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Author's Chapter Notes:
Happy holidays, hope you got something super. Also...they're may just be a reunion in chapter 29.
Buffy spent the last four days of her ‘unclean week’ suffering in her small cell. She was fed two small meals a day, but half the time she didn’t feel like eating because her stomach hurt so much. Officially, after today, she was NEVER getting off birth control ever again. Because this sucked hardcore.

With two days left, she missed the pain. There was only so much a girl could do to keep herself entertained and occupied for two days with nothing to do. But then Buffy had a brilliant idea: she started playing a game. The “How Many Creative Way can I Kill Caleb?” game. So far, ripping his rib cage out and wearing for a hat was number one.

Buffy had just reached number 421, death by cheese grater, when her door flew open and Glory strode in, evil smile firmly in place.

“I’ve been told you allowed the Demon of Doubt to enter your heart, and spread its evil influence to the others in your Women’s Circle,” Glory said, the superiority and smugness in her voice grating.

“Do you seriously talk like that, or is it all part of the act?” Buffy asked with affected boredom. Triumph flowed through her when the muscles around Glory’s mouth tightened.

“I live openly and wholesomely for—“

“The Glory of God for all Glory belongs to God, yeah yeah yeah. Spin me another one,” Buffy huffed. Will and Spike had better get there tight asses here quickly because she was getting decidedly bored with all this bullshit.

“Someone’s taken an…interest in you, Elizabeth Summers,” Glory said, her eyes unreadable. Buffy shivered, wondering exactly what an ‘interest’ entailed. Here, it couldn’t possibly be anything good. “Brother Mark, would you help me escort Elizabeth to the main house? The Mayor would like a word with Miss Summers.”

“Ms,” Buffy corrected, dragging herself off the uncomfortable bed.

Buffy was half-dragged, half-pulled across the compound to the Main House. That’s where all of the Shepherds and True Believers lived, in far more spacious quarters than any of their ‘flock.’ Buffy had only been there briefly to help deliver food to their separate kitchen.

She was hauled to a rather ornate door and forced into a chair.

“Sit here and meditate about the Greatness of God’s Glory, and our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ,” Glory instructed before disappearing into the room. Buffy rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. Funny how Glory managed to work Glory into every sentence. Whod’v thunk it, a conceited faux-Christian!

Mark reappeared in the door frame and gestured Buffy forward. With some trepidation, she entered the room. It was…modern. There were carpets on the floor, a beautifully worked oak desk on which rested, of all things, a computer. A phone sat behind a smiling, beaming older man who looked scarily like Mr. Rodgers. Buffy felt a chill, and she slowly turned her head until her eyes met Caleb’s burning ones. Glory stood to one side, looking prim and proper and utterly malicious.

“Well, now you must be Elizabeth. I hope you’ve felt welcomed here, my people know how much I hate inhospitality. Sit, sit. Make yourself comfortable,” the jovial older man said, gesturing to one of the plush chairs. His tone was warm and inviting, like a grandfather talking to a favored grandchild. Buffy warily lowered herself into the soft chair, the feelings of down feathers and soft material a shock to her system.

“Good?” The Mayor asked with a wide smile. Buffy nodded mutely, trying to figure out this newest villain. He was pleasant, easy going, and approachable. But Buffy could see the same glint of insanity behind his eyes as she could in the others, it was just hidden much better. She wondered how many people had fallen into his trap. “Now, Elizabeth, I heard you caused some trouble in your Woman’s Circle a few days ago. You should really be careful about what you say, dear child, you had some of the other women worked up so much that only time in the Reflection Rooms stilled their fears and doubts long enough for them to contemplate the truth of the Word.”

Buffy felt nausea roll through her. These so-called Reflection Rooms were where she’d been kept in total and complete darkness. The thought of others being put in there, all because of here…she wanted to vomit. And the Mayor delivered the news with a smile.

“Now Elizabeth, we truly believe that everyone can be saved; God has not forsaken you, even if you have forsaken Him. But we can only help you if you want to be helped. And it seems the Devil has a very firm grip on your soul.” The Mayor tapped her chest, his voice warm but laced with concern.

“We’re here to try and see what we can do to help shake his hold. We’re all very invested in your path,” a new voice interjected. Buffy turned and looked Caleb in the eye…and really didn’t like what she saw.

“I think I’m quite capable of finding my own way,” Buffy said defiantly. She managed to keep the tremor out of her voice—for the most part. Caleb’s eyes darkened, a maniacal smile playing over his lips. The Mayor’s voice held warm amusement that couldn’t disguise the insane anger beneath.

“The Devil leaves many pitfalls and traps for even the sturdiest believer. Perhaps you need more time to think about your…situation, Elizabeth. Shepherd Glory, let’s take our charge to isolation, let her—“ His words were cut off when Buffy landed a perfect right hook to the Mayor’s jaw. She had had enough; if they were going to lock her away in this insane hell hole, she was going down swinging. She was only going to get one shot at this, so she might as well take on all the Big Bads. Literally. The Mayor dropped to the ground, his eyes glassy and jaw already swelling. Buffy smiled. Buggerin’ ponce.

Before anyone could react, Buffy turned and slammed her palm into Glory’s nose, smiling grimly at the satisfying crunch as bone gave way. The woman gave a pained scream as her hands flew to her nose, blood leaking down her face onto her black dress.

“My nobe!” she cried, tears streaming down her cheeks. Buffy stepped closer, and with a deliberate smile, punched Glory in the eye. It was stupid, and went against all of her training—hard part of them, soft part of you, and vice versa—but it felt *really* good.

Buffy didn’t get to enjoy her victory for long. Strong arms banded around her from behind. Caleb. Buffy smiled, a small slightly mad smile, and proceeded to beat the hell out of the insane preacher. He had no defense against her, not a martial arts master who’d lived in a dojo for most of her life, though he was strong. He managed to land a glancing blow to her stomach, which Buffy punished him for with a knee to the groin. Caleb fell to the ground. Buffy was just about to give him one quick, vicious kick when a bolt of energy left her limp and unconscious.

***

She awoke in a small room, laying on a small pallet that was probably less comfortable than the floor. She felt horrible, and her head was pounding. But a large smile lit her face, despite the soreness in her muscles. She’d beaten the crap out of Glory, Caleb, AND ‘the Mayor.’ That was something to be proud of. Not even her claustrophobia drove the smile away. She hung onto that feeling, waiting to see what kind of punishment she’d receive for her rebellious acts.

She waited for three days. Bits of bread and a little water was shoved through a small hole in the door from time to time. But Buffy didn’t mind. They wanted her to stew here, to wonder what was going to happen to her, but she didn’t care. She wouldn’t give them the pleasure, and she knew that her time here was fleeting. They were coming. So when the door to her cell finally opened, Buffy didn’t even acknowledge Glory’s presence until she spoke, her words sounding a little off.

“Elizabeth.” Silence met her words, and Buffy could practically feel the anger Glory was emitting. “Elizabeth Summers.” Buffy fought back her grin. This was just too much fun.

“Buffy.” That one word brought commanded Buffy’s attention more than anything else could have. She glanced sharply at Glory, wondering what the hell was going on, before bursting out laughing. Glory’s left eye was a violent blue-purple color, with ugly yellow and green splotches. Her nose was large and swollen, held together with strip band-aids. Buffy felt quite proud of herself. Glory smiled thinly at her, anger blazing in her eyes.

“Now that I have your attention. We’re very concerned with your violence. We had not realized you had strayed so far from the Righteous Path. The Mayor, Caleb, and myself are all very concerned with you. We’ve spent the last three days discussing how you can be helped.” Buffy thought that was the longest sentence Glory had ever said without working her name into it.

“Really? For me? You shouldn’t have. It’s not like I’m going to be here long enough for you to break me.” Buffy thought she detected…something in Glory’s eyes. And whatever that something was, it was not nice.

“What makes you think that, Elizabeth? You were brought here to heal and to get your life back on track. And until you do that, you cannot be allowed back into the world. You’re like…an addict. And we are therapy.”

“No, you’re a bunch of bible thumping morons who twist religion into something that fits your own twisted…twistedness!” Buffy exclaimed vehemently. Glory shook her head in mock sympathy.

“How the Devil has twisted your mind. We’re trying to help you. We were paid to help you.” Buffy reared back as if she’d been slapped. What did that mean? She saw Glory’s eye blazing with triumph, and shook it off. It didn’t matter. She was leaving here. She would be rescued.

“Y-you’re laying and I don’t care! Will and Spike know I’d never have left them. Not willingly, and not for this long. Not without calling or writing. They’ll have reported me missing, and they will come for me.” Buffy did not like that little smile, or the mockingly surprised look in glory’s eyes.

“Why, Elizabeth! How self-centered of you, to think we only want to help you. WhatEVER makes you think that we’re not helping William and James as well?”

Buffy froze, staring at Glory in shock, her mouth open. No. It was impossible. Will and Spike were…weren’t… Something seemed to crack in Buffy, that one well-placed dart doing what various forms of mental torture and drugs could not. They put a crack in Buffy’s hope.

“I’ll leave you to your thoughts,” Glory said with a triumphant smile, closing the door on the stunned woman. She turned and smiled at the two bruised men waiting in the hallway.

“I don’t think Miss Summers will be much trouble in the future,” Glory said with a huge smile.

***

Buffy was let out of her small isolation cell the next day. But her steps seemed heavy, and her eyes were dull. She smiled when Dawn greeted her exuberantly, bouncy and happy. But Dawn soon caught on that something was very very wrong with Buffy. The spark that had drawn them together in the first place was gone, replaced by something scared and…hopeless. That change scared Dawn more than she wanted to admit.

Buffy almost fought off the depression when she realized that she was affecting Dawn. They didn’t really have Spike or Will. They were just saying that, just trying to get her to cooperate and stop making trouble. But…they didn’t get to see many of the male prisoners. And they did know Spike’s real name…

The days swirled by as Buffy tried to fight of her increasing fear that Spike and Will were trapped in this hell with her, so close but so incredibly far away. Time passed without Buffy’s notice. Nothing could pierce her shell, nothing could make her stand up and take note.

Nothing except for the first blast that rocked the small living compound that had become her world.





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