Chapter Nine.

He said. She said.

His laughter finally died down long enough for him to notice how frightened
she looked. Standing, he pulled her to her feet. “C’mon,” he said, pulling
her reluctantly behind him.

Buffy tried to dig her heels in, but it was pretty hard to in her stocking
feet. She slipped and slid behind him on the polished floor in an
undignified manner; unable to keep up with his long, quick strides. Back in
the empty hallway he marched her towards an elevator. Unable to stop herself
in time Buffy bumped into his back when he abruptly stopped. He laughed at
her clumsy acrobatics and stocking clad feet.

Angered by his amusement she shot hate filled looks at him scowling deeply
at his sniggers. The elevator doors slid silently open and Spike pulled her
in behind him. She was surprised to see Wesley had followed them, and even
more surprised to see him holding her purse and shoes. She badly wanted to
ask them where they were going, but she didn’t want to give Spike the
satisfaction of knowing she was afraid.

So much had happened she could hardly think straight. Faith had been raped
within hearing distance, and she’d been forced to trade Harmony for Dawn to a
street pimp with a vicious reputation. They’d been terrorized, threatened,
and manhandled. Now she was alone with the man responsible for it all.
She could feel her strength failing her; she didn’t know how much more she
could handle right now, but it was obvious it wasn’t over yet.

The doors ‘pinged’ open and Spike pulled her behind him again. They were on
a long, straight landing. Through the windows on one side she could see the
driveway and fountain below; they looked a long way down. Realizing they
must be on the top floor, she pulled back on his grip, fearful of where he
might be taking her. This time her feet found leverage on the thick blue
carpeting.

Spike felt her pulling hard in his grip. Annoyed he snapped, “You can either
walk or I can carry you…choose NOW!” He yelled the last word in her face.
She flinched, hunching her shoulder up as she tried to duck away from him. He
pulled harder increasing his pace. She was practically running to keep up
with him. Wesley trailed behind them.

Flinging open a pair of double doors in the center of the landing he strode
quickly through, tugging her with him. The room he’d pulled her into was a
spacious sitting room, beautifully furnished with thick royal blue carpeting,
and plush deep cream leather chairs and couches positioned in an informal
seating arrangement. Heavy silk cream and gold colored curtains rung at the
beautiful wall high Georgian windows, but on closer inspection Buffy could
see that they were in fact double doors that could be opened out onto a
balcony.

Spike let go of her so he could light a cigarette. He knew he was smoking
too much. But better that then drinking too much, he thought.

Wesley closed the doors placing Buffy’s purse and shoes on the floor
beside a couch. He headed to the bar and poured himself a stiff drink,
downing it in one long swallow. Spike arched a brow at him.

Wesley caught his look and returned it with a sheepish one of his own.

Turning her gaze back into the room Buffy noticed Wesley sanding at a well
stocked bar; it stood angled in one corner of the room tucked away behind
the doors. The central point of the room was the biggest
entertainment system she’d ever seen, it seemed to hold a vast assortment of
electrical equipment. She couldn’t help but be impressed. The room’s
lighting was provided by a number of miss-matched lamps and feature wall
lights that shone little pockets of soft light at various points,
illuminating different decorative objects, watercolors and sketches on the
walls, statuary and crystal on tables and shelves. The whole effect was
simply lovely it was neither too masculine nor too feminine. Buffy knew her
mother would go ga-ga over some of the art work in the room.

Seeing her tentative admiration of the room Spike couldn’t help taunting
her. “See somethin’ you like Ms. Summers?” he sneered.

“No, I see nothing I like, Mr. Winters,” she snapped, laying heavy emphasis on
his name.

Anger blazed in his eyes. “Wesley, pour Ms. Summers a drink.”

“Certainly, Ms. Summers what would you like?” Wesley inquired.

Another Brit, she thought, but his accents different than Spike’s;
more refined.

He was smiling at her waiting for an answer. “I’d like to go home,” she
simply stated.

Wesley glanced at Spike. “She’ll ‘ave a brandy and make it a large.”

“No, I don’t want…”

“Yes, you do. Now sit down and shut up,” he snapped. Spotting an ashtray he
stubbed out the remains of his cigarette and made himself comfortable on the
couch. She was still standing there defiantly glaring at him. Losing his
temper, he jumped up and grabbed her. Before she knew what had hit her he’d
shoved her into the nearest chair.

“When I tell you to do somethin’ you’d better do it,” he snapped at her
before returning to his seat. Wide eyed and shocked she sat there, her glare
toned down, but still there.

Wesley handed her a glass. She looked at it distastefully, but took it anyway.

“Do you want a drink?” He asked Spike.

“No…not now maybe later, I can see to it myself,” he sighed, and added “You
can go, I won’t need you again tonight,” he paused thoughtfully. “And leave a
message for Luke to ring me when everyone gets back.”

Wesley hesitated, looking from Buffy’s bowed head to Spike’s angry scowl.

“Bleedin’ hell Wesley what’s the matter with you? If I ‘ave to repeat myself
one more time tonight I swear I’ll split heads. NOW GET THE FUCK OUT!” he
yelled.

Glancing once more at Buffy, Wesley reluctantly left. The door clicked loudly as
he shut it. The silence stretched out, Buffy staring into her untouched
drink and Spike staring at her.

“Drink up,” he commanded gruffly.

“I can’t,” she murmured.

“Why not?”

“I’ll be sick.”

“Huh, can’t stomach hard liquor?” He scoffed, “Who’d ‘ave guessed.”

“I can’t stomach much of anything right now, least of all alcohol,” she met
his look with one of her own; level and steady.

“I s’pose I’m one of those things you can’t stomach,” he goaded.
“Considerin’ you hate me and all.”

Buffy just glared at him hatefully.

“Do you like the room?” The change of subject threw her. She stared at him,
mild confusion playing across her face. “Well, do you? It’s not a trick
question Ms. Summers, either you do or you don’t?”

“Why…I mean…what differ…”

“Good God Woman! It’s a simple straight forward question. Do you always ‘ave
this much bleedin’ trouble answerin’ a simple question?”

Buffy could tell he was very annoyed, and didn’t know just how safely she
could push it. The question seemed harmless enough, what difference did it
make what answer she gave?

“No,” she replied, deliberately keeping her answer short.

“That’s the second time you’ve lied to me,” he sighed, shaking his head in
mock disappointment.

Changing subjects again he asked, “Do you know why you’re ‘ere?” His voice
suddenly soft and calm, his expression unreadable.

How does he do that? She wondered, go from spitting mad to calm as
a pond in a moment. It unnerved her more when he acted all rational.

“Because I helped Lily,” she replied quietly.

He was scanning her face for something, his cold blue eyes boring into her,
holding her in place as tightly as his hands had held her wrists. The
intensity of his gaze was too much for her and she broke eye contact first.
She fixed her eyes on the crystal glass resting on her knee. The smell was
beginning to make her feel nauseous.

Spike saw her look of distaste. “If you’re not goin’ to drink that then
brin’ it ‘ere,” he said.

Glad to be rid of the drink she rose to cross the seating area. Halting
suddenly when she saw his slow measured appraisal of her form, blushing
deeply, she quickly placed the glass into his out-stretched hand sloshing
some of it over the rim.

He laughed softly at her embarrassment, watching her blush deepen as she
hurried back to the safety of her seat. Chuckling he sucked the brandy
splashes from his fingers.

“You’re ‘ere ‘cause of Angel,” he informed her dispassionately.

Her shocked gasp was predictable, she sprang forward in her chair, and even
looked around the room as if she expected to see Angel appear. What Spike
didn’t expect to see was the flash of fear in her eyes as she looked, but
then he realized she was afraid for him. She relaxed slightly when she
discovered he wasn’t there.

Gathering her wits she took a couple of deep breaths. “I don’t understand
what you mean.”

“Are you tellin’ me you don’t know Angel?” She held steady in his gaze.

“No, I know him. I just don’t see what it has to do with me,” Buffy’s heart
was racing in her chest.

“It has everythin’ to do with you luv. Tell me what you know ‘bout him?” He
watched her twist her fingers together nervously.

“I know he’s an evil monster just like you,” Buffy felt the walls closing in
on her. Her head was pounding.

“Jus’ like me huh! And yet you had a relationship with him,” he sneered at
her.

Eyes wide she stared at him, shock coloring her flushed face. “What! No I
didn’t,” she denied with force.

“That’s your third lie Ms Summers. I wonder what Angel would say if he ever
found out how quickly you denied your affair,” he was shaking his head again
in that mock disappointment that Buffy was beginning to find infuriating.

How was it possible that he knew? Besides Angel and her self only Faith and
Cordy knew, and it was highly unlikely that they would’ve told Spike. They
hadn’t even met him until this evening, unless one of them had let it slip to
Glory. No, that was stupid. How did he know? Even her own mother didn’t know.
Before Angel left he’d told her people would come looking for him…dangerous
people. He never told her where he was going and she’d never asked. Angel
had kept their relationship secret from everyone he thought was a threat to
him. He’d sworn to her that she was safe from anyone who’d look for him, and
he’d promised her no one knew of her existence or her connection to him,
she was safe. Did he lie to her?

Spike had moved to stand in front of her chair, calmly he stood there, looming
so close she was forced to crane her neck to look up at him.

“Don’t lie to me again,” his words were filled with quiet menace. He leaned
down resting his hands on the arms of her chair caging her in. He reached
out with one hand and touched her cheek. Buffy tried to press herself into
the back of the chair turning away from him. His hand slid across her jaw,
catching her chin he forced her to look up at him.

“You’re very beautiful, I can see why he’d want you,” he whispered. He was
close enough to smell her perfume; it was light and delicate, like her. Her
green eyes gazed at him fearfully, large and bright with unshed tears. He’d
wondered what color they’d be. Her blonde hair was a little disheveled
from her earlier struggles, but now it rested on her slim shoulders in
appealing layers catching the artificial light. She was trembling under his
hand, and he was reminded of all the times he’d watched her and been aroused
by her beauty.

She squeezed her eyes shut and the tears she’d tried so hard to hold back
fell unbidden between her lashes. Gently he wiped them away with the pad of
his thumb.

“What do you want?” she whispered, her eyes still closed.

“I want two things - the first is to make Angel suffer.”

She opened her eyes, “Why?” Buffy blinked back the sting of more tears.

“Because I hate him,” he sneered.

“But why do you hate him?” she asked, sounding for the entire world like an
unreasonable child.

“Oh…for so many, many reasons,” his thumb brushed the corner of her mouth,
his eyes tracing the outline. “Why did he leave?” There was a hard edge to
his voice. He didn’t expect her to tell him. In fact he wasn’t sure why he’d
asked, he hadn’t intended to have that conversation with her yet.

Buffy sank just a little further into the chair. “I…I…don’t know,” she
stammered.

Spike sighed softly, “Didn’t I tell you not to lie to me?” His cold eyes
swept her face. “It don’t matter, I’ll find out soon enough. Maybe I’ll ask
him when I see him. Or you can.”

Shrugging her shoulders she insisted, “I don’t know where he is and even if
I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”

“If I’d needed you to tell me where he is I think I might ‘ave been able to
persuade you,” he smiled gently at her. “I ‘aven’t called Cooper yet, he’s
still followin’ your little sis.”

She’d forgotten about the man following Dawn, she’d assumed the threat was
gone when she’d betrayed Harmony. But now Spike was implying otherwise. She
shuddered.

“But as it happens I don’t need you to tell me where he is, I know exactly
where he can be found,” he informed her.

He picked up a lock of her hair twirling it through his fingers enjoying the
feel of the silky strands next to his skin. “Did Angel play with your hair?”
His voice was soft and deep.

“What?”

“I’ll jus’ bet he did. Did he touch you softly, gently?” He caressed her
shoulder. Buffy flinched. He leaned in to whisper to her, his face brushing
hers. She could feel his warm breath on her ear, he smelled of brandy and
tobacco. “Did he whisper sweet words in your ear?” He pulled back
fractionally cupping her face gently in both hands, tilting her head towards
him. His mouth was so close to her own she thought he was going to kiss her.
His eyes looking deep into hers he whispered. “Did he make love to you? Or
did he jus’ fuck you?” he sneered the last part.

Buffy was too stunned to respond. She was panting slightly, her panic levels
rising. She wanted to push him away, to scream at him to leave her alone but
she feared what he’d do if she did. He let his hands fall back to the
armrests.

Her voice small and quaking she asked, “What’s the other thing you want?”
She feared the answer but she was sick of this game.

“I want you,” he answered honestly, smiling softly at her.

“What! You can’t be serious. Why?” She was aghast.

“Because it’ll make Angel suffer,” he stroked her arm causing her to shiver.
He was looking at her with his head cocked to one side.

She looked at him trying to discover his meaning, but his face was devoid of
any emotions that might give him away. “What do you mean, how?”

“You’re not that naïve Ms. Summers, you know what I mean.”

She did push him away then and surprisingly he let her. She stood up to meet
him on equal footing, but he still loomed over her smaller frame.

“You’re insane, I’d never, never with you…Angel’s gone and I don’t believe
you know where he is. If you did he’d be sitting here right now and you’d be
taunting him instead of me,” she began to pace back and forth, her eyes
shooting erratically from one point of focus to another. “You’re just trying
to trick me.”

“Trick you how?” he asked. She made quite a sight all indignant; pacing up
and down, her pretty face flushed by his suggestion.

“I don’t know…by pretending you know where Angel is, by pretending you know
all about us and I’m not saying there was an us,” she argued.

Angrily he blocked her path halting her pacing. Reflexively she tried to
jump away from him but he struck with staggering speed and force. Catching
her by her upper arms, his fingers digging painfully into the soft flesh he
shook her violently. Rage suffused his face and burned in his eyes that were
practically buried under his scowl. “DAMNIT, I TOLD YOU NOT TO LIE TO ME!”
he roared.

He hauled her close pressing her flush to his hard body, looking down into
her terrified face. “I know he bought you a Claddagh ring for your birthday.
I know he took you sailin’ on the fourth of July, and made love to you on the
top deck under a sky full of fireworks. I know he rented an entire cinema so
you could spend the whole day watchin’ Cary Grant movies and foolin’ around
in the back seats like teenagers. I know he had you flown out to Mexico, to
spend two weeks with him in a villa by the sea. And, I know he loves you and
you love him. And that’s only a fraction of what I know.”

She was staring at him in astonishment, pain and betrayal filling her
disbelieving eyes. The sight made him happy, he wanted to rip into her; make
her bleed with his words, expose all her secrets.

“And I can take you to Angel right now,” her whole body was quaking against
his, if he let her go now she’d fall to the floor.

“I don’t believe you,” she whispered.

“Yes you do. And I told you not to lie to me,” he laughed at her frightened
look when she braced herself against him expecting another shaking.

It was true, she did believe him. How he knew wasn’t as important as the fact
that everything he’d said was so horribly accurate. She couldn’t deny the
evidence of his words. Somehow he knew all about her affair with Angel.

“Why are you doing this? What do you want? And don’t say me because I don’t
believe you,” she entreated. She was trembling hard, and she must have
realized her legs couldn’t hold her, because she was clutching at his jacket for
support.

He needed to calm her down. He swung her up into his arms and carried her to
the couch, resting her back among the cushions. He headed to the bar.
“What d'you want to drink? And don’t say nothin’, jus’ tell me what you normally drink,
or I’ll make you drink the bleedin’ brandy, and I don’t care if it does make you sick.”

“White wine.”

He came back with the drinks, and she scrunched her feet up when he went to sit
beside her. “Here,” he said pressing a glass into her hand.

Her eyes were burning from the unshed tears, she was overwrought and
exhausted. All she wanted to do was go home, go to bed and never ever wake
up again. Unhappily she rested her head on the cushions behind her, letting
her eyes fall shut for a moment.

He watched her. Her stocking feet drawn up, pink nail polish winking at him
on her pretty little toes that peeped out from under the edge of her silver gray
skirt. He’d noticed how she’d arranged the folds modestly around her legs as
soon as he’d put her down, the unconscious gesture of a modest woman. Her
pink short sleeved top had slipped down one shoulder exposing the strap of
her deeper pink bra.

She opened her eyes sensing she was being watched. His gazed was fixed on
the exposed shoulder. She quickly covered it. Spike quirked an eyebrow at
her a leery smirk dancing on his face.

The wine was doing its work; there was more color in her face, and her
trembling was minimal. Her breathing had returned to normal, but she looked
exhausted. Spike wanted to get this finished.

Thinking it better not to tell her the whole truth, Spike decided to lie
where necessary. She seemed to be holding up, but maybe some truths could
wait. “You’re right I don’t want you, but I do want to use you. You see when
Angel left he took somethin’ that belonged to me and I want it back. This is
‘bout payback Ms. Summers. He took somethin’ of mine, now I’m takin’ somethin’
of his,” he stated with conviction. He brushed a hand through his blonde
hair in an irritated gesture.

Puzzled she asked. “Why don’t you just ask him where it is?”

Sitting up straight his body language was assertive and commanding. “I
would’ve but Angel’s a stubborn bastard I needed a bargainin’ tool, and
that’s where you come in.”

“So you’re going to blackmail him with my safety, and then what?”
Emotionally wrung out, she wished he’d get this over with.

“Hopefully for your sake he’ll tell me what I want to know,” he said coldly.

She chose to ignore the threat. “And then what…you’ll let us go?”

He chuckled at her naïveté. “No, no, no. Didn’t you hear me say I was goin’
to make him suffer?”

“If you hate him that much why don’t you just kill him?” she snapped.

“Ms. Summers you shock me, talkin’ ‘bout killin’ the man you love.” He paused
for a moment, then confessed “I wanted to kill him, and believe me over the
years I’ve imagined a thousand different ways to do it. But they were all
too good for him, too quick. By keepin’ you ‘ere I get to see him suffer the
torments of hell every single day,” he whispered, caressing her foot with a finger tip.

“You can’t make me stay here against my will,” she insisted foolishly.

“Really, I thought I could, and besides who said it would be against your
will. You might not like it much, but I’m sure you love Angel enough to
ensure his safety and if you don’t love him enough, well…I already know to
what lengths you’ll go to, to guarantee your little sis stays safe. I’m
pretty sure you’ll feel exactly the same way ‘bout you mum and mates.”

“You’re an evil bastard,” she accused.

Spike shrugged unconcerned, “Jus’ like Angel.”

“You can’t believe you’ll get away with this. Too many people will ask
questions.” Buffy was seeing a glimmer of hope, he was crazy if he thought
she’d give up that easily.

“I already ‘ave,” Spike traced a finger over the pink polish on her toes.
Indignant she snatched her foot back, but Spike anticipated her move.
Latching onto her ankles he dragged them across his lap. She surged forward
struggling and twisting her legs in his grip reaching for his hands.
Irritated he slapped her hands away and pushed her back roughly, growling a
warning at her.

Buffy froze cautiously studying him. When he was satisfied she wouldn’t
fight him anymore he went back to his inspection of her nail polish.

“What do you mean you already have?” Buffy stammered nervously. He sounded
too sure of himself. Her head was pounding again and the wine was sitting
poorly in her nervous stomach.

Still looking at her feet he explained. “While you were at the beauty
parlor havin’ your pretty little toes painted pink I had all your things
packed up and brought ‘ere,” he said, glancing at her through his lashes.
“Then I had Dixon deliver a carefully prepared letter with an excellent copy
of your signature on it to your landlord, resignin’ your apartment with your
rent generously paid up to the end of the month.” Buffy felt the room
spinning. “In affect, I moved you out of one poky little flat into one plush
top floor suite. Of course you’ll ‘ave to share it with me, but I’m an easy
goin’ bloke and it’s a big place, I’m sure we’ll manage.” She was stunned
speechless, her large green eyes brimming with renewed tears. “Oh! Don’t look
so worried luv, you get your own room. Your virtue is safe, I won’t harm a
hair on your head...much.”

Again she chose to ignore the threat. “People will miss me, my friends the
agency I work for, my boss Giles, my family,” she babbled. The tears slipping
unheeded down her cheeks.

His hand was gliding over the delicate bones of her ankle. “Now don’t go
gettin’ yourself in a snit, I’ve thought of all that.”

“What, how?” But she already knew she wouldn’t like the answer. She really
wished he’d stop with the foot rub, his hands were warming her already
overheated system, adding to the discomfort of a churning stomach and dizzy
head. Not to mention how loathsome she found it.

He was talking again, she tried to focus on what he was saying, she knew it
was important, deadly important.

“I’ve arranged for you to ‘ave two weeks leave from work. I told them…or
rather you did in another letter, that your grandma is ill and you ‘ave to go
and look after her because your mum and sis are out of the country for the
next month on a buyin’ trip for her gallery.” He looked so pleased with
himself and his lies, she wanted to knock the smug smile right off his face.

“But someone might check with my mum and then…” she began.

“Aha! But they won’t find anythin’ because I really ‘ave arranged for your
mum and sis to be overseas on a buyin’ trip, Britain to be exact,” he said
triumphantly.

Buffy was flabbergasted. He had it all worked out. She felt hope slipping
away from her. “And what happens when the two weeks are up?” She brought a
hand up to her heavy head trying to steady the spinning.

“Well luv in that time you’ll ‘ave been headhunted by one of my companies,
maybe even by me, with an offer you can’t refuse, and I do mean can’t
refuse.” Buffy realized he was answering all her questions, explaining
everything in detail only because he wanted her to recognize that he had
thought of everything, and that she was in fact trapped.

But ever the fighter she pressed on to the bitter end. “What about Faith and
Cordy they know it’s a lie they could...?”

“Could what? Tell your mum, your work mates, your other little pals, or maybe
the police?” he jeered. “And maybe I could relocate them to New York, or
Chicago, or anywhere I choose, or maybe they could jus’ vanish,” he shrugged.
“And as for your other little friends, what are their names? Willow and her
husband Oz, and Xander and his cousin Tara. I can’t remember the other bird’s
name. Well there’s no reason you can’t still see them, as long as you keep
your mouth shut, they’ll be safe. When your mum and sis get back from the
good old mother land you can introduce them to your new boss, hell you can
even tell them you’re my P.A with a live-in position and all the perks.”

His speech had such a ring of finality to it. Buffy felt the last of her
strength seep away her mind was reeling, trying to get to grips with
everything that he’d said. The whole night had been one terrifying nightmare
from the minute they’d got into the limo. There’d been times she thought it
would come to an end but now hope was fading fast.

“I want to see Angel.” It was the only thing she could think of. Call his
bluff. If he didn’t have Angel then logically he couldn’t take her to see
him, but if he did…

“Right now?” Spike smiled.

“Yes, right now. Unless of course you can’t,” she challenged.

He swung her legs off his lap and hopped up. Taking her hand he headed for
the door.

“Wait…my shoes,” she gasped.

Spike glanced at her feet. “You won’t need them.” He tugged on her hand
making her follow him.

Reaching the elevator he pushed a button, immediately the doors slid open.

“The house is pretty big I’ll give you a basic tour tomorrow. On the whole
you won’t be restricted as to where you go, but I’ll point out the ‘no go
areas’ to you on the tour, though where I’m takin’ you now is most
definitely the number one no go area and besides myself, only Luke has the
authority to escort you there.” Raising their entwined hands he studied her
smaller one marveling at the delicacy of it, he caressed her knuckles with
his thumb.

The phone on the wall rang, Spike snatched it up. Buffy listened to the
one-sided conversation.

“Yes?”

“What took you so long?”

“I see, is Gilbey with you?”

“Good meet me at the Holdin’ Rooms…yes now.”

He hung up.

Spike turned to Buffy gazing at her thoughtfully. Feeling his eyes on her
she glanced at him and then quickly glanced away. Slowly he backed her into
a corner, trapping her there. He gazed down at her not moving, waiting for
her to look at him. Nervously she peered at him from under her lashes.

“Now I don’t need to tell you to behave down ‘ere…do I?” Buffy shook her
head silently. “That’s a good girl ‘cause I’d hate to see you get ‘urt, Luke
can be a bit rough with little girls, so can I for that matter and I don’t
think you’d like it rough. Do you?” Frightened she shook her head again.

Spike glanced over his shoulder at the open doors, he hadn’t noticed they’d
reached the sub-level. Smiling at her he tugged her hand. “C’mon luv let’s
go see your boyfriend.”

He led her down a narrow corridor with caged lights fixed to the walls well
above head height. Luke and Gilbey were waiting for them beside a
re-enforced steel fire door. They turned when they heard Spike’s voice.
“Okay open up then, Ms. Summers wants to see Angel.”

Luke thumped on the door. Buffy could hear the sound of a key being turned
in the lock, within moments the door swung inwards, held open by a stranger.
The man spoke to Spike, but Buffy didn’t hear what he said she was too
preoccupied by the stares she was getting from both Luke and Gilbey.

The man preceded them down the corridor to another locked steel door, he
knocked and they waited for it to be opened. The process was repeated one
more time at a third fire door, the man there guided them into what Buffy
thought was a staff room.

There was a row of steel lockers on one wall next to an old couch. A coffee
machine and mugs sat on a table shoved against the far wall, and another
table with miss-matched chairs stood in the middle of the floor. Two men sat
at the table clearly in the middle of a card game, arguing over something
while their companion was away opening the door to them. They jumped up when
they saw Spike and the others enter the room.

Luke addressed them, “Wait outside lads.”

They left shooting curious glances at Buffy and her shoe-less feet.

Spike pulled her into the room; it was then that she spotted the window set
into the wall on one side. It looked like framed black glass. Spike
reached for a dial and suddenly she could see into a room that had
previously been cloaked in darkness. The room was similar to the one they
were standing in but the only real difference being the other room had a bed
in it, and on the bed lay a sleeping Angel.

Buffy gasped. He looked terrible. How long had he been there? She wondered.
His clothes looked as if he’d been in them for weeks, and the dark shadow of
a beard covered most of his face but she could clearly see it was Angel.

He seemed to be sleeping awkwardly, his position uncomfortable. Then she saw
the handcuffs imprisoning one wrist to the bed frame. Seeing him there like
that made her heart ache. He’d always been such a compelling man; handsome
and commanding, now he looked totally altered, brought down, reduced to a
chained wretch. Tears sprang to her eyes, she couldn’t help them.

Here was the evidence she’d requested and Spike had given it to her without
qualm. She’d challenged him and lost. She felt utterly defeated.

“Can I speak to him?” Buffy was amazed her voice sounded as steady as it
did.

“No.”

She hadn’t expected him to say yes.

“Why can’t I?” she asked, keeping her eyes fixed on Angel trying to take in
his altered state.

“You said you wanted to see him. Well you’ve seen him and there’s no use you
tryin’ to shout…he can’t hear you,” he told her tapping the glass. “It’s a
sound proof room, they all are down ‘ere.” Spike caught her arm turning her
to look at him. He could see the defeat in her eyes and knew the fight had
gone out of her. For how long remained to be seen. “It’s late, you’re
exhausted you need to get some rest and I think we should go back upstairs
and…”

“NO!” The second she’d heard the words ‘back upstairs’ she flipped. The last
place she wanted to go was back up there with him. She pulled out of his
grip backing away, wildly scanning for a way out, but Luke was blocking the
door as solid as a brick wall. Fear and panic had a hold of her.

Snapping, she blindly launched herself at the much bigger man, heedless to the
danger to herself.

Taken by surprise Luke didn’t have time to protect his face before the
crazed girl struck, he felt the sting of her nails as she got in one good
swipe. In a flurry of action Spike and Gilbey fell on her from two sides.
Spike trying to lock onto her flaying hands and Gilbey seizing her waist
from behind, hauling her away from Luke. Spun about her feet dangling above
the floor she wriggled and thrashed in his arms, Spike stepped in to try and
subdue her. She was screaming and ranting as she struggled consumed by
panic, even seeing Spike’s thunderous expression didn’t slow her.

Gilbey let her feet drop to the floor, transferring his hold to her upper
body pinning her arms to her sides. Finding herself practically immobile she
screamed in rage and frustration.

Spike’s powerful slap knocked her head back and sideways cutting off her
screams. Yanking her head back by her hair he hissed in her face. “That was
very, very stupid. Didn’t I warn you to behave? And didn’t you agree to do
it? I’ve a good mind to toss you to Luke. Aaargh!” he snarled, releasing her
and stepping back.

“Let her go,” he told Gilbey.

As soon as Gilbey unlocked his arms Spike grabbed her by her blouse and
pushed her towards the door that Luke was opening. The force of the push
sent her flying into Luke and the door frame. Luke shrugged her off knocking
her to the floor of the corridor, Buffy scrambled away from him but Spike
caught up to her hauling her off the floor. He shoved her in the direction
of the way out. Buffy skidded into one of the men who’d been playing cards,
automatically he put his hands out to steady her but Spike hauled her away
pushing her down the corridor.

“Get the doors open. NOW!” he yelled. Startled the key holder raced ahead to
unlock the steel door.

By the time they got there the door was open. Luke swiftly striding ahead to
get the next door opened. Spike continued to roughly push and shove Buffy
before him with a callous disregard as to how she bumped into the walls.

She stumbled her way through the second door looking like an ice skater
about to over balance, her stocking feet gliding dangerously on the smooth
surface of the floor. Unrelenting Spike harried her towards the last door,
she could see Luke holding it open for them. As they came closer Spike gave
her a particularly vicious shove that sent her crashing into the frame; her
shoulder hitting it with a dull thump, the impact causing her to cry out in
agony. Unsympathetic to her yelp of pain Spike just shoved her through the
doorway past Luke and all the way to the elevator. Once the doors were open
he pushed her down into a corner silently standing over her.

Luke and Gilbey joined them, riding with them all the way to the top floor.
Once again Spike hauled her to her feet and proceeded to push and shove her
all the way down the landing back to the sitting room, he only stopped when
they finally crossed the entrance.

Luke and Gilbey stood expectantly in the doorway. Spike saw them hovering.
“I can handle it from ‘ere. But until Ms. Summers learns to behave herself I
want an armed man on the door to these rooms at all times, and she’s to be
escorted by one of you two, Dixon or Cooper everywhere, and I do mean
everywhere.”

“Yes boss. I’ll get Marti on the door tonight and work out a roster in the
morning,” Luke replied.

Spike nodded. “Fine, ‘ave it ready for me to look at by lunch time.”

Alone with Buffy he cursed himself a million ways for been such a total
dip-shit, he should’ve known that when undeniably faced with the reality of
her situation she’d react like any cornered creature. Survival instincts
kicked in and she came out fighting, it was only to be expected. He consoled
himself with the thought that he’d learn by his mistakes and so would she.

Her panic attack had drained her completely he’d watched her slump into the
nearest chair when he’d stopped driving her forward. Now, she was looking at
him dry eyed and fearful, a fiery red blemish marring her pretty face. He
hated seeing it. It screamed at him, evidence that he’d lost his temper and
lost control of her. He hoped she learned quickly for both their sakes.

Assertively he offered her his hand. “I’ll show you to your room.”

Paying no attention to his hand she stood up, but he wouldn’t let her ignore
him.

“Take my hand,” he growled. Reluctantly she did as she was told.

Heading to the far end of the room he turned them slightly towards a
previously hidden alcove, opening the door there he led her into a large
bedroom. The décor reflected the sitting room, with the same royal blue
carpet and cream silk curtains. The huge bed was dressed in a combination of
royal blue and cream trimmed with gold, all the fitted furniture was of a
light Maple. Banking the entire wall opposite the bed was a floor to ceiling
wardrobe, the sliding doors were fronted with full length mirrors, giving the
impression that the wall was one giant mirror.

Buffy thought only a vain egotist would want something so tacky. The rest of
the furniture was built following on, chests of drawers and low cabinets, and
a large dressing table with an equally large mirror above. All the mirrors
were lit from well placed mini spot lights giving a glow of soft light to
the hard surfaces. Georgian doors stood either side of the bed leading,
Buffy guessed, out onto the balcony. She could just make out a bathroom
through a partially open door.

“All your clothes and stuff ‘ave been put away in the wardrobes and
cupboards, your books, CD’s and other personal stuff are still boxed up in
one of the store rooms I’ll ‘ave it all brought up to you tomorrow.” He
glanced at her, she was looking at the mirror wall with distaste. “You should
find everythin’ you need in the bathroom, I believe all your stuff got
shifted there as well but let me know if anythin’s missin’.”

She hadn’t said a word since he’d slapped her, her silence was a bit
worrying. Losing his temper like that had been a mistake, she wasn’t the type
of girl who’d be used to such rough treatment and if not handled right she
could easily crack. Spike didn’t want that, he wanted her whole physically
and mentally, she was no use to him broken. Seeing her blank gaze flutter
about the room, he realized she was in shock.

“Wait ‘ere, I’ll be right back,” he told her.

When he came back she was right where he’d left her, she hadn’t even moved an
inch. He fetched her a glass of water from the bathroom and handed her a
couple of pills. “Here, take these.” She looked doubtfully at the pills in
his hand then at him. “They’re only sleepin’ pills…c’mon take them, they’ll
make you feel better,” he softly coaxed.

Passively she took the pills and swallowed them. After searching the draws
until he found a night shirt he went to help her get ready for bed, keeping
his movements small and non-threatening he reached for the buttons on her
blouse. He’d undone three before Buffy snapped out of her daze slapping his
hands away.

“NO! Don’t touch me,” she snapped angrily. Snatching the night shirt from
where it was draped over his arm and pushing past him she rushed to the
bathroom slamming the door behind her. Spike sat on the bed waiting for her
to come out, he was glad to see her spark of assertiveness return. He smiled
when he heard her fumbling at the door, probably looking for the lock that
wasn’t there.

When she re-emerged from the bathroom twenty minutes later he was still
sitting on the bed. She was wearing her bathrobe over the night shirt, he
smiled at how the bulky garment made her look so tiny. She came into the
room, hesitantly glancing at him. He came round the side of the bed and
pulled the covers back nodding for her to get in. When she stood her ground
he backed off far enough from the bed to let her know she didn’t have to
fear him.

Carefully watching him for any sudden movements she climbed onto the bed and
scurried under the covers still wearing her bath robe. Spike had to suppress
his laughter at that, he knew fine well she didn’t sleep in anything half as
bulky as the bath robe.

Chuckling he said. “Don’t be so daft, you’ll overheat wearin’ that thing.
Take it off.” When she didn’t move he sighed. “If you don’t take it off I’ll
come over there and take it off for you.”

Slowly she began to fidget under the covers. He realized she was trying to
wriggle out of the robe without having to expose herself to his gaze. He
smiled wondering what she’d say if she knew exactly how much of her lovely
body he’d already seen. She pushed her hand out to the side letting the robe
plop to the floor.

“That’s better. Now listen carefully to what I’ve got to say luv ‘cause I
don’t want any misunderstandin’s, and I don’t want you makin’ me lose my
temper again.” He kept his distance from the bed. “There IS an armed man at
the front door and the balcony doors ARE all locked there is no way for you
to leave this suite without me knowin'. So, for your own sake don’t even think
‘bout tryin’, I don’t want to ‘urt you, but that doesn’t mean I won’t if I
think you deserve it.” Buffy peered at him from over the satiny covers, lost
and tiny in the massive bed. “My room is on the opposite side of the sittin’
room and I’m a very light sleeper, if I hear anythin’ suspicious comin’ from
this room at any time of the night I’ll be in ‘ere within seconds.” Spike
slowly walked towards her squatting down beside the bed he held her gaze.
“Believe me if you try anythin’ funny and cause me to lose my temper you
won’t want me in ‘ere in the middle of the night.” Her eyes were swimming
with tears her bottom lip trembling but she held his gaze bravely. “Do you
understand me?”

She nodded her head. “Then tell me you understand.”

“I understand,” she whispered.

“Good girl.” He leaned forward and kissed her brow. Standing he walked to
the door and removed the key from the lock placing it on the opposite side.
She was watching him her eyes glazing over from the effects of the sleeping
pills, half asleep already. He was satisfied she wouldn’t be any more
trouble tonight, but just in case he’d lock the door no point in taking
chances. “Goodnight Buffy,” he said softly to the tiny figure in the
bed, closing and locking the door as he left.

*************************************************************



Chapter Ten.

Conditioning.


When Buffy woke the bedroom was flooded with light and the balcony doors were open. Memory and awareness crashed into her with the force of a
hurricane. Groaning she turned over and came face to face with Spike sitting
on the edge of her bed, she jumped blinking at him uncomprehendingly.

“Good mornin’…no make that good afternoon. How d'you feel?” he asked.

“What do you care?” she croaked. Her throat was dry and sore as were her
eyes and her head was pounding.

“Oooh! Someone’s not a mornin’ person,” he chuckled.

“I thought you said it was afternoon.” She was trying to wriggle as far away
from him as she could without being obvious.

“It is, and I do care. Your welfare is very important to me.” He’d noticed
her inching away from him. He smiled at her. “I’m sorry I can’t let you stay
in bed all day luv, but there are things you need to do.”

“Like what? Betray another innocent woman to a vicious pimp or assist you in manipulating some helpless prisoner. I think I’d rather stay in bed,” she
snapped sarcastically.

“An innocent whore, now there’s a novel thought, though I ‘ave to say you’re wrong ‘bout Angel he’s not helpless, he’s got you.” The smile was gone from his face replaced with a leering smirk. “But if you insist on stayin’ in bed maybe I should join you, it wasn’t quite the work I had in mind, but…if you’d…”

She was slamming the bathroom door, cutting off his words and laughter
before he could finish whatever crude suggestion he was about to make.

Buffy was angry with herself she’d made those last remarks too easy for him, leaving herself wide open like that would only give him the opportunity to tease and torment her. She searched for the lock and then remembered there wasn’t one. Frowning at the door, biting her lower lip at the thought of
him following her into the bathroom and knowing there was nothing she could do to stop him. She held her breath waiting to see if he would.

She jumped at his soft knock on the door and flung her weight against it.

“Go away,” she shouted.

He called back through the wood. “If you’re not out of there and in the
sittin’ room in twenty minutes I’ll come in and drag you out.”

She could hear the soft tread of his feet as he walked away from the door
then the distinctive click of the outer door opening and closing. She waited
a few moments before opening the bathroom door to check that she was alone. Relieved he’d gone she quickly shut the door again and turned on the shower. She found towels in a closet and hung them on the rail within easy reach. Resentfully Buffy viewed her toiletries arranged on the counter. The
thoughts of strangers packing up her belongings, going through her personal
things without her knowledge or permission made her both outraged and
mortified.

There was nothing she could do about it now, maybe not ever. Buffy pushed
that angry thought away, she had to get through this and she could only do
that one day at a time, maybe one hour at a time. She resolved herself to
keeping calm and dealing with whatever Spike had in store for her.

Thinking of the man made her shudder; she was still reeling over the
events of the previous night, struggling to understand how she’d been
maneuvered into this situation. A nights rest hadn’t helped any. She was
having trouble sorting her thoughts; her mind kept leaping back to Faith’s
rape and Harmony’s look of total despair, she knew she’d never be able to
forgive herself for her part in that. It was torturous worrying and
wondering where her friends were now. Were they all right? Did they blame
her for causing the nightmarish ordeal they were subjected to? Buffy tried
to block out the hellish sounds and images that kept playing out in her
head.

It was all made worse by the knowledge that Spike had only used her
association with Lily and the girls as a ploy to trap her here. Her friends
were suffering because of her, and she was suffering because of Angel, and
Angel would suffer because…because what…? Because he’d turned his back on the evil that had been his life…because Spike hated him…because he’d taken something belonging to Spike? What had he taken?

Spike hadn’t said, or at least she couldn’t remember if he had. Buffy
couldn’t imagine Spike being solely driven by the desire to retrieve some
stolen object and concluded that his desire to make Angel suffer was driven
by hate. Everything she’d witnessed and been subjected to so far was most
certainly the actions of a callous and depraved mad man, and she’d be a fool
to think of him any differently.

Faith’s advice to keep her mouth shut was still good and Buffy thought she’d
go one better and add, don’t do anything that might jeopardize anyone’s
safety, she had to think of her Mum, Dawn and her friends. Spike had
made it spitefully clear that their safety was her responsibility, as was
Angel’s. He had it all worked out, to her friends and family it would simply
look as if she’d given up one job for another.

Only Faith, Cordelia, Harmony and Angel would know the truth and they were in no position to do anything to help her.

There was no way for her to know how long she’d been in the bathroom, but she had a feeling it was getting close to the twenty minute mark. Mild panic
swelled inside her as she threw her comb onto the counter letting her wet
hair hang loose about her.

She gasped in horror when she spotted the empty space behind the door where her bathrobe should have been. How could she have been so stupid as to forget it was still lying on the floor next to the bed, right where she’d
dropped it the night before? Now she was faced with leaving the bathroom
wrapped in her towel, or redress into her nightshirt neither gave her much
coverage.

Buffy opened the door just enough to scan the room for Spike. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw there was no one there. With the towel tightly
wrapped around her she scurried to the wardrobe, grabbing the first suitable
things that came to her hands, a pair of blue jeans and a simple white
buttoned blouse.

Clutching her clothes she hunted for her underwear. The massive wardrobe had lots of vacant space, her clothes only took up a quarter of the interior, so
it was fairly easy to see that everything was there…except for her underwear.

Turning her attention to the chests of drawers she began opening the different drawers trying to find which one held her things. The first two chests proved to be completely empty the third one was filled with her hair styling things. She skipped quickly to the fourth chest opening the top drawer she found it filled with lingerie, only not hers. There were items of lace and silk in an array of colors and styles, some very pretty and girly, others sexy and provocative. Puzzled by her find she wondered who they could have belonged to.

Spike had been on the balcony when he heard her rummaging in the cupboards; her twenty minutes had been up five minutes ago. She didn’t hear him enter the room through the open balcony door and she didn’t see the look on his face when he first caught sight of her. She was wrapped in a large cream towel with her drying hair spread across her shoulders and back, her golden limbs still glistening with drops of water, once again her artless beauty aroused him intensely. He noticed her bewildered expression in the dressing table mirror and walked silently towards her to see what had her so
perplexed. When he saw what she was holding in her hands he smiled.

“I see you found my gift,” he said.

Startled Buffy screamed dropping the lacy bits on the floor. Spike was
standing within arms reach of her with a look of lust in his eyes. His gaze
slowly moved over her body as if he could see right through the towel to her
naked flesh. Buffy brought the clothes she was clutching up to try and
shield herself from his inspection.

Slowly he bent down and picked up the dropped items. He offered them to her, his gaze fixed on her face, the look in his eyes burning her.

“You dropped these,” his voice was deep and soft.

She took a step back as if he’d offered her a snake. “They’re not mine. I
couldn’t find mine,” she quickly told him.

“They are yours I jus’ told you they’re a gift.” When she wouldn’t take the
things from his hand he reached past her and dropped them in the drawer. Her face showed her utter disgust at his words.

Angrily she slammed the drawer shut demanding. “Where are my things?”

“Like I said, in that drawer,” he calmly stated. He was admiring her flushed
skin and rapid breathing, she was beautiful all fired up. He opened the drawer, fishing inside until he found something to his liking; a blue and white lace and satin matching bra and thong. Dangling the scraps of fabric from his fingers he backed her up towards the bathroom.

“Now since your twenty minutes were up ten minutes ago I really should jus’ rip that towel off you and drag you into the sittin’ room naked. But I’m in a good mood and am willin’ to overlook your disobedience this one time.” As his words registered her expression changed from anger to fear. “Now be a good girl and take these and get dressed.”

Buffy looked at the pretty scraps of blue and white with distaste.

“Buffy!” he snapped. “My men are sittin’ in the next room and if you don’t
want me to strip you naked and parade you in front of them I suggest you do
as you’re told. I’m sure they won’t mind the show…I know I sure as hell
won’t.”

Swallowing nervously Buffy gently took the lacy bits and quietly went into
the bathroom.

She dressed quickly not bothering to check her appearance in the mirror,
anxious to feel the small measure of safety being clothed would give her.
The underwear fit perfectly, but then it would. He obviously knew a lot more
about her then she thought possible.

She re-emerged from the bathroom minutes later pulling her still damp hair
into a sloppy bun at the base of her neck. Spike was waiting right where
she’d left him. He gave her appearance a quick scan his eyes finding her
face lit up with an expression she couldn’t fathom.

What the hell is he staring at? She wondered.

Spike was momentarily mesmerized by the young woman who stood before him. Her hair arranged in such a casually girly way, her face devoid of any trace of make-up and with the early afternoon light shinning on her she looked about seventeen. Sweet and innocent not made for the harsh realities of this world.

“What! Wasn’t I quick enough?” she snapped waspishly.

Or maybe not. Appearances could be deceptive she was a lot tougher then she looked. Good, she’d need to be. “No, you bleedin’ weren’t. Now come on.”

He strode off heading for the sitting room.

Spike’s men were all there making the room seem full. Dixon and Gilbey were at the bar, Luke was talking on the phone and Wesley was fixing coffee from a service cart filled with various food stuffs. He looked up when he heard them enter the room giving Buffy a small smile.

Her mouth watered the second the coffee aroma hit her nose. Spike went over to Luke leaving Buffy standing hesitantly on the edge of the room.

“Good afternoon Ms. Summers, can I get you a cup of coffee?” Wesley offered.

She nodded her head. “Uh, yes please.”

He guided her towards a table on the balcony. Setting the coffee cup down in
front of her he vanished back into the sitting room. Moments later he
reappeared pushing the service cart towards her.

“You missed breakfast, so Spike had a selection of things sent up for you.”

At the mention of Spike’s name she visibly stiffened. “I’m not hungry, thank
you.”

“Please don’t be foolish Ms. Summers you’re going to need to keep your
strength up.” He was looking at her so earnestly. Lowering his voice he
said. “If you don’t eat of your own free will he will find a way to force
you.”

She heard the warning in his words. He placed a plate in front of her,
arranged on it was some cheese and crackers, fresh fruit and a couple of
mini blueberry muffins. “Please Ms. Summers, don’t make this harder for
yourself.” He pushed the plate a little nearer to her. “Please,” he
entreated.

She nodded her head unable to meet his eyes. Spike had heard the exchange as he came through the doors.

“I hope you’re not makin’ any moves on my girl Wes,” he teased, moving onto the balcony.

“What! I was merely trying to make sure Ms. Summers…wasn’t neglected,” Wesley stammered.

Spike was gazing at Buffy’s flushed face. “Oh, I can promise you Wesley the last thing Ms. Summers is goin’ to be is neglected.”

Buffy’s head shot up her eyes burning with hate and anger.

Spike laughed, she had no idea how much fun this was for him. He’d expected her to beg and plead and beg some more for her safety, just like she’d begged him not to force her into choosing one of her friends to work for Trick. He’d looked forward to that so much, but when it came to herself
so far she hadn’t begged once. This was so much better she was all hot and
prickly shooting hate filled looks and snapping biting little comments at
him. She was strong willed and willful, sassy and brave and she could pack
quite a kick the little minx, and he was enjoying every minute of it. The
trick would be to bend her to his will, make her toe the line without her
losing any of her cheeky charms.

“Some peoples attentions I could happily do without,” she replied angrily.

He took a seat opposite her. “And if some people lost interest in you and
stopped payin’ you attention…well who knows whose attention you might
attract.” His eyes swiveled towards the three men inside the sitting room,
Buffy followed his gaze his meaning perfectly clear.

“But that is never goin’ to happen,” he picked her hand up and brought it to
his mouth kissing the backs of her fingers gently. “Because you are a most
captivatin’ woman whose charms I can’t imagine ever tirin’ of.”

Buffy was so shocked that she didn’t even snatch her hand away as he
continued to kiss it. He glanced at her when she didn’t move, his look
sending little tingles coursing through her. That shocked her more and she
snatched her fingers from his light clasp.

Wesley broke the tension. “Don’t forget your food Ms. Summers,” he said. He was looking at Spike worriedly.

Buffy gratefully busied herself with her plate.

“Did you brin’ those files up?” Spike asked Wesley.

“Yes. I’ll go fetch them.” Wesley turned to go back into the sitting room.

“Is that all you’re goin’ to eat?” Spike asked, frowning at her.

“I’m not very hungry,” she mumbled into her coffee cup.

“Well maybe you’ll feel like somethin’ more substantial later.”

She was picking at the bits on her plate. Spike helped himself to coffee and
refilled her cup. She was looking around now, much in the same way she
had last night when she’d first entered the sitting room. Her expression was
one of curiosity and guarded admiration as it swept over the commanding view the balcony afforded of the gardens and surrounding countryside.

“As soon as you’ve finished eatin’ you need to ring your mum. Then I’ll give you that tour of the house if you like.”

“Ring my mum?”

“Yeah, ‘ave you forgotten she’s goin’ to London tomorrow? You need to get in touch with her ‘cause she’s been tryin’ to get hold of you probably to tell
you ‘bout her trip,” he explained. “And don’t forget to sound surprised we
wouldn’t want her twiggin’ on, now would we?”

“No of course not. Twiggin’ on is the last thing we’d want,”
she said sarcastically in a poor imitation of his accent.

Spike laughed at that. Oh, yeah he liked this girl. She definitely had lots
of sass.

“And how do you know she’s been trying to reach me?” she asked ignoring his laughter.

Still chuckling Spike stretched his legs under the table so he could pull
her phone out of the pocket of his tight black jeans. “That’s how…if you
scan missed calls you’ll see she’s called you three times already,” he said,
handing her the phone.

Wesley came back onto the balcony carrying an arm load of folders. He took a seat between Spike and Buffy placing the folders on the table. Taking the
first one he handed it to Spike. Spike glanced at it and offered it to Buffy.

“I’m goin’ to give you two weeks to study these files. When you’ve finished
you’ll start your new job.”

“You mean the job’s real?” she asked in amazement. The file he’d given her
was a report on the personnel of a hotel called The Orange Grove. She
glanced at the large stack.

“Yeah it’s real, and though you make a very pretty trophy luv, no one sits around ‘ere idle everyone has to earn their keep, even you. As you can see they’re personnel reports for different legitimate businesses, what I want you to do is oversee each personnel officer. If they’ve got problems they’ll brin’ it to you, if you can’t deal with it you brin’ it to me.”

Buffy looked at the two of them skeptically. “This job isn’t real, you’re
just trying to keep me busy or something,” she mumbled.

“Oh, the job’s real, it used to be part of Wesley’s duties but I’ve promoted
him to bigger and better things.”

The job had been Wesley’s idea he’d pointed out to Spike that if he was
going to keep Buffy here then she’d need something constructive to do and
not just the lie she’d have to tell her friends and family. If the job was
real she wouldn’t be lying. Unless of course he intended to keep her chained
to a bed like Angel. That idea had a certain appeal but Wesley was right,
this needed to be as normal as possible and a job would ground her.

Tossing the folder back on the pile she said. “I don’t want to work for
you.”

“Why not? The pays good.”

“Because you’re a criminal, and I don’t care about the pay.”

“The businesses are legitimate, I wouldn’t let you near anythin’ you might
find offensive.”

“Really, so where does the profits from these legitimate businesses go?”
Buffy was getting agitated, did he think she was stupid? She answered for
him. “It goes into your pocket where you use it to fund other less
legitimate businesses and IF like you say, you wouldn’t let me near anything
I might find offensive, why are you here?”

Spike was glaring at her, his jaw twitching the knuckles on his hands showing white. Wesley looked between them, he couldn’t believe that she would provoke Spike like this. He’d heard from one of the men at the Holding Rooms what had happened last night and wondered if Buffy had learned nothing from the experience, didn’t she realize just how volatile Spike could be?

Wesley tried to defuse the potential eruption. “As you say Ms. Summers, but…”

Spike leaned forward and silenced him with a gesture. His cold glare pinning
Buffy. She held her breath nervously.

“You’ll work for me one way or another and earn every penny of it. And if
you’re offended by me now then you’re in for a world of pain and anguish,
‘cause you ‘ave no idea how much worse I can be…but if you keep this up
you’re goin’ to find out…soon,” he hissed.

She glanced at the other men as they wandered onto the balcony. Gilbey
grinned at her his scar stretching into an even uglier formation, Luke’s
expression was indifferent. Buffy noticed he had a long scratch on the side
of his face. Had she done that? She wasn’t sure, she supposed it was possible
that Faith had managed to mark the big man. Dixon’s amused smile had her
looking away to Wesley who was shaking his head.

She dropped her gaze to her plate the silence hung heavy on the group.

Spike turned to the others. “Well sit down,” he barked at them.

When they’d pulled up chairs from different areas of the balcony and were
sitting he addressed them all. “I’m goin’ to say this for Buffy’s sake so I
hope you’re payin’ attention luv…you’ve all met Ms. Summers and I’m sure she won’t deny meetin’ you. Now Ms. Summers has joined the family, but a lot of things will be…new and difficult for her so it’s up to us to make it as easy and uncomplicated as possible for her,” he fixed his men with a hard glare. “You’re to show her proper respect, that means you address her as Ms. Summers and you make sure all the other men know that, and if any one harms her they’ll answer to me personally, no one touches her without my permission. And Buffy,” she looked up at him. “I won’t stand for you actin’ the way you did last night, you’re to treat my men with respect, to not do so would be a big mistake; they ‘ave my permission to protect themselves with force if necessary so consider yourself warned.”

He sighed turning back to his men. “From now on everywhere Ms. Summers goes has to be cleared with me, she’s not to be alone at any time in any part of the house or grounds ‘cept for this suite where there’s to be a man on the
door whenever she’s in ‘ere, even if I’m ‘ere, as for leavin’ the grounds
that jus’ doesn’t happen without me. Is everyone clear on that?” His men
gave him conformation. Buffy didn’t respond. “Buffy is that clear?”

What she wanted to say wasn’t possible so she bit her tongue and simply
nodded her understanding.

Spike smiled warmly at her. “Good, welcome to the family Buffy.”

Buffy felt like a death sentence had just been passed on her.

After that Spike talked with his men about things that didn’t involve her,
leaving her to finish her food feeling overwhelmed and more then a little
intimidated. If his speech was in any way supposed to make her feel safe
because she was under his protection it missed the mark by miles. Looking at the men gathered around she understood that all it would take was for Spike to give the word and any one of them would rape or kill her, and she was supposed to believe he would protect her from that. But who would protect her from him? She recognized the truth; that from now on she was living on his whim, and he was the knife at her throat.

She pushed her plate away, unable to eat another bite, and sat patiently
waiting for him to notice her.

Dixon and Gilbey left followed five minutes later by Luke. Wesley was
skimming through the stack of files, pulling one out he offered it to her.
“I think I’ll give you a chance to look through these reports Ms. Summers
before I go over any questions you might have, it will save time that way.
I’ve placed them in order starting with the easiest at the top and the
more problematic towards the bottom, I suggest you work in that order.”

Buffy wasn’t showing any real signs of interest. She knew she’d do the job
as she had no choice, but she didn’t have to show any enthusiasm for the
task.

“Once you’re ready to begin working on the individual cases, there’ll be an office made available to you and a secretary who’ll type up
your reports for you.”

“That’s all I have to do. Read these reports then phone or meet with the
individual personnel managers and give them my suggestions and get a
secretary to type up my reports?” Wesley was nodding and smiling at her.
“Wesley you had an easy job.”

Spike and Wesley both laughed at that. “Well it isn’t all I did and
depending on how well you cope with these tasks I think it safe to say that
your job description could be subject for review. But don’t worry about that
now, if you hit any problems I’ll be more than happy to help you out,” he
said, smiling.

She gave him a shy smile back.

Bloody hell! Spike thought with some amusement, What do we have here, could it be that Wesley might just cushion the transition for her? That might not be such a good idea, best not to let them get too chummy.

He’d instruct Luke and the others that Wesley wasn’t to be left on his own
with her. In fact, it was most defiantly better if she made the transition
without Wesley, better all around if she was forced into turning to him with
any problems. Wesley could be found something else to do far away from
little Miss Sassy.

“That’s alright Wes, if Buffy has any problems I’ll deal with them, in fact
I’ve decided that when she’s ready she can share office space with me,” he
smiled pleasantly at the two of them. “As head of the family it’s up to me
to make sure Buffy feels right at ‘ome in every way.”

“Well yes of course, if you think it best.”

“I do.”

“I don’t,” Buffy mumbled under her breath.

Spike and Wesley both looked at her but she quickly averted her gaze.

“Well I can see you’ve finished eatin’ so how ‘bout makin’ that call to your
mum?”

The call to her mum had been so hard for her. She kept waiting for her mum
to be all intuitive and ask her what was wrong, but she didn’t, instead she
gushed and babbled about her ‘out of the blue once in a life time’
trip to London. Buffy, under the watchful gaze of Spike, had made all the
right noises in all the right places while feeling cold and empty inside.
Listening to her mum and sister’s enthusiasm she wondered if she’d ever be
able to join them in anything so simple and normal again. Had all joy and
happiness been stolen from her? She feared it had.

When she handed the phone back to Spike he could see how dejected she was but he was determined not to let her wallow in her mood.

“Let me show you the house,” he said, taking her hand gently. He tightened his grip when she tried to pull away, giving her a warning look.

“Can I put some shoes on?” she asked.

He looked at her bare feet and saw the pink polish winking at him. He
smiled. “As long as you don’t try and kick me…which you do like a mule by
the way.” He followed her into her bedroom and watched her hunt for her
shoes.

“That comes from having a sister.”

“Pardon!”

“She was a hair puller I was a kicker,” she said in way of explanation, her
head peering inside a closet.

“I guess you had to ‘ave siblings to appreciate that but since I was an only
child I wouldn’t know.”

She pulled her head out of the closet with a pair of shoes in her hand. “I’d
never have guessed,” she said dryly.

She plopped herself on the floor like a twelve year old to put her shoes on.
Then out of nowhere she asked, “Does Angel know I’m here?” Her head was bowed over her feet.

When he didn’t answer she looked up at him.

“No.”

“Oh.”

“But he will.”

“When?”

“Tonight, we’re goin’ to see him after dinner.”

“Can I…will you let me talk to him?”

“Maybe, it depends.”

“On what?”

“On whether or not I think you’ve behaved yourself today, you ‘aven’t gotten off to a great start.” Seeing the angry little look on her face he added,
“But if you promise to be good we can start again.”

Shaking her head Buffy said, “I’m not making any promises to you.”

“Fine then, you’ll jus’ ‘ave to wait and see.”

They began the tour at the sub levels. Buffy was surprised to find there
were two sub levels giving the house a total of five floors. The Holding
Rooms where Angel was being held were on sub level two as was a very
impressive fully equipped gym, with a sauna, hot tub and a large, heated
swimming pool. Buffy thought she’d be spending a lot of time there. Spike
told her she could have full use of the exercise area as long as she checked
with him to make sure no one else was using it. He pointed out to her she
was the only female member of the house except for the middle aged
housekeeper, and it wouldn’t be a good idea to parade herself around half
dressed in front of his men.

The next sub level was where the kitchens and most of the staff quarters
were. The kitchen was vast; Buffy had never seen anything like it. Spike was
explaining about the house phone system, he told her all the phones had to
go through a main switch board to get an outside line and all calls were
monitored, but she was free to use the phones for internal use. If she wanted
an outside line she’d have to ask permission from him; as the switch board
staff had already been instructed that unless he went on line first to grant
her the line they weren’t to give it.

They made their way up to the ground floor, where only last night she’d had
her first glimpse of this man who was hell bent on controlling her life.
This floor was divided into two; one half was given over to office space,
eight in all. He told her she didn’t need to concern herself with those
areas, the only office she would be allowed into was his. The office he
showed her was easily the size of the sitting room upstairs and was a blend
of study and library with dark wood floors and shelving, deep pile rugs and
soft leather chairs. Spike’s desk was positioned at one end and he explained
he’d make arrangements to have another brought in for her. Buffy couldn’t
help noticing the triple sets of Georgian doors leading outside to a
beautiful garden with a vast array of flowers and shrubs. The lawn looked so
green and fresh that she imagined what it would feel like under her bare
feet. Spike saw the way she was gazing out at the garden and thought it
might be a good idea to have an awning erected, so she could sit outside on
the patio while he worked inside. He’d talk to Wesley.

The rest of the ground floor was fairly normal, a number of reception rooms
including the one they were in last night, a large formal dinning room, as
well as a less formal breakfast room, a large TV and entertainment room
complete with a mini hide-away cinema screen, and an adjoining games room, with two pool tables and a bar. But Buffy liked the last room he showed her the best, it was a large sun room full of pretty hothouse plants and flowers.

From the sun room Spike led her into the garden, taking a slow walk around the parameter of the house. Buffy loved the gardens, they were all beautiful,
when they got to the back of the house she was delighted to see a pair of
fountains almost identical to the one at the front of the house but half the
size, and instead of dolphins in a ring touching nose to tail it was mermaids
in a ring holding hands. Even in the daylight they were beautiful.

Spike, seeing her awe at the works of art, pointed up to the top floor balcony
to draw her attention to the fact that she would be able to see the
fountains all lit up from any part of the balcony at night time. Leading her
further into the grounds he showed her the tennis courts and the outdoor
swimming pool.

The display of wealth was overwhelming. She’d known Angel had lived a life of affluence but she’d never imagined this, everywhere she looked screamed money.

Back inside the house they continued the tour. She thought Spike was going
to show her the first floor but when they got into the elevator he pressed
the button for the top floor, when she asked him why he explained the first
floor was given over to his men. Not the guards, but Luke, Dixon, Gilbey and Cooper. Wesley had just recently joined their ranks. He told her under no circumstances was she to go anywhere near their floor.

“They’re free to brin’ whoever they like up there, go pokin’ your nose
around and you might not like what you see,” he told her.

“You mean women.”

“Is that what you call them?” He laughed at her naivety. “And besides that
they might not all be female.” Now she looked truly scandalized. “What’s the matter Buffy this is L.A. and we live in a society where jus’ ‘bout anythin’ is accepted as the norm.”

“Maybe for someone like you but not for me,” she coolly informed him.

He turned to her then, running his hand along her arm, stroking her soft
warm skin he asked. “Didn’t Angel ever suggest a threesome?” The look she
gave him was priceless. “Wow! Judgin’ from the look on your face I’d say
that’s a no, and that surprises the hell out of me, ‘cause a threesome is one
of Angel’s favorite little games. Now this makes me look at you in a whole
new light.” He gently stroked higher up her arm to her shoulder and neck his
fingers lightly skimming over her rapidly beating pulse point. “You must be
very good if Angel gave up all others for you,” he paused to look at her.
“Did he Buffy, was he yours solely, was he true to you? If you were mine I wouldn’t want another,” he whispered softly, his lips brushed hers in the most fleeting of touches a mere whisper. He loved to tease her.

Her eyes were large and liquid green as she gazed at him, bewildered and
fragile. The dominant male in him surged forward, fully aroused, triggered
by her unconscious submissive body language and he pushed her back against the wall bringing his hand up along her other arm to her shoulder, his
fingers gently squeezed. She yelped in pain causing him to step back.

Frowning he asked, “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.”

“That yelp wasn’t for nothing.” He reached for the collar of her blouse but
she pushed his hands away. Swiftly he grabbed her smaller hands in one of
his own and pushed her blouse aside, he couldn’t see anything so he spun her. Pinning her facing the wall he lifted her collar back. There was a large
purple/blue bruise on her right shoulder. Suddenly he remembered how she’d hit one of the door frames in the sub level the night before.
Skidding she’d gotten turned slightly, but he’d not allowed her to right
herself before he’d pushed her causing the impact. It must hurt a lot but
she hadn’t said anything, and earlier in her room wrapped in that bloody
towel he hadn’t noticed because her right shoulder had been the furthest
point away from him and she’d backed away from him into the bathroom…so there’d been no chance to see it then.

“WHY THE BLEEDIN’ HELL DIDN’T YOU TELL ME ‘BOUT THIS?” he roared at her.

“Because I assumed since you caused it you knew,” she squeaked.

She had a point he couldn’t argue with her. As suddenly as his anger had
flared it drained. Gently taking her hand he led her along the landing
towards the sitting room. “You’re right.”

Buffy had been taken by surprise by his abrupt anger and his subsequent calm down, but she’d nearly choked when he agreed with her. Would she ever get used to his rapid mood swings?

He walked her to her room, opening the door he stood back to let her pass
through. “I’ll be with you in a mo,” he said, and left closing the door
behind him.

Someone had tidied the room, the bed had been remade and the draws and
wardrobe doors were all closed and uniform again. She sat on the bed to take
her shoes off, the clock on the bedside table informed her it was just after
five O’clock. They’d been gone for over two hours and except for the
incident in the elevator they’d spent the time together almost agreeably.

Though thinking about the things he’d said about the illicit sexual
practices of his men, and the suggestions he’d made about Angel engaging in threesomes had her blushing all over again. Taboo images flickered through her mind.

Without knocking Spike came through the door. Seeing her flushed face he
asked, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said, quickly averting her gaze.

She was lying she looked as guilty as sin. He froze scanning her face that
deepened with the flush of embarrassment.

“Ooh, thinkin’ naughty thoughts are you luv?” He read her correctly her
blush darkened.

“NO,” she snapped curt and indignant.

He chuckled, “Yeah right.” He moved towards her, she noticed then that he was carrying a towel and a small medicine bottle. “Okay take your blouse off,” he said.

“What! NO.”

“Bloody hell woman you’ve got a bruise the size of a grapefruit on your
shoulder and I’m goin’ to put liniment on it. Now. Take. Your. Blouse. Off.”

“No, I can do it myself,” she insisted, holding her hand out for the bottle.

“Don’t be a silly bint, it’s on the back of your shoulder.”

“Then I’ll get…” she trailed off.

“Who? Who will you get Buffy?” He folded his arms across his chest grinning at her. “This should be good. Please tell me which one of my men you’d like me to fetch to assist you?” He teased maliciously.

She was mute her expression indiscernible.

His grin became a smirk. “Luke…no not Luke, maybe you’d prefer Gilbey, or could it be that you’d choose pretty face Wesley?” The blush was draining from her face. “Is that what you were thinkin’ ‘bout jus’ now? Were you tryin’ to guess which one likes boys or both? Or were you imaginin’ what it would be like to be in a threesome?” He sat on the bed next to her stroking the back of her hand. “What would you prefer Buffy? Two guys and you, or two girls and you, or how about one of each, I could call Luke up ‘ere now and we could find out?” he whispered, taunting her unkindly.

She was angry. She knew he was teasing her, trying to get her to react. She
might not have much experience and she’d never had to handle anyone so
intent on tormenting her with innuendos, but she was learning fast.

“What about you, what do you prefer?” She challenged chin high.

He looked surprise and pleased at her question. “Me? Well, I’m a one partner at a time kind of guy,” he smirked at her. “I don’t like sharin’, I prefer one on one,” he leaned in to whisper in her ear.

“But you’ve…err! You’ve…” she didn’t dare move her head.

“What’d you think?” With the tip of his tongue he slowly licked her ear.

Buffy shuddered. “I think you’re a sick pervert,” she said sardonically.

He chuckled at that. “And you’d be quite right...So what’s it to be luv, me
or one of my men?” he said, waving the bottle of liniment under her nose.

She gave him a hard, dry look and turned her back on him. He could see her
undoing the buttons on her blouse in the mirror she’d forgotten was there.

“Good, cause I really won’t share you luv.” She looked up and caught his
eyes on her in the mirror. “Get used to the idea Buffy, mine are the only
hands you’re goin’ to feel on you ever again.”

She gasped her hands frozen just as she was about to separate the two halves
of her blouse.

“I won’t force you, but we both know it’s goin’ to happen, it’s only a matter
of time,” his voice was soft and coaxing. His hands reached up to help her
remove her blouse, revealing the pretty blue and white bra he’d picked out
for her.

She pulled the blouse in front of herself shielding her breasts from his
gaze. He smiled at her in the mirror finding her shy modesty refreshing. He
poured some liniment onto his hands and rubbed them to warm the cold liquid before beginning to gently work his fingers over her skin.

Buffy sat numbly letting him work on her bruised flesh without complaint.
Letting his hands touch her, but they didn’t touch her as firmly as his
words had.

Now that he’d come right out and said it Buffy realized she’d been in a
strange kind of denial. She was fairly sure he’d never had any intentions of
following through on his threat about letting his men hurt her, restrain her
yes, but rape her, she didn’t think so.

All the teasing and veiled suggestions hadn’t been just to get a rise out of
her, he was conditioning her. When he’d said last night that he’d wanted to
use her to hurt Angel, for some bizarre reason she hadn’t thought he meant by sleeping with her, because she’d reasoned Angel was chained up in a room four floors down and would never know.

And if Spike had simply wanted to rape her him self he’d have done that the
minute she’d walked through his doors. And if that was the way he’d wanted
to make Angel suffer then why not just rape her in front of him.

Then what? What?

She was missing something vital, she was sure of it. Spike had given her, her
own room. He’d warned his men to be respectful to her. And even though the innuendos, the teasing and his mind boggling volatile mood swings had her on a knife’s edge, she could live with it. But it was the fact that he’d taken her freedom and threatened and hurt her friends, and threatened to hurt her family that was unforgivable.

Now he sat behind her trying to rub away the evidence of his physical abuse.
He’d said he wouldn’t force her, did that mean he was waiting for her to
give him her permission? Well that wasn’t going to happen. But it was
possible that it was her consent, her very willingness to enter into a
sexual relationship with him that Spike was hoping to use as a means of
hurting Angel, even if it was heavily coerced.

Buffy’s head hurt, a sudden headache flared and she felt a strange weakness
wash over her, making her head and body very heavy. Heedless of Spike, she let her body have its way and fell sideways to the bed rolling onto her stomach, her blouse crumpled beneath her. She felt him pause for a moment, and then his fingers were on her again moving gently. She let her eyes close listening to the sound of her breathing and the creak of the bed as Spike climbed up beside her. Overwrought and exhausted from the emotional bombardment she reluctantly allowed his soothing touch to lull her to sleep.

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