Lead astray the gazers,
The razors on your seducing skin.
In the meadow of sinful thoughts
Every flower`s perfect to paradise… (- Nightwish)

----Chapter 1 - Prologue to a sin----

15th century, England


He eyed the golden mane of her matted hair, streaked bronze with crusted dried blood; it was flowing past her shoulders, covering her breasts in soft curls. Her skin was pale white, her body mere skin and bones, causing her clothes hanging from her form like on a scarecrow in the midst of a barren field. She was shivering, he clearly saw the goose bumps spreading all over her exposed skin; the dungeon was cold and dank, even he felt slight tremors from the chill, while better dressed than she.

He lifted his gaze from her body to her face. Her eyes… though sunk and wearied… were the most beautiful moss green he ever saw in his entire life. They shone in the darkness, glittering with unshed tears that refused to fall, marking her as proud and defiant, not at all meek and obedient girl she should have been in these circumstances… or in life outside these bars before she was brought here. Her chin was held high as well… and to his utter enraged disappointment, she refused to look his way.

Lord William was mightily pissed by her dismissive behavior.

A witch and heretic; that’s what she was, he could tell. Even though she was in such a terrible state, his body responded to the vision of her, admiring the moonlight she wore beside her poor clothes and unwavering courage. Only a daughter of a devil himself could do that to him, could have such an impact on his senses, when he long ago discouraged himself from being attracted to any woman; they were all sinful creatures, bound to betray his trust one way or another.

And yet here he was, battling with himself and his inner demon that wanted a mate for committing sinful deeds. It was raging inside him, wanting to claim her, demanding it from him. That she was a witch he hadn’t doubted for a second. How on earth could he even remotely feel the pull toward this outcast of society, was beyond him. She was poor, the lowest of working class; an orphan with a shady past, condemning present and soon non existing future.

Also, not to forget, he was the one condemning her. Her and her damned nice lips, though thinned to a line drawn from displeasure, were created for kissing…

He was truly buggered.

His jaw clenched when she kept refusing to acknowledge his presence. He’d been standing there for at least five minutes and he was growing impatient, livid by the minute. He was not used to being ignored; usually his presence was right away reacted upon, if not by the looks of fear casting his way then by the knowledge of his higher ranks, his associations and his glaring title of a lord. Usually both.

He growled in displeasure. She will acknowledge him all right, sooner than she thinks.

Results wouldn’t be pretty, no doubt, but he was already used to gruesome sights of mangled bodies… perhaps bodies that looked even more beautiful than she… and he was going to get accustomed in seeing hers in that manner soon enough. William the Bloody is going to show the world how she was from inside: black and bruised, corrupted and for once truthful. No more the lying bitch of a witch he was sure that she was currently. Never again the pretty girl she was now still.

He schooled his features and hardened his jaw into a firm mask of indifference. He shook away the thoughts that would have described her as desirable, beautiful even, with a rare golden hair that fitted to royalty no less, and set his eyes to see what she really was: A sinner, an outcast, a condemned witch to be burned or drowned, she was.

But first, he needed a confession. And by God he would get it out of her no matter what. No matter how. Even if he’d have to wring it out of her by breaking bone after bone on her delectable body…

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She knew he was there even when she ignored his presence. The shock of white blonde hair - the color of the full moon - and his summer-sky eyes that were boring into her unpleasantly right now, would not discourage her from her more important thoughts.

Oh, she knew what she was accused of. Buffy Anne Summers was not in the least as witless as most of the town thought. She was only genuinely curious about who did it and why. Who was the person that lied about her so severely, that she was sitting here on the cold floor of the dungeon now, being accused of witchcraft and heresy?

She felt the stinging hot gaze of the Devil himself on the other side of her cell, and cursed her body for erupting in goose bumps in answer. Was he there to mock her, to persuade her that she is at fault here? Was he trying to seduce her and then prove everybody what a harlot she is, deserving of the punishment that was coming to her way undoubtedly?

She held her chin high, not letting him see the tears forming in her eyes. She knew she was innocent in all this and that would lend her enough strength to face with whatever is to come her way, even death.

The pain itself, as she expected they would inflict on her sooner or later, she was used to. Her body was even now shuddering from painful shivers she was trying her hardest to suppress, from the dank coldness of this place; dirty moisture was seeping into her clothes that were ripped so badly on some places, she was almost nude. Buffy clutched at the front of her blouse, holding ripped halves closed, not letting the Devil to see any more of her skin that he already had so far. He would not be her downfall.

She was even used to the pain she felt in her empty stomach for she hadn’t ate much in days. Winter was coming with a great pace and her stock of food was already too low.

She caught a glimpse of the blonde Devil and saw the hungry look in his eyes that were pasturing on her broken form. She hadn’t expected to survive this winter anyway.

But still, she hadn’t thought she would die like this. Being accused of something she had no knowledge of and then sent to burn on the pyre for the amusement of them all. She had no hope to be saved at all. She had no friends in this world; distancing herself from the rest of the towns-people all her life was the reason enough for that.

She meant nobody harm and yet harm came her way without side-stepping, leaving her with nothing but dull ache on the back of her head, blood on her thighs and dark cold cell, where she was to await the end of her time.

She saw the Devil finally leave, and, bowing her head, she let the tears fall on her lap.


TBC...

Chapter 2 – Blood on the dance floor

This place rings with echoes of
lives once lived, but now are lost.
Time spent wondering about tomorrow…
I don't care if we lose it all tonight
up in flames, burning bright,
warming the air of the world… - Rise Against
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Lord Angelus O’Connor was a wealthy man, protected by the king himself, feared by the enemy and a great catch to every mother’s eye that sought a perfect groom for their daughters. He grew his fortune by winning battle after battle on the warpaths, earning land and titles from his King, all the while raising his own status in the society. He had everything he could ever desire…

But there was one thing he wanted the most in his life and had to steal it to obtain it. King’s counselor, Sir Rupert Giles, had a niece, recently widowed Drusilla Bathory, to whom Angelus held his heart ever since they were first acquainted. His love for the dark princess, as she allowed him to call her, ran so deep and with such devotion that he’d do whatever she told him to, no matter the deed itself or consequences.

And he always did. He obeyed only her, the queen to his heart, he never allowed anyone else making any demands from him. Angelus never refused to do whatever she asked of him, since all the tasks were wicked and deliciously fun. She trusted him to guard her deepest secrets, allowing her to fulfill her darkest desires that sometimes made his blood run cold, even when his own mind was as corrupted as it could go.

But after her every bloody deed that he intimately knew of, the actions that would make the Satan himself proud of, she’d be so willing, so perceptive to his raging lust, he’d sometimes promptly forget where he gave himself to her, or that the foul air they both breathed in the midst of passionate moments, was result of a gruesome display she made with her live and soon-to-be dead puppets. She was the artist of macabre, the art itself delightfully forbidden and punished severely if ever discovered.

But he could never betray her. He wouldn’t ever betray his mistress. He belonged to her. And she, he dared to believe, belonged to him, though she never uttered the words herself…


It was a nightfall when he arrived, staggering drunk, to her home that night, a castle of her belated father to whom none shed the tears when passed beyond, and sought her out yet again. He had news to tell and he knew she’d be delighted. He did as she commanded, yet another task was done and he would now collect the proper reward, as always.

The guards at the front gate bade him in and he waited for her appearance in the great hall, impatiently pacing up and down until he sat down near the blazing fire. When she hadn’t come right away, even though her servants called for her saying it was urgent, he stood from his chair by the fire and went to look for her. He knew where she was, after all. Damned be the formalities, no man or woman would have stopped him while seeking her out. He was a well known and feared figure here; all of the servants knew what would befall them if they ever interrupted his quest.

He stumbled down the stairs towards the dungeons and as he drew himself closer, he could immediately hear the screams. He smiled; his dark goddess was creating art again.
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Drusilla was in clouds once more, dancing with the fairies. The last one had tasted so sweet, like thick honey that slid down her hungry throat, warming her belly with its sticky texture. Miss Edith was so proud of her, she could tell by the look on her face, when she smiled at her fondly. She deserved the praise after all. She ate them all up, like a good girl that she was.

And she was beautiful again! As soon as the last scream of the cattle, now lying dead at her feet, had died out, she demanded of her friend a mirror. Miss Edith handed it to her with a smile and was already speaking of her renewed magnificence. Drusilla believed her, for Miss Edith always spoke the truth.

So she started twirling towards her and singing and clasping her hands to the rhythm she heard in her head, her delighted giggles echoing from stone walls surrounding her, even as the rim of her dress swiped at the blood on the floor beneath her, creating ghastly art in its wake. She grabbed the silvered hand mirror, when she came to her nanny, and pretended it was her dancing mate, the candlelight that was caught in it, was creating lightning-like flashes upon the dead walls. She thought they were pixies joining her party…

‘’Drusilla, my love!’’

She paused in her dance and looked up from the mirror to lock her gaze with the dark man that stood at the foot of the stairs, watching her with hunger in his eyes. She dropped the mirror and, while it shattered on the floor in tiny glittering pieces, she went to her lover.

Drusilla let out a delighted squeal and slid into his awaiting arms, lifting palm to his cheek to stroke him tenderly and stole a quick kiss from his grinning lips. He picked her up and twirled with her a few turns while she laughed, the bottom of her soaked dress splattering red droplets all over the place.

When she moved away, Drusilla admired the bloody stain she left on his face by her palm. Her eyes glazed over and she told him in mesmerizing voice: ‘’Now you will be as pretty as me…’


Lord Angelus was beside himself at the look of his raven haired goddess. When he saw her singing and dancing upon the blood stained floor as soon as he descended the stairs, he froze and simply admired her from afar, feeling almost unworthy of her presence. He paid no attentions to the three women on the floor, other than seeing they were all dark haired and nude. No, his eyes were only for Her. She was beyond beautiful in her child-like exuberance. She was glorious and he hardly suppressed his urge to tackle her down and drown in her right then and there; before the dead bodies, the living and the dying ones.

He was completely lost in her eyes now, as she looked up to him with her dark pools of abyss, awaiting his praise and his view on the wonderful mess she’d made again.

He lifted her bloodied hand and raised it to his lips, kissing her red-crusted knuckles softly while keeping his eye contact. She tasted divine… He then pulled her towards him, pressing her flush to his hard body and enveloped her in hard embrace. The evil darkness in her eyes enticed him every time and he couldn’t resist her. He couldn’t ever resist her.



His eyes slid to her lips and saw they were bloody too, the foreign red fluid had already dried on her pale skin, creating such a beautiful contrast, he thought he could cry of the beauty of it. He couldn’t hold himself away from her any longer; distance between them was always too vast, no matter how close they were. He crushed his lips with hers in ferocious need, and she met him halfway, teeth clashing with teeth, and he tasted the tangy blood on his tongue mixed with their saliva. There was nothing tender in their actions, there was no need for it to be; they both reveled in violence of the act, it fueled their lust to dizzying proportions.


The elder woman was watching the all familiar display, of almost animalistic behavior of Drusilla and her lover, with a never disappearing smile. The two ravenous lovers stumbled towards bed that was placed in the corner of a vast room, where it was brought simply for when they sought their other form of a pleasure.

Her eyes were glinting humorously, for she was used to seeing how they never could wait to finish their work first. She eyed the last of the still breathing girl on the floor, but didn’t react in any way. She was as good as dead, Edith thought, she would die soon enough.

The couple stripped frantically and grunted heavily as they merged. The elder woman turned to leave them be, stepping carelessly among two bodies cooling on the floor and a third one that was not yet dead, towards the stairs.


The woman on the floor was bleeding copiously from numerous wounds inflicted all over her body, for her mistress Drusilla decided to use her skin as a blank canvas to draw upon with shallow cuts and deep slashes. That is, before the woman lost her focus and that tall dark man interrupted her. A single tear escaped her eyes, mingling with all the blood pooling around her. She closed her eyes, feeling completely numb and waited for the end to come.


Back on the bed, Angelus felt whole again. Sated bloodlust always made her as horny as the devil and Angelus took pride in every whimper and loud moan he brought out of her as he plowed into her warm depths. He was slowly rising up towards the sky of pure ecstasy and he could feel she was close too…

When they both came, his orgasm was so intense that he saw stars and they both named them before they fell into boneless heap upon the rumpled sheets. They soon fell into a peaceful sleep, Drusilla mumbling about the confusion in the sky, not minding the whimpering victim that lay bloodied near them on a dirty floor, pulling last breaths of air in her lungs. The air that was stale and reeked of violations; blood and sex…
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TBC...

Chapter 3 – In Noctem


Are you sure you're so clean and pure,
As you lie here in front of me now?
And you're tempting the lord of darkness,
As you see what's forbidden to see… - Into the Night by Tony Iommi, feat. Billy Idol

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She was running. Running till the burn in her lungs was imploring her to slow down, and then she ran some more. She couldn’t get enough of the distance between herself and that god-forsaken place fast enough. She stumbled down on the rocky path a few times over, cutting her palm on the sharp rocks, but she only picked herself up and continued with her mad flight, even when her bare feet bled.

Finally, she reached the safety of the forest, praying that branches and thick trunks of trees would hide her from their burning eyes and sharp claws.

She hid herself behind the biggest oak and tried to breathe, the sharp force of the cold air was scraping at her throat and her heart was painfully hammering in her chest. She was soaked with sweat, her body was overheating, but she hadn’t noticed it. The only things on her mind were words like: safety…, hide…, disappear… run.

She looked carefully behind the wide bark, and then, when she saw no one, resumed her mad dash through the forest, not sure where she would end up. She desperately wished nobody was chasing at her heels yet, even though she knew very well that she stood no chances against the faster horses if they decided to gain upon her that way.

So she ran further. Her bare feet were softly padding at the leave-covered floor, prickling at her wounded soles, even as every crunch of a snapped twig or rustle of the bushes she passed, was one noise too many.

‘God, let them be far away,… let them get lost,… make them leave her alone...’

She ran forever, it would seem, but she just couldn’t stop. The fear she felt was driving her feet like hounds of hell were chasing her. Because that is what they were, soulless monsters with their blazing forked tongues, just inches away from touching her… Buffy couldn’t afford to look back and see for herself; she could stumble again and then they would pounce…

She was completely and utterly terrified.

The other sounds of a night were reaching her ears; the hooting owls… soft wind caught in the leaves… flutter of wings… and her ragged breath escaping her throat in uneven intervals.

After an eternity had passed, she finally saw the opening at the far end in front of her. It was the edge of the forest and when she reached it, after stumbling at least once or twice more in almost complete darkness, she was met with a wonderful sight.

There, among the gravestones and wooden crosses, stood a church. A church! The House of God, where she could hide… beasts like him couldn’t enter there, right?

She felt terribly exposed without the safety of the branches, when she tentatively stepped out of the concealment of the trees. Still, she prayed the night without moon would be enough of a cover for her. She’d be safe as soon as she enters the holy grounds, she was sure…



Buffy woke up. She was shaking all over and was drenched in perspiration. For a second she panicked when she was met with nothing but hollow darkness surrounding her, but then the memories of a present came back along with her dreams, and she curled on the cold floor, trying to preserve that little warmth she held, while pressing fist to her mouth, so she wouldn’t let out the agonizing cries for entire world to hear.

‘’Rise and shine, Goldenlocks!’’

She tensed at the sound, nearly yelped; her body grew rigid and unmoving.

But… hadn’t Buffy heard that voice before? Before… no, after… but how…why here?… wasn’t he supposed to be…?

Before she could move or finish the thought of recognition in her head, the sound of the iron squeaking was heard, followed by the heavy footsteps, and she was suddenly dragged to her feet roughly by the hair. She suppressed the surprised yelp at the pain that the action brought and closed her eyes tight. She wasn’t ready for another dream to be smashed into pieces. Because that dream wasn’t unpleasant at all…

‘’Open your eyes, wench!’’

No…no…no… Wasn’t that voice supposed to belong to an angel that saved her? Why is he harming her?

Her bare feet hurt when she was forced to stand, due to the tiny wounds she got from the razor sharp stones she ran across bare foot last night. Was it last night? Or is it still today? Was it…is it morning already...?

Her thoughts were cut short again, this time by that low voice she heard before and it was speaking to her now again, sounding menacing and unpleased. Still, she couldn’t concentrate on anything but the assault upon her injuries at right this moment.

Fisted hand in her hair, pulling at her injured scalp.

Dull pain she felt in her abdomen as she was stretched.

The sharp prickling at the soles of her feet, where she cut herself on rocks.

The hunger and terror gripping at her stomach.

And coldness surrounding her, making her body to shudder uncontrollably.

This entire onslaught on her tender body was enough for her to feel sick and faint. Her trembling feet couldn’t hold the pressure of her tiny weight any longer, and her knees buckled, which caused his hold on her hair to intensify and pull violently in the opposite direction of her downward fall.

This time, she couldn’t hold back the scream.

‘’Be quiet!’’

She almost blacked out, would welcome thick darkness this time, but there was that voice again, this time not as indifferent as before, but angry, enraged even. She shivered violently when he tugged her head up, causing her eyes to snap open involuntarily, and locked his gaze with hers for the first time.

Oh, how she was surprised, even as she expected it now. He really wasn’t an angel after all… He was the Devil. That Devil.

She noted his blonde hair first, combed back from his well sculptured face.

So, this is how the Devil looks up close, she mused numbly, as she finally looked deep into his eyes. They were icy blue. And just as cold. No compassion in sight but hardness that belied his beautiful voice and handsome features.

He was the perfect embodiment of the alluring monster that she was warned about by her belated Mother and the Church. She fully expected that she’d see the fangs, should he ever smile.

She hoped he never would.

The back of her head hurt so badly where he still held her hair, she almost pleaded to be let go. Couldn’t he spare her at least a little? She was injured there already; the heavy blow she received earlier that night had almost split her in half. Not by him, but by another… and maybe this one doesn’t know about that yet…

‘’Stop screaming, you evil bint! This is not even the smidge of the real pain that awaits you.’’ He growled low in his throat and then he lowered his voice even further as he leant down and yanked her head forward to whisper menacingly into her ear, causing shivers of terror to aquiver her body again. Will she ever stop shaking?

‘’SHUT UP!’’

Oh. She hadn’t realized she was still screaming. She felt positively sick by this point and tried not to dry-heave by the end of his next words.

‘’If I were you, I’d wait to use your vocal chords for later, pet. Christ knows, how much I’m looking forward to make your throat bleed raw just because you’d scream so hard…’’

He then let go of her and watched as she fell face forward to the ground, barely managing to prevent the clash of her face with the floor by catching herself with hands.

‘’What’s your name, witch?’’

His voice was indifferent again, which surprised her to no end of how he could change his behavior so drastically so fast.

She didn’t answer, only laid there, propped up slightly on her forearms, trying to compose herself well enough before she tried to utter a word; nevertheless, she had a hard time working on that. She was swallowing thickly, praying she wouldn’t be sick. Her breath was shallow, quick and shuddering. The tremors from the chill itself were doing her no good as well. She willed her body to stop trembling, though the task was futile.

But she didn’t cry.

Throbbing and stinging pain was assailing her all over the body and she thought she might go into shock if she doesn’t get the moment of a reprieve.

Minutes had passed and she finally gained control of herself well enough, so she could lift her head slowly and looked straight ahead. She locked her gaze on the black riding boots she saw before her eyes, just a few inches from her face, and just knew he was still waiting for her to answer… what was it again?...

‘’C’mon, witch, I hate to be hurting a girl on our first meeting, without knowing her name.’’

Oh. That. And there was even another promise of pain in there…

‘’B-Buffy A-Anne S-S-Summers.’’ she managed to gasp out through her gritted teeth. They were chattering so hard she was amazed that she could use her mouth at all. ‘’A-and I’m not a w-wit-witch.’’ The last words she whispered so low she didn’t think he heard her. at least she hoped not.

He did, however, because he chuckled. She tried to glare at him, but failed miserably. The tears in her eyes gave her away. Besides, he had no eyes on his shoes now, did he? The glare in her eyes melted away.

‘’Yea?’’ he mocked. His voice sounded positively amused. ‘’ Then why are you here and not out there…?’’

Buffy further raised her eyes to see that he pointed somewhere in the direction that she figured it was leading the way out.

‘’Where all the good girls are... Dancing in the sun, working hard?’’ he continued in a mocking question. ‘’Why aren’t you out there, you reckon?’’

She just watched him silently; very sure that anything she tells him now would be the wrong thing to say. He had his eyebrow raised, probably waiting for her to snap at him and insult him unwittingly, like a foolish simple woman he thought no doubt that she was.

That she was not. She finally decided on the soft whisper of, ‘’I don’t’ know. I…’’ she trailed off. She really didn’t know why she was here. Not anymore.

When she didn’t continue however, he did.

‘’I know why not, Buffy.’’

He rolled her name out slowly, deliberately mocking now even that. the small thing as her name. By the end of the day, Buffy thought, there would be nothing left of her that he wouldn’t touch with sharp words or hands, and destroy it. She would be put to her place, ridiculed and humiliated, until she believed everything he’d say. She’d be treated as a lowest of the creatures, not anymore as a human being. Reduced to feel like she was nothing.

But she was already used to that, wasn’t she…?

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Lord William Rayne was again prematurely losing his patience. Not that he was not known already for his low temper and no tolerance towards the people he was appointed to torture, but the anger at himself for even thinking of her differently than any other sinful wenches, wasn’t helping to calm his ire either.

And oh, he was angry at himself alright, the girl hadn’t left him alone even in his sleep last night. Even now he knew that the next time he goes to sleep, he would meet her there again, all pale looking and glowing in the sunshine, smiling for him with her radiant smile he’d yet to see. Her dress would be more revealing this time, most definitely due to her pale slender leg, peeking from under her torn dress right now, no less…

Damned witch. He needed to leash his mind right away.

‘’I know why not, Buffy.’’ He repeated the statement, when it was apparent that she was too frightened to open her mouth again.

Her mouth… Christ! Her name even… like every little tiny piece of her was made…, no, created to taunt him, entice him… alluring him to follow… He trailed off again!

‘’Because you are where you belong now.’’ He growled out, his inner demon in complete agreement with his spoken words. Must her hair glisten so prettily in the flickering light of the torch he lit on the wall? He tried to ignore the quivering of her lips. ‘’You belong here, in this cold cell, at my mercy – not that you’ll be given any.’’

He was pleased to see the pure terror glistening in her eyes as she watched him from the floor at his feet. Beneath him. He has to gain control over himself this instant, if not by anything else, then by threatening her. To gain control. Over her fear, over he life.

Over her…

Damn you, William! Stop looking at her! But he had to keep the eye contact. It was to show her his power over her. And he has to continue, or she would know what she’s doing to him… and she would take advantage of his minute weakness.

‘’You shall soon feel like at home with all the pain, but know this - your stay here will be brief.’’ He had no doubt about it. She looked too weak to last long at his hands, and he should know how to predict this quite accurately by all of his experiences so far. Spike shifted his weight to the other leg. ‘’Torture itself shall be minimal if you confess your sins immediately, witch.’’

There. If he calls her like that, he would look at her that way as well. And no longer flicker his gaze down where her leg was still showing…

He hadn’t taken his eyes off her form. He willed himself to look higher though. Her face was ashen and a little bit tinged with green. She looked absolutely sick and frightened out of her mind; knuckles of her right hand that was clutching her ripped halves of the bodice in front of her dress together were white. The other was balled into fist by her side. Her teeth chattered along with the rest of her body.

But he wouldn’t stop now. He has to show her that he wasn’t allured by her wicked charms.

‘’If you do not confess, I shall be personally responsible to make you see that refusing to do so is a mistake. The one you shall be paying not only in this life, but beyond as well.’’

She started to sway and her eyes were beginning to flutter weakly.

‘’Consider yourself already in hell.’’ He concluded as she crumpled at his feet.

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As the darkness dotted its black specks before her eyes, the only thought in her mind was, before Buffy fell into the oblivion, who was the person that condemned her first…?

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Angelus woke up by the movements beside him. He opened his eyes and immediately they fed greedily on the beautifully sculptured form of his mistress, as she stretched beside him like a well sated cat. Her skin was fair and unblemished, gleaming in the soft light of the candlelight. He stretched his hand forward and trailed down her spine with his roughened fingers. The result were goose bumps, spreading slowly all over her body.

He pulled her towards him by the tiny waist, to press her back with his front. He buried his nose at her raven black hair. ‘’Morning.’’

‘’Mmmm… ‘’ she purred. ‘’So, my dearest… have you come here to tell me something last night? Has my Avenging Demon been a good boy?’’ Drusilla’s voice was chiming in echoes through the dungeon.

Angelus grinned behind her, delighted he could tell her that he succeeded the task. She sounded like an eager child, waiting for a rare sweet. And he only wanted to make her giggle again for him.

‘’I have succeeded, my princess.’’ He purred seductively into her hair. ‘’The deed is done; now all we have to do is wait for the events to unfold themselves in our favor.’’

Drusilla, as it was expected, giggled in delight and pressed herself even further back into his chest, wiggling her bottom to his crotch, noting he was already so very hard for her… ‘’Oohh, does the Princess get any details? Will you share?’’ her hand snaked back to his cheek and he nuzzled into it, chuckling darkly.

‘’I don’t know, my sweet…’’

Her hand slid from his cheek and she lightly trailed with it downwards, until it stopped upon his hard manhood behind her back. She traced its length with one finger, his member twitching at the contact. ‘’Will my Dark Angel share his secrets now?’’

Angelus smirked, self satisfied and, beyond being aroused, he removed her hand, twisting their bodies till he was poised above her, looking into her amused eyes with a lopsided grin. ‘’She screamed… A lot.’’

TBC...

Chapter 4 – No Angels no Flowers


I cannot leave here, I cannot stay,
Forever haunted, more than afraid,
Asphyxiate on words I would say,
I'm drawn to a blackened sky as I turn blue,

There are no flowers, no not this time,
There'll be no angels gracing the lines,
Just these stark words, I find,
I'd show a smile, but I'm too weak,
I'd share with you could I only speak,
Just how much this, hurts me… - This Time Imperfect, AFI
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Cold bucket of water was dumped on her face. Buffy whimpered and coughed weakly as she came to.

‘’Na-ah. You don’t get to do that, pet. You shall be here always, paying attention to every word I say. No more of these fainting spells.’’

She looked up at the man looming above her, fully expecting to see the unbearable coldness in his eyes that he graced her with all the time. What she saw however, was that his eyes were not glaring into hers; rather, they had faraway look of sorts, while glued to something lower than her face. She followed his gaze and looked downwards, curious and confused.

She gasped and she sat up straight right away, quickly covering herself. Despite the terrible cold that was intensified, due to the now wet clothes and hair, she blushed prettily, her cheeks burning, and she closed her eyes tightly in mortification. Tops of her breasts were completely exposed! She could die of embarrassment alone!

When she dared to open her eyes again, and then look up at him, she saw his tightly clenched jaw and the ticking of a muscle there. His eyes were tightly shut, like hers had been just moments before. God, she had done something wrong again, hadn’t she?

As he opened his eyes finally and bored them into hers, she was startled and sure that they were inflamed by the unholy fire itself, singing them completely black. He looked enraged.

‘’No use to hide yourself, all proper-like,’’ he bit out.

His voice was… husky? He coughed and his voice turned to normal again – indifferent, as she described it – though a little strained; why for she did not know. The man standing above her was terrifying, but strange.

‘’I will see whatever you could offer soon enough, so why the formalities now, yeah?’’

She turned confused eyes towards him. His cheeks hollowed in a leering smile that sent sharp daggers of fear down her spine. She felt so lost, so small and incapable of playing his game. And, what did he mean by seeing all she had to offer…?

‘’Only that, you shall be stripped of your clothes and sent to be rid of all your body hair, then prodded by my silver spike, to see if you really are Satan’s whore as they all say you are. Then you shall be tortured until you admit it yourself and be sent to burn.’’ He said calmly, his voice now almost bored.

Did she really ask him that aloud? And…

… She felt all the blood seep out of her cheeks again, when his words finally made an impact to her brain. He… would… strip… then…prod… with what… into her body?...

‘’W-why…’’ she croaked out. She had no idea from where she found the courage to speak. ‘’Why would you do something like that to me?’’ she whispered silently, but the echoes gave her voice strength she knew she didn’t have. She felt sick to her stomach. ‘’I-I do not even kn-n-now of what am I a-accused of to deserve this fate. I-I’m sure that I am in-n-innocent in whatever you chose to accuse me of. N-no sin of mine could be so hor-horrible to send me here…’’

She really didn’t know anymore, to be completely honest. She was so sure that she knew of what the town’s people thought about her, when they were talking behind her back, making fun of her. She was called witch from time to time but it was all just for their sport at making her feel even less than what she was, she was so sure of it then. Buffy had never believed that the words they spoke so fleetingly would have brought her into this nightmare, where she’d be reduced even further into nothing. So what was she really accused of…?

‘’You are no innocent, witch.’’ His voice was cold. She saw that his lips were pressed into a thin line.

‘’B-but I am…’’

‘’Silence!’’

His voice was thunderous and intensified as well. It made her ears hurt, so she covered them with her hands fearfully, trembling like a leaf.

‘’Do not lie! Do not ever lie to me, wench! I know, what you did, saw it with my both two bleeding eyes and you shall be appropriately punished for all the repulsive things you did. I will make you admit it all first, and by the next Saturday evening, you shall sing it like a bird yourself!’’

She watched his face in terror; it was red in powerful rage and his words were slashing at her like a blazing whip.

‘’S-s-Saturday?’’ she whispered. It was the only thing she heard that held some sort of end to all this…and she just had to be sure of… what happens after that day?...

‘’Next Saturday evening is the day you confess your sins. That night, will be the night you die, witch.’’

She was beyond confused, beyond horrified. She felt disoriented and dizzy.

And she couldn’t think. She just couldn’t think anymore. It was too much and she would faint again, and then he would slap her or drag her by the hair or pour buckets of freezing water on her, ‘till she wakes up again, only to take off her clothes and torture her! Or he just might do all that while she was unconscious, but no, of course not, he’d wait for her to be very present for every humiliation he prepared for her to receive… before she dies finally…

She didn’t faint. She hadn’t dared to. Instead, she dry-heaved. Her imagination was drawing pictures in her head of nameless weapons and hands on her skin, hurting her until she confessed of anything they wanted and more… and among all these images, was his face. Smiling with coldness in his eyes and blood dripping down his lips…

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‘’Lord Rayne!’’

The voice called him from behind and he grunted in answer without looking away from the heaving girl in front of him. He almost felt sick himself if he wasn’t so used to these reactions; and his own descriptions of things that were sure as Hell to come.

Sure as Hell… how appropriate.

He really wouldn’t describe himself as a very religious man. He was born into all these beliefs, yes, but he wasn’t foolish enough to believe everything it is said in the Bible or by the priests anymore. He wasn’t that young and he saw too many things in his life, and these things hardened him. The only reason he bothered to do these hunts in the name of the Holy Church was, because he got paid by the Pope for every job he’d done so far in his name. And he was paid as much by the King himself as well. It was all in the name of final justice after all. The Church or the King would confiscate the land and riches of the poor bastards he’d caught for them and sent them to die.

Spike himself was in turn richly rewarded and indispensable man in the King’s army. He was one of the best and the richest. The hunt in itself suits him as well. He was restless when there were no battles to be won. The time of peace unsettled him, for he had no peace. Not in his head and not in his heart. The only thing that made him alive nowadays, were battle cries and clanging of swords, hunt and capture of the people who disturbed the peace in between wars, and nothing more.

Not even her.

He watched the girl at his feet with well schooled indifference. He brought her here last night because she was guilty. At least in his book she was. The evidences they found near her home and also at that strange place where they found her sickened him and were good enough to hang her in the towns square at the very same night.

But he wanted to hear her admit it first. He wanted to hear her saying the words. He needed her to condemn herself with them.

‘’Lord Rayne.’’

‘’Yeah? ‘M down ‘ere,’’ he finally answered aloud, all the while he observed his captive intently. The girl was still green around the gills, but at least she stopped retching.

‘’My Lord, your brother is calling for you. He is currently in his private chambers that You signed for him.’’

His servant Jonathan came down the stony stairs and now stood behind him, waiting for directions.

William answered distractedly. ‘’Go. Tell him I shall come in a moment. And send for the head of guards to come ‘ere right away.’’

The young servant hurried to do as he was told.

William turned his back on the girl as soon as he heard footsteps approaching. Bloody hell, but Jonathan was fast! He knew he did the right thing when he hired the little annoying bugger.

‘’You wished for my presence, my Lord?’’

Spike looked at one of the best men in his army, as he came down the steps to stand before him. The head guard of the Rayne castle was the one man William trusted absolutely. ‘’I did, Finn. And none of that ‘lord’ crap from you, Riley; we’re alone, so it’s Spike to you. Christ only knows what we’ve been through together arm by arm on the battlefields.’’

Riley grinned. ‘’What do you want of me Spike, then?’’

‘’I got to go see my little brother for a while. He’s been pestering me for the whole day since he arrived and God knows what he wants now.’’ Both men chuckled briefly. ‘’But I can’t leave her here alone this time. You stay here and…’’ Spike turned around and looked at the now sleeping form of his captive. He smiled mischievously, and turned back to Riley. ‘’And don’t let her fall to sleep.’’

Riley Finn raised one eyebrow and looked behind his Lord to see who exactly he meant. ‘’Is… that who I think she is?’’ his voice was tinged with awe.

‘’Yes. I’ve been called yesterday night to collect her and bring her in.’’

‘’But… is it true?’’ The young guard wasn’t here last night when she was brought and he was mightily curious. And also a bit skeptic.

‘’Why do you care, Finn?’’ Now Spike raised his scarred eyebrow at the taller man.

‘’Only that… well, look at her, Spike! She’s tiny… a little thing…’’

Spike looked disbelieving, sizing up the big man standing in front of him. ‘’Yea… but that hadn’t stopped her from doing it, yeah?’’

The jaw of his friend hardened at the remainder of all of the gruesome rumors about her deeds, and Spike saw that his eyes had changed - hardened also - as he stared at Buffy over his shoulder. ‘’No. I guess not.’’

‘’Good. Because, if I ever believed in existence of witches, she’s the shining proof that they somehow do.’’
Spike stepped towards the stairs where he paused briefly, his hands clasped behind his back, ‘’Just remember, no sleeping,’’ he reminded the guard who nodded and then he resumed walking.

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‘’Is it true? Can I see??’’

Lord William hadn’t taken so much as a step into his brother’s chambers when he was assailed by the questions. There was no guess of whom the younger boy spoke of, though.

‘’No, Andrew, you cannot. You are not to show one single hair of yours down there while she’s here, understand?’’ he looked sternly into his younger brothers eyes, even as the boy shook, from all the suppressed questions, that is. ‘’You hear me?’’ he asked again for good measure, adding a growl into his words, just to make the order come out clearly.

Andrew nodded quickly, his long blonde hair slipping from the pony tail he wore. ‘’Okay, Spike, but can I see it then?’’

‘’Did you not hear any of the bloody words I just said, whelp?’’ William almost growled out the words. He feared he’d start to pull out his hair in exasperation. He desperately tried not to roll his eyes like a child. Why, oh, why did their parents went to see the King right at these times and sent his little brother to him? Why?

‘’I heard you, Spike! But then, if you don’t want me to see the bodies, can I at least see her?’’ Andrew toed the soft furry rug at his feet and watched imploringly at his older brother.

Who stared at him incredulously.

‘’NO! And don’t call me Spike either, Andrew. It isn’t fitting.’’ He glared at him, waiting for the boy to nod vigorously and then moved towards the fireplace, sitting down on one of the two chairs in front of it to warm up his body a little. Christ, but the dungeons were cold!

His brother joined him sulkily on the other chair, plopping down with a pout. ‘’Is it true at least?’’ He swung with his legs while he sat, much to Spike’s annoyance.

‘’Is that all you needed of me this time? You disrupted me so you could pester me to answer your thousand sodden questions?’’

Andrew’s eyes widened a bit in expectation, even as his older brother sighed heavily.

‘’Fine,’’ he grumbled and Andrew smiled enthusiastically. ‘’We found all the evidences we need to earn her a nice warm death. Or hot even.’’ Spike absently watched the fire licking at the wood. She must feel cold right now, though.

‘’I’ve heard that she’s supposed to be so very ugly, that the flowers die the instant she looks at them and then Warren told me that she killed the half of the army when you tried to capture her and that it was her fault that it rains so much lately…’’

‘’Bloody hell, Andrew! I told you not to talk to hired help! Just listen to yourself! How would sodden Warren know she killed the half of the army if he hasn’t even been there!’’

That shut him up for a bit, Spike thought, as Andrew closed his mouth in thought.

Andrew was blissfully quiet for a while then and Spike concentrated on the flames again, thinking of the supposed ugly woman below. She wasn’t really ugly at all. Christ, her skin… when he dumped that damned water on her, he only wanted to humiliate and wake her up. But the plan had backfired nastily, didn’t it? He completely forgot about what he was saying at that moment as he got an eyeful of her small perky breasts. At least he got to humiliate her, right? He brightened up a bit at the thought but became miserable again as he recalled her pretty cheeks as they were tinged pink...

He ran a hand through his hair. Sodden fool.

He snorted in his mind as he recalled other rubbish his little brother assumed. She wasn’t capable of finishing off even one of his men, not only because they couldn't be defeated so easily, since they were the best men in his army, but because of the state they found her in last night. She was…

‘’Why do you talk so funny, Spike?’’

Spike sighed. Andrew obviously decided that he wasn’t finished with his thousand questions for today. He turned toward him.

‘’What are you talking about now?’’ Spike tried to concentrate on his brother’s face, but the specs of light before his eyes from watching at flames too long, were getting in the way.

‘’Why do you speak in such a funny way?’’

Finally the vision cleared and William could see the amused confusion furrowing his brother’s eyebrows.
‘’I mean, one moment you speak like the lowest of peasants, and in the next you speak like the Father.’’

‘’Shut your trap, Whelp.’’

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She reached holy grounds without being spotted.

Buffy sighed, letting out a big breath of relief and knocked at the door of the church to see if anyone could help her. She already felt safer, but the prickling feeling at the back of her neck told her she wasn’t as secured out here as she’d have liked.

She waited a bit. There was no answer. She knocked a few more times, this time more urgently, while looking over her shoulder nervously, each knock sounded hollow and too loud to her ears.

She thought she saw something at the edge of the forest and whimpered in fear. She tried to twist the knob and push the heavy wooden door to open.

Finally they gave in, albeit heavily, and she stepped inside.

She was startled by her own echoing voice, croaked from the sharp wind damaging her wind pipes, as she asked if anyone was there, so she quieted down after that. Something was not right. The church was unlit, and abandoned looking. She hastily made a few steps further until she reached the dais where the large crucifix stood proudly. She knelt down in front of it and looked at it, terrified.

What was going on? Isn’t there supposed to be an evening Mass? A priest, at least? Or a lit candle or two in front of the image of God?

As she looked better around herself, she noted that the church itself was bare. As in, completely bare of anything the usual churches had. The altar had no candles, not even unlit ones.

She slowly stood up from where she knelt and approached the table where sermons were had by the priest. Buffy wiped at its surface with her finger. It came away dusty and dirty…

White, cold terror gripped her spine and trailed its fingers up and down it. What was going on?...

Is it right for the church to be left in this state?

Buffy looked around the place. She spotted the small doors at the side of the church and decided to investigate it, before she could succumb fully to the blind panic that was creeping up on the edges of her mind.

They seemed to be locked, or just as before, stuck from the lack of use. She desperately hoped that the latter was not to be true.

She tugged with all her small force and the doors gave way again after the forth desperate try.

The smell almost brought her to her knees. Then she noted the flies. Then the rusty colors covering the white stones on the walls… and then… it.

Her hands flew to her mouth, but it was too late. The scream could have pierced the walls and awoken the dead, buried deep around this place that God has so obviously abandoned.

Buffy stumbled backwards; her eyes transfixed upon the dead body in priests clothes. She didn’t think she could handle any more horror this night…

‘’Shhh….’’

A voice sounded behind her and she let out another blood curdling scream in surprise, jumping and turning around.

‘’Be quiet, little girl. We are at the church…’’

Then there was nothing else but the darkness as the person veiled in night pounced…


Yet another bucket of cold water was splashed on her face, waking her from another dream she had no desire to remember if it was true.

The voice telling her to get up from the floor was not familiar to her this time, however.

‘’C’mon, get up! We do not have all day!’’

She squinted towards the person with a deep hateful voice. Is there any voice without the hate in it in this place? She looked up… and up… and up… by God, but he was huge! His light brown hair was bound together at the nape of his neck and his face was… sort of nice looking, if it wasn’t marred by the hate clearly written all over it. She hadn’t even noticed the scar there, which lined from his left eye to his upper lip.

Uncomfortable, she lowered her eyes a bit. He held something in his hands.

‘’Food.’’

There was the loud metallic clang as he threw the bowl of some sort of soup on the floor by her side. The speed, with which she grabbed the bowl to steady it from turning over and spill, was not only surprising to the new tormentor of hers, but to herself as well. She hadn’t eaten in days… and her body worked by itself now, craving for something warm to fill its belly… it smelled heavenly.

‘’With compliments by the Lord William Rayne himself. But if it were for me, I’d simply let you starve, bitch!’’

She paid no mind to his sharp words. Not with a bowl tightly pressed to her lips, devouring its content with gusto. The only thing she let herself to hear was the name of the Devil, so she could place it with his face.

Buffy thought, that this new person standing over her now was nothing but a puppet, biding his master’s demands.

He was no threat to her.

But those full lips of the blonde Devil were. The Devil called by the name of William.

Such a tender name, she thought absently, as she gulped down greedily the last few drops of the first meal she had in days… even if it was a bit too watered down. It was still heavenly.

She placed the empty bowl gently on the floor by her legs.

The tall man with hateful glare beside her was speaking again. She tried to listen to him better this time, now that she could focus enough. What he told her though, made her wish she hadn’t eaten at all. Such a waste for her nice meal if she’d be bound to lose it so soon…

‘’It is a good thing that I know he hadn’t fed you because he’d feel sorry for you. He definitely has other motives to keep you alive. Feeding you was just that – prolonging your life and strengthen your body so it would be able to feel every single cut and prod with the objects he’s chosen for you.’’ He paused and laughed. ‘’ You probably wish right now you hadn’t eaten anything at all, am I not right?’’

Oh, how he was not wrong at all. The warmth spreading all over her body from the soup was starting to feel wrong, oh so wrong. How was she so reckless to believe that it was in his kindness that the food was brought? She should have known better.

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TBC...

Chapter 5 – Clouds and Poppies


Oh, flower of forgetfulness, just an hour away to the moon,
Take a deep breath if you are reaching for truth…
While you're in the stupor
the door knocks and death takes another youth.

Poppies, red poppies... red poppies...

A boy I used to know, a boy I used to know,
who's laughter rang to the skies
Was a joy to behold
Then I looked into his eyes, a look so cold… - Poppies by Nina Simone


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She hadn’t touched any meal they shoved in her cell through the small hole in her doors for two whole days. She hadn’t slept any in that time either. Being constantly in the state of fear was tiring and draining but at the same time, there was always something that was keeping her awake.

One of the reasons was some deep-rooted strength in her nature that was making sure she stayed guarded, protecting herself from harm that would surely befall her in a sleeping state.

Not that she could defend herself properly anyway… sleeping or not.

As much as this alertness helped her not to slip into those terrible nightmares, Buffy started to feel like she was dreaming alive, regardless. Every voice she heard - be it distant or just outside her cell - was either sharpened in her quiet solitude or it was muffled, unrecognizable. Mostly she thought she only imagined some of them, which was not a comfortable thought at all. She felt light headed and so very down-weighted at the same time…

Her eyelids were heavy and it was almost a painful relief whenever she allowed herself to blink. By this time, her blinks were gradually becoming longer in length, but she always pulled herself back into awareness before she would slip into numbing sleep any further.

It was getting harder to do so though. Every time she shook her head in desperate try to clear it, a powerful dizziness would swirl inside it, causing her to grip tightly at the hay - they brought into her cell a couple of days ago - just to feel somehow grounded in her vertiginous state…

Was it really a couple days ago since she was brought hay? She was not really sure. Buffy thought it to be that long ago. She couldn’t decide if the time went faster and rushing towards her doom - now that she knew the time she meets it - or passing slower in her already hell-like cell.

She did notice something though. They hadn’t come to strip her yet and she desperately hoped Lord Rayne was only mocking her with threats like that. Oh, how she wished it was so…

The only time when someone came in her cell, since Lord last time paid her a ‘visit’, was when they brought some handfuls of hay into her barren cell, for her to lay upon. As soon as the deed they set up to do was done, they silently crossed themselves and left her, all the while under watchful eyes of the guards that they were accompanied with. Including that tall man with a scar and a constant glare he wore for her.

And after that, visits ended, the only sign that she was not forgotten were bowls of food sliding into her cell from time to time.

Buffy did lie on the hay though, even if she didn’t sleep. The second reason for that, were the prickles of dried yellow grass upon her already too sensitive skin and they were not pleasant at all. She even at some point tried to cover it somehow with her skirt, for she had nothing else to stifle little stings with, but then she’d be too exposed as she soon noticed, and that just wouldn’t do.

So she endured the annoying itches, even if they were, in combination with her lack of sleep, fast in driving her mad. She just concentrated on enjoying the little warmth hay brought to her in the cold cell, even when she was fast approaching the point of screaming just because she felt like being suffocated by all of the little frustrations.

Her screams didn’t come though, nor did tears. There still were others, however. The screeching, echoing, horrifying screams… These screams were the third and the main reason why she hadn’t shut her eyes for longer than three minutes. They weren’t coming from her, though the agonizing cries sounded so near, that she’d thought they were happening in the next cell to her if she hadn’t known they were coming from the adjoined room in the far end of the dungeons. She saw some poor girl being dragged there, the whole procession of some men passing by her cell the other day, and the poor thing hadn’t left the room since.

Only her loud agonizing cries were any signs that she was still alive.

Only when Lord William Rayne was in that room, however, was when the sounds grew louder and so very anguished that Buffy hurt along with the girl, all the while silently praying for her. In her mind’s eye, she could easily imagine that beautiful face and eyes, that looked right into hers, as they all passed her cell, now scrunched up in pain and agony, her mouth open, shrieking…

When the first few minutes have passed since that girl was first brought there, Buffy curled herself into a ball while covering her ears. It didn’t help much. Now she just lay there, with dazed look in her eyes, staring into nothing while screams continued. Some foggy memories her company…



It was a bright sunny day, somewhere in the middle of the summer time. The air was filled with wonderful scents of wild flowers, blooming all around her in breath-taking colors, tickling her nose. Golden rays of warmth were caressing her skin, as Buffy watched up at the white puffy clouds above passing by, occasionally obscuring sun on their way, some faster than the other, but all of them held her young interest.

She lay in the midst of the tall grass in the meadow, obscuring her from the view of any unwanted eye as she observed the shapes that wispy clouds formed. They were never the same, always changing. In their cotton-like softness she saw animals, human faces and objects she saw in her everyday life. Birds. Stool. Horse with a crooked tail. Duck.

Some form even reminded her of some boy from the town, whom she liked, but only seen once, when she and Mother visited the town’s market place… but if she turned her head just a little, clusters of white smoke would change appearances and become a broomstick…or a tree.

Watching clouds was her favorite game.

Buffy sighed, contentedly.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, there was a soft mewing sound, and Buffy felt a light nudge at her left hand. She peeked downwards and smiled broadly in surprise.

‘’Hey, Willow.’’ Buffy said quietly. She knew of this stray orange cat. It was very shy so she didn’t move at first; she didn’t want to chase her away. Buffy liked cats.

When the cat lifted her green-eyed gaze towards Buffy and then made a few tentative steps closer, softly padding among the long strands of trampled grass, Buffy still lay unmoving. The cat slowly treaded towards her face, all the while looking intently into her eyes, assessing her carefully, apparently, and Buffy hardly suppressed bubbling giggles that erupted from deep inside – she looked so adorable! Watching her all stern-like!

Then the cat softly purred, obviously satisfied in her assessment of the young girl and pressed with its wet nose at Buffy’s left cheek. Buffy gushed, reached towards it, and petted it between her ears. She was delighted that the cat was allowing her. It even climbed in her lap, mewing with its tiny high-pitched voice.

‘’You’re such a cute little kitty, aren’t ya?’’ Buffy pursed her lips and crooned as the cat leaned with all its small weight into her open palm and purred loudly with no end. ‘’Yes, you are! Such a pretty little girl…you want to watch the clouds with me, pretty girl?’’

‘’Are you talking to it?’’ Said the voice behind her and Buffy started, nearly yelped in surprise. When she looked up and squinted towards the face of the boy, she widened her eyes and sat straight up, unconsciously pressing the little orange ball of fur tightly to her chest. It was him!

‘’Y-yes. I-I am. Just talking to it. She doesn’t understand me, though. She is, that is, Willow, she is a nice cat…Willow…’’ the said cat now squirmed in her lap, trying to get away, uncomfortable of the new presence and the tight grip the girl had on her.

Buffy looked down and blushed, very aware of the green stains the grass left on her dress and had only hoped that her face wasn’t as dirtied as the last time she saw him… or that her hair wasn’t looking like a bird’s nest. She put the cat down and while it jumped back into the high grass, Buffy rubbed with finger at the green spots on her beige skirt, then stopped and just stared at it, unsuccessfully willing it to go away. She did not look up.

‘’Not as pretty as you are though.’’

Buffy looked up, surprised. Her heart swelled with giddiness and fluttering butterflies awoke in her stomach. She knew his name. His own Mother called it that day to bring his attention back to work… and Parker Abrams thought she was pretty? Her face hurt. Why did her face hurt??

Oh. She was grinning so hard that her ears were the only thing keeping her head from splitting wide open…and she probably looked like some crazy person.

‘’O-Oh? Really? You think I’m…um…p-pretty?’’ she bit her lip and her cheeks got even warmer. She stared into his eyes, unable to look away…

Parker chuckled. ‘’Yes.’’ He said, looking earnest. ‘’I always thought so.’’ He sat down beside her, not even asking for permission, but Buffy didn’t care… he always thought that she was pretty? But how if she only saw him once before?

Her thoughts were cut short as he sat down right next to her and she felt the heat in her body rise even further, probably her whole body was blushing…

‘’Your hair…it shines like golden wheat on the fields, caressed by the soft wind… and your blush is like poppies blooming in their midst’s…’’

Buffy was melting. His voice was so beautiful and she closed her eyes as he caressed her with it and paying her compliments. No other boy paid any attention to her before. She and her mother lived just outside the town, always holding more to themselves - her mother preferred it, though Buffy herself never knew why…

His voice was still there; this time talking about her skin… and suddenly there was something new. Something, that didn’t belong there… She opened her eyes in shock. Was he…touching her? She looked down and saw that he moved his hand over hers. She gulped. That was not appropriate, was it? But still, this was him! Parker Abrams! Who was leaning towards her, closed eyes and all...

She briefly smelled the odor of fish coming from him…

And then, he kissed her. A quick peck on her lips, really, but he hadn’t asked her first. Buffy was angry. This is not how good girls behaved. Her momma wouldn’t approve.

She pushed him away and he fell backwards, now lying just like she did before, on his back.

‘’W-what do you think you are doing, Parker?’’ she asked, breathless. And did she really push him away??

Parker eyed her with his big, wide open eyes in complete shock. Apparently, he never experienced a behavior like that from another girl. His light eyes turned into slits. He stood up, towering above her and snarled. ‘’Wasting my time, that is what.’’ He leveled her with a hard, menacing glare and spat out. ‘’Watching me, making me think that I want you. You must be a witch! Talking with cats, hiding in a tall grass, looking at the sky, talking to yourself! You are a witch! You and your mother, both! Nothing but disgusting witches, you two are!’’

He stormed off, even as she opened her mouth to whisper, horrified, ‘’I’m not a witch… … I’m not a witch…’’

She whispered it over and over again as she leaped up and ran home, her vision blurred. ‘’I’m not a witch…’’



‘’I’m not a witch! I’m not a witch!!’’

Buffy came back from her reverie, confused for a fraction of a second and then horrified anew.

The voices were even now coming from that torture chamber, along with Lord Rayne’s shouting words that she couldn’t understand clearly through the thick wooden doors.

Then suddenly, the voices stopped. Silence was booming and Buffy closed her eyes, curling into a tight ball in the hay. It was scraping her face and every bit of skin it had open access to, but she hadn’t cared. The girl is dead. She just knew it. She hadn’t confessed and now she was dead.

Buffy couldn’t help but admired the girl. She hadn’t broken down and lied, even though she was given so much pain. And Buffy knew the girl was innocent. If she were guilty, she’d confess, just to stop the pain.

And now she was dead. Buffy only hoped she’d be as strong as she was. Because she would not lie either. God, she really hoped she was strong enough…

The sound of heavy door opening was heard and Buffy started to tremble. Her whole body ached by now, just because of it being repeatedly and unstoppably shaking so hard all the time.

Heavy booted footsteps were approaching, along with quiet murmurs. She opened her eyes to see that two men carried the poor girl’s body out of the torture chamber and started to climb the stairs to the upper level with their cargo…

‘’You hadn’t eaten your meals.’’

The statement startled her. She was too preoccupied by watching the bloodied body in the soldier’s arms, so much so, that she hadn’t noticed Lord Rayne stopping at her cell. She closed her eyes tightly, honestly wishing she was still as oblivious to his presence, but one quick glance at him was enough.

His face, along with his hands and clothes, was bloodied. He had a long silver instrument in his hands, and it was bloody too, thin rivulets of fresh lifeblood were trickling down its length, pooling at his fingers that held it.

She whimpered and prayed silently for the poor girl’s soul.

The iron doors opened then and she curled in on herself even tighter, covering her eyes with her palms so she wouldn’t see him coming towards her.

‘’Up.’’

The word was simple. Commanding. It’s meaning clear. It was her turn now to be taken there…


TBC...

Chapter 6 – The Chess game



That's the game of chess,
your life against the death
and you're a looser
just loosing your last breath,
the clock's tick tock,
seems to be dead men's talk
and you're a looser,
just loosing your last breath.

The point of death has never been closer;
enter the garden of chaos and order.
A rude awake from the dream,
from the dream that you've been painting,

It's a dream within a dream
so much yet to be seen
how much time is it taking
till you feel the agony

and still you are searching
for your lost memories,
but you know you'll have
a blind date with your death.

The chance to live has never been closer,
enter the garden of chaos and order.
A rude awakening from the dream,
from the dream that you've been painting…

A sweet awakening from the nightmare of the hating
a dream within a dream so much yet to be seen… - The Chess Game by Cemetery of Scream
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He force-fed her.

He actually strode into her cell, grabbed the bowl of soup she left untouched again this day and pressed it to her lips.

And she obediently opened her mouth without a protest. It was the last thing she expected of him to do… or rather, she had never expected it of him to do it at all. It shocked her, to say the least, freezing her mind from forming any words of protest.

All she could do was remember his heavy footsteps, as he strode so purposefully into her cell, demanding of her to sit up from her curled up position in the hay, while prying her hands from her face with his fingers. Then demanded of her to open her mouth. Demanding that she gulped the liquid down. Demanding of her to repeat it all until the bowl was empty and her stomach full. Demanding, always demanding.

When the first shock was over, her bewildered mind was in no better condition than before. She really hasn’t realized how weak she became. That lone bowl of soup two days ago – was it two days? - hadn’t done anything in making her feel better. It sat heavy in her stomach as she listened to that guard why was it brought to her.

Now she was being fed forcefully. By him no less…

This was what she feared the most, beside the impending pain that awaited her in the hands of the Lord William Rayne – the Devil… which, as she noticed fleetingly, were surprisingly warm, holding her weak body upright, and strong... She was losing control of her life completely. And it was hard to hold the chin high and not to cry now, when all she did was huddle on the floor shaking. Where was that girl now that she used to be?

She was trapped, accused of things she most likely hadn’t been guilty of, and now couldn’t even undermine the supposed allegations due to her lower status. She was denied of sleep and talk, because she was aware of the fact that every word she’d utter would speak against her. She was held prisoner by the Devil himself, which had a voice of an angel that saved her few nights before…

This is where the once proud and free girl resided now.

She was trapped. And, Buffy thought, as the bowl was tightly pressed to her lips, she was denied even the escape to other realm, to join her beloved Mother. It is what such starvation should bring, right? Her death. The death that would not be caused by the hands of another man, demon or fire…rope… … water. It would be by her own will… her own choice – to starve.

Buffy was shocked by where her fuzzy and muddled mind brought her. The warm soup was slowly awakening her now and she struggled to think of anything else. The man that held her was insistent that she drank it all, and she did not protest. She hadn’t wanted to die, per se. Not at all, she wanted to live. To breathe the air of that meadow again, the air so clean and filled with scents of earth and flowers. She longed to feast her eyes on the beautiful colors of nature surrounding her, watching river sparkling in the sun or glowing softly under the moonlight. She longed to control her life again, being free and…

Free.

Here her mind stopped. Freedom was such a beautiful word.


She looked up, as the bowl was removed finally, and saw that blue eyes were staring into hers. It was all that she could see for a while… that mesmerizing hue of the heavens… it engulfed her completely and whole, freeing her for just a moment.

She longed for that clear blue sky too.


But it was gone the minute he closed his eyes.
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Spike was… … he could not describe it at the moment.

It happened right after he came out of the torture chamber and started walking behind Riley Finn and Graham Miller, another guard he trusted enough to be present for the torturing sessions.

He hadn’t wanted to, but as he was passing the cell of one Buffy Anne Summers, his eyes strayed towards her. It was not in his plan to do so, honestly, but as he saw the look in her eyes, the look of complete and utter terror she was sending after the girl that guards were carrying outside, he paused in his walk.

It was… it was really her eyes alone that did it. That strange something, happening in his chest. It suddenly… tightened. Constricted for just a brief second, mind you, but nonetheless it happened. He hadn’t felt anything like it for very long time, so he couldn’t point a finger on exactly what it meant, but it was there. He tried to shrug it away. He didn’t like it. It felt foreign. Unlived and now awoken anew.

Guards paused in their steps too then and he sent them away distractedly, eyes glued to her form in the hay, frowning in thought. He was observing her closely now. There was something else in her eyes as well. Not just terror, but something like… compassion. That’s it, he thought, compassion for the girl that was carried away from her view.

The girl she did not know.

He hadn’t expected it. The thought alone was confusing, but he was gifted with reading people’s expressions well, being part of his expertise and all, so he was sure that he hadn’t made a mistake in reading hers. It was mind-boggling, to say the least. Something in him… felt differently for a moment, before he squashed anything unneeded away again.

Spike cocked his head to the side as he watched her. Buffy’s chin was trembling. She hadn’t cried once since she was brought here and even now there were no tears sliding down her paled cheeks…

And there was something about the cheeks that disrupted his thoughts. They looked gaunt-like. Sunken again. Spike frowned further, this time he knew the feeling brewing slowly inside him. Pure annoyance and angry exasperation. He was sure he ordered meals to be brought to her. Hadn’t she…?

He looked down then, just to make sure before he’d start to rip off the heads of his servants, and saw that bowl was indeed there, but still full, still warm apparently, a thin line of steam rising from it.

The feeling boiled. Spilled. And he saw red.

Bloody, buggering hell!

He looked up at her again, fully prepared to jump in and wring her soddin’ white neck for her refusal to do as he expected of her to do, but just as he grabbed the iron bar, to push his way inside, he saw that she was curled up in a protective ball, pressed down into hay, still all the while gazing at the girl that was almost out of her view now. The two awoken beasts inside him battled.

Briefly squeezing his eyes shut was thankfully enough for him to calm down, though his jaw was tightly clenched. His storming into the cell would only ruin everything. He opened his eyes, opened his mouth.

He noted the obvious fact of her not eating in a flat voice, barely containing anger that was again boiling inside of him, threatening to spill over. The result was her flinching; she hadn’t seen him standing there apparently and she curled even tighter into a ball, this time hiding her terror-stricken face behind her dirty palms. Her hands were so small and skinny… His mind went blank for a few seconds after seeing that.

Then the next thing he knew, he was kneeling at her side, pulling her on his lap and making her drink down the entire bowl’s content. Some of it spilled down her chin from the corners of her mouth, splattering down on his hand that held her upright at her waist. But most of it was where it should be.

Warming her up from inside out…

There were no thoughts behind his actions. Not one, until she finished and gasped for air. He placed the bowl down and forgot what his intentions were supposed to be next as she looked dazedly into his eyes at that point. He found himself frozen in time.

Because, for the first time, she didn’t look away in fear or flinched. Her eyes were widened, almost like child’s in wonder and… longing.

Not begging, mind you. Just… longing. And not in a way that he was now, too, drowning in her green pools, feeling her on his lap, though trembling and only skin and bones… and how could her hair still smell like flowers after spending in this dank cell for three days and a half? The stank of body fluids and all that dampness and mud should ruin her natural scent, shouldn’t it?

Then it hit him. Hit him hard, like a well placed punch in his stomach.

Stank cell. Dungeon.

Witch.

He closed his eyes tightly, gaining control over himself again. And what. In a bleeding hell. Was he doing. Sitting in all this filth. Coddling her??

He quickly disentangled himself from her, ignoring the crestfallen look in her eyes as he left her lying in the hay and stormed out.

He needed a bath.

And he needed Anya.
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Buffy was left alone and confused. She even stopped shaking, though that was probably mostly from the warmth that soup gave her.

The soup she was made to drink. By the Devil called William. She could not forget that tender name...

Why did he leave so abruptly after that? Has he left to bring the others now that she was fed? Buffy suppressed the shiver rattling her small body at the mere thought.

That tall guard with a glare has told her last time that the food was brought to her to strengthen her body so she could be alive longer when they… Buffy refused to think further.

Shouldn’t the hands of a Devil supposed to be cold?

She shook her head to clear it from the thought. Where has that thought come from, anyway? Oh. His hands were warm. And she thought the Devil should have cold hands. While that was obviously untrue, as she clearly felt it herself only moments ago, should it mean then that he wasn’t the Devil after all?

What a chaotic mess of disorder ruled in her mind just now! She was locked in a cage by the one Monarch of Hell with warm and gentle hands, when on the other hand, she was sure he was the angel who saved her before as she recognized him by his voice, but now held ice in his eyes.

And why would his eyes hold the colors of the summer sky she so craved?

She shook her head again. This time the action was more dizzying than before. She sat upright, her hands shaking from the effort of pushing herself upwards.

Even if his eyes held the blue hues she loved to watch, he was here to mock her, to taunt her with freedom she could not have any more. And she could clearly remember a few times before, that his eyes could change. Darken to the point it reminded her of when her Mother used to call her to come inside, warning her of the approaching storm, while pointing at the darkness spreading and mingling with the blue, dimming it.

She was lost in her thoughts, staring into the stony floor. For once, her memories weren’t awful. They were of her mother and her lovely curled hair, the color of sunshine and richness of the golden wheat. Her kind eyes and soothing voice, warm embrace and smell of fresh apples…

Buffy was so caught up in her thoughts that the sudden sound of footsteps startled her and she hardly suppressed yelp.

She sunk down again, and looked up from her position, thoughts of her mother forgotten abruptly. Buffy could see that someone was standing in front of her doors again, just like before. She caught a glimpse of blonde hair before turning quickly towards the wall, hugging it, with only one certainty in her mind.

He came back to take her away and lock her behind that door of endless torture.
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Lady Darla Rayne was looking out the window of the carriage she and her husband had taken to the London, watching colors of the sky in warm, rich, yellow and red hues, painting a striking image of a late autumn day passing into the night. She could already see the cold wisp of dark blue creeping upon the lively colors, soon to be smothered into the night. Grass plants and almost barren trees beneath the striking spectacle were wearing red and golden rays of the sleepy sun.

She hadn’t ever particularly liked the countryside. She preferred bigger towns and court, where she would admire newest fashions as they’d be presented on women parading on the balls and dinners. She loved the show of wealth and her family alone was fortunate enough to have it plenty.

But she hadn’t wanted to go on this trip this time. She loved her husband dearly, so she soon complied with his wishes and had come with him when he asked her, but it was done and agreed with accompanied pout and bribery - promises of new lovely things, mostly.

She looked back inside, watching distractedly at her husband, sitting in front of her on the plush bench. Her first refusal to accompany him was simple. She hadn’t wanted to leave little Andrew with his brother.


He took her lack of enthusiasm to visit court with a frown at first, thinking she was ill. But when she assured him that she only wanted her younger son be spared from the works William delighted in doing, he was fast to convince her, that spending time with his older brother, Andrew would only benefit.

‘’He shall get the chance to learn from the best, my dear.’’ Her husband reasoned when she told him of her thoughts.

‘’William is too busy right now and besides… even if he allowed him down in those disgusting dungeons, which I refuse to believe that he will, I do not wish for Andrew to be in contact with all these scoundrels. They might be diseased or worse. He is only a child!’’

‘’Nonsense,’’ Lord Ethan chuckled, his eyes wrinkling at the corners… she always liked that. ‘’It is the perfect time for him to discover all shades of the world, my sweet wife. Not only the shade of pure white, but the black and gray as well. He shall learn the most at this age. You shall see!’’

Darla un-lady-like snorted in answer and turned away, then catching his eyes in the mirror again as she sat with him standing behind her. They both froze for a second. None of them even for a minute entertained the thought of Andrew accompanying them to the court, because there was nothing entertaining in it at all.

Their eyes told the whole story of a horror that happened the last time he went with them… Lady Darla would have to see, as soon as they arrive, if Lady Glorificus had stopped limping already...oh, and they still owed Sir Rupert Giles new chess pieces...

‘’Besides, my dear,’’ Ethan continued with a bit of strain in his voice, most definitely the incident playing in his mind still. Good thing only few of the people knew what had happened. ‘’He adores his older brother. I’m sure he will behave like a… a good boy that he is.’’


Lady Darla Rayne looked out the window again, deep in thought. They would soon stop to rest for the fast approaching night. It was a long journey ahead with a few more stops and all the while she’d think of things Andrew usually did when there was lack of attention for him. She internally winced and wondered, just what exactly her younger son was up to right now.

And if she even really wanted to know.
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He was looking at the prisoner with scrutinizing eyes, just like his brother did the first day, unknowingly to him.

She was tiny, he noted with dissatisfaction. He thought she would be ugly, hag-like, with white mussed hair like a crow’s nest. She shouldn’t have any teeth left and her skin should suppose to be hard, like leather. Not that he touched her… he just observed the paled skin from the other side of the bars, where torch lend it flickering golden glow. And her hair was golden, her strands like the most expensive dress of his was knitted of. And hers was dull and dirty. She looked tired and cold. And so very afraid as she spotted him finally.

He sighed in disappointment. She didn’t do it.
Andrew watched her trembling body, as it was turned towards the wall, her forehead pressed to the stone.

‘’So… wanna play a chess game with me?’’

The girl he saw behind bars looked stricken by his words as she turned toward him by the sound of his voice. He didn’t know why, but she looked almost surprised. They both waited in thick silence for a few moments.

And then, she burst into tears.
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He rode his black steed like a man possessed through the quiet streets of Sunnydale, the iron hooves were pounding loudly upon the stone floor; the black hooded cloak he wore was billowing behind him in the wind, looking almost like large darkened wings had sprouted from his back, ready to take him into the air. To anyone watching, he’d make a spectacle of a flying beast leaping from the shadows of hell itself, thus further fueling frightened imaginations.

He finally reached his destination. Spike hastily dismounted at the well known local brothel house and inn Arashmahaar, and pulled the hood of his cloak down tighter, to mask his features as he bounded up the stairs three at the time, not minding the strange looks he got from other patrons.

‘’Anya!’’ he burst through the familiar door, calling for her like a mad man. ‘’Bloody hell, where are you wench?!’’

‘’I’m here, Will, no need for you to shout, you know. I hear you quite well.’’ came a calm, if not a little husky, voice from the adjoined room that served as a bath room.

Spike breathed a deep sigh of relief, closed the door, made a few steps further in and sagged down into the chair by the fire, trying to catch a breath. His, usually tough demeanor faded, almost like it melted at the presence of the flickering flames nearby, and he hunched down, his elbows propped on his knees, his head in his palms.

Anya found him like this as she emerged from the other room, wet washcloth in her hand. She was not quite shocked by his show of obvious vulnerability, being able to see it often when he came to her, but it surprised her nonetheless.

‘’What is the matter, William? Is Andrew all right? He didn’t jump out the window or something stupid as that, just because someone told him he could try to fly? I could really slap him from causing you so many troubles sometimes, you know?’’ She paused then and frowned. ‘’No, he could not do anything stupid, since I was just there with you and he was just fine.’’

She briefly paused again as it dawned to her. ‘’Oh, do you need me again so soon? I must say, I haven’t quite recovered from the previous one yet, since it happened only few hours ago, but I could try and…’’

‘’No.’’ came the muffled voice. Spike hadn’t looked up. He felt exhausted. ‘’I don’t need you for that. Not yet at least.’’

He paused for a few heart beats and Anya frowned. Why is he suddenly like this? He was in a completely different mood not a few hours ago.

‘’Could we just…talk?’’ Spike slowly asked as he finally looked up, his eyes reflecting the dancing flames from the fireplace. They shone but seemed blank to Anya.

She just now realized how very tired he looked. She could thump herself on the head for not thinking and seeing it right away. ‘’Of course we can.’’ She came closer and sat down in the chair closest to his. ‘’That is why you came here for, is it not?’’ The question was really a statement but she waited until she saw him slowly nod. ‘’Could I offer you anything, William? Tea, perhaps?’’

‘’No, no tea, thank you. And, yes.’’ Spike sighed and looked at the flames. ‘’I came ‘ere to talk.’’

Anya watched him silently as he composed himself.

‘’I think that…’’ he paused again and then growled in frustration, wiping his face with his palm, looking irritated. Then he looked at her expectant face, his words fast but tripping. ‘’I don’ know what to say. How to… say what’s on ‘m mind. Not this time ‘round.’’ He looked away again.

Anya noted his rough spoken words, more close to commoner speaking, than those of a Lord-like status. He was really, really befuddled about something.

He looked back at Anya then, his eyes wide and unfocused. ‘’I… I think she might be…’’
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‘’…innocent, I swear!’’ Buffy cried out, her hands clutching at the bars on her door. Her tear stricken face was wet and cold, draft harshly drying it.
Andrew just nodded. He already knew that. The girl in front of him could hardly stand. She couldn’t possibly do all those things by herself and it was widely known by now that she was a loner since her mother died.
He suddenly wished his mother was here.

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‘’I don’t rightly know what to do anymore.’’ Spike couldn’t make an eye contact with the shocked woman, sitting near his chair.

Anya was stunned, but that was hardly ever achieved by most men in her business, so she composed herself quickly again and put her best calm look on her face.

‘’You go and do what you do best, William,’’ she told him. ‘’And that is to bring those who deserve it to justice.’’ A quick remainder would not hurt now, will it?

‘’It is not that simple anymore, Anyanka. This is… something else.’’

‘’I know, but it won’t change the fact that you have your work to do. After all this is done, you shall feel better again, I’m sure.’’

‘’I believe so.’’ Spike stood up from his chair and looked gratefully at Anya. ‘’Thanks, pet. I needed that. To put things off my chest a bit.’’ He then went with his hand through his hair in a nervous manner. ‘’I got to go back. Christ knows what Andrew’s up to, and quite frankly, I do not want to know about another chess incident, like the last time. Or any other incident, for that matter.’’

‘’You know, you never really told me, what happened with those chess pieces…’’ Anya’s eyes were big and innocent, clearly in hunt for a good gossip.

Spike chuckled. ‘’And you’ll never know. No one ever will.’’ With that, he turned and walked toward the door. ‘’I will call for you to come soon again, if...’’ he sighed and shook with his head, a wry smile on his lips.

‘’Yes, yes. Oh, and William?’’

‘’Yes, Anya?’’ he paused at the door, holding them open with his back to her.

‘’Will I have to scream again, just so you could scare the poor girl some more? I was serious when I told you before that my voice hasn’t recovered yet.’’




TBC...

Chapter 7 – Night, River and the Rain



Emotionless this city lies
Cruel it is, it clouds my eyes
The dull, the dark
Shades on my day
I live inside this play

Locked up inside my metal cage
Always tense and filled with rage
Above the concrete fields below
With you I wanna go, wanna go… - Blanket by Imogen Heap

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Her skin was gleaming under the pale sheen of moonlight.

His eyes hungrily followed the line of her spine, from the golden mane decorating her scalp where her fingers lay entwined with the soft curls, pulling them up to prevent them get wet, and all the way down to the waist, where the black river had reached to and obscured the view of his further perusal, much to his disappointment.

Murky water was black as a writing ink, but still reflected soft light of the moon, making it seem like white pearls were dancing on the black velvet; as a result, little gleaming flecks of light were playing on her skin as the river lazily flowed on, causing petite golden nymph to glitter in a spectacle of a sparkling bursts of light.

A few curls escaped from her hold and they tumbled down all the way to her waist where they touched shady river. He yearned to be closer, to touch the silky strands as they connected with the velvety water, but he hadn’t dared to make a sound.

He was a patient man, after all…

To his pleasure and amusement, it was that moment that it decided to rain. Pattering down to the ground softly at first then slowly building to the heavy rainfall. He heard her surprised cry and then muttered words of annoyance that soon followed. She turned to the side, unknowingly pleasing the man hiding in the bushes watching her and appreciating her bosom with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

Her pale globes were small but beautiful by his opinion, with pink nipples puckered due to the cold, making them a shade darker. He imagined if he were closer, he’d see the goose bumps spread all over her skin.

She let go of her hair, losing the war with the water and shrugging, she turned further toward him and he could clearly see the amusement coloring her pretty features. It was too dark to see the color of her eyes, but he was not concerned about that. He needn’t see the details. It was her perfectly unmarred skin that attracted his gaze.

She slowly submerged into the river, head leaning back as to wet her hair as well. He was enjoying the view of the outstretched column of her long neck when she dipped her hair, his fingers itching to touch… to hold… to squeeze.

She came back up, blinking a few times to dispel droplets of water from her eyes and eyelashes.

Angelus slowly backed away as soon as she decided to come out of the stream, painfully hard in his breeches by the time she did. He could not stop himself from waiting a bit longer then, just to see her whole form. It was dripping water in tiny rivulets, almost never stopping, fueled by the raindrops. His eyes paused at the apex of her thighs and groaned silently, with a grin on his face nonetheless, as he saw short golden curls adorning her mound.

A twig snapped under his retreating feet and he froze, not really concerned if she spotted him. But in truth, he wanted this to last longer, the chase to be thus sweeter…

She glanced up, her dress now tightly pressed to her front, as she peered into the darkness surrounding her.
The moon was half hidden by the raining clouds, not allowing her to see much further than the first bushes connected with the forest.

She waited in silent tension, her breath caught in her throat and it was when he saw that she breathed out slowly and relaxed, then he backed away further.

He’d follow her tonight, to see where she lives. It was a mere coincidence that he stumbled upon the vision of her a few minutes previously, as she unclothed herself, baring her skin to the tiny twinkling stars and the moon. He wanted her, not for himself, although he was not affronted by the thought, but he’d gift her to his love, thus showing his eternal devotion to her.

She’d appreciate his gift of affection and allow him to touch her body once more…

What a perfect and beautiful gift the girl was to be…


Angelus was whispering softly into the ear of his mistress, a story she heard so many times before, but never grew tired of it. Only, tonight there were other ideas in her mind and she pressed her bony finger to his lips, silencing him immediately.

‘’We are going to be late, my sweet. You shall continue this story later tonight, as I lay down to my bed and you come silently into my chambers…’’ she pouted prettily and fluttered her eyelashes at him.

Angelus opened his mouth and sucked her finger suggestively, his eyes were locked with hers, shining gleefully. ‘’As my Princess wishes… I cannot wait to see you dance again…’’

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Even as she had a heavy feeling deep in her chest, she lay down to her empty bed and closed her eyes. The sound of raindrops was lulling her into light sleep, not quite managing to make her feel at ease. The last thought she had, before she gave in to the pull of her dreams that night was, that she was so very sure someone was watching her as she bathed under curtain of rain and night…


It was raining no more in the next day and Buffy was happy to see the blue sky and the sun greeting her as she pushed open the doors to her cottage. All of the bad feelings that she had last night were completely gone as soon as she breathed in the rain-scented air. She let out breath slowly.

Her mother always loved this, the sweetness of the fresh air in mornings after the heavy rain. Joyce Summers would greet the day like this with a smile and call out to her daughter, who was still snuggled warmly in their shared bed…

Buffy felt tears spring to her eyes at the memories. It was but a few months after the burial and she was sure she’d never get used to her little cottage being so silent and empty.

The young blonde quickly wiped at her eyes and set up to do her morning routines. She opened wooden shutters to allow the fresh air to perfume whole hut then picked up roughly made broom to sweep across the hard earthed floor, already thinking of where she’d get some hay to cover it up for warmth. She had no livestock; the last chicken had been cooked months ago, which meant she could not share the hut with animals that would add to much needed warmth. Winter was fast approaching and the odds were not in her favor.

Buffy reached the decision by the time she finished sweeping. However, she was not delighted by the task that awaited her. She’d have to go to the closest neighbor to plead for a few handfuls of hay and be thankful for whatever the food they’d give her. If she’d be given any at all.

She had doubts that she’d survive this year and they grew stronger with each day.

It was never as bad as it was now. When her mother was still alive, things like food and warmth came to exist effortlessly as it would seem to her now. Joyce hadn’t even wanted for her daughter to be working at fields or mansions as a maid. And yet, the food was there…

How her mother did it Buffy did not know. The only thing that was clear to her, however, was the fact that it had much to do with the neighboring farm. To be specific, with its owner, Robert Flutie. He was a wealthy man in her young eyes, though he was probably anything but. None of the people she knew would be described as wealthy.

Only days before her mother had died, the elder Summers told Buffy to always go to that man, Robert Flutie, whenever she needed anything and he’d provide it.

Buffy was not foolish. She was confused as to what arrangements were made between her Mother and the already married man, and she even blushed at some of the thoughts in her mind, but she only nodded – just to make Mother feel at peace. They both knew the older woman was dying and Buffy would promise her anything in that time. And keep her word afterwards, no matter the oddness of it all.

And so she did, when her mother one day closed her wearied eyes and opened them no more, Buffy, stricken with grief, knew she could not make it alone. She decided she’d go to Flutie’s farm as soon as she’d run out of anything important.

But her mother’s plan had a fault. Buffy did not blame her, for how was Joyce to know that mister Flutie would be found dead in the forest not a week after her mother had been gone?

Buffy sighed. A misfortune indeed. All she hoped at that time was that Flutie widow would honor whatever arrangements were made by Joyce and the widow’s belated husband.

She was not really shocked by what happened, when she finally ran out of food last week and gathered all the courage she could muster to go to the neighboring farm.
For when she came knocking at the door of the larger house, which was made of stone, the doors were opened and revealed an angry face of his widow, Jane Flutie. She quickly made Buffy sure that she’d not help her in her needs and that she was painfully aware of the on goings of her mother and her belated husband’s arrangements which she heartily disapproved of.

The young blonde woman headed back home with her head bowed and her cheeks tinged in deep red, hateful words of the angry woman that shut the door into her embarrassed face, were still echoing in her head. ‘What on earth was her mother thinking?’...

Buffy was turned down that day and that is why she knew she’d not get anything from that woman. But she had to try one more time. Her body could hold out without something to eat no longer and… if she was not to get help she’d surely…

The sound of hooves pounding upon the dirt was heard suddenly and they were approaching fast by the sound of it. Buffy walked out of the hut, broomstick still in her hands, curious as to who in the name of God would bother to come this way. Who, owning a horse, even? It was a one way road, not really even a road, mind you; its only destination was this hut. And, it was a remote place.

She waited outside to greet the stranger and appoint them in the right direction, should they ask. For this surely could not be where they were headed for. She had not a thing in this world to offer.

She saw him right away, a lone rider, cloaked in black, hood hiding his face even when the wind tried to blow it off in his haste. She knew it was a man; no woman would have ridden the horse this way…

She took a step back, warily eyeing the stranger as he slowed down his gray horse right beside her, its hooves digging restlessly into the soil as if to point out itself they were not in the right way.

She took one more step back. Clutched the broom in her hand tighter.

Buffy’s eyebrows rose when she spotted riding boots… the only thing that showed her that this…man, was not in the least poor. What would he want? No upperclassmen were ever here in these parts before… The man looked so… but then again, perhaps all of the lords wore cloaks such as this?

When she stayed quiet in confusion, it was him, who finally spoke.

‘’Good morning there, young maiden.’’

His voice was deep, scratchy and unrecognizable. Buffy shuddered involuntarily in sudden chill. The feeling from last night started tingling at the back of her neck and she tried to fight off the urge to scratch at it in the front of this person.

And he must’ve noticed her unease, for he spoke out hastily, though still in that almost inhuman-sounding voice. He never took off the hood from his face, almost as if hiding it…

‘’Oh, do not be frightened, my little dove. I mean you no harm, not at all. As a matter of fact, I am pleased that I had the fortune to meet you, for I need assistance, if you’d be so kind to provide it.’’ He coughed, as if in embarrassment, and continued. ‘’I’m afraid I… got quite lost. I’m a stranger in these parts, you see.’’

Yes, that much she guessed herself already. She nodded and opened her mouth to answer, but it had gone dry, so she closed it. She was nervous… after that incident few years ago she hadn’t spoken to any man ever again. Or…any human, since her mother died.

The angry widow would not count, since she hadn’t even uttered any word in her presence. Only listened to insults and then were dismissed.

Her inner ramblings must’ve amused the cloaked man.
‘’Oh, but you are a pretty thing, aren’t you, little dove…’’ he let out a short raspy laughter.

She could not help herself but smile and bow her head, but still deciding to ignore his flattering. Never did her any good before, huh?

‘’F-from where…’’ she lifted her gaze toward him and tried again. ‘’Where do you travel to, stranger? If it is to town called Sunnydale, I am afraid you must’ve took the wrong turn, sir, for this road we’re standing on right now, ends here.’’ She pointed out the trees clustered around her small hut. ‘’Sunnydale is right behind those trees, you only have to follow the road you came from and at the first crossroad turn left, it should take you right to the-‘’

‘’Oh, but I am not traveling to Sunnydale, my little dove. I travel to the… somewhere else. Even so, I just might turn my horse to the direction you’ve showed me. Been travelling for days now with but a short stop once and a good rest at the Inn would do me good.’’

‘The inn?’ Buffy could not help herself but to glance quickly back at the boots. A man that could afford these should have visit the castle of Sunnydale, a mansion of Lord Rayne… her thoughts were cut short suddenly as his scratchy voice held the solution to her current problem.

‘’You could work for her, you know? The Lady of the mansion I come from just now.’’

Buffy’s mind never questioned the strange man’s words. Never questioned the fact he could afford staying at one mansion, but would not seek hospitality of another… the only thing that she heard was Work, which would lead to Food and finally, her Survival….


Buffy told young lord Andrew everything that had happened since that day and the boy listened to it quietly. She could not believe the things he told her only minutes before, and she had to make him see that she was innocent in all the things she was accused off. Everything that the young blonde boy told her, sounded so impossible and… and… impossible.

She could not even find another word for it all.

He seemed very deep in thought as she spoke, then paled at some of the parts in the story and even became queasy when she finished. Somewhere in the middle of her ghastly experience he started to chew on his nails.

She was stunned when he told her then, as soon as she finished, that he believed her. That he knew it even before he came to her. And so she cried again, clinging to the bars that separated them, letting out all of the emotions that she was afraid to unleash before.

‘’S-so, you r-really believe me, that I haven’t k-killed anybody?’’ the thought alone, the possibility alone, that someone could accuse her of something so horrid, made her sick. She hiccupped and sobbed, the words were hard to utter in between. ‘’R-really, realy?’’

‘’I do,’’ said the boy in all his seriousness. He even gave her a firm nod, his ponytail swished sideways at the fierce gesture.

‘’N-nobody else does, it would seem. T-they locked me down here a-a-and they…he…’’ she gulped. ‘’He’s a demon, I’m sure…’’

’’Oh… my brother, you mean? Naah… he is not a demon.’’ Andrew waved off her description with a hand and rolled his eyes. ‘’You should get to know him better.’’

Buffy snorted humorlessly at the strange image in her head that that sentence brought to her. This boy must be so very young. She wanted to change the subject quickly. The man of whom she spoke was Andrew’s brother after all. And he seemed to adore his older brother very much. She hadn’t wanted to make the only person that spoke kindly to her in weeks to be chased away or hate her as well.

Buffy noticed he fingered a small figurine in his hand, spinning it around nervously. For a moment distracted, she asked. ‘’What is this? That… thing, which you hold?’’

He cocked his head in confusion, then looked down to his own hand and smiled. He lifted the small wooden thing high with his thumb and middle finger, so she could see it well and then explained. ‘’It is a chess piece. I like this one, it is called the Queen. It is my favorite and I prefer it over the King, because she could move around more…’’ he stopped talking, seeing her confused face. ‘’Oh, you do not know how to play this game, do you?’’

‘’No.’’ she sniffled and wiped her nose with the back of her hand, then with its heel wiped at her eyes. She chuckled mirthlessly as she saw his crestfallen face. ’’I do not…’’

For the next hour or so, the world she knew blissfully slipped away, if only for a few moments, as the young blonde lord described the chess game to her, the game she soon realized, that meant the world to him.

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Spike signaled the guards to let him in and rode his steed to the stables as fast as he could. He dismounted and handed reins to Alexander, who caught them, already waiting there to take the black mount from him.

‘’Take a good care of ‘im ‘Xander.’’

‘’Sure will, my liege,’’ dark-haired young boy quickly assured him and patted the long silken neck of the black horse, murmuring at it soothingly, as the horse-whisperer that he was.

Spike strode to the gates, his footsteps soon echoing in the corridor on his way down to the dungeons. He felt unease at the pit of his stomach. He should do things differently. He should have…

His mind went blank at the foot of the stairs. He was not prepared at the sight that awaited him there, so he stood, frozen in place.

Anger once again started boiling in his veins, only this time, it was not appointed toward his beautiful captive...

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‘’Why, I snuck down here.’’

Buffy thought it was so, but she was so surprised at his presence at first, that she hadn’t asked him right away. She hadn’t realized how fast the time had flown. So it was now that she asked the young blonde how he came to be here.

And was not pleased by the shrugging manner that he took in answering her.

‘’If you were forbidden to come here, then why did you disobey?’’ Buffy was suddenly trembling again. For this boy! This young man’s brother was to be back any time and he only shrugged once more?

She already felt strangely protective over Andrew. She liked him and Buffy did not believe that Lord Rayne would be happy of his disobedience. She hastily added, ‘’Go, now! While … h-he… is not here! Please! Go, and do not come back!’’

Tears were flowing again and she quickly dried them away with the back of her hand, salty water smearing dried dirt there.

‘’Oh, do not worry about my well being, miss. I only came here to play a game with you.’’ The look he gave her then was disappointed and a bit confused. ‘’Warren told me that my brother comes here to play games with people he locks up, so I thought…’’

‘’What in the bleeding hell do you think you are doing ‘ere, Andrew??!’’

Both blondes jumped at that and Buffy hurriedly backed away from the cell doors and sank down to the hay at the wall opposite it, staring wide eyed at the man standing at the foot of the stairs.

He came back…

Although he was shouting so that his voice was thunderously echoing all around them, she noticed, in the firelight of the torches on the wall, how his eyes had immediately softened by the look upon his brother, much to her disbelief.

‘’I thought I made myself perfectly clear that you are not to be here!’’ he swiped with his arm around the place, to emphasize where he forbade his brother to go. ‘’Ever! What were you thinking, going into dungeons like that?! All alone and with no guards to escort you! Or going into the dungeons at all! Sod the guards, YOU ARE NOT TO BE DOWN HERE!’’

Andrew bowed his head down, seemingly contrite, but Buffy could clearly see his smug and smiling face. Maybe he was looking down for that reason alone, to hide his expression. She was shocked to see that he was not afraid of the man yelling in front of him as much as she was… her heart clenched at his every bellowed word!

‘’Go to your chambers, Andrew. I will come to you shortly and we shall talk.’’ He let out the annoyed sigh when his little brother hadn’t moved right away. ‘’Now!’’

Andrew nodded meekly and just before he trotted up the stairs he turned his head slightly towards her and… winked.

Why would he…? He did not… what…??

Her confused thoughts were cut short by the sound of her cell door being opened with a well known squeak of the iron, as Lord William Rayne walked in, her own personal tormentor of the past few days. She couldn’t help but to try and compare the two men. Other than a few familial features, she was at a loss… how so different they were in character...

He made a few steps further to stop in the middle of the cell. Their eyes locked in silence, his assessing hers. All she could do was stare back at him, too afraid to move a muscle. He seemed to be composed at the moment and she was not too keen on making him angry again. Her ears still hurt.

‘’Oh… my brother, you mean? Naah… he is not a demon. You should get to know him better…’’

Oh dear… does Andrew know how wrong he is? She could still hear the other woman screaming in her head and saw her dead body being carried away by his men every time she blinked. And he was in the middle of it all; she saw his bloodied face and hands…

She gulped audibly, though her throat felt dried raw. She could notice the glistening sheen of sweat upon his brow in the light that torches provided. He seemed to breathe faster, his chest falling and rising as if he had run all the way down her and… And why is he staring at her like that?

Before she’d dare to open her mouth, to plead and make him understand that she was innocent, or at least to tear down this torturous silence that had muffled the space around them, he turned and strode out of her cell without any words of his own.

As he disappeared up the stony stairs, the echoes of his boots growing silent with his each step, she noticed that her palm hurt.

She looked down and was surprised to see that she still held the Queen in her hand, gripping the small carved wood tightly, it’s smoothed curves digging into her flesh…

There were footsteps again, but before Buffy would start to panic anew, she noted that this time, the steps were soft. Purposefully quiet. She first saw feet tiptoeing downstairs. Then the person itself.

It was a woman. Long-haired blonde woman. There was nothing threatening about her and by the look of her clothes, though neat and not even a bit ripped, she was obviously a servant. Buffy frowned as the woman stopped at her cell. She held something in her hands.

‘’M-miss Summers?’’ she asked, her eyes darting around the place, looking frightened as much as Buffy was.

‘’Yes?’’ Buffy whispered softly, mimicking the other woman’s tone of voice.

‘’T-this is f-for you.’’

Buffy’s eyes widened when the woman squeezed that something through the bars and let it fall down. As it unfolded before her eyes, she could only sit there, stunned and beyond confused. But by the next words that the woman whispered urgently to her, she could feel only warmth.

‘’I come, under Master Andrew’s command. Hide it in the hay, miss. Do not let anyone see it…’’

As the woman hurried upstairs again, Buffy outstretched her trembling hand and as her fingers closed on sheer softness, she let the silent tears of gratitude fall down her cheeks.

Andrew sent her a blanket.


TBC...

Chapter 8 – Dare to Dance




Will you hear my ailing words?
Will you be my everything?
Swimming in reverie,
I'm dreaming until…

And it's clear, as clear as over,
to me you're just a fairytale.
When the waltz is over and the lovers die,
you could be a lifesaver… - Last Waltz by Franco

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‘’Lord and Lady Rayne!’’
Their announcement was met with bows of welcome and recognition by any close bystander as they came into the great ballroom where the music held rhythm for all who wished to dance.

After they both paid homage by greeting the King, who was delighted to see the pair once more at his court, they went separate ways.

Lord Rayne was accompanied aside by some of his closer acquaintances, most likely talking business, Lady Darla thought, as she, herself, had a more urgent matters to attend to… finding out if Lady Glorificus had recovered fully.

She hadn’t found her at first, due to the impressive amount of people dancing, walking, talking and laughing on every turn she made. But then at last, she spotted a familiar crown of golden curls, neatly tucked under pearl-white headpiece net.

As soon as she heard her laughter, Lady Darla was sure it was the right person that she sought.

Some part of her, a really tinny smidgen of hope even, had pleaded the Powers That Be, that she’d be spared the confrontation. Alas, the propriety had won and she gave herself only a few moments, to inspect firstly if the damage had been done permanently – from afar.

She tried to follow the other Lady’s whereabouts through the crowd with her eyes only, but the other blonde woman’s movements were too subtle and the ballroom was too crowded for Lady Darla to see if she limped still…

She made a quick decision then. Took a deep breath. And shimmied toward her unfortunate cousin.

‘’Lady Glory! My darling, how wonderful to see you once more!’’ Lady Darla gushed as she came face to face, finally, with the woman that her son had put through such terrible ordeal a few short months back.

Lady Glorificus tried to focus her gaze on the woman calling her name. Darla could see how her eyes turned into slits as she spotted her standing there. Lady Rayne could have sworn then and there that her cousin is already quite a bit tipsy, and her cup was still half full – probably just got herself another drink from the passing servants. Huh… it couldn’t hurt if she was. She knew the woman who was slowly blinking at her just now quite well to know that she’d been always slow at forming words under the influence of the alcohol.

She tried further to ease the mood between them with an enormous made up smile - it almost made her face hurt.
‘’Ladye Darla… Coussssin dearesst… Of courssse I’m here, I live here, after all…’’ The ‘dearest’ endearment was accompanied with a sarcastic turn of her lips. Lady Rayne’s smile melted away a bit at the heat of the stare she was getting from her cousin.

Nope. She hadn’t forgotten…

Darla cringed internally as she watched Glory to peak around her skirt and around the place, no doubt looking for…

‘’Where isss that little sneak of yourssss…?’’ Glory shut her eyes tightly, recalling something from the looks of it. Then she opened her eyes again, the sneer on her lips quite visible. ‘’Young Andrew, issss it not?’’ She slurred each word more as she drank deeply from the cup and was now scowling at Darla, absent-mindedly handing the empty cup to the servant who quickly took it away and replacing it with new one. ‘’Should I watcsssh my every ssstep again? Or did you have some senssse thisss time around and left him at hhhome?''

Lady Darla had a decency to blush, but then showed her made up smile once more, shrugging. ‘’Actually, as it so happens, my younger son is currently at William’s estate. His older brother was happy to have received him.’’ She coughed a little, trying to cover up an innocent lie, which went by completely unnoticed by Glory, who scowled at her hand that held neatly ornate fan that prevented her to grab yet another cup of deep red wine, completely forgetting that she already held one in the other hand.

Darla took the excuse and took one of the cups herself, thus busying her hands. She was nervous and that gave her something to hold on to. She felt better right away.

In the meantime, Glory found her cup finally and the smile on her face was ravenous, mostly like the one of a child seeing the golden toy flashing in front of her eyes. She moaned obscenely as she drank and swayed lightly. Darla had quickly excused herself from her company, not wanting to be seen in such company.

She turned around and ran right into somebody. She dropped the empty cup, which clanged on floor and been immediately picked up by some observing servant. Lady Darla started to apologize immediately, but then suddenly grew silent as she heard the other one’s voice that was apologizing just as much as she had for the embarrassing encounter.

She knew that voice.

It was Jenny Calendar. Her friend from young years now married to Sir Giles. Lord Chancellor Giles.

Her husband’s nemesiss.

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‘’Lady Rayne.’'

‘’Lady Giles… ’’

They stared at each other for a few astonished seconds. Then that gave way to a very, very uncomfortable silence.
Ten years… it was ten years since they spoke last. Ten years… wasted.

Finally, Darla had enough and could hardly believe where their husband’s mutual hatred had led to their own friendship. She clucked her tongue exasperatedly and spoke in a rushed river of words, leaning towards the other woman. ‘’Oh, for God’s sake! My name is Darla and it had always been so, as you remember. So, use it, Jenny! As I shall use yours.’’ She looked at the surprised brunette defiantly, daring her to refuse.

She did not. Instead, she let out the breath she was apparently holding and smiled. Her big, beautiful smile. ‘’Feel free to do so, …my dearest friend.’’

They clutched at each other’s hands tightly, not daring to make a scene and starting to squeal from happiness, bouncing on their feet like children. Their eyes were glinting though. Sod their quarreling husbands. It was their matter after all, not their wives.

‘’Oh… I have so much to tell you, Darla!’’

‘’And I you!’’ Darla pulled the woman by her hands to the more private corner of the room. Both of them declined the wine, none of them had intended to become like Glory and half of the attendants swaying and shouting requests for the dance music to the musicians on the upper balcony. They’ve had too much to discuss… ten years was such a long time, after all.

‘’I saw you before, you know. With the..um… Lady Glorificus.’’ Jenny blushed at the admission that she was watching her friend from the start as she spotted her entering the ballroom. Her big brown eyes were suddenly glinting as she spotted the aforementioned blonde at the farthest corner of the room, shouting for another cup. She was a bit taller than Darla, so she had no such problem to find her.

Darla blushed as well. ‘’Oh. Yes. I had to see if she was still, you know, limping from that accident.’’ She finished hurriedly, avoiding the look of compassion her friend gave her. ‘’I know, that you know. I saw you that night. You were entering the hallway just as Glory fell down into that majestic heap of dresses…’’

Jenny snickered at the memory. She quickly held her hand in front of her lips to hide the smile still lingering there as soon as she saw her friend wince. She coughed lightly and trying calmly, she said, ‘’you know, Giles still hasn’t found the Queen…’’

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Darla and Jenny were silently conversing when a new voice sounded from behind the dark haired Lady. Both women turned and saw Lady Drusilla Bathory standing in front of them, looking bat-like in the all-black velvety dress; silky roses embedded on the fabric were also black, but they shined through as if they were gray. Her hair was flowing free; the headpiece, adorning them, was made of tiny white pearls, linked in three separate rows that crowned her head and left one single big pearl of the middle row to rest upon her forehead.

Her expression was just as Darla ever remembered her by. Dreamy, almost absent, but at the same time terribly knowing. And filled with concealed malice.

‘’Greetings, lady Darla of Rayne. Greetings, sister Jenny.’’

Darla saw the uncomfortable look Jenny had gotten as soon as her eyes laid upon her sister, so she quickly excused herself in the light of impending family matters. She wanted to have no part in this and also, she hadn’t wanted to embarrass Jenny by witnessing a quarrel that was surely to come. As much as their husbands, Ethan and Rupert, disliked each other, it was also well known of the same mutual feeling going on in between two of the dark haired sisters.

Lady Rayne greeted the new dark-haired arrival kindly and then bid both of the sisters farewell, promising Jenny that they would talk soon again. ‘’I shall leave you two ladies alone to discuss. I, myself, am in need of my husband’s company. He bought me this beautiful gown to wear and now no one admires it, not even him.’’ She let her gaze slid to her Husband and did a double take, before composing herself again. Oh-oh. She hurried on. ‘’ I shall go and ask him to dance with me. I want my new dress to be shown.’’ She winked to Jenny, nodded to Drusilla and turned to walk away.

To whisk away her husband, who was dangerously close to one Sir Rupert Giles.

Jenny and Drusilla followed her with their eyes for a brief moment and then turned to each other again.

‘’So,’’ said Drusilla without any preamble. ‘’Where is my daughter?’’

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Buffy fell asleep quickly that night… the blanket was tucked firmly around her and it kept her warm in the nest of hay.

But it hadn’t chased the nightmares away…




There was only darkness at first as that shadow in the church attacked her. Only darkness was there, along with blood pumping wildly in her ears, making her deaf for a few moments.

Then the fog cleared to uncover sharp reality.

Her head felt dizzy and it throbbed at the back where she was hit by the raised step to the dais as she was pulled down to the floor, struggling. Blow stunned her for a few moments. She felt something pressing on top of her.

The dark shadow was poised above her, crushing her with its heavy body, pinning her to the ground. Trying feebly to remove the pressing weight off of her, she groaned silently as she felt sick, closing her eyes for a few seconds. Her confused mind could not obey her otherwise screaming instinct to try and escape right now. Buffy moaned quietly at the discomfort that was assailing every bit of her being, and tried to even remember where she was. And why she could not breathe normally.

‘’Good girl…’’ it whispered, hissing its cold breath upon her cheeks, its hand covering her lips tightly.

A memory tingled in her head. ‘Shhh….we’re at the church… be quiet….’ That voice. With those abhorred words… … and… and red blood coating the walls, covering the floor… where the priest lay…

Suddenly all of it slammed into her and Buffy struggled to get away. Only, she couldn’t. It held her in place, growling in displeasure.

She was terrified, all of the memories were flowing back in and his heavy weight was smothering her and she could hardly breathe, could hardly think, even when she felt the cold draft crawling upon her naked skin as …it… grabbed her bodice at the front and ripped it apart, baring her to the angelic images in the window-glass and painted angels on the walls that were gazing at her, gracing her misery with sad, sad smiles…

…

She gazed up at the ceiling, watching spider webs, being stretched from the one end to the other, sticky little white strands holding them in place. …Such tender and light domains of true and patient predators that they were… Buffy felt numb, though the pain was there also. Oh, God, the pain was there. She could not escape it; the hold shadow had on her was unbreakable. Just like spider web held the poor fly…

His grunts were heavy and his foul breath huffed on her face was making her sick, she turned her head to the side and wondered when it was that it decided to rain.

Lightning flashed outside, illuminating the colorful images made delicately of painted glass in the windows.
There was one depicting a woman, kneeling at the foot of the crucifix, her face stretched up to gaze upon Savior dying there. Tiny droplets of rain sliding down the glass were creating an illusion of tears trailing down her cheek…

Buffy never felt so alone, as horribly violated and impure in her life as she was now. The Beast hovering above her body let out and inhuman cry out and its weight intensified suddenly. The lack of air this time drew tiny specks of black to her vision and she fell into a merciful darkness, glad she could not see the little cherubs and their kind faces anymore.


And yet, as she awoke next time, without opening her eyes, she was brought to light by the voice of what only could be an angel… his words muffled and deep, as she drifted in and out of consciousness…



TBC...

Chapter 9 – Fallen in Sacrifice







If there was a guiding angel right here

I'd ask her to whisper in my ear.

She might know the rising truth

she might know an answer or two on this cold night…

- Cold Nights by Subdudes



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Following several moments of berating Andrew, Spike stormed from his chambers before his younger brother could respond. Drained from the day’s events, Spike entered his chambers and brusquely dismissed the servant waiting for him there. Once the chambers’ door closed, and after releasing a long sigh, he sat down heavily on his big, soft bed. Spike noticed after several moments, the bed felt softer than usual. It appeared the servant had prepared for the colder nights ahead by covering his master's bed with furs.



Spike’s gaze moved through the room, before it fixed on the flames dancing across the wood lining the fireplace. He was exhausted.



The talk he had with Anya earlier hadn’t really helped him in the way of relieving the tightening in his chest. It seemed like the feeling lodged inside him and no matter what he thought about or planned to do next, it remained. This was the reason he fled the dungeons earlier. That and the look on the girl’s face as he stepped into her cell. Nothing seemed right anymore.



Closing his eyes, Spike, with utter frustration, scrubbed his face with his hands, before pressing the soles against his weary eyes. But no matter the pressure, the image behind his closed eyelids remained the same.



He found her beautiful. Enticing. Her flawless, smooth white skin was calling to him, even covered in all the filth. Her body beckoned his fingers to touch her everywhere. He even found her red-rimmed eyes alluring.… Was she crying? If she was, it was a good thing for her to do so. However, without any witnesses, the act itself was futile. Christ, how confusing was it all.



He stood up and shed his clothes, letting them fall to the ground carelessly, revealing his naked body to the flickering orange light of the fire. He strode, comfortable in his nudity, to the basin filled with water that his chambermaid prepared for him. Slowly, he washed the dust and sweat off his neck, face, and armpits. When he finished, he placed his hands on each side of the basin, which offered him support as he leaned forward tiredly, his head bowed. Tiny droplets dripped down his face, falling into the water below. Opening his eyes, he glared at his reflection in the mirror above the basin. ‘’Stop thinking about her, you wanker!’’ he told himself in a huff.



Angrily, he grabbed the cloth that was folded neatly in the front of the basin. Drying himself off, he angrily balled the material before throwing it at the wall in agitation.



It would do him no good to think about anything right at this moment.



Spike headed toward his bed, even though he was fully aware that he felt too flustered to find any peaceful rest. Sliding under the furs, he closed his eyes and tried to sleep. He hoped this evening the blonde residing in the dungeons below would not be haunting his dreams as she seemed to do for the past few nights.





Alas, he had no such luck. From the minute deep sleep claimed him, he found himself at the foot of the stairs to that old church in the woods. With these being his memories, he knew soon he would be assaulted by his gruesome discoveries.







It finally stopped raining. He’d rode with two other men toward some small hut in the woods, excitement filling his chest at the mere thought of finally finishing the task set forth.



Earlier that evening, Willy the barkeeper, told his soldiers where to find what they were looking for, he suggested they should first search one specific place. He was even eager to give them directions of the location, which Spike found odd. He will have to question the slimy little weasel later on and see how the man obtained such information in the first place. Only the one they sought for months now would have known such a secret. The murderer.



Since Spike knew Willy was not as stupid as he appeared to be, he did not include him on the suspect list. No murderer would expose themselves so foolishly, not to well known William the Bloody.



Of course, the thought of Willy trying to outsmart him, also entered Spike’s mind. Attempting to throw them off his scent by exposing himself, could actually work… Only, Spike knew Willy was not ‘that’ smart.



Nevertheless, Willy was in for some explaining once all this was over. He could still be one of the accomplices, trying to appear helpful and innocent. Anything could be possible in this situation.



Once his soldiers found the place, confirming it indeed did exist, they called for him. Spike had been delighted by the progress they seemed to have finally made, and at once he mounted his black steed and rode toward the location, accompanied with couple of men, to meet his soldiers.



They were waiting for his orders in the shadows of trees with a tiny hut, existing between them.



Spike tilted his head as he assessed it. It was really small, already rotting at some places, doomed to fall apart with the first blanket of snow that was bound to come soon. Being this small, it had to be one-roomed as it was quite often found among poor. His castle seemed so big in comparison.



Spike dismounted and walked fearlessly to the only door, his men lighting the way he walked with torches. He slid his sword from its sheath, and pushed on the wood. The door swung open, and instantly he was almost sorry he had done so.



The air wafting from inside was foul and made him pause for a moment. He signaled his men to follow him inside with torches, though only two more could fit in the enclosed space.



Once the two torches lit the small room, his eyes found the source of the smell. Sprawled on the floor was the body of a woman. Or, more accurately, what was left of her.



The stench was almost unbearable, but the hardened warriors had seen and smelled such things before and refused to step out.



Not one suggested the Lord should go out to get fresh air. They all knew him too well.



Spike noticed the windows were shuttered tightly and moved to open them. His men followed his lead and did so with the two other windows, letting the fresher air to come in the small tomb-like space.



Spike felt confused. Why would Willy direct them to this place? So they could find it and bury the woman, who died at home?



Once the foul air seemed to clear, Spike began to speak. ‘’Do not touch anything. Everyone out.’’



Before they left, he grabbed the torch from one of them and stepped closer to the body, lifting the flames up so he could see better. He quickly assessed the damages on her flesh. After several moments of eyeing the body, he could tell instantly the state was not from natural decay.



The filthy corpse was naked. Spike noticed the skin was discolored in some places, in others the flesh was gone completely with the bones exposed. In these areas, the flesh appeared to have been savagely torn away. Spike wondered why the body was covered in filth, knowing the hardened dirt-floor was not the cause of this. He contemplated maybe she had been dragged through the mud.



Despite the state of her flesh, he noticed dozens of deep crisscrossed markings, obviously done with something sharp, littering her body. A dagger most likely. If the amount of blood on the floor beside it could be any sign, the blood loss would have been the cause of her death. Inspecting her closer, Spike noticed a ring adorning her middle finger.



After assessing the woman before him, Spike lifted the torch to further explore the room. A few meters away on the small bed were a pile of clothes. Spike knew instantly that the finery that laid on the bed did not belong to the owner of this hut, and they were most likely the dead woman’s.



Once his assessment was complete, he straightened and exited the hut, gladly breathing in the crisp air.



Thinking back of the ring and the clothes, Spike knew this hut was not hers; the woman inside was one of substance. With this thought, another came forward. “If this was not her home, was this the home of the murder?” The unfortunate woman was probably lured into this place and murdered, most likely outside the hut, if the dirt was any indication…



Bending down, Spike used the torch to light his way as he inspected the ground for any sign of blood, but he saw none. Either the murderer swept it away, hiding it from his eyes, or it was too dark to see properly. In addition, the earlier rains could have washed it away as well.



Bloody hell.



Nonetheless, Spike had to secure the place for him to further investigate during the morning light, when he would be able to see more clearly. ‘’John and Dorian, you two shall stay and guard the place till morn. Do not let anyone pass without immediately arresting them for questioning, understood?’’



The two named soldiers stepped forward, nodding and bowing following their approach. Spike handed his torch to one of the soldiers, in order to mount his steed. Once he was seated, the solider handed Spike the torch before falling back with the other men. ‘’The rest, follow me. We shall end this tonight. It’s been going on for far too soddin’ long and the bastard shall pay the price with his life.’’



Roughly digging his heels into the horse’s flank, the steed rose in the air, kicking its feet. Spike pulled the reins tighter and turned it around as they rode quickly on, his men hot on his heels.



The men silently followed Spike’s lead through the woods, until they finally saw what they were looking for. The forest opened up to a meadow with long grass and dotted with forgotten wooden crosses and headstones, some too old for them to be able reading letters etched upon the stone. In the middle of it all stood an old church with long thick vines embracing its old walls. Eyeing the place, an unexpected thought came to Spike’s mind that Nature had claimed this place as its own.



Once situated in front of the church, all the men dismounted and approached the entrance. With a raised hand, Spike commanded his soldiers to halt before the wooden doors that appeared they were recently opened, almost violently so. The splinters littering the ground before the entrance seemed to be clear evidence of a forceful act.



Following a nod, the soldiers proceeded to push open the damaged doors. They gave away quickly, and the men were greeted by the silence and darkness inside. As they entered with their torches lifted high, the paintings lining the walls and the stained-glass windows were illuminated by the flames. With another silent command, Spike lifted his fist, causing his men to spread throughout the place immediately. As more torches entered the old building, the more they could see around.



They stepped carefully toward the dais, dozens of heavy boots echoing loudly through the place. Then they all stopped as one, transfixed by the sight before them.



The cross on the altar was inverted. Clearly, in mockery of God. A dark substance, resembling encrusted blood, was spread upon it coloring the old rotten wood almost black. Some of Spike’s men, filled with fear and sudden dread, quickly made the sign of the cross.



What unholy place was this?



Then they saw something else. Right beneath the cross laid a body. Another one this night, Spike thought sadly. The cross threw a dark shadow over her body when one soldier passed behind the unholy sign with a torch. They all quieted when an unusual a soft, whimpering sigh was heard.



Spike strode quickly to the girl lying before him. Kneeling, he pressed his ear to her exposed chest. Following her strong heartbeats and steady breaths filling his ears, he was instantly filled with relief.

She was alive… and lucky to be so!



He carefully scooped her up on his lap, and cradled her head while, her golden hair spilled over his knees in tangled curls. They sparkled in the firelight, immediately drawing his gaze. Spike probed her body for any injuries and stopped briefly as soon as he saw her wince at the contact once he reached her head. She had a lump on the back of it, causing her to whimper and flinch when he passed over it with his fingers.



‘’S allrigh’, pet. You’re safe now,’’ he murmured gently.



While Spike was tending to this woman, his men continued searching the room. The thought that at least one was spared and saved kept on repeating in his mind. No matter her titles or class. She was alive.

Spike’s hardened feelings were in shock that this little thing meant so much to him. But it did. It also meant that they were one step closer to the acts of murderer. The bleedin’ bastard had to be still around here somewhere…



Spike was broken from his thoughts when she whimpered in pain once more. To calm her, he began murmuring calming words to her.



From the moment her eyes opened, and he was met with her mossy green orbs, he felt completely lost.



Spike shook his head when her eyes fell shut once more. When her body became lax in his arms, he knew she was unconscious. ‘’No, open your eyes, pet. It’s no good that you sleep,’’ he murmured again.



‘’My Lord, We have found something.’’



When she opened her eyes again, he lifted his gaze to Luke, who was standing before him. ‘’What did you find? Is the bastard gone?’’

Spike’s voice resembled an animal’s growl when he questioned the man through clenched teeth. “Soddin’ coward! The wanker attacked the one weak girl but at the sight of men fled like a rabbit”.



The man shook his head. ‘’I do not know my Lord. Some of the men are checking the grounds as we speak. But there is something else you might find of interest.’’ He pointed toward another wooden door located on the side of the room. Spike assumed this may be where the priests usually placed their treasured things.



‘’Yes, what is it?’’



He looked down once more as the girl moaned in her slumber, so he quickly patted her cheek lightly to wake her up again. His eyes focused on something odd then, and just as Luke spoke, Spike froze.



‘’We found another body, my Lord, in that chamber. It is… was the priest. We do not know his identity. Also, there are two incisions on his neck, resembling a bite, but much too small for any animal we know that resides in these forests—“



As the man talked on, Spike’s gaze was still focused on one thing. Her lips were smeared with blood, which at first confused him. But then it all suddenly shone with a glaring clarity.



She was the one.



He held a murderer right here, in his arms. Not a victim, but a murderess, lying on his lap now, once more unconscious.



He stood up, not caring as she slid from his lap and landed on the floor roughly. Leaving her on the cold stone floor, Spike watched her in utter shock.



This beautiful, but dangerous monster had been eluding them all for months now. She hid behind her pretty and innocent looking features, most likely fooling all she had known. A wolf in sheep’s clothing. The perfect predator.… He wagered even the priest must have thought she had been a little angel… letting her lure him into his own demise.



For the first time in his life, Spike believed that he found a real witch.







Spike woke up with a start. He was sweating and breathing hard. The memories were gruesome and the little details disgusted him to no end. It helped a bit to see it all again though, for one thing felt wrong this time… a few things actually.



How could such a tiny, half starved woman do such things, when the task required the strength of a man? There were no stab wounds visible on the backs of the victims that they have found, which meant that the victims and murderer stood face to face. This wasn’t a surprise attack, and since there were no defense wounds, the victims must have been instantly overpowered by their attacker. They were overpowered even though all the victims appeared to have been stronger and well fed. Clearly they could have easily defended themselves against the petite form of his captive. Even some women victims were in a better condition than her.



Also, no jewelry was missing from the dead upperclassmen they found. Such a starved creature, like Buffy Summers, could use some money, would she not?



But still, her bloodstained lips, the body in her hut and no other injury on her but the one on the back of her head, which was explained away by some drunken man at Willy’s when he bragged that he stopped a witch in the forest from her Unholy Sabbath.



Apparently the drunkard was who Willy got his information from.



The strange thing was, Willy could not describe the man boasting, though. He only was able to say the man wore a hood that completely hid his features from sight…



Could she not be guilty? Was he too fast in condemning the woman just so he could make an end to this all?



Then who is the real murderer, if she is not? And why did the murdered victims stopped appearing as soon as they arrested her?



Spike had a strong feeling that the man hiding behind the hood from Willy’s Tavern knew more.



Spike tossed and turned, trying to envision anything else, other than the tiny little blonde girl he held in his arms at the church that night, and again in the dungeon just night before.



The dungeon… She’s probably cold and…



Before Spike would let his thoughts go any further, he jerked the furs off himself and stood. The embers in a fireplace were still strong enough in order to stoke them into flames.





When the fire was blazing once more, Spike started to pace restlessly near it, his hands clasped behind his back. Various thoughts were running wildly through his mind. Something… no, the whole thing felt a bit… off.



Anya advised him to keep on doing what he does best.

He paused in his step. “Do what I do best?”



Yes, sounds like an easy enough thing to do, but not in this situation. He needed answers, and he needs them before the head priest of the Church Council arrives and screws everything up. The day of her trial is fast approaching.



His mind made up, Spike hastily put his clothes back on. It was still dark outside, and even the servants still slept, but he could hold it inside no longer.



It was time he heads down to the dungeons once more to talk to his beautiful captive.




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Buffy awoke from her nightmare, shaking all over and drenched in sweat. Her body ached, still under influence of the memories she tried so hard to suppress.



The dull pain in her abdomen had faded as the days passed, but the memory caused it to ache nonetheless. She pulled her hands around herself in self-embrace, feeling horribly alone. God, she needed her mother. It is all she’d nee—



A silent sob got caught in her throat, the moment she heard footsteps.



Heavy footsteps.



She immediately knew it was not the nice servant that had brought her a blanket.



Buffy quickly shed the item off and tucked it under the prickly straws of hay, praying it would be enough to hide it. Quickly, she situated herself to lie down once more. Keeping herself very still, she heard the familiar footsteps come to a stop at her cell doors.



There was silence once more, thick and uncomfortable as ever, and she just knew who exactly was there. She could feel him watching her. Buffy pretended she was still asleep, even with the back of her neck prickling as it did every time he was near. She hoped he would eventually walk away.



Even with all her prayers, she knew he would be back, obviously sooner than she had thought. With this arrival, anxiety coiled tight within her chest.



The cell door finally creaked open and she jumped, startled by the sudden disturbance in silence. There was no point in pretending she was asleep anymore, so she slowly opened her eyes and sat up.



Indeed, Lord Rayne was there, watching her again.



She waited if he’d say something… anything to break the tangible silence. Regardless of her unspoken pleas, he remained eerily quiet, while his gorgeous face was blank of any emotions, like always.



Yes, of course she’d find his features beautiful. Who would not? The time with his younger brother allowed for her to observe and think about every line and curve of their faces that she could compare and recognize them mutual in shape.



His younger brother Andrew looked upon her with warmer eyes though.



‘’M-my Lord…’’ she tried speaking, her voice raspy with lack of use. Despite her words, he remained standing before her, his gaze unnerving her. His brow furrowed once he heard her, though.



Here was her chance now, to make him understand, to make him see that she was innocent.



So, why was there no sound when she opened her lips to speak? She had to tell him that he’d locked up the wrong person, just like she had told his younger brother earlier. She can still remember the shock as young Andrew told her of the crimes she is accused of.



Even though her mind was screaming with the words, her mouth was dry and she was unable to form them. Why was it so much easier to talk to Andrew?



This silence continued on as she studied him. Her eyes drank in his features: his sharp cheekbones, his summer-blue eyes and his Adam’s apple which appeared to be bobbing in his throat. Was he-- nervous? She looked down briefly, quickly making sure her breasts were not exposed to his unfaltering gaze. Gratefully, they were not.



She took a deep breath, while focusing her gaze on the floor at his feet.



‘’L-lord Rayne…’’ she tried again, with tentativeness, her gaze rose. There went her courage.



The man standing in front of her, obviously enjoying her befuddled and hesitant expression, shook his head before the expression on his face changed from an emotionless canvas to a one filled with arrogance. His full lips framed by a growing smirk. He looked pleased and a bit surprised, probably due to the fact that she knew his name. He was, after all, not the one to enlighten her with this information.



She could only hope he hadn’t misunderstood her knowledge for something witched-like.



‘’Call me Spike, luv.’’



Removing a silver-pointed stake from the belt of his completely black attire, Spike twirled it in his hand as he continued, ‘’After all, we shall be acquainted quite intimately soon.’’



She blanched at the mention of his self given name. The hungry teeth of pure panic and terror started to nibble along her spine.



Spike? As in, William the Bloody… Spike?



Oh no…



The name William the Bloody was well known among people in the town. Only, the moniker Spike was even more famous. Rumors circling among the towns people about the particular methods of the person bearing this name were gruesome and horrible. The only people that had ever met the man called Spike, or William the Bloody, in person, were dead. Their acquaintances, undoubtedly, were linked with their deaths. He was not known by his kindness, not at all… oh, God.



She followed the gleaming spike in his hand with wide eyes, watching intently its spinning movements, enthralled. She was very well aware of its use. He had described it to her before, hasn’t he? The very reason, why he used the moniker ‘Spike’ was now obvious to her.



God, was he really planning on using that on her as well. To, to…prod, and…and...



She saw the loving way he eyed his weapon of torture, then a slight frown marring his handsome face when he scratched something off of it with a nail of his thumb— probably dried blood - …



… She was going to be sick again. Of course he would use it!



‘’Lord R-Rayne,’’ she tried again, her voice cracking with fear and disuse, but she continued uttering in desperation, needing to save herself. ‘’I-It was not m-me who did it. I s-swe-‘’



‘’Be quiet now, pet. I need not to hear your words, for they would only infuriate me further. Which would be unwise to do right now, after all. You shall only answer to my questions, otherwise you stay silent, understood?’’



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Spike twirled his weapon of torture skillfully in his hand, feeling almost nervous in her presence. When he saw her frightened eyes following its movements, he tucked it away.



That apparently gave her enough courage to speak. Despite his anger, her words continued to flow unchecked once they began.



He was not used to any disobedience, especially from his prisoners.



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Buffy had had enough.



‘’I shall not be quiet anymore, sir! I demand of you to let me speak, for my words would hold nothing but a truth!



’’I’ve been lured to some abhorred place in this world and then escaped barely with my life intact, only to be tormented further when I received none of the protection at the Holy grounds of the church. Even there I was treated horribly until you have found me. Alas, you were not the savior I had wished for, since I was tormented further, once I regained my consciousness. I demand of you to-’’



She hadn’t even noticed the raging red spots coloring his neck and ears. He was absolutely enraged; the booming sound of his voice filling the cell startled her.



‘’You demand of me to what, girl? Do you forget your place suddenly? You are here, in this cell, convicted of doing atrocious things, and you have the audacity to yell at me? The man who has all the power over you to sentence you to your death?’’



When Spike gulped much needed air into his lungs, Buffy took this opportunity to speak of her innocence once more.



‘’I have told you, sir, I have no hand in those murders or in witchcraft. I shall not let you to further accuse me of doing something I haven’t done and have no knowledge of!’’



Regardless of the distractions of his angel-like voice and his luring devil appearance, Buffy felt powerful, with all her fear gone, as she finally disclosed the truth.



The fact that she was but a lowly peasant, yelling at the powerful man who held the strings of her life in his hands, hadn’t even once entered her mind that was overflowing with wild emotions. God, how he infuriated her at this moment… If he could just listen to her! Lord or no Lord!



‘’You have to see the truth in all this, and while you hold me here against my will and completely guiltless of all the crimes, the real slaughterer is out there, walking free!’’



Buffy rose from her position among the straw while she spoke, and stepped toward him, all the while her voice filled with conviction. Now, they stood nose to nose, both breathing heavily.



Breaking their gaze first, Spike lowered his eyes to her lips and remained there. Her breathing increased while she watched his gaze darken to a different kind of stormy blue.



What was he thinking about?



Then, without any rhyme or reason, Lord Rayne grasped her by the shoulders. Without a word, he leaned in toward her, his eyes closed and his lips hovering, only mere inches away, from hers.



Before she could question his behavior, she was silenced and her eyes widened in shock as his soft lips descended upon hers.





TBC...

Chapter 10 – Lips of Thorns







She was standing there by the broken tree.

Her hands were all twisted, she was pointing at me.

I was damned by the light coming out of her eyes.

She spoke with a voice that disrupted the sky,

She said ‘Come on over to the bitter shade,

I will wrap you in my arms and you'll know you've been saved’,

Let me sign, let me sign, can't fight the devil so just let me sign…

- Let Me Sign, Written by Marcus Foster and Bobby Long









Spike knew it was bound to happen sooner or later.



He felt anger at first, watching her defiance and disrespect toward him, which he was really not used to see in all his life as a nobleman. It drove him bloody mad.



But it soon turned into something else as he looked at her, really looked. And it stunned him speechless.



All of the dreams he had had of Buffy Summers, since he’d seen her for the first time, were threading and twining into one little slip of the girl that stood in front of him in flesh and bones, and not in wisps of slippery imagination. So it was really no wonder that he could not have stopped himself and just gawk at her, listening.



What he saw now was fire. She was blazing before him. Her tongue was lashing at him with a frustrated anger, dousing his in the process. All of it was making her eyes shine with green light, burning, and already consuming his soul.



Spike could have died laughing at the things his mind spoke of, like a bloody poet he felt himself being, when in truth he was anything but.



But he could not have made himself to look away.



She drew nearer and nearer as she spoke, fearlessly all of a sudden, taking his breath away with the heat that radiated from her. However could he have stopped himself? He was but a man after all…



A man, who, no matter how much he tried to resist it, was bewitched all over again..., all he saw was a golden-haired woman, his captive, who was accused of doing horrible things, yet he hadn’t ever seen such fire in anyone before. Not on Court, where people wore masks, always covering their demons, remaining two-faced. Not even among his peasants, people working on his lands, which were bowing and crawling before him in fear and acted humility, yet despising their Master once his back was turned.



But she…? She glowed from inside, not afraid what her actions would bring, what punishment awaited her in his hands for her one bold move she had made tonight. Like a gambler who risked it all, she was. And he really hadn’t expected it.



Her behavior just now could reflect an animal, trapped and cornered, who’d finally decide it had enough and fought for its freedom, no matter if it could mean death. It would be freedom all the same.



But no. it was not like that. He could see it in her eyes that it was her free spirit that spoke those words, not in desperation, but in conviction. As if she was always like this before she’d been imprisoned. Her spirit might have felt caged in shock of being locked up, but it had finally awoken again, lending her the power to speak up.



Spike wished he could have seen her out there, no walls surrounding her to hinder the flames of her nature.

Their breaths mingled together, she was that close. Had she planned this? He could see the straws of hay tangled in her hair. Little freckles upon her nose. Her eyes wide open, glaring at him. He could have chuckled. But he didn’t.



Instead, Spike balled his fists, but not in sign of violence, more like in a restraining motion for his fingers that itched to touch her. To slide them into her hair and pluck out the offending straws from her locks, and feel their silkiness, rolling them between his digits. To feel the hot skin of her cheeks…



Again, he felt like a soddin’ poet, so he kicked the rousing poncy side of himself in the groin, and went back to the task that awaited him – literally – at hands.



He hadn’t needed the answers he set out to question her about earlier anymore. He believed her desperate words. Actually, he felt quite foolish, that it was the dream he’d had to make him finally see. It was that thoughtless elation he’d felt when he thought they’d gotten somewhere in this case, and it made him bloody blind.



There was other thought in his mind that prevailed just now, and it was asking him if he were sure, if he really wanted to touch the sun in front of him, when he knew he would burn like a dried up twig from one single lick of her flame… Poets of the land beware, Spike thought quite humorlessly.



When she looked at him that way, like she was confused, her head tilted slightly, unconsciously leaning toward him, he decided he would do both the things. He would make sure if she spoke the truth, just to make sure, and he had to feel her even closer, feel her against him, her soft lips…



He felt her stiffen for a moment as he brought her closer, then their chests were touching intimately,… and he could hold it no longer...



So he kissed her.



He was but a man after all, a man that seemed to be left out in the cold for far too long in the past, and now desperately wished for that spark inside him to last longer…



Spike leaned his head slightly, and pressed another tiny kiss upon the hard line of her lips, not moving away until they softened beneath his. He felt her hands clutching at his waist now. Reluctantly, he opened his eyes to see that hers were closed; her thick eyelashes were resting upon her cheek, covering tired shadows he knew resided there…



She was so beautiful. And warm… and smelled of hay and wild flowers, not at all of the filth surrounding them.



If she was a witch… but he knew now that she was not, so it was no point in thinking about it any longer, or think about what if’s.



It was not nearly as important as… this. The feel of her… God. How long was it since he had a woman like this in his arms? It felt like centuries.



Before he could’ve closed his eyes and prolonged the kiss, she opened them; they were glazed over in rapture… that is, until she saw him as if for the first time.



She gasped, but before he could use it to his advantage and his tongue could explore the moist cavern of her mouth, she pushed him away. They parted with a loud sucking sound.



Spike stumbled backwards in surprise, not expecting the little strength she’d put behind her push.



‘’Oh, God…’’ she whispered in a tiny voice and covered those beautiful lips of hers with a hand. Her cheeks were blushing deep red, just as her eyes were big and moist, holding surprise and - he was ashamed to admit – even fear.



Christ, what has he done now? This was not what he had set out to do. He had bloody well attacked the poor bird; and even if she’d have liked it… she did like it, right?



Only, when he watched her, he saw the damage he’s made.



She shook all over, backing away from him, until she could move no more, her back was pressed to the stone wall of the cell, her gaze never leaving his. It was as if she were waiting for something to explode. Most probably his anger, though he felt anything but.



The power, to which she held on to before, deflated. Died out.



Spike felt like he was slapped by it all, and realized yet again, that she was not guilty. For such a cunning and slippery murderer, that she was accused of being, she was too innocent. She could have used this kiss to her advantage, let him explore it further, but she had not done so. Instead, she pushed him away when she could have sold her body for freedom. He’d be damned if this was not one of her first kisses too… for such a fiery minx, this was a rather shocking discovery.



And she was not guilty. Not of those abominable sins, but of another.



She somehow stole his heart without him even knowing…



Bloody hell! With one little barely-there kiss? How desperate are you, mate?



Spike squashed the panic rising inside him down; he knew that kiss had little to do with that. They barely spoke, never saw each other before all this soddin’ mess, and she was one of the poor. Clearly not a match made to be had. He felt terribly attracted toward her, that much was true, but that just might be it. One little fiery conversation only… well, she hadn’t stolen his heart, not yet.

But maybe his attention?



Yes, that she had it all.



Spike cursed his stupidity. He always seemed to rush things. Assume things too quickly.



Shuddering breaths broke through his thoughts. He refocused on Buffy once more. He drew in a calming breath. Trying to make the scared young woman feel at ease with him, he made a few steps closer, but stopped at hearing her first frightened whimper. She had her eyes tightly shut and her hands were clutching her torn bodice together so tightly, her knuckles gleamed white in torchlight.



‘’I am not going to hurt you, kitten,’’ he soothed, though his voice sounded strange.



She hadn’t relaxed at his words, neither did he expected it of her to do so. Something in his chest tightened again, just like it did a day before, seeing her face watching the soldiers carrying away Anya, and he realized of what it meant now. He hated seeing her so afraid, of him even.



‘’I promise, pet.’’



He stepped toward her once more, the straw was crunching beneath his boots, but he had no time in placing this metaphor anywhere near this situation. He had done it before, yes, but this one girl does not deserve to suffer under his hand.



‘’Kitten?’’



This time she opened her eyes, watching his slow progress with unshed tears brimming. He felt like a hunter, cornering his prey, and for the first time in his life, he hated that feeling. When he stretched his hand toward her, she slid down the wall and sat in the hay, looking defeated up at him before she bowed her head. Her hands loosened from the tight grip she had on her bodice.



How had her bodice end up being torn anyway?



Spike’s eyes went wide. His stomach dropped and he could slap himself all over again.



‘’No, don’t think that, kitten, I shan’t hurt you. Not anymore, and not even that… way… ‘’ Spike felt disgusted at himself, and horrified at the same time. Some memory tried to force itself back at the front of his mind, but he held it back vehemently. He was not prepared to relive it yet, even if the image from the past seemed to come alive again, right before his eyes… and place itself in a girl cowering from him in the present.



‘’I…’’ His voice shook a little when the blonde mane before him darkened into ones of a coal-like hue… he closed his eyes tightly and then reopened them. The image was gone. But she was still there.



‘’I am a bad, rude man, but never a rapist…’’ he crouched before the frightened blonde, and with a finger, he lifted her chin gently, leveling their eyes. She closed them, causing a tear to escape from under her lids and make a long, silvery line across her cheek. He used his thumb to wipe it off. It was not under these circumstances that he imagined to touch her. ‘’I am deeply sorry for the way I have forced myself upon you. I shan’t do it again, Buffy, I swear. I believe that you are innocent. And I never touch the innocents, rather protect them, I do.’’



She opened her eyes then. A frown was clear on her face for him to see, she was obviously confused by his admission. She hadn’t asked of him to explain it to her though. She only nodded. Hope was shining upon hearing the word ‘innocent’. More tears came.



‘’You rest now, and we shall talk once you wake up. I cannot do anything just now without any witnesses.’’



‘’Why would you not let me go? If you believe me?’’ her voice was quiet, hesitant.



‘’You have been accused of sins, far too greater than just thievery, kitten. I have no such power in my hands to pardon you of those accusations.



‘’But, ‘’ he quickly continued when she opened her mouth to argue. ‘’I promise you this, pet, I shall do everything that is in my power, to help you get out of this, for I know you are not the one to be blamed here.’’



Spike bowed his head in shame at the memories of how harshly he’d dealt with her in the past, a few minutes ago even… not at all nobly-like. His Mother would be horrified. ‘’I know it now, kitten.’’





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Buffy felt lightheaded.



The first feel of his lips upon hers came as a shock. But then there came another… and she could not have helped herself to do anything but relax at the gentleness she hadn’t felt in a long time, ever since her mother had died.



The woman, who brought her the blanket tonight, was kind, and so was young Andrew, but there is no comparison whatsoever to a gentle touch that body craved for desperately for so long. No comparison in the feel of warmth spreading from her lips to her heart like a slowly blooming flower.



She had to grip at something, or she’d swoon from the sensation. She felt like the world was slipping away, because it felt nothing like that slobbery kiss that Abram Parker surprised her with all those years ago, when she had her Mother alive, and all the time in the world to dream.



Lips caressing hers now were soft, and warm and not even a bit icky with saliva…



After an eternity she felt had passed, Buffy had to open her eyes, to see if she was still alive, or maybe unconscious. Or in heaven. It took some time before all of it came back to her and she realized where she was and… with whom.



She pushed him.



Hard.



Then panicked, because she refused…



After that, it all happened in a horror-filled blur. She was sucked back into that unholy place in the woods, where that man had… and she thought that this man would do it too, not knowing she had nothing left to give.



But he was crouching before her now, and gently brushing the tears from her cheeks that she hadn’t even realized were falling, and talking to her in a reproachful, soothing tone…



And did he just mention that he believed she was innocent?



Oh.



Buffy did not, however, understand why he could not just let her go if he believed her. He tried to explain it to her, he did, but her mind refused to understand anything just now.



‘’P-please, my Lord, I cannot stay here… not any longer, please…’’



She was ashamed, that she was openly crying now before him, but the relief she felt… and that he believed… But the walls were smothering her, choking her, pressing down on her, and she could not bear it much longer.



‘’I am sorry, kitten, I really am. But the actions of the murderer had reached the King’s ear, and he had sent his Church Council as soon as he got the news of me catching the responsible person for those horrible acts.’’



‘’W-will they come soon? A-and let me go when they see I-I am n-not the one to be b-blamed here?’’ She could hardly speak through sobs.



‘’Yes, I promise you I shall do everything in my power to see to it that you are to be released. I am sorry, however, for I cannot make your… stay here, any more comfortable. The Council is strict and would not receive well any favoritism of mine shown toward you. You are to be trialed before witnesses. I cannot stop them from what they have been sent out to do.’’



He must have seen her worried face then, because he was quick to reassure her. ‘’Not to worry, kitten, there are no evidences against you. Not now that I see how wrong I was. They point out toward you, yes, but do not seem to be real. All I have to do is make them all see it too’’ He paused for a moment, and then sighed. ‘’After all this is over, I am going to ask of you, if you could help me by answering some things… I need to know who the real killer is.’’



‘’Yes. I will help. Thank you for… for believing me, Lord Rayne.’’



He left her to get some sleep after that. She understood that he could not give her any comfort, but she could survive a few more days. Just a few more days… in the mean time, she had a blanket, surrounded by the hay that served as a nest. But nothing kept her warmer than his words of promise, and the fact that he believed her…



Maybe he was an angel after all, Buffy thought, when her eyes closed and she fell into a dreamless slumber.



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‘’Your daughter is safe, Drusilla. You are not to be worried about her wellbeing any longer. The King had assigned her to a new family, as you very well know it already.’’



‘’Into what new family, sister dear?’’ sneered Drusilla at the other woman. ‘’A family with enough fortune? Childless family? Given to a woman which womb is fruitless and barren like a desert, and cannot bare the children of her own?’’



Jenny saw a flicker of insanity in her sister’s eyes and could not help but to flinch at where this conversation is going. The sneer on the other woman grew wider, malicious with her next words. She had seen the obvious hurt on Jenny’s face, so she moved in for the painful kill.



‘’ Maybe… Into your family, perhaps? Tsk, tsk, Jenny. You thought you could steal my child to play mummy with, just because your womb is too weak to carry your own? I am going to be so very cross with you, if that happens to be true.’’



‘’Drusilla, for the love of God, hold your tongue. I have not stolen Faith from you, nor do I have her. It was the King’s command that had her taken away from you. Not mine.’’ Jenny tried to reason with her sister. ‘’You had not been well, ever since your husband had died. It was only done in your own good. You… you had hurt the girl, my sister. Cannot you see it was all done for the good of the poor child? Are you not happy to know that Faith is safe?’’



‘’Hush now, you wicked one. I hurt. I want to see her. She is mine and belongs to me, not to any other. I did not hurt my sweet little dove. The knife was there, it was. She, she…’’



Jenny was at a loss when her sister started to pull at her hair absently while low humming voice started in her throat. Her eyes turned glassy and unfocused.



Then a shadow covered them both.



‘’Excuse me, Ladies. I was only wondering, if Lady Giles would not mind me stealing her companion of course, could Lady Bathory do me the honors and accept the invitation for a dance?’’



Jenny looked up at the tall, bulky man standing before them, obscuring the light. He had a sort of nervous expression on his face while he watched the actions of Drusilla. He obviously came to take her away. ‘’Lord O’Connor. Angelus, what a pleasant surprise is seeing that you too had come back on Court.’’ She nodded in greeting as did he. ‘’I do not mind you asking my sister to dance. I have the fortune in seeing another to keep me company while you dance. So if you’ll excuse me.’’



She curtsied, and quickly walked along the edge of the dance floor filled with people dancing the Pavane, evading the very loud and still very drunk Lady Glory.



She saw Darla walking about and longed to talk to her some more before she retires for the night. All the sharp reminders Drusilla had thrown at her, mentioning her unfortunate state, hurt her deeply. What kind of woman cannot bare the child to her husband after all? She felt exhausted, and in desperate need of her friend.



‘’Darla, my dear!’’



The other woman turned around in surprise. Then her smile bloomed. ‘’Jenny!’’ The blonde looked around quickly and then asked, ‘’Where on earth did Drusilla go? I thought you two… talked? Better yet, how did you escape her long claws?’’ she winked at Jenny who started to laugh.



‘’Oh, she was at a brink of another insanity when her not-so-secret lover snatched her away. To dance, if you can believe it.’’



‘’Well, they are not here, so they had to be planning on another form of dance, and I cannot believe I just said that!’’ Darla blushed.



Jenny smothered a laugh, then rescued her friend by changing the topic. ‘’Guess who I saw just now. I thought she’d be sleeping under the table somewhere or maybe that the servants would lead her to bed all wobbly-like. She’s right there,’’ she said, and pointed toward the sleepy looking Lady at the other end of the ballroom.



Darla snickered. ‘’Oh yes. While you had your pleasant conversations, I tried to evade her as much as I could. God, how much wine could that woman handle?’’



‘’Oh, she is so very depressed, you see, while you were away, so many things happened, you would not believe!’’



‘’Do tell me. You know I’m in much need of a good gossip. Lady Kendall was of not much use to me a few minutes ago. You can imagine how long it takes before the woman gets to the point…’’



‘’Oh, I know. I’m surprised you even spoke to her in the first place. And about Glory no less. They are such rivals, I’m surprised she could mention her name at all.’’



‘’She did, as a matter of fact.’’ Darla paused and then leaned to whisper her friend in her ear quietly. ‘’She mentioned her name quite often in between… bitch from hell who pretends to be goddess, stealing her man…’’



Both of the women crossed themselves seriously. Before ducking their heads in between shoulders and burst into laugh. They quickly covered their mouth with their fans, when old Ladies Arianne and Fauna looked their way, grumbling something under their breaths.



It only served in making two friends laugh some more. They did move further aside at some point, when they finally get to control themselves properly, and Jenny had some more shocking news to tell.



‘’Haven’t you heard, Darla? Glory was dismissed from His Majesty’s bed… he does not even look upon her any more. Instead, he chose to flirt with Harmony… You can imagine what a bitter poor thing Glory must have turned into while you were away.’’



‘’You don’t say!’’ Darla’s eyes got huge with suppressed excitement over such juicy news. God, but she really did miss the Court.



The rest of the evening flew by with two friends sticking their heads together, whispering gossips, their words drowned out by the sounds of happy drums and flute.



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Hour was late, when Lord and Lady Ethan Rayne finally prepared to bed.



Darla snuggled into her husband’s side while he held her tightly. ‘’Ethan, my love?’’



‘’Mmm?’’



‘’Have you delivered the letter of our son to His Majesty?’’



‘’I did, my sweet.’’



Darla sensed the perkiness in her husband’s voice all of a sudden. Intrigued, she encouraged him to continue. ‘’Well? Did it please his Majesty?’’



‘’His Majesty the King, was delighted by the news of capture, and has also told me that my son William was to be rewarded once his work was finished on his estate. He invited him to Court.’’ Ethan snickered quietly. ‘’If you could only see the look on Giles’s face, my dear…’’







TBC...

Chapter 11 – After Sun Rose, the Night Came



…I'm so tired, there has got to be an end
to the pain I feel.
When I'm awake and alive alive alive,
Alive and I'm dreamin',
Caught up against the wall again,
Tied my chain to the ball again,
Is that a light at the end of the tunnel
That I see I see?
Please let it be, but don't
wake me till the morning after…

-The Morning After - by Dead by Sunrise


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There was a knock on the thick wooden door, not long after Drusilla retired from a party, followed by another, urgent one, when nobody answered it right away.

Drusilla nodded to one of her servants, who bowed and quickly scurried to check who requested an entrance so vehemently, while the other servant girl helped her put on the thick night cloak. Drusilla sat down near the fireplace, prepared to receive the visitor appropriately, when he was announced.

‘’His Grace Lord O’Connor, mistress.’’

Lady Bathory nodded, and the man was permitted to come into her bed chamber.

Lord bowed low once he came before her, and then closed the distance between them by stepping few steps closer to lift her hand and kiss it. The mischievous glint in his eyes, when he looked up at her, sent shivers of delight up her spine.

‘’Leave us.’’ Drusilla commanded with her quiet voice, not paying any attention anymore to the servant girls that bowed and left the room immediately. Her eyes were riveted to the man in front of her.

Once the doors clicked closed, Angelus smirked and kneeled before her on both knees. Drusilla inclined forward and raked her fingers through his long black hair, loosening them from its binding. ‘’These are hardly in fashion, my sweet.’’ She commented dreamily, while combing his locks with her long fingers, watching the contrast between her pale skin and the dark hue of his hair. ‘’No man on Court has such long hair as you do… Have you seen the Husband of my sister? His hair is shorter…’’

A twinge of annoyance tugged at his insides, before Angelus stretched his lips wide into a smile once more. ‘’His hair is also gray, my princess. Whatever would possess you to look his way, mo ghrá? Am I, a humble man at your service, not enough?’’ he asked huskily, his smirk in place as he watched her, while his hands slowly glided along her legs, up her thighs, bunching the dress along as they went under the hem, until they stopped at her moist entrance. He felt her shiver.

Drusilla blinked slowly at him, parting her thighs in invite. Her hands slipped away from his hair to his shoulders, pulling his coat down in the process, which got caught at the elbows. She slid her palms further down along his arms where they disappeared under the fabric of her night gown. She held the dress hem delicately and slowly pulled it up, revealing her long pale legs to him, revealing also the sight of his fingers touching her nub, slowly rubbing it in circles…

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‘’I’ve news to tell you, mo ghrá.'' Angelus gasped out sometime later that night.

He and Drusilla were lying in the massive bed, still breathing hard, their glistening bodies entwined and quivering from the orgasm they’ve both just had. The sound of fire crackling served as the soft background noise.

The dark haired woman that was lying on his chest, looked up to his face, hers illuminated with the orange light from the still alive fire. Drusilla’s eyes were big and round, and completely child-like in their innocent appearance. His cock was still inside her, now starting to soften. ‘’I knew there was something you wished to tell me, pet. You looked impatient when you came into my chamber… What is it?’’

‘’Well… ‘’ Angelus started slowly, carefully crafting the words in his mind, wanting to savor every one of them, for he knew they would make her happy. ‘’I spoke with His Majesty tonight.’’

Drusilla raised her head from his shoulder, so she could see him better. ‘’About what matter?’’ she cocked her head to the side a bit as she contemplated him. A lock of her hair fell to cover her eye, and Angelus gently tucked it behind her ear. He’d released the numeral pins from her hair earlier, while she tugged the strings of her gown free, loving their silky texture.

‘’I saw him receive a letter from Lord Rayne tonight as we danced. Senior Lord Rayne,’’ he added at her confused look, while he petted her hair. ‘’So, needless to say, I got a bit curious. We both know he and his wife visited briefly their oldest son who lives in Sunnydale.’’ resentment tinged the tone of his voice at the mention of the other Lord, but he quickly hid it away. No need for the past to agitate him. ‘’Lord William Rayne. Your close-by neighbor, he is. Isn’t that right, my sweet?’’

‘’Ah, but I haven’t seen young Willy for a long time.’’ Drusilla propped her chin on the backs of her hands that were resting on his chest, clasped together, her eyes drifting to the far wall of the chamber. She had that faraway look about her as she remembered, no doubt, of the fore mentioned man. ‘’Always sweet young Willy was, obeying his mummy and daddy, like a good boy that he’s always been. Do you know,’’ she suddenly lifted her head from its previous position, to look eagerly at her lover. ‘’Is he still a good boy now? Or is he a bad pupp-‘’

‘’Hardly the point here, is it now, Dru?’’ Angelus interrupted her through tightly clenched teeth. The grip he had on her hair tightened slightly. ‘’The point, however, is, that the King got a letter from him, informing His Majesty of a success in capturing the murderer who was spreading his killings throughout the land like a plague. I’d be mightily furious, that there was yet another thing that Willy made well in the eyes of the King, but, well…’’ he chuckled mirthlessly. ‘’This very situation hardly makes me mad.’’

Drusilla sat up, still on top of him, and clapped her hands together, overjoyed, and bouncing lightly. She could feel his manhood stir inside her at that. ‘’You did it, my darling! You tucked away the wicked bird, which almost pecked at our eyes.’’

Angelus sat up too, holding her by the forearms and bringing her closer to his chest, her still clasped hands trapped in between them. Her eyes shone, just like the evil light was lit up in the pits of her black pools. ‘’Yes. I did it all for you, lover. Now we needn’t worry anymore. She shall be soon erased from this earth - all in your pleasure… ‘’ Angelus kissed languidly her shoulder as he spoke. ‘’Her lips will be sealed forever. And even if she spoke, who would ever believe the one already damned to die?’’

Drusilla hungrily latched her lips to his in a ferocious kiss. She bit his lip so hard it bled, coloring both of theirs in glistening crimson.

Once they parted for air, Angelus smiled viciously. ‘’Tomorrow, you shall retire to one of your closest estates,’’ he thrust his hard member deeper into her then, making her gasp. ‘’… and I shall follow…’’ then he bent forward with her on his lap, pulling her down to the bed on her back with him on top.

She allowed him to be this commanding of her, allowing him to think of her so gullible. For this time at least, she liked him that way. All danger and force in a neat form, made her all tingly inside, it did. She curled around him, serpent-like, quivering with the excitement once more, as his words of beautiful red art that awaited them both soon, accompanied her to another climax…


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Lady Drusilla Bathory excused herself from Court next morning, and announced by her servants, that the countryside air would do her good in lifting the sudden illness she felt. Fortunately, some of the attendants of the last night’s festivity noticed her speaking with the estranged sister, and caught a word or two mentioning Faith. Naturally so, they imagined that the true nature of her leaving the Court so soon was her inability to get back her daughter. They all assumed she left the Court to sulk, and none was too suspicious as to why she pleaded to the King only once and stayed for only two days.

In the late afternoon her carriage arrived to one of her many estates near the London, just as it was planned.

Come the evening, arrived her lover, Lord Angelus O’Connor, who was also bearing the news of the delighted King, who spread the word throughout his kingdom this morning, announcing, that the capture of the murderer from Sunnydale area finally occurred.

News sent shivers of delight up their spines. Angelus naturally hadn’t elaborated the fact, that as soon as the matters of the murderer were finished, his rival, Lord William Rayne, would be gifted with higher titles and other pleasantries, as went the King’s announcement further on.

When the night came, they celebrated.

And killed.

A trusted servant was sent to dispose the bodies for nature to take care of them… only, the thrilled couple hadn’t known that the dirt was already too hard to bury them all, so the servant merely left the bloodied bodies in the woods, too afraid of the howling sounds that were nearing… the winter was rapidly approaching and the creatures of the forest were hungry.

The anxious servant prayed, as he ran back all the way to the mansion, that wolves would clean the mess for him…


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Back in Sunnydale, things turned slightly better for Buffy, for a second day in the row.

More hay had been added to her cell yesterday morning, the food was better – a lot better - and Buffy got the chance to speak with the shy servant by name Tara today as well. When she saw her yesterday, Buffy knew that she was the one who brought her a blanket the other night, only to leave then as soon as she did what she was sent out to do. But this time she stayed longer, and talked to her. Buffy was elated by the company, and she liked gentle Tara very much. Tara had told her that only she had been allowed to come down here now, and somehow make Buffy’s stay more comfortable, as her master bit her to do so, only without making it seem so obvious.

Before Lord Rayne clears her name, Buffy should show absolutely no sign of favoritism.

Buffy noticed that the other blonde woman hadn’t minded keeping her company at all. They talked amicably, while they both settled the now copious amount of straw on her ‘bed-floor’.

The straw was itchy, but Tara, Buffy and Andrew shared a secret of the blanket, which would help to cover the sensitive skin of the young captive. And moreover, more hay only dulled the coldness of the stone that managed to seep through the straws laid on floor before.

The meal was better too, and hotter than what she used to get. The fluid warmed her up from inside immediately, even as it burned her throat, and Buffy had only few seconds to appreciate the better taste of it, before she drank almost everything in big gulps the first time she got it.

Tara had to slow her down, reminding her that Buffy’s stomach would not appreciate the unintentional torture. The young woman listened to the advice of the other, slightly older than she, and left the rest of the soup to cool down, before she’d drank it all.

Tara left then, reminding her that her master always holds his word.

Somewhat put at ease at those words, Buffy sat back down on the hay, and watched the bowl, soon being mesmerized by the slim pillar of smoke rising from it into the air, making the cellar smell deliciously good for once.




Lord William Rayne hadn’t visited her that day, or the next even, nor did young Andrew or any of the guards that were usually there like silent sentinels.

Only Tara was her constant companion for a few short hours, before she was needed elsewhere. Which happened quite often, leaving Buffy again to herself.

Even if she was happy to know that Lord William trusted her enough as in not having her being watched all the time now, she wasn’t quite sure if she welcomed the silence and loneliness.

Buffy was happy to see Tara return later this day with a dinner for her, this time smoked fish and a bread to go with it. The kind woman explained it to her that it was best for her, if she started eating properly again, to go slow at first and with a lighter food, so as not to disturb her stomach.

Buffy hadn’t minded. It smelled delicious. And wheat bread? Tasted so good…

When Tara left again, taking the empty plates with her and leaving fresh cup of water to her, Buffy guessed the time was around noon or one in the evening. She was already served two courses of food and her stomach felt painfully full by now. She hadn’t had that much in her belly before she was imprisoned.

A slight chill swept around the dungeon, so she sat down in the hay, and wrapped the blanket around her.

Buffy had a lot of time on her hands now to think things through. Lord Rayne mentioned that he’d need her help in discovering the real murderer in the future, however Buffy doubted that she, but a poor woman and a loner, would have much to say about people, given to the fact that her Mother and she lived secluded, away from it all.

She had ever only known what her Mother taught her, and that was quite simple: people of her lower rank were poor and upper classmen strange.

Very strange. Even frighteningly so…

Buffy sat up straighter at that thought, tightening the blanket around herself more, to guard out the sudden chill that came, this time from inside of her being.

She had something to tell. Of course she had, only, if she did… how many chances were, that the Lord of this castle would laugh at her and call her delusional? Or even worse. Call her a liar and then leave her to the horrible fate of torture and death for it?

And, even if he believed her… only to be unsuccessful in the matter… the truth would cause her death.

And not even by him.

She had no real memory of the horrors that happened that night. It was too much…, of everything. Only through dreams, it seemed, the crumbs of memories came back to her. The only thing that seemed clear to Buffy, however, was the morning before it all started.

She remembered that strange rider, hooded in black, with a low, raspy, and unrecognizable voice. She had no doubt now that he was hiding from her.

She remembered the conversation they’ve had, and her indecisive thoughts about him…




‘’You shall keep your cottage, I’m sure your new mistress will see to it. But only if you come, and work for her for a few months… I promise you, that the cottage shall be taken care of properly in your absence, to await your return all sturdy-like…’’

His voice was too growly for her liking, like it was intentionally done so, to disguise his true voice. Buffy watched at the strange black clad rider wearily, but at the same time his words flooded through her in such a relief… she could be saved. She could keep her home, where she had such happy childhood with her beloved Mother…

But then, a problem shaded over her brief hope.

‘’I-I do not know how to work for such a noble woman, I have never served... t-to anyone.’’ She glanced down at her ripped shoes in despair. Surely, the lack of knowledge would deter his generosity away, and she’d stay here... hungry, and waiting the cold winter that she was not sure she’d survive this time.

‘’Not to worry, little girl, all can be taught. There are a lot of new girls already there, ready to learn and serve.’’ He looked her over, inclining his hooded head in questioning manner, as she recognized, then he spoke again. ‘’Now, then. Do I have your consent? Are you ready to earn some money we both know you desperately need?’’ He pointed at her little old and not so sturdy home with his hand. ‘’It shall help you to rebuild…’’

She had decided then.



Buffy rode behind him on his horse, her arms wrapped tightly around his middle like he instructed her, trying not to fall off in what it seemed like a mad race to the castle of which he spoke of earlier.

She thought wryly how she came to be like this. Sitting behind a stranger, trusting him to lead her to the salvation… and she wondered even if this was appropriate. Buffy was at a loss as soon as he offered her his hand to pull her up on his horse. How was she to behave in situation like that? Refuse? Demand her own horse? She had none, and the thought that someone would lend her one sounded ridiculous as soon as she thought it.

Moreover, had it really mattered in the end, what course of etiquette she should follow in situation like this, when the only hope she saw was the seat at the back of this man, of whom she hadn’t known for all of few minutes? Buffy decided, and opted for survival.

How much she had to loose, anyway?

If she only knew of the ramifications her decision just then would cause, she’d jump off that horse even in full knowledge that the fall would have broken her neck.



They had ridden in complete silence for quite awhile, though the sun had told Buffy it was not yet time for supper. Her mind grew dazed at the thought of the oncoming proper meal. Her stomach gurgled at the thought, but even in her embarrassment, the sound went unnoticed by the rider in front of her, the loud thumping of the hooves had apparently drowned it out.

She tightened the hold on his tunic. There was a castle looming above the trees and she would have missed the sight of it in the darkening light of the fading sun, if the last rays of the reddish illumination hadn’t decided to linger on the massive stone structure a bit longer, before disappearing for the day.




Buffy woke up with a start. The scent of hay momentarily confused her of her whereabouts, for a few heavy-hearted moments she was sure she was still in her old cottage and that the dream was only foreboding…

Then she remembered foggily the things that played out in her dreams, then the cold place surrounding her now, and then finally the promise of Lord Rayne…, the whole situation was causing her to shiver in fright.

Even his promises left her feel uneasy, at the same time as her heart sang merrily in freedom to come.

Such promises were hard to keep.

The thought immediately sobered her up. She only hoped this particular one was not too hard.

She closed her eyes briefly, but the faceless monsters from the dream haunted her behind closed eyelids, so she quickly opened them back again. They remained there, cloaked figures now hidden behind gilded masks on their faces, closing in on her, prowling…

It was time she really wakes up, Buffy thought, shaking her head to dispel the horror-filling images from her mind.
She slowly stirred in her make-shift bed. When did she fall asleep anyway? Was it morning now already? Buffy blinked a couple of times, and uncurled from her defensive position on the hay-laden floor. Those unfortunate dream-like memories were still fresh in her mind, and as such were not a good sign.

Then again, things could hardly get worse…no, she quickly repressed that thought down. It was not good thinking about gloomy future her life almost had ahead, still had actually. Lord hadn’t cleared her name yet, though, as she thought it, he seemed kind of... determined-like. In a always-getting-his-way, kind of person. There was something in his-

Hearing voices coming near, Buffy sat there in shock for a moment, before she was spurred into action. She hurriedly threw off the blanket and tucked it under straws, wincing at the pain she felt all over. It was not there because she had to sleep on the floor, no, she was quite used to feel the hardness of the bed she had in her hut.

The pain was there because she curled in on herself so tightly at night, that her muscles turned rigid. Her body apparently tried to protect itself from the things she had dreamt.

Like it would know that once she awakens, hell would have only just begun.



TBC...

Chapter 12 – Mallus Maleficarum – The Hammer of Witches


Mark me with Fear and Trembling,
Send someone else instead.
I know my world is ending,
I can't repay my debt.

Can I carry such a heavy burden?
Can I move when I am paralyzed?
I see a fire behind a heavy curtain,
I lean in closer and I close my eyes.

Kiss the coals; breathe in smoke,
And I say, "Here I am, send me."
Lifts my soul, free and so unafraid.
"Here I am, send me, send me."
Free and so unafraid
"Here I am, send me."

Mark me with fire and send me,
Among the living dead.
They cannot comprehend me;
I watch the sickness spread.

How can they hear me when their hearts are hardened?
How can they see me when they close their eyes?
So they can tell that I'm an easy target
A wooden saw is quite a way to die

Kiss the coals; breathe in smoke
And I say, "Here I am, send me."
Lifts my soul, free and so unafraid
"Here I am, send me, send me."
Free and so unafraid
"Here I am, send me."

– The Messenger by Thrice

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An early Thursday morning, when Buffy was still fast asleep on her makeshift bed of straw and hadn’t woken from her dreams of past memories yet, found Lord Rayne pacing restlessly in his chambers.

His mind felt more like a wild tangles of thoughts, spinning around uncontrolled and completely indefinable, rather than a neat form of facts he usually managed to make out of it all. He tried to catch the slippery buggers to connect them, but they flew out of reach every time they were almost at his grasp. It drove him crazy, to put it mildly.

So he paced, and paced, as though his steps could help his mind to assort things any by way of rhythmical movement.

He had so many things on his mind to sort out, facts to put in the right order, thus making any sense of them. The evidences, suspects…, all of those were pulling in too many different directions instead of just to the logical one… The hut and the abandoned church in the woods had been cleared of the bodies after his inspection, but none of it made any sense, when he tried to fit the girl, currently residing in his dungeon, into it all.

Those two were not the only bodies they had found lying around in the past few months. The only difference was, that they were found indoors, when all the others were found hidden in the forests around Sunnydale town, chanced by some poor sods stumbling upon them.

At first there was at least one thing that connected all of the previous murders, and that was the status in society of the deceased – they were all of the unfortunates, the poor, their bodies weak looking and half starved, bad teeth in their mouth, if there were any at all… and they were all girls and young women. But all of it changed, when they found the first body of an upper classman, clumsily stabbed in the abdomen and left to bleed out in the forest.

William remembered how he had ridden like the wind to the latest scene, baffled by the discovery once he got there. The murdered was young and quite well muscled, indicating the strong health and fine physical condition. The fair amount of blood was pooled on the leaf covered floor, half soaked into the soil, belying the amount of it.

Young Lord Rayne believed at first, no, he hoped it, that the murder was only the result of a badly executed robbery. His hopes were immediately crushed as soon as he got closer still, to see all of the jewelry still intact on the body. Robbers would not go into so much trouble as to murder someone, only to leave those fine jeweled rings and robes behind.

Still, there was no connection between this one and the other murders, until the next day when some woman stumbled upon the similar looking corpse while moss picking in the other part of the woods.

Similar in the fact, that the victim was one of the upper classman as well.

This time it was a woman. A young woman lying on the forest floor, her perfect pale skin covered in nothing but cuts, dirt, and dried autumn leaves. There was no indication of her status in society, almost like the murderer intentionally wanted to cover that fact up by undressing her and removing any sign of who she was.

But William wasn’t fooled. Where her skin wasn’t covered in lacerations it was perfect and unmarred by the sunlight, when the girl of a lesser status, one who used to work on the fields, would have her unguarded skin hardened and darkened. And not only had it been like that, but the hair of the dead woman was distinctly perfumed, the already faint scent tickling his nose and those of the guards that escorted him on the place she was found.

While the murders continued, young women and girls continued to disappear, only to be found dead a few days later. There were no more doubts about it.

Lord William Rayne was dealing with a madman who desires to kill repeatedly.

Then there was a breakthrough a few days back, when the information from the local tavern led him to the young blonde woman, Buffy Summers.

He knew it now, that that lead way in fact to a dead end, and that he should start to find new ones, like pursuing that all too knowing stranger from the tavern, but sadly for him, all he could think about was the girl in his dungeon.

He paused briefly in his step to ponder the thought. No, she was not a girl. A young woman, his Buffy was. Not really a mere girl.

A flash of her form appeared – yet again – in his mind’s eye, all feminine softness and youthful innocence. Even dirty and starved as she was – her collar bone highly pronounced and her breasts smaller but perky enough, to put any other woman who presented them proudly, to shame – she caught his attention. And that was proof enough for him that she was, in fact, a young woman…, and beautifully curved at that. He only had to feed her properly, to show the world what he saw in her.

Lord William felt his lips curve into a smile…until a previous thought suddenly stood out against all others.

His Buffy?

She’s not your anything, the reasonable voice inside told him, and the smile was quickly wiped off. But at the same time that stealthy undercurrent layer of his mind chimed in with a steady ‘Mine… Mine… Mine …’

The expression on the blonde man’s face turned into an angry grimace.

‘’Damn it all, you bleedin’…! ‘’ William would have gladly roared out loud the rest, but God must not be in his favor too much lately, if the seriousness of the whole damn situation could tell anything, so he swallowed and choked down the rest of his words. No good reason to anger Him even more, was there?

So he settled for gritting his teeth and balling his hands into hard fists.

No, he reprimanded his mind for the hundredth time this morning like a father to a stubborn child, when he calmed down finally. Not your Buffy, he reasoned with himself slowly. She is a captive. Apparently wrongfully accused one, but nonetheless, she is not his anything. Only a captive…

He had to remind himself that fact daily, ever since he first saw her, but now, knowing of her innocence, he had to be twice as strong. Was it not enough that he dreamt of her every night ever since she was brought here? She was making him daydream, for Christ sakes, and about the possibilities he knew were impossible to be made, even. She was making him feel again… a sensation he hadn’t been familiar with for far too long to make any sense of it now. He buried that part of himself in the past, all for his own good, and never unearthed it again…

A twinge of pain shot through his chest at the faraway memory that disobediently tried to push itself at the front of all other things in his mind, replacing briefly the image of golden-haired Buffy in his head with someone other…

…Darker locks of hair… pale skin tinged with dark hues he knew very well were vicious bruises… and even her name by now, was almost a tangible taste in his mouth…

… He quickly repressed it down to bury it once more in the past, before the two images, one of the past and one of the present, bled into one.

William noticed his breathing had sped out, and the sweat broke out onto his skin. He wiped at his gleaming face quickly with the back of his hand. No good in losing his mind over that, he mused.

It was Buffy’s fault, he concluded; she made him feel all this again and all these feelings were not welcomed. They hurt, and brought forward uninvited reminders of the events that happened years ago, the ones he tried so hard to replace by new ones, less dangerous for his sanity.

He hadn’t wanted to think about them now, so he forced another image in his mind to replace them, and it was really no surprise that the face he imagined belonged to the blonde woman again, the one locked away in one of his cells, down in the dungeon.

So far and yet so close at the same time, Buffy was… and God… her lips… her eyes…

Exasperatedly he noticed where his mind went again so he purposefully stopped it from getting it on that path any further. William refused to see Buffy for a whole day yesterday for that same purpose. He tried to distance himself from her, to think things out clearly, but alas, no luck with that thus far.

She was all he could bloody well think about, dream about…

He worked himself up good and proper into an obsession, lusting after forbidden fruit in the shape of one Buffy Summers, Biblically spoken. He had to distance himself from her, gather realistic and hard evidence that would help her case, or the Church Council would suspect him of being under the influence of her witchcraft if he was to be shown too eager in her defense once they came for her.

However, he called away the guards from the dungeon, hopefully making the girl notice that he really meant what he said the other night, and that he trusted her words, believed her that she was innocent. He hoped she would not imagine him feeling ill of her by not showing up in the dungeons to see her. He also realized that the action would leave her to her lonesome, so he allowed Tara to keep her the occasional company.

William was relieved to see that the kind woman hadn’t doubted his words concerning the captive, when he approached Tara early yesterday morning; she even looked relieved if he was not mistaken by reading the look on her face just then. He hadn’t questioned the oddity of it, and was just pleased to see her do it; the other woman, below in the dungeons, needed the change for the better.

Only it should not be shown too obvious. The few strands of itchy straw appeared in his mind. And then Buffy from one night ago, lying on it, when he made an appearance.

Her scared, but determined expression as she stood up to him, tiny but fiery at the same time….

Then the clouded haze of her eyes when he leaned in to kiss her - again…

Then an image of her cowering before him, her eyes tightly shut, her body trembling…

The last image was the one that pulled him out of his daze. William thought of himself being such a fool for not noticing anything until that night, but the revelations he had had about Buffy the last time he saw her were horrifying. The foul and disgusting deed of one man was clearly written on Buffy’s posture and expression that night. And that was the thing that had almost triggered the memory from his past to jump out and assault him once more.

So, still filled with the guilt, he assumed that Buffy would be more comfortable if there was only female company around her for the time being. No men to intimidate or scare her further. And who was better to be trusted in doing it well than the most loyal of his servants, Tara?
Lord William started pacing again.

The blonde servant reported him all that happened yesterday, as soon as he woke from his nightmare earlier this morning and went down into the servant’s quarters to look for her.

After asking her about it, Tara was quick to assure him that she had made Buffy’s cell as comfortable as it was allowed. She had not even questioned the fact that her master had shown up in her room barefoot and dressed only in his night cloak. Now that he thought of it, she had not even blinked. He did, for that matter, and that was only after he strode back to his chambers and started to pace.

The news Tara gave him this morning had pleased and calmed him somewhat. Of course, he knew the blonde servant would do everything just right.

But the dreams he had, those that were at fault for his abrupt wake and restlessness this morning, filled him with dread and the feeling of helplessness even now. These were the two things he loathed to feel the most.

Spike stopped pacing to sit heavily on one of the chairs placed before the blazing hearth, defeated utterly in an attempt to sort out his thoughts. Or at least lead them into the right direction.

He sighed and started to plan his day to the fullest, because he was sure if he were to be idle at some point during the day, he’d be soon too tempted to resist a visit to the dungeon. He knew, without a doubt, that one look at her big mossy eyes, would bring him to his knees, and he’d let her go, all the rest be damned.

That of course would be wrong, and very much so. It was not at all in her favor, nor was it in his.

That is why the distance is in order, he pondered. He had to be patient and strong. The latter was important here, he reminded himself sternly.

Yes, strong. Because if –when -he would manage to help her get out of this mess, he would have to be strong to let her go.

He just desperately hoped he would not manage to become some soft pansy boy in the process, by way his mind was going at this point.

Just as he started to argue with himself, if it would be wise to invite Miss Summers to work in his castle afterwards - just to save her from that dreadful, soon to be collapsing hut - there was a knock on the door.

He bid them to come in, never taking his eyes off the crackling fire before him, still staying so very deep in his thoughts.

‘’Master William?’’

It was Jonathan. William quickly stuffed something that conspicuously resembled a soft speech in his head he was preparing for the young blonde woman, and shoved it to the back of his mind. He straightened up his spine and looked over his shoulder to see the servant who was calmly standing at the door.

Well, at least he appeared to be calm, noted Spike, the little signs on the other man’s face told him that Jonathan was nervous about something.

Bloody… Christ! It wasn’t even a decent mornin’ yet, and something must have already gone to hell, if it made Jonathan twitch.

‘’Yeah? Out with it!’’ Spike snapped irritably, just before it dawned on him what might be going on…

‘’The Church Council has arrived, my Lord,’’ Jonathan quickly blurted out.

…Bugger.
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Buffy stared intently at the winding stares to see who was approaching. She chuckled silently at herself for panicking – it might be just Tara, bringing her breakfast with the usual soft smile on her kind face.

She was about to relax, when her back grew rigid at the first sound of voices. They were male.

Not Tara then, she mused, while a slow tremble of nervousness started rocking her body from the inside.
She firstly noted boots – several of them – descending, followed by long robes of red, purple and white colors, and finally faces of very grave looking men that wore them.

Lord William Rayne, dressed all in black once more, was the only one she recognized in line of many other men that were approaching her.

She did, however, recognize the robes some of those men wore. Excitement and fear were warring inside her at the same time. She stood up quickly from her makeshift straw bed and clenched her hands into tight fists, hoping all those men would not notice her trembling. They might take it as a sign of fear of them, a sign of guilt…

The Church Council finally came to judge her case.

She was so nervous that all the faces staring at her as they walked were blurred into a mass of skin colored orbs; she couldn’t concentrate to make herself see the characteristics of each one, like when they were descending. She could only know that there were many.

Was the number of people attending important or not? In her case, was the amount of people here in favor to her, or was it a bad thing?

The only face she could look at and see it clearly, was the one she already knew, so Buffy turned her questioning gaze toward him, hoping to see the encouragement there, or at least…. something pointed her way. She briefly caught the look Lord Rayne tossed her way as she watched him intently, but he broke it off too quickly for her liking. He seemed tense. Not at all a good sign, was it? Why was he so tense?
Panic started to nibble at her mind. Had she done something wrong?

As he and all the rest of the unknown faceless men descended the stairs and assembled themselves in front of her cell, Lord Rayne stood relaxed and devoid of any kind of emotion that would reflect on his face. The tension in him was gone. Poof, just like that.

He leaned on the wall next to her cell, so he was at the front of her doors, and watched her, while occasionally gracing other men with just as equally distanced eyes.

Buffy frowned at his cold behavior, and briefly assessed other men that were gathered before her. At least, as much as she could, given to the fact she couldn’t see their faces due to the almost blinding panic that held her in its clutches.

They were all very obviously men of the Church, dressed in white or red robes… but she already noted the colors before. She saw dangling crosses, brass and gleaming in the torchlight, as they hung from their necks. Some of the necks were thicker than she was used to seeing…

Buffy took a deep breath, hoping to calm herself down a bit. She tried to see their faces now, their lines of noses, mouths and eyes. When the picture of them finally cleared in the dead silence that followed their arrival, she noticed not one of them was smiling.

‘’Ah… that would be her, if I am not mistaken,’’ said the ratty looking man of medium height unpleasantly from the middle of them all.

Buffy almost snorted at that. She felt rigid and her muscles ached from all the tension in her, so she was not surprised that she felt the urge to laugh uncontrollably all of a sudden. The involuntary urge would be most unwelcome though, so she suppressed it down.

It was funny though. She was alone down here for days, and the proud observation the priest made was a bit pointless. However, she hadn’t liked the way he pronounced ‘her’ in the statement. It sounded too much like an accusation, an already made decision about her being guilty of the charges she was yet to hear.

Oh, God…

She darted her eyes toward the only person down here, which was past those accusations. Or at least, Lord William Rayne should be past them… he was when he was the last time down here... wasn’t he? He said so himself that he was…

Buffy wasn’t sure anymore, as she nervously recalled his absence from the dungeon for the past two days. Had the time he spent away from her managed to change his mind? She tried not to look imploringly at him, even as she felt herself helplessly fail in that attempt.

And even if she had looked at him in such a pitiful way, he hadn’t looked in her direction ever since that small man spoke, so she pinned her gaze at the dirty stone floor, right down to the one straw that lay at her bare feet. It was the only thing she knew for certain that would not judge her.

She felt like that lonely straw. Exiled from the rest of the pile, singled out… lost…

She felt cold, her injured feet hurt, but she didn’t try to move onto the straw pile behind her.

Buffy Anne Summers would stand tall in front of them all and prove to them that she was innocent.

She lifted her chin high and settled her eyes on one of the bars that separated her from the freedom, avoiding the cold looks of the men standing behind them.



TBC...

Chapter 13 – The Twelve of the Council


I feel guilt, I feel guilt,
Though I know I've done no wrong I feel guilt.
…
I feel bad, so bad,
Though I ain't done nothing wrong I feel bad.
…
-Guilt by Marianne Faithfull


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He refused to look directly at her when they descended the stairs to the dungeon, even as he felt the gaze that was sent his way from her direction immediately. William did not know exactly why he made sure to avoid it, but one of the possibilities could be the expression on her face. She might look frightened out of her mind, and he was afraid – no, concerned might be the right word – that he would do something stupid when he’d be faced with those big, rounded, mossy eyes of hers. That thought alone settled oddly in his stomach.

Since when exactly did he grow to care about the prisoner’s feelings?

Since you know she’s innocent, mate.

Oh. But should that fact alone supposed to mean that he actually cared? Cared about her?

You know you already do. And besides – you kissed her… She belongs to you now.

And there it went another argument in his mind. Before he got the chance to rip out the inner innocent boy’s tongue out for making him even think about these matters further, another – not even remotely innocent - loud voice sounded from the middle of the assorted men. To no surprise it was the archpriest Snyder.

William watched the short figure of the man he recognized as one of the highest men in the Council open his sneering mouth in order to speak. Young lord rolled his eyes at the remark the annoying man made, but was all the same thankful for something else to listen to and not paying attention to the tender feelings that were brewing inside him steadily, persistently.

His inner Spike sighed and shook his head in shame. Tender feelings? Really, William?

Honestly, how does the Council still work with witless men such as archpriest Snyder?

With being brutal in their judgments, of course, his mind reminded him. And Snyder had quite an imaginative mind when it comes to torture…

William sobered immediately at that. He carefully relaxed himself into a well-known mask of indifference and leaned his right shoulder to the wall next to her cell, directing his eyes from Snyder to the stone clad floor and took a deep breath. He locked all tender feelings somewhere in the back of his mind, so they would not disturb him in his actions that were to come next. His hot temper, too, might ruin the situation further if not controlled.

When he felt himself composed, it was Spike, who finally lifted his eyes and faced her.

His eyes widened just a touch at the sight.

She looked… small. And frightened. And hopeful, while standing tall in the middle of the cell and being… brave. Lord Rayne almost smiled at her demeanor, finding it similar to the one she graced him with the first day he observed her through the bars of her cell. Her chin was lifted just as defiantly, as it was lifted days ago, showing the world a strength residing in her.

But this time, while watching her, William felt curious mixture of feelings inside his chest, telling him that he felt proud of that small and beautiful woman.

And also, very, very afraid for her.

He tried really hard not to show it, since the feeling of fear was not welcomed. Never was. Not on the battlefield while he fought death with steel against steel, and especially not now, facing one of the most difficult situations in his life.

He felt himself frowning slightly despite his effort to keep his features blank. Spike reminded himself again, that he should not show his care about her before these men. So he remained silent and watchful instead, smoothing out the frown.

And by God, he tried to tell her with his eyes not to be foolish herself.

She kept her composure, though he noticed a bit of the uncertainty in her eyes for a second, before that little fault in her armor disappeared again.

William hoped she would drop her act now. These men were not to be shown such blatant defiance if she was to appear innocent. He should know; she was not the only one who tried to stay brave at the face of death. For this is what these men before her brought with them, they would not settle for less if she is found guilty. Her subtle defiance has to go.

His fingers, seemingly relaxed, twitched. With growing anxiety he watched her rebelliously eyeing each of the council with indifference. He saw fear in them though... but they will not.

The Council might think her disrespectful… will think her disrespectful.

He noticed the uncomfortable silence stretching among the gathered holy men. Spike nearly panicked. While he found her strength amusing and, yes, even appealing, she should lose it.

For now at least.

Buffy… lower your eyes… His mind willed her to do it, almost begging her as he listened as the murmurs of the assembled men grew in volume.

But she hadn’t.

Spike closed his eyes for a second, breathing calmly, then turned them as disinterested as he could toward the men crowding in front of the cell to see her. Young lord almost groaned as he saw the ratty man, archpriest Snyder, scowl at her.

Too late.

‘’Such disrespect at the face of Holy men!’’ he shouted to the nods of other grave looking men. His voice was unpleasantly loud and it echoed in the otherwise empty dungeon. ‘’We act as the God’s Hand on earth and you show us such… such… impudence!’’ He was gasping, as if in search for the words he never really lacked of, grasping at his large golden cross that hung at his chest. He even stepped further out of the crowd, to point at the blonde woman, who was watching him, finally, with wide and fearful eyes. ‘’Bow your head, you insolent child!’’ Snyder wheezed out in acted outrage.

For that’s what it was – acted.

Buffy did so immediately, and the ratty archpriest had a satisfied smirk upon his face at her, now submissive, stance. But only for a moment, which did not go unnoticed by the seething William.

While he heard it all before, he had a hard time restraining himself from smacking the man down. He felt the attack on her rather personally, for some reason. The fear he saw in Buffy’s eyes, before she lowered her head as was expected of her, was painful to watch, he could admit that to himself.

The saddest thing was, however, that they have only just begun. Knowing how Snyder, one of the elder Church Council members worked, Miss Summers was in for a hard time.

Very hard time, thought William, as he carefully assessed the number of the Church Council men that were present for the first time. He failed to do so before, feeling too anxious to get it all over with as fast as he could. But he should have done it sooner, for he would then know just what a big of an event this has become in the eyes of The King.

There were twelve of the Church Council members assembled in his dungeon at the moment.
Twelve…

William blinked. What was his Majesty thinking, sending the whole Council to show up like that? No, William was not mistaken. There were twelve members of the Church Council here. In his dungeon. Murmuring displeasingly.

And he just caught several murmured words about ‘the witch’.

William paled. His Majesty the King was very pleased with the whole situation, it might seem, by making this all being such big of an event to send the whole damned Council of bloodthirsty men to judge the poor girl – and already a murderer in all of their eyes, she was.


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And so, she was right in her assessment.
They have condemned her already. As Buffy gazed at the floor with her head bowed still, she felt numb. For a moment she thought it might be shock making its presence known, but when the non-feeling lifted from her body, a weight settled to her limbs.

No, she wouldn’t have fainted because of it. She’d only stay rooted to the spot, too heavy to move. The sins they saw in her had suddenly gained weight and gave clarity to the situation. She felt grounded… not at all faint… but so very much there. Aware of every angry gaze she was meant to feel, every mean whisper meant for her to hear.

She wished she could fall to her knees, close her eyes and hold her hands against her ears to stop it all, like a small child, wishing it was all but a dream, while calling for her mother.

Then the silence spread through the dungeon and she hadn’t got the nerve to lift her gaze once from where she stood to see what was happening. The quietness grew so loud; she was tempted to shout out as to diminish it.

‘’Has her body been purified in pain as of yet?’’

Her head shot up immediately at those calmly spoken words. It was another man who spoke. The one with silver hair and demanding posture whose face held the kind of neutrality others did not. He stood in the middle, his expression mildly curious as he looked her up and down. His robes were unfamiliar to her; the richer embroidery spoke of a higher rank than others still. And what did his words mean?...

‘’I see no marks from where I stand.’’

‘’Indeed, her skin looks to be quite preserved.’’ Another man added from the crowd.

Chills went down her spine when Buffy’s mind offered the possibilities and she looked at lord Rayne fearfully, to seek upon his face the meaning of this horror.

She found no explanations there; however his words soon provided them plenty.

‘’Your Grace, there is an answer to your query, as simple as any,’’ Lord’s deep rumbling voice echoed in silence.

He was near her door, leaning upon the wall, facing her with some sort of hunger in his eyes. The change was so sudden, it unsettled Buffy to no end. ‘’I have not yet had the pleasure of adorning our captive with bruises and scars. Much to your disappointment as it was in mine, I assure you.’’ He added with a smirk toward the gathered clergy.

Low murmurs from the crowd. She hadn’t spared others a simple glance. Only kept looking into his deep blue eyes as soon as he turned to her again…

Lord Rayne then closed his eyes, breaking the connection between them. Bowing his head he let out a long sigh, as if in deep shame for the words he was about to utter. He finally looked at the assembled clergy and addressed them, his voice though still lazy. ‘’You must have heard of the unfortunate fault I have, your excellences.’’ His lips decorated a small smirk which could be read as self-disgust in their eyes. ‘’I am not a patient man.’’

Buffy was confused at this admission and looked at the group of robed men to see what a reaction an unusual admittance as this would provoke.

All she saw was a few frowns. But then again it seemed her captor had not finished speaking.

‘’However,’’ he pushed himself from the wall at her door and straightened himself. ‘’ I still strive to follow my own protocols - my rules in such cases as this, as much as I can. And I have decided not to pursue the usual habit of marking the flesh of this one just yet. I found her too strong-willed and incapable of sharing any truths as of yet.’’

Buffy felt her jaw slacken at this, though she consciously forced her mouth to be closed, trying not to stare at him too disbelievingly. The cold tremors were growing stronger. And his words only kept on coming.

‘’I have decided to break her first. To strip her of her mental defenses and let it weaken her. It shall allow me to exploit later every little dark secret she has now still. You will soon see, gentlemen, how she will sing to a tune provided by my artful skills of... persuasion.’’

He was actually purring these horrifying words… while watching her with that hunger in his eyes that made her wish she hadn’t bothered to eat anything at all in the last few days. She felt sick to her core with fear, even when she reminded herself of his promise.

His act was so very convincing. Wasn’t it? Buffy thought he was completely believable, as she gazed into his icy blue orbs, seeing all the gruesome ways of his… persuasion ... being played out in them.

And so have seen it the clergy, if the solemn nods of approval they gave his way meant anything.

But it was all an act. He’d told her few days back, he would help her. She should trust him. Shouldn’t she?
As she considered this, a thought even worse than before crossed her mind and she felt blood drain from her face. Had he changed his mind? Was an actual act the part when he said he’d help her? When he touched her cheek so very gently and told her she’d be safe? Was he playing with her then? Her gaze shot up to his, only to find him looking elsewhere. Was he avoiding her, knowing he lied?...

She dropped her gaze when this thought hit her, feeling hot prickles of tears gather in her eyes. She quickly swallowed the tightness in her throat down. Or tried to, at the very least.

He needn’t bothered himself with any more torture to lay on her way. She was closer to being defeated than any time before. Betrayal hurt the most. Almost as much as realizing how foolish she had been for trusting anyone. For trusting him. She had nothing else to loose but her life now.

Her arms tightened around her middle, trying to hold her together so she wouldn’t fall apart. She took a deep breath and made herself to look up.

Their gazes collided again.

She almost fell to her knees in relief at what she saw there.

Assurance.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Satisfied by her reaction when she looked up at him, William quickly turned his gaze towards the assembled men to prevent them from turning their shrewish eyes upon her and discover the relief of hers themselves.

‘’Your excellences!’’ he boomed once the silence settled once more. He bowed his head slightly toward archbishops and the one cardinal Travers – the head of Church Council. ‘’Your grace.’’ After the nods were returned, he turned then to her, drank her in. The resolve was clear in his mind and stance. Though, he mused, the bloodthirsty men saw it in different light.

He was not going to let them hurt her. Not anymore and not ever. He had already decided she was for his eyes… and for his bed. Alive and breathing, that is. Breathing fast and sighing with pleasure... Firmly in his mind was the image of her writhing underneath him and him above, as her protector.

She was not guilty; therefore she was to be freed - and made his. It was enough of this madness, Spike thought. The real murderer was out there and to be found yet. And the bars were keeping her away from him and his attentions.

So he caught the eyes of the head of the council. The grey haired man looked at him calmly, like he was in this situation every day.

A little distraction was in order.

‘’I have it in my faith, that you have not seen the treasures I hold,'' Lord laughed loudly. '' Of course, the accused and guilty does not see them as such at all.''

He paused and then pointed at the door farther down the stone carved corridor to his left. ''Gentlemen, please follow me, and see the collection I hold for those deserving of the punishment.’’

As he led them away from Buffy he saw the unmistaken glee and excitement in one of the priest’s eyes at his words. Wesley-Windham Price, he was, if Spike was not mistaken; the youngest of the twelve of the Church Council and their assigned scribe.

Spike’s step faltered momentarily. The interest Wesley showed was quite amusing. Though the man tried to hide his excitement with a cough, Spike could still see his eyes glinting.

The young pup of the man he was, but he was excited to see the weaponry of his? Spike’s bloodthirsty mind could appreciate this, though he found this whole situation tiresome. Any other day he would be glad to show the eager man around.

His hesitation put a damper on Wesley’s enthusiasm. All the other men started murmuring among themselves in anticipation. Spike was of course known for his extensive collection of torture devices and they have never had a chance before to latch their greedy eyes upon them.

His mind gave an eye roll. Then let us give them the show and prolong the inevitable, shall we?


TBC…