Buffy forced herself to smile at General Cordova as she placed the control mechanism to Spike’s chip back in her hand. She wanted to crush it herself, to hide it away somewhere, to shove it down this sadistic woman’s throat -- *anything* rather than placing it back in the cruel hands that had used it so cruelly against him.

Instead she made herself say, “Interesting little toy you’ve got there, General,” with a smirk. *I hope you get the chance to experience it for yourself someday!* she added mentally.

The general returned her smile. “Thought you’d like it,” she said, and Buffy wanted to throw up – or slap her face; either would have made her feel better.

“He shouldn’t give you any more trouble for a while,” Buffy assured her, then added as inspiration struck her, “But if he does, feel free to let me know.” *Might give me a way to get in to see him,* she thought.

The general laughed. “Sounds like a mutually beneficial arrangement to me,” she nodded. “So you’ve decided to join us then?”

Buffy nodded. “I have.”

“Good. Unless there’s anything else I can show you, any other questions you might have, you can go ahead and go home for tonight. Come back tomorrow and we’ll make all the necessary arrangements.”

“Is Lieutenant Finn going to be taking me home?” Buffy asked innocently, wondering if it would be *too* suspicious if the good lieutenant just “happened” to disappear and never be seen again while on his assignment to take her home.

“I’m afraid Lieutenant Finn has been called to another assignment at the moment. I’ll have someone else take you home.” The general’s smile revealed nothing, but Buffy had a good idea of what had required Riley’s attention – dealing with his little runaway slave – and it sickened her.

“Lieutenant Finn has informed me that you two have some – history – together.” The general gave her a knowing look. “You should know that in this operation, with everything so highly classified, we tend to become very close to each other rather than to those on the outside. Therefore we tend to – look the other way – in regards to close friendships that may develop in the line of duty.”

*She’s telling me not to worry about inter-office dating if I wanna date Riley again!* she realized with disgust. *Evil, nasty Riley the vampire-rapist? I do not think so!*

As she stepped out into the sun and headed for the blue SUV, she thought, *I wonder if she’d look the other way for an inter-office murder?*


Buffy could hear the commotion coming from her house before she even got out of the car. The soldier in the driver’s seat frowned.

“Sure you’re gonna be all right, Ms. Summers?” he asked.

Annoyed by his protect-the-helpless-little-woman routine, and also thinking of Darian, she smiled a huge fake smile and said, “No, thank you, I’ll be fine.” She slammed the car door without giving the soldier a chance to argue, and headed up the porch steps to her front door, as the SUV pulled out of her driveway and drove off into the night.

Buffy noticed that Willow’s car was parked in the driveway. Buffy’s mom was out of town for a few days, some art convention or something. Although Darian was chipped and therefore relatively harmless, Buffy had not wanted to leave Dawn alone with him, even for just a few hours, so Willow had agreed to stay with them while she was touring the Initiative.

As Buffy turned the key in the lock and opened the door, the sound of hysterical yelling and crying became overpoweringly loud, mixed with Willow’s louder than usual, higher pitched than usual, voice. Stepping into the living room, she took in the sight before her.

Darian was the one freaking out. Willow had apparently gotten him cornered at one end of the room, and was trying desperately to calm him down. As Buffy drew nearer, she could see that his face was streaked with tears, his eyes wide with terror, and he was trembling uncontrollably.

The moment he saw Buffy, he stepped back against the wall, his hands raised defensively, his eyes wide and frightened. “No,” he whimpered. “You said you wouldn’t! You promised! Please!”

“What’s going on?” Buffy asked quietly, her words directed at Willow, but her eyes focused on Darian.

“Dawnie and I were talking and I guess he overheard us and figured out where you were going today,” Willow explained. “He was ok for a little while, but a couple hours ago he started saying you’d been gone too long and – and well, he kinda freaked out. He was afraid you were gonna turn him in.” She paused, uncomfortable, before finishing with a guilty look, “And then when he, um, tried to leave, and – and, uh, found out he – he *couldn’t*…” Her voice trailed off, and Buffy felt a little sick. None of them had thought to tell Darian about the containment spell.

After her disturbing, revealing visit to the Initiative, this news flooded her with compassion, and an odd sense of guilt. She could understand Darian’s terror of ever going back there, after getting a glimpse of the way he had probably been treated. Spike had told her that he was better treated than any of the other vamps, and he had been savagely tortured before her very eyes.

Her own eyes welling with unshed tears, she started slowly toward the young vampire, one hand stretched out, open and unthreatening. “Darian,” she said softly, not wanting to startle him. “It’s ok. I know, I promised. And I’m *not* gonna let them take you back there, not ever. Ok?”

She could tell by his face that he was not sure whether or not to believe her. He just stared at her with those wide, panicked blue eyes, shaking his head a little, whispering, “Please! Please don’t!”

“I won’t,” she whispered back, slowing advancing toward him, her hand still outstretched. She reached him, and cautiously placed her hand on his arm.

He flinched a little when she touched him, drawing back against the wall, but not pulling away.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, Darian,” she assured him softly. “Come on, it’s all right. Calm down.” Her voice was a little stronger now that she had established contact, now that she seemed to be getting through to him a little. At least he hadn’t pulled away from her. Then she remembered with a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach.

He couldn’t.

But he *did* seem to be calming a little. He met her eyes now, and his shaking was less violent. “If you’re going to take me back there,” he said, his voice just slightly stronger now, though still trembling, “just kill me, Ma’am. I’d rather die than face what – what they’d do to me for running away.” This was not overdramatics, as she had accused Spike of when they had first spoken in his cell. This was simple matter-of-fact reality for him, and she knew that it was the truth.

“I know,” Buffy said softly, her unshed tears overflowing as she thought of Diana and the punishment inflicted on *her* for running away. “Darian, I promise you with all I’ve got that I am *not* going to take you back there!” She looked him in the eye, willing him to see her sincerity. She paused before continuing, “I talked to your sire today, and I know what they’ve been doing to all of you. And I would not make you go back there, not for anything! Ok? I’m going to stop them!”

He gazed into her eyes, searching, and seemed to find something that satisfied him at least a little. He frowned, and there was a slight note of accusation in his voice when he asked, “Why can’t I leave?”

Buffy smiled in a sort of apologetic way. “I told you you were my prisoner, remember? I can’t let you just go running around for the Initiative people to pick up. It’s more for your own safety than anything,” she assured him. “Besides,” she continued in a brighter tone, “I need your help. We’re gonna stop these creeps from hurting you or anyone else ever again.”

He did not look convinced. But he did look calmer, and intrigued by the idea of taking down the Initiative. “W-what can I do to help?” he asked timidly.

Buffy’s smile widened encouragingly at his response. Taking him by the arm, she led him toward the couch. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s talk.”


The door to Spike’s suite opened, and he looked up from his chair – then leapt to his feet at the sight that met his eyes.

Lieutenant Finn had entered the room, carrying Diana’s limp, beaten form in his arms. She was so incredibly tiny, so helpless, in the burly man’s huge hands. Finn carried her to the couch and laid her down, none too gently. Spike was struck speechless for a moment by the extent of the damage to her abused, battered body. Never before had she been in too bad of condition to even walk on her own when they had brought her to him.

She was still wearing the underclothes she had been wearing when she was whipped, but her injuries had increased terribly; it appeared Lieutenant Finn had not felt that her punishment was sufficient.

“What did you do to her?” The low, intense sound of his own voice, and the low rumbling growl in his throat, surprised even Spike as he turned to glare at the officer, who sneered down at him.

“Not really your concern, hostile,” Finn smiled that deceptive, innocent-looking smile as he replied, starting back for the door.

But Spike blocked his path. He didn’t touch him, didn’t make any move that could be taken as threatening, only stood there so that he could not leave. “It *is* my concern, I am sick to death of everyone telling me she is not my *concern*, when she is all that bloody well *does* concern me in this soddin’ godforsaken place!” he snarled.

Finn’s eyes narrowed dangerously as he gave the vampire a once-over glance and said softly, “You’d best step aside.”

Spike did not move.

Finn shrugged his acceptance of Spike’s decision. “Fine, then,” he said with a smile. “I prefer it this way anyway.” His powerful, experimental-drug-enhanced fist slammed into the vampire’s face with brutal force, knocking him aside, out of his way. Spike was still at a disadvantage, feeling exhausted and sick from the general’s torture, and reeled with the blow, struggling against his own weakness and fatigue.

Still, he was back in Finn’s face in a matter of moments, his eyes blazing with menace.

The soldier appraised him for a moment, then laughed, a soft, threatening sound. “You might wanna be careful, hostile,” he informed him. “One more incident like the one you pulled today, and General Cordova just might be persuaded to see things my way.” He paused, glancing pointedly toward the limp, battered form on Spike’s sofa before adding, “And *then* who’s gonna take care of your baby girl?”

It was all Spike could do not to attack him right then, but something in his words stopped him. It was true; he could not get himself killed and leave Diana with no one to even comfort her in the wake of Finn’s abuses, leave her completely, devastatingly alone except for her abusers. With an extreme force of his will, he backed down, stepping out of Finn’s path.

The lieutenant gave a short, mocking laugh as he took another step toward the door. He stopped just in the doorway, not turning as he spoke again. “I know you put her up to it, Spike,” he said, startling the vampire with the quiet, dangerous voice speaking his actual name. “I know you helped the other one escape. The general thinks you can be useful, but I know you’re nothing but a liability to this operation. And all I’ve gotta do is prove it.” He looked back over his shoulder, catching Spike’s eye with a chilling expression in his own. “And you’re helping me do it,” he added with a smirk.

Spike simply stared at him, and then at the spot where he had been, for several long moments as Finn left, locking the door behind him.