"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 XXII…

"No, please…No! My Lord! MY…" Bella, held firmly in her place by two guards, head locked into helmet cage of spaced iron bars, allowing a clear view of her terror, froze in mid-cry, staring at DeVere's grim look.

No pleas to your once betrothed and cousin many times removed, please dear girl, his hard stare saying…

"You have nothing to fear, Bella…Calm yourself." He told her quietly as Essex urged the Bible be placed and the "equipment" brought…

Tongs, pliers, branding iron, whip…Though likely Edward's right and no time for heated implements… Oh, yes and the leather straps for the strappado…Good man to think of it, Jones…He thanked the guard, offering…

Say what you will, when alls said and done, hanging from the ceiling in straps for a bit does the tongue-loosening job. Dr. Lopez folded quickly on the ole straps…

Of course, his initial confession made little sense, speaking of the Other World and Evil about…And being a member of some Council guarding the World, assigned to protect the Queen…

Willoughby my staunch man for torture even said at one point he'd accused Edward of being a Dark Prince of the Night and all that. Poor fellow was a bit gone in the head by then…

"That's fine, just set it on the stool. Miss Bella? If you would…?" Essex turned to the now strangely calm Bella.

"Willoughby! Are you ready?" he called to the family torturer, in black outfit with head covering…

"I would prefer to heat the implements, my Lord…But, yes…" Willoughby nodded.

"This is insane…The girl's innocent, Lord Essex." Shakespeare called from his cell. "My wife was just trying to divide you."

"Yes, perhaps…I certainly hope so…But we must arrive at the Truth." DeVere insisted, offering Bella a kind but naturally judicious look.

"Well, thank ye, husband…" Anne, glaring from cell bars. "Calls me a liar to me face…" grim pout, to DeVere's amusement.

"Anne…" Will sighed. "The girl doesn't deserve this…"

"Lord Essex! I beg you to release me!" Lady Francis cried. "I'm no Papist! This is a mistake! The Queen…!"

"Yes, she shall hear of it, milady." DeVere replied. "And if you're not involved, you'll have my apology. But tis best for the Queen and Nation we proceed…Bella, just swear on the Good Book…And if you are innocent, all will be well." DeVere, carefully avoiding a look at said Book but keeping eyes fixed on her.

"Yes…My Lord." She put hand on the Bible. Slightest grimace repressed…

"Yes, down to it…" Essex agreed. "Now, girl, do you wear on the Scriptures that all you've told us is true, so help you God?"

"I swear all I've told you is true, so help me." Bella murmured, hand on Bible.

"…God, dear girl." DeVere urged.

"…God…" slight gasp.

"Surely that's enough, my Lord!" Shakespeare cried as Willoughby stepped over.

"Now, now…I've no time to indulge a Papist traitor, Master Shakespeare…" Essex frowned at him.

Nor some uppity peasant…

"She's in good hands. Willoughby is a professional. The tongs, Willoughby…"

"My Lord…" slight bow by Willoughby, though a repressed sigh.

Really hate to do it without heating…

Several of the guards grimacing and averting eyes…

Bella screaming… "I swore, my Lords!"

"Yes, yes…And that's fine…" Essex nodded. "But we must not rule out that a Papist would believe they could lie on Protestant scripture, heck…Dr. Lopez admitted after being tortured all night he'd lie on Catholic scripture and the Torah."

At the improvised stage, Hemmings had moved as close to a nervous guard as he dared…

"Is the rumor true, sir? Is the Guard coming?"

"Get back you…" grim tone by the guard, waving him off.

"So we hear…" in undertone. "But we've orders to get you all out, shortly. Just keep still." The guard eyed him. "Keep back, I say!" in raised voice.

"Of course, sir…No offense." Hemmings backed off.

Well there's a hope…

But what help for poor Will and Anne…?

It can't be true. We all know Will's father's a loudmouthed closet…But Will? A papist agent? An assassin?

Oh, please…A bad play indeed…

Only thing more ridiculous that Anne's the master spy/assassin…

Still, these days? Even if easier than in Henry's day…A man can be killed for the most ridiculous reasons…

"Master Hemmings?" Anya had come to him as he cautiously moved to the back where the other actors were clustered, under guards' eyes.

"Is it true? Are they holding the Shakespeares?"

"So I've heard, lass. But we may be all right, if we keep our heads and stay mum." Hemmings noted in whisper, one of the guards frowning at him.

"It can't be true…Master and Mistress Shakespeare aren't Papists or spies…" she tried. "Can't you speak to Lord Essex?"

By way of distraction, I mean…She thought. No way in Hell that dimwitted, rather pathetic, boob would listen. And I get accusing them is his only remaining hope…Encouraged by that dratted little vampire, DeVere.

"Girl…Don't be crazy. Lord Essex wouldn't heed the likes of me. I doubt he'd hear Ben Jonson out." Hemmings sighed. "If the Queen's Guard is coming things may yet work out, they'll all have to flee…Leave them behind."

Dead in the dungeon or as likely if not more so, target practice for the Guard when they enter, not much inclined to respect the rights of prisoners.

"We have to do something…" she urged in frightened hiss. Hemmings regarding her… Do? What? We're actors, girl…We perform, we don't do. You've been caught up in our magical renderin' of fantasy, me thinks, he thought.

"I have an idea…" she whispered… "Lets speak with Mr. Jonson and the others…"

Well, I'll try to think of one…DH can't be deprived of Shakespeare's upcoming works. He'd never forgive me. And I'd never forgive me if we have to listen to DeVere's works for the next few hundred years. Given he'd be sure to try to put over his garbage after taking credit for a few of Shakespeare's hits.

She regarded Hemmings' worried but considering face…I think he'll try, a good man, really.

He's a rather brave fellow, in his cautious way…She eyed Hemmings. I wonder…No, he's got that pretty young wife, the young widow, and never showed inclination to stray, even whilst on tour with the company.

Hope I don't have to sacrifice him…I rather dislike having to get likeable innocents I get close to on assignment killed, much as I enjoy tormenting evildoers and a few borderline cursed types.

….

"And you swear, to the Almighty One…" Essex, in sonorous tones…Me, in your case, Bella…DeVere thought, writing fastidiously on a sheet of parchment stored in the dungeon's cabinet for the purpose.

Indeed quite a good number of these scrolls already in file…Bob has been busy in his short political career…He mused.

"…that you know nothing of this Papist conspiracy or how the officer was murdered?"

"I…Swear…" Bella, nervous glance to DeVere who eyed her calmly.

See? Anne glanced to Shakespeare. The little lying tramp…

"She lies!" her cry.

"Anne, please…"

"You swear…?" Essex, suddenly inclined to thoroughness, to DeVere's slight annoyance.

Damn…She might have managed this.

"I…Swear…" Bella, pausing.

"Yes? Out with it, lass." Essex, insistent. "Tis the way to clear your name…Though of course we must confirm your oath."

Willoughby waiting patiently.

Not a great desire to hurry into this one…She being such a pretty wan lass…

"Yes…" DeVere, a tad reluctant… "Get it all out, Bella. Good for the soul and all."

"Yes, my Lord…What was the question?" desperate look.

Hand on Bible trembling now…Bit painful, rather…

"Girl." Essex, a bit annoyed now…And concerned, given the two hour estimate of the Guard's arrival…

Really need to get these confessions out and signed tout sweet…

"You know the questions…Are you a member of the Papist conspiracy at work here?"

Ah, that's a nice, easy…DeVere thought…

"Oh, no, my Lord. Never." Bella insisted.

"Good…There we go…Although we will have to confirm that…" Essex noted. "Did you get that down, Edward?"

That you are an ass, Bob? Certainly… "Oh, assuredly…Pray continue."

Lets see…Shakespeare pondered. A foolish constable interrogating evildoer's minion stumbles into the truth but doesn't even…

"And you know nothing of the officer's foul murder?" Essex asked.

Oooh…DeVere winced.

Pity he had to bother about collateral damage to some nobody…

"I…" Bella hesitated.

"You swore on the Good Book, girl! Tell!" Anne cried.

"I…Know…" Bella, trembling… OHHHH! She pulled hand off Bible…

Guilty as the day's long as they say in the land of your personal disaster, Bob…DeVere sighed.

And I am likely out one excellent cow…Pity Mistress Shakespeare the Slayer didn't agree to terms…

I hate having to dine out at random. You never know what you're getting.

Though I do have a few living humans at home for emergencies…Maybe I didn't turn that other Slayer…

Oh, yes, I did…Pity.

"Hold her!" Essex cried as Bella struggled.

"We have our first confession…" he noted happily.

"I've not confessed, my Lord!" Bella, desperately. "I didn't kill the man! My Lord…?" she turned to DeVere.

"You could not swear on the Holy Book." Essex noted, solemnly. "Do so and we shall reconsider…After further examination."

"No…I…Please, my Lord!" she pleaded, to DeVere who shook head.

"Oh, Bella mia Bella…" sigh. "I had such faith in you." Downcast look.

"You couldn't have known, Edward." Essex, kindly.

"That's right! You can't escape, girl!" Anne called.

"Darling…" Shakespeare sighed.

"Confess Bella…Spare yourself…" DeVere eyed her with a smile that managed to be faintly kind and terrifyingly icy at the same time.

"Confess, dear…Don't force us to make your last moments hideous…" he stared deeply.

I mean, so long as it's too late anyway, may as well enjoy it…And there might be a way yet to win my Slayer's heart, via that wonderful mix of hope and fear I love to foster.

"I…" she eyed DeVere, face turning blank. "I confess, to all…I killed the officer. I am a member of this plot." Flat tone.

"And, as Mistress Shakespeare informed us, a nun to boot?" DeVere suggested.

"Yes. I am a nun." She nodded.

"Horrible…" Essex gasped. And yet, this could really…

"You did get that, Edward?" he turned to DeVere, busily writing.

"Oh, most assuredly…" nod.

"Well, we should proceed at once…Release her and put her in the last cell." Essex told a guard holding Bella, who seemed now utterly confused and lost.

I ought to release her before she dies her horrible death…DeVere thought. Not that it would be an act of kindness, merely a way to see her suffer…Remembering nothing of my nature, of course.

"My…Lord…" she gasped to DeVere as one guard removed the unlocked helmet and the other two dragged her to the cell.

"Pray to God, dear girl…He will not forsake you, even in your crimes." DeVere shook head, winsomely languid glance at her, folding back lace ruff of sleeve.

Though it should be clear to her I have…

But, Hell, what would lead anyone to think I wouldn't?

"Who's next…My Lord?" Willoughby, politely.

Very much relieved the situation hadn't required his expertise.

"Hmmn?" Essex stared. "Edward? You think Master Shakespeare?"

"NO!" Anne screamed.

"Most definitely, Bob." DeVere nodded. "Lets get this out, root and branch…Yank and tear it out…"

Still wish we'd time to heat the things…Willoughby thought, nodding as Essex signaled for him to stand ready.