A/N: Thanks to my amazing beta, Eowyn315!!!!!



Buffy tried to pull away as Willow’s hands reached for her head, but there was no escape. The chains at her wrists held her in place against the wall so that her frantic attempts to jerk her head out of the witch’s reach were useless.

The instant Willow’s fingertips touched her temples, Buffy felt as if a magnetic force was holding her there. Electrical sparks of energy flew from her former friend’s hands, and her head was filled with a blinding white light that seemed to surround her, consuming her senses until it was all she could be aware of.

All at once, it vanished, and everything around her went black. The chains at her wrists fell away, and she collapsed forward onto her hands and knees, gasping for breath as she tried to recover. Gradually the darkness faded away, and she became aware that she was in a very different place than the mansion in which she had just been…and Willow was crouched by her side.

“How you feelin’, Buffy?” The vampiress’s voice was soft and sympathetic to the point of almost being convincing, had Buffy not known better. “Rough trip?”

Buffy did not bother to answer as she caught her breath and slowly, cautiously, pulled herself to her feet, looking around the room at her unfamiliar surroundings, pointedly ignoring her former friend.

They were in a dimly lit room in what appeared to be an old, abandoned mansion. The Slayer cautiously looked around, watching for any sign of a threat, grimly aware that if Willow had brought her here, it could not be for any good purpose. Her eyes widened in surprise as they fell on Spike, still kneeling in the same position in which Willow had left him, in what would have been the same place, had the room been the same.

“What are we doing here?” Buffy asked warily. “Where are we?”

“We haven’t gone anywhere,” Willow giggled in wicked glee. “We’re right where we were. This is all in your head, Buffy…but it *is* real.”

“Okay,” Buffy acknowledged flatly, pausing a moment before observing, “My head is really boring.”

Willow’s smile faded with irritation as she countered, “Just wait.”

In a few moments, Buffy’s confusion faded as she heard voices coming from outside the door to the room, muffled but growing louder, as if someone was approaching from down the hall.

Two someones.

One was yelling in a furious voice of menace, and the other was pleading quietly, his desperate voice broken on occasion by the sounds of blows falling and groans of pain.

Both voices were chillingly familiar to her.

“They won’t be able to see you,” Willow warned her as the voices grew nearer. “Remember, this isn’t happening now. It already *has* happened; you’re just seeing it now because you weren’t there the first time around…and I just can’t stand the thought of your missing out on this!”

Buffy tried her best to ignore the smug tone of the witch’s voice, reminding herself that whatever she was about to see was intended to hurt her, and Spike…and more importantly, that it wasn’t even real. It had only happened within the construct of the world Willow had created according to her own liking.

Of course, to this Spike, it *was* real.

The way he cringed in familiar dread at the sounds from outside the door was a painful reminder to Buffy of that fact.

The door burst open, and although she had recognized their voices, Buffy wasn’t prepared for the sight of Angel and Spike as they entered the room. Angel was dragging a badly injured Spike by the hair at the back of his head, jerking him into the room and hurling him carelessly to the floor with a snarl of rage.

“You stupid, worthless little fool!” the dark vampire seethed, leveling a vicious kick to the side of his fallen childe. “I’ve told you, you’re *not* going to say a word to her! I *know* Buffy; do you really think for a second that she’d believe you over me?”

*Not Angel, then…Angelus?*

“No, Buffy,” Willow answered the question Buffy had only asked in her mind, smiling with cruel pleasure to shatter the girl’s remaining illusions. “He has his precious soul. He just doesn’t love you, with or without it.”

Buffy flinched, but could not take her eyes from the scene as Spike struggled to pull himself back up to his knees, holding his hands up defensively as he protested, “I wasn’t…I wasn’t going to…”

Angel cut him off with a savage backhand blow that knocked him back to the floor with a warning snarl, “Don’t lie to me, Spike!” He crouched beside the younger vampire, grabbing his hair and jerking his head back, his face inches from Spike’s as he continued in a low, mocking voice, “I’m in your head, boy, remember? I know what you’re thinking before you think it, and I *know* what you were going to tell her…but you’re not going to try anything like that again…are you, boy?”

Spike did not move for a moment, did not make a sound, and Angel let out a warning growl, his vampire face coming to the fore as he grazed his razor sharp fangs along the pale skin of Spike’s throat, scraping against a prominent pair of puncture scars which Buffy guessed were the wounds from Angel’s recently renewed sire’s claim.

Spike’s gasp and shudder at the contact further proved that theory, as Buffy knew that such a small thing was not likely to get such a reaction from him otherwise.

“Are you?” Angel repeated, his voice low and heavy with menace.

Spike’s eyes closed as he shook his head hurriedly, whispering, “No…no, I’m not…” He hesitated before adding in a trembling voice, “Please…I won’t…”

“Look at him,” Willow whispered in Buffy’s ear. “Look at what a trembling, pathetic coward he is. Do you really want anything to do with a low, useless creature like that?”

The Slayer did not answer as she began to take in more subtle details of the events before her. Spike’s body was battered and bruised, and he was painfully thin, almost skeletal, as if he had not been feeding well for a very long time. His expressive blue eyes were dull and haunted, as if he had been through so much trauma that it no longer seemed to register with him; he was resigned and accepting of the horror that was his life.

Angel had broken him.

Buffy could not tear her eyes away from the horrible scene, but she could hear the soft, shuddering intake of breath behind her, and knew the traumatic effect this was having on Spike. Her heart went out to him, and she turned to look Willow defiantly in the eyes.

“It’s not his fault,” she stated firmly, and deliberately loud enough for Spike to hear. “He couldn’t do anything about it. Angel claimed him, and…and he couldn’t fight the claim.”

“The claim didn’t make him beg…make him plead for his pathetic life, and agree to betray you in order to save himself…did it?” Willow pointed out, with vicious glee in her words.

“I didn’t mean it,” Spike spoke up from across the room, a quiet desperation in his trembling voice. “I swear it, Buffy…was just words. I wasn’t actually going to…”

“Spike,” Willow cut him off sharply, turning dark, angry eyes on him without moving from Buffy’s side. “Don’t make me shut you up. You won’t like the method I choose.”

Spike swallowed hard, his eyes wide with fear, and went silent, while Buffy tried hard not to think about what methods Willow might have used in the past when she wanted to keep Spike quiet.

“We all know how pathetic you are, Spike,” Willow went on coldly. “There’s no sense in making excuses. Besides,” she added as she turned back toward Buffy, “that’s not even the half of the things you’ve done to save your own pathetic unlife. Wait until you see what’s next, Buffy.”

“I don’t want to see it,” Buffy whispered, shaking her head in protest.

But even as she spoke, the scene around them began to spin, slowly at first, then faster and faster until it was nothing but a swirling, dizzying blur. Buffy fought to keep her balance amidst the tumult of whirling color and light, until it gradually began to slow down again, growing slower and slower until it finally stopped, and she found herself in a completely different scene.

They stood in the middle of a stately living room, decorated with fine, elegant taste. A warm, inviting fire burned in the fireplace along one wall, and it seemed to be the only light in the room. Once again, Angel was there, though there was no sign of Spike, and this time, Willow’s slightly younger self was there as well.

It was impossible to miss her presence.

Buffy swallowed hard, trying not to show her hurt as she watched Willow and Angel locked in each other’s arms, kissing and groping each other greedily on a leather loveseat a few yards away from the fire. Willow was beneath Angel, but after a few moments she pushed him back slightly, smiling slyly into his eyes as he gave her a questioning look of mild annoyance.

“He didn’t dare look at me like that for long,” Willow pointed out with a smirk. “I’d only been turned for a couple of days at this point, and I turned the tables on him not long after that. But for then…I let him think he was the boss.”

The younger Willow smiled up at her sire, shrugging as she explained, “I think I’d rather…watch, for now.”

Angel’s slow smile spread across his face. He raised himself up off her and stood beside the loveseat, looking off toward the far corner of the room as his expression abruptly hardened and he snapped his fingers in a beckoning gesture.

“Spike,” he snapped. “Get over here.”

Buffy drew in a sharp gasp of shocked dismay as Spike dragged himself out of the shadows on shaking hands and knees, and his battered, abused form was revealed in the flickering firelight. He was naked, and covered in bruises and cuts and other various injuries – and he was so impossibly thin, Buffy wondered that he was even still able to move at all.

*Can vampires starve to death?* she wondered in absent horror, watching the damaged vampire crawl painfully forward until he was at his sire’s feet.

“Y-yes, Sire,” he whispered in a dry, hoarse voice, dulled with despair, as he weakly pulled himself up to his knees in front of Angel.

“You hungry, Spike?”

Dull blue eyes darted up to Angel’s face in uncertainty, and Buffy could easily read the emotions there. He had obviously been denied his nourishment enough times that he could scarcely believe that he was about to be granted even that most basic need. He hesitated, his lips parted slightly for a moment before he ventured to reply.

“Yes, Sire.”

“Well, then, you know what to do.” Angel smirked down at him, crossing his arms over his chest expectantly. “If you want to be allowed to feed.”

Spike looked down at the floor, drawing in a deep, shuddering breath, and then he edged nearer to his sire, raised his hands…and began to unfasten Angel’s belt.

Buffy drew in a sharp, shocked breath, and Willow laughed harshly as Spike cringed behind them from the humiliating images of his own memories.

“See?” Willow crowed. “I told you. Pathetic, isn’t it? He wasn’t forced; he had a choice. And he lowered himself to the status of a whore, for a little bit of blood.”

Buffy found that she could no longer watch as the image of Spike before her took Angel into his mouth, weakly working his sire toward his climax. The sounds of the cruel encounter were more than enough to make her feel sick to her stomach. She struggled to control her own nausea as she heard Angel’s completion, followed by his sadistic laughter.

“There, now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” he sneered.

“Not hard enough,” the young vampiress on the loveseat countered, though he had not been speaking to her. “In my opinion.”

Angel’s eyes narrowed as a smile spread across his face. “You know, Spike,” he went on, “I do believe she’s right.” He indicated Willow with a nod as he held his childe’s bewildered gaze. “See to her, too.”

Buffy felt tears streak her face as Spike shuffled forward on his knees and began to obediently submit to his sire’s order to pleasure the fledgling in front of him. Her tears became sobs when Angel came up behind him and placed his hands roughly on Spike’s narrow, nearly skeletal hips. Spike did not pull away, only flinched slightly, though he had to have known what Angel was about to do.

Without preparation, without mercy, the older vampire brutally breached the younger’s vulnerable, unnaturally virginal body – healed up as perfectly as before he was turned, every time his sire violated him – even as Spike was forced to continue his attentions to the writhing vampiress on the loveseat, until both vampires came to completion through their brutal use of him.

“See what a little whore he is?” Willow sneered softly as Angel finally tore a bloody line across his wrist with his own fangs and held it out to the trembling, heartbreakingly grateful hands of his childe, who pressed the wound to his mouth and drank thirstily of his sire’s blood. “See what he was willing to do for a little blood?”

“He had no choice,” Buffy argued, her voice hard and shaking with anger. “He would have starved. You two weren’t going to let him feed any other way.”

“Still,” Willow shrugged. “It’s pretty pathetic.”

“No.” Buffy shook her head slowly, her eyes narrowed on her former friend, her voice full of disgust. “What’s pathetic is you, trying to convince me to hate Spike for some reason, by showing me the horrible things *you and Angel* did to him! Am I supposed to think less of him because you two used magic and vampire claiming rites to control him? Because you starved and tortured and raped him? Because I *really* don’t, Willow. And I can’t believe you’d be stupid enough to think I would.”

Willow’s eyes flashed with anger, but she visibly suppressed it, squaring her shoulders and giving her friend an appraising look. “Fine. Okay. That’s not all I’ve got.” She paused, a smirk spreading across her face and her eyes lighting up with cruel pleasure. “How about I show you something *he’s* done? Show you just how evil he still is, no matter how hard he tries to be something you could love?”

Buffy felt her stomach drop with apprehension at those words, but she shook her head. “No,” she whispered. “I don’t wanna…”

“You don’t have a choice.”

The room began to spin around them again, and Buffy found that this time it was easier to keep her balance as it gradually came to a stop. She felt her apprehension rising as she realized all at once that this time, they were in Giles’ old apartment, the apartment where she and her mother had lived in this universe, ever since Giles had been…

Her eyes went wide with horror as she took in the appearance of the room, and she suddenly felt that she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, for the violence and horror of the scene.

Blood was everywhere.

The walls were streaked with it; the floor was soaked with it.

Giles’ broken, lifeless body was covered with it.

And leaning over the still, savaged form of her Watcher was Spike…his lips and fangs stained with the rich red blood of the man who had been like a father to her.