"Twilight for Anonymous…"

Disclaimer: Not mine but thine...O, Joss!

Archived at the Cicelyverse page of the Buffy Rebecca verse, or direct to story at www...

General audience level...

Summary: In a past life of Buffy and William, a certain story- and scene-stealing vampire gets his much-deserved desserts…

Part XX…

Essex, rather stunned at Anne's apparent confession…

So there really is a plot? Sponsored by Rome?

Uh, not that I thought we were scapegoating innocents to save my…Our…Precious necks but…

Whoa.

So, I am good…And that ass Robert Cecil claiming my intelligence was crap.

Eat my intelligence dust, Cecils…

"I cannot believe my dear Bella a Papist whore or a traitor to England…Or me…" Edward, eyeing the confused and increasingly terrified Bella in the guards' grip.

"Still…This matter must be examined. Carefully and fully."

"Agreed, My Lord Oxford." Essex nodded solemnly. "Agreed."

"I suggest we chain her upright in the shackles…As we did with the Jew Lopez."

Oh…Essex staring…That again? Really? Squirming a bit at the memory.

"My Lord, please…" Bella whimpered. "I've only done you faithful service."

"Bring her here, men!" DeVere insisted, leading the guards to a hanging iron helmet mask surrounded by various shackles. They dragging a weakly struggling Bella…

It really did get gruesome…I never thought Ed would have such a taste for torture. That poor old Jew's cries even made me weep.

Of course he probably was guilty…Even if he admitted nothing but to vaguely agree at the end to get us to finish him that he could have spied for Spain.

"Anne?" Shakespeare hissed. She waving him off…

"Say nothing Sister Bella! Be strong!" Anne addressed Bella who stared wildly at her.

"Sister?" Essex eyed Bella.

"No, no! My Lords!" she cried as Stephens the guard, with slight reluctance, locked her head in the hanging iron helmet and the others chained her in the arm and leg shackles. "The Slayer be lying!"

"There it is again?…'Slayer'?" Essex pondered. "Edward?"

"No doubt a trained Catholic assassin…" DeVere nodded, eyeing Anne grimly.

"Her?" Essex regarded Anne who glared back…

And why the fuck may I not be?

Though forgive me Father for calling meself a Papist, even if to my mind there's no wrong in being whatever you choose to serve God, so long as you're a loyal Englishman.

This be a bit of a pickle…Jonson sighed to himself, eyeing the guards watching over him and the actors of Shakespeare's troupe.

Here I, orchestrator of this whole event, to a certain extent…Trapped in me own work.

Hmmn…He pulled out a bit of parchment and charcoal, writing a quick note.

A playwright is trapped in his own work…

"Ben?" Hemmings had come over. "Any word as to Will?"

"None as I've been told, Johnny." Jonson shrugged.

"It's insane. Will's no spy, Papist or otherwise."

"I'll be glad to say so, Johnny. If anyone here should bother himself for my opinion."

"Mr. Jonson…" Anya had crept over to him.

"Nonea that, now, girl. Go back to yer mending!" a guard glared at her.

"Just taking Master Jonson's order, sir." Anya, innocently.

"I've a bit of work on this jacket…" Jonson agreed, offering view of frayed area.

"All right, but be quick about it. Take the damned thing and be off back to yer corner!" the guard frowned, waving his halberd.

"Aye, sir." Anya nodded as the guard moved off. She smiling to a younger guard who smiled back.

"Well…Can you get me out of this, girl?" Jonson hissed as he removed his jacket and shook it out.

"Here it be…Can you mend the seam?"

"Oh, most certainly, sir." Anya nodded. Aside… "I'm not here to rescue you, but you're not the one in danger. Shakespeare and his wife can't die today. Everything will be ruined."

And the Boss will be pissed not only at losing his Slayer demon but all the new plays he was eagerly anticipating…

"Then you'd best get them out, eh?" Jonson glared, hissing. "And me with them, the client?"

"I can't interfere that way. DeVere would know my Lord D'Hoffryn was involved and he could take me. Though not in a fair fight…" she hurriedly insisted. "But he's good with thrall and I am holding mortal woman's form."

"So…Is not the 'Lord of Vengeance' more powerful than some wuss vampire? Let your Lord kick his damned fangs in…"

"It doesn't work that way…There are rules." She noted. "The other guard's coming, I'll have to go. Look, we'll have to try this the human way…Let me see what I can do and wait."

"That's all I do…And all I'll be doing for the next few hundred years, lass." Jonson glared.

Oh, you'll be doing more than that Angelus…Anya thought as she hurried off.

Not that I'm privileged to know all the little details of your joint futures but D'Hoffryn has his insights and his unique ways of charging for his services…

Though it's too bad that innocent wife of Dracula must suffer for her husband's sin so…But that's afterlife, sister… And your husband should really read the fine print on his vengeance on the Turks' contract next time, Elisabete Drusilla.

But for now, exit Anyanka the vengeance demon and enter Anya the dutiful friend and heroine…