Made by Spikes Slayer2


The vampire relished the feeling of being in his natural form, enjoying the sense of strength and power that came with it. As a slave, he had been prevented from showing his true face, punished for it as a terrible defiance. He had become so accustomed to staying in his human guise that it felt a little strange to allow his true nature to surface.

But a very good “strange”.

The pleasurable feeling of power increased when he saw the wide, terrified eyes of the soldier chained to the wall, shrinking back instinctively at his approach. He remembered so many times, experiencing the feeling that was so obvious in Riley's eyes -- being threatened by an enemy who had the power to destroy him -- knowing that there was absolutely nothing he could do to defend himself.

He remembered thinking at the time that he would not have wished such terror, such utter helplessness, on his worst enemy.

He had been wrong. This felt bloody amazing.

“Doesn’t feel very good, does it?” he taunted softly, slowly closing the distance between him and his prisoner, deliberately invading Riley’s personal space, and relishing the soldier’s reflexive jerk backward against the chains that held him. “Being helpless – knowing that I’m free to do whatever I want to you – and you can’t lift a finger to fight back…looks like you’re finally starting to understand exactly what you put so many through…”

“My men are gonna find you in here!” Riley’s voice was high, shaking, on the verge of panic. “They’re gonna find you, and you’re gonna wish you’d never…”

A sharp backhand blow across his face silenced him, and he lowered his head, gasping in pained disbelief. This was not supposed to happen, he thought. Spike was a slave. He was the one who was supposed to be in control. He was supposed to be…

“Apparently not.” The vampire’s wry tone accompanied a thoughtful frown, cutting into Riley’s thoughts and drawing his attention back up to Spike’s face – just as a chilling smile came over his face, and he went on in an almost cheerful voice, “Let’s see now…how does this little bit go? Oh yes…” His tone hardened, icy steel running through it as he ordered, “Shut up. You don’t speak without my express permission -- *slave*.”

Riley’s eyes widened with shock, and he stared up into the cold blue eyes that shone with triumph as they met his own. A moment later, a second blow with Spike’s fist drove his head down again.

“And you don’t look me in the eye. You’re not *worthy* to look me in the eye. Do you understand that? You’re nothing. Worthless. Nothing but a monster, and you don’t have the *right* to look at me unless I tell you to,” Spike went on, his voice unsettlingly calm and controlled, but his words striking fresh fear into the soldier’s heart, reminding him explicitly of just exactly what it was he was being punished for.

Still, Riley’s foolish pride refused to allow him to obey. His eyes flashed with anger as he deliberately looked back up at the vampire and declared, “How dare you talk to me like that! I’ll look at you any way I damn well please, you piece of filth!”

He was not finished, opening his mouth to go on – but as far as Spike was concerned, he was finished. Another savage blow across the man’s face, followed by a breathtaking fist to his stomach, silenced his bold protests, doubling him over in agony – at least, as far as his chains would allow.

“Disobedience has its price,” Spike said in a low, soft voice, still eerily calm. “And you’re going to learn that it’s really not worth it.”

Buffy stared up at Spike intently, her expression serious and concerned – but not about to interfere with what was happening before her eyes. She could sense the change that had come about in Spike in the last few moments, and to a certain extent, it frightened her. But she knew what he was doing – and she knew that it was something he *had* to do.

She watched as he studied his captive impassively for a few moments, before turning slowly and striding across the room, to a small table next to the far wall that Buffy had not noticed there before. There were objects of various odd shapes laid on it, all covered by a dark cloth, with Spike suddenly removed with a single quick motion of his hand.

Buffy was shocked by the array of metal implements lying on the table. Some she recognized from her experience as the Slayer, with a sickening knowledge of their purposes as instruments of torture. Others, she could only guess at the uses for – but she did not want to try.

“Well,” Spike mused with a hard smile, turning to look speculatively back at Riley. “Whatever were you going to do with these.” He made the words a statement, not a question.

Buffy felt a new chill run down her spine, with the knowledge that her husband had planned to use those things, here in the privacy of this room, while his men thought that she and Spike were still unaccounted for. Whether he had planned to use them to torture her, or Spike, did not really matter. The thought was horrifying to her either way.

“You know what this is for, pet?” Spike addressed her suddenly, a quiet intensity in his voice, as he held up a dangerous-looking little metal device, resembling a pair of pliers – only, Buffy had never seen a pair of pliers with so many jagged, razor sharp edges as the strange instrument Spike held in his hand.

She just shook her head solemnly, a part of her feeling that she should stop him – should help him regain control of the fires of rage she saw smoldering, consuming the ever-present pain in his sapphire eyes. But the better part of her knew that she could not. After all he had been through, Spike had this coming.

And so did Riley.

“I do,” Spike commented softly in response to her denial. “In fact – there’s not a thing here that I don’t know it’s purpose – but there’s quite a few that I *didn’t* know – until just a few years back.” He turned a cold glare on Riley as he said, “Twenty years with the most evil, sadistic vampire ever recorded – and you and yours still had a thing or two to teach me about torture…”

Riley was beginning to see where this was going, shaking his head slowly in fearful denial, his eyes wide with terror. “No,” he began desperately in a pleading voice. “I – I didn’t know about all of that, Spike. You know as well as I do I’m hardly ever even *at* the training centers! If some of my men got a little out of hand, I’m sorry, but…”

With a roar of rage the vampire swept toward him again unexpectedly, reaching him in a few short steps, gripping his hair and yanking his head back hard, holding the wickedly sharp instrument of torture he had picked up in Riley’s face.

“Did I tell you you could talk?” he snarled viciously. “Because I’m pretty bloody sure I just told you *not* to open your soddin’ mouth without my permission!”

Riley was silent, frozen with fear, not struggling, doing his best for the moment not to further anger the already enraged vampire facing him, holding the unnamed device so near to his face – to his mouth.

Because Riley *did* know what it was for.

“If you can’t bloody well be quiet, mate,” Spike went on softly, and Buffy heard that strange haunted note of bitter pain to his voice again. “I can make you be quiet – can’t I? Kind of hard to make all that racket if I rip your soddin’ tongue out of your head, in’nit, mate?”

Riley shook his head slightly, as much as he dared, as the terrifying weapon edged nearer to his lips, tightly clamped shut against the horrifying threat Spike was making. The gesture was not an argument, but an unspoken plea.

“Difference is…” Spike went on with a pitiless smile that chilled even Buffy to see it, as the implications of this little encounter played about the edges of her consciousness, and she fought them back desperately – until his next words made sweet denial impossible.

“…I don’t think *yours* would grow back.”

A violent wave of nausea overcame the Slayer, her stomach rebelling with her mind against the vile truth that Spike had just unwittingly revealed. Her hand flew up to cover her mouth, and she turned away, gagging, as she took a few steps away from them both – the man she loved, whose suffering had been so much greater than she had imagined, and the man she had married, who had inflicted that suffering on him.

*God, is there no end to the things they did to him?* she thought with a desperate sense of agony at the thought of the horrific extents Riley’s people had gone to, to silence the proud, aggressive vampire master, whose sharp tongue had always been as fierce a weapon as his fists or fangs.

*They had to shut him up,* she realized with horror, feeling weak and leaning forward, resting her forehead on the cool stone wall as she gasped for breath. *And it was the only way they could, my brave, amazing vampire – oh, *God*, Spike, how could they do that to you?*

Her heart nearly broke as she thought of what a large part in his eventual breaking such an incident must have played. For such a vocal, expressive creature as Spike, to be denied that most basic right of speech – she could not begin to imagine his devastation, the desolation and hopelessness that must have engulfed him in the loneliness of his captivity.

And all the while, she had been sharing her bed with his tormentor.

A fresh spasm gripped her stomach, and she gagged again, trying to suppress the inherent need to reject – all of it.

She did not realize that her reaction had drawn Spike’s attention away from the task he was engaged in, until she felt a surprisingly gentle hand on her arm – such a contrast with the savagery that had marked Spike’s words and actions only moments before.

“Buffy?” he said softly, a quiet concern in his voice. “Love? You all right?”

She fought back another wave of sickness at the thought of that warm, rich voice, being brutally stolen from him, as she turned to face him, trying for a reassuring smile through her tears. She nodded without managing a word – a thoroughly unconvincing gesture when directed at one who knew her so well.

“Too much for you, pet?” he asked, his blue eyes softening with compassion, and she realized that he had shifted back to his human features to comfort her. “If I’m taking this too far – if it’s more than you can handle – I’ll stop.” His voice was hushed and solemn, to keep it outside of Riley’s range of hearing, as he studied her expression with a worried frown.

Buffy stared up into his deep, searching gaze, amazed and touched by his offer. It was obvious in his every word, every motion, every inflection of his voice as he had threatened Riley, that this was something he had waited for – something he needed desperately – a chance to both symbolically and literally take back what Riley had stolen from him so long ago.

But he would give it up, if that was what she wanted.

She could tell by his expression that he had no idea of how much his words had revealed to her; had no idea of what had really upset her so much. He thought that her sickened reaction had been to the violence of his assault, or to the thought that he might actually carry out his macabre threat against her husband.

He was still operating on the false concept that had been so deeply ingrained in him through his training – the idea that she was morally far above him, and therefore his natural desires to avenge himself might disgust and repulse her.

Nothing could have been father from the truth in that moment.

She gazed up at him, a new light of mingled respect and adoration in her eyes as she was reminded again of what a truly amazing person he really was.

“I’m not going to actually do it, Buffy,” he assured her in a whisper. “Couldn’t. Can’t do anything that couldn’t be described as self-defense. I just want…” He hesitated, his voice faltering for a moment before her intense, perceptive gaze. “I just want him to – to have to *know*…”

Her gentle hand kindly stopped him from the vain attempt to put his painful feelings into words, her fingertips brushing lightly across his lips and drawing his eye back up to hers in surprise.

“I know,” she said softly. “He deserves to go through what he did to you – every last bit of it. You deserve to make him pay for what he did. I *want* you to, Spike.”

He frowned slightly in confusion. “Then…what?” he asked softly.

It was Buffy’s turn to look away, realizing that he did not know what she had figured out, this new and terrible detail of what he had been through, and not wanting to shame him with the revelation, not here and now, when he most needed his confidence and courage.

“I just,” she tried to explain, searching for words that were honest, without revealing too much and dragging up more painful emotions for Spike. “I just hate that he ever did it at all. I hate the fact that there’s a *reason* for you to need this…”

Misunderstanding, Spike quickly replied, “I don’t have to – I mean, I don’t *need* to, if you don’t want me to…”

“Spike,” she cut him off gently but firmly, and there was a blazing fire in her eyes. “I want you to make that miserable bastard feel just a tiny piece of what he did to you and all the others. I *want* you to. I do!”

He knew by the look in her eyes that she was telling the truth, but still he hesitated, searching her gaze for some sign of her as yet hidden thoughts. He was sure that his violence had disgusted her, upset her badly – and yet, she genuinely seemed to want him to continue.

“We haven’t got much time,” she reminded him softly, with an ironic sort of smile, and he knew that she was not going to answer his questions now. “Less than an hour. That’s not much time to make up for five years, is it?”

He found the reassurance he needed in her eyes, emerald flames of fury that told him that for whatever reason, she was even more supportive of his actions now than she had been before. Something had reignited her rage, had caused the reaction that had so worried him – but there was no time to find out what it was now. He would ask her about it later, when they were safely away from here, at home.

For now – the fury in her eyes demanded retribution for the sins of the man across the room – and Spike was more than happy to give it to her.

He turned back toward Riley, his features shifting once more into a wicked grin.

“Sorry ‘bout that, mate,” he smirked. “Needed a moment with my lady. Now – where were we?”

As he moved closer to Riley, he took a little detour to pick back up the torture device he had laid on the table when he had gone to comfort Buffy, holding it up and raising his eyebrows at Riley in obvious anticipation.

Riley’s eyes widened with fear as Spike approached him. The savage, feral rage he saw in the vampire’s glittering golden eyes left no doubt in his mind that Spike was going to carry out his earlier threat.

“No,” he said in a trembling voice that was an annoying cross between a moan and a whine. “No – don’t do this…”

“What’s that?” Spike chuckled with surprise, his voice low and dark. “Is that the sound of you begging *me* to spare you?”

Riley’s eyes flashed fury at the idea, in spite of his fear – but as the terrifying item in Spike’s hand drifted nearer to his face, he could not find the nerve to deny it.

“What’s that, Soldier Boy? I asked you a question. When I speak to you, I expect an answer!”

The hard, demanding tone of Spike’s voice mirrored the very one Riley consistently used with his vampire slaves, whether his own or those in training in his facilities, right down to the very words – well, with the exception of the “Soldier Boy” bit. Once again, he was reminded of how he had brought this suffering on himself.

Spike’s fist across his face again, carrying his full vampiric strength, was followed by a breathtaking blow to his abdomen, knocking the breath from his body. “Answer me!” the vampire snarled, as he jerked him back up by the hair, his gleaming fangs inches from Riley’s face.

The answer came, ground out as if it physically hurt him to say the word, “*Yes*.”

Spike smiled slowly in satisfaction at the sound. “Yes? Yes, *you’re* begging *me* for mercy?”

“Yes,” Riley whispered again in shame and defeat, his hatred evident in the disgusted set of his jaw and his furious eyes.

“Hear that, love?” Spike glanced over at Buffy with triumph in his eyes. “He’s begging me to spare his miserable life.”

The Slayer leaned casually against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest as she silently observed the scene, the calm expression on her face indicating that whatever had been bothering her, she was over it, at least for the moment. Now, a slow smirk slid across her face.

“He is?” she questioned dubiously, her eyes hardening suddenly on the face of her husband. “Kind of weak about it, wasn’t he? I didn’t hear him say ‘please’.”

Spike suppressed a laugh at his Slayer’s comment, looking at Riley with a very serious, expectant look on his face. “You heard the lady. She wants you to say please.”

“You’re out of your freakin’ mind! There is no way in the world that I’m going to…”

Another powerful blow silenced him, as Spike shook his head in mock disappointment. “Looks like I’m gonna have to teach you some manners -- *boy*.”

As Riley shakily straightened back up again, his nose bleeding and dazed from the blow, Spike smiled as he tossed the torture device carelessly to the floor. He shrugged in answer to the cautiously hopeful question on Riley’s nervous face.

“Don’t need it,” he explained softly. “Already *got* my weapon.”

Riley’s eyes widened, as he saw what the vampire meant to do. As Spike moved in closer, hard menace in his eyes, Riley shrank back against the wall, suddenly absolutely terrified.

“What’s the matter, Riley?” Buffy asked quietly, a smile on her lips, but no humor in her eyes. “I thought you liked getting bit.”

Riley was too frightened to reply, yanking uselessly against his bonds, his eyes focused on the advancing vampire. It was true, he had found that a vampire’s bite could be incredibly erotic – but that was when the vampire was female, and at his mercy, and therefore had no intention of making the bite anything but pleasurable for him.

He could tell by the look in those glowing golden eyes that this bite was going to be anything but pleasant.

“Wait,” he hurried stammered in terror. “Wait, don’t! Don’t do it! Wait -- *please*!” he finally gasped as Spike grabbed his hair and yanked his head back.

The vampire paused, a smile crossing his lips at the word – but did not release his grip. He regarded his captive for a moment, considering. He relished the feeling of power, of poetic justice, allowing it to sink in for his victim as well.

After years of dishing out heartless brutality to creatures completely in his power, pitilessly ignoring – or even punishing – their desperate pleas for mercy as he had tortured them, used them for cruel experiments, or just for his own pleasure.

But now -- *Riley* was the one who was helpless, in the hands of one of his victims, dependent on a mercy he had never granted – and could not hope to expect now.

Seeing the look of stricken understanding in Riley’s eyes, Spike felt a sense of satisfaction – but not quite enough. He shrugged carelessly as he made his decision, speaking softly, simply.

“Too late.”

Riley’s eyes widened and he cried out in terror as the vampire’s fangs plunged into the flesh of his shoulder, not in a clean bite, nor in a death blow – but a tearing, agonizing assault designed to spare his life – but make him long for death.

And, mingled with his screams of agony and the vicious snarls of the vampire, came the words requested by his wife, again and again, as she looked on calmly without pity.

And alone, at the mercy of his enemies, desperately, uselessly – Riley begged