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He could tell that it was written when she was a child. The words were blockish and overextended, some dipping into the next line with exaggeration that could not be forced. The faint traces of water in small droplets made him think of the tears, spattering the page randomly.

It almost made him smile except for the actual meaning of those small tortured syllables.

For all the youthful simplicity each letter held a sickening significance. It was frightening that a child could think like this, that they would even write it in the first place.

Azure blue eyes travelled down, counting the repetition and feeling his throat tighten.

Bad girls deserve to be punished.
Bad girls deserve to be punished.
Bad girls deserve to be punished.
Bad girls deserve to be punished.
Bad girls deserve to be punished.
Bad girls deserve to be punished.
Bad girls deserve to be punished.
Bad girls deserve to be punished.
Bad girls deserve to be punished.
Bad girls deserve to be punished.
Bad girls deserve to be punished.
Bad girls deserved to be punished.

Looking further down the page he could see that the mantra continued on almost relentlessly. That is, except for the very last line.

I am a bad girl.

“What the fuck is this about?” Spike demanded as he turned to look at the demure blonde beside him. He knew that it was her handwriting, could feel it with a belief that made him want to tear off any wanker’s head who made her feel like that.

Buffy stared at the carpet dumbly. Perhaps she should just let him read Merrick’s letter and get it out of the way. It would be easier and explain for the most part why Masters had given her his loathsome name.

Yet she knew that it would not give a proper explanation as to exactly why she feared being involved in yet another gang. Or with a man that was so immersed in that world. Spike could not understand her fears of abandonment or secrecy without reading this journal or hearing the tale behind it.

Like a nightmare which had unfolded constantly, Buffy began to speak, drawing up her history from the depths of childhood.

She loved this room. The musty smell of books and paper had always drawn her inside, daring her to simply bask in the comforting feeling. It reminded her of Merrick, tilting his glasses to better read the pages while she practised the piano. The man was old, portly around the waist and wore an excessive amount of tweed but he still evicted the same feelings of trust and love. Buffy was positive that Merrick would do anything for her.

Tiptoeing further into the room, Buffy looked wide eyed at the massive bookcases. Three surrounded her, looming up till they just touched the ceiling. Her father, Hank, often invited men inside, shutting the door firmly for what purpose she didn’t have a clue. Mommy would sometimes stand at the door, craning her head against the keyhole and listening but not once did she ever go inside.

Buffy considered herself to be very brave for deciding to dare venture in.

A large desk dominating the middle of the room, four large legs making the little girl imagine with delight the ways she could turn into a little fort. Her arms reached forward, grasping the polished edges with a slight clumsiness when she saw the letter.

Buffy was only in year two but she had been told not only by the teacher but also by Merrick that her reading was better than average. The praise had made her practice that much harder whilst alone, in part to gain more and also hoping that her father would notice.

Slightly chubby fingers, clawed at the pages until they were firmly in her grasp, the sides scrunching in her hold. With a cry of delight Buffy crawled underneath the table and focused her attention on the letters.

The first line was not difficult, merely stating that it had been sent to her father but after that it became harder. She tried to sound out the word, lips over extending the sound awkwardly.

Grumbling Buffy continued on, missing the main importance of the typed letter’s meaning.

Dear Mr. Summers,

We are aware that your dealings with us as of late have been miniscule. The industries that each organisation delves in, are by reality numbered due to the illegal nature of our very organisations. Your distance has been a major vexation point for the Council and this letter is a forewarning of our ire. We feel that for a number of reasons, namely that you feel yourself to be in control of Masters’ affairs, you consider yourself not only above the law but out of our control. It is my duty to warn you sir that such pretensions arrogance cannot be tolerated, nor should it be by our organisation.

One could hypothesise on the many various reasons for this attitude. You have wealth, a guaranteed income and most importantly the child. The Council is certain that our agreement with leaders such as yourself and and Masters has not been forgotten. Merrick our appointed overseer has detailed quite plainly the extended security that now looks after the Chosen one. Your acquisition of Elizabeth’s custody is of great interest however The Council will not hesitate to use whatever means necessary to eliminate you if you insist on hiding behind the child. Whilst Masters is fairly separate from legal avenues, the Watcher’s Council is well prepared. Wolfram and Hart are ready at any time, to swap over care of Miss. Summers-Masters to Merrick or another of the organisation.

Please take this warning for what it is and resume your investments in Miami.

Signed,

The Watchers Council.
“Buffy!”

The small blonde jerked her head up quickly, knocking it against the underside of the desk as again her father’s voice called out.

He was looking for her.

Desperately she scrambled further underneath, the letter lying forgotten on the ivy green carpet. All she could think of was the last time Hank had discovered she wasn’t with Luke or Nathan and how badly she had been punished. Her bodyguards had not been allowed to look at her face for over a week nor talk to her whilst she was kept home from school. As Joyce had been away on some holiday with other socialites the gigantic bruises had not been commented on. Buffy could only imagine what her father would do if he found her in this room.

His voice boomed out again, this time, incredibly close to the slightly ajar door. Hazel eye could just see the shadow from his shoes as Hank burst into the room.

“Where the fuck are you Elizabeth?”

Buffy only gnawed on her bottom lip in fear. Face scrunching up as tiny breaths of terror escaped from her mouth.

“I mean it Buffy. Come out her right this second or last week will seem like nothing.”

Her body lurched forward in betrayal for a moment, half trusting the raging adult which stormed around the office. Her voice squeaked in fear as her father broke a chair on top of the desk in his anger.

Hank heard it.

Almost instantly, one hairy arm swiftly reached under the table, latching onto her ankle and dragging her out. His fingers curled viciously into her skin which only forced the tears out. She didn’t even have time to open her mouth and apologise before a brutal hand smashed her across the face.

It sent her body toppling over into the carpet, asping and clawing for air as her lungs burned with the effort.

Never before had he hit her with such malice.

A seven year old’s wide eyes filled with tears as again Hank pulled her to him. A decidedly calm smile graced his face, threatening in the fact that the rage shown just moments earlier was hidden.

“You’re a bad girl Buffy.”

Hank’s tightened his grip on her rib cage, forcing air to expel as he backhanded her again. The smacking sound only served to excite him as again he awaited a response.

“Answer me Elizabeth… You do know that you’re a bad girl right?”

His hand raised again, threatening and imposing over her face. Buffy nodded numbly. No matter what she did he would still hit her.

“I said answer me bitch!”

Buffy’s head snapped to the side, as her jaw rattled with the force of Hank’s blow. She could just feel the trickle of blood running down to her chin. Desperate to appease him, she crawled forward, lying at his feet uselessly.

“I am.” She sobbed, “I’m a bad girl.”

Hank nodded, pleased at her reaction as he pulled his belt out from the loops around his waist. “And what do bad girls deserve?” he asked softly.

Buffy’s sobs grew louder. She knew what was coming.

“It’ll only hurt more if you don’t say it Elizabeth.”

“Bad girls deserve to be punished.” She flinched as the belt buckle landed on the back of her thigh.

“Again,” Hank demanded. He whipped the belt across the girl’s shoulder blades, delighting in the way she still managed to answer despite the sharp pain.

Buffy did not disappoint. “Bad girls deserve to be punished.”

“Again.”

‘Bad girls deserve to be punished.”

“AGAIN!”

Buffy sobbed brokenly into the green carpet, soaking it with her tears and blood. “Bad girls… deserve to be punished.” She screwed her eyes shut as she repeated the mantra thrice more, sinking into the floor with relief when Hank finally finished. Her father, overlord of LA and second only to Masters did not even look in her direction as he exited the room with barely a care.

“It took me at least an hour before I had the courage to move from her position and only then because of the thought of Merrick finding me. I knew enough to realise that whoever Merrick worked for wanted to hurt my family. I considered it my duty to not say anything. I didn’t think that Hank was acting completely out of control compared to other parents.”

“Is that when you wrote this entry?” Spike’s voice was tight, bitter at her treatment and amazed that Buffy could endure a childhood like that and still retain a strong personality. He’d heard of Hank Summers. All knew the bastard had been relegated to the fringes for a major offence but still the stories of his brutality remained. Buffy was a perfect example if the journal was anything to go by.

He noted the withdrawn way his girl nodded her head and swore to himself in frustration.

“Why did you show me this pet? It still doesn’t explain everything.”

“I know,” she replied. “But I thought that since you talked about your mom it was fair to do the same.” She paused, noting the way he leaned more towards her. It probably would be the last time he reacted as such. No man would be able to deal with the weight of her history. It would be even harder for Spike since he was a part of a gang under Masters’ control.

It was too late to back out now though.

Her hand reached for a journal less worn than the others and flipped through the pages with ease. “Merrick wrote me a letter some time ago when I started to ask more questions about how the whole thing began. I think it will give you a better idea of everything.”

Spike took the offering and once more settled it on his lap.

My dearest Buffy,

England is more than a trifle boring at the moment, thank you for asking and I very much wish that you could have accompanied me. I know that such a request is impossible. Your father and the others will not for a minute let you out of their sight but I took note of your journal idea and decided that well, I could write an entry for you.

If you look underneath the side cupboard there’s another clean book just waiting to be filled.

But as I was saying… The Watcher’s meeting was incredibly dull. I know you must think that the British would have the same extent of attention and guns but I assure you (unfortunately) that that is not the case. They were all very glad to hear that you are well, and are looking forward to see how your match with Mr. Fordham goes. I hear that the boy is quite refined and intelligent. Not such terrible traits in the least.

But I have more serious things to write about also.

I know with certainty that you are a naturally inquisitive creature, Elizabeth. I can’t hold it against you after being brought up in a world where everything is illicit and or legal but you mustn’t ask any questions. Especially not from your father!

I’m afraid that you are going to get into trouble unless someone tells you and since I was actually at the event where it happened I guess it should be I. I beg you to burn this as soon as you have read it for all our sakes.

It is information that many a man would like to be privy too. I know that you are well aware of how important you are to relations between England and North America. If another person was to find out exactly why your safety would be very much in danger.

But then I expect you to ignore that last paragraph and sit eagerly waiting to read how this arrangement came to be.

I remind you again that patience is a virtue.

Masters, whether you know it or not, has always been a crotchety fellow who has long had issues with my organisation across the pond. Both him and Travers have egos the size of the sun and were always fighting each other in the quest for power. Hank, your father was placed as Masters’ second command and was told with some frustration, I might add, to do something about the animosity. And like an ingenious man Hank is, he came up with a unique solution.

To put it bluntly, Buffy, he decided that you were the answer to all our problems.

Your birth came at a very difficult time in world affairs. International terrorism was starting to become more prevalent, the CIA and FBI were having far more success and a laundering scheme in Asia had just been cracked.

Rivalry was not something that Masters or Travers could really deal with.

Plus there was the old issues that had not been resolved.

Money, particularly dirty money is difficult to make clean under any circumstance, and was a rather universal issue for fellows such as your father, Masters and Travers. Not to mention all the underdogs beneath them. Joyce had just given birth when it was decided that the Council and various assortments from the United States, headed by Masters would sign a treaty forged and strengthened by blood.

At first the great git didn’t go for it, nor was Travers all that impressed.

A human child, symbolising our agreement had not been heard of.

It was a great risk then as it is now. You are a pawn that is invaluable in some many different ways. Your death could see the end of an agreement which each year produces millions of pounds (or dollars) of goods and of course money. And each and every single year, the investment into that relationship has grown.

Your capture could allow the aforementioned millions to fall into another organisation’s hands or even that of the bloody governments.

I’m telling you this, not only because of your undeniable curiosity but also as retribution. You may think you are clever but I have seen what he has done to you. I am powerless to stop it but that doesn’t mean that I am blind to the bruises which have on occasion kept you from being seen in public altogether. I state with deadly conviction that without you Hank would be no one.

You are the Chosen One, not he.

I’m aware that you already know what has happened since then so I won’t divulge but needless to say, you became very important. A great deal of money was entered in under your name, untouchable till the age of eighteen or upon marriage. Masters gave you his name as a formality and insurance that he would have some control and well, I was appointed as a supervisor by Travers.

The world may seem like it is about to swallow you whole Elizabeth and that people are only using you. I came into your life as a guardian not of your wellbeing but of a business agreement. I think we both know that such a position has become a great deal more.

I care for you the same way I would a daughter and in that sense I warn you to be careful.

Sincerely,

Merrick.

“Bloody hell.” Spike stared down at the cursive writing, feeling as though he had just aged a hundred years. For all the sidestepping and allusions, the prat had opened his eyes to a possibility that had never occurred to him. Spike looked again at the words ‘Chosen One’ and blinked repeatedly. They were still there.

But then that could not be right. It simply couldn’t. I won’t allow it to be.

Not sparing Buffy a glance due to the fear that she would confirm the truth which now gnawed at him, Spike delved into another journal and stared at it in surprise.

The entire thing was written in pink.

Well hello to bleeding teenage Buffy… he thought with more than a touch of nervousness. Spike didn’t know wether he really wanted to read about past crushes but then if what he had already listened to and read was any indicator, it was bound to end badly.

He leaned back onto the bed and began.

Dear Diary,

I met him today which I was completely unprepared for! You think Luke would mention something so utterly important rather than the usual ‘breakfast is ready’. Sometimes I swear he’s a clone of Lurch. All that monosyllabic grumbling can’t be natural.

But now I’m getting all sidetracked which is so totally like me!

While I can’t say he’s cute, he’s definitely not ugly. He asked me to call him Billy, but I think it sounded sort of stupid. Isn’t that the name that most people give a goat?

Chews lip while thinking.

Anyway, we talked just as school began and he told me that he just transferred to Hemery High. I thought he would be British but he sounds more east coast to me… say from Baltimore or Washington D.C. That’s probably why they had him picked out. Masters never could stand not having complete control of the east.

It kind of makes me want to ask why he doesn’t marry the guy but then that would be just gross and totally unpractical.

Masters is like sixty after all.

My dad says that I’m just being immature about the whole thing. That I should be happy that they chose a nice guy like Billy… I’ll admit that he is nice but why do I have to be the one who skips down the aisle at just eighteen? Don’t they care whether we love each other? That I’m really not ready to be someone else’s wife?

The whole thing seems a bit weird if you ask me. In fact I would go so far as to say it’s totally bizarre!

And I really need to stop using the word totally.

I really haven’t talked to my dad about it. He still scares me and for all this training that Merrick taught me, I know that I really have no idea how to defend myself against him. All I can say is thank God for Covergirl and foundation.

I just really wish Merrick wasn’t being so supportive about the whole thing either. All he ever says is how it’s my duty and I’m the Chosen One and blah blah blah. You’d think he’d get a new motto or something but no!

I’m the golden girl which means that I have to do whatever they say. Either that or everything I’ve known will be destroyed.

Maybe I’ll learn to like Billy…

Even though Brad Pitt is so much cuter!

Diary I ask you this: why couldn’t I get to marry someone like that?

With lots of love,

Buffy.

Spike turned to face Buffy who still sat on the foot of the bed and sighed. All this reading had done was perk his interest and raise even more sodding questions. One hand held up the ‘valley girl’ channelled diary and shook it in her direction.

“Thank the bleeding stars you stopped talking like this.”

A small smile formed below sad hazel eyes as Buffy shrugged. “I was going through a phase” she retorted. “All my vocabulary was filled with was ‘totally’, ‘cool’, and ‘like’. The whole bubbly thing helped me deal with all my issues.”

Spike took this in, tilting his head unconsciously. “I’m all for sharing of the past Summers, but I think that perhaps you talking would put me more at ease. I really don’t like the conclusions my bloody thoughts are drawing.”

Buffy moved onto the bed, laying down with a soft thump. Her eyes averted Spike’s with difficulty as he leaned on his elbow to her side.

“Hank started out as a mean street kid in New York, having not much to his name besides a quarter and the ability to punch a man’s head in. He joined one gang, called I think, The Undead.” She snickered. “I’m sure that they all thought they were cool and eventually everyone knew not to laugh when they heard the name.” She looked over at Spike, gauging his reaction. “I’m guessing that you heard of them.”

“Would’ve been hard not to luv. All Masters ever does is talk about his old glory days. But he never mentioned your father.”

Buffy nodded. “I’m not surprised. They had a falling out when I was about thirteen… Before that Hank and Gregory, which is Masters’ first name by the way, decided that the east coast was too small and headed across country. It didn’t take them long to exact the same sort of rep and after killing off or convincing the local ‘Big Bads’ they were running LA and the west coast.

There wasn’t a thing that they didn’t have an influence on. Drugs, shipment, prostitution, strip clubs, overseas affairs… Nothing was too much for them. I’m lead to believe that my mother was just some call girl that Hank picked up for fun. He never really planned on having a child.

Though it worked out for him latter on” Buffy added bitterly.

She could feel Spike watching her, blue eyes full of concern and agitation running over her face, looking for signs that she was going to break and be unable to go on. Buffy knew that if she wanted, the man would put the whole thing off, probably never speak of it again, no matter what Angel said.

But then they’d be stuck in the same rut, with him understanding nothing about her.

Perhaps the risk of losing him was worth it, to finally free herself of the dead weight of hiding everything.

Deciding to continue, Buffy began to speak about the one person who had suffered a near similar fate. “My mom, Joyce, had no choice in the matter. Once Hank discovered that there was a bun in the oven her life was effectively over. Even then she had a crack addiction though he stopped her from lighting up for those nine months. I never really knew why they got together. All through my childhood my father had girls on the side and Joyce was so high that she might as well have been on a different planet.

Masters was the one who decided that they should get married.”

Buffy laughed, remembering the photos. “She was six months pregnant and looked like a giant whale and my father didn’t even have a suit on. The whole thing was a joke.

It was around my birth that Travers decided to connect Masters and let him in on the deal with Miami.

During the late eighties and early nineties that was where all the major dealings went on for drugs. Travers, as far as I know, is still the head of the British mafia, who insist on calling themselves an organisation if you can believe it.”

Buffy didn’t register the calculating look of Spike or the way he unconsciously mouthed the word Rupert.

“For the most part Travers didn’t get involved in anything, which is part of the reason why they got nicknamed the Watcher’s Council internationally. It was always the smaller gangs which were getting into mischief down in Cuba and the Bahamas.

But back then Travers was having doubts. He wanted a piece of Florida’s action, despite the fact that Masters dealt in that area.

It was assigned to Hank to reach an agreement between the two.

And on November the 15th 1988, he did.

As you already read from Merrick’s letter they all called me the Chosen One, or when they were particularly pissed ‘golden girl’.” She laughed, recalling a slurring Luke on New Year’s Eve. He’d seen her and started talking about her hair in detail, likening it to gold. She’d kept the name ever since. “They were given to me because of my role. Hank had already invested dirty money into my trust fund, banking it away with the idea of marrying me off to one of his lackeys when I became legal. That way he could get rid of a daughter but still keep the bank account.

But then he had the grand idea of expanding that bank account into the millions, even billions.

You see, if all of the major gangs decided to sign an agreement, it would be torn to shreds the instant that a stray bullet hit its mark. If they all pooled a sum into a bank account which could not be touched except by an infant little girl then the pact was as good as set in stone. Of course that sum of money would be considered of good will, and consisted easily of half Masters’ and Travers’ fortunes. not to mention that of their various gangs, but in the end they all agreed.

The idea was sealed with my life.

Thus the name ‘Chosen One’.”

“But that can’t be! I mean you’re here in Sunnyhell and they’re all over the sodding world! How the fuck did you manage to get here if you’re so bleeding precious to keeping the peace?”

“Hank” replied Buffy simply.

Spike stared at her as if she’d gone barmy. “You mean to tell that son of a bitch is behind you shacking up in this hell hole?”

“Well yeah. After I became this international symbol of an illegal pact, a lot of people wanted to get their hands on me. Sure it would be a long eighteen years until they could get access to that money but there would still be the chance of auctioning me off or even threatening death.”

At Spike’s enquiring stare, Buffy elaborated. “The account is with the Swiss and is made so that if I die, it instantly is given over to the government. It was the one thing my mother had a say on.

My father relished the attention, got me body guards, went to extreme lengths to make sure that everything was peachy keen. He even tolerated Merrick, who was the Watcher’s Council envoy to monitor my health. If Hank was seen to be threatening my livelihood then it was agreed that Masters himself would take over.”

Spike shuddered. Masters was a pervert when it came to children.

Buffy nodded, a grimace prominent. “Those were exactly Merrick’s thoughts. I don’t blame for making me stay with Hank when molestation was the only other option.

Eventually though the others began to get tired of Hank, who had been acting like an idiot ever since he was declared the keeper of the ‘Chosen One’. He took stupid risks, offing people that were nothing but civilians and slowly started challenging Masters’ authority.”

“Bat face wouldn’t of liked that.”

“He really didn’t. The memory is hazy but I can remember my father storming into the room. Mom was passed out on the couch and I had been watching her, making sure that she was still breathing.

His face was red, one side flaming from what looked like a slap. The suit he wore also looked like it’d been attacked, wrinkles and rips showing everywhere.

I didn’t dare ask where he’d been when he demanded that we get up and pack.

I moved instantly, too scared to do anything else but Joyce, she just kept lying there. Dad was furious. He kept screaming at her to move, and when she didn’t after five minutes he started hitting her.

I… I ran. I didn’t have the courage to stand up to him and I just ran into my room like a coward.

When Luke came to take us away, Joyce was hanging over his shoulder.

She couldn’t see out of one eye for a week.”

“So he just sent you away?” Spike asked.

“Originally it was to New York but that didn’t last long after Masters sent some of his lackeys after us. Hank decided later that Sunnydale was the place to send us.” Buffy rolled her head to face Spike, part of her wondering why he had not thrown from the gang’s home yet. Masters would punish anyone who was harbouring her. “You remember the first day that I actually talked to you?”

Spike frowned, “I found you in the girl’s bathroom, sobbing your heart out because of bloody Angel.”

“I thought that he was going to report to Masters. I don’t really care if Hank can’t barter his way back into power or not, I just don’t want them to have control of me and Joyce.

I don’t want to be their puppet.”

“Do you really think that he has any real chance of gaining power again?” Spike furrowed his eyebrows, unconsciously clenching his fists as he asked the question. The girl is bloody well mine. Any tosser who thinks that he can just sodding whisk her off to keep some pact can go and bugger themselves up the arse.

“I’m pretty much certain that he will…. Now that I’m a member Spike, people are bound to talk and you’ll still have to present me to Masters. There’s no way the man won’t know that I’m his Elizabeth. It’s just impossible to hide.”

“Well then I’ll just say that you’re mine. He’ll have to live with that.”

Buffy shook her head, a sense of hopeless overwhelming her. “No Spike, you can’t and he wouldn’t accept it anyway. I’m already betrothed to Billy.”

Spike snorted. “Fuck the wanker. I took you, claimed you as my own and as far as anyone is concerned you belong to me. Gang law states that unless they challenge me, you will remain my girl. And any git who thinks that I’ll let them take you is stupider than Aureli. Besides it won’t be all that bad. You’ll get to see the prat Merrick right?”

Buffy turned away, her eyes filling with tears. She had told him the past but now they had to face all the terrible uncertainties that her relationship with Spike would bring. Not the least was Billy and his claim.

Out of the frying pan and into the fire.


....................................................................................................
I am going away for about a week so Part Two won't be posted until maybe Monday. I would love to hear feedback as I cut about 2000 which I thought would be boring. Was this a shock? Was it interesting?

Hope you liked it,

love Will





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