Salvation

Marian woke with a jerk. She instantly flinched away from Winchester, who was sprawled out under the thin blanket beside her. Clutching her arms over her chest, Marian moved from the bed. Slowly, silently, swiftly. The pounding of her heart was all that she could hear as her feet touched the wooden floor of the inn. Searching eyes found her dress, bunched up in a far away corner; having lain there since it was ripped from her that night. Oh, how she desperately wanted it, the little comfort that it would provide for her was a craving deep within her soul. However, she also needed a weapon…

Tiptoeing across the floor Marian knew that there had to be a knife of some sort in the room. No Lord would roam the country completely unprotected. It took but a moment for her to recall that she had, in-fact, seen a weapon last night. Marian gulped as she recalled it was on his belt when he was undressing… Yes, there had been a scabbard with a good-sized knife - perfect for slicing his thick neck... She shuddered when she knew it would be on his side of the bed.

Reaching far, Marian pulled her dress off the floor and held it flush against her; sighing at the little consolation it gave. She spun around to face the bed when she heard a voice: Winchester.

"You don't really believe," he said, sitting up and giving a lazy stretch, "That I would just let you kill me in my sleep? Or do you?" He reached down to the floor, pulled up the scabbard belt, and unsheathed the blade. Winchester stood and approached her while she backed up into the corner. Her face was flushed with hate and humiliation as she locked eyes with her molester.

In an instant, the knife pressed against her skin and Marian felt the cold touch of metal on her neck. Her teeth clenched into a tight grip. Marian glared into his face and said, "You've already ruined my life, why not take it."

A low chuckle crept out of her captor's throat, "No, mi'dear. I intend to keep you for a very very long time."

Marian, using her dress as a shield, backed up further into the corner, only wishing that this hell would end. Winchester continued his advance and lowered his lips down to hers. He grabbed her arms roughly and pulled her towards him and then - and then - then - Guy woke up in a cold sweat. He lurched forward in the small cot; gasping for denied air and letting the cold shivers run down his spine - but not before they pierced his heart.

Dragging a hand down over his creased brow and face, Guy tried to steady his breathing - these plaguing dreams were wreaking havoc on his heart. It was bad enough to know what Marian was going through, but did he have to see it every time he closed his eyes? Dear God, if he had to witness that one more time he would go mad. Composing himself, Guy slowly crawled out of bed.

Once on the floor he was careful to step over Allan curled up on the ground. Guy had not been about to pay for another room and had given him the choice - the floor or the barn. He prayed silently that he hadn't hollered out during his nightmare but by the look of Allan's latent form, he figured all was safe. Of course, Allan had slept though Guy's incessant pacing earlier and if A Dale could do that, he could sleep through a siege…

Dipping his hands into the clay washbasin, Sir Guy splashed water on his face and through his hair, letting the cool wet drip down over his furrowed brow. Moving his shoulder, he used that to mop his face; wiping away worries, sweat, and sorrow. He sniffed, the air clearing his head; trying to get the thoughts of Marian away.

She would never be the same. He did not want to believe it but he knew it to be true - women don't simply get up and brush off violent lustful attacks as if they were a bee sting. No, Marian would be different. Guy's heart clenched in his breast as he thought of Marian's pain. He didn't care, though, whether or not she was damaged - he would take her as his own and care for her, make everything better…

But, that was a task for tomorrow; tonight he had precious little time to rest - not that he truly could. They had only stopped a couple of hours ago and he would soon be shaking Allan awake to continue. Exhausted, Guy began to walk back to his cot - nearly tripping over the forgotten Allan in the process. Guy let out a string of muttered curses as he pushed himself off the wall he had tumbled into while trying to avoid A Dale's sleeping carcass. He flopped back onto the bed, not caring how much noise he made; Allan deserved to be woken after almost stumbling him.

Despite fatigue, weariness, and worry, Guy did not dare close his eyes again for fear that more nightmares would plague him in his tormented dreams. It was only an hour later when Guy, dark circles under his eyes, tried to wake Allan.

Mumbling about another minute in his sleep, Allan suddenly became very alert when he was shoved awake. He opened his bobbing eyes to see Guy loomed over him. Allan jumped up and away from Gisborne, raking his fingers though his tousled hair, as he stood, almost toppling over in his sudden quest to pull on his boots. He looked over at Guy, who was strapping on his scabbard; how in God's name could that man glare so early in the morning - if it was even morning yet…

There was a sneer on Guy's face as he handed Allan a coin and commanded him to fetch some bread and cheese from the ordinary. "And don't run off with it!" he barked at Allan's retreating back. Guy tried to curb his temper; he knew that A Dale wouldn't risk his life over one coin. Nevertheless, he was miserable, and when one person is miserable, they try to make everyone else feel the same way. Staring out the window, Guy glowered, his thoughts resting on the brown haired girl who was at the mercy of a monster. If Marian was to be his salvation he would have to be hers first…

Sunlight peaking in through the barn's cracked wall, told Marian that early dawn was upon her. Shifting herself, she managed to sit and shook her head to remove stray flecks of straw. She smiled, fully and without inhibition, as she looked down at the chain that bound her hands. Marian of Knighton had a plan.

About that time, Winchester pulled open the barn door and strode inside, his three guards trailing in his wake. "Sleep well?" he towered above her, and gently picked one of her curls off her shoulder. She flinched away.

Glaring despisingly at her captor, Marian said, "What do you think?"

He shook his head, "Tsk tsk, mi'dear. It would be far more agreeable to the both of us if you would accompany me to my room. Just one little word from you and I'll lift your punishment and have you sleeping on a real bed, nice and warm - you'll have a full stomach too." He bent down on one knee; her level. Slowly he moved his face just inches from hers, "Think how much nicer that would be than sleeping with the animals."

"I still would!" she took the closeness of their situation to spit in his face. Marian was half-expecting the back hand that resounded across her cheek - it was worth it though.

Winchester grabbed the chain between her hands, yanking her up by it before her head had the chance to clear. Once she was un-tethered from the post that she had spent her night next to, Marian was led out of the barn. Feeling a great amount of defiance, she dug her heels into the soft horse-trod dirt, "Am I to be kept like a common beast?"

Winchester looked over his shoulder at her, his face just as placid as when she had first seen him, "No mi'dear, you are too pretty for a beast. No, you are a filly who needs to be broken - and I intend to do so."

It was with these words that Marian forcefully pulled her arms back toward her. Winchester turned about and she replied with a mighty upwards kick in his direction. To her surprise, the vile man was quick enough to latch onto her foot. Not to worry, Marian thought, as she gave a jump, thrusting her other foot into the air and to his face. It was then that he twisted her captured ankle roughly, turning her all the way around - falling to the ground because she did not have her other foot to balance her.

Winchester grabbed the back of her neck and lifted her up, "Where, in God's name, did you learn to do that? Kate was spirited but never…" His lips were at her ear and he panted from their struggle, a shudder wracked Marian's body; he was so base. When she didn't respond, Winchester rotated her to face him, and took her chin in his hand "Did your Daddy teach you that? Or did your precious Sir Guy? He was very interested in your wellbeing; maybe he took pains to teach you." Marian still kept silent, her heart almost freezing when he mentioned Guy being concerned about her.

Winchester sighed, continued with his conversation, and said, "I assure you Marian, no matter what you have learned, no matter from whom, you don't have a chance when I decide to 'wrestle' with you."

Marian turned her head as far away from him as possible, averting her eyes - not in fear or demure, maidenly, worry but so that he couldn't see them smolder and fume - slowly planning his death and her triumph.

Grinning and thinking that he was yet again humiliating her, Winchester shoved her into the carriage and crawled in next to her, pulling her close to him. Marian shivered, feeling her skin crawl at his touch; oh how she wanted to slit his throat…

The commencing carriage ride was long and tortuous, as Marian frantically thought for a way out. Just one moment, that was all she needed and she could escape. A particularly violent bump bounced the carriage and Winchester hollered out the window to the driver. Marian scooted to the seat's edge and clasp the handle, swinging open the door. The carriage was still going at a swift pace but even so, Marian leapt out hitting the ground hard and rolling several times.

She heard her dress rip and tear, collecting even more dirt than it had in the barn. Marian couldn't have cared less. It took her longer than she would have liked to struggle to her feet, but struggle she did and soon was making an unsteady bolt to the surrounding woods. Hearing Winchester's call to stop the carriage, only served to make her run faster and try harder. However, without her hands for balance, her going was still slow.

He didn't even bother to race after her himself, he sent his trio of men. And it did not take long for them to catch up to her. Once she was in custody again, Winchester drolly approached, eyeing her contemplatively. Breathing hard, Marian watched as he took hold of the chain linking her hands together and pulled her back to the waiting carriage. Another failed escape…

They had left the inn several hours ago and the sun was getting brighter with each passing second, splitting the shadowed leaves into a blur of bright green and yellow. Though to Allan a Dale, it might as well be the twinkling hours before dawn when it is hardest to stay awake, for Allan was exhausted - it was that simple. They had barely gotten to rest at the room, and he hadn't even been in a proper bed. But he dare not complain to Guy; that irritated and irrational man would probably tell him that he should have rested up while in his cell at Nottingham!

Mind, he had not had that much rest in the dungeon - too worried about his fate, his disloyalty, and the repercussions that came with it. Djaq had told him that he was a good man; did she still believe that? Or did she think of him as a traitor like the rest did? Always talking good but never meaning it, a bloated windbag as it was. He shook his head, trying in vain to push out the thoughts of Djaq and Will, not to mention his other friends who he had let down, away. God, he probably didn't even deserve to call them friends anymore. Why taint their names with his?

Allan's eyes drifted to the man riding furiously in front of him. The horses were feeling slightly better after their respite in the stables, and ready to run. Allan wished that he had that much energy. He also wished that he knew a prayer to say to God asking to keep him from falling off the bloody horse! Alack, he did not and feared that he would drowse and find himself on the earth below.

Since he didn't know any prayer like that, Allan was starting to recite the Confiteor over again and again so quietly that only himself, the horse's sharp ears, and hopefully the Almighty could hear. Mayhap that would help them in their quest or, if nothing else, give him peace of mind. Allan laughed bitterly as he recalled obstinately refusing to memorize it while his mum tried to force him. Apparently, some of it had rubbed off and, now, he thanked God that he had at least one thing to say to him. Mea culpa, mea culpa - through my fault, through my fault. He gave another low chuckle, if only Robin could hear him and his litany now…

Guy, himself, did not have the same type of litany that Allan did. The only litany that Guy of Gisborne had was one that seemed to have no beginning or end, one crime after another - many of them done falsely under the name of the law. Why would God even bother to hear his pleas and supplications?

Gisborne's mind was too much of a jumbled mess anyway, to worry about prayers for salvation, deliverance, and forgiveness. His thoughts focused on the fact that he knew, in a short time, he would have to confront Winchester and save Marian. The images that flashed behind his icy eyes were how much he would enjoy killing that man.

Guy had never been one to take true pleasure in killing. He had done what he was told, immediately and without question. It did tend to bring him satisfaction when he received, as a result, what he desired at the time: approval, power, position, reputation. However, later on he would become disgusted by the fact that he would do anything so the Sheriff would pat him on the head.

He had always remembered his mother's disdain for the Holy Wars and how angry she was at his father for going off to fight in them. She had told her son day after day, 'Those who live by the sword, will die by the sword - remember that Guy.' On the eve that the messenger brought news that his father was missing and presumed dead, those warnings had stopped. Guy knew that she blamed herself for her husband's death by quoting those words.

His mind swirled with a distant feeling of regret. It was hard to think upon one that he loved so dearly and look at the man he had become - a killer. His mother would be ashamed of him for having disregarded everything she had taught him; she was so pure, so good. Did he have nothing of her in him? Guy exhaled brutally, if only he could save Marian, then his soul might not be doomed to eternal damnation…

Marian repositioned her elbow so that it would jab Winchester in the ribs if he tried to kiss her again. It worked as she had planned. He gave a muffled gasp and then grabbed her arm at the joint and moved it spirally. With the irons still tight on her wrists, Marian felt a rough jolt of pain wash over her. She refused to give him the satisfaction of hearing her cry out though.

"Stubborn as a mule, are we?" his lips were too close her ear again, and she pushed away in disgust. Yanking her back to his side, Winchester leered at her, "You don't get to be my age, little one, by giving up whenever something doesn't go your way. I will have my way. Now, sit here quietly or suffer the consequences." His hand stroked over her brown tangled curls, almost as if he were petting a favored cat. Winchester ceased his ministrations with her tresses and moved his fingers, tracing her face lightly. When he reached her mouth, he let them travel over her lips, barely touching them with a gentleness that repulsed Marian.

With a swift and fluid motion, she had opened her mouth and snapped it shut on his nomadic appendages. An unfettered yelp greeted her and Winchester cursed, taking a moment for him to slap her face - putting all his might into the blow.

The strike sent Marian to her side and she lay still, face down, on the seat; praying that, whatever the consequence of her impromptu attack, it wouldn't be as lasting as what she suddenly feared. She could already feel the new red mark, a twin to the one she received earlier, burn across her cheek. Feeling the neck of her dress grabbed up, herself pulled along with it, Marian knew that Winchester's patience with her was at a breaking point. He was done being lenient, she had pushed him too far…

Despite the bounce of the carriage, Marian felt her world still as Harry of Winchester yanked her flush against the seat. He hovered above her now quivering form - though she tried to still the trembling, "I tried to be tolerant of you. Letting you have your time to get used to the idea - till we arrived at my manor. But now, well now I'm afraid that that's over. I'll beat that bold attitude out of you."

He crushed his lips to hers and Marian felt the bile in her stomach grow, she was going to be sick. There was no way to escape; her arms were bound, her legs found themselves pinned, and her body was weak from lack of food. This was it. Notwithstanding her hope that Robin would come and save her, Marian had known that this would happen, eventually.

She tried to keep her thoughts on the idea of watching him squirm in pain when she dispatched him. One day those wayward thoughts would be a reality and she would go back and take care of her father. Living a quiet existence, away from the disapproving eyes of the world had never been what she had wanted. Well, then she would just have to carry on as if nothing had happened.

The erratic path of his hands broke her thoughts. She clenched her teeth waiting for the world to end. The carriage came to a sudden halt, sending Winchester forwards almost falling over and freeing her somewhat. Still angry at Marian and now at being interrupted, he yelled, "Why are we stopping?" There was no answer, save one yelp and a hard thud. Then, the only sound was muffled footfalls racing across soft dirt.

Seeing the day's epoch come, Marian knew that this was her last chance. Using her knee, she managed to slam it into Winchester's groin. Her captor let out a thunderous groan, gasping for breath, as his eyes grew wide. Marian almost felt the desire to smirk at him while he wallowed in pain, but she kept her face emotionless as she moved to push him away.

It was then that her heart fluttered and her entire countenance went ridged. For, from the outside of the carriage, she heard a demanding angry voice, "Get out! Your men ran away like cowards! And I don't intend to give you the same opportunity." Guy!

A/N I'll apologize again for the wait, it just takes me a while to get everything written down and proofread. I will say that things will get even more interesting in chapter four, but I do hope that you like the story thus far. It will take a couple more chapters to get back to our favorite outlaws, but we shall find out what is going on in their neck of the woods soon.

This chapter takes place the next night after chapter one. By the end of this chapter, Guy and Allan are just starting their second day.

Also, incase I wasn't clear enough - the scene at the beginning of the chapter was Guy's nightmare.

I am aware that, had Marian not been shackled, she would have been more of a threat to Winchester. But I also couldn't have her free herself now could I? Guy has to do that part!

Thank you for reading the story and if you would like to, please let me know what you thought. Reviews do make me smile. ;)

I would also like to thank all the anonymous reviewers for their kind remarks.

More Guy, Marian, and Allan in chapter four! And I will say that the next chapter will have a bit more action and less thoughts…