Chapter 11
by Megan/Peta
*BSV note* Thank you to Megan for this chapter! The author who was supposed to write Chapter 11 suddenly disappeared and Megan had the stress and agony of following up on something that she wasn't quite prepared for. Megan, my apologies and THANK YOU!!!
He wore her blood on his face in gory fashion—not for the first time, nor for the second. But this time was definitely the last. As she lay soaking into his sheets, giving her last over to an agonising moan, he watched. Held still against the wall by a multitude of force—his will and fear, and some strange barrier that kept him from pouncing back on her and finishing what he had been thrown away from. Finishing despite the horrific cavity that was left of her chest. And even as he didn’t think of her, thought of only what he had been deprived, her body drifted to dust and she was no more. Only then did he find his eyes begin to hurt, begin to sweep the room for some explanation for this severe change in his fortune.
He felt the wrench of her reunion with her soul, felt in the air the wicked sense of power and good as she became one with what he had taken from her so long ago. He’d stolen viciously from her, swapped her righteousness, her goodness for a mask with a demon’s morals, dragging her down to wallow at his level of corruption.
But in the muffled scream at his loss, his memory of her faded—rejected what he knew and what he’d known and what he could forever know again. Even as he forced his amber eyes from the doorway out of this room that was dusty with the remnants of his childe’s ash he was striding towards it, barging through the now useless barrier that had held him against the wall.
His heavy form found its stride in the outer room, the minimal number of minions standing frightened against the wall away from their prisoner, away from their Master as he paced in a building fury. Seemingly safe from his rage, it was a shock when he pounced with an ear-shattering roar, tore flesh until a neck twisted and more ash fell around him. It was like a nightmare, an unreality that he was contributing to because his rage felt misguided and lacking in intelligence.
She was so weak, hanging limply and near to fully giving in as she braced against his wall.
“Snap to it, bitch. You’ve got some shoes to fill.”
Resignation dulled the blackness shining at him in hate, but feeling a connection to the spiritual, she'd made the leap. Something had struck with force in this part of the world, shrouded the Hellmouth with equal lashings of approval and punishment—and now it was her turn to pay the due.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
She was curled up into something that had never before been an option. Cool chest against her cheek, cool arms around her back, holding her as she shook in reaction and fear at her sudden change. In her puzzlement she recalled something—a brightening flash of light that fused every element. Heart, mind, body, earth, heaven and hell. She was now one with it all and her glowing eyes shed amber over the shiny flesh of the man beneath her, proving the fact that she was altered and something new.
“There is nothing to fear, Slayer.”
Spike’s head shot up, his body shifting under Buffy’s in such a way that they both became exposed, Spike flinching even as he grabbed at his duster for cover.
“Dru,” he breathed, overcome by the angelic glow she emitted as she took their presence in, took in her smile of obvious delight that this had been her release from hell and damnation. That this had been what her William had been for.
Buffy wove her arms around his neck, dragging her naked body against his as she both emphasised her claim and battled her fear and jealousy. This interloper was so shiny, so pretty, and so obviously no longer a vampire. The shock of the night, the confusion of who she was and what she’d done was too much, and she couldn’t keep secret from her new lover that her pain was causing her body to revolt in tremours.
“What happened, Dru?”
Even without looking Buffy could somehow scent the fall of his tears, could feel the clog of his throat as it squeezed her own tight. It mustered up her own reaction and as her tears fell she buried her face against his shoulder, gripping his biceps in a frantic need to keep him close, to not let him tear after the other and leave her alone and naked in the grass of the cemetery. Buffy could feel the emotional moans that bayed from her belly up to trip off her tongue as it burst from her lips. She rocked against him, his arms tightening around her even as his eyes held the vision before him.
“Do not cry, dear. I know that all this is frightening to you, but if you will be still I can explain it all.”
Spike watched his ex-love suspiciously, convinced that it was his own heart thumping a ragged rhythm in his chest even though it couldn’t ever be. As Buffy’s tears had turned to sobs, the tempo increased within his own chest and now that she was settling, moving closer to accepting a revelation, the thuds were slowing and relaxing until once again he felt them no more.
“What am I? What are we?” the Slayer asked into his skin, never once lifting her watery green eyes to seek answers from the heavenly presence at their side.
“You are one. You are balance,” she answered, an innocent and purely happy smile curving the plumpness of her lips.
Spike rubbed his hands absently over Buffy’s body, despite the receding shakes, and watched his maker carefully.
There was no doubt that she had passed over; this vision of her held the glory of who she was, of who he’d often wondered she could be without the history of Angelus and the many years of bloodshed. He’d been rejected by her for the path of good. He could barely believe it.
“I didn’t know what my place would be, William. You helped to bring me back. Everything about your being with the Slayer is right for you. Is right for her. Is even more right for the world. One of the dark, one of the light, you have brought balance to the world that Angelus too easily took away.”
Buffy didn’t want to raise her eyes, didn’t want her face to be seen and so stayed buried and hiding, waiting for the moment Spike would jump to his feet, run and leave her with the feral nature that had burst upon her face.
“It has almost faded, Buffy.”
The confident reassurance left her sagging in relief, her breathing ragged and gasping as she accepted she was not evil. Knowing now that the change was short lived. She was still herself, but now something more. A part of something huge and much wider than just herself.
She felt the final pull back into place, her pretty face once again dominant in her outward mask and she raised a face that was ravaged with uncertainty and tears. Her skin prickled as she was able to focus more on their predicament, feeling Spike against her and wondering at his warmth. Wondering at the almost primitive nature they had succumbed to bring them to this point. This joining. Her eyes shot wide as she felt the wet slide of his cum as it slipped down the inside of her thigh and she shuffled away from him a little, suddenly finding their show a little awkward in the eyes of this now being of good who watched them.
“Why are you here?” asked Buffy, her voice all a mixture of growly rough and soft disappointment.
“Because Daddy’s back and he’s making something new. He was never mine,” she added sadly, long brown hair falling over her face as even now, with memories restored and heart and soul renewed, she grieved for the loss of the one who had made her for so long through history.
“You are too late, William. It was always to be that I would be released and the gypsy would be his protégé. You must be ready. Must prepare and believe in yourselves, in who you are. In what you are together.”
Buffy pushed herself to sitting, the duster clutched to her breast for protection and decency.
“And what are we?” Her voice was shaky, fearful of what new burden was about to become hers, what new truths were about to knock her world off its axis.
“Everything,” she was told from behind a warm and confident smile before the newly made power of light glowed and hummed, then receded into the night.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Her body was slack as her legs flared awkwardly while being dragged from the wall and through the room, banging hard on whatever obstacle was in the way, mini bruises prettying her skin alongside the darker ones that had been compounded with localised beatings of the past day. She was irrevocably marked; fangs and scratches, whips and chain marks a criss-cross on her skin that told the tale of ownership, the news of her life and her approaching death.
Her eyes were wide, wet and fixed as she stared at the ceiling, her back being pressed hard into the bloodied sheets below her, her blood mingling with that of the one now gone—the one who left behind her Sire and her ashes to soak into the back of the newly initiated.
There was no point in struggling, nowhere to run and no way of making it to the door without a twisted neck, so Jenny Calendar said her goodbyes to the empty night, said her prayers to a forgiving God, and waited for what she knew to be her fate.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
“I-it felt a little like it wasn’t me in control. I mean, I know it was us, but it wasn’t. I want it to be us.”
His heart clenched painfully at the tears that were still on her face, the sadness mixed with euphoria in her shining jade eyes. Spike lifted his hand and ran it through the hair that had fallen over her face, brushing it free so she could see how genuine he was about being okay with what had happened.
“You heard Dru, pet. Was inevitable. Doesn’t mean we can’t reestablish our bond on our own terms, yeah?” He smiled encouragingly and sighed in relief when Buffy nodded, happiness at last the dominant emotion as she tilted her lips up for a kiss. And she knew everything behind the pressure and his tongue and teeth that nibbled her lips. She knew her own moan as she succumbed to the power of being his mate, of being one with him.
Of being Chosen to join with this creature.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
He held a clawed hand around her throat, his other holding one leg bent and high on the bed, blocking her at the knee as his cock tore into her; no lubricant, no passion, nothing but a cruel fuck before he drained her life away. His smile glittered like an animal, his mouth frothing with the pressure of pounding into her hard, not quite as hard as his lovely Dru, but hard enough to crack her open, hard enough to feel her captured screaming terror in her throat.
Each time she closed her eyes he would squeeze his fist harder, and despite knowing she was about to die, reflex kept her cooperative, kept her pliable as he moulded her into the perfect Gypsy Barbie to follow his Dru. Dark hair, beauty incomparable, she would definitely do. As he reached the end—the end he had been deprived of not so long ago, he roared and launched himself at her throat, spearing her savagely with his teeth as he gripped her with the jaws of a predator. Tore her flesh and supped what was left of her body, his hips pistoning in time with the pulse of her blood as it hit the back of his throat. He slowed the thrusts of his cock as her pulse weakened, coming hard as her heart all but stalled.
Pulling back his face was awash with red, the power of gypsy blood making him brave and eager. Using his long nail he carved the sign of the cross into the spongy bell of his dick and shoved into deep into her moaning mouth, spurts of blood and cum gagging her even as he massaged her throat and laughed as the precious fluid soothed into her belly.
It was beautifully vicious and he was well proud of his creation, even if it had been an inspired act, carried out with little preparation.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
It was no less passion, but a shared direction they went as they joined again. His rhythm as he moved inside her was without measure as they stared into each other’s eyes, needing nothing more than the focus of one another. They could lose nothing to instinct, to destiny as they made themselves one in their hearts, and in their soulful depths.
Light, sticky kisses kept at them as they rolled side to side, a slow shift with Buffy now ending on top. She surged in energy as she sank down, sucking him in deep within and rocking against the rigidity that was solely for her pleasure.
She loved it. Was loving him as her eyes overfilled with happy tears and she felt the rub against her nerves that could bring her to a blissful conclusion for the night. And when her heart raced her scream to the stars, she felt her body pulse in time to the bursts that shot within her, felt the run of combined fluids as they mixed and leaked out from between them.
She sobbed into his mouth as he captured her lips again, massaged them desperately in an attempt to keep the clarity, to not lose the moment to some more divine inspiration that had plans for them. This was their moment and she wanted nothing encroaching on her delight, on her acceptance of this new trail of her life.
“I know who I am, Spike. I know who we are.” And she smiled, confident yet sad that for them to be, others had to cease and take up new direction. That her friends would suffer and her watcher—as much as she was annoyed with him—would have to reconcile himself to another loss.
“Ready to go home, baby? Might be an idea to get some kip before you go see your mum tomorrow.”
The Slayer nodded, shyly gaining her feet as she searched around for her clothing. They quickly dressed, kissed once again and began on their way, halting as they spied a shining Drusilla smiling upon them. She made no approach and so they continued on their way, the breaking of dawn little more than a whisper away.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
There had been shifts. No chances were taken in public places where vampires did not need a formal pass. So, shifts had been formed to cover the guilt of losing Jenny. No one was left without the protection of a Slayer, and at night the Scoobies benefited from a confused but reforming vamp.
The hospital did not require invitations and Joyce was too juicy a risk to be left unguarded. As the night rolled on, and Buffy washed and dressed, swapping creams and toothpaste for intermittent kisses with Spike in her bathroom, Kendra paced outside Joyce’s door.
The second Slayer was wary, feeling the pinpricks of danger as it danced up her spine to linger in the base of her skull. Yet she saw nothing, nothing but quiet corridors bereft of rushing doctor or nurse. Joyce was behind her, all plumped up with fresh blood and Kendra felt nothing but the apprehension that was pushing her to her feet, keeping her ready to bounce and kick if the promised threat materialized.
It was like a sharp explosion in her head as she spun around and found the darkness that stalked her. The teacher dressed breast to toe in skintight leather, her jacket barely making the leather bustier decent as her flesh spilled from the top.
“I might have known something like dis would come to pass. I will do my duty; do your worst vampires.”
There was no noise as the struggle commenced, no corruption to the rest and recuperation encouraged behind the closed patient doors. Violence was caught in a warp of overwhelming fear as Kendra found herself outflanked, outchallenged. They were two against one, baying for blood as the one only required dust, but her power was no match against the pair that beat her down, held her struggling against a wall as the male laughed in victory and gave permission for his childe to taste; to claim the blood of a Slayer.
The gypsy vamp called forth her new fangs, the Slayer cringing in fright against the protruding ridges of the once beautiful woman’s face. Her heart beat a frantic rhythm against losing, against dying even as the new one’s fangs were sunk into her vein. The first gulp was interrupted as another burst around the corner, another Slayer and a white-haired vampire bearing down upon the little party. Tides turned and now it was two against three. Angelus tipped his head to the assessing eyes of his childe, and as he got hard watching her continuing to drink even as they put themselves in the path of death, he ordered her to let go and follow him to safety.
They ran, allowing the other to slide down the wall, not waiting to know if she lived or died. Not waiting to gloat at those they were leaving in their wake.
That confrontation was for another day.
The brunette couple merged with the night, malice dripping from tongues and teeth as they tore their way back to their lair.
The shift in the balance was more than compensated. The change was known.
And the gauntlet was thrown.
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