Buffy stood frozen with fear, staring at the weapon in Riley’s hand, pressed against Spike’s head. She could not breathe; she was certain that her heart stopped beating for a few moments. The image before her, and the ones it evoked in her mind, was more terrifying to her than anything Riley could have done to her.

*What is *wrong* with you, Buffy?* she thought frantically. *Move! *Move*!* her mind screamed at her, and she forced herself out of her reverie of horror and started purposefully toward Riley, intent on delivering her vampire from his merciless hand.

“One more step and I swear I’ll pull this trigger,” Riley informed her without hesitation in a cold, hard voice, pressing harder with the pistol, shoving Spike’s head harder into the wall and causing him to wince in pain. The cruel light of triumph in his eyes told Buffy that Riley was not bluffing. He really would do it.

She stopped short. “You pull that trigger and you’ll be dead five seconds later,” she informed him, trying to keep her voice calm, but unable to keep the tremor out of her voice. She meant every word. If Riley hurt Spike – she *would* kill him.

“Yeah – but it’ll be done already – won’t it?” Riley pointed out with a wicked grin. “So I’d suggest you stay back.”

He was right, she realized grimly. He held all the good cards at the moment. She could and would make Riley pay if he shot Spike – but what good would that do Spike?

The blonde vampire’s startlingly blue eyes were wide and panicked as they focused on Buffy’s, both terrified and trusting. Her heart rent with the pleading look he cast her way, and she knew that he was utterly defenseless against her husband, and counting on her to help him.

She could not let him down.

“I’ve tried it before you know,” Riley went on, his voice chillingly soft, a cold, malicious smile on his lips. “But I’ve gotta say, I never did manage to decapitate a vamp with a bullet, Spike.” There was a false admiration in his deceptively gentle voice, as he leaned in a little closer to the trembling vampire, who flinched slightly at his nearness, although there was no where to go.

He was completely trapped.

“You’ve got a pretty good aim there,” Riley nodded appreciatively with an almost friendly smile. And then, the smile faded completely, as he removed the terrifying pressure of the weapon at Spike’s temple – just to slam it down brutally across his face, his lip curled back in a vindictive expression of satisfaction at the little cry of pain he managed to get from his victim.

“Too bad it was my vamps you were aiming at, huh?” Riley sneered, a hard note of menace in his voice making it clear that he was furious at his loss, and intended to take it out of the defenseless creature at his feet.

Buffy was furious at the sight of the cruel blow, dealt to the helpless, kneeling vampire that she had taken under her protection. She charged forward again without thought – only to stop short again when the weapon was instantly placed back against Spike’s head, and Riley’s cold eyes met hers in a challenge.

“Change your mind, Buffy?” he asked softly. “Maybe you don’t want him so bad after all.”

“No,” Buffy replied immediately, hating the tremor that was still in her voice, wanting to present a more menacing image to Riley, but simply terrified at the thought that he might hurt Spike. “No, Riley – don’t,” she whispered, her eyes focused again on Spike’s already-bruising face.

Riley ignored Buffy’s quiet plea, his attention already re-focused on his torment of his prisoner. “See – I think it’s all in the placement of the weapon,” he mused speculatively, his voice calm and matter-of-fact, as he moved the gun slowly from Spike’s temple, eliciting a fearful gasp when he pressed it hard against his throat instead, at a slightly upward angle.

“I think if you aim right…about…here,” Riley suggested softly, meeting the eyes of his terrified captive, “that might do the trick.” His voice was calm, matter-of-fact, as if he were discussing a random scientific experiment, rather than the life of the frightened vampire before him.

To Riley – that was all it was.

“Riley…Riley, stop it!” Buffy snapped, her voice trembling with rage at the heartless way he was terrorizing Spike. “Riley, let him go!” She wanted to stop him herself, but was afraid that if she tried to he would pull the trigger – and she would lose Spike forever.

The sadistic soldier’s voice softened even more as he asked softly, “What do *you* think? Is that about right?” Cold ice-blue eyes focused on Spike’s face with a cruel smirk, enjoying the reaction of terror he was earning.

Spike’s eyes were closed against the oppressive presence of the man who was responsible for his broken state, and he choked back a sob of fear, not responding. He couldn’t breathe…couldn’t move…was simply too terrified to do anything at all.

Riley’s eyes narrowed with anger and menace. “I asked you a question, slave,” he snarled in a threatening tone that made Spike’s stomach turn. Then his voice suddenly returned to that mild, disarming tone as he asked, “Is this right?”

Shaking uncontrollably, having the terrible feeling that he was signing his own death warrant, Spike was forced to answer the cruel question. He nodded faintly, his response coming out in a breathless sob, “Yes…*please*…”

Buffy’s mind raced, desperate to find some way to stop this vicious display. Reasoning with Riley was out of the question; the man was clearly sick. He was enjoying every moment of his twisted little game, as Buffy helplessly watched the weeks of progress Spike had made drained away by Riley’s brutality.

If she attacked him now, she risked Spike’s life. She knew Riley well enough to recognize the look he had worn when he had threatened to shoot her vampire – and she knew that he had meant it completely. It would not phase him in the least to dust Spike, on a whim.

And she could not let that happen.

Without turning her head, keeping her attention focused on the cruel scene playing out before her, she discreetly glanced at the few vamp soldiers that were still unconscious on the floor – and the guns they had dropped when they had fallen.

If she could somehow get to one…

“See, when I tried it,” Riley went on in that same casual, conversational tone that was so much more terrifying than open menace would have been – emphasizing how small a thing it was for him to destroy the vampire without a second thought. “I aimed the gun just like this,” he explained, moving the weapon back to Spike’s temple. “Didn’t take the head completely off,” he shrugged, with a cruel smile. “Sure made a helluva mess though.”

Spike cringed as Riley crouched down beside him, grabbing him around the back of the neck and pulling him even closer to the weapon. His eyes were wide with mock amazement as he said softly, “Did you know that you could regenerate half your brain if I blew it away right now? I mean – it wouldn’t be like it was. We’re talking severe brain damage…jury’s still out on whether or not you’d ever completely recover. The ones I’ve tried it on haven’t yet. They still can’t talk, motor skills a little off.”

His voice dropped to a whisper, outside of the range of Buffy’s hearing. “Can you imagine how much fun the boys at the center would have with a little retard vamp who couldn’t even talk?” His smile became colder, more threatening, as his hand left the back of Spike’s neck to rest low on his back. “Especially a little pretty boy like you?”

Panic seized the terrified vampire and he jerked away from Riley’s touch, slapping weakly at his hand, wincing at the little jolt of pain that shot through his head at the small defiance. “D-don’t touch me!” he gasped, jerking back against the wall – because there was nowhere else to go.

Furious, Riley grabbed his hair and jerked his head back hard, snarling, “Don’t you *ever* hit me, you little idiot!” He struck him in the face again with the gun, hard, splitting his lip, then slammed his head into the wall brutally.

When he leaned in close again, Spike flinched back against the wall, trembling as Riley got right in his face to sneer, “You’re gonna pay for that. And I’m really gonna enjoy making you do it.” As he spoke, his hand moved deliberately back to the spot he had touched on his back, and then slid lower, proving his point.

Spike shuddered at the cruel, suggestive note in Riley’s voice, and the violating touch of his hand – but he did not dare move again. He had been through the training center, and a slave for years after that; rape was not a foreign torment to him. Finn had never touched him in that way, and he knew that that was not really the direction in which Riley’s interests lay – but he knew that he would do it, if he thought it would break the vampire’s stubborn will.

And Spike was very much afraid that it would.

He opened his eyes, seeking out Buffy – and forcing himself not to reveal anything in his expression when he saw her slipping a few feet away from where she had stood, her attention slipping between Riley’s face – and the gun of one of the fallen soldiers. He immediately closed his eyes again, not wanting to give anything away to Riley of what his wife was planning.

Fortunately, Riley was too distracting with tormenting him to notice Buffy’s painstakingly slow cautious movements.

And Spike intended to make sure he stayed that way.

He fought through the terror that consumed him, through his deeply ingrained training, as he tried to come up with some way to help Buffy. Above all else, one thing mattered to him – he could not let Riley hurt her. He knew that one wrong move on Buffy’s part, anything that startled the soldier while he had the gun in his hand, could result in her being shot.

And though a bullet might not kill *him* -- it *would* kill the Slayer.

His options were very limited. He could not fight the git physically; he could strike one blow, and then he would be useless for the rest of the fight, leaving Riley free to turn the gun on Buffy. No, at the moment, his fists and fangs were restrained by the tiny piece of metal in his head and the minor technicality that was Riley’s “humanity”.

So the vampire turned to his third weapon of choice – his words.

Inwardly quaking at the thought of what Riley might do to him for what he was about to say, he made his tone as derisive as possible and sneered, “Bloody well *bet* you’ll enjoy it, you great soddin’ poof!”

The soldier’s eyes widened in disbelief and shock – emotions which were slowly joined by a look of pure rage. As Spike had intended, the Slayer, now directly behind Riley, was completely forgotten for the moment, as the soldier jerked Spike’s head back harder, demanding in a low, menacing voice, “What did you say?”

Spike had the overwhelming desire to back down right then and apologize, plead for mercy, though he knew there would be none. He also had the nearly irresistible compulsion to look at Buffy, whom he could see out of the corner of his eye, just bending down to take a pistol from the still hand of an unconscious vampire soldier just a few feet behind Riley.

He resisted both impulses, determined to keep Riley distracted as long as Buffy needed him to.

“I’ll translate it for you so you can understand, you stupid git!” he smirked, despite the pain of Riley’s fist mercilessly wrenching his head back, and the terror inspired by the gun still at his temple. He knew he was risking his life with every word. “I’m calling you a bleedin’ pansy ass faggot who’d rather be with me than with the beautiful woman you married – who, incidentally, would *also* rather be with me!”

He knew that, sexually speaking, Riley was as straight as an arrow, and had no interest in him beyond breaking his pride. But he had chosen his words not for their accuracy, but for their ability to anger Riley enough to hold his attention, keep him focused enough on Spike that he would forget all about Buffy.

It worked.

With vicious fury, Riley released his hold on Spike’s hair, only to slam his fist into his face with brutal force, then again without pause, knocking his head into the wall hard enough to make him nearly black out.

Dizzied, he could not have offered any resistance if he had wanted to, as Riley snarled, “Get up!” and yanked him to his feet, grabbing his arms in a bruising grip and slamming him against the wall with breath-taking force.

The confused haze that had fallen over him with the repeated blows was suddenly cut through with a cold chill of terror as Riley pressed the pistol painfully hard against the front of his jeans.

Smiling coldly into the panicked blue eyes that rose to meet his, Riley asked in a deadly soft voice, “You think you’re a big man, Spike? Huh?” His voice was taunting as he added, “Cause all I see is a pathetic, worthless little slave who’s about to be just a little *more* of both!”

Spike gasped in pain as Riley vindictively pressed harder with the weapon, smiling at his reaction as he leaned in to whisper close to his ear, “Think she’d still want you then, Spike? She doesn’t care about you. You’re just a convenient replacement in her bed. What do you think she’ll do if you’re not so convenient anymore?”

Spike flinched and shook his head, his eyes closed against the vicious but well-chosen words Riley was speaking, and the tears they brought out. His plan, everything was forgotten in the violence of Riley’s assault and the cruelty of his words.

“Please,” he whispered brokenly, his false bravado abandoned. “Please don’t…” He was begging more for the end of the heartless words than the violence.

Riley seemed to understand that, as he went on, repeating Spike’s words in a mocking tone, “ ‘Please, please don’t!’” His eyes and and voice became hard as he continued, “Listen to you. Pathetic little coward, begging for your own worthless life.” He smiled cruelly, softening his voice to a whisper again as he said, “She can hear you, you know. She can see just exactly how pitiful and weak you really are.”

Neither of them noticed Buffy slipping up behind him, the gun ready in her hand. Spike had broken down in tears of pain and humiliation at Riley’s last words, which he was certain were all too true. And Riley was still going on, his voice still cruel and soft, but loud enough for Buffy to catch his next words.

“You’re right about one thing, Spike. She *is* a beautiful woman. A *powerful* woman. A woman who deserves a man who can fight with her – who can take up for himself.” He paused. “You’re not a man, Spike. You’re nothing. How can you think that she could ever feel anything for you – but pity?”

The calm, cruel words hit their mark, and Spike flinched, tears streaking his face as he thought about his foolish actions just before Riley had entered the room. *What was I thinking?* he wondered with shame and anguish. *She’d never want to be mine…never…*

Riley opened his mouth to go on, but stopped suddenly, his breath catching in his throat, when he felt the chill of cold steel against his own head.

“You know, you kinda had me with you there on the whole beautiful, powerful thing,” Buffy informed him, her light tone a sharp contrast to the deadly weapon she had pressed to his temple. “Right up until that last part – which was basically a load of crap.” Her tone was instantly hard and cold as she ordered, “Drop the gun, Riley.”

“Wanna see who’s the faster shot?” Riley smirked, defiant in spite of the situation, still thinking that he could use Buffy’s affection for Spike – the affection that he had denied out of sheer cruelty, but knew was genuine – to turn the situation back to his favor. He pressed the gun harder against Spike’s already-bruised groin.

He bit back a cry of pain, not wanting to show how bad it hurt him, not wanting to do anything to influence Buffy badly. He was not worth her giving in to Riley.

Buffy did not appear affected by Riley’s threat, though Spike could hear her heart racing, and knew that it had frightened her.

“He’ll heal,” she stated calmly, flatly, her eyes narrowing as she added, “You won’t.”

Riley did not respond, knowing that she was right but hating to give in to her.

“*Now*!” the Slayer snarled, pressing harder with the gun.

Knowing that she was very serious, Riley dropped the gun, and Spike felt a tremor of incredible relief go through his body as he leaned back against the wall, breathing hard.

“Back up,” Buffy ordered Riley. “Get away from him.”

Riley obeyed, his hands held cautiously away from his body to indicate his surrender.

“Spike.” Buffy’s voice was sharp, but the anger was not intended for him. Still, he looked up at her quickly, trying to shake off the pain and trauma of the incident enough to listen and obey her. “Get over here behind me,” she said firmly, gesturing with her hand to where she wanted him. She did not want him anywhere near Riley, and wanted to be sure that she stood between the two of them.

He obeyed her without question, his eyes troubled and downcast again. Riley’s words were still echoing in his head. He was useless to her – a waste – simply a helpless, needy burden for her to worry about. She had not wanted him to come on this trip, and she had been right – all he had caused her was trouble.

The dozen armed guards that she would have faced alone – that he had slain half of himself – did not occur to him, in his Riley-induced shame and insecurity.

“Get on your knees,” Buffy ordered Riley, the gun still pressed to his head.

He gave her an incredulous look. “Buffy,” he protested.

“Do it!” she snapped, and he winced as she jabbed him again with the gun at his head. She was much stronger than he was, but he was bigger than either of them, and a skilled fighter; she was taking no chances of his somehow managing to get the gun away from her.

Riley reluctantly obeyed her. His expression remained calm, as did his voice, but she could detect a hint of fear in it as he asked quietly, “So you’re gonna kill me now? Is that what this is?”

She was silent for a long moment, and Spike looked up at her in surprise – and alarm. As much as he felt that Riley deserved it, the thought of Buffy committing cold-blooded murder – as it would be if she shot him like this, execution style on his knees – was troubling to him. An act like that would change her for the rest of her life.

He knew.

Spike could hear Riley’s heartbeat accelerate with his fear when Buffy did not respond, and both men held their breath, waiting to see what she would do.

Buffy stared down in cold fury at the man she had once thought she loved. If all that he had done before had not already, the cruelty she had witnessed over the last few minutes had shattered any traces of affection she might have still held for him.

“No, Riley,” she said finally, her voice low and controlled. “That’s what *you’re* good at. Killing – rape – torture of the helpless. The way things are right now,” she went on in disgust. “I couldn’t kill you. You’re too *helpless* and *pathetic*.” She deliberately emphasized the words he had used to hurt Spike so deeply.

A slow smirk came over Riley’s face as he glanced at the vampire standing miserably behind her, shaken and ashamed. “And we know you’ve got a soft spot for that type, don’t you?” he sneered at Buffy, his smile widening when Spike flinched.

Furious, Buffy drew back her foot and delivered a powerful kick to Riley’s groin, doubling him over, gasping in unexpected agony. She crouched down beside him and pulled him up by the hair to face her, smiling coldly, her voice like a thin steel blade.

“Not for you. I don’t have a soft spot for you, Riley.” She paused, giving him a few moments to recover enough to hear her, before going on in a voice of quiet surety, “If you ever -- *touch* -- Spike again…I *will* kill you. That’s a promise.”

Leaving him still moaning in pain and clutching his injured manhood, Buffy stood, looking at Spike and gesturing for him to come to her. As he slowly did, limping and with a hesitancy that she did not understand, she turned back to Riley and with a single fluid motion, slammed the pistol down across the back of his head – knocking him out cold.

Spike stared down at him in silent surprise, his eyes wide – and impressed.

Buffy shrugged, a little defensively. “Can’t have him calling the cops before we can get out of here.”

He nodded silently, not looking at her.

She frowned, concerned – but there was no time now. They had no idea if Riley had more guards, or if any of his slaves might have heard the commotion and called the police already.

They had to get out of their and back to safety, now.

Wordlessly Buffy reached out to take Spike’s hand in hers, and led him quickly toward the door.