Blue On Black-Ch.5

The warehouse where Rafel had made his headquarters was awash in blood. The Ecklar demons hadn't put up much of a fight, and lay in scattered heaps, leaving the sorcerer veritably defenseless.

Spike's eyes went straight to Alyum, and he was surprised and pleased to see that his charge hadn't turned into a quivering, sobbing mass of flesh at his situation. Instead, the boy stood tall, issuing orders to the other, smaller children, keeping them together.

Of course he'd be the leader. He lived on the bloody street…He knows how to survive somethin' like this, Spike reasoned.

The others fanned out behind him and Spike chanced a glance at Buffy, who met his gaze long enough to shoot him a dirty look.

Turning his attention back to the unguarded sorcerer, Spike let his human mask slough away, taking pleasure in the sudden look of fear in Rafel's face.

“Y'know, you'd have probably gotten away with it if you hadn't made the mistake of grabbin' my kid,” the blonde vampire told Rafel, the look in his golden eyes promising a very long, messy, painful death.

Even with the odds stacked against him, Rafel didn't seem overly worried. Then again, he was still between Spike and the children. He had hostages.

Spike smirked and called something to Alyum in his native language, to which the boy laughed and nodded, suddenly looking like he was having a great time.

The blonde vampire glanced behind him at the Angel Investigations crew and the Sunnydale team, giving them a sharp nod.

At his signal, the good guys swarmed forward as one, while Spike broke off from the group, dashing around the opposite side, towards the children.

As he'd expected, Rafel had caught the others in some kind of freezing spell, but he couldn't aim in two directions at once, and Spike reached the children before the sorcerer could come up with another plan.

He ushered the kids out the back door, then returned to the warehouse, smirking at Rafel, who was suddenly looking decidedly nervous, even though he had six hostages frozen at the whim of his magick.

Spike grinned. “Your time's up, blood-bag,” he sneered, stalking toward Rafel, evil intent shining in his golden eyes.

Rafel's eyes darkened in fear and he had to drop the spell that held the others motionless in order to turn and defend himself from the blonde vampire.

As soon as the spell dropped, Cordelia waved her hand and the green, glowing amulet around the sorcerer's neck pulled free, floating into her waiting hand. The former cheerleader gave Rafel a grim smile and closed her hand over the amulet, pulverizing it with her own magick.

The sorcerer let out a gasp and bent double as the magick that had sustained his life for so long was suddenly sucked away from him. He raised a hand in front of his face, looking horrified as his skin lost its youthful smoothness and began to wrinkle before his very eyes.

The dark-haired vampire nodded, then gestured for the others to leave, following them out of the warehouse, leaving Rafel alone with Spike.

Without an audience, the blonde vampire stalked purposefully toward the rapidly-aging sorcerer, laughing derisively as Rafel tried to run away, but was impeded by his own decrepit bones, moving with all the grace of a three-legged giraffe.

“You're mine, pillock,” Spike snarled, grabbing the back of Rafel's cloak and yanking him to his knees.

Spike did two things almost at once; he stepped forward and let his fist fly. His knuckles smashed into Rafel's chin. The sorcerer swayed but didn't fall.

The blonde vampire's fist stabbed at him again, catching Rafel high on one cheekbone. Blood spilled in a black line.

He backed up a step and smashed the heel of one Doc Marten into Rafel's mouth. Blood and something heavier flew shining in the dim light of the warehouse.

Rafel made no move to protect himself. He never cried out. He just knelt on the dirty floor of the warehouse and took it. His face was covered in blood. His eyes fluttered and Spike could tell he was close to passing out.

There was no extraneous sound in the warehouse. Just the smack of flesh hitting flesh and Spike's soft growls and snarls of effort as he tried to make the sorcerer cry out.

Rafel finally slipped to his side. He tried to keep his hands up, but he couldn't. He leaned on his arms on the filthy floor. There was fine, visible trembling in his upper body. He was fighting to stay upright.

“Beg me to stop,” Spike said. “Beg me, and maybe I'll just snap your effin' neck. Beg me to stop, or I will fuckin' beat you to death.”

Rafel said nothing, just shook his head, all the youthful vigor gone from his face. The places not marred by blood or broken skin were wrinkled and liver-spotted.

With a low, animalistic snarl of rage, Spike kicked the ailing sorcerer in the face with the steel-toe of his boot and stared expressionlessly down at the prone form of the man who had kidnapped Alyum.

Making a face of disgust, he reached down and hefted Rafel up by his grey-white hair, then jerked the half-dead man's head sharply until he heard the satisfying snap of bone and cartilage.

He let the corpse drop gracelessly to the ground into a puddle of blood and thicker things, then spun on his heel and stalked out of the warehouse.

“Hasn't he been gone a long time?” Gunn asked, glancing back at the warehouse.

Angel met her gaze unflinchingly, and suddenly the Slayer knew. Her eyes widened in horror.

“He's torturing him, isn't he?” she accused. “You knew he'd torture him, and you made us leave so he could do it.”

“I'd do the same to anyone who took Connor from me,” the dark-haired vampire told her, not bothering to argue with her logic.

“Connor is your son,” Buffy said. “You have a right to protect him. That little boy isn't anything to Spike except a meal he can't have,” she said derisively.

“You heard me. Shut-up. You have no idea what you're talking about,” Cordelia told the Slayer. “You haven't seen Spike with Alyum. You don't even know him. You haven't the faintest idea of what he's gone through for you. So just shut the hell up.”

“You weren't in Sunnydale when Spike tried to rape Buffy in her bathroom,” Xander snapped at his ex-girlfriend.

“No, I wasn't,” Cordelia admitted. “But I've been here, listening to him wake up screaming from nightmares every day,” she said. “Don't pretend you know what's going on inside his head, Xander. You don't even know what's going on in your own.”

Rather than joining the others out front, Spike had taken the back exit, barely making it outside the warehouse before his shaking legs failed him and he collapsed onto the asphalt, shuddering, retching and crying.

He knew Rafel deserved every bit of what was done to him and more, and yet he couldn't shake the horrible guilt for having been the one to beat him nearly to death before snapping his neck.

What was worse was the fact that thanks to his vampiric memory, every second of what he'd done was permanently burned onto the back of his retinas, replaying over and over in a never-ending loop whenever he closed his eyes.

He tried to get to his feet, and faced the warehouse, the scent of blood assaulting his senses until he collapsed again, shaking and crying anew.

Buffy was pacing angrily, pausing occasionally to shoot a glare at Cordelia, who simply raised an eyebrow, refusing to respond to the Slayer's mini-tantrum.

Alyum tugged on Angel's coat. “Where Iliam?” the boy inquired, looking worried about his friend's well being.

“He's…talking to the man that took you,” Angel said, wanting to at least spare the boy the details.

The boy smiled. “Good. Need punish bad man. Send to place for bad men,” he said firmly.

“Prison?” Angel asked, somehow doubting that a nice white cell was in Rafel's future.

Surprised by the boy's no-nonsense assessment of the situation, Angel gave him a wry smile that came off as more of a grimace. “Yeah. Spike's sending Rafel to Hell, Alyum.”

Cordelia approached Angel. “Should someone go in and check on him?” she asked quietly.

“Angel…he has a soul and he's torturing someone to death,” Cordelia said. “Somehow I don't think he's going to be all sunshine and smiles when he comes out of there.”

When Angel didn't find anything but the badly beaten corpse of the sorcerer inside, everyone split up to look for Spike, Buffy and Xander not understanding why anyone from the Angel Investigations crew gave a damn.

“I don't get it, Angel. He tortured you the last time you saw him,” the Slayer groused. “Why do you suddenly give a damn? I thought you hated each other.”

“He didn't change very much. He attacked me in my own house, Angel,” Buffy argued.

Angel turned, growling at her. “Shut-up, Buffy. Yes, he attacked you. Yes, it pisses me off. If I hadn't seen firsthand that he's ripping himself apart over it, I would've staked him myself.”

“So, he says he's sorry and beats his chest, and you're suddenly okay with it?” Buffy asked disbelievingly.

“No. I've been where he is, and trust me, staking him would be ending his misery,” the dark-haired vampire told her shortly.

A huddled form at the edge of his vision got Angel's attention, and he broke into a run, reaching the shaking mass of blonde-haired vampire in a matter of seconds.

Angel didn't answer her, instead kneeling next to Spike and rolling him over. “Spike? Spike, answer me.”

The blonde head shook and Spike tried to curl up again, but Angel was having none of it. “Either talk to me, or I'll carry you back to the hotel over my shoulder,” he threatened.

Getting frustrated, Angel thumped Spike on the uncovered part of his head. “Some bad ass vampire you are. Can't even handle a little thing like a soul. Weakling,” he scoffed.

Both of them seemed oblivious to Buffy still standing there, looking like she'd been slapped.

Angel grabbed Spike's arm and hauled him to his feet. “C'mon. Alyum's worried about you.”

“Yeah, an' what happens the next time someone nabs him? Or the time after that?” Spike argued. “I can't watch `im 24 hours a day, Peaches. Eventually, someone'll kill `im, just to get at me. I can't let that happen.”

Buffy stood silently, listening to their conversation in confusion. What the hell had Angel meant, that Spike was letting a little thing like a soul beat him? Spike didn't have a soul. He had a government implant. It was hardly the same thing. And even that hadn't stopped him from nearly raping her on her bathroom floor, destroying the tentative trust she'd had in him.

“Let's just get back to the hotel and get some rest. We can talk about it tomorrow,” Angel told Spike.

“It'll be the same then,” Spike said dejectedly. “I'd soddin' die for `im, an' I can't even keep a bunch of half-arsed demons from takin' `im right from under my bloody nose.”

“If you keep thinking like that, you'll be alone for the rest of your unlife, Spike. Everyone you care about becomes cannon fodder, eventually. I've lost count of the times that Cordelia and Fred have been held hostage by people who wanted to get at me,” Angel told him.

“They're there because they choose to be. Alyum's young, but he's spent most of his life on the streets. He knows how to take care of himself. Don't decide for him, that's every bit as unfair as me firing everyone to keep them out of the line of fire,” Angel said.

The dark-haired vampire chuckled and threw an arm over Spike's shoulders. “When she gets angry, nothing in the world had better get in her way. Hell itself trembles.”

Buffy trailed after them, edging out of confusion and into full-out bafflement. What the hell is going on here? She wondered.


	Death's pointed at your head Your mind's on the trigger-PULL IT! Bludgeoned bodies give up Their muted horror story Scene of your rage Death is not strange Blood on the walls You stand alone, satisfied. The warehouse where Rafel had made his headquarters was awash in blood. The Ecklar demons hadn't put up much of a fight, and lay in scattered heaps, leaving the sorcerer veritably defenseless. Spike's eyes went straight to Alyum, and he was surprised and pleased to see that his charge hadn't turned into a quivering, sobbing mass of flesh at his situation. Instead, the boy stood tall, issuing orders to the other, smaller children, keeping them together. Of course he'd be the leader. He lived on the bloody street…He knows how to survive somethin' like this, Spike reasoned. The others fanned out behind him and Spike chanced a glance at Buffy, who met his gaze long enough to shoot him a dirty look. Turning his attention back to the unguarded sorcerer, Spike let his human mask slough away, taking pleasure in the sudden look of fear in Rafel's face. “Y'know, you'd have probably gotten away with it if you hadn't made the mistake of grabbin' my kid,” the blonde vampire told Rafel, the look in his golden eyes promising a very long, messy, painful death. Even with the odds stacked against him, Rafel didn't seem overly worried. Then again, he was still between Spike and the children. He had hostages. Spike smirked and called something to Alyum in his native language, to which the boy laughed and nodded, suddenly looking like he was having a great time. The blonde vampire glanced behind him at the Angel Investigations crew and the Sunnydale team, giving them a sharp nod. At his signal, the good guys swarmed forward as one, while Spike broke off from the group, dashing around the opposite side, towards the children. As he'd expected, Rafel had caught the others in some kind of freezing spell, but he couldn't aim in two directions at once, and Spike reached the children before the sorcerer could come up with another plan. He ushered the kids out the back door, then returned to the warehouse, smirking at Rafel, who was suddenly looking decidedly nervous, even though he had six hostages frozen at the whim of his magick. I'll wake the silence in you I'll shoot the violence through you. Spike grinned. “Your time's up, blood-bag,” he sneered, stalking toward Rafel, evil intent shining in his golden eyes. Rafel's eyes darkened in fear and he had to drop the spell that held the others motionless in order to turn and defend himself from the blonde vampire. As soon as the spell dropped, Cordelia waved her hand and the green, glowing amulet around the sorcerer's neck pulled free, floating into her waiting hand. The former cheerleader gave Rafel a grim smile and closed her hand over the amulet, pulverizing it with her own magick. The sorcerer let out a gasp and bent double as the magick that had sustained his life for so long was suddenly sucked away from him. He raised a hand in front of his face, looking horrified as his skin lost its youthful smoothness and began to wrinkle before his very eyes. “No! No!” he shrieked disbelievingly. Terrified by the thought that You are all alone Paralyzed by the fact that you Are not alone You're losing your mind, I'm losing control You're losing your mind, as I bury your world. Spike turned and looked at Angel. The dark-haired vampire nodded, then gestured for the others to leave, following them out of the warehouse, leaving Rafel alone with Spike. Without an audience, the blonde vampire stalked purposefully toward the rapidly-aging sorcerer, laughing derisively as Rafel tried to run away, but was impeded by his own decrepit bones, moving with all the grace of a three-legged giraffe. “You're mine, pillock,” Spike snarled, grabbing the back of Rafel's cloak and yanking him to his knees. Spike did two things almost at once; he stepped forward and let his fist fly. His knuckles smashed into Rafel's chin. The sorcerer swayed but didn't fall. The blonde vampire's fist stabbed at him again, catching Rafel high on one cheekbone. Blood spilled in a black line. He backed up a step and smashed the heel of one Doc Marten into Rafel's mouth. Blood and something heavier flew shining in the dim light of the warehouse. Rafel made no move to protect himself. He never cried out. He just knelt on the dirty floor of the warehouse and took it. His face was covered in blood. His eyes fluttered and Spike could tell he was close to passing out. There was no extraneous sound in the warehouse. Just the smack of flesh hitting flesh and Spike's soft growls and snarls of effort as he tried to make the sorcerer cry out. Rafel finally slipped to his side. He tried to keep his hands up, but he couldn't. He leaned on his arms on the filthy floor. There was fine, visible trembling in his upper body. He was fighting to stay upright. “Beg me to stop,” Spike said. “Beg me, and maybe I'll just snap your effin' neck. Beg me to stop, or I will fuckin' beat you to death.” Rafel said nothing, just shook his head, all the youthful vigor gone from his face. The places not marred by blood or broken skin were wrinkled and liver-spotted. With a low, animalistic snarl of rage, Spike kicked the ailing sorcerer in the face with the steel-toe of his boot and stared expressionlessly down at the prone form of the man who had kidnapped Alyum. Making a face of disgust, he reached down and hefted Rafel up by his grey-white hair, then jerked the half-dead man's head sharply until he heard the satisfying snap of bone and cartilage. He let the corpse drop gracelessly to the ground into a puddle of blood and thicker things, then spun on his heel and stalked out of the warehouse. I'll wake the silence in you I'll shoot the violence through you. “Hasn't he been gone a long time?” Gunn asked, glancing back at the warehouse. “It's been thirty minutes,” Buffy added. Angel met her gaze unflinchingly, and suddenly the Slayer knew. Her eyes widened in horror. “He's torturing him, isn't he?” she accused. “You knew he'd torture him, and you made us leave so he could do it.” “I'd do the same to anyone who took Connor from me,” the dark-haired vampire told her, not bothering to argue with her logic. “Connor is your son,” Buffy said. “You have a right to protect him. That little boy isn't anything to Spike except a meal he can't have,” she said derisively. “Shut-up!” Buffy's eyes widened in shock at Cordelia's outburst. “Excuse me?” “You heard me. Shut-up. You have no idea what you're talking about,” Cordelia told the Slayer. “You haven't seen Spike with Alyum. You don't even know him. You haven't the faintest idea of what he's gone through for you. So just shut the hell up.” “You weren't in Sunnydale when Spike tried to rape Buffy in her bathroom,” Xander snapped at his ex-girlfriend. “No, I wasn't,” Cordelia admitted. “But I've been here, listening to him wake up screaming from nightmares every day,” she said. “Don't pretend you know what's going on inside his head, Xander. You don't even know what's going on in your own.” I can't remember yet someone Always seems to die You're the reason why I became the Chosen One I've got the right, God makes no sense I've got the right, I feel my back against the wall. Rather than joining the others out front, Spike had taken the back exit, barely making it outside the warehouse before his shaking legs failed him and he collapsed onto the asphalt, shuddering, retching and crying. He knew Rafel deserved every bit of what was done to him and more, and yet he couldn't shake the horrible guilt for having been the one to beat him nearly to death before snapping his neck. What was worse was the fact that thanks to his vampiric memory, every second of what he'd done was permanently burned onto the back of his retinas, replaying over and over in a never-ending loop whenever he closed his eyes. “Oh, God…Oh, God,” he mumbled, shuddering violently. He tried to get to his feet, and faced the warehouse, the scent of blood assaulting his senses until he collapsed again, shaking and crying anew. Death's pointed at your head Your mind's on the trigger-PULL IT! Bludgeoned bodies give up Their muted horror story Scene of my rage Scene of my rage Death is your name You're facing your grave. Buffy was pacing angrily, pausing occasionally to shoot a glare at Cordelia, who simply raised an eyebrow, refusing to respond to the Slayer's mini-tantrum. Alyum tugged on Angel's coat. “Where Iliam?” the boy inquired, looking worried about his friend's well being. “He's…talking to the man that took you,” Angel said, wanting to at least spare the boy the details. Alyum's expression was serious. “Iliam punish bad man?” Blinking, Angel could do nothing but nod. The boy smiled. “Good. Need punish bad man. Send to place for bad men,” he said firmly. “Prison?” Angel asked, somehow doubting that a nice white cell was in Rafel's future. Alyum shook his head. “Burning place. Demon place.” That made Angel's eyes widen. “Hell.” The boy nodded. “Bad man go to Hell. Iliam send him.” Surprised by the boy's no-nonsense assessment of the situation, Angel gave him a wry smile that came off as more of a grimace. “Yeah. Spike's sending Rafel to Hell, Alyum.” “Good,” the boy piped happily. Cordelia approached Angel. “Should someone go in and check on him?” she asked quietly. “Do you think we need to?” Angel responded curiously. “Angel…he has a soul and he's torturing someone to death,” Cordelia said. “Somehow I don't think he's going to be all sunshine and smiles when he comes out of there.” Worry crossed Angel's features. “I'll go check on him.” I taste your tears Caress your face I watch you lie insane Dying for love Praying to die I want what's inside you. When Angel didn't find anything but the badly beaten corpse of the sorcerer inside, everyone split up to look for Spike, Buffy and Xander not understanding why anyone from the Angel Investigations crew gave a damn. “I don't get it, Angel. He tortured you the last time you saw him,” the Slayer groused. “Why do you suddenly give a damn? I thought you hated each other.” “We did,” Angel told her shortly. “He changed.” “He didn't change very much. He attacked me in my own house, Angel,” Buffy argued. “I know,” Angel commented offhandedly. “He told me everything.” “Then why isn't he dust? Or don't you care?” Buffy demanded. Angel turned, growling at her. “Shut-up, Buffy. Yes, he attacked you. Yes, it pisses me off. If I hadn't seen firsthand that he's ripping himself apart over it, I would've staked him myself.” “So, he says he's sorry and beats his chest, and you're suddenly okay with it?” Buffy asked disbelievingly. “No. I've been where he is, and trust me, staking him would be ending his misery,” the dark-haired vampire told her shortly. A huddled form at the edge of his vision got Angel's attention, and he broke into a run, reaching the shaking mass of blonde-haired vampire in a matter of seconds. Buffy came up beside him. “What the hell is wrong with him?” Angel didn't answer her, instead kneeling next to Spike and rolling him over. “Spike? Spike, answer me.” The blonde head shook and Spike tried to curl up again, but Angel was having none of it. “Either talk to me, or I'll carry you back to the hotel over my shoulder,” he threatened. “Sod off, wanker!” Spike snarked, covering his head with his arms. Getting frustrated, Angel thumped Spike on the uncovered part of his head. “Some bad ass vampire you are. Can't even handle a little thing like a soul. Weakling,” he scoffed. Spike snarled. “What the fuck would you know about it?!” Angel smirked at him. “Plenty.” Both of them seemed oblivious to Buffy still standing there, looking like she'd been slapped. Angel grabbed Spike's arm and hauled him to his feet. “C'mon. Alyum's worried about you.” “I can't keep `im, Angel,” Spike said, sounding defeated. “Why not? He loves you,” Angel protested. “Yeah, an' what happens the next time someone nabs him? Or the time after that?” Spike argued. “I can't watch `im 24 hours a day, Peaches. Eventually, someone'll kill `im, just to get at me. I can't let that happen.” Dressed in your blood You wear it well Dying because I care Your eyes are wide But you cannot see Rotting my lust away. Buffy stood silently, listening to their conversation in confusion. What the hell had Angel meant, that Spike was letting a little thing like a soul beat him? Spike didn't have a soul. He had a government implant. It was hardly the same thing. And even that hadn't stopped him from nearly raping her on her bathroom floor, destroying the tentative trust she'd had in him. “Let's just get back to the hotel and get some rest. We can talk about it tomorrow,” Angel told Spike. “It'll be the same then,” Spike said dejectedly. “I'd soddin' die for `im, an' I can't even keep a bunch of half-arsed demons from takin' `im right from under my bloody nose.” “If you keep thinking like that, you'll be alone for the rest of your unlife, Spike. Everyone you care about becomes cannon fodder, eventually. I've lost count of the times that Cordelia and Fred have been held hostage by people who wanted to get at me,” Angel told him. “They're there because they choose to be. Alyum's young, but he's spent most of his life on the streets. He knows how to take care of himself. Don't decide for him, that's every bit as unfair as me firing everyone to keep them out of the line of fire,” Angel said. Spike snorted. “Bet that went over real well.” “Oh, yeah. Cordelia chewed me a new one,” Angel admitted. The dark-haired vampire chuckled and threw an arm over Spike's shoulders. “When she gets angry, nothing in the world had better get in her way. Hell itself trembles.” Spike laughed. Buffy trailed after them, edging out of confusion and into full-out bafflement. What the hell is going on here? She wondered. I'll shoot the violence through you And wake the part that's dead I hate the silence in you I want what's in your head.