Made by Spikes Slayer2


“I’m not begging him for anything!” Riley declared in a hate-filled snarl directed at the blonde vampire standing before him. “I’d rather die than stoop that low!”

“No. You wouldn’t.” Spike’s calm voice held a note of pity to it, his knowing smile utterly chilling to the helpless soldier, who knew that when it came right down to it – he would receive no more pity from his wife’s vampire lover than he had shown to him.

The smile faded, Spike’s expression becoming deadly serious, as he added, “That’s just something arrogant fools like to say in situations like this to make them feel a little bit less pathetic.” He shrugged carelessly. “Might work sometimes. Until the pain starts. Then they tend to change their minds right quick.”

Riley’s eyes widened with fear, and he swallowed hard, having no response for those words.

“If I recall,” Spike went on with a thoughtful frown, pacing slowly in front of his captive, “At one point, you thought to make *me* beg for mercy – didn’t you?”

The cold, vengeful menace in the vampire’s eyes took Riley’s breath away with fear. He suddenly remembered in vivid detail, a much different image of this fierce, dangerous creature – bound, broken and helpless, his flesh torn and seared by the savage torture of the whipping he had received, at Riley’s own hand.

And yet, even then, he had never managed to break Spike to the point of begging – never.

The smoldering look of savage rage in Spike’s icy blue eyes told Riley that he was remembering the exact same thing – a knowledge that was suddenly terrifying to the heartless soldier. He had placed countless others in the position that he was now in, defenseless, at the mercy of someone who hated them, forced to surrender either their pride and dignity – or their lives.

Sometimes, just for the fun of it – he had taken both from his victims.

The prospect of facing the same ordeal was not something he had thought possible – but it was looking more and more likely by the moment.

Spike moved in closer to his prisoner, the beginnings of a smile turning up the corners of his mouth, his eyes still dark with rage. “I never *did* give you that satisfaction, did I, Soldier Boy?” he reminded Riley softly, before suggesting with chilling control, “Shall we test it? See once and for all who’s the better man?”

Furious – and very foolish – in his fear, Riley spat out in a tone of vicious contempt, “You’re not a man! You’re a monster, just like I’ve always said – and all you’re about to do is prove that, Spike! And she might think this is what she wants right now, but once Buffy sees the truth of what you are, she’ll stake you herself!”

Much to Riley’s dismay, his well-aimed words did not get quite the reaction he had hoped for from Spike. The vampire just stared at him blankly for a moment, as if he could scarcely believe the man’s stupidity – and then, a soft laugh of genuine amusement rolled from his throat, sending a new tingling of fear down Riley’s spine.

He got a more expected, less unsettling response from Buffy. She rose up to a sitting position from where she had been casually reclining on her elbows on the floor, her mouth agape and her eyes wide with indignant anger. She began sharply, “Where do you get off…”

Spike’s raised hand behind him stopped her, as he turned halfway toward her, but never took his eyes off Riley. Buffy complied with his silent request, forcing back her own anger, reminding herself that this was Spike’s vengeance to take – not hers. She had taken back the strength and dignity that Riley had stolen from her already, months ago.

Now, it was Spike’s turn.

“So – let me see if I’ve got this straight now,” he smirked at the larger man, mockery in his eyes. “If I tie a bloke up – beat the bloody shit out of him – perhaps indulge in a bit of torture for my own personal pleasure,” he shrugged carelessly, still holding Riley’s gaze, his smile widening at the quickening heart rate of the prisoner before him, and the flash of fear in his eyes. “Then,” Spike went on thoughtfully, “*I* would deserve to die. Is that right?”

“Of course!” Riley laughed in disbelief at the question, not comprehending yet what the vampire was getting at. “You think Buffy’d care a thing about you if you did something like that?”

Spike’s smile widened; the git couldn’t have chosen better words to help him make his point. “Hmm,” he mused. “S’pose that’s why she couldn’t care less what I do to *you*, then – in’nit?”

Riley’s eyes widened in shock, as he realized how he had just condemned himself with his own words. It seemed so obvious to Buffy and Spike, but his mentality simply could not conceive of vampires as having anything resembling the same rights as humans. He had failed to make the connection, to see what Spike was getting at – until it was too late.

He glanced desperately toward his wife, though he already knew he would find no support there.

Buffy met his eyes triumphantly, giving him only a light shrug. “He’s got a point,” she admitted in a falsely apologetic tone. “Sucks when what goes around finally comes back around, doesn’t it?”

Riley stared at her in disbelief, until Spike moved into his line of vision, blocking his view of her with a cold smile. There was a savage light of anticipation in the crystal blue eyes that made Riley’s blood run cold.

“Guess that answers *that* question – doesn’t it?”

“Look,” Riley tried another tactic, his voice trembling, betraying his rising fear. “If you do this, you’re only going to defeat your own cause. You’re going to prove to everyone that you don’t *deserve* the same status as humans, if you hurt me!”

“Camera still rolling pet?” Spike asked Buffy without turning, a triumphant smile on his lips.

“Nope,” she replied emphatically, popping the “p” on the end of the word, watching with amusement as the little drama played out before her.

“Self-defense,” Spike shrugged immediately. “We’ve both got the marks all over us to prove that you attacked us, locked Buffy up in here in chains – and we’ve got the recorded evidence that proves what you intended to do with us, too. We had every reason to fear for our lives!” he explained with wide-eyed mock fear.

“No jury in the world would convict us,” Buffy smirked with casual satisfaction.

Before Riley could open his mouth to make his next argument, Spike went on, his voice low and menacing, his eyes narrowed in violent intent, “And, if I should happen to take things a bit too far – people do very crazy things when their bloody lives are in danger – in the heat of the moment…”

“Y-you’re forgetting something,” Riley insisted, his voice weaker, but still full of a desperate defiance. “You’re – not – a *person*, Spike! Legally! You don’t *get* a trial or a jury! If a slave hurts a human -- *period* -- no excuses – they’re put down. Executed. You know that.”

Spike was momentarily at a loss, opening his mouth to respond, but having no response to refute that claim. What Riley was saying was technically true. Buffy might come out of this situation perfectly safe, once the evidence of Riley’s misdeeds came to light. But according to the laws currently in effect – Spike would be dust.

“Unless the slave’s been ordered to do it. By their owner,” Buffy suddenly interjected, rising quickly to her feet, her eyes blazing with anger at even the suggestion that harm might come to Spike for this act of just retribution. “Then, the owner is responsible. If he’s not a *person*,” she went on, with contempt in her voice for the very idea as she stalked forward to stand supportively beside Spike, her arms crossed over her chest angrily, “Then he can’t very well commit a crime, can he?”

Riley’s eyes narrowed. “Neither can a dog,” he sneered. “They still put *them* down when they turn on you…”

His words were cut off by a vicious slap across the face from the Slayer’s hand, silencing the room for a few moments. Buffy stood there, trembling with rage at the frightening thought of Spike’s being made to suffer further abuses, even death, just for fighting back against the one responsible for his abuse.

Giles was working to change the laws – but they were as yet unchanged, and she knew that legally speaking, Riley was right.

Was there no end to the evils that Riley’s system had unleashed on their society? she wondered with a deep sense of sorrow at the thought.

True, a slave that was acting on the orders of his master in attacking another human could not be held responsible for murder. However, slave-owners had the power of life or death over their slaves, and could easily force them into such acts on penalty of severe punishments – but she could hardly imagine that anyone capable of such an act would then willingly admit that they had ordered it in the first place.

Buffy could only imagine the number of enslaved vampires that had probably taken the fall for their murderous owners, who could easily use them to get rid of those they felt were in their way, those they did not want to live – and then claim that their slaves had acted on their own, thereby absolving themselves of any guilt.

In this case – she meant to do the exact opposite.

“Not for defending the one they belong to,” Buffy said in a soft voice that trembled with emotion. “And technically – he still belongs to me. Not in any other way, but legally -- *legally*, he’s mine. I’m responsible for him, and whatever he does falls back on me.” She paused, before making sure that Riley understood exactly what she was saying.

“Whatever he does in this room, I’ll say that I told him to do – because I was afraid for my life. And the video footage should prove that I had good reason to be.”

The stunned, trapped look on Riley’s quickly bruising face was incredibly satisfying to them both, as they watched him take in the fact that they very likely would completely get away with whatever they chose to do to him.

And the stinging sensation still radiating from her blow was a reminder of just what these two super-human beings were *capable* of doing to him.

“Buffy.” Spike’s voice had softened, too, as his intense gaze drew her eyes away from Riley. He was deeply touched by her words, amazed at the depths of sacrifice that she was willing to go to for him. But there was one part of what she had said that he had to disagree with.

He met her tearful, troubled gaze with a reassuring smile. “I *do* belong to you – in every way that matters.”

The simple sentiment brought fresh tears to her eyes, and she felt her tension and anger melting away in the heat of the desire she saw in his eyes – and suddenly, her own desire began to soar again.

“Spike,” she whispered, moving in close to him – and she didn’t have to say anything else.

He reached a strong but gentle hand behind her head and kissed her deeply, his hand sliding possessively down to run up and down her sides possessively, as she raised her arms to wrap around his neck.

“And you’re mine,” he added in a soft growl, pulling his mouth just far enough from hers to speak. When she did not respond, only sought his lips again, he pulled back slightly further, prompting softly, “Aren’t you?”

“Yes!” she agreed urgently. “I am, I’m yours!” As she spoke, she opened her eyes to look him in the eye, thinking that they really needed to stop doing this, they really needed to focus on the matter at hand and enjoy each other’s presence at home, safe, and in private, rather than right here, right in front of her husband – this was hardly the time or place for…

Suddenly, her eyes widened at the smirk of satisfaction on Spike’s face, the wicked sparkles in his eyes as he glanced momentarily at Riley before meeting her eyes again – and she suddenly realized just exactly what he was doing. Yes, he had meant every word he said, and yes, he really did want her badly in that moment – but there was a double purpose behind his seemingly inappropriate actions.

Following his eyes to her husband’s seething, furious expression of impotent rage, she realized – as far as Spike was concerned, this was *exactly* the right time and place!

She knew that he too much respect and concern for her to allow things to go *too* far here in front of Riley – but she also knew that he was partially trying to prove a point – to let Riley know just where he stood in the situation, and that what had once been his by force, now belonged to Spike – by choice.

She watched the various emotions flicker across Spike’s face in the instant when he realized that she knew what he was doing. A momentary doubt, questioning whether or not she would be angry – a hopeful pleading look that followed it, asking her to go along, for his sake – followed by a joyous smile of satisfaction in the instant when she smiled wickedly, letting him know that she would…

…the instant before she captured his mouth with hers again, kissing him deeply and passionately, exploring his mouth with her tongue in a scandalously suggestive manner, torturously near to where her husband stood, bound and helpless to do anything about it.

“Spike,” she gasped with exaggerated – but not false – desire. “God, Spike – no one’s *ever* made me feel the way you do! You make me *want* you so much!”

As Riley lunged against the chains again with a sound that could only be described as a growl, Spike pulled out of the latest kiss, shaking his head and laughing silently, his forehead pressed to hers, before looking up to meet her eyes – and the perfect happiness, the contentment she saw there, took her breath away.

It amazed her to think how happy she could make him – just by loving him.

Spike’s hands came to rest on her hips, pulling her in closer to him, as he winked at her with a little smirk and said in a quiet but emphatic voice, “Mine! You’re all mine, Buffy, and no one else’s!”

“Yes,” Buffy murmured, deliberately putting a little whimper in her voice, as she leaned her head back, allowing her vampire to caress her neck with kisses. “God, *finally*!”

A whimper of a very different sort drew both of their attention suddenly away from their wicked little game, and to the result they had been going for.

No. This was better than they had expected.

Buffy stared, stunned at her husband. Riley had stopped struggling against the chains that held him, his face turned away resentfully. As she watched, he sniffed loudly, and she suddenly noticed the moisture on his face…

Her eyes wide with surprise, an expression of practiced solemnity on her face, she pulled away from Spike and slowly approached her husband.

“Riley?” she said gently. “Are you – are you *crying*?” She tried to stifle the giggle on the end of the question – couldn’t quite.

He turned his head further away from her as she reached him, gravely seeking his gaze. “What’s the matter?” The mockery in her falsely sympathetic tone was obvious.

Riley glared up at her bitterly through tear-filled eyes. “What’s the *matter*? I’m watching my *wife* all over another man! My *wife*, Buffy! Do you realize what that means? You’re mine! *Mine*! And you’re giving yourself to someone else right in front of me, like the fact you vowed to always love me and always be mine means absolutely nothing! Do you have any idea how that feels?”

Buffy stared at him for a moment, feeling no compassion – no regret – seeing him clearly as if for the first time. She felt no sympathy – because she knew that his tears were not those of someone who had truly lost someone they loved. They were the tears of a man who felt that his most prized possession had been stolen away – and not even a possession that he had cared for very well, either.

She leaned in closer, maintaining the sober, sympathetic look for a moment before her eyes narrowed in a vindictive smirk.

“Yes, Riley,” she replied in a voice that was somehow hard and soft at the same time. “I know *exactly* how that feels!”

He flinched back as if struck, realizing what she was saying. This was payback, revenge for all the times he had made her a fool, betrayed and scorned her in her very own home. Now, *she* was the one who had found someone else – and she was deliberately rubbing it in his face, forcing him to acknowledge the pain he had caused her in the only way that would really matter.

By *feeling* it.

His tears did not soften her as he turned his head away again, and she stepped back – into Spike’s arms, as he waited to embrace her with an arm around her waist.

“That’s too cruel, Buffy,” Riley muttered. “I’d rather you just hit me.”

Spike’s smile of amusement slowly faded as he thought over the point Buffy had just made. Although he knew that Buffy was happy with him now, the thought of her being so cruelly rejected, by someone who had sworn to love her, infuriated him further. Riley deserved so much more than what he had received as punishment so far – and yet here he was, already crying like a child – over a woman that he had never truly loved, only longed to possess.

Spike knew that if all went according to Buffy’s plan, they would not have much longer in this room. But he was determined that before he was through, Riley would never forget the penalty for the crimes he had committed against Spike and those he loved – especially Buffy.

It was time to get down to business.

A cold smile coming across his face again, he left Buffy’s side and approached his chained victim, morphing as he did into his natural face, for the extra strength that it provided. The smile became a vindictive smirk as he closed the distance between them.

“That can be arranged.”