Chapter Text
A Dried Rose
by Diana Michelle
She entered the dank cellar slowly and cautiously. The smell of blood, smoke, and burnt flesh was so strong, she could almost taste it. The air was still, with no breeze to carry away the scent. Her gaze swept the filthy cell before focusing on a chair behind the rust-covered bars. Adjusting her grip on the small stake, she crept toward the cell. She gulped and took hold of the cell door with her free hand. It swung open easily when she gave it a gentle push.
The brazier standing near the chair still held burning embers. She spotted a thin steel rod propped up against the wall. The thicker end had brown stains along the side... dried blood. Finally, she looked at the form in the chair. He was roughly bound, his shirt ripped open and his arms tied behind the back of the chair. His head was tilted backwards, offering access to his scarred and lightly bleeding neck. She forced her eyes lower and almost gagged. Bits of his skin had been neatly sheared off his chest and stomach and then someone had seared the wounds shut.
Her hand reached out, softly touching his unmarred face. Her fingers stroked his dry lips and relief crossed her features as she felt his breath warm on her hand. Teardrops welled out of her eyes as she knelt to untie him. His wrists and ankles bled freely as she removed the tight cords binding them. Then she noticed a small sheet of paper lying beneath the chair. Her hands trembled as she picked it up. She read the short paragraph and stood up, hardly noticing as her hand balled into a tight fist, crumpling the note. She felt herself sway on her feet and heard herself give off a soft whimper.
Footsteps sounded in the corridor. Before giving it a second thought, she tossed the paper into the brazier and watched it burn. She slumped against the wall, tears still sliding down her cheeks. She glanced up as a man entered the room. She heard a faint gasp and he was staring at the scene in horror. Turning away from him, she pulled the young man into her arms. She looked up again and spoke, her voice harsh with smoke and tears. "Giles, let's get him out of
here."
Together they left the building and headed toward Giles' apartment. Neither spoke as they carried the bloodstained boy in and gently set him down on the couch. She knelt by his side as the ex-Watcher left. She simply stared at him for a moment, lips parted as if to speak. She stroked his hair and watched her hot tears land on his face. "Xand." Her voice was a whisper. "Don't leave us. We need you. We need you so much."
Giles re-entered the room. He walked to the couch, setting the hot water, towels, and bandages on the small table. He glanced at the motionless figure on his couch and touched the blonde girl's shoulder. "Would you help me, Buffy?" She turned and silently picked up a towel. Dipping it in the water she began to clean Xander's wounds. Giles watched a moment, then went to his phone. He quickly dialed a number and the phone was almost immediately picked up. "Willow? We found him. Yes, come over... he's going to be fine." I hope, Giles thought.
He returned to Buffy's side and started bandaging the cleaned lacerations. They shared a pained glance as Xander moaned and shifted. Buffy cupped his face in her hands not taking her eyes form Giles. Her hard expression almost made him flinch. "I have to go. Would it be alright if I went to L.A. for a short visit?" Her voice was cold. "I need to discuss something with Angel." This time he did flinch. Buffy had said Angel the way that she said Faith, spitting out the word as if it left a bad taste in her mouth. Her voice gentled as she resumed her ministrations of Xander. "Take care of him while I'm gone."
Giles, without pausing in his bandaging, reassured her, "He will stay here until you're back." He saw a brief smile cross Buffy's face. With one last stroke, she finished cleaning as the door opened. He looked up to meet Willow's eyes and she hurried to the couch. "He hasn't woken up yet."
"I'm glad you're here." Buffy's voice was quiet now, calm. She got up to tightly hug Willow then she continued speaking. "I'm grabbing Mom's cell phone and then I have to go to L.A. Please call me if he wakes up." Running her fingers through her hair she headed for the door. She paused, biting her lower lip before continuing. "I know who did it." She leaned back against the doorway, watching as shocked expressions formed on their faces.
"Who?" Willow's voice was a small whisper. She looked at Xander's still figure. "Who, Buffy?"
Buffy pulled together the front of her leather jacket, buttoning it up. Her eyes held Willow's, the depths dark with pain. "Sunnydale's own personal bitch." Her hand tightened on the doorknob. She shot off the word just before she left. "Faith."
* * *
B,
Isn't he pretty when he bleeds? Wonder if I broke him?
That cell gave me a lot of time to think. I was happier on the other side and I wanna be happy. So, you can thank your ex-honey for `saving' me. He was so right, it is addictive to kill, but he never mentioned the pure pleasure of hurting someone who can't stop you. You hurt me, I hurt you. Are you hurting yet?
With love,
Big Sister
TBC