“So.” Woods said halfheartedly to Devon while they ate in the lower level galley.
The long table that served as a place to eat and meet and any other gathering that the crew decided needed several seats was the only furniture in the long room. Lantern hooks held the only light in the dim of late evening along the walls. The very back of the room led to a small kitchen that the food was prepared in daily.
Devon sat his bread down on the tin used for eating upon and looked across the table at the exotically hued man. “So what?”
“How do you think the new guy’s taking the news?”
“Which part? The Captain or the voodoo Red’s going to pull once we get to The Premier?” Devon asked and picked his bread back up, swiped at the mixture of vegetables and beef and took another hardy bite.
Woods sickened at the site of the boy so lacking in manners before using a spoon to bring a good sized serving to his lips and once he swallowed, answered. “Either of them, my guess is that he’ll have more trouble with Willow’s… gift.” He grinned wide and shook his head. “Wish I could see it myself.”
~~`~~
They were daft. It was the only explanation.
Previously, he’d thought they were at the very least imaginative. Possibly paranoid, but in the line of work they were, one had to be careful about who one let into the little group. Now there was no question in Will’s mind. The three pirates were knackers. Completely devoid of the sanity even the most senile of old men had.
The red head, Willow, just by looking at her you’d think she was perfectly normal. Quiet, probably even smart. But loony as a bird was more on the mark. She actually thought she could do it!
He shook his head at the thought internally and let himself next study Xander. Such a friendly fellow. Open. It seemed like he wore his heart on his sleeve at times, but not one to be trifled with if he was in a bad mood. This was what William had decided from the short acquaintance that he could have easily seen grow into a friendship of sorts after a time.
Bloody shame it was.
His gaze then went up to the still standing captain. She was beautiful, strong willed though. Small as she was, he had a feeling the woman could hold her end in a battle, and if anything else she was stubborn enough to fight to the death. It was the glint in her eyes, like she knew she was right before you even got to hear her opinion. The problem was, he didn’t believe a damn thing she said.
Such a waste, he thought once more.
“I think you broke him Cap.” Xander finally said, tired of waiting for the blank faced man across from him to speak.
“Oh!” Willow exclaimed, suddenly excited. “Does this mean we slap him?” She asked and watched for any sign of life to the striking man she’d just met moments ago. “Not that I’m into violence.” She shook her head vehemently and quieted.
“No Wills, no slapping.” Buffy crossed her arms. “So are you going to say anything?” She directed the rather stern query to Spike.
He shook his head, and his face finally made movement. Unfortunately it was the movement of his brow pulling together in just plain incredulousness. “You are all off your nut.”
“Maybe we shoulda waited a few more days.” Willow offered with a frown and turned her head towards the captain behind her. “It might have made more sense then.”
They didn’t act insane. Maybe he just misunderstood what the deal was. He could have just misheard or, possibly he blanked out when he saw the captain pushing her hair back. Truly, a tasty bit of neck was revealed. That was it. He’d been distracted and completely misinterpreted the plan.
Of course that brought up a whole different issue, one he wasn’t about to bring up for the moment. It seemed so ridiculous. And pirates simply fired, trashed and stole. The entire idea had to be an extension of his little test.
I mean, what man wants to have to go around in women’s clothing?
“So Red here provides the costumes, and then we attack?” He asked, with still quite a bit of confusion plain within his features.
The three exchanged glances, and in turn shrugged.
“That’s,” Xander paused a moment. “Yeah that’s the basics put, well, basically.”
“Oh.” William said flatly, his face still twisted while he thought it over. The whole thing just seemed... well, too childish to work. Not to mention the fact it was completely impossible.
But he was here, and he really had no desire to make a swim for it, despite his bravado towards the captain and his halfhearted plan at a rescue. He ran his fingers through his disobedient locks and sighed. “Well, I’ll stand with you, but I have a funny feeling I’ll be bleeding next to you before it’s over.” He said with some foreboding.
~~`~~
Another of the crew took a seat next to Woods, and threw a look of mischievousness towards Parker, then to the man seated beside her.
Faith, a name not taken lightly. It was what she had in herself, but few others. Like most on board, she was found, saved. And like all aboard, she was loyal to her crew and her captain.
The once whore turned pirate had been spotted by the captain herself. What Buffy was doing in a house of the ill repute, no one had dared ask. Secretly some of the men figured it answered the question as to why she never seemed to have a male relationship, although all knew of her one courtship. Even Faith was unaware of the reasons for the unusual visit to a brothel, not that she hadn’t been asked more than once by her crew mates.
All she knew was that the man, the beast who’d paid his shillings for her company wanted more then she offered. And no matter what, there was no way she was going to let the smelly animal pound ON her while he pounded INTO her. Some amount of violence she tolerated, was used to even, but the throng of punches was more then she would ever lower herself to accept.
Unfortunately, from her very precarious and intimate position her options were few. The tiny room curtained off for her business offered little in the ways of protection. There was the used mattress, the cord her clothing hung from a good 4 feet above her head, the small basin she used for water to wash after the sessions, a loose blanket on the floor and the well worn dirt floor itself.
Her mind had run quickly while she tried to avoid the solid blows to her temple, chin, nose or whatever body part his knuckles could batter. He didn’t seem to have any particular destination with his fists, as long as there was contact. All the while he grunted, pumping away between her legs.
She gave up trying to push him off… and concentrated on the basin of brown water only a few feet from her head on the floor. Between one hit and the next she was able to grab the ochre red bowl. When the next hit came she was jolted, but able to tip the basin and the water dumped to the dirt floor as she raised her arm getting a better grip. He pulled back one more time ready for another hit, and she felt the familiar twinges of his member as it jerked inside of her.
He reached his climax. And so came his descent.
With the distraction provided by her tormentor she brought the only weapon she had down hard on the back of his skull. She watched his face when the shards from the large bowl fell down around and beside her.
At first she noted confusion over the gray haired man’s face, then shock, then his eyes rolled up and his lids fell closed and he dropped down on her with all his weight.
She was scared, and trapped beneath his body. The weight pressed down hard making it nearly impossible for her to suck in breath.
It took some effort but she rolled the rather large man off her and gathered the rumpled sheet around her, suddenly very self conscious. She stood up and watched the bare man not moving, sprawled out on her mattress and then nudged him with her exposed toe.
He didn’t react.
“Hell, this isn’t good.” She leaned down and shook him by his shoulders. He didn’t have a response, so she smacked him across the face. Then quickly shot up to her feet with deep trepidation on her face, and realized the sound of the smack could have been heard by anyone. The same anyone who sat idly by while she was beaten, but would be quit displeased with an unconscious customer.
It was then she became acutely aware of all the noise around her. Noise she had heard for years. Sighs and grunts among boisterous music made to get the gentlemen in the mood. Healthy full figured women danced with pink cheeked men overdressed for the occasion, and with hefty purses in dire need of lightning in the central room.
The plucking of taught chords over a wooden string instrument accompanied by the forced wind of a harpsichord reminded the young woman that the noise she made with her palm against the motionless man’s cheek would be lost among the pollution it encumbered.
This, however, did not lessen her most immediate, and apparently ‘knocked out’ predicament.
“Come on.” She pleaded with the prone man. “Wake up.” She tried to rouse him, lightly smacked his cheeks, even promised a month worth of service if he’d just wake up before the boss came by. He apparently didn’t feel the desire, so Faith sat back on her heals... sheet still barely covering her form and she suddenly had a new fear.
With a tentative hand, and eyes focused on the closed lids of her latest John, she slid her hand through the air and held it still in front of his mouth and nose, then waited.
She tried to will her hand to feel. Her eyes darted from her own fingers to his chest, then back. Days seemed to pass in the span of moments but she held still.. praying to a god who’d given up on her before she had discovered the identity as the deity she was supposed to revere.
She yanked her hand back when she heard a sound.
Footsteps.
“Oh no.” Her eyes widened and she looked at the worn curtain, then back at the body.
That’s when she saw it. Blood. It was soaking into her old bed, not quite pooling, but the red and outlining brown was spreading over the fabric before being pulled in by the stuffing within that could hold the now lifeless liquid.
The footsteps were slowing now, but still headed her way.
She decided that before she panicked further, she should at least find out who was outside. That was when she saw the woman, dressed too fine to be inside the walls of such a place. Her elegant flowing gown should never have been exposed to the used sex of the building.
The woman turned her head and spotted the bruised brunette spying on her. But instead of a look of disgust, the look Faith was used to seeing from woman like the blonde, she saw a strange look of understanding.
Buffy had just seemed to stand there for no reason. Faith noticed that the strange female was putting on her small white gloves in preparation for departure. After each slim finger was well set inside the cloth, Buffy walked slowly towards the brunette, and quirked her head to the side as she took in the worn rags barely covering the skinny girl nearly her own age. “You look a little lost.”
Faith was a completely dumbstruck. “Forgive me Miss.” She averted her eyes. “I do not mean to overstep.” Faith let the curtain fall and turned, only to be reminded of her problem when she saw the motionless man. Her shoulders slumped further while the panic set in full force.
She felt the curtain pull away behind her and the woman from outside was standing beside her in the cramped area. “Ahh. I see you are lost. Have a bit of a problem here don’t you dear?” Some of the properness of her speech fell away.
“You might say that.”
Buffy raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that the..?”
“Admiral Thompson?” Faith asked and quickly followed with. “It was.”
Buffy couldn’t help but chuckle. She’d had a run ins with him alongside Ripper. He was a real pain and more than once he’d nearly figured out what the crew of The Watcher was up to. He’d somehow found a way to predict several of their moves. It was obvious how once Buffy realized the reasoning behind Giles’s chosen plunders. So they soon changed strategy. Lately they’d been clear of the Admiral, but his presence here seemed too coincidental considering her own business.
Buffy had only thought about it for a few moments before turning to the disheveled woman beside her. “So, need a place to go?”
Faith hadn’t thought twice, just grabbed what little she owned, which was the clothing and the loose blanket, quickly dressed and followed Buffy out without nary a glance.
The woman now seated among men, and beside her sometimes lover had no problem working and living among them. These men treated her well and fairly. When hits came, she easily hit back. Not that it happened much, but there were always exceptions.
One of those exceptions was now munching at his soaked bread like a pig. Parker, she still wasn’t sure what any of the others saw in the man. He seemed to be hiding more then he let on, and always had some way to put out half hearted innuendoes about the few females on board. They seemed to slip past the others ears with little notice, but she’d heard it all and often found herself wanting to find a good way to keep the egotistical idiot silent for all of time.
“So, how long do you think he’ll last?” Parker asked between mouthfuls.
Faith looked over to Woods. “I’m not sure. He’s handled things pretty well so far.” She said with no real attitude one way or the other.
“Hard to tell.” Woods agreed. “He doesn’t look like much, but I haven’t seen him have any problems yet.”
~~`~~
“You do understand, right?” Willow questioned with a crinkle on her forehead. Something about him made her think, maybe he didn’t believe them
“Sure, a bait and switch. With some violence thrown in for spice.” Spike thought he was quite clever and gave the red head a smug grin. He gave no indication of his true thoughts. He still waited for the end of the joke.
She sighed and looked once again to the blonde woman standing behind her. “Buffy, I think he’s missing the big picture. Or at least the one that will have him pale and frozen if he doesn’t get a preview.” Willow tried to explain.
Buffy understood what was being pointed out, and gave Willow one quick nod. “Nothing too fancy. I don’t want you wearing yourself out.”
The red head smiled and turned back to the Spike. “Ok William, I want to show you something, but you have to know it’s nothing painful, and you are safe here.”
“For the moment.” Buffy added, then smiled when Xander chuckled.
“Hush.” Came the red head’s stern voice at their giggles. She may be a flighty at times, but when it came to her talent, Willow was all business. “Now, Will, I want you to close your eyes for a minute, and try to picture someone you dislike. A man if possible.”
Will raised a brow, not saying a word but speaking volumes with the look. He was curious as to what the girl was up to, but a bit fearful at the same time. He took a hollow breath, and closed his eyes, trusting the girl for the moment..
The vision of his master came without provocation. A male, he disliked, easy choice.
“Now,” Willow continued softly. “Do you have the person in your mind? Can you see him?”
Spike pointed to his head, eyes still clamped shut. “Got 'em right here, pet.”
Willow mumbled under her breath and concentrated on Will’s closed lids. Only seconds passed before she commanded him to open his eyes.
Spike did as he was asked, and looked first at the familiar red head, and then over to Xander. But Xander was no longer himself. “Bloody ‘ell!”
He leapt up out of his seat and scooted backwards until his back was against the door. He stared at the glowering oversized brunette looking at him with a perplexed mask. William quivered, realizing that the rope around his neck would be coming soon.
He tried to push himself into the wall at his back, but the wood would not suck him inside no matter how he prayed it would. “H-how?” He asked the red head who still sat in her chair, but now was more relaxed as the spell did it’s job.
Then a very strange thing happened. His master spoke, but with another voice. “Willow here is a witch.”
“Xander!” Willow reprimanded the brunette. “Don’t say witch, people can get really scared.”
Spike was studying the face and build of the familiar man seated in Xander’s place and wearing his clothes. He looked back at Willow. “That’s Xander?”
“Oh yeah. Just a little trick Red here can do.” Buffy pointed out, still observing.
Spike let out a breath he’d been quite unaware he’d held. A loud sigh that the whole room could hear. “That’s freakish.”
He stared at the man in the seat, and remembered his first moment onboard, so recent he could recall how things had looked oddly and changed in an instant. “When I came on board,” He looked back at his master, also known as Xander, “That’s why nothing looked right when I came on board. Yeah?”
His master’s head nodded.
Buffy had been afraid of this. If he couldn’t handle the possible magical interludes that were bound to occur aboard The Watcher, he may have to take a little swim after all. She hated to do it, but would if need be. Instead of giving up on him though, she thought she’d try for tact. “Believe me, I thought I was going out of my mind the first time I saw her floating one of the cooking pots from the stove to the serving tables, but once you get used to it-“
Spike stared at the blonde captain for the first part of her coaxing, trying to hide any shock. He backpedaled his mind, grasping at anything to cover for his shock, then he smiled wide. “Oh the magic I can handle, love. But that face there,” He pointed at the vision of his master. “Bloody fearsome.”
Buffy blinked once, mostly because the new fella had stopped her from finishing her little speech, but secondly because she’d misunderstood what he’d been reacting to. She quirked one side of her mouth in a half smile. “Ok Wills. We’re good.”
William still couldn’t quite hear the words she spoke, but two short syllables from Red and Xander was once again Xander in a blink. “Good to see ya again, mate.”
“I somehow always become the guinea pig.” The first mate shook his head.
“Aww… Poor Xan. We feel your pain.” Buffy cooed jokingly.
Xander pretended to be offended and hurt then mumbled, “No you don’t.”
Willow began her giggles again, but just a short round because her friends were entertaining at the moment.
Spike just sat back. These three were close. Probably the best of mates when it came down to it. He couldn’t remember having friends like that in his life, but it looked like it was a nice thing to have.
Companions.
Yeah, this really might have been a good choice, just as long as no more surprises popped up. He really could do without that.
~~`~~
“Another raid?” Hank Summers looked over the papers. He scanned the written reports and accounts of the shipment of fabrics and glass wears that were to have arrived four days prior. Instead, the crew was found in strange attire and somehow intricately tied to particular parts of the boat. Of course the ropes were cut in short measure, and the men had been left with just enough supplies to arrive back to their original destination, but for the life of them, they couldn’t remember exactly what had happened.
“25 grown men, two ships, and not one of these,” Hank tossed the handful of papers down on his desk and slammed his palms on the desk. “Five of these fools said the captain was me for good God’s sake!!”
The thin man held his place, and his tongue. Wesley had long ago learned to do so when it came to his employer. His family had acted as advisors to Johnston’s for generations. Once old Mr. Johnston passed on, the Price family had been reduced to nothing more than gofers by Mr. Summers.
He was but the messenger in this case. His duty had been to deliver the collection of papers and recordings of the latest ships that had landed. He however also was quite aware that Hank Summers was a man of many words, and many actions. He was not a man of violence, but his hold on the trading system of the seas was respected and followed. One wrong word, and anyone involved in the business could find themselves lacking employment or clients.
“The men could only account for what they saw. Not one of them believes it was you sir. This I do know.”
“Well of course they know it isn’t me.” Hank said as though his man was the most idiotic specimen bestowed upon the planet. “What a ridiculous notion.” He stated to reaffirm his statement.
“Indeed.” Wesley agreed.
Hank sighed. Still seated, and if one had not witnessed the outburst on display moments before, one would think he was quite calm.
One would be sorely mistaken.
“This is, what Wes? The fifth happening just this year? Memories unclear, men left to live, ship ransacked and left to drift.” Hank watched the smaller man nod silently. Agreement was expected. “And we have had so many descriptions of so many different people,” He looked once at the sheets of paper laden with handwriting in neat lines explaining what each crew member could recall of the incident, “Accused of the crimes.” Hank finished.
“That would be correct, sir.” Wesley nodded again as he spoke. Mr. Summers always liked a nod to back up a statement made. It showed confidence in ones thoughts.
Hank pushed his seat back and stood. He wasn’t an overly tall man. Taller then most, but not strangely large. His sandy blonde hair showed little signs of his years, nor did his face. His well cut top coat and trousers fit him well, as did the tailored pale beige shirt he wore underneath. “And all of this by the new captain?” He stated and asked at once. Again Wesley agreed with a nod.
Hank slid his chair into place under his desk and began to pace a short walk directly behind his most prized piece of furniture. The desk was large and commanded presence. It was the kind of thing only a man of power would own.
“This new man, this Slayer, he is a strange sort of deviant.” Hank didn’t look for agreement on this point. He simply took his short stroll, spun on his heel and watched the fine red carpeting below his feet hold indentations of his previous steps. “He strikes me as weak, but at the same time bold. His predecessor would never have left but the minimum alive, a fight to the death.” Hank stopped at this and looked upon his captive audience. “Perhaps, perhaps our men give up quickly and this Slayer is unwilling to kill the defenseless.”
Wesley rarely argued with his boss. Although not far off in height, the blonde held width and livelihood over the brunette man’s head moment by moment. So it was with great trepidation that the next words fell from the smaller ones mouth. “Sir, I do not see how-“ Luckily, his indiscretion was ignored by the man deeply engrossed with his own thoughts.
He stared over Wesley’s head, but kept a seriously menacing look in his eyes. “I want a new order for all ships. They are to fight to the death if attacked. And I want the identity of The Slayer. A full description of the man from eye color the height and any thing else. Offer a reward, whatever you like. I want that bastard out of the water and out of my way. Immediately.”
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Author's Chapter Notes:
This chapter is pretty busy. There are alot of minor points and hints that will come up later.
Chapter End Notes:
I was quite upset when I went to grap this chapter earler this week to find it was gone. Poof. I had accidentally saved over the entire thing, and I was particularly happy with how Faith's story came out so at the time I kinda flipped out. Then I recalled that I had saved eash chapter 5 years ago in office format, and checked again in "All Files" mode. I got sooo lucky, because there it was, the original. after a quick conversion all was good. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter as much as i liked getting it ready for yall. :D