author's note: sorry for the long wait I had lots of homework and art projects that needed to get done. Special thanks to KnightlyLove for helping me edit my story!!!
Part eleven:
Two bright green eyes flicked back and forth before crossing the street. Willow clutched her back pack close to her body to soften the rattiling of her loose books moving around as she walked home from her high school, a torn up rotting building with numerous holes and cracks everywhere you looked. She was lucky to have survived long enough to have the chance to go to school at all, because many children were taken away from their parents when they could not pay off their blood debts and were killed or used as drinking toys for vampires. Willow turned the last corner of her route and froze.
Her house, her childhood house of white with a blue roof, was burning in a consuming fire that flickered it’s colors higher and higher, spitting sparks into the sky. Ashes fell from the sky like snow and stained Willow's face and clothes with soot. Her bag fell from her grip and she forced herself to move closer to the driveway.
The heat choked her eyes and throat, she could taste coal and dust everything smelt of wood when it blackens. She ran through the open door,cringing away from the flames which made her vision blurry and red. Willow rubbed at her eyes and coughed as the dark smoke entered her lungs. Cinders sprayed out and crackled, dying as they touched the floor, bigger ones remained alive and glowing they looked like scabs under a hot orange light.
“MOM! DAD! WHERE ARE YOU?!” she screamed, only the creaking of broken wood and the loud flapping of the fire answered her as it licked and swirled around the building infected everything with it’s scorching desire to destroy.
She began to sweat and the soot became caked onto her skin. She moved around frantically while trying to avoid the flames, she ran upstairs and tripped on the final step when the loud collapse of a wall startled her. She quickly got up and ran down the hallway, turning the knob to her parents room before drawing back with a hiss of pain. The metal knob had seared her skin, so she violently kicked at the wooden door marking it with her shoes.
She swore loudly before closing her eyes and focusing her magic. “OBVIAM!” she yelled and the door blasted open crumbling at her feet.
Her heart raced and adrenaline coursed as she took in her new surroundings upon entering her parent’s room. There on the bed lay her mother drained of all blood, face down of the bed cover. Willow, trembling and holding her breath, moved closer. She gently pressed two fingers onto her mother’s neck to feel her pulse, but her body was cold and no life jumped beneath her touch.
On the floor next to the bed her father’s body splayed on the floor, his glasses broken and hanging lopsided on his face, his eyes open staring up at the ceiling. The wall had blood splatters on it and was marked with browning finger prints; he had struggled to stay alive. This fire was no accident, it was a cover up for murder. Willow shuddered and fell to her knees sobbing. She wanted to die in this fiery prison.
She could taste ash in her mouth and could feel grime between her fingers and under her nails.
Embers sparked off of the walls and part of the ceiling and settled on the back of Willow’s shirt; before singeing her skin as the fabric deteriorated, they licked at her flesh and brutally burned her. As more sparks began to fall, she flinched but refused to move letting the pain numb her mind.
“Godess let the fire consume me,” she thought as a pair heavy foot steps hit the stairs and entered the room.
“Godammit, this is the wrong house! They never even praticed magic and they have no record of blood debts, why couldn’t you wait for me?You fucked up big this time,” a voice shouted.
Willow could make out two shadowy figures standing in the door way. The light fixtures had begun to flicker on and off as the fire knawed at the electrical chords. She couldn’t get a good look at either of their faces, but the one with blood all smeared all over his clothes and hands had his sleeves rolled up and on the inside of his arm was a tattoo, the mark of Igon. Willow recgnized it from one of her spell books.
“So what? We're above the law! I’ll do what I want, just stay out of my way,” the man stained in blood replied.
“Get out of here, I’ll take care of the kid,” the other man commanded.
He walked over to Willow and picked her limp form up in his arms and took her out of the house before it collapsed. He left her at the steps of a hospital and walked out, his shadow passing over Willow’s face before she passed out from breathing in the fumes.
[i]
Willow slowly blinked her eyes open her eyelashes felt moist as she blinked, she had been crying. She sat up and the dream returned to her, that night 3 years ago when her parents died. That monster had killed her parents for no good reason and burned her house, leaving her alone in the world.
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Rupert exited the elevator and walked right up to the Master’s desk, not bothering to hide his annoyance.
“You wanted to see me?” he grumbled, glaring down at the Master, who ignored his rudeness.
“Ah, yes, thank you for coming. I have your new assignment,” he said, grinning. His spidery white fingers fumbled inside of his draw and removed a manilla folder holding a small pile of papers. He opened it to reveal a tiny picture of Willow attached by a paperclip to one side of the folder.
“Hot off the meat truck,” Angel snarkily commented from across the room.
“Is there a reason you couldn’t phone me this target?” Rupert asked, flipping casually through the file.
“This is a job of special importance, involving an employee of mine. She hasn’t showed up to work after a little spat she had with my children...” the master explained.
“Bitch burned my face she did!” Drusilla whined, tossing herself on the couch.
Rupert studied Willow’s face carefully and then saw her old address next to her name. He recognized it.
“I cannot do this job,” he said, turning his back to the Master and started to walk away. “That girl has suffered enough after what happened to her family."
He was stopped by Angel and Spike who stood in his way. “You break my friggin heart!” Angel scoffed pushing Rupert down into a seat.
“You can reunite them!” Spike snickered taunting Rupert.
The watch-man shook his head and looked down at his feet. He couldn’t kill anymore innocent people, if he did, he was sure he would loose his remaining sanity.
The Master came around from behind the desk and stood towering over Rupert. “Remember who you are, remember what you did to Allison."
Rupert clapped his hands over his ears, he didn’t need to hear this from this sick bastard, “Ally was past helping, Tara’s life was slipping... she needed her dad and I needed skilled hands. So I fixed things,” The Master said, reminding Rupert of that night when everything died in him.
“We made an agreement,” The Master said, rolling up Rupert’s sleeve to show the tattoo all Watch-men had to bear to show their allegiance to the Master: the mark of Igon.
“I will honor that agreement,” Rupert looked down with loathing at the ink that marked his skin. He felt lower than shit... he deserved to die.
“Then you’ll do as you are told, so Tara never knows about that dark and fateful night,” the Master threatened.
“Or my secret Watch-man life.” Rupert added, remembering the contract which he signed before becoming an official Watch-man.
Rupert lowered his head into his palms in defeat. He knew now what he must do.
“Dear Ally, I am so sorry, can you forgive me for this?”Rupert whispered solemnly, his voice cracking.
[/i]
"be nor ret n'Khan, tizmar sae? Please stay beyond the cruel dawn"- Chris Anne Wolfe, Shadows of Aggar
"In the pale light of the moon, I play the game of you"- Neil Gaiman, Sandman