WITCH-FINDER
PART ONE: THE WITCH-FINDER GENERAL
Matthew Hopkins was certain of two things: 1) witches were real and 2) all witches were evil.

It started in the spring of 1644 when old, one-legged Elizabeth Clark cast a malicious, bloodshot glance at his wife and he while taking an afternoon stroll down Market Street. They mocked the Manningtree spinster at seeing the wicked look and Magda had charmingly said, "I surely hope that the saying is false and eyes are not a window to the soul for Miss Clark's sake." He merely laughed at her jest and they continued merrily on their way not giving the incident a second thought.

That evening, his beloved wife of twenty years claimed fatigue and the need to rest, not uncommon for ladies of that time. When preparing to join her, Matthew found Magda burning with fever and clutching a cramping stomach. By his sixth hour at her side, she was deliriously crying out for a childhood friend that passed away in a carriage accident. The doctor had regretfully shaken his head and spoken the two most dreaded words in the English language, "The plague."

Magda did not live to see the dawn.

When regaling his sorrowful tale to John Sterne and Mary Phillips, acquaintances of the family, the three had come to a decision: Miss Clark must be a witch and the look she had given the widower and his deceased spouse must have been what was commonly referred to as the �evil eye.� There was no other explanation for the startling ailment of the, only hours before, healthy Magda.

After reaching their conclusion, he and his companions had purposefully marched to her house and forced their way inside. Following almost a week of continuous interrogation, thirty-one accomplices of witchcraft were named, including Sarah Basham, the school marm, and Annabelle Kinsington, the baker's wife, well known and highly respected women of Essex. They were determined to see retribution wrought.

Never having involved himself in the matters of witches, Matthew felt he had found his niche and, not being a well-to-do lawyer, cut his ties in Essex and began traveling to perform his newfound higher calling. John and Mary joined him in his journey where they made a name for themselves in Norfolk, Suffolk, Huntingdonshire, Northamptonshire, Cambridge, The Isle of Ely, and Bedfordshire.

On 25 March 1645, Miss Clark died with the snap of her neck while hanging from the gallows. Six other women swung lifelessly by her side. They were only the first of hundreds upon hundreds of victims executed at the say-so of the man who became known as the Witch-Finder General.

Barely two years later, in August 1647, Matthew lay on his deathbed. Grasping the hand of his University educated son, he demanded that his work be continued. The young man haltingly agreed to his father�s last request and the legacy of hate and destruction lived on.

Author's Note: Matthew Hopkins is a real historical figure known as the Witch-Finder General. I, however, have twisted his tale to suit my diabolical purposes. No one honestly knows why he gave up on being a lawyer and converted to a witch hunter. John Sterne and Mary Phillips were his partners. Elizabeth Clark was his first victim.

PART TWO: ARRIVALS AND DEPARTURES
The clapping of feet could be heard against the hard alley surface as a young woman sprinted through the night. Shadows danced to and fro due to the flickering fluorescent streetlights. The deeper she traveled into the narrow passage, the more menacing the darkness seemed to become. In her frenzied pace, she was unable to avoid the hem of her skirt being snagged on a metal garbage can from which the odor of rotten poultry could be discerned. She fell to the ground with a painful �oompf.�

A rat squealed at the ruckus and sped away. She did not even cringe as it brushed against her leg.

Ignoring the scrape to her knee, she picked herself up and prepared to run once more. Before she could do so, a behemoth of a man stepped into her path. Taking a whiff, his features shifted. Not a man, a monster. A vampire to be precise.

�I didn�t order delivery,� was his taunting introduction, �but you�ll do.�

Eyes fearful, the female warily glimpsed the way she had come, assessing her situation. Seeing no one there, she turned back to the salivating demon. With a whispered, �ignito,� a large flame exploded to life at its feet. Hurriedly stomping, he tried to extinguish the rapidly building fire to no avail.

Paying no heed the creature�s pleas, she continued her rushed trek. She had more to be afraid of than the undead tonight. Much more.

Sensing her destination directly ahead, she did not slow as she ran inside. To an ordinary observer it would appear she had vanished into thin air. This was not the case.

She moved to the door positioned at the rear of the shielded room she had entered, not caring about the waiting patrons. When one of the people in front of her protested, she gave him a harsh, fleeting look from the corner of her eye and he abruptly held his tongue. It was, of course, because she had just made his tongue disappear.

Seeing no one else intended to complain, she twisted the knob and entered without invitation.

A dark-haired man lounged on a couch off to the right. A young girl, seventeen at most, was dancing in the middle of the room, head thrown back, face contorted in bliss. She, herself, knew that feeling well.

Only the man noticed her arrival. He scowled at the intrusion.

She refused to be intimidated. �Rack, I need your help.�

He waved her away.

Desperately, she repeated, �Rack, I need your help!�

With the snap of the warlock�s fingers, two new bodies appeared out of nowhere. �Get rid of her,� he ordered his magically created bouncers.

When the men took her arms, one on each side, desperation transformed into all-consuming panic. �Finder is after me! You have to help!�

That caught his attention. �The Witch-Finder is in Sunnydale?�

�Yes,� she answered, thankful that he was listening to her at last. He gave a nod and she was released.

Hope was born.

Rack stood. �Time to close up shop, boys. We�ve just worn out our welcome.�

The hope born was stripped away.

Not given a chance to say anything further, the cloaked establishment and its owner faded into nothingness. Several confused bodies occupied the once seemingly empty alley that she had worked so hard to escape.

The teenage girl that had been 'treated' continued to dance, completely unaware.

A quiet groan escaped Amy�s lips. With Rack gone, she only had one alternative left.

PART THREE: PLIGHT OF THE HELPLESS
�So, anyway,� Xander continued in a low whisper, �here I am trying to apologize and I keep bumbling everything.� Peeking at the checkout counter, he assured himself Anya was out of hearing distance. �Then she curses me. Says she wishes I was never born, and that was the nice one! After that, the curses really got ugly. I�m not talking about profanity-wise! They were real, ever-lasting, tormenting, burn in the fires of hell kind of curses. I�m just glad she can�t go all vengeanc-y on me anymore.�

The two girls watched him with sympathy. While they sincerely felt for him, they knew Anya was the true injured party in this entire debacle.

�What are you going to do now?� Buffy asked.

�Oh, I have a plan.� He gave Willow a look that sent chills up her spine.

�A plan?� She squeaked. She knew that face, it held the 'I�m going to ask a big favor' expression. Whatever he was about to say did not bode well for her.

He did not immediately answer because Anya was sweeping the store in the vicinity of their designated meeting table. When she was cleaning behind his chair, the broom accidentally slipped and its handle knocked Xander in the back of the head. Hard.

�Oops,� she said. An apology was not offered.

Buffy and Willow cringed at her cold tone.

Once there was enough space between them and the shopkeeper, the answer to Willow�s question was forthcoming, �I can�t talk to her. Not when she's in this frame of mind. It makes me nervous and I get everything wrong. I need to be suave-guy. Like when I was split in two, remember?� As an afterthought, �Maybe even a little roguish so I can give her a thrill or two.�

�And where does Will come into all of this?� Buffy noticed the way he was staring at Willow too.

�I just need a teeny, tiny spell,� he quickly explained. �Something... so I can get a crumb... anything. I�m a wreck like this. I miss her so much. I screwed up and, now, I just want to be able to make things right.�

Buffy frowned.

Willow shifted in obvious discomfort.

�Well?� He prodded.

�Sorry, Xan, I can�t do it for you. Not a spell. I�m not ready to get into the magic business again. Not for a long, long time.�

He appeared crestfallen.

Not wanting to disappoint, she advised, �There is the Quirinus stone though.�

�The what?� His voice was tinged with anticipation.

�Quirinus. A jugling stone found in the nest of the hoopoo.�

�The hoo-ha-what?�

�It�s one of the several crested Old World birds. The stones are pretty hard to come by. If you lay it on your breast while sleeping, it's supposed to find your rogueries.�

�Okay,� Xander was excited. �How do I get one of these hoola-hoops?�

Willow beamed. �If you�re lucky, we didn't sell the one listed on last week�s inventory sheet. I was doing the books and saw it. It will be on the back shelf, third or fourth row up, unless someone already bought it.� She did not mention the reason she had been doing the books was so Anya could completely focus on her wedding speech. It was a moot point now.

Buffy peered between them. She really was not liking the sound of this.

She was not given an opportunity to persuade Xander from behaving rashly. The shop door flew open as a breathless Amy entered and gasped out, �I need help.�

PART FOUR: TO ERR IS HUMAN
The human entered with an air of authority. Standing at the threshold, he individually met every demon�s eyes that had veered his way. In the end, one by one, they were the first to turn elsewhere. The silent struggle for power had gone to him.

In a determined stride, he crossed the monster-infested room until he towered over the owner, Willy.

�I�m searching for a witch,� he got straight to the point.

The timid, smaller man tried to hide the fact that his legs were knocking together at the knees. He had heard rumors that this guy was in town. �We have lots of witches in Sunnydale. You�re going to have to be more specific.�

The other male�s brows knit in frustration. �Born to magic. Very powerful. Early twenties.�

�Sounds like one of those witches that hangs around with the slayer.�

The bartender stole a look at the vampire sitting next to them, alone, calmly studying a glass of O negative. He had been the only one in the entire room that had not shown interest in the inquisitor.

�Where can I find the slayer?�

When the vampire did not say or do anything, Willy felt it was safe to give a second reply, �Revello Drive or the Magic Box. She�s usually at one or the other.�

Having gotten what he came for, the Witch-Finder wasted no time with pleasantries. He was out the door in a blink of an eye.

Taking a final swig of his meal, the vampire�s duster wound about him as he stood. Just as he reached the exit, his bleach blonde head twisted and piercing, icy blue orbs centered on Willy.

�We�re going to have a conversation about your bad habit of talking too much soon, mate. Real soon. Count on it.�

Saying no more, Spike departed.

Of the two, Willy did not know who he was more afraid of: the witch hunter who had no problem killing humans or the vampire with a chip who was incapable of killing humans.

PART FIVE: LIKE FATHER, LIKE SON
�...so, at his father�s death, the son accepted the Witch-Finder mantel. However, after the burial, he was never seen or heard from in Bedfordshire again. Or so they say.

John Sterne and Mary Phillips struck out on their own, not nearly as effective without Matthew Hopkins. They soon gave up the fight.

It wasn�t until years later that another came forth comparable to the legendary general. As the story goes, he was purported to be the missing son of the Witch-Finder, but it was never confirmed. They say that he covertly joined the most powerful coven in England, learned all their magicks and, once he had no more to be taught, murdered them. He became what his father despised most in order to, hopefully, fulfill a dying man�s wish and exterminate all of those who practiced the craft.

The Witch-Finder lived again.

He was whispered to be the founder of warlocks. The first. You see, the word represents old English waerloga - �traitor,� �the one that breaks faith� or �oath liar.� And so it came to pass that the term used to describe those who pretended to be witches in order to penetrate covens and betray them during the Burning Times was placed on all men involved in the magical arts.

The powers he gained from the mighty coven have since been passed down from eldest son to eldest son. The men of the Hopkins family became slayers in their own right. They slayers of sister-witches and brother-warlocks alike.�

Even Anya had joined them, sitting as far away from Xander as possible, listening to the tale in rapt fascination.

A moment of contemplative silence elapsed.

Buffy asked, �And now this witchy Witch-Finder is after you? Out of all the witches in the world... you. Why?�

�No clue,� Amy answered, fiddling with her necklace. �He�s just been tracking me for days. I put a protection spell on myself so I could hide out for a while. It won�t last forever. That�s why I�m here.�

�We need to warn Tara. She should know he's lurking around.� Willow was concerned. It would not do to have the unsuspecting wiccan stumble on the Witch-Finder. Sunnydale was a small town after all.

�She and Dawn went to the movies. I think they�ll be okay for now. We should definitely go wait for them at the house. Neither you, Tara nor Amy should be alone.�

�Ummm, speaking of house, my dad kicked me out. Do you mind if I stay with you for a couple of days?�

Buffy and Willow�s eyes met in silent debate. After everything that Amy had done, did they really want her living under the same roof with them, even if it was temporary? Still, if what she said was true, there was a Witch-Finder out there to contend with. They could not very well send her away to fend for herself.

With no other choice, consent was given.

PART SIX: HERO IN A DUSTER
He was there. She did not have to pry the curtains apart and look out the window to see if she was right. She knew she was.

Damn him.

Standing in front of the kitchen sink, Buffy reached down and twisted the handle which caused water to start spouting out of its faucet. She idly let her fingers drift underneath the cool liquid and felt it slowly heat the longer it ran. The water in her house was always like that. Never immediately hot, you had to be patient and it would reach the temperature desired when ready.

Hot and cold. Cold and hot. Buffy and Spike. Spike and Buffy. Grr... stop it, she scolded herself. You are here to do dishes, not think about the evil dead.

Abruptly, the water was shut off. Buffy grasped she was not going to get anything accomplished with him outside. Reaching for a hand towel, she dried herself and headed to the back door.

He did not even try to hide when she emerged.

�Slayer,� he greeted.

�Stalker,� she shot back.

�Am not,� he denied. At her incredulity, Spike amended, �I�m not stalking tonight.�

�My mistake,� she retorted. �You standing outside of my house, after dark, uninvited, and showing no inclination of moving isn�t stalking. It�s just pathetic.�

A low growl escaped him. �I�m sorry you find it pathetic that I want to make sure you and your little do-gooders are safe. Protect you. Tryin� to do what�s soddin' right.�

�My hero,� she said with an exaggerated southern accent.

He did not find her sarcasm worthy of a response.

�You�re evil and you want to do what�s right? Am I hearing this correct?�

�By you, yeah. I want to do right by you, love.�

Aware that she was getting into dangerous territory, Buffy decided to change the subject a wee bit, �Why do we need the big bad to protect us?�

�Saw this fella at Willy�s, but couldn�t do anything, him bein� human and all. His name�s Finder. Witch-Finder, if you want to be specific. A dangerous bloke. Just got into town and is hunting for a witch-�

�Well, I suspect that�s what someone with a name like �Witch-Finder� does, Spike,� she deadpanned.

�Not just any witch, pet-�

She cut him off, �We already know about the Witch-Finder and who he�s after. So you can move along now, info boy.�

He paid no heed to her dismissal. �I like the witch. Wouldn�t want anything bad to happen to her.�

Buffy was confused as to how he knew Amy so well. She shrugged it off.

�She�s a decent chit,� he continued. �Always been nice to me.�

Becoming more and more perplexed at the Spike/Amy friendship by the minute, she decided to say something anyway. That is when her newest houseguest joined them.

�You really don�t mind me sleeping in your room, do you, Buffy? I can always take the couch.�

�No,� she answered. �It�s fine. Really. You�ve had a tough couple of days. I�m going to stay up and wait on Tara and Dawnie to get back anyhow.�

With a smile of gratitude, Amy re-entered the kitchen.

Alone, Buffy prepared to speak to Spike and realized he was already gone.
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