Tragedy/Romance fanfiction between Mary and Klaus... The Hessian!

Ok, folks, my second Sleepy Hollow fanfiction, even though my first wasn't finished. It's a Hessian/Mary fic. I took a break from the Indebted and decided to try my hand at an incredibly more bawdy fiction. Enjoy. ONESHOT; no pesky waiting.

Mary was sitting in a wooden chair, combing her hair with her long handed wooden brush. Heavy footsteps on the wooden floors told her her the Hessian had returned with the heads. She set her brush aside as he approached. A black bag was in his gloved hands. She smiled when he knelt before her and opened the bag's hungry black maw. She pulled out the head with the expression of a child opening a present. She smiled at the Reverend's head. "Well done, Klaus." She praised. "At this pace you will very soon get your head back." As she spoke, she pulled a skull from her dress and held it above the Hessian's severed neck. "Hm..." She said. "Very soon."

"How soon, mistress?" A whispered voice emanated from the skull.

"Very soon. Patience is a virtue. And are you really in such a hurry to go back to hell?" She laughed, planted a kiss on the skull's cool forehead and placed it back in her bodice. "Do ghosts get lonely?" She asked the Hessian's still frame. "Do they ache for what they may have had in life? Kill my husband, bring me his head and his cock and you will have all the more favour to getting what you desire." She patted the skull and smiled when the Hessian stood and walked briskly to his steed. She remembered how he had looked when she first met him, she being only five years old at the time. His hair had been wild, his face and lips deadly white, his blue eyes so intense. He had looked tender, almost pleading as he silently implored her not to make a sound. She remembered the sharp satisfaction at breaking the stick to draw his potential killers, the awe at how well he weilded a sword and the peircing regret at seeing him killed. She had sold her soul to Satan for the chance to control the Hessian's spirit to take revenge. And she had his head. Not that she'd need it. Should he get it back, she could use her body to control him; any man had lust for curves and lips as luscious as hers. It would bring her great pleasure to seduce the Hessian, so much so she almost wanted to send him on the most painful (for him) mission she could think of, just to get him angered, and then give him his head. But she wouldn't, not while Crane, and her fat, garrulous husband lived. She drifted off to sleep, a light, dozy sound of a horse neighing alarmed her; she woke. It was the Hessian, no doubt, returning with the heads. She pulled out the skull and left the hut, ready to confront her servant with it; she was shocked to see Ichabod Crane, her husband Baltus, and the servant's boy Young Masbath on horses surrounding her, the Horseman hog-tied with rosary chains and thrashing between their horses. "Lady Mary Van Tassel, we accuse you with witchcraft and grave robbing!" Ichabod said, snatching the head. A hand brushed hers. Mary jolted; she had been asleep the whole time, and had dreamt the whole thing. She smiled at the sight of the Hessian; it had been he who had woken her, and he held the bag for her as she pulled out Baltus' head. "Well done," She praised, straightening her Hessian's empty collar lovingly. "You look very handsome in black, I must say."She joked, standing and taking his arm. They walked to his horse; they both mounted and he set off at a leisurely walk to the border of the forest. There, he helped her to dismount. She kissed the inside of his wrist and walked home. As usual, he kept a (ironically) lookout for anyone who tried to approach her. Only when she rounded the corner did he turn and ride back to the Tree of the Dead.

Van Tassel laid in bed, alone, relishing the absence of her fat husband. She made a decision to pay a visit to the Hessian, just to show him how obliged she was for his services. She laughed at the idea, stepping into the Tree of the Dead and rutting with the dead Klaus. The idea was ridiculous, but, undoubtably, amusing. Was he as well endowed as she thought he might be? Would he be brutal or undeniably gentle? Would he be able to make her moan, and, more importantly, bring her to orgasm? Just how experienced was he with women? At a guess, not very. Unable to hold off her curiosity, she stood and pulled her most revealing dress on. Mounting a dark brown horse, she rode into the forest, following by memory the path to the Tree of the Dead. The roots parted open as she approached, and she slid inside. The chamber beneath the roots was large and high. A horse, pure black, stood in a crudely constructed stable stall, chewing a flower. Her Hessian lay on the floor, possibly sword and axe rested beside him; he was laying on his cloak. She smiled and knocked her knuckles on the wooden walls. The Hessian sat up sharply, grabbing his axe. "It's me." She whispered seductively, tossing him his skull. He put it on, and she watched in facination as the skin and flesh appeared over the bones. His face was as it had been all those years ago; pale, with the mussed hair and icy blue eyes, with the fangs beneath them sharp as his sword-point. She moved towards him as he stood, kept advancing even when her generous breats were pressed against his chest, pushing him back, back, towards the wall behind him. Her arms were around his thin waist, grinding against him with every step. His eyes were wide with her nearness, wide with shock and perhaps arousal. She laughed merrily and pressed her lips to his. His eyes went wider still, and he wrenched his head to the side, breaking the inpromptu kiss. "What...? He gasped, and the rest of his sentence was cut off when Mary pushed the words back into his throat with her lips. "Mm," She moaned against his cold lips, goading him into responding with her tongue; she pushed it into his mouth, wary of the teeth, and their tongues began to wrestle, his dead flesh cold and dry against hers. "Oh..." She murmured when he broke the kiss to skim his lips down her neck. She unclasped the stiff locks on his armour and set it aside, smiling at the new intimacy this allowed. Her arms bent back and began to untie her dress; it drifted to the floor like so many ghostly rags and left her naked in the Hessian's gaze. His eyes looked at her, enflamed with new hunger, and she suddenly felt very vulnerable. She ripped his clothes from his body and pressed against him, her ear pressed against his silent heart, fingers questing and touching, her tongue licking and nuzzling his dead flesh. His cock, which as even longer then she and thought it would be, was between her legs, and she angled her hips and let it slide inside. She moaned as he took a deep breath and pulled her close against him and began to thrust. Every one of his thrusts was painful in the extreme; it felt as though a red hot spear was pushing deep inside. She was being impaled on his deadly spike, and she was enjoying every moment. She fell to the ground, pulling the Hessian with her, laid on her back and spread her legs and moaned wildly, estatically, pushing back onto him and pulling him inside deeper and farther. His fingers were tight around her hips as her pleasure rose in a terrifying crescendo. She felt a rush of hot liquid between her legs and identified this in a strange, detatched away as her orgasm. A few seconds later, the Hessian pulled out of her, breathing heavily, his cock still hard; she frowned at the fact that she had been unable to bring him to orgasm. Putting her mouth to the tip, she licked him softly, tasting herself on him, pulled more into her mouth, heard his quiet moan. Pressing her tongue against it, she sucked again, his moan grew louder. She licked and sucked and bit, her eyes closed, laughing inside everytime he uttered a moan. The fool had no idea she was only spiting her husband. She stopped sucking and looked up at his face. His eyes were still wide, and his mouth hung open. She sucked hard while looking up at him and smiled when he moaned. A salty surge of warm liquid filled her mouth. She spat out the white come and smiled. "About time." She laid down, placed her head on his chest and sighed in contentment; her crotch throbbing pleasently, and the taste of him still in her mouth, she fell asleep.

The Hessian looked down at the woman who had just touched him, touched him in ways so intimate, ways he had never really been touched before. He knew that it was a joke, knew she was laughing at someone. Probably him. Everyone laughed at him when they weren't running from him, screaming their heads off. Dark hate boiled in him, the same hate that had kept him so willingly chopping heads. Mary Van Tassel had no control over him. He did what she asked because it exercised his steed and kept his sword well oiled with blood. He sneered at her while she slept. He could take her head now, if he wanted, show her everything was a lie, a game, one with which he played along simply to entertain the both of them. He still looked at her as a child, achild who would kill a man then try to capture his soul. Bitch, he thought vehemently, slut and whore. And yet he would kill for her, let her believe he served her, when in fact she was only diving deeper into her own sick fantasy. A fantasy that would coil about her and strangle her. Klaus coiled his hands around her throat and squeezed lightly, not hard enough to interfere her breathing or wake her. His hands circled her dainty neck and overlapped at least an inch. He could kill her without hassle. Klaus started to squeeze tighter, and she flung her arms about him and buried her head in his neck, her lips brushing the hollow of his throat and her breath tickling his skin. It felt... nice... to have a woman with him, a warm body. He loosened his grip on her throat slightly, then relaxed it entirely and let his hands slide down her sides to the floor. Moonlight filtered in through a gap in the roots above him; the beams landed on her face, which was relaxed in sleep. Her gold hair, which had fallen loose from its bun, lay tangled and it shone it the beams. She looked... beautiful... the Hessian thought, tilting his head when she shifted. Her naked body fit neatly to his, her hands were resting, one on his hip, the other his chest, and they stroked softly, feeling like silk against his scarred torso. The Hessian edged out from underneath her, dressed in his armour, picked her up gently and wrapped her and her dress in his cloak. He mounted Daredevil, and holding her with her head nestled between his shoulder and neck, rode at a comfortable pace to the edge of the forest. The smell of her, the smells of herbs and roots, and of the forest, invaded his breath and nearly stole it away. She stirred once or twice, blinked blearily at him, then settled to sleep again. At the edge of the forest he dismounted, and holding her as he would a small child, for she weighed not much more to him, he walked to her home and scaled the wall to her window.

Katrina Crane looked out the window at the man walking from the forest, and shook her husband, Ichabod, awake. "Look," She pointed, as he blinked sleep from his eyes. Ichabod Crane sat up, brushed his dark hair away and started. "Why, that's the Hessian!" He gasped. "Who's that in his arms?" Katrina asked. "A body?" Ichabod shrugged and pulled on his clothes and picked up his gun. "I'm going to look," He said. Katrina kissed him softly and whispered, "Be careful." He nodded and ran outside.

The Hessian was just climbing down from Mary's window when he heard the irritatingly familiar voice of Ichabod Crane. "Hessian!" He turned his head, and peircing glare, on the constable and leapt the twenty feet to the ground, landing on his feet with his hand by his sword. "Crane," He said, in a mocking tone. "Not fainting every second, I see." Crane leveled his gun. "What were you doing?" He asked, shaking visibly as the Hessian stepped forward, drawing his sword. "Climbing." He said matter-of-factly, chopping the end off the gun. Ichabod smiled uneasily. Klaus smiled coldly. "To where, Hessian?" The Constable asked. "Well, since you asked, I was trying to climb to heaven but the wall only goes so high. Could you perhaps tell me how many floors up I'd need to build before I can reach Saint Peter and his padlocked gates?" With that, the Hessian grabbed Ichabod by the collar and threw him into the air. Ichabod screamed all the way up before being impaled on the weathervane on the roof of the Van Tassel Manor. The cloak of the Hessian disappeared into the swirling mists of the forest, and a ghostly neighing was heard, turning sweet dreams to nightmares, and the warm embraces of lovers into desperate clutches of fear.

Mary woke up in her own bed, covers pulled to her chin. Her window was open, and she smiled,rubbed her lower belly fondly as she remembered how she had coupled with the had been incredible, better then she had ever had with Baltus. She remembered his touch cooling her heated skin. Remembered how gently he had kissed her, being careful not to hurt her with his sharp fangs. She moaned softly and writhed, remembering his lips on hers, dragging down her neck to her sensitive breasts... she knew she had to have him again. Tonight.

The Hessian sat in his tree, holding his stomach and laughing. Ichabod's death had been most amusing to him. More amusing then letting that woman believe she owned him. And speaking of 'that woman,' she approached him now, the last tendrils of her dress sliding off her body. The Hessian raised an eyebrow at her naked body, the smoky arousal grabbing hold of his cock again. She smiled at sat in his lap, her soft hair brsuhing her neck as she kissed his chin, his jaw-line, his lips, her tongue brushing his teeth and lips. "Mm,"She moaned softly into his mouth. She nipped at his lips, soothed them with hers, smiled softly and laid down on her back. Klaus considered her, then leaned down and sucked on her neck softly. Mary Van Tassel moaned for him-for HIM-and ran her fingers through his fly-away hair. He moved his face down to her breasts, hesitated a moment and kissed one experimentally. Van Tassel shrieked in pleasure and pushed his face down. His tongue carressed a nipple gently, then drew it into his mouth. Van Tassel moaned as he swirled his tongue around it. He had never taken a woman who was so willing. When he had been alive, it had always been rape, at least the first time, and then the woman was so willing to please him she'd bend over sneered, took his mouth from her chest and skimmed down, past her stomach, past her belly button, until his lips were inches away from her wet crotch. Her legs wrapped around his head and pushed his face into her. "Unh..." She hissed between clenched teeth as his tongue darted into her experimentally, tasting her. Klaus smiled, and pushed her tongue deep into her, relishing her taste, the way she parted in front of his tongue. She moaned and sat up, undressing Klaus and pulling his cock deep inside, deeper, deeper, deeper. "Oh, fuck..." Klaus hissed as she licked his chest and his dick penetrated even deeper into her tight crotch. "Unh!" She moaned hard. The Hessian thrust harder, smiling coldly, driving into her crotch and enjoying the way she writhed beneath him. "Klaus," She moaned his name as though she were speaking the name of God, reverently, fearfully, and for the Hessian, it was an aphrodisiac. He thrust harder, faster, ravaging her lips, biting and nipping. He bit one of her breasts, grinned when she screamed, and licked hungrily at the blood. Mary moaned at this experience, moaned desperately, loudly. The Gateway opened suddenly, as she was screaming, and Katrina stepped through. She stared in terror at the sight of her step-mother being taken so roughly by the Hessian, and was even more terrified when he turned his face to her and gave a battle cry, blood on his lips. Katrina fled, screaming. Mary came to a shuddering orgasm, the Hessian's cock still buried deep inside her throbbing crotch.

The next day, she pretended to be in pain, pretended to be afraid, as though she had been horribly violated. Katrina was sympathetic, and thankfully ignored the subject until that night. They were sitting by the fire, Mary sitting as far as possible from the window. "We'll get him for that, mother." She assured. "I'll have the elders dig up his bones and bury them in holy ground. See if he'll bother you then." Mary felt her heart lurch. She wondered why. "Thank you, dear," She whispered. Katrina went to bed, and Mary slid out into the night. She walked to the Tree of the Dead and ran to the Hessian, burying her face in his neck and sobbing. The Hessian was surprised, but he did his best to comfort her as she desperately clung to him. "They want to get rid of you. They want to take you away from me." She whispered. The Hessian was looking down at her, and she leaned up and kissed him, almost chastely. "Don't let them take you from me... I love you."

The Hessian stared down at the Mary as she held him tightly. His disbelief grew when she whispered "I love you." Had she always been hiding this?" He thought. He looked at her face and decided on a plan. He told her about it, and she grinned wildly, hugging him and kissing his face. "Thank you." She stood up, ran outside aand came back with bones in her arms. The Hessian recognized the headless pile; his bones. That night, the Hessian came back with a coffin, and he sat on top of it, picking up a skull and a file. He began sharpening the teeth of the skull, looking into a bucket of water occasionally for reference. "Who is that?" Mary asked. Klaus cackled. "The Notary you had me hang," He said. "He wasn't buried in sanctified ground. Thought I might as well treat him." Mary watched him sharpen the teeth, and when she saw he was finished, she approached him, letting her dress slide away from her body. Klaus looked her up and down, and she sat on his lap, kissing him gently. He grinned and deepened the kiss, drawing her tongue into his mouth and sucking on it gently. She moaned and ground against him, undoing his belt buckle and armour. Soon he was as naked as she, and he slid into her. \moaning hard and kissing him, Mary slid to her knees and, bringing him with her, continued to touch him and provoke him into coming. "I need it... I need it in me..." She whispered. "I want... I need..." He nodded and silenced her with a gentle kiss. She was surprised the warrior could be so gentle and couth, he knew. He was determined to let the good side of him show, to prove that there was one, however deeply it was buried beneath twenty years of sour soil and bad thoughts. He was determined to slake off his childhood memories that even after 25 years of life and another 20 of death persisted to haunt him. He felt her tighten around him, and knew that she was coming."Come in me, please..." Mary begged. He angled his hips to maximise his pleasure and moaned softly as he did as she asked.

Mary felt something cold shoot into her. She gasped softly, recognized this as his orgasm and smiled. She pulled his head down in a loving kiss, relishing the feel of his lips, his skin, running her fingers through his hair. The kiss became heated, until they were both breathing heavily between the desperate clutchings and meetings of lips that left flaming trails. Kissing Baltus Van Tassel sand the 'good' Reverend had never felt as good, as right, and as satisfying as kissing Klaus, the warrior who would do well for a portrait of Ares, or perhaps a corrupt Adonis, the Greek gods of war and male beauty. She could picture his amusement and being compared to a God of war, and his baffled anger, softened by his love for her, of course, at being called beautiful. The thought made her chuckle, and her chuckle made him smile, and his smile made her want to be with him forever. She told him so. He said various affections in German and finally said, "And I want to be with you." They kissed again, Mary and her German Ares.

Klaus dug up his bones. He took them out and put them in the coffin, and replaced them with the bones of the Reverend. He reburied them, and as an afterthought, pulled his rusted sword out of the ground. He took the coffin with his bones inside and set them down. Mary stroked his cheek and kissed him gently. 'My Klaus," She sighed happily, cuddling into his arms. He held onto her protectively as she fell asleep. Klaus' heart was full, full with love for the woman in his arms, the woman who had bridged the gap between life and death and who did not run from his grasp. He would never let harm come to her. He swore it on his head as he yawned and fell asleep with Mary Van Tassel.

Mary woke that morning, in the Hessian's warm embrace. He was still asleep, and his eyes flickered rapidly under his eyelids. His face was contorted in a grimace. Mary tapped into the Hessian's dream.

A small boy with blue eyes and mussed black hair sat before her. He could not see her. He stared past her, at the door, fear in his eyes. The door opened and a man who reeked of strong ale grabbed the young boy. He spoke in German, but somehow Mary could understand. "Your mother won't give me any tonight," The drunk rasped in the boy's ear as he pulled down his pants with his other hand. The little boy whimpered in fear and protest, wiggling, trying to get away as his father-she assumed it was his father-forced the tiny face down to a swollen, angry looking cock. "Suck it," The man ordered. The little boy-who had to be Klaus- kept his mouth tightly closed. Klaus' father growled and grabbed a fistful of Klaus' black hair, yanking it back until the young Klaus screamed. His father forced his cock down the boy's throat, ignoring the sobbing, crying, and choking of his son. "You like this, you little freak, don't you?" The older man muttered, pulling young Klaus from him. The boy stumbled and fell backwards, tears streaming from his eyes. The boy vomited, and shrank away from his father, who was grinning coldly as he flipped the boy over and pulled down the thin cotton trousers. Klaus tried to crawl away and recieved a sharp kick. The father knelt down and licked the boy's ass, moaning. "This'll feel good, you just have to let me." He urged the child, who kicked the older man's throat and rolled under the bed. Mary stared, petrified, knowing she couldn't do anything, and that she would be overpowered even if she could. The father dragged the boy out from under the bed, and rammed himself into the boy's small ass, clamping his hand tightly over the boy's mouth as he screamed. Klaus' father made no effort to be gentle, sheathing himself entirely, snickering as his cock came out scarlet from Klaus' blood. Mary stared at the little boy and gasped when she realized he was looking at her. Not through her, at her. Those in dreams weren't supposed to see. But he did. She knelt down and touched the boy's hand, and it wrapped around hers tightly, almost too tight. The pain he must be feeling now was overwhelming, and she could take the pain for him. She retrated from the dream, and ignored the tears dripping down her face and pooling on Klaus' chest.

He was still asleep, and no tears dripped from under his eyelids; he was too strong for that. Instead, he shook. His whole body shook under her, and she wrapped her arms around him and woke him with a soft kiss. His eyes were full of pain. She hugged him wordlessly, smiled when he wrapped his strong arms around her and held her. 'I never knew, love," She whispered. Klaus stroked her hair, it felt like silk against his hand. She looked up at his calm face as he murmured, "It was just a dream. It cannot hurt me." They fell asleep again.

"He's a bloodthirsty killer! So is his woman! They killed many, we must find them, and kill them tonight!" The villagers stormed into the forest, bearing flaming torches, scythes and blades, knives made to cut bread but blades that could easily cut flesh. They swarmed the tree of the dead. They chopped at the roots that covered the doorway and three men walked in, armed with guns. They saw Mary Van Tassel cuddling the Hessian, and they saw the coffin. "We'll check that later," the two whispered to eachother. They dug up the bones. A doctor approached. "Hold! These are not the Horseman's bones!" The town elder asked, "How can you be sure? They are in his grave." The doctor sighed at him and explained calmly, all the while pointing out various features about the white bones. "There is no severage of the spine through the head; this man was not decapitated. There is no stab wound through the ribs; he was not wounded at all. Lastly, someone who is as proficient at riding as the horseman would have bowed legs." "Bowed legs?" The town elder asked. The doctor sighed. "bowed legs occurs when someone rides a horse a lot. It means the bones curve, like a bow stave, to accomodate the horse's flanks." They reburied the bones and retrived the coffin and took it to the village.

The Hessian woke up. He was aware of the men, the ones that entered his home, and stared at his Mary, coveting her. He fought down the urge to kill them; there were more of them outside, and sounds of a struggle would draw them in, and Mary would be trampled, or worse, taken to the village and he stayed still, aware of their eyes skimming down her back, taking in her breasts, crotch, lips. Things she had given to him in the heat of the moment, sworn to him. She stirred just as they left, and looked at their retreating backs in fear, clinging to him in fear. "They have discovered our plan..." She murmured. He nodded sadly. "I fear this is the last time we are to speak, miene liebe."

The villagers brought the coffin into the church yard, to an open grave. Lady Van Tassel sat atop a far hill, resting against her horseman, who watched with much sadness, holding his love's hand in his gloved ones. They lowered the coffin, complete with bones, into the grave and the Horseman felt his strength leave him. He slumped on his horse, and if not for the strong arms of Mary, would have fallen off entirely. The dirt was thrown over the coffin with many solemn faces, and the reverend began reading the eulogy, which was mainly words asking God to save his soul from the flames of hell. Lady Van Tassel leapt from the horse,hearing her lover fall to the ground with a pang of sadness, charged over to the church gate. And all hell was let loose. There was a flash of pain deep in her belly, a horrid writhing, and she fell to the ground, crying out, "Help me, please!" Everything turned black, the last thing she saw was her Horseman turn into a black steam and dissolve away.

She woke up in the doctor's operating room. There was a horrid feeling deep in her, and she moaned in pain. The doctor walked up with a sad look upon his face. "I am so sorry, for you, dear Mary." Mary stared up at him. What did he mean? What was he saying? "Most unfortunate, that you had to endure that" "What happened?" Mary asked, trembling. "You were pregnant." The Doctor said. "I had to kill it, it is not God's creature. It was conceived when Katrina saw him raping you. You're a very lucky woman, not to be stuck with that Demon Rider's child." He pointed to a small, pale form laying on the metal table beside her. She touched it's small shoulder; it was cold and slightly slimy. She turned it so it faced her and her heart lurched. It's face was blue from lack of oxigen, it's small lips contorted into a grimace of pain. A jagged wound was over it's heart; he had cut into it's skin with an axe. It's small limbs were stiff and bent. It's eyes were open. They were the same shade of blue as Klaus', with a fleck of gold in the left one. It's hair, what little it had, was blond. Mary began to cry. Her one chance to hold her Klaus close to her heart had failed; she had somehow managed to lose him and his child in the same day. "I understand this is a highly traumatic situation. You will be pleased to know the Headless Horseman has been buried in sanctified ground. He can't roam under the devil's yoke anymore." Mary sobbed, burying her head in her arms. She resolved to go to see his grave the moment she felt well. And take his son to him.

Mary Van Tassel walked with head held high, despite the murmurs and words of pity directed her way. She dug the dirt from the bones and laid the little baby's body over the breastbone of the skeleton. She stroked the baby's hair gently, and blew a kiss to the skull, and reburyed them both. She felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned and saw John Grant, who was to be the next Reverend. "I heard of your most unfortunate run-in with the seed of the Devil." He said. "I could offer you spiritual protection, in return for your hand in marriage. I can purify your body of his touch, and ensure your path to heaven." Mary backed away from him. "I'm sorry, sir, but I have just been through a horrible, disgusting experience. I gave birth to a madman's child! I can not be expected to marry right after, without any chance to recover!" She dearly hoped that Klaus wasn't listening, and if so, hoped he understood. "Ah, but you see," John continued, "I wish you to marry me so you will get the best medical attention, and never have your needs ignored. How many times did he take you while you were locked up in that horrid tree?" Mary was outraged. "Hmph! You have no right to ask that of me!" She started to walk away from him, and he said, in a voice barely louder then a whisper. "I know." She froze. He continued. I know you liked it when he fucked you. The harder the better, yes? You loved him, I bet. Him and his filthy child. I can have you hanged if you don't succumb to me. Marry me, Lady Van Tassel. The wife of a reverend is the easiest life. How many children do you think we could have?" Choking on her rage, Mary applied charm. "Well, John... now that you lay mention to children... I'd like to marry you, if..." She considered. "You put the Hessian's bones back where they belong." John's face blanched in fear. "He doesn't deserve to be trapped." He snorted. Let him out so you can mate with him? Fine. But if I see him near, I'll kill you, and him, and bury you on seperate sides of the cemetary!" He ordered the Hessian's bones dug up, and snorted at the small baby on the bony chest. "What's that?" "Our son, Klaus' and mine." "Klaus?" John asked. "You mean to tell me that thing had a name? And that he told you his name? Disgusting. He gave the ribs a sharp kick, and Mary winced as they shattered. She turned on John, slapping his face. "You bastard!" John ignored her, and had the bones carried into the western woods, and thrown back into the grave. Mary looked up as a horse leapt out of the tree of the dead, Klaus mounted on it, his face steely and cold, blood staining his armour from broken ribs. "Klaus," Mary gasped, running up. Klaus nearly fell off his horse in his haste. She clung to him, and then became aware of John. "Tell him, Mary... about our arrangements." Mary hesitated, pulled back from the Hessian and turned her face away when he bent to kiss her. "I'm... I'm marrying John, Klaus..." His face fell, and the hurt in his eyes nearly tore her in half. He nodded briskly, mounted his horse and glared down at John. Mary touched his leg, but he did not turn his face to her. She half-wished he would strike her, glare at her, even kill her, if it meant he still took notice of her, but he didn't. He turned his back on both of them, rode into the forest, and John grabbed her roughly around the waist and kissed her. Mary was choking on her anger, so much so that she almost bit his lips. She forced herself to kiss back, and he sneered at her, sobbed into the kiss, remembering Klaus' cool touches and gentle caresses, wishing to every spirit she was in his arms and not the reverend's. She tried imagining it was Klaus, but to no avail; John's lips were too wet, thick and rough to pass for Klaus'. "Mm... Aren't you glad I saved you from him? If not, you'd be in his bed now, that horrid demon." Mary pulled back when her lips began to ache, and he sneered. "I'm not a demon, you know." Mary gasped when he pressed against her; he was hard and that disgusted her. "Get away..." She murmured. John frowned. "Fine... but tonight, you have to give me what I want."

Klaus sat, his back to a tree, staring at the fire he had built in response to the growing darkness. She had tricked him; she had won. She made him think he was loved at last, but he had been thrown away in favour of a mortal, perhaps one she had made love to when she was parted from him. He closed his eyes, sighed softly, remembering her lips, her hands, oh, god, those hands... hands he had kissed, hands he had held, hands that had held his face close to her when she kissed him. He knew of her pregnancy, had seen the little dead child. His heart had lurched when he thought of it; perhaps she had wanted it killed, so she and her new lover would not be weighed down with his spawn. Had he meant nothing to her? Was he another toy, thrown away by a fussy child when something better was presented? If he shouldcome across her in the forest again, what should he do? Ignore her, or glare, or kill her? No! Not kill her... Klaus rested a hand over his heart, and turned to Daredevil, his horse. "I am a fool, Devil. A fool to fall in love."He told the horse, who tossed his mane and nudged his master's head with his own. "Ah... at least you always stay by me, Devil." Klaus said, smiling and kissing the horse's velvety nose. "My best friend..." Yawning, Klaus lay back, watching the flickering flames as they died down."Good night, Devil, miene freund." "Goodnight, Mary, if you can hear."

Mary Van Tassel winced as John rode her. He was rough, clumsy and eager, conditions that made fornifications painful. The Reverend's head lolled back, his eyes were rolled back into his head. Klaus, forgive me please... I still love you, but I forgive you if you don't love me anymore... John came to orgasm suddenly, and Mary clenched her teeth against the sudden nausea she experienced. "Was I better then your demon?" John asked, grossly overconfident. Mary winced as she rolled over, placing her back to her future husband. She was pulled into his chest by rough arms. "Turning from the Hessian may have been acceptable, but my wife will always consent to being held. I'm not your uncouth demon rider, I'm more civilized. Be so, yourself." Mary fell asleep listening to John's snoring, being crushed against his chest.

Klaus woke early to the sound of humming nearby. Daredevil whinnied softly, and he sat up. Not minding the dead leaves in his hair, Klaus went towards the humming, and ducked behind a tree when he saw Mary's servant girl picking wild potatoes. With some agitation, he noticed a second. They were talking. "The Lady Van Tassel is not at all pleased with her new fiance." Klaus' ears perked with interest. "Not at all, I heard he mistreats her. Beats her and such." Klaus' rage was almost overpowering; he was surprised the two girls did not feel the heat of his rage. "Those rumours of she having married the Devil Rider, were they true?" One asked the other. The other appeared outraged. "Of course not! Mary Van Tassel is too dignified to lower herself to that level. She'd be disgusted by the thought." Klaus frowned thoughtfully, and stripped some bark off a near-by birch tree. He bit his thumb hard enough to draw blood, and snapped a twig into a makeshift pen. He wrote down a message, and cleared his throat, attempting a smoother voice then his German vocal chords usually allowed. He stood behinda tree, so they could not see him. "Excuse me, but would either of the two of you care to deliver a message to Lady Van Tassel? It must be directly to her hand, however, with no notice done to the Reverend she is to marry." The girls straightened and giggled, and one said, bravely, "I am the Lady Van Tassel's handmaiden; I come into contact with her the most. I would be glad to deliver the message, good sir." Klaus held the hand with the message out past the tree's trunk, towards the maiden. He felt her take the message. He withdrew his arm. "Thank you." He said, and started to walk away. He sighed, knowing he was a fool.

Mary Van Tassel looked up when Sarah walked in. A slip of birch bark was in her hands, and she handed it to her mistress. "A mysterious man in the forest gave this to me to deliver to your hand, milady." Mary read the words upon it, which apperared to be writtin in blood.

Mary, my heart can not stand curiosity much more. If you still love me, meet me at midnight at the Crone's Cave. If not you love, burn this slip and forget me, so that I may try to forget you, in turn. J.

Mary gasped and held her hand to her throat, and checked the time. It was almost midnight. She ran out to the stables and mounted her horse, and jolted when she saw John blocking the way out. "Going somewhere?" He asked. Mary ewas outraged. "Get out of my way you pompous swine!" She raged, nudging her horse to a full gallop. John leapt out of the way, and Mary rode swiftly to the Crone's Cave.

It was 12:16 now. Still, Klaus waited by the cave, desperate to see her face again, just once. There was no sign of her. Klaus sighed, turned his horse and prepared to ride back to the Tree of the Dead when he heard an angel's voice. "Klaus!" He looked around and felt he could stood on a horse behind him, hair windblown and a scratch upon her face from where a branch had whipped her. "Klaus..." She said again, quietly, riding towards him.

"You love me?" Klaus asked. His voice shook, she noticed. "More then anything." She rested a hand upon his cheek and pulled his face to hers. The kiss was all the sweeter because it was forbidden, all the more heated because they had been apart so long, but when the bullet whizzed by her hand and struck the Hessian's cheek, Mary pulled back abruptly and slapped the Hessian. "John... he must've cast a spell on me, or something... I couldn't stop myself." Klaus was outraged. She had tricked him again. He drew his sword and held it to her throat. "You never loved me..." Klaus said softly. "It was all a joke to you!" Mary stared up at him, and then closed her eyes. "Klaus... I'm sorry. I do love you, please... if you're hurt enough to kill me, do it..." Klaus stared into her closed eyes. No one had ever loved him, had ever showed him any kindness. His mother had veiwed him in disgust, his father had used him... and now there was Mary, the only human he had ever extended his heart to, and the only human who had cut him in ways a sword could not, but the only human who did not run from his unsheathed sword, did not run from the way he looked, from his teeth. Mary opened her eyes. She leaned up and kissed him, gently, sweetly. "She's mocking you..." John murmured. "She's laughing at you. She loves me! Mary, you never loved him. You used him, didn't you? You used him and threw him away. When we fucked, you said you regretted ever going to him. You said yourself, he disgusted you." Klaus pulled back from her kiss in horror. "It's not true, Klaus! I love you!" Mary cried. He was pulled into her kiss again. John leveled his gun and shot the Hessian again, this time in the neck. Mary screamed as Klaus fell from his horse. she leapt upon him, and stared into his eyes. "You're alive..." She smiled, and she kissed him again. "Get away from him!" John yelled, and he fired again. The next shot went into Mary, and Klaus cried out in rage and loss as she cried out in pain. Warm blood spattered his face, and Klaus held Mary to him, her hair brushing his face as she gasped for air over the rising sea of her own blood. "Mary..." Klaus whispered. She gave him one last kiss, a weak kiss, before the light in her eyes faded, and there was nothing left in her body but the bullet. Klaus turned on John, swinging his sword round until it met with John's throat. John's headless body fell, and Klaus picked up Mary's body, carried it back to the Tree of the Dead. He dug up his bones, moved them to a smaller grave. He laid down with Mary's body in his grave, their nameless child's body on their chests. Klaus closed his eyes and willed the dirt to move over them; it did. "Devil! Find me in the next!" He called to his loyal steed. The dirt covered the three bodies entirely, father, mother, son, and Klaus closed his eyes, released a breath, and let the friendly spectre of death ferry him to where ever it was he was destined to go.

End note; Please review, for your loyal uploader Iwillwrite4you4ever. If I get enough reviews, mommy says I don't have to take my medication.