"Matched Set" ~ Prologue

SPOILERS: loose Season 5, after "The Body" but before "The Gift"
RATING: FR-T for mature themes, mild violence, language.
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DISCLAIMER: Without Prejudice. Buffy the Vampire Slayer characters and concepts are copyright ©1997-2002 20th Century Fox, WB Television, Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN Television. No Infringments of these copyrights are intended, and are used here without permission. The story and all other characters are mine.

Prologue

"There must be some mistake," he said, donning a charming smile to help defuse the volatile situation in which he found himself.

The extraordinarily beautiful woman seated on the throne--for it was the only word he could find to describe her majestic perch--did not even blink. She did not seem to share his belief that a significant error had been made, or his keenness to have it rectified. Instead, she continued to examine her long, painted nails as if he did not even exist.

Anxiously awaiting her judgment, Ethan Rayne cast a wary glance at the various demon and vampire minions over whom she held court; one standing either side of him, two more blocking the exit at his back . . . and Chaos only knew how many more lurking on the estate grounds outside. Even if he did somehow manage to escape the confines of her grandiose, log-walled, hunting lodge, he was hundreds of miles from the nearest anywhere, alone and unarmed.

The term 'hunting lodge' snapped his attention back to the more immediate concern, for it was an accurate description of his present surrounds and his predicament. His nervous eyes traveled past his preening captor to the trophies hung proudly on the log walls at her back, surely no different to the dozens more he had been marched passed in the hall, on his way to his audience with her. The mounted heads stared back at him, their blank glass eyes mute testimony of their horrendous and pointless deaths. Even in the dim, flickering light of torches, Ethan had no trouble identifying them not as animal . . . but human.

'Human'.

There were so many of them, both there in the banquet room and out in the hall, although something told him that these heads displayed so prestigiously behind her throne represented significant kills. Oddly enough, the victims were paired in male/female groups, representative not only of all colors and races, but of all cultures and professions.

It was the most disgusting, unnerving display he had ever witnessed, enough to make any human sick to their stomach, and Ethan, still possessing some degree of humanity, broke into a cold, nauseous sweat. He knew what was going on here, and why he had been brought before her. But to be hunted to death, for no reason other than the perverse pleasure of the she-devil seated before him, was a terror almost beyond even his comprehension.

He shuddered, then swallowed hard, fighting to maintain his composure. The next few moments were crucial, since he was bargaining quite literally for his head. Retching on his captor would undoubtedly be detrimental to his appeal.

"I'm just a lowly sorcerer," Ethan pleaded, his fearful gaze darting over the trophies once again in search of the already unfortunate sorceress with whom his stuffed head would be forever mated. "A-and not a very good one at that." He took an instinctive step forward, intent on getting into some full-fledged down-on-his-knees groveling, but the firm hand of a vampire underling forced him to stop or suffer a broken shoulder. Plastering another charismatic smile over the grimace of crippling pain, Ethan swallowed his pride and added, "I'm not even that attractive."

That, at least, garnered a reaction from his captor. Quicksilver eyes flashed in his direction, cold and empty like the heart that beat beneath her rather magnificent bosom, a moment before she uncoiled her lusciously long legs and swiveled to face him. She was not a vampire, that much he knew. Ethan's money was on a demon heritage, although even when presented with her dark complexion, silver eyes, and ridged cheekbones, he was at a loss to place the species. She looked almost human, yet to sanction such 'sport' proved her lack of humanity.

'Ripper would know what she was,' he thought fleetingly. 'Good old Rupert . . . '

The thought of his former friend brought the beginnings of a desperate plan to mind.

'Yes, of course. If he could just--'

"He's right," the demon huntress said, looking at her nails again. "This is not a face I wish to gaze upon for all eternity."

Ethan felt both insulted and grateful. "A wise choice, madam. Now, if I may--"

She stopped him with a wave of her hand. "This one is weak-willed, a coward," she told the vampire holding him fast. "And not worth my time. Dispose of him."

"Yes, Milady."

"Find me another, Tay, and this time brings me a worthy kill. Or it will be your own head that is forfeit."

"Your will is done, Milady."

"Um," Ethan spoke up as the vampire guard called Tay jerked on his already injured shoulder, intent on marching him outside to a different but no less certain death.

To someone not of a devious nature, it appeared to be a no-win situation . . . unless, of course, the prey could prove his worth by offering a substitution that the hired help could not. The demon huntress wanted a worthy quarry, someone who possessed the skill and cunning to stay alive for more than a few hours on the hunt. She wanted a victim with stamina and strength, and Ethan was about to offer both in exchange for his own miserable neck.

"If I may be so bold . . . Milady," he said, following Tay's subservient lead, "I'd like to offer a plea bargain."

The vampire squeezed his shoulder again, assuming his mistress had already tired of the haggling. "You're already dead meat, human. For that, I'll kill you slowly."

"Wait." The lady demon's cold gaze settled on Ethan again, causing him to shiver. She smiled sensuously, which under circumstances that did not involve groveling for his life, he would have found utterly irresistible--demon heritage or not. "I've grown tired of your feeble offerings, Tay." Settling back on her throne, awash in the alluring glow of flickering torches, she crossed her shapely legs again. "Let this pitiful excuse for a sorcerer speak."

Sensing his chance, perhaps his only one, Ethan boldly shrugged free of the vampire who held him. He feigned respect for the lady demon by dropping to one knee before her throne. "Milady, forgive my impertinence, but I can't help but notice that your trophy collection lacks the pride of my species. One who will not blindly run from you, awaiting death, but who possesses the strength and courage to fight back . . . a-as ineffectual as that may be against your greatness."

That got her attention.

"Not to mention stunningly good looks."

"Go on."

"Ask your minions," Ethan pressed on brazenly. "There is not a vampire in existence who does not know and fear the mere mention of the Slayer."

The word rippled through the attending vampires in a hushed and fearful undertone. Even some of the demons shifted nervously.

"Impressive," she said, noting their reactions. "And you know of this . . . Slayer?"

"I do, and I can provide accurate information on how you might obtain her."

"In exchange for . . .?"

"My life. My freedom. And a chance to share in your triumph."

"Of course." She seemed genuinely amused by his self-centered proposal, and held out a delicate-looking hand for to him take.

Ethan stood, aware of the resentment he was generating amidst her underlings, especially the brute named Tay. But if he could just gain some footing with their superior, then none of them would be any trouble that a wooden stake couldn't fix. He took the lady demon's slim, cold hand in his, and allowed her to pull him subserviently to her side. Her flesh was not supple like that of a human, more like stone beneath a velvet layer. He had no doubt that her species was incredibly strong, and that she could as easily crush all the bones in his hand, as she could offer a tender caress.

"This mighty Slayer of whom you speak is a woman?"

"A mere spit of a girl, Milady, but with the strength of two of your subordinates, and as skilled and cunning as Rancurti warrior. She is the Chosen One of my people. Her head would be a substantial prize . . . not to mention a stunning centerpiece for your collection." He grinned broadly, sensing victory. But just when he thought he would live to a ripe old age, a frown crossed the lady demon's beautiful face.

"Perhaps, but you say she is just one girl." She regarded her wall of coordinated trophies, all neatly paired in male/female groupings. "Her addition would severely upset my decor. I don't suppose there is a male Slayer as well?"

"Um, not as such."

"Then you are wasting my time." Withdrawing her hand, she signaled to Tay. "Take him."

"Not as such," Ethan hastened to correct as he fought off the vampire's eager hold, "as in he's not called a male Slayer! He's called a Watcher!"

Another hand signal stopped the action. With an annoyed growl, the vampire again reluctantly let him go. Ethan spent a moment rolling his injured shoulder back into its socket, his conscience unburdened by the fact that he was about to rob the human race of the two people who stood between them and the forces of darkness. But survival was survival, his all-important, and destiny undoubtedly would call others to replace them.

"A Watcher? This is the Slayer's mate?"

"Well, I'm not entirely sure she thinks of him that way . . . but yes. They are destiny's chosen couple."

"And they are the prime warriors of your species?"

"They are, Milady. Together they fight all manner of evil, vampires and demons alike. They're not even terribly fond of me." The vampires shifted restively around him, causing Ethan to add, "If you let me live, I can bring them to you for the hunt of a lifetime."

The lady demon smiled again, settling back on the throne covered with the clothing taken from her past victims. "Your words please me, sorcerer. Consider your life spared."

"Thank you, Milady."

"But cross me, and I shall let Tay have you as a plaything."

The vampire, now in full game face, growled meaningfully in his ear. Not a path Ethan wished to follow, now or at any time. Straightening his shoulders and smoothing down his ruffled silk shirt, he lifted his chin in triumph. Never let it be said that Ethan Rayne lacked basic survival skills. "I will not disappoint."

"You will do more than that, sorcerer. If you wish to live, you will give me my matched set."

Her words brought a picture to Ethan's mind's eye, and a devilish smile to his lips. He could already imagine the polished wooden plaques bearing the stuffed heads of the Watcher and the Slayer adorning these godforsaken log walls in the flicking glow of the torches, and what a pretty picture it was.

If this demon bitch thought she was getting the better end of the deal, then just wait until the underworld community found out that he was responsible for ridding them of one of the more troublesome Watcher/Slayer combination in many a generation. He would be worshiped like a god. If, on the other hand, the unlikely happened and the hunted somehow managed to kill the hunter, then it would be his own kind who revered him for eliminating the threat of the She-demon's dire little game. Either way, Ethan walked away from this accidental encounter with his life and glorification. How could he possibly lose?

With a plan already forming in his mind, Ethan bowed graciously, as if he were bowing to the royalty of his human kin and country. Overall, it was not a bad comeback for a chap who had almost lost his head. Again taking the hand of the lady demon, he pressed a small kiss to the back of her stone cold palm.

He looked up to catch her eye with a wicked grin. "Your will is done . . . Milady."