Chapter 7 pt. 1 

Much later that night, Buffy stretched while looking out of her window, enjoying the privacy of the master bedroom and contemplating the evening's strained introductions. She smirked a little, remembering Aria's skeptical appraisal of Giles. Apparently the new Slayer thought Giles a little too old and tweedy to be a good Watcher. But, Buffy mused proudly, Aria wasn't the first to underestimate Giles, and the more experienced Slayer was looking forward to when her predecessor's eyes were opened to that.

Buffy sighed a little, feeling guilty for the thought. Aria was young, inexperienced, and at an age where she was * supposed* to question authority. Buffy had been there herself at one time; in fact, she often still felt that way. But, some part of the Slayer she was felt threatened by a younger version of herself, one who was, in theory, there to replace her. It had always wigged Buffy to some extent to see the other Slayers, although she also appreciated the help they could provide. Still, her survival instincts demanded that she prove herself anew every time she met another Slayer. A small, dark part of Buffy liked seeing Aria make mistakes, because it proved, at least to some extent, that Buffy was still the top dog, so to speak, in the Slayer circle.

Buffy slowly rotated her head, trying to loosen the suddenly tight muscles at the base of her neck. She wearily climbed into bed, breathing deeply of the aromatic stress relief linen spray she'd used liberally while undressing. Buffy was already stressed out by moving and finally facing the old baggage and hurts in Sunnydale. With the old nightmares on the upswing, the last thing Buffy needed was any additional tension. The Slayer shook her head, firmly relegating Aria to Wesley's watchful care and the back of her mind for the rest of the night. With a potentially awkward, uncomfortable party the following evening, Buffy needed a good nights sleep. She took several deep, calming breaths, enjoying the fresh scent on her sheets and pillow, and from the candle burning on her dresser, as she drifted slowly of to sleep, hoping for dreams of her favorite Angel, instead of the nightmares she was expecting.

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There was nothing but darkness around her, but it wasn't the cool, crisp darkness Buffy was used to during her patrols. This was an oppressive, dangerous darkness that made her skin crawl. She could feel eyes watching her, and she shifted uneasily, her movements bringing about both the rattle of chains and clarity of the senses. She was abruptly aware of the aches and pains she was feeling, ranging from bruises and scrapes to twinging pain between her legs and sluggishness throughout her system. Buffy's mind was finally able to focus long enough to remember what had happened, and she immediately wished she hadn't. Because whoever this monster was, he wasn't a demon of supernatural origin, he was eminently human.

Her senses weren't as sharp as she was used to, and Buffy realized that she had been drugged at least twice since the chloroform that had originally knocked her out. She had no idea how long he'd kept her chained in the basement, but figured it had been at least several hours. She was just grateful that she'd been unconscious for the first violation of her body, and either unconscious or barely so, ever since. Buffy already felt dirty and violated simply being aware of what had happened. She shivered in the basement, her sweat pants long gone, and the tattered remains of her T-shirt no protection from the cold room. Pushing that discomfort from her mind as well, the Slayer pulled weakly at the chains that bound her wrists, feeling the manacles chafe against the oozing welts that had resulted when she'd managed to break free from her handcuffs the first time she'd comer around. Her head ached horribly, and she dimly remembered that he'd been furious when she'd attempted to escape before he could touch her a second time, and knew he'd managed to hit her over the head with something; when she'd awakened again she could feel the bruises and welts of a beating, and chains around her wrists. Another escape attempt since then had resulted in her chains being placed far enough apart that she couldn't get any leverage without dislocating her shoulders, and she could definitely not reach one hand with the other.

A soft sound, like sneakered shoes, could be heard off to one side, followed by a harshly indrawn breath. Buffy's breath caught in her throat as a hoarse, menacing voice said, "Good, you're awake again. It's so much more fun if you're awake." As the dark figure she could just barely make out moved towards her, a dim light from a lantern suddenly appeared to illuminate the mostly bare, well-insulated room. While part of Buffy screamed silently in revulsion and pain as he laid his hands on her, abusing her bruised and abraded flesh, roughly handling her breasts and one hand heading for the junction of her legs, another part of her was committing the man's face to memory. Because, even as he evaded her legs as she tried to kick out at him, and he backhanded the weakened Slayer in retaliation, Buffy wanted to ensure she could find him again when she finally succeeded in breaking free. Because, human or not, he was a monster and needed to be destroyed.

But, in the end, when he was pinning her down and forcing himself into her torn and shaking body, Buffy's mind shut down to try to protect itself, trying to find a way to escape the ripping, burning pain and the hand that reached out to cover her mouth to stifle her cries of protest. She felt like she was suffocating…

 

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Buffy sat up in bed abruptly, shaking violently in reaction. Sometimes, she really hated being right. The dreams had definitely returned with a vengeance. A soft sound in the hallway made the breath catch in the back of her throat, and she fumbled for the lamp next to the bed. Buffy forced herself to take a deep, calming breath, and slipped from her bed quietly, wrapping a robe around herself She tiptoed toward the doorway and opened it, only to see Wesley disappearing around the corner toward his room. The opening of her door startled him, and her former Watcher turned back towards her.

"I'm sorry Buffy," he apologized. "Did I wake you?"

"No," Buffy said quietly, summoning a weak smile. "I was awake. I just heard you out here and it startled me."

"Ah, of course," murmured Wesley. "You're used to patrolling this time of night rather than sleeping." At Buffy's nod of acknowledgement, he continued carefully, mindful of their less than congenial history. "I must confess; I am rather surprised that you weren't out this evening."

Buffy suppressed a smile, a little amused by Wesley's cautious attitude. It kind of amused her that he was worried about her reactions, but it also shamed her to recall her statement of distrust in the basement that afternoon. "We're keeping an eye on things quietly," she assured Wesley, having also recognized a bit of his council upbringing in his earlier statement as well. "I have been out and about on late sweeps, and Willow and Oz have taken early sweeps, but for tonight we held off. I'm keeping in shape, but mostly we're doing the research thing. Giles wants to keep my presence here as quiet as possible, kind of like a sneak attack. Besides, with the way things are right now, Aria's perfectly capable of a routine patrol as long as she's got backup, and this is a good time for her to get familiar with the cemeteries, and other hot spots. I'll stick with there research; it's been so quiet that there's not really a lot for two of us to do, and Aria needs to get the lay of the land before things really heat up. It's alarmingly quiet for a town where a Slayer just died."

"True," came the response, "but Samantha did kill the local leader before succumbing to her injuries, and it is usually quiet among the opposition after such a defeat. There's likely to be infighting as they try to determine the new leader, and take care of their own preparations for what ever is looming on the horizon."

Buffy nodded quietly, stifling a yawn. It had been a long couple of days without a lot of sleep, and she was now suitably distracted that she felt she could try going back to bed. "I guess," she yawned. "It means that until they get their act together, it's a good training ground for Aria. She can get to know the area before getting dropped into the middle of a real hot spot. You might want to think about taking her over to the Bronze. Not only will she get to meet kids her own age, but quiet or not, it's always a popular hunting ground for the local vamps."

"I'll think about it," allowed Wesley, frowning a little at the thought. He'd never liked the Bronze, uncomfortable with the loud music as well as seeing it as a sign of Buffy's disobedient, independent streak. On the other hand, that independent streak was a big part of why Buffy was such a successful Slayer, and he was rather heartened to see something similar in Aria. While it made her difficult, it could eventually save her life. After a moment's thought, he ventured, "Perhaps I'll make sure she hears about the Bronze and then tell her not to go." Wesley grinned wryly. "She doesn't seem to take to authority too well, and I'm fairly certain she would balk if I instructed her to hunt there, regardless of the fun she'd have."

Buffy laughed quietly as she moved back into her room. "You may be right Wesley," she said, her spirits lifted by Wesley's dry wit. "Good night."

"Sleep well Buffy," came the quiet, serious response. Wesley returned her gaze steadily for a long moment before releasing Buffy's hazel eyes and continuing towards his room. Sometimes Watcher's see just a little too much.