Chapter Thirty-Four

They were tearing at him, operation slices zigzagging across his chest, arms and legs-an inhuman test of pain. 'Does the soul make you hurt more?' she asked-the blond bitch in lab coat twisting his flesh into mutilated scores of experience.

She lost him; plunged him into the dungeon of his past and rendered his soul blind and useless from torment, retreating to shadows within that would cover him completely. She ground his humanity to dust until all that was left was animal and only instinct remembered his name. Nothing existed but pain; humiliation and a building thirst for violence.

Her tools entered; cut and twirled, dug and swiveled in the blood red gore of his insides, and his body jerked repetitively in nothing but animal impulse. His sense had deserted him, no image of a blond angel calmed him; there was nothing to call him back from their experiments. It was all blank, erased. No champion, no hero, no love. He was a canvass of her creation, impervious to alteration as he now stood, wild and magnificent in his Prehistoric state. He went back, beyond Angelus with whips and chains, beyond William with poetry and romance. Back, back he went to where it all began, a seed with intent. He became. He begun. He was lost.

Tracks of stitches scored his skull with strips of pure white hair absent, telling the story of his mutilation. Oh, the things they could do overnight when inspired. His brain throbbed, his chest throbbed, his skin throbbed, his undead heart throbbed- everything full. They had taken him and punished him. He would try to escape again. That was what caged animals did, and soul or no soul, that is what they had made him.

He was lost.



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Riley Finn had access, and he used it. Within the hub of activity he easily located the Professor. She talked animatedly with another doctor before locking eyes with him, and quickly- as well as rudely-dismissed the other. She smiled in warm greeting and bade him to follow. They headed down a stark corridor, all pigment bleached from every surface with only their clothes to emphasise that this wasn't heaven. That, and the groaning or unconscious demons that occupied many of the cells.

She paused behind the electrified transparent door and pointed out her success. Riley nearly gagged, bile rising harshly in his throat. He was speechless from guilt, knowing what this would mean, but justice reminded him of his task. He stayed mute till he could control his body, then smiled- he hoped- in what looked like satisfaction.

"I have some news for you," he told her, clapping himself miserably on the back as his ruse begun.

She gave him her attention, interest animating her face in only the way torturing demons did, and he again felt his stomach twist in objection, perhaps preparing for the flaying he knew they would receive by Buffy at the end of all of this.

"Ever heard of the Slayer? The Vampire Slayer?"

Her eyes widened in surprise and sudden delight.

"Yes." Her voice was breathy, hopeful expectation in the air. "I thought she was just a myth."

"Well, you would be myth-taken," he chuckled nervously. He had tried for amusing but cringed at his own bad attempt. The Professor, however, seemed captivated.

"Tell me," she encouraged, her arms suddenly holding her ever-present clipboard to her chest in child-like anticipation.

Riley felt unable to go on, guilt lancing through his conscience while in view of the ruined vampire in the holding cell. Abruptly, he turned his back, knowing that she would probably see his move for enthusiasm.

"You know Buffy, from your class?"

Her quick nod told him to hurry, let out the information and get swept away in her rush of need.

"Well, the guys and I have come up against her on a number of sweeps, and she is really strong- attacking demons and vamps. I spoke to her today and she is willing to meet with you."

She was hooked, her eyes wide and shiny in her excitement. He knew now that the plan would work, he could get her to them. Her thirst for knowledge and desire to be the first to achieve would override her sense of self-preservation. This time. He knew they only had one chance.

He jerked his head back, indicating the slumped figure behind him.

"She wants the Hostile, though. Has a history with him. She won't talk unless we bring him to her. We can take Forrest and Graham for back-up."

She was nodding her head in eagerness, already planning the tests and experiments she could set the lab up for. Not a batted eyelid or a disgusted leer of her lip marred her calm face as she turned toward the vampire surrendered on the other side of freedom. She stood full on facing him, her eyes calculating.

"He'll be no problem. If she wants him she can have him. Should be quite interesting to see her handle a creature like him."

Riley raised a brow in sudden trepidation.

"What do you mean?" he asked nervously. "I thought the chip stopped him being dangerous to humans?"

"Oh, it did, but we took it out. To see how his brain would heal. We're fairly certain that he doesn't even recognise humans anymore. Back to basics, Agent Finn. He is probably the closest we could ever get to an original demon vampire. But we've drugged him sufficiently that he should be out for awhile. Shackle him up, round up your team and we'll be off." She started off down the hallway, then paused. "Where are we meeting her?"

"In the residential area. Not enough room for an ambush, but she'll at least be hemmed in. Just her and her Watcher. Besides, we have weapons." He tapped his artillery belt confidently, hoping she would go for it.

Her arrogant trust in technology was apparent in her smile, and she headed back in the direction of her office, Riley watching sickly as she disappeared from view.

He turned slowly, not wanting to lay eyes again on the miserable result of her twisted mind, but startled unsteady when faced with the crumpled figure of Spike. He recalled what he had seen of Adam and lost his stability, stumbling unsteadily to his knees. A light sweat broke out on his forehead and he wondered if maybe he should have given in and kept up his shots till after tonight. He wondered if Buffy would help him, then his eyes fell on Spike and accepted that she probably wouldn't.

Spike was unconscious on the floor, curled into a fetal position, head tucked securely to his chest. Riley hadn't signed on for this. Not this torture. Their mission was to rid the Hellmouth of demon activity, not create it. He wondered how he could have been deceived by the Professor's true intent, and actually, was confused as to what that truly was. Her coldness to this creature that Buffy loved- was engaged to marry- was chilling, and he felt frost in his veins. He knew how Buffy would react. She may not kill humans, but he had a feeling that she might not care this time.

He wondered if Spike had ever tortured humans the way Maggie had tortured him and somehow doubted it. He had read up on William the Bloody, the notoriety of their capture some weeks before inspiring his academic interest. He had read tales of murder and mayhem, but mainly the true horror story resided with his family members. Spike, he recalled, just liked the challenge of the fight. He got that. Killing two Slayers-he also had thought it was a myth. Thought the story was a fairytale. A claim of superiority from a Vampire to scare other Vampires. Now he accepted it was probably true. Killed two, and loved one. And had a soul. Buffy said he had a mission in this world. What if they had destroyed him and altered his mission? Could it mean the end of the world? Revelation kicked him hard in the balls. Groaning, he dragged himself upright, careful to not touch the electrified wall before him. Time for action.

He paged Forrest and Graham and they gently maneuvered Spike from his cell, collected the Professor and headed out into the night through one of many secret entrances.