And What Alice Found There: Chapter 4
Buffy came to slowly, doing her best to hide in the soothing darkness away from the pain as long as she was able. Her head was pounding and her thigh ached. Must’ve been a tough night of Slayage. It was like the bad old days, when she fought hard every night and counted her bruises in the morning. She didn’t miss those days.
Forcing her eyes open, Buffy found herself staring at a cracked concrete ceiling. She was unable to move her arms or legs. She turned her head to see thick chains wrapped around her wrists and ankles. What the hell?
She struggled to pull the cobwebs away from her memories. Sunnydale… the sewers… Angel being affected by bleach and garlic… the arrows... Panic burned the cobwebs away. “Angel!”
“I’m afraid your boyfriend is so much dust.”
Swiveling her head, Buffy found the source of the voice. “Ethan?”
“At your service. Well…” Ethan laughed. “Not really.”
“You’re like that bad penny I’ve heard about.” She glared at him. “Let me up!”
“My dear, I’d think you’d know by now, we’re not on the same side.”
“The same side?” Buffy jerked at the chains holding her arms outstretched. She grunted with the effort, but couldn’t move. “We’re not even on the same planet anymore.”
Ethan leaned over her, smirking. “Struggle if you like, but I can assure you, they’re quite able to hold you. I haven’t gone to all these preparations to let you spoil them.”
He was right, the chains hadn’t moved one bit. Buffy relaxed, saving her strength. The one hope she had was that Ethan hadn’t been able to take out everyone and that eventually someone would be coming to rescue her. “So, what are all these preparations for?” Stall now, kick ass later.
“Ah, this is the part of the game where I waste valuable time telling you my plans, giving you either the opportunity to miraculously escape or for your friends to come galloping to your rescue.” He hooked his fingers into the collar of her shirt. “Luckily, for once I have the time.”
Before she could come back with a snarky comment, Ethan ripped her shirt open. Shocked, Buffy watched as he took a knife and began slitting the legs of her jeans.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart – “ He cut the material free, leaving her in an abbreviated pair of jean shorts. “I’m not going to rape you. I prefer my women a bit more… luscious, shall we say?”
“I prefer my men a bit more human, shall we say?” Relief flooded her. Death was something she’d faced often enough not to bat an eye over it, but rape was something she’d only faced once before and the memory still haunted her.
“Funny you should say that, considering your recent choices. Vampire, enhanced human, vampire, immortal sorcerer – correct me if I’m wrong.”
“Every one of them more human than you.” Buffy twisted her head to follow Ethan as he stepped away from her. She couldn’t see what he was doing, but she could hear the soft scrape of metal.
When he turned, Buffy saw that he held a ritual athame. Swallowing hard, she forced her tone to stay light. “You were going to tell me your big plans.”
“I will, dear, not to worry, there’s plenty of time.” Smiling, Ethan surveyed her tanned body, looking for the best place to start.
Buffy held her breath as the dagger descended. There was no pain as Ethan slid the tip along her stomach. It was sharp enough that it would take her body a few moments to realize what had happened.
“You see, my dear Chosen One, there’s a book about you. Very cryptic, of course, and damned annoying.” Blood was welling up out of the pattern he’d carved into her stomach. He moved on to her thigh. “It’s actually very boring, unless you know its secret.”
Pain was beginning to radiate from the cuts, making her suck in her breath. Whatever he was doing, it felt like a million paper cuts. “Let me guess – there’s something about – my blood?”
“Hardly surprising.” Satisfied with his work on her right thigh, Ethan moved around the table Buffy was chained to and surveyed her left thigh. “This is going to have to go.”
“What?” Too late, she realized he was referring to the arrow that was still protruding form her thigh. “No!”
Her shriek of pain echoed through the room as he jerked the arrow out of her leg. Fresh blood ran from the wound to fill the indentations carved into the table.
“Much better. Goodness, this is hard work.” Ethan pulled off his jacket and tossed it to the floor. “And my father always said I’d never do a single day’s honest labor.”
Tears trickled down her face. The pain from her leg was so intense that her vision had greyed out to a small tunnel of light. Desperately, she blinked, trying to force the tunnel to widen.
“Why – “ Buffy choked around the dryness of her throat. “Why don’t you just slit my throat and get it over with?”
“That would be easier.” A smile quirked Ethan’s lips. “But you know how these things are done. Every prophecy has its own rules.”
Raising her head up as much as possible, Buffy surveyed her body. Weird patterns were oozing blood from her belly and thighs. She couldn’t help flinching as Ethan brought the tip of the athame to rest on her upper arm.
“Ritual dagger, ritual symbols.” The ceremonial dagger sliced through her skin. “Ritual bloodletting.”
“Ritual asshole.” She hissed through her teeth.
Chuckling, he moved around the table to start on her other arm. “Ritual banter.”
Buffy allowed herself to scream mentally at the pain crawling over her body. The cuts were long and shallow, just enough to let her bleed out slowly and suffer as much as possible. Outwardly, she did her best to remain calm.
She’d never been tortured. Beaten and tormented, but never actually tortured. Until now it was something she’d thought she could handle. Now that it was happening to her, she wasn’t so sure.
To distract herself from the pain, Buffy looked around the room. Thick, black candles were set up at regular intervals, the table next to her held an open book, some items she recognized only vaguely as herbs, and could be oregano for all she knew, and a large ebony box.
The box probably held what was left of Jasmine. “What are you going to do with those? You’re not going to dump them on me, are you?”
“Of course not.” A disgusted look crossed his face. “At any rate, it would probably cause your blood to clot. We can’t have that now, can we?”
“Perish the thought.” She shuddered, involuntarily causing a fresh wave of pain to wash over her body.
“Actually, they have no use at all, except perhaps as a paperweight.”
“They why did you take them?” Not that she cared, but it was one more thing to use to stall for time. “There had to be stuff that was more valuable.”
“I’m certain there was, but when I’m finished here, I’ll have all the riches I can imagine. And it may be a cliché, but I can imagine so very much.” Ethan chuckled. “No, it was only to confuse Ripper and to throw him off the trail. A red herring, as it were.”
“A red – “ Buffy closed her eyes. Why did all this prophecy crap have to seem so logical once they had all the pieces? And where was everyone? She was tired of bantering with Ethan and tired of the pain. “So – tell me, what’s all this fun for?”
“Are you enjoying this? Here I thought you weren’t the type.” Ethan blew across the cuts on her stomach, causing her skin to ripple with goose bumps. A cry came from her, and he smiled sadistically. “Then I’m sure you’ll really enjoy the rest of the evening’s entertainment.”
Where was the damn cavalry? Buffy bit the inside of her lip to hold back the screams that wanted to come out. She was not giving this bastard the satisfaction of knowing how badly he was hurting her.
Three other groups were on their way in; Ethan couldn’t have stopped all of them. She could only stall for so long. Although the cuts were shallow, they were bleeding steadily, and Buffy could feel herself weakening. Minute by minute, her life was leaking away.
“What – what did the book say?” She opened her eyes again, searching for something to focus on. Was it darker than it had been before? “I didn’t even know I had a book.”
“It’s fairly boring, actually. All about the Chosen One and her battle with the Master and the End of Days – part of the reason these books are written so cryptically is to hide just how boring they are.”
The End of Days? According to Giles that battle hadn’t occurred yet. A spark of hope warmed her. Maybe she’d live through this after all. She was also offended that Ethan thought her life was boring. As a Slayer she kicked ass – literally. “If it’s so boring, why did you take it?”
“Like all good books – it has its secrets.” Ethan checked the flow of blood along the canals carved into the table. It was moving slowly and steadily to the hole drilled through the wood between Buffy’s feet. Slow enough to fill the pattern he’d drawn over the seal to the Hellmouth, but not slow enough to clot.
“I found a rather interesting journal a few years ago, which I had time to ponder during my incarceration with the Initiative.” He smiled as he walked back to the head of the table. “I’d tell you all about my experience with that charming military group, but I don’t believe you’ll be alive that long.”
“Don’t write me off yet.”
“Is that a pun?” Brushing her hair back from her forehead, Ethan pondered where to start the final symbol. “Book – write? Surely you can do better than that?”
Oh my God… He was going to cut her face. The other cuts hadn’t been half this frightening. Maybe it was vanity, but she was terrified of what he was going to do to her face. A small plea escaped her as the dagger descended into her vision. “No…”
Gripping her chin with his free hand, Ethan began carving the final symbol into her forehead. “Back in the day when America was still the ‘New World’, a Watcher wrote about dreams he’d had after visiting the Spanish colony of California – I believe it was New Spain then – not that it matters.”
“History – “ She forced down the urge to beg as blood ran down her face. “History was never – my subject anyway.”
“His dreams were considered nothing more than insanity brought about by his Slayer’s death.” Ethan gave a snort of disgust to show his opinion of the Council. “They dutifully filed his journals away after he killed himself, but never gave them the seriousness they deserved.”
Blood trickled into her eyes, forcing her to close them. No one was coming. Whatever traps Ethan had set up had obviously been successful. No one was left to save her. Dawn – Angel – her heart ached and she hoped that this time they’d be in heaven with her. Please, God, Angel’s been good!
He smiled as he checked the progress of the spell. Buffy’s blood was dripping down onto the pattern he’d drawn over the heart of the Hellmouth and flowing along the lines as if powered by an unseen current.
As the pattern was completed, it began to glow, the blood expanding and rising up as if it was held inside invisible tubing. Ethan resisted the urge to touch it. No doubt he’d disrupt the building power of the spell, causing it to fail – and most likely kill himself.
Straightening, he walked back to where he had the book open. “Where was I? Ah yes, the dreams. It seems that what he dreamed about were prophecies hidden within the book of Vanikov.”
“Great… I need more prophecies…” She was feeling drowsy, and Ethan’s voice seemed to be coming from far away. “Prophecy girl… that’s me.”
“Folding the pages in a certain way revealed how to unseal the Hellmouth forever.”
“It’ll kill you...”
“On the contrary.” He turned back to her. “With the Hellmouth open, the old ones will be able to return, and I’ll be rewarded for my service.”
“The…” It was hard for her to focus on the conversation, and she wondered why she even bothered continuing to struggle. “Vamps… Ubervamps…”
“I’m not concerned with them. I believe a friend will take care of them.”
Buffy huffed out a weak laugh. “Like you… have any…”
“I’d be angry, but you’re right.” He leaned over her, knowing she was blinded. “Friends always let you down, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.”
They hadn’t let her down, he’d killed them. Buffy wanted to protest, but she was so tired. Giving up, she let the dark claim her.