Okay, not going too badly. Got handed over. Got taken back. Got shut in a small, windowless holding pen. Being shipped out tonight. Can't believe this pathetic plan is actually going to work. Haven't seen any sign of a remote control device though. I still can't hurt anyone.

And hey! `Anyone there...hungry here!' Fuckers.

God this is boring. I'm seriously tempted to call Angel and have phone sex with him again. That was fun. But it'd be tempting fate. They haven't searched me very thoroughly and they didn't find my phone. It's just a little lump in one of the numerous poachers' pockets of my duster. I touch it every so often; just to reassure myself it's still there. That Angel is only one call away. I'm tempted to turn it back on, just in case he's trying to phone me, but I can't risk it ringing at an inopportune moment. I start playing with his ring again, moving it from one finger to another, spinning it on the floor. It's just something to do.

After what seems like an eternity sitting on my backside in this totally featureless room, I hear the sound of the lock turning.

Thank, God. Action. Food. Who cares? Just something different.

`Hello, Hostile 17.' Uh huh. Farm boy and his minions. Was this part of the plan I wasn't listening too? Cus I don't remember, him, being any part of this at all.

`He's got a tracer implanted under his arm. Dig it out and flush it.'

Oh fucking shit. They rip my coat and shirt off and one of the soldier boys gets out a knife, feels for the lump, and just...digs it out. No point in even struggling. Then I'd have a pain in my head as well as one...shit, that hurts...under my arm. Farm boy nods and the others leave. I shrug back on my stuff with difficulty, deliberately turning my back on the git. Won't give him the satisfaction of thinking I'm scared of him. But...shit...this seems very familiar and I don't like it.

`You don't remember, do you?'

`What, Mate? Your Birthday today or something? Anniversary of when you had your cock enlarged? What don't I remember?'

`You don't remember me...us...in here. Last time you were here.'

Not liking the, `us' bit of that. Cus, `us' seems more familiar every minute.

`You must remember, Spike. I know you were heavily sedated all the time, so we could adjust your chip, but surely you remember...the hunger. Don't you remember how hungry we made you? We didn't feed you for three weeks. You started eating your own arms. Don't you remember?'

We must look like some bizarre form of dance routine, he advances on me and I back off. Around and around the room. I feel hypnotised by his words, I feel myself sinking back into that lethargy I was in before LA. Is this what started my disappearance? Is this why I did all that stuff afterwards? Is this why I fucking tried to stake myself and...all that other shit...because of what happened here?

`You're lying. I'd remember. I'd remember you, you fat farm shit.'

`You didn't think I was a shit when I offered you this, Spike.' He bears his neck right in front of me. 'After three weeks of tearing your own flesh and sucking on it, you didn't think I was a shit at all. You tried to devour me. You cried for me. You begged me.'

`You are fucking insane, Mate, if you think I'm gonna believe you let me feed on you. What; cus you loved me so much? I don't think so!'

`No, Spike. Cus you loved me. Whenever I wanted you to. Whatever I wanted you to do. You give really good head, Spike, anyone ever tell you that before? I'm a Marine, I should know. Yeah, really good little sucker, Spike, even with a broken jaw.'

Oh, God. He's just punched me hard on the side of my face. That ain't gonna even dent the jaw, but another ten or so like it might.

I sometimes wonder, when I'm in an idle moment, what the early Christians thought when they saw the lions coming. Did they try to run, screaming for someone to help them? Or did they stand still and think, `bring it on, then,' cus there was nothing they could do. Death, incredible pain: inevitable.

Well bring it on, farm boy, cus I ain't running. There's nothing I can do. I can't raise a hand to you, to protect myself. So, bring it on. Get it over with quick. Ain't gonna hurt any less by trying to hide from it. So I just stand there as he hits me. Well, stand until I can't stand anymore. Then when I'm down, he takes to kicking me. And shit those military boots can do some damage.

`How does it feel, Spike? Not such a pretty boy now, are we? Fucking demons walking around like real men. Kissing human girls. I'll kill you, I'll fucking kill you.'

I would engage him in a debate about just who he thinks I've kissed, and why me kissing humans is bad, but me sucking him apparently isn't, but by now my jaw is definitely broken and I'm having trouble staying conscious. Not sure he'd appreciate the debate anyhow.

I'm not too proud to admit that now I'm curled up in the corner of the room and trying to protect my face from anymore kicking. He's mumbling more to himself now, than me: weird incoherent shit about me being too strong, about him never being able to hurt me. It takes me a few minutes to realise that it's not me he's kicking, but the Slayer. Buffy. Jesus.

But suddenly he stops and stands panting above me. He falls to his knees and roughly puts a hand on the front of my jeans, squeezing my cock: digging his nails in. His face is wild, red...he looks completely out of control.

`I know who she is thinking of every night I lie with her. I know what she wants. She wants this doesn't she?'

Does she? News to me.

`Doesn't like it human: doesn't like it male. Wants a fucking dead, cold, loathsome...creature. I know. I found out. Yeah, she lost it to a fucking Vampire. Face of a fucking Angel I was told...so real easy to work out who that was...wasn't it? Not so pretty now though, are you? Don't look so much like an Angel now, do you, Spike?' He traces his fingers over my broken face as he hisses his vitriol at me. `Oh yeah, how she must have loved these cheekbones, this perfect, never changing skin. Can't compete can I?'

Err...big mistake here. Give me back tongue, lips and a jaw I can actually speak with and I'll tell you a slightly different story about `Slayer Loses Her Virginity', shall I? But I don't think he'd be in a mood to listen, even if I could speak.

`Let's see what she thought was so good, shall we?'

Err.let's not.

`Oh...you fucking bastard. Don't matter how big it is...it's still dead meat, isn't it. But oh, such a tight fucking ass. We never got round to your ass last time, did we Spike? You fucking escaped, just as things were getting interesting. How'd you like to fuck with another human then, you shit?'

I guess that's not a rhetorical question. Can I at least choose who?

`Oh, yeah! Really tight. But, let's open you up a little bit, shall we?'

Fuck. I thought the tracer being cut out hurt. I know the punching and kicking hurt, but fuck...his finger jammed roughly into my dry hole hurts like hell. Don't help when he starts jabbing it up. Fortunately, I tear on his nail and the blood coating the walls, eases the pain. Makes it easier when he pushes the next finger in. And the next. He pushes me into a sitting position against the wall with my knees bent up, feet spread. He watches my face intently the whole time. I'm not sure what he is looking for: fear? If it is, he's not going to see it. All he will see is contempt.

`Oh, real slicky and smooth, ain't ya. Oh they'd love you down in the lines, you'd be flavour of the month...we'd keep you going for hours of fun and games. How does this feel then...?' Not good, if you must know. `...like all these fingers then, Spike? Bet you've had some really interesting things up here in your time...hey?' Actually, no. Some humans in a bar, all too recently and that's it. But I'm not going to tell you that. 'Shit, I wish I'd done this last time you were here, hey? Oh, yeah, ass as good as your mouth.'

`Guess what, Spike? I think you're so good at this; you can take a little more. How's...that...oh, don't scream...no one's going to hear you...and if they did...they'd only enjoy it!'

Did I scream? I didn't think I was going to give him the satisfaction. Guess I was wrong again. I didn't think anything could hurt like that. It's...inside sort of hurt...the sort of hurt that makes you sad: about yourself. But then he has managed to get his whole bloody farm-fist in and he's using it like a battering-ram. And he's getting so excited. He's panting as if he's going to choke; he's rubbing the front of his combats with his other hand. I'm resigned now. It's inevitable where this is going. When he finally swaps fist for cock, I'm beyond caring. In fact, cock is much more comfortable. Especially as it's not big and slightly flaccid. He puts both hands on my shoulders to brace himself. It's so intimate, as if we were lovers. I half expect him to put his mouth to mine. I don't know where to put my hands. Can't use them to defend myself, don't want to use them in any other way, so I just close my fists gently and rest them on my knees. No involvement in this at all. As if I'm not here. Shit. Did I start to do this before?

He don't last long.

He collapses against me, his face pressed into my shoulder, his cock leaking out of me. The smell of rancid, human male is overwhelming.

But the very worst bit of this whole experience? Not the punching, not the kicking, not the fisting, not the rape...the worst bit, was what he said. As he thrust his hot seed into me, he laughed and whispered in my ear. 'You really believed it, didn't you, Spike? You really thought there was a way to turn it off.'

Oh. I have an eternity to endure, in which I can never protect myself from this happening. But I still won't let him see my anguish and fear. He will still only ever see contempt from me, whatever he does.

He rolls off me and stands up, readjusting his clothes. 'Sort yourself out. Can't have my guys seeing you like that. They'll want their money's worth too. Everyone wants to fuck the demon that fucked the Slayer. Jesus, I hope she got better value than I just did.'

Uh huh.

When the silent one, the one with the evil, narrow eyes, came in, I decided to fight it. Why not? I bet one or two of those good fisher-folk had a go at the lions. I would have done. Nothing to lose. Maybe got it over a bit quicker for them too. Doesn't work quite that way for me. But at least I was unconscious by the time he actually entered me. Maybe, if I get to have my eternity, and I start to lose my faculties, I'll blame it on this: on the frying of my brain as I tried to fight him off. It took eight consecutive, searing jolts of pain before I collapsed. I think he was badly hurt though. Not so much that he didn't leave me with a few reminders of his pain.

So the next one I didn't fight.

After that? When the others came? I didn't care one way or the other.

And you know? It's all coming back now. Now they've all gone and I'm alone in the dark, all the forgotten time is starting to come back. So I don't only have current pain to enjoy, I've got months of remembered pain too. I remember the starving now. I was so hungry I did start drinking my own blood. I was so hungry I would have done anything for blood. So when he offered me his neck? I've have sucked the demon cocks of hell for one small bite. I begged him to let me suck him, every time he visited me. I got on my knees and crawled to him, begging him. I unzipped him whilst he laughed at me. I made him cum and I swallowed him, every time. And as I fed? I let him play with me. But bit-by-bit, I started to fade away. I started to put myself in a better place, away from these acts I was being forced to participate in.

No wonder I lost it a bit when I got out. No wonder I lost my sense of myself. No wonder I tried to disappear. No wonder I felt so much better every time I got on my knees to strangers: felt like I was being fed again. Felt like I was being saved.

Must have been partially the drugs though, cus I repressed the memories. But I let them eat at me, till I was the fucking mess Angel found in LA.

Well, there are no drugs now. Just pain. And what do humans know about pain? This ain't gonna break me again. Nah, this is just something to be endured till I get out of here. I've got something much better than this planned.and these fuckers are just delaying it. I've got a TV to buy and a Vampire to love. And I might even change the order I'm gonna do those in.

Ain't gonna let them know that though. Best tactic is always, surprise. They should know that. They're the fucking military. What do I know? I'm just one pissed off, very sore Vampire with a lot of cum leaking out of his backside.

When farm-boy comes back, I feign worse hurt than I really feel. If he gets hard again hearing me moan? Well, just adds to throw him off balance a little bit more. Blood rushing to his dick ain't gonna be helping his thinking processes.

'Get ready to ship out, scum.'

'Where am I going?'

'Fucking, shut up.' He hauls me to my feet and propels me towards the door. I'm giving the impression I'm a lot slower and more damaged than I am, but I can't see any means of escape from these endless, white corridors and elevators. At last we come out at a loading bay where a truck is backed up ready to receive its cargo. My last chance. I lunge at the git, knocking him off his feet. Fighting the pain in my head, I leap off the bay and start running. I have absolutely no idea where to run to, but it feels good, just going somewhere. I don't even know what hits me. I guess it was one of their stun guns. I hit the deck so hard I go out, like a proverbial light. One moment freedom, the next: nothingness. I come round in the back of the truck with my arms bound behind me at the elbows.

Shit.

I don't even know how long we've been driving for. Could be hours, could be minutes. Could be years I guess, what the fuck do I know? I'm a stupid, sodding Vampire who wanted to fucking help humans and got himself stuffed for his troubles. Literally. Okay, I only wanted the controls to this chip, but I would have been helping humans too. Serendipitous outcomes of helping me! But I'm still fucking stupid for believing him. Well, guess I believed the Slayer and the Watcher. They believed him. I almost feel sorry for the Slayer. Hah, both her boyfriends have wanted to fuck me! One actually has: one is going to soon, if I have anything to do with it. Must remember to tell her that, next time I see her. If I see her.

I really don't want to open my eyes. But it's worse, not knowing who's looking at me and what they are doing. I very slowly and cautiously take a peek, so I am just looking through tiny slits. Hum. Interesting. Farm boy is in the back with me and he's clearly relieving that bulge I seemed to give him earlier. He's totally occupied, head thrown back, hands on cock, very near coming I should think, looking at the copious stream of precum dripping down onto the floor. I really hope that's not me he's picturing as he does that. Please let it be the Slayer.

There is only so much being irresistible I can take in one night.

What an ideal opportunity though to.I fling myself up and forward, ramming his head back into the strut behind him. I am SO tempted to stomp on his cock for good measure, but I have a feeling my brain would instantly fry me, for giving him that much pain. The chip fires off anyway for just pushing him, but I stagger to the rear of the truck and just.flop over the tailgate onto the road.

Good plan.

Or it would have been a really good plan. It would have been good if we hadn't have been travelling at about fifty miles an hour. It would have been even better if we hadn't have been the first truck, in a convoy of three. The third one may have run over me as well, but I don't remember, by that time, I was unconscious from the second one hitting me. They don't call those fucking vehicles, 4-tonners, for nothing.

I don't come round from that little escape attempt till it's light outside the truck. This time they've chained me to the strut of the seat as well. Needn't have worried. I'm not going anywhere. I can feel one arm completely useless, the bone in my forearm sticking up through a tear in sleeve of my duster. My other arm is shattered at the wrist and elbow. One knee is completely 'exploded' looking, crushed by the truck: my jeans saturated with blood.

I bring my hands around to try and ease the pain a bit. And that's when I see it. Or rather don't. The ring is gone. It was always loose even on my thumb. It must have fallen off in the impact. Shit. I hated the poofy thing though, didn't I?

But the worst thing of all? I feel pretty sure I fell on the pocket with my phone in. I feel pretty sure the last thing I heard, before the truck hit me, was the tiny sound of my lifeline to Angel, being severed.

When I try for the third time and still get the message that his phone is turned off, I call Giles. I don't care that it's only been a day since I last phoned him during the night.just to talk. I'm still worried.

'Giles, it's me, Angel. Have you seen, Spike? I can't raise him on his phone.'

'Oh, he's working on a case for us. I expect he's out of range. He's probably underground, no signal I expect. Nothing to worry about. We have it all under control.'

'Wes! Cordy! Get the car. We're going to Sunnydale.'

My friends have the good sense not to try and engage me in idle conversation in the car. They sense that this is serious. I so need them along. I think I would kill someone when I get there, if I didn't have their expectations to live up to. It's never seemed such a long drive before. It's agonisingly slow, and every minute puts my beloved Childe in more danger and further away from my protection. Why did I acquiesce to this ridiculous plan to let him, 'find himself'? I was humouring him. I was.I was doing what he wanted, what he needed, and that wasn't wrong. No matter what the outcome, it was the right thing for us both to do: to have space. We both needed time for making this level of commitment. I could sense that in him. I could sense reluctance to trust me: huge reluctance to need me. And it's not as though I was exactly confident about it all. I still don't really know how we will work it all out. The reality of Spike living with me in LA will, no doubt, be far removed from the fantasy I have come to rely on.

Whatever happens now though, if I get him back, if he is still alive, I will not let him go again. If he needs space: well he can go to the park. I'm not going through this again.

By the time we get to Sunnydale, things are clearly not going as well as they were before. Giles takes his usual pedantic time telling the story. Even Wes is fidgeting. I'm fairly calm until Giles tells me about the tracer. Not that they thought to put one on him: but that they tracked it to the sewers where it had been flushed.

'I am so sorry, Angel. It appears that this chap, Riley may not have been as straight as we thought. We found the tracer only hours after Spike was taken. Minutes after I spoke to you actually. There is no way they could have found it that quickly unless Riley had told them. It looks like it was a set up from the beginning. I have no idea why. What could they possibly want Spike for?'

'Get your car. Go and pick up Buffy and Xander. Meet me at this Riley's place.'

'Angel, it's no good. He could be anywhere now. We think they've been shipping chipped demons all over the country.'

'Giles, unlike you, I look after the things that mean the most to me. He has a tracer on him.'

'No, Angel.you're not listening. They found the tracer: they flushed it - rather meant to be a childish sort of 'up yours', I think.'

'Giles. Shut up. I gave Spike a tracer as well. It's in his new phone. Get your car. Meet me where I said. NOW!'

I pick up his signal easily. He's underneath the school, somewhere in the Initiative. I can only pray he's still alive and I'm not reading a signal from a phone lying by a pile of soft ash. Stop it, Angel. You need to focus. Stay calm. Concentrate on the task in hand. There is no way we can get down there and attempt a rescue. Buffy confirms the labyrinth of tunnels and concentration of military hardware down there. We can only sit tight and wait for them to try and move him. Buffy comes and sits in the car with us.

'Angel. I'm really sorry. I.I trusted, Riley. Maybe he was bugged? Maybe they overheard us about the tracer and found it and maybe he tried to stop them, but he's hurt now and maybe.'

'Buffy, it's not your fault,' yes it is, 'you couldn't have known,' could have used your eyes, 'Spike knew what he was getting in to.' Except.he didn't. He'd have done anything to prove himself to you all. That's all, THIS, has really been about. Spike, needing to prove himself to the very humans who brought him down. I know. You've done it to me too. Every time you look at me, Watcher, I hear the name Jenny, echoing through your head. Every time I look at you, Buffy, I hear my mocking of you and your.virginity. It brings you down after lifetime of hatred and mistrust. Sometimes I even look at Wesley and Cordelia and hear the echoes of Angelus' mocking of them. Vampires: humans, basically incompatible.

'It's moving, Angel.' Wesley has the base unit of the tracer.

'Which way?'

'South, it appears. But, Angel, what if it's just the tracer, what if it's not with.Spike. If you see what I mean.'

'I'll stay here, Angel, and try to make contact with Riley. If Spike is still here, I may be able to find him.' I somehow think Buffy values proving Riley innocent, more than she values finding Spike. But Giles agrees to stay with her and that leaves only Xander to come with us. He seems surprisingly willing to help.

I swing out from the curb, and follow Wesley's directions.

Once we spot the trucks it's easy.Wesley puts the unit away. I follow at a discrete distance. The trucks look the worse for wear. Even at this distance we can make out what looks like fairly major accident damage to the rear two.

It's very disturbing knowing, Spike is in one of those vehicles. I hope he's okay and enjoying playing soldier boy for the night. We start trying to come up with a plan. Wesley wants to let it play out - as the original plan - to find the other chipped demons. I say a polite version of 'fuck that' and Cordelia agrees with me. Trouble is neither of us can think of a plan to rescue him without more information about what is happening here.

Reluctantly I agree to go along with Wesley's plan.

I want to leap from this car, drag broken soldiers from trucks, find my boy and save him. I have to be content to sit quietly, following. Someone is going to pay for this: eventually.

Some time later, my revere is broken by Wesley's quiet coughing. `Err...Angel, it's getting towards dawn.'

`I know.'

`I think you will have to stop. We will have to drop you off somewhere and go on ourselves. We can't risk you...this car isn't protected enough.'

`I KNOW.' God, don't make the sun come up just yet. Just a little longer, please. But I bow to the inevitable and allow them to drop me off by a motel. Great. Just great. I now have to sit out the day whilst others attempt to rescue my Childe. And not one of them, not a single one of them cares about him as I do. How much would they risk to save him? I would risk everything.

But I won't be there.

*****
Part 7:

I don't even bother to try and stay conscious for the most of this long, hot, agonizing trip in the back of this awful truck. I let myself drift in and out of consciousness, hearing snatches of voices, watching patters of light drift across the canvas roof. Once, I watch a tiny beam of sunlight coming through a pinprick in the side drift imperceptibly towards my lifeless hand. It's a good game. Every time I open my eyes, it's nearer. I count the seconds till it starts to burn its way across my upturned palm. The pain is blissful. So much sharper and more focused than that from my broken body, which by now is a sea of undiluted agony. But the smell of burning, Vampire flesh alerts the farm boy. With a snarl of disgust, he kicks my smoking hand away, like you might kick a can in the street.

I've started to worry slightly about my injuries. It's not true Vampires can just.heal. Broken bones need to carefully aligned back together, just like human bones. Then they heal. If they're left like mine, shattered, sticking out, they heal like that. I guess. No crippled Vampires live long enough to put that theory to the test. It's why we live together. It's why we always have another, even one we can't abide. We need the reassurance of having someone who will care for us when eternity is threatened. I couldn't count the times I patched Darla or Dru, Angelus or Penn, carefully binding wounds, setting bones. And they did the same for me. But there hasn't been anyone now for so long.

I'm trying not to let the pain wear down my defences this time. I don't want to start disappearing again. I can't afford to. I'm trying to focus on good stuff. Like my TV. I've got it all planned in my head, what make, where I'm going to put it. What I'm gonna watch. I've even got to the part where I invite people in to watch with me. But it all gets a bit vague there. Is it.the Slayer? Is it.Harris? Why do I invite, them? I hate, them. Thought I did anyway. I'd quite like Harris here now though. He'd be funny.he'd so hate these soldier boys. Wish even more that Buffy was here. She'd kick soldier ass. That would be even funnier.

But they ain't here and ain't likely to be. Don't even know where I am now. And I don't know where I'm going, but I'd take a pretty large bet on the fact that I'm not coming back.

That's such a terrifying thought. When I go, I'll just be dust. There won't even be a body. How long would anyone look for me when I'm missing.if they know they won't find a body anyway. Makes me think of little Daisy. What would you do if your child went.missing? How long would you continue to look for them till you had to give up? Would anyone look for me? I think Angel might. If anyone tells him what's happened that is.

Jesus. I wouldn't. Tell him. I'd lie and say I had no idea where I was. Fuck. Think I'm losing it again. I'm having imaginary conversations with Angel about not knowing my own whereabouts.

Wonder what he's doing now. It must be late afternoon. Feels like we've been in this truck a day. Smells like sunset soon. Guess he'll be in bed. Or maybe he's keeping human time today. Maybe he's in the office, at his desk. Maybe he's wondering where I am.

No, if I were Giles, I would keep the exact details of Spike's end from Angel. Details of my.end, from.Angel.my end.Angel.DON'T start giggling. It's not that funny. Think of something else, anything, think of fat farm boys, think of Marmite, think of any gross thing, but DO NOT start laughing.do not draw attention to yourself.

'What's so fucking funny, demon?' They've boosted the military muscle in the truck with me after my Colditz re-enactment. Lucky me, eyes-too-close-together, is here too.

Honestly, nothing. You had to be there.

'Answer me, or I'll fucking give you something to laugh about.' Oh, original.NOT.

'I was thinking about enlisting.ow!'

But got farm boy and his favorite minion looking far too closely at me now. Don't like this at all.

'We can't deliver him, looking like that.'

'Why not? He's gonna look like that soon enough anyway.'

'Nah. This one'll go for the auctions. He's pretty enough even like that. They won't waste him in Experimentations. Come on. Help me with him. He'll fetch a higher price, tidied up.'

Farm boy unshackles my wrists. They can't get the broken one out at first, it's too swollen.comes free eventually though.

'He's a quiet one, this one, isn't he, Soldier?'

'Depends what you're doing to him, Boss. He sang real pretty for me earlier!'

'Help me set his arm first. Take the coat off.'

They do a real neat job on the most obvious of breaks. All I can say is.thank God for the Military!

But this is not.right. As their hands explore my body for injuries, they seem to linger too long on sensitive areas.stroke for injury where injury is unlikely. I can smell their arousals; see their eyes.dilate. I'm curled up on my Duster. I lay my hand over the broken pieces of my phone. I feel a bit like that: beyond repair.

'He don't look so good still, Boss. Don't they have to have blood to recover or something? I'm sure the Prof said this type needs blood all the time. Did we bring any?'

'Yeah, he needs to feed all right. Have you ever.done it?'

'Err.what, Boss?'

'Let one of them feed on you?'

'Fuck! No!'

'It's.incredible. It's a rush man. Like coming under fire.there's nothing like it. It makes you come alive.totally. Your blood.surges.it's the ultimate stiffener.'

'You are kidding right, Boss? You ain't really going to let.THAT.THING.feed off you. Are you?'

'Ever swim with Sharks, Graham? Live a little.'

Farm boy kneels beside me and taking out a small knife from his pocket, he holds the blade over his wrist. I can't help but watch: fascinated. This cannot be happening.

Oh. It's not.

He sits back, just looking at me.

Then he puts the blade to his collarbone.

'Fuck, Boss. No!'

Too late. A bright, scarlet line appears just above the neckline of his tee shirt. It starts to flow steadily. His eyes glaze as if he's already focused on some sick music only he can hear. The smell of human blood makes me.moan. I can't help it. He pulls me up till I'm cradled against his neck, then presses my mouth to the wound.

In full game face, I slip my tongue under the edge of the flap of skin. I have to be so careful not to hurt him, but I can do this. The coppery taste of blood trickles down my throat. It sets up a resonance throughout my entire dead body. Every fiber of my being responds to its call. Bones start knitting together; blood recedes from bruises, pain lessens. I get bolder and start making the hole slightly deeper with my razor sharp fangs. He doesn't flinch. He pulls me closer. His hand finds my zip and pushes down inside my jeans. He finds my cock and releases it. He pulls the foreskin sharply and painfully back, exposing the purple mushroom head. He plays idly with it with one finger, while I lap desperately at the wound. Soon he'll start on me in earnest.

This is what it was like for weeks between us. This is old, familiar ground. He'll let me feed only till he makes me cum. It's his game. He always wins. I always cum too quick: before I have enough. Ounce by precious ounce I try to suck, while he pumps my fluid to his intense rhythm. When the blood is in me, I can't stop from cumming. My whole body is aroused by blood. It's what I am. He seems to know it and uses it against me. Every time.

He so wants me to come for him, but he hates it when I do. It disgusts him to be brought back. To come back to the reality that he has a loathsome demon feeding from him and cum on his hand. But this is a good day cus the other one's so aroused by watching; he wants to try it too. He's not so careful with the knife. Much bigger cut to his neck. I get a long feed from this one cus stupid fuck can't get me to cum again. Not till I get a good few pints anyway.

'Graham! Stop him anyway. He's had enough. Did you feel it? Did you feel the rush as he.sucked? Did I tell you.like combat.like fucking flying!'

'Yeah, let's keep him, Boss.'

'Can't. They want him. They've got plans for him. Hey, Hostile 17! You're a Vampire with a mission aren't you? How you feeling now then?'

Peachy. Just, Peachy.

'He isn't very polite is he?'

'He will be. He'll learn real quick to say please and thank you, where he's going.'

Oh. Goody. Finishing school for Spike then?

They have no idea. Stupid fucks. No idea just how much better I do feel. My body is just a dull ache now and I'm feeling real sharp again. Nothing like O-Neg to perk you right up. They haven't even tied me back up either.

I wonder how many times in two hundred and fifty years, I have lain immobile, useless, waiting for the sun to go down. I lie completely still. I'm in the exact middle of the bed. It's important, details like that, when you are waiting. Wesley and Cordelia promised to come back for me, if they could, tonight. Things may be decided by then.

I concentrate on a tiny spot on the ceiling. It looks like a dog wearing a hat. I've been looking at it for three hours now. I'm beginning to see a personality developing.

I wonder where he is now and what he is doing. I wonder if he is thinking about me.

I'm making plans for Spike and that's a good way to pass the long day. I'm trying to get us from reuniting to.bed. I can see us doing one, then the other. It's the bit that joins the two I'm a bit hazy about. How will I initiate it? Will it be a tearing at him borne of need and fear and relief.that's what I feel it will be now. That's what I desperately need now. But maybe it will be slow and easy, us both shy and reticent. Maybe we'll sit watching one of his shows. He'll be wearing his black jeans and a black tee shirt. Cotton. I like him in black. It sets off his bizarre hair and flawless skin. We won't be touching at first. But I lean across him to reach the remote control.no, that isn't likely; he'd never let me get hold of that. I lean across him to reach a book and he.oh, yes, that's much better. That might work. He.he, what, though? I still can't picture what happens. I can see the next scene, I can see him in bed. I just can't work out how to get him there.

Oh yes, I can see the bed scene. He's spread-eagled on his back, I'm lying with my head between his legs. I'm finally in a place I've wanted to be in for a hundred years. I lick across the swollen, cherry-red mushroom tip of his cock. Foreskin slips to my command, veins throb, his hands in my hair, his voice urging me on. Sucking, licking, moving slowly from root to tiny slit, cupping his balls in the palm of my hand, rotating their silken weight. Exploring where I've never been before, opening up, pressing, sliding in; pulling out. Suck and push, lick, pull out, creating friction: heat. Listening to him moan, feel him trying to hold it in. Finding that spot for him, fingers strong and supple, tongue flicking with fingers, then, when he's cresting and ready, I enter him and we renew the ancient joining.only with cock: not fang, pleasure: not pain. Waves of pleasure starting in my spine and spreading to cock, balls, belly. He sits up slightly and pulls me down to his embrace. Fleeting kisses from ardent lips. Tongues tasting each other: my hands working him. Then flinging himself down and raising his legs to my shoulders.undreamt of depth.thrusting so hard I force moans from the pressure alone. His veins swelling under my hand. His strangled cry of pleasure.catching that cold seed: mine caught deep in him.then sweet, sweet collapse together.tangled limbs.mixed essence.shared eternity.

So that bit I'm okay with. It's getting started on that damn couch I just can't work out.

Maybe a shower would be better. He's taking a shower. I'm reading, but I hear the water streaming over his perfect, hard, enticing body. I go into the shower, he turns to me, he.what does he do? Why does he do anything? He's the one who left. He's the one who didn't want this. I would have taken him on that table. Just before he told me he was going, I would have lain him down and taken him: made him mine. But he left. He didn't seem to want me. If I try again.if I lay my hand on him again.will he leave again? What is it? What is it that gets us from where we are to where I want us to be?

And will he have a whole new reason to hate me? Will he find the tracer I put on him? What will he think? That he is nothing more than a possession, that I didn't trust him, that he is like a child, needing great, big, strong Angel's protection. I think if he finds that tracer, I am lost.

And what a bad idea this has been thinking about, Spike: picturing myself entering, Spike. Now I'm not so calm and controlled and the bloody dog is doing unmentionable things to the hat.

It's not fair. I don't want to have to move my hand down and release my cock.like this. I want another hand to do this for me. I don't want to squeeze my foreskin up, pinching hard for that ecstatic pain. I want his fingers to explore and work me like this.

It's not fair.

It's been dark for about two hours now. They've been playing cards since.feeding me. They have no idea how fed I feel. Fresh, flowing O-Neg - well, one was A-Poss, but that's even spicier - makes you feel really alive.

The truck stops and I can hear shouting and the sound of activity from all sides. The tailgate is lowered to yet another loading bay and I'm hauled out and prodded along more, white, sterile corridors. For a bizarre minute, I think we've been driving for twenty-four hours in a huge circle and come right back to Sunnydale. The guys with the stun guns force me into a large, windowless room with half a dozen bunks along one wall. I make out a number of other figures in the gloom before hearing the door being bolted behind me.

'Well, look here boys. Look what we've got here. We've got ourselves a Vampire.'

'WE, ain't got anything, Mate. I'm having a really bad day, so if you want to start something, fine by me, if not.then piss off and let me have a fag!'

'Got a spare one then?'

The voice emerges from the gloom. Hah! A Kopros demon. All mouth and no trousers. Known for it. I offer the ugly mother a fag and we sit at one of the central tables smoking quietly for a while.

'So, what's it to be for you then ,Vampire? Auctions or Experimentation? I'm guessing auctions. Right? They'll make a fortune with that face.'

Hey! What IS this obsession with my face? 'I dunno, Mate. I haven't a scoobie what's happening. You been chipped then?'

'Of course. We all have. That's why they need us, for.experiments. They're going to develop a way for us to control the chips.so we can live back amongst humans again.'

Uh huh. Ugly and stupid.

'And why would they do that then, Pet?'

'What do you mean?'

'Well, why go to all the bother of putting them in, in the first place? And why not just take them out again?'

'Don't listen to that idiot demon. That's not why we're here.' A Vymer Demon. Bloody licorice all sorts down here.

'And what's your theory on this little chip factory then?'

'They're going to experiment on us to find out how much pain it would take to make us attack a human. Pain tolerance experiments. Then they're going to apply what they learn to making a chip for humans.'

'Hah. Glad it's the auctions for me then, Mate!'

Err, why are sodding demons looking at me with pity? 'Again.glad it's the auctions for me then? Happy expressions of 'yeah.lucky you', would be appreciated right now!'

'They're the worst. Worse than the Experiments. They sell you to.' the Vymer Demon looks down, strangely abashed: for a demon.

'Who? Who'd they bloody sell me to?'

'To the sort of human that would want a chipped demon.well, a pretty, human-looking one. Work it out for yourself.'

'Wait a bleeding minute here, Pet. Are you trying to tell me I'm gonna be some sort of.fuck toy for humans?'

'I hear they've put some of the pretty, chipped Vampires into sort of, clubs, where humans that like torture.play with 'em. But don't worry, I hear they don't last long.'

'You hear way too bleeding much, Mate. Why don't you shut the fuck up for a bit and let me think.' Not much to think about really. No way. No way am I going to spend my last few hours being tortured by some sick human rubbing his dick off on me. No way. I've spent one hundred and twenty seven years doing exactly what I liked. Top of the sodding food chain. And I'm not going out that way. I'd rather end it: here and now.

I've been to places like that before. They are excellent feeding grounds. Angelus used to take me sometimes. He really got off on all that torture stuff. Doing it that is. He would watch those fucking, fucked up humans for hours, grinning to himself. Learning from them. And that's worrying. Humans that can outdo demons for inventive pain. Imagine being helpless. Imagine being endlessly used and abused for their sexual thrills. Unable to defend myself for an eternity of pain and humiliation. Cus it wouldn't really be the pain that would do it for me. Proved that tonight. Not much more painful than being hit by a four-tonner doing fifty miles an hour. But I shrug off pain (well, all right, I winge and cry and make a huge deal of fuss if anyone is listening, but I get over it), no: it would be the humiliation. Looking into those inferior eyes. Knowing I should be on the other side of the whip or the electric clamps, or whatever else they decided to use. Never been able to stand zoos. Don't want to be the star attraction now.

So. This is it. This is the end. This is what I've struggled for all my unlife. This is where I end it all and I become nothing but dust and, if I'm really lucky, a memory in a few peoples minds. Spike.met him once. Evil sodding git: till he got chipped. Sad that. Better get it over with. Before solider boys come back.

'Hey, I want you to do something for me.'

'Why should I?'

'Out of the goodness of your fucking demon heart and if not that, cus I gave you a fag and cus you'll probably enjoy it anyway.'

'What?' Suspicious git.

'Here.' I snap a leg off one of the bunks. 'I want you to stake me.'

'Oh. OK. But I want something for doing it.'

OK. If he says he wants me to suck ANYTHING, even a Murray's Mint, I'm doing it meself. I am not sucking anything else tonight. Done enough sucking. Suck. All. Out.

'What? Name your price.'

'That coat. I want that leather thing you're wearing. That's my price.'

Oh, sod it. I always thought me coat would sorta go with me. Like the Roman Emperor's horse or was it his wife? Same difference. But, oh.not me coat. Please. But beggars can't be choosers.

'Okay, but I want to empty the pockets. You ain't getting all me stuff. That's going with me.'

I take myself off to a quiet corner and start unloading a lifetime of precious, collected items. If I stuff it all in my jeans pocket it'll all go to dust with me. Weird, but effective. Fags first. They've been my best friends for over a century, so gotta take them. What's all this then? Ahh. The pieces of Angel's phone. I can't bear to take them out and look at them. Last time I had this phone in my hand I was talking to the poof. I close my eyes and picture his voice, one last time. No point getting sentimental. I may not have much time left before they come for me. I take the pieces out one by one. Don't know what that bit is.but it's coming with me. Nope, not that bit either.but it's coming too. Next bit.oh! Seen one of those recently. Hum. It's flashing. It's attached to the inside of the broken cover. Hum. It's a tracer. Angel put a tracer in my phone. Angel wanted to be able to find me. Wherever. Whatever.

Uh huh. Angel may know where I am now.

Oh. Angel may be coming for me. Soon.

Angel.

'You ready then or what. Give me the fucking coat and come over here.'

'Sod off. I'm busy.'

Okay. Staking myself suddenly doesn't seem so attractive an option. Hope springs eternal? Fucking hope.I hate it. But just look at this little beauty. Flashing in my hand. On and off. On and off. Reminds me of something. Something good.reminds me of Angel's hand on me, in the dark. I put the little piece of hope carefully back into my coat. This time into the inner lining. Better keep this little baby safe.

'Come on. You going to do this then.'

'Nah. Sorry to disappoint you, Mate. I've just remembered something important.' Someone important.

As I finish speaking the doors flies open and two soldier boys come back in.

'You. Vampire. Come with us.'

The Vymer demon sniggers. 'Bye, pretty one. Bet you'll be wishing you'd taken the stake!'

'Yeah, and good luck with those pain threshold experiments, Mate.'

I'm marched along more endless corridors to what looks like an ordinary locker room.

'Strip off, take a shower and put those on.' He points to a pile of neatly folded, clean clothes on the bench.

'Fuck off.uh.' Sod zaps me unceremoniously with the stun gun - knocks me against the wall.

'I said, strip.'

'Fuck off.ahh.' On my knees now.

'Okay, do it for him.' Two determined gits strip my coat off me and start pulling at my pants.

'Okay. Okay. Fucking get your hands off me.' I've had more from soldiers than I can take recently.

I finish stripping and step under the shower. God. I'm a mess. Every inch of me seems covered in dried blood or cum. The water is incredibly hot and feels like a tiny slice of heaven in an otherwise hellish day.

I drag it out as long as I can, scrubbing and turning. I don't even care I have an audience. I don't care I can smell their arousal watching me. I have a feeling they have been given strict orders to leave the valuable property alone now. Eventually I'm told to get out and I dry and put on the clothes they've laid out for me: a stiff, incredibly clean white shirt and soft, black pants. Nice. Fortunately, there are no shoes, so I put my Docs back on, grab my coat and I'm ready to party. They lead me to an adjacent room. It looks like any anonymous motel room anywhere in the world. Bed. Bedside table. That's it.

'Sit down. Don't get messy. Wait till they come.'

Err.don't get messy? What do you think I'm going to do: with this room?

I sit in this bloody room for what seems like hours. I try lying on the bed, pacing, sitting.standing still. It's all equally boring. I seem to remember though another boring room recently and wishing for anything to come along to relieve the boredom! And look what I got. Randy soldier boy and his fuck minions. Nah. Put up with being bored for once.

But just as I've resigned myself to nothing happening ever again in my sorry unlife: the door swings open.

Okay. Looks like 'Buy yourself a Vampire Sale', has just begun in earnest.

*****