Over the course of a couple hours, Buffy gradually filled Willow in on most of the events that had taken place in her life over the past few years, telling her how Riley had pushed and pushed her to cut ties with her old friends, how after that she and Riley had slowly but surely drifted further and further apart, about Riley’s growing interest in his female slaves, until they got more of his attention than she did – but she had not mentioned the fact that Riley had hit her.

And she had not mentioned Spike.

“Buffy, that’s terrible!” Willow was wide-eyed, aghast at the utter disrespect and emotional cruelty that her friend had been tolerating from her husband. “If he’s cheating on you, and talking to you like that, you can’t just put up with it, Buffy!”

“I know,” Buffy admitted in a small, miserable voice. She knew, deep down, that Willow was right. But the thought of actually standing up to Riley, after so long being made to feel so inferior and bowing to his wishes, was a little frightening to her – and very confusing. “But,” she went on, hesitantly. “The thing is – I mean, I think that – Riley thinks…” She hesitated, then stopped.

“What, Buffy?” Willow’s voice was gentle but urgent. “Riley thinks what?”

“Well – if they’re not human – just – just like – possessions, you know? – I don’t think he thinks it’s really cheating. Not like if it was with a human woman. I think he thinks of it like – like using a toy or – or looking at porn or something. You know?”

The disgust and disbelief in Willow’s eyes was all the answer Buffy needed.

“I know he’s wrong,” Buffy conceded quietly, her eyes downcast with shame, though she did not really know why *she* should be ashamed. Riley was the one who had committed the offense. “But I think that’s how he looks at it. He doesn’t think he’s doing anything wrong.”

Willow just looked at Buffy for a moment, trying to read the expression on the face of the girl who was so familiar and dear to her, and yet a complete stranger at the same time. Her expression was thoughtful and troubled, and Buffy got the impression that she was debating over whether or not to say what she was thinking.

Finally, she began, softly, “Buffy – he *is* wrong. *Very* wrong. I don’t care if the girls are vampires or human. That doesn’t really matter. They’re still sentient creatures, Buffy, and for all intents and purposes they look and act human. He’s just using the whole ‘not human’ thing as an excuse to do what he wants guilt free. And it’s wrong.”

Her voice was gentle but firm as she went on emphatically, “He’s wrong for cheating on you – and he’s wrong for forcing himself on them. The whole thing is wrong, Buffy – this whole slavery thing. It’s just so – disgusting, and – and ugly, and – I wish there was a way to stop it once and for all.”

Buffy was struck by the depth of passionate fervor in her friend’s voice as she spoke. Suddenly, she thought of Spike, her own slave, and felt very guilty.

“I don’t know, Will,” she said. “I mean – I’m the Slayer. At least – at least I used to be.” She shrugged with a sad, uncertain little smile. “I’m not sure of anything anymore. But – if I could go out night after night for years and destroy these creatures – how can I try to say now that they have the same rights as human beings do? Wouldn’t that make me a murderer?”

“Buffy, there’s a difference in slaying dangerous vampires to protect people – and taking a creature that’s been made completely harmless, and – and forcing it to do what you want, and beating and torturing it, and – and everything else that people do to these vamp slaves, Buffy.” Willow shook her head slowly.

“I don’t like any of this. It’s like – like these people have all this repressed darkness inside them – these impulses that normal human society tells them they have to curb – you know? But once they have one of these vampire slaves – they can feel free to let that darker side of themselves out on the slaves, because they’re technically not ‘human’.”

Buffy frowned, thinking hard as she processed what Willow was saying, and Willow paused for a moment to allow her words to sink in.

“It’s like – for example – say a person struggles with having a violent temper. Our society and morals say they have to learn to control it. Because it’s just not acceptable to go off and hit someone whenever you get mad. But now suddenly – they don’t have to control it anymore! They can just take all that rage out on a slave, because it’s not a real person, so they don’t even have to feel guilty about it!”

Her outrage and indignation over that line of thought was clear in her tone, her blazing green eyes of fire as she concluded almost fiercely, “And it’s just wrong, Buffy. It’s wrong.”

Buffy had no response. The memory flashed into her mind of the beating she had recently administered to her own slave, without thought of controlling her temper, because after all – he was hers, wasn’t her? To do with as she pleased?

Willow might as well have been talking about her the whole time.

Willow let out a heavy sigh. “That’s why I was always so worried about you and Riley to begin with, Buffy,” she admitted softly. “Because he was so involved with all the experiments, and ‘let’s find a way to use the vampires’ crap – and I could sort of see where it would lead.”

“And then he got so involved in the whole slave trade institution,” Buffy added, shaking her head slightly, staring off past her friend as memories filled her mind.

“Buffy…” Willow reminded her, “he *is* the institution! He started the whole thing, almost on his own! And I just hate to think of you having to be involved in something so – well, so wrong, Buffy. And I’m sorry if that’s harsh, but that’s just my opinion.”

A small part of Buffy’s mind that was not consumed with the questions Willow’s words had raised, noticed with admiration how much more confident and self-assured her friend had become in the years since she had seen her. Willow spoke of her convictions and beliefs about the slave trade firmly and plainly, without apologizing or backtracking or attempting to soften her opinion.

And her opinion seemed to be that at the moment, Buffy was siding with the enemy.

She was quiet for a moment, unable to meet her friend’s eyes. Every word she was saying rang true in her heart. But Riley’s words were still there as well. She knew that vampires were not human, were not even alive – and yet – she agreed with Willow that it just did not seem right, to treat them as nothing more than objects to be used.

It was all just so confusing.

An uneasy feeling was rising in her, at the knowledge that she had not yet told her friend everything. If she accepted Willow’s forgiveness and renewed friendship, without confessing her own part in the disgusting practice that Willow so obviously abhorred, it would not be honest, and it would not be a good start to make.

“Will…there’s more,” she admitted quietly.

Willow was silent, just looking at her expectantly, her expression blank and noncommittal. “What is it?” she asked quietly.

“Well…up until just recently,” Buffy began, taking a deep breath. “I didn’t want any slaves of my own. Riley has his, and they generally take care of the household work and all…but I didn’t really want any part of it.”

“But now?” Willow prompted softly, her expression even and non-judgmental, just waiting for her friend to go on.

“Well…at the last auction…I’m still not really sure why…I…bought a slave.” Buffy winced slightly in anticipation of the angry reaction she expected from her friend at those words.

Willow was quiet for a moment before she asked casually, “How’s that working out for ya?”

She was not angry or really upset at all with Buffy; it was clear from every look, every tone Buffy was using that that decision had forced Buffy to reconsider her opinions, and thrown her into a state of confusion and turmoil over the beliefs Riley had convinced her to take as her own.

“Well…first of all…” Buffy took a deep breath, trying to think how to say it, and then finally just blurting it out. “It’s Spike.”

Willow stared at her blankly for a long moment. “*Spike*?” she repeated in disbelief, her eyes widening. “Like…*our* Spike?”

The wording sent a funny feeling through Buffy’s heart, an almost reassuring sense at the realization that Willow would use those particular words.

Buffy was already thinking of Spike as hers…and not just in the sense of his being her slave.

She nodded slowly, looking down again for a moment before meeting Willow’s eyes again. “I guess…I guess I just saw him there,” she tried to explain. “At the auction…and it was like…all those old times just came back to me.” She paused, shaking her head. “I’m really not sure why I did it. I just – just felt like I had to do it. You know?” Her eyes desperately searched her friend’s, looking for understanding and reassurance.

It was there. Willow nodded slowly to indicate that she did indeed understand Buffy’s reasons that she could not quite put into words.

“And then…he’s been so…so *nice* to me. So…gentle, and understanding…and when I’ve been upset about the way Riley’s been acting, he’s – it’s – it’s like he’s trying to be my *friend*, Willow,” she explained. “And…” She looked down again as her eyes welled with tears. “And I’ve needed that so bad.”

Willow did not remind her that the loss of the friendship had been her doing, and no one else’s. She just reached a gentle hand across the table to rest on Buffy’s arm. “You’ve got it,” she said simply. “Now.”

“I’m sorry,” Buffy whispered again, her eyes still down, as a tear slipped down her cheek to drop onto the table. “I just – Riley was just so…”

“It’s okay, Buffy,” Willow stopped her, shaking her head. “You don’t have to explain. I was there.” There was a gentle, compassionate humor, with just a trace of a laugh in her voice as she spoke. “He can be very – pushy, sometimes. About what he wants.”

Buffy nodded. “But – but I don’t care what Riley thinks about this anymore!” she said suddenly, in a trembling, defiant voice, as she met Willow’s eyes boldly through her tears. “I’m not gonna give up my friends for him when he can’t even be faithful to me!”

“You shouldn’t have to,” Willow agreed, nodding. She smiled. “I’m glad you’ve decided that, Buffy. I’m glad you finally managed to stand up to him enough to call me.”

Buffy was silent for a moment before admitting softly, “I wouldn’t have. Not without Spike.”

Willow looked surprised. “Really?”

“He’s the one who told me I should. He said – he said that Riley’s opinion shouldn’t matter. That I should do what made me happy,” Buffy’s voice and eyes softened at the memory, as she once again looked past Willow, her mind’s eye envisioning soft, blue eyes shining at her with adoration.

Willow stared at her friend for a moment with growing realization. “Buffy…do you…do you have feelings for Spike?”

Buffy looked startled, trapped, as her eyes shot up to Willow’s. “No!” she answered immediately…then hesitated. “I don’t know. Maybe,” she admitted. “It’s just – he’s the first one in so long to be so sweet to me, and – and I know – I know he has feelings for *me*, Will. He hasn’t said anything, but…well, it’s obvious.”

“Are you going to leave Riley?” Willow asked her bluntly, unable to disguise a certain hopeful note in her voice. The fact that the idea of Buffy leaving Riley for a soulless vampire was a good one in Willow’s eyes, made Buffy wonder again about her marriage, and the wisdom of trying to save it.

Buffy was silent for a long moment. “No,” she finally answered. “No, I married him, and I want to work it out. He’s actually been trying lately to make things better.” She looked back up at Willow with a little grimace. “Hence the problem. I’m so stupid,” she muttered, shaking her head in disgust. “I’m a married woman, lusting after my slave who’s not even human. And just now, when Riley’s actually finally trying, Will!” Her tone was anguished. “I just – I just don’t know what to do!”

Willow was quiet for a moment, but a smile had slowly spread across her face. “Well, I never thought I’d say this,” she said. “But I agree with Spike. I think that Riley’s given up his rights to your consideration by cheating on you. I think you should do what makes *you* happy, Buffy.”

Buffy silently took that in, looking back down at the table, before speaking quietly, “I just wish I knew what that was.”


It was several hours later, just a little before 5:00, when Buffy and Willow finally wrapped up their conversation, with promises of getting together that weekend, with the rest of the gang, and Buffy went home.

She realized with some surprise that she was actually very much looking forward to seeing Spike. She knew that he would be excited and interested to hear all about her reunion with Willow, and she found herself eager to tell him the whole story.

With minor revisions, of course.

She walked into her bedroom, where Spike was already waiting for her, standing over by the window, looking pensively out, one hand on the window sill, the other resting across his stomach.

“Hey,” she said softly, and he looked up at her in surprise, not at her presence, but at the affection in her tone.

She felt a little bad that it was so surprising to him. He had been nothing but kind and gentle with her from the first night she had brought him here, and she had repaid him with mixed signals at best, outright abuse at worst. And now, after her conversation with Willow, it did not matter that he was not human, that he was a soulless vampire. She knew that he did not deserve that kind of treatment.

She had taken Willow’s words – and his – to heart. Though she still wanted to try to make her marriage work, especially now that Riley was trying, she knew one thing for sure. Spending time with Spike, talking to him as she had done that morning, made her happy.

So she would have to control her impulses, her attraction to him, in the best interests of her marriage.

That did not mean that they could not be friends.

He smiled at her, but it was a bit forced, and she thought that she detected a weariness about his eyes. “How’d it go, pet?” he asked her quietly, with more reserve than she had expected, but as he turned to face her and give her his full attention, she could see the genuine interest in his eyes.

“It was wonderful, Spike,” she said, beaming at the memory. “It was just like it was yesterday, the last time we talked! And we’re getting together this weekend, and it’s – it’s just so amazing!” She shook her head, rolling her eyes upward, unable to find words to express her joy. When she looked back at him, her smile had softened.

“And I have you to thank for it,” she added.

He found himself suddenly feeling a bit shy under her intense gaze, and he dropped his eyes with a slight shrug. “It was nothing, pet,” he said quietly. “Just doing what I can to help.”

She approached him slowly, seeking his downcast eyes with her own. “That’s what you *always* do,” she reminded him, and her appreciation was clear in her warm, affectionate tone.

He glanced up at her as she came within a couple of feet from him, and the hopeful light shining in his eyes nearly took her breath. She felt bad, knowing that she would not be able to fulfill what he truly hoped for.

But she would give him what she could.

Much to his surprise, she moved forward and put her arms around him in a simple hug, her head resting on his shoulder for a moment. “Thank you,” she murmured softly.

He was elated by the unexpected display of affection, by her kind words and affectionate demeanor, and a smile began on his lips – and was immediately wiped away as her strong arms wrapped around him sent a searing agony through his battered ribcage.

Finn had injured him worse than he had realized at first. He had found it difficult to make his way up the stairs to Buffy’s room, in order to be there when she returned. Already a dark ring of purple bruises circled his stomach and chest, from the brutal beating the man had dealt him.

Before he could stop himself he drew in his breath sharply in pain, flinching at the painful contact.

Buffy drew back immediately, her eyes alarmed, frowning with concern. “Are you okay?” she asked him. “What is it?” She glanced down at his arms, now across his stomach.

He took a couple of backward steps away from her, still gasping for breath. “It’s nothing,” he insisted, forcing a smile as he shook his head. “Just a little sore. Must have pulled a muscle or something.”

She could see the lie in his infinitely expressive blue eyes, and her own narrowed in suspicion. She quickly closed the space between them, asking in low, demanding tone, “What happened?”

He let out a short, strangled laugh, still fighting the pain as she took another step back. “Nothing *happened*, love. Like I said, I just…”

“Spike, do *not* lie to me!” she snapped, anger showing in her voice, but it was clear from the look in her eyes and the tremble in her voice that the anger was born of her concern for him. As she spoke she stepped forward quickly again and gripped his arm, pulling him closer to her, refusing to allow him to escape again.

He winced slightly at the jarring of his injuries caused by the little jerk towards her, and her mouth formed a thin, tight line of anger.

“Take off your shirt,” she ordered quietly.

He raised his eyes to hers, hesitant and a little afraid, and saw that she meant business. His hands trembled slightly as he unbuttoned the shirt, his eyes fastened on hers, searching for some sign of a reaction.

Almost as if she was really afraid to see what his shirt was covering, her eyes held his as he slowly obeyed her command. When he went to shrug the shirt backward off his shoulders, he bit back a little cry of pain, grimacing slightly before meeting her eyes in apology.

“I – I can’t…Mistress,” he admitted quietly, and the use of the title told her that her manner was frightening him.

At the moment she did not really care. She had a terrible sense of foreboding about what he was hiding from her, and all she cared about was finding out the truth. Buffy stepped forward again, ignoring his slight flinch at her sudden nearness, and slid the shirt back off of his shoulders with firm but gentle hands, allowing it to drop to the floor behind him.

He closed his eyes, swallowing hard as a sick feeling of shame washed over him, as his mistress took a step back to take in the sight of his injuries.

Buffy’s eyes widened in shock at the brutalized condition he was in, the terrible damage that had been done to him. Then her eyes narrowed again, her mouth trembling with repressed rage.

Although she already knew the truth, she had to hear it from his lips. She had so wanted to believe that her husband was genuinely trying to change, had so wanted to try to make things work between them, that a part of her was reluctant to accept what she already knew to be true.

“Who did this?” she asked him, her voice hard and angry.

He did not respond, just kept his eyes closed and his head down.

“Spike,” she lowered her voice, which now held just the hint of a threat. “Who did this to you?”

When he still did not respond, she reached out her hand, and he flinched away from her; but she moved with him and caught his chin, turning his head and forcing him to face her. “Look at me,” she commanded, with clear authority.

He obeyed, and the pain and shame in his eyes nearly took her breath with a stab of pain through her own heart.

“Did Riley do this?” she asked him, her voice barely over a whisper.

Faced with the intense question in her fierce gaze, his resolve crumbled, and he nodded, defeated, lowering his head in shame as she released him.

She was silent for a moment, her eyes moving up and down, taking in his terrible injuries again. When she spoke, it was in a quiet, calm tone that rang out clearly in the stillness of the room.

“Wait for me here. I’ll be right back,” she ordered, before turning her back and leaving the room, heading down the stairs. She knew exactly where to find the person she sought.

She was heading for the slave quarters.