Fic: The Flow (7/?)

[stefzis@xxxxxxxxx]

Hello all,
I'm back with the longest chapter to date. Now I really shoulnd't be 
having this much fun writting a dark story like this, but I am. 
Thanks to those who have reviewed and asked for more, it really helps.
Catch you on the flipside,
Stef

Title: The Flow
Prologue: Coffee Shop (reposted)
Chapter 6: The Gentleman's Tale
Rating: R/NC-17
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon owns it all right?
Note: Special thanks to Cheryl and Cilia
Summary: Set after the serie's end, kind of hard to put into words 
really. What happened to Willow in Peking all those years ago?


Chapter 6: The Gentleman's Tale

Perhaps this would be a good time, if there is such a thing, for me 
to tell you a bit about the events that have transpired leading up to 
the events you are now bearing witness too. It is quite an unpleasant 
task that has befallen me. One that I undertake with no particular 
joy, for my taste does lay in the stories of heroes and bravery, not 
in defeat and torture. But the task no matter how unpleasant must be 
undertaken.

Our tale begins years after our departure from the township of 
Sunnydale. Scattered around the world we worked at keeping the world 
safe, putting out the small fires before they would fan into a 
blazing inferno and making sure those who followed in our footsteps 
remained safe and unaware of our actions. After all what good are 
martyrs to a cause if they are still around? 

I remember it like it happened yesterday and by god I wish I didn't. 
I had met up with Willow in Peking; it was one of those occasions 
that called for us all to meet in one place, much like now. Still 
this was before the darkness set into our little family, before 
Willow's spirit died in a filthy gutter in one of the cities' alleys. 

She had gone out alone, drunk on her own power and fueled by her firm 
belief that what we were doing was for the greater good. That wasn't 
the first time she went against my wishes to wait for the others to 
arrive, but she didn't listen, secure in her faith she ventured out. 
Hoping no doubt to finish this pesky little business and then spend 
her time in the city with Buffy once she arrived. I still remember 
how she looked when she left the hotel at dusk, dressed in that 
ridiculous white suit with the Star of David dangling on a long chain 
around her neck. She hasn't worn that since that fateful night, but 
in a way she will never rid herself of it.

As far as we know she was ambushed not far from our hotel, but far 
enough so she couldn't warn us. She was then taken to a hidden 
location within the city and that's where the tortures took place. We 
didn't realize until two days later that something was amiss. For it 
was not unusual for Willow to disappear for periods of time and it 
was not until Buffy arrived with Xander that we knew something was 
terribly wrong, but by then it was to late. 

There are many ways to torture one like Willow, but it's also hard to 
kill one once you get bored. We began a frantic search through the 
city. Buffy and Xander in an uncharacteristic display of violence 
tore the city apart looking for her. In the end it was Xander that 
found her, blinded and delirious about to throw herself into the 
harbor. She shouldn't have survived, but she did, one does not easily 
kill a being of such will and power as Willow was and still is. 

I did my best to heal her wounds through both technical and magical 
means, but no amount of magic can heal scars that deep. Being the 
chronicler that I am I took great care in recording her injuries, 
sickening I know, but perhaps they can help shed some light on the 
events. They had started by whipping her back, with a nine-of-tails, 
three times three times three and then carved the very symbol she 
believed in into her bloodied back. Then came the marks from the 
pokers; nine all lined her lower back and with five running down each 
side. Her blindness was the result of a flash spell, one that 
released massive amount of light and heat, I healed the burns so she 
does not have to bear those scars. A small achievement in light of 
some of things they must have done besides physically abusing her. 
What happened after that? Well I can only speculate. You can ravage 
someone's mind to the brink of madness and keep it teetering there 
for the longest time and there are many spells that are designed for 
torture, but leave no mark. So I can only imagine what they must have 
put her through. I know that you might find my tale cold and devoid 
of feeling, well perhaps it is so, but we all cope with loss in our 
own way don't we? Perhaps one day she will open up to us and shed 
that cold personality she crafted while hanging from a meat hook in 
some warehouse in Peking?

?I remember the day Buffy announced that she had got her job as a 
chief-of-security for the what's its name corporation she works for. 
That's my last happy memory of her, seeing her off at Heathrow before 
she boarded the flight to Tokyo, flight 392-7 if I recall. We kissed 
and promised that we would see each other at the next get together of 
the Four. That is the last happy memory I have of her, of any of them 
for that matter. The next memory I have of her, is hearing her puking 
from the bathroom of our suite at the Hilton. No pictures to go with 
that memory, just the smell of my own blood and Xander voice asking 
Giles if there was anything he could do. Some warm water and towels 
was his answer if I recall. Oh Buffy came back for a second helping 
just now in case you are wondering, this time it was I'm so sorry. 
Pathetic really, but I allow her to lose herself, after all there is 
nothing she can do to me that hasn't been done already.

It's time for a change of pace. I'm not weak, although Buffy seems to 
posses the ability to turn me into a crying wreck with just a touch. 
Oh I could stop her anytime I wanted. Again I don't particularly 
enjoy her attentions, but I know the guilt she feels once she's done 
with me is far greater than any emotional pain I might feel from her 
abuse of my body. I throw on a robe and fling open the window and the 
rain hits me and starts washing away the hardened layers of fluid on 
my face. I rise up into the air and fly out the window like a ghost, 
which is not that far from the truth. Yes in the name of fuck I can 
fly, it's one of only three true pleasures in my life these days, the 
other being arguing in my coffee shop and the third, well I'm not 
telling, but you are a smart individual and therefore bound to figure 
it out sooner or later. If you don't I will be sorely disappointed in 
you.

To be continued...