Through the haze of unbearable pain that clouded his thoughts, Spike wondered desperately how much longer it would be before Riley became bored with his sick little game. However, he doubted that it would be soon. If Velvet’s account had been true, Riley had a tendency to enjoy this sort of thing. And unfortunately, the sadistic git seemed to have an impressively long attention span when it came to pain – at least, *his* pain.

Spike was certain that if he just gave in, and granted Riley some shred of what he was after – pleading, screaming, tears, anything that would be a sign of Riley’s power over him – he would be dust…and the agony he was enduring would be ended…within moments.

Still, no matter what happened, he was determined not to give the wanker the satisfaction of knowing that he had broken his will. Riley could take everything from him but his pride.

Still – he was beginning to wonder what good his pride was doing him in a hopeless situation like this one.

Every nerve in his body screamed with the agony that he would not allow his mouth to express. Riley had been very thorough, taking his time with his little project. He had not hesitated to describe beforehand, in brutally graphic detail, exactly what he intended to do to Spike, allowing the fear ample time to do its work in breaking the vampire’s will, before he began the actual torture.

He had stripped Spike of what little clothing he had still worn, intending to emphasize his utter vulnerability, to strip him of what was left of his dignity. This had only served to increase the terror of the proceedings, making it clear that no part of his body was unexposed to the holy water soaked whip, or whatever other vicious little “toys” Riley might choose to use on him.

He was utterly and completely at Riley’s whim. Helpless.

*Buffy,* he thought desperately, his heart aching with the remembered pain of that morning, but still longing to see her. *No, you selfish git!* he immediately chided himself, remembering that Buffy’s presence would only result in her being hurt as well. *You’re not worth that,* he told himself. *Never were.*

Hours had passed since Riley had dragged him down the basement stairs to this hellish room, and by now his entire body was covered with vicious marks from Riley’s weapon of choice, wielded with savage force by the bulky soldier, who was far stronger than Spike had imagined. The whip had gotten so much use this particular day, that Riley had had to dip it back into the urn of holy water several times already, when it had dried out.

Spike fought just to stay conscious, exhausted from the constant strain on his upper body from being suspended as he was, his feet unable to reach the floor, leaving the whole weight of his body to be supported by his arms. He was weak from blood loss, and the sheer agony of the countless cuts and burns that Riley had inflicted upon him – much to Velvet’s great delight.

The little whore stood to the side, her arms crossed smugly over her chest, a cruel smirk on her face as she watched the vicious proceedings, taking cruel satisfaction in the pain and degradation he was being forced to endure. Spike was well aware that while Riley’s cruelty would surely have been intense, even if they had been alone, it was intensified by Velvet’s presence.

Riley was like the little boy on the playground, picking a fight he knew he would win to impress the little girls.

“You know,” Riley sneered, coming up behind him and yanking his head back again, sending a fresh wave of agony through his entire body at the sudden motion that jarred every one of his injuries. “You are just too stubborn for your own good, Spike.”

He laughed quietly, shaking his head, when Spike just gritted his teeth against the pain and refused to cry out, to give Riley any response at all.

“You know,” he added softly, menacingly, “I can last a really long time, Spike. And I *know* you can last even longer. As long as I’m careful.”

It was a quiet reminder to Spike that death would free him from this torment only when Riley decided to allow it, and it made his heart sink with a sense of despair. Well, he thought grimly, maybe he could at least push the git to want to surrender his prisoner to death a little faster.

In spite of the pain that racked his body, Spike smirked, drawing in a deep, ragged breath to speak. “Bloody right, I can last longer than you, mate. At least according to Buffy.”

Riley swore softly, revealing his frustration at the vampire’s firm refusal to break under the massive weight of the torment he was putting him through. He struggled to keep his voice calm as he released Spike with a painful jerk and walked slowly back around to face him, looking him coldly in the eye again.

“Really,” he said flatly. “Well, maybe I should do something about that.” Without warning, he brought the dripping whip down mercilessly across Spike’s exposed, already battered groin.

The sharp, brutal pain of the unexpected blow took his breath away, but Spike gasped anyway, trying desperately to stop the reflexive convulsion of pain that shook his body, sending shock waves of new pain all through him with every move.

“See, the thing is,” Riley went on, smiling coldly, impassively, at the suffering of his captive, stepping very close to him as he did, “you’re nothing but a toy to her, Spike. You know that? You mean nothing to her. *Nothing.* You’ve just been fooling yourself. When she finds out what I’ve done,” he shrugged. “she’ll pout for a day or two. Be a little put out, maybe. But then…” His eyes narrowed cruelly as he leaned in closer, placing a heavy hand at the back of Spike’s neck and pulling him closer, “she’ll get over it.”

Spike turned his head away, wincing in spite of his resolve at the words that had managed to hurt him worse than the hours of torture he had already endured. Buffy’s own words right before she had left proved to him that Riley was right. She did not care. He was nothing to her but a possession, to be used.

Riley smiled in satisfaction at achieving the desired reaction.

“You know,” he said, a sly smile coming over his cruel features. “maybe we should take a little break. You’re looking pretty exhausted, man. Maybe a rest would do you some good.” He paused, then went on pointedly, “I think the pain’s starting to dull your senses a little; a little break should make everything a little – clearer.”

Spike’s heart sank at Riley’s mocking words of concern. He knew that he was right. At the moment, his nerves had been driven to the verge of total shock from so much pain, and he was almost to the point of being numb to anything else Riley might do to him. A little time away from it would only serve to make his suffering more intense when Riley started in on him again.

And the worst part of all of it was, he knew that Riley knew that he had hit on a form of torture far worse than physical pain. Spike was certain that Riley knew exactly how he planned to fill the empty time while he was taking a “break” from torturing him – with his cruel words that succeeded where hours of physical torment had failed, making Spike want to just give in and give up.

Because if Riley was right – if that night he had shared with Buffy truly meant nothing to her at all – then there was no point to this miserable existence of slavery at all.

He had no freedom, no life of his own, having been reduced to a state of cruel bondage in slavery. His very life was constantly in the hands of others. He was considered by the law to be less than a person, but not even allowed the rights of an animal. He was a slave.

But he was hers.

And if she did not want him – he was nothing.


“Oh my God!” Tara spoke in a hushed voice of dread as they got out of the car in Buffy’s driveway, and she stared up at the massive mansion before them. “I can feel it, Will…so strong! The bad energy that’s stealing Buffy’s strength!”

“Is it a spell?” Willow asked hopefully. As they had discussed on the way over, if a spell was being used to steal Buffy’s power, chances were good that a simple reversal spell would do the trick, returning her power to her without having to chance the risky situation of trying to perform the spell in the presence of both Buffy and her husband, who would certainly not want the spell to be performed at all.

Tara nodded slowly. “Yes. I think it is.”

Buffy rushed into the house ahead of them, a deeply worried frown creasing her brow. The lovers exchanged a look of concern and followed her quickly, Xander and Anya right behind them.

“Buffy,” Willow said, “you need to wait to face him until we know if this is gonna work. Until we get your power back from him. He’s too strong, he’ll hurt you!”

“Spike!” Buffy called, glancing around the living room anxiously, before turning to respond to her friend. “There’s no time to wait, Will. If Riley’s here, then he’s hurting Spike, and I have to stop him, *now*.”

“Buffy…you *can’t* stop him until we do this spell,” Tara gently reminded her. “You won’t be strong enough.”

Buffy had to admit that they were right, letting out an impatient sigh, glancing toward the stairs leading up to her bedroom, anxious to go and look for Spike and her husband. “How long does the spell take?”

“Not long,” Willow assured her, shaking her head. “Five or ten minutes?”

“Do I have to be right here?” Buffy asked quickly.

“Well…no,” Tara admitted. “But…”

“Okay, then,” Buffy interrupted. “I’m going to go find them. You two do the spell, and by the time I get to them, I shouldn’t have too long to wait before I get my strength back.”

“But Buffy,” Xander objected, concern in his dark eyes as he faced her. “What if the spell doesn’t work? What if you don’t get your power back, and that jerk tries to hurt you? I’m going with you, Buffy!” he declared.

Before she could object, Willow broke in, “And what if you find them before you get your strength back? You could still get hurt before we could finish the spell!”

Buffy was silent for a moment, searching her eyes. Finally she answered, her voice low and determined and leaving no room for argument, “Then I guess you guys had better get started, hadn’t you?”

Willow stared at her, surprised. But then, she slowly nodded. In a way, she was glad to see the return of her strong, decisive friend that had disappeared along the way somewhere, swallowed up in Riley’s massive shadow.

Buffy turned to Xander, her expression solemn. “Come on,” she said.

Xander breathed a shaky sigh of relief that she had accepted his offer of help, and took off after her up the stairs.

“Spike!” Buffy called loudly, but there was no response.

“Well, you heard her,” Willow said with a smile, in spite of the situation as she turned to face her lover. “Guess we’d better get started.”


Velvet was beginning to get bored, now that Riley had decided to take a break. After a few minutes, Riley had even tired of the verbal abuse he had enjoyed heaping on the helpless vampire, and sat in silence, just resting a bit and catching his breath.

He had actually been exerting himself quite a bit in torturing Spike.

Velvet looked hesitantly to her master, and then at Spike, then back at Riley questioningly. Riley smiled, amused, and nodded his permission, leaning back to watch what his favorite slave would do.

Velvet sauntered toward Spike with a smug smile on her full, pretty lips. “I’m impressed,” she said with a smirk. “Took you longer to get dusted than I thought it would.”

Spike gave her a disgusted, hate-filled look, as if she was something too far beneath him to even acknowledge. But then, he did acknowledge her, briefly, as he ground out in a bare whisper, “I’m not dust yet, love.”

Velvet laughed out loud, amazed at his nerve. “Soon enough,” she reminded him. She drew close to him, her body less than an inch from him, her eyes meeting his in a challenge as she said softly, “You shouldn’t have messed with me, Spike. When it comes to the slaves around here – they don’t get any higher up than me. You play nice with me, you do all right here. You don’t…” she shrugged and stepped back a little, giving him a derisive up and down look. “…well, we can see what happens.”

Spike was silent for a moment. Then, much to her surprise – and irritation – he laughed weakly.

“What?” she demanded, a slightly defensive note in her voice. What in the world did he have to laugh about?

“I was just thinkin’,” he struggled to get the words out, his head falling back a little as he spoke, too weak even to hold it up anymore. “Funny, that. You in your little position…me in mine…and still…you’re the one who’s most miserable.”

Velvet’s eyes narrowed in anger. “I really don’t think so!” she snapped. “What makes you think that *you’ve* got it better than me?” she demanded.

Spike struggled to keep his eyes open and make them meet hers, but his mouth turned up in the beginnings of a knowing smile, and he nodded his head slightly to direct her to come closer.

Curiousity mingled with her anger, she complied.

As if telling her some grave secret, he lowered his voice to a whisper, “Because I still haven’t sold out yet…never bloody will…” He paused, and his contempt for her was clear in his voice. “…and you do every bloody night…”

Her eyes widened in disbelief, his painfully true words like a blow to her. And then, fury began to build in her gaze. “How dare you!” she snarled, her eyes flashing amber for a moment. “You worthless little…” She shook her head, her voice trailing off as she took a menacing step toward him, and it was clear that she wanted to tear him to pieces herself. At the last moment, she drew back, knowing that her master would not be pleased if she took it upon herself to mess with his toy.

“Go ahead, Velvet,” Riley’s voice suddenly spoke from behind her, and she turned to look at him, startled. He had been watching intently as the little scene unfolded. “I’m about through. It’s all over but the dusting, I’m afraid.” He shrugged. “So do whatever you want. I don’t care.”

Velvet’s eyes widened further in disbelief, and she turned slowly back to face Spike with a cruel smile, morphing into her natural vampire face as she did. She moved in quickly, gripping the hair at the back of his neck and yanking his head back, exposing his throat.

He struggled weakly to pull away, so exhausted and injured by this point that he could barely move, but still unwilling to submit to this. For a master vampire such as him, to be forcibly fed from, was terribly painful – not to mention humiliating, the ultimate insult, when the draining was done by a lesser vampire such as Velvet. He struggled as best he could to defend the little dignity he had left, but his efforts were pitifully weak, and utterly useless.

Velvet sank her fangs viciously into his throat, deliberately tearing his flesh with her fangs, drinking from him greedily, a vindictive desire to hurt and humiliate him motivating her actions.

Within only a minute or two, she had nearly completely drained him, and he could feel the world spinning around him, everything fading into darkness. He struggled for consciousness, but knew that he was losing the battle.

Sod the battle…he was losing the bloody war.

Just before everything faded away, spinning and swirling into black, he heard a faint, echoing voice in his head – musical and sweet and incredibly beautiful to him, and he could not be sure if he heard it or only imagined that he did. But despite the dark fog that swiftly shrouded him, he could clearly hear the words she spoke.

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you not to touch other people’s things without asking?”