Title: The Long Journey Into Darkness
Author: Crazy_Girl_Mary
Email: crazy_girl_mary@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: The two main characters are Joss', but I'm not stealin' I promise I'll give them back when I'm done.
Summary: A female is on the run from a killer, and he's not going to give up until he has her right where he wants her.
Pairings: Female/Male. This story has a female character a human, and a male vampire from the Buffyverse, but names are not used anywhere in the story. I did this so the reader could envision any characters they wanted. So if you have a thing for Willow/Spike, hey man it's them. There were two characters I had in mind when writing it and some subtle clues you may pick up may lead you to that conclusion, if you want to know who they really are then you can email me and I'll tell you.
Category: Angst.
Spoilers: None, complete AU, just a girl and a vampire.
Rating: NC-17 parts for sexual content, brutal torture, and character deaths.
Author's Comments: This is my latest work, and I think the fact that I've progressed as a writer shows. I'm probably more emotionally attached to this story as corny as it sounds but I still desperately want to know any thoughts, feelings, praises, and most of all criticisms, so please please let me know!

Part IV: A Nice Relaxing Drink


I’m totally unprepared to go to my hotel room around the corner so I duck into a crowded bar for a relaxing drink. I have a pair of his lose sweatpants and tee shirt on under my jacket so no one really gives me a second glance. I order a drink at the bar and take it to a table in the back corner, far away from the shoulder-to-shoulder dance floor. Techno music is pounding through the building and the tables are pretty much abandoned to the locals who are packed at the bar and on the dance floor.

I slide all the way into the booth and lay my head down on the table to gather my thoughts. My head shoots up as a hand slides up my thigh. His lips meet mine immediately and I try to pull away put I’m in a corner. My hands come up but he easily grabs them and pins them to my lap. His smile is raw evil against my clenched lips and I try to kick him away put my knees hit the table and knock my drink to the floor. I glance nervously around praying that it didn’t catch anyone’s attention. I definitely don’t want someone to get caught in the crossfire. His lips pull away from mine finally and I gasp in a few ragged breaths to try and steady my heart rate. How can I intensely despise and desire him at the same time.

His lips graze across my face and meet my ear. His tongue licks it for a second and my head bangs against the wall as I try to pull away. “You wouldn’t want someone to come to your rescue would you?” he asks. I’m trapped. There is nothing I can do to get him away from me, and he feels it dawn on me as my body loosens. He sucks on my earlobe and his hands release mine. My eyes anxiously watch the crowd as his hand returns to my thigh. He slips it between my legs and rubs me through the thick sweats, but I can still feel him and my body betrays me by responding.

“I can smell him on you,” he says, “you always were such a whore.”

I frown and try to push him away but he grips my thigh tightly and I almost yelp in pain. How can he be so strong? I’ll have his fingertips bruised on my body to remind me of the assault for days. He always promises pain. He always gives me what I want.

I lean forward frantically as I notice a young waitress glancing our way. I try to signal her with my eyes but she’s not looking at me. Her eyes are locked on the broken bottle on the floor. His hand leaves my thigh as he notices her too. Shit. When she comes over with a small bucket she smiles lightly and begins to pick up the glass.

He jumps up and glances from her short skirt hem and ass to me with a wicked smile. “Oh shucks let me help you honey!” He leans down and gets the glass for her, even cutting himself a little and lifting the finger to his mouth. What a saint. He hands her the bucket and takes his seat next me, and she pulls out a pad of paper. “Can I get you two anything?” she practically has to scream over the music coming from across the room.

“I don’t know babe,” he says smiling happily at me, “You want anything?”

“A gun?” I say lightly. He leans in to tell me if I don’t keep him occupied he’s sure this cute little strawberry blonde could fill my position. A quick and false smile covers my face as I grab his crotch under the table. “I’ll just have a beer thanks.” I’ll play the nice girlfriend. “Make that two sweetheart,” he says smiling as he puts his arm around my shoulders.

As she’s writing it down he leans in to playfully nip at my cheek and she smiles and runs off with the bucket. He presses his lips against mine roughly but I don’t grant him access. “Aww, I bet she’d let me in her mouth,” he says arrogantly and licks my cheek. He’s baiting me. He wants to see exactly what I’ll give him for the promise of sparing a life, but I’m not a fool. I know he’s a killer, and he’s killed many people and will continue to kill them and whether I do what he wants or not he won’t stop.

I’m trying to convince myself of this when she returns with our beers and it’s clear this is her first day on the job, probably just turned 18, the legal age to be a waitress and deal with alcohol in New Jersey. Maybe if I keep him occupied and give him what he wants she will have a chance. He’s watching my face intently and I turn and press my lips to his. His tongue happily plunders my mouth but I’m not really kissing him just opening my mouth to his kiss and it doesn’t seem to make him happy. He ‘tisk tisk’s me and opens our beers.

He passes me mine, and as I take the first sip I glance back to the waitress who is looking around at her empty station. We are the only people seated in her area. I remember myself at that age, and it’s hard for me to believe it wasn’t that long ago, not half as long as it feels. I was not nearly as happy as I’m sure she is. I was far into a life full of burden. The weight of the world on my shoulders, and unlike the one’s who came before and will come after me; I’m not strong enough to hold it. He knows that and feeds off of it like he feeds off of blood. Drawling the life slowly out of me until there’s nothing left but a shell, a dead body. But I’m allowing myself to be slowly drained, deep down inside I know I am, because I’d rather die at his hands then my own. There is no seat waiting for me in heaven, if there is such a place, which I cannot believe, after all I’ve been through.

After I think and watch the helpless people in the room for a few minutes I feel his arm leave my shoulder and I look over and notice he has finished his beer, mine is only half done. He stands and I watch him. I’m sure my face is conveying my only thought. Fear.

“Where are you going?” I ask trying fruitlessly not to sound panicked. I’m positive some young female has caught his eye and he’s off to make her dinner and leave me to blame myself and wait for our next meeting.

He smiles and I can tell he knows my concern instantly, “Why I’m just going to get a drink,” he says menacingly gesturing his empty bottle, “I can’t imagine I’ll be long, I see lots of enticing beverages on the menu.” He scans the bar then winks at me before heading into the mass of people. I know I have to do something, but I don’t know what. I certainly can’t start a fight with him in the middle of this crowded bar, and I don’t know if I would win. I almost loose sight of him as he crosses the dance floor, stopping here and there to grind with a flattered young woman. Then he emerges on the other side of the floor, on his way to the bar. He walks right up to the waitress who is standing just inside the bar talking to the bartender, who is also a beautiful young women, but one who looks much tougher and wiser. I’m quite sure it’s all the same to him anyway.

I watch as he engages the young girl in conversation while the bartender makes him a drink. She’s smiling and blushing and he touches her shoulder tenderly, and when she has to go in back to get something for the bartender he looks back at me and winks happily. I stand up and slowly make my way to him. He doesn’t turn when he hears my approach but I know he does. I wrap my arms around his waste and place my chin on his shoulder. I can just make out his evil satisfied smile. The waitress comes back, and more then a few times gives me that ‘your boyfriend is a jerk who picks up other girls’ smile.

I let my lips graze over his ear as I whisper something that only he would be able to hear with the pounding music, “What do you want?” He quickly turns and hands me his glass. There’s an evil glint in his eyes and he’s pleased beyond measure that I’ve given in. I take a thick swig of the liquid which sears it’s way down. There are so many different liquors in it I can’t make out any one. It’s definitely a lethal combination, like the things I used to drink in my youth and I know I’ll be buzzing if I take a few more chugs, so I do.

He’s pleased to see me do so, and he hooks his left hand in my waistband and pulls me into his hips. He leans down to tell me exactly all the crude demeaning things he wants from me, and all the crude demeaning things he’ll do to someone else if I don’t cooperate. As an answer I wrap a leg around his hips and clutch his lower lip in mine for a few seconds. He smiles, finishes his drink, and pays the bartender. He winks his goodbye to the cute little waitress and the bartender, who frown in reply. Then he places a hand firmly on my ass and begins to lead me to the front door.

Part VI: Ransacked in More Ways then One


Once we’re out on the street his brutal abuse returns. He wraps his hand roughly around mine and leads me to a black SUV with black windows parked across the street. So that’s what he’s driving. As I’m walking he pushes me roughly ahead of him then slams me into the car and yanks me around to face him. He digs his hands in my pants pockets and comes out with the cash I earned earlier. His angry face parts for a wicked grin as he throws the money to the ground. I struggle to grab it before it blows away but his hand is holding me up by my throat.

“You didn’t think I was going soft there did you?” he asks, not really wanting or receiving an answer. “I mean, of course I couldn’t very well do the things I have planned right in that bar, I had to get you out without a fight, but you seriously thought I wouldn’t punish you for giving what’s mine to another. Even worse stooping so low as to sell it, and I bet you enjoyed yourself too. Did you think about me baby? Did you scream my name for that little boy?” His voice is cruel and demeaning and all hope to escape him disappears as I watch my money floating down the street with the night’s breeze. Someone will be very happy when they find some of that. How can he know so much just by seeing me, smelling me?

“That,” I say thrusting my hips towards him, knowing he’ll hurt me all the worse, “Will never belong to you, and in case it hadn’t occurred to you, many others have had it, and they loved it, and you… you never will, not willing, not ever.” My voice is determined and devoid of earlier trepidation. His grip on my throat tightens so I can’t breath as his other hand comes up to slap me across the face. He really knows how to hit a girl and make her hurt. I feel my jaw crack and my lips split and it’s hard for me to lift my head up again. I feel like everything is in slow motion for that whole series of events. His hand slips away, jaw crack, lip split, blood spray, falling to the side. Damn, that sucks. I fall to the ground and my head bounces on the street below. Yeah, he did that with one blow, I’m lame, I’m off my game, I’m probably drugged by whatever was in his drink, but he did it all the same and now I have to face the consequences.

“Well shit baby!” he screams down at me, “I wasn’t expecting such a theatrical performance.” He leans down and grips both my shoulders and easily lifts me off my feet and again slams me into the car. I’m at eye level with him now, but I feel the blood on my head and face and I’m wondering if anyone saw that and is going to get killed trying to help. “But you usually do go down easily huh?” he asks smiling happily at his pun. I feel like if he lets me go I’ll hit the ground in a bloody heap again. But when he finally goes to open the door I’m standing a little shakily, but standing all the same.

He has my arm and drags me to the passenger side. There are all kinds of papers and maps on the seat and he takes a minute to straighten them out, his hand loosens for only a second and that’s when I take my chance. I kick him in the ass as hard as I can and he falls into the car. It takes him only a second to react I’m sure, but I’m already on the run. I run out of my heeled boots and through a dark alley, all the while expecting the pain of his body slamming into mine and bringing me to the hard soiled ground.

The sounds of my heart and feet pounding are echoing loudly in my ears and the whole world outside my head and the tunnel vision before me disappear. It’s almost light out and I don’t think he’s stupid enough to risk following me on a chase now, but I still don’t turn around as I enter the hotel parking lot. I pull out the key, fully expecting him to tap me on my shoulder. I fumble nervously, but it finally fits and I slam open the door, jump inside and slam it closed. My body slides down the back from temporary relief then my eyes scan the room.

All of my belongings are scattered around the room like a random high school ransacking but I’m not fool enough to expect he didn’t do this in the free time I left with him. The little clothes I have with me are shredded and thrown around the room. My duffel bag has been ripped apart as if by a wild animal. The furniture is all over the room. Shit. I have to get out of here before the owner sees this. I’m not even going to attempt to look for any of the money and weapons I had stashed. He found them, there’s no question. I’m beyond the urge to cry and onto the thought of what else is new in my life as I enter the bathroom. I smell, and the hot water always makes my battle wounds start to heel.

I turn the water on, relieved that the bathroom was saved from the brutal attack. Maybe I should’ve hid my money in the toilet tank. I turn the water up as hot as it will go and when I climb under the steady stream, my skin turns bright red and swells. I wash as quickly as I can so I can just stand there and let the hot water stream down my clean battered body. I get out almost an hour later when any hot water whatsoever stops flowing. I’m satisfied to see that it is partially light outside; he won’t be coming again today. I pull aside the shredded blanket to lie down and a chill runs down my spine as I see a brown paper bag and a note.

The note reads, “You didn’t honestly think you would’ve got here unless I wanted you too.” He’s so damn smug. I crumble the parchment with one hand and throw it across the room. I rip open the brown paper bag and unfold the black material inside. The first is a skimpy clingy tank top. Around the breasts is tight doubled fabric and anything below is a thin see through layer. The back is really low and the straps and hem are trimmed with pretty black lace. It’s nice, and I know it’s expensive. He wanted me to get away. But what if I had given in and I let him take me away. He knew I wouldn’t? How can he know me better then I know myself?

I put it to the side and pull out a pair of matching underwear. Isn’t he a doll, I think sarcastically as I look at the completely see through panties. The next article I know just by a glance is a pair of black leather pants. Would he have me any other way? They are tight and low slung and plain and beautiful. That’s not all. I’m surprised to find also a belt made of twined black leather and silver beads, it ties and strings hang down to the knees. There’s also a small waist length leather jacket, with side pockets, a bulky silver zipper and a collar that’s stiff enough to stand up sexily around my neck. The last surprise is a pair of black combat boots with no heel. They are the perfect size and color, and will be great for fighting. He wants me to put up a good fight? Or maybe he’s convinced I won’t use them on his pretty face. I put the clothes in a safe clean place. Hell yeah I’ll wear them. I don’t have anything else. Then I climb into the bed in my towel and fall quickly asleep.

Part VII: Jaime & Mary Jane


It’s about eleven in the afternoon when I wake up and I quickly get dressed and cleaned. I salvage anything I can, which is no money, into a plastic bag from the convenience store. Then I’m out of there. My bill is paid, but my room is no longer mine at one o’clock and I don’t want to be anywhere in sight when they come to clean it, if they do clean it that is. As I exit the door looking nice and hot with the revealing shirt and my tight leather pants, the jacket and bag draped over one shoulder. I look around nervously. How did he get to a safe sun free place so quickly? Maybe he was somewhere close watching me. When it dawned on me that he wouldn’t exactly be standing next to a window I went on into the parking lot without caution.

I immediately spotted the shiny black El Camino in the parking lot and went over to admire it. I hadn’t spotted it two nights ago when nervously scanning the parking lot. Just passing through. I heard his feet crunching the gravel as he approached. Without turning I could tell just by the sounds he was big. “Very nice machine,” I say, and without looking I walk out onto the road, choose a direction, decidedly south, and begin moving my legs that way and as the random car passes I put my thumb out, not really bothering to scan the vehicle or driver. I’ll ride with anyone to get out of this shitty state and if they try something I’ll beat the shit out of them.

I hear the engine of a muscle car pulling next to me before the black beauty is in the corner of my eyes. I look over at him and the first thought is wow. I’m wowed. He has tan skin and the light brown stubble of a formerly shaved head growing in. He has on a tight tank top, loose leather jeans, boots and sunglasses as black as the car. I faintly notice the interior is dark red. I’m a car girl, so I notice these things. He doesn’t bother to speak, just nods his head for the passenger side. I look down the highway, which seems to be never-ending and flanked by only trees in either direction. I walk around and climb into the vehicle.

“Where are you headed?” he asks lightly, and his voice is like a sexy low growl, yet clean.

“As far away from here as I can get,” I answer quickly.

“That’s what I figured.” I smile because it’s a compliment, I don’t look like a girl you would see staying in New Jersey for more then a few days and I shouldn’t. He pulls a U-turn suddenly on the empty road and starts the other way. “You’re going south so you’ll never get out of here only end up in a dead end,” he explains, “You have to go north then turn around and go south, it’s this whole death trap, people come here and never leave. It’s the only reason they have a population.” I laugh and my throat is dry.

He really is a speed demon, and he turns the radio up and for what seems like an hour we race down the desolate highways and I’m happy to just relax and admire the way the machine hugs the road and the man hugs the machine. His arms are huge and they flex as he moves them and he has a few tattoos, a tribal design on the arm side of each shoulder, and something emerging on his back.

He stops at a little mom and pop job and we go inside. He doesn’t ask me about my money, and I don’t offer. That seems to be the way with anything, but I don’t mind at all. It’s a ride, and so far it’s not with a truck driver who wants me to blow him at every red light. He put on a dark red leather jacket just like mine that matches the interior to the car. It’s so sexy how a man and his transportation can form strong bonds. A smile covers my face at these fleeting thoughts and broadens further when we enter the store.

An old woman with a baggy flowered house dress is behind the register, a shotgun leaning against her chair, a woman and a small child in jeans and dirty tee-shirts are standing by the counter talking to the woman and an old black man in overalls, tee shirt and boots, fresh from farming is standing by the deli counter chugging a bottle of water.

We look around and I start to walk down the aisles. I unceremoniously stuff a few small wrapped deserts, a pack of gum, a toothbrush, and a pack of sour patch kids in my pockets. Then I grab a large cherry coke fountain soda and a magazine and don’t bother to conceal them as I walk out the door. I wink at the old woman as I pass. Odds are the shotgun isn’t loaded, because who would leave a loaded shotgun where anyone that walks in would see it. She frowns and gives me the finger and I chuckle as I walk out the squeaking screen door and back into the parking lot.

He’s already in the car. He has a bottle of Southern Comfort wrapped in a paper bag between his legs and a pack of cigarettes on the dashboard. He just smiles as I put the drink in a cup holder and remove my lifted merchandise. He starts the car and we’re on our way. Destination unknown, at least to me, but maybe he knows I wouldn’t care enough to not bother mentioning it.

As the car begins to accelerate the cigarettes slide off the dash and I quickly catch them. He looks over a little surprised at my reflexes and offers me a smoke. I decline, but tell him to save me one, then I eat a chocolate éclair pie, a lemon pie, half my sour patch kids and finish off my half gallon of cherry coke as he watches amused. Ten minutes from now he’ll have to pull over but I’m sure it was worth seeing a small girl chowing down. I fish out a cigarette and he lights it for me, then amidst puffs I remove the bottle from between his legs and take a few swigs.

An hour later we stop at a diner in Delaware and he treats me to a $2.99 special with two eggs, two pancakes, two strips of bacon, and two coffees. I’m happy. We finally make conversation. He tells me he’s on his way to Florida and I tell him that I’ll go with him for as long as he can put up with me. He seems pretty cool, like some blockbuster movie antihero. His name is Jaime.

“So, what are you running from?” I ask him. It was a question I asked before I even met him. Looking at the cars in the hotel parking lot I had wondered where the owners were running too, and surely if his fine vehicle had been there that night I would have especially wondered about him.

He smiles and takes a steaming sip of coffee, he takes it black with five sugars, like me. “I’m running from a man who wants to kill me,” he pauses and his smile falters that’s how I know he’s telling the truth, “I really didn’t want to pick someone up, especially not a woman, because if he finds me he’ll kill me and anyone unfortunate enough to be with me.”

“You don’t seem like the type to run, and I’m perfectly capable of keeping myself alive.” Soon he may know just how capable. “But I know how you feel. I’m running from a man who wants to kill me too.” Despite the obvious battery signs written all over my face he doesn’t believe me, and hopefully he’ll never get to know first hand. I like him, when we get to Florida I’ll go the other way to keep him out of danger. “Why does your man want to kill you?” I ask him smiling.

He’s considering whether to tell me the truth or not, “I stole his Mary Jane.”

“His pot?” I ask laughing, and he smiles, “No, his car,” he says nodding towards the sparkling black car in the lot. I don’t believe it, there has to be more to it, or that’s totally wrong, but I know I would kill for that car.

“What about you? Why does he wanna kill you?” he asks. Show and tell.

“Because I won’t fuck his brains out,” I say lightly, and he doesn’t seem shocked.

“Why not?” he asks. Maybe I’ll tell him I’m a lesbian, he wouldn’t try to get in my pants, but I’m not sure I don’t want him to. “Is he ugly? Little? Can’t keep it up?”

“Truthfully?” I ask smiling.

“Yeah.”

“He’s the hottest man on the face of the earth, and I’m positive he packs a good fuck, but he’s a killer and if I were to fuck him I’d be running anyway. Also I wouldn’t have anything to look forward to when he finally gets his hands on me.” Now he’s a little surprised. “At least now, when he’s feeling antsy and finds me, I’ll get a good romp before he cuts my heart out and eats it.”

He licks his lips, and I swear I could pull him up on the table and bang the shit out of his fine ass right there in front of all the townies. The waitress is standing there waiting to take our plates. He pays the check, we hit the bathrooms and we’re on the road again. No real talking in the car. I don’t want to talk about my life and I’m pretty sure he feels the same. When it gets dark he pulls into a hotel. He knows I have no money now and he’s short so he gets one room and we both sleep on the bed. He doesn’t try anything and nether do I. Eight in the morning finds us showered, dressed, stocked on junk food, and driving on.




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