Brave New World

15.14 Catch a Falling Slayer
Kendra looked up at the building to confirm the address. The street was lined with empty buildings. This one looked as if it were under construction with the boarded up windows and all. Still, she recognized Wesley's car in front so she proceeded up to the front door and entered.
"Hello, Mr. Wyndham-Price?" she called out.
"In here, Kendra," she heard his voice call out from a room down the hall. Entering the dimly lit room, she could she Wesley sitting in a chair in front of another man whom she could not see as his back was towards her.
"So good of you to finally join us," said Wesley as he took a sip from his cup.
"I'm sorry that I'm late, Sir," she began to say but he waved her apology off.
"It's to be expected, I suppose. In spite of duty, you are still only a teenage girl," he said harshly.
Kendra was shocked and her eyes widened in surprise at his sharp words. She straightened her back and squared her shoulders, standing stiffly at attention. "Sir, as you are aware, I have been sick lately-" she stopped at the sound of Wesley laughing.
"Oh, no, no, no, no, no," Wesley said with an almost maniacal delight. "You aren't sick. I've been drugging you, you stupid girl. On the orders of the council, of course."
"What?" Kendra was dumbfounded.
"Yes. It's a test, you see," Wesley stood and moved forward to stand beside the other man's chair and rest his hand upon the back. "We take away your strength, lock you in a building with a vampire and see if you can kill him. If you can't, you die and another Slayer is called."
"H-how could you?" Kendra gasped out in horror.
"Simple. I was a duty bound lackey without the spine to challenge the orders of the council. Would you like to meet the man who gave me those orders?" he asked as he tipped the chair backwards, and the man's body that was in it tumbled out. "Meet the honorable Quentin Travers, *former* member of the Council of Watchers."
Kendra thought she couldn't have been more shocked when she saw the gaping wound in Traver's neck. Looking back at Wesley, she saw with dismay that his face had morphed into the familiar features of a vampire.
"Oh, God!" she cried out as she fumbled inside her jacket for her lucky stake.
"Sorry. No one here by that name," said a woman who had just casually entered the room holding a nail-gun.
Kendra began backing away towards the door to the hallway. The woman pointed the nail-gun at her. Just as Kendra turned to flee, she heard the woman fire the gun and felt a sharp pain in her right shoulder that made her arm go numb, and she dropped Mr. Pointy.
"A hit! A very palpable hit!" Wesley crowed with glee.
Kendra cried out in agony as she raced from the room and down the hall to the front door. It was still light out. She would have time to get to safety before they could follow her. Only when she reached the door, she could not open it. She struggled with it for a moment, but then she heard the nail-gun fire again and another nail embedded itself in the door just over her left shoulder.
Kendra spun about and saw the female vamp far down the hallway aiming with both hands holding the gun steady. Kendra sprinted for the staircase, and began to climb them three at a time. Reaching the second floor she figured she could jump from one of the second floor windows when she remembered that they were all boarded up. A door opened and a huge vampire stepped out to grin at her. With nowhere else to go, Kendra spun and fled up the stairs to the third floor.
Panting heavily in terror she stumbled up the steps. She knew hiding was out of the question, and she could see nothing that she could use as a weapon. Escape was the only solution, but she was trapped in this building. She heard the slow steady footsteps of the vampires moving up the stairs. They were toying with her, she realized. If she had her strength she could... She let out a sob as she thought about what Wesley had said. The Council had done this to her on purpose.
She began to try the doors on either side of the hallway only to find them locked. Slowly backing away from the stairs, she watched with mounting fear as they slowly came into view. With Wesley in the lead, the three vampires moved at a steady pace towards her. She began to shake as she fumbled behind her to open the door to the room at her back.
"No where left to run, Slayer," taunted the female with the nail gun.
"Kendra, Kendra, Kendra," Wesley shook his head. "I must say I am disappointed. I expected a bit more of a fight from you."
Kendra finally grasped the doob anb and twisted it. The door opened and she dove into the room, slamming the door closed and locking it.
"And after all the trouble we went through to prepare Mr. Zabuto for you," Wesley continued loudly before pausing to listen.
A moment of silence filled the house before a loud wail of despair could be heard from the room.
The three vampires smiled at one another, and, at Wesley's nod, Luke moved forward to break down the door.
*****
15.15 Mirror, Mirror...
"Damn it!" Buffy cursed. "Why the hell 'no reflection'? I mean, what sort of useless ability is that?"
Buffy was trying on several outfits in search of the most versatile. Spike was sprawled on the couch in the living room, experimenting with a spring-loaded stake projector that he was debating over. The substitution of a stake for the ice-pick shaft made the unit more bulky and therefore more of a risk at being spotted under his sleeve. Hiding weapons in the clothes he planned to wear would be, in general, not a problem with the excen ofn of a few of his 'special weapons'. Buffy, however, would be another problem.
He could have dressed her in a heavy felt gown. Weapons would have been easy to hide with the folds. But, his pride was insisting that he show her off, brag. **Besides she wouldn't be able to fight in that damn thing,** he thought to himself. **Besides which, she's supposed to be my little sex slave.** So they were trying out different outfits that Spike had ordered and seeing which would be the best at being the most revealing while at the same time, providing enough strategic places to conceal a few weapons.
"What was that, pet?" Spike asked.
Buffy stomped out into the living room wearing the latest outfit. The dark-red leather pants were practically molded to her legs, and the black back-less strap on shirt barely covered her chest. As Spike arched an eyebrow at her obvious disgust at what she was wearing, she placed her hands on her hips and glared at Spike. "What's wrong with this one, luv?" he inquired cautiously.
Buffy's frown deepened, "Well how can I explain this? I know, 'Hi there! I'm Miss Trailer Trash 1999!'"
"It's not that bad-" Spike started to say.
"Well it feels like it," she snapped. "I hate this. I feel... I feel like I'm out of control. I never used to care what I looked like, and now when I need to, I can't."
Spike frowned in thought for a few moments, and then began to smile.
"What?" asked Buffy suspiciously.
"I need to get something. Go change into something you think will be more appropriate," he said as he rose to leave the house.
Buffy glared at his retreating back. "This is all your fault, you know."
"Why is that?" Spike asked, somewhat bemused by her outburst.
"You've gone and made me all self-conscious," she grumbled. "Declaring that you love me. Calling me your 'Queen'. Seducing me with incredible sex."
A low chuckle was his only response as he closed the front door. But it sent a shiver of delight through her to hear it. A smile crossed her face as she turned to head back to the bedroom for yet another outfit.
A half-hour and another dozen rejected outfits later, she had worked her way down to six finalists when Spike called her to come to the living room. When she emerged he met her in the hallway and told her to close her eyes. Grasping her hand, he carefully led her out into the room where he positioned her, then told her to open her eyes.
Buffy let out a small gasp. Staring back at her from the television was her face. A video camera was now mounted on top of the TV.
"You like?" Spike asked, inordinately pleased with himself.
"Oh my," Buffy finally said softly. "H-How is..." she drifted off as she stared at herself. Even before she had been 'turned' she had avoided mirrors for more than was necessary. She looked at her hair first. It was uncombed and stood out from her pulling shirts and gowns on and off. **I look like a bloody dandelion,** she thought in horror. She quickly stroked her fingers through it to smooth out the worst of it and then she caught sight of her mouth and forgot about everything else.
"I learned about this little trick a couple of years ago," Spike went on. "I set it up for Dru once. She spent the next week having a conversation with herself."
"Turn it off," she whispered.
"What's wrong, luv?"
"That's not my face,"
"Pet. You're getting into a weird area here,"
"It's not my face," she insisted unable to take her eyes off of the image in front of her. "I never let myself believe it till now, but hey, seeing is believing. They took it away."
Spike was alarmed at her sudden mood swing. He had been expecting her to be happy to see her image. Instead it seemed like she was about to have a breakdown. "Took what away?" he asked softly moving close to her side.
"My scar," she murmured. "My badge. They took it away, the Master and Willow, gave me this pretty mask back."
"Buffy, pet, snap out of it," he snapped his finger in front of her. "You're starting to worry me here." **And you're starting to sound like Dru,** he thought.
Buffy shook her head. "I'm sorry, Spike. I'm just getting a little wigged out here. I haven't looked like this since I was thirteen. Back when I supposedly had friends and ... other stuff. Mom. Dad." She paused as she allowed the memories to flow through her mind. "I lost everything the night I got my scar. Didn't even become the slayer for another two years," she trailed off as she remembered. Suddenly, she spun about and looked over her shoulder at her back. "The rings are more fitting," she murmured softly.
"What are you talking about love?" Spike murmured gently in her ears as he wrapped his arms about her.
With a quiet voice, devoid of all emotion, Buffy answered, "September 17th. Almost six years ago, now. God, I'll never forget that day. It's the day my old life came crashing down around me..."
+++++
15.16 Summers' End

(September 17, 1993. 9:42 P.M.)
Joyce Summers pulled into the driveway, killed her headlights, and shut off the engine with a sigh of relief. "I survived!" she exclaimed in a happy voice as she turned to look at her twelve year old daughter.
Buffy pulled the lollipop that she had been sucking on from her mouth and frowned at her mother, "Oh, mom!" she said in a disgusted tone of voice which was offset by the wide smile she had. "It wasn't that bad."
"Oh, really? Well then you can tell your father how much he now owes on the credit cards."
Buffy rolled her eyes and opened the door to get out. **Parents! Always worrying about money instead of the really important things,** Buffy thought to herself. **Like how green with envy Sandra Mitchell is going to be when she sees the fantastic new jacket I got. *This* year, I, am going to like totally dominate the fashion scene.**
"It wasn't that much mom," she said with a sigh as her mom moved around to open the trunk. The sight of over two dozen bags greeted them. "OK, well maybe it was a lot," Buffy backpedaled, "but I really, really needed this stuff. I mean all my old clothes were just so over."
"Yes well, for $2000 this stuff had better not be 'over' until you graduate, young lady," Joyce muttered as she lifted eight of the bags from the trunk.
"Mom!" Buffy protested.
Joyce smirked and turned to head into the house. Buffy grabbed several of the bags and hurried to catch up with her when Joyce looked back, "Oh honey, could you go get my purse. I left it on the front seat."
Buffy nodded and ran back to the car as Joyce entered the house. Buffy fumbled with the door handle for a moment before relenting and setting her bags with their precious cargo down on the ground in order to open the door. Grabbing her mom's purse she put the strap around her neck and began to gather back up her bags. She had to stop and rearrange the contents when one of the paper sacks holding her shoes began to tear. Finally, Buffy made it to the front door where she dumped everything inside where Joyce had already set the first bags down. She placed her mom's purse on a nearby table before she ran back out to retrieve the remainder of her booty from today's shopping expedition.
When all the packages were inside, Buffy grabbed her mom's purse and went to find her.
"Mom? Where do you-" she started to say as she walked into the living room and froze in shock at what she saw there.
Time seemed to suddenly be moving with incredible slowness. Her father lay sprawled on the couch. Unmoving. His throat was out out. Dead. In the middle of the room, a man was holding her mother from behind and was biting into her neck. The man's face was deformed with ridges. Her mother, although in terrible pain, could see Buffy and was gasping out and waving at her to run and save herself.
Buffy did not run. Although she realized she should be afraid of this man, all she felt was anger and outrage. With a sudden scream she launched herself at the man holding her mother.
The man stopped feeding on Joyce and with a single hand grabbed Buffy and twisted her about until he held her in a headlock with his right arm. He laughed at her feeble struggles.
"You're certainly not a slayer yet, little girl," he growled. "And I'm here to make certain you never become one."
Buffy didn't hear a word of what he was saying as she was screeching, clawing, hitting and kicking at the large man, trying to do anything to hurt him. But she was just a 12-year-old 'little girl' without the strength to do any serious damage to a normal man. And this wasn't a normal *man*.
So she bit his hand as hard as she could.
The man let out a roar of anger and flung her across the room. Buffy flew face first into the curio cabinet. The glass shattered as her head impacted with it. As Buffy fell to the ground she felt a burning sensation across her mouth. She rolled away from the shattered cabinet and began feeling around for a weapon while keeping her eyes one the man across the room.
The man had dropped Joyce and was clenching his right hand with his left. Buffy had bitten him on the fleshly part of his hand between the thumb and forefinger. And had managed to take out a chunk of flesh.
"Dawson!" yelled a voice from the hall. "Quit playing with the meat and kill her already."
"Fuck-off Rick," snarled Dawson. "No goddamn little bitch bites me and gets away with a quick death."
Dawson began to advance slowly on the trembling girl as she crouched on the floor, blood pouring freely from the slice across her lips and face. He thought she was trembling in fear, but the truth was that Buffy was too angry to be afraid. She felt her hand come in contact with one of the larger pieces of glass on the floor around her. When the creature called Dawson grabbed her by her ponytail to yank her up, Buffy got her first clear look at his deformed face, his hate-filled yellow eyes and his gleaming fangs. Buffy screamed and swung her hand at his face, thrusting the glass shard into his left eye.
Dawson howled in agony, dropped Buffy and clutched at his eye to get the shard out. Unfortunately, for him the brittle glass had fractured further upon impact leaving splinters inside the ruined orb.
Buffy scrambled to get away from the monster and ran to grab the fireplace poker. Buffy saw a second man, the one called Rick, come running into the room and she gripped the poker like a baseball bat. With a speed so fast, she could barely follow, Rick had suddenly moved next to her, knocked the poker from her hands and grasped her throat.
"Don't kill her!" screamed Dawson as he straightened up and glared at them with his one good eye. "You fucking little bitch!" he roared. "I was going to just drain you. Now I'm gonna slice your belly open and strangle you with your own intestines."
Dawson pulled out a very large and jagged knife. Rick chuckled, "You've done it now little girl. Ready to see what your insides look like?" He continued to laugh with a horrible, high-pitched cackle that suddenly turned into a shriek of pain. Buffy felt his grip slacked and in an instant she had wriggled free. Rick was clutching his left foot, which was smoking, and hopping away from where Joyce lay on the floor, desperately holding a small cross which she had worn on a necklace that day. Buffy's joy at seeing her mother still alive was fleeting as in the next instant, Rick jumped forward and kicked Joyce as hard as he could in her ribs.
"Mom!" Buffy screamed as Joyce slid across the floor in agony. She began to grab and hurl anything she could find at the two monsters as they advanced on her.
Dawson was right in front of her waving his knife and asking if she was scared yet, when, abruptly, she saw him flinch, his skin suddenly change to a brownish color and then explode into nothing with a whooshing noise. She saw Rick spin about in anger to face a third man who had come into the room. Rick charged at the man who calmly pointed a crossbow at him, fired and watched impassively as Rick turned to dust just like Dawson had.
Buffy stared in surprise at the man for all of three seconds, before she ran over to where her mom lay gasping in agony.
"Mom. Oh god, please... mom?" Buffy stared in horror. There was so much blood. Joyce eaopenopened her eyes to look at Buffy. She could see the horrible slash across her daughter's face.
"Oh, baby," she whispered as she tried to lift her hand to touch Buffy's face. Buffy clutched at her hand; fear and worry for her mother now prevalent in her mind. She knew her father was dead, but she was trying to control her grief at the moment.
**Cry later. Save mom now,** were her only thoughts. "Help is coming, Mom. Just hold on and... we'll get you to a hospital and.. you'll be OK," her voice sounded horse as she spoke and for the first time she noticed the taste of blood in her mouth and the drops falling on the carpet. The adrenaline rush that had suppressed her pain was now ebbing, and she was beginning to feel her injuries.
"Baby," Joyce whispered weakly as she pressed something into Buffy's hands. "Ta-Take it." Buffy looked in her hand to see a small silver crucifix. "It was... once my mother's."
Joyce coughed and Buffy could see blood spray from her mouth. In the back of her mind, she remembered a comment from a first aid class that coughing up blood meant that the lungs were damaged. **A broken rib pierced her lung,** she thought in a panic. **If I don't do something she'll drown in her own blood.** But she couldn't remember anything about what she was supposed to do. She had been passing notes with Stacy, Cora and Joni, talking about boys and what they were going to wear to some party.
"No!" Buffy said in a panic. "Mom, come on you have to fight it. Mom, please hang in there. Mom!"
"I love you, Buffy." Joyce gasped in pain when another coughing fit over took her.
"I love you too, Mom," Buffy started to sob. "Please don't leave me."
The stranger who had killed the monsters was back at her side. "I've called 911. They'll be here any minute." He held a wet cloth in his hands and pressed it carefully against the jagged wound on Buffy's face. Look down at Joyce he realized it would be too late. The blood loss was too massive for her to last much longer.
Joyce looked at they man in fear, "Who... Who are you?"
The man looked down with sympathy and tried to reassure her. "My name is Merrick, Ma'am. Rest easy. I'm here to make certain your daughter is safe."
"He... He killed those monsters, Mom," Buffy added.
Joyce looked at the man with relief. "Thank you," she whispered. Slowly she closed her eyes and with a final shuddering cough, passed away.
+++++
15.17 "...Much, Much More."
Buffy sniffed and bit her lower lip. She looked up at the ceiling and took a breath before continuing. "When the ambulance crew arrived they found Mom and Dad dead and me in shock. Merrick told them he was my dad's uncle and that he had been stopping in for a visit. He told the cops that he found me initially unconscious and no one else in the house. The cops guessed it was some sort of home invasion robbery that had gone wrong, the men had killed my dad and mom and thought that I was dead so they panicked and ran. By the time the cops interviewed me at the hospital, I had come to my senses enough to realize that they would never believe the truth. So I followed up Merrick's lie with a couple of fake descriptions."
"The next day, the police let Merrick take me to his home since he told them he was a relative, and I didn't say anything to counter it. The council had arranged some fake papers. Then he told me all about vampires and slayers and how I was going to be a slayer someday. After all that I had been through, I was more than ready to accept whatever he told me. And telling me I was gonna become some soruperuperhero who got to kill more of the monsters who murdered my parents. Well I thought revenge sounded pretty damn cool to me."
She sighed and rubbed her face. "Maybe Giles is right. Look where my revenge got me. Six years later and now I'm one of the monsters." Buffy suddenly gave a little self-deprecating laugh, "Oh god, the irony. I had to become a monster to stop looking like one."
She looked at Spike who was clearly confused now. "See, the doctors stitched up my face but I was left with this huge scar, right here." She drew a line across her lips. "When I went back to school all my 'friends' told me how sorry they were for me, but after a while, I could tell that they didn't really want me around. I wasn't pretty anymore. Merrick thought I should have been proud of it. That it was a badge of honor - a warrior's first battle scar. But the rest of my friends didn't see it that way. I didn't fit in the 'Beautiful People World' anymore, so they just wanted to ignore me. I didn't care though. After that night, nothing that my supposed friends talked about was of any importance to me. So I stopped hanging with them, and I stopped worrying about how I looked. I devoted all of my non-school time to learning everything that Merrick could teach me about fighting vampires, and I waited for the day that *I* became the Slayer. I never once thought about the possibility that I would become a vampire. But here I am."
Spike brushed his finger against her mouth. "So what happened to the scar," he asked softly.
"When the Master had me kill Merrick, there was an accident and I got a burn from a cross on my face. The Master had a hissy fit. Something about his property being defiled by crucifix burns." Buffy frowned, "I've never understood that. He gave Willow permission to do whatever she liked with my body provided she never used crosses on me." She shrugged. "Anyway, the Master was pissed so Willow calhim him down by suggesting some kind of healing spell." Buffy hesitated before continuing. "So they decided that while they are at it, hey, let's slice open the scar on my mouth and see if this spell will fix that as well. And it did." She decided it was best not to mention anything about Willow saying the spell was a variation of the one she had researched for Drusilla's cure. It wasn't important and she saw no need to upset him any further. She felt depressed enough for the both of them right now.
Spike pulled her into a comforting embrace. "I'm sorry, luv. So sorry. I know you've lost so much more than I have. Yes, I lost my black Queen and I will always mourn her, but I found a new White Queen to follow. I have pledged myself to you, Buffy. If what you want is to wage a war against demons, well then, it's my duty to see that you win. Even if it is to save the bloody humans," he finished with a heavy sigh.
Buffy looked up at him in surprise. Even with what had happened earlier, she had not been expecting such a declaration from him. She reached up to pull his head down and kissed him deeply. When they finally broke off, Buffy whispered, "You may think you are just a demon, Spike, but I *know* that you are much, much more."
*****
15.18 Forced Submission
It was after one in the morning when Kendra was allowed to pass out. Actually, Kendra had passed out several times during her torture but she had been soon roused for a new round of pain. This time Wesley decided to let her recover for a bit before he began again. Sam Zabuto was still unconscious from the beating Zackary had inflicted on him over an hour age.
"Well," said Wesley, rubbing his hands. "That was somewhat cathartic."
"They aren't dead yet," grumbled Zackary who was still having trouble accepting Wesley's sudden advancement to leadership.
"And they will remain so until the Master gets here," Wesley calmly replied. "Do you think it is time I said 'Hello' to my 'Sire'?" he asked while looking directly at Darla. Only she noticed the slight smirk on his lips.
**He knows,** she thought as a slight thrill of excitement ran though her. She was pleased. Even Luke and Zackary could feel the strength of the dark rage inside of him. He was much more than she had expected, and she was looking forward to meeting with him in private later on when *she,* as his true Sire, would dominate him.
Surprising everyone, Wesley suddenly wrapped an arm about her back and pulled Darla against him. She could feel his arousal from the recent torture sessions. She slid her hands along his chest before slipping them behind his back. That he was doing this in front of Luke was all the more exciting for her. Luke could do nothing. He was more than aware of how important the Anointed One was to the Master.
"After all," Wesley continued. "I have some rather important news for him."
"What sort of news?" asked Luke, who was stifling his feeling of being cuckolded by this 'Anointed One'. Ever since the ceremony, he had felt ill at ease with the new vampire, and he wondered if he was somehow jealous of the creature.
"The Master has a traitor in his midst," said Wesley calmly as he reached down and squeezed Darla's rear.
Darla stiffened with fear but maintained an expression of complete innocence as she stared back into his unreadable dark eyes. **He wouldn't,** she thought in terror. She knew there was nothing she could do if he told of her betrayal, and if she tried to kill him or flee, it would only prove his accusations.
"Who is it?" asked Luke with a low growl.
Darla looked into Wesley's eyes and suddenly realized what he was demanding. Her submission to him. The bastard was preempting her rights as his sire and demanding that she bow to him as her master at all times.
"It's someone close to him," continued Wesley as he slipped a leg between her thighs. "Someone he would never suspect."
She was terrified. She was livid. She was quivering with arousal. He was torturing her. Teasing her. Telling her that she may be his sire but that he would be her master.
"Who?" demanded Luke firmly.
She was trapped. He was leaving her only one option. She lowered her eyes slightly. Softly, in a whisper only Wesley could hear, Darla submitted, "I am your servant, my Lord."
The cold smile that greeted her submission sent new shudders of fear and arousal through her with all the dark promises it held.
Wesley finally looked up at Luke who was impatiently waiting to know who would dare betray the Master. "Get me a phone," he ordered. "I will tell the Master, myself."
As Luke hurried from the room, Wesley returned his attention to Darla. She was worried. "Who are you going to tell the Master about?"
Wesley's smile returned and he leaned forward to nuzzle her ear as he whispered, "Spike has allied with humans in Sunnydale against the Master."
"Spike?" Darla gasped astonishment. She should have known he was up to something, but to ally with humans? It was unthinkable.
"Um-hum," murmured Wesley. "I might have considered anianciance with him. However, I can see in your heart that you hold a slight affection for him, and I will not allow that." Darla watched in amazement as his dark eyes somehow managed to become even darker. "You are mine," he told her firmly.
Darla trembled with lust at the possessiveness in his tone. **Maybe this won't be so bad,** she thought, reflecting on her submission.
"I am yours," Darla agreed and tilted her head for a kiss. "Spike had his chance."
Wesley said nothing as he captured her mouth with his, and Darla shivered as she felt him reach inside her mind and impose his presence upon her.
**MINE!**
*****
15.19 "...A Traitor in Our Midst."
The Master was shaking with rage as he hung up the phone. Willow watched him with trepidation as he struggled to collect himself. She had watched as his delight in greeting the 'Anointed' had transformed into a fury that she had never before witnessed. The only thing she knew for certain was that someone was going to die. Not wanting it to be her, given his current state, she patiently waited for him to reign in his temper.
"Wilson," the Master hissed between clenched teeth. The Master's lead bodyguard moved out from the shadows and immediately knelt with his head bowed before the Master.
"My Lord?" Wilson asked.
"I am unhappy," the Master seethed. "I have just had the most unsettling news of a traitor in our midst."
"Who would dare, Sire?" Wilson inquired with a growl.
"Spike," the Master spat in disgust. "After all the trust I placed in him, he now conspires to overthrow me. Wilson, take some... no wait... gather all of the men and all of the heavy weaponry that you were asking about trying out the other week against Balthazar. We are going to scorch the earth wherein this betrayer lies."
"By your Command," Wilson rose, saluted and left to make arrangements.
*****
15.20 Worth the Price
Buffy came bouncing out into kitckitchen, snatched the mug of just warmed blood from where Spike had placed it on the counter and began drinking it.
Spike arched his eyebrow at her unrepentant expression as she sipped up the blood. "Feeling better are we?"
"Yup," she said with a smile. "I can honestly say that I actually feel pretty damn good. Wanna spar?"
"Sure, luv. Why don't you go down and warm-up? I'll be down in a bit. After I get a bite to eat," he said with a mock scowl.
"OK," Buffy replied before skipping out of the kitchen to the beat of some tune in her head.
Spike shook his head as he watched her leave the room, amazed by the changes a little tenderness and loving had done for her. That first time they had made love this morning, while enjoyable in it's own way, had been rather hurried, and Buffy had been almost frantic with need. When he had made love to her this evening, it had been at a more leisurely pace. Spike had kept control in a comforting manner and had used every trick he knew to gently show his love for her.
**Bloody hell, mate,** Spike thought to himself. **You're a real bad ass the way you've let heap yap you 'round her finger like that. No. Wait. Can't even blame her for that. You did it yourself.**
Spike opened the fridge and stared at the bags of blood within.
**So this is how you are gonna be eating for the rest of your unlife. No more young lovers in the park. Is it gonna be worth it?**
He pulled out two bags of blood and set them in the pan of hot water he had used to warm the blood that Buffy had swiped. As he waited for the blood to warm, he let his mind flash over images of Buffy fighting. The images stirred his lust, which started a new cascade of image of her in bed.
Was it worth it?
Spike removed the bags from the hot water, sliced them open and poured the blood into a mug. The images of Buffy slowed until he settled on one of her smiling at him. He considered how he had felt when he had seen that he had made her genuinely happy. There had been many times in the past when he had considered himself to be happy to be a vampire. The pleasure from a kill and the joy of causing pain and sorrow had been staples in his unlife since he had first been turned, but they paled in comparison to how he now felt.
This feeling that had swept through him filled him more than any other ever had. He realized, he would never be satisfied again without it.
It felt like... Bliss.
*****
15.21 Daggers in the Darkness

The Master's troops stealthily crept through the darkness as they surrounded the house. They broke into teams of two as they took up positions and began to target their weapons at the sprawling ranch house, waiting for the signal.
Each of the dozen teams consisted of one vampire armed with a grenade launcher and one vampire armed with a rocket launcher. Upon hearing the signal, the grenade launcher would be used to punch a hole in a wall through which the rocket would be sent to explode inside the house. The rockets would provide both an explosive and an incendiary destructive force. Anyone caught within would be destroyed, one way or another.
Down by the front gate, Willow waited, bored beyond belief. As the Master glowered at the house and waited, Wilson spoke softly into his radio and listened as each of his team reported in as they reached their positions. She had considered asking the Master to allow her to handle this mess, but she realized that his anger at the moment would not allow him to even consider her option. He wanted a big physical display of violence and his troops wanted to give him one. It would be big and loud and quick. **Men,** she thought in disgust. **Always in so much of a hurry for so little.**
"Are we certain he is in there?" growled the Master.
"Yes, my Lord," answered Wilson crisply. "He was spotted in the kitchen a minute ago."
"Very well then," said the Master with a nod. "You may proceed when you are ready."
Wilson returned to his task of issuing commands. Finally, all was ready and Wilson gave the signal to strike.
"Light the pyre."
*****
15.22 Intruder Alert

Spike was about to head downstairs when he noticed the flashing light indicating a possible intruder on the grounds. Although certain it was probably an animal, he decided to make certain and check it out himself. After the invasion by the Slayer and the local white hats last week, he had become hypersensitive to the alarm system.

He turned out the lights inside the house so hopefully no one would notice the front door opening. Before stepping out the front door, he slipped on a Kevlar jacket. **No sense allowing a hidden assassin a free shot,** he decided. Unlocking the front door he quickly slipped outside into the darkness of the front porch's alcove.
He was just starting to peer out into the darkness when the explosions began. They were under attack! He spun about intending to run inside and get to Buffy when the front doors blew out towards him from the force of the first rocket exploding inside the house. As the heavy, steel core door slammed into Spike and stunned him, it protected him from the fire of the explosion and carried him over a dozen feet away from the bombarded house.
*****
15.23 The Scorched Earth
Willow sighed as they walked up the driveway to the burning rubble that just a few minutes ago had been Spike's home. As she had feared, the attack had been far too short to provide any sort of satisfaction, to her at least. The Master and Wilson appeared to have been delighted with the results, as they were all smiles now.
As they watched the remains of the house burn and crumble in on itself, Willow noticed some movement in the debris in front of the house. She strode forward to get a better look and began to giggle when she saw whose head was poking out from under a rr thr thick looking door. Despite a large gash on his forehead, he was somewhat awake but very dazed and confused as to what was going on.
"Heinrich dear," Willow called back in a sly voice. "Wilson has had his fun, do you think I could have a turn at punishing the traitor now?"
The Master and Wilson came forward and stared at the groggy vampire. Finally, Wilson broke the silence, "Shall I dispatch him for you, Sire?"
The Master looked at Willow. Hnitinitial rage at Spike's betrayal had been somewhat quelled by the destructive violence, and he was now in a slightly more reflective frame of mind. As the house had been destroyed, the Master had realized that what he really had wanted was to kill Spike over and over again, but that he would have to settle for just this once. Now he had a new opportunity to punish Spike for his deceit and treachery. Willow had worked hard to hone her torture skills to a fine art and he knew how she had been looking for a new 'canvass' to work on. "Very well, Willow," he said looking at her gleeful smile. "But he is to have two guards watching him at all times. At the slightest chance of his escape, he is to be staked. Do you understand? He is an insect to be crushed if I so decide."
Willow nodded her head and clapped her hands excitedly, "Oh yes, Heinrich. Don't worry. Insects must have legs in order to run away."
The Master smiled at the implied promise of her statement, as he looked down at the weakly struggling form on the ground. "Pick him up," he ordered Wilson. Wilson indicated for some of his men who had come forward to remove the heavy door, and help lift Spike up into a kneeling position before the Master and Willow.
Willow slapped Spike several times before he was roused enough to let out a weak snarl. Then he noticed the devastation and destruction about him, and the burning, crumbling husk of his house. **BUFFY!** he screamed in his mind and began to shake with rage. Unfortunately, he was far too weak to ofany any resistance to the burly vampires who held him. "You... Bloody Bastards..." he choked up, overwhelmed with fury. In the inferno that had destroyed the house, Buffy never had a chance. A wave of depression and grief swept though him. To have been so close only to have everything destroyed before they could even issue the challenge, the agony of despair was devastating.
The Master shook his head, "To think of the plans I had for you, now all wasted. I can only ponder at why you would have been so foolish as to plan to challenge me."
"Oath breaker," Spike spat out weakly, his voice hoarse and choked with grief.
The Master straightened and stared with fury at the insolence, "You dare to insult me while you have been building alliances with the humans against us?" He turned to Willow. "His lying tongue is to be removed along with the limbs," he ordered.
Willow nodded although inside she was cursing. Removing the tongue would ruin the sound of his screams, but that would be better than having the Master stake her new toy before she even got a chance to play with it. The Master turned and strode off towards his waiting car.
"Spike, Spike, Spike," Willow sighed. She crouched down and lifted his chin to look him in the eye. "All this time and here I thought you were a smart vampire."
"Go to hell, you bitch," he hissed out softly, he was starting to lose consciousness again, but the venom behind the words was clear. At Willow's nod, one of the guards slammed a club against the back of his head, knocking him nscinscious.
"Oh no, no, no, Spike," Willow sighed as she stood up and looked down at him. "I'm not going to hell. I've got far to many ideas for the fun that we are going to have, but believe me, by the time I'm halfway through them, you will be wishing you were there."