Buffy did not think, did not pause to reason out what she was going to do and the possible consequences. All she knew, all that mattered to her in that moment, was that Riley’s little whore, who had already stolen so much of what was dear to her, had her vicious fangs in Spike’s throat, and was draining him.

A consuming sense of possessive rage ran through her -- how dare that little bitch touch *her* vampire! -- and her blood ran cold at the sight, as she actually saw the condition that Spike was in. He barely even looked alive -- well, undead -- and she did not know what sort of an effect being drained would have on a badly injured, weakened vampire – but she did not want to find out.

She reacted in an instant, taking her stake from her back pocket and hurling it with flawless aim across the room, where it buried itself in the back of the startled vampiress, then clattered to the floor as her dust settled over the limp, unconscious body of her victim.

And just like that -- she was gone.

Velvet had thought that her compliance, her efforts to please her master, would protect her, and had reveled in the status and affection that they had gained her. But in the end, it had not helped her at all. For all her threats, for all her feeble attempts to demonstrate her own “power”, Velvet was now only a memory, to fade away unloved and unmissed.

Well…mostly.

“Buffy, what the hell?” Riley snapped, furious and shocked that his favorite toy had been destroyed. “What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded, no pretense of caring or affection for his wife in his voice now.

Still standing in the doorway, Buffy ignored him completely, stalking past him to cross the room in an instant to Spike's side, Xander close behind her. Xander slowed to a stop a few feet away, his eyes wide in shock at the sight of the vampire, literally torn to shreds by the brutality of Riley's whip. On odd smell filled the room, like...something *burning*...and suddenly, he noticed the darkened, singed spots tracing the lash marks on Spike's body.

"My God," he whispered, horror and disgust clear in his voice. "What did he *do*...!"

“Spike,” Buffy said softly, her voice choked with tears, hardly aware that her friend was even there with her anymore. “Spike!” She raised her voice slightly, but got absolutely no response. He was completely unconscious, slumped against the viciously tight chains that cut into his wrists.

She felt absolutely sick with fear and guilt as she took in the horrific cruelty that had been inflicted on him, afraid to touch him, afraid that there was no place she *could* touch him that would not aggravate his terrible injuries.

*If only I hadn’t left him, just stormed away…because he committed the unpardonable offense of *daring* to try to tell me he *loves* me,* her thoughts bitterly accused her. *God, I hurt him myself! – and I just left him here for Riley to…*

Her tears of shame and regret streaked her face at the realization that she was the one to blame for this; she had left Spike at Riley’s mercy, more concerned for her own pride than she had been for his well-being…and now because of her, he was hanging there tortured and abused and barely hanging on to existence.

She realized in that instant – she *could not* lose Spike! It was only because of his gentle persistence, his concern for her happiness, that she had been reunited with her friends after their long estrangement, and had discovered what Riley had been doing to her at all!

And it was more than that, she admitted. His love and compassion had soothed the ache in her heart left by her husband’s cruelty – an ache that returned now at the sight of him, hanging there helpless, so abused and savaged by a man she had once thought she loved.

Her thoughts were cut off when Riley’s strong hand grabbed her arm and jerked her around to face him. “Why would you do a stupid thing like that, you little *bitch*!” Riley snarled at her, enraged at the loss of his slave, raising his fist to strike out at her, and instinctively, Buffy flinched.

"Hey," Xander broke in angrily, reaching around to grip Riley's much larger, stronger arm and bravely turn him away from Buffy, though the move only shifted Riley a little toward him. "Don't you touch her, pal." There was a clear threat in the voice of the smaller man, and his eyes told her that he meant it with everything in him.

Buffy felt a rush of pride and affection in the courage that her friend was displaying. Neither of them had any idea whether or not Riley still had the strength of the Slayer behind him, and even in his *own* strength, Riley was a far stronger and more experienced fighter -- but Xander did not care. All that mattered to him was that Riley was trying to hurt Buffy, and he would stop him, or die trying.

A cruel sneer on his face as he glanced derisively down at Xander's hand on his arm, Riley released Buffy and turned to face the boy completely. He shrugged with a cold smile. "Okay," he conceded. Then, without warning, he drew back his fist and slammed it down across Xander's face, hard.

And in that moment, as she watched her friend stagger backward, stumbling, and her husband advance on him to hit him again -- something snapped in Buffy.

The months and years of neglect and emotional cruelty, the way this man had systematically made her believe that she was stupid and weak and utterly undeserving of what little affection he spared her, until she was reluctant to accept love and affection from anyone...

The way the emotional hurt had escalated to physical abuse, Riley using his greater strength -- his *stolen* strength -- to intimidate and hurt her, while claiming to love her...while somehow even managing to convince her that it was *her* fault, that she had brought the abuse on herself...

And worst of all, what he had just done to Spike, to punish him, no doubt, for the love and affection he had poured out on *her*. Riley's possessive nature had driven him to brutally torture the slave for simply daring to love what was "his" -- what he had rejected and despised so many times that he no longer had the right to claim it...

And now, yet again, a man who cared for her, who wanted to help her, was being savagely struck down for it.

All at once, there was an utter clarity to her about the whole situation.

Riley did not love her. He only wanted to *have* her...as *his*...and if he could not, he would hurt anyone who got in the way of that.

Even if it was her.

Suddenly...Buffy had had enough.

She wondered for a moment if Willow and Tara had managed to complete the spell, even as she launched herself forward at the man who was still venting his rage on her friend. Xander had managed to get in a couple of good blows, but was now backed against the wall, Riley's huge meaty fists pummeling into him without restraint.

With a power that she had not wielded in far too long, Buffy moved swiftly toward her husband, gripping his shoulder and effortlessly spinning him around to face her, her eyes blazing with fury, her fists poised and ready. She was pleased at how easy the move had been for her, a sign that the witches downstairs must have completed their work.

*Well,* she thought with a sense of satisfaction. *Guess that answers *that* question.*

"You want a fight so bad, Riley?" she challenged him, her voice trembling with rage. "Why don't you pick on someone *my* size?"

Riley did not quite understand yet exactly what had happened, and he looked absolutely stunned that she was daring to come up against him like this. She had not had the strength to successfully take him on for a very long time now, and she had not had the spirit to for...well, longer. Yet here she was, standing bravely, fiercely, before him in an unmistakable battle stance.

He laughed. "Buffy," he said in a patronizing, warning tone. "Trust me. You don't wanna touch me, Honey..."

"You're right," she shot back matter-of-factly with a cold smile that at one time she had reserved for the vampires that found themselves on the business end of her stake. "I really don't. But sometimes," she shrugged. "You've gotta make sacrifices."

And with that, she delivered a brutal blow with her fist to his stomach -- since she couldn't reach his face -- which doubled him over in surprised pain at the force of the blow, and brought her more desired target into range. She followed up the first punch with a solid blow to his face, sending him stumbling to the ground, blood pouring from his broken nose.

The Slayer's power was back where it belonged.

Stunned, confused, still not quite comprehending the astonishing shift of power that had just taken place, Riley staggered to his feet. "What...how could you...?" he gasped, taking a cautious step back away from her.

"No, Riley," she snapped with rising anger. "I should be asking *you* that question! How could *you* do what you did to me? You put a spell on me, to steal my strength!"

"No!" Riley insisted, backing away with the first show of genuine fear he had made, as it finally dawned on him that Buffy not only knew what he had done, but had somehow managed to undo it as well. "No, Buffy! I don't know what you're talking about..."

Her fist across his face again silenced his protest. "You stole my power, Riley," she stated, her tone making it clear that she was talking about more than the spell, her fiery emerald gaze an undeniable accusation. "You took what was strong, and confident, and powerful in me and you crushed it -- and what you couldn't crush...you took for yourself."

"Buffy..." he began again, but she punched him again in the stomach, his back to the wall now, and the blow knocking the breath from his body.

"No!" she cut him off forcefully. "You made me believe that I was stupid, and...and *less* than you! You made me think that no one else would ever love me, Riley. But you were wrong..."

She was startled by the sound of the harsh, breathless laugh that Riley let out at that, in spite of the pain from the beating she was giving him, and paused, a slow, incredulous frown forming on her face. "What?" she asked in a low, warning voice.

"I was wrong," he sneered, just before a fit of coughing came over him from the injuries she had already inflicted. "Yeah. Cause your little sex toy over there...he *really* loves you…right, Buffy?"

Buffy did not understand exactly what he was getting at, but the harsh reference to Spike made her flinch a bit, realizing that that was exactly what she had made him – how she had treated him. She shook her head slightly in confusion. "What are you talking about?" she demanded, a low, menacing sound to her voice as her anger slowly built.

"I overheard your little conversation this morning, Buffy," Riley went on, his voice weak but still triumphant. "And I know he says he *loves* you. But it's like I said, honey...that's not real...*he's* not real...it's nothing but a fantasy..." He paused, a cruel smirk coming over his face as he dealt his final blow, "...which suits *you* just fine, doesn't it?"

The words struck her like a slap across the face, reminding her of her own behavior toward Spike the night before, and that morning. She had used him heartlessly, aware that he cared for her, even if he had not yet told her out right that he loved her, thinking only of her own pain.

And then, she had compounded the injury she had caused, by refusing to even be honest with him, to even acknowledge what had happened between them at all, in fact. He had begged her just to talk to him, and she had struck him in the face without a second thought, brutally driving home the message that he was nothing more to her than a thing that belonged to her – to command, to use, to hurt if she so chose…but never to love.

Now, as her eyes were drawn again to the ravaged body of the faithful, gentle slave, broken by her cold misuse before Riley had ever touched him, she did not know if any of that was true anymore.

Could she really say that he was not a person, not capable of loving or being loved, when he had been the one to remind her of just how much more she could have than her painful, loveless marriage? When he had given her back the love that she had shared with her friends, and given up…for *Riley*?

She was so confused, she did not know much of anything for sure anymore.

She *did* know that she had to get Spike out of here, right away, because as bad as he looked, she did not know how much longer he was going to last. She didn’t know if vampires could dust from loss of blood, and she didn’t know how much holy water had touched him, or how much it would take to kill him.

She knew that once they got out of this, she was going to have a lot of serious thinking to do, about the ideas that had governed her life for so long.

And she knew that he was hers. He *did* belong to her…and he was hers to defend, to protect, from the cruelty that had nearly claimed his life this day.

“Don’t try to tell *me* anything about love, Riley,” she snapped, a little defensively. “If you had *ever* loved me, you couldn’t have done what you did to me! If you *loved* me you wouldn’t have preferred me weak and helpless and as much a slave as any of your whores!”

As she spoke, her fist shot out into his stomach again, doubling him over in pain, and she followed it up with a brutal blow across his upper back that dropped him to the floor on his knees.

“But I’m *not* one of your whores, Riley,” she said, her voice little more than a trembling whisper of fury and triumph. “I’m not your *anything* anymore.” She kicked him hard, in the ribs, slamming him back into the wall behind him, hard, glaring down at him in contempt and disgust, much calmer now that she had vented some of her rage.

He knelt there at her feet, coughing and choking on the blood from internal injuries her beating had created, and she felt no guilt, no remorse. All she had to do was take one look at the brutalized, violated body of her slave -- who had come to mean so much more to her than this man at her feet who had never done anything but hurt her – to know that her actions were more than justified.

As she opened her mouth to speak, Xander heard footsteps rushing down the stairs, and turned to see Willow and Tara standing in the doorway, halted in frozen shock at the sight of what had been done to Spike.

“I’m leaving you, Riley,” Buffy said, her voice cold and clear, and drawing the attention of the two women, as well as Xander. “I’m leaving tonight. My friends are here to help me…just like they’ve always been. I was just too stupid and blind to see it.”

She paused for a moment, looking down, and then back up, directly at her friends, acknowledging her own guilt. “That is not something I can blame on you. That was my mistake. I should *never*…have chosen *you*…over them.”

The firm, unshakable assurance in her voice brought tears to the eyes of her friends, as she looked back on her fallen husband. “I’m getting my things, and I’m taking *my* slave…and I’m leaving you, Riley.”

She turned slowly away from Riley to give her attention to Spike.

“B-buffy,” Riley gasped, recovered enough from her beating to attempt to rise. There was disbelief in his eyes at what she had said, as he braced himself against the wall to stand. “Buffy…” he went on, shaking his head a little. “I’m your *husband*…”

She stopped and turned back toward him for a moment, meeting his eyes with a certain regret at the loss of what she had only thought she had, as she smiled sadly and said, “No. You’re not.”

He stared at her, uncomprehending, as she met his eyes unfaltering and continued, shaking her own head in sorrow, but with a soft smile of acceptance beginning on her lips.

“You were never mine at all.”