** Author's Note **

All new characters, qoutes, and plotlines belong to me; everything else belongs to the fabulous Joss Whedon.

Feeder17 sat quietly in her bay, watching the screen on the other side of the electrified door. The men in white had come and gone, holding her down to slide a hypodermic needle into the tender skin of her inner elbow and leaving the screen behind. It had flashed on with a loud click, and a jolt had run through her entire body as the image cleared.

Hostile17. The one that she'd been torn from her life for, the reason she'd been kidnapped, tortured. She watched in silence as he lay passed out on the floor behind the electrified field. He was a vampire, she knew that from the mind-numbing hours she had spent crouched in the corner of her cell while a flat, female voice had been piped through the speakers near the ceiling, explaining to her over and over again what was happening to her, in a way that made it sound like it was being read from a user's manual. Brainwashing for Dummies.

A sneer touched her face before she forced her emotions down and away. She had learned months ago what would give her pain and what would get her a reward. Showing emotions was one of the things that hurt. Centering her thoughts, she turned back to the screen. He was coming around now, using the wall to push himself into a standing position. She watched as his eyes narrowed and he began to look around frantically, aware of the trap he was in. As he moved towards the force field in front of him, she instinctively reached out towards the screen, not having time to breathe the warning on her lips before he slammed his hands against the barrier and got the shock of his un-life.

Glancing down, she jumped as violently as he had. It was as if she were noticing her own arm for the first time, as though someone else had reached out to the vampire on the screen. Snatching her arm back, she drew it in tightly to her chest, hugging her middle the way she often did when she was in the straightjacket. Why did she care if this demon was hurt? It would be better if he killed himself attacking the barrier, as she knew some of the others had done, throwing themselves into the electricity in a frenzy until their brains had been fried like pancakes. But this one didn't do that. She watched as he collected himself, began to pace back and forth, ranting and railing. It would do him no good.

She knew she was meant for him. Well, for someone like him. She'd been told that for months. She didn't know it would be him specifically, not till now. He was tall, lean, and pale, dressed in a long black duster and heavy black combat boots. His hair was a jolting bottle-blonde, slicked back hard, and as he paced he ran his fingers through it in frustration. He was almost… attractive, burning from the inside out with justified anger.

A hard shock of revulsion clenched her insides. He wasn't attractive, he was a monster! They'd told her he would probably kill her on sight, tear her throat out and drink her dry. Kill her, drink her, bathe in her blood… rape her, kill her, drink her, kill her…

'STOP!' the voice in her head screamed. Her breathing was up again, harsh raspy breaths dragging in and out of her lungs as her heart hammered in her chest. They came back when she got like this. Then it would be drugs and straightjackets, that flat feminine voice piped in through the speakers near the ceiling. Slowly, slowly, she began to gather herself, pull everything in towards her center and make it still.

'It was ok,' the voice murmured. Ok to feel this way after everything she'd been through. For months the men in white had irrevocably tied her life to that of her Hostile. She didn't exist without him. He was her only purpose. Without him, she was just a waste, an expense, one that would promptly be discarded. Tearing her gaze away from the floor, she brought it back to the screen where Hostile17, her Hostile17 had pressed himself to the wall near the barrier, talking to whatever demon was housed next door.

'Soon,' the voice in her mind murmured to her. Soon she would meet him for the first time. Then it would be his choice whether she lived and served her purpose, or whether they would both die.