Mastery
by ComedyofErrors
Chapter 5
"Aim just a little higher. At shorter distances it wouldn't be necessary, but from here, gravity begins to affect its flight."
Joyce cocked the crossbow and slid in a new dart. She was getting pretty fast at reloading, if she did say so herself. Rupert was pleased with her progress. He didn't say very much other than 'yes' or 'good' or the occasional 'excellent'. Even so, she could see the maniac gleam behind his eyes flicker to the surface sometimes, when she hit the dummy straight through the heart. He was imagining that it was Angelus, the same as she was.
He'd let out the largest bark of laughter thus far when she accidentally hit the faux vampire through one eye. His grin had been fixed for hours.
She fired the last bolt of the morning, and was satisfied by a firm hit to the heart. This was her fourth day of practice, and she was an exceptionally fast learner. She always had been when there was sufficient motivation. She had learned all the case histories of Angelus by heart. She'd studied Drusilla, too. She now had intimate knowledge about what was most likely happening to her daughter right now.
She wanted revenge. She and Rupert both knew, without ever having spoken of it, that Buffy was probably already beyond saving. If she hadn't committed suicide yet, it was only a matter of time. If she was still alive by the time they raided the Mansion, it was understood that they would put her out of her misery. No. That they would kill her. Or finish killing her, as that bastard had started the job. No euphemisms welcome here. She wouldn't let her daughter suffer. She told herself that, but she wasn't sure she could follow through.
She packed away her crossbow, a present from Rupert, and the bolts, while the watcher hefted the dummy away from the tree beside her house. They left the equipment in the living room, with the other crossbows and the pile of stakes. Her home had quickly become the staging center for the attack that they had planned. It was more conveniently located, being nearer to the monster's layer. And it seemed fitting to plan his demise from Buffy's home.
She had been surprised that Rupert allowed the children to be involved with this. They were so young, like Buffy. But they were much stronger than she would have expected. Willow still sobbed quietly from time to time, but that was all. She was resolved to be a part of this mission. The boy Oz and girl Cordelia she didn't know as well, but they were also determined. Then there was Xander. Rupert seemed especially proud of the way the boy had matured in the last few days. He had military instincts she didn't expect. Xander said they were courtesy of a bad Halloween experience, but they had clearly served him well.
The two men had been planning the attack. They had set up surveillance watches on the mansion; all of the would be fighters kept track of the number of minions that came and went, dusting a few each night in hopes that Angelus would be distracted by their deaths. That he wouldn't realize the scope of their plan. Joyce was less able to help with surveillance, due to her work at the gallery. She was going to take a few days off soon. She would tell everyone she needed some personal time after her daughter was kidnapped.
The police had been in contact, only to say that they had found precisely nothing. Yesterday she had been contacted by a very kind police matron who told her they were doing everything they could to find Buffy, but that they didn't hold much hope. In a town like Sunnydale, a disappearance was as good as a death. Joyce just nodded along, and pretended that this information was a new idea.
Ripper watched Joyce as she arranged her weapon with care. She did the same thing every morning and every evening after target practice. Joyce was stronger than he had imagined her to be. He had a suspicion that Buffy got a good bit of her determination and fire from this woman. If so, Buffy would have been formidable without having been the Slayer.
All of them had performed beyond his expectations. Joyce took to vampire studies like a born watcher. Willow had worked very hard on levitation spells recently. She wanted to use them on stakes during the battle that was to come. Oz was stalwart, and followed orders well. He made no superfluous conversation, but when he spoke it was best to listen. Cordelia had been a surprise. She was practicing her crossbow aim too. He didn't think she had liked Buffy enough to risk death for her sake, but apparently he had no grasp of the relations between teenage girls. And then there was Xander. He was well and truly the Ripper's lieutenant. Ruthless in his dustings of the minions every night, he never shirked his duty. He had even been doing better in his schoolwork, his new found determination bleeding over.
Angelus was already dust. He just didn't know it yet.
Giles took his leave of Joyce, and drove to the school. He entered the library, went to his desk, and pulled a thick folder out of the bottom drawer. Most of his time on campus was spent with this folder in hand. Students came and went. If they needed help he assisted them, brusquely and with a minimum of chat. Always polite, rarely friendly. He shelved books automatically, with a speed that surprised him sometimes. But he always came back to this folder.
It contained hand printed notes, diagrams of the Crawford Street Mansion, the typed minutes of the war councils they'd held every afternoon. It was the sum total of their knowledge on Angelus, Drusilla, and their activities in Sunnydale. Every night the two of them went out to feed at sunset. They returned at midnight. That was the only time when they were out of the Mansion. Minions could be seen entering and leaving at all hours in ones and twos, but the bulk left at dusk, just after their masters.
During the day, the Mansion showed little activity. These vampires were traditional in their preference of nocturnal activity. They had never observed more than four minions on guard at any given time during the day, one at the front entrance, one at the garden door, one at the kitchen, and one at the old servants' quarters. These vampires were confident in their ability to raise an alarm before anything drastic occurred.
Angelus and Drusilla's whereabouts within the structure were something of a question. Once they entered the building, their greatest fear was to be separated. Together, they were an efficient, mobile insertion group. Separate, they were frightened amateurs. The primary goal was the destruction of these two vamps. They needed to get a rough estimate of where they would be during the day if they wanted to take them by stealth.
They had briefly discussed the possibility of creating a disturbance, and drawing them into a trap in one of the Mansion's larger rooms, or even the main hall. There were no guaranties that they would come or that they could be reached in that shambles, however.
Once they eliminated the two leaders, Ripper conjectured that the other vampires would be too frightened to attempt to repulse their attack. It was perfectly reasonable; vampires without a leader were perfectly mercenary. They acted only for themselves. They had one of the highest senses of self-preservation in the demon world.
That left the one wild card. Spike. There was always a chance that he could rally the minions into some kind of force to combat them.
No one had seen anything of the crippled master during the surveillance. They had observed people being brought in by groups of vampires, and had stopped it when possible. However, it was not always possible to get to the humans before they were taken inside. Once there, they probably went to feed the damaged vampire. Or, and this was a far greater worry, Buffy.
It was strange to him that they had not seen any corpses removed during their observation. It was a secondary goal during the battle to liberate any humans who might be alive for snacking purposes during the day time.
The details were coming together. They needed to act soon, already nearing the peak of readiness. Five or six more days would suffice. An eternity for Buffy. But they had only one chance. They couldn't risk failure.
_________________
"You'll need to be cautious. And whatever you do, don't go to Willy."
Ryan paused in his note taking, puzzled. "He has aided us before, Master."
"Yeah, and he'd aid anyone else including Angelus, by selling us out, if it brought the right price." Spike pulled his right leg up to his chest, and massaged the knee cap. Ryan was loyal, but damned if he wasn't a little dense. Like a block of lead. With proper instruction he got the job done though. He would have rather assigned this task to one of the other three, but he had more sensitive occupations for them tonight. Alexa could meet with whoever Ryan selected later, to confirm the suitability of the choice.
"Right. Be off then, and don't let the other minions see you with that notepad. They'll know something's up. Be casual."
"Yes Master." Ryan knew he wasn't the first choice for this job, and that made him nervous. He so wanted to be a good servant, and find the perfect entity to aid them. He wasn't the best judge of character, though. It would have been better for him to find the house, but he was young, and nervous around humans. All that blood rushing was too much of a temptation. It was better that Chris handled that. He was used to dealing with people. And he was horrible at surveillance. Master was wise in his decisions.
Ryan bowed, and left the room, casually, and went out as though to feed. On the way he signaled to Alexa and Jacob, who were licking each other in one corner of the main hall. He knew Chris had already left. Had in fact left during the daytime, covered by a thick blanket. He could understand why a realtor insisted on meeting her clients during the daylight hours in this town. She probably carried holy water with her.
Alexa and Jacob walked hand in hand to the Master's room, knocked, and entered. They had discussed the plan outside his hearing, and were happy to find no flaws in it. Minion culture forbade outright protest before the Master, at least if they wanted to remain undusted, but they had always found polite suggestions to be heard, though sometimes grudgingly.
Alexa could sense the tension in the Master tonight. They knew he was going to be called to witness something tonight. Something bad. He had not told them everything he had learned from Mistress Drusilla, but it had been enough to set him on a daring course. And primarily for the sake of the little blonde vampire being held by her sire. He really had some feeling for her, more than familial, if he was willing to so openly defy Angelus. He was filth, but he was powerful filth.
Spike sniffed the air slightly. These two minions had been making out again. Normally, vampires were not so single minded in their affection. Promiscuity was their way. But these two were different, as he himself was. He hadn't strayed from Dru, even when she went to Angelus. It was reassuring that these two were that devoted to each other. "You know your posts?"
"Yes Master." It was Alexa who replied. She was the dominant in the relationship, as she was in many conversations. Jacob was bright, like her, just quiet.
"Remember. The Watcher is the biggest threat. Angelus spoke slightingly of all the rest, but that doesn't mean they're as stupid as he claims. It only takes one lucky shot with a crossbow."
"What would you have us do if we encounter them?" Good for Jacob. Asking important questions.
"It depends on what they do. Use your judgment. You don't want to turn and run if they can get you in the back. Do not, under any circumstances, kill them. Just go, watch, and don't let them suspect that you are there. I need all the information I can get on what they have planned, and their numbers."
The minions nodded. "Be well tonight Master. We will bring you food and news in the morning."
"Good luck. To all of us." We'll need it, Spike thought to himself.
______________
Miss Edith said Daddy was playing with fire. Fire pretty. Dru loved the flames as they flickered and died and were reborn. Sweet William had caught her playing with them once, when the fire came to sit on her hand. He had been frightened and made her promise not to play again. But if Daddy played it must be alright.
Daddy said it was time for Spike to come and meet Little Sister. He would watch tonight. Dru skipped happily down the hall to William's room, and breezed in. He was already in his chair, such a good boy he remembered what she'd told him last night. How she was to fetch him.
Spike didn't bother to smile, or respond to Dru's chatter. He just wanted to get there, get this over with, and get back. He hated to admit it, but he was squeamish enough about Angelus being with Buffy without having to witness it. They rolled down the hallway at an irritatingly slow pace, and paused for Dru to do a few elegant twirls before opening Angelus's bedroom door.
Spike was pushed inside and around to the near side of the bed. Apparently they wanted him to get a good view. He could here Angelus in the bathroom, probably doing his bloody hair. Bastard always did like to be watched. It was surprising he didn't have the fucking minions here to admire his skill. Dru skipped over to the bathroom door, knocked on it rhythmically, and was admitted.
Spike hadn't needed to look for her when he first entered. He could feel her to one side, at the foot of the bed. He glanced at the couch which contained her now, while Angelus and Dru couldn't comment on his scrutiny. And he couldn't take his eyes away from the spectacle.
It was exactly what he'd imagined. That didn't mean it was easier to look at. His proud slayer in chains. Hair and clothing plastered to her body by old sweat and mud. Unwashed. And worst, he could smell Angelus's cum all over her. Her eyes were open, staring blankly ahead, toward the bed. How did she still manage to be beautiful? Because she did.
Her game face was a sight to behold. She had a high forehead, and cheekbones that met with her eye ridges in tear drop shaped sockets. The ridges were smooth, and slight, and her fangs were sharp, and needlelike. She looked more like a sprite than a demon.
Her face was calm, sad, touching. A scared little girl trying and failing to be a martyr. It was a fucking tragedy. She looked sculpted in her stillness. Immobile. She used to fidget with nervous energy, bounce on her toes, and smile involuntarily from time to time. He remembered on the tapes he had of her fighting style, and the more enjoyable personal encounters, that she had such passion. Now, it was as though she'd become used to the chains already.
Angelus walked in from the bathroom, shirtless, with Dru hanging form his arm. Smug wanker was going to get his. He just wished for Buffy's sake it could be sooner. But they had only one chance of making this work, and patience was key. And it was also far from his strong suit. Especially faced with a sight like this. His slayer, brought low by a bastard like Angelus. It was sacrilegious, to do that to her. She was his. Would be his.
Buffy felt Dru bring him in. She felt him staring at her, and decided to return the favor. She hadn't seen Spike in quite a while. Hadn't even really thought about him. Seeing him now made her realize no one else had been thinking about him either. He was skeletally thin, and still wheelchair bound, probably because of malnutrition. She met his eyes, and was startled by the depth the clear blue showed.
She had expected him to laugh, or at least make snide comments. He didn't. He just looked at her with complete sympathy. Did she look worse than him, that she deserved it? Maybe he just understood so well what she was going through that he couldn't help but be moved. Misery loves company, and they were certainly the two most miserable beings in the general area. She found herself returning the sympathetic stare.
"Well, I think its time we begin this demonstration." Angelus walked over to Buffy, and Spike saw her tense ever so slightly. Still not quite dominated. Good. He unlatched her chains from the floor without actually releasing her wrists or ankles, and set her on the bed so that she was facing Spike. Angelus walked between them, and stood leaning against a bedside table, adorned with an iron lamp.
"Now, Childer, this night is exclusively for your benefit. To remind you, and by that I mean William and Buffy, what is required of you in the way of familial duties. I want you to learn from Drusilla. Observe how she does not question my authority. She does not complain, and addresses me properly. Therefore, she is happy, well fed, and does not need to be disciplined.
"The two of you, on the other hand, have failed many times in this respect. This is the last chance I give you to learn and take advantage of my leniency. If you cross me in the future, beatings do not begin to cover the depth of chastisement that I am required to use to teach you." Angelus forcibly held off the smile that threatened to break out on his face. Spike snorted, and looked away. Angelus darted forward and clocked the side of his head with the reading lamp.
Buffy watched as Spike's head rolled back, and he panted slightly at the pain. Her immediate impulse was to get up and help him, stem the blood flow from his punctured temple. The chains prevented her. After a moment he righted himself, and looked suitably subdued.
Angelus sighed. "This is the kind of thing I'm talking about Will. I wouldn't have thought a cripple who lives out of my kindness would be so ungrateful. Darla would have killed you Will, long ago, if she found you disabled. It weakens the bloodline to have you here, like this. It is my affection for you that keeps you alive. Don't you think him a bad childe Buffy?"
Spike saw Buffy's eyes go wide, and look at his, pleading for him to understand. He did, and nodded. "Yes, Master," she replied.
"Good. I'm glad that your judgment is improving, Buffy." He pushed Buffy to the far side of the bed, away from Spike, and beckoned for Dru while tossing away his trousers. She came, and immediately began to undress for him. He leaned forward and bit her, hard, and she cooed in response. Once she was undressed, he reached back and spanked her hard on the ass. Dru purred, and arched her neck, murmuring thank you's.
As the couple took to the bed, with Dru on the bottom and Angelus rutting above her, Buffy and Spike looked away. Consequently, they looked at each other. The empathy between them deepened. They were here, listening and smelling as past loves that had abandoned them flaunted their current lover; there was something uniting in an experience like that. Buffy was surprised when Spike, after a clandestine peek at the two vampires, turned his attention back to Buffy, and gave the couple two thumbs down.
Buffy didn't know whether to cry or laugh. She wanted to do both but neither was available. So she beamed back at him. She felt a sudden jar back to herself. All day long she had just been waiting. Given the demon reign, suppressed herself. Hadn't thought about anything but the now, because the past was an ache of pleasure and remorse, and the future was an unknown terror. But Spike was a link. He was in the past, he was here suffering with her, apparently unconcerned that they used to be enemies, and he was part of her future in this family. It was a comfort. It gave her back a little of herself, and she was grateful.
Angelus finished with Dru, and gave her a little Sire's blood as a reward for playing so well. "Now, Buffy, it's your turn." He rolled the little slayer over, onto her back. It would be an awkward position with the chains, but he didn't want her burying her face in the blankets and pretending she was elsewhere. He thrust in without bothering to see if she was ready. She wasn't, and let out a little cry of pain, and closed her eyes.
He slapped her. "Buffy, I didn't tell you to close your eyes. You look at me while I grant you this opportunity."
"Yes, Master," she answered. Spike clenched his fists to keep from protesting. It would do neither of them any good. He saw the little spark he'd struck recede as Angelus pounded into her, drawing blood in his viciousness. Dru, not to be left out, reached between them and began to flick the slayer's nipples. Spike saw Buffy shudder at her touch. Angelus and Buffy climaxed. Buffy made no sound, and seemed to take no pleasure. Angelus slit his wrist across a fang, and let Buffy drink.
"Good girl Buffy. You see, even though you don't give me the pleasure Dru does, you can still be fed when you behave." Spike's fists tightened further, his short nails drawing blood from his palms. Buffy looked catatonic. Completely submissive.
Dru whined and Angelus motioned her over. He didn't move Buffy aside, just laid Dru beside her and started again. "Oh, Will, you're dismissed."
Spike gripped the wheels on his chair and headed for the door. As he reached it he angled himself around to get a last glimpse of Buffy. She was staring at him, her eyes nervous, as though expecting some blame for what had happened. Spike forced his angered face to soften, and sent as much reassurance to her in a look as he could. She smiled back, apparently relieved.
He wheeled away quickly, seething. He and his minions were going to have a very long talk come dawn. 'Hold on pet.'
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Please R&R
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