Riley Finn stalked out of his office in the underground training center, furious at the failure of his plan to eliminate the witnesses to his indiscretions. The young vampire assassin that his plan had centered around was already forgotten, dealt with and of no further concern to the hardened soldier-turned-businessman.

He would have to find another way to take out his wife’s nosy little circle of friends, the gaggle of groupies that constantly surrounded both her and the thorn in his side that was the influential Watcher-turned-abolitionist Rupert Giles. He had planned to eliminate them all in one fell swoop.

It would be a fitting end for the man, and quite beneficial to Riley’s own case, if the man who was so vocal about the ability of vampires to change, to be “good”, and all those he held dear, were slaughtered by a supposedly harmless vampire slave. He would take out his personal enemies, and the whole abolitionist movement, with one powerful strike.

So much for that plan.

The planted assassin had ended up being won over by the apparently very persuasive older man, and had ended up giving Giles even more information to use against Riley and his organization. When Riley had found out about it, heard the sensitive information revealed in one of the Watcher’s speeches, he had made the little traitor pay for his mistake, punishing him viciously with his chip for spilling his closely guarded secrets.

But the damage had been done.

And as the controversy about the “alleged” abuses in the training centers spread, Riley’s sense of nervousness and unease grew stronger and stronger. All that was keeping his carefully built world from unraveling under the strain of the allegations was the absence of any firm, definite evidence – all of which was kept right here -- such as videotapes, documents…

Or a few credible eyewitnesses.

Unfortunately, several of those *did* exist – but he planned to take care of *that* very soon. Buffy’s friends had seen too much to be allowed to live when they had walked in on his violent retribution against his wife’s little pet. If their accounts of his brutality reached the public – as they surely would at Giles’ next speaking venue – it would be just another nail in the coffin of his tattered reputation.

As for his pretty little wife, who was somewhere in this very facility at the moment, thanks to his ingenious trap – well, when he was through with her, she would not dare to speak a word of what she knew about his darker activities. She would be broken, submissive and compliant with his commands, as he had always wanted her to be.

If he had to, he could easily convince anyone who questioned his methods that she was not actually human. What human girl possessed such amazing strength and powers of healing as she did? She could be broken, conditioned, just like any other “demon”.

He had thought that he had completed that process a long time ago – but apparently, he had been wrong. The Slayer had proven to be more resilient, more spirited, than he had thought, and the purchase of her slave had marked the beginning of the end of her time as his submissive, obedient wife.

How fitting that the first step in her breaking this time would be to watch that slave die in agony? After hours of torture, of course.

That thought made Riley smile with satisfaction, as he stepped out into the hallway. A quick check of his own personal computer had revealed to him what the frantically rushing soldiers in the hallways, searching, could not have known. Their search was unnecessary.

The special tracking feature he had had uploaded to Spike’s chip was proving to be quite useful. And he knew that where Spike was, he would find Buffy as well.

He had been pleasantly surprised upon accessing the program that only he had the pass codes for, to see that they had somehow managed to get into the main control room, though the security system for the room was still intact.

Buffy would not have any idea how to actually operate any of the facility’s controls, and could not have had the necessary pass codes anyway. And the high level of security required to get into the main control room would keep out any lower level soldiers eager to please their leader and find the fugitive pair.

In spite his orders for the lock down and the search that was taking place all over the complex, he did not want anyone to find Buffy and Spike but him. He smiled coldly to himself as he made his way toward the control room.

This was beyond personal.


Giles was quickly approaching a state of panic, as he paced the living room frantically, stopping every now and then to glance over Willow’s shoulder at her as-yet unsuccessful attempts at hacking into Riley’s computer systems. She had tried many times over the past few years, for other reasons, but had never managed to crack his highly secured code.

But this was so much more important. She did not really hold out much hope that she would be able to do what she had failed to do so many times before – but she had to try.

When Willow’s work still yielded no results, Giles would resume his pacing for a few moments before going to Julian’s side to check on him. He was lying on the couch, his aching head resting in Tara’s lap, as she tried to her best to bring him some measure of comfort with her gentle touch, a cool, damp cloth on his forehead, and a few whispered Latin words, repeated softly over and over.

The affectionate embrace seemed unfortunately to be the most effective of her efforts. The healing spell she was attempting had no effect at all, and it wasn’t long before she gave up the useless Latin for tender, reassuring words that Julian could understand. It seemed as if something was blocking her magic, not allowing it to break through an unseen wall that surrounded the boy – just as Julian had told them.

Before the pain became too severe to allow him to speak.

It had started off as no greater than a severe headache, so the boy had been coherent for a little while. As the truth had fallen into place for him, Giles had felt terribly guilty as he remembered various times over the past few years when Julian had suffered debilitating “headaches”. He had attributed it to the malfunctioning of the chip, and promised the boy that he would find a way to get the thing out someday.

But the extent of the full truth had never occurred to him.

Right in his own home, amidst his promises of safety and protection, Riley had been abusing and threatening Julian – and Giles had not seen it, not done a thing to help him. He could not have known, not really – but still the guilt consumed him.

The Watcher had been pacing the floor for nearly an hour when quite suddenly, he seemed completely exhausted. He sank down wearily on the edge of the couch, his head in his hands, his breathing carefully controlled.

Willow and Tara exchanged a worried look. They had never seen Giles break down emotionally – even when Buffy had rejected him – rejected them all – he had simply kept his distance from her friends until his emotions were under control. But now, it was clear that he was on the edge of breaking down completely.

Willow looked with concern from him, to the feverish, suffering creature lying on the couch, his knees drawn up, his face contorted with pain, as a fresh wave of agony washed over him from the chip.

“Please,” Julian sobbed in anguish, his eyes closed, not even really aware of his family around him. “Stop it…make it stop…please…”

Giles’ tears streamed down his face unnoticed as he raised his head and looked with stricken eyes at the boy, moving to kneel beside the couch in front of Tara, taking his hand and holding it in a firm, reassuring grip.

“There, now,” he murmured gently, soothingly, trying to calm the poor suffering creature, though he could offer him no real help. “I’m right here, Julian. It’s going…” He hesitated…tried again. “It’s going to be…” His voice was choked with emotion as he suddenly stopped, unable to go on – unable to make yet another promise of protection that he would certainly fail to keep.

Overwhelmed with emotion, the Watcher lowered his head to rest on the edge of the sofa for just a moment, trying to hold back the sob that rose in his throat, not wanting to burden the boy with his own pain in the midst of the terrible suffering he was already enduring. He raised his head and offered the only reassurance he honestly could.

“I’m here, Julian,” he repeated in a whisper, squeezing his hand firmly. “I’m right here.”

Caught in the grips of another vicious wave of electricity shooting through his body, Julian was barely aware that Giles was speaking at all.

Willow forced her tearful eyes away from the painful scene and back to her computer screen. She had managed to patch into Riley’s network, but once inside, she found that everything was very highly protected, and was having no success in cracking his pass codes.

Aware that there was really very little they could do to help Buffy and Spike from here, and wanting to focus on finding a way to help Julian, she had minimized the video feed from Buffy’s camera, and turned the volume down so as not to disturb her concentration, wanting to focus completely on the task at hand until it was completed – or beyond all hope.

Only Julian was able to retain his focus – his pain demanding it – when a loud pounding at the door suddenly drew the attention of the others.

No one spoke, but they were all thinking the same thing as they exchanged worried glances. Julian’s assignment had been to kill them all – *tonight*. Now that he had failed in his task, if their deaths were really of such importance to Riley, he would certainly be sending someone else to finish the job. Willow and Tara turned anxious eyes on Giles, who slowly rose from the floor beside Julian, his eyes fixed on the door, just as another loud burst of knocking was heard.

The Watcher had taken to carrying a pistol with him most times when he was out lately, and though he usually did not keep it on him in the house, he had retrieved it from his luggage immediately upon Anya’s disappearance.

He carefully drew it from beneath his coat, as he headed slowly toward the door.


“There,” the doctor spoke in a flat, unhappy voice. “It’s started. They way the program’s set up, it’ll run through every chip that’s online one at a time until they’re all accounted for, and then shut them all off simultaneously.”

“How long?” Buffy demanded, her voice hard and impatient, uninterested in the details. “How long before they go down?”

The doctor shrugged, a bit listlessly, his expression of mingled resignation and fear saying that he knew he had just made the choice between his life and his career, and although he had chosen as wisely as possible, his career was destroyed, and his life was not yet secured.

“A couple of hours?” he guessed. “Depends on how fast the computer’s running at the moment. According to this,” he gestured toward the grey progress box that had just popped up in the center of the screen, “Two hours and twenty minutes, if it keeps going at the rate it’s going now. But these programs tend to slow down a bit toward the middle…”

Buffy cast a suspicious look at the doctor. “You’d better be telling the truth. Because we can wait. And you’re waiting with us. And when that computer says that the chips are down, we’re gonna run a little test.”

Her chilling smile sent a shiver of fear down the man’s spine, causing him to wonder just what sort of a test she had in mind to determine if her vampire was capable of harming humans again.

Her smile became a knowing smirk at the look on his suddenly very pale face. “Don’t worry. I won’t let him hurt you *too* bad. After all – if you *are* lying, I don’t want it to hurt him too much.” She paused, leaning in closer to the doctor to confide in a near-whisper, “I’m very protective of my vampire. He gets hurt – I get angry.”

She looked up to Spike for confirmation of her words, and the doctor anxiously followed her gaze.

The vampire nodded with a smug smile. “She’s right,” he agreed. “You don’t really wanna mess with me, mate. She’ll tear your bloody arms off and beat you to death with ‘em.”

The mental image caused the doctor’s eyes to widen in horrified apprehension. Then they narrowed again in disgust and anger as all of Spike’s words registered with him. He was unaccustomed to such disrespect, such casual confidence, from a vampire, much more used to having them at his feet begging for mercy. The switch was unsettling and made him defensive and angry.

“I’m not your *mate*,” he snapped, opening his mouth again to say more.

But the slight threat in his tone was enough to set Buffy off, and before he could say another words she had backhanded him out of his chair. When he managed to look up from where he had landed, sprawled against the desk, it was into dark green eyes shadowed with menace.

“You’re right,” the Slayer declared in a low, trembling voice of fury. “You’re *not* his ‘mate’. He was being generous! He’s so far above scum like you, I can’t even begin to express it!” She paused, before going on with a bit more control, but even greater anger, “I have *never* seen him, even at his worst, take the sheer pleasure and enjoyment that *you* people take in the pain and suffering of others! Vampires kill for food. *You* kill for – for what?”

She paused, before continuing softly, with increasing disgust, “For ‘science’? For profit?” She paused again, her voice a bare whisper of hatred and revulsion as she finished, “For *pleasure*?”

The man was too terrified to respond, knowing that he had no answer that would satisfy the powerful and furious woman leaning over him.

When she suddenly moved the gun, pressing it under his chin and forcing his head back menacingly, he nearly lost control of all his bodily functions. At her next words, whispered with a vengeful rage that told him she was on the edge of taking out her outrage and fury at the doctors and soldiers who had abused Spike on this one, who might never have touched him, but had no doubt tortured and violated so many others without mercy – he did.

“I can relate to that,” she whispered with a cold smile, but her eyes were smoldering with rage. “Do you know how much pleasure it’d give *me* to pull this trigger right now?”

A gentle but strong hand on her arm pulled her back, and she yielded to it, recognizing the cool, firm touch of Spike’s hand, allowing him to pull her back up straight to stand beside and slightly in front of him.

“Buffy,” he whispered soothingly. “Buffy, love.” The soft urgency in his voice drew her eyes up to his – and blind fury was swallowed up in love.

For a moment, the concern, the devotion, in his eyes of crystal blue, somehow appearing so innocent in spite of everything he’d done and had done to him, only made her angrier, to think of the vicious abuses that had been forced on this sensitive, loving creature that she adored so completely.

But the worry, the warning in his eyes, pulled her back to reality, made her see how out of control she had nearly become – grounded her. She managed with an effort to regain her calm. Once they were finished here, no one would ever be able to harm Spike again. She did not want to risk everything, their future happiness, with a thoughtless act of rage and revenge now, not when they were so close to their goal.

A defensive wall was instantly erected in her mind to keep out the nagging, disconcerting thought that she had already allowed just such an act to happen. She could not think about that – not right now.

Spike saw the blazing fire in her eyes gradually reduced to a slow burn, and allowed his relief to show in his eyes for just a moment before his dazzling smile became a teasing smirk, and he said in an affectionately mocking tone, more for the benefit of their terrified hostage than for Buffy’s, “Love? Tangent?”

She suppressed a laugh, her eyes instantly sparkling at the look of patient amusement, mild reproof on his face that was just so – so *Spike*. That smug smile and the dangerous gleam in his eyes took her back to a night years ago in her high school, when he had shown just such an attitude as he was now – amused and careless in the face of what had been for her a very serious situation.

She was reminded of just what a bad-ass that attitude had made him out to be in her eyes, although she never would have admitted it to him at the time – and she decided to play along.

She sighed and pouted slightly as she leaned back against him. “Right,” she reminded herself as she glared down at the trembling doctor. “Point.”

Her smile returned as she reached a hand up behind Spike’s head and leaned back over his shoulder to pull him into a bold, leisurely kiss, before she looked back down at the very uncomfortable witness to their public display of affection.

“I love this vampire,” she stated quietly, but with a firm conviction that belied the smirk on her own lips now, and was strengthened when she felt his chest against her back swell with pride at her open declaration of her feelings for him.

She kept her focus on the matter at hand – intimidating the enemy – and her eyes narrowed in a very real threat as she continued, “And if he feels so much as a twinge of pain after *you* say that the chips are supposed to be non-functioning…he might not be able to hurt you…but *I* will. And *then* you’ll take the chips down, and *then* he’ll hurt you, too. Everything clear?”

The doctor swallowed hard, nodding almost frantically, and Buffy allowed the smile that rose to her lips to spread across her face, leaning back for a second kiss. After the first, she could hardly resist.

*How very ‘Natural Born Killers’ of us,* she thought, wondering if the thought should bother her rather than excite her, and if she should be bothered by the fact that it *did* excite her.

“We have so *got* to get out of here,” she murmured against Spike’s lips as they parted.

“I know, love,” he nodded without catching her full meaning. “Maybe it won’t take…” His words trailed off as his eyes met hers, and his breath was stolen by the smoldering look of desire he saw there, when he realized just exactly why she was in such a hurry.

“So, um…doc,” he said with a deep breath, turning unexpectedly away from her to face their prisoner, much to her surprise and annoyance. “Anything else you need to do to make the chips go down? Or all the work basically done?”

“I told you it’s done,” the doctor insisted, his eyes wide with fear. “I did what you told me to…now it’s just a matter of waiting.”

Spike nodded in a strangely satisfied way, turning back to Buffy with a questioning little shrug – and she immediately understood what he was thinking, her annoyance fading away as a suggestive smile spread across her face.

“Have I told you lately how much I love you?” she asked him, not waiting for an answer but pulling him in for a deep, intense kiss, however brief, before releasing him and walking to stand over the doctor, still sitting on the floor beside the desk.

“Thanks for your help…” she said with a sweet smile, catching him in the side of the head with the gun in a lightning fast move. As he crumpled to the floor, unconscious, she added, “…we’ll wake you when it’s over.”

Spike watched, wide-eyed, as she turned back to him. “Amazing,” he said, shaking his head slightly, a note of awe in his voice at this side of Buffy that he had not seen in so long – or possibly had never seen at all. “You are absolutely bloody amaz…”

Suddenly he was thrown off balance by an armload of passionately eager Slayer, and his words were cut off as she claimed his mouth with her kiss.