“No, I swear to you this is not a hoax! Every last bit of what you’ve seen and heard is true.” Willow spoke into her cell phone, sounding more certain and sure of herself than any of her friends had ever heard her sound before, with the possible exception of Tara.

“The documents you saw on that video feed are genuine, and the originals are in Mrs. Finn’s possession as we speak – which also means that she is in terrible danger, as you should also be able to tell from that footage. If you don’t act quickly, not only will she be killed, but the best evidence you could imagine against Riley Finn will be destroyed.”

There was a moment’s pause while Willow listened to the voice of the person on the other end of the line. Then she spoke again, her voice bold and aggressive – and utterly awe-inspiring to her positively glowing girlfriend.

“Yes, I *am* aware of the consequences of making a false report of this magnitude. That’s why I would never be so foolish as to even consider making something like this up. Are *you* aware, Sir, of the consequences of having this kind of information, and having the power to stop something this sinister before it goes any further – and *not* acting? Because if you’re not, I’m pretty sure you will be come November when you’re looking for a new job.”

There was another, very long silence on the other line, as the assembled group waited with bated breath for the response – the success or failure of Buffy’s plan resting on the decision of the person Willow was speaking to.

Finally, she spoke again, relief evident in her voice, and spreading quickly to the others. “Thank you. You won’t regret this, I assure you, Mr. Governor. Thank you.”

She hung up the phone, closing her eyes and releasing a deep, shaky breath, before turning toward the others with an elated smile. “He’s sending help!”

“Yes!” Xander exclaimed from where he sat on the floor, his arm around Anya’s shoulders, relief and excitement evident in his voice.

Just as Buffy had instructed, Willow had recorded still images of the documents Buffy had found in Riley’s files, as she had held them up one by one in front of the camera. Once the incriminating papers were securely saved to her laptop, Willow had set about cracking her way into the state capitol’s security systems.

This task – simple for her – accomplished, she had sent the images of the documents, some of the more disturbing images Buffy had seen in the underground training facility, and even a few scenes of Riley’s own brutality – straight through to the capitol’s main computer system.

She had conveniently included an email with her name and cell phone number, and it had only been a matter of minutes before she had received a call from a stern, self-important man demanding to know how she had made those images, if it was all just a hoax or genuine, reminding her threateningly of the consequences if it *did* indeed turn out to be an elaborate trick.

Willow had insisted that it was not a trick – and had also insisted, with amazing forcefulness, on speaking with the governor directly. She had still been stunned when, within twenty minutes, she was on the telephone with the governor of California, telling him the whole sordid story – leaving out a few of the more sensitive details, of course.

And the conversation had concluded quite successfully, with his dispatching the state militia – completely unaffiliated with Riley’s para-military group – to the place she had told them Buffy and Spike were being held captive.

The fact that they were no longer the captives but the captors at the moment did not seem like a necessary detail to reveal.

“Excellent.” Giles’ face broke into a genuine smile at the good results of Buffy’s simple little plan. “Now, Willow, you must contact Buffy at once and let her know that help is on the way.”

As Willow moved to sit down beside Tara, who was cradling a still very weak, but conscious, Julian, in her arms, her smile faded slightly. “That would be a small problem, Giles,” she admitted with a little grimace. “Buffy still hasn’t turned the connection back on yet.”

“I don’t understand,” Julian said softly from where he sat on the floor, his head leaned comfortably against Tara’s shoulder. He had been filled in on most of what had transpired while he had been unconscious, in the throes of his chip’s torture, but no one had mentioned anything about the camera, or why it was not functioning at the moment. “Why would she just shut it off?”

“To keep from creating any evidence,” Anya replied matter-of-factly, without hesitation. “When they kill Riley.”

“They’re not going to kill Riley,” Willow quickly corrected her, a look of alarm in her eyes. “They’re just going to…” She stopped, unable to find the right words – hoping that Anya had not already found them.

“Teach him a lesson,” Xander supplied with a grim smile that surprised Willow to see it.

But then, she reminded herself, Xander had every reason to be bitter against Riley. He had kidnapped his pregnant wife, no doubt with every intention of killing her – at the very least. They all knew the sorts of vile things that tended to happen to Riley’s prisoners. So, when she really thought about it, Willow could hardly blame Xander for taking pleasure in Riley’s being punished for his crimes.

“So – what’s taking so long?” Tara asked in a softly dubious voice, her expression troubled.

They all knew that she was not really asking for an answer. They knew what was taking so long, but regardless of their individual opinions on how much suffering Riley deserved, and who had the right to dish it out – none of them was particularly comfortable voicing the truth aloud.

Except Anya.

“It must be a particularly painful lesson,” she said with a smile to match Xander’s.

A small, vindictive smirk crossing his lips, Aaron suggested, “Maybe Finn’s a *really* slow learner.”

Mara’s softly bitter interjection surprised them all.

“Let’s hope so.”


Riley was actually a much quicker learner than any of the Scoobies had given him credit for. From the first moment that Spike’s fangs had pierced his flesh, he had screamed and cried and begged for the mercy that he had always denied to those in his power.

And it had been denied to him, as well.

Buffy had sat back, calmly watching – and sometimes, admittedly, *not* watching – as the master vampire took his vengeance. Fists and fangs had moved with a deadly, chilling grace and artistry that was both beautiful and ghastly, and Buffy had found herself both fascinated and horrified.

All the while, Spike had made it very clear to Riley just exactly what he was being punished for. He had reminded him in vivid, merciless detail of every abuse, every hurt, every cruel indignity that had been visited upon him and all those he cared about – all because of Riley Finn, at his orders, if not at his hand. And each recounted offense was followed by a brutally painful physical punishment for that offense.

It was bloody, and painful, and savage – and every bit deserved.

Over half an hour later, Riley was barely conscious, hanging limp against the chains that bound him, weak with loss of blood and the vicious beating he had taken – which was still nothing compared to the beating and blood loss Spike had suffered at his hands, Buffy reminded herself.

Spike himself was standing before the insensible soldier, staring at him with wide eyes, still haunted despite the retribution he had meted out, breathing hard with the exertion of the violence he had committed.

“ ‘S less than you deserve,” she heard him mutter bitterly, though Riley could not hear him by now. “Never could bloody give you all that you deserve…never could pay you back…”

The pain in his voice drew her to him, with an instinctive longing to comfort him, and she left her place by the wall, slowly, cautiously approaching him. He was not aware as she approached, still staring at the unconscious soldier, eyes wide and shocked, and as she drew nearer she noticed that his entire body was trembling.

She reached out a cautious, gentle hand to touch his arm – and he whirled around on her with a snarl, gripping her arms and jerking her close to him in a harsh, restraining grip – a defensive maneuver, designed to immobilize her and prevent her from hurting him. But it was purely instinct, nothing more than she should have expected from him in the wake of the previous moments. They both knew that in reality, she would never hurt him.

And he would never hurt her.

His golden eyes were wide and horrified when he realized how he had reacted, though it had not frightened or angered her in the least. She was distressed at his pain and confusion, but that was the extent of her feelings about his violent reaction to her sudden approach.

He was too stunned to release her at first, his hands painfully tight on her arms, but shaking violently in his shock, as he shook his head in denial.

“Buffy,” he whispered, and the desperation in his voice was almost painful to him. “Buffy…”

“It’s okay,” she whispered back, wanting to put her arms around him – still prevented by his vice-like grip. “It’s okay, Baby…Spike, it’s all right…”

Finally, she felt the shaking of his hands increase, as his grip slowly loosened, his hands clinging gently to her arms, instead of gripping forcefully; and she moved her arms under his hands to pull him in close to her, one hand wrapped protectively around his waist, the other playing through his hair in an embrace that had become familiar to them during his time of recovering following his abuse at Riley’s hands.

As she had watched him dole out the punishment for that abuse, she had not expected that they would come to this afterwards – but now, it simply felt like the inevitable result.

“No,” he moaned softly, his head on her shoulder. “No, it’s not – not all right…”

“What?” she pressed gently, pulling back as much as his desperate embrace would allow trying to see his face. “What’s not all right?”

“It’s – it’s still there – all the – the…” he stopped, shaking his head, despairing for words.

“You made him pay for it, Spike. He hurt you, you’re right. And we can never change that. But you’ve made him suffer the consequences for that, and he’s not done yet. He’s going to prison, Honey. He’s responsible for the assassination of a senator, Spike. He’s going to prison for a long, *long* time,” she gently reminded him.

“I thought…” he said softly, his voice trembling slightly, not quite meeting her eyes. “I thought I’d – feel…”

She waited, seeking his gaze until he reluctantly met her eyes, a look of confusion and disappointment in his own. “What?” she prompted gently. “You thought you’d feel what?”

He was silent for a long moment before the word he was looking for finally came to him.

“*Whole*.”

She felt her heart break again within her at the soft, achingly sincere admission of his continued brokenness. True, he had regained a lot of strength just in this single night. But it *was* just a single night – after years of abuse and degradation. She could not expect an overnight miracle, for Spike to just suddenly be the same person he had been before the slavery movement began.

But somehow – that *was* what she had expected, when she had seen him taking his vengeance on her husband.

When his eyes lowered again, ashamed at the disappointment he saw in her eyes, she gently raised his head to look at her again, and there was a gentle smile of encouragement on her lips.

“Spike,” she whispered. “ ‘Whole’ doesn’t happen overnight. It takes time.”

There was a bitter frustration in his angrily trembling voice as he demanded, “How much bloody *time* is it supposed to…”

“*Spike.*”

He was reluctantly quiet, his eyes meeting hers again, waiting for her to go on.

“You’re looking at what you were – back before the chip – before all of this – and wanting to instantly go there,” Buffy began to try to explain, searching out her words as she went along. “You see where you are now – and it makes you feel…”

“Disgusted?” he suggested, the emotion evident in his voice and the self-mocking raised eyebrow.

“Don’t!” she objected with a frown, a bit sharply. “Don’t say that! Just look at where you were just a few weeks ago. What monsters like Riley with years of training in brainwashing and mind control and torture had done to you – and where you are *now*. You’ve come so far, Sweetie,” she reminded him, her voice softening, taking on a sort of awed quality as she met his eyes, her own shining with her devotion for him. “And you’re gonna come so much farther.”

When he did not look convinced, a moment’s annoyance passed over her face, followed immediately by a firm determination. Pulling back out of his embrace, she pushed him gently until he turned around to face the devastation of his torturer, hanging there helpless against the wall.

“Look,” she whispered in his ear, her head resting on his shoulder. “There’s the man that did it to you. All of it.” She paused, before adding with an unmistakable note of triumph, “And look what you did to *him*. You may not be there yet, Baby, but if that’s not a bloody good start, I don’t know what is.”

He could not help but smile at her use of his terminology, leaning his head slightly back to rest his cheek against hers. She felt a sense of relief as she felt some of the tension ease from his body, as he turned halfway to pull her back into his arms, smiling a tired but happy smile down at her.

As he leaned down to kiss her, his face automatically began to shift back to his human guise, his lips seeking hers as he closed his eyes. He opened them again in surprise when he felt her small, firm hand on his chest, pushing him back slightly.

To the question in his eyes she replied in a soft, husky voice of desire, “Don’t change. Don’t – I want to – to see you, Spike…”

His eyes widened as he realized what she meant, and he looked down for a moment, uncertain.

Her head dipped down with a tentative smile on her lips as she tried again to catch his eye, and he reluctantly let her, his hesitation clear in his glimmering golden eyes. One soft, small hand rose to tenderly caress the rough ridges of his wild, natural face.

“I love you,” she whispered, slowly and intently. “*You*. All of you, Spike. I love this – you are so beautiful to me, do you know that?”

“How can you…?” he began softly, looking away.

Impatient with the failure of her words, Buffy suddenly caught the back of his head with her hand and pulled him in quickly toward her, covering his mouth and silencing his self-deprecating protests with a breathtaking, forceful kiss. Instinctively, self-conscious, he tried to pull back at first, but her Slayer strength was an easy match for his vampire strength, and she held him tightly, turning them and pushing forward so that his back was to the wall.

She kissed him firmly, thoroughly, until her humanity forced her to stop for breath.

And he was breathless, too.

She stared up at him with a dark, wild passion in her wide, glittering green eyes. “I want you, Spike,” she gasped when she could speak again. “All of you. I want everything that you are to be mine. Forever. And I want to be yours, too.” She paused, her eyes widening slightly as if she was only just taking in the enormity of what she was saying. “Forever,” she repeated, softer.

He stared at her, his lips parted slightly in surprise, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Buffy,” he whispered cautiously, and she knew that he had a lot to say, most likely a protest or two, the expression of his persistent fears and self-doubts.

She could not wait to refute them.

But she would have to.

Because at that moment, there was a tremendous explosion that rocked them off their feet, and the sealed security door to the room burst open, revealing several armed soldiers – but these were not wearing the uniforms common to Riley’s men.

The governor’s help had arrived.