Fangless.Sequel

~3 Weeks Earlier~

White walls were surrounding him, white coats at the table examining him. Now it was up to him to prove he could be good, do right. The pen lifted, and one of the white coats began scribbling down on her clipboard - he recognized her. It was the woman who had cut him up, examined his insides and stitched him back together. Her eyes widened in curiosity, lips curved into a menacing smile. Immediately he looked down, almost shaking because every memory of that woman was woven into a tapestry of pain.

“Begin,” she said, voice echoing off the white walls.

Spike kneeled at his master’s side, his arms crossed at the wrists behind his back. Master pulled at his chain and immediately he went into bow position, his forehead pressed to the white tile floor. There was a moment of silence, cut off by the low whispers as the white coats talked to each other - examining his first position closely.

“Interesting,” the woman said. The others nodded almost in unison and then the woman addressed his master. “Remind me again how long you've been training it Agent Finn?”

“About three months Ma’am,” his master answered.

“It seems very well trained,” she complemented.

Master inhaled deeply and there was a little tug on his chain, which confused Spike because a tug meant bow and he was already in that position. Pressing his forehead against the white tile almost painfully, he tried to do what he thought his master wanted. Try harder, master is counting on you.

One of the white coats commented on the fact that he was allowed clothing. Pets weren’t usually allowed to wear clothing, Spike remembered. He knew now that his master would be frowned upon. He felt overwhelmingly guilty - his training could go to waste because he was a selfish pet who liked the little bit clothing he was given. Spike could sense the blood rising to the surface of his master’s skin - anger emanating from the soldier. The chain was tugged a little more, and Spike felt tears coming to the surface of his eyes. He pressed his forehead against the tile, almost feeling his skull crack.

He was a greedy pet, and he'd made his master mad. Not doing good enough, master’s gonna hate you!

“Continue,” the woman said.

The chain was no longer tugged, and was now held loosely in his master’s hand. Spike let out a low sigh of relief and relaxed. Do better, and master will like you.

“Seventeen, where do you belong?” his master questioned loudly. He didn’t answer, but his mind was screaming - with you my master. I belong to you. “You belong at my feet, serving me and the Initiative to the best of your ability. Do you agree seventeen?” There was a short pause, but hearing that name - the Initiative - caused a shiver to travel up Spike’s slim back. If he was lucky it would only be his master and not the rest of the Initiative he served. Thoughts of the cage, the holy water, all of that blood - his blood… Spike closed his eyes tight, trying hard to push the memories out.

“Speak,” his master ordered, snapping Spike out of his thoughts.

“Yes master,” Spike said loudly and clearly. Spike could feel all eyes on him, and became a bit nervous. What would they think? Was he good enough? And most of all, did he please his master? He wanted so much to do good. Masters like good pets, he assured himself.

When his master gave the command, he went back into kneel position with his eyes focused on the white tile floor.

One of the white coats, the female, asked that he be inspected. Spike felt his master tap on his nose and immediately his fangs descended as he morphed into his demon visage.

“Open your mouth seventeen,” master commanded. Spike obeyed, opening up wide to give the room a view of his fangs. Hands probed the inside of his mouth, feeling at the razor sharp teeth. The white coats smiled at this, knowing Spike had no desire to bite down as his master moved his fingers freely inside his wide open mouth. Then the fingers were taken away, and Spike closed his mouth and looked back down at the floor.

“Do you wish to feed seventeen?” master asked.

“No master.”

“What is it you desire seventeen?”

“To serve my master.” The white coats appeared overjoyed when Spike answered the questions. Words of praise rained down upon his master. They told master the project was a success. Spike wanted to smile, because if they were proud of his master - then maybe master just might be proud of him too.

More questions were asked and Spike answered with ‘yes master’ and ‘no master’. Then the room went silent when the female white coat spoke.

“How do you reward the creature for good behavior Agent Finn?” Eyes focused on his master then.

A shiver of anticipation crept up his spine, and Spike wondered if maybe he was being selfish. Because his reward was the greatest he could imagine, and to get it for only obeying a few commands seemed … wrong. But hopefully, master would give him the reward. It was the best reward ever.

Master’s hand rested on his head - soothing, and playful, the fingers entwined in his golden locks. Spike wanted to purr because it was the closest thing to heaven he could imagine - feeling the warm fingers playing lightly on his head, running through his hair and praising him for being a good pet. If he was really good, master would tell him. It made his undead heart leap when master complemented him for being good.

Spike remembered the first time his master had touched him - it had been in the company of the other soldiers. Two of them, they were master’s friends. They looked at him in disgust as he lay on the cot master had provided for him. Spike remembered shivering, because they had wanted to hurt him. But his master told them to leave him alone, and then master had touched his head - caressing him almost lovingly. Spike remembered purring, and then the look of anger on the other soldiers faces. They told master that he was too good to his pet, that master needed to train him first before he rewarded him. Then master had hit him across the face, telling him that he’d never get petted again until he completed his training. Spike nearly cried, and he'd longed to be touched that way again.

After the training, when master finally began to reward him with gentle pats on the head, Spike made sure never to purr. He didn’t want to disgust master by being a filthy, purring pet. But it hadn’t kept him from smiling to himself in private, touching the top of his own head and pretending it was master touching him - telling him how good he was.

Spike had purred then, he couldn’t help it. This was the first time master had really played with his hair, and he felt a sort of pride to have deserved such a gift.

The white coats all looked wide eyed at Spike as he purred, the vampire’s eyes glazed over in satisfaction - trying to push his head up into his master‘s hand. The feeling was just too good.

“It enjoys being petted a lot, doesn’t it,” one of them spoke up, surprised.

“Yes he does,” master commented, letting his fingers lay in the tangled curls.

“How do you punish the creature,” the female white coat spoke. Spike was too busy purring to notice they were talking about him. Then the hand was taken away, and Spike returned to a normal state of kneeling; feeling ashamed for letting himself purr. Master doesn’t like that - bad, bad, bad…

“Usually I backhand him.”

They stared at master for moment. “Demonstrate,” one of them said.

Master froze then, and pulled at Spike’s hair roughly. Spike stayed kneeling, trying his hardest not to show his discomfort. For a moment, he felt his heart clench - he had made master angry by purring. But he wouldn’t cry, because he had to show his master that he could be better. Don’t cry, don’t cry, be a good pet for master.

“I’m sorry,” master said. “He hasn’t done anything wrong. When he does he gets punished, but his behavior has been…”

“What did you say Agent Finn? How is his behavior?” the female white coat spoke almost angrily. With a sigh, she continued. “It’s an animal Agent Finn. It doesn’t have feelings, and it won’t mind if you demonstrate a little assertiveness. Now please demonstrate.”

Spike could sense the anger in his master, and apologized in his mind for being so bad. Then master stepped in front of him, blocking the white coats view. A large hand was placed on his chin, forcing him to look up. Master’s eyes were narrowed, and Spike looked into his gray orbs knowing he was being punished. Bad pets get punished, he told himself.

Smack! The back of master’s hand was brought down upon his cheek. Then the room echoed as another blow was brought down upon him. When his master stopped, Spike looked down at the floor - eyes red and on the verge of tears.

“Good job Agent Finn, congratulations on your progress with seventeen.” The white coats stood and came to master then, praising him once more. They shook his hand and smiled - one sneered at Spike as he kneeled on the floor.

Disgusting pet, master hates you.

The white coats left then, leaving Spike and his master alone in the room. There was an awkward silence, and Spike wondered if master was going to punish him again. Feeling ashamed he closed his eyes tightly. It was his fault, he knew he deserved to be punished simply for the fact that he didn‘t know what he had done wrong.

Master kneeled down in front of him, and placed his hand in Spike’s hair. Tears fell from the vampire’s face, and he blinked them away. He didn’t deserve master’s wonderful touch, because he was a bad pet. Then master took his chin and forced Spike to look into his eyes. Spike wanted so much to just have his master touching him all the time, even if it was a simple hand on the chin. Then another tear fell down his face, because he felt terribly greedy for wanting something he didn‘t deserve.

“What’s wrong?” master asked, almost appearing to be concerned. When Spike didn’t speak master’s voice became hard. “Speak.”

“I-I-I’m sorry master. I’m sorry,” Spike repeated, tears falling from his face. Quickly he blinked them away, not willing to aggravate his master by crying.

“Why are you sorry,” master asked, sounding surprised.

Spike looked at his master, eyes filled with sorrow. “I did bad,” he said softly.

“No you didn’t. You did perfectly fine,” master assured him and cupped his cheek. Spike leaned into the touch and almost smiled. He did good, he was a good pet.

Master’s hand stroked his cheek tenderly, and their eyes caught each others. Spike purred, closing his tear filled eyes briefly to imprint to gentle touch of master’s warm hand in his mind. When he opened his eyes, master was right there - they were almost nose to nose. Master’s heart began to race, and then master leaned in.

Spike wanted to reach out, and embrace his master like he did in his dreams. Then his master stopped. Master's warm breath was touching his cool lips.

“Let's go. There‘s something I want to do,” master said softly before pulling away and guiding Spike from the room.

~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

~Present~

Dawn watched with wide eyes as Angel tried to force his bleeding wrist to Spike’s lips. Teeth chattered against flesh, blood slipping from the offered wound and dripping down into the shadows that joined the two vampires.

Her eyes began to sting from the tears she held back, collecting in little pools at the corners until the moisture finally streaked down her face. All thoughts faded to nothing but little echoes, tiny moans that wouldn‘t stop sounding in a broken tone - each one repeating the solitary word, filling the room steadily one after the next.

“Master… master…,” the cries wouldn’t stop!

Dawn found herself unable to blink as Angel’s own tears began to gleam in the dim light, creating a surreal feeling deep inside, causing her heart to clench. It felt tight, like a hand had reached inside and begun squeezing the organ like a vice - cruelly tugging and trying to rip it from her chest.

She tried to pull out a memory, something inside that could drown out the scene. She tried to picture Spike, black leather duster, big sharp toothed smile radiating the aura of a predator. But she couldn’t conjure the image, couldn’t think of deep sapphire eyes lighting up and accompanied by a devilish smirk that exuded confidence, strength, and that feeling of danger - maybe exceeding even that. It wasn‘t there, suffocated by the now, the present. Instead of replacing the ghastly scene, she only helped reinforced it. All good memories, past images, were replaced with a hollowed stare. Sparkling sapphires rusted to a dull blue dribbling tears and the smile faded to shaking, sobbing lips. The only adjective his demeanor exuded now was despair.

One blink, going black and closing in on as Angel lowered his head. Then another as the vampire’s arms wrapped around the smaller form, holding so tightly that the two figures seemed to meld together. It became streaks in her vision, blurred to the point that all objects looked like slabs of colors splayed across the low lighting. Angel’s dark aura absorbed that of its counterpart, black swallowing the hurt, consuming Spike‘s body completely.

“Mine,” Angel said, low and shaky against Spike’s scalp. Dawn felt another clench in her heart, knots in her stomach. She felt so sick and dizzy, like she’d throw up any minute. She wanted to pinch herself or have someone do it for her, because she couldn’t do it, couldn’t move. Wake up, wake up, the low voices echoed inside her head, pushed to the background by more moaning of that incessant word.

Thumping erupted down the hall, coming from the side. Footsteps running, the thump sounds blending together, ears unable to differentiate each one from the next as the sounds melded. A noise bounced off the walls in the distance, coming from the hallway and echoing loudly. Dawn was sure after a few long seconds that it was her name being called, and her heart stopped dead for a split second before rapidly beating again. It felt like it was bursting.

“Dawn!” the voice was clear now, nearer, as the thumps became louder still. Words and thoughts seeped back in, all of them panicked. Let this be a dream, a terrible nightmare she’d wake up from. It wasn’t real, it wasn’t… She clutched her head tightly, long hair held up from her face and tears spreading over her cheeks, dripping fast from her chin. She needed to sob, but her breath caught forming a lump in her throat. Then the sound suddenly stopped. No more thumping in her ears and the room stood still, frozen in silence for a split second. The beats of her heart evened out, steadily pulsing but thrumming in her ears. Her throat unclenched and scratched as she swallowed a dry gulp.

She leaned back slightly against the hard wall behind, finding it difficult to prevent herself from just lying splayed on the floor and dissolving into weeping sobs. It didn’t feel right, none of it. And as her eyes slowly opened she turned her head to the side, seeing Buffy standing at the door with her hand covering her mouth - eyes wide. Then she turned slowly to the left, feeling stiffness in her neck, straining tendons as her eyes focused on the bed. Angel still had Spike wrapped in his arms, protecting him from the outside, resembling something more like a mother bear protecting her young. But Spike… Oh god he wouldn’t stop moaning! Over and over with that word! Dawn felt like she was breaking, she couldn’t take it, it was the only noise in the room. How could they stand it! The sound was like shrieking in her head!

She tried to open her mouth, to scream out some frustration. But that stupid lump had returned. Her throat was so dry that the slightest breath felt like sandpaper scraping the delicate tissue -- her breathing was hoarse. More tears, it wouldn’t end, like a waterfall in her eyes. She felt drained, her heart withered, and she wanted to wake up right now! She wanted Spike to be better. She wanted to wake up in her own bed in the early morning, sun rising in the sky, and run down to the cemetery as fast as her legs would take her. Spike would be there, everything would be right and he’d be himself. He’d still be her friend, still be that same cocky British vamp. They’d talk, about him, about the past, share some laughs. The world would be right. She’d be the nuisance still, but she’d have people caring for her like she remembered. It wouldn’t only be Spike, mom would be fine too. No more hospitals, and all the puzzle pieces would be put back in their places, the whole picture having no missing pieces. The stupid Initiative would be gone, Riley would be gone; and Spike would be fine. He’d be the big bad, he’d be Spike.

A small sob worked its way up and scratched her throat harshly. She buried her head in her knees and let herself cry; uncontrollably shedding anguished tears, hands so tight on her scalp that it hurt.

A low growl echoed through the room, small at first but building until it was a loud roar. Fierce, trying to frighten, but she remained still, eyes clenched tight.

“Get out!” a dark voice rumbled, echoing. The rumble was again another roar, repeating that warning to leave, so that the dark being could protect its cherished possession.

There were shuffles then, creaks of the mattress; Angel had gotten up off the bed. It seemed to happen so fast but Dawn couldn’t control herself, she didn’t care. She looked up and simply watched with unfocused vision as the demon walked the distance of the room, floor banging under his heels. But nothing came for her; Angel hadn’t made a step in her direction.

The tears were more rapid now, her head feeling light and pained, like needles in her brain. Something was going on, something she wasn’t picking up on because it was drowned out by incoherent thoughts.

Angel was in Buffy’s face, speaking. Her sister wasn’t moving, her expressions blocked by Angel‘s large figure. Both their actions seemed to blur with their speed and moments later the vampire’s gaze turned towards Dawn. Growling with clenched teeth, bitterness in his voice, he said, “She’ll be fine.” With a quick grab of her wrist, Angel dragged Buffy out the door, and the wooden frame appeared to crack slightly under the thunderous slam.

They were gone from the room, both Buffy and Angel, leaving her alone with something of nightmares. Something broken that shouldn’t be.

Dawn leaned her weight against the hard wall, tilting to the side until her head hit the carpet, hair covering her face. Spike’s moans were still loud, but he didn’t repeat the word. He didn’t call out for his master.
Her heart felt numb, like a hollowed space inside where it should be. Reaching into her pocket she pulled out the two cursed objects, holding them to her chest and squeezing them tightly. She couldn’t look up, couldn’t look at the bed. It was all pain, the only thing she could focus on were the small little puzzle pieces of Spike in her grip, of what he’d become.

As the sobs finally broke through, she found something now that was louder than Spike’s moans. It was of no comfort, and she wept until the unconscious black took her.

Hopefully, she’d wake with sun beaming down on her face.

~TBC~