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PART 5 The next eleven days passed agonizingly quickly. They made love only twice more... the bulk of their time spent planning their way out of the Pava. Having pieced together what she knew of Betharan custom with what he'd learned since his arrival, they knew a smooth extrication would be next to impossible. Giles' associate, Lorne, a Pylean who had helped Angel locate her and had gotten him to Bethara in the first place, had told him that the best chance Angel had to release her from the Pava was to mate with her, to make Buffy his property. As his property, there would be little that could be done to her without his consent. There were two problems with this scenario: One was that she was already owned by the Pava. To mate with her without first “winning the right” could be a possible cause for the Pava to Celebrate Buffy. The second problem was that mating with Buffy meant drinking her almost dry and Angel was afraid that once he’d let the demon out, he’d be unable to stop it. His demon was quite different in Bethara and had proven unpredictable in the past. There was also the question of what her blood would do to his strength, strength he knew he'd need when getting them out of the Pava. On Earth, Slayer blood, in addition to being a powerful aphrodisiac, was known to be an incredible boost of power. On Bethara, who knew what it would do to him? In the end, she'd quietly asserted that it was worth the risk. His heart grew tight at her despondence, at her willingness to do anything to get away from the Pava. She’d said that she felt complete now that she’d been with him again, had gotten to talk to him again and that even if she were Celebrated, it would be the end of a good life. A positive life. A life where it seemed like she’d once helped people. They spent several days testing the limits of her remaining powers. She was incredibly weak or, rather, had only average human strength. Not knowing what would happen when the Pava learned of their mating, Angel spent several days training with Buffy, going over basic self-defense techniques and scenarios, shocked that she was a blank slate, that she’d forgotten nearly all of her former training. Still, by the end of their sessions, she had bested him several times. They’d learned that her cunning and resourcefulness were Buffy traits, rather than Slayer traits. The fact that she’d retained those instincts would be their surprise to the Pavan Guard should she get a chance to join the fight. They chose to mate two days before the end of the fourteen day period. Terrified, Angel made love to her for hours the night before, committed to showing her all that she meant to him. He held her and spoke to her quietly afterwards, explaining that mating would involve blood letting and rough sex, that it would hurt initially, but that the bite itself should bring her much pleasure. Trembling, she promised repeatedly that she trusted him and that she was not nervous. The lie was completely transparent, her brave front almost his undoing. When morning came, he pledged his love to her one last time, and, taking a deep, calming breath, closed his eyes, rest his forehead against hers and sent a silent, final prayer to any god who would listen to a demon. He kissed her neck tenderly and, ignoring his panic, forced himself to focus… forced his mind to clear, to open… forced himself to let down his barriers. Forced his soul to call forth Angelus. A blinding rush of pain, rage, passion and lust surged through him, pulsed through his veins. He grabbed her wrists roughly, pinning them painfully beside her ears… he thrust himself brutally into her center and, reveling in her screams of terror, he roared, he changed…. He lunged at her throat. *** She awakened... exhausted, blurry... trapped under a warm, heavy object. Moving slowly, she realized it was Angel. Releasing her breath, she shivered and felt her neck. She could feel the wound - she hadn’t dreamt it; she had indeed been mated and had survived. Looking up at him, she saw a look of peace on his face that reminded her of the statues of Ma’a she could see in the Square below her window. She lay there, unmoving, and studied his face. He was so beautiful. And he’d been kind, so kind. If he were always like this, she could easily see how she’d fallen in love with him back in their homeland of California. As the days passed, she had relaxed little by little... had made small suggestions as they planned her... departure... from the Pava. Before sleeping each day, he’d pull her to lay on his chest and she’d listen to his heartbeat as he told her stories about her past - their past - stories that had a vague ring of familiarity but, other than that, were merely stories. He'd seemed so dismayed by her lack of pre-Bethara memories she'd worried he would no longer want her, but he’d assured her over and over that it didn’t matter, that maybe it was better that she’d forgotten because her life on "Earth" had been difficult and that one day he would tell her about it. She figured it was the difficulty on Earth that had led to her Penance in the Pava. She longed to ask him what she’d done, *why* she was being punished but, despite his assurances that she could ask him anything she wanted, she knew that questions were forbidden by the Pava, and the Tar - Angel - was being so nice, she didn’t want to make him angry by asking the wrong thing. So she kept those thoughts to herself. Yet, as the broht drew to a close, she worried: What was the Pava going to do when he saw Angel’s mark? In a flash, she saw herself being beaten and burned, trapped in the bnrian coffin for weeks… torn apart by the Droxnas in the forest. Celebration was a real possibility; despite her words to Angel, she didn't want to die and the Pava would NOT be pleased by this action. From a business perspective, she still had 380 years or so left to her Penance and knew from Qa that there were orders placed for her for the next twenty brohts. From a personal perspective... she wondered if she should have told Angel about the Pava’s attachment to her. The Pava came to her always when she had several days or a broht free. Over time, he’d beaten her less and less... some days was almost kind to her. Not kind the way Angel was kind... but, well, the Pava was - different. She hadn’t told the Tar - Angel - because she didn’t want to seem like she was complaining... and to be truthful, she didn’t want the Tar to be angry with her and change his mind. He’d promised that the mating would make her his and his alone. She knew that at some point he’d be mad at her... would likely beat her, but she didn’t care. He was leaving and she wanted to go with him... needed to. It was a risk. When they returned to the Tar, his promises aside, she could be in a much more dire situation than the one she was in. The former Tar had once been kind to her... but then she'd learned it was a trick. She shuddered. Angel’s arm tightened in response and he pulled her closer and, still asleep, kissed her neck. Gentle but strong, always. She was reminded that during the fourteen days, he’d promised over and over that he would never hurt her. It couldn’t be worse than the Pava. Could it? *** “What is the meaning of this blasphemy?!” Bryn knelt terrified in the center of the room, hands clasped behind her back, eyes lowered submissively to the stone floor, struggling not to run. In the past, she had learned the hard way that any punishment would be far worse should she be anything other than passive. She cheated a quick glance to her left – Angel was struggling against four members of the Pava’s pran who were holding him tightly in the corner of the Pava’s chamber. The Pava knelt next to Bryn and yanked her chin to one side. His eyes widened when he saw that Angel’s tale of mating was the truth. With a roar, he threw her to his side and began kicking her in her ribs, her legs, her stomach, finishing with a hard kick between her legs. "Stop it!" Angel yelled. "Stop–" Angel's protests were cut off when Bura smashed him in the stomach with a large piece of wood. ”What is the meaning of this?!” Groaning, Buffy fought to regain her breath. Gasping in pain, she pulled herself back to her knees and crawled to Pava, beginning to kiss his feet, as she knew was expected. Roaring again, he kicked her away and then grabbed her hair and pulled her to standing. He turned his head to one side and barked at a sixth member of his pran. “Bring in the Roff. *Heal her* NOW.” Shoving her back to the floor, Bryn forced herself to return to her kneeling position and did not attempt any further contact. “Perhaps you were unaware,” the Pava addressed Angel, menacingly, “but the penalty for a non-consensual mating in Bethara is Celebration of the Slayer. I intend to make it extremely painful for her. The Slayer is mine - *my* prize. You had no right to try this.” Celebration. Her eyes closed tightly as tears began to stream down her face. She struggled to remain still and not make any noise. Displaying more swagger than he could really warrant given his current position, Angel shrugged. “Yeah, well…. It’s the same in Pylea. I intend to fight you for the right to the Slayer. What can I say? I know I’m going to win. I decided to speed things up a little.” Bryn gasped as a flash of memory overwhelmed her. That voice, she knew that voice. Angel. He'd been cruel. He’d hurt her. That’s what had happened to her on Earth. *That’s* why he had apologized. Oh, God. Was that why she was on Bethara? Sneaking a glance over at him, she saw Angel looking straight at her, his eyes penetrating… he looked worried for a moment, he looked kind, he was trying to tell her something. Their exchange was interrupted when the roaring Pava kicked her so hard she flew through the air and the world went black. *** She awakened the next day, pain free, on her pallet in her cell. For a moment, she thought the past broht was a dream but, touching her neck, she felt Angel’s mark and was confused by what it meant. The Roffs had *clearly* healed her, yet the scarring wound remained. Her thoughts were interrupted when the door opened, admitting a for-once dour Qa. “We will be leaving in a few moments. You must put this on,” she said, avoiding any eye contact as she handed Bryn a rough brown tunic. Bryn stared at her for a moment in disbelief. Garments? Leaving? “I don’t--” “Bryn, please ask nothing and put on the Dra,” Qa said quietly. Bryn looked at Qa warily and slowly pulled the tunic over her bare body. “I’m sorry I failed you, Bryn. I’m sorry I didn’t protect you from the Tar. It has been my pleasure to serve as handler to you. Turn around now,” Qa said sadly. Bryn began to tremble when she realized what was happening... she was being taken to be Celebrated. Qa bound her hands tightly behind her back. Bryn whimpered, stared imploringly into Qa's eyes… begged her for mercy. Qa looked sad yet continued preparing her: stuffing her mouth full of cloth and securing it around the back of her head…. and finally fastening a blindfold across her eyes. Weeping, she was led through the castle by Qa and some others for several moments until, suddenly, she felt a cool breeze on her skin, warmth on her head, and rough dirt under her feet. She was outside! For a second, she was distracted by the crisp and clear air. She inhaled deeply; it was so good to breathe fresh air. Her delight quickly passed as the horrible reality of things was brought front and center once again. There was cheering and shouting in the distance. With each foot-step the din grew louder… closer… until it was deafening. Terrified, Bryn fought not to urinate. They stopped suddenly and Qa whispered 'Parraneu' into her ear and kissed her cheek. Bryn was roughly pulled away and forced up several steps onto some kind of platform, her arms bound to a wooden piling behind her. She stood silently, straining to hear anything helpful from the surrounding voices, praying that Angel would come rescue her. Despite having told Angel that she could go through Celebration knowing she’d led a good life, she found that now that it was happening she desperately wanted to live. “Village! Behold the Slayer of the Pava, brought to you before her time, to be Feast in the ritual of Celebration!” Deafening cheers went up from the crowd. Bryn's head lolled, lightheaded with fear, tears flowing copiously from her eyes, soaking the tight cloth bound across them. “A Celebration is always beautiful to behold, but none shall be as beautiful as my Bryn,” the Pava continued, circling her and running one of his hands roughly across her breasts, tweaking one of her nipples hard. His hand dropped abruptly and she heard him move away. “It has been many years since our last Celebration of a Slayer. Many of you shall not be *alive* when this ritual is performed again. Feast and feast well.” The Pava tore the tunic from her body. Bryn began to scream through her gag as she felt him leave her and heard the thundering of many feet as the villagers ran toward the platform. Her hands were untied and she was roughly pulled away from the piling as the crowd moved to take her.
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