| End of the Bloody Line. Bloodshedverse Round Robin. by BSV added |
| Chapter #3 - Chapter 3 Starshine |
| End Of The Bloody Line Chapter Three by Starshine "What do you say, Slayer? You gonna help me take out Angelus?" Buffy squirmed under the intensity of those fiery sapphire eyes. She moved closer to her mother; still not fully aware of her surroundings. His question penetrated the fog in her head and she forced herself to focus solely on him. Take out Angel? The thought sent panic through her entire being. How could she even fathom the thought? Spike smirked. "Oh come on, Slayer. Get your head out of the bloody clouds, will ya? After what we just went through, you can't still think that you’re gonna get your little lapdog back? You saw him. You heard the things he said. That was Angelus talking, luv. Your broody, soul-having Angel is no more.” "There—there has to be another way." Buffy tried to suppress a shudder of revulsion as she remembered Angelus’ words to her. Pure, unadulterated evil had glittered in his merry brown eyes. He opened his mouth to say something when he suddenly doubled over with a shout of pain. Everyone in the room watched in amazement as he clutched at his stomach; his face a twisted mask of agony. "W-what's happening?" Willow stammered nervously. Buffy had no idea what possessed her. She hurried to Spike's side and rested a comforting hand on his back, easing him down to the floor. “Don’t, Buffy, it’s some kind of trick,” Giles made a move to stop her, only to be brought up short by the fierce look she shot at him. “Spike? What is it?” she asked urgently. “Tell me what to do.” "Bloody hurt's," Spike groaned. "Need…Make them go," He looked up at her pleadingly. "I need a minute alone with Spike," Buffy said without hesitation. The room erupted but she held up a hand to still their protests. "NOW!" she barked in a no-nonsense voice. Muttering and exchanging wary glances, they all trooped reluctantly out of the living room and into the kitchen, herded along by Joyce. Buffy made sure they were out of earshot and then knelt down beside the tormented blonde vampire. He closed his eyes for a moment then stared blankly at the ceiling. "I guess it's done then," he muttered. He sighed and reached up to skim his fingers lightly over Drusilla's old mark on his neck. "What's done? What are you talking about?" "Dru has released me." "Released you?" It said a lot about Spike's state of mind that he would allow the Slayer to help him to his feet and lead him to sit on the sofa they had spent the night on. He sank back against the cushions with a pained sigh. "Your boyfriend is gone Slayer. He belongs to her now. They belong to each other." "How can you know this?" she demanded, her voice edged with a hint of hysteria. "You're lying." "For a slayer, you know precious little about the creatures you hunt. Dru and I were never mated, but I can feel her through the sire/childe bond. The only thing that can break that familial bond is for the sire to cast the childe aside, for whatever reason strikes their fancy.” Buffy dropped down beside him, all the strength leaving her legs. "You mean they’re…" "Mated, claimed, the whole bloody nine yards. I can't feel a thing from her; not even a twinge of remorse. Be nice to have at least that. Over a hundred years and it's sayonara, Spike and hello, Great Poof." She stared at him, amazed that she was she actually feeling sympathy for someone that had sent a whole order of assassins after her. "You okay?” Spike took deep, unnecessary breath. "Not really. I’m alone now. Gotta say that I never expected this to happen," he said with a short, bitter laugh. “Trust Angelus to bollix up my grand scheme.” "I'm sorry," she said quietly, resting a tentative hand on his black-clad knee. "Not half as sorry as you are gonna to be if you don’t wise up, Slayer,” he sneered. Jerking her hand back, she glared at him. "What do you mean?" "He's not Angel anymore, ducks. He's Angelus; the Scourge of Europe. He’s a manipulative master of mind games and an expert at mental and physical torture.” "This coming from the self-proclaimed Slayer of Slayers?" Buffy snapped. Spike regarded her with barely concealed contempt. “Self-proclaimed? Hardly, luv. I was given that name by your very own Council of Wankers. Yeah, I’ve killed two of your kind, but at least I gave ‘em the honor of defending themselves. Angelus doesn’t work that way. You have no idea what you’re up against with him, Slayer. I know him. I know BOTH of them. They’re…." He suddenly gripped her small hands in his and leaned towards her until they were almost nose to nose, his blue eyes blazing into hers. Buffy made no move to pull away from him, fascinated by his intensity and uncomfortably aware of the tingles that raced up her arms from his touch. “Angelus won’t come after you directly. Not his style, you see. He’ll go after all you hold dear; your mum, your watcher, and all your little scooby friends. Oh, he’s gonna have a real good time with you, Slayer, because he KNOWS what makes you tick. He has all the inside information he needs and he’ll use every scrap of his knowledge to torture you and make your life a living hell. By the time he gets done, you’ll welcome death simply for the relief from his torment.” He gave her a considering look. “That is, unless he turns you.” Buffy snatched her hands away from him and leapt to her feet, pacing back and forth in agitation. As badly as she wished they weren’t, Spike’s words were finally sinking in and she was getting the true picture of what dealing with Angelus was going to entail. ”So, how do we stop them?” she asked, folding her arms tightly over her stomach in an unconscious defensive gesture. “Just tell me what I have to do to beat him. You take care of Drusilla.” Spike lifted his scarred eyebrow sardonically at her choice of words. “You sure you’re gonna be able to handle this, Slayer? Not gonna go all catatonic on me again like you did at the church, are you?” “I can handle it.” He stood up and moved to stand uncomfortably close to her. “This isn’t about getting them back, princess. They’re mated now, and the only way to break that bond is for one of them to cast the other aside. Never gonna happen. Drusilla finally has her Daddy, and Angelus…well, Dru was always his greatest creation. Nothing will come between them. This is about putting them in the bloody ground, casting their dust to the four winds. You gettin’ my point here?” She flinched at his harsh tone, but proudly stood her ground. “I said I could handle it!” she spat. After a few tense moments, Spike nodded. “Right, then. I have a pretty good handle on both of them and what makes them tick. They’ll expect me to go for a spot of revenge, and Angelus will definitely be waiting for you to try and take them down. We need to do whatever we can to throw him off his game, and one thing that will drive him as batty as Dru would be to make him think we’re together.” “Huh?” The mystified expression on her face and her oh-so-eloquent response brought forth an amused chuckle from the vampire. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that, Goldilocks?” he snarked. She frowned ferociously. “I know you aren’t implying that we try to convince them that we’re…a couple?” “That’s exactly what I’m sayin’, luv. Angelus is a territorial bastard. Doesn’t matter that he’s never claimed you, he considers you HIS. The thought of you and I being together will drive him to distraction, and that’s exactly what we want.” Buffy laughed in his face. “I’m not that good an actress, Spike. There is no way I’d be able to stomach your presence long enough to convince Angel that we have a—a THING going on,” she declared. His eyes narrowed in anger at her inappropriate show of mirth. “Shall I prove you wrong, Slayer?” he asked in a deceptively silky voice. “You’re welcome to TRY,” she smirked, supremely confident in her ability to resist anything he might throw at her. A sudden thought had her pointing a finger at his perfectly shaped nose. “And no thrall thingie, either!” Spike gave her a scornful look. “I don’t do thrall; that’s Dru’s gig, not mine. Unlike some I could mention I don’t need to resort to parlor tricks to get what I want.” She rolled her eyes at his show of bravado. “Whatever. Just get on with it so I can say ‘I told you so’.” Without another word, he bent his head and covered that luscious, smart-assed mouth with his own. She gasped at his audacity, leaving her mouth open and vulnerable to the agile assault of his cool tongue. When she gave a muffled sound of protest and tried to pull back, his hands shot out to stop her retreat, digging into the curve of her hips and dragging her up against him. Buffy squeaked and pressed her hands against his chest, trying vainly to push him away. She tried to bring her knee up to his groin, but found it quickly trapped between the hard muscles of his thighs. A low, purring growl of warning emanated from his throat as he continued his onslaught on her mouth. The sound seemed to vibrate through her from the hands that rested on his chest through her entire body before centering low in her belly. The cadence of his kiss changed from harsh aggression to gentle coaxing in the span of a heartbeat; his tongue outlining the pout of her lips before plunging inside to curl around hers once more. A pervasive lassitude settled over her limbs and she slumped against him in surrender. Her mind was numb but her body had never felt so alive, she realized with stunned surprise. How could Spike-- evil, soulless Spike who had promised to bathe in her blood-- have this affect on her? Against her will, she found herself returning his kiss and arching eagerly into him. The instant she began to respond to his touch, Spike practically threw her away from him, breathing in harsh, unnecessary gasps. Both struggled to regain some measure of control at they stared at each other. He recovered faster than she and allowed a knowing smirk to curve his lips. “Guess you’re a better actress than you though, eh pet?” With an inarticulate sound of rage, she drew back and punched him in the nose |