[Reviews - 789]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Microsoft Word Chapter or Story | ePub eBook Chapter or Story | Printer Chapter or Story

Has been viewed 3777 times

- Text Size +




Author's Chapter Notes:
It was always my intention to add this at this point in the story; but it pains me that I have to do so. I have the utmost respect for other’s beliefs; if what you do makes you happy, and you’re not hurting anyone, then more power to ya, keep on truckin’. (Sorry, that’s my SC upbringing there.) But anything in the extreme, from too many rings to too much ice cream to too much religion to too much chocolate…OK, I’m making exceptions for ONE thing in the entire world…is bad. Religion is a powerful force in our society, and there will always be people who use that power to make themselves rich, powerful, etc. This story is not making ALL Christians and psychotic extremist deprogrammers, just like suicide bombers and guerilla attacks do not make ALL Muslims extremist murders…though such factions exist in BOTH religions/cultures. My message is one of tolerance, which I certainly I hope to get across as Buffy does what she does best and gives everyone a helluva hard time. But I will NOT tolerate flames and misinterpretations of my story. Such places as I’m writing about DO exist, in the US, run by self-proclaimed Christians, and if that makes you mad then get involved and stop the hate. That’s all I have to say, if you wish to discuss something more, my e-mail address is sassyladyasap@yahoo.com I’m willing to listen to anything you have to say (with in reason. I’m not going to get into religious/philosophical/whatever debates just for the sake of debating.) I'll even tell you what I think, if you really want to know. But that's all I've got, and if you disagree with me, that's fine. Just no flames, please. Oh yeah...you can never have too my Spike, either.
Buffy was numb. She’d lost track of the number of meals she’d been given, the times she’d slept, gone to the bathroom…everything.

She watched from far away as Willow and Xander wandered around, yelling her name in a vast, empty field. Buffy frowned, wondering how they managed to miss her so completely. She opened her mouth and screamed, but a fierce wind whipped her cries away from her friends. They echoed around her, stinging her ears. But still she screamed until she was hoarse, till her throat was raw; but they never even glanced her direction.

She watched as Xander said something to Willow, how looked around once and shrugged carelessly. Buffy tried to run to them, but something kept stopping her. She flew backwards, bouncing off some invisible force. Something wet ran down her face, but she ignored it; she had to get to them, had to make them see her!

Xander chivalrously opened the Espresso Pump’s door for Willow, who giggled at his antics. Buffy watched, jealous and despondent, from the blackness outside. She had to press herself to the window to see anything, the light from the restaurant absorbed by the darkness before it could illuminate anything. They were smiling and laughing. How could they do that, when she was out here, alone, waiting for them? They were supposed to be looking for her, not sitting down and having a drink! Xander whispered something in Willow’s ear that made her blush.

Buffy felt anger rise in her, swift and consuming. How dare they forget her! She beat against the window, trying to drawn someone’s—anyone’s—attention. But nobody even acknowledged her. She hit harder and harder. The window was rattling, bouncing in it frame, when it suddenly shattered and a bolt of pain raced up Buffy’s arm.

Buffy tried to open her eyes, and then realized that they were open, it was just very, very dark. Awareness swam over her; she was trapped in a small room, had been for what seemed like months. And these forays into her subconscious were getting more frequent. Hot tears escaped her as she realized she was a prisoner in her own mind who had given up on rescue long before admitting it. On top of that, if felt like she’d broken her hand. But the pain was a welcome change. She sat on the floor, absorbing her pain, staring into the blackness.

Suddenly, without warning, the room was flooded with light. She screamed and threw her hands up to shield her sensitive eyes. She wrenched her eyes shut, the light was unbearably bright! She heard loud sounds, harsh to her ears, and gasped when someone hauled her up by the arms. Touch, human contact…she wanted to move towards the person and away from them at the same time. She was so unused to sensations that weren’t of her voluntarily, conscious doing that the hands banded around her arms made her stomach roll and her entire body jerk away. But she also wanted to go towards the person, her mind and body instinctively craving the touch. She felt need, hatred, desire, arousal, loathing, eagerness, shock and a thousand other emotions all at once. She was confused, her senses on over drive.

The smell of the people around her was earthy and sharp, alien to her nose. Images thought forgotten, inexorably connected with the new smells surrounding her, flitted through her head faster than she could identify them. Colors, bright and vivid, danced before eyes which were having trouble focusing in the bright light. Her hands were pinned by the people at her sides, so she bowed her head, her lanky hair a small shield.

Buffy was thrust unceremoniously into a room, her sensitive eyes still adjusting. She saw movement out of the corner of her eye.

“Hello, dear. How about we get you out of these clothes and into something respectable, hhhmm?”

Buffy didn’t respond, just letting the other woman do as she would. It was a hard enough battle to keep from cowering in the corner. She didn’t even flinch as she the woman expertly stripped off her clothes. Buffy still had to fight the urge to recoil from the woman’s touch; every touch, sound, smell…it was all too intimate now.

Buffy wrapped her arms around her body, staring down at her pale, thin form. She’d lost weight. That thought seemed to fight its way through the haze that surrounded her brain.

“Now here we go, much better, that’s it.” The woman was older, Buffy could make out a grey blob that was her hair. Coarse material settled over her thin frame, abrasive against her skin. It was blue and the material made Buffy itch. Buffy started when the woman ran a brush through her head. A hand banded around her shoulder and forced her into a chair.

“Now dear, don’t be that way. Let me brush your hair, we don’t have time for a proper washing. There, that’s it. Good girl.” The woman began humming softly under her breath, keeping the skittish girl calm. She arranged the lank, dirty hair in a simple bun. The girl was presentable, at least.

“Oh, deary, look at that hand. We must do something about that.” Buffy look down. Her right hand was a mess. Dried blood and old scabs caked her knuckles, and there was swelling along the middle and pointer finger. Years of martial arts training told her she’d broken something. When had that happened? The sing of antiseptic and wrapping the fingers barely registered. Buffy felt like she was miles away, watching the scenes of a movie.

“Ah, that’ll do. Let’s be on our way.” Mary led the still shell-shocked girl down the hall, thankful that she wasn’t screaming or crying. Some people just couldn’t handle the reflection period of their stay. But this one seemed to be doing just fine, though Lord knew that could change at any moment. But they were prepared for ever eventuality, so she wasn’t worried. Humming her favorite hymn, Mary guided her lamb to the flock.

Buffy was slowly coming to herself, remembering how to make sense to her surroundings. It was difficult to take everything in after being alone and in the dark for so long. Everything was…vivid and overpowering. Sounds were too loud and her ears were ringing. The light stung horribly.

She cringed when she was led into a large room filled with noisy, chattering people. She fought back the panic rising in her, the part of her that screamed there were far too many people around. Their voices buzzed in her ear, and she could smell them. She shrank against the woman ushering her to the front—and thankfully away from the milling group. But information leaked into Buffy’s sensation-deprived brain.

Many of the people were dressed like her, in plain blue frocks that itched against her skin; but there were others wearing finer clothing, who seemed to be keeping everyone else in line. She felt like she was looking at a bunch of campers and their counselors.

Buffy felt renewed panic rising in her when her matronly escort sat her in the very front row. Buffy could feel the eyes upon her, prickling at her back. She hunkered down, trying to avoid the eyes and be as small as possible. She was shocked that a part of her longed for the wretched black room. Silence overtook the hall abruptly, a welcomed relief from the onslaught of sensation.

Buffy’s escort directed her attention to the stage. A large wooden cross dominated the otherwise-bare area before her, reaching towards the ceiling. Everything was bare wood, very minimalist. The wooden benches were hard and uncomfortable, though Buffy shifted to try and find a better spot. She wanted to laugh hysterically that a woman who had spent months sleeping on a cement floor would be uncomfortable sitting on a wooden bench. A commanding voice tore her away from her thoughts and dashed the insane hilarity away.

“Oh, the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments and how inscrutable his ways!” A tall man with dark hair and feverish eyes stood on the bare platform, what appeared to be a Bible clutched in his hands. His clothes were plain and dark…but there was a charisma about him that made Buffy shiver. This man had power, and she did not think he used it well.

“For who has known the mind of the Lord, or who has been his counselor? Or who has given a gift to him that he might be repaid? For from him and through him and to him are all things. To him be glory—FOREVER!” A loud ‘amen’ echoed through the room, and people called out sounds of agreement and worship.

“Brothers and Sisters, welcome. Welcome to the House of the Lord. Welcome to Worship. Welcome! Welcome!” One ecstatic voice called out a welcome to ‘Pastor Caleb!’ He smiled, a grin that would have made him handsome had his eyes not burned with religious fervor.

“Welcome the righteous, for they are pleasing in God’s eyes. Welcome the children, for we are all children to God. And welcome the sinner, for we are all sinners and unworthy to stand before He who loves us with purity and everlasting love…for He gave His only son, so that we might be saved.”

“Thanks be to God,” shook the walls of the room. The combined voices made Buffy whimper; too much, too much!

“This world we live in, this world today…it is filled with sin! It is full of the unrighteous and the unholy!” Buffy watched with fascination, her attention focused solely on him for the moment, as Caleb stood on the stage, his power and magnetism apparent. The crowd was certainly responding to him. “It is easy, EASY to live wickedly in a wicked world. But we are Called, Called by the one true God, to live a righteous life! To live righteously among the wicked, to do what we know in our hearts is good and just. And who is more righteous, more just, than our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, who spoke to us, saying: I am the law and the light. Look unto me, and endure to the end, and ye shall live; for unto him that endureth to the end will I give eternal life...This is the law and the prophets, for they truly testified of me!”

Those eyes swept over the crowd, hot and blazing. Buffy shrunk into her seat when they landed on her, harsh and judging.

“There are those amongst us here today, brothers and sisters, who have lived wickedly. They have gone against God, gone against what they know in their hearts to be right, and sinned, knowingly and with prejudice!” Murmurs of disapproval and hisses of anger echoed in Buffy’s ears. “These people, the unbelievers, the deceivers, the sinners, they are doomed! Doomed never to know the amazing Grace of God’s love, of His light! For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish, but have everlasting life! But that promise, God’s love, can only be found by those who believe! And it is us, brothers and sisters, the believers, the true disciples of God, who must guide those who have strayed from the path, who have been caught by the devil, the correct path.”

The cheers startled Buffy, who realized she was trembling. This was too much. She felt scared, overwhelmed, and out of her element. With a thankful sigh, she let the darkness surround her once again.

A/N: Sorry, I didn't feel like scrolling back up and adding this. BUT...please don't complain about the pace of this. The story writes itself. And I like Spillfy smut as much as you, and I like writing it...but there's plot at the moment, and I'm going to plot the hell out of what I've got. So sit back and enjoy the angst and know that I'm going to take care of the characters. Keep repeating: Angst is good for the soul. (Maybe one day we'll all believe it.)





You must login (register) to review.