He cautiously, almost imperceptibly, stretched the muscles in his arms as he slowly sat up, not giving away anything just yet.

The satisfied smile he forgot for a moment to hide irritated her. If he was just doing this to get the bonds off for a little while… Time to remind him that he had no reason to smile, she thought. She moved in behind him, putting one arm around his neck to jerk him backward against her, opening the lighter again and holding it in his face.

“Did I say you could move?” she snarled.

If he had still been chipped, the intimidating gesture might have been more effective. After all, she thought that she had already broken his resistance.

She was wrong.

“Did I ask for your permission?” he shot back in a low, menacing voice…just before his fist shot up and backward into her face, easily breaking her hold on him as she staggered backward into the wall.

In a flash he was off the table and advancing on her. Even covered in the blood and bruises from her beating – or perhaps moreso *because* of that – he was terrifying as he slowly stalked toward her, his satisfied smile now a cold smirk, and a murderous rage in his icy blue eyes.

“Hmm,” he mused, frowning slightly before the smile took over his face again. “Aren’t I supposed to be doubled over in pain about now? You know, what with clocking you and all? I wonder what’s the problem?”

Her eyes widened in fear as the truth hit her; somehow, the chip had stopped working again. She reached for the gun at her belt, but his strong hand quickly caught her already injured wrist, twisting it hard, eliciting a cry of pain from her.

“You know,” he said softly, his face inches from hers again, but this time he was the one doing the intimidating, as he reached with his other hand to take the gun from its holster. “you really ought to learn some new tricks, pet. Don’t you remember what happened the last time you pulled a gun on me?”

And then just in case she had forgotten, he reminded her by once again drawing back the hand that held the gun and smashing it across her face, hard, sending her crumpling to the floor, unconscious.

He stared down at her for a moment, his eyes almost glowing with fury and bloodlust. This woman had single-handedly caused so much suffering to him and all those he cared about – Diana and his other children, Buffy – and now he had the opportunity to make her pay for all she had done. And that was what he desperately wanted to do – to make her suffer for the agony of the past hours, bloody hell, the past year!

Another part of him, a reasonable part unaffected by his intense emotions, told him that the wise thing would be to simply get the bloody hell out of there before anything else could go wrong. He had no idea how long it would be before the chip starting working again.

It was a very small, very quiet part of him. He barely even heard it.

*Spike?* he suddenly heard Willow’s voice in his head. *Spike the chip’s down, it’s down for good! Can you hear me? Spike!*

He started to reply, but then hesitated, as his eyes widened and his mouth opened partially in surprise at her words. So the chip would not be coming back up in a few minutes, after all. A slow smile began to play about his lips.

*Spike! Spike, are you ok? Can you hear me?* Willow’s urgent voice spoke in his head.

*Yeah,* he finally replied, still staring speculatively through hate-filled eyes at the still figure on the floor in front of him.

*Oh, thank God!* He could hear the obvious relief in her words, and it was oddly warming to him. *We thought maybe – never mind that, are you all right?*

*Been a sight better, pet,* he admitted.

*Are you able to get out of there on your own?* she asked with concern in her mental voice. *Cause if you’re not we’ll come get you, but – but Buffy’s really not up to it yet. And you need to get out as fast as possible – we’re gonna lock the place down the minute you’re out.*

*Tell the Slayer to stay put,* he told her. *I can get out all right, as long as this chip doesn’t start working again.*

*It won’t,* Willow assured him. *Hurry, Spike!*

He was silent for a moment before responding slowly, *Give us a minute, pet.* He paused. *Got some business to attend to, and then I’ll be along.*

*What do you mean, business?* she asked. *Where’s Cordova? What are you gonna…*

*Can’t talk now, love,* he broke in, as he leaned down to take the unconscious woman under the arms and pull her up onto the table, wincing at the pain as the motion tore at the many wounds covering his ravaged body. *Gotta run. I’ll let you know as soon as I’m out.*

*But – Spike, wait--* Willow insisted.

With sheer force of his will, stronger than ever after the work-out it had just received, he shut her anxious voice out of his mind.

He knew she would be worried, and that meant that Buffy would worry as well, but it simply couldn’t be helped. He knew that if they had any idea what he was about to do, they would try to talk him out of it, or even stop him. He was given a moment’s uncertainty at the thought of what Buffy would think – what she would want him to do.

“Sorry, love,” he murmured aloud. “But she’s had this coming. I *am* still a soddin’ vampire…can’t expect bloody miracles...”


Willow looked up at Buffy with worried eyes. “He cut me off,” she said quietly. “On purpose.”

Buffy frowned. “He’s okay?”

“I guess so. He said he was, and he didn’t seem to think he’d have much trouble getting out. He just said – he has some business he had to take care of,” Willow said cautiously.

“Cordova,” Buffy immediately knew.

“He’s going to kill her,” Willow realized, her eyes widening.

Buffy looked at her with an odd expression, a look that was both troubled and triumphant, as she replied softly, “Can you blame him?”

Willow looked away, and said nothing for a moment. Then she slowly shook her head.


Cordova woke up with a splitting headache – which only grew worse when she opened her eyes and saw the situation she was in. She was unable to move, strapped tightly to the very table on which she had savagely tortured her victim earlier – the same victim who now stood across the room with his back to her – patiently waiting.

His keen vampire hearing picked up the soft sound of her stirring, and he turned to face her. The black coat she had stripped him of was now back in place, and a lit cigarette hung casually between his lips. He smiled. “Oh, good,” he said in a mockery of her earlier words. “You’re awake.”

His face was in its human form, but nothing could have been more frightening than that cold, vicious smile.

“You’re making a very serious mistake, Hostile,” she said, a slight tremor on the end of her words, and to her credit, her fear well-masked by the anger in her eyes. “As soon as my men realize what’s happened – you’ll be caught. And if you think you’ve suffered already…”

“You know,” he broke in almost jovially, still smiling as he stifled the rest of her sentence with a hand over her mouth. “I think I’m finally read to do a little talking. And you, love,” he continued, lowering his voice and leaning into her face, cold glittering blue eyes locked onto hers, “are going to shut your pretty little mouth and listen. Isn’t that right?” The deadly quality in his voice chilled her blood.

Despite her best intentions to not give in to his intimidation, she quickly nodded.

“Good girl,” he replied, satisfied, removing his hand from her mouth.

“It’s not too late,” she immediately, urgently told him. “If you untie me now, I’ll see that…”

Her words were cut off again, this time by a hard slap across her face as he snarled, “Enough! I’ve heard enough out of you the last year to last the rest of my life!” His voice calmer, he added with an ironic smile, “You’re not to speak another bloody word unless spoken to. Is that clear?”

Reluctantly, realizing that she had no choice, Cordova silently nodded.

“You wanted me to talk,” he reminded her with a smile. “So listen.”

“First of all,” he informed her. “’Your men’ won’t be catching me. While you were sleeping, I took a little stroll through the building. They’ve all gone home. It’s very, very late, you know. Just you and me here, pet. No one to interrupt us.” He paused to allow that to sink in.

“You asked me earlier,” he said, his voice softer as he drew close to her again, “what hell felt like.” He smiled coldly into her eyes. “As to the particular brand of hell you’ve put me through for the past year – unfortunately as I don’t know how to perform brain surgery, you’ll never be able to comprehend what that’s like.” He shook his head sadly as he reached into his pocket, taking out the lighter he had retrieved. He flicked it open and gazed into the flame as he went on, “As to the fire and brimstone part, though, love – I think I might be able to manage that.” He looked at her again, vengeance raging in his eyes.

“I told you,” she spoke quickly in a tremulous voice, her eyes wide with rising fear. “If you do this they *will* catch you! No matter what you do to me, they’ll kill you for this!”

“And I told you,” he began softly, his voice rising with each word until the last few were a roar, “to *shut up*!”

She flinched back against the table at the sheer hatred and uncontrolled rage in his voice.

“You still don’t think there’s anything wrong with what *you’ve* done, do you?” He shook his head in amazement. “To you, we’re just monsters, so it’s ok to do whatever you want with us. Well, you know what I think of when I think of monsters, love?” he asked. “You.”

“How do you think it feels?” he demanded, his voice quiet, but full of deep emotion. “Thousands of volts of electricity shooting through your body any time you make a move to defend yourself, to resist in any way at all? How do you think it feels to be utterly helpless, powerless to control anything around you?”

He paused, laughing softly. “Well, the helpless part you’re probably starting to get right about now…” His voice lowered to a whisper as he drew steadily closer to her, until by the end he was whispering into her ear. “…knowing that I can do absolutely…anything… I…want…and there’s *nothing* you can do…to stop me.”

He could hear her heart pounding with terror, felt the little skip in its rhythm as his hand came to rest on her hip.

“How do you think Diana felt, love?” he went on in a hushed, intimate tone. “When your favorite, Lieutenant High-and-Mighty Finn, would come to her room? Knowing she had no choice? Whatever he wanted, he was going to *take*!” He emphasized his point by tightening his fingers on her hip, and smiled slightly at the sharp little intake of breath she made that was almost a whimper.

He maintained his menacing stance for a few moments, relishing the frantic throbbing of her heartbeat, before slowly backing off, removing his hand from her hip.

“Lucky for you,” he muttered, taking out a new cigarette, “I may be a monster...but I’m more man than he ever was.”

He took a couple of drags on the cigarette before going on, “I was talking to a friend recently – about good and evil.” He smiled thoughtfully. “About how it’s what you do, not what you are, that makes you a good or bad person. Now you,” he said with a gesture of his hand toward her, pausing to take another drag, “Undoubtedly evil. You don’t just cause pain when you have to to get what you want – you bloody get off on it!” His eyes were full of disgust as he glared at her. “The way I figure, you bloody well deserve whatever happens to you from here on out.”

“Like you don’t!” she snarled, defensive fear in her voice. “Please! I know your history, Hostile 17! William the Bloody, scourge of Europe! How dare you condemn *me* after all you’ve done?” she demanded.

He frowned thoughtfully, pointing a finger at her and nodding, “Good point. The thing is, pet – things look a little different once you’re on the other end of the stick…don’t they?” He smiled. “You might say you’ve helped me to see the light, love. To see the error of my ways.” His tone was mocking.

Then his smile faded as he said, “But that’d be giving you too much credit. No, the one responsible for my mended ways isn’t here right now.” He frowned slightly, before muttering with irritation in his voice, “But she’s still managing to make this a bit of a moral dilemma for me.” His frown faded suddenly as he shrugged it off with a look of unconcern.

Cordova grasped at the tiny string she thought she saw, pointing out quickly, “She wouldn’t want you to do this! You do this, and there’s no going back, Hostile. She’s the Slayer! Do you really think she’ll have anything to do with you if you do this?”

“For the love of God, woman, why can’t you just *shut up*!” he snarled, approaching her quickly to grip both sides of the table and shake it slightly. She flinched as he got right in her face, menace in his eyes.

But the sudden, violent motion was too much for his battered body to take without protest, and he winced slightly as the burns on his sensitive stomach, just beginning to heal, were stretched and pulled by his sudden movement.

He was so close to her face that she could not have possibly missed the evidence of his pain.

She smiled slowly. “Look at you,” she murmured in the contemptuous tone she had always used with him. “You can barely stand, you’re so weak! And you expect me to be afraid of you?” She sneered.

“You’re right,” he whispered, not meeting her eyes, looking down as he remained leaning on the table. “I don’t feel so well.” His eyes slowly rose to meet hers as his lips turned up in a wicked smile. “Perhaps I’d feel better,” he whispered. “if I ate something.”

Her eyes widened with the terrified realization of his meaning – moments before his face changed, and he sank his fangs into her throat.