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 XXIIX: A New Proposition


I throw on my coat and wink to the naked eyes that perfectly match her body before I disappear down the steps into the garage with a smile and a whistle on my lips. I drive to the local nightclub with the same happiness. It’s a place we have often been together. I sit down at a table near the throbbing dance floor and scope out the patrons. I need a man to have some real fun, a man that she will take pity on. That should be difficult, she has a personal vendetta against most males, so he’ll have to be pretty young, handsome, and seemingly naive.

I see a young white male with short light brown hair and a tall slender build dancing to the beat of the music just on the edge of the dance floor. He has those smiling innocent eyes, which on a vampire could lead anyone into the jaws of their death but he is no vampire and certainly not a killer, not yet anyway. He looks like he might be a college student. There are no girls around him, they are all dancing with the more burly guys, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He’s not here to pick up a date, he’s here to let the music pulse out all his worries and it seems to be working.

The problem that will arise is how to get him out. He doesn’t seem to be gay, he certainly didn’t check me out when he saw me staring, just smiled politely and returned to the dancing. I could offer him drugs but he doesn’t seem like that type either. His innocence is perfect, but it makes leading him away from the flock difficult.

I decide to let it come to me as I go along, I’m always more brilliant at times like this. I grab a beer from the bar and approach him, “Seen any appealing woman here tonight?” I question.

He looks me over now, and doesn’t seem to mind the conversation, “Not really, but I haven’t exactly been looking. I’ve decided being single is much more fun.”

“Well isn’t the point of being single being able to have your choice of woman whenever you want?” I ask smiling, and making sure to follow a nearby woman steadily with my eyes to let him know I’m not interested in picking him up, at least not for sexual attraction.

“Yeah, I mean, you could say I’m sexually free, but I don’t hunt it down I just let it come to me,” he says and follows my eyes to a nearby dancer and his smile widens.

“So you would never approach that woman?” I ask happily.

“If she was staring at me or something maybe, but I would rather just let things go to their own accord.”

“Not the take action type, wait for the proposition, I get it,” I say smiling.

“Exactly, it’s great, you should try it.”

I grin, “I like taking action, and I’m glad that may come in handy tonight, see, I’m not single. I’m married, but we are still sexually free and this is going to sound really weird…”

He has stopped dancing and is staring at me with intense interest; I know he’s caught. “What?” he asked curiously.

I suddenly remember her picture is still in my wallet after all this time. “Here’s a picture,” I say flipping it out and handing it to him.

“Wow, nice,” he says smiling. “She’s really hot.”

“Yeah, and we had this agreement where we are supposed to go find someone for each other for one night of sex and that’s it. She proposed it and didn’t think I would go along with it, in fact she was sure of it. So now I just have to prove her wrong, and besides I had my night last night and I owe her a thank you.”

“What are you getting at?” he asks slowly.

“I want you would have sex with my wife.”

“That’s what I thought you were getting at,” he says with a smile. “Are you going to pay me?”

I frown, “This isn’t a TV movie. I saw you and thought you were the type of guy she could really enjoy herself with, but she’s a prize I know that, I mean if you want money I’ll just have to find someone else. You should be paying her for the sex she dishes out.”

He looks shocked, “You’re serious about this?” he asks slowly. “I mean you want me to have sex with your wife?”

“Just tonight, one night, don’t even tell her your name. That’s the way she wanted it. She’s waiting at our loft right now. Waiting for me to come back, but she doesn’t know I’m bringing company.”

He starts to dance again as he considers this. “Well, like I said I’m the type to wait around for a proposition, when it’s here, I can’t really turn it down, especially this type of proposition.”

I smile deeply, got him, “You did say that.”

“Okay,” he says walking to the bar to get a drink, maybe to relax the nervousness. “I’ll do it.”

“Great,” I say and he grabs the picture from my hands one more time and smiles deeply then rushes for the door maybe to get going before he loses his nerve.

“My car is over there,” I say pointing to the black Lincoln Navigator as I start across the street with the boy at my heels. I pull out my cell phone and dial the house number and Jonas answers. Then I start the car and pull onto the road quickly, causing the kid to buckle his seat belt, “I’m on my way home sweetheart,” I smile into the telephone like a happy lover. “I have a special present for you, so make sure you look your best.” I hang up the phone and glance over at the boy who is still downing a beer. Jonas knows what that means. We had prior plans.

I hear someone coming up the steps with a purpose, but it’s only one set of feet and they don’t sound weighted down by a heavy burden so I know if it’s him he’s come back alone. I don’t know if that’s good or bad, and I’m still trying to weigh out the factors when Jonas appears at the top of the steps. He smiles kindly, like always, and like always it’s unnerving to think that an evil creature can take on a kind appearance, but I know he can too so why shouldn’t his children. If he turns me will I possess this skill as well? I doubt it. I’ve always been told I look like trouble.

My feet are still throbbing but they stopped bleeding hours ago. I’m sure the scabs will break open all too easily if I move. He approaches me and to my surprise he grabs a large bath towel from the bathroom and drapes it over my naked body. I wonder if he regrets not taking me when he had the chance. I had been right, he hadn’t wanted to have sex in daddy’s bed, or with daddy’s mate. He begins untying the ropes attached to my feet and with each movement they start to hurt more and more. He moves up and unties my hands then sits me up.

“Stand up,” he instructs.

I glare at him, and don’t move. He frowns and wraps the towel around my body then lifts me easily into his arms and carries me towards the bathroom. “He wants you to look special tonight,” he says.

He opens the door, sits me on the toilet, and while I relieve myself he starts a bath because I can’t stand up to take a shower. He adds some floral smelling bubble bath to the water and when the tub is ready he takes the towel from me and carefully sits me in the steaming water. My feet burn like they are on fire and I almost smack my head on the tile wall trying to lift them quickly from the water.

“It’s good for them,” he states placing them back into the water. I hate him and his fatherly kindness, not only because I know it’s fake but also because it’s out of character. Where’s his evil quips and iron fists? “Do you need help?” he asks picking up a rag and beginning to lather it with soap.

“No!” I snap and snatch the rag from his hands.

He smiles, “So strong and noble.” Now he’s starting to sound like him and it’s surprisingly comforting, “I’ll be back to get you in fifteen minutes.”

He disappears and I wash as quickly and thoroughly as I can, taking special care to my wounds. There is no telling when I will have this opportunity again so I revel in it although my unhealed battle scars are painful, it’s a clarifying pain, an eye opening pain. The type of pain that tells you what is going to happen. My pain tells me that it’s nothing compared to the pain that is coming and that I will share this pain with another.

I have my eyes closed and I’m soaking in the water when Jonas returns with some clothes, a brush, deodorant, and bandages for my feet. He lets the water drain out then lifts me out of the tub and places me back on the toilet and wraps a towel around me. He hands me a brush and I run it quickly through my hair, I’m not particularly trying to look nice for him. I dry myself off and lift my arms as he slides a black silk nightgown down my arms and over my breasts. He slips a pair of underwear over my feet and I pull them up as far as I can. Then he sits Indian style at my feet and wraps the delicate tissue with thick bandages.

He stands before me and grabs my hands and yanks me surprisingly to my feet. I scream out before my feet even touch the ground because I know it is going to hurt. I fall forward into his arms as my feet give out but I realize they aren’t as bad as I thought they would be. I can walk on them but that doesn’t mean he has to know. He holds me up by my armpits as I pull up the panties and straighten the short dress. It’s simple, but thin and sexy. What a surprise. When I’ve dressed and put on deodorant he hands me a paper bag with my make up and toiletries in it. I frown and throw the bag across the room, like I’m going to get all dolled up for him. Jonas frowns and I sit my ground until he picks up the bag, opens an eyeliner pencil and approaches me with it.

He’ll blind me before he ever gets it right so I grab the pencil and the bag and he props me in front of the mirror. I see that the wound on my neck has healed pretty fast and is only a pink hill now. I brush my teeth and apply my eyeliner, lipstick, and eye shadow and he smiles. “You look beautiful.”

“Fuck you,” I snap, “Oh wait, we tried that once before.”

He just laughs and lifts me into his arms again. He quickly carries me out and past my pathetic mattress to a place I’ve never been before, his bed. Jonas had pulled the covers down and lit some candles while I was in the shower and matched with the roaring fire and my sexy attire the mood was definitely set to seduce, but who and why?

My helper then leaves me and goes over to the bar to pour me a drink. “He should be here very shortly,” he says handing me a tumbler of vodka.

I frown, “Fabulous,” I say sarcastically and place the glass on the end table, “Can I just have some water or something?” I ask. He smiles and goes down the stairs without a word. A few minutes later he approaches with a bottle of Pepsi. The bottle is covered in condensation from a refrigerator and I know the one here doesn’t work. When I start to open the bottle the bubbles begin to push up and I close the cap before they can spill all over me. There must be a soda machine nearby. Then we must be near some kind of store or something. How did he know Pepsi was my favorite? They know everything about me, they’ve been watching me for long enough.

He walks behind the kitchen counter and hurries back a few minutes later with two slices of bread with peanut butter spread sloppily on both sides. He’s been feeding me this crap since I’ve been able to keep it down. It’s all part of the ‘fatten the pig before you eat’ philosophy. He wants me to be in tiptop condition when he eats my heart.

He smiles as I finish the food and I hand him the plate to go clean and get out of my face. I hope I got crumbs all over his sheets and I hope they piss him off. He comes back with a napkin, which I throw to the floor without using, “What is this? What does he want from me now damn it!”

He just chuckles and I step up onto my feet to lunge at him and my outstretched arms barely catch my face from hitting the hard concrete ground. My chin is scraped and bleeding, great, just another thing to add to the list. He chuckles some more and lifts me back up onto the bed, then picks up my discarded napkin and mats my chin with it.

“Why don’t you just lay down?” he asks pulling down the covers for me.

I refuse to lie back just for the sake of being stubborn. My body is so worn out and this bed is so comfortable and smells so good I would no doubt knock right out and sleep for hours. I won’t willingly subject myself to the torment of whatever punishment he has in order coming by surprise. My feet don’t hurt as bad as they have. In fact, I feel surprisingly good. I guess all I needed was some peanut butter bread and soda instead of vodka. I’m so tired. Damn, any minute now I’ll be slumping over in this bed, in this nightgown. They must have drugged me… or maybe the not sleeping is catching up with me…shit…

God look at her, she’s so perfect in every way. In this moment I think maybe it would’ve been better to have done this earlier and forgot about the boy. But a promise is a promise, and I did promise her company, wouldn’t want to please her and make her think I’m going soft. I wish I were in that boy’s position right now. He doesn’t know what he’s about to get. He doesn’t know how generous I’m being, but it’s not for him, it’s for her. I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking you can’t believe I’m going to let him have her, let him taste her lips and body. Well, yes, he’ll have her, but in a different way. That’s if she plays the game right.

He approaches the bed. The fire is out and the only illumination in the room is coming from the glow of a small candle on the bedside table, so close to her angelic face. She looks so peaceful. I can’t believe the drug lasted this long. Jonas only gave her six hundred milligrams but I guess when you’re that skinny and it’s been so long since you’ve taken pills the effect is great. She really is dreadfully skinny. I’ll have to do something about that. It will be much more of an enjoyment having her around for eternity if she’s more physically pleasing.

His hand is grazing her bare arm and shoulder, and he kneels by her side. He doesn’t know her name. I haven’t told him because he doesn’t have the right to have that name on his lips, ever. I expected it to take a little more effort but she jolts upright in bed, maybe startled by another dream and the sudden hand on her arm. Her hands are wrapped around his throat before either of them knows what’s happening. She sees his face and releases him just as quickly. He falls back gasping for air.

“Who the fuck are you?” she screams, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Your husband,” he gasps, and I suppress a fit of sarcastic chuckles, but not a deep smile, “he wanted me to come here and…” he notices her shocked face and stops short.

“My husband?” she calls into the blackness, to me, “That’s what you think you are now?” She’s calling me out.

“Soon enough,” I mumble and my voice echoes off the concrete walls and makes my whereabouts unknown. She follows the blackness with her eyes and I swear she makes contact with mine; she hesitates then continues her gaze around the rest of the room.

“What’s going on?” the boy asks.

“That’s not my husband, he’s a killer and he’s going to kill you,” she explains in a rush. Wrong, I’m not going to kill him, you are.

The kid looks around like he may be considering that he got himself into a whole lot of trouble, a smile parts his lips, “You’re kidding right?” he asks. He sees her serious face as a reply and decides she’s not.

She’s on high alert now, and she whispers something in his ears. She’s trying to be slick. She thinks I can’t hear what she’s saying and she thinks she’ll really piss me off, and she’s right on both accounts. What is she telling this youngster?

He looks at her and then a smile covers his face. She has pulled the covers down her legs and spread them a little next to him. She leans back against the pillow and he slowly carefully climbs on top of her slim body. Whore fucking bitch! She’s trying to drawl me out and she’s coming really close.

I can see perfectly as his hand slides between her smooth soft thighs. She closes her eyes and pushes her head further back into the pillow. Then she grazes her lips and cheeks against his, “please, I need this so bad,” she moans seductively.

“Are you trying to get him killed?” I mumble, and he is startled from his hand movements.

I hear his voice through the darkness like a magnet, sucking me towards him, promising that ever-pleasing mixture of pain and pleasure. This boy could never do the things he could; it’s not about pleasure now. It’s about directing his anger from this boy to me. I wonder if it’s working. I drawl the guy closer, and whisper in his ears. A plan, and if he’s smart he won’t need an explanation. He looks deep into my eyes seeking the truth, I can’t even begin to imagine how confused he must be at this moment but he follows my lead.

My body even heats up at his sensitive and careful touch. I see a large silver cross around his neck. I slip my hands around his neck to moan to him and I’m sure the connecting points of our bodies will draw his eyes far more then his neck where I quickly unhook the chain and let it fall to my lap. He talks again and I know where he is, sitting on the couch. I wonder where Jonas is as I throw the kid heavily to the floor and scream for him to go to the stairs. Will he be stopped? I hear swift movement by the couch. He’s coming for me; at least I hope he’s coming for me. I clutch the cross in my fist and stagger towards the stairs. After five feet I can feel the wounds in my feet breaking open and the blood slicking the floor beneath me.

I’m not moving quickly at all, hoping he won’t run past me to catch the boy, hoping that Jonas is not waiting downstairs. I mean he has to feed too right? He has to go sometime. After three more steps I’m tackled roughly to the concrete ground. Again, my body is broken and scraped by the coarse surface but I don’t lose my breath this time, I was expecting this. His body lingers heavily behind me for only a moment then I hear him get to his feet. Will he try and go stop the boy. If he does escape he will surely send the police this way. Not like they can stop him and save me, but it would be an inconvenience to him. He takes off towards the stairs and I hear him jump through the hole in the middle of the spiral staircase and land in a run on the concrete floor.

He knows there is no way I’ll get down the stairs and out the door before he can return. But that doesn’t mean I can’t be prepared for him. I quickly get up and look around the apartment. It’s dark and my view is limited. I’ve been here for so long now you think I’d know exactly where potential weapons are. I can’t remember there being a single piece of wood anywhere. The four-poster bed, the end tables, the coffee table, all made of wrought iron and other substances. The bar stools! I remember suddenly the weapon I had forged against Jaime. I glance wearily to the other side of the room, a long distance on two wounded feet. I start to crawl there immediately, moving much quicker then I expected. There is one bar stool, the other one having been broken. I topple it quickly hoping that he isn’t standing behind me watching. I quickly break off a leg and turn around.

The room is still empty, that’s a miracle if I ever saw one. Maybe that means the victim got away, or maybe it means he didn’t and the animal is still enjoying his meal. I crawl towards the bed, which is not so far away and still perfectly lit by the solitary candle. When I get there I climb into the covers and let them rest low on my thighs to reveal the high hem of the nightgown, after all I need him close to make the kill.

I close my eyes and concentrate on hearing any sound of his arrival. I hear his footsteps loud as day, exaggerated on the stairwell. He’s whistling. That’s never a good sign. I try to slow my fast beating heart as I stick the hand with the stake under the pillow. He wants me to know he’s coming because he thinks I’m still heaped on the floor in disarray. He thinks I’ll feel helpless to escape his approach. I’m dreading his approach just as if I were still heaped on the floor because I fear maybe he simply brought the poor victim back for some more family fun. My husband!

I let out a sigh of relief as he tops the stairs empty handed. “You let him get away,” he says shaking his head, “You’ve been a very bad girl and you know what that means.”

I let my legs part a little more and the fabric slide up to reveal my panties, “I need to be punished,” I moan closing my eyes and touching a breast with my free hand.

He approaches, how could he not, and asks, “Did you honestly want that mere boy? Did you think he could fill you the way I can?”

I shake my head and rub my breasts harder. Then I slide the slim fabric up to reveal them to him. He unbuttons his shirt and throws it to the floor. Then unbuckles his belt and that falls next to the shirt. For a moment I thought he might beat me with it. Yeah right, he can’t resist this. Come get it big boy. It takes him only a second to mount much more powerfully then the boy earlier. His pants are still upright but he starts to rub his crotch against mine and once again my body betrays me with a strong response. I can’t help but consider releasing the stake and letting my body have the pleasure his is promising. His movements are not rough like before. His fingers slid inside my panties and come out soaking wet.

“No,” he says smugly, “you knew he couldn’t please you like I can.” He’s so sure of himself, so arrogant. I roughly pull the stake out but the point gets snagged on the pillow and rips it open. I’m not quick enough and with a smile he snatches it away from me and throws it far across the other side of the room where it crashes into the glass of the bathroom but doesn’t shatter it. Then he turns back to me and slaps me roughly across the face, all this while never breaking his hips strenuous pace against mine. He’s such a fucking bastard.

“You know,” he says, “for a moment I almost thought you had given into your body, it was delicious, but not nearly as delicious as this.” His body is still moving against mine and I know what he means by this. It’ll be more delicious to see body fighting mind and vice versa. Also to punish me for what I did, to get back to what he was so enjoying, my torture, no doubt with new strength and vengeance.

“My mind will never want you!” I scream defiantly.

Still thrusting his hips against mine, “It already does, or your body wouldn’t be able to respond so strongly. You’re sick, you’re disgusting, you’re twisted, you fantasize about fucking vampires. If this was rape, you wouldn’t be so wet, surely you remember what rape feels like, only you were pretty wet then too.”

I start to thrash underneath him screaming bits and pieces of protest too wildly to remember. This isn’t getting me anywhere. His laughing reveals it’s only further pleasing him. It means he’s winning, that his truthful spurs can hurt me because I know them to be truth. I stop thrashing but his laughter continues, “Oh baby! You’re so cute. Come on, can’t we just let bygones be bygones? We could have a whole lot of fun,” he coaxes. He knows I won’t give in, knows it’s helpless, but I’m sure it doesn’t bother him all that much.




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