OoSooM-Ch.9

This chapter is rated

for VIOLENCE and GRAPHIC DEPICTION of TORTURE.

If you are offended, or unable to stomach this type of thing, DO NOT READ FURTHER!!!

*By reading this chapter, you certify that you are of legal age to read objectionable material and that it is legal to read such in your area of residence. By reading this chapter, you release the author of any legal repurcussions from any misrepresentation on your part.

Dawn hugged her knees to her chest, rocking back and forth slowly, the repetitive action allowing her to withdraw into herself so that she didn't have to be aware of what was happening, to her, or to Spike.

A tiny part of her knew that if she understood what was happening, she would lose her mind.

Spike hung limply from his chains in the ceiling, his battered, broken form silent and motionless, signaling that he was unconscious.

That was better. If he had passed out again, that meant his screams couldn't batter at Dawn's paper-thin shield.

Spike's tattered and bloody duster swamped Dawn's thin form, the worn leather clutched in nearly skeletal hands as Dawn continued rocking back and forth.

She'd had the prized coat for almost a year, now. Spike had draped it over her naked body after Angelus had thrown her in the cell with him on a permanent basis. After the minions were through with her. It had taken them a century to tire of her perpetually virgin flesh.

A whimper drew Dawn's attention from within herself, and the brunette turned her head to regard the frightened human teenager that Angelus had so kindly provided for food.

He was younger than Dawn, his face still slightly rounded with baby fat that he hadn't quite grown out of.

As soon as the boy had been brought into the cell, Dawn had known why Angelus chose him.

The boy had eyes the color of the sky and hair the hue of rich, dark honey. Dawn could tell that when he got older, his cheeks would be nearly as sharp as Spike's.

As if he felt her gaze, the boy looked at her, a deer caught in headlights expression on his pale face. “What…What's going to happen to me?” he asked, trying to sound brave, though most humans had gone shrieking into madness once they realized that everything they'd been taught didn't exist had taken over their world.

After a century of domination by the legions of Hell, humanity was nearly extinct, those few humans who still lived were in hiding, or held as slaves to the demonic forces.

Before the End of Days, Dawn would have offered a smile and reassured the boy that her sister was coming, and that she would save them.

But now, Buffy was over a century dead, and the world had become Hell.

“You're going to die,” she said emotionlessly. “Just like the rest.”

The boy swallowed, his eyes showing too much white. “I don't want to die.”

“Then you should never have been born,” the brunette told him, chartreuse-blue eyes staring at him with an intensity that made him shift uncomfortably.

The door to their cell opened, and Dawn stared at the floor as Angelus entered.

“What, you haven't killed him yet?” the demon scoffed. “You haven't eaten in weeks, little girl. If you know what's good for you, you'd hurry up. I'm not likely to bring you a treat like this for a long time.”

Dawn said nothing, knowing that anything she could possibly say would only anger him, and result in pain so horrible that she would pray for death. But, death never came. Angelus saw to that.

Angelus practiced methods of torture that would've made the Marquis de Sade soil himself in terror.

“He'll die in a few days on his own, you know,” Angelus said casually. “Lack of water and food…He'll waste away here. You'd be doing him a favor, really. Lessening his suffering.”

Before the End of Days, she hadn't known what hatred truly was. She did now. Dawn hated Angelus with a passion so intense it was a physical pain. Every time she heard his voice, a tight knot of seething, boiling rage coalesced in her blood, making her physically ill with the urge to tear the green-skinned demon to pieces with her bare hands.

It was only the knowledge that she wasn't nearly strong enough, and of what Angelus would do to Spike in retaliation that kept Dawn from attacking him.

A soft groan signaled that Spike had awakened, and Dawn shuddered, knowing that Angelus lived to cause the once-blonde vampire pain.

“Well, well…Look who's joined the land of the living…Metaphorically speaking, of course,” Angelus drawled.

Spike said nothing, but that wasn't unusual. He knew as well as Dawn that speaking to Angelus only made things worse, no matter what you said. It was best to speak only when you were required to.

Angelus traced a clawed finger down the emaciated vampire's chest, chuckling darkly as Spike shivered, unable to stop the instinctive reaction as the talon slit his flesh shallowly.

“You're enjoying this, aren't you, m'boy?” the green demon questioned. “You enjoy everything I do to you, don't you?”

The tone of Angelus' voice made it clear that a response was expected.

“Yes, Master,” Spike said dully, his voice completely devoid of emotion.

Angelus laughed. “You always were a glutton for punishment,” he said, his voice deceptively soft.

Reaching into a sheath at his waist, he withdrew a wickedly curved blade, not hesitating even a second before driving it into the soft skin below Spike's navel, twisting the blade, and jerking upward sharply.

Spike screamed, a resounding shriek of pure, unadulterated agony that made Dawn squeeze her eyes shut and clamp her hands over her ears.

The boy Angelus had brought burst into tears, his harsh sobs echoing in the charged silence after Spike's scream had faded to nothing, the vampire's eyes having rolled back into his head as he lost consciousness once again, his intestines slipping from within his body to land on the floor with a wet, sucking sound.

Angelus' laughter prompted Dawn to raise her head slightly, the hairs on her neck standing on end at the jarring sound of demonic glee. When Angelus laughed like that, it meant he wasn't done with whatever torture he'd devised. It usually got much worse.

“I think you're next,” he told the crying boy, starting toward the cowering youth, the knife dripping shining, brilliantly red blood on the floor as he moved.

Dawn's self-control snapped and she reached the boy seconds before Angelus, her hands closing on the back of the boy's head and on his chin, the sound his neck made as it snapped frighteningly loud in her own ears.

She froze at the realization that she had just killed a human being, unable to even let go of the still-warm corpse that was heavy against her chest.

Angelus chortled. “Finally! Your first kill, Dawnie, I'm so proud!”

Angelus' delighted laughter faded into the background as Dawn withdrew into herself, finding solace in the blank grayness of oblivion.

Buffy had known as soon as she saw Cordelia that something was horribly, terribly wrong. She'd never seen the ex-cheerleader so incredibly pale before.

“Cordy? What's wrong?” the Slayer asked, setting aside her katana and wiping the sweat from her brow with the sleeve of her tunic.

Cordelia shook her head. “I'll have to show you. Get the others. Tell Angel to leave Connor with Arwen,” she said, then walked away without another word.

Once Buffy had tracked down Angel and Methos, they headed toward Galadriel's chamber, where the scrying pool was located.

“Angel…I know why your bloodlust is gone,” Cordelia said quietly.

“When I brought you here…Angelus stayed behind. The Hellmouth wouldn't let him come with you, so the demon was permanently separated from you,” she told him.

Angel looked shocked, then a small smile curved his lips upward. “So, I'm free?”

Cordelia nodded. “That's the only good news,” she said, touching a finger to the scrying pool.

A soft, golden glow shimmered over the surface of the water, and the group watched in horror as Angelus tortured Spike and caused Dawn to kill a boy that couldn't have been more than thirteen.

When the water went dark, Buffy looked at Cordelia. “How long?” she demanded.

Not even Angelus could destroy Spike's willful nature in a year. It wasn't possible.

“A hundred and twenty-one years,” the Higher Being said, her voice hardly above a whisper.

All the blood drained from Buffy's face and she might've fallen if Methos hadn't caught her.

“Oh, God…Dawnie…She and Spike have lived through that for over a century?” the Slayer gasped, trembling as tears ran unchecked down her face.

Looking extremely green, Angel bolted, barely making it outside before he heaved the contents of his stomach onto the grass, shuddering and choking in revulsion at what his demon had done, even without the use of Angel's body.

“I'm so sorry, Buffy…I didn't know,” Cordelia told her. “I tried to see what was happening so many times…I thought I couldn't because we were here…I didn't know something was blocking me.”

Buffy nodded dumbly, then seemed to rebuild herself, her eyes hardening as her tears dried abruptly. “We're getting them out of there. Now,” she said, her voice promising vengeance on the demon that had dared touch her sister and Spike.


	WARNING!!!! This chapter is rated for VIOLENCE and GRAPHIC DEPICTION of TORTURE. If you are offended, or unable to stomach this type of thing, DO NOT READ FURTHER!!! By reading this chapter, you certify that you are of legal age* to read objectionable material and that it is legal to read such in your area of residence. By reading this chapter, you release the author of any legal repurcussions from any misrepresentation on your part. Sunnydale, California 121 years after the End of Days (Sunnydale time) Dawn hugged her knees to her chest, rocking back and forth slowly, the repetitive action allowing her to withdraw into herself so that she didn't have to be aware of what was happening, to her, or to Spike. A tiny part of her knew that if she understood what was happening, she would lose her mind. Spike hung limply from his chains in the ceiling, his battered, broken form silent and motionless, signaling that he was unconscious. That was better. If he had passed out again, that meant his screams couldn't batter at Dawn's paper-thin shield. Spike's tattered and bloody duster swamped Dawn's thin form, the worn leather clutched in nearly skeletal hands as Dawn continued rocking back and forth. She'd had the prized coat for almost a year, now. Spike had draped it over her naked body after Angelus had thrown her in the cell with him on a permanent basis. After the minions were through with her. It had taken them a century to tire of her perpetually virgin flesh. Angelus hadn't liked that Spike gave her the cherished coat. So, Spike had been paying since then, so that Dawn could keep it. A whimper drew Dawn's attention from within herself, and the brunette turned her head to regard the frightened human teenager that Angelus had so kindly provided for food. He was younger than Dawn, his face still slightly rounded with baby fat that he hadn't quite grown out of. As soon as the boy had been brought into the cell, Dawn had known why Angelus chose him. The boy had eyes the color of the sky and hair the hue of rich, dark honey. Dawn could tell that when he got older, his cheeks would be nearly as sharp as Spike's. Angelus had chosen the boy because he resembled Spike. As if he felt her gaze, the boy looked at her, a deer caught in headlights expression on his pale face. “What…What's going to happen to me?” he asked, trying to sound brave, though most humans had gone shrieking into madness once they realized that everything they'd been taught didn't exist had taken over their world. After a century of domination by the legions of Hell, humanity was nearly extinct, those few humans who still lived were in hiding, or held as slaves to the demonic forces. Before the End of Days, Dawn would have offered a smile and reassured the boy that her sister was coming, and that she would save them. But now, Buffy was over a century dead, and the world had become Hell. “You're going to die,” she said emotionlessly. “Just like the rest.” The boy swallowed, his eyes showing too much white. “I don't want to die.” “Then you should never have been born,” the brunette told him, chartreuse-blue eyes staring at him with an intensity that made him shift uncomfortably. The door to their cell opened, and Dawn stared at the floor as Angelus entered. “What, you haven't killed him yet?” the demon scoffed. “You haven't eaten in weeks, little girl. If you know what's good for you, you'd hurry up. I'm not likely to bring you a treat like this for a long time.” Dawn said nothing, knowing that anything she could possibly say would only anger him, and result in pain so horrible that she would pray for death. But, death never came. Angelus saw to that. Angelus practiced methods of torture that would've made the Marquis de Sade soil himself in terror. “He'll die in a few days on his own, you know,” Angelus said casually. “Lack of water and food…He'll waste away here. You'd be doing him a favor, really. Lessening his suffering.” Dawn didn't have to see the smirk to hear it in Angelus' voice. Before the End of Days, she hadn't known what hatred truly was. She did now. Dawn hated Angelus with a passion so intense it was a physical pain. Every time she heard his voice, a tight knot of seething, boiling rage coalesced in her blood, making her physically ill with the urge to tear the green-skinned demon to pieces with her bare hands. It was only the knowledge that she wasn't nearly strong enough, and of what Angelus would do to Spike in retaliation that kept Dawn from attacking him. A soft groan signaled that Spike had awakened, and Dawn shuddered, knowing that Angelus lived to cause the once-blonde vampire pain. “Well, well…Look who's joined the land of the living…Metaphorically speaking, of course,” Angelus drawled. Spike said nothing, but that wasn't unusual. He knew as well as Dawn that speaking to Angelus only made things worse, no matter what you said. It was best to speak only when you were required to. Angelus traced a clawed finger down the emaciated vampire's chest, chuckling darkly as Spike shivered, unable to stop the instinctive reaction as the talon slit his flesh shallowly. “You're enjoying this, aren't you, m'boy?” the green demon questioned. “You enjoy everything I do to you, don't you?” The tone of Angelus' voice made it clear that a response was expected. “Yes, Master,” Spike said dully, his voice completely devoid of emotion. Angelus laughed. “You always were a glutton for punishment,” he said, his voice deceptively soft. Reaching into a sheath at his waist, he withdrew a wickedly curved blade, not hesitating even a second before driving it into the soft skin below Spike's navel, twisting the blade, and jerking upward sharply. Spike screamed, a resounding shriek of pure, unadulterated agony that made Dawn squeeze her eyes shut and clamp her hands over her ears. The boy Angelus had brought burst into tears, his harsh sobs echoing in the charged silence after Spike's scream had faded to nothing, the vampire's eyes having rolled back into his head as he lost consciousness once again, his intestines slipping from within his body to land on the floor with a wet, sucking sound. Angelus' laughter prompted Dawn to raise her head slightly, the hairs on her neck standing on end at the jarring sound of demonic glee. When Angelus laughed like that, it meant he wasn't done with whatever torture he'd devised. It usually got much worse. “I think you're next,” he told the crying boy, starting toward the cowering youth, the knife dripping shining, brilliantly red blood on the floor as he moved. Dawn's self-control snapped and she reached the boy seconds before Angelus, her hands closing on the back of the boy's head and on his chin, the sound his neck made as it snapped frighteningly loud in her own ears. She froze at the realization that she had just killed a human being, unable to even let go of the still-warm corpse that was heavy against her chest. Angelus chortled. “Finally! Your first kill, Dawnie, I'm so proud!” Angelus' delighted laughter faded into the background as Dawn withdrew into herself, finding solace in the blank grayness of oblivion. Middle Earth one year after the End of Days (Middle Earth time) Buffy had known as soon as she saw Cordelia that something was horribly, terribly wrong. She'd never seen the ex-cheerleader so incredibly pale before. “Cordy? What's wrong?” the Slayer asked, setting aside her katana and wiping the sweat from her brow with the sleeve of her tunic. “I…Vision,” the Seer-cum-Higher Being choked out. “Of what?” Buffy asked, frowning. Cordelia shook her head. “I'll have to show you. Get the others. Tell Angel to leave Connor with Arwen,” she said, then walked away without another word. Once Buffy had tracked down Angel and Methos, they headed toward Galadriel's chamber, where the scrying pool was located. “Angel…I know why your bloodlust is gone,” Cordelia said quietly. The dark-haired vampire frowned. “Why?” “When I brought you here…Angelus stayed behind. The Hellmouth wouldn't let him come with you, so the demon was permanently separated from you,” she told him. Angel looked shocked, then a small smile curved his lips upward. “So, I'm free?” Cordelia nodded. “That's the only good news,” she said, touching a finger to the scrying pool. A soft, golden glow shimmered over the surface of the water, and the group watched in horror as Angelus tortured Spike and caused Dawn to kill a boy that couldn't have been more than thirteen. When the water went dark, Buffy looked at Cordelia. “How long?” she demanded. Not even Angelus could destroy Spike's willful nature in a year. It wasn't possible. “A hundred and twenty-one years,” the Higher Being said, her voice hardly above a whisper. All the blood drained from Buffy's face and she might've fallen if Methos hadn't caught her. “Oh, God…Dawnie…She and Spike have lived through that for over a century?” the Slayer gasped, trembling as tears ran unchecked down her face. Looking extremely green, Angel bolted, barely making it outside before he heaved the contents of his stomach onto the grass, shuddering and choking in revulsion at what his demon had done, even without the use of Angel's body. “I'm so sorry, Buffy…I didn't know,” Cordelia told her. “I tried to see what was happening so many times…I thought I couldn't because we were here…I didn't know something was blocking me.” Buffy nodded dumbly, then seemed to rebuild herself, her eyes hardening as her tears dried abruptly. “We're getting them out of there. Now,” she said, her voice promising vengeance on the demon that had dared touch her sister and Spike.