Riley paced slowly, circling his helpless victim, a cruel smile on his hardened features in anticipation of the punishment he was about to mete out. He had been waiting for this day for a very long time, and he intended to take his time and enjoy it.

He had not yet touched Spike with the whip, deliberately dragging out the dread of expectation for as long as he possibly could. He knew that the anticipation could be worse than the actual pain itself, and he wanted to make sure that Spike was good and scared before he finally started in on him.

And Spike had to admit, if only to himself – it was working.

“You know,” Riley spoke casually, almost as if to a friend, shaking his head with mock regret. “You really should have listened to me, Spike.”

As usual, Spike’s mouth worked faster than his mind, snapping off a snarky comment that he knew even as he said it was only going to make things worse for him. “You said something worth hearing?” he sneered with an innocent, wide-eyed expression of surprise before his own smirk spread across his face. “Must have missed it. Too bad. Bloody red letter event, that’d be!”

Riley laughed, shaking his head appreciatively at the nerve of the prisoner’s little joke. “Oh, Spike,” he said in a tone that was amused and a mockery of affection. “You never change – do you?” As he spoke, his slow, measured circling took him behind the bound, helpless vampire, and out of his sight.

Spike waited for him to come back around into view, then tensed with a sinking feeling in his stomach, when he did not reappear, deliberately remaining behind his back, where he could not see him.

That was not good.

Suddenly, Riley’s strong hand gripped his throat from behind and yanked him back against him. Holding him firmly so that he could not pull away, the larger man trailed the soaking wet whip across his bare stomach, slowly, as he spoke in a tone of cruel triumph.

“You shouldn’t have touched my wife, Spike,” he told him darkly, smiling at his captive’s desperate, useless struggle to get away from the searing pain of the burning liquid against his flesh. His tight hand at Spike’s throat kept him from moving away, and the crushing grip was the only thing that kept him from crying out in agony.

With a soft laugh, Riley finally released him and moved a few steps away, coming around to stand in front of him again, as the vampire gasped for breath, biting back the scream of pain that rose in his throat. He was determined that no matter what happened, Riley would not get that from him.

Riley was determined that no matter what it took…he *would*.

When he could finally speak again through the white-hot pain that engulfed him, Spike gasped out, “Yeah, well…maybe you *should* have touched her more, you soddin’ prick! Then she wouldn’t have had to turn to *me* for satisfaction, would she now?”

He turned a disgusted, derisive sneer on Velvet as he added, “But I s’pose your low class, white trash tastes run more to the cheap and whorish type than to a classy lady like Buffy, don’t they?”

Velvet gasped in shocked indignation, flinching as if at a blow…and then her eyes narrowed in vindictive rage. Her cold smile told Spike that she knew that her master would not let that insult go unpunished.

Furious, Riley drew back the whip and brought it down in a vicious blow across Spike’s face, the sharp leather lashes slicing into his skin, and the holy water leaving a trail of fiery agony across his already broken flesh. It was a breathtakingly brutal blow, and Spike would have collapsed from the unspeakable pain, had he been able to.

"I love it, Spike, I just love it," Riley laughed, shaking his head in amusement at the obvious suffering of his insolent slave, as he walked close to him and gripped his hair again, yanking him closer. "You make this so easy, give me so much to work with. I don't even have to come up with anything on my own, because you just keep giving me more reasons to *hurt* you!" He punctuated his words with a savage fist across the vampire's ravaged cheek.

Stars danced before Spike's eyes against a backdrop of darkness, and he struggled to remain conscious against the devastating force of the blow, too weakened by it to even attempt to pull away.

Jerking him even closer until he was mere inches from his face, Riley went on softly, menacingly, "And just think, Spike...Buffy won't be home until *really* late...so that means I've got, oh..." He glanced at his watch speculatively before turning a wicked smile on his increasingly terrified victim, then shrugged carelessly and smirked, "...a *really* long time, to play around, have a little fun...until I get bored and dust you."

Spike had known that Riley intended to kill him, had known it really from that first confrontation in the dining room, but still the words sent a chill down his spine, and his stomach twisted in fear. Because he knew that not only did Riley plan to kill him, but he was absolutely capable of carrying out his plan.

And his plan did not involve a quick, simple dusting.

Buffy thought that he was safe, with Riley out of town until late the next night. And what was more, she had left angry with him and wanting to avoid him, due to his foolish attempts to force her to talk to him about the night before...so chances were that she would take her time with her friends. She would be in no hurry to return and face his next attempt.

He actually felt a little relieved at that, when he thought about it, because as weakened as Buffy was lately, he knew that she would only get herself hurt if she was there to attempt to defend him. Riley had made it clear that his wife's desires regarding her slave no longer mattered to him, and he had no problem "convincing" her with the back of his hand if necessary.

Spike was completely and utterly at Riley's mercy...and Riley had none. Not for him.

He had begun to resign himself to the fact that he stood little chance of surviving the horrors that Riley had planned for this long day and night. But he was determined, no matter what, not to give him the satisfaction of begging, or screaming, or in any way giving in to the agony that Riley intended to inflict on him -- had already inflicted on him.

He only hoped he would have the strength to hold onto that determination.

His best hope was to goad the wanker into killing him sooner than he had planned, thus sparing himself at least a little of the terrible suffering Riley wanted to put him through. Well, that was something he could handle, he thought grimly. Driving his opponent insane with rage was something he was very good at.

As hope went...it was not much.


Buffy could not remember the last time she had felt so safe, and accepted, and free to just be herself and not have to put on a show for anyone. It felt so good to be reunited with her friends, after so long, and to have them accept her as freely and openly as they had – well, it was a tremendous relief.

Buffy had been so alone for so long – well, until just recently – and she found herself really needing to talk about the things that had been troubling her – with the exception of Spike, of course. She knew that her friends whole-heartedly disagreed with the slavery issue, and she was ashamed that she owned him, ashamed that he loved her and she had used him, and was not quite ready to own up to that yet.

The other problems she was dealing with, however, were a different story. She had already told Willow about Riley’s unfaithfulness, so it was not very difficult to open up to the others, at Willow’s gentle urging. Truth be told, Willow was desperately hoping that with Xander’s help, she and Tara could convince Buffy to leave Riley once and for all.

Anya, for her part, was not surprised at Riley’s unfaithfulness. She had never trusted him, not since she had first learned that he was involved with the Initiative. She had been convinced even then that he was out to get her, that he would make no distinction between demons and ex-demons.

“I’m not surprised that that narrow-minded bigot is also a dirty philanderer,” she announced matter-of-factly. “I can’t believe the nerve of him! Giving your orgasms to someone else in your very own house!” she went on incredulously. She immediately turned a threatening glare on Xander. “You’d better *never* give my orgasms to some other ex-demon, Xander Harris!”

Xander looked slightly offended at the suggestion. “Ahn – you know I would never do that!” he insisted earnestly, not the least bit put out by Anya’s peculiar, blunt way of putting things that was all her own.

Buffy was surprised. Xander had apparently gotten over his hang-ups and concerns about being with someone who was only recently human, and the devotion with which he was looking at Anya actually made her heart hurt a little to watch it.

Anya immediately softened, leaning in closer to her husband with adoration in her eyes to match his own. “I know,” she replied happily, and proceeded to initiate a kiss that was hardly appropriate for a living room that was not their own.

Unwillingly, Buffy’s mind focused on an image of crystal blue eyes, gazing at her with that same sort of adoration, full of pain at her heartless rejection…

*No!* she told herself firmly. *Don’t think about him right now!* She was having such a good time with her friends; the last thing she wanted was to spoil it with worrying over her devoted slave, her selfish, reckless behavior of the night before, and how in the world she was going to deal with both.

“Ahn,” Xander gasped, a little breathless as he pulled away from the kiss. He nodded slightly toward Buffy.

Anya just looked at him blankly for a moment before her expression filled with understanding, and she turned deliberately to give Buffy an expectant look. “Please go on with your story about your unfaithful husband. And please don’t feel bad because we have such a good relationship and yours stinks.”

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, and Buffy felt her face flaming with embarrassment.

“Hey, guys, really, I’m okay!” she insisted, with a nervous little laugh. “I can handle it. I mean…it hurts, yeah. And – and I’m not really sure what to do right now. But – but it’s gonna be fine.”

“I know what you can do,” Xander suggested, only half-teasing. “Remind Riley how stupid it is to cheat on your wife when she’s a Slayer!” He faked a punch playfully in Buffy’s direction as he spoke.

Buffy flinched.

Everyone froze, the implications of the simple gesture clear. After all, the Buffy they remembered would never have been afraid of such a gesture. She was the Slayer, and faced threats much worse than a feinted punch every day of her life. In the wake of the discussion of Riley and his unfaithfulness and emotional cruelty, it was quite easy for her friends to interpret Buffy’s reflexive reaction.

Xander was the first one to speak, standing up from the couch, his eyes blazing with fury. “I’m gonna kill him,” he muttered, stalking toward the door.

Buffy was on her feet and after him in an instant, catching his arm and easily pulling him back. “No, you’re not,” she said firmly, but her voice was trembling, and there was a slightly panicked look in her eyes. “Look, Xander, nothing happened, okay? There’s nothing to worry about. Besides, if you try to hurt Riley, you’ll just get yourself hurt. He’s a lot stronger than you.” She paused, glancing down for a moment before she admitted softly, “Lately he’s even stronger than *me*.”

Willow frowned, glancing at Tara, even as she wondered at Buffy’s words. Their unspoken communication was clear. This might be their best chance to convince Buffy to let them check her aura.

“How is that possible?” Willow asked, stepping forward and placing a hand on Buffy’s arm to gain her attention. “You’re the Slayer.”

Buffy looked at her blankly for a moment. “I – I don’t know,” she admitted softly. “But – but he is.” The soft, vulnerable sound to her voice send an almost physical pain through Willow’s heart at the confirmation it gave her of how far Buffy had allowed Riley’s mistreatment to go.

“Buffy – has he hit you?” she asked her gently, knowing the truth already, as they all did, but needing to hear it from Buffy’s mouth.

Buffy did not say anything, just looked at the floor, swallowing hard…and that was response enough.

Willow turned away in anger. “God, I’m gonna kill him myself!” she snapped, surprising Buffy with the violent anger in her voice.

“Buffy,” Tara took her chance to move in cautiously. “Buffy, something’s not right with that. Are you – are you losing your strength?”

Buffy looked up at her, tears shining in her eyes. “I don’t know,” she said in a small, uncertain voice. “I think so. I don’t know why. But – but I’m not as strong as I used to be, and Riley’s gotten so – so much stronger, and – and…” Her voice trailed off, and she wiped quickly at the tears before they could fall.

“Buffy,” Willow said, turning to face her again with a serious look in her eyes. “There is something majorly wrong with that. Tara can read people’s auras, Buffy. Just by looking at them, a little.” She paused a moment for Buffy to take that in before going on. “She said that something’s a little…off…with yours.”

“It is?” Buffy looked alarmed, looking between the two girls rapidly, her eyes widening. “What – what does that mean? Do you think – could that be what’s wrong with me?”

“Maybe,” Tara said, sounding hopeful rather than fearful. “The thing is – I’d need to check a little closer to know for sure, but – but if you don’t mind, maybe I could find out if there really is a drain on your strength, and if there is, where it’s coming from.”

Willow nodded eagerly. “She’s a very gifted clairvoyant, Buffy. She’ll be able to tell where it’s coming from.”

Buffy looked between them again, slowly, then back at Xander, who was still silently seething in rage over the man who had dared to strike his adored friend and idol. She looked back to Willow, a question, and then total trust, in her eyes.

“Okay,” she nodded slowly. “Let’s do it.”

Tara had only to have total silence and concentration to read Buffy’s aura more completely, so Willow ushered the others upstairs to allow Buffy and Tara to complete the reading. They sat across from each other on the floor, and Buffy tried to settle her nerves.

She was shaken by all that had happened in the last hour or so, all the revelations she had shared with her friends, and her thoughts were terribly scattered. After a few minutes of quiet meditation, and deep breathing to focus their energy, however, Buffy felt much more relaxed and at ease, in spite of the problems that now seemed to surround her.

Tara opened her eyes and looked at Buffy, almost as if looking past her, not so much looking at her as at the space around her. Buffy watched her anxiously, wondering what it was that she saw. After a few moments, Tara shook her head a little, and her eyes seemed to clear as she focused on Buffy again.

“Buffy,” she said softly. “There’s this – dark energy surrounding you, and it’s slowly draining you of your strength. Someone or something is definitely draining your power.”

Buffy stood up quickly, her eyes wide and excited. If she had truly found the explanation for how weak she had become lately, then maybe she could finally begin to regain all that she had lost. “You said you could tell where it’s coming from. Like where whatever it is that’s draining my strength is *right now*?” She wanted to go after it, whatever it was, and take it out.

It had been much too long since she had had any decent slayage.

Tara closed her eyes and focused on the dark energy that she had seen surrounding Buffy, allowing it to lead her in her mind, drawing her toward its source.

Suddenly her eyes snapped open in shock and she gave Buffy a worried, apprehensive look. “Buffy…whatever it is…it’s in your house! Right now!”

“What?” Buffy was stunned. She shook her head slightly. “But who…” Her voice stopped suddenly, her eyes widening as understanding dawned on her. “Not…oh, no,” she whispered, shaking her head slowly. “Not…it must be…it must be Riley!” she said, a stricken look on her face as she looked at Tara. “He’s been getting so much stronger, and I’ve been getting weaker!”

Tara looked sorry to have to agree with her, but she nodded apologetically. “It makes sense, Buffy.”

Buffy frowned suddenly. “Except…no. Riley’s out of town. On a business trip. He’s not coming back until…”

She stopped talking again as a terrible thought occurred to her. She remembered Riley’s furious face in the dining room that day, the murderous rage she had seen in his eyes…the vicious bruises he had left on Spike just a couple of days ago…

It only made sense that Riley would be the one who was stealing her strength – and if he was at the house right now…

Then Spike was alone with him.

And Riley must have had some reason for lying to her, telling her he was going out of town when he wasn’t.

“I need to go,” Buffy said suddenly, heading for the door.

“Wait!” Tara was concerned. She did not know why Buffy was so eager to get home, but if Riley was really so dangerous, then Buffy did not need to face him alone right now, when she was as weakened as she was. “We’re going with you, Buffy.”

Willow had heard the raised voices and appeared on the stairs. “What’s going on?” she asked with concern.

“Will,” Buffy said quickly, thinking fast. “It’s Riley. He’s the one who’s taking my strength. Is there some way…a spell, maybe…to get it back from him?”

“Probably,” Willow said. “A basic spell to return someone’s natural essence to them. If we can get you and him in the same place…”

“Not a problem,” Buffy muttered. “Come on.” And without another word, she stormed out the door with more certainty than she had acted in a very long time.

And her friends, as always, felt no option but to follow.