“Buffy, I’m going over to Janice’s house to study tonight, okay?” Dawn called down the stairs as Buffy was headed toward the front door, on her way to another grueling evening of menial labor at the Doublemeat Palace.

Buffy stopped in her tracks, shooting a can-you-believe-the-nerve-of-her look at Spike, who sat on the sofa. He suppressed a laugh as he glanced toward the top of the stairs, shaking his head, secretly proud of that “nerve” that Dawn had developed.

*That’s my girl,* he thought with affection, though he had no intention of letting her get away with it. Not this time.

Buffy returned to the foot of the stairs, her hands on her hips as she stared incredulously up at her little sister, standing at the top of the stairs with a way-too-innocent expression on her face.

“I really don’t think so, Dawnie,” she said, shaking her head with a wide, fake smile.

Dawn rolled her eyes as she came down the stairs to face her sister more directly. “No, really, Buffy. There’s a big test tomorrow, and I really need to go to her house and study.”

“How stupid do you think I am?” Buffy demanded, disbelieving that her sister actually thought she could get away with this again.

Dawn fought back the answer that sprang to her lips, knowing that it would certainly not do anything to help her case. A triumphant smile rose to her lips as she gave Buffy a challenging look and crossed her arms over her chest, saying, “Call her mom. She’ll tell you. There really is a test tomorrow that we really do need to study for, and her mom really did already say it would be all right.”

Buffy’s eyes narrowed in a suspicious frown, but nevertheless she headed for the phone, giving her sister a distrustful look over her shoulder as she did. Buffy disappeared into the kitchen, and Spike turned his own skeptical gaze on Dawn.

“What are you playing at, Niblet?” he asked her softly, a knowing smirk on his lips.

“Nothing!” she insisted, in a tone of indignation that they did not trust her. She repeated, slowly, emphasizing every word, “I am going to Janice’s house to study. That’s. All.”

He raised his eyebrows and did not take his eyes off her, but didn’t say another word as Buffy returned from the kitchen, a frown on her puzzled face.

“She said you two really do have a study date, and she’s gonna be there all night,” she admitted, with a little half shrug, though she still seemed reluctant to accept that her sister was actually telling her the truth.

“So I can go then?” Dawn asked her expectantly, an annoyingly perky smile on her face. She was just enjoying being right way too much for Buffy’s liking.

Buffy sighed in defeat and replied, “I guess so. Don’t be late. I want you home by ten. Okay?”

“Okay, Buffy,” Dawn chirped, much more agreeable than usual, and seeming very pleased with herself as she went back upstairs.

Spike frowned suspiciously up the stairs after her before looking at Buffy. “’M not sure I trust that,” he said quietly. “She’s up to something, love.”

Buffy shrugged and sighed as she headed back toward the door. “Her story checked out. Janice’s mom said it’s true.” She glared balefully up the stairs and muttered, “She probably just wants me to *think* she’s up to something, just to get some kicks out of tormenting me.”

She hesitated at the door, as if just remembering something important, and then turned deliberately back, approaching him as an inviting, secretive smile replaced the tired frown on her lips. He rose to meet her, a slow smile of his own spreading over his face, as she put her arms around him, kissing him deeply, slowly, savoring every moment of it.

When they parted, she sighed again, but this was a happy, contented sound. “Just what I needed,” she murmured, smiling into his eyes. “Now *that* should get me through this long, hard night!”

“Don’t tire yourself out *too* much, love,” he said, his voice low and seductive, a suggestion in his eyes that made her want to call in sick, though she knew she couldn’t. She had bills to pay and groceries to buy and responsibilies…

None of which she felt like considering at the moment.

Reluctantly she pulled out of the embrace, saying with a resigned smile, “Don’t worry, I won’t.” She paused, a slight frown of concern creasing her brow. “Are you sure you’re gonna be all right? Cause you know, I can stay if you need me to…”

“You can stay if you *want* to,” he corrected her with a smirk, before his expression became more serious, as he replied in a mildly sarcastic, self-deprecating tone, “No, love, I think I’ll be all right for a few hours alone.”

“I know,” she sighed. “I mean, Dawn told me that you found the controller, but that was quite a little scare you had there, and if it’s too soon…”

“Dawn told you *what*?” he broke in, frowning, confused by her statement.

Buffy frowned too at his reaction. “That you found the controller. On the floor of your closet this morning. You did, didn’t you?” A hint of fear began to show in her eyes at the thought that the dangerous little thing might still be unaccounted for.

The pieces fell into place for Spike, and he fought back his anger at his young friend, for putting him in this position, of being forced to choose between lying to Buffy and getting her – and Anya – in trouble. “Yeah,” he said quietly, not quite meeting her eyes. “I did. I – I would have told you…guess I just wasn’t thinking…”

“It’s all right,” she interrupted him, waving her hand in a dismissive gesture, her soft smile telling him that she really had thought nothing of it. “It doesn’t matter. You’ve been through so much these past few days, I’m sure you were just so relieved to find it…”

He nodded, feeling sick at the thought of not being completely honest with her, and he knew that he could not maintain this lie, not for any length of time at all. It just felt too wrong to keep this secret from Buffy.

When he was alone with Dawn, he decided, his eyes narrowing slightly in anger, they were going to have a bit of a confrontation. They would have to find some other solution, some way of coming clean about this. Promise or no promise, he would not allow Dawn to push him into lying to Buffy.

Well…not more than this once.

Only a few minutes after Buffy left, Dawn came back downstairs with her backpack slung over her shoulder. She gave Spike an innocent smile as she headed for the door.

“Not so fast, pet,” he said firmly, rising from his place on the couch, his ice blue eyes flashing with anger. “I need a word with you.”

“I’m late,” she breezed, catching his eye for just long enough for him to see that she had a pretty good idea what he wanted to talk to her about, and a pretty good idea that she wanted to avoid talking about it. “Supposed to be there all ready. We can talk later, okay?”

“Just a second,” he said, determination in his voice as he followed her toward the door. She was not going to get away that easily.

“See you later,” she called over her shoulder as she quickened her pace and sailed out the door into the afternoon sunlight, not giving him time to voice his suspicions or question her at all before she was out of his reach.

“Tricky little bint,” he muttered to himself as he returned to the couch and picked up the remote control, swallowing back his irritation. “Oh, well. I’ll bloody well let her have it later!” he sighed to himself. “She’s got to come home some time!”


Dawn sighed with relief as she made her escape down Revello Drive, heading off in the general direction of Janice’s house, just in case Spike happened to be being his over-protective self and watching her as she left. Once she was out of sight of the house, she back-tracked and made her way toward the cemetery and Spike’s crypt.

That had been pretty close, she thought, and realized with an uncomfortable feeling that even now, she had only earned herself a temporary reprieve. She had overheard Buffy and Spike’s conversation and knew that he had found out about the lie she’d told Buffy, so fortunately she had enough warning to get out of there before he could stop her.

But he would be there when she got home. Sooner or later, she would have to face him. And judging by the look on his face just before she had made her escape, he was not at all pleased with the position she had put him in.

She put those troublesome thoughts out of her head as she reached the crypt and made her way down the ladder to the lower level. She lit the torch and squinted against the bright light for a moment, as her eyes adjusted, just before they fell on her prisoner, who was looking at her with a wary expression in his eyes.

She crossed the room to him and unceremoniously pulled the rag she had used to gag him out of his mouth.

“Hey,” she said casually with an unsettling smile, though the carefully controlled rage she felt was clear in her expressive green eyes. “Sleep well?”

Judging by the dark shadows under his eyes and the exhaustion in his haggard face, the answer was a resounding no. She stepped back, regarding him for a moment before she spoke.

“I think I remember how Spike told me this always worked,” she mused, looking down thoughtfully for a moment before returning her cold gaze to Warren. “Right about now you’d be punishing him for not answering you, wouldn’t you?”

Warren tried to say something in response, but his mouth was too dry from the gag and the day and night he had spent with no water to formulate an answer at all.

“The way I remember the story going,” she went on calmly. “It didn’t really matter what he did… you’d punish him anyway…even if he was *really trying* to do what you told him…and just couldn’t. Usually because *you* had hurt him too badly already.”

She stepped closer to him, feeling oddly gratified when he shrank back away from her. “Now, you might be actually trying to answer me right now,” she said with a shrug. “Or you might not…in which case I get to hurt you.” She paused, a cold, triumphant smile on her lips as she said in a voice just barely over a whisper, “I choose to believe not.”

And with those words she pressed the button on the controller, sending a painful shock through his body that made him convulse with pain. Despite her rage, her furious sense of justification because of what Warren had done to deserve this, she did not have his vicious thirst for the suffering of others, and gasped, startled, at the sight of the tremendous pain the controller caused him.

She suppressed the unwelcome sense of vague pity she felt for him, not wanting him to see it, but she released the button after only a few seconds. Then, the pity was swallowed up in anger as she thought again of Spike, enduring that pain for much longer than a few seconds at a time, every day for five months.

Her eyes narrowed, and turned away for a moment, pacing the floor as she tried to keep her emotions under control. If he saw that she was losing control, he would do whatever he could to try to turn the tables on her.

“I bet you’re hungry…thirsty…right now, aren’t you?” she asked with a falsely sympathetic sound in her voice.

He looked at her through suspicious, frightened eyes, his body shuddering as he recovered from the pain of the shock – the very same pain he had forced on Spike for so long. She saw a wary hope building in his eyes at the mention of food and water.

Good, she thought vindictively. That meant she got to crush it.

Her eyes narrowed as she turned to glare at him. “Try going weeks at a time, like you made Spike go. Try *real* starvation, Warren. Too bad we don’t have enough time for you to know what *that* feels like!”

“I – I…” Warren attempted to speak again, his voice coming out in a weak, hoarse croak.

Dawn rolled her eyes impatiently, suppressing another pang of guilt. In an ironic sort of way, her own guilt made her feel more justified in punishing Warren. If she felt this bad – albeit secretly – for the relatively small amount of suffering she had put him through so far, what kind of monster was he that he could have done all he had done to Spike for five months, and genuinely *enjoyed* it?

The kind of monster who *deserved* this, that was what kind!

With a put-upon sigh, she reached into her backpack and took out a bottle of water she had put there earlier, then stood up again and headed back toward him. Warren drew back in suspicion, but his eyes were focused on the water bottle in her hand, a desperation in them that she found irritating.

She was not supposed to feel guilty for this!

Sighing wearily, she conceded, “We can’t exactly have a conversation if you can’t even talk, can we?” as she raised the bottle and poured a little of the water into his mouth, stopping long before he had had enough. “Now what were you saying?” she reminded him, giving him an expectant look.

He looked up at her, his demeanor a million miles from the way it had been the day before. “I – I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Please…I’m really sorry for hurting Spike, Dawn…just please let me go!” The insincerity in his tone, the obviousness that he was simply saying whatever he had to say to get what he wanted, angered her further.

Still, she tried not to show it, deciding to play along, to give him a taste of the humiliation he had heaped upon Spike. “Are you really?” she asked him, nodding leadingly. “Are you really sorry, Warren?”

“Yes,” he gasped, nodding desperately. “Yes, I’m really, really sorry!”

“How sorry are you?” she pressed him, her lips twisting up into a taunting smile.

“I’ll do anything, Dawn! Please! I’m so, so sorry! I’m begging you here, please just let me go!” he pleaded.

She tilted her head in a little speculative half-nod. “No you’re not. Not really. But that might be interesting. Why don’t you get down on your knees and *really* beg me to let you go? You just might convince me,” she smirked.

She had no intention of letting him go, and it should have been clear, but he was desperate by this point, and he immediately did as she suggested, though the action of kneeling strained his arms to the limits against the chains that bound them.

“Please! Please, I’m begging you!” he gasped, tears streaming down his face. “Dawn, don’t do this! Please just let me go!”

Now, she felt no pity; only loathing and revulsion. She was beginning to understand Warren a little better. Oh, he loved to play the part of the big man, to make himself feel powerful by abusing those who were unable to defend themselves against him. But in reality, when it came to preserving his own life, he had no pride. He would do anything just to save himself from suffering.

She sneered down at him in disgust for a moment before stepping nearer to him to respond. “Well. That didn’t take very long, did it?” she mocked him, biting off the words in bitter triumph. “You’re not really so tough after all, are you?”

She crouched down in front of him to meet his eyes with her own that were full of pride for her friend and the remarkable strength he had shown in the face of so much worse than what had driven Warren to his knees.

For, although he never would have thought it of himself, as ashamed as he was of what he perceived to be his utter weakness, the very fact that Spike had survived all he had and was somehow managing to come back from it was a testimony to his strength.

No one else she knew could have taken it.

Warren certainly couldn’t.

“I bet Spike begged you to let him go…to stop hurting him,” she said softly in a voice that trembled with emotion. “But *you* didn’t listen, did you?” She paused before adding in a triumphant tone, “But I bet it took a lot longer than this before he did. How long did it take you to break him, Warren?” she asked. “Weeks? Longer? How long until *he* was on his knees? Hours upon hours of brutal torture and beatings, weeks of starvation?”

She leaned in closer, the look in her eyes bitterly mocking as she pointed out slowly, deliberately, “You took a couple of two-second shocks and one day without food. Less than twenty-four hours, Warren. Less than one. freaking. day.”

She slowly rose to her feet, staring down at him like the disgusting, low creature that he was, beneath her – and far beneath Spike.

“I guess this proves who’s really the stronger man,” she informed him in a voice of victory, as she turned and headed back toward the ladder. She paused at the base, turning her head just slightly before leaving to ask him softly, “Just how powerful are you feeling right about now?”

And with her point proven, she disappeared up the ladder, leaving him to ponder her words, and his own miserable fate.