sexual abuse, it describes it in gory Technicolor detail, so if stuff like that squicks you, please don't read.
For all of you that are still with me, I hope you enjoy it. Happy reading!
Beta read by these lovely people – Passion4Spike, no_promises, sammigirl986, mhustler, Kicki, Willowbabble, hinaths, and wrigglerosie.
I would like to thank them for all their help, ideas, and the boatloads of encouragement. They are gourmet awesomesauce.
Service Unit
Chapter One – Bargain
Blood soaked images paraded through his mind as screams of agony rang in his ears. The star of today's torture show was the tiny paralegal that had dropped off a stack of files about twenty minutes ago. In his mind she was chained, writhing and bleeding, as his fangs sliced and tore.
Angel groaned and leaned back in his chair with a satisfied smile as the scene in his head drew to a bloody conclusion. Lately, his thoughts had been decidedly… gory. It seemed that almost anyone he laid eyes on these days moved into those chains in his mind to bleed, scream, and die.
He glanced down at the small damp patch on the front of his slacks. One more scene like that one and he'd need a new pair. And a shower. He laid his hand on the bulge under the patch and squeezed. He hadn't been this hard in ages. Not since the last time Angelus had been unleashed.
Angel was vaguely aware that he should maybe be a little more upset about that, that there might be something really wrong here. Maybe he should tell someone about the barbaric acts of torture he saw himself committing in his head every day and that he'd nearly shot his load without even a touch during the last session. That thought tried to gain momentum and push itself to the fore, but something was holding it back, and it withered and died before his conscious mind could grab hold.
Angel looked at the pile of work stacked in front of him and sighed, adjusting himself as he sat forward and pulled his chair closer to his desk. He picked up a file and started reading, but no matter how many times he read the same paragraph, the words refused to make sense.
He tossed the file onto the desk with a snarl and leaned back in his chair, scrubbing his hands over his face. He closed his eyes, letting his mind wander, then smiled faintly when it ended up in 'the room.' The chains were currently empty, shining dully in the low light, the blood that had been coating them now gone. He mumbled under his breath as his excitement built, "Who should it be this time?" Images flickered through his mind – people from the office, people he'd killed years and years ago, current and former clients – but nobody stood out.
He was about to give it up and get back to work when Wesley's face surfaced, followed quickly by Gunn, Fred, Lorne, and Spike. Angel shook his head slightly, frowning for a moment. His friends – not that he considered Spike his friend, he was just a barely tolerated nuisance – had never before appeared in the chains, it had only been acquaintances… people he knew, but didn't really have any attachment to.
That small thought that had tried to surface before tried again. *This is wrong, Angel. Something is wrong.* It made a little headway, getting closer to the surface this time, when suddenly it was squashed. A black, churning cloud enveloped it and sucked it back, leaving the images of Angel's friends – and barely tolerated nuisances – cycling through his mind.
Angel's frown turned upside down as the images slowed and one was selected. His hand slid slowly over the bulge in the front of his pants as the chains were filled and the festivities began.
That muscle in MindSpike's jaw was ticking like a heartbeat as he ground his teeth together to hold back a scream, too stubborn to give his torturer the satisfaction. He glared, his eyes flickering between blue and amber as MindAngel sliced long curving gashes into his torso, but still no screams. That would not do.
MindAngel moved down, carving a blocky pattern into the pale skin of MindSpike's right thigh from hip to knee. That earned him a strangled whimper, and he looked up to MindSpike's face, only to see him with his head tipped back, the tendons in his neck straining as he tried not to make any noise. I'd forgotten just how much pain he can take, and how beautiful he is when he's taking it. It's been so long since…
He stood and flipped MindSpike around so that he was facing the wall, then he considered the pale canvas laid out before him. It had been decades since he'd marked the boy, and memories bubbled to the surface of lazy days stretched out in front of a roaring fire while he amused himself with with the family's newest member… securely bound, of course. MindAngel shuddered and the motion carried over to Angel as he sat in his office chair, his hand pressing in hard, rhythmic strokes against the thick column of flesh straining against his zipper.
MindAngel stepped forward and placed the tip of the knife against the skin over MindSpike's right shoulder blade. The picture he was thinking of would take some time to carve, and would cover nearly all of the younger vampire's back, but it wasn't like either of them were going anywhere anytime soon. He got to work.
He had to hand it to the blond vampire. He'd gotten a lot tougher over the years. MindAngel was nearly done carving the detailed angel wings into MindSpike's back before he finally gave in and started screaming. Overall, the picture had turned out well, even though MindSpike's twitching and jerking and growling over his shoulder for MindAngel to 'get bent' had messed up some of the feathers, causing them to look ragged and broken.
Angel was appreciating the startling contrast of bright red blood streaking in rivulets across the pale skin of MindSpike's ass when the phone on his desk rang. He startled violently and the hand that had been squeezing his cock flew up and knocked his blood mug onto the floor with a crash, sending ceramic shards flying every which way. He steadied himself then leaned forward and hit the speaker button with a growled, "This is Angel."
"Where is he? I want to talk to him. Now."
MindSpike whimpered pitifully as MindAngel flipped him back around, the raw cuts on his back scraping against the rough stone wall. Angel shuddered again then tried to focus on the voice from the phone. "Buffy?"
"Yes. Where is he?"
The images of MindSpike writhing and bleeding were making it exceptionally hard to concentrate on the conversation… and making other things just exceptionally hard. Angel knew he should know what she was talking about, but he just… didn't. "Where is who?"
A frustrated sigh and then, "Don't be stupid, Angel, I'm really not in the mood."
MindSpike managed to wheeze out, 'She's talkin' 'bout me, you git.' and Angel leaned back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Andrew told you."
"Yeah, he did. And I'm sure you know how unbelievably pissed I am at you right now because you didn't."
"Spike asked me not to. I was just doing what he wanted." MindSpike snorted at that, mumbling something along the lines of if Angel couldn't have Buffy then nobody could, then he howled as MindAngel slammed a dull stake into his stomach, twisting and digging as he tried to see if he could drive it all the way through. He did, and the dulled point poked through an unsliced portion of the skin of MindSpike's back with a satisfying pop. MindAngel jerked the stake free to another agonized howl from MindSpike, then he reached two fingers into the gaping hole in his stomach and hooked out a section of intestine, arranging it to loop artfully on MindSpike's low belly.
Buffy chuckled bitterly. "Right. Because you've always done what he asked you to. You always do what you think is best, Angel, regardless of anybody else's feelings."
Angel remained silent for a moment as MindSpike begged for the pain to stop. Finally got him to beg and I can't even enjoy it because I'm on the damn phone. Angel shuddered as the whispered words washed over him then said quietly, "Buffy, he wanted you to remember him as a Champion, going out in a blaze of glory as he saved the world. And he wanted you to be happy, move on with your life, that's why he didn't contact you."
Buffy's voice was strained as it floated quietly up from the speaker. "But I'm not happy, Angel, and I can't move on because I told him and he didn't believe me. He died not believing me."
MindAngel clamped his hand down over MindSpike's mouth, silencing the agonized whimpers. "Not believing you about what?"
Buffy drew a lungful of air then let it out slowly and her voice was fairly steady when she said, "That I love him. I told him and he didn't believe me. I've spent every minute since then wishing I could go back… change how I treated him… tell him sooner. Maybe we could've had something, but I waited too long, hurt him too much, and when I finally told him, he…"
Angel tamped down a furious growl as he finished for her, "Didn't believe you. Yeah, I got it." A particularly vicious maneuver with the knife had MindSpike screaming in agony again as his body arched away from the wall, every muscle taut. MindAngel's artful loop of intestine was now lost in the mass of bloody loops on the floor at MindSpike's feet. MindAngel flicked the blade of the knife across the two sections of intestine that were still attaching the rest to MindSpike's body and they slithered down to land on the pile with a wet sounding plop.
"So, where is he?"
Angel ignored her question and answered with two of his own, "So, you're finally cookies? You're all done baking?"
There was confused silence on the line for a few seconds then a quiet whisper drifted out, "Yeah, all done. And all my cookies are Spike-shaped. I know I told you that maybe someday we could… but we can't, Angel. We both know that. I'm sorry."
Now it was Angel who chuckled bitterly. "Yeah. Sorry." Another agonized scream from MindSpike.
"So? Where is he?"
Angel sighed. "He's in the infirmary. Your psycho slayer cut his hands off." Kind of like I just did in my head… only it wasn't his hands I cut off. Now it's doubly assured that he'll never have kids. MindAngel lifted the bloody orbs in his hand and held them where MindSpike could see, then dropped them to the floor and crushed them into paste under the heel of his boot.
"She what? Is he all right?"
Another sigh. "Yes. They've been reattached. He'll be fine." Two quick flicks of the blade earned a pair of screams as MindSpike's nipples were removed.
"Can I talk to him?"
"No." Pull taut, cut slowly and with deliberation, and you'll earn the loudest, most agony-filled scream of the night. Of course, when slicing off a man's penis, you'll probably get the same scream whether you cut fast or slow. MindAngel held up the bloody piece of meat and waggled it in front of MindSpike's face. You won't be sticking this in Buffy ever again, Spikey-boy. He poked the blade of the knife through the thickest part until it was pressed crosswise against the hilt then he gripped the handle and drove the blade deep into the center of the bleeding stump he'd left behind. Huh, what do you know? That got another scream.
"Why the hell not? You can't keep us apart, Angel. You're just gonna have to deal with it. Now put him on the damn phone!"
MindAngel picked up another knife then looked over the bloody, battered body hanging against the wall, trying to find something to use it on. MindSpike's tongue slipped out, licking a drop of penis blood off his lip, and MindAngel grinned. "He can't talk because he's unconscious, Buffy." And because I've just cut out his tongue. MindAngel held up the slippery bit of flesh and his grin widened as he tossed it over his shoulder. It hit the wall across the room with a wet splat then slid slowly down to the floor.
MindAngel licked the blood from the blade as Angel said, "Look, I've got to go. I'll let him know you want to speak to him when he wakes up."
"I'll come to LA."
Angel scowled as a shudder worked its way through him. Seeing Buffy suddenly seemed like a very, very bad idea. "No. Just stay there. I'll have him call you."
"Wait. Don't you have a company jet or something? Can't you just send him over here?"
"What if he doesn't want to see you?" MindSpike's screams had taken on a distinct gurgling quality because of the whole no tongue thing and MindAngel smirked. Because, let's face it… seeing you might be kind of hard to do when his eyeballs are rolling around on the floor. MindAngel caught one of the eyeballs gently under the toe of his boot then pressed down until he felt it pop. Cloudy goo shot out and MindAngel lifted his foot to look at the mashed mess. He could still see just a bit of blue so he stomped his toe down and twisted, grinding it into the stone. He bent down and picked up the other eyeball, bouncing it in his palm as he wondered just how many parts he could remove before MindSpike dusted.
Buffy snorted. "This is Spike we're talking about. Undead stalker-boy, remember? He spent a lot of time trying to give lung cancer to the tree outside my house just so he could see me. So, either I'm coming to LA or Spike's coming to Rome. Take your pick."
Angel stopped trying to hold back the growl. "You can't force him, Buffy."
"I won't have to force him. I love him. He loves me. It's just that simple. Besides, I figured you'd be glad to get rid of him, considering that you two can't stand each other."
"No, we can't, but…" I've suddenly found him to be very… entertaining. Wonder if Wolfram and Hart has any vacant dungeon rooms? MindAngel stepped forward, popping the eyeball with his thumb as he did. He made sure the blue was obliterated then tossed the ruined husk over his shoulder to land next to MindSpike's tongue. He lifted the knife and made two sure cuts, holding the freed flesh in his other hand. He was amazed that MindSpike could still scream, but scream he did, even around the two detached ears MindAngel had just stuffed down his throat.
"Oh, I get it… you complete asshole. You're so selfish that you'd rather have all of us be miserable and alone just because you don't like Spike and can't stand the thought of him being with me. You and I are done, Angel, and if we weren't already, your attitude right now would've sealed that deal. We can't ever be together, so just send Spike to Rome so I can talk to him. If he doesn't want to stay, he doesn't have to, but I want to see him in person. I want to tell him in person."
The silence drew out for several seconds as MindSpike writhed weakly in his chains. Sadly, there weren't any more screams… having your vocal cords slashed will do that every time. MindAngel stood quietly, licking blood from his fingers. When they were clean, he dipped them deeply into the bloody gash across MindSpike's stomach then brought them back to his mouth.
Angel was just about to speak when there was a flash of light and a slim, white-haired, wizened old man appeared in a puff of purple smoke. Angel blinked owlishly as he tried to figure out if this was really happening or if it was another MindScene. The old man leaned heavily on a knarled staff as he took a few pained steps forward and rested his hand on Angel's desk. His coal-black eyes glinted evilly as he breathed out almost silently, "It is time, Angelus."
Angel tried to speak, only to find that his voice seemed to have deserted him. But my vocal cords haven't been cut. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Uh… Buffy… let me call down to the infirmary. Hang on." He punched the hold button then pushed his chair back away from the desk, scrambling to his feet as the MindRoom faded into blackness.
The old man chuckled. "You remember me. That is good. It has been so long, I was sure you had forgotten our bargain."
Angel croaked, "Bargain?"
The man smiled. "Do not play coy with me, vampire. You know exactly why I am here. I fulfilled my end of our bargain a century ago and now the time has come for you to fulfill yours. Ten years of service, Angelus. That is what you agreed to and I am here to collect. Let us go."
Angel shook his head. "I can't. Not now. Not for that long."
The man's eyes flashed. "You do not have a choice. You agreed to ten years. It is not that long a time when compared to how long you have already lived." He looked Angel over, his eyes pausing for a few long seconds on the sizeable bulge still tenting the front of his pants, then he smiled again. It was not a nice smile. "You will do very well, I think."
That smile caused Angel's cock to deflate rapidly and he shook his head. "No. I can't. I have people here that depend on me and I'm under contract with the Senior Partners. I can't just leave for ten years. I know we had a deal, but…"
The man cackled wickedly, "Oh, you have forgotten!" His eyes sparkled with glee. "You have no need to worry for your people or your contract, Angelus. You will fulfill your end of the bargain in my home dimension, but in this dimension, you will only be gone for three days. Your people and your employer will most likely not even miss you, although they may notice how you've changed upon your return." The man held out his hand to Angel. "We must go."
"Three days? That's all?"
The man's smile was so evil that it made Angel's demon cringe in terror. "Here, yes. There… no."
Angel backed up a step, his mind whirling madly as he tried to figure a way out of this. He contemplated the throwing axe hanging on the wall near his hand then jumped slightly at the amused chuckle from the old man. "Even if you succeeded in killing me, the bargain would still stand, Angelus. Another would be sent to collect."
Angel frowned then shrugged his shoulders. "It was worth a shot." He looked desperately around the office and his eyes fell on a stack of files perched on the corner of his desk. Contracts. Mind numbingly boring contracts that he had to read through because they were being renegotiated. Angel's eyes lit up and he smiled. "I want to renegotiate the bargain."
The old man's eyes flashed again. "You cannot. The bargain requires that you serve the full ten years. It cannot be lessened. There is nothing to negotiate."
Angel sat back down in his chair with a smirk. "There's always something that can be negotiated. I understand that you're firm on the length of time, but what about me? Do I have to be the one to serve? What about a replacement? We have several demons locked up downstairs. You could take your pick. Hell, take two."
The man seemed to consider for a moment then shook his head. "No, the bargain would not allow that. The bargain was struck with you, a Master Vampire of the Aurelian line. Only another Master Vampire of your line would be able to fulfill the bargain in your stead."
Angel watched the blinking light on his phone as the wheels in his head turned. Damn… just when I finally figured out what Spike's good for. Oh well… better him than me. He'll finally be of some use. He looked up at the man with an evil grin of his own. "I think that can be arranged. Please give me a minute." He scrubbed one hand over his face and picked up the handset as that thought from earlier tried to wiggle its way free. This is WRONG! You can't do this to Spike! He's a Champion! YOU made the bargain, not him! This is WRONG! Don't do this! Angel's finger wavered slightly over the button as the thought was tackled and beaten into submission, then he stabbed the button with a little more force than was strictly necessary. "He can't travel, Buffy. Not yet."
"Fine. He can't travel, but I can. I'll be there tomorrow."
Angel gripped the arm of his chair almost hard enough to punch his fingers through the leather. "No. I don't want you here. Give him a week to heal and I'll have him delivered to your doorstep."
"Fine. One week from this minute, Angel, or I'm coming over there… and I'm bringing Mr. Pointy."
The phone clicked in his ear and he dropped the handset back into the cradle with a snarl then looked up at the old man. "Let's go collect your vampire."
