Chapter 19
~*~*~*~*~
Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so
plainly,
Though its
answer little meaning- little relevancy bore;
For
we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever
yet was blest with seeing bird above his chamber door-
Bird or beast
upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as “Nevermore.”
Edgar Allen Poe
~*~*~*~*~
Ethan had felt him long before he entered the room.
His former companion in chaos was powerful in his own right, but now
imbued with the essence of Eyghon, his aura shone like a beacon that drew his
eyes and his devotion.
“Ripper. I
knew I sensed you back in Sunnydale. What
was with the beating, old chap? I
only wanted to help but you put me on my back before I could even say hello.”
“Wasn’t time, had things to do. Now enough chatter. I
can count on your loyalty, yes? To
me and to our master? Although
nowadays it’s one and the same.”
Ethan nodded, intrigued.
He’d spent the time since he’d fled the States calling in favors and
building a nice little bolthole for himself.
He suspected something was going to happen after recognizing Ripper, but
he was eager to know what.
“You know me, always one for a little mayhem.
What are you looking for?”
Ripper considered. He
didn’t trust Ethan. But it
wasn’t trust he needed. What he
needed was a willing volunteer; somebody who had some power of their own and
who’d be a likely sacrifice. Not
that Ethan needed to know that just yet…
“Just you…perhaps a few items; I have a list.”
Ethan took the paper from Ripper’s hand and scanned it.
Most of the items were standard fare but a few raised an eyebrow.
“This looks interesting… I’ll have to order a couple
of them, not something we usually stock. How
soon do you need them?”
“No time like the present.
A couple of days won’t hurt, I suppose.” Ripper chuckled. “In
fact, a few days would be just right. No
harm in a little playtime before the bloodbath.”
The two men, old friends, lately enemies, took stock of
each other. They were so alike it
had caused conflict in the past, but they both now seemed to be aiming for the
same thing. Chaos.
“I think this reunion deserves a little celebration,
don’t you? I’ve a good single
malt upstairs. Shall we make a
start on the list…and the bottle?”
Ripper grinned. Yes,
this was shaping up to be a very good day.
~*~*~*~*~
Willow was bored. She’d
returned to their ‘official’ room and had flicked through every available
channel on the television. The
sounds of Buffy and Spike’s coupling back in the Royal Suite’s master
bedroom had been amusing and arousing for a little while, but when they’d
moved on to ‘Round 3’ and Willow had brought herself to orgasm in the
adjoining lounge for the third time, she’d grown bored and headed out.
Where had Ripper gotten to?
Pleasuring herself was all right, but it didn’t come close to the raw
and bruising touch of her mentor. Even
the porn channels were lame – in fact she could show the porn industry a trick
or two now. Sighing she flicked off
the screen, tossed the remote on the bed and walked to the enormous window the
bellboy had been so eager to show them. He
was right; it was a fine view. She
watched the little figures scurrying about their mundane daily business and
sneered.
Puny fools, every single one of them too dimwitted to sense
the power nestling amongst them. Herself.
Ripper. Buffy.
Spike. They were all
powerful creatures and all hell-bent on destruction.
She felt sorry for the ordinary folk for a moment.
Just for a moment. The knock on the door drew her from her reverie and she
turned just in time to see a maid loaded down with towels and sheets walk in.
“I’m sorry, Miss.
I didn’t realize anybody was in. I’ll
come back later.”
Willow smiled. This
might be just the distraction she needed. The
maid was slim and pale, dark hair flowing over her shoulders.
Her voice reminded her of a promise of pleasure cut short by a wooden
stake…
“No. That’s
okay. I wouldn’t want to keep you from your duty.
Please, carry on.”
The maid nodded and turned to go into the bedroom.
Willow followed after her with a nonchalant sway to her hips, chanting as
she went. By the time the maid
turned, Willow’s eyes were black and hooded.
The towels and sheets tumbled to the floor as Willow’s hand wrapped
around the young girl’s throat and pressed her back onto the bed.
“Don’t worry” the witch whispered, “I’ll take
good care of you. And when I’m
done – I’ll even give you a tip and wipe your mind.”
~*~*~*~*~
Buffy’s fist was rapidly creating the usual reaction at
Spike’s groin. They’d been in
bed for hours and still she wasn’t satisfied.
He grinned; his girl was wicked and dark and… laid out in front of him
on her back, writhing as she turned her talented fingers to stroking herself
wet. This was the unlife he’d always envisioned, spent with an equal who could
join him in giving and taking pain and pleasure.
He’d sensed the witch similarly employed with her own
pale fingers in the lounge and – although he was occupied at the time –
still got a kick out of it. Any
arousal added to the heady mix in his opinion; he didn’t particularly want to
share Buffy, or himself to be honest – not just yet anyway – but Red’s
succulent flesh may be a feast his Childe could dine on later, once the business
with Ripper was finished. Spike
licked his lips. Anticipation
always made the meal more piquant.
Buffy’s moans of pleasure brought him back to the
present. His Childe was nearing
orgasm, her face screwed up as the pleasure washed over her. Spike slid down her body and nuzzled her fingers away from
her pussy. His tongue took over the
job, doing it harder and better, if her moans were anything to go by.
Buffy tangled her fingers in his hair and wrapped her legs round his
neck, locking him in place as he devoured her.
A fang sliced the delicate flesh, its sting plunging her into ecstasy.
Before she could spiral down from the dizzy heights, Spike
slinked up her body and thrust his greedy cock deep within her.
He fucked her mercilessly, ignoring her cries of pain as she banged her
head against the walnut headboard hard enough to split her scalp.
The blood tang drove him on to claw at her skin and Buffy was laughing
with him, biting and snarling, as they fought for domination in their coupling.
He bit her breast hard, wrenching at flesh as his semen
spurted deep inside her, and Buffy howled her pleasure at both penetrations,
unable to decide which she craved most.
In the afterglow of their violent lovemaking, Buffy
realized that they were now alone in the suite.
She’d become aware of Willow earlier, had taken pleasure from the scent
of Willow’s own arousal at their joining.
Musing as she lay in her lover’s arms, she wondered what it would feel
like to have soft and yielding warm breasts to play with…
“Buffy…” Spike growled, sensing her drifting
thoughts. “She’s not for you -
at least …not yet. Got things to
do and Willow’s needed to create Ripper’s little orgy of mayhem.
After that…well, I never said we had to be friends for life.” He
grinned, lazily before kissing her deliciously bruised lips.
“Get some rest, pet.
Not rightly sure what the timetable of slaughter is yet so we’d best
get some shuteye while we can.”
Buffy nuzzled into Spike’s arms and licked up his neck,
keening her need. Wordlessly, the
Sire gave his Childe permission to feed and they drifted off into slumber land
with their legs entwined and Buffy’s fangs still embedded in his neck.
~*~*~*~*~
Ripper and Ethan were sitting in companionable silence.
All the items from stock were bagged and ready to go, the more unusual
and rare supplies on order and promised the day after tomorrow.
Ripper knew that they’d arrive on time; Ethan had a rare way of
punishing slack suppliers. They’d
got through the best part of a full bottle of Scotch and were reminiscing about
days past, slaughter and mayhem bringing happy memories back to both of them.
Ripper’s memories were an amalgam of his own and those of the powerful
demon inhabiting his body and he’d amused Ethan by giving the demon’s
viewpoint of the night their friend’s life had been taken.
Speaking of…
“Ethan…I have a special task for you.”
Ripper’s eyes were glowing red, leaving his companion in no doubt that
the request came straight from Eyghon.
“Master! I
will do your bidding in all things.” Ethan
did his best to hide his terror. He
was marked indelibly with Eyghon’s mark and any rebellion would surely be
quashed before he even thought it. Until
he found a way to remove the tattoo that served as a tracer for the dark demon
he’d sworn allegiance to all those years ago, he’d play it safe and lick
whatever had to be licked.
“I will call on you when it is time.
You are a loyal servant, Ethan. Eyghon
will not forget that.”
‘Terrific!’
thought the worshipper of chaos.
~*~*~*~
Two days later
Quentin Travers closed the volume he’d requested earlier
from the stacks. It hadn’t helped
much. Giles’ call from California
had disturbed him greatly, truth be told. Angelus
was back and Buffy Summers, their current Slayer, was missing.
In fact, he now knew she was dead, since a replacement had been called;
although he hadn’t informed Giles, preferring to deliver the bad news face to
face, the better to relish the discomfort and grief of the pointless little man. The next Slayer had already been activated but she was
proving to be quite a handful and had immediately slipped away from her
designated watcher. Travers had
sent out word that she was to be terminated, she was too much of a liability and
there were always other girls. He
stared at the dark-haired whore depicted by the Council’s identity picture and
frowned. Pity.
She looked good and strong.
His intercom buzzed and he was told that Rupert Giles had
arrived accompanied by a young redhead. That
would be Miss Rosenberg he supposed, probably frantic about her missing friend
and seeking reassurance. If so,
she’d come to the wrong place. His
greatest pleasure was dashing people’s hopes and watching their faces crumple
in pain. His lips curved in
malicious anticipation as he requested his visitors be shown in.
He was sitting behind the desk, fingers steepled, as the
pair was shown in and the heavy door shut behind them.
Silence reigned.
Willow breathed deeply of the tension in the room.
Her nerve endings were zinging now, had been ever since they’d passed
the threshold to the Watcher’s Council’s sanctified headquarters, the
cloaked vampires who were key to their plan sauntering past the guards in the
foyer. The combined power of
herself and Ripper were more than enough to deceive the sensors.
She smiled, smugly, as she recalled the final ingredient that came from
Ethan’s magic shop to complete the spell – his lifeblood.
She half-listened to the polite yet uninformative chatter
between the Head of the Watcher’s Council and Ripper, her senses being
utilized in checking that Buffy and Spike were in place for their coup de gras.
She was drawn back to the conversation when she heard Ripper – or
rather his Giles façade – gasp.
“NO! Oh god,
Quentin…she can’t be…dead…”
Willow stifled a giggle.
Her dark lover was such a good actor.
She joined in the fun….
“Giles…please no…not…Buffy…”
To add that extra flair she brought a hand up to her
forehead, palm outwards, and made as if to swoon. She fell back into the safe hands of her mentor, who under
guise of assisting her made sure he crushed her breasts when he caught her
against his chest. She struggled to
quash the moan of delight.
“Would you like a glass of water, Miss Rosenberg?
I’m sure it’s been quite a shock for you.
Please – feel free to lie on the couch.”
Willow staggered to the overstuffed leather couch, slipping
one hand behind her to surreptitiously fondle Ripper’s semi-erect cock as it
pressed against those god-awful tweed trousers. They were both highly amused and well on the way to being
extremely aroused by their little game.
There and then, Willow promised herself she’d fuck Ripper
on Travis’ desk with the head Watcher laid dead beside it.
“A new Slayer has been activated, obviously, but she
isn’t in place yet. I’m
expecting to rendezvous with her presently.”
Quentin Travers smiled his crocodile smile, no emotion reaching his eyes.
The room fell silent save for the ticking of the
grandfather clock and the creak of leather as Willow made herself comfortable,
stroking the cool surface rhythmically. After
a few coughs and throat clearings, Travers spoke.
“So what can you tell me of Angelus?
Do you know his whereabouts?”
“Sadly no. He
managed to evade us. You’re aware
that he sired a…a young friend of ours. Alexander
Harris?”
“I wasn’t. I
haven’t read your report yet, Rupert. It
being rather difficult since you have neglected to file it yet.
Again, my condolences.”
The tosser! Ripper
snarled inwardly at the implied criticism.
“Thank you. Suffice to say
that given the circumstances I’m anxious… we’re anxious to track
him down and stake him. And…Xander…the
poor boy.”
A tear, Willow marveled.
Ripper had actually squeezed out a tear!
“I’m sure it’s been a very trying time, Rupert. But,
I’m afraid given the circumstances I’m going to have to ask you for a full
report. The situation is dire.”
The heavy door to the room swung open, the pale and
lifeless features of Travers’ PA drawing all eyes as she dangled in the death
grip of Spike’s bruising fist, head lolling to one side on a broken neck.
“Oh dear, Travers…you’ve no idea how dire.”
The Head of the Watcher’s Council of Great Britain spun
round to see Ripper and Willow leaning against each other, lazy smiles on their
faces. He gaped for a second before
being drawn back to the doorway by the thud of the deceased Miss Spriggs as her
corpse hit the floor.
His eyes bugged when Buffy stepped out from behind the male
vampire. She spoke one word.
It chilled him to the bone.
“Quentin.”
The pain that followed was excruciating.
Willow summoned the forces she’d ingested to lift him from the floor
and suspend him near the ceiling. It
felt like his bones were being pried apart as Willow tweaked the spell to tug at
his limbs. The screams seemed to
come from far away. He
welcomed the oblivion as he lost consciousness.
Spike snorted. “Bugger.
What a weak streak of piss! And
this is supposed to be lord and master of the high and mighty Watchers?
Ooooh, I’m shaking in me Docs.”
“He’s a bit of a disappointment, isn’t he?”
Ripper was rifling through Travers’ desk, pulling out keys and tiny
leather-bound volumes that he hoped contained secrets to help fuel the mayhem.
“He’ll wake soon enough.
Then he’ll pay for everything I’ve had to go through, everything
Slayers have had to put up with since the beginning.
I don’t fancy touching him to be honest. But he deserves it – he needs to be on the receiving end of
the pain. Willow, any news on the
other Slayer? Is that her
picture?”
Willow nodded and handed the photograph to Buffy.
Both girls licked their lips; she looked dark and dangerous.
“We managed to grab her right out of the arms of her
Watcher. She’s…feisty.
She’ll be along soon. She’s
just a little avoidy of Watcher stuff – seems like she thinks Travers here may
wish her harm.”
Buffy grinned. Yeah,
she got that. This Faith chick was
smart.
“Well, we’ll get started and maybe she’ll get to play
with what’s left.”
Willow clicked her fingers and the strung out body of
Quentin Travers twitched in time with his screams.
His eyes flickered open; it wasn’t a nightmare.
It was real.
“Please…you’re so much stronger than I.
Have pity. There’s
money…”
Buffy snarled. This
was her moment. Ripper had filled
her in on the fate that would have awaited her had she not been reborn into
darkness, the almost certain death she faced on her eighteenth birthday with the
Cruciamentum administered by the Council, and how the Council had demanded his
complicity in her betrayal. The
glib way that the Council used their Slayers, young girls on the cusp of life,
and impassively waited for the next expendable slave to be called.
It pissed her off. She wanted payback. Travers
was about to find out what it was like to be trapped in a building with an
enraged and hungry vampire. Two of
them, actually.
Buffy nodded to Willow who lowered Quentin Travers to the
ground. It was time for him to run.
The man crumpled to the floor, head bowed and resting on his hands and
knees. He was gasping for breath.
Buffy knelt down in front of him, leaning forwards to look into his eyes.
She spoke softly, her words barely audible.
“Quentin. Surprised
to see me? I bet you’ve already
passed my crown to the next sorry victim. It’s
funny really. Here I am, dead –
and feeling more alive and free than I’ve ever felt. It’s unbelievably liberating.”
Buffy allowed her vampire features to slip into place
slowly, holding Travers’ gaze the whole time.
“You see me? I’ve
become the creature you would have me hunt down; the creature you’d pit
against me for your own amusement and sick tradition.
Giles told me all about the Cruciamentum. How you were all set to drain me of my power and lock me in a
building with a deranged vampire.”
Quentin Travers was visibly shaking.
Buffy leant forwards until her forehead was touching his
sweat-marred brow, whispering the words.
“Guess what? I
haven’t eaten in two days. And
the doors? Locked.
Very. So…wanna guess what
comes next?
Travers stilled, his stomach dropping and swallowing bile.
No. This couldn’t be happening.
Buffy mouthed one word.
“Run.”
The flash of fang that followed had the clammy man lurching
to his feet and hurtling towards the door.
Nobody stopped him. It
wasn’t time.
The slow clap and amused laughter drew her attention.
Her sire and mate was applauding her from his vantage point by the door.
“Nice menace, pet. Makes
me proud…and horny. Let’s give
him a head start.”
Buffy was molded to his side before he could finish his
sentence, her leg wrapped around his hip and her lips locked on his.
Spike’s hand made short work of the lacing holding Buffy’s leather
top together. The front parted revealing pale skin marred by bites and
scratches. Willow’s green eyes
were focused on the dusky pink nipples hardened by Spike’s roving fingers, her
tongue sneaking out to moisten her lips. Willow could feel heat spread from her groin upwards, the
delicious sensation hardening her own nipples to rub against the soft white
material of her dowdy shirt. The
feel of firm hands bunching up her schoolgirl skirt – a kink of Ripper’s
she’d taken great delight in wearing – and the whisper of soft breath
against her ear drew her attention away from the sex show.
“Willow. Take
your greedy little hands away from those succulent breasts.
They belong to me. I want you.”
Willow shivered. Ripper was right. They did. Hand-in-hand, the two dark masters sauntered off to find their own rutting place.