I feel guilt, I feel guilt,
Though I know I've done no wrong I feel guilt.
…
I feel bad, so bad,
Though I ain't done nothing wrong I feel bad.
…
-Guilt by Marianne Faithfull
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He refused to look directly at her when they descended the stairs to the dungeon, even as he felt the gaze that was sent his way from her direction immediately. William did not know exactly why he made sure to avoid it, but one of the possibilities could be the expression on her face. She might look frightened out of her mind, and he was afraid – no, concerned might be the right word – that he would do something stupid when he’d be faced with those big, rounded, mossy eyes of hers. That thought alone settled oddly in his stomach.
Since when exactly did he grow to care about the prisoner’s feelings?
Since you know she’s innocent, mate.
Oh. But should that fact alone supposed to mean that he actually cared? Cared about her?
You know you already do. And besides – you kissed her… She belongs to you now.
And there it went another argument in his mind. Before he got the chance to rip out the inner innocent boy’s tongue out for making him even think about these matters further, another – not even remotely innocent - loud voice sounded from the middle of the assorted men. To no surprise it was the archpriest Snyder.
William watched the short figure of the man he recognized as one of the highest men in the Council open his sneering mouth in order to speak. Young lord rolled his eyes at the remark the annoying man made, but was all the same thankful for something else to listen to and not paying attention to the tender feelings that were brewing inside him steadily, persistently.
His inner Spike sighed and shook his head in shame. Tender feelings? Really, William?
Honestly, how does the Council still work with witless men such as archpriest Snyder?
With being brutal in their judgments, of course, his mind reminded him. And Snyder had quite an imaginative mind when it comes to torture…
William sobered immediately at that. He carefully relaxed himself into a well-known mask of indifference and leaned his right shoulder to the wall next to her cell, directing his eyes from Snyder to the stone clad floor and took a deep breath. He locked all tender feelings somewhere in the back of his mind, so they would not disturb him in his actions that were to come next. His hot temper, too, might ruin the situation further if not controlled.
When he felt himself composed, it was Spike, who finally lifted his eyes and faced her.
His eyes widened just a touch at the sight.
She looked… small. And frightened. And hopeful, while standing tall in the middle of the cell and being… brave. Lord Rayne almost smiled at her demeanor, finding it similar to the one she graced him with the first day he observed her through the bars of her cell. Her chin was lifted just as defiantly, as it was lifted days ago, showing the world a strength residing in her.
But this time, while watching her, William felt curious mixture of feelings inside his chest, telling him that he felt proud of that small and beautiful woman.
And also, very, very afraid for her.
He tried really hard not to show it, since the feeling of fear was not welcomed. Never was. Not on the battlefield while he fought death with steel against steel, and especially not now, facing one of the most difficult situations in his life.
He felt himself frowning slightly despite his effort to keep his features blank. Spike reminded himself again, that he should not show his care about her before these men. So he remained silent and watchful instead, smoothing out the frown.
And by God, he tried to tell her with his eyes not to be foolish herself.
She kept her composure, though he noticed a bit of the uncertainty in her eyes for a second, before that little fault in her armor disappeared again.
William hoped she would drop her act now. These men were not to be shown such blatant defiance if she was to appear innocent. He should know; she was not the only one who tried to stay brave at the face of death. For this is what these men before her brought with them, they would not settle for less if she is found guilty. Her subtle defiance has to go.
His fingers, seemingly relaxed, twitched. With growing anxiety he watched her rebelliously eyeing each of the council with indifference. He saw fear in them though... but they will not.
The Council might think her disrespectful… will think her disrespectful.
He noticed the uncomfortable silence stretching among the gathered holy men. Spike nearly panicked. While he found her strength amusing and, yes, even appealing, she should lose it.
For now at least.
Buffy… lower your eyes… His mind willed her to do it, almost begging her as he listened as the murmurs of the assembled men grew in volume.
But she hadn’t.
Spike closed his eyes for a second, breathing calmly, then turned them as disinterested as he could toward the men crowding in front of the cell to see her. Young lord almost groaned as he saw the ratty man, archpriest Snyder, scowl at her.
Too late.
‘’Such disrespect at the face of Holy men!’’ he shouted to the nods of other grave looking men. His voice was unpleasantly loud and it echoed in the otherwise empty dungeon. ‘’We act as the God’s Hand on earth and you show us such… such… impudence!’’ He was gasping, as if in search for the words he never really lacked of, grasping at his large golden cross that hung at his chest. He even stepped further out of the crowd, to point at the blonde woman, who was watching him, finally, with wide and fearful eyes. ‘’Bow your head, you insolent child!’’ Snyder wheezed out in acted outrage.
For that’s what it was – acted.
Buffy did so immediately, and the ratty archpriest had a satisfied smirk upon his face at her, now submissive, stance. But only for a moment, which did not go unnoticed by the seething William.
While he heard it all before, he had a hard time restraining himself from smacking the man down. He felt the attack on her rather personally, for some reason. The fear he saw in Buffy’s eyes, before she lowered her head as was expected of her, was painful to watch, he could admit that to himself.
The saddest thing was, however, that they have only just begun. Knowing how Snyder, one of the elder Church Council members worked, Miss Summers was in for a hard time.
Very hard time, thought William, as he carefully assessed the number of the Church Council men that were present for the first time. He failed to do so before, feeling too anxious to get it all over with as fast as he could. But he should have done it sooner, for he would then know just what a big of an event this has become in the eyes of The King.
There were twelve of the Church Council members assembled in his dungeon at the moment.
Twelve…
William blinked. What was his Majesty thinking, sending the whole Council to show up like that? No, William was not mistaken. There were twelve members of the Church Council here. In his dungeon. Murmuring displeasingly.
And he just caught several murmured words about ‘the witch’.
William paled. His Majesty the King was very pleased with the whole situation, it might seem, by making this all being such big of an event to send the whole damned Council of bloodthirsty men to judge the poor girl – and already a murderer in all of their eyes, she was.
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And so, she was right in her assessment.
They have condemned her already. As Buffy gazed at the floor with her head bowed still, she felt numb. For a moment she thought it might be shock making its presence known, but when the non-feeling lifted from her body, a weight settled to her limbs.
No, she wouldn’t have fainted because of it. She’d only stay rooted to the spot, too heavy to move. The sins they saw in her had suddenly gained weight and gave clarity to the situation. She felt grounded… not at all faint… but so very much there. Aware of every angry gaze she was meant to feel, every mean whisper meant for her to hear.
She wished she could fall to her knees, close her eyes and hold her hands against her ears to stop it all, like a small child, wishing it was all but a dream, while calling for her mother.
Then the silence spread through the dungeon and she hadn’t got the nerve to lift her gaze once from where she stood to see what was happening. The quietness grew so loud; she was tempted to shout out as to diminish it.
‘’Has her body been purified in pain as of yet?’’
Her head shot up immediately at those calmly spoken words. It was another man who spoke. The one with silver hair and demanding posture whose face held the kind of neutrality others did not. He stood in the middle, his expression mildly curious as he looked her up and down. His robes were unfamiliar to her; the richer embroidery spoke of a higher rank than others still. And what did his words mean?...
‘’I see no marks from where I stand.’’
‘’Indeed, her skin looks to be quite preserved.’’ Another man added from the crowd.
Chills went down her spine when Buffy’s mind offered the possibilities and she looked at lord Rayne fearfully, to seek upon his face the meaning of this horror.
She found no explanations there; however his words soon provided them plenty.
‘’Your Grace, there is an answer to your query, as simple as any,’’ Lord’s deep rumbling voice echoed in silence.
He was near her door, leaning upon the wall, facing her with some sort of hunger in his eyes. The change was so sudden, it unsettled Buffy to no end. ‘’I have not yet had the pleasure of adorning our captive with bruises and scars. Much to your disappointment as it was in mine, I assure you.’’ He added with a smirk toward the gathered clergy.
Low murmurs from the crowd. She hadn’t spared others a simple glance. Only kept looking into his deep blue eyes as soon as he turned to her again…
Lord Rayne then closed his eyes, breaking the connection between them. Bowing his head he let out a long sigh, as if in deep shame for the words he was about to utter. He finally looked at the assembled clergy and addressed them, his voice though still lazy. ‘’You must have heard of the unfortunate fault I have, your excellences.’’ His lips decorated a small smirk which could be read as self-disgust in their eyes. ‘’I am not a patient man.’’
Buffy was confused at this admission and looked at the group of robed men to see what a reaction an unusual admittance as this would provoke.
All she saw was a few frowns. But then again it seemed her captor had not finished speaking.
‘’However,’’ he pushed himself from the wall at her door and straightened himself. ‘’ I still strive to follow my own protocols - my rules in such cases as this, as much as I can. And I have decided not to pursue the usual habit of marking the flesh of this one just yet. I found her too strong-willed and incapable of sharing any truths as of yet.’’
Buffy felt her jaw slacken at this, though she consciously forced her mouth to be closed, trying not to stare at him too disbelievingly. The cold tremors were growing stronger. And his words only kept on coming.
‘’I have decided to break her first. To strip her of her mental defenses and let it weaken her. It shall allow me to exploit later every little dark secret she has now still. You will soon see, gentlemen, how she will sing to a tune provided by my artful skills of... persuasion.’’
He was actually purring these horrifying words… while watching her with that hunger in his eyes that made her wish she hadn’t bothered to eat anything at all in the last few days. She felt sick to her core with fear, even when she reminded herself of his promise.
His act was so very convincing. Wasn’t it? Buffy thought he was completely believable, as she gazed into his icy blue orbs, seeing all the gruesome ways of his… persuasion ... being played out in them.
And so have seen it the clergy, if the solemn nods of approval they gave his way meant anything.
But it was all an act. He’d told her few days back, he would help her. She should trust him. Shouldn’t she?
As she considered this, a thought even worse than before crossed her mind and she felt blood drain from her face. Had he changed his mind? Was an actual act the part when he said he’d help her? When he touched her cheek so very gently and told her she’d be safe? Was he playing with her then? Her gaze shot up to his, only to find him looking elsewhere. Was he avoiding her, knowing he lied?...
She dropped her gaze when this thought hit her, feeling hot prickles of tears gather in her eyes. She quickly swallowed the tightness in her throat down. Or tried to, at the very least.
He needn’t bothered himself with any more torture to lay on her way. She was closer to being defeated than any time before. Betrayal hurt the most. Almost as much as realizing how foolish she had been for trusting anyone. For trusting him. She had nothing else to loose but her life now.
Her arms tightened around her middle, trying to hold her together so she wouldn’t fall apart. She took a deep breath and made herself to look up.
Their gazes collided again.
She almost fell to her knees in relief at what she saw there.
Assurance.
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Satisfied by her reaction when she looked up at him, William quickly turned his gaze towards the assembled men to prevent them from turning their shrewish eyes upon her and discover the relief of hers themselves.
‘’Your excellences!’’ he boomed once the silence settled once more. He bowed his head slightly toward archbishops and the one cardinal Travers – the head of Church Council. ‘’Your grace.’’ After the nods were returned, he turned then to her, drank her in. The resolve was clear in his mind and stance. Though, he mused, the bloodthirsty men saw it in different light.
He was not going to let them hurt her. Not anymore and not ever. He had already decided she was for his eyes… and for his bed. Alive and breathing, that is. Breathing fast and sighing with pleasure... Firmly in his mind was the image of her writhing underneath him and him above, as her protector.
She was not guilty; therefore she was to be freed - and made his. It was enough of this madness, Spike thought. The real murderer was out there and to be found yet. And the bars were keeping her away from him and his attentions.
So he caught the eyes of the head of the council. The grey haired man looked at him calmly, like he was in this situation every day.
A little distraction was in order.
‘’I have it in my faith, that you have not seen the treasures I hold,'' Lord laughed loudly. '' Of course, the accused and guilty does not see them as such at all.''
He paused and then pointed at the door farther down the stone carved corridor to his left. ''Gentlemen, please follow me, and see the collection I hold for those deserving of the punishment.’’
As he led them away from Buffy he saw the unmistaken glee and excitement in one of the priest’s eyes at his words. Wesley-Windham Price, he was, if Spike was not mistaken; the youngest of the twelve of the Church Council and their assigned scribe.
Spike’s step faltered momentarily. The interest Wesley showed was quite amusing. Though the man tried to hide his excitement with a cough, Spike could still see his eyes glinting.
The young pup of the man he was, but he was excited to see the weaponry of his? Spike’s bloodthirsty mind could appreciate this, though he found this whole situation tiresome. Any other day he would be glad to show the eager man around.
His hesitation put a damper on Wesley’s enthusiasm. All the other men started murmuring among themselves in anticipation. Spike was of course known for his extensive collection of torture devices and they have never had a chance before to latch their greedy eyes upon them.
His mind gave an eye roll. Then let us give them the show and prolong the inevitable, shall we?
TBC…