Summary: Spike is in for the fight of his life as he takes a vampire challenge. Buffy, now a vampire, is Spike's minion...but will she ever be his Queen?
Rating: R, for gore and adult themes
Disclaimer:Joss Whedon, the WB and Fox own Buffy and Co. Sandra owns the rest
"I want him dead!" she hissed, obsidian eyes glittering with madness. "Kill him for me?"
"Get right to the point, don't you, Isabelle?" the blond man facing her casually lit a cigarette. "Why should I?"
She leaned forward, long dark hair swirling perilously near the candle on the table between them.
"You have no consort now, Spike," Isabelle smiled at him. "I know about Drusilla."
He tensed, eyes narrowing, and blew a smoke ring. "And?"
She heard the edge in his voice and said softly, "If you challenge Fergus, we could...come together, if you like. For as long as you like."
Spike had to struggle to contain his laughter. Isabelle, beautiful as a song...crazy as a loon! Did she really think her offer would tempt him to take on L.A.'s Master Vampire? Not bloody likely! Besides, he'd had his fill of insane lovers...
"Why do you want Fergus dead, pet?" he asked, barely troubling to listen to her rantings.
"He killed Charlotte!"
Spike arched one of the dark brows that were in such startling contrast to his almost-white hair. "Fergus killed his own queen?" he asked skeptically. "I find that hard to believe."
"He killed her," Isabelle said positively. "He was tired of her; and he was burning to have this new toy. My sister knew the risk; but she was determined to get Fergus what he wanted, even if it cost her her life."
Spike's face was impassive. "You haven't explained why siring this human cost Charlotte her life."
"Because...she wasn't a human!" Isabelle rasped. "She was a Slayer!"
The blond vampire's ice-blue eyes widened; he sat up suddenly. "A...Slayer? Are you sure?"
"Certainly I'm sure," Isabelle insisted. "Fergus sacrificed nine of his best followers to capture her."
"I thought...I was always told Slayers can't be turned," Spike frowned.
"That is generally the case," Isabelle agreed. "Any attempt will usually kill both the Slayer and the vampire. Fergus knew this; so he had Charlotte do it for him- the coward! And she died that night...but somehow, the Slayer survived. Since Fergus isn't her sire, he must offer her for the challenge...but he is hoping none will dare!"
Spike stared into space. "This Slayer...what...does she look like?"
"Tres belle, Spike," Isabelle assured him. "What you would call a stunner. Une petite jolie...she is small. So small...one would not think her a threat. But she fought hard...took out all nine."
"When is the challenge, Isabelle?" the blue eyes studying her were suddenly blindingly bright.
Isabelle smiled; her bait had been successful, her fish was on the line.
"Tonight, Spike," she almost purred. "The challenge is tonight."
The house on Hawthorne was huge, and the ballroom that was a relic of bygone days was packed to the limit, and beyond.
So many vampires were present that it was hard to move; yet the large ring in the center remained clear. Spike scanned the crowd; Fergus, forced to offer his Charlotte's childe in the arena, had understandably not wanted a large audience. He was hoping there would be no rivals for his newest prize.
But Isabelle in her fury had spread the word more widely than seemed possible; and there were several Master vampires in that room apart from Spike. The vampires clustered around the edges kept up a ceaseless hum of speculation over whether a battle could conceivably occur. Theoretically, any vampire could challenge another over rights to a human - or to a fledgling whose sire had recently died. Still, the process was extremely rare...since any such dispute meant a fight to the death. Few were prepared to risk that- far easier to bring over another human.
Spike turned the same cold impassive face to everyone; but his mind was working busily. He was present merely to observe- he had no intention of participating. Still, he found himself constantly sizing up newcomers.
Isabelle was also on hand- dark eyes glittering as she swept from one Master to another. It was unlikely any but a Master would be brave enough to challenge Fergus.
Fergus himself looked supremely confident; he was a giant of a man with long red hair, magnificently muscled torso bare as he strode to the center of the ring.
Spike tensed; they were bringing in the former Slayer. She was clad in a long black velvet dress that made her look more deceptively fragile than ever. She was dragged to a chair on an elevated platform at one end of the hall, arms and legs shackled to a ring in the floor. And- she was gagged.
But her eyes surveyed the mob with a look as impassive as Spike's own. Her eyes found him; and he thought he saw a flash of recognition there; but then they moved on, as if he were a stranger.
"What do you think?" a young male in front of Spike murmured softly, his gaze fixed on Fergus. "Could I take him?"
The older male with him reminded Spike of Dalton. "I'd think again, Damien! Fergus isn't Master in L.A. because he's easy to kill. Fight him, you die! It's as simple as that."
Damien shook his head regretfully. "I want a queen...and she's a real looker!"
The older one gave his friend a pitying smile. "Fergus thinks so too- watch him."
Spike followed their eyes- and was startled to see Fergus staring at his captive with ravenous desire. It was obvious he would not lightly give up the prize nearly within his grasp; and even as Spike reached this understanding, Fergus' face vamped and he roared his claim.
On the platform in front of the Slayer a tarot deck had been placed, face down. Fergus chose a card- the Sun, held it aloft, then with a growl, dropped it in the center of the ring.
All sound stopped....and then another vampire stepped forward, seized a card, and threw it on top of the Sun. The card was the Hermit.
With a sudden intake of breath Spike identified the new player- Jaqar the Babylonian, one of the most fearsome killers ever.
Jaqar, all sinuous skill...against the raw power of Fergus.
The excitement in the room was palpable- there would be a notable kill tonight.
Then Damien growled and another card- the Chariot- went spinning out to join the others. The excitement in the room reached frenzied levels.
An older vampire named Jeremiah was acting as major domo; and he spoke aloud. "Quiet, please! There are now three cards in the ring. Any others?"
Spike turned his eyes on the ex-Slayer; but she was staring straight ahead.
With a muffled curse, he thrust forward through the crowd, caught up a card, and threw it onto the pile.
With a sense of something like dismay, he saw the picture clearly- he'd drawn the Lovers.