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Chapter 15
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Buffy stirred, then instantly regretted it as a sharp pain sliced through her body. Her mind became alert, probing the room or wherever the hell she was for any sign of life. Sensing none, she opened her lids slightly, her eyes darting across the room.
She found herself in a small, dank dungeon-like room, with dark stones surrounding her. The ground was filthy, covered in dust and mud. She was opposite the iron door and the three corners were in a complete darkness that she could not penetrate.
The door swung open with a loud crash, startling her enough that her eyes flew open and her body jerked. Again she regretted the sudden movement, both for the severe pain and alerting the intruder of her conscious state.
"Well," her abductor sneered, "Look who's finally awake. I'm sure that for a Slayer you take far too long to recover."
"And I'm sure I don't really care," she snapped back, lunging forward only to be hindered by the chains holding her wrists and ankles. He chuckled in amusement, flicking a hidden light switch and flooding the room with a bright light. The owner of the voice became visible, and Buffy raised her eyebrows at the short, elderly and ashen-head man. He looked so harmless that Buffy could have laughed, but then her eyes met his, and she shuddered. The grey, empty eyes had a deranged sparkle in them, and she knew that this man was past insane.
She knew without a doubt that this was the head of the Council, the one who had arranged Kendra's death. He repulsed her, and a fire ignited in the pit of her stomach as she thought of this man taking the life of a girl just like her.
"Feisty, are we not?" he said, "You know, Slayers used to be obedient and dutiful little girls who respected their elders. They used to play by the rules."
"Your rules, don't you mean?" Buffy retorted, causing him to chuckle again.
"Precisely. This was the way it should have been, and should be." He walked slowly towards her, a sadistic smile spreading over his lips. "I was in control of everything. It was the way the Council was deemed to be. The Slayer answers to her Watcher, her Watcher answers to the Council, and the Council answers to me."
He strolled past her, rubbing his chin with her fingers. "And then one Slayer decides that she is too good to answer to me anymore, and runs off with that deceiving fool of a Watcher. Hence, the absolute need for her demise and the necessity of calling another Slayer, and therefore dividing the Council. Oh, but then what happens? Well, for some reason unknown to me, the Chosen One seems to slip past all our locating devices and your friend's. The Coven refuse to help me and my fellow colleagues, but locate this Slayer for the weak Council members and that damned vampire and his lackeys."
Damned vampire? Buffy blinked in confusion then remembered that this man was completely insane.
"But now I have you all to myself," he cackled viciously. "And there's no way for Mr. Soul to find you. Oh, no, my dear Slayer, there's no chance for you!"
He was more deranged than she had originally thought. He pushed his face right in front of hers, his grimy fingers clutching her cheeks. He grinned with malice as she tried to pull away.
"So sorry, my dear, " he hissed. "But you are mine now, all mine. Shall we play a little game, Buffy?" He spat her name.
"Ah, I'm actually a bit spent," she replied nervously. "Maybe another time?"
"Oh, no. We must play now, and tomorrow, and the next day, and then next after that. You see, Buffy, you will never leave!" he laughed sadistically, letting go of her face and shuffling over to a small bench.
"Play?" she asked weakly, tugging forcefully on the chains.
"Yes, yes, that is correct," he said, lifting up a small object, "We must play."
Buffy gasped and her heart began to race as she saw what he was holding: a scalpel. She suddenly realized what 'play' would involve, and it didn't include hiding or seeking.
"Oh shit," she whispered as he approached her, the amused, but insane, glint in his eyes glowing.
"That is right, young one. Playing is what I do best."
"And I repeat, oh shit."
He was standing only inches from her now, and her struggling increased until the metal shackles began to slice into the raw skin on her wrists and ankles. This was definitely not good.
Suddenly, the man's hand darted out and slashed her stomach. Crying out in surprise, she glanced down and saw blood begin to seep from the red cut. It burned ferociously, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out again.
Laughing gleefully, he licked the blood from the knife. She glared at him in horror.
"Never did see what vampires loved in a Slayer's blood," he taunted. "Tastes like any other's."
With another quick jerk, he sliced the skin on her stomach again. This time she kept silent, determined not to give him the satisfaction of her pain. He frowned at her silence and his eyes flared.
Sliding his hand into his pocket he puled out a small, black box. With horror she realized that it was a lighter. He drew out a cigarette from his other pocket and lit it, inhaling deeply. Leaning forward, he blew the smoke into her face then extinguished the cigarette on her shoulder.
Mustering all the inner strength she could find Buffy managed to stay quiet, despite the intense burning on her shoulder. He lit it again, and this time extinguished it on her thigh. She nearly bit her tongue in her attempt to keep her mouth closed.
Ten minutes later, Buffy was covered in shallow cuts and small burns. Her body and willpower were slowly exhausting, but she had not screamed once.
"No, no," he shook his head violently, "This isn't supposed to happen. You are meant to scream, darling. Scream for me?"
"Didn't your mother ever teach you to say please?" she replied distastefully. She had obviously hit a sore spot for the lunatic and he backhanded her across the cheek.
"Don't ever speak about mommy," he snarled.
"Oh, I see. Mommy didn't love her little boy?" she taunted, anticipating the second blow before it came.
"Shut up!" he screamed furiously.
"First you tell me to scream, now you're telling me to shut up. Come on, make up your mind!"
As a tirade of blows collided with her small body she wondered if her distracting technique was any better than the scalpel. Already knowing the answer, she endured through the strikes with the thought that anything was better than the burning pain that came with the sharp metal.
Eventually reaching boiling point, the man threw his scalpel to the ground and screeched at the top of his lungs. Incoherent words and hysterical babbling tumbled from his mouth and Buffy flattened herself against the wall. God, this man was truly insane.
She was trying to block out his ranting when his words became coherent and she heard what he was speaking about.
"...the world, yes it will end, yes, yes. No more world, no more, all gone...Master says so, it will happen...no Slayer to stop it, oh no, she will die, yes, she will die. Doesn't want to but she will...No more Slayers, no more, all gone...once the world goes, yes it will, it will...Master says so..."
As she tried to piece together the confused ranting, his shrieks became louder.
"Must hide her...hide her from the vampire and his soul...mustn't find her, will take her away...I want to play, I want to hear her scream..."
As if his words snapped him back to the present, he became calm and stared straight into her eyes. He grabbed something from the table and walked over to the wall where she was chained. He swung his fist into her face and she felt her lip split. Spitting out blood, she looked up in time to see him slash the sharp knife at her stomach as the torture commenced.
As the knife was dragged across her stomach Buffy closed her eyes, hoping that she would soon escape into unconsciousness. Whether it was her increased pain threshold or only the torturing talents of her tormentor, Buffy knew it wouldn't come soon.
Slice after slice the knife cut into her small body, but not once did she make a sound. She forced the sobs back, choked on the screams and silenced the whimpers that threatened to escape her lips.
Finally her body and mind became numb to the burning pain and she heard the man walk away. Opening her eyes slowly, she saw him shaking his head and muttering to himself on the far side of the wall.
"Getting bored, are you?" Buffy croaked, her mouth caked with dried blood. "I guess I'm just stubborn."
"You little wretch!" he screamed, his face a mask of fury.
"Resorting to name calling are we?" she retaliated, surprised that she could still talk despite the intense agony burning through her body. "Well, I may as well tell you that I wasn't Queen B of Sunnydale High for nothing."
The man's eyes widened with rage and she could see his chin tremble. "I tire of these games. Maybe I should just kill you..." Suddenly, his body relaxed and a small smile played across his lips. "You are a tricky little one, aren't you?" He grinned sardonically. "Trying to get me to put you out of your misery. But I will not kill you, because I wish to play some more."
Suddenly, there was a loud shriek and Buffy opened her eyes to see the short man holding his head in obvious agony. "No! I'm s-so sorry Master! P-please forgive me, your esteemed one! I will kill her now, I only wanted some fun, yes, yes, I will kill her now," he wailed.
He raised his head and glanced over his shoulder. "Boys, would you mind coming in here for a moment?"
Buffy raised her head as four burly men strode into the room. Confusion flickered across her face, then turned into horror as she felt the familiar unpleasant tingles.
"These are my boys, Miss Summers. I'm sure you've met quite a few like them."
The four men grinned and shifted into game face. Buffy stared a moment longer before glancing up and desperately tugging of the chains that held both her wrists and ankles.
"Go ahead, my boys," the man sneered. "Have yourselves a lovely Slayer."
As the men advanced on her, Buffy felt her heart sink. There was no possible way out of this. She was going to die now; most likely the shortest lived Slayer ever to be called.
Three of them shrunk back into the shadows, leaving the largest to have first taking. He smirked and raised his fist, bringing it down with ferocity that would have killed her had she been a normal sixteen-year-old. It merely split open her lip again and bruised her cheek bone so hard that she knew it must be broken.
"Get out!" Travers screamed.
"What? But you said..."
"You'll do as I say. She's mine. Get out!"
The rugged vampire shrugged and turned on his heel. He stormed from the room, the two other vampires and the insane man following him. The door slammed shut behind them and Buffy sighed in relief, grateful to whatever powers that be had stopped her from becoming a bloodless corpse.
A shadow moved in the corner of her eye and she groaned when she realized she had spoken, or thought, too soon. The vampire stepped into her vision, and she realized that she had in fact noticed only three vampires leave the room. This one, it seemed, was too hungry to obey the orders of an insane human.
"Hello, little girl," he said, his eyes dancing with yellow. "My boss seems to think that he can introduce me to the Slayer without allowing me to have a taste. But after all, he is insane."
He grinned and lunged forward, grabbing her neck with his long, thin fingers and squeezing. She stared at horror into his yellow eyes and closed her own when he ducked his head to her neck.
She waited for the sensation of his fangs in her neck, dreading the thought of dying in a place like this one. She knew that as the Slayer she would eventually die in the cover of the night, not to be found until morning by an unsuspecting passerby. But like this, without her mother or friends knowing where she was, made her regret not being able to see them again.
Buffy heard a dull thud and opened her eyes to see the vampire explode into dust before her. It filed her eyes and mouth, causing her to cough and sputter, and when she raised her head she found herself gazing into the yellow eyes of yet another vampire.
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