Prisoner
Chapter 2
December 2nd—Vienna, Hotel Kaiserin Elisabeth
Travel to Vienna had proved uneventful for everyone even with the changes. At first, Giles had been quite distressed by Spike’s new travel plans, particularly his choice of hotel, but after fuming at the vampire for springing this on them at the last minute and swearing about the cost of rooms at the Hotel Kaiserin Elisabeth, the Watcher had acquiesced. He had still been irritated by the costs, even though Buffy had quietly pointed out that the other hotels they had considered weren’t much cheaper. He had, however, agreed that having all of them stay in the same hotel would facilitate meetings among the group while allowing them to remain inconspicuous. Luckily, Buffy and Giles had been able to get their flight rescheduled fairly easily, so, despite a day’s delay in leaving LA they had still arrived in Vienna the same day as originally planned.
Spike had not reached Vienna until nearly a week later. His choice of airline had simplified and shortened the actual flights, but his business arrangements had taken up the rest of the time. He had spent a couple of days in London, seeing to his accounts there and catching up with vampire society. In addition to meeting with old friends and acquaintances he had secured letters of introduction to some of the more prominent demons and vampires on the Continent, particularly those who were new to the scene since he and Dru had left for America. In Zurich, his business had taken four days, but Spike had felt the time was well spent, since it had ensured that reports about him would reach Vienna before he did, and that he could meet with the Master of that city almost immediately on arriving there. What’s more, it had given him a chance to hook himself back into the grapevine so the latest gossip about the Slayer and any looming threats to the vampire community would be sure to reach his ears.
One on-going source of concern to the blond vampire had been the problem of keeping his association with Giles and Buffy from becoming apparent. The pay-as-you-go cell phones that all three carried provided one means of unnoticed communication, but it would be necessary for them to meet at the hotel, and the logistics of that could prove tricky. The layout of the hotel would be both a help and a hindrance. Humans, ordinary tourists as well as business travelers, occupied the majority of the hotel, and to the casual observer there was little or no sign of the “special” clientele that occupied the subterranean rooms. These rooms, every bit as elegant and spacious as those aboveground, were usually reached from a second entrance and lobby, located on a side street and magically masked from ordinary sight. Some of the more human-appearing demonic guests, however, vampires among them, used the main entrance and lobby. To provide for these guests, there was a “demon-friendly” manager on duty after dark, and a private key-operated elevator that serviced only the lower floors. Spike had hoped that he would be able to get from this elevator to those servicing the upper floors without attract much attention from either staff or guests. This would allow him to slip up to the Slayer’s or Watcher’s rooms for discussion. While it would also be possible for him to bring them down to his suite, it would be far more risky.
When he had checked in at the main entrance on November 23rd, Spike had been pleased to find a letter waiting for him addressed in the Watcher’s hand. As expected, it contained the room numbers of both Buffy and Giles and a suggestion that they meet in the latter’s room at about 11 PM. That hour would see few or no guests, demon or human, moving about on the sleeping floors; early rising humans would be in their rooms, while night owls and the majority of demons would be out on the town. The layout of the lobby had also been a pleasant surprise to the vampire. The private elevator was down a small corridor near the main bank of elevators, and was out of the direct line of sight of the front desk and lobby sitting areas. The meeting in Giles’ room that night had been brief, but allowed the three to set up a regular schedule for phone calls and meetings.
Over the next week and a half, Spike slid back into vampire society in the city, and confirmed what he had learned in London and Zurich: no one knew he was chipped. In an effort to keep it that way, the bleached blond had cultivated the impression that he would only hunt alone, thus preventing anyone from seeing that he didn’t feed on humans. His information gathering and re-entry into the social round had gone well, too. In addition to meeting with the Master of the city, a prime source of social contacts, Spike had discovered that a number of his old acquaintances were still in the area. They had been delighted to see him, and between these old friends and the Master he had caught up on much of the gossip of the last 20 or 30 years, and had been introduced to the new arrivals of any importance.
Rudolf, the Master of Vienna, was young, no more then 50, and had gained control of the city because of his ability to keep peace among the clans, not his raw power. Spike didn’t remember him, as Rudolf had been little more than a fledgling during the English vampire’s last stay in Austria. Rudolf, however, knew Spike by reputation, and was entirely happy to strike up a friendship, particularly when he discovered that Spike was only visiting. He made a point of inviting the older vampire to parties and helping him out in any way that he could. After all, it never hurt to have part of the Scourge of Europe think well of you, and a Master with as little strength as Rudolf knew full well that William the Bloody could supplant him easily if he chose.
The Master of Vienna was one of Judson’s closest friends and allies in the demonic community, so when Spike inquired about him, Rudolf was more than happy to tell Spike as much as he could about the mage. Judson had lived in Vienna for a long time, Rudolf had explained, though he also maintained ties to England. He had always had a fair amount of power, but had only gained notice in European magical circles in the last several years. No one seemed to know much more of his background than that, though most seemed to know and like him. The general consensus was that he was a practitioner of the dark arts, a hedonist, and threw some of the best parties around. When the talk had turned to Judson’s taste in women, Spike had heard a number of descriptions of a red-haired slave named Kitty, most of which he decided to keep to himself. It was clearly Willow they were discussing, and equally clearly she was not the shy little thing she had once been. Judson was apparently quite free with her favors to those he considered allies or friends, and she had made an indelible impression on those who had lain with her. While this was not news Buffy or Giles would want to hear, Spike realized, at least it suggested that it might not be too difficult for him to see the redhead alone.
Spike met Judson at a party Rudolf had hosted in the vampire’s honor on his third full day in the city. It turned out to be quite easy to strike up a conversation and begin to build a “friendship” with him . The two spent many hours chatting at different parties, and, over the next week, found they had a number of interests in common. In fact, under other circumstances and in other times, Spike thought he and the mage might well have become genuine friends. As it was, the vampire felt sure he could soon secure an invitation to the mage’s home—the first step towards freeing Willow. Hearing the vampire’s tales of the old days before Angelus was cursed delighted Judson, particularly stories of some of the more exotic entertainments they had enjoyed. He was also impressed with Spike’s knowledge of magic and magical artifacts, which, as the mage remarked, was quite extensive for someone with as little magical ability as Spike professed to have. All in all, the two got along extremely well.
While all this was going on, the Watcher and the Slayer were trying to keep a low profile. As cover for his presence in Vienna, Giles had dredged up some unfinished research from a number of years ago, and Buffy had been pressed, reluctantly, into the role of his research assistant. It was certainly a good cover; in a conservative business suit with her hair up in a bun, she looked almost nothing like herself. That was the up side. The down side of the masquerade for both Giles and Spike was listening to the Slayer’s incessant complaints about spending all day with her nose in a book when she wanted nothing more than to storm into Judson’s place, grab Willow, and beat the living daylights out of the mage for what he had done to her best friend.
Despite her whining, Buffy had worked hard at the research. Unfortunately, neither she nor Giles had turned up much information yet. Newspaper archives and local histories revealed that the Judson family had been in Vienna since the 1870s, but there had been nothing remarkable about them. In the last 10 years there were scattered references to Allyn Judson in social columns and occasional news articles. From these, the Watcher formed the impression that, whatever his magical activities, Judson was a well-respected member of the English-speaking community in Vienna and was fairly prominent in Viennese society in general.
Once they had exhausted the libraries’ resources, Giles had turned to the collection of esoteric tomes housed at the National Museum. In addition to grimoires, the collections featured the records of several magical societies that had flourished in the area over the years. Although he had little expectation of finding anything of value in the older records, the journals of a few of the societies ran up through the 1990s and the Watcher hoped to stumble across Judson’s name in these or in one of the many diaries among the esoterica.
Though they had found little about Judson himself, Giles had been able to trace the history of the estate. In the late 18th century it had belonged to a mage Giles had heard of before, Christopher Brenton, who had been allied with the Mage’s Council. Christopher and his wife Renata were killed in 1811, and barely two years later their children, 23-year-old Alexander and his 17-year-old sister, Jocelyn, had died in a fire that completely destroyed one wing of the manor house. For the next 60 years the estate had changed hands many times, until the Judson family purchased it.
Other than this, the Watcher and Slayer had learned little, which frustrated Buffy no end. Never a patient person, she was growing more and more restless, and made her displeasure known on a regular basis. Moreover, once the research had moved from the library, where she could at least help with the English language newspapers and the city directories, to the museum where everything was in languages she couldn’t read, Buffy’s complaining had escalated. This morning was no different. They had gathered in Spike’s suite in the hour just before dawn. Judson had mentioned dropping Spike a note or a call when they had spoken the previous night, and the vampire was concerned enough about the possibility of missing the message that he had taken the risk of sneaking the Slayer and Watcher down to his rooms. He was beginning to regret the decision, however, since Buffy was pacing up and down the living room and beginning her daily litany of complaints.
“Giles, do we have to go back to the museum today?” she whined. “We were there all day yesterday, and the day before, and we’ve learned absolutely nothing about Judson. Well, nothing I’d call useful, anyway. I mean you found his name, or more likely his grandfather’s, in one old journal”
“Actually I was going to call on an acquaintance of mine who appears to have settled in the city in the past few years,” the Watcher replied as he swallowed some aspirin for the headache he could feel beginning. “You may have the day to yourself if you promise to stay out of trouble.”
“Trouble, me?” Buffy made a futile attempt to look innocent, “What could I possibly do to get in trouble—I don’t even speak German.”
“The mind boggles, pet,” Spike laughed at the Slayer’s attempt to look innocent. “If we let you have your head I dare say Giles or I would find ourselves down at the police station trying to bail you out.”
“You’re right, I guess, it’s just that I’m going crazy playing research girl, and I feel completely useless,” she said, her frustration evident. “Giles is trying to find out about Judson and what he might be up to and you’re getting to know the son-of-a-bitch who kidnapped Willow so you can get in and see her. What good am I doing; why am I even here?” Her eyes filled with tears.
“You’re Willow’s best friend, Buffy,” Giles said as Spike put an arm around the Slayer to comfort her. “If nothing else, you need to be here for her when we first get her back. She will likely be disoriented and traumatized and will need you.”
“Besides, luv,” Spike added, “there’s no guarantee I’ll be able to buy Red from the mage. Chances are we’ll have to fall back on using some degree of force, and we’ll need Slayer strength for that.”
“I know, I know. I’m sorry for all the fussing, guys,” Buffy wiped away her tears. “I’m no good at waiting; it always drives me crazy and this is worse than the usual stuff. You know, I had begun to accept that Willow was gone for good, that she was probably dead. Now we’ve found her and I can’t stop thinking about what Judson is doing to her. Those pictures are haunting me. How can he do that?”
“You mean pass Red around to his men and his guests?” Spike asked, guessing what was bothering the Slayer the most.
“Yeah. I could understand his making Will his, uh... lover, uh... sex toy, um…”
“Slave, Buffy, the word you’re looking for is slave,” the vampire interrupted. “And that goes a long way to explaining his attitude. She’s property, something he owns and can do what he likes with.” He paused, but the expression on the Slayer’s face made him continue. “Look, you let your friends borrow your clothes, or books, don’t you?”
“Yes,” the Slayer said, slowly.
“And if you had a puppy or a kitten, you’d let us play with it, right?”
“Sure,” Buffy grinned, “well, maybe not you, you might use it as stakes in a poker game, but otherwise, yeah.”
“It’s the same thing. He’s sharing something he owns with his friends and the folks who work for him.”
“But she’s a person, not a book or a kitten, he can’t own her!” Buffy screamed in frustration.
“But he does, Buffy,” Giles cut in. “For all practical purposes he does own Willow and he can do what he likes with her. And, frankly, we’re counting on that. Our best chance is if the bastard has tired of her, or gotten what he needs from her, and is willing to sell.”
“I guess you’re right,” the young blonde said sadly. “It just hurts to think of her that way. Maybe if I had something to do I could feel useful and stop worrying so much.”
Just then, a knock at the door interrupted them. When Spike answered, the attendant handed him a letter.
“This just came for you, sir.”
The vampire tipped the young man, then opened the envelope and removed a note written on elegant letter paper. “Well, Slayer,” Spike said as he finished perusing it, “I think we may have something for you to do this afternoon. And it’s a good thing we took the chance of meeting in my suite. I’d have hated to miss this.”
“Why, what’s in the letter, Spike?”
“It’s the break we’ve been hoping for. An invite to the mage’s house.” Spike explained as he showed the note to Giles. “Seems Judson is having a small get-together tonight and has asked me to attend. With any luck, he’ll have Willow with him, and I may be able to get in a few words with her.”
“This is wonderful Spike,” the Watcher said, handing the note back to the vampire. “You’ve obviously done a fine job of getting chummy with him. He strikes a very friendly tone in his note, and seems quite anxious to see you. What did you want Buffy to do?”
“Since he’s given us directions to the place and a map showing the estate, I was hoping to get a little recon.” He handed the map and directions to Buffy. “What do you think, luv. Can you scout the place for me?”
“Sure,” she replied, looking at the map “It looks like there’s parks and woods around the estate, so I can be out for a hike, maybe do some nature photography. I most likely won’t be able to get too close to the buildings, but I can at least get a look around the perimeter. Anything in particular that you want me to look for?”
“Not this time,” Spike answered. “I’d just like to get an idea of whether I’m walking into a heavily armed compound or what. It’s obviously secure enough that Red hasn’t been able to escape, but that doesn’t mean much if he’s keeping her locked up or is controlling her movements some other way. Hell, all he’d really have to do is keep her nude. She’d not get far that way—particularly in winter.”
“Are you concerned about a trap, Spike?” Giles turned a worried look on the blond vampire. “Is there some reason to worry that you haven’t mentioned?”
“Nah, just paranoia, mate. After the sterling hospitality of the Initiative, I’m a little antsy about walking in anywhere blind.”
Buffy smiled reassuringly at her former enemy. “It’s okay. I’ll scout the estate as well as I can, and get some pictures—I knew that zoom lens would be useful. You’ll have a general idea of what you’re walking into, at least from the outside.”
“Great. I’ll catch some shut eye then.” Spike started to escort his guests to the door of the suite then stopped, obviously having thought of something. “One more thing. It’s a real long shot in this weather, but on the off chance that you see Willow on the grounds of the estate, don’t go near her, and don’t say anything to her or let her see you. Okay?”
“Why?”
“We don’t know anything about her state of mind, and if she were to see you and tell her Master, it could blow any chance of getting close to her. Even if she didn’t mention anything it could build up her hopes before we’re sure we can get her out.”
“But you’ll let her know we’re here in Vienna and that we’re trying to rescue her, right? I mean if you can talk to her alone,” Buffy asked suspiciously. When Spike didn’t answer right away, she reiterated her question. “You are going to tell her, aren’t you, Spike?”
“No, pet, I’m not.” He sighed; he had hoped to avoid this conversation. “I can’t know how badly broken she is until I talk to her. It could be she’d go right to Judson with the story, and then we’d be shit out of luck. Even if that’s not the case, the less she knows, the less she can spill, even accidentally. It’s best for her to think I’m in Vienna on business, and had no idea she belongs to the mage.”
“Giles!” Buffy turned pleadingly to her mentor. “We can’t just leave Willow in the dark. She’s got to know we’ve been looking for her and that we’re trying to get her out of there!”
“I’m afraid Spike is right, Buffy. It would be very unsound strategy to give Judson any chance of learning our plans. And Willow is in a position where she could all too easily be forced to speak. I’m sorry we hadn’t explained this earlier. I never discussed it with Spike, I just assumed we operating on the same basis, which we clearly were.” The Watcher sighed and added, “To be honest, I suppose I was hoping to avoid discussing this with you at all. I know how much you want to reassure Willow, but we can’t. Now, let’s let Spike rest. I’ll drive you out to the area near Judson’s house.” Buffy nodded reluctantly and the three quickly walked down the hall. Spike took them up to the lobby in the private elevator and Buffy headed for the bank of elevators serving the “normal” part of the hotel.
As Giles made to follow her, however, Spike stopped him. “There’s something else we need to talk about, Watcher, and I’d rather not raise this in front of the Slayer. She’d never understand.”
“What is it, Spike?” the Watcher asked as Spike drew him into a deserted alcove.
“What do we do if Red’s been broken completely, past the point of recovery?” Spike’s voice was hard. “You know what I mean.”
“Unfortunately, I do.” Giles started polishing his glasses, a clear indication of his discomfort. “I don’t see many alternatives. We can’t just leave her there; even if she is broken—isn’t our Willow any longer. She’d be far too powerful a tool in Judson’s hands.”
“Not if she’s dead,” Spike said, his voice empty of emotion. “I couldn’t do it myself, at least not directly, but I could probably arrange it. Or I could drug her—a deliberate overdose shouldn’t set the chip off.”
“No!” the Watcher’s voice was firm. “Not unless there is absolutely no other choice. And even then, what would I tell Buffy?”
“You wouldn’t tell her anything Rupert. We’d still be here, trying to get Red out. That’s all the kids would ever need to know. Then when Judson dumps the body, we tip off the police, they grab him and Willow gets sent home for burial.” Spike looked at Giles, his face and eyes hard and cold. “I know it’s a lousy answer to a bloody awful possibility, and it’d be poor payment for everything she’s done for the Slayer, and the rest of us. But as you said, she’d be a dangerous tool in Judson’s hands. Besides, you know her better than I do. Tell me, would she want to be just a fuck toy and potential spell component or power source for the mage for the rest of her life?”
“I see, you have thought this through—and no, I don’t think Willow would want that.” Giles sighed. “Very well, we can hold your suggestion in reserve in case all our efforts to get her out fail, and the only alternative is leaving her in Judson’s hands. But it is only a last resort, Spike. If it’s simply a question of her being broken—no matter how badly, you are not to do anything of the sort. Do you understand me?” the Watcher practically growled. “In that event, we will get her out somehow, and find a way to care for her back in Sunnydale. Perhaps her parents might be persuaded to leave her in my care or something.”
“Right.” Spike nodded as he headed back towards the elevator. “Just so we understand each other. I’ve no desire to see the witch dead, but I won’t leave her behind, either. That would be too cruel even for me at my worst.”
Late afternoon — The woods near Judson’s estate
Buffy carefully snapped off another long distance shot of the manor house. “Thank heavens for digital cameras,” she thought “I’d never be able to get this much film developed fast enough for Spike to see it before tonight.” She had already taken the equivalent of a couple of rolls of film, and was expecting to shoot at least another 20 or 30 pictures before Giles came back to pick her up.
The Slayer had spent the last hour or so making her way around the edges of Judson’s estate. Her sketchbook now contained a reasonably good map of the grounds, with the old stone walls, security fencing and cameras clearly marked, and the outlying buildings identified. Security was good, but she had seen far better in the affluent areas of Sunnydale, including Cordelia Chase’s former home. Still, she had only now found a spot the security cameras didn’t cover where she could see the manor house itself. Checking carefully for guards, Buffy boosted herself to the top of the low stone wall. She perched there, hidden in the trees for several minutes, taking yet more pictures, and then she quietly dropped down inside the wall. Neither Giles nor Spike had thought to forbid her to enter the grounds, so she wasn’t exactly disobeying orders, but she knew she was cutting it close. “I’ll probably get yelled at for this, but at least I’ll get a decent look at the place,” she muttered to herself.
The more she looked around, the more impressed Buffy became with the expanse of Judson’s property, and the more certain she became that the last thing she wanted to do was to try and break Willow out of it. From where she sat, 2 or 3 minutes later, hidden in the shadow of a copse of trees, she could see two of the three wings quite well, and was able to make out some of the third. As she quickly photographed the house, she sighed. None of what she saw looked hopeful. Although there were no guards in sight, she assumed that the grounds were patrolled after dark. Even if they weren’t, it would do her little or no good to get near the manor house. All the ground floor windows appeared to be barred, except for those that led into places like the ballroom—so not a good spot to break and enter. Above the ground floor, the windows weren’t barred, but the drop from the second story would be too long for Willow, even if Buffy could get in, in the first place, and then find the witch in a building that large. What’s more, given the age of the building, there were probably extensive cellars. If Willow was being held there, then even getting her to a window or door would be a challenge.
Suddenly, Buffy spotted movement near the manor house itself. Several men, guards by the look of them, had emerged and were spreading out, obviously looking for an intruder. They seemed to be concentrating on the quadrant of the estate where she had entered, and at least one of them was headed directly towards her. She swore under her breath and started to slip back through the trees to the estate wall. Obviously she had tripped some sort of alarm when she entered the grounds, though she hadn’t seen any motion detectors. “Magic,” she thought as she moved, “of course Judson would have the place warded. Why didn’t I think of that?” Buffy reached the wall well ahead of any of the guards, climbed over and swiftly made her way back though the woods to the city streets, hoping they hadn’t gotten a good look at her. Between the security she had seen, and the wards that she couldn’t see there was no help for it. The only way that they stood any chance of getting Willow out of this mess alive was with Spike on the inside.
A few minutes later—The library of Judson’s suite
As the door opened and Warren stepped in, Willow looked up from her book. A pleasant afternoon reading at her Master’s feet had been disrupted a few minutes ago by alarms and the sound of guards bustling through the mansion. She hoped the head of security’s arrival meant that whatever the problem was had been solved. Master had been in a good mood all day and she didn’t want it spoiled now.
“Well, Warren?” Judson asked, setting his book aside. “Did you find whoever set off the wards?”
“The men spotted someone, sir, but the intruder made it back over the wall before anyone could close with him,” Warren reported. “It was a single individual, and there was no sign he had gotten any farther into the estate than about 10 or 12 meters.”
“Did you get a decent picture of him; one we can send the police?”
“No, sir. Unfortunately the intruder entered at one of the few spots on the perimeter not covered by the security cameras, and the guards didn’t even get close enough to tell if it was a man or a woman.”
“Damn!” the mage swore, frowning. “Your opinion?”
“I’d put it down to a vagrant, or a teenager stirring up trouble, but the choice of entry point, just at a hole in the camera coverage, and the speed with which the intruder made it back over the wall and away tend to suggest a professional of some kind.” Warren replied, a degree of worry coming into his usual calm, competent tone. “I suggest we look at strengthening our security arrangements. The camera system is long over due for an overhaul and upgrade, as you know.”
“Yes.” As he considered the situation, Judson beckoned to Willow, who crawled closer to his feet and rested her head on his knee. She knew her Master liked to stroke her hair while he was thinking or working on anything difficult. He seemed to find it calming. “All right,” the mage told Warren after a few minutes. “Go ahead and start on whatever upgrades to the security system you think are necessary. That will take a while, I know, so for now I want the patrols increased.” He sighed. “I suppose you had better add some during the day as well as at night, if we have enough men to cover it. As for the wards, I’ll strengthen them, make them a bit more sensitive. I seem to remember something about creating a trap warding, but I’m not sure where it was. I’ll have to look into that.”
“What about the party tonight, sir?” Warren asked. “The wards will have to be down, or at least curtailed if the guests are to have the freedom of the grounds.”
“We’ll just have to restrict our guests a bit,” the mage answered. “I’ll take down the wards on the front lawn and the gardens, but leave everything else in place. You’ll have to see that the guests are notified as they arrive,” Judson decided, playing with his slave’s tresses. “It shouldn’t be much of a hardship, given the weather, but I’m sure someone will grouse. Oh, and tell the men to be particularly vigilant for the next few weeks. If that intruder comes back I want him caught.”
10:00 P.M.—The ballroom of Judson’s manor house
“Spike! I didn’t expect to see you here.” Rudolf exclaimed, crossing the room to greet the blond.
“Yeah, well the mage sent me a note, and I hadn’t anything else planned, so I thought I’d drop by,” Spike replied. He had been at the party for a bit over an hour and had only spotted his host once from across the room. He was quickly becoming bored; remembering yet again just how deadly dull he had always found this type of party, even when he was alive. “So where is the bugger, I wanted to pay my respects, but he keeps disappearing just when I catch a glimpse of him.”
“Let me take you to him,” Rudolf volunteered helpfully as Spike had hoped he would, “He’s in one of the smaller reception rooms showing off again.” The Master of the City leered as he led Spike to a door on the far wall. “But then if I had that little spitfire for a slave I’d probably show her off a lot as well. If I ever let her out of my bed.”
“That would be that redheaded piece of fluff you’ve all been raving about, right?” the English vampire asked casually. “I wouldn’t mind getting a glimpse of her. I’m partial to redheads.”
“Well, Kitty can usually be found at Judson’s feet if she’s not spreading herself for someone, so there’s a good chance we can kill two birds with one stone, as you say.” Rudolf said, as they entered the smaller room. “Ah, yes, there she is—you see?”
Spike looked and saw Willow, curled up on the floor at the foot of a chair. Judson, who was chatting with several other guests, was idly fondling her hair. Just then, Rudolf called to the mage.
“Hey, Allyn! Here’s Spike, he’s been looking for you!”
As the mage turned to look, so did the slave. Willow’s eyes grew huge at the sight of the familiar face, but she quickly dropped her head as her Master rose to greet his guest.
“Spike! Welcome, welcome,” Judson said jovially as he shook the vampire’s hand, “I was afraid you hadn’t made it to the party.”
“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” Spike replied. “Love the quaint little place you’ve got here. Think you’ve got enough room?”
The mage laughed, “Yes, well it does sprawl a bit. It belonged to my grandparents and a couple of generations before that, I think. My parents inherited it when I was about 12.”
“Your folks still around?” Spike inquired idly, trying to make polite conversation.
“Alas, no,” Judson sighed, “my parents were killed in an accident when I was 21 and my sister was only 15. She died only a few years later. Poor thing never recovered from our parents’ deaths. But enough of my past,” he motioned Spike to a seat next to him. “Your glass is empty. What will you have to drink?”
“Scotch, neat,” Spike replied as he sat. At the same time, Judson tugged on Willow’s leash, causing her to look up.
“Yes, Master?” she asked.
“Fetch a drink for my friend, little one, and don’t dawdle,” Judson ordered. “You heard his request?”
“Yes, Master,” she said, glancing up at Spike, “Scotch, neat.”
“Good.” The mage signaled her to rise and sent her off towards the bar with a little swat on her butt.
Spike watched unabashedly as Willow crossed the room. She moved with a grace he had never seen in her before. This part of this rescue mission, the part that involved spending time with Willow, was shaping up to be quite pleasant, the vampire mused. “She’s certainly a lovely sight,” he remarked to his host. “Looks like the stories I’ve heard may be true.”
“And what have you heard, my friend?”
“That you’ve exquisite taste in women and that your slave shags like a mink in heat.”
Judson laughed merrily at Spike’s comment. “The latter’s certainly true enough. She’s a wonder. I’ve enjoyed training her even more than usual, and she responded so well. She put up enough resistance to make the game enjoyable, but had enough sense to realize when she could not win.”
“So she’s not your first, then?” the vampire inquired.
“No, far from it. I’ve had quite a number of slaves over the years. It suits me to have a woman available whenever and wherever I want, especially one I’ve trained to my particular preferences, which are, shall we say, a bit exotic. Besides, I discovered long ago that my greatest pleasure comes from breaking them to my will and teaching them to find pleasure in their degradation.” The mage’s eyes glinted with a dark passion. “This one has afforded me some additional amusement. She’s naturally passionate, but hid that behind a rather prim façade. Would you believe she couldn’t even say the word ”sex” without blushing? Stripping the façade from her and watching her struggle to deny her arousal and need proved most entertaining. It was a hopeless fight, of course, her body responded even when her mind rebelled.”
Spike listened attentively as the mage waxed eloquent about the delights of breaking Willow, though the thought of what Judson must have done to the witch angered him. On the positive side, however, given that the mage enjoyed breaking and training a slave more than actually owning one, the possibility of purchasing Willow might be greater than Spike had anticipated.
Just then, Willow returned. She knelt in front of the vampire and offered him the glass of Scotch, her head bowed submissively.
“Your drink, sir,” she murmured.
As he took the glass from her, Spike noticed that the once-smooth skin of the witch’s wrist was marred by several healing cuts. One of these was clearly only a day or so old, and had apparently re-opened slightly, as it was oozing a few drops of blood.
“What’s this, pet,” Spike said, grasping the bleeding arm before Willow could withdraw. “An added treat?” Then Spike turned to Judson, “May I?”
“Be my guest, Spike,” the mage replied, “Just don’t take too much. I still need her to entertain some other guests tonight.”
Spike pulled the kneeling slave closer to him and lifted her arm to his mouth. As he allowed his fangs to descend and the planes of his face shifted, he saw Willow’s eyes widen in surprise. He licked the drops of blood from her skin, then fastened his mouth around the cut and sucked briefly, teasing a bit more blood from the wound with his tongue. Though it would look to Judson and anyone else like Spike had slid his fangs into Willow’s wrist, the blond was actually being very careful not to let them do more than gently graze her flesh. It would be an incredibly bad thing to have the chip go off here and now.
Despite the need for caution, the vampire savored his first taste of the witch’s blood. Though it lacked the sweetness of innocence, there was a strain of purity mingled with the strength of magic and the spice of passion. Overall, it was a heady mixture, distinctly Willow, and something Spike wouldn’t soon forget.
2:00 AM December 3rd—the bar, Hotel Kaiserin Elisabeth:
Spike looked dour as he joined Buffy and Giles at a back table in the little bar with a drink in his hand.
“Were you able to talk to Willow?” the Watcher asked. “Did you learn anything new?”
“I managed to get a few words in with Red, though it was anything but easy to get her alone.” Spike answered as he sat down. “I made a bit of a fuss over her, in the interests of looking interested, but Judson kept her on a short leash much of the time, and it wasn’t until he was pulled aside by a Lukash demon lord that he left her with me. Seems the Lukash had been a bit over friendly last time he took a slave near him, so the mage asked me if I’d mind minding his pet. We only had a few minutes, though, before Judson came back and sent Willow off to see to some of the other guests.”
“So how is she?” Buffy asked anxiously, “and how did you explain your presence in Vienna?”
“Told her I was running an errand for Rupert,” Spike laughed wryly. “Funny how lying by telling the truth always seems to work. As for how Willow is, well physically she’s all right. A bit bruised and a bit thin, but that’s only to be expected. The really good news is that she’s definitely herself, at least for the most part. She knew me right away, but she’d enough sense not to let on to her Master that she did.”
“And her mental state otherwise?” Giles asked carefully.
“Oh she’s been broken—no doubt there. She only answers to her slave name, Kitty, and the less said about her duties at the party the better you’ll sleep.”
“Slave name?” Buffy interrupted, focusing on the part of that sentence that didn’t make her stomach turn over.
“Yes, Buffy,” Giles replied, launching into
lecture mode gladly. “One of the first steps in breaking
someone’s will is to strip away their identity—their sense
of self. Our name is such an integral part of how we think of
ourselves that giving the slave a new name helps to divorce them from
their previous life.
In a very real sense she has stopped being Willow, with everything that
entails, and has become the slave Kitty. The only question then
becomes how deeply the new personality is written.” He
turned to the vampire, “You said she is still herself at least in
part. Then you think she could recover?”
“Hard to say at this point, Watcher, but I think so. It won’t be easy, but she’s only been with him for a bit under a year, so I’d guess it’s doable. I’ll know more once I’ve had a chance to be alone with her for more than a couple of minutes.”
“Hopefully you should have the opportunity to do so sometime soon,” Giles said, sipping his drink. “What was your opinion of the estate? Do you agree with Buffy about the difficulty of getting Willow out?”
“From what I saw, yeah,” the vampire answered. “The grounds were well lit and patrolled. Could be there was more security than usual on account of the party, or your little visit earlier, Slayer, but I wouldn’t count on it. I’m not saying we couldn’t break the witch out, mind, but it’d be difficult. Much better to go on with our plan.”
“He’s right, Giles,” Buffy agreed, “I don’t like the idea of trying to break in and kidnap Willow. It might work if you’re on the inside helping, Spike, but I’m not crazy about the idea even then. Anyway, did you find out anything else important, like what Judson might be planning, or anything more about him?”
“Well, I’ve learned one thing the Council gits don’t seem to know,” Spike answered, taking a healthy swig of his whiskey, “Judson’s a blood mage, and he’s using Willow’s blood.”
“How did you find out?” Buffy asked. “Did she tell you?”
“Didn’t have time or privacy for that kind of a conversation, and frankly, I’m not sure what she knows or remembers. But he’s bled her several times. Saw the cuts on her wrist, fresh marks as well as healing ones.”
“You’re sure that’s what they’re from?” Giles queried worriedly.
“The only other possibility I see is that she tried to off herself, repeatedly. Now I might believe she was depressed or desperate enough at some point to try it, but she didn’t seem suicidal to me now. What’s more, I don’t believe Judson’s stupid enough to let her have a knife. Anyway,” Spike added, “she was likely drugged for the bloodletting, at least enough to weaken her will a bit. That’s why I’m not sure she’d remember it.”
“Do you have any idea what he’s using the blood for, Spike?” Giles started rubbing his temples, contemplating the various uses for a witch’s blood. “You know how powerful—and dark—blood magic can be.”
Spike shook his head, “Don’t know everything he’s doing with it, but I do know the wine he was drinking was laced with her blood.”
“What!” The Watcher nearly came out of his chair. “You’re sure it was Willow’s blood.”
“Yeah, I commented on the blood-wine—told him I hadn’t seen it for years—so like a good host he offered me a glass.”
“And you could recognize her blood, how?” Buffy practically growled at the blond vampire.
“Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Slayer. Remember, I’m not the enemy, he is.” Spike snarled. “One of the cuts on her wrist was bleeding when she handed me a drink. That’s what made me notice ‘em. Wouldn’t have looked right to just ignore the blood, so I didn’t. Anyway, the blood in the wine was definitely from Willow. It wasn’t the usual sort of blood-wine, either; I’d guess he’d worked some kind of spell on it or something. I got a rush of power from drinking it. In fact, I still feel stronger in some way.”
Giles began swearing, running through several languages before he finally got control of himself.
“Is it that bad, mate?”
“Worse, if I’m right,” the Watcher finished his drink in one gulp. “There’s a very old method of transferring magical strength from one mage to another that involves drinking specially prepared blood mixed in wine. It’s quite obscure, but I ran across some references to it when I was making a study of blood rites during my early days as a Watcher. It’s seldom used, in part because there are probably only a couple of copies of the complete ritual in existence. Another reason may be that in all likelihood the blood must be given willingly, and dark mages are rarely that trusting of each other; what’s more it will severely weaken the donor, particularly if it’s done repeatedly. There’s not a lot written about the ritual, and I haven’t looked at what material there is for a long time, so I’ve forgotten the details. Basically, the end result is to transfer almost all of the donor’s power, in this case Willow’s, to the caster. Now, Willow is a very powerful witch, we’ve all seen the evidence of that. And her power is no less simply because she isn’t using it. Adding her strength to Judson’s will easily make him one of the most powerful sorcerers alive. Mind you, a power transfer isn’t the only thing he might be doing with her blood. But it’ll do as a working assumption, and it certainly fits the facts we’ve got so far.”
“What can we do,” Buffy asked worriedly, “if he already has Willow’s power... Giles, is the transfer permanent, or will she recover her abilities eventually?”
“I really don’t know, Buffy. As I recall, the Council has no instances of this spell being used on record, and it hasn’t been the subject of any practical research for obvious reasons. Either is possible; though I’d think it more likely that the abilities will come back with time. If the transfer were permanent I can’t imagine anyone agreeing to be a donor. Regardless, this makes stopping Judson a much more urgent matter.” Giles cleaned his glasses as he thought. “I’ll have to contact the Council, or rather the branch that deals with magic users, and let them know at least some of what’s going on; there’s no other choice. Unfortunately, we can’t afford to just turn the Mage’s Council loose on him, or take him on ourselves, until Willow is safe. I don’t know exactly how the power transfer works, but if there’s a link and he’s drawing on it, an attack on him could seriously injure or kill her inadvertently. The Council’s answer would likely be to kill her along with Judson, which is, or course, unacceptable.”
He turned to the vampire. “Spike, you must try to purchase Willow as quickly as possible. I’ll be able to string the Mage’s Council along for a while, but I cannot say how long. Judson may be more willing to part with her if he’s already taken most of her power. While you work on that, I’ll start researching the power transfer spell so we can at least mitigate the effects once Willow’s free. Buffy, I’ll want you to do a bit more reconnaissance; map the estate as thoroughly as you can without going over the wall. There’s a chance he’s set stronger wards, but we’ll need the map since we’ll have to move in and grab Willow quickly should Judson refuse to sell. You’ll also want to alert Xander to stand by, and we will need Tara’s help as well if we have to get by the wards, so someone will have to brief her.”
“No problem, Giles,” the Slayer replied. “I’ll call Sunnydale as soon as it’s a reasonable hour there. Xander will be willing to brief Tara, I’m sure, though I can’t begin to think how she’ll take the news. As for the estate, I can probably fit in some more recon in the morning. I promise I’ll be cautious.”
“I’ll ring the mage tomorrow around noon, and see if I can set up a visit.” Spike said, and turned to the Slayer. “But you, keep your temper. I’ll be doing things you won’t like, and I’ve no mind to be staked for it.”
“Like what?” Buffy started to glower, and Giles laid his hand over hers as he spoke.
“Buffy, in order to purchase her, Spike will have to display real interest in Willow—the kind of interest that would make him want to have her as his slave. That means sex or feeding from her, preferably both.”
“She can’t take the blood loss, Watcher, I couldn’t go that route even if the chip would let me.” Spike interjected, “It’ll have to be shagging and my interest will have to be convincing, which means, Slayer, that for the next couple weeks at least, I’ll be spending as many nights in the witch’s arms as I can. Besides, spending time alone with Red will give me the chance to get information we’ll want if I can’t get him to sell.”
“No,” Buffy protested. “You can’t take advantage of Willow like that!”
“He can, and will, do whatever is necessary to induce Judson to sell Willow to him,” Giles declared authoritatively. “If it takes sleeping with her, feeding from her, or even beating her to convince the mage of Spike’s desire for Willow, then so be it. There are no viable alternatives, Buffy. You said as much yourself after looking over the estate.”
“Look, luv,” Spike added, as they all rose from the table, “it’s not like she’d be left alone otherwise. She’ll be warming someone’s bed most every night. Better someone who knows her and cares about her than most of the demons and humans who hang out with Judson. They’re a pretty brutal lot.”
“You’re right, I guess,” Buffy sighed as she made her way out of the bar. “I’ll deal with it. I don’t have to like it, but I’ll deal with it.”
3:00 AM—Willow’s cell, Judson’s manor house
Willow sat on her bed and wrapped herself snugly in the comforter she had recently been given, glad of its warmth. She wasn’t ready for sleep yet; so many things had happened that her mind just wouldn’t rest. Perhaps if she spent some quiet time thinking she would relax and be able to sleep later. She rubbed her wrist as she thought, her fingers tracing the cuts.
Master had bled her for the third time last night. It frightened her immensely every time he led her into his ritual room and chained her at the side of the altar. And it frightened her even more each time he cut into her wrist. She had no idea what he was doing with her blood, but suspected that she really didn’t want to know. It was dark magic, and it drew on her own powers somehow, that she was sure of. Beyond that it could be anything at all.
The ritual was the same each time, the drugged wine, the incense, the sting of the knife, and her blood flowing into the silver bowl. Then more incantations; wine and something else being mixed with the blood. She shivered as she remembered. Her blood and power were being used to fuel some dark agenda of her Master’s and there was nothing she could do to stop it. She tried, each time, to muster the courage and strength to protest, to answer “No” when he asked for her blood, but each time the voice in her mind was drowned out. Not only that, she realized, her inner voice had grown quieter with each repetition of the ritual. Perhaps soon she would no longer protest even in her own mind. She should try to fight, she supposed, but what was the point? She was a slave. She belonged to her Master—body, blood, and power—all of her. Her protests would make no difference. She needed to just put the bloodletting out of her mind. If only it were that easy.
Sighing, Willow turned her thoughts to the party that had just ended, and the shock of seeing Spike. She was still astounded at the appearance of the vampire here at her Master’s home. It had been strange, but nice, to see someone she knew from before. They had had only few minutes alone to talk, but Spike had assured her he would see her again. Willow hoped he did, it would be good to hear news from home. Spike had said he was in Europe on business for Giles, some sort of errand. What kind of errand would Giles have entrusted to Spike, she wondered? He had come to trust the chipped vampire at least somewhat after Buffy’s death, but it still seemed strange that he would send the blond on business for him. And how was Spike fending for himself with the chip? “He must still have the chip,“ she thought, “He was so careful not to bite me when he sucked on the cut on my wrist. But he made it look like he was feeding, so I guess Master doesn’t know about the chip, and Spike doesn’t want anyone here to know about it.” That made sense, she realized, her Master had treated Spike as an honored guest; he wouldn’t have if the local vampire community knew that Spike couldn’t feed. In that case Spike would likely be a pariah, and certainly wouldn’t get the kind of treatment her Master had accorded him. Was this something her Master needed to know? Should she tell him, or should she keep Spike’s secret?
“I won’t tell Master anything about it,” she decided. “Its Spike ‘s business, and he can’t hurt Master if he’s still chipped, so I’m not putting Master in any danger. Besides, I already let Master believe I hadn’t met Spike before. How would I explain knowing about the chip? No, Master doesn’t need to know anything about my knowing Spike or about the chip. Unless he asks…“ She couldn’t lie to her Master, she knew that. Lying was punished severely, and she had stopped doing it months ago. But if he didn’t ask, she needn’t volunteer any information. So she wouldn’t tell her Master she knew Spike from before unless he asked, and she wouldn’t mention the chip. That way Spike could do whatever he had come here for then go back to Sunnydale without interference from her Master or the local vampires and demons. Then it hit her.
“Sunnydale. Oh Goddess, he’ll be going back to Sunnydale. What will he say to Buffy and Giles, or to Xander? Will he tell them he saw me? Will he tell them I’m a slave? If he does, what will they do?” Willow clutched the comforter around her more tightly. She had almost given up hope that she could ever be rescued, and here was a chance, or was it? How would her friends react when they learned what had happened? She wasn’t Willow, research girl, Buffy’s “big gun,” a valuable member of the Scooby gang, anymore. No, she was Kitty, a slave, a sex slave. A slut. A whore. She fucked anyone her Master sent her to; vampire, human, demon, it didn’t matter. And she liked it. She found pleasure with all of them, except the most brutal, and even with those she became excited to some extent. Not only that, she was depraved; she liked pain, even craved it. She orgasmed when her Master or anyone else whipped her. What would her friends think of her if they knew? They certainly wouldn’t have any respect for her anymore—who would? Would they try to rescue her? Would they even want to have her back in Sunnydale again?
Willow whimpered as self-loathing overwhelmed her, “They wouldn’t want me,” she thought, “How could they? The only thing anyone would want me for is sex. That’s what I do; what I’m good at. None of them would have any use for a sex slave. Besides, even if they did want me, for sex or just to have me back again, how could I face them? Could I ever tell Buffy, or Xander, what I am now?” As the tears began to trickle down her cheeks, she decided. Spike had said he would try to see her again before he left town. If he did, she wouldn’t ask him to tell Buffy where she was. She wouldn’t ask to be rescued. If Spike chose to tell the Scoobies where she was, what she was, so be it, but she wouldn’t bring it up. That way, she wouldn’t know whether he had told them or not. That way it wouldn’t hurt so much when no one came for her.