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The Devil Gets His Due
 
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Disclaimer: The vampires belong to Joss Whedon. Sigh.
 
Warning: This chapter gets pretty violent and gruesome. Read the warnings (specific to this chapter) and skip if you need to. Still no beta, hope all goes well anyhow.
 
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Eventually Buffy and Spike’s laughter tapered off. Haven’t ever heard you laugh like that, Buffy realized.
 
Can’t say as either of us has had much call for it the last few years, Spike thought. Wonder what else they can throw at us?
 
I really don’t want to contemplate that, Buffy shuddered. They lapsed into mental silence for a while. I really shouldn’t have, she thought after a time.
 
What do you mean? Spike cocked his head, questioning.
 
Killing myself. Bad idea, in hindsight.
 
Yeah, not one of your best, Spike agreed. Pretty hard on the Nibblet.
 
I know, Buffy thought. Her eyes filled with tears, thinking about that. She loved her sister dearly, and hadn’t wanted to hurt her. I guess I sort of felt she didn’t need me so much, with the boarding school and all. But who am I kidding. I was being a selfish coward, plain and simple. Didn’t want to deal with the Scoobies and the loneliness and didn’t want to start again with anyone else.
 
Hey, Spike interrupted, You were hurting. Yeah, you probably should have stuck it out. But I really want to knock your mates’ heads together for pulling all that shit on you again. Spike shook his head in frustration.
 
Think Willow will try to pull me back again? Buffy wondered.
 
Spike shook his head. No. Pretty much the only thing she said to me was that she wasn’t trying that again.
 
So I’m in heaven, and they yank me out. I’m in hell, and they leave me here. With friends like these, who needs enemies? Buffy rolled her eyes.
 
They’re only human, pet.
 
They heard a slight sound again, and saw mist swirling in the center of the room. Looks like the boss is back, Spike guessed.
 
Shit, responded Buffy.
 
The mist coalesced into the form of Satan. He had dropped his polite pretense. He was the master of this realm, he was in charge, and he was pissed off. Buffy and Spike both knew, right away, that they were in seriously over their heads now.
 
“You will learn not to mock Me in My realm,” Satan spoke in a commanding tone. He snapped his fingers and the room changed in an instant. Spike was still bound to the wall, but Buffy found herself immobilized on a sort of stone altar. She was naked, spread out, and completely vulnerable.
 
“You are correct in that illusion can be twisted here.” Satan’s voice was like the hissing of a snake. “But there is nothing more real in My realm than Me.” At this, Satan began to grow. He became almost twice as tall as a normal man, his clothes disappearing to reveal red flesh and red eyes. His hands became claws, his skin scales, and horns appeared on his forehead. Buffy’s eyes widened in terror as she realized that his sex organs were vaguely human, but distorted, and clearly incompatible with a human woman in terms of size. He was erect, and his intentions were very, very clear.
 
Spike threw himself forward, morphing instantly into gameface. “Get away from her, you fucking bastard!” he screamed. He nearly dislocated his own shoulder trying to reach his mate. His demon was completely in control as he growled and struggled.
 
Buffy screamed as Satan slowly, deliberately climbed on the altar. His hands burned her skin as he ran them down her body. He dug his claws into her breasts, drawing them down her torso leaving ragged red lines. Positioning himself, he put his face close to hers, grinned, and impaled her.
 
“NO!” Spike screamed. BUFFY! His mind reached for hers, frantic and desperate.
 
There were no words. No concepts Buffy was aware of could fully describe the agony. It was as if she was being shredded from the inside out. The pain was so great she could barely draw breath to scream. If she had been a living human, the internal damage probably would have killed her in short order. As it was she was still there, but it felt as though she had been filled with molten metal. She was half aware as Satan drew out of her with agonizing slowness, then thrust into her again.
 
Spike was frantic. He felt her thoughts fading like a dying ember. Her thin thread of sanity snapped, and she curled in the corner of her own mind. The pain she felt was horrific, and Spike felt every tear of the flesh and every burning handprint left on her skin. Satan climaxed, and it felt like hot acid in her depths. But there was no reprieve – he kept violating her again, and again.
 
Spike struggled to maintain his own sanity. Tears streaked down his cheeks as he called and called her name in his mind. Her mind was like an abandoned house – it was like he was running down hallways and through rooms, but she wasn’t there. He kept probing and searching, becoming more and more frenzied. Buffy, don’t leave me. Please, someone, help her. She’s the slayer for God’s sake. How could any Power for good let this happen to her. Buffy…
 
He willed himself to concentrate. He reached out with his very soul, seeking any little shred of her spirit in that dark place. It was though he was stumbling in blackness. Finally, he found a single coherent picture in her mind. The mental image was of Buffy, as she had been in the psych ward of her nightmares. She was wearing a white hospital gown, curled in a ball, head hidden in her arms, rocking in a corner. Spike projected an image of himself into her madness. He wrapped her last bit of self awareness in a protective cloak of his own thoughts. Buffy, I’ve got you. We need to leave this place.
 
Buffy’s thoughts were like static. No words, no coherent feelings, just pain and terror and blankness. Spike forced an image of him picking her up into her mind. Come with me, love, he crooned to her, cradling her like a child. Gotta come with me. Leave this body, come with me.
 
Hurts… came a small, mental whimper. The pain in that thought was almost more than Spike could take, but it was a recognizable word, and he took that as some sign that he had her. He drew back into his own mind, pulling her spirit with him. Buffy had the equivalent of an out of body experience as her mind merged with Spike’s. Her body was still being violated, used, and tortured. But Spike had somehow gotten between her and the torment.
 
Spike’s mind still held the image of her in his arms, rocking back and forth. Shhhh, he soothed. You’re out of there now. He can’t hurt you anymore. Buffy’s thoughts were still blank, and the blankness terrified him more than her pain had. But he kept up his steady litany of gentle words, even while Satan continued to destroy the body she wore in this realm. He murmured to her, half remembered poems from his youth, memories of seeing her, falling in love with her. He found himself singing to her – anything to try to keep her from being lost forever. Her silence deafened him.
 
Spike hardly noticed when Satan straightened up from the altar and stepped away. Spike looked up as Satan transformed back into his smaller, more human form. ”I think that will do nicely for now,” he purred. “I don’t think the Slayer will be as chatty from now on, do you?” Spike’s heart broke at the sight of her body. She was covered in blood, from her neck to her knees. Her torso looked like she had been whipped for hours, crossed with clawmarks. His stomach turned over at the ruin of flesh between her legs.
 
Satan grinned. “I can see why you went and got a soul for that one,” he said in a cheerful tone. “I’ve got some business to attend to. Enjoy the conversation!” With that, he vanished in a puff of smoke.
 
Spike closed his eyes and concentrated on his mate, whose essence was still residing in his own mind. Buffy. Come on Slayer. Give me a sign. Are you with me?
 
As if from a distance he heard her repeating over and over, no more no more no more no more… He followed the thought, tried to strengthen it with his own thoughts. He started to play scenes in his mind. Remember the night we spent together, love? You asked me to hold you, just hold you. I wasn’t lying – best night of my life. Never thought we could get closer than that. Remember making love, the night before the hellmouth? I know you meant what you said while I was burning, Buffy. I know it because you said it the night before with your body. I wanted to save you, just like now. Please come to me. Let me save you again. It’s what gives me meaning, gives me purpose. You are the One. I love you.
 
In that blank room of her mind, Buffy felt a growing warmth, like someone was slowly wrapping her in a quilt. She gradually became aware of a presence. Gradually the presence became words, became coherent. I love you, she heard. She reached out tentatively with her mind. Who…?
 
It’s Spike, my love, he answered gently. You’re with me. I’ll keep you safe.
 
Spike? Buffy’s mind tried to fit a meaning to that word. It seemed right and comforting, but unfocused. Spike. Where..?
 
I pulled you into my mind. I tried to separate you from the pain. Spike kept talking, hoping to draw her further back from the edge.
 
Pain… remembered Buffy. There was so much pain. As quickly as she had started to respond, she lapsed into utter insensibility again.
 
Oh, love, thought Spike, Don't leave me. Please. His thoughts swirled around her in waves. Mostly it was just feelings – love and fear, comfort and trust. There was almost nothing concrete in Buffy’s thoughts at all, but Spike wrapped his soul around her and clung to whatever was left.
TBC
 
 
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