Faith sent a silent thank you to whoever was listening that Buffy was reacting in the right way, enough to sell it to Gus and his lackies.
"If you wanted the heart, you shoulda said," she shrugged, a forced casualness to her attitude. "But like you say, dead is dead."
She had to suppress a wince as he grabbed her wrist, squeezing just that bit too tightly on the bruises already there thanks to Angelus.
"You boys touch her and I stop being obedient, Daddy," she smirked coldly. "And, baby, trust me when I say you do not want that. Let her go, you get me. I'm way more fun anyway."
She was outnumbered, outgunned, and there wasn't really much she could do about resisting the chains. So she didn't. She remained still as the restraints were locked around her wrists, too heavy on the bruises.
"Finally," she muttered, swinging the chains up and over Gus's head, pulling them tight around his neck. "Now boys," she addressed the bastards holding the knife to Buffy's throat. "This is what we call a nice old fashioned Mexican stand-off. You cut her and I'll squeeze his head off like a grape. But, if you unchain her and let her walk outta here, I'll let your boss here go."
Well it was almost a Mexican stand off. If only she had a secret weapon on her side. Oh wait, she did. Any time the mostly ignored Spike wanted to get into the game was fine by her.