FIC: Whither Thou Goest... Part 13/?

[PB <pbnj@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>]

Title: Whither Thou Goest...
Author: Pink Rabbit Productions
Archive: Pink Rabbit, A Slayer/A Hacker
Author's Notes: This is the latest sequel to Spin, Spinning, Spun Out, It
All Depends On Your Timing, and Interludis Neanderthalensis. It's not
finished, but I'm going to start posting in segments since it's getting
close to the end (probably).
Disclaimer: The characters and show all belong to Joss Whedon, Fox, Mutant
Enemy, Kuzui, and God only knows who else. This particular arrangement of
words in cyberspace belongs to me, however. Btw, it contains love between
two women, so if such things offend you, are illegal where you live or
somesuch, kindly don't read it and upset yourself, 'kay. It'll just make
life easier on all of us.
Spoilers: None that I can think of.
Rating: soft R -- for cursing, some violence, and such
Part: 13/? (yeah, I know the parts and the chapter numbers don't match up,
but that's because there was a prologue and now a chapter that had to be
split into two parts)

Whither Thou Goest...
Chapter Nine

Buffy returned to their dorm room to find Willow still diligently working
on her laptop,, nearly a ream of printouts, a couple of empty chip and
candy wrappers and what looked like about a half a dozen empty cans of Jolt
(tm) Cola standing in mute testimony to the hours of research she'd already
put in.

Buried in her work, she didn't realize the Slayer had entered until she
felt strong hands land on her shoulders, and Buffy leaned down to see the
screen as she murmured near Willow's ear, "I hope I don't have to read all
of that before tonight." The Slayer gestured toward the thick stack of papers.

Willow felt her heart catch as she turned in her chair, eyes lifting to so
she was looking at the Slayer's profile. "I-I didn't hear you come in," she
stammered, startled to find herself no longer alone.

Buffy smiled, oddly happy just to be back in her friend's company. With
Willow, she could almost forget the danger stalking them all. "What can I
say, silent Slayer feet." She nodded toward the computer screen. "It looks
like you found something." Then she glanced at the stack of printouts
again. "Quite a lot of something, actually."

Willow nodded. "I've been scanning all of the art history sources that have
any information on Delaine DuCourvallier and cross matching the information
with anything I can find on secret British societies of the period." She
glanced at the stack of papers. "I just printed everything I could find."

"And?" Buffy prompted.

"I've only had time to skim things and try to pull out what looks most
important--but there's not really a whole lot that's very substantial after
her supposed death in Italy. Before that, there's a fair amount, mostly
because she was from one of the more powerful families in France, but it's
not very interesting...at least not that I've found so far...mostly an
accounting of how the estates were run and political alliances and stuff.
The Watcher stuff on the other hand, is pretty sparse but pretty gruesome.
So you want to start pre or post fangs?"

Buffy sighed softly, wishing she was surprised, but the council never had
been terribly forthcoming when it came to information. "Let's go for the
beginning of fanginess and post-fanginess," Buffy said as she pulled her
chair over and sank down on it, sitting backwards with her chin pillowed on
the backrest.

"Well, if we back it up just a little, we find that she was pretty well
educated, particularly for a woman of the time. Her mother came from a
family with some pretty funny ideas--like the notion that women should be
just as educated as men--"

"How strange of them," Buffy interrupted with more than a touch of sarcasm.

"In this period it was," Willow noted before continuing. "Her mother had
her tutored in French, English, Latin, music, mathematics, and even science
and astronomy. Now, strange as it may seem, this didn't particularly please
the Watchers. In fact, there are several mentions of sanctions against her
for reading various books in her Watcher's library--"

"They punished her for reading?" Buffy said disbelievingly as she tried to
envision Giles doing anything that boneheaded. More often than not, the man
was frustrated because Buffy couldn't keep up with both her classroom
studies and whatever research he wanted done at any given time. "I'm
thinking that's a little weird."

Willow nodded her agreement. "From what little I can tell--I mean it's not
like they just laid it all out--the Watchers liked to have absolute control
over the flow of information their Slayer's received. Literacy was not
encouraged."

"Charming," the Slayer murmured thoughtfully. Certainly, they'd never been
pleased with her unconventional way of doing things, and from what she'd
seen with both Faith and Kendra, they had no great interest in seeing their
Slayer's educated beyond the skills required for vampire killing even in
the present. She'd been lucky that, as Watcher's went, Giles was nearly as
unconventional, in his own stuffy way, as she was.

Willow grabbed one of Giles' journals off the stack of books, flipping it
open to a page she'd already flagged. "She was also in trouble because she
hated the killing--they accused her of being sympathetic to the demons--she
hated the fighting--they implied she was a coward--and she kept sneaking
paints into her room--which of course, they completely forbade...."

"Of course." Buffy didn't want to admit how much she was relating to the
long lost Slayer, despite Giles' remonstrations. Of course, whoever that
girl had been, she was long dead, her soul freed from her body to be
replaced by a demonic thing. She gnawed on her lower lip as she
determinedly reminded herself of that reality. Whatever sympathy she was
feeling had no place in the present. The Vampire-Slayer had to die. She
just had to keep reminding herself of what she'd done to Xander and her mother.

"Four years after being taken to England, she tried to run away... they
dragged her back...and then she apparently made a deal with the local
vampires to kill her Watcher--"

"She must have thought it was the only way she could escape them," Buffy
mused out loud.

Willow nodded. "Yeah...only instead of her Watcher, it was his wife,
Elizabeth VanOoten, who was killed. They caught Delaine the same night it
happened and she was put on trial." Willow looked up at Buffy again.
"Unfortunately, according to this, any trial transcripts were burned when
the vampires attacked during the trail. They decimated the council--only
two members survived--and turned Delaine. One of the accounts claims she
gave herself to them, shouting that she'd destroy the council now...if she
had to destroy the whole world to do it. After that, they spent the next
several years rebuilding the core council from a surviving group of lower
level Watchers."

"And DuCourvallier?" Buffy interrupted. She didn't care about the council.
She cared about her enemy.

"She disappeared. According to this, they've had hit teams out looking for
her every day since she was turned. Looks to me like they haven't done the
greatest job though, because the records are really sparse. She was
supposedly involved in several pretty nasty demonic summonings in the two
decades that followed as well a series of attacks on the council during the
1670's and 80's, but there are very few details. Apparently she didn't
leave survivors."

Buffy paled. No survivors. God, her mother had been lucky. She resolved to
buy Xander...well, not a beer, because they were all off the stuff anymore,
but something. Maybe a milkshake. No, not nearly enough. Burger, fries and
the works to go with it. Hell, she'd just buy him junkfood till he couldn't
eat anymore. It was as good a way as any to blow her college fund.

The Slayer was still lost in thought as Willow flipped to another page, her
finger tracing over the ancient, yellowed parchment. "Giles' account of how
strong and fast she was looks to be pretty accurate though...at least if
this one story is true. She was spotted going toe to toe with a demon
better than twice her height in the 1740's, and she was the one still
standing when it was over...but the street they were on wasn't."

Buffy let out a soft whistle. That wasn't good.

"She pops up again in the account by a Watcher tracing vampiric activity in
China during the 1840's. The country was in a mess because of the Opium
Wars with England--the British kept forcing the import of opium when the
Chinese tried to ban it-- Anyway, apparently, her preferred...method...of
feeding...." Willow sounded ill.

"Just spill it, Will," Buffy prompted.

"She'd buy an addicted prostitute opium, let her use it...and then...when
she was...." Willow fell silent, a muscle pulsing in her jaw. She took a
breath, getting herself under control before continuing, "After the
prostitute had used the drug...and was...well, inebriated...she'd feed. She
killed them...and never turned them as far as the Watcher could tell."

The Slayer's eyes were closed, her expression twisted by revulsion. She'd
heard worse in the course of her duties, but for some reason, she found
this latest news more disturbing than most.

"The Watcher tried to raise a group of locals to hunt her down, but by the
time he managed, she'd disappeared. It's the last confirmed sighting in the
journals..." Willow snapped the book closed. "Everything else in here is
too general...too uncertain...to be of any use." She grabbed for a printout
she'd set aside from the thick stack. "I also two related accounts of her
possible activities that don't come from the Watcher journals." She reached
behind herself, tapping a key to bring up a picture onscreen. It was a
painting showing a pretty young woman, very naked, auburn hair flowing
around her shoulders as she flinched away from two men leering over a low
wall at her. "The painting is Susannah and the Elders," she said by way of
explanation.

Buffy's brows lifted. "I'm assuming this relates somehow?" she questioned
after a beat.

Willow nodded. "When Delaine was studying with Orazio, he was also teaching
his daughter, Artemesia--she became a pretty well respected artist in her
own right. About two years after this was painted, she was raped by another
artist named Agostino Tassi. In court documents, he made various
allegations about her moral character." Willow's tone signaled her
disapproval of what she'd read. "Among other things, he offered this
painting as proof that Artemesia had had an 'unnatural relationship' with
Delaine DuCourvallier and was an immoral and licentious woman."

Buffy peered at the softly rounded features of the woman in the painting as
she leaned closer to the screen, trying to commit every curve to memory.
"So this is her?"

The hacker shrugged. "I don't know for certain--it's not exactly well
documented--but it's mentioned in several places and she...um...pretty much
fits the descriptions I've found...except, well, hair color--she's always
described as a blond--but that's pretty inconsequential."

"Call me funny, but a rapist isn't my ideal information source," Buffy
admitted uncomfortably after a long moment.

The hacker didn't argue as she continued. "I know--and since he'd already
spent time in jail for having incestuous relations with his sister-in-law
and been accused of trying to have his wife murdered, there's considerable
reason to doubt his word--but others had the same opinion...not that they
had an unnatural relationship, but that Delaine DuCourvallier was the model
for the painting. It was pretty scandalous at the time. I mean young ladies
of good birth didn't appear naked in public--in paintings or otherwise."

Buffy continued studying the piece, trying to imagine what the real life
version of the figure would have looked like. Like most graphics on the
web, it was fairly low resolution, leaving her wishing she could make out
the details better. "All right, so for the moment, we'll assume it's a
decent likeness."

Willow grabbed another printout. "In a related account, there's a mention
in the records of the court of King Charles I of England, in the year
1641--Artemesia was in residence in the English court at the King's
invitation--apparently, he served as patron to a number of artists. The
country was on the verge of civil war and Artemesia was getting ready to
leave to return to Italy, when she reported to the castle warden that she'd
had a late night visitor--according to the documents, she was badly shaken,
and insisted that Delaine DuCourvallier had called to her in her
apartments, drawing her outside. She said the ghost told her that Tassi was
dead."

The Slayer's expression was unreadable. "Was he?"

Willow nodded. "Decapitated in a whorehouse in Naples two months
before...which is ironic in view of the fact that, after the rape, one of
Artemesia's favorite subjects was the biblical tale of Judith slaying
Holofernes...by beheading him."

Buffy's brows drew together, a neat line forming between them as she
considered the information. Had the vampire DuCourvallier taken revenge on
the part of someone the human DuCourvallier had known before dying? She'd
never heard of vampire doing anything like that. In fact, they were far
more likely to kill those they'd loved in life than those they hated. If it
was true, this was not your average bite or fight vampire. "Anything else?"
she asked after a long moment.

"One other thing that might be relevant..." Willow slowed, her tone
becoming hesitant. "For the most part, she doesn't seem to have had a lot
to do with demons or vampires--at least not in any way that left them
alive...or not alive, but mobile...you know what I mean--but there is a
mention of one vampire she was supposedly seen with several times in Paris
in the 1820's...." Willow fell silent, her head bowed, visibly uncomfortable.

Which could have only one possible meaning in Buffy's experience.
"Angelus," she exhaled.

Willow nodded. "Just for a short time...but...yeah...."

"I wonder if she's the one who taught him how to draw?" the Slayer exhaled
wryly. Sometimes she wondered why it was the things that the demon had done
had the power to hurt her. It hadn't been Angel, not her Angel. At least
the pain wasn't anywhere near as sharp as it had once been. The months away
from him had at least numbed her to the agony of thinking about his other life.

Willow's eyes were still downcast, and she took a deep breath, leaving
Buffy with the distinct feeling she wasn't going to like what came next.
She was right. "I...um...I kinda thought maybe he'd know something that
wasn't in the books...."

"Will, you didn't..." Buffy sighed.

The hacker sighed softly, signaling that she had. "Well, I mean...I wasn't
sure you'd feel comfortable calling...so...I called...he wasn't in...so I
left a message...with Cordelia...." Willow's tone made it plain that that
had not been a fun moment. "Are you mad at me?" she asked in a tiny voice.

Buffy drew a deep breath, then exhaled a heavy sigh. "No," she said at
last. She reached out and patted Willow's shoulder. "You're right...if
he...he was...with her...." Just getting the words out made Buffy nauseous.
She massaged her temple, wishing she could make the headache suddenly
pulsing behind her eyes go away. "You did the right thing," she said after
a beat.

Willow shrugged. "Well, I just thought you should know...in case...y'know,
in case he calls...so you won't be...surprised...."

The Slayer nodded, then tipped her head forward, hiding her face in her
arms where they were folded across the back of the chair. She was just
tired of all of it; Watchers, Slayer, vampires, and most especially
Vampire-Slayers. She was seriously considering just getting up and moving
lock, stock, and barrel to Antigua--not for any particular reason, just
because Antigua sounded better than Sunnydale at that point--when she heard
the soft creak of Willow's chair.

"I'm sorry if my calling Angel upset you," the hacker apologized.

"Not your fault," Buffy mumbled without looking up. "You just did what you
thought was best." There was a long moment of pensive silence, and then
Buffy felt warm hands land on her shoulders.

"You must be exhausted," Willow murmured as she slowly began massaging her
best friend's taut shoulders. She hadn't thought about it before standing
and reaching out to work away Buffy's aches and pains just like she'd done
so many times before, but this time she knew it was different the moment
she made contact and felt Buffy tense under her hands. She froze almost
instantly, suddenly self-conscious and uncertain whether stopping or
continuing was likely to draw more attention to the situation. A dull flush
sliding over her skin, she just stood there for a long moment, unmoving,
but not breaking contact.

Buffy could feel her friend's apprehension, not to mention her own, but at
the same time, it felt so right, so.... She couldn't think of a word,
except maybe comforting. And familiar. Deja Vu all over again. And
comforting and familiar suddenly had an irresistible allure. Consciously,
she could attribute it to the myriad of times they'd touched each other
over the years, the innocent hugs, friendly handholding, and comforting
backrubs ... but ... somehow it felt ... different ... and not just because
of what had happened between then. There was something else there as well;
something she couldn't quite put her finger on. Buffy was still pondering
the paradox when she felt Willow's hands break contact with her shoulders.
"Don't stop," she exhaled without thinking. In an instant, the air
thickened with their mutual awareness. "I mean...it feels...good...." Oh,
that'll help break the tension, Buffy derided herself. She kept her face
hidden in her arms, blushing furiously as she kept trying to recover.
"Tense," she mumbled. "My shoulders are ... tense and...it...helps...."
Just quit while you're behind, she silently chided herself. Just sit here
and enjoy and whatever you do, don't think. It's all okay, so long as you
don't think.

Willow swallowed hard, silently willing her hands to stop shaking. She'd
done this plenty of times; massaging away the Slayer's multitude of aches
and pains. Except, those times they hadn't spent the previous night making
love, hadn't kissed and touched, and made each other cry out with need. It
was all confusing, scary--and wonderfully exhilarating--like coming home
after being away for too long. Her heart thumping in her chest, Willow
lowered her hands to Buffy's shoulders, smoothing outward from the curve of
her neck, pressing in with her thumbs in rhythmic strokes. Buffy had
stripped off her jacket on entering and was wearing a simple tank top that
left her neck, arms, and shoulders almost entirely bare, and Willow was
very much aware of the texture of warm silk skin overlaying taut steel
cabled muscles. She continued the firm, slow caresses, feeling Buffy's
muscles relax and warm under her fingers, even as her mind kept summoning
up memories of the tastes and textures of the Slayer's body.

Buffy felt her body relax and threaten to go limp as Willow continued
massaging her neck and shoulders. "Better than 'Magic Fingers,'" she
exhaled. In two days her emotions had been all over the map, but suddenly
it was all forgotten. She was right where she wanted to be.

The hacker couldn't repress a smile as she pressed the heel of her hand
into the center of Buffy's back, working it down the length of her spine.
"I aim to please," she exhaled as she continued kneading the Slayer's
narrow back and shoulders, growing more comfortable with each stroke.

"And you do," Buffy breathed, letting herself float while Willow took care
of her. Emotional stress and 48 hours with very little sleep had left her
on the verge of collapse, and the soothing massage was only making her more
aware of how close to the limit she'd pushed herself. Long minutes passed
while the Slayer enjoyed the gentle ministrations and seriously considered
simply falling asleep where she sat. It felt perfectly natural when she
lifted her hands, holding them up over her head in silent invitation. She
didn't know if Willow would understand the unspoken signal--didn't even
know if she understood it herself--but after a brief moment, she felt the
warmth of slender fingers wrapping around her palms.

"Buffy?" Willow's voice was a gaspy, chokey version of its normal self that
made Buffy smile in spite of everything. There was something so cute about
nervous Willow. She gently tugged Willow's hands down, pulling the hacker's
arms around her until she felt warm curves pressed against her back. The
tips of crimson barely brushed Buffy's bare shoulder as the hacker leaned
forward until her lips were near the Slayer's cheek, their hair blending
together in contrasting strands of red and blond.

"You should get some sleep," the hacker whispered, her warm breath playing
over the Slayer's cheek.

Buffy's eyes were closed as she nodded. "Later," she breathed. It wasn't a
conscious decision, just a natural progression from comfort and safety to
need and desire. Still holding Willow's hands loosely in her own, Buffy
rose gracefully, the movement toppling the chair. It fell the floor
forgotten as the Slayer released her hold on Willow's hands, turning inside
the comforting warmth of her arms before she had a chance to drop them to
her sides. Then, reaching behind herself, she threaded her fingers with
Willow's, holding the hacker's hands right where they were as she crossed
the tiny distance that still lay between them. Her head canted one way,
Willow's the other, and then their lips met, the kiss tender and trusting.

Soft, warm, the contrasting textures of sharp teeth, a rough tongue, and
velvety lips, kisses trading back and forth until they were both gasping
and shivering. "The computer," Buffy groaned through the shared bonding of
their lips. "Needs to be...Offline." That was as responsible as she was
capable of being at that moment, despite knowing that there were more
productive things she could be doing to ready for the night ahead. More
kissage followed, despite any good intentions. Lots more kissage.
"Mmm, needs to be offline," Willow agreed long moments later, but they
didn't separate, instead leaning harder into each other. "... in a ...
moment..."

Opting for the direct route, the Slayer reached behind herself and simply
yanked the phone cord out of the wall, not caring when the tiny plastic
piece that usually snapped it tightly in place went spinning one way while
the cord fell in the opposite direction. Willow, who normally would have
gone spastic over such an event, barely glanced over. She had other things
on her mind.

Clothes were peeled and dropped or tossed, buttons popped, collars pulled
out of shape; whatever it took to remove them quickly as they made their
way to the bed. Buffy landed on the bottom, steadying Willow's hips as the
hacker came down over her, then opening her mouth to the soft lips that
found hers again.

They kissed, touched, stroked, caressed, saying with their bodies what they
couldn't see clear to say with words, releasing themselves to the passion
that neither quite understood, not knowing of the cruel game played with
thoughts and memories, understanding only that flesh seemed to comprehend
what the mind resisted.

And as she arched over her lover, her skin glistening with a fine sheen of
sweat, the Slayer felt more at peace than she had in months. Even knowing
that she faced probable death in a few scant hours.

* * * * * *

Author's notes: Just a brief mention that Orazio and Artemesia Gentileschi
were real people (and Susannah and the Elders is a real painting--if you're
curious, you can see a copy of it at:
http://www.sccs.swarthmore.edu/~alice/susanna.jpg ) as was Agostino Tassi,
and there really was a rape trial in which Tassi accused Artemesia of being
a licentious woman (though accusations that she was a lesbian didn't
actually come until later in her life--instead he accused her of being an
"insatiable whore" and of sleeping with her father, among other things).
Artemesia was probably one of the most important of the tiny minority
women artists of the period, though few of her works survive (probably more
than we know, since there are several pieces credited to her father that
may well have either been hers or theirs in concert, since they worked
together on several projects over the years). If anyone wants to know
more, the following url has lots of links as well as an interesting article
on the film (which had zilch to do with reality)
http://darkwing.uoregon.edu/~acd/site3/Artemisia.html#Notes. Obviously,
I've taken a lot of liberties here, but hopefully without completely
contradicting what little is known (since the mentions are pretty distant,
I've just tried to weave in and out of the known dates). One exception: I
never could find any information on how Tassi died (I sincerely doubt it
was by being decapitated in Naples--though with the life he led, it's
possible) so that is a complete and total fiction. Is any of this important
to the story? Nah, just me having fun with my hobby (hmmm, so is that the
art history or the writing?).

Barb
TBC

--"If I was all that fond of real life, I would never have majored in theater"

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