Spirits and Charms


"And the winner, and still champion, is Annette!"

Cheers filled the room, but Annette kept a blank face that didn't show what she really felt - disgust, fear of herself. The once twelve year old had grown into a young woman of fifteen, but if it wasn't for her name, most people would have mistaken her for a boy, with her skinny frame, her short shaggy hair, and the skinny scar that went down her left cheek. Not that she really cared anymore.

"That was great, Annette!" Dean crowed as he leaded her back to her rooms. "Another good night!"

Behind him, Annette took a swig from the flask Dean handed her a few minutes before, let the rum burn her throat. She hated fighting. But it was rewarding to drink afterward and forget about it until the next night. And Dean only let her drink because he knew rum was one of two chains that held her to him, that stopped her from running away or fighting against him. Her freedom was the other.

'Only three more years,' she told herself as her owner chattered on, instead focusing on that single thought and her burning stomach. 'Only three more years of playing this game.' Then she would be free.

"Tomorrow you've got a free day," Dean informed her, glancing at her briefly. "I've got some business to take care of with a associate of mine."

Annette nodded. "Yes, sir." Lately he'd go off for a day, sometimes two or three, to take care of his "business". It was those days that he bought and sold other slaves. After all, he was a slave trader first, owner of a illegal fighting ring second.

A few minutes later, Annette plopped onto her bed while Dean locked her in, gulping down the rest of her rum before throwing the tin to the floor with a clatter. Her eyes glazed, she stared at her hands. She had broken her opponent's nose tonight, and her hands had stained with his blood when she continued to hit him the face. Even when they were clean now, they still felt heavy and filthy.

Shuddering, Annette curled onto her side, hiding her hands under her armpits. Three years, and she still had nightmares of the doll boy, James, and the day she killed him. It could possibly be the second worse day of her life - right after the day she was taken away from Nathan and branded a slave. Almost hesitantly, she let her fingers brushed her upper left arm. The scar that marked Annette as a slave was still there, dark brown, almost black, against pale skin. She had hoped and prayed that it would fade away, but after seven years, it was still there. She laughed darkly. Had it really been seven years since she been stolen from her family? It felt much longer then that. Like a lifetime, an eternity.

Shuddering Annette sat up, ignoring her slight dizziness. She needed more to drink. To erase the thoughts in her own head. Slipping off the bed, she marched to the door and banged on it with her fist. "Oi!" she called out. "Guard! I'm not drunk 'nough! Let me outta of here! I need more rum!" In the back of her mind, she knew that the guard won't let her out, but damn it all, she need rum.

Frowning when she was ignored, Annette used both her fists. "Don't ignore me, damn it, I know you're out there!" Still, nothing. Angry, she kicked the door in frustration. "Fuck!" Why was the guard ignoring her? He hadn't never ignored her, even if he just yelled at her to shut up. The only explanation was that he must be off doing something stupid. With a huff, she sat against the door and slid to the floor. She'd just wait until the bloody git guard came back.

Hours passed, and still, Annette had heard nothing. She had started to nod off more then once, but managed to stay awake. She wouldn't fall asleep to nightmares.

"...fighter..."

Blinking, Annette yawned and rubbed her eyes. Someone was talking in the halls. But it didn't sound like her guard.

"...gold..."

That was Dean. Scrambling up, and wincing as she did, Annette stepped away from the door. If Dean had a guest - maybe someone who wanted to buy one of his slaves - he won't like it if she started pounding on the door screaming for rum. It looked like she had no choice but to go to bed and hope that she didn't have any nightmares tonight. So yawning silently, Annette blew out her lamp before she crawled into her bed, wrapping the blanket around her like a cocoon. Her eyes weren't even closed for more then a minute before she heard a click. She cracked her eyes open to see light from a lantern illuminating the doorway.

"Master Dean?" Annette didn't move, but stiffened. He never came to her rooms after her drop her off for the night. "Whats going on?"

Ignoring her, Dean waved a hand to the men behind him. "You know what to do."

"Right, boss," they both said in monotone voice, stepping forward.

Sitting up, Annette glanced between Dean and the advancing men. "What's going on?" she asked, trying to keep the fear out of her voice. "What are you doing?"

"This is the end of our agreement, Annette." Dean smirked. "You've brought me in a lot of money, but I'm forced to close down the ring - the king's men are close to catching me - and I have no use for you anymore."

It took a moment for Annette to fully understand what happening. "You're selling me!" she hissed, scrambling back. 'No, no, no, no, no, no, no -'

One of the large men grabbed her arm, and she snarled, swiping at him like a cornered animal. "No! You can't! You promised!" Annette screeched. "You promised, Dean!"

"Promises are made to be broken," was Dean's reply as the other man grabbed her swinging arm.

Snarling still, Annette tried to pull her arms away, but these men were much larger then her normal opponents, and definitely much stronger. Not even her blood humming through her helped as they pulled her arms to her sides and hauled her out of bed. She yelped as they threw her to the ground, one of the men held her arms down while the other held her flaying legs. Struggling still, Annette didn't see the kick to her side until it was too late. She cried out in pain. "What are you doing?"

"Your spirit's too strong, Annette," Dean stated. "If I'm going to sell you, I'll have to get rid of some of that strength." He gave a nod to the two men to continue. They didn't waste any time.

There was nothing Annette could do to protect herself as the two punched and kicked her repeatedly, anywhere and everywhere. She couldn't count how many times she cried out, yelped, and screamed in pain. Her body was on fire. It felt like every bone in her body was being shattered. She was beaten until she couldn't move. It was so painful, Annette didn't even noticed the beatings stopped until the men had slammed the door shut, leaving her a pile on the floor.

Wincing with every move, Annette tried to push herself off the floor, her arms shaking. She cried out and fell back to the floor after a few moments, she was too weak. Blood was seeping down her forehead and from one of her arms, pooling on the floor underneath her. Sobbing, Annette forced her hands to move, feeling her own body. There was no other cuts, and she wasn't sure who to thank that none her bones weren't really broken. But there were still bruises everywhere, and all her limbs were throbbing.

Tears rolling down her cheeks, Annette didn't stop the sorrow that she hadn't let out in years. Dean was going to sell her, and she'd never be free. She wanted so much to get away. Another sob escaped Annette. But she couldn't, there was no way. She was broken and beaten down. Even if she got away, Dean would hunt her down, beat her before trying to sell her again. She had no where to go, no one to turn to.

Her emotions so conflicted that they crashed into one another painfully, Annette fell into a heavy sleep as her body tried to heal itself, still a bleeding and broken mess on the floor.

Annette wasn't sure how much time had really passed before she heard someone enter her room. Fear taking over her, Annette tried to scramble up - to try and get away - but the pain stopped her instantly, and she screwed her eyes shut as she cried out in pain.

"Don't try ta move, child." The woman's voice shocked her, Dean didn't have any other woman here except her and the occasional whore for the men. She opened her eyes, this time slowly.

"Yeh in bad shape." the woman went on. She was dark skinned, brown like mud, with same color eyes and long black hair that looked like it rarely saw a brush. She was looking over Annette with raised eyebrow. "What'ca do ta make 'im angry?"

There wasn't any question to who "him" was.

Turning her head away with a wince, Annette muttered, "Too much spirit, he said. Had to beat it out of me."

"Aye, does look ta meh like yeh got a lotta spirit." The woman reached to a satchel at her side and pulled out a small jar of pale white cream. "This will help yeh bruises," she explained when Annette looked at it with warily. "Nothin' more."

Annette watched as the woman screwed off the cap, dipping her fingers into the cream before slowly reaching out to her. Annette flinched when she touched her cheek, despite how gentle the woman was obviously trying to be, but soon sighed as the cream began to take effect, the pain slowly ebbing away.

"That's it." The woman smiled, showing off her multicolored teeth. "Now de ya have anythin' broken?"

When Annette shook her head, she winced again.

"Any cuts besides ta nasty one on yer head?"

"My arm," Annette informed her.

"Mm." She looked it over more closely. "Don't look ta bad, already stop bleedin'. I'll be puttin' some of this on it though - just it case."

The next few minutes were spent in silence as the woman spread the cream over all the visible bruises and cuts. Her stomach and arms had the worse of it, and the woman had to check and make sure there was no bleeding inside. The burning pain of her bruises turned into pulsing pain when the woman finally stood up.

"I thinkin' that's all I can do fer yeh." Looking her over once more, the woman stashed her cream away and started to walk away. "Hope that Master of yer's goes easier on yeh next time."

The way she said it made Annette suddenly ask her next question. "Dean didn't send you, did he?" she asked as the woman reached towards the door.

Pausing and looking back, the woman shook her head "No, child, he didn't."

"Who are you?"

The woman smiled again, and suddenly, Annette got the impression that she was underwater, something pressing on her ears and the smell of salt filling the air. "Don't matter now, little Annette. Yeu'll be findin' out soon a 'nough." And with a flick of her hand, she tossed something to Annette. Barely catching it, she looked up to question the woman again, but found that she was gone already, even though she hadn't heard the door open or close.

Annette stared at the item thrown at her. It was a small brown pouch, a leather tie holding it shut. Slowly, she opened the pouch, her hand trembling, and gave it a little shake. Something clicked inside before it fell into her hand.

Three small metal charms. A diamond shape, like on playing cards, with a hand holding a knife carved onto it. A strange seven sided one with three spear-like weapons on it. And a round one with a small ship on it. Looking them over, Annette couldn't help but frown. Why would that woman give her these charms?

The sound of footsteps snapped her out of her thoughts, and panicking, Annette shoved the charms back into their pouch. Frantically wondering how she was going to hide it, she paused for a split second before she thrust the pouch passed her shirt and into her bandaged chest, quickly praying to whatever god was out there that Dean didn't see it.

Her room door opened with a bang that made Annette jump even though she knew it was coming, and before she knew what was happening, the two men from before hoisted into the air, their meaty hands wrapped around her arms. Wincing, Annette couldn't even look up at Dean as he stood before. She just let her head fall forward limply, tears of pain, humiliation, and anger roll down her cheeks, running off her chin and plopping to the ground.

With a dark chuckle, Dean lifted her chin up with his stubby fingers. "Its looks like we've broken you a bit, mm?" He stared into her eyes, and frowned slightly. "But not enough, it seems." He let her head fall forward again. "Do it."

Crying out when she was suddenly dropped to the floor, Annette tried to scramble away - no, not again - but someone stepped on her wrist, and she screamed as he tried to crush it. She managed to yank it away and cradle it to her chest, trembling all the while. "Dean," she whispered. "Please."

"That's better," Dean smirked. "I haven't see such fear from you in a long time. Keep going!" he barked at the men.

"No, please." She couldn't imagine what else Dean could do to break her. Tears still pouring down her cheeks, Annette pressed herself into the corner of the nearest wall, raising her shaky arms above her as some sort of shield to protect herself. "Please, no more..."

A terrible pain in her ankle made her cry out, her leg jerking under the heavy foot. Annette pulled it under herself as soon as the weight disappeared, and didn't hesitate to curl herself into a ball before the beatings began again.


When the door opened a few days later, Annette was staring blankly at the floor. Her body was in so much pain she couldn't even move from her spot in the corner, thanks to the many beatings she had gotten during the last few days. Beaten every single day, ending with her crying to sleep before he returned to repeat the process. Over and over and over. This whole situation reminded her of a broken doll, thrown away after their owner was done with it. If she was in better condition, Annette would have laughed hysterically. Well, she had been a doll once.

Cold fingers lifted her chin up, and she found herself forced to stare into Dean's calculating eyes. He grinned when she didn't even blink at him. "I think we've finally broken her, boys." Dean let her go, and her head fell limply. "Hurry up, I wanna get her to before Shanks he changes his mind."

"Yes, boss."

Annette felt two large hands wrap around her arms and lifted her up. She could barely walk, though, one of her ankles was swollen, so the men were forced to drag her through the empty hallways, doing it with very little care.

Her silver-eyes dull and empty, Annette just shivered when they clamped the handcuffs on her. She hated these things with a passion. They were so cold, they tore at her wrists, and they always brought bad luck with them. First, her being sold as a slave turned into a doll, then a doll turned into a slave used as a fighter, and now a fighter turned into a slave again to become something new again.

A single tear rolled down her cheek before Annette was brought outside for the first time in three years.

She couldn't stop the wince of pain and shock as the sun tried to blind her. Dean had never let her leave the building he owned before, and the only light she was use to was light that came from her high bedroom window. When she could finally see again, she glanced around without moving her head and noticed they were near a pier, a number of different ships sitting in the shimmering ocean. It was loud, with various men passed her with different packages and crates, and the air smelled strongly of sweat and spices.

If Annette was expecting one of the men to help her, that was hope was crushed almost instantly. Few of the men looked at her, and if they did, they would see her two guards and quickly look away, keeping themselves busy. 'They must all be working for Dean,' was the answer Annette came up with. She wondered what else the slave trader and ring master had dipped his hands into. She could faintly smell spices and fruits, it made her stomach grumble, and she wondered what it was exactly in those crates and chests that were being carried.

Something black and white flickered nearby, catching Annette's attention, and as she looked up to see what it was, her eyes went wide as she got a new answer for who these men were.

'Pirates.'

She was going to be sold right back to the people that took her away from her family.

The skull and cross bone flag fluttered in the wind, and the crew aboard the ship in front of her, The Devil's Servant, were moving at the barked orders of their captain. Standing at the wheel, the pirate looked over everything with narrow eyes, at least until his gaze rested on Dean. He said something at a nearby pirate - probably his first-mate - and strode down the stairs as Annette was forced up the gangplank.

"Dean," said the captain with a nod. "Is this the one?"

"Yup. Now remember, I've beat a lot out of her, but I'm sure she's got some spirit left, so be careful of her, Shanks." informed Dean as he handed Shanks the key to her chains.

Raising an eyebrow, Shanks looked her over. "Doesn't seem like much to me." He shrugged and looked towards his crew. "Nutt! Worley!" he barked.

Two men stumbled over and Annette refrained from wrinkling her nose. They smelled awful. "Yes, captain?" they said together.

"Take this slave below deck and lock her up." Shanks towered over his crew, and they shrank slightly. "And remind the crew that no one is allowed to touch her without my permission. Understand?"

After a strange glance at her, the men nodded. "Yes, captain!" Nutt and Worley took her from Dean's guards and forced her to start moving, probably expecting her to move on her own. Annette was only able to take a step forward before the pain from her ankle caused her to cry out. Falling forward, she hit the wood deck painfully.

Then The Devil's Servant's crew howled, laughing at her current position. Struggling to get up, Annette fought the urge to glare, or cry, or both. She felt so weak and pathetic, more than she did in her entire life.

Nutt and Worley, laughing still, picked her up, while Shanks glanced at Dean. "You've broken her too much, Dean, she can't even walk."

"Well, you don't have to worry about that too much, Shanks." Dean snapped. "You only have to get her to Tortuga and make sure she's sold, I don't care how, as long as I get my money when you get back."

"Of course." Shanks glanced at her. "Just get her down to the cells."

Nodding, Nutt and Worley dragged her to the door that lead below deck. Hobbling between them, Annette let her head fall back as she looked at the sun and sky for a long moment, trying to absorb as much light and warmth as she could before she was forced below deck.

Shrill wolf whistles filled her ears as the pirates dragged her along, and more than once, Annette saw wide grins and smirks directed at her. Suddenly very afraid, she tried to pull away from the men holding her up. She wasn't stupid, years of living around men taught her what they wanted from women. The very thought of what some bragged about sent shivers down her spine. One man had even tired to advance on her, but Dean managed to stop him. But he wasn't here. And she didn't want to be looked at like a piece of meat dangled in front of hungry dogs.

"Oi, stop that." Nutt snapped. "You don't wanna fall again, do ya?"

If he expected her to answer that, Annette didn't get the chance as a hand shot out, reaching for her. Giving a scream, Annette tore herself from Nutt and Worley and fell to the floor, backing into a crate. 'No, no, no, no - '

"Do yeh want that hand cut off, Ward!" hissed Nutt at the man that tried to grab her. "Cap'n says no one's ta touch her!"

"Oh, come on, Nutt." Ward said with a dangerous grin. "Just want a squeeze, yeh won't snitch on me for that, will ya?"

"Cap'n Shanks' orders." Worley reminded him. "And I'd rather snitch on you than have me neck on the line!"

Grumbling, Ward moved away, glaring at the two.

"That goes for all of ya!" Worely said loudly. "No one's ta touch her without the Cap'n's permission! Got it?"

With their own grumblings, the rest of the men went back to what they were doing. Satisfied, Worley bent down and grabbed Annette by the arm, yanking her up again. "Come on then. Lets get her into the cell," he said to Nutt, who grabbed her another arm.

For once, Annette agreed.

The cell wasn't very big, just large enough for her to stretch out and nothing more. After her chains were unlocked - she didn't remember them getting the key - she was tossed inside without hesitation, and she winced at the pain in her shoulder and the sound of the cell door slamming shut. It was just like when she had been thrown into a cell with Nathan. She shut her eyes, and the last memory she had of her brother came to mind, clinging to her tightly and trying to stop the pirate that had kidnapped them take her away.

"Excuse me?" she asked quietly. She didn't notice the way the men jumped at her voice before she opened her eyes. "Where am I being taken?"

Blinking, Nutt answered her after a moment. "Tortuga."

"How far away is it?" Annette asked again.

"'bout two days." Nutt almost frowned. "But Cap'n wants to stop somewhere 'fore then, so two or three."

Two or three days before she was sold again. Bowing her head, Annette whispered a 'thank you' before curling up in the corner. Her eyes watering at the smell of salt, sweat, and who knew what else, she sniffed sadly before closing her eyes, wrapping her arms around herself. She waited until she heard both Nutt and Worley leave, the door that separated the cells from the quarters slamming shut, before she finally broke down. Tears ran down her cheeks as she cried again. Annette hated this. And trembling, she dug her fingers into her arm. She didn't want to feel anything. That's why she drank rum. So she couldn't feel anything.

'You know why you're always thrown away?' whispered a voice inside her.

"No..." she moaned.

'Because no one wants you!' it screeched. 'Your parents didn't want you! Nathan didn't want you! Brown didn't want you! And now Dean doesn't want you!'

A sob escaped Annette and she rocked back and forth. "Please, no..."

'They don't want you because you're a slave. A fighter. A dangerous thing. A tool. A killer. A murderer. A monster!"

The voice got louder, and multiplied over and her in her mind, and finally, Annette could only let out a silent scream as she was tortured within her own mind.