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Author's Chapter Notes:
Sorry guys, I know this is taking a really dark turn. I never said this would be a fluffy fic, but I can promise that it is not an entirely dark one either.

Thanks for the reviews, you guys are awesome! Keep up the feedback!

Oh yea, and the characters from BTVS arent mine, only the plot. I do not profit from any of this.
"Buffy! Buffy wake up!" Matthew's frantic cries ripped Elizabeth from her sleep. As she bolted upright to find her brother standing at her bedside, the acrid smell of smoke burned her eyes and lungs and sent her into a fit of coughing. Grabbing Matthew's arm, she stumbled to her feet, and dashed for the door. When she grabbed the latch though, the burning hot metal seared her palm, blistering her skin and causing her to scream in pain. She clutched her injured hand to her chest, and turned to face her little brother, whose face was white with fear. Desperately trying to remain calm, Elizabeth took his hand with her good hand, and pulled him close. When flames began to lick beneath the door, Elizabeth pushed Matthew away from the flames and towards the window on the far side of the room. Together, they dashed for the back window.

Elizabeth lifted the latch and then grabbed the base of the pane with both her hands, closing her eyes against the burning pain in her injured hand, and then opened the window. She pushed Matthew onto an oak chest, and waited while he climbed up and then slid out. Following closely, she pulled herself up onto the window ledge. She flung herself out, just as the fire caught her bedlinens and quickly engulfed the room in which she had lain only moments before. Lying on the damp, rocky ground and shaking her head to clear the haze from her mind, Elizabeth reached for Matthew, who was already climbing to his feet.

"Pa!" He yelled, sprinting around to the other side of the burning tavern. Elizabeth scrambled to her feet, and quickly took off running after him. She rounded the corner, praying that she would find her father waiting for her, safe and sound. What she saw on the other side though, stopped her short and caused her blood to run cold.

Her father was on his knees, head bowed, with a musket pressed against his temple. At his back stood two men, dressed in tell-tale blue. Next to them, two more soldiers struggled to hold a furious Matthew, who was trying to bite and claw his way free. Elizabeth skidded to a stop, her hand covering her mouth. Her first instinct was to shut her eyes tightly and pray that this was nothing more than a nightmare. Too frightened to look away though, Elizabeth only stared on in horror.

"Run Elizabeth!" He father yelled, suddenly noticing her standing there. In a quick and vicious response, one of the men holding him kicked him, knocking him helplessly onto his side. Although concern for her father nearly overwhelmed her, Elizabeth's brain told her to run for help. Before she could move though, she was grabbed from behind. Strong fingers bit into the side of her arm, effectively holding her in place.

"I don't advise that" came a low voice from behind her. Elizabeth slowly turned to meet William's cold blue gaze. Her eyes quickly dropped to his coat, which had been exchanged for his jacket, which now identified him as a Union officer. Even in those few words, the drawl was gone, replaced by a crisp northern accent, laced with hints of English. Rage overcoming her astonishment at the transformation, Elizabeth lashed out, clawing at his face.

"You bastard!" She screamed, her nails raking down the side of his neck. Struggling to maintain his hold on the hellcat that had now turned her full ire on him, William stumbled backwards a few steps, but did not release her.

"Hold still! Damn you woman, don't make me hurt you!" He yelled, twisting her arm so that Elizabeth had to twist with it. With one arm pinned behind her, William pulled her so that her back was flush with his chest. Incensed, Elizabeth slammed her head back into William's jaw so that tears blinded his eyes. He tightened his grip on her arm, and tilted his head, so that his face was no longer in her reach. "I suggest we move away from the building, unless you prefer to catch fire." He ground out between his clenched teeth, half-dragging her to where the other men stood. As he approached, two more soldiers stepped forward and took Elizabeth's arm, forcing her to her knees beside her brother. She remained there, tears burning her eyes in embarassment and rage. Next to her, her brother still fought his captors furiously, crying almost hysterically. Despite his fury, he was no more than a scared child and Elizabeth longed to be able to protect him. Before her, her father sat on his knees, blood trickling from the wound on his temple, his head bowed in defeat, with the muzzle still against his skull.

William strode forward to where Mr. Summers sat, completely powerless. Over the roar of the fire which had now engulfed the tavern that had been the Summers family home for decades, William spoke.

"Henry Summers, you are hereby charged with High Treason against the United States of America." Standing to his full height, William continued. The man standing before Elizabeth had changed from the wounded individual that she had cared for, into something else, something much more imposing, something much more cold. His voice completely void of emotion, William continued on. "You have smuggled stolen weaponry, property of the federal government, and illegally transported it to enemy lines. As an active member of the Confederacy, against whom war has been declared, you are a prisoner of war, and thus are not entitled to trial. With the witnesses now present, you are sentenced to death for your crimes, and are to be executed immediately."

"Nooo!" Elizabeth shrieked, straining against her captor, hot tears streaking down her cheeks. As she watched in horror, her father's captor placed his finger over the trigger of the musket, and pulled. With a loud crack, the gun fired, and Hank Summers pitched forward, dead before his body hit the ground. Her strength left her as Elizabeth sagged towards the ground, gut-wrench sobs wracking her thin body. Next to her, Matthew screamed and wrestled free of his captors.

Bolting upright, Elizabeth tried to call to her younger brother, but no sound came out of her throat. Instead, she looked on, the terror gripping her body and making it seem to her as if things were happening in slow motion. Matthew threw himself at one of the two soldiers who had been holding their father, catching him off-guard. As the man fell backwards, he yanked the knife at his belt and plunged upwards. When they hit the ground, both bodies were completely still for a moment, as the two adversaries, one a seasoned soldier, the other, a boy of only twelve, stared at eachother. Slowly, Matthew slid off, landing on his back on the damp ground, his breath coming in short gasps, his eyes trained on the knife that stuck out of his abdomen. The next moments were a blur for Elizabeth. Although she heard men yelling and arguing, nothing registered. As she came out of her daze, she heard someone screaming, and it took her several moments to realize that that person was her. The hands holding her down released her, and, silent now, Elizabeth scrambled to her dying brother's side.

"Buffy" he whispered, struggling to speak, his eyes already beginning to glaze over.

"Shhh baby, its all right. I'm here" She soothed, running her good hand over his forehead and leaning down to kiss his face. "You're goin to be fine Matty" she said, her voice catching on the words she knew were untrue. As she watched, Matthew's lips opened and closed as he tried to speak, but no longer had breath to do so. A thin line of blood trickled from his mouth, and Elizabeth gathered her little brother into her arms, holding him tightly. "I love you Matty, please don't leave me" She cried. "Baby, fight it, please, stay with me. Stay with me!" She cried, but as she kissed his cheek, she knew he was already gone. "Oh Matthew..." she trailed off into tears. After gently closing his lifeless eyes, she let his body slowly slide to the ground. When she stood, the tears ceased, and the emotion drained from her body, leaving her cold and angry. She turned to William, unable to form the words that she wanted to say. The man who had killed her brother lie on the ground, unconscious and bleeding from the nose. William stood facing her, both hands balled up into fists, but with no expression on his face.

"Elizabeth, I didn't-" William began to speak as Elizabeth strode towards him, but was cut off as she spit at him. He stood in silence, facing the woman who had just watched her family die, with nothing to say to her.

"I wish I had let the infection take you." She said softly, her voice quiet and even. "I hope, when you leave her to return to your fighting, that you aren't killed outright. I hope you are wounded in battle, and are poisoned by the infection that takes your body. I hope you lie there, begging for death to take you from your misery. For Matthew, for Father, I hope it never comes." William remained speechless for a moment, and then turned to his men.

"Bury these two. Clear out the barn and the shed. Gather up what food you find, and take the horses. As for everything else, burn it." With that said, he turned towards the river. Before leaving though, he spun and faced the tearstained young woman, his blue eyes meeting her icy gaze.

"Bind her wrists. She's coming with us."





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