Chapter 12
~*~*~*~*~
So that now, to still
the beating of my heart, I stood repeating,
"'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door-
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;-
This it is, and nothing more."
Edgar Allen Poe
The Raven
~*~*~*~*~
Buffy woke at sunset,
languid in the cool embrace of her Sire and lover. She licked at the wounds on her wrists caused by the steel
manacles that had held her motionless whilst he bit and clawed at her earlier.
The kills had been vicious, the victims dying in agony as Spike vented
his fury at Angel’s escape. On
their return he’d continued his violence, chaining her to the bed and fucking
her with feral abandon. It was
intoxicating, the feeling of helplessness that being bound engendered.
To be weak, overpowered by another’s strength – it made her head
swim. Turning to her left, she
settled herself on her elbow to gaze down at the resplendent sight of Spike’s
naked body. He turned to meet her
eyes.
“What, luv?” he
growled.
“I’m just wondering
what I can do to make you scream…Sire…” she whispered before bending her
head to nip at his lips.
Her amber eyes were
locked on his as she drew back from him to settle on the bed, her bruised arms
behind her head. He followed her
movement, rushing to grab her wrists and settle himself between her legs, his
cock hard in an instant as he brushed her wet curls with the swollen head.
“Buffy…” he licked
her neck, lapping at his original bite mark, reopened during their lovemaking.
He growled against her, the vibration traveling south to resonate between
her legs. She pushed against him,
eager to feel him inside her again, to feel her lover, her Sire, dominate her
completely.
“You are such a bad
girl…so raw…and you are mine,”
he ground out before sinking his fangs again into her marble flesh.
She responded by wrapping her legs around him, rubbing her clit against
the length of his erect shaft and drawing blood with her fingernails on his
back. The pain of the nails digging
into his skin enraged his demon and he bit down harder, ripping at her flesh
savagely. One shift of his hips and
his cock sank inside her cool and grasping pussy, marveling anew at the
tightness as the muscles gripped him mercilessly.
Buffy whimpered with the
pain of the bite, a whimper that quickly became a keen of passion as he thrust
into her long and hard. The bed was
creaking alarmingly, having already traveled a fair distance across the room to
hit into the chest of drawers against one wall. The assorted candlesticks and demonic icons arrayed on top
had long since crashed to the floor, the entire bedroom looking like a battle
zone. The entwined vampires were
heedless to the noise they were making as they gouged at bare flesh with teeth
and nails, lips and tongues.
They were also heedless
to the pale, anguished face that looked in through the doorway, her eyes filled
with yearning and loss. Drusilla
looked at her lover, his back and buttocks covered in scratches, neck bitten and
bloody and she couldn’t stand by any longer.
She wanted him back. She
could smell him, the tang of his semen making her mouth water, the scent of his
blood making her stomach rumble. He
was hers; the blonde fledgling would have to go.
“Shhh, shh Miss
Edith…Daddy will fix it…we’ll go get Daddy and he’ll take the nasty
Slayer away. Then we can have
games and cake…and Princess can have her Spike to play with again.
But he’ll need to be punished first…bad dog.”
Drusilla hummed along to
herself as she made her way out of the factory. Willow watched her go. This
wasn’t good. Angel
couldn’t be allowed to interfere, there was too much at stake.
~*~*~*~*~
It took Dru two hours to
track down her Sire, and even then it was only because of her psychic abilities
that she was able to do so. She
couldn’t sense him vampire to vampire; he’d taken pains to hide away.
But a good little girl
always knew where her Daddy was…
Skipping as she drew
nearer to his hiding place, Drusilla giggled.
This was a good game, and Daddy would make everything better.
She’d have her Spike back to herself and the new dolly would be gone.
The steps down to the
sunken garden were littered with ivy leaves and litter, the surface slippery
under her feet. Now she was nearer,
she could sense him through the Sire-Childe bond just as he could sense her.
There was no noise, no movement, but he was inside the derelict mansion
awaiting her next move. Drusilla stilled as she approached, a sudden moment of
lucidity washing over her. What
exactly did she expect Angel to do? Take
Buffy off Spike’s hands, stake her, claim her?
She really didn’t know, she just knew that she was in trouble and her
Daddy would fix it.
“Angel?
Where are you?” she sang out, stepping through the boarded up doorway.
“Daddy? Princess needs her
Daddy…”
“What do you want,
Dru.” An unkempt figure stepped
out from behind a pillar, the moonlight illuminating his drawn and haggard
features, outlining his greasy and neglected hair. The vampire was taking the news of Buffy’s turning
hard it seemed; he hadn’t fed in days, his cheeks sunken, and his skin hanging
loosely on his large frame. His
eyes were haunted with grief and recrimination, guilt adding to the mix too.
“Daddy; poor sad
Daddy…” The vampiress slowly padded over to Angel’s side and wordlessly
hugged him to her, cradling his head at her neck and singing him a lullaby.
Angel gave himself over to her comforting, no strength left to protest.
What was there left for him to resist for?
Buffy was gone, worse than gone. She
was damned to eternal torment and he was responsible for it.
He should have found out what Spike was up to before Buffy got hurt.
It ripped his insides apart to think of his Grandchilde and his love
clawing at each other and taking delight in the mayhem they were causing. If he’d had anything in his stomach to heave, that would
have been a welcome distraction.
Drusilla led him to sit
on the side of the defunct fountain in the middle of the garden.
Her clarity of thought continued; her voice when she spoke not that of a
confused and addled child but that of a strong and determined woman.
“My Angel…we have a
bond in common, you and I. I owe
you my existence and because of you I found my Spike.
I want him back. I need you
to help me.”
Angel’s soulful brown
eyes bore into hers as she continued. “He’ll
be mine again when she’s gone, I want her gone. Help me Angel; help me to get my Spike back.”
Angel didn’t speak,
just continued to look at her. He
had no strength left to fight against her, but maybe just enough left to fight with
her. He could do little for Buffy now except one thing.
He could release her from the torment of life as a demon.
“I’ll help, Drusilla;
but you’ve got to promise me that you will let me handle Buffy.
It’s my fault she’s in this position, it’s my duty to take care of
her…it’s all I can offer…”
Drusilla reached up a
hand to caress his cheek. “She’s
yours Angel. But Spike is mine…I
won’t let you hurt him, he’s mine to punish.”
Angel nodded slightly in
agreement. The deal was done.
~*~*~*~*~
Back at the factory,
Willow’s black eyes faded again to green, the mist that had surrounded her
dissipating to nothing. She turned
to face the trio of expectant faces.
“Well?” Ripper asked.
“They’re both coming.
Angel’s intent on releasing Buffy from her earthly torment and
Drusilla’s promised to deliver her to him.”
“That bitch!
She’s dust…”
The slap resounded
through the factory.
“You’ll not
harm her, you hear me? She’s my
Sire, my dark wicked Princess. You
lay one finger on her and I will give you pain.”
Buffy’s eyes flashed
amber, her fangs descending as she battled the rage within.
She was still the Slayer, still had Slayer abilities and strength.
The Slayer was not used to following orders, the vampire still anxious to
please her Sire. For now, the demon
won. She bowed her head
acknowledging his authority.
“Hang on – Spike,
Buffy, this is just what we need. It’s
no good having that pillock wandering loose.
We need to leave soon and before that we have to be sure that he’s out
of the picture. Let them come; it
saves us having to find him. But
you’ll have to sort Drusilla, Spike. If
you don’t – I will.”
“Just try it, Ripper,
mate…” Spike vamped, snarling as he squared up to the former Watcher.
Demon matched demon as each struggled to out-menace the other.
Willow’s announcement cut short the posturing.
Spike lost the fangs as she spoke.
“No time for that!
They’re close, no more than a minute. Get
ready.”
The conspirators
scattered as they sensed the approach of Angel and Drusilla. The two vampires walked into the factory, Drusilla back to
her insane babbling and Angel looking desolate but determined.
Neither of them could sense Spike or Buffy, Willow’s cloaking spell
working its magic.
“Dru, pet…what have
you brought me now?” Spike looked
Angel up and down, flicking his Zippo to light the cigarette he brought to his
mouth. He took a long drag, blowing
the smoke out to curl around his smug features.
“Spike.
Where is she?”
“She?
Oh, you mean my Childe, my lover
- as in not yours? She’s around.
She’s never far from my…hip…”
Spike’s tongue curled
against his teeth, his free hand splayed against the crotch of his black denims
as he taunted the older vampire. He
tilted his head, daring his Grandsire to make an issue of it.
Just then Buffy sauntered
between the two of them, her demon picking up on the rivalry and wanting to play
with it. Spike’s jaw worked as he
tried to control the urge to slap her across the room; she’d disobeyed him and
was in danger of getting her head twisted clean off. But another part of him loved the fact that his newly risen
Childe was so strong and confident that she’d defy him in front of his
ancestors without turning a hair.
With a sly grin, he
grabbed her to him, turning so that Angel got a good look at his tongue
thrusting into Buffy’s mouth, at the hand dipping below the waistband of her
leather pants and the thumb flicking at her nipples through the diaphanous top.
Angel’s growl told him he was pressing the right buttons.
When Spike lifted his
head, Buffy’s forehead was ridged, her fangs glistening with the moisture his
tongue had laved upon them. Angel
went nuts.
“Get away from her, you
bastard! Leave her, she’s mine!
You’ve no right…”
“I’ve every fucking
right, you arsehole! I made her,
she belongs to me, and you – you
arrogant tosser – can go fuck yourself!”
In his riled up state,
Spike didn’t think about what he was doing; he pushed Buffy away from himself
and towards Angel. The flash of
wood in Angel’s raised arm galvanized him out of his anger and racing towards
his lover. He screamed out, “Noooooooo!”
as he placed himself between the instrument of death and his blonde goddess.
His unlife flashed before him as the stake began to descend.
Everything happened in slow motion, each image clear and defined as
things moved towards their inexorable conclusion.
Every sensory receptor was focused on the point of the stake as it neared
his heart.
“Spike!” He turned
his head as the anguished cry came from his right.
He watched, paralyzed, as the creature that had saved him from mediocrity
placed herself between his vulnerable flesh and certain death.
Although Angel tried to slow his hand, the arc was completed,
Drusilla’s eyes hooded with pain before she exploded in a cloud of dust
covering both her Sire and her Childe with the remnants of her existence.
Spike stared in shock at
the settling dust that coated his outstretched hands, his blue eyes blurred with
tears. His Princess was gone.
She couldn’t be. Bastard! Blue
became amber as the demon demanded payment for his loss.
Angel didn’t move,
gazing at the stake he held in his hand and the dust motes chasing before of his
eyes, all that was left of the woman he’d driven insane then turned as a
demon, a woman he’d loved… in many ways.
Spike growled at Buffy;
she scurried to his side to do his bidding.
As one they rushed Angel, flashes of fangs and claws as they tore into
him. He didn’t defend himself
against the onslaught; let himself dragged to the floor bloodied already from
the assault. But despite his guilt
and remorse, the survival instinct kicked in and he vamped out to enhance his
strength. He lashed out at the writhing and vicious vampiress who was biting him
wherever she could sink her teeth into his flesh but she held on.
Spike was snarling at him, spitting and hurling insults as he punched and
kicked the vampire on the floor.
“She was my dark bloody
princess, you prick! And you offed
her! You bastard!”
Angel couldn’t dislodge
the combined assault of his descendants, growing weaker with blood loss as Buffy
continued to sink her fangs into his veins. Eventually, he stopped struggling, resting back onto the
floor with his eyes closed. Maybe
this was his fate. He welcomed it
if it was and it was fitting that he should finally leave this world at the
hands of demons of his own making.
The violent onslaught
stilled, Spike grabbing Buffy and slapping her when she growled at his
interruption. Fangs dripping with
Angel’s blood, she turned her golden gaze upon him, her protests still
rumbling in her throat before ceding her fate to her Sire with bowed head.
Spike watched her struggle to contain the demon, his heart once more
overflowing with love for this Childe of his making.
He pulled her towards him, hugging her to his cold body, needing to feel
a connection with her as he mourned the woman he’d loved for over a hundred
years. The two embraced over the
prone form of their common ancestor, heedless of him and of Giles, Willow and
Xander as they formed a circle around them.
“Nice floorshow, Spike
mate. But what are we going to do
with the arrogant bastard now? You
need a stake?”
Buffy and Spike moved
away from each other slightly, their eyes meeting in mutual understanding.
Buffy’s lips curled into a feral snarl, her mouth still painted with
Angel’s blood.
“Nah, Ripper.
We’ve got it covered. You
can come and play if you like…”
Ripper’s eyebrow shot
up. This sounded interesting; he
bowed to the experience of the master vampire, trusting to Spike to come up with
a nice little distraction.
As he drew Willow and
Xander away, the latter looking at his downed Sire with a mixture of worry and
adoration, he shot a look back over his shoulder. Buffy was dragging Angel by his wrists across the floor,
Spike walking after them and lighting a cigarette.
Giles continued to the doorway, his rich melodious laugh lingering behind
him as Spike shouted after them.
“Hey, Watcher! Give
us half an hour then come and join us…bring your own branding iron!”