The Grey Area

Part 6: Special

Fred adjusted her glasses as she stepped into her office to gather up her notes. She'd promised to go home early, but that didn't mean she couldn't take a little homework with her. Overtime had taken on a new meaning, what with her actual job at Wolfram and Hart coupling with the search for Spike -- which continued to yield depressingly no results. Wesley clearly held little hope for finding Spike, and though Gunn at first protested the idea, he was beginning to follow suit. And, if Fred was honest with herself, so was she. Life and five years in a hell dimension had taught her not to expect candy corn and rainbows at the end of a long, tiresome journey for knowledge.

But Spike was special. Not Angel-special, that was for sure, but he was his own brand of "Vampire: Soul Included" special. He had the heart of a Champion, had acted selflessly when Pavayne had tried to kill her. He had given up his chance at life for her. And though that meant her insides twisted harder with every failure, it also meant that the search, the headaches, the emotional exhaustion -- they were all worth it.

Of course, it wouldn't have gone amiss if she could have had the smallest measly piece of information to steer her in the right direction.

As her mood plummeted, something it was apt to do these days, Fred didn't realize how unfocused she was about her surroundings until her knuckles jarred against something hard. Shouting in pain and cradling her hand, she winced at the loud bump that followed as whatever she hit fell to the floor.

Sighing, wondering if Knox had left her another little not-so-subtle romantically-inclined gift, she knelt for a quick look for the object. She frowned as she found herself looking at a silver sphere. Crawling the rest of the way over to the ball, she took it into her hands and stood up, noting the heaviness of the object. That was strange. Had someone been using it to perform experiments? She didn't remember seeing anything like it in the lab before...

Setting it on the table, she was surprised when it stood perfectly still instead of the characteristic rolling she would have assumed would briefly influence the object. That made her curious -- she lifted the object again and set it down with a little push. It didn't move.

That didn't make any sense -- it wasn't heavy enough to be able to resist rolling. The material was somehow defying inertia. She went back to the area she had found it to see if anyone had left notes on the object, but couldn't find anything.

"Now!"

Fred jumped, clutching her hand to her chest and whirling around as a cacophony of sound erupted from behind her. For a frantic moment she thought she was under attack, but found herself instead staring at an image on the wall.

"Go! They've got him down. Go!"

After the stupor of surprise and confusion passed, Fred realized she was looking at a pair of black-clad legs moving in a sprint between two buildings into a dark alleyway, where sounds of a struggle could be heard. A group of people circled close together over something on the ground. She heard a loud, grunting growl and then one of the people fell back in a daze. The figure was covered head to toe in dark clothing -- even his face was masked by black material. Upon further inspection, she could see that the others were all dressed similarly.

"Shock him!" The same voice she had first heard was shouting again. It was clearly masculine, and held a tone of extreme frustration and panic. "Don't be afraid to shock him, damn it!"

As the image of the group neared, Fred could make out the thrashing body in their midst, Bared, pale arms swung wildly against the hands trying to still them. Her heart jumped and she let out a gasp as the image moved between the men and over the head of the body.

It was Spike.

Lips drawn back over teeth in a feral grimace, his forehead was pinched in strain as he struggled against the hands that grappled to keep a good hold on him. One of the men was pressing his weight down on an iron pole, the end of which had a thick metal ring that had been locked around the vampire's neck, pressing his face into the pavement. His duster was lying discarded on the ground nearby.

After a supreme group effort, they finally got a pair of manacles closed around the vampire's wrists, shackling his hands behind his back. Spike struggled harder, bending and curling like a fish in a net, his energy seemingly never-ending.

The men around him were just humans, Fred realized -- or demons of similar build and strength. They were well-equipped, but still lacked against the strength and spirit of a mightily pissed-off vampire. When someone came over with chains for the vampire's legs, Spike realized what they were doing and kicked up despite his awkward position. The man just barely managed to jump back before the hit connected.

Fred's fear grew when Spike suddenly froze and arched his back, muscles wracked with spasms and teeth clenched in a clear show of pain. Someone finally followed the order shouted earlier and had stuck the dangerous end of an electric shock prod to the vampire's back.

Fred was overwhelmed with despair at the idea that there was nothing she could do to help. She knew she should be calling someone -- anyone to get down to the office to see this, or record it herself, but she was afraid that the second she would turn her back, the scene would disappear. If it did that, she would feel as if she had abandoned Spike.

The vampire went limp as the shock prod was drawn away, but his limbs twitched as he quickly started gathering his energy to continue fighting.

A voice -- female -- rang out, speaking confidently and clearly in command. "Turn him over."

A woman dressed in black stepped forward onto the scene, surprising Fred. She wore a hooded cloak that, unlike the masks of the men, gave view to the lower half of her face, and the hint of gloss-tinted lips drawn into a grim line as she watched the men carry out her order.

A gloved hand moved underneath her cloak, and she pulled a stake out. Swiftly she moved to the downed vampire, who the men were now practically sitting on to keep from moving. She placed the point of the wood against his chest.

Spike paused before his struggling gained vigor, staring at the woman.

Fred felt her heart leap into her throat. This was it. She was about to witness the reason for Spike's disappearance. The woman was going to stake him, and he would explode into a million dust particles. And anyone who walked by them would never know of the life they had once held...

Terrified, Fred all the same kept her eyes glued to the projection on the wall.

"Stop fighting, vampire." the hooded woman said with soft intensity. "I don't think I have to tell you that I have absolutely no problem with shoving this wood through your chest."

Spike curled his lip into a sneer, lifting his chin in his characteristically defiant manner. But Fred could read the hint of fear in his eyes, see through the front he was putting up -- the front he would occasionally let slip when he was around her. Oh, Spike...

"Wouldn't have gone through all this trouble just to stake me." he said, his eyes raised to the cloaked figure in a challenge.

There was no trace of humor in the woman's voice. "It wasn't any trouble." She pressed the wooden point harshly into his skin, and Spike clenched his teeth, his respiration rate increasing. "Anyway, I didn't say I would aim for the heart."

The vampire attempted to shift to alleviate the discomfort, but the woman pressed the stake viciously into his skin and he gave a short growl of pain before freezing.

"All right, easy, soddin' bitch," he bit out.

The woman knelt unmoving for a moment longer, and then something apparently passed between them, because she gave one last small stab with her stake and then removed it. Fred felt relief flood through her when she realized that Spike was not going to be killed. At least, not yet.

The men pulled Spike to his knees, and one quickly shackled his ankles together with a short chain. The vampire glared at the woman, who stood stiffly near, watching him closely. One of the men took out a knife and deftly sliced through the front and arms of the black shirt Spike wore, tearing the ruined cloth off and ignoring Spike's indignant shout of "Hey!" as he put it in his pocket, leaving the vampire shirtless.

Fred had never seen Spike shirtless, before. He'd been a ghost, so she supposed there wasn't any reason to undress. It somehow seemed entirely too intimate and wrong to see him that way now, in this situation.

Chains were wrapped around Spike's arms and chest. The vampire continued to stare angrily at the mysterious woman, his entire body tensed with the repression of the urge to fight. Fred could see a muscle framing the hollow of his cheek jump as he held his jaw taut.

"So what's this all about?" he asked, dark eyebrows drawn low. "Haven't been in LA quite long enough to warrant this much popularity."

The half of the woman's face that was visible remained emotionless. "I'm no longer in the habit of speaking to people that have spent the past century of their life torturing and slaughtering innocents."

"So it's a justice trip, is it?" A smile to tugged at the corner of Spike's mouth. "Let me guess -- you're going to take ol' Spike off the streets so that the kiddies can sleep safe in their beds at night? Hate to break it to you, but I'm not really on the Big Nasty list anymore."

"I'm surprised that matters to you."

"Yeah," Spike jerked his head back in brief resistance as a leather collar with metal locks was wrapped around his neck, just above the metal ring that was still restraining him. "Hero now, actually."

The woman was completely ignoring Spike, now. "Get the hood out. We're going to put him in the van." She took a bunched up cloth from her pocket as one man shook out another one easily recognizable as the hood she had mentioned.

Spike caught sight of it and drew his head back nervously. "Hey, now," he protested as the man came closer. "Said I wouldn't fight."

"I know," the woman replied, stepping forward and grabbing the vampire by his white-blond locks. She tilted his head back savagely, and when he began to object, she shoved the wadded ball into his mouth, pressing her hand against his lips so he couldn't spit it out. Spike gave a muffled shout and jerked, but the woman pressed her stake warningly against him with her free hand and he settled. One of the men handed her a strap and she pressed it over his mouth, buckling it tightly around his head. Then she took the hood from the other man and pulled it over Spike's head.

There was the sound of a van door opening, and just as the woman tightened the hood the image projected suddenly cut off.

Fred's heart was pounding hard in her chest. Numbly she realized that her hand was pressed against the skin over the thrumming organ, could feel it thump against its confines as she continued to breathe.

Spike had been kidnapped. Taken alive.

That meant that there was a chance...a chance that he was still alive.

Clarity shot through her and she turned back to the silver orb lying dormant on the table, striding over and picking it up in one hand. She held it up at eye level and examined it closely for any sign of anything other than the smooth, shining surface. There was no sign of a button, or any type of projector. All she found was her own distorted reflection staring back at her with its stretched profile. She shook the ball a few times, then paused and stared at it as she waited. Nothing.

She'd have to get over to the guys and tell them what had happened.

She didn't care if it would end up sending her a million over her quarterly budget -- she was going to do everything in her power to get Spike back.


-----


On his knees on Ambrus's large stone dinner table, each leg strapped to itself at thigh and calf and bound down by a pair of chains that forced his legs wide, Spike's body twitched in clear unease. The vampire wore a tight straight-jacket, the white cloth of which offset the black of the leather at his legs and neck. Chains connected to rings on either side of the arms of the jacket, locked to the table a few inches outward from the tie points of the chains at his legs. A white blindfold had been tied around his eyes, and a black ball-gag was settled snugly in his mouth. They didn't match, but Ambrus planned to have them covered up, anyway. If anything, they made for an interesting pattern while uncovered.

Spike had his head bowed, his chin resting on his chest, nearly completely unmoving. But every once in a while Ambrus would catch the subtle tilt of the vampire's head as he listened to him while he worked.

It was Saturday, and Ambrus had made it clear to Spike that though he would technically be present for the banquet, there would be no chance of interaction between the vampire and the guests this first time.

Ambrus reached over and grabbed the vampire's member, watching as Spike flinched and gave a short growl. He ignored the token protest, stroking the length and noting that Spike's body reacted more readily now than it had when the vampire had first arrived; it didn't take too long for the vampire's arousal to become evident in the stiffening of his cock. Ambrus kept a careful watch on Spike for evidence of cumming as he manipulated the length to its fullest. There was no time for play now, only work and business. When he felt the time was right, he snapped a metal cock ring on.

Ambrus's brow furrowed as he concentrated on manipulating the metal to tighten the ring. Spike attempted to shift to abate the discomfort, his breath rate increasing as his agitation rose. Ambrus reached over to a barrel of metallic sand that had been brought into the room, grabbing a handful and melting it in his palm.

Lowering his hand, he made the metal slide onto Spike's penis. The tendrils curled and wrapped around the vampire's length, creating a vine-like pattern that molded to his shape and became an effective cage.

Ambrus stood back and admired his work so far. He'd decided to do it simply this time, to prevent too much stress on himself and Spike. But he did still have one more thing to make the vampire's pose complete. Having power over metal meant he could easily add to or make adjustments to the ways he tied down a subject. Before bringing Spike out, he'd spread a generous amount of the metallic sand on the area he would place the vampire for this purpose.

Ambrus unclipped a chain that hung from his belt and locked it to Spike's collar, connecting placing the other end at the table's surface. He allowed it to melt and mold into the surface, shortening the length of the chain. While the chain pulled shorter, he watched as Spike's head was slowly forced back and his neck and back arched.

When the strain of the position became too much for him, Spike panicked and thrashed, attempting to pull himself in any way to ease the discomfort. The tautness of the chains holding him meant that they barely clinked as he moved.

Ambrus waited until the vampire stilled, hearing Spike's breath coming in labored wheezes around the pressure of the collar at his neck. Reaching over, Ambrus snaked a hand up Spike's arm and shoulder, smiling at the anxious moan the vampire tried to force out.

"Ssshh..." Ambrus stroked over Spike's forehead and down the bared section of his neck for a few moments, until he felt the minute relaxing of the vampire's muscles.

He then began to make the chain shorter.

When he finally stopped, Spike was trembling with the strain on his body, the wheezes now bordering on choking. Ambrus stroked down the curve of the bowed spine that had developed from neck to the vampire's lower back. "You're beautiful like this. A creature like you is meant for this."

Although the energy sapped meant that he was not so aroused as he could have been, Ambrus felt an overwhelming sense of pride overtake him and leaned over to kiss up the vampire's neck and jaw. "They'll see you, and marvel at your beauty. I already know how I want you on the night Angel finally visits, so that he may see the greatness of our work."

He glanced at Spike's face and saw the blindfold gaining spots of darker color from moisture; the discomfort was causing tears to leak from Spike's eyes.

He grabbed another two handfuls of sand and spread them on the table. "All right, sweetheart, time to get you covered up."

Ambrus closed his eyes and felt his power over the metal beginning to draw it up over Spike's body. He opened his eyes, watched the silver as it dipped around the creases between Spike's legs, up around his waist, molding over his jutting cock. It traveled up and around the straight-jacket, up to his shoulders, before creeping up his neck.

Spike gave a gargled, hoarse wail that was held inside by the gag in his mouth. As the metal reached his jaw Ambrus allowed it to cover the gag, and then the vampire's nostrils, over the blindfold, and finally the rest of his head.

He stepped back, admiring the work of art he had made, the bound body pulled impossibly tight and curved so attractively. The guests he'd invited were all aware of how Ambrus went about making his most popular statues -- a few of them had even previously requested Ambrus to send his hunters out to bring back the exact life they wanted immortalized as a statue. The more beautiful of the traitors often met this fate.

But this was the first time he had done a vampire, and he was surprised he hadn't thought of it before. He supposed it was because vampires were so common that he hadn't been more interested in the first place. And Spike...Spike was special. Souled and retaining all that fiery personality despite the guilt of his past.

His guests would certainly gain pleasure from the idea of a creature that could and would be tormented endlessly. For good reasons, they couldn't be told that it was one of the only two souled vampires in the world that he had as a pet, but that didn't mean he couldn't still show off his pride.

Ambrus stepped around the table, wondering if Spike was still aware within his prison of metal. How terrifying that must be, Ambrus thought with a smile.

With a small sigh of satisfaction, Ambrus went to the barrel of sand and began dragging it out of the room.