"You know better than to lie to me, Spike!" Buffy snarled in the blond vampire's face, raising her hand from his lips in preparation to strike.

"Buffy, please...!"

The plea was shattered by the impact of her fist against his mouth, slamming his head back hard against the wall behind him, and dizzying him until his thoughts were nothing more than a meaningless blur in his mind.

"Shut up!" the Slayer demanded, pulling him forward by the top edge of his jeans -- no doubt only in preparation to slam him back against the wall again, inflicting greater pain on his injured back.

Before she could, Spike used the momentary freedom to bring his arms back around in front of him, though there was little he could do before she finished the motion, shoving him forcefully back and getting right up in his face, her eyes narrowed in menace.

"Who is she, Spike?" she sneered, her voice trembling, her eyes glittering with jealous rage. "Who was in here that you're so desperate to hide from me?"

"N-no one," Spike gasped out, his hands raised between them in a cautious effort to fend her off a little. "Buffy, I swear it..."

This time when she lowered her fist toward his face again, Spike held up his undamaged right arm, blocking the blow, and pushing her back away from him when her fist connected. Buffy took a couple of stumbling steps backward, before regaining her balance and looking up at him in incredulous shock -- and rising fury.

"Buffy," Spike began hurriedly, edging away from the wall just a little, and along it toward the ladder. "Buffy, love -- calm down...please, love..."

His mind was racing, desperately seeking a means of diffusing -- or at least surviving -- this situation. The Slayer was clearly furious, and getting angrier by the moment -- and he had the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that any attempt at defending himself, in his weakened, injured state, would only result in further inciting her temper.

Too bad he hadn't thought of that possibility until after he'd already made such an attempt.

"I'm calm, Spike," Buffy said in a soft, dangerous voice that was infinitely more terrifying than her louder tones of moments before. "I'm perfectly calm. I just think we need to talk this out...figure out why it is that you feel the need to keep secrets from me -- to *lie* to me!"

Spike felt his already faltering courage wilt further under the subtle menace in her tone, and he swallowed hard, feeling that deep tremor in his chest intensifying, even as he edged toward the ladder, and the slim possibility of escape.

Fortunately so far, Buffy did not seem to have noticed his gradual movements in that direction.

"Please, Buffy," he repeated in a soft, submissive voice designed to placate her, his head lowered, unable to meet her eyes. "Please, love, I -- I'm sorry...please don't..."

"Don't what, Sweetheart?" Buffy asked in a deceptively gentle voice, gliding slowly toward him, and swiftly cutting off his escape with a casual hand against the wall beside him, between him and the ladder -- hemming him in. "What are you so afraid of -- if you haven't done anything wrong?" As she spoke, she raised her free hand to lightly run the backs of her fingers down his cheek.

Spike flinched, closing his eyes for a moment as the only words that filled his mind left his lips in a desperate, pleading whisper. "Buffy, please...you promised...you said you wouldn't..."

The words broke off in a cry of anguish as her free hand lashed out and locked onto his injured left arm with a cruel grip -- deliberately seeking out the bandaged, injured part and twisting it hard. Spike's knees weakened beneath him with the pain, and he leaned back against the wall, gasping for breath, as Buffy took advantage by moving into the space he had vacated, filling his personal space with her oppressive presence, and leaving him utterly trapped.

"That was before you lied to me," she hissed in his ear, twisting his arm harder.

Spike nearly collapsed, a soft moan of pain escaping him, as Buffy took advantage of the weakness her own torment had created, and gripped his good arm as well, guiding him slowly sideways along the wall, until they had reached the ladder.

Spike struggled to focus, his heart filled with apprehension, having no idea what she had in mind. All he knew was that the last time he had seen that cold, frightening glint in her eyes -- she had nearly killed him. And he was beginning to fear that this time -- maybe she actually would.

The words would barely come as he struggled to ask her, "Wh-what...Buffy, please...what are you...?"

"Shhh," she mockingly soothed him, but he could hear the order behind the words as she pushed him back so that the rungs of the almost completely vertical ladder were pressed against his back. "I thought you wanted to go this way -- didn't you? Isn't this the way you were headed?"

Panic filled Spike as he felt the rough surface of the wood against his injury, through the damaged tatters of the bandage that Tara had lovingly placed on his back -- and that Buffy's abuse had already nearly destroyed.

"Buffy, no!" he pleaded, his voice shaking dangerously, his body trembling as he weakly tried to push away from the ladder. "Please, don't! No..."

"First things first, Sweetheart," Buffy smiled disarmingly at him, though her eyes were cold and angry. Without warning, she placed a hand at his waist and shoved him backward, so that the ladder rung behind him dug into his open, now freshly bleeding wound. As he stifled an agonized cry of pain, she leaned in close to him, gripping his hair and yanking his head back against an upper rung of the ladder as she snarled close to his ear, "You do *not* fight me! Do you understand? Do *not* fight me!"

"Okay, okay, please!" Spike stammered, his words fast and desperate and terrified. "Buffy, please, I'm sorry, I won't, please, whatever you say...whatever you say..."

"Okay," Buffy nodded, her voice soft and soothing, though he knew better than to expect that the worst was over. "What I say, then...is for you to turn around and face the ladder, Baby."

Spike hesitated, painfully aware of how much better access to his injuries that would give her -- momentarily considering pretending to obey her, and then making a run for it up the ladder -- but he knew that she was as fast as he was at his best...and tonight, he was anything but at his best.

Besides, he had tried to get away the last time she had played this little game -- and she had caught him -- and she had punished him.

And he had no desire to go through that sort of punishment again.

"Please, Buffy," he whispered, turning slowly to face the ladder, his white knuckles gripping the sides of it with shaking hands. "Please, Buffy...don't...don't do this, love..."

Buffy giggled -- a disconcerting sound, considering the circumstances -- as she reached her arms around him and unbuckled his belt, then deftly slid it out of the loops of his jeans...an action which started a sick feeling in Spike's stomach, as he felt the leather slide across his middle. Then, to his humiliation and greater terror, she rested her hands at his hips, and slowly slid the jeans down around his thighs, baring the bruised flesh of his buttocks to her eyes -- and her every sadistic whim.

"But you don't even know what I'm doing yet, Baby," she reminded him with false surprise. "Don't do what?"

Spike could not respond by this point, terror running rampant through his mind, stealing his concentration, every coherent thought, until there was nothing but a panicked, trapped sensation of helpless fear.

"Now that we've established our first rule," Buffy went on, as calmly as a teacher addressing her grade school class, "you do what I tell you to do, without fighting me -- let's talk about rule number two. Are you listening, Spike?" Her voice was suddenly sharp as she asked the question, moving in closer to him and brushing the rough leather of the belt idly across the ragged bandage on his lower back.

He nodded rapidly, his breath coming in rapid, sobbing gasps, unable to form words to answer her -- and hoping that the gesture would be enough for her.

Apparently it was, for the moment.

"Good," she went on. "Rule number two is -- I'm going to ask you a few questions...and you're going to answer me. And you're *not* going to lie to me," she murmured, leaning in close behind him and running her fingers gently but possessively through his hair, pulling slightly at the ends as she whispered, "Are you, Sweetie?"

Spike shook his head, swallowing convulsively as she released him and stepped back, and he found himself leaning forward against the ladder for support, trying to gather his thoughts enough to think of some way out of this.

Refusing her would have been foolish, and futile, as at the moment she had every physical advantage over him. No matter how hard he fought, in the end the results would be the same -- Buffy would win. The only variable was the fact that the more he fought, the worse it would probably go for him.

"Good," Buffy smiled with satisfaction at his submission, before she stepped back away from him a bit, running the leather of his belt through her hands idly. Without a moment's hesitation, she demanded softly, "Were you alone down here a few minutes ago?"

Spike hesitated, panic seizing him at the thought of how Buffy would react when she found out about his friendship with Tara.

Of course, her *not* finding out had not exactly gone any better for him.

While he was debating, the belt came down, hard, across the backs of his thighs, eliciting a yelp of pain as he gripped the sides of the ladder, falling forward against it and biting his lip to keep from crying out any louder.

"Answer me," the Slayer warned him in a dark, menacing voice.

As Spike heard the belt being drawn back for a second blow, he quickly responded, "*No*! No, I wasn't alone!"

Buffy was silent for a moment, lowering the belt slightly with a satisfied smile. "Good," she replied with a nod. "Now we're getting somewhere. Who was down here with you, Sweetheart?"

He knew better than to hesitate -- he really did. But he suddenly found himself faced with a new dilemma. He knew that he would be placing himself in great danger to reveal his friendship with Tara, and most likely effectively bringing an end to the friendship, if Buffy had her way about it. But *not* revealing it would certainly be worse for him.

But -- which would be worse for *Tara*?

Surely Buffy would not hurt *her* -- would she?

The first blow with the belt had fallen across his legs, and driven him off balance.

The second fell directly across the wound on his back -- and nearly took his consciousness with the agony of it.

Spike collapsed forward, only the rungs of the ladder in front of him keeping him from falling to his knees completely. As he clung to the ladder and struggled to pull himself upright again, Buffy moved in swiftly, gripping his hair and yanking his head back close to hers.

"Are you going to answer me, or not, Sweetheart? Come on, now, don't make me *really* hurt you!" she sneered.

*She wouldn't hurt her -- surely she wouldn't -- not if -- not if she doesn't think Tara knows...*

Through his pain and terror, he somehow managed to form a clear thought, as the solution suddenly dawned on him -- just enough truth to appease Buffy, but not enough to leave Tara in any actual danger.

"Tara," he whispered softly, leaning his head forward against the ladder as she released her grip on his hair. "Please, Buffy -- it was just Tara."

"Tara?" Buffy seemed to have expected something else. She frowned in confusion, and asked, "What was *she* doing here?"

"Sh-she was actually -- looking for the Niblet," he made the story up as he went along, desperately hoping it would be convincing. "She -- said she went by the house and she wasn't there, and she thought maybe she would have c-come here..." He paused for breath, still not recovered from the pain of the blows Buffy had already dealt him. "When she got here, and found me -- after my little tangle with the demon in the sewer -- she felt bad for me. She's a good bird, Glinda is. She -- she wanted to help me get patched up, yeah? That's all, Buffy. I swear to you that's all." At the end of his explanation, his voice took on a pleading note, breaking slightly as his desperation for her to believe him nearly overcame him.

Buffy was silent for a long moment, considering.

"If that's all that happened," she said softly, edging in nearer to him, dangling the belt from her hand in such a way that the buckle trailed lightly across the top of the bandage on Spike's back, "then why did you feel the need to lie to me about it?"

Spike tensed at the contact with his injury, his breath quickening as he swallowed convulsively and quickly stammered out, "I w-was scared, Buffy...I didn't think you'd -- I mean -- I thought you'd be..."

"Angry?" the Slayer suggested with an ironic smirk. "Because, lying to me and treating me like some kind of fool -- those things aren't going to make me angry *at all*, right?"

"I'm sorry," Spike whispered, mentally seizing on the slightly calmer tone of her voice, the tone that made it sound as if her anger was beginning to fade. "I just -- I know you -- you don't like me -- talking to other women, and -- and I wasn't sure..."

"Shhh," Buffy whispered, cutting him off, as she dropped the belt to the floor and moved in behind him, her arms wrapping around his torso as she pressed a light kiss to the nape of his neck. "I get it -- you're an idiot -- but I get it."

Spike nearly cried with relief -- but it was clearly not over, as the movements of her hands on his body became slow and sensuous, before she gripped his hips and turned him around to face her, pushing him, albeit more gently, back against the ladder and kissing him slowly, intently, on the mouth.

He returned the kiss, until the pressure of her body against his began to once again press the rung of the ladder into his sensitive back, and he pulled cautiously away from the kiss, pleading in a soft, trembling voice.

"Buffy -- please, love -- I -- I'm hurt..."

She ignored his words, gripping his arms possessively and meeting his eyes with a lustful, predatory smile. "You were right to worry -- in a way. Because I *don't* like you talking to other women, Spike. You're mine, and only mine -- and I want this to be clear -- if I ever catch you in here with a woman..." She leaned in closer, deliberately pressing him back harder against the ladder until he gasped with pain, and leaning up to whisper against his ear, "...I'll kill you both. Do you understand me?"

Spike nodded quickly, his eyes closed. "Yes -- please, Buffy...please, you're -- you're hurting me..."

She waited until he had opened his eyes to smirk triumphantly, running a possessive hand down his side to his hip, and around to caress the bare flesh of his bottom, as she murmured with a little shrug, "You're mine to hurt."

But she did finally pull him away from the ladder -- and toward the bed.