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Sam walked into the factory.

She was so consumed with hate for the vampire that she didn’t notice that the light was already on. Riley had left in such a hurry that he had forgotten to turn it off on his way out. Her face set with a sense of purpose and duty. She ambled up to the limp form of the blonde vampire.

“Buffy? Wakey-wakey!” Sam sing-songed.

When Buffy didn’t respond, Sam slapped at her drooping head.

“Wake up, bitch!” Sam spit.

Buffy groaned and lifted her head.

“Hello again, Hostile 17. I hope you don’t mind, but I decided to move things slightly ahead of schedule. You die tonight.”

Buffy glared at her.

Sam smiled and walked over to the table. “Spike and I had such a good time tonight!” she lied. “He really is a fantastic lover, isn’t he?”

Buffy squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she could wrap her hands around Sam’s throat. Picturing Spike and that bitch together made her borrowed blood boil.

“We had a great time. He really liked it when I sucked his dick, said I was a natural. And he’s so -- responsive.” She grinned, picking up a stake and weighing it in her hand.

“Shut up!” Buffy meant for it to come out as a roar, but it was more of a whimper.

“Aww, what’s the matter? Does that upset you?” Sam walked back to Buffy. “Does it bother you that Spike and I had fantastic sex for hours and hours? He really seemed to enjoy it too. He yelled my name when he came. It’s too bad I didn’t video tape it to show you.”

In one last act of defiance, Buffy spit in Sam’s face.

Sam wiped the bloody saliva from her face slowly. “I’m going to enjoy this.” Sam smiled evilly then punched Buffy in her already battered face.

A little more punishment before the finale would be called for.





Spike sat rigidly in the passenger seat of Xander’s car, staring out the window at the darkened landscape as it whizzed by.

Xander glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, every few minutes as he drove. Spike had told Xander the information that Riley had shared with him.

Xander couldn’t get over the fact that Sam had done something like this, setting Spike up like that to be hurt. He had been so wrong about her. Part of him still couldn’t wrap his mind around the concept. Sam was a good person; she would never do that. She couldn’t have.

“Almost there,” Xander said.

Spike tensed. He was anxious to get there and see Buffy for himself, but he was afraid of what exactly he was going to see. What if they didn’t get there in time? What if it was already too late? He might never get to tell her he was sorry, or that he loved her.

Xander pulled over near the factory. It loomed ominously in front of them. Spike stared at it a moment, reliving all the times he’d come here in the past when he and Buffy had still been enemies.

“Stay here,” Spike said, getting out of the car.

“Sure,” Xander said, tapping the steering wheel with his fingers nervously.





Spike crept silently along the catwalk toward the lighted area of the factory. The dull, stomach-churning sounds of flesh striking flesh echoed off the walls. He peeked down over the catwalk at the source of the sounds. He was stunned into immobility by what he saw.

Buffy (at least he was pretty sure it was Buffy, the person had been beaten so savagely that it was hard to tell) was hanging by chains, suspended to the ceiling. Sam was punching the beaten figure over and over again.

“I am going to miss this, Buffy. All these special moments. But,” Sam held the stake up, “all good things must yadda-yadda-yadda. You know how it goes. When you get to Hell tell them I sent you!”

“Sam!” Spike yelled, jumping over the railing and dropping the 20 feet to the floor to land in a crouch.

Sam whipped around, her chocolate-brown eyes going wide in shock and disbelief. “Spike...”

He stood up and ran towards her.

“Stop!” Sam commanded, pressing the stake against Buffy’s chest.

Spike skidded to a stop about 10 feet away from them. “Sam... what have you done to her? How could you do this?!”

“She never would have stopped coming after you! I had to --“

“Get away from her! Oh God... what did you do to her?!” Spike wanted to weep at Buffy’s condition.

“After what she did to you... you still want her!?”

“I know the truth, Sam,” Spike said tersely. “I know that you were the one who set the whole thing in motion. Buffy wouldn’t have cheated on me if you didn’t give her that drug.”

Sam’s mouth opened and closed, she shook her head. “No... You weren’t supposed to know that! Who told you?! Riley? That rat bastard! Did he tell you?!”

“Buffy! Can you hear me?!“ he yelled to her.

Buffy didn’t respond.

“Unchain her -- NOW!” Spike bellowed.

“NO! I’m going to finish this!”

“Give me the key to the shackles, Sam.” Spike inched towards her.

“What? This key?” Sam fished a key out of her jacket pocket then waved it in the air.

“Give it to me.” Spike held out his hand.

Sam smiled and threw the key into a nearby open drain. It was convenient for washing away the blood when she was working Buffy over.

“No!” Spike ran to the drain and dropped down on his knees, looking down into it.

The key was gone. He looked up at her with murder on his face: His eyes narrowed to slits, his teeth were bared, a muscle ticced in his cheek. Sam shrank back from his deadly gaze.

“You weren’t supposed to find out! Everything was perfect! This is... unacceptable!” Sam cried.

Spike stood slowly. “Let -- her -- go.”

“I won’t let her have you! I won’t allow it!” Sam turned back to Buffy and raised the stake.

Then just before she could plunge it into Buffy’s chest, Spike tackled her from the side. They flew in the air a few feet and fell together onto the ground.

“Let me go!” Sam struggled beneath him.

Spike snatched the stake from her hand and threw it across the room. He took her by the shoulders and shook her.

“What the hell happened to you?!” he demanded. “Why did you do all of this?”

Sam, still pumped up with strength-enhancing drugs (courtesy of the Initiative), punched Spike in the face. His head shot backwards. Sam jabbed him in the solar plexus, stunning him long enough for her to kick him off of her. Spike was off his game; he hadn't recovered totally from his demon battle royale the other night. He skidded on the concrete floor on his back for a few feet.

Sam jumped to her feet. “The night we broke up -- I HEARD YOU! I heard you with her in your room... not 15 fucking minutes after I left! I warned her to stay away from you!” Tears poured down her face. Everything was ruined.

Spike spared a moment to feel remorse and pity for his former girlfriend, as well as a truckload of guilt. It would have been devastating to her. Without knowing it, he had destroyed her. He doubted if Sam could have done something like this before that happened. He got back to his feet, his nose bloodied from her punch.

“I’m sorry that I hurt you. I never wanted to do that. But this... this is insane! Lying to me, drugging Buffy, doing... this... to her...” his voice broke when he looked back at Buffy.

He looked back to Sam.

“She’s a vampire, Spike! A demon! They don’t matter! You think she hasn’t done her share of maiming, torturing and killing? Your beloved Buffy has killed for over a hundred years!”

“She’s changed. She was evil but she’s not anymore. She hasn’t been for a long time. But you... you’ve gone in the opposite direction... If you can look at her and see what you’ve done and not feel pity or remorse... then you’re too far gone for anyone to save you. How could you do this to another being?”

Sam stood and jutted her chin out. “Listen to you. Aren’t you the hypocrite? How many demons have you killed?”

“I don’t fucking torture them! I fight them. There’s a BIG difference, Sam! Is there another key? Tell me!”

Sam smiled wickedly. "No. And you won't be able to break them either. They're enchanted. There was a witch that we caught while I was with the Initiative. She had to be coerced, but she gave us a very effective spell to keep even the strongest demons in chains."

"You mean... you tortured a witch for spells, a human witch?" Spike stared at her in shock.

"She was a demon sympathizer. Gave them places to hide from us, she sheltered them. Too bad her specialty wasn't teleportation spells -- too bad for her, that is."

"I never wanted to believe that... that the Initiative was capable -- that you were capable of..."

"You're judging me again?!" Sam's blood boiled. "You're so high and mighty, aren't you? Just because you're the mystical Slayer you think you're better than me?"

"I can say without a doubt, that I am better than you. And so is she." Spike pointed to Buffy.

Sam exploded in rage. The suggestion that he considered Buffy better than her (that murdering monster -- better than her?!) made her see red.

Sam gave a war cry and charged at the surprised Slayer. Spike was able to block a series of her punches, but one snuck through and jolted his head backwards. Sam kept up her assault, kicking and punching him in a mad whirl of limbs.

Spike and Sam had sparred several times over their courtship; this was a twisted parody of those sparring sessions. This time Sam was out for blood. Spike was feeling weaker than usual -- his strength was leaving him rapidly. Buffy. He had to beat Sam to help her. Buffy looked so broken, so small... He was reluctant to actually hit Sam, he could kill her if he hit her too hard, but looking at Buffy's limp body again. He was beginning not to care as much if he did.

He felt a surge of strength. Spike caught Sam's fist as she tried to land another punch and punched her back. Sam grunted and flew to the side from the blow. She quickly recovered and sent another flurry of hits at his face. Spike blocked them all effortlessly then went down into a crouch. He executed a leg sweep, knocking Sam's legs out from under her.

Sam landed on the floor, stunned. Spike leapt on her, pinning her down. "I don't want to fight you dammit!" Spike yelled. "How do I get those chains off of her!?"

"There is no way! Get it through your thick skull!" Sam struggled in his grasp. "She'll be rotting in Hell before you get her free -- why don't you cut her hands off, that will work." She smiled then spit in his face.

Spike ignored the spittle dripping off his face and shook her. "To think that I cared about you... I had no idea what kind of person you really were."

"I hope you burn in Hell right alongside your undead whore," Sam growled. "I loved you! But I didn't stand a chance against your vampire fetish, did I?! You like to stick it into something cold and dead!"

Sam tried getting her arms free to hit him again, but Spike had her pinned too well.

"Tell me how to free her -- NOW!" Spike yelled, angry at all the time that had been wasted.

"I already told you -- there IS -- NO -- WAY, you IDIOT!"

Spike released her and backed away. He shook himself to gather his wits. The important thing right now was to get Buffy some medical attention, not to duke it out with Sam.

“I don't want to fight with you anymore, Sam. Leave town. Get out while you can,” his voice was cold.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Are you threatening me? You’d kill me over that evil bitch?!”

“If she dies...” Spike’s voice was low and dangerous; his eyes glinted. “I don’t want to see you in this town again."

Sam saw that he meant business. She stood up and backed away towards the exit.

“She WILL hurt you! Mark my words... if not now, then sometime in the future.”

“LEAVE -- before I change my mind!!” he thundered.

Sam turned, running out the door and out of his life. For good... he hoped. Spike never regretted his ’no killing humans’ policy more than he did right now. Part of him cried out for vengeance on the person who dared harm the woman he loved.

The moment he was sure Sam was out of the building, he rushed to Buffy‘s side. His hands fluttered just above her skin, the tears he’d been holding back spilled down his sculpted cheekbones.

“Buffy! Please wake up... can you hear me, Buffy?”

Buffy groaned and somehow found the strength to raise her head. She opened her eyes to see Spike standing in front of her, his beautiful face wet with tears. It looked like he'd been fighting again. She
was sure it was just another hallucination. It couldn’t really be him. He couldn’t care less whether she lived or died anymore. At least it seemed like this vision of Spike was a friendly one, he wouldn’t yell at or berate her.

“Buffy, please... can you understand me?” His sky-blue eyes searched hers, for that spark that made Buffy, Buffy.

“Spike...” she croaked. “I know you’re not really here, pet... but... I’m glad the last thing I see will be your face.”

“Buffy, I’m here! I’m really here!” He looked around frantically, trying to think of a way to get her down from the chains.

“That’s what you always... say...” Her head dropped back down to her chest.

“Buffy?”

Spike became even more frightened when she didn’t answer him. He had to get her out of here immediately. In a near panic, he took the chain in his fists and pulled. The chain was undamaged. He took a deep breath and pulled harder, feeling one of the links give slightly. He grit his teeth as he pulled, the links of the chain bit into his palms. Blood running from his lacerated palms made the chain more slippery, making it difficult to get a good grip. But Spike tried again, pulling with all his might as he focused on Buffy’s slack features.

There just wasn't any way he could break it. This was as good as it was going to get.

"Dammit!" Spike sobbed. "Think--think--think! There has to be a way..."

The enchantment on the chains and his weakened state proved too much for even his enhanced strength. Spike looked around frantically. He looked up and saw the steel beam that the chains had been looped over.

Spike crouched down then launched himself into the air. He grabbed onto the beam and hoisted himself up onto it. Then he began punching it, dents appeared in the surface. His hand was becoming bloodier by the second, but he kept punching the steel. When he'd almost punched all the way through, the beam began to groan and dip down under his weight.

He could see that he had to move quickly to keep Buffy from being hit by the falling girder. His heart hammered in his chest as he leapt off the beam, landed on the floor then ran to Buffy -- he did it all in the blink of an eye. He pulled her out of the way just before the metal crashed down on the spot where she had been a moment ago.

The chains were still attached to her but now he could take Buffy home and get her some help. They could figure out a way to remove the manacles later.

Spike gently laid her on the floor then stood, removing his brown leather jacket. He wrapped it around her and picked her back up in his arms, piling the chain on top of her stomach. He didn’t know whether trying to keep her warm with his jacket would help or not, he didn’t know what to do. Carefully, but quickly, he made his way out of the factory and back to Xander’s car.

Xander saw them coming and jumped out of his car.

“What happened? I saw Sam run out of there like a --“ Xander stopped when Spike got closer and he got a look at Buffy’s face. “Holy shit! Did... Did Sam do that?” Xander’s voice trembled.

He wasn’t a Buffy fan, but even he was shaken that someone could do this to her. Especially the seemingly kind-hearted Sam. The thought that he had actually encouraged Spike to be with her made him sick.

“Yes... she did. Open the door. We have to get her back home.” Spike said tightly.

“Yeah... yeah, okay. Sam fought with you?” Xander noticed a few new bleeding injuries to Spike's face and hands.

Spike nodded without commenting further.

Xander tore his eyes away from Buffy and opened the back door for Spike.

Spike got in and settled back against the seat, holding Buffy gently in his arms. Xander jumped back in the car and drove as fast as he could away from the factory.

"Do you have your pocketknife on you?" Spike asked.

"Y-Yeah... why?"

"Give it to me."

"I say again, why?"

"I'm going to cut my wrist. Buffy needs blood. My blood will help her heal." Spike's voice was low and shaky.

"I'm not letting you do that," Xander said, looking in the rearview mirror.

"Don't start with that shit! Give me the damn knife!" Spike said through clenched teeth, trying not to raise his voice to upset Buffy.

"No. Spike -- think about it. You're not quite up to snuff yourself. You're still recovering from the other night. And you were just in another fight. You're too weak to spare any of your red stuff."

Spike was quiet, thinking it over.

Xander continued, "Remember when you saved Dru's life by letting her drink from you? She didn't intend to hurt you -- but she nearly killed you in the state she was in. What if Buffy went nutso like that? It --wouldn't be her fault, but... You want to be able to help her, right? You can best accomplish that by getting your strength back and recuperating. Not weakening yourself even more. And imagine how she'd feel if she hurt you without meaning to..."

Spike closed his eyes and took a breath. He knew Xander was right. Straight thinking wasn't Spike's strong suit when it came to the people he loved being in imminent danger of death.

“Okay... you're right," Spike said softly. "Stop at Lou’s Butcher Shop. We have to get blood -- and lots of it.” Spike scanned Buffy’s face for signs of life and absently brushed a blood-soaked strand of hair off of her forehead.

“You got it,” Xander said, mentally mapping out the route to the butcher shop. He was more than relieved to have talked Spike down from giving Buffy a few pints of Slayer blood.

All the way to the shop and to his home, Spike gently caressed her ruined face, whispering and cooing to her that everything would be all right. He didn’t know if it was true, but he needed it to be.

She had to make it. He couldn’t lose her, not now. Not ever.





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