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PART 6 Hands. Hands everywhere. They'd tied her to an old wagon and fought one another to beat her, to torture her, to fuck her. The raping seemed to last for hours and finally, struggling to remain standing, she was, instead, pushed down to her knees, her arms stretched painfully above her. A woman chuckled in the background. Bryn's body tensed when she heard the crack of a bullwhip and she struggled not to scream, to not give them satisfaction as the whip struck her body, over and over. She failed; she screamed. Rough hands pulled her back to standing and she felt a raw tongue lick her blood off. Someone huge thrust into her ass. She groaned as she felt the wood of the wagon press into her breasts and splinters break into her flesh. With a loud grunting, the demon spilled into her, her anus turning to acid at the feel of his semen. Uirn demon, she thought, her mind scarily clinical, desperately trying to save her from agony by over-functioning and checking out. Someone adjusted the rope, flipped her and flung her into the dirt, her arms pulled taut over head, her bloody back now pressed into the road. The bullwhip slashed her stomach and legs. This was happening. She was being Celebrated. Where was Angel? Two demons pulled her legs apart. Her heart filled with dread as the whip whistled again through the air…. She knew what was next. The whip sliced into her center and everything went black. *** She awakened screaming…. She was on fire. Her blindfold was long discarded yet her eyes were swollen shut from days of beatings. Light penetrated… it was day-time again, that made three. They never tired, they just kept coming. Beating her, raping her, torturing her. She screamed as a second hot poker pressed into her breast, a third into her stomach as a woman laughed and poured a stinging liquid onto her. Groaning in pain, she was roughly pulled from the ground and thrown over a barrel as another villager began to beat her with a wooden beam. The world went black. Again. *** “I challenge the Pava for the right to the Slayer!” A bloody Angel roared, striking thrice the gong in Ma’a Square. Buffy lay silent, motionless, tied down to a large fallen log, her face grossly swollen from being beaten… her body bruised, bleeding and branded. A large Kevara demon brutally penetrated her from behind while another throttled her mouth. “I challenge the Pava for the right to mate with the Slayer!” Angel shouted, his voice trembling in fury, fighting himself to remain still – to not pull the fucking Kevaras off of Buffy. Killing two demons would only spare her momentary pain and he'd likely be killed by the crowd standing beside her, eagerly waiting for the Kevaras to finish with her. Where was the fucking Pava?! Two more demons joined the Kevaras, began their assault on her. “Does the Pava accept my challenge?” He snarled, desperate. His eyes pierced the gaze of several demons who were moving closer to Buffy, ready to join in; those villagers seemed to rethink their actions and began to move out of the Square entirely. Fighting desperately to ignore a silent Buffy's shallow, shuddering breaths, Angel called again for the Pava, whirling around when he heard the first of the Pavan Guard arriving on horseback. “The Pava accepts this challenge on one condition," said a demon he recognized as Chief of the Pran. "*When* he prevails, the Slayer’s torture shall increase *tenfold*. He shall gain the Tar and ascendancy to the Schoek. Is this… acceptable?” The demon sneered, clearly expecting Angel to withdraw the challenge. “Agreed,” Angel bit out, barely able to contain his rage as Buffy hoarsely screamed behind him. He unsheathed his sword, held it tightly in his grip and focused solely on the object of his hate: the Pava, who was finally arriving with the rest of his Royal Guard. He had every intention of making this hurt. First, he would take down the Pava. His pran would follow in short order. Then, everyone else who had harmed her would die. Painfully. With a wave of the Pava's hand, her abusers reluctantly pulled away from Buffy, and, as custom was now being improvised, she was dragged back to the platform and placed under heavy guard. No longer able to stand, she was thrown down next to the pole, her hands lashed to the piling beside her. The Pava slowly dismounted his horse, smirking at Buffy's state and looking with scorn at Angel whose rage was visibly increasing as the moments passed. Sensing the fight would be ugly, the few remaining villagers began to withdraw to watch from a safer distance. Being near the action increased the likelihood of death and they weren't done with the Slayer yet. Anger rolled off Angel’s body and he felt a certain satisfaction when the Pava seemed hesitant as he withdrew his sword. They began to circle each other. "Did you enjoy the Vrana't?" the Pava snickered. "A distraction, but now I claim the prize. My *mate*. You dared ignore the challenge I put forward in your chamber? You dared ignore custom and moved to Celebrate my *mate* – despite the challenge being on the table…," Angel menaced, "while you detained me? I will *cut* you down. And as Schoek, I will see that you are the first male Celebrated in my reign. If you live that long…." Angel swung his sword toward the Pava's neck, a move that was easily blocked. There began a fight that would cause the Pava and his entire pran to be struck down in the Square. *** An exhausted, bloody and bruised Angel sat leaning against the wall, in full demon face, watching carefully as the Roffs began their fourth day of healing. Buffy's injuries were extensive… bruised spinal cord, many broken bones and numerous burns and deep lacerations. The Roffs had nervously informed Angel – their new Master – that it would take at least seven days to balance her and that there might be some residual scarring. At the moment, he didn't care how long it took. As long as she got better. She lay on the bed in the Pava's bed chamber, unmoving, silent as the Roffs smeared another mortar-ful of poultice on her back. Having been in many battles in his attempt to gain the Tar, Angel knew that these remedies were extremely painful and yet she lay there motionless. It was probably for the best but her withdrawal terrified him. He was overwhelmed with guilt… shaking in fury. When he'd originally challenged for the Slayer – in the Pava's working chamber – at that moment, she should have been placed under guard, unseen by anyone except her handler, until the battle was completed. Instead, she was led from the room and a second after the thick wooden door closed, his heart grew tight, the air filling with a heaviness only magic can create. Gasping for breath, he'd fallen to his knees, his strength draining from him quickly. He'd slipped into unconsciousness. He'd awakened hours? days? later, furious, in the Vrana't forest, a dense swamp, some 300 miles from the Pava. Precious time was wasted for each patch of the heavy mud he'd had to slough through. But struggling through the Vrana't had one benefit: By the time he'd returned to the Square, his rage had become murderous. "Angel!" Buffy screamed, panicked. Rising quickly, he rushed to her side, forcing the Roffs out of his way. "I'm here, I'm here. Shhh, love. It's over now. I'm here," Angel assured her. "I – I can't move," she said to him, terrified. She winced when her tears spilled over and hit her raw, partly healed flesh. "Finish her face. NOW," Angel growled at the Roffs, who rushed back to her, anxiety flowing off them in waves, clearly afraid for their lives. She hissed in pain as they applied another potion. In an effort to soothe her, he gently stroked her hair and kissed the crown of her head and, speaking slowly in English, told her stories of his boyhood in Ireland. He knew she understood little but it had the desired effect. Her breathing calmed and after several moments, she slipped once again into unconsciousness. *** Her eyes opened, terrified. She was being held down to the bed of the Pava. After a panicked moment, she remembered that the body half covering her own was that of Angel. He held her tightly, the month since the Roffs had healed her almost-Celebrated body and her continuing improvement seeming to do little to relax him or diminish his possessiveness. He protected her even when deeply asleep. Smiling, she extricated herself from him with no small amount of difficulty and went to look out the window at the mountain range they were to cross in their trek to the Tar. The mountains were beautiful, majestic, but very steep and broad. Angel had told her that it would take at least twenty-five days to cross into the Tar with many days on foot as they'd have to abandon their horses at the Taran Plateau. Despite the fact that Buffy had not fully recovered her strength, they were to leave that day. As the Cold Season progressed, the trail would become less and less passable. As it was, the crossing would be difficult. Angel assured her that there were plenty of caves for shelter, an abundance of plant and animal life to provide food… and that he would protect her. Of this, she was certain. He'd rescued her prior to being Celebrated… as he'd promised. He seemed to feel guilty that he'd taken "so long." When Buffy tried to reassure him that it was alright, that her experience in the Village, while involving many more demons, was no worse than other times during her service to the Pava, he'd left the castle in a rage, his claymore tightly grasped in his hand. She'd sat up half the night with Qa, terrified for his life, for *her* life. It was only when he'd returned, covered in blood but much calmer, and told her what he'd done – that he'd killed anyone in the village smelling of Buffy – that she understood he was angry at them and not her. Hearing him stir behind her, she allowed herself a small smile and tiptoed over to the bed. She bit back a giggle, watching his brow furrow as he felt around for her, not quite awake yet. Reaching out her hand, with a devilish grin, she lightly ran her fingertips up his side, watching him jerk as she tickled his ribs. Playing with him, she tickled his other side, squealing when he grabbed her and pulled her roughly back into the bed, settled over her and kissed her firmly. "Minx!" he teased, moving to kiss her again. She giggled and their embraces grew more heated until they heard a tentative knock on the door. Frustrated, he rose and stalked to stand near the door. "What?" Qa's voice was muffled by the heavy wood. "My Lord, it is already three hours past first light. If you wish to make camp at Brahna, I believe you must leave shortly to arrive before nightfall." He turned back to the bed and looked at Buffy. For the past week or so, she'd seemed better. He'd hoped she would have been fully recovered before they started out – she still tired too easily – but he knew if they didn't leave soon, it would only be a harder trek across the Pass. "Are you sure, love?" "I feel very well. I promise. I won't slow you down." He frowned at that. They'd made huge strides in the prior few weeks with her confidence and independence but she still deferred too easily to him. Once again, he was forced to remember that she was not the same girl who'd been kidnapped twenty-two years earlier. After numerous balancings, her memory of her former life was practically gone. Everything she knew was Betharan, a life where being submissive had likely saved her a lot of pain. "Very well, love. We'll leave as soon as you are ready." With that, he admitted Qa and left for his dressing area. *** Buffy looked down at her garments. It felt so odd to be wearing so much, much less anything at all, but she supposed it was going to be very cold on their journey and she would need all of the layers Qa put on her. The strangest sensation was her boots. Incredibly soft animal hide lined with fleece, they were both comfortable and warm. She walked around a bit getting used to having her feet covered. It was the oddest thing. "Ready to go?" Angel ducked his head in to check on their progress. Qa rose from completing the elaborate lacing that secured her boots then reached into the basket and walked to Angel with the last item. "Yes, my Lord," Qa said, handing it to Angel and then retreating to stand by the door, her eyes once again downcast. "We won't be needing this," Angel bit out, throwing the rope leash to the floor, angry. "It's okay, Angel," Buffy said gently. "I don't mind." "Well, *I* mind. You won't be treated like this, Buffy. No more! You are my *mate*. This… this is non-negotiable. Let's go," he barked, turning and beginning to leave the room. "My Lord! Sir, please!" Qa stammered. "I- I mean no disrespect, Master, but…. *Please*, my Lord, I fear for her safety if others do not see, first hand, that she is your property. I- I understand that your home world has different customs but.… Here it is customary to keep one's mate bound and close at hand.… At least until you reach the mountains…." Qa finished, dropping to her knees submissively. "Rise, Qa." Angel sighed. "Explain." "My Lord," she said, rising, the retrieved leash and collar in her hands, "the Mate's Bite…. The former Pava knew of it because once, many years ago, we had another Slayer who was mated to a parnazya, or vampire, as you call yourself. But that is the *only* reason he recognized your mark for what it was. Here… well, the mating is very… complicated and should the female survive it, they are known by their brand and distinctive collar and the fact that they are tethered to their Master whenever away from the Master's home. I understand… I realize that you will not brand your mate – I would never ask, my Lord – but please, without the collar and tethering, I fear others will not realize she is yours, despite the fact that she travels with you. "Here, when a male chooses a mate, he usually steals her in the night from her owner and then mates with her. The fact that she is owned has no meaning. An untethered female, out of doors, is any male's for the taking. "If you do not collar and tether her, I fear what will happen while you sleep. Please, my Lord…. I mean no disrespect, but it is the safest way." Angel stared at the collar in her trembling hands, drawn from his musings only when he felt Buffy's hand on his arm. "It's okay, Angel, really. I understand you find this unacceptable but if it will tell others that I'm not to be touched…. I'm tired of being touched by others, Angel. I want only you." "I–," he started and then turned to Qa and reached for the collar and leash. "Leave us, Qa." Bowing, she quickly exited the chamber. When they were once again alone, Angel reached out and cupped Buffy's cheek. "Love, I don't *want* you to be okay with this," he sighed, frustrated, his brow furrowed. "I… I'm going to put this on you," he continued quietly, "but I want you to understand something, Buffy. We are equals here. You'll wear this for your safety but we are equals. Do you understand that, *really* understand that?" Buffy fought the automatic "yes," instead forcing herself to honestly consider his question. "Yes, Angel. It's – it's hard to understand but I will try to live that way." She stepped forward and, making her point, took the collar out of his hand and placed it around her neck. "I love you, Angel." She reached up and pulled his head down and kissed him deeply. "Take me home." *** It was slow going, Buffy's weakness making their trip days longer than he'd planned for. Each night she'd fall into a deep sleep, exhausted from the few hours' travel. Per Qa's advice, until the mountains, she'd remained tethered to him at all times. Many demons stared hungrily at her as they went past yet didn't approach, didn't fight him for her, respecting the fact that she was already owned. He realized quickly that there was a part of him that liked "owning" her, liked that she was tethered to him… liked her submission. He was disgusted by his thoughts, hated what they said about him. He was deeply relieved when they moved into the mountains and the collar and tether were removed. *** He estimated they were still seven days from the Tar when the skies filled with murky yellow clouds. He managed to find them a habitable cave and adequate firewood for several days, barely finishing before the deadly green lightning – always the start of a blizzard – began. Buffy, exhausted but as usual putting her best face on, took on her adopted role of homemaker, forming their "bed" of blankets in the back of the cave as he built a fire and reviewed their food stores. They had enough food for several days which was probably two or three days less than what they needed to survive. His initial journey across had involved several of these storms, all of which lasted for at least a week. And with snow on the ground it would be difficult to continue on or catch any wildlife. They were well and truly into the Cold Season. This was bad. He knew that despite his desire and need to eat, he could live without it. With him fasting, Buffy would have adequate nourishment and that was what was important. Her health had continued to improve but Angel was still troubled by the fact that she wasn't improving as fast as he'd hoped. He chalked it up to the fact that the rocky crags were indeed difficult to traverse. He knew that Buffy wouldn't allow him to abstain; the trick would be making Buffy think he was eating when he wasn't. She was constantly doting on him, asking him if he needed anything or wanted anything from her. In the back of his mind, he worried that she was doing it out of some sense of duty. He hoped in time she would become even more confident that he was with her because he loved her and that all he hoped for was for her to love him back. Nothing more. It was difficult to get a fire going. The wind had risen quickly and was at times blowing directly into their shelter. After many frustrating minutes striking at the flint, the blaze finally caught, and wrapping both of them in the blankets, he fed her bits of dried Nonka as they conversed in halting English. "Engel, you … wahnt home to gaw? When you wahnt home to gaw? To Californ-ee-a." "Yes. I want to go home," he emphasized as she nodded, frowning, memorizing his syntax. "But only when you're ready. Let's just get back to the Tar first." Buffy shivered as she had the prior day when he'd mentioned the Tar. When he'd asked then, she assured him she was just cold. Now, he knew she was lying. He hated it. "Love, what are you afraid of?" he asked gently in Betharan. Buffy looked panicked but did her best to look confused. "I don't know– " "Tell me. What are you afraid of, Buffy?" he repeated, frustrated. "Angel, I'm just cold. Really." She said, nervously smiling. "I'm sorry if I worry you. I don't mean to. Please, I'm sorry." "Damn it, Buffy. Don't apologize. You're afraid. That's okay. I wish you weren't but that's okay. But please, don't lie to me. I wish you'd–" "Angel, please don't be mad at me. Please! I don't mean to anger you. I don't!" Pulling away from him, she curled into herself, cringing, as if anticipating a blow from him. He stood rapidly and raked a hand through his hair. "I–" he faltered. "Buffy, have I ever hurt you? *Ever*?" Mentally cringing at the fact that yes, he'd hurt her *incredibly* back on Earth, he forced himself to stay focused on the instant moment. "Angel. Please…." She moved to kneel before him, her eyes downcast. Realizing he was only scaring her more, he slowly knelt down next to her. Reaching out to brush her hair away from her face, his stomach clenched when she flinched at his touch. But he knew he couldn't back down. He wouldn't. "Buffy, have I ever hurt you?" he asked softly. He could see her forcing herself to breathe deeply, to calm down. Looking at her hands, she whispered. "No. Angel, I don't know why I can't trust you but I'm… I'm sorry, but I'm afraid." Now they were getting somewhere. "It's okay, Buffy. What are you afraid of, love? Please tell me." She seemed to consider how to be honest and if it were even safe to answer honestly. After a moment, she quietly continued. "I'm… What's going to happen to me when we reach the Tar? I mean, these past few weeks…. You make me feel… different. Like I'm special and precious and…. I'm so scared." Taking another breath to steady herself, she considered things and continued, her voice stronger now. "I know that when we get to the Tar, I will likely be with other men and demons again. I know that's the deal. I just…. I'll miss just being with you, that's all. I don't want this to end." Angel's jaw dropped when he realized that the life she envisioned was the same as her life with the Pava, the only difference being she would spend nights "off" in his bed. "No, Buffy. No. Your life… your life is with me now, just me. I'm not…. In the Tar, you will rule by my side as my Queen, my mate… my equal. As long as you are with me, you will be only with me. Do you understand?" She nodded slowly as if she didn’t really believe him. "But Angel… for my Penance. What will I be doing for my Penance? I've still so many years…." "Buffy, why were you with the Pava? How did you end up there?" Looking nervous, she swallowed and reluctantly parroted: "I…. Well, I was sentenced to the Pava for 400 years for my crimes on Earth." Angel's eyes widened and he struggled to fight back tears. 400 *years*? Her *crimes*? "What crimes, Buffy? What did you do?" "I…. Well, um…. I used to know, I'm sure of it, but I don't remember. I'm sor- Um, I mean, I don't remember, Angel." Reaching out slowly, he began to stroke her arm lightly. "Buffy, look at me," he said softly, continuing only after she met his gaze. "Love, there were no crimes. None. You did nothing wrong on Earth. You were kidnapped, Buffy. Taken against your will by a vindictive man that didn't like you or approve of your methods, methods that were just and protected and saved peoples' lives. You committed no crimes, Buffy. The only crime was the one done *to* you by Quentin... the man who took you." "Wha- You're wrong…. I'm bad. I was bad and I was…. No!" Buffy raged. She pulled away from him and stood quickly, halting her escape only when he grabbed her hand tightly and forced her to look at him, forced her to hold his gaze, silently communicating that what he said was the absolute truth, no ifs, ands or buts. "No…," she whispered in horror, her left hand covering her mouth. "You were – and are – a good person, Buffy. A good person who was kidnapped and taken from your people - your friends, your family, your Watcher, Giles – me. You…. Buffy, you have such a beautiful heart. You didn't deserve any of this… none of it… and you never would. You are *innocent*… innocent, Buffy. You did *nothing* wrong." "No! You're wrong!" she stammered, her eyes darting around the cave, her breath quickening towards hysteria. "No!…. No! You're lying!" She yanked her hand from his and ran out of the cave and into the snowstorm. "Buffy!"
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