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Bloodshedbaby
Chapter 13
From her kneeling position beside the dead Order assassin,
her eyes remained glued on the vampire that was toying with his “food.”
Clearly the human male was no match for Spike, no matter how hard the
assassin might have trained.
She didn’t interrupt his play, hands pressed tightly
against the jagged slash across her middle, courtesy of this small band of
assassin’s leader, now dead like she promised him.
The Slayer ignored the pain of it and the various nicks marring her arms
and legs, while she waited patiently for the vampire to finish off the last of
Order’s Sunnydale cell. Besides,
with the cracked ribs and the fact that there was no part of her body that
didn’t ache to some small degree, it wasn’t like she could rise on her own,
or draw a deep enough breath to bellow at Spike to hurry it along already.
His taunts to his opponent were drifting back to her, his
voice growing more and more faint as blood leaked slowly between her fingers.
It was starting to get to her, the blood loss – making her steadily
weaker by the minute. The room was
beginning to spin; images were getting blurry.
Then faded to black…
~*~
Spike had seen the Slayer’s last adversary fall beneath
her blade, the scent of blood heightening his bloodlust, making him draw out
this last kill. His mind
concentrated solely on the human before him, the desire to prolong his sport so
that his demon could revel in the fear permeating from every pore of the man’s
body – so much so – that he didn’t detect the faint signature of her
blood.
When he calmed from his latest torture round, his senses
picked up what had been unconsciously goading his demon to be exceptionally
brutal in his attack.
With the human pinned against the wall, held there by his
chokehold around the assassin’s throat, his head whipped around to see the
Slayer collapsed upon the floor, her blood staining the palms that had tried to
stem the flow.
Rage consumed him. The
inhuman roar he let out, testament to his anger and pain.
The vampire’s eyes were back on the man dangling against
the wall in a flash. His amber gaze
holding nothing but death.
It was mercifully quick.
A lot more than the assassin deserved, or what Spike wanted to
grant him. But, he didn’t matter.
Only the Slayer did.
Fangs unerringly found the artery beating erratically in
the man’s neck. Seconds later,
the vampire was finished, dropping the corpse where it may fall to race to
Buffy’s side.
Her heartbeat was slow, but it was still there.
She needed blood, and fast…
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Several hours
earlier…
“They took the bait,” she announced to the vampire at
her side. Probably a useless piece
of information given that he’d probably heard every word of the exchange.
He nodded anyway, out of habit.
They’d chosen an abandoned building out in the middle of
nowhere for their final confrontation, gambling on the fact that the Order’s
assassins would view her proposal as the odd-stacking event is was meant to be
– only it would be in her favor, not theirs. She was to meet them alone, weapons didn’t matter, or all
bets were off regarding her loved ones. Buffy
had agreed, only with the insistence that she was going to confirm that there
was no one left behind spying on her family or friends.
The assassin said he was pulling them back now, giving his
“men” a chance to go over their battleground before she arrived.
“Two hours. Come
alone.”
He’d hung up then, leaving her listening to the dial tone
for a moment before replacing the handset in the cradle.
By all outward appearances, she’d be alone.
But, the deserted office building had been chosen for a reason.
Situated in the middle of nowhere, it had a sewer tunnel that led
directly to it, allowing the vampire to make his way there unseen.
Then, between the two of them, they could take out the six remaining
members before returning to their quest for the source – the stronghold of the
Order of Taraka.
The two parted ways not long after… Spike to make his way
to the abandoned building undetected, the Slayer to confirm the Order’s
withdrawal.
She cared not in the least that she’d outright lied to
the assassin. There was no honor
left among them after having threatened all those she held dear, and she
couldn’t find it in herself to exhibit even a small amount of fair play.
Nope. They’d
made a mistaking in going after anyone but their intended target, and she would
see them all dead.
By any means necessary.
~*~*~*~*~
Her first stop was her mom’s, and she just barely managed
to hide from Giles as he’d stormed up to her front door – no doubt to inform
Joyce that he’d heard from her. Although,
with the single-mindedness of his intent, it was doubtful he would have noticed
her even if she were standing right before him. Buffy didn’t hang around to hear their conversation.
Instead, she finished up her reconnaissance of the others’ homes and
the high school before she began making her way towards the abandoned building.
~*~
She knew the moment the assassin began trailing her.
Like a defense mechanism created out of necessity, she’d evolved her
Slayer abilities so that she could detect anyone that seemed to come within a
certain range, human or demon. If
nothing else, she could thank the Order for allowing her to realize her true
potential. Buffy dismissed him out of hand; he was probably the lowest
man on the totem pole, thus beneath her notice.
And, he wasn’t doing anything more than making sure she arrived alone.
~*~
The Slayer threw open the door and strode boldly inside.
Her gaze swept around the room in an instant, placing the five remaining
assassins, marking the leader by his stance and attitude.
He was the only one that didn’t twitch slightly at her presence.
‘That’ll soon
change. Soon you’ll be begging for your life.’
“Ahhhh… Slayer. So
good of you to join us! Like the new look, by the way,” the man greeted, pushing himself away from the wall he’d been lounging against
as he did so.
His deceptively lazy movements didn’t fool her in the least.
Almost as tall as Angel, but built more like Spike, he was a man that was
very comfortable in his skin, the tightly coiled muscles just waiting to strike.
“Cut the crap,” she ground out and crossed the
barren warehouse until she was almost nose-to-nose with him, the tails of her
leather duster flying out behind her at her ground-eating pace.
“I want your word that after today no one, and I mean no
one, goes after my family or friends again.”
In the blink of an eye, she had her knife out of her boot
and had drawn its sharp surface across the palm of her hand.
The red line of blood appeared almost instantaneously, and Buffy thrust
it out to the lead assassin to mark her blood oath.
He smirked at her, revealing a row of uneven yellowing
teeth. She didn’t move, just
waited – all night if need be – for him to agree to her demand.
Buffy refused to speak again. She
wanted to make like she was putting on a brave front, like she was expecting to
die and was just trying to settle her affairs.
Truth was, no one would be coming after her family again because none of
the assassins here in Sunnydale were escaping with their lives.
With painstaking movements, the male assassin went through
the show of cutting his palm and gripping her outstretched hand.
He made as if to crush it, his human appearance no doubt belying the fact
that he was part, if not all, some type of demon.
Buffy just smiled at him.
When he backhanded her, the force of which separated their
joined hands and caused her to fall back a few paces, her grin got even bigger.
He didn’t like it, the defiance she showed in the wake of
the overwhelming odds against her. It was like she was privy to something, some
secret that he was being made to wait for.
It pissed him off, and with an arrogant nod of his head, he indicated the
other members of his group to attack.
Buffy was ready for them.
The pack was closing in on her, armed with various weapons – no guns
– that they were smacking menacingly against the palm of their other hand as
they neared. From her crouched
position, she drew the dagger from its hiding place at the small of her back and
covered by her duster.
It flew through the air, the barely audible whoosh not
heard by its intended victim until it was too late, the hilt protruding from the
female’s throat marking its trajectory. The woman stopped in her tracks,
frantically clutching at the dagger’s handle, before falling to her knees and
toppling sideways – dead before her head hit the ground.
They stopped en masse and stared at their fallen comrade.
Not willing to believe that the Slayer – who all research had indicated
couldn’t (or wouldn’t) take a human life – had just calmly as you
please done that very thing.
In that moment, as they turned from the downed woman to the
girl slowly gaining her feet, taking note of the unholy gleam in her eyes, the
assassins realized that they may have underestimated the Slayer.
As her eyes shifted towards the door at the far corner,
they were helpless to do the same. To
see what could have pulled her attention away from them…
He moved as if in slow motion, his entrance dramatic and
fear invoking. The vampire was
garbed head to toe in black, the trademark duster speaking his identity even
with the lack of platinum-blond hair. His
sudden presence caused the head assassin to draw back in surprise, as if the
thought that Slayer and vampire would team up had never occurred to him.
“Welcome to the party, honey!” Buffy called out,
gesturing to the remaining assassins. “Dinner,
as they say, is served.”
Spike smirked at her, the bones of his face shifting as his
demon prepared to do battle.
The place erupted into activity, the assassins – demon
and human alike – squared off against the Slayer and vampire, the majority of
which figured the Slayer the lesser of two evils and ganged up on her.
Weapons, fists, and kicks came at her from all directions and Buffy was
hard pressed to hold the three off long enough to retrieve her dagger from the
throat of the fallen female assassin. A
wicked right cross to the mouth sent her reeling in that direction, and if the
punch, and subsequent gash across her leg, hadn’t hurt so bad, she might have
been tempted to thank the person that did it.
Shaking off the pain, she snagged her weapon and resumed
her position. Buffy took several
blows to her body, her cropped sword no match for the longer “true” swords
of two of her opponents. She
didn’t let it get to her, though; she was determined to come out the winner in
this battle.
A sudden scream rang out, and the Slayer figured Spike had
killed one of his two opponents, and she mentally breathed a sigh of relief when
one of her own attackers left to do battle with his comrade against the vampire.
That just left her with the assassin that had trailed her
into the building and the ringleader.
Her mind shifted until the majority of it was engaged
fighting off the demon; the human was easy pickings and was more in the way of
the two combatants than an actual help for his cohort.
The leader, with his long reach and even longer sword was slowly hacking
away at her energy level that had been liberally laced with adrenaline.
She felt the human try to sneak up behind her, and Buffy
sacrificed her weapon to take him out of the equation, throwing her dagger much
like she had against the female earlier. Her
aim was true and he went down without a fight.
But, she took a swipe of the demon’s blade across her midsection as
payment.
The Slayer was sent to the ground from the force of the
blow, and she used the momentum to take her towards the human…and her weapon.
Pulling it from his chest without moments to spare as the demon was
attempting to deliver his deathblow. Summoning
every ounce of Slayer strength she possessed, she managed to raise her dagger
and deflect the strike. He wasn’t
prepared for the move, and it threw him momentarily off balance.
Just enough for her to let loose with her dagger once more.
Eyes wide in shock, he first stared at her in confusion,
then at the hilt that was the only visible protrusion from where it was buried
deep in his chest, crumpling to the floor when his legs gave out.
As she crawled over to where the demon lay dying, if not dead, another
scream rent the air. This left just one assassin remaining, and she watched as
Spike spared her a glance to see how she was doing.
She nodded at him, indicating that she was fine; he smile back then began
to play with his opponent…drawing out this final kill.
“Told you mine would be the last face you see before you
died,” she gasped out around her pain, arms crossed over her middle to try and
stem the flow of blood spilling from the huge gash across her stomach.
“C-can’t s-stop….Taraka…k-k-keep c-coming…” the
ringleader choked out around the blood pooling in his mouth.
“Not if you cut off its head,” she ground out.
And using the last of her strength, she wretched the dagger from his
chest and slit his throat.
Blood splattered everywhere, but she didn’t care.
Her body was shutting down, weary from the numerous cuts peppering her
skin, not to mention the near fatal blow to her middle.
From her kneeling position near the dead assassin, her
strength gave way. Her legs
collapsed, causing her butt to connect with her feet.
Then she tipped over sideways, unconscious.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Present time…
With the Slayer practically bleeding out in his arms, Spike
raced towards the hospital, bursting into the Emergency Room and demanding in
his most fearsome voice for assistance.
Men and women dressed in what looked like pajamas came
rushing towards him, their experienced eyes assessing the situation, brains in
high gear as they prioritized the Slayer’s wounds – all while barking out
questions of the dark-haired male that had been carrying her.
Yes, no, I don’t know, and Summers were his answers to
questions like, “’Did you see what happened?’ ‘Are you hurt?’ ‘Do
you know where her family is?’ and ‘What’s her name?’”
Spike didn’t yell for them to concentrate on helping the
Slayer; they seemed capable of doing two things at once.
Then the Slayer was loaded on a gurney and wheeled through imposing
double doors and into one of the rooms.
A woman appeared before him a moment later, her petite
form, yet gruff exterior, reminding him of one of those tiny dogs that annoyed
the hell out of bigger, “badd”er dogs.
He found himself led to a chair and more detailed questions were asked of
him – none of which he knew the answers to.
She rolled her eyes at him and told him to go have a seat in the waiting
area, while she inputted what information he did know into the computer and
attempted to find something that might cross-reference so that she could find
contact information for the girl’s parents.
The vampire ignored her suggestion, striding through the
swinging double doors like he owned the place.
When a nurse rushed up to him to say that he wasn’t allowed back here,
he just growled and took up sentry in a corner. She gave up and let him stay; he was out of the way and she
really didn’t want to have to think about the dog-like growl he’d given her.
She had been born in Sunnydale; she knew about the crazy
stuff that went on in this town at night.
~*~*~*~*~
Joyce dropped the phone, her fingers shaking too bad to
properly secure it back in its cradle.
“Joyce, what is it?” Giles called out as he rushed from
the living room into the kitchen. He
took in her shaking hands and pale face and rushed to her side.
“I-It’s Buffy…she was just admitted to the ER.”
“Oh dear lord!”
“I-I need to go…” Her voice trailed off and she moved
to look for her purse and car keys. Giles
managed to catch her before her legs gave way and she crumbled to the floor.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured, easily lifting the
distraught woman in his arms and moving towards the front door. She didn’t put up any fuss at being carried so familiarly;
Joyce didn’t think she could stand on her own two feet anyway.
She’d known her daughter was back in Sunnydale, but
not why. The nurse had said she’d
been mugged, apparently slashed repeatedly with a knife of some kind.
The only reason she was still alive was because some man happened upon
her and rushed her to the hospital. Joyce
just hoped he was still there…so that she could thank him personally.