Chapter One - Monster
Well, you've already seen it. It's on the first chapter. I don't own anything. :/ Note:
I'm still looking for a beta. Really, I am. If you'd like to be one then contact me. My AIM is MyChocolatZombie, and my MSN in is firstname.lastname@example.org. I don't really check my e-mail, like, ever, so . . . sending an e-mail wouldn't do much good. x_x Any suggestions for how the story is to go, and pairings, is greatly appreciated. So are reviews, criticism, and comments! I love them!
By the way. Would a piece of this size be called a chapter, or should I wait until there's a longer length? :/ She had recessed into herself from the moment that the tears stopped; of course, she hadn’t even been aware of them, because of the shock of her mothers brutal murder – a death that had happened with only the purpose of surprising her, a death that had happened on a mere whim to teach her a lesson, a death that had constricted her heart immediately. There were groans from Willow, Xander and Giles as they were thrown haphazardly onto the ground next to the piles of ash and the corpse of their Slayers mother. The Death Eaters gripped Buffy’s arms tightly to prevent her from running (though that wasn’t an issue, really) and then proceeded to drag her from the premises.
Voldemort, wrapped in his long and elegant robe, strode forward with a smirk on his thin lips. “Proceed.” He said, throwing out an arm. The entire group then vanished.
They arrived within a darkened cavern, and had Buffy been in her right mind she’d have called it worthy of ‘spooky-filled fun’. Her head was bowed down, glistening blonde hair hiding her face from view, and arms still propped up near her head – the Death Eaters had not yet let go, as they had not yet been ordered to. Instead, they continued to drag her towards the middle of a throne-like room. Voldemort, of course, was ahead of his entire pack. He stepped regally up onto the raised platform which held his dramatic seat.
Raising her eyes to look on her kidnapper, she watched him as he gracefully turned and sat – not that she could fathom how one could turn and sit gracefully. Certainly, she couldn't. Apparently, it just happened to the evilest of the evils. She curled her lip, finally managing to gain back some of her attitude, and spat, “Hey, Vader, what the fu—“ A clenched fist knocked her head to the side abruptly, causing her vision to swirl.
“You will not address the Dark Lord so!” One of Buffy’s captors hissed as they hovered over her, hooded head thoroughly concealed in darkness. Vaguely assessing the voice as female, Buffy rolled her eyes towards the owner of the fist in a silent promise of ass-kicking.
And, having promised an ass-kicking, Buffy decided that she’d give them a thorough job of it! She broke the hold the Death Eaters had on her by bringing her elbows down to her sides with clenched fists, and rolling onto the back of her feet into a crouch. The surrounding wizards and witches began fumbling for their wands, though Voldemort remained seated. His head was lazily propped up on his fist as he watched the scene unfold.
Forcing her pain and anger to surface, and let it drive her, Buffy stood and gave a magnificent right hook to the Death Eater that smacked her. She laughed, though the sound was hollow, and turned fluidly to give an expertly wielded kick to the other one. “Dark Lord?” Buffy mocked, punching another one square in the face, “You really are Darth Vader! Dark Lord? Is that the best you can come up with?”
She had managed to incapacitate many of the Death Eaters before they got a hold of her once again. A few of the followers lay, unconscious, on the ground still, a few nursing their bleeding and bruising wounds, and others continuously casting spells on her. On the other hand, Buffy was unharmed – except for the wounds she’d gained in the previous battle of the vampires only an hour before – and kneeling with her hands pinned to the cold floor. “I am Lord Voldemort.”
Buffy’s eyes flickered to his face; taking in the scarlet tinted eyes, the thin lips, and the slit nostrils. “I’m Buffy.” The sarcastic response was involuntary, only instinct, and she mentally kicked herself for not being able to keep hold of her mouth. A Death Eater to the side of her groaned softly, dread laced in the minute sound. She kept her eyes on her captor, refusing to take the consequence of keeping her attention off of him.
Voldemort sighed as he raised his head from his fist. “You do not learn quickly, pet –-“
“At least I have a better nickname.”
“-- And, I do believe I have already told you that I do not care for disobedience.” His eyes narrowed considerably, “But, perhaps you need another lesson?” Though phrased as a question, Voldemort obviously did not mean his comment as one. He tilted his head to the side and caught eyes with one of his followers, blinked once, and then captured Buffy again in his snake-like gaze. He remained silent after that, as if musing, and an ominous quiet settled over the entire chamber.
Buffy continued to glare up at Voldemort as she mentally thought of how she was going to escape, how she was going to get revenge, and – god – her mother. The realization of Joyce’s death hit her with a shuddering shock. Numb, she barely registered the mewling cry of a child. Though, when she did, Buffy turned her head into the direction it was coming from.
Coming from a door she hadn’t seen, a Death Eater carried an infant in their arms. The baby was held softly, as one would usually hold a baby, though its fingers clenched the fabric that confined the child. The Death Eater seemed to not want to give it up, though they resigned to the fact that they would have to. Confusion played across Buffy’s pretty, pouty features. A baby was supposed to teach her a lesson? How, exactly, was a baby supposed to invoke fear within her heart?
She flicked her eyes back up to Voldemort – and gasped. His eyes betrayed amusement, and the slight curl of his lips hinted to misery. His hands were rhythmically petting something curled in his lap. The baby was not supposed to cause fear in her heart – no, she was supposed to fear for the baby. “Stop it!” Buffy pleaded, instantly regretting her outbursts of sarcasm. “Stop it!”
It was at that moment that a rough chuckle bubbled up from the Dark Lord. He watched gleefully as his follower placed the whining infant before her knees. Its tiny fingers were clutched in fists, tooth-less mouth opened in a whine, and eyes closed to the world. “I think not.”As he raised his hand abruptly a silver shine glinted in the air. The Death Eater that had brought the baby caught the knife effortlessly.
“No!” She screamed pitifully, her wail echoing through out the corridor. Hesitating for only a moment or two, the Death Eater bent down on its knees and clenched the handle with both hands. Bringing it up above its head, it then brought the knife down into the chest of the infant with great force. The action was accompanied with a disgusting ‘shlrrk’ and the dwindling wail of the innocent victim.
Voice trembling, Buffy snarled at Voldemort. “You are a monster.”
“No. I am your Master.”