Chapter Nine
The next morning, Buffy and Spike were led outside to the courtyard. To their surprise, they were the only occupants. It would seem that they didn’t want to put the Slayer in with the demons until it was show time.
A multitude of high tech training equipment was set up at various spots around the bright area. Interspersed throughout were large orange trees, the air fragrant with there scent. Wildly blooming red and purple azaleas made up the perimeter. Two stone benches sat on opposite sides, underneath the shade of the trees.
“You can work out here until your called.” The ever pleasant Sherman told them gruffly. Spike arched his scarred brow as the man walked away. The tank of a man took up his post at the only exit out of the area.
“Well, Pet. Feel like getting physical?” he teased, his mouth curving into a leer. Buffy chuckled in spite of the apprehension curling in her stomach. Rubbing her hands over her arms, she nodded, the sun glinting off her dark hair. They began to spar, not really putting to much effort behind it. They didn’t want Buffy to get to tired before the real battle began.
After about two hours, Spike noticed Lucas approaching their guard. The grey haired man nodded once, then approached the pair.
“It’s time.” With a quick glance at each other, they followed his already retreating form. Exiting the courtyard, they reentered the building. Walking down a long corridor, their footsteps echoed hollowly around them. At the end of the hall, were two steel doors, with a key pad. As they approached the doors, two more guards seemed to appear out of nowhere to flank the lethal couple.
“This way.” The doors swung open and they were led through. The roar of an unseen crowd assaulted them as soon as they entered. They found themselves in another long hall, with a light shimmering at the end.
“This seems vaguely familiar.” Buffy quipped. Spike snorted.
“Yeah. But I don’t think we’ll be finding Heaven through that light, sweetheart.” The couple and their escorts strode quickly down the tunnel. The roar became louder the further they progressed. When they got to the end, they stepped through, and found themselves in an area enclosed by chain link. At the end was a gate that led to the cage. Immediately to the left was another gate that led out to the area around the outside, where the audience was in an uproar. The room was filled with men and women dressed on so much finery and jewels, it looked like Rodeo Drive had thrown up all over the room.
Upon seeing the small woman enter the arena, the noise around them became deafening. The voices that were once separate began to combined until they formed one word, repeated over and over like mantra.
“SLAYER!!”
“I see my reputation has proceeded me.” Buffy called over the din. She almost expected to see signs with funny little catch phrases waving in the air.
Spike didn’t have a chance to respond, as he was shoved through the gate and out with the audience. They locked eyes once, Spike telling her silently to be careful. Buffy smiled at him, mouthed ‘I love you’, then straightened her shoulders. She then stepped into the cage, her eyes scanning the crowd defiantly. She caught sight of Dawn sitting tensely in the front row next to a smug looking Lucas. Dawn waved at her, giving Buffy a smile of encouragement. Spike paced restlessly between the cage and the retainer wall in front of the spectators, reminding the sister’s of a trapped predator.
Buffy turned her attention to the gate across from her as it squeaked open. Her eyes widened slightly as the Chnirg demon entered. It stood a good seven feet, and was a wall of tightly compacted muscle. It’s skin was a greyish-blue with fine black hair covering the exposed areas. Eyes that had yellow iris’ stared down at her through thick, hooded lids. It’s nostrils flared in its wide nose, as it caught her scent. An almost sensual smile crossed its too human mouth.
“Slayer,” it breathed, its voice smooth and musical. Buffy would have laughed at the absurdity of it, if the thing across from her weren’t out for her blood.
“That’d be me,” she confirmed, crossing her arms over her red tank top. Her black jean clad legs were spread slightly, as she tensed to fight. Her dark hair spilled over her shoulders. “What’ya say we skip the small talk and jump right to the killing?” It’s smile widened at her words, and it’s three fingered, clawed hands clenched into fists.
“Didn’t think you’d be so eager to die,” Buffy rolled her eyes, taking the demon off guard by executing a high kick to it’s jaw.
“I wish you guys would get a new line,” she bitched, ducking beneath it’s retaliatory swing. Her foot connected with the back of its knee, causing the Chnirg demon to roar in pain. She followed with a punch to where it’s kidneys might be, grunting in satisfaction when it went down. It rolled quickly, surprising her with its speed, then swiping its claws across her stomach. If she’d been closer, the swipe would have had her insides spilling to the floor. Stumbling back, she hit the side of the cage, jumping out of the way as it regained its footing and charged. She tucked and rolled just as its body crashed into the space she’d just occupied.
Spike stood stiffly outside, his nostrils flaring as the scent of her blood assaulted his senses. His eyes flashed yellow at the creature that had caused it to flow.
The crowd’s volume increased unbelievably in decibel once first blood was drawn. Dawn sat pensively in her seat, her eyes locked on the small form of her sister.
In a small room behind the arena, the betting was going crazy as the fight changed with each passing second. Cash was the only currency accepted, as there was no chance of it being traced. Bets were placed by a small key pad device assigned to each seat in the audience. All accounts were settled at the end of the day. Welchers were not tolerated.
Buffy’s stomach burned like fire as the mild poison in the demons claws worked its way through the wound. She spun and kicked, her foot landing in its muscled stomach. It doubled over, allowing her to plow her doubled fist into its nose, causing it to fall backwards. She was on it before it hit the floor, her knees pinning its arms to the floor. Her fists pounded its face in a flurry, her knuckles soon becoming stained with its purple blood. This continued for several seconds, as she unleashed the fear and anger she had been holding at bay since she received the picture of Dawn.
The Chnirg demon stopped struggling as it lost consciousness.
“Finish it Slayer!” Spike yelled, his body pressed close to the cage. Buffy reached down with her blood stained hands and clasped its head. With one violent twist, she snapped its neck, the crunch of bone lost in the cheers of the blood thirsty crowd.
Buffy crawled off the prone body and rose to her feet. Her eyes flashed dangerously as she looked around the arena one last time. She then turned and left the cage, Spike quickly joining her. They were led back into the tunnel, and ushered through a hidden door to the right. The room was bare save for a small cot against the wall. A first aid kit was perched in the middle.
“You’ll have ten minutes,” was all Sherman said as he closed the door.
“Lift up your shirt.” Spike said as Buffy sank down onto the cot. She pulled the blood soaked cotton over her head, tossing it into the corner after she had cleaned her hands with it. Then, she leaned back wearily, allowing him access to the slashes on her stomach. His lips quirked as she sat brazenly before him. He shrugged out of his duster and threw it next to her before kneeling in front of her. “Too bad we’ve only got ten minutes,” he said, dabbing antiseptic gingerly on the cuts and eyeing her naked breasts appreciatively.
“Shit. That burns,” she hissed. “And you’re a pig.” Spike chuckled, releasing his worry when he saw the gashes weren’t that deep. He quickly bandaged the wounds, then placed a kiss in the valley between her breasts.
“All better,” he said. Buffy raised a brow at him and smiled.
“I need a shirt.” She said, looking at the remnants of her tank top. She so did not want to put it on again. Spike stood and stripped out of the blue button down he was wearing, then pulled off the white t-shirt he had on underneath. Tossing it to her, he pulled his other shirt back on. After she had the shirt on, Spike stepped closer, then dipped his hand in the collar to pull her hair free. He cupped her cheek, drawing her eyes to his.
“You did good, Pet,” he said softly, brushing his thumb across her skin.
“Thanks,” she replied, her heart clenching at the trace of fear that lingered in his eyes.
“Keep it up.” Spike told her firmly, dropping his hand when the knock on the door came. Handing him his duster, Buffy stood and walked past him to the door.
“That’s the plan.” She said over her shoulder as they returned to the arena.
Spike resumed pacing outside the cage through the next round.
The next opponent was an Octi demon. It had orangish skin, three eyes and eight arms. Which could have been problematic if not for the fact the male demon was in the middle of its mating cycle, much to Spike’s disgust. Nothing reeked worse than one of those buggers during their fertile time. It was sort of a cross between burnt rubber and week old garbage.
*What idiot invited this sod?* Spike thought to himself as he watched the Octi demon try to speak to Buffy.
During the Octi’s mating cycle, the male will try to mate with anything female that it come across. So, when the thing seemed more interested in fucking Buffy than fighting her, the Slayer was able to make quick work of him.
“Eeeewwww!” Was all Buffy could say when Spike explained during the next break. “That thing wanted to. . .Eeeeeewwwww!!” Buffy shuddered, glaring at Spike when he chuckled.
“Sorry, luv. Can’t say I fault his taste,” Spike said, forcing his grin back. “At least it was easy.”
“If you can call having that foul smelling thing ogle me and ask me in what I’m now sure was the Octi equivalent to ‘What’s your sign’ easy, then sure. Piece of cake.” Spike pulled out a cigarette, and lit it, biting his cheek to keep from laughing again.
“Whoever got him here was pretty bloody stupid. They’re non aggressive when they’re in heat. Too busy trying to find a place to stick it, to be bothered with fighting.”
“EEEEEEWWWWW!!!!!” Buffy cried again as they were led back to the cage.
The chaos demon glared down at the tiny Slayer, mucus dripping of its antlers and landing in a puddle on the floor. Buffy wrinkled her nose daintily, then side stepped the lumbering beast as it charged. Her and Spike exchanged looks as its horns tangled in the chain link.
“I thought this was supposed to be hard.” Buffy muttered to herself as she grabbed its flailing legs and twisted. It’s body turned, but its head didn’t. The crunch of its neck snapping caused the roar of the crowd to reach deafening proportions.
Shaking her head, Buffy strode out of the cage without a backwards glance.
“I don’t get it.” Buffy said thoughtfully, nibbling on an apple wedge. She was sitting Indian style on the bed, a plate of food resting on her knee. Spike was sitting at the table, a cigarette in one hand, a cup of blood in the other. Dawn was sitting across from him, nursing a soda, looking a bit unsettled at the days events.
“What’s that, Pet?”
“I thought this was some big deal fight to the death thing. You know, all mortal dangery like.” Buffy crunched unhappily on her apple.
“Well, you did kill three demons today,” he reminded her, blowing smoke rings in the air.
“Yeah, except for the first one, what did I get stuck with? A horny, eight armed octopus man, and a chaos demon that didn’t have enough sense not to charge in a CHAIN LINK cage.” Buffy huffed in a disgusted tone. Spike chuckled and even Dawn cracked a smile.
“I think he has something big planned,” Dawn said quietly.
“What makes you say that, Nibblet?” Dawn’s eyes met his, her fingers drawing patterns in the condensation on her glass.
“Well, when Buffy left the cage the last time, looking all pissed off, I heard him mumble something like ‘Just wait, Slayer. They won’t all be that easy.’ And he just sounded so. . .cold.” Dawn shrugged a shoulder, when she finished.
“I don’t know what he could have up his sleeve. Unless he found a way to bring Glory back,” Buffy wondered out loud. A shudder ran over her at the thought.
“There’s a lot of demons out there, Buffy, that you’ve never seen or heard of.” Spike said, stabbing out his cigarette.
“Thank you so much, William, for that thoroughly unneeded dose of reality.” She said, glaring at him.
“Sorry, luv. But, I want you to be prepared for anything,” he told her pointedly. Dawn nodded her head in agreement. Spike’s fingers rubbed absently over his belt buckle, unconsciously checking for the almost invisible transmitter attached to the front.
“Well, I guess that’s my cue,” Dawn said, standing after the knock sounded on the door. She hugged Spike than Buffy before leaving with the guard.
Buffy rose from the bed, wincing a little as she stood.
“Let me see your stomach.” Buffy dutifully lifted her shirt.
“Ow!” she cried, when Spike pulled the tape from her skin.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, pulling the gauze away. The three cuts were now just pink welts marring the otherwise flawless skin of her stomach. “Looks good. Why don’t you go take a bath, sweetheart, and I’ll give you a massage.” A delighted squeal escaped her lips at the thought.
“Kay.” She said, practically skipping to the bathroom. Spike chuckled as the door shut, and he pulled out another cigarette.
He stood and walked over to the window, pulling aside the curtain to look out into the moonlit night. Smoking idly, his mind worried over what was yet to come.
Lucas struck him as a smug, pretty boy poofter. Much like his sire, Spike thought with a smirk. And just as dangerous.
Looking down at the ocean, Spike contemplated the plan that he’d set into motion after he’d met with Angel. He wanted nothing more than to conclude it now and get the three of them the hell out of here. But he had to make sure that Lucas, or anybody else involved in this bloody tournament, could never touch his girls again.
And, Lucas fell just below foul on his personal morality list. Spike licked his chops in a predatory fashion as he let the vision of how painful and bloody Lucas’ death would be.
With a smile, Spike turned towards the bathroom, predatory urges of a different sort kicking in. Maybe he’d just help Buffy wash her back.