WARNING: Torture in this part. Violent!

TITLE: Body and Soul Trilogy - The Curse - Chapter 3
AUTHOR: Lysia
EMAIL: cricket818uk@wadnitt.fsnet.co.uk
FEEDBACK: Very much appreciated. Praise is encouraging, constructive
criticism is used to improve.
RATING: 12, for violence.
WARNING: Violence, angst. And possibly language. Light S/A comfort-
type romance.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of them, but I'll give them back to Joss
when I've finished with them.
SPOILERS: Set sometime after 'Forever'.
ARCHIVING: Here. Anywhere else, just ask.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Guide to characters from FFL - Henry Carver is the
bloke who read the poem out at the party; Charles Hamilton is the
other man at the party; Katharine Millington-Parks is the woman with
the funny hair-do who was with them.

Chapter 3

Spike awoke giddy and nauseous. He couldn't tell where he was, and
when he opened his eyes everything was too blurred to make out his
surroundings. The room seemed to be spinning so he couldn't get his
bearings and his vision was clouded with black blotches.

"Oh shit," he groaned, closing his eyes again and letting his head
tilt back. It smacked against something solid behind him. He wondered
what it was, but not enough to try and see. His head still hurt and
his vision was swimming.

Gradually, the floor stopped moving up and down and Spike decided it
might be alright to have a little look and try and find out where the
hell he was.

When he did he wished he had just kept his eyes closed.

He was sitting on a cold clay-tiled floor, his coat and shirt gone,
as were his boots, his wrists bound behind him with painfully tight
rope and his ankles secured in a similar fashion. His bare back was
pressed against a metal pole which ran up to the ceiling from the
centre of the floor. The walls were covered in tiles which had once
been white, but now those which weren't cracked or missing sported
interesting fungus growths. In front of him was a heavy-looking
wooden door, to the right of which was a small sink. Spike frowned
curiously at that. He surveyed the room a little more from the pipes
overhead to the patches of missing tiles on the walls behind him
where appliances had probably been wrenched from the walls. He came
to the conclusion that the room was a small public toilet that had
been gutted. He was probably in some abandoned building in the middle
of nowhere.

This was not good. It was clear that whoever had done this intended
to hurt him for a long time, otherwise they would have just roughed
him up or killed him on the streets. He was in deep shit. If only the
stupid Watcher had let him stay...

He shuddered as he heard someone unlock the door. That strange
unnerving sensation overtook him again, stronger than the fear that
flooded his senses. Two vampires rushed into the room, standing
either side of him in a military fashion. Then a third figure entered
the room. It was the man with the red bandana who had shot him
earlier, and without his dark glasses and upturned collar Spike
recognised him immediately.

"I was wondering when you were going to wake up," the man announced.

"Oh God," Spike breathed, closing his eyes so as to avoid looking at
the man's face. But when he opened them again he was still there. "Oh
God. C-Carver..."

Spike bit his lip upon hearing himself stutter. Carver just laughed
at him.

"I know, William," he chuckled. "It must be frightening for you
seeing me again."

His old rival still gave off the same aloof and superior air Spike
had loathed so much as a human, and still made him feel ridiculed and
belittled in the presence of this proud and confident man. Oh yes,
Carver was very much the same, and Spike found the last traces of
William rising to the surface in his own heart, living - or rather
undead - proof that a person could never change completely when they
became a vampire, no matter how much Buffy and her friends tried to
believe that myth.

Spike watched with wide eyes as Carver went over to the sink and
carefully washed his face and hands, the same meticulous vanity and
cleanliness as he had possessed when human. He could tell something
was different about his former rival. His appearance, certainly. His
usually reddened skin was deathly pale, his face narrower and he was
now clean shaven. Spike eyed him curiously and reached a conclusion
which both fascinated and chilled him. "You... you're a vampire."

Carver nodded and smiled, drying himself off with a small paper
towel. "Yeah, I am," he agreed, walking over to Spike and kneeling
down beside him.

The bizarre sensations Spike was feeling became stronger as Carver
invaded his personal space. He shivered, feeling goose-bumps rise on
his arms. He flinched, eliciting another laugh from Carver.

"And guess," he smirked, grabbing hold of Spike's chin and twisting
his head back to face him, "how that happened."

Spike's eyes widened and he stared in abject horror at his former
tormentor. He recalled the night he had killed Carver, remembering
how he had clasped his hand over the man's mouth to stop him from
shouting out for help as he drained him. And that hand was the same
one which had been slashed open by a sharp piece of wood and, as a
result, was sporting a nasty wound, dripping blood; blood which
Carver had tasted; blood which had turned him.

"No..." Spike murmured, dropping his eyes and shaking his head,
laughing quietly at his own situation. "No, you have to be joking. It
can't have happened... Oh bloody hell, no." He couldn't believe the
shame of it. He had accidentally turned his rival, and then abandoned
him. It was virtually unheard of for a true Childe to create another
vampire by mistake. His blood was considered too precious to be
wasted, and now he had one twisted a vengeful estranged minion to
deal with. He suspected he was going to pay.

"Yes!" Carver hissed, glaring at Spike, knowing the other vampire had
immediately worked out how he had been turned. "You are my Sire!" He
laughed as Spike desperately tried to look away. Spike was still
shaking his head, ashamed of his mistake. "Oh don't tell me you
didn't notice when I was following you. Couldn't you feel the
connection? Don't your senses just buzz when I'm near you? I could
feel your presence as soon as I arrived in this place. I didn't even
have to look for you. You know I'm right. You are my Sire."

"Stop saying that!" Spike growled, tugging on his wrist restraints to
get away from the demon of his own blood.

"Why can't I say that, Sire?" Carver asked innocently, kneeling in
front of Spike, looking him in the eye.

"Don't call me that!" Spike barked, furious as well as distressed.

"Why not, Sire?" Carver replied, smiling at him. "Sire. Sire. Sire!
Sire! SIRE!"

Spike tried desperately to back away as Carver yelled in his face,
his vampire form forcing its way to the fore as he shouted.

Carver was in a rage now. He thumped Spike in the chest with a solid
fist, fracturing his sternum. Spike choked on his grunt of pain,
refusing to let Carver know how he had hurt him. "I looked everywhere
for you!" Carver bellowed, leaping to his feet and pacing up and down
the small room, gesticulating madly. "I woke up and my first thought
was to find you, and you'd just gone! It was almost dawn and I
couldn't find you anywhere! I had to shelter in some alleyway
somewhere, confused and hungry with no idea what had happened, and
all I could think about was finding you so you could tell me what the
bleedin' hell had happened to me!" He calmed a little when he saw
Spike looking up at him, a look of sheer regret on his face. Carver
rolled his eyes at the pitiful sight and crouched down in front of
Spike, his human mask returning. "You won, William," he told the
blonde vampire, taking hold of his shoulders. "You destroyed
everything that I was. My only purpose was to serve you, to honour
the Sire that had created me, blessed me with immortality, and you
were never even there."

Spike bit his lip nervously as he stared at his creation. "Well," he
hazarded, hoping this little plan might work. "If you want to serve
me then... untie me, let me go, and then we can have a nice civil
conversation with less violence and less um... rope." He twisted his
hands awkwardly. "Come on - you're my minion. This isn't how our
society works. Untie me, that's an order."

Carver's slow laugh had an ominous ring to it as he smiled at his
Sire and patted his face affectionately. "Sorry to disappoint,
Daddy," he sneered, spitting the words out, "but... all this serving
bollocks... I got over it. Now I just hate you. You lost your rights as
a Sire over a hundred years ago when I finally realised you weren't
going to come back for me. You didn't want me."

Spike shook his head, dazed. There was something surreally similar
about this situation. "You're making me sound like some bad mother
who put you up for adoption. If I'd known..."

"Don't try and blag your way out of it," Carver sighed, standing
up. "You'll never regain my respect. I severed any links with you
long ago. I'm a demon in my own right, and as far as I'm concerned
you're an even lesser creature than the snivelling mortal you once
were. In fact, now I meet you again, I don't think you're changed
much at all."

Spike gaped at him. "Don't you dare say that!" he yelled, horrified
at the comparison and even more so at the fact that his estranged
creation was right. "You don't know me! I'm not the man you knew..." He
shut his trap upon hearing his voice become a distressed squeak.

Carver nodded. "Fine," he snapped abruptly. "You're not. You're Spike
now, the Big Master vampire - who ran away from my ambush team, got
bitten by two fledglings, chipped by a government military
organisation and made himself the laughing stock of the entire demon
population of the this nasty little suburb. Yes, you've really gone
up in the world."

Oh brilliant - the stuck-up git had been watching him. Spike sniffed
disdainfully and tried to keep his head up. He was surprised to feel
the familiar urge to stoop and hide himself away from the world. It
was something he hadn't done for years, but now all he could think
about was finding a way to disappear. And it was Carver who was
bringing it all back! "I killed Hamilton," Spike announced, trying
desperately to salvage a little of his confidence.

Carver's face twitched in an uncontrollable tic of anger. "My best
friend," he snarled, his hands clenching into fists. "I was intending
to mention that."

Spike watched helplessly as Carver stormed over to the door and
tugged it open. "Ladies!" Carver bellowed out into the unseen room
beyond. Then he stood back with his arms folded.

Spike's jaw dropped when a familiar woman appeared at the doorway. He
still recognised her, even though she was now bottle-blond and clad
in white leather and lace. Spike giggled hysterically, unable to
believe this rotten luck. "Oh God, Katharine."

Katharine simply nodded in polite greeting, a wicked smile on her
face, then stepped away from the door, allowing Spike to see the
woman who had followed her. Spike gasped in astonishment and his
heart trembled at the sight of the face he had dreamt of constantly
all those years ago. "Cecily..."

The one-time love of his life looked strikingly different now, her
long chestnut-brown hair cut into a short jet-black bob; her figure
quite different in her tight royal blue t-shirt, black denim jacket
and black leather mini-skirt. Her legs, which of course he had never
seen, were slender and sheathed in black tights, and she wore
stiletto ankle boots decorated with buckles. Spike couldn't help but
stare. She looked so different in her modern attire, but somehow the
same. Her face hadn't changed, despite her heavier eye make-up and
dark lipstick.

"Like the new look, Precious?" Cecily asked him with a cocky half-
smile. Her voice had also changed - less posh and more cockney

"Amazing!" The breathy little reply was out of Spike's mouth before
he could stop it.

The girls looked at each other and giggled - not the tinkling sweet
laughter of young respectable Victorian ladies, but a cruel sneering
laugh that made Spike want to curl up and hide from their mockery.

"You were right," Katharine informed Carver. "He ain't changed much."

Spike surveyed the little crowd with wide eyes. He looked at Carver,
astonished. "How?" he asked simply.

Carver shrugged. "Well," he replied cheerfully, "it's your own fault
really. You should have finished what you started instead of leaving
us all half-dead. You see, after I rose the others were still alive.
I couldn't bear to live without my Cecily here and my mate Charlie,
so I turned them both, and Katharine 'cos her and Charlie had a bit
of a thing for each other an' all."

Spike just gaped as Carver put an arm around Cecily. He did his very
best to ignore the little pang of jealousy in his heart, just
watching blankly as the couple kissed in front of him with a passion
they would never have allowed in their mortal lifetime.

"You know," Carver announced, glancing at Spike as Cecily licked his
neck lovingly. "I never thanked you. You gave us eternity together
and I'm grateful for that. However, my little Katharine here is a bit
pissed off with you for killing off her boyfriend."

Katharine scowled at Spike. "Too bloody right. Got little surprise
for you later."

Carver shot Katharine a pleased grin, then cuddled closer to
Cecily. "And in the meantime, Cecily wants to have some fun with you."

Spike shuddered as Cecily removed a small knife from her belt.
Evidently, this was not going to fun for him.

~~~~~~~~~~

Spike closed his eyes and tried desperately to shut out the pain.
Cecily had been left alone with him for hours and he was in agony.
When he had fearfully asked what she was going to do she had
explained simply that she was going to 'make us match'. Then she had
carefully removed her boots and studded leather bracelets and shown
him the scars from where he had crucified her with the railway
spikes. Spike immediately understood, much to his distress, and
Cecily had not hesitated in driving her knife through his hands and
feet.

But that had not been enough for the vengeful vampiress. Intent on
inflicting all the signs of the stigmata on her one-time admirer she
had slashed the blade across his forehead, then twisted him forward
and flayed his back with a leather whip.

Still Spike was determined not to show how much pain he was in. He
wanted to scream, plead for mercy, cry bitter tears of pain, but he
would not let Cecily see that happen.

"Aren't you having fun?" Cecily asked him sweetly, shoving him back
into a sitting position having taken a whip to his back again. He
grunted in pain as the metal pole to which he was fastened smacked
against his wounds. "Oh dear, does it hurt?"

Spike gritted his teeth and looked at her. "I've had worse," he
hissed.

Cecily laughed at him and toyed with her blood-stained knife. "Just
you wait, William," she told him softly. "We're just getting to the
best part."

A whimper escaped Spike's lips and he shuddered. He didn't want to
know what the best part was.

Grinning maliciously, Cecily drove the knife into Spike's ribs. Spike
gasped in pain. He would have screamed, but the agony reduced his cry
to a wheeze.

Cecily didn't look up from her torturing of Spike when Carver entered
and seated himself on a small wooden chair beside the sink.

"Having fun, baby?" he asked her.

Cecily nodded enthusiastically and twisted the knife in Spike's side.
Spike groaned.

"I'm sure you'd understand," Carver explained, producing a small
box, "that Cecily has developed a passion for religious symbolism.
Quite an interesting taste for a vampire, but after the way you
killed her I can't say I'm particularly surprised."

He handed Cecily the box. She opened it and carefully removed a small
cross on a chain, which she hung around Spike's neck like some kind
of delicate fashion designer carefully matching accessories with a
new creation. Spike hissed in pain as the small charm burnt his skin.
Cecily grinned and wiggled the knife again, tearing a wider gash in
Spike's side.

"Well don't make him bleed too much," Carver warned her. "That'll do
now, sweets."

Giving Carver an understanding and admiring glance, Cecily ripped the
knife from Spike's side and licked the blade clean. "Mm, very nice."
She smiled at him wickedly and licked at the blood trickling down his
face in small rivulets from the gashes on his forehead. "Do you still
love me, William?"

Spike's eyes flickered from Cecily, over to Carver who was perched on
his chair watching avidly. Suddenly the situation reminded him of the
time he had allowed Dru to torture Angel, only this time he was the
victim. He wondered briefly if he could stop the pain by making
Carver jealous, but Cecily soon spoilt this plan.

She looked over at Carver with big innocent eyes. He nodded and
grinned. "Go ahead, babes. Make the little poet cry again."

Spike cringed away as much as he could as Cecily turned back to him
and held his face in her hands, gently kissing him. He just closed
his eyes and tried to ignore what was happening. There was a time he
had dreamt of this constantly, but now, knowing she was only trying
to hurt him, he just hated it. The old feelings of love and adoration
for this woman resurfaced and he knew damn well she didn't care for
him. The rejection of his feelings over a century ago was nothing
compared to the knowledge that now Cecily would happily kill him
without second thought, and right now she was toying with him,
laughing at his feelings.

Eventually Cecily moved away from him, sitting back and watching him.
He opened his eyes, shaken from the kiss. His breathing was uneven
and his mind was awash with confusion. He thought he had got over
Cecily, and now all he wanted was for her to get him out of this
awful place and take care of him. He wanted that kiss to mean
something.

The pleading look on Spike's face amused Cecily. "You haven't changed
at all, have you?" she smirked. As Spike continued to stare at her in
dazed adoration, she slapped him violently and got to her
feet. "You're pathetic; a disgrace to the vampire species."

Spike watched mournfully as Cecily slunk back to Carver. How could
this have happened? How could he have fallen for her again? His crush
on Buffy was practically rational compared to this. At least the
Slayer was a sort-of ally. She trusted him to take care of her
family, didn't beat him up unless she wanted information which he
wouldn't divulge and certainly didn't torture him for fun. Cecily had
made it quite clear that they were enemies, and yet, even with her
cutting him up and flogging him, all it had taken was one little kiss
and he was besotted with her again. He had thought William - along
with his foolish sentimentality and poetry - was long dead.
Apparently he was mistaken. How could he betray himself like this?

Carver got to his feet and gave Cecily a long impassioned kiss. "Well
I must say," he announced, grinning down at his Sire, "I am
impressed. That has to be the longest crush in the history of time.
Who knows, you might get into the Guinness Book of Records." He
sniggered at his own joke.

Spike ground his teeth. "Oh ha bleedin' ha," he muttered. "Are you
actually gonna do anything or are you just going to walk around
talking at me?"

Carver shrugged and crouched on the floor beside Spike. "I did have a
little plan in me head, yeah," he sighed, "but I was going over it
for so long I realised that reality could never live up to the dream.
I wanted to lock you in a little room, torture you for days on end,
humiliate you and basically reduce you to a shivering wreck, but..." He
laughed and patted Spike's knee. "Look at you! It would just be too
easy! No fun at all." He stood up and walked over to his seat by the
sink, giving Cecily a little peck on the cheek for hurting their
guest so well. "So," he explained to his victim, "I'm just going to
do what I have to do, inflict a fair amount of pain, and then kick
you out."

Spike shuddered. He knew he should be relieved that he had been saved
from days of torment, but somehow couldn't quite get his mind off
whatever pain he was going to suffer now.

"Scared, William?" Carver asked politely, observing Spike's nervous
fidgeting. "Well, I would be. I know I'm quite a terrifying opponent.
I'm sure if you'd stayed with me after my turning you could have been
so proud of me. I could have been your perfect Childe."

"Childe?" Spike muttered, curious. "Minion, I think you'll find,
mate."

Carver frowned at him and knelt down beside him. "No, Sire," he
snapped back, his features shifting to his vampire form. "I've
decided I deserve a promotion." He grabbed Spike's hair and twisted
his head over, baring his neck.

Spike shuddered as he realised that Carver intended to bite him, feed
from him and attain full strength. Spike was by no means going to let
that happen. Accidentally turning his rival was one thing, but
letting him become a true Childe was another.

As Carver lunged for his throat Spike flung his head back, hearing
the satisfying crunch of breaking bone. When Carver got to his feet
again in front of Spike, furious with his Sire for fighting back,
blood was gushing from his nose. He glared at Spike and tutted
disapprovingly. "You shouldn't have done that."

Spike wasn't going to be ordered around by his own minion. This had
gone on for long enough. He was in agony from Cecily's torture, but
letting this lot get the better of him was going to make him feel
even worse about himself. He was not William and he didn't take any
crap from stuck up gits like them, especially not when they owed
their immortal lives to him.

When Carver lunged at him again, he landed a solid kick in his chest
with his bound feet. Carver made no sound of pain as he hit the wall,
neither did he grunt or yell out when Spike knocked his legs out from
under him and sent him crashing to the floor. Oddly enough, Cecily
did not move from the corner to aid her lover.

"Let me go, you bastard!" Spike hissed at Carver as he repeatedly
drove his heels into the other vampire's chest, fracturing ribs with
audible snaps. "I am not William! I am your Sire! You have no...
right... to do this..."

As he continued kicking Carver he was finding it more and more
difficult. He was tired and hurting from Cecily's torture, his flayed
back chafing against the rusty pole behind him. His tiring attack on
his minion seemed to be having little effect. Something was seriously
wrong...

Carver looked up at Spike from his place on the floor and laughed.
Spike froze, confused and concerned. Carver's chest was compressed
and bleeding but he showed no pain. As Spike's assault halted he
stood up and dusted himself off, as if being smashed repeatedly in
the chest was little more than an inconvenience.

"I can't help but finding a little irony in this fact," Carver
explained as he removed his red bandanna. Cecily joined him and
carefully unwound a black bandage from his head, exposing the hole in
his skull. Spike watched in horror, staring at the gruesome sight.
Carver smiled at him. "Wonderfully fitting, isn't it?" he announced
smugly. "While you have an electronic chip in your head inflicting
neurological pain, I am completely immune to any physical hurt
because of the damage you did to my brain before you turned me."

Spike's jaw dropped as he realised there was no way he could fight
Carver. "Oh... bleedin' hell," Spike mumbled, closing his eyes. He knew
he was completely defenceless against whatever punishment the vampire
decided to dish out.

Carver grinned at his Sire's distress. Now to finish what he had
started. He sat himself down on Spike's knees, effectively stopping
the blonde from kicking at him. "It's amazing how good a railway
spike through the head can be for your health," he commented with a
grin.

"You bastard," was all Spike could say, knowing he was helpless. What
could he do now other than pray that the bite wouldn't be too painful
and then they would let him go? He hated to admit it, but he had
given up.

Spike couldn't even turn away as Carver forced his head to one side,
leaned closer and sank his fangs into his neck. Spike braced himself
for the initial sting as the razor-sharp teeth tore into his skin. He
knew once Carver had bitten down the sharpness would fade slightly.
This is what happened, but just when Spike thought he might be able
to get through this it suddenly got worse. He whimpered, trembling as
he fought the urge to scream. Then it happened again, and again. He
tried desperately to push Carver off him but the vampire would not
relinquish his grip. The more Spike struggled the more it hurt.

Cecily was watching from the corner, a gleeful smile on her face, as
her boyfriend drained his Sire. The smell of Spike's blood had
brought her vampire face to the fore.

"Please," Spike hissed, shivering with the pain. "Please stop..."

This was unlike anything he had ever felt. When he and Drusilla had
got a little rough with each other her bites had barely hurt at all.
When she had turned him she hadn't been too gentle but it was nowhere
near this bad. This was just... unbelievable agony.

Tears began to stream down Spike's face as the pain steadily
increased. Howls and screams of agony were torn from his lungs. He
could feel his life being slowly drawn away and the world seemed to
slip away from him, melting into blackness. He didn't fight it. The
pain was just too much.

When Spike slumped over, unconscious, Carver leaned back, slipping
his human mask back into place and licking his lips. "You can tell
the poor sad git's only been drinking stale blood," he muttered
distastefully. "That tasted rancid."

"Never mind, my love," Cecily sighed, looking at Spike's lifeless
form. "At least you've got your new strength. the blood of the Sire -
so potent and powerful. Nothing will stop you now."

Carver nodded. "Yes. God it's a great feeling!" He glanced at Spike
as he sat, slumped over to one side, unconscious. "Right, untie him
and move him into the truck. It'll be nightfall in a few hours. We'll
dump him back at the Watcher's house, then Katharine gets to have her
fun. Then this bastard'll know what suffering really is."

~~~~~~~~~~

Many miles away in the city of Los Angeles there was a sudden clatter
as a wooden chair skittered across the floor, its occupant leaping to
his feet, disturbed from a late afternoon nap during a rather empty
day.

Angel was tensed and ready to fight, the dreams that had been
haunting him seeming just as real even after waking. Something, he
suspected, was horribly wrong. It made his blood boil and his skin
prickle. There was magic in the air - dark magic with intent to hurt -
and he wanted to fight it.

Perhaps it was just the dreams that had plagued him throughout the
day. Sometimes Angel's dreams could be so painfully real he could be
on edge for many hours afterwards. Still, something told him there
was some form of approaching danger, but he couldn't yet tell what it
was.

Shaking slightly, he righted his chair and sat down again, no longer
resting, but sitting tense, waiting and wondering for the approaching
evil to make itself known or the warning feeling to pass. All he
could do was hope it was only the dreams, and that the dreams didn't
mean anything. If this wasn't the case... well there was nothing he
could do yet. He knew nothing - the felt it with a deep sense of
foreboding. Whatever it was would make itself known soon enough, and
when it did Angel would be ready for it.

~TBC~ (I know Cecily is Halfrek now - this was written pre-S6.)