Disclaimer: I own
Christian, and Joss Whedon owns everything else. No
infringement intended. Beginnings
She walked
aimlessly, staring at the white pavement her pink
sneakered feet trod on, and lost to her own thoughts.
Normally, she would never risk this degree of
inattention. Living on the Hellmouth made for a nervous
existence, and self-awareness was the key to survival,
most times.
However, it was
late afternoon, the sun was still high in the sky, and
frankly, she just didn't care. "Cordelia! He went
for Cordelia! What do I have to do, strip naked and jump
him?" She shook her head slightly as the bizarre
Lady Godiva like image popped into her head.
"Noooo..I don't think even at my most desperate I'd
go that extreme."
She half smiled,
but it was a sad looking thing, and it never touched the
bleak shadows in her eyes. It was just one of those
things in life that no matter how you looked at it, the
shock of watching was too much to ever forget. She could
see Xander's dark head bending down almost hesitantly,
and Cordelia's slim arms slip up around his neck as she
reached into his kiss.
And it just made
Willow want to hurl.
"Everyone else
is paired off...gee, isn't it nice to be the loser of our
group again." She kicked at an imaginary stone.
"Giles has Ms. Calendar..or maybe it's the other way
around for THOSE two, Angel and Buffy are an item, and
Cordelia has her nails firmly in Xander. Lucky me, no one
gives a hoot about what I do for my nights." Willow
sighed, absently pushing the heavy curtain of red hair
off her face, tossing it back over her shoulder.
The backpack on her
shoulder was heavy with her textbooks, notebooks and
Slayerette assignments that would be this weekends
amusements. It never failed to amaze her just how much
work was always heaped on her, and yet, she'd never dream
of NOT doing it.
Xander and Buffy
blew off homework like it was a piece of lint on their
clothing. Cordelia...Cordelia did her homework, perhaps
she'd influence Xander to do his. Willow frowned at that
thought, no, in retrospect, there wasn't a power in this
universe that could coerce Alexander Harris to do is
homework during the quality "slack off " time
of a weekend.
And with Cordelia
on his arm, 'in his arms', corrected that snide voice in
her head...he wouldn't be even THINKING of homework. No,
he'd be at the Bronze. So would Buffy, with their
respective newly found 'other' halves. So self-absorbed
in their contentment, that the pathetic little hacker
they used was forgotten.
"I could go
missing, and they wouldn't notice 'till Monday mornings
emergency homework session." She muttered, suddenly
looking up and straight ahead.
The trees rustled
in the wind, and the suns rays spotted through openings.
The park she cut across was beautiful, at this time of
day, with winding bike paths, children laughing on the
grassy knolls, and young couples walking slowly, hand in
hand.
It was, to anyone
already depressed, something fit to drive them insane.
Willow frowned, again, and picked up her pace. Forcing
herself to stare straight ahead, she hustled herself
home, and tried to force herself to recite the periodic
table.
Perhaps if she
wasn't musing over the atomic mass of Cesium, debating
whether it was 132.91 or 123.91, she would have noticed
the sidewalk just ahead of her flare into a brilliant
light, and she wouldn't have stepped on it, disappearing
into a portal and landing in darkness.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The
cold cloth on her forehead was a soothing comfort to the
painful throb behind her eyes. The low moan that echoed
through the room as she opened her arms shocked her, as
it came from her throat.
"Slowly."
A husky baritone advised, and a strong arm slipped behind
her shoulder, helping her sit up. "You had quite a
fall, and I'm pretty sure the lump on your head will be
causing some difficulty in thinking and seeing."
His
words, Willow mused, while modern in vocabulary were
spoken with the oddest inflection. Almost as if he were
restraining himself from a strict formality of language.
"Where?" She managed to whisper, still trying
to get her thought processes in order.
He
sighed heavily, "My private hell...and I guess it'll
become yours too." He positioned something soft
behind her shoulders, and helped her lean back against a
solid wall. "We are both prisoners to what you would
term a 'sorcerer'."
"I've
fallen, hit my head, and am now having bizarre AD&D
dreams. Okay." Willow muttered. She cracked her eyes
open, just
a
smidgen, and got a view of her companion. He was
significantly male, alright...but his clothes would have
been banned from her mother's rag-bin any day.
Dark
wavy hair, kept short and cut badly, framed a boyish
face. His forehead was smooth of any wrinkles or marks of
age, as were the planes of his handsome face. A strong
Roman nose, complimented the strong line of his jaw. His
mouth was set as if it tended to prefer smiling than
frowning. However, despite his apparent youth, the
weariness that dulled his grey-black eyes, bespoke of a
visual lie.
"AD&D?"
He asked, honestly confused. "My apologies to say
this, but I'm afraid this is no dream." He rinsed
the scrap of fabric that had comforted her aching head in
cold water, and gently mopped her face with it.
Willow
sighed. Sunnydale was on the Hellmouth, she rationalized.
Anything was possible. "Tell me about this
sorcerer." She murmured, taking the cloth from him,
and pinching the bridge of her nose with it. "How
did I get here? And where is here?"
The
man smiled, "I can answer those, yes. First, though,
my name is Christian, and you are?" He gently picked
up her hand, and raised it to his lips for a very genteel
kiss.
The
contact surprised Willow, his flesh was cool, and his
lips dry on her skin. It niggled a distant memory, but
for the life of her, she couldn't place it. However, the
sheer elegance of such a gesture made her flush. In
general, males never acted so...romantically.
"Willow, my name is Willow."
Christian
smiled, "I remember what willow trees look
like...the name suits you."
Her
smile was instant, and a bright sunshiny reward for his
words. "Thank you." She held out the cloth to
him, which he took and rinsed again, using a small
ceramic bowl of water, and squeezing out the excess drops
with absolute care. 'Almost as if that's the only water
we have...', Willow realized. "You were going to
tell me about this place." She let her arm swing in
a semi-arc, indicating the rough grey stone walls around
them.
To
her eyes, it seemed like a primitive little stone
cottage, but nothing so archaic existed in Sunnydale. She
allowed her forehead to crease as she contemplated the
walls, and then the dirt floor, before she turned her
gaze to the patiently waiting Christian.
He
stood, and walked over to the doorway, peering outside at
a darkened world. "We are on the demesne of Lord
Craith. He was..is a 3rd century sorcerer."
Christian sighed. "At some point, during his natural
lifetime, he made a deal with the Old Ones. By gathering
together diverse peoples, and hunting them down and
sacrificing them in an obscene Wild Hunt he is able to
dedicate their souls to the Old Ones, and buys himself
and extended lifespan."
Willow
stared wide-eyed at Christian. "I must have really
hit my head...this is way weirder than Buffy's
vampires!" She pulled her feet out from under
herself, and off the edge of the cot, touching the floor.
Standing, a wave of dizziness swept over her, but by
closing her eyes, she was able to get control of it.
"'Cause if this is real, then some accident was
made...it's usually Buffy who's caught up in these
things."
"Buffy?"
Christian sounded intensely confused, but very interested
in her abstract mumbles.
Willow
shrugged carefully, and took measured steps to their
nearest window. "Yeah. Buffy's a friend of mine,
she's the Slayer in my generation."
She
rested her arms on the cool stone of the roughly carved
window opening. There was no glass, and the breeze from
outside felt good on her throbbing head. The world beyond
was dark, a red-black haze in the distance might have
been the sun, but the ominous feeling it gave in the
depths of her soul convinced Willow otherwise. "What
is that?" She found the words being whispered, the
note of fear she wanted to control trembling with each
breath.
Christian
walked over, taking a look out the window. "That,
Willow, is Lord Craith's manor house." He was behind
her, and very silent. "The red glow is from the
countless soul's already sacrificed to him."
In
fascination, Willow stared at the ruddy glow. Knowing
what caused the glow left a very sick feeling in the pit
of her stomach. It was the darkest sight she'd ever seen,
to know that a soul could be harvested for such purposes.
"Hunts?"
She whispered. "Is that why I'm here? To be
hunted?"
Christian
placed his hand on her shoulder, ignoring her startled
jump. "That would be Lord Craith's purpose.
Yes." A shudder ripped through the young girl's
body, and Christian gently squeezed her shoulder,
comforting her with body language he had not used in a
long, long time and seemed so very unfamiliar.
In
silence, they stared out into the night world, lost in
their own thoughts. A sharp cry rang out, and the sound
of hooves slapping the ground hard echoed in the
distance. Christian's head snapped
up
and back, he brutally pulled Willow away from the window,
tucking her body behind him and leaned for a look out the
window. He hissed an expletive, and pulled back inside
the room.
Looking
around quickly, his eyes drifted upwards to the roof of
the small building. "Come with me, quickly."
His tone was command, and not waiting her agreement, he
pulled Willow over to a corner of the room. He jumped
high, and pulled a small leather fob jutting out from a
wooden panel. It swung a trapdoor open. He pulled Willow
in front of them, ancient eyes staring into wide-eyed
innocense. "You have to crawl into that space, and
stay very quiet. It's your life if you do not.".
The
urge to question was suppressed by a survival instinct,
and Willow nodded. Christian cupped his hands into a
foothold, and boosted her up to the hole in the ceiling.
"There's a cord up there, pull it up to shut the
door." He called softly.
"What
about you?" Willow was horrified at the thought that
he'd sacrifice himself for her.
Christian
shook his head ruefully, "They won't take me.
There's no point to it." The sounds outside grew
louder, and he spun his back to the door, and moved
towards the center of the room. "Shut it, now!"
Her
body responded instinctively, the door shutting and her
universe plunged into an absolute darkness.
She
listened closely for any sounds, anything that would push
this sense of alienation away. Willow didn't usually
suffer from claustrophobia, but... The air in this tiny
attic was warm, stale, and dusty. Reaching out around
her, she discovered that it wasn't even a full attic. The
entire space was, perhaps, five feet by five feet. The
height was only suitable for sitting, or lying down. It
was a hiding spot, nothing more, nothing less.
'At
least there are no rats!' she thought optimistically,
cringing as she heard a shrill scream from nearby. ' I
just hope it's a GOOD hiding spot...I don't think I want
to meet whatever is outside!'
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Christian
lounged indolently on the cot Willow had awoken on. This
gamble he was taking was huge; but, he was so sick of
this irrational slaughter.
'Slaughter,'
he laughed humorlessly. It showed what an affect Craith
had made on him, that he, Christian Visconti, would feel
so determined to save human lives. From what previous
victims of Craith had imparted, the nobility of Italy had
long since fallen, not that he fit into that category
anymore...but..
His
musing was sudden broken off as Craith's guards swept
into the room, the Dark Lord a step behind.
"Christian," Craith voice was less than a rasp
but more than a hiss. It was the sounds of a serpent
about to strike.
"M'Lord."
Any true genuflection was kept from his voice. A Visconti
bowed before no man, demon or beast. And Craith was less
than all those.
"A
mortal passed into my realm near here. Have you seen
anyone?" Craith's yellow eyes bored into Christian's
head.
Christian
smirked, "Human?" The question was deliberately
posed with a subtle hint of predatory interest.
"My
human, yes." The Hell Lord calmly said. "I
suggest you remember your existence is at my
pleasure."
"I
always remember that." Christian's voice was flat.
"I've seen nothing and no one."
He
never looked away from Craith, even has the guards
prowled about the tiny cottage, tapping on walls and
moving anything large enough for a human to hide in.
Craith
absently stroked his elegantly trim black beard, before
nodding sharply. "Come," he hissed. "We
hunt." He turned, striding out the door, his black
silky cape snapping behind him.
"What
a cliche." Christian muttered. He moved to the
window, watching the guards that lingered behind herding
mortals, human and other, towards the castle, torturing
those that lagged behind as they went.
One
even rode past with an infant, grey and stiff in death,
impaled on his banner staff. The grisly image was too
much for even Christian, and he moved away with a growl.
He waited until long after the unholy parade had passed,
and then scouted around the room for any of Craith's
little surprises. Finding two, he carefully destroyed
them.
The
girl would be nearly hysterical, after so long up there,
he was certain. He pulled a stool over to the corner the
panel was hidden in, and stood on it. Easily tugging town
the carefully blended in latch, the door fell open.
Willow
blinked as light suddenly filled the hole, and
Christian's head was just below. "Is it safe?"
Her voice was subdued.
"As
safe as it gets, here." Christian promised. He
reached out, with both arms, and helped her out and down.
"Your
regional monster...Craith...he was here." Willow bit
her lip, wondering how she could have landed into such a
hellish situation.
"Yes."
The reply was weary.
"I
heard sounds...people screaming...." Her voice
trailed off, a lost
look
in her eyes and expressive face. Her tongue ran over dry
lips as she slowly walked to the window. "Why
weren't you taken?" The confidence she didn't truly
feel, but wished to exude sounded firmly in her strong
question.
Christian
frowned sourly,"I was a...mistake. I only pleasure
Craith with my existence in the torture letting me
survive provides." The man walked to stand behind
her. The crowd was in the distance, but still visible if
you had good eyesight.
Willow
did, and she paled to see what little she could. "Oh
God. I can't stay here." Her hand thumped down onto
the windowsill, "I'm not Buffy, I don't have
supernatural abilities...I can't stop him, or this..or
anything."
"Stop
Craith?" Christian suddenly snorted, "I find it
ironic I should feel this way, but I would love nothing
more to end his unholy existence." The dark haired
man shook his head, muttering darkly to himself. He moved
away from the window and Willow.
Willow
felt a sudden deep chill. She turned slowly, leaning
against the windowed wall behind her. "Why is that
ironic?' How long have you been here?" So many
strange feelings crept up in her heart. The coldness of
his touch, and age of his eyes. His calm acceptance of
the concept of vampires and Slayers, Craith's allowance
of his existence unmolested...
Christian
smiled mirthlessly, "Here? I've been here over a
century. I've survived simply because I have no soul to
take." The feelings shifted within Willow, moving
from eeriness to fear...to horror as his allowed his face
to shift. "I, my dear girl, am a vampire."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Xander
pulled the cellphone away from his ear, staring at the
illuminated buttons as he tried to sort his thoughts out.
A low click, and the green glow disappeared from even
those buttons.
"What
did she say, Xander?" Cordelia didn't look away from
the road, she just navigated on the streets and let
Xander fuss with the phones.
"Huh?
Oh...she said Willow's mom phoned, and needed me to call
her as soon as possible." He frowned at the phone,
listing possible reasons for needing a call. "Maybe
it's for Willow's birthday next week."
Cordelia
threw him a quick glance. "Willow's birthday? Her
seventeenth, right? Would her mother throw her a
party?"
"Not
likely," Xander muttered. Willow had always
celebrated her birthday without a lot of fuss, ever since
grade 3. She had always been a relative loner, too bright
to be in with the popular kids, too quiet to get
somewhere with the smart kids, and too shy to ever shake
those traits. Her friends could always be counted on one
hand, and even those had drifted off as they all grew
older.
"Why
not?" Cordelia didn't see the reasons, she couldn't.
Her life was filled with people.
"Who'd
come." He sighed, feeling like a traitor for saying
words he knew were truth.
The
car slowed to a stop at the red lights.
"Everyone." Cordelia said simply, "And
they'll come with a smile on their face, a song in their
heart, and good quality gifts."
Xander
snorted, but his girlfriend tossed him a
"look". "I can guarantee it..unless they
want to be ostracized for the rest of their natural
existence."
Xander
shook his head. "A pity party?" He rubbed a
hand across his face, "Willow would hate that."
Cordelia
said nothing, but drove on. They maintained the silence
until they pulled into the Bronze's small parking lot.
"It wouldn't be a pity party. At all. I've made my
feelings on the subject oh so clear. Willow's done a lot
for me..."
"Your
science project, you mean." Xander teased, a sly
grin lighting his face.
"What
Ever." Cordelia sniffed, "Anyway, the least I
can do is introduce her to the real world." She
pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Call her mom, and
when her mother says anything, say that some friends
would like to hold a surprise party for her...we can hold
it here..at the Bronze."
Xander
was about to refuse, but the Princess Royale of Sunnydale
High smiled winsomely, "It'll be my present to
her..in lieu of a proper Sweet Sixteen party!" She
tilted her head to the side, slightly and pressed a kiss
to her finger, lightly touching that finger to his cheek.
"Won't that be nice?"
What
could a guy say? Xander picked up the phone again, and
dialed. "Hi, Mrs. Rosenberg..you called
earlier?"
Cordelia
wandered a few feet off, mentally listing decorations
needed, who to invite...and important stuff like what to
wear. Her fashion ruminations were broken off by Xander's
sharp intake of air. Spinning around, she watched the
colour drain out of his face.
"When?"
His voice squeaked. "She didn't call or anything?
No, I haven't seen her since Friday after school."
His body slumped against the hood of Cordelia's car.
"I'll check with Buffy, yeah. If you hear
anything.... Thanks. Yeah, you too."
He
pressed the end button, and then started dialing again
fast.
"Xander,
what's wrong?" Cordelia touched his arm, seeing
bleak despair in his expressive eyes. "Is Willow
okay?"
He
opened his mouth to answer, but the other end of the line
was picked up. "Buffy? Have you seen Willow at
all..since Friday?" Cordelia could hear Buffy's high
voice, but not the words on the other end of the
connection. "She didn't come home on Friday, and her
backpack was found in the park, yesterday morning."
Xander continued. "When did you last see her?"
"In
Biology, Friday afternoon." Buffy replied, signaling
urgently to Angel. The vampire set down the calculus book
he had been poking at, and watched his girlfriend
intently. "Are you sure she's missing?"
"Her
mother called me. They thought, maybe, yesterday she was
with us..but the cops called last night." Xander
felt a warm hand taking his free one.
"Oh
God." Buffy whispered. "Why would anyone grab
Willow?"
"I
can think of a few reasons." The Slayerette replied
grimly, staring at Cordelia's sympathetic face. "Can
Angel find anything out?"
Buffy
frowned, "I don't know..but we'll try. I'll call
Giles and Ms. Calendar too, we'll find her."
Xander
sighed heavily, hearing the click as Buffy hung up the
phone. He pressed end and set the phone down before
pulling Cordelia into a hug. "I hope so, Buffy. I
really do."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Christian
raced through the crowd, shoving and pushing his way
through the demons, Guards and peons that faithfully
served Craith. After seven weeks of successfully evading
his forces, they'd slipt up somehow. Christian still
wasn't sure what had gone wrong, he couldn't identify the
exact moment control had slipped away from them. All he
knew was that if he didn't hurry, Willow would be dead.
Finally,
punching clear of the throng, he had an unhindered view
of Craith, holding Willow off the ground, his hand and
long-talon like black nails wrapped around her throat.
"M'lord!
Don't...I have information that will interest you, about
this mortal." Christian kept any desperation from
his voice, trying to sound as cold and uncaring as he
would have a century ago. His gaze never left Willow's
limp body.
The
demon master flicked his burning gaze on the vampire
standing below and to the right of his raised platform.
"You lied to me, little demon. You said you knew not
where this," Craith shook Willow, "... mortal
was." The dark lord smiled, exposing his carefully
filed teeth in a predator's expression.
"Yes
m'lord, but I think you'll be pleased by my
reasons." Christian held the monster's eyes with all
the confidence he could find from within. The girl, was
not making a sound. Christian wasn't sure if that was bad
or good. Willow was a quiet girl, by nature, and
reticient...but it was hard to imagine anyone in this
situation being so lifeless. She wasn't unconcious as she
limply hung from Craith's grip. Her dark eyes stared
calmly at Craith's face.
True,
Christian reflected, that in the seven weeks struggle to
survive, she had adapted well with his help. The initial
few days had been...difficult. Her gut reaction after
he'd revealed his true self was to get the hell out of
that cottage. And she could move, when she put her mind
to it, Christian remembered. Even with his vampiric
abilities, it had taken twenty minutes to catch up to
her.
It
was too dangerous to be out-of-doors. Craith had minions
all over the place that would be only too willing to
surrender this girl up to their Lord. But, Christian
could see her perspective..she was between a rock and a
hard place. It had taken time, but he'd somehow convinced
her that she was safer with him than Craith.
Whether
she believed him or not...well. That was something he
might never know. Not if he didn't get Craith to let her
go. And strangely enough, it was something he wanted to
know.
"And
what pathetic reasons might those be?" Craith
absently ran the index finger of his free hand down
Willows cheek, and across her chest to her stomach. The
heavy leather top that Christian had fashioned for her to
wear didn't give under those black claws, but a trickle
of blood formed on her cheek.
Willow
never made a sound. She kept her features impassive, and
body steadily limp. The weight of his grip on her throat
was agony, and her lungs were beginning to burn, but she
held on stoically.
"Master,"
Christian feigned the humblest tone he could, lowering
himself to call Craith a term he'd avoided since his
dam's destruction. "If you allow her to live, she
will serve as a connection to her time and space. In her
world, she knows a Slayer." Christian watcher
Willow's eyes widen slightly with pure horror. "A
living Slayer of such strength would make a sacrifice
unparalleled by millions of normal mortals."
Craith
studied Christian for a moment, his eerie gaze shifting
slightly to glance at the girl. The panic and terror now
shining in
her
eyes convinced him of the truth of Christian's words as
nothing else could have. "Indeed," he hissed, a
new smile crossing his saturnine features. "A
Slayer!"
In a
short curt motion, he threw Willow across the room, her
body crashing into a wall, and falling limply to the
ground. It was all Christian could do to NOT run to her.
Craith turned to two of his robed priests. "I want
everything assembled. We shall use this girl to bring a
Slayer to US!"
"My
Lord!" Christian shouted again, scrambling for more
time. This gambit was so dangerous, but if it worked...
"The Slayer lives on the Hellmouth."
Lord
Craith's head shot up, and he spun around to look at the
vampire. At some hidden signal, two guards grabbed
Christian's arms and pulled him to the dark lord.
"Are you sure?" The Lord anxiously hissed.
"Yes
m'lord." Christian kept his face neutral. "The
girl was fool enough to say as such."
Craith
eyes glanced at the girl's prone body, slumped on the
floor, and then flicked back to Christian. The sorcerer
was silent for a pause, his strange yellow eyes caught up
in thought. "Well, then, we shall not bring the
Slayer to us...we shall go to her."
Craith
pinned his burning gaze on his people, and they scurried
off. Squeals of anticipation for the coming slaughter
echoed. The dark lord smiled slightly, his eyes growing
distant again. "A Slayer's soul...I would achieve
near immortality!"
He
jerked his chin to the guards. "Place him in the
kennel."
"MY
LORD!" Christian protested. "But I..."
"Lied
to me." Lord Craith purred. "Yes. However, you
also mitigated your crime with this information, so you
will not die there...but you'll suffer for a few
centuries. Maybe I'll let you out after awhile."
Christian
ached to scream his frustration, but couldn't. Now wasn't
the time. For the sake of his sanity, and Willow's life,
he had to keep it together.
They
had a demon sorcerer to overthrow, after all.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Coldness
was the first sensation Willow became aware of. That and
that it seeped through her entire body. "Am I
dead?" She wondered. The sounds moving around her
seemed to suggest she wasn't.
She
let her eyes open in slits, and felt a wash of terror to
see Craith's priests in their black silk robes walking
around carrying various implements, including one very
large knife. From her vantage point, she could conclude
two things. First, she was lying down on a raised
platform, and second, the reason she was cold had more to
do with her lack of clothing, and the stone beneath her.
"They're
going to sacrifice ME!" She thought in horror.
"OH no..no no no..I am NOT dying at seventeen. I
haven't had my first kiss, or gone to my grad...NO
WAY!" She tried to raise her leg, but discovered it
was shackled down..as were her arms. "This is not
good."
The
room fell silent, suddenly, except for a low hum of
masculine voices. The great doors at the end of Craith's
temple were ritually opened, and a blue robed procession
of twelve hooded figures began. Each carried a long
knife, the blades tip pointed upwards and reflecting the
red flames of the wall-torches.
"I'm
in a bad Conan flick." Willow thought irrationally.
They neared the dais, and she cringed to see all those
knives so close to her unprotected body. As done, they
turned to face the congregation..and the black and silver
robed Lord Craith as he ceremoniously entered, a score of
his most foul guardsmen behind him. Craith was empty
handed. He stopped perhaps ten feet from the dais, and
nodded once to the blue-robes.
As
one, they immolated themselves, swiftly plunging the
knives deeply into the flesh below their breastbones, and
violently slashing downwards. Their intestines, and other
organs contained by the sack their bodies provided spilt
out as they collapsed forward. Their blood, a metallic
smelling ichor, not like that from humans, stained their
blue robes black, and dripped down the rough steps of the
dais.
Craith
grinned widely, spreading his arms wide: "Hear thy
servants petition, oh mine Dread Masters!"
Two
of his priests stepped up to stand behind Willow. The
altar she lay on between them and their Lord. Willow
forced herself to be very still, but her soul shrieked in
absolute terror within. This was the stuff that birthed
madness.
A
gray hand poked out of the robe, a small sickle shaped
boleen in his hand. The rounded blade was black, and
wickedly sharp. As Craith lowered his arms, the priest
reached forward, grabbing a lock of Willow's hair and
neatly slicing it off. He dropped the red lock into a
small bowl, held by the other priest.
The
other priest passed his hand over the bowl's top, and
smoke began to rise as the contents of the bowl caught
fire. Willow wanted to scream, it felt as if her entire
body was on fire...and so caught up was she in her agony,
she failed to notice Craith move to
stand
beside the altar. He held a hand out over her body, palm
up and the priestling placed the knife into his hand.
Craith's
fingers curved around the hilt, and his hand whipped out
in a short arc, slitting the priest's throat and spilling
his warm blood on Willow's body.
A
silent scream ripped through Willow's soul, and a piece
of her mind separated itself to barricade it's awareness
someplace safe, deep within her psyche. The eldritch
bonds that held her down vanished as her body became
bound by a higher force.
Craith
pushed the deceased priest's slumped body of the altar,
and turned his attention to the girl strapped to the
table.
"Ancient
Ones who ruled Before...." He ritually intoned.
"Hear thy servant, thy chosen one... I offer to you,
the blood of my people I gift to you, the blood of my
bride Wed My Darkness to this Light Casting Her World
into My own"
He
touched the knife to her base of her throat, and lightly
drew it down between her breasts. The skin parted from
the slight tear, and wept blood, but he did not kill her.
Picking
up a cloth, he mopped up the blood carefully, and set it
in the bowl that had her incinerated hair. He raised the
boleen again, this time slicing deeply into his own palm,
and dropping blood into it.
"Thus
a bond is made, Great Ones make it bind As I will, So
Mote it Be"
The
entire bowl caught fire, in a huge blue flame, and Craith
quickly carried it to the steps of the dais, and set it
in the pool of blood of his fallen acolytes. He stood
back away as the flame grew, rising higher and spreading
out.
Finally,
after a seeming eternity, it became what Craith had most
desired...a portal to the mortal earth. He signaled his
chosen guards, and they began to move through it. As the
last disappeared into the glowing void, Craith turned to
the surviving priest. "As soon as the portal
closes...kill her." He paused thoughtfully for a
moment, studying Willow's unconscious and bleeding body.
"And then, kill yourself. We don't want any sloppy
power leakages..do we?" Laughing, Craith tore the
robe off his body, and took up the cape his demonic page
held out. Settling the flowing cape about his shoulders,
he tossed the page through the portal, and quickly
followed.
The
Priest watched as the portal grew smaller and smaller,
after his dread lord. Pulling out a knife, he tendered up
a quick prayer to the Old Ones, gently setting the blade
on it's tip above Willow's heart.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Willow's
eyes shot open. The priest above her, with his sharp
knife lightly touching her naked chest flinched from the
violent action, the knife letting up fractionally. She
didn't think, she just reacted, wrapping her hand around
the priest's wrist, and jerking it upright. Adrenaline,
anger and something deeper fueled her arm, and the wrist
in her grip made an audible snap as she broke it.
The
knife fell from limp fingers, as the hooded priest howled
in agony, falling away from the dais, and cradling his
broken hand. In an eloquent motion, Willow slid upright,
her right hand falling easily to rest on the dropped
knife, fingers curling seductively around the handle. She
felt so...distant from her emotions, so unaware of
herself.
She
felt strong.
Licking
her dry lips, Willow slid off the stone altar, unashamed
of her nakedness, unconcerned by the horrid slash running
down her body. Easy, lazily, she smoothly walked towards
the screaming priest. "You've failed." She
observed, in a voice that seemed strange to her ears. It
was uncaring.
"Nooooo!"
The priest howled, backing away from her. He
seemed...frightened, an analytical part of her mind
noted. Of her?
Her
brain was having difficulty communicating with her body,
the body continued it's advance with the knife still held
tightly in her fist. The priest slowly backed into the
cold stone of a wall, cowering. And still, Willow walked
closer, raising the knife as she went.
It
was like...disecting a frog, that corner of her mind
whispered, even as she rammed the knife down into the
black robed body in front of her. 'Just slide the knife
down, parting the epidermal layer...' The instructions
from a typical biology disection class lept to mind with
a vivid clairity
And
Willow Rosenberg put the words to action. The priest fell
to the ground, his blood initially hidden by the darkness
of his robe, dripped down the wall against which he'd
cowered, looking like the inkspot assessment tests Willow
had once scene.
It
looked like a butterfly, with a knife in it's wing. Her
mind suggested absently. Like a knife in it...a
knife....knife.
Willow
jumped, dropping the knife as shudders ripped through
her. "Nooo." She keened, dropping to the ground
shivering hard. Her knees drew up to her chest, arms
wrapping tightly about herself as she fell into shock.
"No, no, noooo...wake up. Wake up. No." Her
had
tilted forward, her bloodsoaked hair concealing her face
as she cried great wracking sobs.
The
entire ritual haunted her again. Craith's horrible
grinning face, as he slit her open.... the burning of her
body as they did whatever it was in the cup. And the feel
of someone's hand wrapping tightly, constrictively around
her soul. She felt...strange.
Another
shudder tore through her, 'I'm cold.' Willow rubbed
bloody hands at her eyes, smearing the blood on her face
obscenely. "I need clothes." Looking around,
studiously avoiding the corpses surrounding her, her eyes
fell on the large dark tapestry hanging on one of the
stone walls.
Tottering
over on unsteady feet, Willow grunted as she stripped the
wall hanging down. It tore after a great deal of effort,
falling heavily to the floor with a curtain of dust. She
coughed, inhaling the stale air, and fanned the dust
away.
Once
again, she picked up the dead priest's knife, slicing the
fabric. The monotonous action of cutting the tapestry
oddly comforted her, and offered an agressive outlet.
Shaping it into a more reasonable size, she wrapped it
about her body like a toga. "I should've been
careful." She muttered. "This wouldn't be
necessary if I hadn't dissected his robe, too."
Looking
back at the slumped corpse on the wall, Willow snarled
silently, allowing rage to replace depression. Rage at
the priest for trying to kill her, rage at Craith for
whatever it was he had done, and fury at Christian for
betraying her.
Willow
made a cord out of some scraps from the wall hanging
tying it about her waist. She hooked the knife into it,
at her side. Moderately satisfied that her attire
maintained her modesty, she daintily stepped over the
reeking corpses littering the dais, careful to ensure
none of their gory remains touched her bare feet.
The
huge doors towered above her. They were ceremonial, and
likely guarded on the outside. Willow frowned lightly,
her brow furrowing as she studied the structure.
"Eh." She shrugged. Raising her hand, she
knocked hard on the metal panels, and then waited.
Sure
enough, the Guards on the other side jerked the door
open, not looking to see who had knocked, just standing
straight and ceremonious. Their heavy metal helmets with
the nosepiece left their eyes barely visible, but Willow
recognized them as the deformed trolls Craith employed.
They
were dumb creatures, they brutalized and killed for sheer
pleasure, but with little intellect. It had been
ridiculously easy to avoid them, they lacked the mental
capabilities to capture her. No. That had been
accomplished by Craith's elite. However, for the
barbarous acts these lackey trolls had
committed...Willow's fingers idly plucked at the knife.
"Thank
you, gentlemen." She said sweetly, sauntering past
them. True to form, their intelligence was severely
lacking. They both lunged at the same time, rather than
use the ornamental pikes they held. Willow danced
backwards, between their crashing forms, the knife now in
her hand. With a savage joy, she moved towards them, arm
moving.
Blood
from their slit throats soaked into the barren earth, and
carrion eaters descended on the first two victims of the
unholy Bride of Craith.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Here,
Chrissy, Chrissy, Chrissy," Willow chanted as she
prowled through Craith's fortress. Her progress was
strangely unimpeded. None of Craith's remaining servants
crossed her; rather, they backed away and ran. It was
mildly disappointing, but Willow coped just fine.
The
fortress resembled the fanciful castles of horror films.
It was dank, dark, musty, and riddled with the most
disgusting decorations. As she worked through the
structure, she more than once wished for some footwear.
However, as yet, she'd found nothing usable. "My own
clothes would be nice..." Willow frowned,
remembering the ragged garments. "Okay, some clean
nice clothes from HOME would be nicer."
The
castle was not making her top tourist attractions list;
but, the vampire was proving to be most elusive, and the
former Slayerette was beginning to feel she was wasting
her time. "I suppose I could just ask," She
mused, thoughtfully tapping a finger to her lips.
"Of course, that means I'd have to find
someone."
She
sighed, glancing down the deserted stone passage.
"Gee, if I were a demon, where would I hang?"
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"The
Kennels, mistress." The creature gurgled piteously.
"I'm
sorry, I'm not familiar with the Kennels... where would
they be?" The redhead asked innocently, absently
studying the small crescent shaped rod she had found. It
had a wonderfully sharp blade, rather reminiscent of the
boleen Craith had used to slice her own body. Her hand
strayed to run down her throat to abdomen in memory. Even
the remembered pain hurt. This little toy in her
hands,
however, didn't slice. It produced a blue crackling
electricity that could be directed to incinerate.
And
Willow was quickly becoming a skilled director. She
easily aimed the wand, and it triggered an explosive leap
of energy at her merest thought, electrocuting the demon.
The creature jerked sporadically, lifted off the ground
by the sheer violence of the shocking energy. "I
want one of these things at home!" She breathed,
coldly pleased.
"Nooooo."
The pathetic creature moaned, and Willow let up with the
wand. "The Kennels be in the dungeons..where the
Hell hounds live...he be with the hounds."
Willow
tilted her head thoughtfully, "Why?"
"Punished.
He be disciplined for hiding the Mistress from the
Master." The demon moaned, his split skin weeping
grey blood. "He be punished for lying."
Willow
thoughtfully gnawed on her lower lip. 'Punished for me?
But he betrayed me...' Her eyes narrowed, and she vividly
recalled his words...
"...she
knows a Slayer"
"...I would love nothing more to end his unholy
existence..."
"Which
is it, Christian? You can't have it both ways." She
hissed, her emotions swung violently, the howling
confusion and pain echoing in her head the only constant.
The wand was raised, and she shot of a deadly burst of
power at the demon, incinerating him, as the rod
reflected her volatile emotions. Tucking the wand into
her makeshift belt, on the other side of her body from
the knife, Willow stepped past the smoking corpse, and
descended further into the castles bowels.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Christian
wiggled his body back further on the small ledge he'd
huddled on for the last two days. The Hell hounds kept
jumping from below, their enhanced demonic nature giving
them supernatural strength in their leaps. The small
ledge was sloped, and if he allowed his awareness to fade
for the smallest moment, he'd slip just within their
snapping jaws reach.
Eventually,
the damn beasts would get their jaws on him. He couldn't
stay awake for fifty years straight..much less than a
hundred or so. "This is just going to be a dreadful
century." He mused, staring down into the dark
depths. The dogs only visible trait in the deep shadows
were their bright red eyes.
"I
wonder how Willow's doing." He straightened his
neck, letting his head rest against the slimey stone
walls. "Probably very badly." A flicker of
regret crossed his face. The plan hadn't fallen out the
way he'd expected. Oh, Craith had taken the bait, and
released Willow. Christian had bought THAT much time, but
he'd never expected Craith to throw him down here.
It
was a little hard to save Willow, if he was trapped in a
pit with some really hungry, ugly dogs. He seriously
liked that girl, too. Willow had demonstrated a wit and
intelligence for conversation that Christian had sorely
missed in the last hundred years. She had a beautiful
smile, expressive eyes, and while appearing fragile,
possessed an indomitable will to live.
Her
instinctive fear of him had been quickly mastered. Oh,
she was always wary, cautious, but never displayed open
fear. The first few weeks had been jumpy, for them both.
Willow had probably slept with one eye open, those first
couple of nights. And Christian hadn't slept much better.
The girl knew a Slayer, knew vampire's
limitations...staking him while he slept wouldn't have
rattled her anymore than being trapped in this hell had.
But..he
hadn't bit her, and she hadn't staked him. In their joint
struggle to survive, she'd treated him almost as a
friend. Not that he needed friends, he reminded himself.
But, it was nice to have someone to talk to...
She
was probably very dead, by now, he groused
self-pityingly. Craith had probably stripped her soul of
her body, and then massacred the corporal form that
remained. Or fed her to his favorite pets. A particularly
grisly image of her tiny body being ripped open by the
clawsome, fanged demons, her entrails all over the
place..and her dead cold eyes, wide open and frozen
forever with the expression of terror. Christian
shuddered.
Surprisingly,
he grieved for the girl. "It wasn't supposed to work
out this way." He snarled, his features shifting.
"We were supposed to BOTH get free of this hell. We
were going to go home."
Below
him, the dogs suddenly started whining. 'Craith?'
Christian wondered. The dog's only ever began cowering
when the master was nearby. Looking up, Christian tried
to see anything or sense anything beyond the rim of his
private prison. He didn't call out, he wouldn't give Lord
Craith that kind of satisfaction. "Hello,
Christian." A sweetly feminine voice purred above
his head. She leaned over, just slightly, so she could
easily see him, her red hair swinging free. She smiled
slightly, to see his eyes go wide, and his features
return to human. "I was wondering where you had run
off to."
"Willow!"
He gaped openly. Blood streaked her face, and the sheet
wrapped about her body clearly showed the beginning of a
open cut down her pale body. Madness shone in her eyes.
"What did he do to you!"
Her
smile went wide, and ingenious. "A little this, a
little that...a bit of black magic, just to round things
out." Her lips pressed together, and she smirked.
Speaking conspiratorially, "HE'S not here, right
now. He's gone to Sunnydale to kill all my friends."
Her tone was cheerful, perky.
She
walked slowly around the perimeter of the pit's opening.
As she moved, Christian tried to study her. She was
acting...oddly. There was a darkness about her, a
sinister shadow hanging over her personality.
"What
did he do?" He asked again. "What did he do to
you?"
She
glanced down again, eyes wide. "He strapped me to
this dreadfully cold altar, sacrificed a lot of his
priests, cut off some of my hair, and then starting
slicing my body a bit." She pouted. "I'm sorry.
Describing it lacks the...delightful intensity of the
experience. You just HAD to be there."
He
would have wept, if he had tears to cry. "I'm sorry.
I didn't want this to happen." This grief, the
sensation of failure was a sign of his weakness. He
hadn't fed in so long, he couldn't shove these feelings
of guilt away.
Her
head cocked in an expression that had been adorable when
she was simply Willow Rosenberg. This blood splattered
version of herself, though, with the vacant expression in
her eyes just made her look insane. "Sorry? For
what. I survived just peachy keen."
Christian
struggled to his feet, his back pressed hard against the
walls of his prison. "You don't even know what he
did to get access to your world, do you? You probably
don't even realize that you're acting totally like
someone else. Someone like Craith."
She
blinked, then scowled. "Am not." Her voice
petulant.
"Get
me out of here, please." He asked in a soft voice,
wishing to cater to her emotional whimseys until he could
figure a way to right this situation.
Her
petulance shifted to a full pout. "You betrayed me.
Why should I get you out of here?" She sat down on
the ground, dangling her blood-splattered bare legs over
the side of the pit.
"I
didn't betray you. I did the only thing I could think of
to let you keep both your soul and your life."
Christian sighed. "And I tried to put us both in a
situation so we could go home."
Willow
looked past him, down to the cowering dogs. "Hi'ya
doggies!" She waved. "I don't understand why
they stuck you here. They seem awfully nice dogs."
"They're
Hell hounds, Willow." Christian said frankly.
"They're quiet and cowering, because they're
scared...of you."
She
blinked, startled. And for a fraction of a second,
Christian saw the real Willow's personality flicker
across her face. And he took hope from that flash.
"Why?"
"Get
me out of here, Willow." He again said, his voice
still soft.
Her
lips pursed, and chin raised haughtily. "Oh,
FINE!" She disappeared from his view, but he could
hear her nearby presence. She was lifting something, by
the sounds of the grunts and the rasp of something heavy
being dragged. It took Willow perhaps ten minutes, but
she eventually came back into his line of sight, walking
backwards and doing this careful dance. One to pull
whatever it was she was dragging at the same time as she
kept that toga on. Christian smirked to watch the fabric
slip, and Willow grab at it quickly.
She
moved again, tipping something over the edge and down. 'A
ladder.' He realized, as she pushed enough of it over to
make it's shape discernable. It clattered as she let it
fall, it's bottom nearly hitting one of the dogs.
"Uh..Willow...could
you maybe push that closer to me?" Christian called
up, not really wanting to risk jumping within the range
of the hounds.
"Men!"
The exasperation in her voice spoke volumes, but she did
swing the ladder's top so that it clattered to the other
side of the pit's enclosure. "I suggest you hurry,
before I change my mind."
Christian
didn't hesitate. He grabbed the nearest ring, and began
moving. The dogs below still lay docile, the near
presence of a Master staying their normal ferocity. Close
enough to the top to leap, Christian vaulted from the
ladder, and pulled the unit from the pit. Hell hounds
were intelligent, they could figure out a method to use a
ladder to escape.
Easily
tossing it across the dungeon, he turned to face Willow.
He took a firm hold of her arm, and pulled her closer.
"Let's go." He turned, leading her from the
dungeon, ignoring her protests and attempts to pull away.
"The library should have the answers we need, and I
need to find something...nourishing."
"You
mean blood." Willow said without much interest. Her
attention was focused on keeping her toga on, while
practically
running
to keep up with Christian's pace. "Why should I even
trust that I'm not going to be that meal."
Christen
stopped dead, pulling her in front of him.
"Listen." He nearly snarled. "I'm not a
saint, I have no desire to be a good guy, really, but I
didn't go to all the trouble to keep you alive over the
past two months for a single gourmet meal." He
tilted her chin up so he could make her stare into his
eyes. "And besides...you're blood wouldn't be
nourishing. It's too riddled with Craith's magick to be
human."
Willow's
eyes went wide, his words piercing the madness. She
gasped, paled, and then flushed. Then her arm moved. Her
elbow whipped back, and the entire arm swung forward
slugging him with a force that was astonishing. He
literally fell back and away from her, landing on his
backside.
"I'm
HUMAN!" She shouted, tears streaming down her face.
"I'm nothing like you, or Craith, or..or..anything
else in this Godforsaken hole! I'm just a human
girl!" Her knees gave out as sobs began to wrack her
body. "I just want to be human."
Christian
crawled closer, hesitantly reaching out with a hand to
touch a shoulder. When she didn't push him away, he
pulled her closer, letting her take what comfort he could
offer. "I'm sorry." He murmured. "I
shouldn't have said it like that. You aren't inhuman, but
we have to find out just what his spell did to you."
He rocked her, as his mother used to rock him when he was
younger, all those centuries ago. It was funny, after
five hundred years of being a blood-sucking monster of
mythic proportions, a hundred or so years of being
Craith's guest had awoken that human part of him again.
Her
cries were easing, but her body still shook, as shock
overwhelmed her now. Tucking the woven fabric that
covered her body tight about her, he lifted her up. He
carried her, offering soft sounds of comfort all the way,
and silently promising her the safe return of her fully
human soul.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The
library was perhaps the cleanest room in the entire
citadel. It was kept meticulously organized, dust free,
and well lit. It also was a room banned to the bulk of
Craith's people, his private journals, and texts that
could provide clues to his undoing were stored here. If
Craith had one good quality, it was that he didn't
advocate book burning.
Christian
checked on Willow for the umpteenth time, but she was
still curled up like a cat in the most comfortable chair
he had been able to find, a large tome cradled in her
lap. "Any luck?" He called.
Her
head bobbed up, dirty locks of hair falling across her
face. "Yes." She whispered, her voice a sad
sound. "You were right. I am being influenced by
Craith."
Christian
frowned, he jerked a chair from the nearest table and
dragged it over to her. "What did it say?" He
held his hands out for the book, and gently took it from
her hands. The leather bound volume was handwritten, and
flipping to the inside cover, Christian quickly realized
that it was one of Craith's journals.
Willow
leaned forward, her finger sliding from the top of the
page down to near the bottom and pointing at a paragraph.
"There." She pulled her finger away, and
slumped back in the chair, a sad worried expression in
her eyes.
Christian
read in silence, his expression darkening with each line
read. Occasionally, he stopped, looking up to Willow for
further confirmation. The sorrow in her face was all the
answer he needed. "Did he...?"
Willow
chewed on her lower lip, before shaking her head. "I
don't think so...I would have known.....wouldn't I?"
She seemed to curl up even tighter, more into herself at
the thought.
Christen
reached out to tuck a stray lock of soiled hair behind
her ear. "You definitely would have known." He
took one pale hand, and squeezed gently. "But that
just means he didn't bind you to the spell. He planned to
kill you, so didn't bother to bind you."
Willow
shook her head, missing his point. "So...that means
what? That this attitude problem of mine will fade?"
Christian
gave a short bark of a laugh. "Not quite. You're
attitude earlier is just a form of shock, you'll recover
from that. Craith's influence, though...that's not
something you can recover from.. But it can be undone.
The spell was one sorcerers used to marry a sorcerer to a
person they wanted to control. But, by not forcing a
consummation of that type of wedding, he left you
unchecked."
Willow's
expression darkened as Christian compared Craith's
sorcery to a wedding. "I want a divorce."
Christian
openly laughed. "I think, given the situation, we
could do one better and get you an annulment." He
paused, closing the book. "He had to use a spell
like that, to get access for a permanent portal to your
time and space. It made your soul part of his, and
vice-versa. You have control over his realm, by not being
so
convenient
and dying like he wanted; and he has access to
yours."
Willow
swung her feet off the chair. "Then we need to get
to my time and space now. I don't even want to think of
what he'll do to my friends."
Christian
pushed his chair back, as she stood. Still sitting, he
looked up to watch her pace. "We can't leave
immediately. He used a blood-ritual to force a portal
open. We have to wait for an alignment...unless you want
to reenact that ritual."
The
horror on her features answered that for him. "How
long?" She whispered.
"I'm
not the best at this," Christian warned. "I'm a
vampire, not a sorcerer, but I figure by the calculations
left on his desk, another eight days or so."
Her
dark eyes were huge, "They could be all dead by
then!" The colour in her lips seemed to suddenly
drain away.
Christian
lunged forward, taking a hold of her two arms, afraid she
was slipping back into shock. "No. They won't, they
can't. The spell is keyed to you, it would place you back
in a time relative to when you disappeared. At the most,
within three days. Perhaps less."
She
still didn't look happy, but the panic faded nonetheless.
"Okay. So...how do we get this portal open."
She moved closer to Craith's desk. "And is there
anything here that could help us figure a way to destroy
him?"
Christian
smiled. "That's my girl." He set the journal
down on the table, and tucked the chair back in. "We
have time, though. I'd still like to see about getting
some dinner? And maybe a bath?"
Her
expression suddenly changed with those last words,
shifting to rapturous adoration. "Oh..a bath."
Her eyes became dreamy, and distant. "Yeah..let's
kill Craith later....I want a bath, now."
Christian
laughed "Hey, the Master's away...you're in
charge..Craith's got to have a bath in this joint
somewhere."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Five
days later, they were down to less than seventy-two hours
to the optimum alignment. It had taken a few days to
narrow down their window to the exact hour, but finally,
they had it. And it was a confirmed alignment, the
information coming from one of Craith's precious little
seers, after they had rather nastily convinced him to
read the necessary signs.
Willow
had virtually spent the entire week in the library,
tearing through each book to get all the information she
could. Her constant muttered wishes for a computer aside,
she was taking enough notes to write a book on her own.
Her
temperament seemed to be consistent, Christian was
pleased to note. She didn't sink into Craith's darkness
easily, her own bright spirit fighting it at every turn.
Once she'd had some food, a bath and clean clothing,
she'd cheered up immeasurably. That helped, he reasoned,
since when she discovered how she was going to free
herself from Craith, she might very well freak.
Wandering
lazily into the library, Christian shook his head to see
her reading by such scant light. "You're going to
ruin your eyes." He came to stand behind her,
watching her scratch more notes out.
"Uh
huh." She kept right on writing, probably never
having actually registered his words. Her restored
confidence in his intentions had been a gradual process,
but they seemed to be able to work together, again, after
successfully re-testing one another's boundaries.
Christian
leaned down behind her, hovering right over her exposed
neck. The only clothing that they had found to fit her
had been some rather exotic black gowns, that still had
required altering for her tiny body. They were low-cut,
in Willow's terms, and left her arms and neck bare.
Christian was of the opinion that they suited her
wonderfully. What else did you expect from a vampire,
though.
Leaning
close, he sucked in air, and blew it on her neck,
snickering as she jumped. "You didn't hear me, did
you?" He let his fingers tug a lock of hair that
strayed down from the casual updo style. She'd nearly
caught her hair on fire from the candles during one of
her earlier study sessions, and the hastily erected updo
was just a preventive measure.
Willow
set the pen down, twisting in the chair to look at him.
"No." She sighed. "I was a little
preoccupied. What do you want?"
Christian
mocked being hurt. "Want? Me?"
Her
eyes drifted to a lazy narrowed expression. "Yes,
you!"
Christian
smiled, a sudden expression, and one she still wasn't
quite used to. Their first few weeks of acquaintance
hadn't exactly been full of smiles. And this past
week...had been interesting, to say the least.
"I
was just wondering if you'd found anything." He
feigned casual interest, wanting to gage her mood before
he raised the subject of the "divorce." Her
innocense shone through, and she wasn't likely to go for
this solution with much enthusiasm.
His
own reaction to the entire situation was mildly
disturbing. He was a vampire, a demon in his own right.
He LIKED being a
vampire,
he enjoyed the hunt, delighted in the taking of prey..the
heated warmth of blood from the source absolute nectar to
him and his kind. So why didn't he want to hurt her? Why
would he want to help her like this, so eagerly,
so...enthusiastically.
Christian
shoved those thoughts far, far away. He didn't want to
deal with them. Willow was the first honest companionship
he'd known in over a century, and that was why he was so
sensitive to her. That was all.
The
object of his mental confusion pushed her chair back and
away from the table. "Nothing good." She sighed
ruefully. Standing, the black silk draping off her body,
she stretched and wandered to the stain glass windows at
the back of the room. "I did find some material that
will interest Buffy's Watcher...but nothing that helps
us." She bent slightly, peering outside a clear
crackled pane. "Does the sun ever show up in this
place?"
Christian
frowned, remembering a much earlier thought. He fished a
chain out from under his tunic, and over his head. His
hand cupped two small rings hanging off that ring with
reverence, softly touching the tiny circles. It had taken
a lot to protect these two objects, they held some rather
cherished memories. "No. It doesn't." He
stepped up behind her, unclasping the chain and sliding
the rings off. "Here, you might need this when we
get back."
Willow
turned around, her back to the window and looked at his
moving fingers. "Need what? Why?"
Christian
reached for one of her hands, which she blindly gave. He
slid one of the two rings onto her forefinger.
"This. It'll...keep the sun from harming you."
Her
face paled, as the implications of those simple words
sunk in. "Harm me? Why? I'm..."
Christian
sighed, slipping his own ring back on. He hadn't needed
that ring in a long time, but he would very, very soon.
His master had owned them, the origins of the two rings
and their enchanted stones a mystery even to that clever
vampire. "No, you're right. You aren't a vampire,
and the sun shouldn't hurt you like it would me." He
reached for her chin, tilting it up. "BUT," he
stressed. "You've been deprived sunlight for over
seven weeks. A sudden change back into sunlight, with
your heightened senses would be painful."
Willow's
mouth formed a silent "Oh". Her gaze dropped to
her left hand, and she studied the tiny golden ring with
it's large garnet stone. A rune was carved beneath the
stone, likely on the mounting. "Where did you get
this?"
Christian
shrugged, placing the barren chain back around his neck.
"The vampire that brought me over gave me mine, and
when she was destroyed, I managed to obtain hers."
Willow
again formed an "Oh.", but this time had sound
behind it. She studied the ring some more, moving back to
the table. 'It's kind of like a medieval engagement
ring,' She mentally laughed, before her memory reminded
her of her situation. "Oh God." She murmured.
"I nearly forgot..."
"About
Craith's bond to you." Christian guessed. He had
watched her study that ring, recognized the flickering
emotions of bemusement, and then fear.
"Yeah."
Willow whispered, staring at some point in the distance.
"There's got to be a way to break it."
If
he had air in his lungs to sigh with, Christian would
have heaved a long sigh. Setting his jaw, and wondering
if his last meal was enough to keep his control steady,
he walked closer. "There is."
Willow's
body went rigid as he stood so close as to be bodily
touching her. Her shoulder's straightened apprehensively.
"How?"
Christian
drew a finger down her neck, and back up, enjoying the
feel of such silky skin. "This way," He
murmured, just before his mouth dropped to touch the
flesh below her earlobe, and moved downwards.
Willow
gasped, surprised. Her common sense said run, but another
instinct said stay. Christian's arm slipped around her
waist, pulling her tightly against him. His touch became
very...sensual, as he let his palm move over the silk in
a small easy circle, and he pressed his hips tightly up
against her buttocks.
"It
doesn't have to be a bad experience," he assured her
between kisses. "Just let yourself move with
it." His mouth strayed to her bare shoulder.
The
slow rocking movements of his body, as he tried to let
his touch physically reassure her, pleasure her, excite
her reminded Willow intensely of Buffy's dance with
Xander. Had Buffy felt this growing tension, the
incredible melting of resistence? How had Xander been
able to remain standing? A low groan tore from her throat
as her common sense surrendered up to Christian's
ministrations.
He
had lied, it wasn't an annulment he was getting her. This
would be grounds for divorce.
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