General Cordova watched with a cruel smile as the vicious sadistic scene on the screen before her played out. “I should have had Lieutenant Finn be the one to break Hostile 17,” she mused to herself. It was 3:00 am, and she was sitting alone in her office, reviewing the surveillance tapes from that night.

She had the door locked, lest some hapless young soldier should wander in and see the terribly compromising image of Lieutenant Finn recorded on the security videos. There were probably a few of the troops milling about outside her office, discussing the evening’s events. Although he was dead now – a death she fully intended to avenge without mercy – it would still be very confusing to some of her troops to find out the way in which their superior officer had spent his free time.

If those chips had not malfunctioned, she thought. And those two hostiles had stayed under his control, they would certainly have been completely broken by the time he would have finished with them. And though she preferred not to get her hands quite as dirty as her second-in-command had obviously enjoyed, she had to recognize a certain brutal artistry in the way he had manipulated the two vampires, using their affection for each other to enforce their submission to him.

I should have had him take charge of breaking that cocky vamp, she thought with disgust. For all Lieutenant Finn thought of her, that so-called vampire slayer was worthless at it! She smiled darkly. It doesn’t matter now. When Hostile 17 is found, I’ll take that task in hand myself. And by the time I’m through with him, that vampire won’t dare to so much as look at me wrong!

She watched in grim fascination as the little vampiress tore into the much larger man, savaging him, tossing him about like a rag doll on the screen before her. She grimaced with distaste; that was enough of that. She rewound the tape through some very uneventful footage from that afternoon, keeping an eye on it the entire time for anything unexpected or out of the ordinary. Suddenly, she stopped the tape as a familiar figure appeared on the screen, arresting her attention.

She frowned, wondering. Then her eyes widened as it sank in just what she was seeing. She almost laughed in sheer surprise at the sight of the Slayer and Hostile 17 – in his bed!

If that’s her version of punishment, she smirked. No wonder he’s so rebellious. He’s probably been trying to get punished! She noticed that the Slayer did seem to be the one in control of the recorded activities. Several times Hostile 17 attempted to move and was forced back down by the Slayer on top of him. However, he did not appear to be suffering; the expression on his face was one of sheer pleasure; he was obviously highly enjoying himself.

Though suspicion began in her mind, it was not enough evidence to confirm the suspicions – yet. After all, a young woman like Ms. Summers, wielding life-or-death power over an attractive specimen such as Hostile 17 – it was not surprising that she might take advantage of that power to have a little fun. It wasn’t like the hostile could have done anything about it if he’d wanted to – not that he appeared to have wanted to.

But it was when she rewound the tape even further that her suspicions were confirmed.

“That’s my laptop!” she said aloud in indignation, though she was the only one in the room. She could barely believe her eyes, as she watched as Hostile 17 handed the laptop to the Slayer. But her laptop was always either with her, or under lock and key! How had he possibly gotten his hands on it? she wondered.

Then she suddenly remembered Lieutenant Finn’s careless mistake in leaving it unattended a few afternoons ago. So Hostile 17 had taken it, and Ms. Summers had returned it for him! There was so much classified information on that laptop! They must have used some of it to figure out how to outsmart the security systems to pull off the escape.

“So Ms. Summers, the vampire slayer, is the traitor among us,” she realized aloud, a slow, cruel smile spreading over her face. “Too bad. I had such high hopes for that girl.” She paused as she rose from her desk and turned off the tape. She had seen all she needed to see. She shrugged her shoulders. “Oh, well. She can still be of benefit to my work – just not in the way I had planned.”

And with a cold smile on her face, she set about setting about putting her new plans for the Slayer into motion.

The next morning, Buffy was getting ready to leave for the Initiative. She had decided that the best thing to do was to simply go in as usual, acting as if she knew nothing about what had happened the night before. There was nothing to connect her with the escape, so acting any differently would only arouse unnecessary suspicions.

She was at the kitchen counter, pouring herself a cup of coffee, when she heard the basement door open. Without meaning to she tensed, knowing without looking who was walking up behind her, and not wanting to talk to him. At this point, she simply had no idea what to even say.

“Morning, Buffy,” that warm, familiar voice said, and she felt the edges of her resolve beginning to crumble already at the soft, hopeful note she heard in it.

No, Buffy! she sternly reminded herself. Stay strong!

She had made the mistake of falling for the sexy, tempting vampire – Again, she thought ruefully – and now she had to cut it off early, before she could develop any actual real feelings for him. The events of the evening before had proven her fears to be truth – it could never work. No matter what, a relationship between a vampire and a vampire Slayer was doomed to failure from the very start, destined to end in only one of two very unpleasant ways.

His death, or hers.

Better for both of them to keep as much emotional distance as possible. And as he obviously was not of a mind to do that, that left it up to her.

“You know it wouldn’t kill you to speak to me, love,” Spike said, and she could clearly hear the hurt behind the irritation in his voice.

“Good morning,” she replied tersely, as if it indeed pained her to say the words.

“Come on, now, love,” he said in a solicitous voice, coming around to face her, seeking her eyes with his own deep blue gaze. She resolutely avoided that gaze, because she knew that once she looked into those eyes she would be in danger of losing herself and her resolve completely. “I know I’m not your favorite person right now, pet, but you can’t go from shagging me senseless to shoving me out in the cold overnight.” His tone was teasing, coaxing.

Buffy’s eyes shot up to his for just a moment before she looked away, irritated by his casual, familiar demeanor. How dare he flirt with her and attempt to act as if nothing had happened after – after everything!

“Watch me!” she snapped, turning away from him again.

“Kind of hard to do that when you won’t even bloody look at me,” he muttered, irritation sneaking into his own voice, as he moved around in front of her again, taking her arms gently in his hands and trying again to regain their lost eye contact.

And he regained it.

Fiery emerald eyes met his in a challenge as she glared pointedly down at his hands and then back up into his eyes. In a still sort of voice that was far more dangerous than a louder, angrier tone would have been, she said softly, “Take your hands off me.”

He was no fool; he instantly obeyed. But the defeated, wounded look in his eyes when he turned away tore at her heart. Before he could argue any further – as she knew he would once given a few moments to rebuild his courage – or she could lose her determination, she hurried out the door and to her car.

Sitting in her car in the parking lot, she took a deep breath before getting out, preparing herself to act surprised and distressed by the news of what had happened the night before. The distressed part would not be difficult; surprised on the other hand – she desperately hoped that she could pull it off.

As she paused in the doorway to General Cordova’s office, keeping her expression positive, just short of outright cheerful, she noticed that the general’s expression was terse, troubled.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, mentally congratulating herself on putting just the right note of concern in her voice.

The general silently waved her on into the room, gesturing for her to close the door and sit down.

“There was an incident last night,” she said finally, once Buffy was seated across from her. “A soldier was killed. Two hostiles escaped.”

“H-how is that possible?” Buffy asked, frowning. “All of the hostiles are chipped. How could they have killed a soldier?”

“The chips…malfunctioned. We managed to get them back up very quickly, but not before the two that escaped managed to do a lot of damage. Ms. Summers – I have bad news.”

Buffy prepared herself to react appropriately, saying in an innocent tone, “What is it?”

“It’s Lieutenant Finn. He’s the soldier who was killed. I’m sorry. I know you two were friends.” The general’s tone was sympathetic, her expression apologetic and sad.

Buffy’s eyes widened with feigned shock; her mouth opened but she said nothing for a long moment. “Oh my God!” she finally whispered, her eyes staring blankly at the general, as if barely able to comprehend her words. “No…”

“Hostile 17 and the childe – the one that’s caused so much trouble around here recently – killed Lieutenant Finn – brutally murdered him without provocation – and escaped. We searched the immediately surrounding area, but there was no sign of them,” the general explained.

Buffy fought back her anger and revulsion at the general’s lie. The riding crop and handcuffs had been left on the floor in Spike’s room; surely she had to have some idea of what Riley had been doing before they had escaped.

“Riley,” Buffy whispered, allowing the rage she felt at his name and the thought of what he had done to show in her eyes, letting the general believe it was directed toward his killers. Quickly meeting the general’s eyes, her own filled with tears, she said in a trembling voice, , “We’ve got to find them. Make them pay for what they did to him!”

The general nodded her approval. “We’re agreed, then,” she said quietly. “Tonight…we hunt them down. We won’t stop until they’re found. And once they’re found – we’ll show them the meaning of pain.”

Buffy nodded resolutely though the woman’s words chilled her to the bone, as Cordova outlined the specifics of her plan for her. They would meet here, at the Initiative headquarters, at 8:00 that night, to begin their search for the fugitive vampires. Then, they would continue hunting them until they were found, or daylight came, whichever occurred first. Cordova had decided that an overnight hunt would be most effective, as the vampires would likely be out attempting to feed, and not hidden away somewhere as they would be during daylight.

“Go home and get some rest, Ms. Summers,” the general suggested kindly. “You’ve got a long night ahead of you.”

And as Buffy rose and turned to go, she missed the secret, cruel smile on Cordova’s lips.