He could feel his heart pounding. The adrenaline rushed through his entire body, hair standing on edge as his muscles tightened with the 'fight or flee response'.He knew what was waiting once he walked to those solid oak doors and beyond into the rich open room, where do doubt they would be gathered. It was really going to happen tonight. He could finally claim his prize and witness an even greater downfall. Pausing for a moment, he looked back to see his faithful lieutenant also scanning the grounds. Hunter's unblinking eyes, solemn brown reflected none of his own nervousness. At these events, it was customary to only take your second command, both as a sign of respect and to limit any bloodshed which might occur. He almost smiled as Hunter stalked past one of the guards, as though they were merely a decoration on the path, and not part of a small army which could swarm over the estate in an instant.

The estate was removed from the city by at least an hour, settled into the hills of upstate New York. There was a necessity for the removal from the city centre, especially with the nature of their work. Inside his heart he didn't mind the house itself. He had stood on the pristine lawns more than once, slept in the beds with more than a dozen women, even been beaten within an inch of his life along the many corridors. But tonight it seemed like another world, one almost garishly extreme with the dark black outer walls and bloody walls inside. Many had commented over the years about the décor of the building, always safely away from the ears of the host. It scared people, made them feel the threat of its high ceilings and dark rooms. He'd heard one women say it was almost like a crazed savant had run through the main hallway with a paintbrush, smearing dark red everywhere. Where that imagined decorator had not strayed, Drake's touch still managed to palpably remain. The portraits of many of his enemies hung throughout the house as reminders of their once glorious positions. An avid hunter, the nailed heads of prey very accurately reminded people who dared to enter, the possibility that they too could be effectively put on display.

Hunter had merely grunted the first time he ever entered. But then, not much seemed to get to the tall man.

Forcing himself to move quicker, Spike began to silently count the shifting shadows which were undoubtedly guards. The night sky remained cloudy, obscuring the moonlight, which was probably for the best, all things considered. The dark itself could never harm him. It only hid the people who could.

At last, his shoes seemed to reach the oak doors. He kept his face smooth, struggling to keep disdain from his voice as the closest man nodded his head formally.

"Are they ready for me yet?" Spike asked.

The guard, his face swathed in shadow, nodded. "Yes sir, straight down the hall". His hand slowly reached for the door handle. "You remember the policy about weapons?"

Before Spike could react, Hunter stepped forward, shoving his forearm against the other man's throat. "We don’t need fucking weapons you idiot. Don't ever question Mr. Jamieson again."

A gulp in the night air was the guard's only reply.

Spike didn't bother hiding his anger now. "Of course I know. The real question is, how could you ask such a stupid fucking question?" Spike knew what he really wanted to do to the bloody idiot, but time was ticking that much faster, for every moment that he didn't focus on the event at hand. Hunter was obviously just as tense, normally it was difficult to get two words out of the man. Shaking his head once, Spike didn't wait for Hunter to release the guard. Instantly, the man dropped to the floor, only the night hiding terrified eyes.

Spike's eyes glinted with malice as he shoved the door open. "Make sure you aren't to be seen in my presence again. Or Hunter will make sure you never ask anyone anything again."

This time there was no reply only silence. A smirk crossing his face, Spike proceeded through the well lit hall. Various paintings hung from the walls, tilted to the side as though placed haphazardly. Obviously Drake was in one of his moods again. The whole mansion reflected the servant's fear whenever a rage overtook their master.

Spike took a calming breath as deer sightlessly stared at him from either side. Their antlers, normally adorned with small trinkets from women, where instead cobwebbed, almost as though wrapped in silk.

Obviously Drake's moods had been getting worse.

"Spike!" A warm voice called out. "You're here finally". Doyle reached for his hand with a smile that very few dared express in his presence. The Irish man was an important IRA connection for both Drake and also the family as a whole. And he was also the first to vouch for Spike upon his initiation. His slight frame was similar to Spike's, but where lean muscle was hidden beneath tight cobalt shirt, Doyle's body seemed almost frail. Spike was slightly the taller man, but he exuded a confidence that few could master or truly believe in. Where Doyle hid back in the shadows, intent to whisper advice and pull at events, Spike was at the forefront of confrontations, blatant in his anger and brutality. Spike didn't doubt that Doyle was the same yet Doyle's true power lay in his mind and his contacts. The Irish had sent a true thinker out of the brawling chaos that was still even now rife with discontent. He didn't need the physical strength that Spike did, but then again he was an associate, not an intimate member like Spike.

"Everyone's so impressed with you at the moment" Doyle said quietly. "I doubt even Drake thought that you could exterminate Masters so quickly. Supposedly they are dividing up the spoils tonight."

"You fancy yourself a likely recipient of these 'spoils' then?" Spike asked.

Doyle grinned as the entered the main dining hall. "Of course. When have you known me turn down a good go at women or money? Besides, supposedly the whores Masters kept around were unrivalled." Doyle fell silent then, his face still grinning as he walked to his seat on the inner ring.

Normally the room was filled with two long cherry wood tables which would seat the regular guests and occupants of Drakes' household. Tonight the tables had been cleared away, leaving an array of seats which all centered around the middle of the room. He watched as Doyle seated himself to the left, the slight man kicking the moaning body which lay in the very center of the room. Spike didn't need to know that it was Masters himself lying there on the ground, bloody and gagged. Nodding his head at Hunter in the direction of the other lieutenants, Spike scanned the room for Drake. Before anyone else could get near him, Spike knew that he needed to acknowledge the man. That or risk being tied next to Masters on the floor.

He felt rather than saw, the tall man come up behind him. And instantly felt his heart twist again.

"Drake."

"William" Drake intoned softly, his voice sounded so smooth and calm compared to the din inside the hall. "So good of you to finally join us. I would've thought that since you captured Masters, you would be here sooner."

"I had some business that needed to be attended to." The thought of apologizing vanished as Spike turned and took the taller man in. The wanker already has enough people kissing up to him. There was a distinct smugness which both Drake and his younger brother seemed to exhibit unconsciously. And tonight he practically seemed to beam with happiness. At least Spike could tell. Drake angry was eerily similar to Drake happy as far as the face was able to convey. It was only by looking into dark brown eyes that there was even a hint of his true feelings. Again Spike was the smaller man, however their physiques were much more similar. Muscles corded down Drake's back, his suit doing nothing to hide the bulky frame underneath. Perhaps it was best that they were so similar beyond the obvious rivalries it had once presented. Before Dru thought Spike to himself. Bloody hell! I need to concentrate. Shaking his head, Spike forced himself to look away from Drake's steady gaze and down to Masters.

"What have you got planned? Not that I don't mind a good execution but shouldn't we get on with it?"

"You're too impatient Spike". Drake didn’t smile but his eyes held more than a hint of malice. "This is your official act of joining the elite members of the family. You should be savoring it." He paused. "Many thought it would be you on that floor."

"Pillocks" Spike spat, not bothering to hide his disdain for the politics involved. They were always scared of doing the dirty work themselves. "But if its blood and glory that you want then what's a bloke to do?"

"No glory Spike; just pain. Masters needs to feel pain."

"Pain, gotcha pops". Spike wiggled his tongue at the older man with a glee not long felt. If all they expected was for him to beat the poor sod then fine. He could live with it.

Drake seemed to take Spike's answer for what it was, pure insolence and if anything his eyes seemed to glow brighter. Placing his hand once more on the energetic blond, Drake pushed into the middle of the room, a mere three steps from Masters.

A slow whine began to fill the room as Masters stared at the heavy boots in front of his face. He knew them intimately, having felt the force of kicks to his head and stomach ever since they had managed to capture him. Terror forced him to try vainly again to release his hands from the cable ties to no avail.

"EVERYBODY QUIET DOWN!"

Immediately all eyes turned to the center of the room. Spike had already removed his outer coat and was quickly rolling up his sleeves. He knew what he had to do now. He thanked his bloody stars that Drake hadn't called for something infinitely more demeaning. Cobalt eyes stared at Drake as the brooding man, so pale even in the warm glow of light, began to speak.

"We are here for a reason and it is to pay witness. Masters has betrayed the family's trust and in doing so forfeited his own life. Conspiring with the feds, not paying his full dues, all this and more are crimes that are unforgivable. If not for Spike", Drake stated coldly, "there would be meeting". We'd already be locked up to struggling to move operations to a safer country. Spike by discovering this has saved us all. And for that we owe him gratitude. We owe him a duty."

Silence hung thick in the air as Drake gestured at Masters' weeping form.

"I propose that Spike join the elite." Shocked gasps escaped from the surrounding men. This was unprecedented, particularly given the strong rivalry between Angel and Spike. To place Spike above Drake's own brother? The move could unbalance everything. More than one noted the surreptitious absence of the other brother.

Instantly Drake held up a hand and the mutterings quieted.

"This isn't up for debate. It's already been cleared amongst us and shall be considered law by all here tonight and by the family as a whole. We cannot allow dissension, we cannot allow fear and we certainly cannot allow creatures like Masters to make us weak."

Drake reached inside of his suit pocket casually then, his eyes seeming to gleam even brighter as the focus turned from him to the screaming form of Masters. A knife would be a good way to start the evening now that everyone was aware of Spike's place. He tossed the weapon to the blond, silently glad when no hesitation showed. This was Spike's true test.

Throughout the speech Masters had kept quiet, Spike's boot nearly crushing his windpipe. But now that the pressure had been released, he could not stop himself from crying with terror. A small pool of urine seeped out onto the cold marble floor as men craned even closer.

Fucking pillock. Disgust infused Spike as he twirled the knife in his hands. He knew what he was supposed to do. Like gutting a fresh kill in the forest, Masters had to be carved apart. If he didn't do it, there would be no escape, no free pass and a 'better luck next time moment'. He could feel the hard stare across his shoulders as he reached for Masters. Dragging him to eye level, Spike felt his heart stop. This man had mentored him for years, letting him join in at the basic levels of the family when no one else had considered him worthy. He was the closest person besides Drusilla that Spike had to a family.

Spike gripped the knife and plunged it into Masters' chest. A murderous scream instantly broke from the old man's lips as he struggled weakly against his restraints. Masters had been left in the same dirty clothes for a week and now could only submit to the horror of watching icy eyes stare straight past him and the vicious pain again and again. Another stab to his stomach caused the blood to flow far more quickly and he felt himself fall as Spike lost his grip. Cold marble floor embraced him. Immediately the platinum blond straddled him, useless roars spilling from his throat.

From the sidelines Drake watched passively. There was no other way then this for Spike to be trusted. By murdering his surrogate father, the Brit would finally be considered ready, even by his sadistic brother's standards. Drake watched as blood bubbled from Master's throat, knowing that his last breaths were upon him. Still Spike did not stop, seemed unable to even. There was something manic as the blond continued to plunge his weapon down into the mutilated body.

Spike couldn't hear the jeering or advice as he plunged the knife again and again into his mentor's body. Just one slice to his face and then another into the stomach. Just once more and this will be over. It'll be over. He could see ripped skin and inside a dark blood red similar to that of the hall. Spike didn't acknowledge the blood as it splashed against him, staining the light grey shirt until it became crimson. There was only the knife and the body, for all that was left of Masters face had long since been marred beyond recognition. It felt like eternity before arms reached from behind to separate Spike from the carnage. He could still feel his hands trembling from the force of the blows. Blood and what looked like shattered bone covered his skin, soaking into the pores, yet Spike could only relish in the ensuing emptiness.

He had expected fear, a sense of guilt, even a last moment change of heart but not this. This quiet was far more unnerving. In the moment before Doyle engulfed him in a congratulatory hug, Spike swore he felt his heart completely stop.

They had told him the first cut always hurts the most. But beyond that, there was nothing.

Spike didn't know whether to be relieved or scared.

The stained marble floor was blessedly bare. Yet the memory of Masters remained. Even as the men swarmed towards Spike, they consistently side-stepped around the pool of blood left behind. It would be cleaned up by the servants eventually but everyone knew that Drake had left it as a warning. Before the night was through more than one body would again be placed in that position.

All Spike knew was that it wouldn’t be him.

Unconsciously he looked for Masters. No that wasn't right; it was only a body now and barely recognizable at that. Yet for so long that body had represented his life within the family, the safe harbor he could escape to after Angel publicly humiliated him so badly. He could only hope that Drake recognised the sacrifice. It could very easily have turned out differently. Spike could feel his leg twitching like crazy yet beyond that he appeared calm. It was a practiced maneuver, essential for survival within the family.

Spike had been barely out of university the first time he had been drawn to one of these meetings, Drusilla twirling down the hall before him. Her hands had caressed the heads of the deer like long lost lovers and he could remember her waving goodbye to the cautionary portraits before the entered the same hall in which he now stood. She had led him like a lamb to the slaughter, giggling uncontrollably even as she threw herself onto Angel. He had been living at the mansion at that time, still not a member of the elite circle but powerful regardless.

Instant hate had bloomed in the tall brunette's face as he regarded Spike. Almost as though knowing that with him came change, a contest to Drusilla's affections. Spike shook his head at the memory, struggling to focus on the present. It would do no good to think of Peaches now. Not with Masters' blood still staining his clothes.

As far as the rest of the family was concerned, he had finally proved himself. Even as men returned to their seats, their eyes seemed to beam approval and respect. It was no mean feat to literally plunge the dagger into the father. Yet he had done it. And he would be honoured for it. Was it worth the price?

Slowly his ears began to absorb the sound around him. Doyle was talking quickly next to Hunter, already discussing the spoils of Masters empire which would be spread amongst the gathered members. Tonight was unprecedented in the history of the family. Masters was the son of one of the founding members, before the family had grown to include persons who were not blood related. His death marked the end of an era.

Spike stretched his shoulders, not bothering to unroll the bloody sleeves. Doyle was practically jumping up and down with excitement at the prospect of women. Masters had been renowned for his extensive collection, even Dru had started off as one of his girls.

"Let go of me! You can't do this!" A blur of blonde hair landed in the middle of the room, jade eyes flashing as the defenseless woman stared around her. The men closest to her stepped back smiling. So this was one of Masters' girls then Spike thought. The old man always did have good taste. Even with the dirt covering her face and hands, she glowed with fire and beauty. Doyle had mentioned that the girls were being held in the cells below, but he had expected better treatment from Drake. She must have fought them, the little spitfire. Her frame was lean but still feminine and it was obvious that before her capture, she had been fit. Spike would even say dangerous. The girl lifted her face to glare at her captors, a small upturned nose and delicate lips twisting with anger. She's bloody gorgeous. The guards had not bothered to tie her hands or feet, obviously unconcerned that the tiny woman so small amongst them, could actually do any harm.

They were wrong.

As though possessed, she leaped at the first man to come near her, shoving her fist into his face with a brutal punch. Not waiting to see the damage she spun to the other side of the room, kicking into the stomachs of more than one attacker. She was everywhere at once and then gone in a second. A flurry of kicks seemed to erupt amongst the older men struggling to contain her sheer anger. A sickening snap heralded another broken nose and then she was darting through the crowd of men, unleashing punch combos wherever an opening alloed. Unfortunately the men she touched did not move as quickly. Spike couldn't help grinning at the poor pillocks, many of them old family associates, as their lackeys stepped into the fray. One swore loudly as his nose gushed blood, screaming that someone "kill the bitch now!" All because of a little girl.

He watched as she struggled against three men, head butting the first fool to come close to her, despite being pinned. But she couldn’t stave them off forever. Spike winced as a quick punch to the jaw knocked the slender girl to the ground.

Immediately those harmed rushed forward and Spike felt something twist inside. The berks had deserved it. Unable to defend themselves against a woman? He began to stride through the crowd, hoping to reach her before them but was held back.

Doyle shook his head. "Drake's got a plan for this one. Don’t worry about Cedric, he'll get over the pain."

Spike merely nodded, but did not resume his seat.

"What's this bitch doin' here?" A man demanded as Drake made his way to the crumpled girl. She had landed on the bloodied marble but was still unconscious.

"Calm down Cedric. I should've hit you for not being able to defend yourself against such a little thing." Drake reached down, wrapping his long fingers into blood stained gold hair. "This here, is Agent Elizabeth Summers."

Beside him, Spike felt Doyle gasp in surprise.

Drake continued. "She's been a mole in Masters' operation for the last two years and was as far as everyone still alive is concerned, merely another his whores. Anyone who knew of her real status, is understandably dead." A shudder ran through the crowd at the thought of such a death. Drake was not as vicious as Angel, but his torture lasted for far longer.

"You mean to tell me you brought a pig here? Have you gone insane Drake?" The man, now identified as Cedric shouted. He was still holding his nose and had become even angrier.

Drake ignored the question. Spike knew though that the comment had not been ignored. Such disrespect could never be tolerated. His lips tightened as Drake's fingers fisted in the girl's hair painfully and jerked her hair so that the bruised face was visible to the room.

"She's not just any pig. She's Riley's girl. His fucking fiancé." Drake spat the last word with pure hatred. His rivalry with Riley was as legendary as Spike's and Angel's. "Right now they think that she's just missing or dead. Normally I would be fine with that, and let them fish little pieces of her out of the river, but this is could lead to further opportunities than just torture. Although that is a good means to an end for any woman stupid enough to fuck with us…" Drake took a steadying breath. Even talking about revenge against Riley was enough to send him into a bloodlust. "Just think what Riley would do to get her back. What kind of information could we get? What protection could we gain? How many of those high minded politicians would fall into our pockets? We could effectively buy New York." A hush fell at his last words. Riley was both the police chief's lackey and the son of the mayor. His investigation, an initiative against organized crime, had been part of the reason for Masters' defection. As far as Spike was concerned, it was Riley's fault that Masters had had to be killed at all; that and the stupid bint who was slowly opening her eyes in horror.

Immediately she began struggle, her arms weakly tearing at Drake. It was what he had been waiting for. Allowing a smile to tug at the corners of his lips, Drake lifted her completely off the ground so that their faces were equal and then slapped her hard.

"So goof of you to wake up, slut." Another slap landed across an already reddened cheek. "I had expected more of a show earlier but I guess you're too weak". Elizabeth raised her face again, more than one bruise blooming across her cheek.

"It's Buffy."

Drake leaned close, "what was that?" His hand came across again as she opened her mouth to reply.

"IT'S BUFFY." She lunged forward, despite the intense pain and swung her fist wide, connecting with the brutish man's nose.

Immediately, Drake threw her to the floor and began to beat her, his rage no longer able to be held back.

"Stop!" Spike felt himself move forward before the word left his lips. For some reason unknown to even himself, he shoved his way through the crowd until he was in front of Drake. If I don't do something, she'll be dead within the minute.

"Why don't you let me take over? Stupid bint didn't jus' mess with you." His hand was raised in self defense only, a vicious punch landing across his forearm as the brunette struggled to calm down.

Shock filtered away from the larger man's eyes after the second punch landed again on Spike. For a second, he had only seen red and knew that intervention had probably saved the bitch's life. Even now his hand itched with the desire to take a knife and cut her to bits.

"If you say so Spike... I was going to give you to her later anyway. Probably better for her to still breathing when I do it, though." Drake stepped away, knowing that if he remained any closer, he really would murder the girl, benefits be damned. "And this goes for everyone, with approval from the circle. Buffy" he intoned sarcastically "is Spike's to deal with. As reward for his efforts tonight." He fixed Spike with a solemn stare. "The circle will expect you to deal with Riley and organise the takeover of New York. It is your task now."

"So what are the rest of us to do?" Cedric was literally puffing with exasperation now, but felt right doing so. All the money was in New York and as the last big city that had not been dominated, it was ripe for the picking. "I'd kill my fucking mother and my father, if you handed me New York."

"Would you now? I bet you think you'd do a good job, being from Boston?" Drake eyed the squat man, slowly stalking towards him as everyone else backed away. "I'd believe it even more if I didn't know that you sold out your entire blood family in order to join us when you were fifteen. But I guess that doesn't make any difference. Loyalty is loyalty right? You want New York?" Drake asked slyly.

"Of course I fucking do! Spike's a chump compared to me or any of my men."

Drake merely scowled at this statement. The men always needed to be reminded when a new member of the circle joined. Respect was paramount.

Taking out his gun, Drake forced into Cedric's bloodied mouth and turned off the safety. It was better for the other heads of the family to witness this now, rather than have the rumors abound the halls. "I've got one bullet in here. If you can swallow that and survive, then I'll kill Spike instead and you can have New York". The hall was dead quiet except for the harsh breaths of the girl, now in Spike's arms and Cedric's blubbering. The stench of fear seemed to rise off of the little man as he mumbled excuses around the gun. "I'm sorry I can't understand you" Drake said. "I'll just have to take it that you agree." Fat tears began to slide over Cedric's cheeks. "Now now, don't cry. You interrupted me before and now here's your chance. If you really think you can do better than a member of the elite fucking circle then by all means lets do this." Cedric only kept crying, his mouth recoiling from the metallic taste.

"BANG!" The entire room jumped as Drake started laughing. "C'mon now that was only a practice run. "I know that you can do this Cedric, just take one more breath-"

BANG.

Drake pulled the trigger, firing off the back of Cedric's head.

"Now unless anyone else has any fucking questions?" Drake asked softly, kicking away the headless body. "No? Good. As I was saying, Elizabeth or whatever the fuck you want to call her, is yours Spike. We expect progress and pain for her. Do I make myself clear?"

Spike swallowed down the nausea which gripped him as his eyes shifted away from the obliterated head of Cedric. "Crystal." He shifted his arms as the girl, shifted groggily.

He had expected the gift of money, property and whores. But not this.

What in the bloody hell am I going to do now?

She felt soft. No that wasn't right. Whatever she was laying on felt soft, and comforting, barely imprinting on her bruised cheek. A groan escaped her lips. There wasn't a single part of her body that didn't ache. After Drake had socked her into unconsciousness, they'd taken her down here and from the feel of her ribs, taken the punishment upon themselves. Buffy ignored the ratcheting fear which flew her. What else had they done to her? Her fingers swept over her thighs, a sigh escaping her as she realized that they hadn't gone that far yet. By typical scenarios in her training, Buffy knew that it was inevitable.

But then she had trained for it. As much as anyone can.

Fear began to rise within her as she looked hard around the room. That man… Drake wasn't going to leave her alone. She just knew it. I have to get out of here.

Unable to stifle her pained gasps, she struggled into a sitting position. Her vision was blurred in the left eye, and ghosting her hand over the skin softly, she could feel the swelling. Too many punches to the face had rocked her in the three days she had been here. Was it only three days? There had been no way to keep track of time ever since they took her with the rest of the girls. And she was terribly alone now. The room was bare besides the furniture and homely implements, nothing to suggest the time or date.

Buffy thought back to the day she had been taken.She'd hated Masters as much as any of the other girls, but their company had made the undercover role more bearable. Slowly over the course of a year, she had placed herself in a position within Masters' private whores, where she could accurately gather information. She had been on the verge of revealing the mole working for the family, when they had burst through the doors. Any men that had been with them at the time, had been shot dead. Whistler had fallen on top of her, his still beating heart flooding the ground with blood, as Buffy had struggled to escape the man's weight. He had been one of the few guards who didn't try to bully favors out of the girls. He was my friend. Buffy had been certain, as the gang of men entered, that she'd been betrayed, but like the other girls who were a part of Masters' private stock, she'd merely nodded and obeyed every order.

And then they had noticed her. He had seen her. His face was a maze of sharp angles, a beaky nose shadowing the thin mouth which was twisted into a grim smile. But his eyes. They were what had truly scared her. Twin pools of inky black had focused onto her thin frame and the scantily clothes.

He had looked directly at her, through her.

Despite the many blondes that continued to walk past him, he'd caught her. Fear raced down her spine. Had they gotten to him? Was he safe? She had lifted her feet as though to run, before forcing herself to stay still. If I run, it will only make it worse.

"It's her." He had shouted, shoving the other girls out of the way. When no one reacted, he pulled his gun from its holster. "Move you fucking idiots. Drake wants her." His fat finger flicked the safety switch as he pointed it to aim directly at her. It wasn't a shot that would kill on impact, her training told her that she could move to the left and minimize the damage. But it was enough. There would be no way she could survive for more than two hours if he did shoot.

I have to remember the mission. He needs me to stay alive. Buffy raised her hands into the air, keeping her head down. The less of a threat she appeared, the more likely that they wouldn't hurt her too badly. At least that was what she had hoped before a swift jab to the side of her head had knocked her to the ground.

They'd dragged her into a car, the bullying leader of the group, laughing as she struggled to right herself. Her vision was still blurred then, but she could remember them staring at her, the insignia of a cross on their shoulders, burning into her memory. Angel had never mentioned these men before. Neither had her source on the outside. What did the cross even mean? Sucking in deep breaths as another fist to her stomach rocked her, Buffy decided to keep her head down. Whoever they were, there was a very real chance that she would be killed. You can look later Buffy she thought to herself. Her hands continued to shake with adrenaline as they came to a stop, her feet finally finding a purchase on the hard ground. The hard punch to her face was the only thing Buffy could focus on as a blindfold covered her eyes and she was thrown bodily into a car.

Looking up to the high ceiling, Buffy shook her head to erase the memory. It would do her no good here to think of how she could've escaped. Only the present was important. They still didn't think she was a threat, having not bothered to tie her hands again after the earlier scene with Drake.

Hot tears cascaded down her cheeks as she remembered staring into brown eyes so similar to Angel's and yet cold. Almost soulless. Where was he? He had promised in the days before she'd been discovered, to look out for her, to protect her.

The only one who can protect me is myself. Buffy swiped a hand across her face, ignoring the pain. When had she become so weak? The old Buffy would never had relied on a criminal to help her out of a situation; even one as dire as this.

She'd been trained by the best and had far exceeded the expectations of both her tutors and fellow agents. She was renowned for her ability to infiltrate and organize the demise of criminal organisations. Years of training forced her to stand. This would not break her. They could not break the slayer.

An unconscious smile flitted across her lips as she thought of the nickname.

The room was locked but it had chairs and even a table set with utensils. She moved slowly on her feet, one hand grasping the edge of soft luxurious leather sofa for balance. It was a definite upgrade from the cells below. Her heart went out to the girls who were still suffering, most likely because of her. There was no chance that she could help them, unless she had back up.

But did anyone know that she was even here?

Another problem. She knew that she needed all of her strength to be able to get out of here. The only difficulty was that she had no idea how to escape. Or what she would even do if she managed to find her way out.

God Buffy, get a hold of yourself. Got to remember that you are the badass federal agent not them!

Grabbing a butter knife from the table, Buffy forced it into the keyhole and began to twist. A full minute passed before she heard the audible click.

Success!

Clenching the knife in her fist, Buffy peered out into the corridor. There was no one. Barely able to contain herself, she slipped out.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Hunter moved into the full light of the hallway, hand resting easily on a still holstered gun. He couldn't help but smile at the surprised look on the small woman's face. He unconsciously reached out a hand towards her. Her face was badly bruised, so much that the poor girl could only see out of one eye.

Buffy wasn't having any of it. They must think I'm a fool. Before the tall man's hand could touch her, she backed away. She didn’t remember him but that didn't mean anything in a place like this. Everyone was out to get her as far as she was concerned. His face was plain in the poorly lit hallway, a hard pair of eyes peering down at her from what seemed like the ceiling. He was even taller than Angel.

"Just let me go. I promise not to say anything." Even her voice sounded weak and Buffy vainly tried to glare as the tall man laughed at her.

"Sure, and I'm just here to keep you company." He took a step closer. "Spike won't like it if he finds you out here."

"Who's Spike?" Her brow creased with frustration as again a laugh sounded.

"You'll know soon enough, sweetheart." He was right in front of her now. Her panicked gasps the only sound to be heard. "I'm not going to hurt you." The deep voice was heavy in the hallway as again the tall man reached out for her arm. "That is, unless you struggle."

"That's what you think." Buffy twisted in his grasp, forcing his hand back until the muscle was stretched to its breaking point. The pleased smile died on the tall man's lips. She forced him to the ground, all her strength focused on bending the tall man's hand.

"Now listen here-"

"Hunter", the man supplied in a pained gasp.

Buffy nodded. "Hunter. You are going to help me get out of here."

"Don’t think he can help wit' that, luv." Buffy felt him stand behind her, hard, calloused hands quickly breaking the submissive hold. "Hunter's never been good wit' getting birds to obey him", warm breath cascaded onto her neck. "But don't let that change your mind. With all the time we're destined to spend together, you two are bound to become… friends."

Buffy could only watch as something akin to fear flittered across Hunter's face.

Spike spun her around to look at him and immediately felt anger building. What in the bloody hell happened to the chit's face? Even when Drake had beaten her, it had never been this hard or this badly. I damn well made sure of it. A strange feeling of possessiveness welled within in, as the girl with her one good eye continued to glare at him.

Even like this, she's still defiant. Glancing back behind him, Spike kicked the door open and gestured in Hunter after him. He kept his tight grip on Buffy.

The room was like all the rest down in the servant's quarters, a mattress to sleep, some furniture and of course a dining table. 'Must hav' been how she got out." He pushed her into the middle room, noting the way that she stumbled. Someone was going to pay for that.

"'M Spike" he stated matter-of-factly. When she failed to express recognition, he sighed. He had hoped that she would still be asleep and had come to find Hunter to type up some loose ends.

Silence hung in the room.

And then she looked at him hard. "You could be Billy Idol for all I care."

He raised his hand to cuff her and then thought better of it. She could barely stand as it was and her anger, her righteous little rage that scrunched up the cute button nose, was all that was holding her together.

Won't do to break the girl.

Instead he moved back to the door, his hands signaling Hunter to follow him out. "As soon as we leave you'll know not to mock me like that pet." Spike straightened his new shirt, regretting that this one too, would soon be covered in blood. "But for now, I'll let it pass." He rolled his tongue behind his teeth in humor as she seemed to shake with rage. No she wasn't broken yet.

"All that you need to know, is that I own you."

The door slammed shut behind him. Spike not caring as sobs escaped the confines of the room. She would soon learn like the rest of them had. Hunter raised a questioning eyebrow.

"I want two men guarding this door." Hunter nodded in assent, massaging his hand ruefully.

Spike ignored it. His lieutenant had underestimated the girl and it had cost him. "Now bloody well, come on. I've more to do then watch some chit cry herself to sleep."

Angel was waiting for him.

Cold seemed to enter the very walls as they journeyed deeper beneath the estate. As long as Spike had been a member of the family, this place had existed, sealed off from the upper floors of the house through tight security systems. Guards stood along the walls, their seasoned eyes conveying the severity of the occasion. It was rare of Angel to miss any meeting, let alone one where he had to kill his mentor. The poof would've relished that, maybe even have stepped in for his own spot of violence. No something was wrong. Even Drake's smooth voice, so perceptively calm in the throes of anger had carried a hint of it. Spike ignored the guns to either side of his head as he walked. Hunter had been disarmed at the first checkpoint and he never carried a weapon whilst on the estate. Lackeys or lieutenants could be forgiven for expecting trouble but for him, it was considered a threat. Besides, he always had his weapons at the ready. A swift knock could disarm a man far faster than playing cowboys. Hunter trailed to his left, hands unconsciously twitching as he briskly marched towards their destination. The chit was still on his mind even now. Spike knew he would have to put a stop to that. Women were just another possession, the moment you treated them as something more, you were the one who became owned.

Like a sodding dog.

Unbidden Dru appeared in his thoughts. How many times had he rescued her from this place? How many times had he watched helplessly as Angel laid into her laughing form with the whip? He'd tortured far too many in this overdone bloody basement, but Spike could only picture her, raven hair swinging as she tossed her head to and fro. She'd always screamed the loudest down here.

Angel was part of the reason, the cells were so well renowned within the family. His games with the girls, and even a few blokes had made many men stammer a polite refusal when Angel asked them to accompany him to the elevator. But the knowledge of the place was not only on his part. Notoriety was splashed like a bucket of blood against the stained walls. They could clean every inch of the fucking place and still it would stink like a butcher's table. Even with his eyes closed, Spike could feel it, the scent of fear somehow still lingering long after the bodies were taken away. The place was as cursed as it could be to a cynical murderer. Masters had told him about it when the family was still a new thing to him, warning that more often then not, it was the first place you would wake. That is, unless they decided you were better off dead and merely topped you in your sleep. No, the cells was for punishment and Angel had excelled at it. More than one of the men Spike had joined with in those early days, had met their ugly demise in the sterile rooms. The poor sods.

He had nearly joined them, himself.

The poof and he had never been friends. But the civility between them had remained intact until the first time that Spike caught a glimpse of Drusilla. She'd clung to Angel's arm like a small bird, dark eyes gazing around the ball room with delight. A velvet red dress had clung to her sharp hips, draping pale skin the colour of parchment.

At once a million words coalesced in his head. She was amazing, stunning, a wicked plum, the long wished for vision. Her dark embrace was something he had only dreamed about. She slid her eyes over him for an instant, and his skin turned to ice, heart stopping with a thud. An image of her wrapped in his arms, their lips bloodied with a feral lust, came unbidden. He couldn't take his eyes off of her even as Masters came to stand by his side.

"She's not for you, Spike." The old man had whispered. His eyes crinkled with palpable sorrow at the sight of Angel whirling the dark woman around. "No one can touch her except Angel." He paused, watching the nerve along William's jaw tick. He was stubborn to the point of exasperation and also foolhardy. "It would be better if you could try to listen." His protégée had glanced back down to him with a rueful grim. The hair was a dark blonde then, shorn short so as to avoid the unruly curls that had once graced his crown.

"'M listening… doesn't mean I hav' to like it." A giggle turned the younger man's head back to the centre of the room where Angel was blatantly fondling Drusilla's breasts. "Pillock."

"And Drake's brother and Frank's godson. You don't want to mess with that family" Masters reminded. Before Angel had killed the old bastard, Frank had pretty much directed the whole operation; Masters himself had been brought in by the tough, brutal leader. Spike had luckily escaped the whole coup, by remaining abroad and settling key transactions for the family. He'd only heard second hand from Hunter, the bloodbath that had occurred as Frank sought to keep control. At that time, the ole geezer had been chatting up some pretty little thing, as his son wandered the opposite end of the room. Even in those early years, the blood had turned bad.

Spike could remember silently offering an arm of support as Masters wavered for a moment. Masters had not walked with a cane then. His pride was to great to tolerate the imposition of a stick. And failing health was never a good thing to show at such a meeting. Masters had peered into his eyes, wrinkles and a heavy brow shadowing his own till they appeared as tiny specks of black. "I want you to stay alive William. Promise me that. No matter what goes on tonight." His feeble fingers had clutched tight for a moment with the strength of his feeling.

Spike could remember frowning, before nodding his head once. "Don't need to promise that, already like living well enough." Especially if it involves Drusilla.

Masters had seemed satisfied. Wrinkling his nose, the bat like man had sneered as one of the European delegates walked past them. "Without you, the family will turn into the Italians, squabbling over the small amount of money the government hasn't taken away." Spike had grinned, the bastard was right about that, and not a little furious in regards to the people of the boot. Masters had come from a long line of English gangsters, their notoriety constantly being upstaged by RICO antics that set the media on fire. Even with the threat of investigation and the government the old sod had kept his love of power and reveled in other people, the sheep as he called them, knowing about it.

"The Italians won't know what hit 'em, once 'm official" Spike had offered the assurance placatingly, Dru still spinning in the back of his head. Her lips were wide with rapture now as Angel dragged her to the edge of the room, hands fisted in the edge of her dress. Jus' once, I'd like to touch such a black goddess.

"I'm glad, my boy, you don't know how happy I am to hear that." A pause stretched between them and Spike broke his gaze to stare down at his elder's hands. They were like boney spiders, spread across the ink blue of his suit.

"I'll do whatever's bloody called for, you tell 'em that."

"Anything?"

Spike merely nodded. The ole codger was up to something. Dru had disappeared from view.

Before another word could pass between them, Masters pushed away from Spike's arm, to greet another older member stalking across the room.

Immediately Masters' henchmen followed. They had all been loyal then, taking up the physical presence that Masters no longer could enforce. Hunter winked at him, before settling against the wall as the two old men discussed their schemes. All knew that Spike was considered Masters' son, even though the gap in age was similar to that of a grandchild. The family practically encouraged nepotism where a vacuum of power could threaten to dissolve the whole organisation. They had been close, or at least as close as two men who lusted for power and were far from it. Masters had brought the international ties to the family, but as he grew older, his chances of keeping it were looking slim. Unless Spike replaced him, the wealth of his life would be divided between spoilt brats like Angel and his even more vicious brother Drake.

They had all thought till that night, that Drake was the more violent of the two. Bloody fools, the lot of them.

The night had dragged on with aplomb, Angel dragging a willing Drusilla through the motions of a waltz. Their disappearance had been short despite the marks which now graced Dru's slender throat.

Spike snorted as Angel sidestepped, his feet almost tangling. The ponce could never dance, he was too awkward looking, his feet always lumbering a pace behind the beat. And yet, his dark haired beauty, Drusilla kept gazing upwards at him as though moonstruck.

He imagined it was the same look upon his own face as he stared after the couple.

A fool for love. It was all he was. And all that Dru would ever see him as.

But Spike hadn't known it then. Hadn't dare acknowledge the assured sense of rejection even as he cornered her in a hallway hours later as the party ended. He'd assumed that Angel was somewhere with another girl, preoccupied and fucking himself senseless.

She'd gazed at him with quiet approval, her mouth curving into a content smile. Her teeth were gleaming white and sharp as she bit him spontaneously on the side of the neck. Before he could react, she'd nipped at his throat again, smothering his skin in kisses. She'd whispered that he would do wonderful, dastardly things even as he took her in the open, her mouth babbling incessantly of the great things they would see, the pixies, sodding fairytales.

He hadn't cared. Her black beauty seemed to suck in the light around him until her face was all that he could focus on. In that moment, Spike threw his lot in with Masters and gave his salvation to Dru.

If only he had known how it would end.

A heavy hand on his shoulder awoke Spike from his thoughts.

"We're here, boss." Hunter opened the door as the smaller man strode purposefully into the well-lit cell. There were no obvious stains in this one, no congealed blood that hinted at its usual purpose.

"Well Spikey, didn't expect to see you. Finally upgrade from being Masters' bitch?" Angel was shackled to the wall, his skin bare except for a ragged pair of trousers. Something was very, very wrong.

Spike raised his brow questioningly at Drake. The man was dressed in loose slacks, a collared shirt left hanging open as he leaned forward on the chair. Long legs were crossed together as though to hold himself in place, but his hands kept moving, brushing his hair back, fingering the bat which laid on his lap and then back again to the wisps which had escaped the tight knot at the nape of his neck. His face was tight now, brow heavy as he continued to stare at his younger brother. A mere three years separated them and the two were thought of as twins. Spike imagined their mother had been beautiful before ole Frankie slit her throat.

"What's this 'bout?" He ignored the chair that Drake had thrust in his direction.

"This is an intervention."

Angel thrashed against his chains. They had placed him in a stress position, toes just barely touching the floor. The trembling in his limbs said that he had been there for no more than an hour. The pillock deserves to be there for eternity.

"Your fucking kidding me." Spike couldn't contain his exasperation as the two brothers continued to stare at each other.

"Oh he's serious Spikey." Angel couldn't help grinning as he eyed the wooden bat. He was lucky they hadn’t gone with the metal version. He waited for Drake to begin and then winced. Of course they had brought her. Who else would revel so endlessly in his greatest mistake? his brother wouldn't look at either of them now, but it had to be expected. He'd been her first conquest and was always the weakest within the blood family. Not that it matters when there are only two of us left.

He could already see the whip in her gloved hand and knew the sting of its lash would not be far. The party must only be getting started. Fuck it , Angel thought angrily. It's already happened to Spike. But inside he could feel the anxiety mounting. A sense of terrible unease that was now being reflected in azure eyes from across the room.

"Hello boys."

It was just four people in the room, but Spike felt like she had pushed all the air out. He still sat in the chair. Drake however was already moving to accommodate her.

"Thank you for coming."

"It was no trouble" she said coolly. Her accent was now more American, the soft lilt changing me into something harder, clipped syllables. Nothing like the old Darla, European whore.

And then the Queen of Frank's empire. What am I doing here?

Spike wisely inclined his head as she swept the room with her blue eyes. Darla was like a beautiful nightmare. Her hair was curled around the nape of her neck, flawlessly perfect but still as gold as the girl above him. Why was he thinking of her now? Spike tried to focus on anything else but the fiery expression she had fastened on when dealing with Hunter or the heartbroken sobs as he slammed the door shut on her old life. Drake had stated it as much, they wouldn’t kill her yet, she was too valuable and they couldn’t simply let her go free. And she's also mine, Spike thought possessively.

Angel struggled against the bonds again, jerking his thoughts back to the present. Sweat coated his bare chest, but for now there were no whip marks. Darla smiled at him and all he could see was Dru, her same white teeth glittering in the sterile light. They weren't related but the resemblance was striking all the same.

Something terrible was going to happen. He just knew it.

The lovelier she looked the more likely that they would all end up dead. It was like an omen amongst the family. Darla was the black spot, the cough before everyone started to fall over, the tainted clothes given to unsuspecting victims.

No, if she was here then Angel was really fucked. Spike almost felt pity.

Unlike Drusilla she was dressed in a light green emerald dress, her hands neatly gloved as though she was about to join a dinner party. Sharp cheekbones so like his own tapered neatly into a crimson mouth that was all about sneering with disapproval. "I hope you hadn't forgotten about me." She took a seat next to Drake, smiling as he visibly leaned away.

"You called her here? Are you insane?" Angel was struggling against his chains with all his might now, not bothering to hide the fear. His dark brown eyes were bloodshot with stress and lack of blood but they barely blinked as he stared at her.

"I had to call her", Drake justified. "She is after all our step mother and a member of the elite circle. I can't ignore the rules just because you did." He winced as Darla patted his cheek with fake affection. She'd graced both their beds, before finally climbing her way into Frank's.

Whores were all the same. No matter if they were only pretending to be one. Stop fucking thinking about her!

Taking out a small knife, the length of her hand, Darla stood again and began to move towards her former lover. "I've been hearing bad things lately, my little Angel." The knife flashed forward, slicing into one hardened breast. "They whisper little stories about you and the enemy, some stupid girl that likes to play at being an adult; cops and robbers."

"It didn’t mean anything." Angel swung his face away as the sweat seeped into the small wounds that Darla carved.

"Don't lie," she said patronizingly. "It wasn't enjoyable when we slept together and it's pointless now." A vicious thrust with the blade scored a new scar that would definitely need stitches. "Dru never sees wrong, and even Drake had to tell me eventually." Spike watched as the two brothers exchanged glances. If looks could kill, Drake would be nothing more than dismembered parts.

"How is your little pet Angel? Drake tells me that she's been given away."

"What do you mean? To who?" There was a panic in his voice that Spike had never heard before. It felt like pure joy. Angel loved the girl or as much as was possible given his lack of soul. Spike fought to keep down his laughter. It was ridiculous that the git would be subjected to his own punishment, ridiculously horrible and at the same time right. Darla must've heard about Drusilla's fate. It didn't matter here though. In the space of the night he had been given more power than any normal family member could dream of. He had Angel where he wanted him, the chance to finally take his revenge, but the only thought he could make sense of kept replaying in his head. The sodding poof had fallen in love.

When Spike looked up, they were all staring. It was finally his turn. "She's been given to me."

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, SHE'S BEEN GIVEN TO YOU. YOU DON'T DESERVE HER!" Angel steadied his breathing for a second as Darla kept grinning. There was nothing but desperation in his voice now, strain showing in the tense muscles which rippled along his arms and face. "William" he begged, "I've never asked you for anything-"

"No, you've only ever taken it from me." Cold rage was flowing through his veins now. Drusilla, it always came back to Drusilla.

"I'll give you anything."

"Everything that you owned has already been given" Drake said coldly. "Including that little whore."

"What are you trying to say? You're going to cut me out? Let your own flesh and blood be butchered in front of the family for show?" Angel shook his head as Drake continued to stare directly at him. "I don't believe it."

"You'd better start then. It's already been agreed upon." Darla was almost ignored in the staring match but her words cut the air. "Effective immediately, you are relegated to the place of Masters. People will think you are still in control but all your decisions will be made by me, Drake, Spike and my other associates. Anything and everything you do will be watched. You will never have a moment of peace again, and you will never see her again either." A broken sound escaped Angel's lips. "The girl is Spike's to do with as he will. And" she said leaning as close as was safe to do so, "if you so much as dare to look the wrong way, say anything, then I will butcher not only you but every single person that still means anything to you at all."

The scourge of europe in all her vindictive glory.

Spike expected him to try to argue. The poof was always good with words, far better than he at twisting them into some kind of excuse. But this... his hanging body seemed to slump against the wall despite the chains that held him. It was like his very soul had given up. And then Angel turned his gaze on him and a flood of hate poured out.

"You will pay for this."

"'ve already paid for it. You were the one who destroyed her. And now you can watch as I do it to your precious little Buffy."

Like earlier in the night, Spike once again slammed the door, uncaring as howls of rage carried through. Darla would take care of the physical punishment, hurting Buffy would destroy him from the inside out.

Who said that revenge wasn't fulfilling?

The first thing she felt was thirst. The hunger could be controlled – had to be controlled really. But the thirst was terrible. She couldn't remember back before the tears in that awful room. Regretting her decision to volunteer for this assignment she kept her eyes closed for a minute longer. They would be coming for her soon, especially after her unfortunate meeting with Hunter. A shudder ripped through her body as the tall man's glowering face flashed in her mind. For all the niceties, she didn't believe that he would be kind at all. But anything was better than Spike. Buffy sunk deeper into the covers. And immediately sat up again.

She forced her eyes open and gasped. The room was nothing like where she had been held. It was beautiful. Curtains the colour of dusk were draped on two of the walls. She guessed that she must be on the corner of the house, perhaps in a suite of some sort. The floor was smooth wooden boards, a luxurious rug covering the length of the it. A chest of drawers sat to her left, but I was far away compared to the usual standard of rooms. Buffy felt like she was in a hall from the size of the bedroom. Her hands unconsciously brushed the satin sheets beneath her, wonder sinking in even as her training told her to be wary.

Where am I ?

Surely that terrible man didn't still have her? Drake and Angel's faces flashed in her mind before she shook her head. There was no way that this could be real.

Or maybe it is and I can finally go home.

Naively she rose and looked at the walls closer. Maybe it was a hotel and he had saved her; placed her somewhere safe. Buffy didn't try to analyse what he she meant. Her love life was just one of the insurmountable problems that she had created.

But he was so irresistible. The thought came unbidden as Buffy considered the dark wooden table. It reminded her of Angel's eyes. The Angel that had comforted her after Master's first visit, the Angel who had convinced her that life outside of the rules was possible.

Riley had seemed like a ghost after she accepted the mission. Buffy knew that he was unhappy about it but also believed that he could accept her lifestyle. After all, Riley had known from the beginning that she wanted to be a federal agent, even if he had objected often. Buffy had convinced herself that the arguments were nothing more than his concern for her showing through, not a reflection of his own insecurities. But surely he still cared about her. Her eyes glanced at the bare ring finger on her left hand. Scars riddled where an engagement ring should of sat. She'd given it up, the day before they sent her in. Riley was holding it for when she got back.

If I ever get back.

Her engagement had been Riley's final effort to get her to retire early and start the process of being a politician's wife. Although Riley wanted to be active in the police force, he viewed it as inappropriate for Buffy to continue in her role. Angel had declared him an idiot and convinced her not to send information back to her commanding officer. The raid had come just before she would've been contacted by the mole. But now it was useless. Shame filled her as she considered the risks she had been willing to take for a criminal.

I'm such a fool.

If the last week had taught her anything, it was never to trust these gangsters. They were nothing more than criminals who preyed on the weak. It was her job to survive and report back.

That's if I survive…

Her throat was raw from sobbing but tears threatened to flow again as she fell back onto the bed. Why hadn't he come for her? Did the confessions of love really mean nothing? Her vision became blurry as she finally succumbed to the truth of her situation. She wasn't in some nice hotel room and no one was going to save her no matter how hard she wished for it. The Slayer was alone on this one.

The room contained a long profile mirror and it took a few minutes before she boldly stepped in front of it. Her blonde hair was still ridiculously peroxide rather than the normal golden hue, but it wasn't completely ruined. Buffy had read of survivor accounts from former agents. Shaving the head was the first in a series of torture tactics in order to totally reduce the will of the prisoner.

Her face was another story. Buffy couldn't remember when she had last been beaten so badly, certainly not in any training sessions. The bruises overlapped forcing a cringe whenever she dared to touch one. Shrugging out of her clothes, Buffy forced her gaze lower. Immediately after her capture, the guards had tried to mark every inch of her body, heavy hands beating down on her legs and stomach. She was lucky that that was all they had done.

She didn't try to put the dirty dress on again, instead walking slowly over to the dresser. Riffling through the drawers, Buffy struggled into a long shirt, obviously a man's and some pants. The shirt was finely tailored and had not been worn in a while from the lack of smell. All the better Buffy thought. Maybe he doesn’t live here anymore. She smiled despite the pain when she finally discovered a long tan belt. There was no chance of her keeping the clothes on otherwise.

She drew back the curtains for a moment and stared out the glass window. Below an estate stretched out, rich fields of green broken up by a long winding road which faded into the distance. It was miles from civilization and definitely nowhere near her beloved home. The afternoon sky suggested that she had been asleep for hours and the thought made her stomach rumble.

When were they going to let her out the room?

"Has anyone checked on her yet?" The tall man's question sounded in the silence of the room, breaking Buffy's brief reverie. Footsteps came to a halt outside of the door and she leapt back to the bed. If he wanted another fight, he was going to get one.

Hunter swung the door open slowly, waiting for a kick or punch or whatever the mean spirited girl would throw. He had learned from their last encounter and this time was better prepared.

"Hurry up, y' big ponce. I wan' t' see 'er".

"If you insist boss" Hunter grumbled. He didn't understand the fascination with the girl, no matter how pretty she was. Pigs were pigs. You couldn't change them and keeping them would only make you question your decisions. The fact that the pig was a girl only made him worry more.

He didn't check on his boss before shutting the door again in front of him.

Spike would have to live with his own decisions. Hunter just hoped that she didn't kill him first.

There were so many different things he wanted to do to her. The trip back home had been short but his mind had seemed burnt with images of her naked and begging. The short glimpse of Angel's rage in the holding cell had been enough to set his blood on fire. He'd twisted in his chains, eyes locking furiously on Spike's.

If nothing else had convinced the Brit to take the girl, then Angel certainly had provided the impetus.

He would destroy Buffy the way Angel had destroyed Drusilla. And if he found pleasure in breaking her spirit, in changing her until the person no longer resembled anyone close to Buffy Summers, then all the better. There were no innocents once you joined the circle, and there was no way that he could let a cop go unpunished, no matter how beautiful she looked standing on top of his bed.

Her hair was tangled around her shoulders, a bright dyed blonde that shone like spun gold. She'd tried to comb through it with her fingers, but the curls at the edges were still there, brushing against hardened nipples. God he wanted her, the desire almost rivaling the constant ardor he'd harbored for Drusilla. A grin threatened to break free as her arms self-consciously rose up to cover her chest. She knew what was going to happen as surely as he had imagined it.

Buffy's mouth gasping in air as he wrenched her neck back, hands fisting in hair and forcing her to look at him.... In the small time his imagination had run wild with thoughts of defiling her to the point where he'd be able to memerise every inch of skin.

Torturing Angel had never been more pleasurable.

Possessiveness seemed to flow through his veins as he took in the shirt, his shirt. The collar framed her delicate throat exposing tanned skin and a supple collarbone. Spike didn't believe she had done it on purpose but the lack of intention was just as appealing. Despite her battered appearance, she looked innocent and vulnerable. He kept trying to remind himself of the vicious kicks from before, her little fists clenched with desperation and anger, but couldn't. She was his to do with what he wanted.

He had Angel's girl. No, my girl. Again the image of her bent over a table, her hands spread out against the wood, voice pleading for more bloomed in his thoughts.

As though feeling the change in the air, Buffy moved herself into a more defensive position. At first Spike had looked at her only with desire but now something more evil glimmered there. He hates me. Od Buffy what have you gotten yourself into this time?

"Aren't you going to do anything?" She bit her bottom lip as the question sounded. Maybe it wasn't such a great idea to piss off a mob boss, but she was damned if she was going to stand there all day waiting for a beating. Or whatever else he's got planned. She glared at him defiantly only to have him stare back. The man did more then just unnerve her, he was confusing.

His mouth opened as though to speak and then fastened shut again.

What could he truly say to her?

Insufferable bint, you're in my bloody house. I should be the one asking questions!

No that would only make the situation worse. He had to keep control. If anything went wrong it would be on his bloody head, not the chit's. And he had his men to consider. The mansion couldn't hide them from the world forever and eventually they would need to report back to the circle.

He took a step forward and watched appreciatively as the muscles along her lean legs moved. She was beautiful to look at. But then Peaches and he had always shared the same taste in women.

"C'mere."

"Are you seriously dumb or something?" The disbelief could not be erased from her voice. "There's no way that I'm doing-" She gasped as he pushed her down onto the bed, her body spread-eagled before him.

"When I say c'mere, you do as you're told. He flicked his tongue back behind his front teeth. "We clear?"

She nodded, fear and curiosity warring as she held her tongue.

"I don't know what you've been doing before, but I won't tolerate disobedience. You're in my house." His hand caressed her neck before squeezing ever so gently. "Disobey me and you'll regret it far more than I will dishing it out, right pet?" He didn't wait for her reply before smiling down at her.

She's delicious. Not a plum but definitely ripe for the taking. Spike bent down to her mouth only just brushing them before recoiling back.

"Oi! You headbutted me!" His eyes watered from the pain but h managed to keep a hold of her. Blimey but she was a spitfire. Somehow she kept silent, her green eyes fuming with anger. Good. If she resisted early then it wouldn't take long to break her. A willing sex slave. Spike cursed himself as a twinge of guilt seeped in at the thought. He couldn't help the rules. And she would learn as he did.

Sensing his mood had changed yet again, Buffy struggled against the weight of his hands. Even without trying he had her pinned. It was only the unguarded attempt to kiss her which had made his nose vulnerable. Buffy doubted that she would get the chance to inflict any more damage soon. She swallowed her gasp of surprise as Spike's mouth crushed itself against her own. It was primal, forcing her to acknowledge him even as her body settled against hard muscle. She twisted whether from desire for friction or to escape, she couldn't honestly say.

And then he was off her.

Still stunned she could only form half a sentence. "What... Why?"

A stunning smile crossed the man's face. "Had to sample the wares love. I've got things to do now besides you so I'll see you later." He paused for a moment, his hand on the door, "don't leave the room unless Hunter authorises it. They don't know about you yet."

Spike refused to acknowledge the fear in Buffy's eyes as he closed the door. She would learn just as he had what being a member of the circle meant.

"no one man should have all that power
the clocks ticking 'n I just count the hours"

It was a dark place by any standard. He very rarely came across crack dens that contained the same smell or aura. Yet lately it had come to fascinate him. He found himself taking the early shifts, walking the beat and trying to unconsciously edge closer, which was difficult. You had to cross through side streets, hook the last bus from 23rd and then walk a quick pace to the left. He didn't think anyone at the force knew about it but you couldn't be too careful. Going to the den was not normal in the precinct unless you were scoping the place out for perps.

He also walked quickly because of the neighborhood. Loitering was never tolerated, yet they knew him here. His mom's was just down the block, his deadbeat dad had friends just released from prison and they would wave at him unabashedly as he made his way.

The walls were covered in grime, dark smudges of dried blood and the city's dirt. New York at its finest. But it was the way Xander liked it.

It was all he had known.

In another world he imagined he would've had friends to help him move past the societal ruin. They would've encouraged him to do more, maybe even be a builder. As a child he had loved working with wood but that didn’t fit for a boy from downtown. You were either blue or part of the crew and his mother wouldn't have been able to take the strain of him going to prison like his dad. So he'd joined the force, keeping his home values behind closed doors and dutifully doing whatever the fuck honest cops were supposed to do. He was lucky that there weren't many left in his precinct or the internal rats would've had him long ago. Now he wondered whether he had finally gone too far.

Xander looked across the road, a girl with fiery red hair catching his attention. Her stride was confident, a wide skirt swishing as she walked. Instantly he imagined her as being witty and clever, listening when no one else would. The thought made him shake his head; it was pure foolishness. But this was something he also could not help. He often paused to stare at groups of giggling girls, wishing that he could make his way over, not just for the chance of sex but pure friendship, a human intimacy. But he didn't deserve it. Between the hookers and the girls who took three shots before they crawled into his bed, Xander was sure that a good girl wouldn't take one look at him. A sigh of relief came as the familiar dark doorway came into sight.

There was no sign of Finn though.

The question of just what he was doing, threatened again but Xander shut it out. Jiminy Cricket or whatever the fuck people liked to call a conscience would never help him here. He tossed a quick glance back to the street, the urban noise comforting and considered just turning around. Instead he crept past the door and then along the corridor, ignoring pained faces as junkies took their needles out and felt the sting of metal.

He wasn't that far gone. No, Xander was a special kind of cop, one bred to recognise a villain's face and sometimes the only cop that could help such a person for the right price. He didn't like doing it that much but moral qualms were for people with money. Reality was that life was shit and any extra cash was just pure luck. Which had brought him here tonight. His boss, Captain Finn had ordered him to come. He didn't quite know what for but when had that ever mattered? Xander did as he was told, especially when it came from the terse lips of Finn.

He tensed as a yell rose above the usual din of moans and cries. Finn must already be in the building. Xander normally lurked at the back of the building, his back loose as he rested against the brick wall. The place simply made him feel comfortable and it also led to good information. He tried to stay out of the organized crime and busting the addicts was easy pickings. He'd been surprised when Finn cornered him at his small office desk in the morning, heavy hands tapping all over piles of paperwork.

"You busy tonight?" Finn had asked, mouth twisting as though chewing on straw.

"No sir" Xander grimaced as his own leg twitched with something akin to fear. Did he know about Gunn? "What can I help you with?"

Finn had smiled then. His teeth were a ridiculous picket fence white and he sensed the intimidation in the air. "Just meet me at your usual haunt." He paused, "you know the one right?"

"The den?" Xander didn't believe his ears. How did he know?

"Yeah" Riley had replied, not trying to hide his derision. "The den."

The rest of the day had been spent sitting over a hot fire, his seat moving this way and then that as Xander pondered just what it was that Finn wanted to see. He didn't consider that the captain had something in store for him. As he walked down the center of the floor, he tried to pretend that it would merely be some drugs. Maybe the boss was a coke fiend. He could handle that easily enough.

The sound of a body slamming against a wall broke his concentration. The den was more like a series of rabbit holes but he could tell the general direction and hastened towards it. Another thud and this time he heard the cries of a girl. Just what was he getting himself into? Steeling his courage he decided to follow the heavy thuds, instinctively knowing that Finn would be at the end of it.

His feet began to move faster until he pushed through part of a door. The bottom half had been kicked in. His eyes tried to take in the scene but hesitated as though trying to deny the knowledge that it contained.

He had always thought Finn was a bit of a bully but this wasn't something else. His captain stood over a woman, his knuckles bruised from the mess he had made of her face. She seemed to cower before him, tattered clothes barely concealing a thin frame. One cheek was split open but he had left her eyes untouched. Her figure was like a wraith, skin pale as the moon. She was unlike anyone he had ever seen, even as he saw tell tale marks of a seasoned veteran of the streets. He could see the track marks but it still didn't explain her. She was beyond ordinary girls; she was ephemeral. He found himself smiling at her even as Finn continued to abuse her. He felt like they were meant to meet; as though it was fate. Finally she seemed to sense him and turned her face to Xander, blowing a battered kiss. And then he looked across to the doorway. Finn seemed like he always did, strong, taller than most men and oozing that honest guy attitude that had ingratiated him so well with the brass. Xander was amazed that he could look trustworthy standing in the den with a battered woman. At his hands no less.

"Good to see you Harris" Finn said quietly. Tonight he was dressed in plain clothes. It would be easier to dispose of but somehow it still managed to unnerve Xander. For the first time in the force, Xander felt a trickle of fear climb up his spine. Finn was more than just a poster boy now. He was pure danger. Xander steeled himself as Finn let the girl fall to the floor and stalked over to stand at Xander's side.

"I've been waiting a long time to introduce you to Dru."

***

Buffy stared at the door with dismay. She kept hoping that the annoying Brit would slam his way back in again, with a large tray of fried goods and some much needed refreshment. But nothing happened. Her stomach rumbled and she stalked into the bathroom grumpily to try and calm it with water. God what she wouldn't give to be outside again, to be free.

She had already peered out the window but there was no way to force it open. Her heart had settled enough to consider ways of manipulating it but without any tools she had no chance. Training had assumed that she would never be this trapped. Let's see Faith try to get out of this. Unbidden her thoughts drifted to the confrontational agent. She had been young in the department then, only just starting her training when Faith was brought in to teach them the basics.

Buffy remembered the sensation of tension washing over her as Faith had swung her hips at the men with ease. She was taller by an inch but in terms of experience she was the complete opposite. Buffy had only recently moved away from home in California and had just started her relationship with the promising lieutenant Riley Finn. Faith back then was the rogue agent, still in control of her destiny and able to outwit even the most charming of criminals. Long limbs bare to the eye had drawn everyone's gaze as soon as she stepped into the classroom and that was before she even spoke.

She oozed pure sexuality and wasn't afraid to use it as one after another she disarmed the stronger students. When it had been Buffy's turn to try and disarm her, Faith had leaned in close enough to kiss her before slamming her forehead into her nose. Although shocked at the pain Buffy had risen to her feet quickly and punched back to astounded applause.

"I'm impressed". Faith said loudly. She pushed back long strands of auburn hair from her freshly bruised face but still kept the smile. "Those are the instincts of a true fighter." Turning to face the class, she smiled seductively. "Now, what did Elizabeth do wrong?"

Parker's hand was the first up. "She let herself be surprised."

"Correct." Faith's brown eyes had flashed with pleasure as Buffy resumed her seat. "This will be true for all of you guys, if you make it out into the field. Sometimes your instincts are the only thing that will save your life. Trust them." Or end up like me.

Buffy didn't see her often after that, but everyone heard when the sting turned ugly. IA accused Faith of murder, and after that the rogue Slayer was imprisoned. Part of Buffy's success was mastering Faith's skill without letting it become a weapon.

Buffy only wished that she had the other woman's advice now.

Tying her own hair back, Buffy strode once more to the window. There just had to be someone out there who could help her. Her eyes scanned the trimmed lawns of the estate and once again she was amazed at the size of it. There was even a complicated maze with rose bushes and high hedges leading to a fountain. She would give anything to wander through it, if only to escape her thoughts and the intense boredom. She had noticed the stable of horses, but it was just on the edge of her view and certainly not close enough for her to make out the people which drifted in and out of the building.

Spike was going to pay for this. Somehow.

Her hands brushed the shirt that he had nearly ripped to pieces. She had been ready for the assault and was surprised that he hadn't gone farther. Buffy didn't analyse why surprise was the main emotion instead of disgust.

"I've other things to do than you."

She snorted at the line. Who did he think he was? Trying to come onto her without even a 'hello' or a 'how are you'? When she had been single she would never have tolerated him so much as touching her.

But you're not single anymore and this isn't a normal situation.

Her eyes began to water but she just buried her face into the comforter, trying to pretend that the tears leaking out were just from fatigue and not her predicament.

She felt like she was in some type of purgatory, trapped by the man that she would've imprisoned herself if given the chance. A sob ripped through her throat at the thought of his mouth bruising her own.

She couldn't pretend that this wasn't real any longer. And it was going to get worse.

***

Spike tried to calm himself as excitement flowed through his veins. It had gone wonderfully well upstairs. She had enjoyed it, especially if her shocked eyes as he left were anything to go by. He knew he had her. Now she just needed to be reminded of the fact. Spike growled low in his throat as he spotted Don at the bottom of the stairs. Hunter must've told them about the girl already.

The top level could only be reached on foot, with the elevator that connected the floors of the house, stopping at the fourth level. There was an underground basement underneath but Spike had never considered housing Buffy there. No, Buffy needed to be with him, where he could watch her, fuck her and truly destroy Angel's infatuation. The next time he saw the pillock he'd bring Buffy with him in some sexy little outfit and make her suck him off in front of the great bloody poof. A snigger escaped as he passed Don, eyes only flickering an acknowledgment. He didn't like the man but the trust was complete. Don had been recruited by Hunter and on the advice of his lieutenant, Spike had taken the man on.

He hadn't regretted it yet.

Don was a big man in the way that shadows seemed to increase at sunset. Sometimes he was so imposing that Spike felt the urge to pummel him into submission, at other times he was quiet and like a mouse. Spike still wasn't able to read him but it didn't matter as long as Don did what he was told. Spike relished teaching Buffy the lesson.

The men were numbered at twenty but only the four were allowed to be so close to the grounds. Indeed, Spike let them live on the second floor with their personal rooms and rules. He could enter of course, but Buffy would never be allowed to walk those floors. Not that she would want to anyway. The men could be true deviants and somehow despite her undercover status, Spike doubted she had seen everything. Sometimes their interests had caused him genuine surprise.

But he kept his emotions guarded. Striking out away from Masters had taught him many things, the least of which was that he was alone. No one could be completely trusted and after Dru, Spike didn't have any heart left to give.

He imagined that Buffy would be the same, once she learned her place.

"Breakfast is here!" Shoving the door open, Warren peeked into the bedroom with his tray. In the bed lay a blonde girl, her hair bright in the morning sun. The big bully had sent him up here, merely barking the orders into the kitchen. None of the other staff dared to take it up to Spike's apartment.

So of course it fell on Warren.

Placing the tray on the bedside table he crept closer. She was beautiful in a unique way, her eyelashes framing high cheekbones and lush lips. Her nose reminded him of a button, cute yet still lovely.

Warren stretched out a hand and-

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Cursing himself Warren stepped back until he was against the wall, shaking in fear as Don pushed his way into the room.

"I wasn't going to do anything, I swear."

"Shut it" Don said, his own voice low. Spike would kill them both if he found them in here. "Walk over slowly and I promise I won't tell the boss what you were going to do."

"You won't?" Warren asked, surprised. He walked out of the room slowly, past Don as the much larger man nodded his affirmation. Turning once the door was shut, Warren smiled with relief. "Thanks for that man. I was so worried you were Spike…"

"Shut your fucking mouth. You're lucky I'm not Spike but I'm still going to punish you anyway."

True fear raced across his face as Don grabbed hold of his throat. "Where are you taking me?"

"Below."



She could smell something lovely and warm and mapley? Forcing her eyes open, Buffy felt her mouth water as she spotted a tray of what was undoubtedly pancakes.

"Finally" she breathed. Between the odd bread and water slipped through during the middle of night, she had received nothing else for the better part of a week. Being alone had driven her nearly insane, particularly when her only outlet was the window facing down onto the grounds. She knew Spike was there. Sometimes when her thoughts kept her awake, she would hear him outside the door, talking in hushed tones to others, ordering those who were below him. Hunter was the only one who actually talked to her and even he couldn't answer when she would leave the accursed room.

Maybe today it would finally happen.

Not bothering with delicacy or manners, she shoved pancake into her mouth and groaned with pleasure. It was almost as good as her mothers. A tremble shook her for a second as she considered Dawn. Would she know that she was missing or merely think that her mission was taking too long? Had Riley told anyone about what was happening to her?

Lost in her thoughts, she didn't notice him before he entered the room. He was grinning like the whole situation was a joke, calm and secure whilst she was kept on edge. Classic hostage 101 strategy. God she hated this and hated him with his muscled chest and tight dress pants which perfectly showed hard thighs and a perfect ass. Yes hate was definitely the emotion that Buffy associated with Spike.

"Settling in well, luv?" Spike cursed himself silently at the endearment. She was here to be punished and broken, not coddled. He envisioned their relationship in the same manner as Angel's with Drusilla. She would come to depend on him for everything, and he would be the final master. It was the only real option given Angel's feelings for the chit. He couldn't simply allow her to roam free. Although looking at her pert arse, Spike considered allowing it if she was nude.

"Sleep well?"

"I'd sleep a lot better if you let me go!" She pushed away her breakfast not caring if they left her a loaf by the door and ignored her for a month. She'd rather starve then give in.

Spike nodded as though understanding her motives. "I don't think you understand the situation, love. I can't let you go ever."

"You can't or you won't?"

Spike eyed her, surprise flickering across his brow. What did she care? "I guess it’s a bit of both, now that I think about it. Haven't had a woman around for a long while now." Not since trying to share Dru. Plus there's the whole leverage part." The leer was unnecessary but it made her flinch.

"What do you mean?"

I can't believe I'm explaining myself to some chit. "You" Spike growled. "You're the leverage, on Angel, on Riley, even on sodding me."

"That doesn't make any sense." Buffy stood up then, her face showing all the anguish that she couldn't rationalize away. "I didn't even succeed."

Spike guffawed, his tone menacing. "I don't think you ever were going to."

"WHAT DOES THAT MEAN? ARE YOU EVER GOING TO EXPLAIN ANYTHING TO ME?!" She shoved him then, not caring what could happen. Who did they think they were keeping her like this?

Spike snapped. "I don't fucking have to! I own you pet. The sooner you understand that the better. Besides, don't you want me luv? This situation doesn't have to be all that bad." Spike reached for her, steeling himself as a loud slap landed on his cheek. Dru would've tried to lay me out by now. Again she tried to hit him and this time Spike was ready. Twisting her wrists until she couldn't use them, Spike forced her back onto the bed. "You're never going to win this pet. I have you and I'll use you and the only thing you can do is try and make yourself useful enough that I don't let you float down the Hudson."

"I'd rather wear cement shoes then be yours."

Fed up Spike let her go. "Keep acting this way, and you'll get your wish."




Spike tried to calm himself. Somewhere, she was above him, no doubt cursing his name in some not-quite-colourful language. But he couldn't bring himself to go upstairs now. Not after what Wesley had told him. It was enough to shake any man but knowing Angel personally made it all the worse.

Drake was going to forgive him.

Just the idea of it made him want to rush upstairs and just take her, fuck the waiting, fuck trying to gain any form of trust from her. He didn't deserve the mercy.

And now Spike wasn't sure that she did either. Hunter thought the whole thing was nuts. He could tell from the way the big man's eyes would linger on him in the hallways as he went about his tasks. He'd never actually said but that wasn't allowed unless it put them in danger. So far it hadn't but Angel was unpredictable and rotten to the fucking core. He tried t imagine how Buffy could ever fall for such a creature. In the time at Masters she must have seen something that would prove his character. But no; she sobbed for her poor bloody Angel and lowered her eyes when he mentioned the Captain of Cardboard and dirty tricks. She was better then both of them for all that was worth but who cared now? Hunter didn't. He thought that they could get to Riley without her, no problems. And Drake hated her too, so where was the danger in letting her fall into some shallow grave?

It made sense. Spike was willing to admit that Drake's favour was not a terrible thing to have, but she didn't deserve it, not the way that other women did. She'd walked in freely to Masters home but it wasn't the same as a normal whore. Spike could admire the effort to try and do the right thing, even if he disagreed with her mission. She was dedicated though. The way that I was dedicated to Dru.

Sighing, Spike made his way down to the gym. It was large, covering the length of the building and contained showers, toilets and a sauna. It was paradise for someone like him and the only way that he could relax. Throwing himself against the first bag, he didn't bother to bind his fists, trying to punch his way through the bag itself. If only it were that simple. He only started panting after the fourth round but still he kept on.

Left hook.

Knee.

Left then right then under hook.

Knee again.

Not even the rhythm was soothing to him. Unbidden Buffy's breasts appeared in his mind. He had known from the first time Drake hauled her out in front of the captains that she was beautiful. But with her hair smelling like shampoo and fresh water, her skin glistening and warm? Spike didn't know how to ignore her beauty, much less try and get his way. Pushing away the bag, Spike stalked to the showers and stripped. Muscled arms warm and pumped from his workout rested against the tiled wall as hot water streamed down his back.

Do you want me luv? Buffy looked at him, hazel eyes wide with lust, fear and just a hint of curiosity. He moved forward again, this time reaching for her waist. But this time she didn't struggle. Spike imagined her falling into him, her lips tickling his collarbone. His hand lowered to his raging cock, and hissed at the feel of his rough palms against smooth skin. Spike imagined her before him, knees bent as she lowered her mouth over his cock. She would smile at him, lick her lips and just touch the tip, teasing, trying to get him to explode. Gasping Spike shuddered with release, washing his hands in the now cold shower.


Deep in her bedroom, Buffy turned onto her side. For a minute there she could almost feel Spike. What is happening to me?

night lift up the shades
let in the brilliant light of morning
but steady me now
for I am weak and starving for mercy



He knew tonight had gone well by any standard. It was all finally starting to come together, after a month of fretting and worrying over his missing fiancé. The brass hadn't wanted to believe him at first. They stupidly had thought that she could handle it, that the operation was actually going to work.

Fucking idiots, the lot of them.

Riley allowed himself to relax as the elevator doors finally opened. This part of his day was routine. No matter what time he stepped into the poorly lit hallway of this shitty motel, it gave him a chance to relax. Hours had passed since he last saw Xander at the den. It was well into the next day but he didn't care. Sleeping was difficult for him anyway.

"Buffy" he said softly. He caught himself saying her name too often, during his lunch break when he'd loiter with the evidence room technicians, or even as he lay down with one of the girls that had some common name but answered to 'whore'. They didn't mean anything. It was just what he had to do, had always done to a certain extent. Buffy not being around had only made it more apparent to those around him. The hotel room was bare except for the small pile of clothes on one side of the bed. After a month, it looked barely lived in. He struggled to breathe for a moment. Even saying her name hurt. He tore his shirt off, uncaring as it fell to the ground.

Riley hadn't gone back home for a month now, and wouldn't until she came back. It was hard enough seeing her photos displayed on other officers' desks as signs of mourning.

Riley hated the sympathetic looks they gave him.

Everyone had feared the worst after she didn't report back the second time, but now it looked like Buffy had become a true casualty of the circle. Riley punched the bed, struggling to control himself. She should never have been there or accepted the position and she had known it all the while.

It was all Faith's fault. Riley had hoped that the older woman would've shown her an alternate path, one where she didn't want to go into that line of work and instead be his wife. It had backfired on him horribly. After Faith was exposed for going beyond the rules of engagement and murdering a snitch, Buffy had tried even harder to prove that the same wouldn't happen to her. She didn't want to accept that women just can't do this kind of job. Too headstrong for her own good. Even worse, Buffy seemed to relish the danger but all Riley had wanted to do was protect her.

And at every turn she had rejected him. Not even an engagement ring could stop her from going undercover… The emptiness of the room seemed to mock him.

He turned over until his back was completely against the mattress and stared up at the cracked paint on the ceiling. He had been fooling himself for a long time, hoping that she would turn into a normal girl. But was it so much to ask for? Every time he had tried to get close, Buffy hadn't needed him. Now he couldn't even find out whether she was okay and it was driving him mad.

But that won't be for long. They could think Riley was stupid and a hick all they wanted. It only helped him to steal away drugs and information to buy what he needed. Drusilla had been a lucky find and before long he would be someone to be frightened of; someone who had power.

Ever since Drusilla had suggested it, Riley had been unable to get the idea out of his head. Why did cops never have the same power as those they tried to arrest? If anything he was the good guy and yet he only got better treatment due to his parentage. No Riley Finn, captain of the New York police squad for organized crime, deserved better. He was worth more than that. And by the time he was done, Buffy would need him. And be thankful for what he gave her.

But first he needed Xander. The man was weak and easy to manipulate but he didn't take kindly to authority. Drusilla and her special touch was necessary in order to convince him to help out. Now that the two had met, Riley could only imagine the uses the man would have for him. He needed an in with the working class crews and everyone knew where Xander came from. Dru would see to it that he didn't object.

He couldn't go home anymore and the more Riley considered it, why would he want to?




"Do you know anything about what goes on here?" Hunter leaned against the door this morning, his eyes flickering at the clean plates that had been stacked earlier with muffins and poached eggs.

Buffy lowered her eyes, "my training only gave me a general idea of the circle and its operations." She watched him out of the corner of her eye, waiting for his next move. Everyone around here moved as though they were ghosts and she was sick of being caught off guard. She was dressed in a collared shirt, the cut feminine as it tucked into dress pants. Sometime in the middle of the night, clothes had been neatly packed away into the drawers of her dresser. Her heart skipped a beat as Hunter motioned for her to walk out of the bedroom. It had been a long week of silence and only a weedy little man named Warren for company. Buffy suspected that he had done something to the orange juice that he left each day but couldn't prove it.

It was the only way she could rationalize sleeping through someone entering the room without her knowledge.

Unable to help the gasp, Buffy surveyed the room directly outside her bedroom. Sometime in the last week Spike had moved out of it completely, to the point where she was able to breathe a sigh of relief when his blonde head didn't peek around the bedroom door. Hunter smiled slightly at her surprise. The bedroom was large but it didn't match the rest of the top area, what with the extended living room and bar off to the far left of the room. Buffy almost wanted to sit and watch the large TV in the center of the room but hesitated when she saw Hunter again gesture towards a set of large reinforced doors.

"Are we really going outside?"

Hunter shrugged, his massive shoulders seeming to push against the tight fabric of his shirt. "I thought it would be something different for you" he paused, "but I can always leave you here if you prefer."

"Oh gods no" said Buffy hastening forward. "I think I'd go crazy if left in there any longer."

"That's what I told Spike."

The ride down the elevator was silent but then Buffy didn't want Hunter to talk to her that much . After all he had helped imprison her. Plus there was the whole being friends with Spike thing. For the tenth time, she stole a look at him and wondered how such a Neanderthal could operate in organized crime. He certainly didn't look like he could do more than tie his shoes.

He pushed her through the doorway and out into the ground floor, not bothering to wait as she looked around them.

"Where are you taking me?" This time her voice was tighter. Maybe Spike had finally gotten sick of her lingering around the house and was going to send her back to Drake. Immediately dread filled her and her knees buckled. She sunk to the ground, panic ripping through her veins. She couldn't go back there. Not after the beatings.

"What's wrong with you now?" Hunter asked. He loosened his grip around her wrists, as the small woman in front of him seemed to crumble. Her eyes were closed but she was shaking as though freezing. "Hey, I'm not going to hurt you" he said in what he hoped was a gentle voice. He felt like he was trying to coax a kitten out from under the couch. "I just thought you might like to go outside."

Buffy forced her eyes open and was confronted by heavy eyes. "You're not going to send me back?"

"What?" Hunter asked surprised, "of course not. You're worth too much to Spike." He pulled her up and swung open the doors before she could say anything else. "Wes has found out a lot about you, and Spike thought you might like to see the stables."

Buffy tried not to swallow her tongue with surprise as Hunter prodded her along outside. The mansion was huge but standing directly outside of it, she felt tiny. They had never managed to get information on Spike, beyond that he was Masters protégé, but this amount of wealth? It was staggering.

"You can stare all you like, just remember that you'll never be able to use the intel." Hunter waited a few feet away, but he still had a holstered gun at his side. It looked almost comical on him. Buffy doubted that any people would try to fight him when he looked so imposing. Except for me.

The grass was still wet with dew and her shoes, conveniently also procured by the mystery shopper, were soon covered with sticky seeds from blooming spring flowers.

"Is he mad at me?" she asked. Not that I care or anything.

Hunter stumbled at the question. "No." He saw her skeptical expression, "well, maybe a little. He doesn't like being defied."

"Well that’s all that is going to happen as long as he keeps me here", she retorted. What else can he expect? Buffy halted as she felt Hunter place his hand on her shoulder. "What are you doing? I'm not going to run –"

"You're making a mistake", Hunter said gruffly. "Spike is the only person keeping you safe. And when Angel comes you're going to regret ever pissing him off."

"See Spike said the same thing but he didn't explain it". She didn't even want to think about Angel right now. When was she going to get away from all these men and their nets?

Hunter stepped closer, this time not bothering to assure her that she would be safe. Fear was a sensible reaction and right now the twit needed to feel it. "Why should we have to explain ourselves? You're the enemy. If it weren't for you the boss would never have had to kill Masters at all!" His hands became his fists at the memory of the brutal execution. He had protected Masters ever since he was able to carry a gun.

"He killed him? That old man?" Buffy asked. The crotchety man had come near her only twice and then to ask only whether she was enjoying herself. Not that much of a big bad at all.

Hunter sighed heavily. She didn't understand anything at all. He'd thought that Spike would've told her something, maybe explained about the cross but it wasn't his place… Just because Spike hadn't killed anyone lately didn't mean that he wouldn't snap at the thought of Buffy knowing all his secrets.

Secrets that needed to be kept.

Instead Hunter stepped away from Buffy, his hands cold as he thought of the consequences. "You're going to have to get the truth from him. I'm just a lieutenant and you should know better anyway. Didn't they teach you anything at pig school?"

He ignored Buffy's awkward punch at his arm as he turned and continued walking. A minute later he heard her follow. This time they both kept silent.

Let Spike deal with her.




The rest of the day was relaxing enough, but Buffy's head was practically stuffed full of questions. True to his craggy demeanor, Hunter did not say another word and just watched her as she curried a roan mare. One of the stable hands had called her Rose when handing over the haltered horse. Buffy smiled as Rose nibbled on the edge of her shirt. The stables were expansive and it was obvious that the men enjoyed riding. Of course everything was done with the knowledge that the circle owned it, from the insignia on the doors of the stable to the stable hands themselves. There would be no chance of escape if she asked the servants. Buffy suspected that they were just as badly caught within the circle's web, maybe even enjoyed the benefits that came with illegal work. But here, for the moment, she could relax and finally breathe in fresh air.

She didn't even realize it was dark until Hunter tapped her on the shoulder.



Spike tried to make the headache dissipate, but it was no use. "You mean he's coming here?" What did the wretched fuck want now? "Drake can't possibly have allowed this."

Wesley fought the urge to clean his glasses and instead stared at the carpet between them. The informal meeting had unnerved him, no more so, when Hunter had stepped out of the room, leaving him alone with a rabid Spike. The Brit looked like he had barely slept, his eyes bloodshot and his shirt unbuttoned down to the navel.

Yet Wesley was no fool. The boss was never going to be truly vulnerable. Spike always had a back up plan, even if he was notorious for being spontaneous. You had to be in this line of work.

"I can only give you what the spies are telling me. Boss" he added.

"Well it's not fucking good enough!" Spike stalked across the room now, his rage palpable. "Angel has no right, no bloody right to check up on me, after the fucking fiasco he caused. I'm –" He took a deep breath and then looked at the other English man. Drake had sent him not a day after Buffy left, with a little threat attached. Everything was going to hell.

"You're no fucking good to me, y' know". Spike waited until the brunette acknowledged his gaze and then continued. "'ve known from the bloody start that you're Drake's eyes and I won't have that here, sod the circle to hell. I'm Drake's equal now not his bleeding lap dog."

"He doesn't trust you." Wes stated it matter-of-factly. It was no use to try flattery with Spike, not when he could easily read the lie in his face. "I'm not saying you aren't loyal" Wes added hastily, fear spiking as dark blue eyes seemed to flare with anger, "but he knows you want Angel gone and he has to protect his brother."

"Has to, or is forced to?" Spike asked rhetorically. He sat down again and tried to calm himself. Buffy would be waiting for him tonight, courtesy of Hunter and he had to get through her, work out what in bloody buggering hell he was going to do. The cross had weighed on his mind for some time now. And the more Angel tried to seek him out, to gather fucking intelligence like some snake in the grass, the more Spike's blood wanted to boil. It was just like the poofter to try this.

"I want to be one of you." Wesley crossed the floor himself, kneeling until he was just below Spike's line of sight. "I know it won't mean anything to you now, but I'll prove myself."

"An' why on earth would you do that?" Spike's scarred eyebrow hitched at the thought of the other Englishman daring to turn on Drake and by proxy Angel.

"I hate Angel" Wes said simply. He held up a hand, as Spike's mouth opened to ask the proverbial question of 'why'. "Just respect my decision and I'll respect your leadership."

Spike guffawed at that. "There's a great deal of difference between how I run things and that of the bloody Einstein twins…" He stood up and walked past Wesley to the door. "I'll accept your word for now, but prepared to prove it."




The room was set beautifully, a pair of lit candles providing the perfect touch to an elaborate dinner. The boy, Spike couldn't recall the weedy sod's name, had outdone himself. A long shower had given him time to get ready for the mental onslaught of Buffy's tongue. Not that she was a viper in the way Dru was, but something about her made Spike feel like he couldn't argue, like he was constantly the fool. But not tonight.

The other afternoon in the shower had made him realize that he wanted her and the feeling was foreign after all this time. Spike had been sure that hookers were the only women he could touch after Drusilla. He'd been happy to reduce intimacy to a physical transaction. But the chit stirred something in him. He hated her, had to because of her history and her sodding choices of lovers, but he also thought about her when not in a rage. And that was something new. Acting like a teenager and wanking away was not something that he usually enjoyed doing.

Spike was certain that he would bed her tonight.

sleep has left me alone
to carry the weight of unraveling of where we went wrong
it's all I can do
to keep from falling into all familiar shoes

He waited there for nearly an hour before she finally showed and even then she wasn't dressed in what he'd required. No, instead the silly bint was still in her earlier attire, smelling of grass and was that horses?

Curiosity warred with his desire to take her to task. Despite running roughshod with her tongue towards him, Hunter had reported that their day was civil, pleasant even. Not for the first time Spike felt a sense of unease. Very rarely did women ever speak to him in the manner she had, and then they had never rejected his advances. It was a new experience that he wasn't quite sure he was enjoying.

"Where have you been?"

Buffy turned, surprised to find him in the outer room. Her bedroom door was firmly closed and she wished that she could just ignore him and walk straight past. "Where do you think?" Her hands unconsciously found their way to her hips. "I'd of thought your giant lackey would tell you exactly where we went."

"I'd personally like to hear it from you, pet." Spike took in her annoyed frame, deciding that maybe it wasn't so bad she was wearing the tight top. All it would take would be a few hard tugs and he could rip her out of it.

"We walked, I saw horses, Hunter was boring, the end." Her eyes caught the feast on the table before Spike. Gods she was hungry. "Were you waiting for me?"

He smile seemed to grow bigger. "Yes and no, I've decided to move back upstairs." He leaned forward conspiratorially, "can't expect the boys to house me forever when there's a perfectly good bed here."

"Uhhhh, no there's not. There's my bed and the couch and you can't have my bed."

"It was my bloody bed first, pet." The nerve of her, claiming something that was totally his, made him want to hold her close and proclaim that she was his as well. Snap out of it, Spike! Spike gestured to the seat across from him as he speared a rib eye. Warren always did select the best cuts of meat for him. "Besides, you must get cold, up here by your lonesome." He leered at her chest, delighting as her folded arms pushed her breasts together.

Buffy stared at him aghast. This was quickly descending into dangerous territory. She ignored the way her stomach fluttered at his teasing tone. The separation had renewed her appreciation for company even his arrogant company. "I'm no going to comment on the state of my bed." She settled into the seat, thankful that he couldn't easily reach across and grab her.

"You're in my home" he held up a hand to stave off any argument, "and whether you like it or not, you are my property. Since I don't like marring women's tongues or faces, we have to learn to get along some how. I'm willing to give you some leeway pet, but don't you bloody dare take it for granted." Something dangerous glinted in his eye then. "Angel may have a dark history but I can rival him for bloodshed any day."

"What are you talking about?" Buffy asked, forgetting his threats as the Brit's face turned stormy.

Aghast Spike put down his fork and stared at her. "You mean you never saw Peaches' dark side?"

Buffy rolled her eyes, unwilling to slander him, even as her training suggested the real truth. "He never did anything illegal in front of me, if that's what you're implying. And frankly I don't think he would."

"Yeah, bet you think that sod still has a soul." Spike ignored her confused expression and gestured towards the food. He didn't speak again until she had had her fill.

Spike sighed, realizing that maybe he didn't want the chit to know what kind of man she had given herself to. Wesley still was investigating how far their relationship had gone, but he was sure it wasn't deep on the tosser's part. Angel could never hide his true self for long.

"Look, we need to talk." His voice had a stern tone but his eyes conveyed a totally different message, perhaps something close to affection. Buffy felt her muscles contract with something not quite fear but just as intense. What was he doing to her?

"As far as I'm concerned we have nadda to say to each other."

"Nadda?" he queried, a ghost of a smile hovering over his lips.

"As in nothing, zip, zero" she paused, "nadda."

"Right then. So what were you planning to do here, besides eat my food and act like a general pain in the arse?"

Buffy frowned. He really didn't understand her situation at all. "Generally just that, since you won't let me go, which by the way, totally doesn't make with the sense. Couldn't you just ransom me, or something?" She hated suggesting it but she knew that Riley would pay and she at least had a half a chance at surviving then.

Spike chuckled, although it was mirthless. "All that would do is make you a mark for the next time we wanted anything from the sodding Captain. You're too easy to take out and forgive me for saying this, but your training means that anyone could kill you in a heartbeat. Plus there's the fact that we don't want money."

"What do you want then?" Exasperated by his games, Buffy shoved her chair back from the table. "I mean, you've left me up here for a week, twiddling my thumbs and braiding my fucking hair! If there was any intelligence value, you would've tried to get it already."

Spike stood up and swiftly moved until he was kneeling before her. But for the grace of God go I "I want you Buffy." He paused as he noted the fear wash over her face. "I want to keep you here as my mistress, I guess you could call it." He steeled himself for her angry words, but was surprised when none came. Instead a look of horror was creeping over her beautiful face.

Hoping to stave off her anxiety, Spike continued on. "Whilst I have you, and by that I mean having you in the fullest sense of the word, I have control over Riley sodding Finn, Angel and the circle to a large extent." Still she says nothing. "That and you have a fabulous arse." She didn't bother to glare at him.

"But why your mistress" she mumbled. "You could have anyone."

"Angel doesn't love any other girls, but you." Spike chided her. He noted the shocked expression which seemed to be a permanent fixture of her face and grimaced. "I can't tell you everything, but he took something from me and I mean to have my revenge."

The urge to kiss her was overwhelming as a tear trailed down her cheek.

"Namely me." Buffy felt herself slump into the chair. She didn't even notice when Spike's hands caught her own. Or the thumb that unconsciously rubbed against her skin in soothing motions. "And if I say no?"

Spike looked at her in the eyes, dark blue filling with dread. "Then Drake will kill you."

how stupid could I be?
a simpleton could see
that you're no good for me
but you're the only one I see


"Drake will kill you."

The words hung in the air between them. She tried to look away from his eyes; tried to pretend that this awful choice was not what he was offering her. Drake's stony face loomed in her mind. He had knocked her out with one hit. But what were her other choices?

She could either accept a life with him as his mistress or be ruthlessly killed?

The thought was both frightening and dizzying.

Spike didn't move closer but she knew that he was watching her, waiting for her to make some kind of decision. Even as he asked her to pick, Buffy knew that he wouldn't care if she was sent back to Drake. It'd probably be less of a headache for him. But something in her didn’t want to make a decision; wanted to remain in the safe world of denial.

She had expected the solitary confinement. She could deal with torture but at some point she had expected that they would let her go, that Riley would find a way to save her.

And now she had nothing, no one. Except for Spike.

And he didn't even love her! How could she spend her life with somebody who only wanted sex? And what about her fiancé? The circle could hope all they liked that he would give up, but she knew different. He wouldn't be able to accept her just disappearing. He had never accepted anything without first trying to get his way. Their engagement had just been one manifestation of his desire for control. She could feel the beginnings of a giant headache just at the thought of Riley. No matter what Spike said, this would end badly.

Buffy felt herself start to tremble but instead bit down her lip, not caring when Spike gathered her into his arms. She felt ridiculously cold even as his hard, calloused hands pulled her against his satin shirt. He was oddly cool like the night air.

"What about my family?"

Spike peered down at her covered face. The tear track upon her cheek shone in the moonlight but otherwise she appeared statuesque. Maybe I've broken her… "You mean your lil' sis', yeah?"

She nodded, not bothering to question how he knew. Nothing in her life would ever be private again.

"We can keep her safe. I doubt the lil' chit would get into too much trouble at Berkley anyway."

"You mean Drake won't go after her?"

"Not as long as you're mine" Spike assured her. "We're equals now and the sod won't be able to challenge me about who I take for a mistress."

Buffy merely nodded, her hands pushing against hard muscle as she struggled to stand again. Everything was moving too fast. I just need it to stop. Her skin felt hot and flustered and it was only when Spike finally let go that she felt herself finally breathe properly. When had her life turned into this nightmare? She stared at Spike. He was nothing but a monster. No matter the lies that he kept spinning, there had to be a way out. Her mouth felt dry as she backed slowly away from him. "Do we need to talk anymore?" she asked. "I don’t think I can handle anymore surprises."

He laughed. Who did she think he was? Some kind of servant that she could dismiss? Al his early tenderness made him feel sick now, embarrassment curling at the tip of his spine. She was nothing but an ignorant, foolish girl. But still my girl.

"Do you have a decision?"

Buffy stared at him, aghast. Surely he didn’t want to settle the deal now? Not after just telling her that she could never return to any semblance of a normal life. "You bastard" she spat the words at him. "How dare you try and pressure me to –"

"I need to know you stupid bint!" Spike roared at her, his patience completely lost. "I have to give him an answer soon and we've wasted so much time already. Bloody Angel will be on the doorstep before I know it and then I'll have to defend you against him." He stormed into the bedroom after her, not caring as she tried to ignore him.

"ANSWER ME!"

Buffy crawled into the bed, her back to him the whole time. "I'd rather die" came the petulant reply.

Well, that fucking does it. Spike thought. His veins were bursting with the need to hurt someone, to attack something for this situation. She was meant to be a reward for his hard work and loyalty. Instead Buffy had left him irritated and without release. He wanted to tear his hair out and rip apart the bedroom. His hand itched for the need to punch something. God help the men below. Wesley would likely cop a beating. Without thinking, he reached for her but she quailed in fear. "You will fucking obey me!" His fist slammed into the wall, plaster bursting into the air as Buffy left out a frightened scream.

He didn't want to feel sympathy for her. She was meant to be a sex toy, something to pass the time with as he drove his rivals mad. Instead he had a bed full of woman and no sex.

Spike was sick of it.

Stalking over to the bed, he stared angrily at her shaking frame. "I'll bloody show you what it means to die" he roared. He ripped back the covers on the bed, desperation coloring his actions with a ferocity that he normally didn't show. She drove him mad, what with her insane arguments and lack of sense. Didn't she know what this would cost him? Her death would've been far easier to arrange then the lengths he was putting himself through at the moment. His hands closed around her throat and now he saw true terror in her eyes. She thrashed in the bed, her hands clawing at his face with fear. His eyes raked down her body. Uncaring of her feelings, his hands tore at her clothes until she was bare at the chest and only barely covered in a lacy thong. He recognised it as one that had been bought by Mrs. Whinchester but couldn't help but leer.

Gods she was gorgeous. He growled in the back of his throat as he noted the fading bruises around her breasts and the raised scars on her wrists. Where had she been before him? Who had touched her saintly body?

Angel the pillock, Riley…

The thought drove him mad with jealously and his lips latched onto a pert nipple not caring as she screamed even louder. His hand unconsciously cupped her sex, a hot sweet smell perfuming the air. She had never been had like this; she would never be taken by another after him. He pumped one finger into her slick passage and groaned as she tightened around him.

"Spike, please stop… Look at me Spike. I'll do it I'll be yours, just not tonight." She was sobbing now, her hands fisted in his hair as though holding onto him would somehow anchor her to this world. "I promise I will".

"No, 've waited long enough." His hand tightened around her throat as he pushed his fingers in deeper. Her protests were changing now, keening cries becoming pleasured as he kept up a bruising pace. "You'll be mine, no matter whether you say yes or no. You're mine Buffy, you hear me?" His voice rasped as he looked down at her tear stained face. Her hair shook with the force of her orgasms even as she struggled to get free of him. But it was a weak effort. Years of workouts and fights and clawing through the ranks to stay alive, had made Spike hard and not even a trained officer would be able to throw him off.

"Please Spike, not yet." Buffy opened her eyes to look at him, petrified at the once beautiful face contorted with rage.

It was the face of a monster.

"You promise" he pressed. His hand was wet with her juices but the only sensation he could feel was her fear. Had he gone too far?

"Buffy, luv…"

"Don’t call me that" she wrenched her body away from him, desperately trying to pull the bed sheets across herself. If he made another move towards her, she swore she'd run through the halls naked, damn the consequences. A sob tore from her throat as he began to shed his clothes. What did he want now?

Spike cursed himself silently as he slid underneath the covers. There was a gulf between them but for now it was enough.

"Buffy" he whispered and then he couldn't keep his hands off of her. The sheets tangled around her legs as he dragged her against him. His lips covered her neck, shame fueling him as he felt the raised bumps around her throat. Mine. "You're mine" he mumbled, kisses falling in the small of her back. "You're mine Elizabeth Anne Summers. You'll never be touched by another." He felt her gasp but continued to repeat the words. If he said them enough times then it would be true, no matter what Angel or any of the bastards said. He drew her against him until they were inseparable, the sensation of her heartbeat flooding into his chest. "Say you're mine."

Spike hated himself for asking her, but he needed to know now. If Angel came here without her being firmly established as his, then everything would go to hell. Drake would not forgive him if Spike murdered his younger brother. Even though the great git deserves it.

She nodded, disgust filling her even as she acquiesced to him. "Please let's just sleep tonight", she pleaded.

"Alright pet" shame threatened to engulf him as he curled at her side. What if she turns into Dru? He went to touch her back and then hesitated. She was so frail, so beautiful and perfect and he scared her. Acted like Angel and threatened her to the point where her breaths were shattered.

love has made me a fool
set me on fire and watched as I floundered
unable to speak
except to cry out
and wait for your answer

He couldn't really remember being someone other than Spike. Angel had always called him William, perhaps pleased that their Christian names were virtually the same. But other than the great git no one else dared to talk to him about the old Spike, the young boy.

It was all for the better anyway. Spike breathed in the night air, grateful for the fresh breeze which now flowed through the window. Everything was quiet except for the soft sounds that emanated from the other side of the bed. Her cheeks were dry now, lashes dark against pale skin that had been red from the night's events. Gods, he hadn't expected her to go so quiet. Dru would've yelled until all the men were outside their door. If he remembered correctly, Dru had enjoyed it all a little too much, taking the confrontation to extremes, but that didn't bear thinking about. Or at least hadn't until now.

Exactly what was he going to do with her? Spike had proposed the idea of mistress rather rashly. He knew it wouldn't be the girl's idea of solution but he had been half mad at the idea of Angel coming, still was if he wanted to be honest. The man could not have her, no matter what Drake said.

She's mine… But mine how? He turned onto his side and stared at her serene face. How she had managed to fall asleep next to him was anybody's guess.

A mistress was the last thing he needed.

The house was secure but trying to start something up with Riley would put them all in danger, and having Buffy at his side would not make it any easier. He allowed himself to smile as she shifted in her sleep, bottom lip jutting out to form a pout.

If he didn't know any better, Spike was sure that she could sleep for years. She would too, just to get away from me.

He'd never been much for introspection. His life had necessitated things that could never be looked at in the harsh light of day and the night's events were no different. She was his and he had taken her.

Then why did he feel the tiniest bit of regret?

Maybe it's because of Dru he thought reflexively. After all, that made sense. Losing her had been the last tie to any form of humanity and perhaps Buffy was awakening some small part of that old self.

She whimpered and he reached for her almost instantly, pulling her small frame into his arms, shushing the sleepy protests as she settled against his chest. She was a marvel in so many ways but all he could think of was her pleas from hours earlier.

Was this what it meant to be bewitched?

He allowed himself to relax, pondering the question until sunrise graced the sky. Hours later and he was only sure of one thing: he had no clue of what he was doing with her.






Beneath them, down in the second level of the mansion, Don stirred. The night had been far more productive for him. The first time in a while that he knew exactly what he was doing. Thinking only of his morning rituals, the man caressed the stubble on his jaw, not even noticing that his hands were covered in dry blood. I need a shave.

His arm was wrapped around the body of the girl, but it didn't matter. He barely considered any more than one would a piece of grass. She was no longer of use and thus unremarkable and worthless.

She didn't matter.

Not she, it, he mentally corrected, the corpse next to him was no longer a girl. A giddy feeling enthused him as he considered the fact. He had killed under all their noses without even being detected. It was a miracle. Or perhaps, just a small token of how much Spike and the others trusted him. Don grinned and fingered the gash on the side of her face. He'd been lazy and cut her there, not even caring when her screams escaped from the gag. She'd been fun, he thought, but then again what other purpose would a whore serve?

You could never love one.

Unbidden he considered the girl upstairs. No doubt Spike was giving her a good seeing to, teaching the slut a lesson about who was in charge. He didn't feel good about saving her from Warren anymore than you would remove a piece of road kill from the road. She was useful in keeping Spike preoccupied and until she stopped fulfilling that purpose, Don would let her live. He'd heard whispers though, of Spike wanting the whole thing to become more permanent and knew that would never do. He had his orders and they said that she had to go. The ink was still fresh from his tattoo and Don knew that no matter the personal risk he would follow through and deliver the girl to her death, Spike and the circle be damned.

He considered the dead girl's staring eyes as he stood up from the bed. He should've picked one with green and blonde hair. They were the wrong colour, blue like a calm ocean. Far too fucking blue for his tastes.

He'd picked her up the night before, after Warren had failed to satisfy him any longer. It was all in the screams or begging. The moment Warren had given in, Don had felt the fun go out of it. He couldn't stand to see the pathetic man there in the kitchens late at night, just waiting for his punishment. No they needed to fear him and the cross, in order for him to feel fully sated.

Last night the girl had become that person. He'd bought her from some pimp in Hell's Kitchen, enjoying the long drive back to the mansion, and with it her increasing fear. By the time he'd gotten her into the room, she was shaking, trying to dig up some courage for the paid for act. But her pimp knew better. Don had paid for keeps.

When he was finished the night sky had been graying and too tired to do anything else, he had laid down beside her, eyes falling peacefully closed as she choked on her gag. Spike had long since stopped patrolling and trusted him absolutely. It wasn't like Hunter would say anything either.

Only Wesley could truly get him into trouble.

Shifting as the morning glare hit his face, Don tried to ignore the smell. She had died violently and now the blood which he had so reveled in, coated the floor and bed. Breathing it in, Don tired to picture how he would get it out of the building without anyone seeing. It was frowned upon to bring back girls to the house, but then again, Spike had never actually forbade it either. It was just one of those things that went unmentioned. The other men took it for granted, sometimes bringing their girlfriends or hookers or boys in, all on the odd day off. But Don never had participated in that. He was clean. Unconsciously his hand brushed the back of his neck, the fresh ink still smarting. He'd joined a year ago but it took time to be fully initiated. The little cop entering his area had finally convinced them that Don was ready; ready and willing to carry out the cross' agenda to the bloodiest end.

He smiled as he heard the other men began to rise and begin their daily activities. It was the weekend and for most meant that their days of carousing could properly begin. Laughter echoed through the heavily bolted door as someone, probably Gunn, teased Hunter about having to baby-sit the bitch again.

He went to the basin to wash, uncaring as the dead girl fell onto the cold floor. He could leave her here. No one would dare search his rooms; especially not that little weasel Warren. A smile broke along Don's crooked features as he remembered the servant's cries of pain. The fool wouldn't touch the girl again.

She belongs to the cross.

Uncaring of the body, Don shoved it into the closet. She had been small, petite, but not the right hair colour. It was easy enough to imagine though.

He locked the door on his way out, humming to himself.






It was their room. Or at least as she looked at it, she could see that it was Masters' room. But instead of the cold vanity that she was used to, Spike's glass windows were placed in between, giving a view that led to nowhere.

Where am I?

She was naked. Her hands brushed the bruises around her neck and she twisted in order to see if he was in the room. The last person she wanted was to see Spike.

Luckily, she was alone. Buffy stepped onto the floor and winced as cold seeped into the pads of her feet. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt like this. I don't want to remember.

Buffy took another step forward, wondering where Warren was with the morning meal. And where were the locks on the door? Holes where the doorknobs normally would have been fitted gaped and the door itself was cracked.

Had they been attacked? Had Drake finally come to get her? She crept now, hands reaching out in front of her, as the windows shattered. And then she felt him.

"Riley."

Where have you been Buffy? He sounded the same as ever, country and calm, even as everything around her was shifting, changing irrevocably. But still she couldn't see him, just a looming shadow that seemed to suck all the remaining air out of the room.

But his lips were on her now, questioning and demanding something that she couldn't quite give; at least not anymore.

His words were a constant litany, washing over her deaf ears. I was so worried. I thought you were dead. Why didn't you call? Why didn't you get out in time? You're just a little girl and you can't protect yourself.

He lifted her like a doll and set her on the chair till they were the same height. She could never be this big without his help.

His face was marred, like someone had placed a brand upon the untouched skin until it burned into the bone. Someone had finally seen how ugly he could be. Buft Riley didn't notice, mouth moving awkwardly.

You need me, he kept saying. Without me they would never pick you, never think you were special enough to do anything. And then he was sighing, as though weight had been pressed down onto his back and he could barely move. And I love you Buffy. I love you so much it hurts. Why don’t you love me back?

She gaped at him, at the floor as he swept her down to size.

Maybe you can't love. It happens.

He was adamant, voice reasoning even as she felt herself growing smaller, like someone had fed her a potion or was it a cookie? Her whole body seemed to grow cold, toes becoming numb as frost gathered on the shattered glass.

Riley was silent now, imposing. And still that shadow hung behind him.

When had he become her father? When had this relationship become so confining? She looked up again, and this time her eyes could not reach his face unless she tilted her head straight up to the ceiling. He was so tall.

He reminded her of a soldier, his eyes hooded beneath a wealth of brown wavy hair that looked like he had stepped out of a combat zone. Blood was smeared along his left cheek and he looked angry. The burn was gone now and she felt oddly sad about that. It had been the one thing honest about him. And yet it was all so familiar. She cried as he grabbed hold of her, that bruising, infamous grip reminding her of exactly why she had wanted to leave. Her engagement ring swung from the chain around his neck as he pulled her against him, chest muffling her screams.

Hush Buffy. You're safe. I've come to save you… even if you don't deserve it.

But it's not you that I want, she screamed. And then stumbled as he pushed her away.

Is it me then? Angel reached for her hand, brooding face cloaked in a mask of darkness. Where had all the light gone? Why was there such a large shadow behind him too?

I don't know, she replied. I don’t know anything anymore. You were what I wanted once upon a time. You made me feel like I could do it, be the hero. She paused. But you weren't there when I needed you. She stood firm as he stared at her. Riley still sat in the background, his large frame crushing the chair beneath him. But it was Angel towering over her now and she trembled as his hands seemed to pull her apart, as though he was grasping not just at her skin but at her innocence as well.

I can't be there for you. You know that. His voice was heavy but his lips didn't move, one side of his face frozen as though in the grip of a mask. I'll never be able to truly help you. He pointed over her shoulder, and then she felt the hate fall over her, dirtying the air. She knew without looking that it was Spike. Somehow no matter where she turned, all her routes and paths and exits led to that man.

Angel seemed to share her feelings. You're a queen in the making. He's just a poet. He'll only ruin you Buffy. Mark my words. Willy's going to ruin you for us all.

Buffy woke in a cold sweat, hands unconsciously reaching for the empty space where Spike had been during the night.






"You know she's here. What I need is for you all to make her feel less like a hostage and more…" he paused trying to find the right word. Requests were not his strong point, orders were more simple and more definite. "I guess the word 'm looking for is comfortable. She needs to at least tolerate us if we're to get anywhere with Angel. And I don’t enjoy any stupid bint kicking up a fuss, no matter what Drake said about makin' her miserable."

Gunn laughed at that one, his eyes crinkling with amusement as the rest of the men exchanged glances. More than one was obviously unnerved. Spike could understand the feeling, he was changing the game on them by not killing her and letting the Captain discover the small pieces left of her body.

He couldn't help the sense of horror which rose in his throat at the thought of killing her.

He'd called the meeting early, knowing that many of the men would already be gone to enjoy what was a rare break in a long schedule. He had only his top six men in the room, Wesley having been admitted on the small concession that he not say a word. Don't trust the blighter with a lighter.

"'ve decided that we need a proper strategy for the chit and for New York," said Spike loudly. "Buffy's worth more to us alive. And I doubt that Riley wants Buffy as much as he wants his own force-"

"But she's his girl," argued James. He sat at the back of the room, his chair turned to the side as though he was not really all that interested. All for appearance's sake.

"'M not willing to risk throwing her into the river to see if he comes running." Spike rolled his arms, muscles straining against the tight blue collared shirt that he wore. "Fiancées come and go, but power is forever, or some such rot, I just know it's not the best play." He waited until everyone nodded before continuing.

"That doesn't mean we can't use the threat of her death to mess with the Captain's head mind you. I don't fancy giving the wanker everything just because he's got the ear of the mayor."

"Then what are we going to do?"

"Intimidate the sod," Spike replied evenly. He kept his voice soft as he outlined the strategy, trying not to grin when one man would make a darker suggestion. Within an hour they had created a plan worthy of cartoon villains and maniacal laughs, but still he didn't feel quite right and leaving the bedroom had only worsened his mood. For the small amount of hours that he had held her sleeping form in his arms, he had felt the strangest sense of peace.

"You've heard Wesley's report already" he snapped, moving onto other business and not bothering to acknowledge the other Englishman as he nodded at the comment. Good, keep silent you wanker. "What I want now are some strategies to deal with Angel. We can't just have that tosser doing as he likes."

"We could shadow him," Hunter offered. "He'll bring his own men of course." No one looked at Wesley, but Hunter's words were enough. "But, I reckon that he won't like me watching at three in the morning, even with the protection."

"But we don't want to piss him off, that's the point isn't it?" Gunn had been there nearly as long as Hunter but the older man was wrong, and pretending that angering Angel would solve anything was pure stupidity.

"I want him angry" Spike admitted. "I want the bugger to be so fucking mad that he makes an idiot of himself and proves to Drake how useless he really is", Spike took a claming breathe, "but we all know that that won't happen. No" he muttered turning his back on the men in the room, "what we need is for Angel to reveal himself to Buffy."

"Why do we care about her?" Don shook at the other men turned to stare at him incredulously. He had slid into the room a little after the others, clean-shaven but still smelling of the girl.

He gasped as Spike stalked quickly across the room, his forearm connecting with Don's windpipe.

"You care because I care, gottit? If any of you have a problem with my mistress you best speak your piece now! Spike didn't remove his strong hold on Don. The man had already spoken as far as he was concerned.

"He gets it boss." Hunter was at Spike's side now, pulling at the iron muscles until Spike finally released the larger man. The rest of the men had filed out silently, their good mood ruined by yet another of Don's unwelcome questions.

Don fell to the ground gasping. He could barely see from the lack of blood flow to his brain and didn't register the kick into his gut as Spike forced him out of the room.








"What's happening to you?" Hunter had waited behind, not wanting to let Spike get off without properly explaining himself. They were friends first, no matter the chains of command.

"What do you mean?" Spike moved towards the liquor cabinet, hands shaking at the force of his rage. Hunter didn’t wait to speak as he poured himself a drink.

"That," Hunter said as though assuming that such a description was enough. "Throttling Don, planning to torture Riley… we've never acted like this before," Hunter continued.

"Do what I have to," Spike responded bitterly. "'M in the inner circle and that demands things more than just murder and the odd spot of violence. No matter the reasons for doing it. We're competing against Angel and Drake, Hunter, not just the Captain. An'" he said faltering, "it may be getting to me just a little."

"Well you need to find some way to deal with it," Hunter said in frustration. "And when were you going to tell me about keeping the girl?"

"When I told everyone else!" Spike whirled around to face the much taller man. His face was red with anger and just a hint of hurt. In many ways Hunter was more of a best friend than lieutenant. "It's my bloody business after all! The bint just gets to me, in a good way" he added when Hunter again opened his mouth to speak, "and after Dru, I never thought that a woman would make me feel anything." He paused, chest heaving with the depth of his emotion. Even when Buffy wasn't in the room she was still twisting his thoughts and emotions until he was more confused than ever. "An' yeah I want her to be my mistress, but that's just to piss off the great poof. I don't care for the chit any more than you for any of the girls that you drag home."

Hunter nodded, trying to hide his disbelief. He didn't care for her but still felt emotions similar to when he had been with Dru? Spike was insane! And just a little contradictory Hunter thought sarcastically. Spike probably didn't know what he was feeling, but it wasn't apathy. Still Hunter could go along and pretend, if it made Spike feel better.

"If that's all it is-"

"That's all it bloody is," Spike assured him, for some strange reason desperate that someone would believe in him, as though it would give him strength to believe the words himself.

Got to change the subject.

"There's such a thing as soft power, Hunter." Spike said. "Imagine her as a willing mistress, Angel buggered and belittled on an ongoing basis, Riley shamed and humiliated, just a puppet on a string. If I show up with the chit on my arm and without her sounding off any alarms, that'll go a lot farther than just going in guns blazing."

"I agree," Hunter said quietly. "What I don't get is the whole Angel thing."

"I'm not going to explain everything," Spike admonished, fed up at having to say so much already. "He wants her, simple as that. And I hate him so he can't bleeding well have her."

He didn't add that there was the small case of Dru, the man already knew that without the words actually being spoken. "Angel thinks he can just pretend that I wasn't given New York. Add that to the fact that Buffy was his undoing and the Poof is all but willing to start a war… The circle is only strong as the members in it and Masters' death hasn't ended the sodding subterfuge, no matter what you and the others may think."

"What are we going to do then?" asked Hunter worriedly. Alone he could express the mutual fears that were no doubt keeping the Brit up at night as well.

"I don't know." His head had somehow leaned downwards until his hands propped it up. When had he ever felt peace? With Buffy .

"Act like we're above it. You keep Riley guessing about Buffy and I'll handle the Poof. He's visiting for Drake but beyond that it's nothing more than him trying to stir the pot. Enough women and drugs and hopefully the blighter will sod off again."

"You hope," said Hunter.

"We all better bloody well pray that he does," responded Spike. "I need Buffy to see things differently and without him around, that'll be far easier."

"About that," Hunter said, his hand leaning against the door as though he was about to leave. "I never remember having any information on her before Masters came undone."

"That's because there was none. One of her own side gave her up. I still don’t know who it is, but I'm sure that Angel's got something to do with it. How else could he have got to her so quickly? I think Drake's suspicious himself… Masters hadn't even turned around and Angel was already twisting the girl 'round his finger."

"Maybe she didn't know" Hunter offered as Spike stared down at the floor. What is this girl doing to him? "About the informant I mean… Angel certainly wouldn’t have told her about the threat on her life."

"'ve thought the same myself" Spike admitted. "She had no bleeding clue what I was talking 'bout last night. He paused, guilt seeping in again as he remembered what had happened after their conversation. "I don’t want to tell her m'self either. Chit's going through enough as it is."

Hunter didn't know what to say anymore. Spike looked weary from their discussion, his eyes no longer willing to meet Hunter's.

"I heard you wanted me to take her today?"

"No" Spike said softly. It would be easier. "I'll take her. Me and the girl have some arrangements to make."

Hunter nodded. Buffy probably still wasn't keen on the whole mistress arrangement. The girl's nothing but trouble. "Where are you taking her today?"

Spike turned, his hand now on the doorknob. "The fields" he said, "Wesley told me the chit likes to ride."