Repost: Mad Hamlet DWR Secondus 4-a

["Diana33" <diana33@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>]

I was posting for Mad Hamlet and I goofed the first time I posted this part.


Greetings: 

I know I retired and it still stands. Some stories won't say no and, as luck would have it, DWR kicked up a fuss just as my schedule eased off. 

I remain, as always,

Mad-Hamlet

Mad Hamlet's stories are Archived:
http://www.realmoftheshadow.com/madhamlet.htm

Please send feedback to:
mad-hamlet@xxxxxxx


Disclaimer: All this belongs to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. (Hard to believe, I know)

 

 

Drain Brameged Inc. Proudly Presents

A Mad-Hamlet Production

 

 

 

Dianna Wears Red

Fourth Test

 

 

 

"You're a what?" The small redheaded girl asks me. 

 

Her name is Willow Rosenberg. According to the Council's files she's a genius, bit socially awkward and stronger than she appears. If they knew what I knew they could add being an out and about lesbian and is currently in a relationship with The Council's little prize. 

 

Only right now she's not looking all that strong.

 

She's sitting on the floor having pulled herself upright. I found her sleeping there when I entered the room. Now she's squinting at me with the heel of one hand pressed to her temple and the other hand held in front of her, trying to block the rays of the setting sun. 

 

I lean forward slightly so my body cuts off the light coming in through the window. The girl sighs in relief and lets her outstretched hand fall. "I'm a Hunter," I repeat.

 

She squints at me trying to get a clear idea of what I look like but with the sun behind me that's probably pretty hard. "Let me make this a little easier," I say. I stand up, she flinches and shrinks back a bitat my sudden movement, turning away from her I go over to the window and find the metal latch that holds the blinds up. With a flick of my fingertip the catch is removed and the blinds come rattling down, rather loudly. At the sound the redhead winces again and groans.  

 

Turning around I sit back down on the bed, clasp my hands andstare down at the girl on the floor.

 

Blinking several times she opens her eyes and stares at me, "Who has Buffy?" she finally asks.

 

"The Council," I reply.

 

"Why?" She keeps her voice flat, even; she's keeping control.That or she's still a little woozy.

 

"They're scared," I say.

 

Her eyes flicker over to the window; she stares at it. Maybe looking for something outside; this is hard with the blinds down. After a few moments she nods slowly. 

 

She's taking this all rather well. Complete stranger in her room, talking about her kidnapped friend.

 

"How did they catch her?"

 

"Me," I say. "I caught her for them."

 

That gets her attention, her head swivels and she's staring directly at me. I find myself pinned beneath two green eyes. I meet her stare without flinching, I've been hunting longer than she's drawn breath and Iknow the rules. I won't back down from her challenge. Besides what could she really do to me? I could snap...her...over....uh oh. 

 

She stands up slowly, drawing herself to her full height without taking her eyes off of me. This in itself is not that impressive, with her standing up and me sitting down we're still pretty much the same heightbut..

 

The hairs on the back of my neck stand up and, without my sayso, the muscles in my chest tighten slightly. 

 

"You?" she says quietly. "You took Buffy away from me?"

 

I'm seized by an impulse to look away, to surrender to her. Iwon't naturally. I never have and I never will. Now the muscles in my armsand leg begin to tense, all without my say so. I can hear my breath whistling in and out of my nose. 

              

This is crazy. She can't weigh half of what I do, I've got more ways to kill her than I can recall and she's just staring at me. So why am I feeling more unnerved by that look of hers than the last time I had toface down a cranky grizzly?

 

"Yes," I say. My voice sounds calm and clear which is good. Imustn't let her know how her stare is affecting me. 

 

"And you gave her to them," She replies. "Now they're hurtingher, probably thinking they're doing her a favor."

 

"Yes," I say with a slight nod, the movement takes effort on my part. "I captured The Slayer for them, they told me to so I did."

 

The weight of her stare is palatable. As the sun continues toset and the light in the room fades the green of her eyes begins to wane. Her eyes...almost look like they're filling with black. She doesn't have power this little girl. Not yet, she will though; its sleeping now and I think I might have just gotten it, and her, attention.

 

That may have been a mistake.

 

Then she blinks, a few times. Then a few more times and continues to blink. "I hate staring," she grumbles rubbing her eyes. "Gets my eyeballs all Sahara-like."  

 

This sudden jump from Very Dangerous to Somewhat Cranky in her behavior catches me totally flatfooted, my muscles relax instantly and I practically slump in relief. 

 

"I have to call Giles," The girl says reaching for the phone.Her fingers curl around it but before she can dial I grab her hand in my own. 

 

"Willow-" I begin.

 

She spins and her eyes are blazing. "Don't touch me," she says coldly.                

I ignore her, "Listen we-" 

 

She interrupts me again, "They're torturing her. Right now they're torturing her, burning her, screaming at her. She can't walk, or restor run. She loves to run," she places free hand, such a tiny pale limb, onmy chest.

 

"She loves to run and now they're burning her feet. They're burning her feet, her hands, her skin and making her bleed; all because of you. Because you gave her to them."

 

The redhead pauses, looking thoughtful. She glances at my hand, my hand that's still resting atop of hers which is holding the phone. "And I told you not to touch me," she pushes me with her other hand.

 

Ow.

 

Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow.

 

I smell ozone.

 

I'm not sure how but I appear to be against the far wall. Theremains of a wooden cabinet scattered around me. She gave me a simple push, there was a loud bang and now I'm lying in the remains of furniture; it appears I was wrong. 

 

I glance up at Willow. She's staring at her hand, the one that pushed me, in .well it looks like, I sniff, certainly smells like fear. 

 

She looks at me, then back at her hand, then back at me. "I'm," she pauses for a second and I see her throat swallow. "I'm sorry," she says quietly. "I guess.uh.I guess."

 

I stand up slowly, ignoring the protests of various bruised muscles. "I deserved it," I say. 

 

The young girl opens and closes her hand a few times, "It looks like my hand," she's talking to herself. "It looks like my hand and feels like my hand. It opens and closes like my hand, see?" she demonstrates bymaking a fist two times. "But it just did the 'Knock Big Lady Across Room'thing and that is decidedly not Willow-hand like behavior."

 

"I'm not big," I say stiffly, the words slipping out before Ican help myself. "I'm muscular."

 

She stares at me at first, and then cracks a smile, the smilebecomes a giggle, the giggle becomes a laugh. She clutches at her stomach and continues to laugh. I can feel my own lips tugging upward but I don't let them. This evening has been full of loss-of-control. 

 

The redhead continues to laugh; she falls to her knees laughing, still laughing. She falls over on her side, curled up in a fetal ball; eventually the laughter starts fading. 

 

Predictable. She's crying.

 

I roll my eyes and stare at the ceiling, 'Why me?' I mentallyask no one in particular.

 

"In love with a girl," she moans. "Then she starts turning into.." she's cut off by fresh sobs. This goes on for a bit and the next thing I can make out is, "Waste all my shampoo, use lipstick on the rug," more crying. She flops over onto her back and stares at the ceiling; is she evenaware I'm in the room anymore?

 

"Torture, and strange woman showing up in our room. 'I'm a Hunter'," she says in a poor copy of my voice. I'm getting sick of this. Selfpity only did one thing as far as I'm concerned: Get people dead.

 

"Beware the dark side," the redhead giggles. "For once you godown that path forever shall it dominate your destiny!" What the hell is she talking about?

 

That's it.

 

I straddle her, bend down, grab her by the shoulders and haulher to her feet. Her head lolls and her eyes aren't focusing; I slam her again a wall. "Shut up" I snarl in her face, our noses scant centimeters from each other. "Right now the woman you love is being tortured as you yourself pointed out!" Her head rolls the other way, she sniffs noisily. I pin her against the wall with one hand on her chest, with the other I cup her chin and hold her head still.

 

"Now yes, I captured her. I tracked her down like a beast of prey and netted her pretty as you please." She blinks.

 

"Then, I bagged her, gagged her and delivered her like a package because that was my job. That's what I had to do."

 

She licks her lips, and she stares at my mouth, she's startedcoming back from wherever she ran to. 

 

"So I caught her and gave her away," I say clearly, coldly without expression or tone. "That.may have been a mistake." She's looking at me again.

 

"One I'm going to fix," I pull my face away from hers. I'm nolonger in her personal space but I'm still holding her against the wall. "But we can only fix it if we go now, I have no idea how long your girlfriend can last against Fat Man, he's a monster but he knows what he's doing." Ibegin to relax, easing off still holding her against the wall but I let goof her face. "So we don't have time to call your friend and have him sit around, examining books or making plans."

 

She blinks slowly, "You know Giles huh?"

 

I almost grin, "I know the British."

 

"You're touching me," she says it in a quiet whisper, I almost miss it. I let go of her and take two large steps back. 

 

"Are we going to go?" I ask her. 

 

She goes to the closet without a word. Reaching inside she grabs a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and a light jacket. She slides into the jeans, pulls the shit over her head. Without waiting to put on socks she steps into her sneakers. Throwing the jacket over her shoulder she turns to me.

 

"We go," the Witch says.

 

TBC in 4-b