Disclaimers: Characters and concept of Buffy the Vampire Slayer are property of Joss Whedon and Warner Bros. No copyright infringement is intended. Original characters and story are exclusive property of the author.
Author's Note: This started as a story for 2nd season Buffy, then seriously got put on the back-burner. The result of dragging it out of the dusty folders is the following (very reworked) series. If you are familiar with the group Rhea's Obsession, when you get to Part Two you may wish to put on the song "Death by Moonlight" (aka the background music in the fight scene for the La Femme Nikita episode "Hand to Hand"). You'll see why. ;-)
Rating: Strong PG-14 (equivalent to a stronger TV ep) for sexual situations, including a hint of F/F slash.
One For Sorrow
© 2000, Grace Macy
Spain, 1889
It was cold this night. Fog crept along the edges of the hills, spilling in gathering wisps into the streets of the town. Marianna Cortez, known to her family as "Maya," shivered as she peered out the window of the small tavern. This night boded ill; she could feel it pressing against her bones, warning of dark things to come.
A hand fell on her shoulder, followed by the firmness of a chin being laid against the skin left bared by her dress. She didn't start, as she would have for anyone else. She knew this hand, this chin, this presence that she had felt even before the touch. She didn't need to glance at the other girl's face to know that it would be a mirror image of her own.
She leaned her head wordlessly against the top of her sister's dark hair and frowned slightly. "I have a bad feeling tonight, Mari. Like . . . something's coming."
Marisol Cortez laughed. "You feel too much, Maya," she chided. "And so what if something does come? Anything is better than this boredom."
Maya chuckled and shook her head. "You find everything boring."
Marisol laughed again, and turned back towards the interior of the tavern, half-filled with farmers and soldiers, all of them laughing and drinking steadily. She shook her head as she surveyed them. "Not a handsome one among them."
Maya laughed now. On this, at least, she had to agree. They were almost twenty-three years old, lived in a small town, and their parents were pushing for marriages; indeed, it was almost unheard of for girls of their age to be unmarried. Neither of the girls wanted to settle, although settling down was not an unpleasant prospect. But, of course, there was another small impediment to finding a good suitor: marrying one of a set of twins was daunting to many men.
The Spain of their era was still a somewhat superstitious place, and many in the village had looked askance at the Cortez family for a long time after the girls were born. As if striving to confirm every myth about twins, the girls were not only identical in form but were seemingly joined in spirit. It quickly became known throughout the village that what one felt, the other felt as well, and what one thought, the other knew.
All this, and the fact that they were identical was bad enough, but when their childhood loveliness started to become womanly beauty, mutters of witchcraft and seductresses started anew. In obeisance to their parents instructions, neither girl paid much attention. It never occurred to them on this night that the things which made so many in the village uneasy would be exactly what attracted the attention of the first visitor that the village had seen in months.
When the door of the tavern opened an hour later to admit a cloaked and hooded stranger, all eyes turned to him. He was richly dressed, although the edges of his clothes were smudged with dirt from riding. He stood in the doorway for a moment, returning the measuring glances, then moved forward with utter confidence. The hood of the man's cloak lowered to reveal a face sculpted of ivory, eyes like living flame, and hair the color of pale gold.
Marisol and Mariana both found themselves staring at him in surprise and attraction; they looked away, blushing, as his gaze swept towards them. Then his eyes left them and fixed on the tavern-keeper. "Cerveza," he ordered, his tone harsh, the single word spoken in accented Spanish. He repeated it in English as he chose a table in a corner; this language was clearly his native tongue. "Ale. A nice big jug. Don't be stingy."
The tavern-keeper, Miguel, nodded and motioned at the twins. Marisol beat Maya to the bar by a scant second, and grinned impishly as her sister scowled at her. Maya wrinkled her nose playfully and whispered, "Fine! But the next round is my turn!"
Marisol waggled her eyebrows and turned with the jug of beer in one hand, then sauntered over to the newcomer with a saucy grin. "Here you are . . . señor."
The man smiled up at her, appreciation in his eyes as she set the jug on the table in front of him. "Thank you . . . señora."
Marisol laughed. "señorita," she corrected him. "I have no husband."
He grinned at her. "Is that so," he murmured, looking her over very openly. He glanced towards the bar, where Maya was trying for a casual 'I'm not watching, really' stance. "And your sister? Has she a husband?"
Marisol smiled. "No. Neither of us. Most men do not like to think that another woman will have his wife's face."
The stranger grinned at her. Suddenly, Marisol got the uncomfortable feeling that he saw something more than just a girl before him. She frowned slightly, wondering briefly if the feeling was her own or an impression from Maya. She smiled at the man and pushed those thoughts aside. "Please let me know if you need anything, señor," she told him.
"Anything?"
She blushed under the frankness of his stare, and batted lightly at the hand he stretched towards her skirt. "Anything besides that," she corrected, then turned away. She felt his eyes follow her, heating her skin, and made a conscious decision that regardless of Maya's request, the next round he ordered would be hers again.
The night passed all too quickly, in Marisol's opinion. The handsome stranger, who gave his name, eventually as 'Spike', was quite a flirt. And Marisol was enjoying every minute of it, her imagination providing a hail of fantasies involving running away, seeing the world, and seeing a great deal more of him. Maya caught her eye as she prepared to saunter over to him, again, as the tavern prepared to close down. Her sister chuckled, having given up on flirting herself about an hour ago. She could see that Marisol was completely taken with the stranger, and this was one area in which she was not willing to share.
Besides, she got a vicarious thrill every time he caused Marisol to laugh or flirt, sensing the little fluctuations of her sister's mood and enjoyment. It was therefore little surprise to her when Marisol came dancing up to her as the doors of the tavern closed for the night, the handsome 'Spike' drifting outside with the rest of the crowd, and grinned widely. "He wants me to meet him at the old barn," Marisol confided, laughing.
Maya's eyebrows rose. Envy sang through her, and Marisol felt it, but Maya laughed and smiled as well, nevertheless glad that her sister was having such fun. "And are you going to?" the 'younger' of the twins asked.
Marisol just grinned.
Maya laughed. "How are you going to get out of the house? Mama and Papa will be angry. . ."
"I'll go out the window, silly!"
Marisol's eyes danced with mirth, and she knew Maya felt it when her sister started giggling as well. "All right, but you have to promise to tell me everything!"
***
Marisol crept out of the window of the bedroom she shared with her siblings and grinned up at her twin. Maya grinned back, although still with a trace of envy, and waved her off. The younger children were mostly in bed, and the ones who weren't were too accustomed to the midnight escapes of either or both of the twins to raise more than an eyebrow. Usually, they knew, the girls just went to do minor bits of mischief, usually against someone who had taunted or tormented one of their younger siblings.
Even if that were not the case, none of the Cortez children would have ever dared to comment on it and thereby draw the attention of the other townsfolk. They knew the willingness of their neighbors to point superstitious fingers. Besides, neither twin ever got caught, and the people they usually did mischief against were not particularly well-liked by the rest of the town anyway.
Still, it would have been a disaster to be caught, so the twins had perfected their "escape route" over the last few years. Both girls joked that they could have found their way blindfolded, but it was still with some trepidation that Marisol faced the shrouding presence of the fog that had rolled in completely by now. Along with being thick, it was cold and wet, adding to the chill of the night so that Marisol's teeth chattered slightly as she headed for the old barn. The structure was barely fit for use, but no one would tear it down since it was the property of one of the richer townspeople. And although he rarely used any of his property, no one could ever tell old Miguel Florentine to destroy something of his.
Everyone knew where the barn was; it had played a prominent role in the courting rituals and childhood dares of virtually every member of the community for at least three generations. As she headed towards it, Marisol smiled. She wasn't sure what to expect from this stranger, especially with such a curious name as 'Spike', but she was certain it would be fun. In truth, Marisol had only vague ideas about marrying in the future. Preferably the distant future. Certainly a family would be nice, but she didn't truly expect to ever find a man who would either understand the bond between her and Maya, or be able to rival it in any way. It would be impossible to do the latter, actually: who else would ever be able to sense her emotions and thoughts, and vice versa?
The possibility of never having a family was just as distant a concern for Marisol. Or so she told herself. In the deepest corner of her heart, in a place hidden even from her own conscious mind, there was a part of her that resented that possibility, and the intensity of the bond. Sometimes, it would be nice to be truly alone, have something that was completely her own. That small part of her understood that that was one reason why she was having this little rendezvous; it also understood, however, that Maya felt much the same way, in a part of her heart that was just as hidden to her self. Even in this, they were twins.
Marisol did not let any of those little thoughts arrive in her conscious mind. Her mind was focused instead on being sure of her steps in the fog, time passing deceptively slow, until a figure appeared directly in front of her. Marisol let out a startled little cry and stumbled back a few steps before realizing it was Spike. He smiled at her, his eyes laughing as she laid a hand against her breast, feeling her heart pounding from the fright.
"Sorry, pet," he chuckled. "Didn't mean to startle you."
Marisol feigned a glare at him, but she had the strange impression that he was lying. There was something a little too bright about his gaze as he looked down at her. She pushed that thought aside and banished the glare with a smile. "How long have you been waiting?" she asked. She approached and boldly reached out a hand to touch his cheek. "Too long!" she exclaimed in sympathy. "Your skin feels like ice!"
He smiled, and again Marisol felt there was something subtly wrong in his expression. He stepped a little closer to her and murmured, "You'd best warm me up, then."
Marisol grinned up at him, her dark eyes sparkling. "And how can I do that, mi señor delicioso?"
His gaze locked with hers, his expression suddenly smoldering, and cupped her face in his hands. The look in his eyes was enough to make her knees suddenly weak, but the kiss he gave her nearly melted her entirely. Hot, hard, demanding, taking . . . Marisol had been kissed only a few times in her life, mainly by boys who knew little more about it than she herself. She had never experienced anything like this. Thought vanished, instinct took over, and the intensity of her reaction took them both by surprise. When the kiss finally ended, both of them were a bit breathless.
Marisol left her eyes closed for a long moment, savoring every last sensation. When she opened them again, she found that Spike was gazing at her with a strange look of consideration. Finally, he smiled. It was soft, full of promise, and somehow also hinted at wildness and danger. Marisol smiled back at him, firmly closing the door on any instinct for self-preservation at that wolf-smile.
She let him lead her towards the door of the barn, her hand held lightly in his. His fingers caressed her palm gently, sending electric tingles rushing through her. He paused as they reached the door, turning to capture her face in his hands again, and then kissing her just as thoroughly as the first time. Marisol was vaguely aware of his hands releasing her face, one drifting down to settle on her waist and pull her forward as his other hand pulled open the door. They stumbled inside the barn, Spike backing into it and pulling her with him. The kiss ended and he stepped back, then closed the door while Marisol tried to collect her ability to move on her own.
A lamp had been lit in the middle of the barn, casting soft light on the piles of hay, creating deep shadows in the empty stalls. Marisol looked around her, more out of reflex than curiosity, and then shivered with delight as she felt Spike come to stand behind her, nuzzling her ear gently as he inhaled her scent. She closed her eyes and leaned her head briefly back, enjoying the touch. She opened her eyes quickly, however, as she heard the soft swoosh of fabric.
A woman stood a few feet away, near one of the stalls that Marisol had thought were empty. She was as beautiful as Spike, although in a different way. Large pale eyes sparkled in a doll-like face, and ebony hair fell against her shoulders in carefully arranged curls. She was about the same height as Marisol, and richly dressed, her gown a deep red that looked almost black where shadows touched it.
Marisol pulled away from Spike, blushing slightly. This woman was another stranger, and though Marisol didn't know her relation to her newfound paramour, being found with him was still a bit embarrassing. "I'm sorry . . .," she started automatically.
"Don't be," Spike said into her ear. Marisol looked at him, frowning, and saw that there was a faint smile on his lips. His gaze was on the woman, and his next words were directed at her. "I told you I'd bring you a gift, didn't I, love?" Spike said softly, almost purring. "Do you like it?"
The woman smiled, and it suddenly occurred to Marisol that something vital seemed to be missing from her gaze as she looked at her: sanity. "Ohhh, it's lovely, Spike," she answered, her voice lilting with an accent similar to her companion's. "She's a lovely, lovely doll, just like the ones I had when I was a little girl. She's all warm, and glowing . . . And so pretty and tumbled inside." The woman paused, her head tilting slightly. "And she's not alone."
Spike smiled and moved towards her. "That's right, pet. She has a sister. A twin. I told you, remember?"
The woman smiled as Spike reached her, accepting the gentle nuzzle that he gave her cheek. "Does she really look just like her, Spike? Two pretty dolls?"
Spike nodded. "That's right. I thought we'd go say hello to her later. What do you think?"
Marisol stared from one to the other; she was starting to get extremely nervous. "I . . . I don't understand. Who is this? What is going on?"
Spike looked at her and smiled. "Sorry. This is Drusilla. Dru, this is Marisol. Say hello, pet."
The instruction seemed to be directed at Marisol. She frowned, then swallowed hard and murmured, "Hello."
Drusilla smiled. "Marisol. What a lovely name. But it's not right. I like Marissa better."
She moved forward as Marisol frowned, searching for a response. She almost seemed to glide across the straw on the barn's floor. She looked beautiful, regal, ethereal . . . and somehow dangerous. Marisol started to feel something akin to fear. Across their link, she sensed Maya feel her emotions, sensed the light tug of concern as her twin 'asked' if all was well. Before Marisol could decide, before she could do more than take a step back as the other woman approached, Drusilla's eyes caught her own and the world seemed to fade a bit. Or rather, it focused sharply, but only on Her. Thoughts flowed into Marisol's mind. She really was so lovely, so regal . . . how wonderful it would be to be like her . . .
Drusilla smiled at the girl and tilted her head, birdlike, to regard her as she approached. "Marissa is much better. Much better for such a pretty, pretty doll . . ." She smiled almost dreamily. "So warm and lovely," she sang softly. "And I'm so cold, Spike . . ."
"She'll warm you right up, love."
Spike's voice seemed almost distant, but Marisol realized he was only a step away from her now. She startled at this, wondering briefly how she could have missed his movement. She could feel his presence moving around to her back, but somehow her attention was focused solely on the woman before her. Their gazes were locked, and Marisol suddenly felt a frisson of Power snake over her skin.
"Will you?" Drusilla asked her. "Will you warm me up, my lovely doll? I'm ever so cold . . . I'm always so cold. It's been ages since I've been warm."
Those strange blue eyes were not quite focused, as if she saw things that Marisol could only imagine. Then they focused, and her gaze seemed to take in every inch of the girl in front of her. Unexpectedly, the young woman felt a frisson of a different kind at that admiring gaze. Some part of her tried to break through, some of Maya's own alertness coming through their bond. Something's wrong here, Marisol thought. I shouldn't be feeling this . . .
The thought had all the substance and power of a butterfly's wing, just brushing her consciousness before it was pushed away by sensation as Spike ran his hand along her arm, and down to her waist. Almost unconscious of the words, but not quite, Marisol whispered, "Yes. Yes, I'll warm you."
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