It took three breather days for her fever to break, during which she fought tooth and nail through taking any food and medication he offered, though he ultimately always got his way. With the break of her fever came the loss of infection, though she was still worlds away from healing completely.

Currently, she was pouting through sipping down a cup of chicken noodle soup and crackers that she would definitely devour at a quicker pace as soon as he left. He had to work, he said. Pay bills and such. Allegedly, his magic was too strong to allow her to break the threshold and escape. The mortal would see about that. In truth, she was excited for the opportunity to explore unencumbered by watchful eyes. It would be best to have a better layout of the domain stashed away in case she needed it for the future.

She didn't know where she would go if she ever got out, but surely there was somewhere out there for her.

"I don't need anything."

She resisted the urge to request a quick, painless death again when he asked her if she wanted anything from the living world, the girl too taken aback that he even had access to that plane of existence. Was he another slaver? Did he spend his days tricking poor girls like her?

Newly-deads were calling, Betelgeuse knew that this was going to come eventually. The days before the girl's fever broke were spent making sure that his wards would hold her. He shook his head at her facade of nonchalance, giving her a look before letting the summons pull him topside. Putting on his work face, he stepped into yet another mediocre house with baby-ghosts that couldn't get their shit together.

It only took a week to set things straight. That was a surprise. The newbies had caught on fairly quickly and he was able to spend the latter part of the week running topside errands. The mortals were scared out, contract fulfilled, and the newly-deads sent him home. Landing in the living room, he dropped off the items he brought back before shouting out;

"I'm home!"

Every day found her health improving, bit by bit. The last few days, without her captor there to force or threaten her to, she hadn't taken any pills and was just fine, thank you very much. Moving hurt more, but she got used to it fast. Just needed to be more careful with how she moved and what she reached for.

Upon his leaving, she quickly discovered in her drug-induced haze that all of the doors and windows to the house had not only been locked, they were electrified. She held onto the front door handle for so long it sent her into an hour long nap, her palm and fingers burnt red when she finally came to. When the pills fully left her system, she tried again with her left hand after doing her best to dispel his dark energy with sage and salt‒ whatever she could find‒ and incantations to the same results.

That was just the first day. With nothing else to do with her time but think‒ about her time in captivity, her new captor, the time before, trying to remember what her Goddamn name was‒ she was going to go mad. And so, she cleaned. His house, which through no fault of her own was now her house, was disgusting. He had taken care of the floors and bathroom for her‒ manipulative bullshit‒ but surfaces were cluttered and matted with grime and dust and years of sticky mystery stains.

She couldn't stand it a moment longer. When Betelgeuse finally returned, she was on the far side of the house from where he apparated, an old record of his playing in his record player while she pranced about and sang along, momentarily freed from the burden of servitude. One of his too-big shirts hung from her still-skinny-but-healthier frame‒ she reasoned that if she was going to bleed, she would rather inconvenience him with it. The heavy drapes that covered every window were flung to the side to give way for her to wipe the dusty glass clean and allow light in. In general, everything was just a bit shinier, a bit nicer-smelling.

The familiar beat was building, a long ponytail of raven waves shaking side to side with it as well as the swell of her hips hidden beneath his shirt, and when it crescendoed to the chorus, she burst out joyously, a clear beautiful sound worlds apart from her screams of pain. She didn't know if she would even remember the words until they came spilling out.

"I love you, baby!
And if it's quite alright,
I need you, baby,
To warm the lonely night,
I love you, baby,
Trust in me when I say…"

When no reply came to his call, Betelgeuse moved from room to room looking for the girl. After the first few rooms he stopped and actually looked. The dust and dank was all gone. Was she cleaning? Well. That was an unexpected surprise. The distant sound of the record player caught his attention and he gravitated towards it.

Leaning against the door frame, he was gifted the slight of her swaying in time with the music, dressed in one of his shirts. Shifting his stance and palming himself through his slacks at the sight, he was surprised when she burst into song, whatever teasing comment he had ready dying on his tongue.

If this was the type of shit he was going to get to experience on a regular basis, then all the nurse maid bullshit was worth it. Rather than alerting her to his presence he quietly watched her scrub at the window, caught completely off guard by the change. Who was this creature, really? When the song ended, he cleared his throat and lit a cigarette to alert her to his presence.

"Ya look like yer feelin' better, Girlie." He grinned and blew a series of smoke rings. "Yer movin' real well…"

Like a switch flipping, she became a different entity. The stress-free, happy countenance she wore shed, her entire being freezing up in terror at his mere presence. Oh, yeah. He was coming back.

The next song started playing. She was turned to face him now but not looking at him, instead aiming a fleeting gaze to every cleaned crevice, every nook she had touched without permission, finally ending on the shirt she wore. She was wearing his socks too‒ after running them through the washing machine twice, of course. Everything was filthy.

"I didn't do it for you," she mumbled, embarrassed to have been caught like that, angry at herself for letting her guard down so much. He was stupid to let her have free roam like that. Now, she knew where all the sharp, pointy things were. They wouldn't hurt him too badly, but they would be an inconvenience. As well, it was all too easy to find what she needed to send him as well to the Lost Souls' Room.

Betelgeuse gave her a shrug and let his eyes drag over her small form under his shirt.

"Either way kitten, house looks nice, n'so do you." He tossed her a wink and pushed away from the door frame. "But if ya want something that fits better, I brought ya back more clothes. Not that I'm complainin' any."

He blew out another plume of smoke, this one snaking its way across the room towards her before dissipating. He was already most of the way back to the living room.

"I brought ya better food from topside, too…"

His call trailed off as he stepped back into the living room. Now that his attention wasn't on checking on his pet, he noticed the old smell of burnt flesh and the change in energy around the front door. Studying the layers of his wards, he saw where she tried to chip away at them. So… not just an exorcist.

Even if she was able to get the door open, she would have been surprised and trapped. Unless she wanted to dive off his little chunk of land and feed herself to the sandworms.

"You tried to open the door while I was away?"

His tongue clicked in irritation, and he made an abrupt decision right then and there, but that could wait until tonight. No more of her 'sleeping' out of his sight.

The girl lingered after him, watching from the hall with wide-eyes as he discovered where she tried to break his magic… and then did nothing about it. He didn't even bother with her when she ignored his question outright to stalk away and examine the things he brought with him. He knew the answer.

Quickly, savoring the allotted privacy, she changed out of his clothing and into a lightweight black gown more befitting her tastes, and the simplest pair of black underwear available from the allotment of clothes he brought for her. There were bralettes and other thin lacy things that she ignored completely, for obvious reasons as well as her still-raw back.

The view in the bathroom mirror told her it was healing up nicely. In another week or so she could probably get the stitches out. When she came out to assess the "food" he alleged to have for her, her dubious expectations were upended. In the past, other masters had fed her scraps, rancid rotting raw meat she'd had no choice but to salvage and burn to the best of her ability. This was far from that.

The freshly polished kitchen table was laden with… plastic bags… of groceries. A delicious smell was coming from the oven, and when the mortal dared a peek inside she salivated to find an extra-large pepperoni pizza sizzling under the burner. It took all of her common sense not to just reach her already burnt hands inside and grab a slice prematurely.

She was being watched. Slamming the oven closed without meaning to, she straightened out, face burning crimson yet again at having been caught. How weak she was, this close to breaking just for a slice of pizza. Bastard.

"I'm not hungry," she lied, making as if she meant to go and lurk unsupervised in a different portion of the house.

As good as she looked in his shirt, she looked even better in the black dress. It hung from her still too thin frame. That was nothing some real meals and a few weeks couldn't fix.

Her face lit up momentarily over the pizza, then slipped back into her angry guarded expression before she lied to him. Her acting like a skittish animal was getting old and he hadn't even been home an hour. Again, hopefully, that was something time would change.

From where he was slouched at the table drinking a beer, he pushed the seat across from him out with his foot, gesturing for her to sit.

"We gotta go over some rules doll, n'not lyin' t'me is at the top of the list." He arched his brow at her and rocked his chair back on two legs.

"Yer gonna eat three proper meals a day, n' drink enough water. Ya got free run o' th'house, ya live here now." Sighing heavily, he let the chair drop and sat up straighter at the table, clawed fingers toying with his beer bottle. "Take care o' yourself. So when yer tired, sleep. Hungry, eat. When ya wanna bathe, do so…"

A cigarette appeared in his lips as he finished speaking and he took a long draw, letting the smoke pool from his nostrils.

"Ya fail to comply, n' you'll get punished… simple, yeah?"

When he motioned for her to sit, she obeyed, albeit slowly and hesitantly. When he laid out the guidelines for living there, she squirmed, hating it. Why did they have to be so… so… reasonable? He almost had her fooled until he got to the end.

There it was. The catch.

"What kind of punishment?"

She was hostile and feral again in an instant, staring him down while the gears in her head calculated how long it would take her to lunge across the room for the knife block on the counter.

"I already told you. I'm not‒" She swallowed. "‒ hungry. I'm not eating."

He didn't get to tell her to jump and expect her to say "how high?" That's just not how this was going to work. When she was doped up on painkillers and on the brink of sweet, sweet death, she had no choice but to do as he said. He was going to have a harder time of it now. If he thought he could sweeten her up with the most beautiful pizza she had ever seen in her short life enough to be a willing slave to his sick imaginings, he had another thing coming. Her hard expression wavered, but their eye contact didn't break, the challenge back on.

"So I guess you'll just have to punish me."

What kind of punishment?

"I dunno, Dollface. Whatever I think befits yer misbehavior?" He took a swig of his beer, noticing the tension in her body.

"So now ya got at least two punishments, maybe three…" He narrowed his eyes at her. "I already decided what Imma do with ya for trying t'leave. Don't think I didn't notice yer burnt hands. N'ya just lied t'me. Again. So we addin' a third or are ya gonna eat?"

A wicked grin crawled along his lips as the timer for the oven went off and he got up to bring the pizza to the table.

"Ya know what? Fuck it. Fer lyin' n' bein' difficult ya lose yer ability t'make yer own decisions."

He sat back in his chair and motioned for her to come over, patting his lap lazily. Heavy electrical energy began to crawl over her skin, tugging at her body to obey.

She gave it everything she had, sweating with exertion against the pull of his magic and the way resisting tugged at her stitches and made her bleed. Should have kept his shirt on. Inevitably, she ended up in his lap, settled unfairly comfortably on his thigh, a tear or two strolling down her cheeks, an arm around her waist, and a heavy hand on her thigh to keep her in place.

"I'm not hungry," she declared to the bitter end, even as he held a golden piece dripping with gooey melted mozzarella an inch from her mouth, the aromas making her dizzy. It was too much. His magic pulled her jaw open, he pressed the food to her tongue, and she couldn't fight it anymore. Without need of magical influence she scarfed down two whole pieces, embarrassed, shamed tears rolling down her cheeks the whole while. It was all she could do not to lick the grease from his fingers.

"Let me go," she pled at the end, horrified by the display she'd just made of herself, eager to curl up in the darkest, dankest corner she could find and lick her wounds.

Betelgeuse nearly groaned as her warm little body settled against him, his arm pulling her further into his lap as he offered her a bite. As soon as she was eating and he was just facilitating that, he nuzzled her shoulder softly.

"Now that's a good girl," he growled low and encouraging against her shoulder.

Once she was focused on what she was eating, he conjured her something to drink, offering her sips between every other bite, before allowing his hand to caress along her thigh.

"See, this ain't so bad, is it? Yer doin' so good, kitten."

He could smell the salt from her tears before they started to slip down her cheeks.

"Shhh, none of that now, Babe. Yer doin' so good… We'll have ya healed up in no time. Yer doin' real good t'night, though."

When she stated she wanted to be let go after she ate two large slices of pizza and drank down the whole glass of water, he was happy to free her from his grip, both magical and physical, until she pulled away from him and he could see and smell the blood.

"Shhhhiiiittt…" He hissed stopping her from slipping off his lap completely. Gentle arms scooped her up and he took them to the bathroom, her clothing disappearing as he lowered her into the gently steaming tub.

"Let's have a look at yer back n'the burns on yer hands, kitten."

Her morale was too low, her belly too full of food she had willingly eaten out of his hand to fight him here. The bath temperature was perfect, though she hated how easily he stripped her down to nothing without any warning. However, all-in-all, she couldn't deny that she felt better than she had in a long time. The food and warm water were making her feel almost as drowsy as she had when he was drugging her.

Kitten.

She remembered kittens. It was a nicer thing than a lot of Masters had called her. Tears stopped eventually, and she didn't bother fighting him as he ran a soft cloth along where she needed to be cleaned and applied ointment where it belonged. She didn't speak, nor did she look him in the eye or try to challenge him. With less finesse than the spider woman, he combed conditioner through her hair and lathered it out with a rosemary-scented soap that left her waves buoyant and defined.

Only after she was dried and dressed in a white nightdress of his choosing this time did she say anything, still without meeting his gaze.

"I want to be alone now. Please."

This was humiliating. A sick part of her would rather he had beaten and mistreated her like all the rest. It made destroying them so much easier. There was still time. Who was to say he wouldn't show his true colors soon? He was keeping her alive for something.

The girl was extremely docile while he bathed her and cleaned her wounds. As he washed her hair he was reminded of the heavy metal collar that was poorly welded around her neck.

"You did so good eatin', n'now, kitten, yer doin' such a good job lettin' me get ya ready fer bed…"

He got her dried and dressed, his fingers running along her collar causing the heavy metal to crumble. Brushing away the broken pieces, a thin silver hoop that appeared to be more necklace than collar was all that was left behind, the only thing signifying it as a collar the beetle-shaped lock holding it together.

"I want to be alone now. Please."

"Well, babe, that's gonna be a problem." Betelgeuse gathered her into his arms again and carried her out into the hall heading back toward his chambers. "Yer punishment fer burnin' yer hands n' tryin t'leave is losin' the couch."

The door to the bedroom opened as he reached it and the lights came up dimly. To one side of the shadowy room was a large vaguely coffin-shaped bed. The sheets looked to be glossy dark satin. Carefully, he set her down among the blankets and pillows.

"But I ain't gonna have ya sleepin' on the floor, so you'll be stayin' here with me until further notice."

The girl didn't relax a moment, not for one second, the instant he crawled in next to her in the large bed. A fireplace came to life across from them, illuminating a vicious furry dead animal that she couldn't immediately recognize stuffed and laid out on the floor. A cold dead hand was resting far too easily along her hip over her nightdress, fingers splayed possessively. Her back felt cool and numb from the ointment. It wouldn't be too long until her stitches could come out.

"Why did you buy me?"

It was a fair enough question. He hadn't told her she couldn't speak or ask questions. She couldn't remember that being on the list of "rules" anyway. It was going to be a long time before she was comfortable enough to fall asleep next to this cold, clammy corpse as it was‒ if she even could. The way he was holding her, she didn't have much of a choice but to rest her hand on his chest, feel the wiry white-blond hair there.

"Are you going to just kill me eventually? If you are… that's really messed up."

Whatever he had been thinking before he settled next to her in the bed fled him as her small warm form pressed against him. Sure, he could have had… what? Four, possibly five whores with the money he'd spent on her, but none of them would have warmed his bed like she was.

Betelgeuse shifted, pulling her just a little closer when she started talking. Her voice was low and cautious, not at all matching her slightly elevated heart rate.

"Hmmm?" Sleep was tugging at him. He didn't indulge often, but he needed to replenish the energy used while working.

"Well… I notice ya from the main road, then ya tried t'bite that slaver…" He shrugged. "Wasn't the plan but…"

Her soft voice in the near darkness was doing things to him. He honestly couldn't have told her exactly why he bought her. He barely even knew himself. He knew that he liked her spirit and couldn't stand the idea of them destroying that. Then again, it didn't really matter at this point.

"Wha…? No, I ain't gonna kill ya." It crawled from him in an irritated growl. "Do I seem like the kinda guy who'd put the time n'energy inta making ya better jus' t'kill ya? Jesus Girlie, jus' go t'sleep."

"I don't trust any of you."

She got the last word, the statement carrying too much for Betelgeuse to be unwilling to dissect it in his apparent exhaustion. He fell asleep long before she did. For a while there, she entertained the thought of escaping once he fell asleep but his hold was too strong and she was still too weak.

No one won this battle of wills.