*****
Chapter Sixty Two.
No Place like Home.
Buffy woke in stages. Slowly, she fought through the layers of blackness and pain. At first, she wasn’t aware of anything other than her pain, though somewhere, far off she heard a door open, but was unable to open her eyes. She felt a presence looming over her and tried to speak, but something prevented her.
“Oh no, not time for you to wake up yet sugar lips.”
She was sure she should know that voice. She felt a sharp sting in her arm and whimpered pitifully. Sleep dragged her back down.
When next she woke, she had the same trouble fighting her way back to consciousness, but this time no one came to disturb her. Vaguely, she wondered if she’d had another migraine, but she couldn’t remember experiencing the onset of one. Gradually, her mind began to focus. At first she thought it must be nighttime because she couldn’t see anything. It was so dark, but then she realized she was blindfolded and then she became aware of the gag. Panic rose up in her and she tried to move, only to discover she was tied down.
Tears sprung to her eyes and slipped down her cheeks under the blindfold. She knew she couldn’t afford to indulge in a crying spell, fearing she wouldn’t be able to breathe.
Breathing as deeply as she could, she tried to calm her wildly beating heart and remember how she’d ended up here.
She remembered dancing at the party and that man turning up…but she couldn’t remember his name. He scared her when he told her Masters had sent him…and then Spike was there pulling her out of his arms and she was sure there was going to be trouble. Luke and the normally friendly and pleasant Wesley and Cooper, all looked like they were ready to commit murder. Buffy could feel Spike’s rage seeping into her as he gently held her. She remembered the fireworks and Spike kissing her and then things were a bit hazy. Wesley was dancing with her…but why…where was Spike? Oh God, the meeting…something must have gone wrong…Spike had sent for her. He was mad…because she hadn’t return to their rooms right away. Gilbey was taking them back into the house…when for no reason, he attacked Wesley.
Suddenly, everything fell into place and Buffy realized she was at the mercy of a mad man.
It felt like hours had passed and no one came to check on her. She wondered if that was a good or a bad thing. Her thoughts were jumbled. He must have drugged her. She realized her body was slowly fighting the effects of the drug. Gradually, clarity returned and her memories slipped back into their rightful order.
She wondered where she was and how long she had been there. She avoided thinking about what Gilbey was going to do to her and concentrated on thinking about what Spike was doing. She guessed he would be frantic…possibly raging…but she believed completely in her heart he would stop at nothing until he found her, she only prayed it would be in time.
Fearfully, she tried to block the scene from the garage from repeating in her mind, but she couldn’t shake the image of poor Wesley lying in his own blood as Gilbey turned on her.
She drifted back off to sleep, her body rebelling at the stress and the lingering drugs in her system. Her sleep was ugly, plagued with images of blood and knives, and the cool eyes of a handsome dark haired man as she danced in his arms.
There was something coming…something dark. She could hear Spike’s laughter somewhere in the crowd of faceless people as she whirled faster and faster in the strangers embrace. He smiled at her and whispered words of sweet seduction in her ear as she allowed him to lead her further and further away from the other dancers and away from Spike. The something was drawing closer. Fearfully, she looked up at him. They’d stopped dancing and were alone in a darkened room. She couldn’t see the walls, but she had a feeling the room was vast. She could feel a sinister presence approaching from somewhere behind her, but she was too afraid to look over her shoulder and see what it was. The stranger held her hand, keeping her closer to him then she wanted to be, but again she was afraid to force him to let her go as she felt a strange sense of safety with him, so she surrendered herself to his care. The presence now felt oppressive, but it still remained hidden. She trembled. He seemed pleased she would accept his protection and leaned down to place a chaste kiss on her brow. She sighed and closed her eyes melting into his familiar arms. When he pulled back, she opened her eyes to look into Spike’s smiling face. Unsurpassed joy filled her, but the ugly presence began to swell all around them…like a tidal wave poised to swallow them. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply…she could sense his happiness and his love in the way he returned her kiss and all at once she felt free. All fear and doubt, and all the feelings she had been denying had vanished. Spike filled her vision and her heart. She was happy. The kiss ended, but Spike continued to hold her hand. He whispered to her.
“Look behind you luv.”
She turned her head, trusting him to save her from the evil she knew she would find there. She screamed.
Lily stood before her…bathed in blood and crying. In her arms, she held a tiny baby…too tiny to be real…and the baby was covered in its mother’s blood. Lily’s eyes were pleading and she held the child out to Buffy… silently begging her to take it, but even as she reached for the child, Gilbey appeared and snatched Lily and the baby from her grasp…tearing into them with vicious strikes from the sharp knife he held in his hand.
Buffy couldn’t bare it, she buried her head at Spike’s chest and squeezed her eyes tight, but it didn’t shut out the sound. Panting and gasping, Buffy begged Spike to make it stop, but when she looked up into his face, his expression of reproach made her pull back…he knew…it was all her fault and he knew…Buffy watched in horror as the love in his eyes diminished and died…and then he looked at her…cold and empty.
“I hate you,” he whispered, but it wasn’t the sound of his voice coming from his lips…it was her own.
“NO…NO…you love me…and I…I…need you,” He released her hand and began to back away from her. “NO…don’t go…don’t leave me…I need you, I …I… Spike…please…”
Her cries echoed in the vast empty space…he’d left her and she was alone. Her hands were coated in blood and looking down, she could see she was standing in a pool of blood…her blood. Hesitantly she reached for her throat and felt the wound. She screamed…the tidal wave broke and roared at her as it began its decent. In the distance, she heard Spike calling to her…begging her to find her way to him…to fight.
*****
She woke with a start, gasping and panting her distress, as the horror of the dream began to retreat. Buffy willed her racing heart to slow. Breathing deeply through her nose, she counted slowly in her head, focusing on the calming relaxation technique.
Calmer, Buffy tried to extend her awareness beyond her own body. The room she was in was quiet and she couldn’t hear anything other than her own slightly laboured breathing.
Stealing her courage, she refused to think too much about her present situation. While she was undisturbed, she would try to focus on all the things she held as beliefs. The first one was obviously in God…and her strong faith that he wouldn’t abandon her to suffer death at the hands of a maniac. She nearly cried at that thought and offered up a silent prayer to ward off the possibility. She refused to think of her mother and sister…I will see them again…I will…I will…I will…
Spike’s face was clear in her minds eye. Not as she’d seen him in the dream…though she did take the time to examine certain aspects that she could remember. It didn’t take a genius to work out the evil presence was Gilbey and she didn’t need anyone to help her fathom out where her frightened mind had dragged Lily or Gilbey up from. The desire to touch her neck, to reassure herself she was in fact uninjured was overpowering, but impossible, and Buffy knew witnessing Gilbey cut Wesley’s throat played a very real part in that tormented part of her dream.
Her handsome dance partner…the strange man from New York was more of a puzzle to her. She still couldn’t remember his name, but his smile she would never forget, his presence had melted away to reveal Spike. She remembered with clarity the feeling of safety she’d felt in the dream when she realized she was being held in Spike’s arms. Buffy believed in his ability and desire to find her. That belief, even in a small measure, was such a blinding light in the face of her present and very real darkness that it gave her comfort.
Focusing on her belief in Spike, she concentrated on imagining what he would be doing to find her.
He would be angry…but for once, not with her. She knew he was clever and resourceful and that he wouldn’t let anything stop him, or get in his way. He will find me…he will. She had seen his total dedication and focus when he made his mind up about something, he was a force of nature, unstoppable. The thought comforted her. Sadly, she acknowledged the only thing that would work against him and subsequently her, was time. If he couldn’t reach her in time…NO…! He will find me…he has to…
She pushed the negative thoughts away and thought about other things. She thought about how in the dream she’d felt safe and loved. Loved…the idea seemed strange to her. Being loved by Spike, even if it was only in a dream might seem strange now, but in the dream it had felt real…absolute even. How is that possible? After all the things I’ve suffered, how could my dream have tried to tell me, I was loved by Spike?
There was nothing to support that.
Yet, as she dwelled on it, the faint echoes of her thoughts from the reception sounded in her ears once more.
She tensed as she heard the sound of a door opening. Quickly, she turned her head in an automatic gesture towards the sound. Fearfully, she held her breath. The seconds stretched out, until she was ready to scream with the agonizing suspense.
Someone was touching her. She flinched and tried to pull back from the hand on her leg, shouting at the hands owner from behind her gag.
Gilbey chuckled. “What? Are you trying to tell me you don’t like that?”
She could feel his hot breath on her face and she quickly pulled her head back.
Gilbey continued to chuckle as he roughly removed the blindfold. Bright light assaulted her eyes and she blinked rapidly trying to focus. “In a few moments, I’m going to undo your gag…and the reason I’m telling you is so you won’t scream…because if I suspect for a second that you’re going to, I’ll just put the gag right back…understand?” he snarled.
She nodded her head weakly, still trying to regain her sight.
Satisfied, Gilbey unbuckled the gag and eased the rubber bit from her mouth. She gasped in a huge lung-full of air and exercised her jaw.
“Spike is going to kill you,” she gasped.
Gilbey snorted. “And why is that?”
Her vision was clearing. “Because of what you’ve done…you killed Wesley and kidnapped me, and I know Spike will find–”
“And what makes you think he’s even looking…or even cares? If I know Spike, he’s probably playing a quiet game of pool and congratulating himself on finally getting rid of you.” He moved to sit beside her and she noticed for the first time, she was tied to a bed.
Fear bathed her like sweat…sour and slick. It couldn’t be true, Spike was adamant about him wanting her to be his mistress.
“You’re lying. Spike asked me to be his mistress. He told me he was going to speak to Masters and get his approval.” It might have sounded more convincing if her voice hadn’t shook.
Gilbey barked a sharp laugh. “Is that right? And I suppose Masters sent Ritt to just dance with you?”
That was the man’s name…Ritt. Buffy didn’t know what to say to that. Ritt had told her he was there to collect a package and make sure she spent the night with Marco. Though she suspected he was talking about Angel when he’d mentioned the package. Buffy was confused. She wasn’t sure of Ritt’s purpose and Gilbey sounded so sure of himself.
Seeing her doubt and confusion, Gilbey smiled and decided to play on her insecurities. “Okay princess, I’ll spell it out for you…Ritt came to collect Angel and since Angel will be going home to New York, Spike doesn’t need you any longer…so he asked me to dispose of you.” He ran his hand over her stomach and Buffy realized she was still thankfully clothed. Yet, she couldn’t help wondering for how long.
Bravely, she swallowed back her rising fear. “I still don’t believe you, because even if Spike did want to get rid of me, why would he allow you to kill one of his own men?”
Gilbey shook his head, as if she’d just said the stupidest thing he’d ever heard. “You mean Wesley?” She nodded. “Oh, that’s sweet…didn’t you know Wesley isn’t really one of us? No? Well see…Wesley used to work for Angel…well, that is right up until he betrayed him to Spike.” He laughed at the look on her face. He leaned forward trapping her face in his big hands forcing her to look at him. “It was Wesley who copied all of Angel’s files…it was Wesley who copied Angel’s journals and handed them over to Spike…Wesley gave you to Spike.” She whimpered, trying to pull out of his grasp. “And do you know what Spike did after reading all those lovely little stories about you in Angel’s journals…he ordered me to bug your apartment and if you smile real sweetly into that corner over there, I’ll be able to show the tape to Spike later…that’s if he’s not sitting in the monitoring room back at the mansion watching us right now.”
Buffy gasped, looking around for the first time. She was stunned to see she was back in her old apartment. Tears sprang to her eyes and this time, she didn’t fight them. “Oh, God!” Fear swamped her. She trembled under his touch.
“Spike used to spend a lot of his time in the monitoring room before he had Luke and Dixon pick you up, and with Wesley’s help, he found out everything about you and your friends and family…watching you constantly…having you followed wherever you went until he found Angel.” His hands moved from her face to her hair. “Wesley was a traitor and Spike didn’t trust him, and now he doesn’t need to…he’s dead…” he lifted a handful of her hair and rubbed it over his cheek. “OH! That’s silky soft and you smell right nice,” he chuckled at her sickened expression. “I told you he’d share sugar lips.”
He pounced on her, smashing his lips to hers, thrusting his tongue roughly into her mouth. Buffy screamed under him, struggling against her bonds with all her might, but weakened by the drugs, she quickly tired and was left gasping, as he smothered her face and neck with sloppy kisses. His hands were everywhere and she squirmed away from them as he moved them over her body. Her dress tore in his struggle to touch her and he pushed a hand into the ragged gap.
Buffy screamed again, feeling his sweaty palm on the trembling contours of her stomach.
Angry, Gilbey slapped her across the face, silencing her for a moment.
“I told you no screaming bitch, or the gag goes back on.” She screamed again really loud when she saw him pick up the gag. Struggling as best she could, she tried to evade his efforts to get the contraption back on…but it was no use. He was stronger than her and after he slapped her again, hard enough to daze her, he clinched the straps tighter than before, making her gasp in pain.
She wept as he tore the bodice of her dress, nearly exposing her breasts.
“That time in the holding rooms you were wearing a red dress then…dressed like a whore…Spike should have let me have you then, but no…he wanted Angel to give him that fucking nut job Drusilla’s location…fat lot of good it did him.” He was fondling her breasts almost indifferently as he ranted on about Spike and Drusilla.
Buffy tried not to distract him as he rambled on. She stared at him as his conversation took on a bizarre quality…he was talking to her as if she was still replying to him, but now his tone was deadly soft and he kept his eyes locked on his hand at her breast squeezing and rubbing her, through the fabric of her dress. Buffy was amazed and relieved he wasn’t pinching her. Wriggling her hands, she felt the tie on her right wrist give just a little. Hope surged inside her.
She froze suddenly, fearfully listening to what he was saying.
“Of course I told Spike all that effort he was lavishing on you was a waste of time, but he insisted you were worth it…said you were a lady…all shy and modest. But your blushes didn’t fool me, I knew you were just a whore…like all the others.” His eyes slowly met hers and she shivered. “I have the tapes to prove it…and when I show them to Spike, he’ll be so glad I took care of his little whore.” Gilbey saw the fear in her eyes. This was exactly what he wanted. To see this made the beating Spike had given him worthwhile. She was trembling and her obvious terror made him feel a rush of power. For a whore, she was perfection and seeing her exposed and at his mercy turned him on intensely.
Buffy didn’t think it was possible to be more scared than she was already, but the insane gleam in Gilbey’s eyes made her icy with fear. He held eerily still. His hands were frozen on her breasts as he gazed down at her. A sheen of sweat coated his twisted face and he was breathing shallow, but kind of loudly. Buffy could feel him trembling with some suppressed emotion. She held perfectly still, the fear nearly choking her. She knew without a doubt he was truly insane. All those things he’d said about Spike sounded so true, and if they were, then Spike had put her deliberately into the hands of a mad man…but hope is hard to kill when it’s the last thing you have to cling too and Buffy was clinging for dear life.
Staring into the eyes of the mad man before her, she tried to recall all the past conversations she’d had with Spike. All the times she saw that strange look on his face…it was more than just his desire to convey his sincerity or to convince her he was trying to do the right thing by making her his mistress. She remembered the day he took her sailing. She had been standing in the sitting room, wearing a blue dress and she got real mad at him when she thought he was trying to bribe her with promises of a perfect life, full of travel and adventure. For an instant, he’d looked at her so softly. Puzzled, she asked him if he wanted to be her boyfriend. Then the mask slipped back in place and he was Spike again.
Then the night they played that silly sex game, her feeling stupid dressed as a schoolgirl and him looking at her like she was a goddess…he’d looked at her strangely and called her ‘such a little girl’ and she’d brushed it off as part of the game.
Then the time they were in the bar, right before the fight broke out…she saw that same odd, soft look flitter across his face as he slowly wove his way back to her side, after she danced with the dark haired girl.
One of the strongest memories was the night she called him and they met at that expensive hotel. The look of awe on his face was indiscernible. He’d told her she looked like a bride, dressed in her snow white gown. He’d made love to her all night with such tenderness that she nearly wept as he kissed her, touched her, whispered to her and held her as if she was made of spun glass. He was a completely different person and everything about him had moved and touched her deeply.
Last night on the plane, he’d looked wounded by her sharp words and explained that he only wanted her to wear the ribbon as a symbol of trust…and when he tied it around her wrist, his simple whispered words of thanks had been full of awe and gratitude.
Tonight too, when he tried to explain about the jewellery. He’d stumbled over his words he’d told her the diamonds were a symbol of his affection…flawless…but he’d stumbled over the word affection.
Faster and faster now all the times she’d seen that look on his face came rushing to her mind…each resurfacing memory, strengthening her crumb of hope…until she came to a screeching halt at the one memory she hadn’t allowed herself to think about.
The cabin.
Spike had asked her to be his wife. He’d told her there was no other declaration that could prove to her or the world just how serious he was about protecting her, he said he would look after her and never let anyone hurt her and he had the same soft look on his face as he said the words, ‘be my wife’ and he had sounded so hopeful. Buffy knew she couldn’t deny it any longer she had already seen it, but refused to acknowledge the truth…Spike was in love with her.
Parts of her drug hazed dream replayed in her head and she remembered her utter joy when she found herself in Spike’s arms and how the feeling of his love overwhelmed her…and her dream-self had returned his love…freely…in her dream, her love had made her free.
Anguished, she cried silently…her voice trapped behind a sadistic sexual aid. Spike…Spike where are you…I need you…I…I…Oh God! I’ve been so blind…how could I have not seen it all before. I’m such a fool.
There was a loud knock at the front door and Buffy’s eyes widened in hope. Gilbey laughed at her.
“Oh don’t get excited princess, that’s just the pizza I ordered.” He climbed off the bed, squeezing her breasts firmly as he slid away from her. “Now don’t you move, I’ll be right back…and if you ask me nicely, I might let you have something to eat.” He left the room quickly as the knock sounded again.
Buffy swivelled her head, rapidly trying to see if she could see how loose the rope on her right wrist was. Glancing at the curtains, she wondered what time it was…but she could see the shutters were closed behind the heavy cotton curtains. She could have been here a few hours or a couple of days. God knows how long he was drugging her, or with what. She pushed that worry aside to be examined later. Now, she needed to try and get out of the ropes holding her. If she could free herself, she could climb out of the bathroom window. There was a narrow ledge, though it was high up, but it would be worth the risk. She could edge her way along and get to the neighbouring building…maybe even reach the fire escape or if she was lucky, find an open window and climb in. She worked frantically on her bindings. Gilbey wouldn’t give her much time. She wondered how long it took to eat a pizza. Xander could do it in five minutes. She renewed her efforts. She had to get out of this. She had to live and find Spike.
She needed to tell him…what she didn’t know for sure, but she knew she needed to tell him something. All those times, hidden away from her by her own stubbornness to see…to recognize…or acknowledge that he could be feeling more for her than just lust or a desire to use her for revenge. There were times when she had witnessed his ability to be a good man, but it had always been overshadowed by his dealings with Angel and his reactions to her when he lost his temper, his own personal demon.
Buffy struggled to draw breath. Could it be that simple…that easy? Was Spike a good man trying to overcome his demons…Buffy knew in her heart it wasn’t quite that simple. There was more to Spike than a good man verses a monster. Nothing was that black and white. Yet, until this moment, she knew she was guilty of refusing to see him in any other terms.
All through the months since he’d snatched her away from her sheltered life, she had been determined to maintain her unshakable position of loathing and stubbornness, refusing to see him as anything but an evil threat to her existence. He had shaken her world and she had fought him and his way of life, tooth and nail to the best of her abilities, but it was no good. Now she was being forced to re-examine the other more subtle things about Spike. The ones she had deliberately blinded herself to.
Now, too many little things were leaking into her awareness…individually they were such small things…so easily ignored or passed over in the face of his more obvious persona of hardened crime lord. Yet now, they screamed at Buffy with the strength of a tidal wave…forcing her to face what she should have seen…what she would have seen so clearly, if she hadn’t come into this strange relationship on the cusp of her failed affair with Angel.
Every look…every gesture…every single word he had whispered to her with the smallest measure of affection, she re-examined. Scrutinizing, everything to the best of her ability…and now she realized, where before she had only seen his seemingly cool indifference or his attempts to dominate her…now she saw the softer side. There were times when he made absolutely no demands on her, he would simply just hold her hand and walk with her in the garden, quietly, letting her keep a solitary silence. Other times, she would catch him staring at her over the dinner table or when she was absorbed in the TV. Resentfully she’d thought he was trying to make her feel uncomfortable or hounded. Now she realized he had always quickly looked away, an expression of guilt on his face for being caught watching her…and since the day they came back from the cabin…or rather the night, where she knew Masters was watching them…he’d been so careful not to intrude or impose on her in a sexual way, until she confronted him about it in the gym shower…and even then, he’d been reluctant…but he’d given in to her…letting her satisfy herself with him.
The sexual side of their relationship from that point had become much more equal. Spike had allowed her to take whatever she wanted…which in turn, gave her more confidence. Something she had lacked when she was with Angel. It had been her idea to meet at the hotel…her idea to dress up as a schoolgirl, which in turn initiated the game…her idea to start quite a few other firsts. Spike had always encouraged her to voice her desires or explore anything she might be curious about. Never once laughing at her…or pressing her for things he might want…and never once did he question her about her past or her lack of experience. He’d just accept her requests or shy desires with a smile and helped her achieve satisfaction. Buffy knew she had ruined all of that, by yet again flinging Angel into his face.
She cringed as her hateful words resounded in her head. How could she have told him she thought of Angel when he held her? It was such a lie…and one she was ashamed of. Looking back, she realized they had both goaded each other…both of them full of pride and stubborn wilfulness as neither of them even attempted to swallow their own stupidity and soften openly, towards the other.
Then there were the numerous times she woke to find him lying close to her…stroking her arms or hair…his hands gliding softly over her…not quite in a sexual manner. She’d thought at the time it was a possessive gesture…now she wasn’t so sure. Now she thought it possible the action could have been one borne of affection, and possibly the simple joy a person derived from being close to the person they loved, but because Spike was trying to hide his feelings from her, he would only indulge himself when she was asleep. As the thoughts rolled through her mind, faster and faster Buffy knew it to be true. It wasn’t just affection he felt for her…it was love.
How could she be so stupid…so blind. She had never judged the world with such a closed mind before…yet, she had with Spike. She had made no effort to fathom him, besides, trying to ponder and figure out his reasons for hating Angel. Now she might never learn what those reasons were. Spike had been right all along…she had hidden from the truth, refusing to accept what was in front of her in favour of existing in a world made up entirely of her own truths.
She fought to free herself with determination. The question as to her own feelings hung above her…just like the tidal wave in her dream. Fear of the answer, made her shy away from herself but no matter how hard she tried, she could no longer make the voice ringing in her ears be silent.
Did she care for Spike? Did she have feelings for him? Did she love him?
Were they several questions, or just variations of the same question? She wasn’t sure. There was no turning back now. No hiding from herself. Not here…not now. Not when her life hung in the balance. She couldn’t deny her own beliefs. The joy it should have brought her to realize that Spike had deep feelings for her was eclipsed by the pain of her uncertainty as to her own feelings for him.
She asked the questions again. Did she care for Spike? Possibly…maybe…sometimes. Did she have feelings for him? I don’t know…I don’t know, she wailed. But I want to know…how can I be sure what I’m feeling is real. I loved Angel…I really, really loved him, but Spike…oh God! Spike makes me feel…everything.
Did she love him? No…I can’t love him, not now…not like this…
Once more the echo whispered to her, prodding her relentlessly with yet one more question. Yes, but could you love him?
The questioned stilled her frantic movements as she struggled with the ropes.
Could she come to love Spike?
The tidal wave hovered above her. She laughed, a small note of hysterics ringing in the sound, echoing in her head. Something inside her broke…broke with all the strength and passion, of a woman’s heart.
Yes…
She thought she heard the tidal wave groan as it broke from its precipice and swept towards her. She felt its rushing energy, even imagined she could feel the wind it created as it rushed towards her…and she felt free. Yes…if he loves me…really loves me…and can abandon his desire and need for revenge to love me…I could love him too. Buffy’s focus turned inward and the whisper of a soft echo rang in her heart. Oh God! I think I’m in love with Spike.
*****
Ritt felt a certain satisfaction in shooting the stupid fucking, car thief in the hand. The little punk had tried to steal his car and he didn’t have any answers to his questions. When the punk finally stopped screaming and saw the gun aimed at his kneecap, he gave him a name and told him where to find the man who knew everything there was to know about the stolen car scene in LA.
Ritt dumped the kid back on the street and drove straight to the address he gave him. It was the worst end of LA and it was the worst end of the docks. It was usually abandoned…dark, and a perfect place for a murder or the perfect place to be murdered. Tonight, the dock was alive with men loading cars onto a freight ship. Ritt knew someone was paying the cops to stay clear and from his position, he counted fourteen armed men. The guy doing all the paying was a guy nick-named Friday. Ritt needed to speak to him quickly, but he didn’t need to die trying. He really only had two choices…grab Friday’s attention in a big loud and very obvious way…with a rocket launcher aimed at one of his shiny new cars…or just walk in unarmed.
Ritt really liked the idea of the rocket launcher, especially since there weren’t any cops in a mile radius, but fuck it all and damn Spike to hell. He really needed to be quick.
He was practically upon the guard before the meathead spotted him. Fucking amateurs, he thought. He smiled chillingly and slowly raised his hands as he approached the startled guard. Annoyed because he was taken by surprise, the guard yelled for backup and roughly searched him for weapons then pushed him towards a ramshackle office. Ritt tolerated the stupid man’s hands on him, promising himself Spike would pay for the things he was having to endure. When the guard shoved him through the office door, all conversation in the room ceased.
“Who the fuck is this?” A tiny fat man yelled.
Ritt nearly laughed. The little fat man reminded him of a cross between Danny Devito and the blue flying alien in Star Wars I. He was chewing on the stubby butt of a cigar swearing and yelling like he just caught his dick in his zipper. Ritt wasn’t sure if the fat man wasn’t going to have a heart attack. The little squirt was a lovely shade of plum.
“Don’t know boss…I caught him over near the entrance to warehouse two. He’s not armed and he’s not carrying a badge,” stupid said.
Ritt snorted at that and the angry fat man turned on him. “Think that’s fucking funny do ya?” Ritt arched a cool eyebrow and casually scanned the room, crossing his arms in front of him. “Cocky bastard aren’t ya…Sam shoot cocky and dump his body on the freighter…he can be dumped at sea when–”
Not even bothering to look at the fat man, Ritt interrupted him. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
“Oh! Really…and why the fuck not?”
“Oh, only because Mr. Masters and Mr. Winters won’t like it.” That shut the little air bag up. Ritt looked him in the eye. “Unless you’d like every member of your entire family killed slowly and painfully starting with the youngest and saving you for last.”
The fat man grew pale. “Who are you?”
“I work for Masters…usually he hires me out to take care of his friends and clients…problems and annoyances, but tonight I’m working for Spike…” He smiled pleasantly at the little fat man. “Which is a first for me, because Spike usually hates my guts but he needs are great and for the right price, he persuaded me to help him out…not that he really needed to persuade me too much, because like Spike, I’m a sucker for a pair of pretty eyes and a dazzling smile and the lady I’ve been sent to find has both.”
The little fat man blinked at him, while frowning. Ritt thought the expression reminded him even more of the flying alien. “But who are you?”
“I’m not giving you my name…deal with it. Now are you going to help me find Buffy or not?”
“Huh…! What…? Who the fuck’s Buffy?” Fatty gasped, confused.
Ritt sighed and moved closer to the fat man ignoring the guns that rattled as they trained on him. Crouching down to Fatty’s level, he stared him into silent stillness. “You weren’t listening…that’s not good. If you expect me to let you live, you need to listen.” Fatty’s eye twitched nervously. “Buffy is the girl I’ve been hired to find…she’s about five foot two, long blonde hair beautiful green eyes and a dazzling smile…oh, and I forgot to say…she’s Spike’s mistress…some nasty bastard has kidnapped her and Spike wants her back before the nasty bastard has a chance to hurt her…and you’re going to help me.”
Fatty stared back and for a moment, Ritt thought the stupid little man was about to make the wrong choice, but the look in his eye turned submissive and he nodded his head.
“Good,” Ritt slapped the little man on the back, laughing. “Do a good job for me and I’ll put in a good word for you with Spike…you never know…he might even invite you to join the family.”
Fatty turned purple again and nearly choked on his cigar. Ritt chuckled and stood back up. “SO!” He said cheerily. “I guess you thought you’d use Spike’s reception as the perfect diversion to do a little car business, while he was busy not looking in your direction?”
Fatty was changing colours so quickly that Ritt wondered if he could talk him into that heart attack. He’d never killed anyone by talking them to death before. Oh, well there was always a first and it might look good on his résumé. He could just see it.
***
Title: – Killer/Hired Gun.
Experience: – Years and years, with hundreds killed.
Preferred Method of Disposal: – Guns, knives, piano wire, tall buildings, subway accidents and talking to death!!!
***
The idea brought a smile to his face and it seemed to unnerve the little fat man even more.
“Oh sorry…didn’t you think someone on Spike’s payroll might notice a ship load of stolen cars?”
Fatty spluttered and tried to convince Ritt that wasn’t the case. He said he didn’t have a clue that Mr. Winters was too busy to pay him a visit. Ritt smiled and reassured him he had nothing to worry about, because Spike would be more than happy to hear of his success and even happier to share in the profits…unless of course he was planning on trying to bribe him to keep his mouth shut. Fatty shook his head strongly and denied any such notion. Ritt thanked his lucky stars the fat man wasn’t that stupid and began to fill him in on some of the happenings at the mansion earlier, giving enough detail but no more than what was strictly necessary. Fatty was going to find the missing B.M.W. The little man sighed in relief when he heard Ritt tell him all he wanted him to do was track down the missing car.
Frightened Fatty, disappeared and the angry fat man was back…barking orders and calling his team of car thieves into the broken down office. He gave them the description of the car as well as the plates and sent them out without delay…telling them that if anyone of them found the car, they were to call in and let him know, but under no circumstances were they to try and steal it.
Ritt took a seat behind a broken down desk, smiling darkly at fatty
*****
Buffy’s bid for freedom was looking better and better. She had managed to free her hands and was working on the last rope tying her to the bed. She kept shooting little fearful glances at the bedroom door…terrified Gilbey would burst through at any second. She thought she heard voices, but realized it was just a TV. Sweat soaked her brow and she wished she’d decided to wear a shorter dress to the reception. It was going to be very dangerous climbing along the ledge in the long red gown.
The last knot slipped loose and she scrambled off the bed. Quickly and quietly, she made her way to the bathroom closing the door softly. She slid the small bolt across…it wasn’t much of a lock, but it would still provide her with some warning if Gilbey came looking for her before she could get away.
The window creaked horribly loud and long, like fingernails on a chalkboard. Buffy cringed as the noise echoed in the empty space of the bathroom behind her. Glancing quickly at the door, she held her breath, trying to hear if she could detect any sounds of pursuit, but she couldn’t hear anything. Exhaling, she quickly scrambled onto the vanity unit and towards the window.
A loud bang shook the locked door and Gilbey screamed at her from the other side.
“Open this fucking door you whore…I’ll break your fucking-”
Gasping, Buffy ignored him and frantically slipped and slid closer to the small window. Gilbey was throwing his considerable weight against the door and Buffy knew it wouldn’t be long before he broke through.
She was half way out when her dress caught on the latch. “NOooo!” She screamed, just as she heard the sound of the door smashing in behind her. She glanced over her shoulder, fearfully and tugged as hard as she could on her dress. There was the sound of ripping fabric and the glassy tinkle-tinkle as dozens of tiny crystals hit the tiles.
Suddenly, she was yanked backwards and slammed to the bathroom floor. Gilbey grabbed her by her hair and dragged her back into the bedroom. Winded from the powerful impact with the floor, Buffy gasped…her voice stolen from her by the combined pain on her scalp and her whole upper body. Powerless, she was hauled onto the bed. Gilbey released her hair, then slapped her hard. More tears sprang to her eyes as this new pain bloomed in her head, but before she had a chance to recover, Gilbey was on top of her…tearing at the red dress. His intent filtered through her pain-numbed brain and Buffy began to struggle. He pinned her with his greater weight and fought with the excessive amount of dress fabric, cursing and swearing as the dress continued to frustrate him. Tearing it violently from her neck, he exposed her breasts…a triumphant laugh bursting from his lips.
Buffy slapped at him, trying to cover her naked flesh, but Gilbey was indifferent to her.
“Hold still bitch…” he lowered his mouth and licked her nipples. “You even smell and taste like a whore…let’s see if you feel like one.”
Buffy screamed as his hand fumbled with the long skirt of her dress. Cursing, he covered her mouth with his hand and straddled her hips. With his free hand, he reached for the ropes still attached to the headboard above her head and yanked the length of rope from its anchor. He had to release her mouth so he could grab both her hands and wind the rope around them. He took no notice of her yelling or her weak struggles.
When he started to tie her hands together, Buffy tried to hit him in the back with her knee, but the dress, which was tangled in her legs, hampered her and swiftly she found herself a prisoner again. Gilbey shoved her closer to the headboard and secured the rope, effectively preventing her from moving her arms. Then he yanked her back down the bed, stretching her arms out painfully. She screamed at him to let her go, but he merely sneered at her. Getting off her, he looked around for the gag and Buffy took advantage of the lack of weight on her legs and again kicked out at him. The blow caught him unawares and he stumbled backwards into the small chest of draws, crashing into it and falling to the floor.
Enraged, he jumped up and leapt at her, striking her with a powerful blow to her face with his clenched fist…then two more to her stomach. The pain was incredible and Buffy couldn’t breath. She felt as if her lungs had shut down. Her whole body was in agony as the shockwaves of his blows ripped through her. Her face had never hurt so much before. Her nose and mouth were bleeding and her cheek felt like it was on fire, but it hurt even more when he slapped her again and yanked her hair so painfully that she had to arch her neck to try and ease the pressure. He climbed back on top of her, shaking her head like a cat with a rat.
“I’ve changed my mind about the gag…I think I’d prefer to hear you scream…because we both know you won’t be screaming for too long,” he fumbled with her skirt again. “Now let’s see…I think I was about to see if you felt like a whore.” He grabbed the hem of her dress and ripped a tear right up to her thighs. His hands were on her legs, sliding along her thigh to her hip. Buffy resisted the urge to scream. She screwed her eyes tight shut, dreading what was sure to happen next.
With his hand resting on her hip, he sneered down at her, “Yes just like a fucking whore…no underwear. Does Spike like easy access to his cunt or do you just like his cock so much you can’t even wait to get undressed?”
Buffy didn’t answer. She tried to stay still and indifferent, but she couldn’t. Her mind and body rebelled at the unwanted and unwelcome intrusion. In her heart, she cried and called for Spike, but she wouldn’t let this monster see her heartache. It was enough he could see her distress and fear.
Pulling her face around, he yelled at her. “Answer me, you little bitch.”
“Go to hell you ugly bastard,” she spat up at him, hitting him in the face.
He released her chin and hit her hard, once in the face and a punch to her rib cage, laughing as she tried to curl up from the blows. He eased back, watching her recover slowly.
As the pain receded, she became aware of him gazing at her. She could taste blood in her mouth and swallowed back before she could choke. Her arms were in agony, the ligaments stretched beyond endurance, but his weight wouldn’t allow her to get closer to the headboard and ease the strain.
He reached for his zipper. “You need more than a little slap to make you moan…well I’ve got something you might like…”
Buffy went crazy underneath him, screaming and yelling trying her hardest to throw him off…screaming for Spike and threatening Gilbey with every curse and threat she could think of. She felt the skin of her wrist split and bleed as she struggled. The blood from her mouth and nose bubbled up as she choked and spluttered in fear and rage…but she kept screaming desperate to get him to stop.
Sitting more upright, he reached down and slowly pulled his knife from his boot, taking his time…letting her see the blood still encrusted on the blade. He held it up close to her face, smiling as she screamed even louder. Buffy felt him freeze and glanced up. Shocked, she saw the knife poised in mid-air in his hand…he was frozen as if he’d seen something…he looked down at her and she saw the decision in his eyes. Terrified, she screamed as the knife descended.
Dddsdv = DT 