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Cruel Sister: A Spander Fairytale.	By : runningwithcoyotes Category: > Spike(William)/Xander > Spike(William)/Xander Views: 2543 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own "Buffy: The Vampire Slayer", it belongs to Joss Whedon. The song "Cruel sisters" belongs to itself. I get nothing from this but the pleasure of writing it, no money made here.

Chapter List
- 1-1
- 2-2
- 3-3
- 4-4
- 5-5
- 6-6
- 7-7
- 8-8-End
- 5
- 6
- 7
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Days passed, and the castle fell into both despair and disrepair. Noone cared anymore, not since the death of their beloved prince. The coffin they laid to rest under the stone carrying his name was empty, but that did not soothe anyone, instead it only deepened the grief. They had never found the boy�s remains, and it plagued them all that they would never get to lay him to rest. But the one who suffered the most was Spike; he had turned into a wraith, haunting the castle. He wandered aimlessly, mute with sorrow, the only noise coming from his frozen lips an occasional anguished ��Xan��. The only one who seemed able to reach him and give him comfort in his grief was Buffy, and they were often seen together. It came as no surprise to anyone when they announced their engagement. But it was no joyful occasion; Xander�s ghost, and his tragic death, still hung over them.
Late one night into the dark, dreary halls of Sunnydale castle, came a strange man, bringing with him a cloaked companion and a beautiful harp.
�King and Queen, Princesses and Court� he said. �I bring with me an instrument of such wonder, you have never before seen. For this is a magic harp, and a voice of it�s own it has. A gruesome tale it tells, and I shall let it sing to you in hopes of bringing a murderer into the light.�
King Giles slowly raised his weary head and stared in shock at the stranger.
�Ethan?� he whispered, his voice almost hopeful. The man bowed deeply.
�Your majesty. I see that the years have been good to you. Three beautiful children, I heard your queen gave you.�
�Yes, three children. Two gentle daughters and a doe-eyed son, but the fates have been cruel and stolen our beloved Alexander from us.� The queen buried her face in her handkerchief, weeping quietly. �But what of you, my dearest friend? When you did not return, I feared-� he trailed off, not sure how to word the thoughts and fears that had plagued him when his friend, dearest to his heart, did not return from the war, so many years ago�
�But I did return, your Majesty. Alas, I returned too late, only to find that you had left for your honeymoon. I swore that day to never make a promise, and never accept a vow. For false are the words of men.� The King flinched at the pain in the harp maker�s voice; it made his heart ache, and he longed to hold his dear friend close and soothe him. But it was he himself that had caused the sorrow, and therefore he stayed on his throne. But he could not escape the accusing gaze of the man, who continued:
�Your Majesty. I come before you bringing this instrument, so please, let it sing.�
�It is a beautiful harp� said the queen in an attempt to break the uncomfortable silence. She had stopped weeping and was now admiring the instrument. �May I ask what wood you carved it from?�
�No wood, your majesty, was used in the making of this harp. It is made from blood and bone and hair.� The royal couple and their daughters, and most of the court, stared at him in a mix of horror and confusion, but it was Sir Spike that finally spoke in a voice that had not been used for many days.
�Blood and bone and hair?� he exclaimed, his hoarse voice quivering with horror.
�Aye, good sir.� The harp maker nodded as if this was something quite normal to make an instrument from. �You see, I happened one day a few weeks ago upon a river bank, and as I sat down on a rock to rest I noticed the body of a lovely young man on the shore. His eyes were the most curious shade of hazel, but alas, the marks � resembling hands � around his neck disfigured him. Apart from the marks, he was an altogether lovely creature, and I felt it was a shame to let such a beautiful body go to waste.� And he told the court how he had broken the dead man�s ribcage open and with his ribs built the harp. How he had cut the dark curls and woven strings from them. How he had taken the slim fingers and boiled them, and used the finger bones to make the screws. There were several weeping in the hall when he finished his tale. The king, who suspected the identity of the boy by the river, spoke in a trembling voice:
�And what did you do then, Ethan? What did you do, then, with my only son�s remains?� Sir Spike pressed his fist to his mouth, but could not keep in a keening wail. His little love desecrated, his sweet body turned into�into an instrument, it was simply too much to bear.
�I burned them, good sir. I had no further use for them.� The harp maker shrugged. �But it was its song I came for.� and he placed the beautiful harp in the middle of the room, where all could see. Then he gently struck one of the strings, and the sweet chime echoed throughout the silence. The harp played a scale, and then a voice dearly missed, dearly loved, echoed throughout the king�s hall. Prince Alexander�s voice.
Mother and father, queen and king,
Farewell to you, farewell I sing.
Farewell my William, good and true
Farewell, my dearest Dawn, to you.
But woe befall Elizabeth Anne
Who murdered me to steal my man.
The harp sang its gruesome song twice, and then played again its scale. Then it fell silent. The silence that spread throughout the King�s hall was horrified, and all feared to break it. The silence was shattered, however, when princess Buffy, fury and hatred written on her pretty face, flew up from her chair, rushed over and pushed the harp onto the floor, where it shattered into a thousand pieces.
�Be silent!� She screamed, trampling it under her feet, damaging the pieces further. �Be silent, you worthless whore! He is mine, mine, like he should always have been! And you, you are nothing! BE SILENT!�
Dawn, the youngest princess, slowly rose from her chair, he face white with pain and anger.
�And so� she said, her voice barely audible. �And so, dear sister, you have murdered our brother for a second time.�
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A/N: Here there be drama, hm? Check back for a continuation � we�re not done yet.
- 5
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- 7
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Cruel Sister: A Spander Fairytale.