Chapter Two
It felt like seconds before a hard hand raked itself across her cheek. It wasn't exactly the best way to wake someone up who had been knocked out. She rolled on her side, only to be met in the face with a boot. Why, hello there Buffyface, I'm Big Boot. Please, let me crush you. And Big Boot did just that: crush Buffyface. Buffy pulled out from under the boot. Her cheek screamed with agony as she ripped herself away, the rubber sliding across its already sensitive exterior. She winced and looked up, only to be met with the face of a savage beast.
"Hello, dear," The Master chided, a smirk playing on his face. He squatted next to her, looking her straight in the eye. "Now, why don't you tell me how you got out of here? I don't want to have to hurt you." He thought for a moment. "No, that would be a lie. I do want to hurt you. I would like to hurt you very much. Note: I am using restraint."
"G-get out of here? What do you mean?" Buffy asked, clutching her cheek. Even with healing powers, it would take a good long four minutes for the burn to go away. She looked around her surroundings. Nothing. It was as if she was in a void. A cot in the corner, piled with fresh blankets, a toilet, a few crates that held a change of clothes. That was it. "What is this place?" She wondered aloud. She met the Master's gaze.
"Why, my dear, it's your home." He stroked her face with one of his taloned fingers. He added a bit of pressure as he slid down her jaw line. The blonde craned her neck, stressing her muscles. "Now, now, no need to tense. I'm not going to kill you. I just want to know…" He added a bit of strain to his voice. "… How you escaped."
"I-I didn't. I woke up in a bed. I thought I was back in…"
"You woke up in another bed? Impossible. You are in the maximum security ward," he paused. "Someone let you out. Didn't they?" He grabbed at her arm, and pulled her to her feet as if she was a doll. "Who, my child, who let you out?" He shook her hard, causing her head to rattle. Her mouth was agape. She couldn't say anything. "Heads will roll. For this, no meals today. I know what hunger does to Slayers." He smiled at her, baring his fangs. "Sweet dreams, dear." He shut her door.
"What did I do?" Buffy blinked back tears. She hadn't moved since the Master had left. She didn't know what to do. What had happened? She tried to recollect her thoughts.
She went off to kill the Master and… that was it. It was the Spring Fling, Giles told Angel that she was going to die, Ms. Calendar said the world the ending, her mother had given her a nice dress; she quit, and came back to Slaying. Then everything went blank. She remembered talking to the Master and then… nothing. She woke up in that bed, went to go pee, and woke up to the Master's face. She obviously wasn't dead. But what happened? How did she get from Point A to Point Hell? Her head hurt. Probably from hitting it on the tab and being crushed under Ugly-Face's boot. What an ass.
"Willow… Giles… Xander… Angel! … Mom…" They were all going to die if she didn't get out. The Master was going to win. She got up and ran to the door, pounding on it. "Let me out! You have to let me out! Please!"
No one answered. She tried to break the door down. It wouldn't budge.
She sat down again, huddled against the wall. She brought her legs up to her chest and clutched them, crying into her knees. It wasn't supposed to be like this. She was supposed to normal again after she left L.A. Everything was supposed to be better now. Why was it ending up just like everything else? Because she was the Slayer? She didn't want it anymore! She never did! It took everything away from her. Her reputation, her family, her home, her school, her friends, Pike… everything. What did she do to deserve this? To have this curse laid about her. She was a good person! She always had been, a bit empty headed before, but she was a good person. Life hated her. Plain and simple. She was destined to live alone, and be a cat lady. Great, just like great Aunt Eileen, she thought as she leaned her head against the wall.
She looked up when she heard her door opening. The Master entered. "Chain her," he clipped to his vamp-servants. He looked over at Buffy. "Now, no funny business young lady." Two male vampires entered the chambers, carrying long, thick shackles. They were quickly clamped on her wrists. Buffy tested their weight and looked back up at the Master.
"Why are you doing this? Why can't you just kill me? It would be easier for you…" tears were piling down her face, dropping onto her nightgown. "Please… please…" Begging. This wasn't her. Who taught her to beg? Don't beg for anything, not even your life. Or death. Did people actually beg for their death? Maybe those who were suicidal, or have some terminal illness.
The Master stared at her. She could see him even though her head was down. It wasn't pity on his face, of course it wasn't pity. It was confusion. The vampire quickly skewed his face up again. "Another would rise, my dear," his voice was hallow. More hallow than that it normally was. He noticed that she knew, and quickly changed his tone. "I just want to break you, Buffy." He stroked her face, almost tenderly.
"Break me?"
The Master smiled as stood up straight. "Bring them in." Five vampire lackeys entered, in each of their clutches were five shadowed figures. It took Buffy only a moment to see who they were. Her eyes scanned along them lingering on each one. Her mother, Giles, Xander, and Willow. "Say what you will." The first vampire pushed Joyce forward. She was a mess. Her hair was ragged and matted, dirty was how Buffy would describe her mother's appearance. She noted that her mother's hair had thinned extensively. Joyce kept her head high. She looked straight at the Master.
"You monster. Killing a mother in front of her daughter. Coward." The woman was choking on her tears. Buffy looked at her mother, watching her tears streak down her face. The Master grinned. His teeth were just as filthy as she remembered. Why couldn't vampires just brush their fangs? Sure, the whole without reflection, but that just didn't excuse poor hygiene!
"I am a monster aren't I?"
Joyce looked at her daughter for the first time. Her eyes were different. They weren't the cheerful, pleasant, round orbs they used to me. Gray, and dead. Just like the walls. Just like everything in building. Gray and dead. "Kill this bastard, Buffy. Kill him." Her throat was promptly ripped out. Buffy crumpled onto herself, clutching at her head and body. She couldn't think, couldn't breathe. Her heart stopped. Her mother was dead. Killed, right in front of her. Why hadn't the anger surged? It was suppose to surge! It was just pain inside. Dripping down her body like cold water. Filling in the holes and gaps. Giles' voice broke through her sobs.
"I-I understand why you did what you did, Buffy. I wanted to apologize f-for pushing you so hard. You were everything and more what I wanted in for a Slayer." Giles wasn't any better than Joyce. He was a broken man. Buffy could see that. He had given up. He had given up on his Slayer.
"Giles… no… I'm sorry I—I" Buffy never finished. She couldn't talk to Giles anymore. He was all over the floor.
"Stay alive, Buffy. Take him down." Xander's voice filled her head. The Slayer raised her head. She couldn't not look; she had to see him one last time. His voice became almost a whisper. "I understand why you didn't want to dance." He didn't scream as the vampire dug into him. Buffy looked over at Willow. She looked so small. Her head was down, as if she was looking at her feet. Her red hair fashioned a dirty curtain in front of her face. Buffy tried to reach out for her.
"Oh… god, Willow. God willow. I'm sorry… I'm so sorry."
Willow didn't look up. Her voice had no emotion. "I know."
Dead. All dead. Their bodies lay before her. Their deaths were her fault. She knew it, it had to be her fault. She didn't even try break free. She failed. Te Master looked down t her, cocking his head. He smiled and stroked her head. "Sleep, child. When you wake, everything will be different." She tried to keep her eyes open. Begging didn't work on eyelids. They promptly shut and didn't open, as if they were locked shut. Her brain switched off as darkness pooled around her. She slept the sleeps of sleep. Dreamless. Just how she liked sleep. When there were no dreams to nag at her. No prophetic dreams to keep her up. It felt like seconds before she woke.
