The Slayer stared at the dark vampire bravely facing her, her eyebrows raised in a look that was half irritation, half amusement. Angel's jaw was set with determination, but there was a resignation in his eyes that betrayed him.

He knew this was a fight that he could not win.

"We've been over this, Angel," she reminded him in a soft, overly patient voice. "Slayer strength. I'm stronger than you. You can't beat me." She paused before adding pointedly, "You can't keep me away from him."

"No. But I can try," Angel replied, his voice low and grim and unyielding. "I can give him just a little bit longer without your abuse, Buffy."

"Abuse?" Xander echoed with a disbelieving laugh. "Are you saying that you think *Buffy* abuses *Spike*? What kind of crap has he been telling you guys?"

"Only the true kind," Fred put in accusingly from her spot near the door to Angel's office, her eyes narrowed as she glared at the young man from Sunnydale. "You know...the kind with actual evidence? You should have *seen* him when he got here! And she is *not* going to get to him again!"

The Slayer's cold smile turned on the little brunette, who tensed at her menacing attention, but stood her ground, glaring boldly back at her.

"I guess if I'm working my way through you all...you'll get your turn, little girl," Buffy sneered. "So until then, why don't you just keep your mouth shut?"

"Buffy!" Willow objected, stepping uncertainly toward her. "Buffy, wait...you're not really going to do this...are you?"

Buffy's jaw worked with repressed rage, and she struggled to maintain control of her anger, her mind racing to think of a way to get the conversation back on a track that was helpful to her case.

"I don't care what Spike did or said to convince you that I'm the bad guy in all this," she said, her voice low and barely controlled. "I don't know how he did it...maybe you're *all* under some kind of spell. But that doesn't even matter to me. Only one thing matters to me right now."

Without warning, she drew back her fist and struck Angel hard across the face, stepping forward into his space as he fell back a step. "*Where* is my *sister*?" she demanded, her voice trembling with emotion, her fists clenched and trembling at her sides.

"She doesn't want to see you!"

Angel retaliated with a brutal fist to her jaw, which sent her stumbling, her eyes wide with shock, as she clearly had not expected him to hit her back. Her shocked expression faded into a cold, bitter smile, as she rubbed absently at the place where his fist had connected, shaking her head in disbelieving amusement as she stalked slowly closer to the vampire...for the first time in as long as he had known her, actually making him feel like the prey that he was to her.

"I'm gonna find her, Angel," Buffy declared softly. "Know that. No matter what you do to try to stop me...I *will* find her. *And* Spike." She paused for a moment before adding in a voice of quiet, vicious certainty, "And I'll kill him."

"I'm sure you'd like to, Buffy. It'd be real convenient for you to just shut him up for good, wouldn't it?" Angel's voice was low and angry, as he slowly circled with her, watching her carefully, expecting another attack.

"All I want is my sister back, Angel..."

"And Tara," Willow spoke up anxiously from where she stood watching the stand off.

"And Tara," Buffy echoed, her cold smile revealing more to Angel than it revealed to her trusting friend. "All I want is to know that they're safe."

"They're safe," Angel stated simply with a shrug and a sardonic smile. "So, I guess you'll just be going then...hey!"

He cried out in surprise as Buffy turned her back on him abruptly and rushed the little brunette blocking the door to his office. Fred let out a little yelp of fear and pain as Buffy gripped her throat and shoved her forcefully back against the door, glancing up at it before meeting the frightened girl's eyes.

"You know, usually when someone is guarding a door...there's something behind it they want to protect," the Slayer mused thoughtfully, raising her eyebrows in a question as she searched the wide, fearful eyes of the girl in front of her. "Wonder what might be behind *this* particular door?"

"Buffy, let her go!" Angel snarled, heading toward her.

At the same time, Wesley and Gunn both moved to defend the girl they both loved, all three men heading at once for the Slayer who was menacing her.

Angel reached them first, and the Slayer shot her fist out at him without even looking, knocking him backward a few steps. "You can't stop me, Angel, so don't even try!"

The other two men who had been headed to the rescue of the tiny girl in peril of the Slayer's wrath froze in their places, uncertain. If Angel could be so easily stopped by her, what chance did either of them stand against a Slayer?

To Wesley, it did not seem to matter.

He started forward again, his jaw set with determination, his eyes blazing with protective fury...until the Slayer tightened her grip on the girl's throat, declaring in a low, menacing voice, "I don't think you want to come any closer, Wes. Not unless you want me to break her neck."

"*Buffy*!" Xander cried out, aghast at the violence of his friend's behavior.

"Where are they?" Buffy demanded of Fred, her eyes narrowed and threatening.

"They're not in there!" Fred squeaked, her thin hand clutching uselessly at the wrist attached to the hand clenched around her throat. "They're not! There's nothing in there to interest you...just our..."

Buffy shoved the door open violently, releasing Fred and stalking into Angel's office.

"...clients," Fred finished weakly, rubbing her sore throat as she followed the Slayer into the room.

Buffy frowned when all she saw were three strange, ethereal women, chanting quietly. "What...where...?"

"She told you, Buffy," Angel growled, catching up and standing between Buffy and the Muses, though he looked a bit worse for wear from the blows he had taken. "Just our clients. Who would like to perform their ritual in peace. Now could you please get out of my office?"

Buffy stared up at the three women for a few moments, before a slow smile spread across her face. Angel's heart sank with the thought that she might somehow have figured out what they were doing, and might attempt to harm them, to stop them from completing the spell.

"Buffy...Buffy, wait..."

But before he could even finish the wary plea, the Slayer had spun on her heel and was stalking out, in the opposite direction...toward the staircase that Lorne was still blocking.

"More than one passage being blocked here, isn't there?" Buffy sneered, storming toward the green demon in her way.

Having already been menaced by her once too often, Lorne stepped back out of her way, his hands held up in a defensive gesture. Buffy ignored him completely, stalking up the stairs, her fists clenched at her side and cruel fury blazing in her eyes.

"Buffy...Buffy, no!" Angel called after her, rushing up the stairs behind her. He paused to give Lorne an incredulous, irritated look. "*That* was helpful."

"What?" the empath said defensively. "Hey, demon here...psychopathic Slayer there...it's sort of an instinct thing, you know?"

Angel did not have time to argue about it, hurrying quickly up the stairs after Buffy.

There was nothing for the others to do but follow, her friends wanting to help her, and Angel's crew wanting to stop her if they got the chance...which was really not all that likely, considering that she possessed greater physical strength and skill than...well, than pretty much any of them.

Fred remained behind, by the door to Angel's office, still holding her bruised throat and trying to catch her breath. Wesley hurried to her side, his hands on her arms as he looked her over with care, a frown of concern on his face.

Lorne watched as the others rushed past, glancing uncertainly between them and Fred, before deciding and going to her side. Fred and Wesley both turned to face him as he approached.

"You okay, Freddiekins?"

"Yeah," she gasped, then grimaced with pain as she amended, "I will be."

"Good. How are the girls coming along?"

Fred gave him a helpless shrug, glancing through the open office door at the Muses, who had never ceased their chanting in all the action that had taken place.

"You tell me."

"Okay, I'll handle this, guys," Lorne said, taking in a deep breath and letting it out quickly as he stepped into the office. "Go on upstairs with the others and try to keep her distracted...I'll let you guys know the very moment the spell is in place."

"Keep her *distracted*?" Fred echoed dubiously. "Um...I've had about all of her attention I can stand for one night, thank you very much!"

"I should say so!" Wes put in, his disapproval of the idea clear in his voice.

"Yeah, me too, Sugar," Lorne sighed. "Just...just get on up there, okay? Wes, they might need you at least...that little Willow up there's quite the powerful witch, so they'll need someone who can work magicks. I'll be there as quick as I can."

Fred and Wesley disappeared up the stairs, and Lorne turned his attention to the Muses, clapping his hands a couple of times as he walked into the office.

"Okay, ladies, let's get this show on the road! We've got a deadline, and it's like...five minutes ago!"

*****************************

Spike heard her footsteps on the stairs, and his trembling body went very still beside Tara, his wide eyes fixed on the door, filled with rising panic.

"Tara," Dawn whispered anxiously beside her. "Can't you do a spell? Can't you, like...hide us or something?"

"I can't do any magic," Tara told her, helpless anguish in her voice as she stared at the door along with her two friends. "Any other protection spells could mess up the sanctuary spell...and if they can just get that spell finished, then we won't have anything to..."

The door slammed open, and her words broke off as the Slayer stood framed in the doorway, her hands on her hips, smiling in vindictive satisfaction at the frightened trio huddled on the bed.

"Well, isn't this cozy," she remarked coldly, slowly entering the room, her piercing gaze locking onto Spike's terrified eyes.

His mind involuntarily went back to those dark moments in Buffy's basement, when he had been gagged and blindfolded, bound and helpless. Her footsteps, slow and deliberate, making their way down the stairs, and the ominous feeling that had filled him at the sound....

The same feeling that filled his heart now as she stalked toward him.

Toward *them*.

With a shock, Spike realized that he was not the only one in danger in this scenario. Dawn and Tara would surely do whatever they could to try to protect him...and Buffy would do whatever she could to get them out of her way.

Without any sort of a plan, fully expecting his own doom, Spike knew that he had to do what he could to keep Buffy away from Tara and Dawn; and he quickly climbed off the bed, ignoring the protests of the girls as he backed away from the bed, moving along the wall to put as much distance between himself and them as possible.

"Get away from him!" Dawn screamed, getting up and rushing toward her sister, who easily pushed her back onto the bed as she passed it, without even looking at her.

The Slayer's eyes were focused on her prey.

"A little help here, Willow?" she said without looking away from Spike, as Tara got up and started cautiously toward her.

"Buffy...Buffy, just..."

Tara began, but suddenly froze completely, as if she were a recorded image on pause. Spike realized with dismay that the same thing had happened to Dawn, where she sat on the bed, in the process of rising up again, and to every member of Angel's group as well. They were frozen in place like stone statues, unmoving, unhearing, sightless eyes focused on nothing.

"I'm sorry, Baby." Willow's whispered apology was directed to Tara, her eyes welling with tears. "You're under his spell...I can't let you stop her. She's got to take care of him, once and for all. You'll understand in a few minutes..." There was no indication that the blonde witch heard her, and Willow sighed as she turned back toward her friend. "Buffy," she began uncertainly, concern in her voice.

"Get out of here, Will," Buffy snapped. "You and Anya and Xander. This is between me and him."

"But..."

"*Now*!" the Slayer snarled.

Reluctantly, her friends complied, as they always did when she employed the authority of her position in her voice, leaving the room and closing the door.

And, surrounded by his protectors, Spike was horribly, helplessly alone.

"Hey, Baby," Buffy smirked as she sauntered toward him. "Missed you."

He flinched at the suggestive tone of her voice, his head knocking into the wall as she swiftly closed the distance between them, and he jerked back violently away from her, his breath coming in ragged, fearful pants.

"D-don't touch me," he gasped, flinching as she raised a hand, only to caress it lightly through his hair. His hand rose as if to ward her off, but then fell trembling to his side, as he could not quite find the courage to push her away.

The Slayer let out a low, dark laugh that had become painfully familiar to him during his time of captivity in her basement, and Spike shuddered as she pressed in close to him, one hand pressed against the wall beside him, hemming him in, while the other played more deliberately through his hair, in deliberate defiance to his words. She leaned in close to whisper in his ear, her lips brushing his skin, and increasing his violent shaking.

"You gonna stop me, Sweetheart?"

Spike swallowed back a strangled sob of terror, wanting to push her away, to fight back against this soft, subtle terrorization that she was inflicting upon him, but too well trained to resist her.

"Please," he whispered, a tear escaping his eye and trailing down his cheek. "Please...don't..."

"I told you I'd find you...didn't I, Spike?" she whispered, trailing her hand down from his hair to his shoulder, her thumb gently rubbing along the side of his neck in what could have been a lover's caress. "Didn't I?" Her voice hardened when he did not respond.

He nodded quickly, swallowing convulsively, his eyes closed. "Y-yes..."

"Didn't I tell you that no one could protect you from me?"

He nodded again, his face crumpling with despair. "I'm s-sorry," he whispered, shaking his head. "Buffy, please...please..."

"Shut up!" she snapped, and he flinched, though her hand -- now trailing down his arm to take his hand in hers -- was still gentle. She smiled again when he was pliant, unresisting, allowing her to thread their fingers together though his hand was shaking violently. "That's my boy," she murmured soothingly, drawing his hand up to her lips to kiss it tenderly, her calculating eyes searching his face as she did.

"Look at me," she commanded, her voice still soft, but with a note of steel to it that would not allow for disobedience.

Spike obeyed, tears spilling down his cheeks as his terror-filled eyes lifted to meet her cold, possessively lustful gaze.

"Who do you belong to, Spike?"

Spike looked away, and she clenched her hand around his tighter, moving in closer so that he flinched, but had no where to go, no way of escaping her oppressive nearness.

"I said look at me, you disgusting little slut!" she snarled, deadly menace in her lowered voice as she slammed her fist into the wall beside him, causing him to cringe in fear of the threatened blow. "Look at me!"

Spike had no choice but to obey, dragging his despairing eyes up to hers again, clearly lost to her already.

"What are you, Spike?"

He knew the answer she wanted, had played the cruel game enough times to know; but the fragile beginnings of new confidence that had been developing in him over the past few days rebelled against giving it to her. He hesitated, his lips parted to respond, yet silent.

Her voice was low, calm, and controlled, and all the more terrifying for it as she warned him, "Spike, I swear if you don't answer me..."

"Wh-whore."

"That's right," she agreed, her voice smooth as silk once more as she released his hand, trailing it downward to rest at his hip, her thumb a bare inch from the mark she had made on him, covered by his jeans, but throbbing for her touch against his will. Her next word was a chilling whisper. "Whose?"

Spike's response was barely audible, broken and ashamed and hopeless. "Yours."

"There..."

Buffy soothed him gently, rubbing her mark on his thigh and causing him to gasp with a mingled sensation of pain and pleasure so strong that his knees nearly collapsed beneath him. His hands clutched at the wall behind him, struggling to stay on his feet, as she massaged the mark, harder, mercilessly drawing from him emotions that he did not want to feel.

"...that wasn't so hard, was it?"

"Please," Spike moaned softly, reaching one hand down blindly to weakly grasp her wrist, desperate to free himself from her control. "Please, don't..."

Buffy's hand twisted, leaving the mark to grasp his wrist and slam it back against the wall, and Spike bit back a cry at the slight pain -- the first actual physical pain she had caused him during this encounter.

"You don't tell me ‘don't'," she snarled in his ear, and he shook his head in pleading agreement with her words. "You're mine, Spike, do you understand that? *Mine*!"

He nodded helplessly, sobbing now as she gripped his other wrist, holding him back against the wall, her body pressed invasively against his as she continued relentlessly.

"No one can change that. You tried to run from me, and look what it's got you? Absolutely *nothing*. You're still mine, Spike. I'll do whatever the hell I want to do with you...and with your pathetic friends who tried to help you, too. They're helpless now, too, Spike, you know that? I could kill them right now..."

"Please," he whispered, shaking his head, his eyes downcast, his shoulders shaking with sobs. "Buffy, please, don't..."

"No," she assured him with false gentleness, the back of her hand -- which he knew could become so much crueler -- caressing across his cheek in a gesture that still made him flinch from her touch. "No, Spike...I won't...because you're going to be a good little *slave*...and walk out of here with me right now. Aren't you?"

Spike hesitated just a moment, his heart aching with longing and despair...and then he nodded, tears streaming from his eyes.