Buffy stood completely still for a long moment, trying to think of a way out of this situation. There were only four of the soldiers, but they were all heavily armed, and their weapons were all drawn and aimed at her and Spike. She had weapons – she would not have left the house at a time like this without them – but did not know if she could get to any of them before the soldiers fired.

Spike did not seem to want to find out. Without thought, he moved quickly between Buffy and the soldiers, a low growl of warning and defiance rising in his throat as he faced the armed soldiers. He knew he could not fight them. But he also knew that Slayer or not, Buffy could be killed by their bullets. And he would die before he would let them hurt her.

“Spike,” Buffy whispered, the soft sound barely reaching his ears, and inaudible to the human soldiers. “No.” Her throat constricted with emotion, in the midst of the terrible situation they were in, to think of the risk he was willing to put himself at, in order to protect her.

He ignored her completely, slowly moving into a defensive stance, his eyes focused on the soldiers facing them.

The one in front slowly smiled, a cruel, mocking expression, as he lowered his gun slightly. “Aww,” he said softly. “Isn’t that sweet. The faithful little slave, willing to lay down his unlife for his mistress. Sort of gets ya right here, ya know?” he said with false emotion, touching his fist to his heart a couple of times and shaking his head slightly in a mocking way that made Buffy want to rip the stone heart right out of the soldier’s chest.

The soldier’s laughing eyes suddenly narrowed and hardened, and he took aim with his weapon again, this time at Spike. “Just like a bullet to the heart, right?”

Buffy felt her heart lurch at the sight. She knew that the weapons that Riley’s men usually carried could fire both regular ammunition and the wood-tipped bullets that he had designed. And the look on the soldier’s face as he took aim at Spike made it pretty clear which type he was packing.

“What are you doing?” one of the other soldiers, a slightly nervous-looking young man, who stood near the door and seemed a bit inexperienced, asked anxiously. “Finn said not to…”

“Shut up!” the leader snapped without taking his eyes off Spike.

But the boy had already said too much. Buffy knew that Riley had given his men orders not to kill them, same as last time.

And that made this a whole different ball game.

She thought fast. She had to take these soldiers out, and fast, before they could alert any of their comrades to her presence, so near to what was obviously one of Riley’s secret facilities. The fact that they would not try to kill them did not mean that they could not still do a lot of damage with their weapons. But it *did* mean that she could fight them with a bit more confidence.

Because she was no longer hampered by such a restriction – not when it came to these men.

She put her hand on Spike’s shoulder and pulled him back, stepping past him as she did, to face the soldiers. She was not surprised when the steady growl emanating from his throat increased slightly, and he tried to block her from passing him.

“No!” she said sharply, her tone making it clear that she would not tolerate being prevented from her chosen course of action. “Get back!”

Spike was still not accustomed to disobeying direct orders, especially from her, his most recent mistress – and he obeyed. She knew she was taking advantage of his insecurities, but she was only doing it to protect him.

“Get behind the tomb and stay down!” she ordered in a tone of unquestionable authority that she had tried lately *not* to use with him.

He *did* question her, however. “Buffy…why…?”

“*Now*!” she snapped, keeping her eyes on the soldiers in front of her.

She could not fight well if she was worrying about his safety the whole time. And she would be, if he was not out of the line of fire. He could not fight these men, who were clearly human, judging by their heavy breathing.

Spike was the only vampire she had ever known to breathe.

Realizing all this, Spike reluctantly obeyed her harsh order. He had caught on, as she had, to the fact that these men did not intend to kill them, but Buffy could still get seriously hurt if she had to worry about him while she was fighting. Although he hated to do it, he quickly ducked down behind the tomb as she had told him, remaining where he could see the action around the side.

The soldier in charge laughed in surprise. The slave was not really their primary concer. He couldn’t fight, couldn’t escape with the door blocked as it was by the youngest member of his team. According to Finn, first priority was Mrs. Finn. He had warned them that she was dangerous, a skilled fighter, and much stronger than she looked.

But looking at the defiant, furious young woman before him now, the soldier was not concerned. He was confident that he could take her himself if he had to, let alone with the help of his men. He found it hilarious that the girl seemed to think that she could take them on at all with any measure of success.

“Careful, little girl,” he sneered softly as he edged closer to her, his gun still trained on her chest. “You don’t wanna get hurt.”

“Not really,” she agreed with a shrug, as she watched his careful approach. “You, on the other hand, apparently do,” she remarked, her tone light, but with a hard glimmer in her eyes that gave the soldier pause.

He froze for a moment, his smile fading and his eyes narrowing in anger, that this mere girl was able to make him feel so unsettled so quickly. “Now, come on, Sweetheart,” he said softly, but the humor was gone from his voice. “Let’s not make this any harder than it has to be. Your husband just wants to talk to you.”

“Yeah,” she laughed softly. “I’ll bet he does.” She shrugged slightly. “But then, *I’ve* always liked to let my fists do the talking, personally.”

More and more unnerved by the stunning confidence of the girl, the soldier felt his anger rising, as he took aim with his gun again, still drawing slowly closer to her. Only a few feet separated them now. “You talk a big game, Sweetie,” he taunted her in a patronizing tone. “But I can tell you’re scared to death. You haven’t made a move yet. If you’re so tough – why don’t you prove it?”

“You know, you’re right?” Buffy conceded, wide-eyed with mock realization. “I haven’t, have I? I can see how that might be a little misleading for you. Might have given you the impression that I’m just a helpless little female, made you think that I’d be no problem to capture, huh?” Her eyes and tone hardened as she added, “Made you let down your guard.”

Without warning she spun around, landing a flying kick to the man’s wrist that sent his weapon sailing through the air – toward the side of the tomb where Spike waited. He knew he couldn’t use it without excruciating pain; still, he snatched it up and held it, watching carefully. If Buffy needed him to, chip or no chip, he would use the weapon – even if it made his head explode to do it.

Buffy did not give the soldier time to recover, following up the first spinning kick with a second, aimed higher, that connected with the back of the man’s head, as he leaned forward to reach for his weapon. The forward force of the blow slammed his head downward, hitting hard on the front side of the tomb behind her – knocking him completely unconscious.

The Slayer shrugged in unconcern as she looked down at the still form of her first opponent. “Sucks to be you,” she remarked before turning to face his dumbfounded followers, none of whom seemed too eager to face her next. “Who’s next?” she asked anyway.

Spike chuckled softly to himself, the affectionate thought crossing his mind, *That’s my girl!*

At that moment, two of the remaining three decided that their chances would be better if they tried to fight her at once. Buffy really didn’t mind. For all his threats and bravado, their leader hadn’t been much of a challenge.

When the one in front came at her with his gun drawn, she slammed her hand down on his wrist in a chopping motion, snapping his wrist instantly and sending him to his knees, howling in agony and clutching his shattered wrist. Rolling her eyes, almost as an afterthought as she moved on to the next one, Buffy slammed her fist backward into the kneeling man’s head, knocking him unconscious.

Better to have him out of the way and unable to come at her again.

The third was bigger than the first two, and came at her swinging. She dodged his blows, landing a couple of her own – but he did not crumble as easily as the others had. It only took a few moments to realize that this one was going to be a bit of a challenge.

Buffy staggered back under a series of blows, finding her back to the wall for a moment before she landed a powerful kick to the man’s stomach that sent him flying backwards several yards across the crypt. She glanced to the side to check on Spike – and was irritated at first to see him standing by the wall, facing toward the man she was fighting, watching closely.

“Spike!” she snapped. “Get down!” At any moment a gun could come back into play, and he was completely defenseless, despite the pistol he held in his white, shaking hand, as he stood there, focused on the man across the room, utterly ignoring her order.

*Wait a second…*

Her attention was split between her opponent, struggling to his feet across the room, and Spike, who was staring with wide, panicked eyes at the man, his lips slightly parted and trembling – his whole body shaking uncontrollably.

The look of absolute terror on his face told Buffy all she needed to know, and she felt a chilling rage come over her as she looked back at the man before her, even before his words confirmed what she already knew to be true.

This was one of Spike’s abusers – one of the monsters from the training center.

Her look in Spike’s direction had drawn the man’s attention, and his eyes widened in surprised recognition. “Well, what have we got here?” he smirked, taking a step toward the trembling vampire. “I remember you!”

The leering look on the man’s face made Spike flinch, his eyes shut for a moment, his breath coming hard and fast as he tried to control his reaction.

Buffy stood stunned in horror for a moment as the man went on, “So you’re the one that Finn wants sent back through training, huh? If I’d have known it was *you* he was talking about I’d have tried a lot harder! Your sweet ass was the best bonus I ever got from…”

That was as far as the man made it before the Slayer was upon him, in all her fury. She slammed into him with the force of a semi, knocking him to the ground and immediately beginning to pound his fallen body with savage kicks, again and again, not giving him time to recover, to speak a word or try to get up.

Several of the blows fell on the man’s head, and at some point he lost consciousness.

Breathless and gasping from the exertion of her assault, the Slayer fell to her knees beside the already still form of her enemy, pummeling his body furiously with her fists. Finally, exhausted, she stopped, staring down at the broken body of the fallen soldier with tear-filled, angry eyes. She gasped for breath, nearly panting, her breath catching in her throat as she struggled to regain control of her violent emotions.

Gradually, her eyes widened on the utterly motionless form, the blank, unseeing eyes, of the man before her, as she realized exactly what she had done. A sense of numbness and shock came over her, as she just stared, trying to make her mind comprehend what had just happened.

It had all happened so quickly – the attack by the soldiers, the gradual build of the intensity of battle, the revelation of what this man had done to Spike, his cruel unconcern for it – and her own reaction to it.

She had killed a man.

*No!* her mind rebelled, a feeling of sick revulsion assaulting her stomach; at what, she was not sure – the disgusting person before her, and what he had done – or the fact that she had just killed him for it.

*Just another monster, Buffy,* she told herself. *Just another monster you’ve slain, for the protection of the helpless.*

But a part of her mind would never believe that – although the greater part of her already believed it to be true.

She looked up with wide, disbelieving eyes at Spike, who was slowly walking toward her, his eyes fixed on the battered form of the man who had once battered and abused him, the gun still tightly clutched in his hand. Suddenly, Buffy remembered something, through her shock and horror.

There was one soldier left.

She looked up into the face of the single young soldier who was left. He was also staring at the body of his comrade, his eyes wide and terrified. When Buffy looked at him, he raised his panicked eyes to meet hers for a moment, and she could clearly read the myriad emotions there.

Shock and horror, at the death of his fellow soldier – terror, as he was certain that he would be the next to die at the Slayer’s brutal hand – and then…

Buffy’s eyes widened in stunned realization – the moment before the young soldier raised his weapon and took aim at her. This was no idle threat to make her back down. Riley’s orders didn’t matter anymore. This soldier had just watched her savagely beat his comrade to death with her bare hands – her clothes, fists, face, were all stained with his blood – and he meant to end her life before she could end his.

There was no time to move – no time to speak or react at all – and Buffy knew that this was it. The punishment for her crime was at hand, swift and certain.

A single gunshot rang out – and Buffy was certain that her heart stopped beating, wondering that she felt no pain. And then, the pounding of her blood in her ears alerted her to the startling fact that she was unhurt – alive – the instant before the lifeless body of the soldier aiming at her slumped down in the doorway.

A soft but sharp intake of breath behind her alerted her to the truth of what had happened, as she turned quickly to see Spike on his knees, his head in his hands, the gun he had fired lying on the floor a few feet away from him. The intense agony of the punishment he was receiving was too great even to allow him to scream. He was gasping for breath that would not come, reeling with the brutal force of the electricity ripping through his head.

In an instant she was at his side, her arms around him, and he leaned into her with a desperate sob of anguish. Her hand went to his head, cradling him protectively against her breast, whispering softly to him through his suffering.

“It’s gonna be okay, Sweetheart,” she whispered, her own tears streaking her face as she rocked him gently. “It’s okay – it’s okay, Baby…”

Eventually the pain eased enough that he could actually speak, and he pressed his head harder into her chest with an anguished whimper, “It hurts – Buffy – Buffy, it hurts…please…oh God…please…stop…”

His pain tore at her heart, as Buffy could do nothing for him but to hold him close and wait it out with him. “It’ll be over soon, Spike,” she whispered, desperately hoping that her words were true.

The chips were designed to create enough pain at the *attempt* to harm a human, that most vampires never got so far as to experience the punishment for actually *succeeding* at such an act as murder. But the pain had not mattered in the least to Spike. All he had seen was that Buffy was in danger.

Eventually, the pain did ease, and he slowly, cautiously, lifted his head from her tear-soaked blouse, staring up at her through pain-ravaged eyes. “Y-you’re all right?” he whispered anxiously. “He didn’t – didn’t hurt you?”

Her eyes welled with fresh tears. His first concern, as always, was her.

“Yes,” she whispered, her love shining in her eyes as she ran a gentle hand through his hair. “Thanks to you. You saved me, Spike,” she told him, kissing him gently before pulling back to look him in the eye again. “You saved my life.”

He broke down again, his hands clutching her waist and pulling her closer to him. “Buffy – I almost lost you, Buffy! I couldn’t – I’d – I’d die without you, Buffy!” he gasped out, an ache of need in his voice that was almost a physical pain.

She held him close to her again until he regained his composure, reassuring him in a whisper, “I’m right here. I’m here, Spike. I’m okay. It’s okay.”

After a few moments, when he was calm again, she pulled slowly back, darkened eyes falling on the body of the man she had slain. He followed her gaze for a moment before looking up at her in concern.

“You had to, Buffy,” he whispered, trying to comfort her. “He would have killed us – or taken us to Riley – and *he* would have killed us. You had no choice. You had to.”

“No, I didn’t,” she whispered back, shaking her head, her eyes on the fallen form. “I mean – I *beat* him to death, Spike! I…”

Her words cut off as her eyes came back to rest on the face of the man she loved, looking up at her in concern and adoration, wanting to be understanding and supportive of her guilt and turmoil over what she had done, to a man that had raped and abused him without pity for months.

Her precious “soulless demon” knew more of love and sacrifice than the *human* that had brutalized him so mercilessly, who had treated him like nothing more than a piece of garbage to be used and abused at will – knew more of it than she did, if she was honest with herself.

Her hand ran gently down his cheek in a tender caress, as she shook her head slowly, her eyes serious as they met his again.

“No,” she said softly. “You’re right.” She paused, glancing at the soldier again.

“I had to.”