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Hilary
Legacy
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Klotho - Book I
Title:
Klotho - Book 1 *************************************************************** Sunnydale, CA September 1997 Willow was starting to think that maybe she really had seen it all, and not in a jaded sort of way. While that exaggerated thought swept through, she knew for sure that if she had not yet seen it all then she would someday soon. She had had the whole summer to get over Jesse’s death by not dealing with it. She and Xander never discussed it by unspoken agreement. And Buffy had never brought it up. Willow often thought, somewhere in her almost conscious mind, that while none of them were willing to accept the complicity they felt in his death, they wanted to hold onto the guilt they felt over it as though it were dearer than the friend himself. But Willow was discovering that you develop all kinds of coping mechanisms on the Hellmouth. The summer had been pretty quiet. Buffy had spent most of it in LA visiting her father. She and Xander had kind of gone back to business as usual during that time. They had spent a lot of time together, but it was still never the kind of time Willow really wanted…and really feared. But after the Master had freed himself, killed Buffy, and then been killed by her after Xander and Angel had revived her, a break was welcomed. Willow couldn’t remember the last time she had actually breathed. But, as with all good things, it wasn’t to last. Buffy got back from LA and was cold, distant. Something was off, and Willow was always too much the ‘go-along-er’ to say what was on her mind. She knew Buffy still hadn’t dealt with her own death. Then again, Willow hadn’t dealt with the coffins in her closet, and people who keep coffins in their closet shouldn’t throw stones…or something. She just wasn’t enough of a hypocrite to say, ‘Hey, you died. Deal and move on.’ And maybe she wasn’t a good enough friend to say it either. And Buffy had hurt her; not just with the standoffishness, but with her sexy dance with Xander. It was one thing to be humiliated in the privacy of your own head because the person you loved crushed on your best girl friend and treated you like a little sister; it was another thing entirely to have to watch said best girl friend rub herself all over said loved person in front of the whole town like they were shooting footage for an anti-Willow ad. Then there was the whole thing with the Anointed One trying to raise the Master again. Seeing Buffy that freaked out about facing his skeleton somehow made being used as a pawn to trap the Slayer, again, a little more bearable. No one had gotten hurt in any permanent fashion, and Buffy had gone back to her usual friendly, if not a little self-centered, self. And, as usual, Willow was willing to bury the entire business if it meant that no one rocked the boat. Besides, Willow hadn’t even gotten around to discussing with herself something that had happened last school year as a product of her grief over Jesse, her despair over Xander, and her disdain of herself. She’d had a boyfriend, this guy Malcolm she had met online. She should have known from the beginning that someone who could like her had to be wrong. And just look at their track records: the only woman who had ever accepted Jesse’s advances killed him, Xander had almost been eaten by preying mantis lady, Angel was a vampire…they just didn’t seem to be destined for angst-free dating in their group. And she herself was no different. It turned out that Malcolm was really Moloch the Destroyer, a very evil demon that had been imprisoned in a book until they had accidentally released it into the internet via book cataloging. The hardest part for her about this hadn’t been that the one boy she had thought really liked her turned out to be an evil monster; that part was kind of expected. The hardest part had been when every one else asked her what she had been thinking about when she had gotten so chummy with someone she had never met. It didn’t seem to matter what happened: no one really saw her. “Hey Wills. Whatcha got for lunch today?” No matter what happened, all would be right in the world as long as Xander was still hungry. Most people would have chalked it up to teenage boy metabolism, but Willow knew better. She knew that even when he did get fed at home it wasn’t enough to nourish. And eating helped him fill the void that was inside him where his family’s love should have been. God, she loved him. “PB&J, banana and a cookie. You want?” She handed her lunch bag over to him while she was speaking, assuming he would take anything she brought. He took the bag and then handed her back the banana. Her thought that Freud would have a field day with this was cut off when Buffy sat down at the table with them. “Hey guys.” The blonde Slayer set her lunch tray down and then sat down herself while eyeing it with equal parts disgust and suspicion. “Do you think that the lunch ladies are demons? ‘Cuz I’m thinking no human would look at this and say, ‘That looks appetizing’.” “You just want them to be demons so you can slay. I don’t think that women who’ve been working thankless jobs for ungrateful teenagers for twenty years count as demonic just on principle. You’d have to have more proof. We’ll have to wait and see if they actually try to kill someone…on purpose.” Yep, leave it to Willow to always try to smooth things over. Why did she always have to do that when she wasn’t of enough significance for her opinion to matter anyway? *************************** Pinionverse Willow was starting to think that maybe she really had seen it all, and not in a jaded sort of way. While that exaggerated thought swept through, she knew for sure that if she had not yet seen it all then she would someday soon. She and the boys had had the whole summer to get used to Buffy and her to them. The five of them [Giles was an integral part] had actually become a pretty well-oiled team. And this careful balance was maintained on one principle: everyone knew their limitations and no one tried to be a hero…well, other than the inherent ‘hero’ aspect of the job anyway. And so when Buffy had gone to visit her father for a few weeks before school had started up again the four remaining team members had little trouble maintaining a limited patrol. Other things had progressed over the course of the summer. Jesse and Amy Madison had gotten very close after her mom had tried to kill everyone. They were really good together; Amy gave Jesse an outlet for the sweetness he never been able to spend on anyone other than Willow, and Jesse gave Amy a reason to keep her natural magic in check. Cordelia Chase…yes, I said Cordelia Chase…had started helping them out from time to time. The once-venomous brunette had changed a great deal since Marcie the invisible girl had cut up her face before Buffy had gotten there to save her. The unsightly scar that covered the right side of the brunette’s face had been the death sentence to most of her popularity. And even with all the money Cordelia’s parents had spent in trying to minimize the scar, they hadn’t been able to eradicate it. She still had her ‘Cordelia Chase’ moments, but she was become someone they could rely on for help. Willow had never had the courage to tell her former arch nemesis that she hadn’t ever really noticed how beautiful the girl was until she had her face cut up. And no one seemed to be more surprised about this than Xander. He was the first of the original Sunnydale crew to accept that the once paragon of high school perfection was trying to change. He seemed to see more in her than the others had been willing to look for, and through him they all had seen another side of her emerging. Xander himself had started to come into his own. Through their training with Giles he had gotten strong enough to convince his father that he wasn’t worth the trouble of beating on anymore. Not getting picked on at home and becoming friendly with his foremost torturer at school had allowed him to grow outside the bounds of his ‘comic relief’ role. If Willow took the time she might realize that others were finding something she had never really thought about in any real way. But she didn’t really have time to think about anything other than school and developing her magic. In addition to Giles’ help, she was also training with Amy and Jenny Calendar. Jenny was a computer teacher at the high school, and as a self-titled ‘techno-pagan’ Jenny understood the fusion of two of Willow’s greatest loves: computers and magic. It was also kind of fun to watch Jenny and Giles dance around their attraction to each other. There was something more there than either seemed willing to admit; and every time it seemed they would get around to it there was another big nasty to worry about. Speaking of the next big nasty, Giles had found reference to a clan of Omperiof demons that celebrated something called the Feast of St. Vigious. It was some ritual to commemorate a large slaughter…sort of a ‘St. Valentine’ for the demon community. They knew that it would be coming up soon, and they wanted to get a good handle on it. Willow had a feeling that this wasn’t just the same every day thing. There was something particularly ominous about the coagulated ball in her stomach, and one of the things that her studies with Amy, Giles and Jenny had taught her was that you never ignored your instincts. Living on the Hellmouth made that doubly necessary. Without good instincts, and the conviction to follow them, no one lasted long here. So they were currently having what Cordelia, or Delia as they had begun to call the former May Queen, had dubbed their ‘research parties’. They all sat at the long table in the high school library, their headquarters, with books opened to various illustrations of demons and prophecies searching for any information on St. Vigious or the Omperiof clans. Assorted junk food lay about the room to offer both sustenance and distraction for the present researchers. Not that they would really help much in the first case or were necessary in the second, but what else would you expect from a group of sixteen year olds and the two adults charged with guiding them. Willow looked up from a particularly disturbing description of some kind of trans-dimensional creature that fed on any mammal still in-utero and looked around the room at her family. These were the only people she had in the world. She was startled to realize that she was even including Delia in those she claimed as family. This came as something of a surprise to her, but was also something she could accept with ease. If there was one thing she had learned in the last year or so, it was acceptance. She wouldn’t have been able to survive without being able to accept the things she couldn’t control, but she also staunchly refused to allow that acceptance to give way to resignation. She reveled in that fact that there were more than a handful of people who fought by her side, by the Slayer’s side, to protect the world from forces bent on destroying it. The redheaded witch saw Jesse and Amy with their heads bent toward one another whispering, she was sure, sweet words to each other rather than discussing the demon at hand. Xander and Delia sat at the opposite end of the table from them having one of their typical arguments that Willow knew would only escalate in passion and volume. God, for those two it was like foreplay or something… Buffy was perched on the corner of the table next to Willow’s right leg. She was sharpening some kind of battle axe while the other were researching, or at least pretending to do so. It had long ago been discovered that everything went better if Buffy didn’t research during research parties. Jenny was at the check out counter researching on the computer while Giles paced around the room with at least two books in his hand at any given time. Willow herself was splitting her time between the ancient tomes in front of her and the laptop balanced somewhat precariously on her left knee. She was so lost in these observations that it was a miracle she didn’t dump her laptop when someone finally spoke out loud. “Could someone please pass me Graham’s Grimoire please? I do believe I might have found something on this St. Vigious Day ritual.” Nobody really looked up when Giles spoke, but Willow knew that it was one of the books in her pile so she shuffled through them and handed it to the older man. By the time she passed him the volume her hands no longer showed her nervousness. She watched the Englishman scan thought the book, finding the pages he was looking for, read over the pertinent paragraphs, set the book down and begin to clean his glasses. Oh shit, Willow really hated it when he did that. It always meant that he had just discovered something he wanted to pretend didn’t exist. It was a deeply enough ingrained gesture that she could imagine a five year old Rupert polishing his small spectacles after accidentally walking in on his parents while they were having sex. And she just barely managed to curb her laughter at that thought by remembering that Giles polishing his glasses wasn’t a funny thing. Willow looked back down at the book she was holding, realizing that she had been turning the pages without even noticing. She started to close the book when she caught a glimpse of the demon depicted on that particular page. And her throat closed up and the rest of the world went dim and she no longer had any sense of time or place. She had looked for some time, especially after meeting Giles and having access to his books, for the demon that had slaughtered her parents. She had even questioned Willy who ran the local demon bar. But she had never been able to locate the species of demon that had been her first kill, nor had she ever been able to discover why they had been killed at all. And now, quite by accident, she was starring into the five eyes of the beast that changed her life. That would have been enough of a shock. But the world had only fallen away when she had begun to read. “Lothrian demons are energy feeders. They are known to seek out strong projectors, and by prolonging their lives, feed on them until they are dead. Psychics or mystical healers will do for them, but their choice food is witches. They are not overly physically strong, but they are known to kill anything that stands in the way of their food source.” And the last little bit of Willow Rosenberg that was innocent died. *************************** Shadowverse Willow was starting to think that maybe she really had seen it all, and not in a jaded sort of way. While that exaggerated thought swept through, she knew for sure that if she had not yet seen it all then she would someday soon. It seemed as though there would never be an end to the pain of living on a hellmouth. The Master had managed to rise before the end of last school year, killing Buffy and using her blood to escape his mystical prison. Since then, life had been a series of narrow escapes and waiting for the other shoe to drop. The had this Feast of St. Vigious Day to look forward to…well, if anyone could look forward to thwarting a group of demons who wanted to open the hellmouth and had blood that smelled like infected puss. According to Giles, the new slayer would be coming soon. Her name was Kendra. She and her Jamaican Watcher would be arriving within the week. And no one knew yet how willing these newcomers would be to having ‘civilian’ help…even though that civilian help had been working to keep the Hellmouth safe in their absence. They had gotten some other help since Buffy’s death, and from some unlikely sources. Cordelia Chase had begun to help them out from time to time since she had become aware of what really went on in Sunnydale when she had seen her friend Harmony killed by vampires one night when they were walking home from the Bronze. Larry, who had always seemed like the most he could contribute to the world was testosterone and sexual harassment, had really begun pulling his weight. Once he had dropped his macho act, he had become a kind of surrogate brother to a bunch of kids with no families. They all worked together to make sure that there were escort programs for after school events, and that every student had stakes and holy water available to them. They knew that not everyone would believe them about what went bump in the night, and that even those who did were at an age where they were too sure of their invincibility to take the threat seriously. But it was the most that they could do. They had slowly attracted a small number of other people who could help them out from time to time with patrols. But in the end there was only one thing that had saved Sunnydale from all out chaos and Willow wasn’t too proud to admit that that thing was the intelligence and foresight of their enemy. The Master wasn’t greedy. Despite so much of what they had learned about vampires and demons in the time that they had been fighting, the Master didn’t try and take over the world or even Sunnydale. He made a presence for himself, and there were a lot more ‘unexplained’ deaths inside the city limits. But he also ruled with an iron fist. It seemed as though the numbers of new vampires was remaining steady. Giles had told them that vampires generally only make one other true vampire during their existence, so number never went up drastically. But this total lack of an influx would seem to indicate that the Master had…discouraged…vampires from inviting out-of-towners to the Hellmouth. This left the locals with less competition for the food source and assurances that no one would get wind of what was going on to do much about it. This pragmatism was making him a most worthy opponent. And they had gotten wind from one of their contacts that some of the Master’s family were set to arrive. That their arrival seemed to coincide with the arrival of one brand spanking new Slayer and her Watcher was only ironic insofar as something that isn’t funny can be. Willow often wondered why the Great Cosmic Joke had such a fucking twisted sense of humor. But then what else did she expect. They all had their fair share of battle wounds, even if they didn’t always have a scar to show off during story hour. “What do you think they’ll be like?” Trust Jesse to break the ice with the easy questions. And people kept telling her that they could no longer tell the difference between her sarcasm and her seriousness. She couldn’t imagine what would make them say something like that. But since she was interested in the answer she looked up at Giles’ face while he responded. “While I have never met Mr. Zabuta, he has always had a good reputation in the Council as a fair man with a good mind for research. He is a little traditional when it comes to the roles of Slayers and Watchers, but he has also voted to allow Slayers to stay with their parents until they are older, even thought his own slayer was given to him by her parents when she was littler older than a baby, and to stop the age old tradition of the Crucimentium. I expect that he will be a reasonable man who, once he sees the situation we face here, will be willing to accept help even from unorthodox sources.” Willow smiled up at Giles. She was constantly amazed at the man’s ability to speak that much without saying what he really meant. It wasn’t that Giles ever really lied; in fact Willow wasn’t sure he could lie except perhaps by omission. But Giles seemed to have perfected the art of talking around any subject he discussed. It was something she was making a great study of, because to Willow it had come to represent the perfect weapon, both offensive and defensive. After the debacle with Moloch the Destroyer wanting to be her boyfriend she was done with taking people into her confidence. She had decided to close ranks and treat every one, other than the handful who really mattered, as acquaintances and co-workers. It was the only way she could come up with to cope with the pain she felt every time they had to slay a vampire or kill a demon. And this little talent of Giles’ seemed like the perfect armor. Jesse seemed satisfied with that answer, and Willow knew it was the only one they would get. But it didn’t make them any less nervous about the arrival of the new slayer. Willow didn’t know what to think. The only Slayer she knew had died, and in dying had brought about the release of the thing she died trying to vanquish. And the only real girl friend Willow had had died that same day. She admitted that she wasn’t really looking forward to having to adjust to these new people, despite the necessary help they would bring. But she also knew she would have to get used to things she didn’t like. That seemed to be the theme here in Sunnyhell. “And what if they aren’t willing to accept our help? Where will we be then? Life here is hard enough here as is, with the Master’s goons running around and all the demons who seem to want to take the Hellmouth as their own person little piece of turf, without having to fight the Slayer and her Watcher. I just don’t think we’re strong enough yet.” Willow and Giles often dueled for the role of Rational One. Giles asked the questions Willow didn’t yet have enough education to ask, and Willow asked the questions Giles was too reserved to ask. This suited them both just fine, and neither saw the irony in the unspoken acceptance of their roles as patriarch and matriarch of this rabble bunch. Jesse and Xander often joked about feeling like they should start calling them mom and dad; these two were as close as most of this group had ever had to loving and present parents, and the redhead and the Englishman had taken it upon themselves, especially after Buffy’s death, to keep watch over them all. The only thing that stopped them from adopting these monikers that were sure to irk and disgust those so named were the images that would unceremoniously pop into their heads at the idea of Giles and Willow being Daddy and Mommy. Eewww. Willow would never know that in the same breaths both boys would confide in one another their worry about their female best friend. They knew that she had never really gotten over what they had barely stopped from happening last year. Almost being raped and discovering that vampires and demons were real all in the same horrifying moment wasn’t something you got over easily or quickly. They hadn’t expected her to have boyfriends or become a popular social butterfly. But they had expected to see the light come back into her eyes completely. Every time they looked at her they were struck by the same fact: no matter how little her face had aged in the last year, her eyes had aged a millennia. And the saddest part was that they were the only two who could know that, could see it. But neither of them knew what to say or do to change it. So they didn’t say anything about it at all and just let their silence show their support. It was kind of like when one of your best friends loses an arm. At first you are always around, offering condolences and support, always saying can I get that for you or do you need help? But then, after a little while, everything goes back to the way it was when they still had both arms. This isn’t for lack of caring, but for respect. Your friend would say thank you for not treating me like I am missing something I can survive without. And survival is the name of the game, especially in this town. So, out of respect for their oldest, dearest friend and only mother figure, they went back to the way things were before she had lost her arm. And maybe, someday, when she was ready, they would tell her all about the day she had lost that arm and how happy it made them on the day that she had found it again. *************************************************************** PART
2 Spike felt a sense of rightness as he drove over the sign that read “Welcome to Sunnydale”. He knew it was juvenile, but that only made him smile. And he had been searching for something to help Drusilla for so long that he was beginning to despair of finding it. Spike had heard rumors that the Master had tried to rise but had met his match in a tiny blonde slayer with some ridiculous name like ‘Bunny’ or ‘Huffy’. These bloody Americans and their silly names. The irony of the fact that he was called ‘Spike’ would never have dawned on him. Spike had felt like wandering, but it seemed that over the course of the last half century Dru had been steadily steering them westward. So when he’d heard about the Master’s defeat, he thought that California seemed like as good an idea as any. And the fact that this place was on a Hellmouth…just sweetened the pot. It had been such a very long time since Spike had lived in any kind of vampire community that he was willing to put up with the inevitability of lots of bloodthirsty young fledges with more teeth than brains if it meant living among his own kind again. He loved his precious sire with all his undead heart, but she wasn’t exactly a stunning conversationalist. *************************** Pinionverse William felt a sense of rightness as he drove over the sign that read “Welcome to Sunnydale”. He knew it was juvenile, but every once in a while you had to let off some steam. And he had been searching for something to help Drusilla for so long that he was beginning to despair of finding it. Since they had left Las Vegas Drusilla had been complaining of indigestion. It never helped when William explained to her that vampires couldn’t get indigestion. Sometimes she would talk to people who weren’t with them, most often to Angelus or Darla. But the conversations, if you could call them that, she would have with them didn’t make any sense to William. It was almost as if she had recreated them in her mind to be something altogether different. Sometimes she would talk about Angelus, Darla and someone called William the Bloody and their bloodthirsty rampages across the world, and other times she would talk about a Spike and an Angel with a soul – as if it were strange for him to have a soul – and how she hated the man who wasn’t her Daddy. Over time William had figured out that both Spike and William the Bloody were supposed to be him, and this Angel was apparently Angelus himself. Sometimes William had fantasies of destroying Miss Edith, as Dru’s creative lapses seemed to be directly connected to that damn doll, but Miss Edith was the only thing Dru had kept from her human days and she loved it more than words could express. So William held his tongue about it and let her babble on, hoping that someday he would understand enough of what she was saying to be able to piece it all together. *************************** Shadowverse William the Bloody felt a sense of rightness as he drove over the sign that read “Welcome to Sunnydale”. He knew it was juvenile, but part of the joy of being a vampire was doing whatever the fuck you wanted, when you wanted. And they had been searching for something to help Drusilla for so long that he was beginning to despair of finding it. Darla had been in touch with her sire through one of his other followers, a master vampire named Luke. William the Bloody had met this Luke on one previous occasion and thought him to be one of the stupidest creatures ever given eternal life. But the git seemed to be loyal, and that was probably worth more than a billion brain cells to someone like the Master. Darla hadn’t shut up about being reunited with her sire again. What she saw in the old bat was beyond him; then again, sometimes what either the old bat or Angelus saw in her was beyond him. Aside from good looks and amorous skills beyond imagining, William the Bloody didn’t think there was all that much to Darla sometimes. But then he’d probably just answered his own question. In his latest missive, Luke had told Darla about a band of humans who had taken on the mantle of the Slayer after the Master had killed her. Apparently some of these humans had been fighting with the Slayer and her Watcher before the bint’s death, and the rumor, apparently, was that some of these humans had even started fighting demons before the Slayer showed up. William the Bloody assumed that this was a lie: most humans did everything they could to pretend that there were no such things as the monsters under your bed even if they had actually seen them, and William the Bloody just figured that some of the vampires in the Master’s entourage had concocted this rumor to explain why they hadn’t been able to take this band of humans out. William the Bloody knew that this was part of the reason that the Master had sent for his family. He would be hoping that they could help rid him of his pesky human menace. Just thinking about it made his teeth ache. It had been so long since they’d had a good fight. ****************************************************** Knownverse – Boston, MA September 1997 Sometimes all you could think about was this one minute; the moment you are living in becomes the whole universe. And when things contract down to that small of a sphere, it’s really easy to lose track of everything. Even if she had realized this, Faith wasn’t sure she would have done anything differently. Faith just stood there staring at the space in front of her, watching the dust cloud settle in the space that had just moments ago contained the first vampire she had ever seen. Seeing the dust told her that she had killed it; Pru had told her that when they were killed vampires turned to dust. But somehow she didn’t know if she was quite ready to bring herself to accept that these creatures were real. She knew her lack of belief was due not to some inability to accept that there were things in the world as horrible as vampires and demons, but from an inability to accept that she had some actual purpose in this world. Faith had long since accepted that she didn’t matter to anyone in the world other than herself, and somehow the realization that this wasn’t true was more than she could grasp. At least for now… And so she just stood there, knowing that she probably had some dumb look on her face but not being able to do anything else. When Pru began speaking to her, asking if she was hurt, Faith jumped like a startled rabbit. She slowly brought her eyes up to the older woman’s, seeing her mouth move and the sound it was making, but not really hearing her words. Pru had evidently realized that this was the case because she stopped talking to put her hand on Faith’s shoulder. It was a credit to Faith’s level of shock that she tolerated the intimacy for even the few moments she did. Then she jerked her body away and whirled to face the other woman. “What the fuck is going on here? Am I on some new and crazier version of Candid Camera or something? This has got to be a joke!” “Why do you think it is a joke, Faith? You saw that creature with your own eyes, saw the face of his demon, fought him rather than be killed, and then ended his perverted existence. You of all people should trust what your eyes see and your ears hear. And I know you wouldn’t let fear stop you from accepting the truth…” Prudence watched the expressions on Faith’s face change as the brunette went through all of the different reactions to what she had done as well as what Pru had just said. She felt sorry for this girl, for any girl who was to find out she had a terrible responsibility. It wasn’t fair to not ever give these girls a chance to live...just because of some destiny they didn’t choose. But it was also the very reason she was willing to be a Watcher with an active Slayer; she wanted to be able to help her Slayer live as much for as long as she could. It didn’t mean that she didn’t dread it with everything that was inside of her, or that she didn’t sympathize with Faith at the new discovery by remembering her own. Faith seemed to come to some kind of conclusion, because she refocused her eyes on Pru’s and spoke. “Ok, so monsters are real. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, considering the kind of trash I’ve spent my life around. So now I know, and I can handle it. But my real question is, ‘what’s in it for me’?” It seemed to take the older woman a few seconds to process Faith’s question, the fulminating look on her face betraying her surprise at Faith’s response. When it was clear that Pru had understood her words, the frosty blonde betrayed the source of her confusion. “I don’t understand: what do you mean, ‘what’s in it for you’?” “Well, if I’m being burdened with the responsibility of taking on monsters for you then I’m going to expect something for my troubles. Do I get money, a house, a car, or what? What exactly is it that you and your people are gonna do for me if I play your little reindeer games?” “I will give you shelter, consistency, discipline, structure and the chance to better yourself. But you aren’t interested in any of that are you?” “Can’t say as I am. I’m not really down with the whole ‘parental’ scene.” “Alright then, how about if I tell you that I can teach you the necessary skills so that you would be able to take on anyone anywhere and have a chance to win the fight. It will take hard work, and you will have to learn to trust me enough to listen and do what I tell you. But the results will beneficial. And you’ll have fun.” “…ok, I’m in. Why the hell not?” *************************** Pinionverse Sometimes all you could think about was this one minute; the moment you are living in becomes the whole universe. And when things contract down to that small of a sphere, it’s really easy to lose track of everything. Even if she had realized this, Faith wasn’t sure she would have done anything differently. “Get busy living, or get busy dying.” That had always been one of Katherine’s favorite phrases, something she would say like Scarlet O’Hara would say “Fiddle-Dee-Dee”. She said she had gotten it from a movie, but Faith had never seen it. It never mattered where Katherine had heard it from; it only mattered that it became, for Faith, an encapsulation of Katherine that she could carry with her. But this phrase had taken on new meaning tonight, one Faith had never anticipated. She knew, had always known, that she was not really wanted by anyone. That had changed with Katherine, but Katherine was gone. And the only love Faith had ever known was gone. She wouldn’t have understood this statement before meeting Katherine. Despite the life she had been born into, Faith had never really had to deal with living and dying as anything other than abstract concepts. Philosophy is one of the luxuries of the people who generally haven’t had to experience true hardship. But when someone has you by the throat, ready to take what ever you have whether you want to give it or not, somehow the things you never really thought about before flash through your mind. Like the stupidity of walking alone down a dark alley at 3am. And even though Faith didn’t know that hindsight is 20/20 – mostly because she never looked back – she did know that part of the reason she found herself in this position in the first place was because she had never made up her mind about what she wanted to get busy doing. But as this ragged creature had its hand around her neck, squeezing the breath out of her while seeming to want her head turned to the side, Faith realized that she was instinctively fighting what she knew would be her death. So this must mean that she didn’t want to die. For Faith, once the decision was made she wasted no time acting on it. So instead of continuing to flail around ineffectually, Faith decided on a course of action. She had learned enough about self-defense over the years of living in group- and foster-homes. In those kinds of environments you quickly learned that it was either be abused or learn to protect yourself. And even though she didn’t know what it was this guy really wanted, and why he seemed to be so focused on her neck, she knew it wouldn’t be good. So Faith released just enough of the tension from her body to make her attacker think she had weakened or given up. And when he had moved in close enough to like the side of her neck, Faith lifted her right knee and landed it fiercely into his crotch. When he flinched from her well-placed blow she stomped his instep and punched him in the nose. She started to turn around to walk away, knowing that any guy who had been hit like she’d just hit this one, wouldn’t be getting up any time soon. So she never expected a fist to enclose her hair and jerk her back against him. He pulled her back flush to his front, inadvertently grinding his erection into her denim covered ass, and called her a stupid bitch as he bent toward her neck again. She ground the same foot she had just wounded into the pavement and was flung against the wall for her troubles. As if that wasn’t bad enough, Faith didn’t just hit the wall and land on the ground; instead she slammed into the wall, hit about a dozen boxes of what she would later find out to be furniture factory leftovers, and then landed on the floor of the alley into a pool of she didn’t want to know what. Slightly dazed from the bumps and the flying though the air that had caused them, Faith did the only thing she could think to do: she started throwing anything she could get her hands on in the general vicinity of his head. In this particular case it happened to be boxes full of factory-second bookcases. When the third or fourth piece was flung toward him, the guy started really freaking out. He was working a lot harder all of a sudden to avoid the flying debris. And when the who-knows-how-manyth piece she threw struck him in the center of his chest, Faith froze. Holy fucking shit! The guy, who had looked like every badly groomed psychopath from a self-defense pamphlet suddenly didn’t look like any kind of human at all. His skin had turned a sickly-pink colored, his face had taken on a waxy sheen, and he had grown two more mouths under the one that was already there. But somehow, the thing that Faith couldn’t seem to wrap her mind around was the fact that the blood that was coming out of the gaping wound she had made in his chest was bright blue and bubbling. It was like somehow the horrors of humanity she had already seen first-hand made a non-human horror a little easier to handle. She wasn’t sure how long she stood there staring, or why the creature seemed to do nothing except stand there, but Faith began to wonder if her survival instinct would ever kick in. She should be running now, trying to get away from whatever the hell this thing was. But her legs weren’t moving. She knew she needed to get out of there so she willed them to move, told them to pick up one foot, put it in front of the other, step down, and then repeat the process with the other foot. Damn-it, she needed to get busy living. And so she finally ran. *************************** Shadowverse Sometimes all you could think about was this one minute; the moment you are living in becomes the whole universe. And when things contract down to that small of a sphere, it’s really easy to lose track of everything. Even if she had realized this, Faith wasn’t sure she would have done anything differently. Even if Faith had never really thought about it before, she knew that anyone would always remember the first time they almost died. Don’t misunderstand: just because she had been facing possible death every night for the last several months didn’t mean that she hadn’t come close to dying until now. Now was different; now was so close to real death she could have asked it up for a cup of Pru’s tea. This time, even Faith’s sometimes exaggerated sense of self couldn’t ride her through the terror. Usually bravado could effortlessly bridge the gaps between the crises, but this time nothing could cover her fear, even from herself. That’s when she really understood how much trouble she was really in. …left spin-kick to solar plexus, right upper cut to throat, right foot to instep, push hair out of eyes, jump to avoid pinwheel kick… She knew that Pru wouldn’t interfere unless the woman thought she was without options. From the very beginning, Pru’s teaching methods had taught her that she had to be able to rely on herself and herself alone, because you never knew what kind of situation you might end up in. If you had someone else to help you out, that was wonderful. But Pru didn’t want Faith to stop treating every fight like it might be her last because she didn’t want Faith to get complacent or sloppy. It might seem cruel or uncaring, and Faith did sometimes tease Pru about her detachment, but they both knew it was all about survival. As a Slayer, Faith would need all the skill and cunning she could muster in order to face the evils she would battle. And Pru wanted the girl to live a long life. Most Slayers didn’t make it to their 18th birthdays, and even when they did they were usually so burned out from the years of fighting that they succumbed to death shortly after, sometimes even actively seeking their own demise. She didn’t want that for Faith. And the death of the Slayer Buffy just put that all freshly in the Watcher’s mind. So Pru had stepped up Faith’s training and began to supplement it with more spiritual-based practices. She had known that Faith would resist them at first. God, the first two weeks of Tai Chi had been almost unbearable with Faith’s constant mocking. But over time, the older woman had begun to help Faith see that there were physical benefits to these methods as well as emotional and spiritual. The Watcher hoped that these kinds of teachings could help to fill the hole Pru knew she had inside her, a hole that could leave her open to be manipulated by the right kind of mind. But Faith wasn’t thinking about any of this, even the things she was aware of…all Faith was thinking was pivot, elbow thrust, block, spin kick, crouch, sweep, jab to solar plexus, turn to gain space between self and target, drop kick… Survival was always the first thing on her mind, followed by getting a full belly and a smoke. And while she would never acknowledge it, another primary need had crept onto her list. Deep inside her heart, she wanted Pru to be proud of her, because Pru was the only person who ever wanted something good from her, who wanted something clean and pure and holy for her. Pru was the only person who had made Faith feel like she wasn’t just street trash. So she wouldn’t let Pru down, and that meant fighting and winning. …punch to right cheekbone, pile-driver to same spot, push down by back of neck, other hand grabs stake, twist stake into heart… ****************************************************** PART
3 Willow couldn’t have known that one night at the Bronze could begin shaping a whole life. But sometimes important things come in innocuous packages. She had been hanging out at the only club in Sunnydale with her only friends. They were actually having a good night, even though Willow was having an impossible time helping Buffy with her French homework. Willow could picture Giles commenting about how Buffy’s French couldn’t be much worse than her English. Willow didn’t try too hard to contain her mirth, especially not after “The cow should touch me from Thursday…” Buffy had decided to take another dancing break, and even Willow couldn’t ignore the spirit. Willow, in her own way, had been trying to take Buffy’s advice about Carpe-ing the Diem. But she was also enough of a self-realist to accept that the closest she was likely to get was a group dance at the Bronze. And it was just nice to have a group to belong to, especially after Jesse’s death. Willow knew that she was putting on a ‘brave face’. She was starting to think that she always had. She had begun to feel like a prisoner to her own desire to meet people’s expectations, whether she could do it by being herself or not. She knew that what got her picked on by the people who made her life miserable was the same thing that kept the people she loved tied to her: the need for acceptance. She always seemed to do what ever she needed to be lovable. And she also knew that part of the attraction to that behavior was the premeditative disappointment that came when people didn’t like her anyway. She knew she wasn’t very interesting. She knew that she was still mousy and bookish. Even being best friends with Buffy hadn’t been able to drain the ‘geek’ out of her. She had thought often about Buffy’s ‘seizing the day’ approach to life. But Willow also knew that, in her own quest to be loved by being what was expected of her, she had boxed herself into never being anything else. Imagine the reaction if she decided to wear a short skirt, or go on a date with a boy…people would laugh. ”Look at the little geek playing dress-up. Who does she think she’s fooling?” And this wasn’t a scenario that made a little adventure really seem worth it. God, she was starting to sound like Angel with all this brooding. So when the trio heard the man with the almost Cockney accent asking about getting the cops because some guy was outside trying to bite someone, Willow was torn between: feeling glad to be distracted from these maudlin thoughts, being irritated that the night would be paused for a slayage break, telling the Englishman that the cops would be of no help to him even if they could figure out what a vampire was, and getting Buffy a stake. When Xander beat her to the latter she just shrugged to herself and followed them outside. It didn’t seem to matter how many times she saw Buffy fight, it was always beautiful. It wasn’t the blonde’s grace or strength, but the spark inside her. It was this spark that had beaten the Master, not once but twice, this spark that had her quipping with her prey. This was what made Buffy so special. Willow was drawn out of her contemplations by the sound of the vamp Buffy was about to stake calling into the shadows for help from a ‘spike’. And it wasn’t until she heard the clapping after the vamp dust had settled that Willow was sure that this Spike was actually a person. When the mystery man stepped out of the darkness to verbally spar with the Slayer, Willow was struck dumb…and it wasn’t because this was the man who’d just been asking for the cops. Here was, quite possibly, the most beautiful creature she had ever seen. White-blonde hair, blue eyes that could pierce through your heart at 1000 paces, cheekbones that you could hang clothing on… But what really made this man so achingly beautiful was his confidence. Here he was, facing the Slayer with only his leather duster for armor, and even his voice swaggered. And when Buffy asked what was going to happen on Saturday, and he said, “I kill you,” it was almost believable. After standing around for minutes after this Spike had left, the trio were scared enough to go straight back to the library, and Giles, to see if they could find out who this guy was and what he had planned for Saturday. Oh, hell…that was the night after Parent-Teacher Night. Buffy was going to be pissed. *************************** Pinionverse Willow couldn’t have known that one night at the Bronze could begin shaping a whole life. But sometimes important things come in innocuous packages. She had been hanging out at Sunnydale’s only club with the gang. Everybody was dancing while Willow, Buffy and Amy sat at a table near the back door. They were having a pretty good night, even though Willow was having an impossible time helping Buffy with her French homework. It would have been difficult enough anyway, but trying to compete with Buffy’s short attention span was like herding cats. Willow had given up on holding back her laughter after Buffy had managed to say, “The cow should touch me from Thursday” wrong. Buffy had been trying to convince Willow to take a dancing break when they heard a crash from the alley. Buffy and Willow grabbed some of Buffy’s supplies and asked Xander and Jesse to follow them outside. By the time they got to the alley all they saw was a dead boy with a hole in his chest and a quickly retreating demonic figure. “Xander and Willow watch the alley, Jesse you come with me,” Buffy said as she started to head after the demon. But her pursuit was halted when a figure stepped out of the shadows and into her path. Buffy was so startled that she didn’t immediately attack. And then she didn’t attack because the figure was eying her so earnestly…and he was so pretty. A few random vowels escaped the blonde’s mouth. Willow was sure she could hear the boys speaking, but everything had become like a running watercolor, everything except this man’s face. Willow knew that this was the face all those fairytale princes were written around. Fuck a bunch of Helen of Troy; this was the face that launched a thousand ships. She wanted to reach through the dripping colors and sounds to touch this amazing face, but then his lips began to move so she swam through the lake to where things were clear again. “…not to follow that creature, Slayer. It is too close to the Feast and they are nearing the end of their ritual. You must not face one of them until the night of the Feast unless you have a strong plan, for until then they are almost invulnerable. I don’t expect you to trust me or take me at my word. But if you would take me to your Watcher, he or she can clear everything up. I am William, by the way.” And the stranger gave an old courtly bow that reminded Willow of something from a Jane Austin novel. Xander and Jesse kept looking between Buffy and this William, waiting to see how it all would play out. The tension was enough to give Willow goose bumps. She stepped forward and gently touched Buffy’s shoulder, not only to let the blonde know she had support but also as if to ask what they should do. When she did, she stepped forward into the light. Buffy didn’t turn around but did speak, softly and for Willow’s ears. “He isn’t human, but he’s not givin’ me the wiggins. We’ll round everyone up and take him back to Giles. We’ll see what the Watcher makes of him.” The Slayer looked William in the eyes to let him know that nothing had been decided, and then turned to the boys. “Can you guys get the rest of the gang, and our stuff, and meet us back out here?” While they were waiting for the boys to come back, standing in an uncomfortable silence, Willow took the opportunity to really study William. He looked like he had stepped out of another century. His light brown hair curled over the collar of his shirt and was tied in a small ponytail with a leather thong. His startling blue eyes stood out over razor sharp cheekbones. He had full lips that might tend toward sulkiness. He had a strangely unassuming countenance. But what made him the most beautiful man Willow had ever seen was the fact that he seemed totally comfortable in his skin. Even now, while knowingly facing down a Slayer, he was calm and open. Willow wasn’t sure how this would all turn out, but she hoped that she would get time to study this stunning creature in more detail. On the walk back to the library and Giles, there was little conversation. William seemed to be true to his word and didn’t say anything more. As they approached the high school Willow could see that William was surprised. They made their way into the library, pushing through the swinging doors to see Giles sitting at the table, drinking tea and pouring over one of the volumes Willow knew had recently been delivered. As the Englishman raised his head he started to say, “I thought you children were going to go…” and then he spotted the stranger. “What’s going on here? Oh my lord, you’re William, aren’t you? I’ve read all about you in the Watcher’s Diaries.” At everyone’s look of surprise, he explained. “There are several drawings that give a good resemblance. Please, sit down. Can I get you some tea?” “Yes sir, thank you,” William said as he took a seat across from the one Giles had vacated to retrieve the tea. The others took seats around the room, except Willow and Buffy. The Slayer stood between the gang and the door, just in case; Willow stood off to the side because it was her habit. When Giles re-entered the room, teacup in hand, Buffy let loose. Willow herself was impressed that the blonde’s impatience had allowed her to hold out that long. “Giles, care to explain what the hell is going on here?” As Giles set down the tea he looked into William’s face. “Well, I assume you are here because of the Feast of St. Vigious. We do need your help. We haven’t been able to discover much in the way of helpful information. Although I did read something in…” “Giles, the point…find it.” Leave it to Buffy to want the Cliff’s Notes version of everything. “Oh right, sorry. He is known only as William. He and his family have helped Watchers and Slayers for decades and generations. William is a vampire.” A Watcher was as much a storyteller as anything, and Giles left a pause here so that everyone could absorb this news. “I know you don’t have much experience with vampires on the Hellmouth, but they are good creatures to befriend if you can come by them. They feed only on the evils of human society, if the rumors are to be believed, and they rarely kill. They have also, from time to time, helped out the forces of good.” Giles paused again because of the exaggerated silence; he couldn’t tell whether it was disbelief or shock or something else. And then Willow spoke out loud for the first time since William had appeared, and she did so with a shyness uncharacteristic of her since before her parents had died. “Vampires have been known to help covens as well. There are many accounts of a William helping witches fight evil since at least the turn of the century.” When she looked up from her twisting hands to notice all eyes on her, including those of the object of discussion, she blushed and self-consciously explained. “I came across accounts of him and others – Angelus, Drusilla and, um, Darla – in my research.” She smiled in William’s direction, although she studiously avoided his eyes. At the others’ continued silence, and Giles’ brief smile, she finished with, “Gees guys crack a book sometime,” and sat down, still blushing. William seemed to take the silence as an opportunity to steer the group back to the subject at hand. “Mr. Giles, I have come here at a treacherous time. The local Omperiof clan intends to celebrate St. Vigious Day. The ritual entails a great deal of murder for them to acquire the necessary number of organs required to complete their offering. But it is key that the Slayer not try to directly challenge them while they are collecting the organs before the actual night of the Feast. They have a magic-induced strength that will be too much if challenged to direct combat. I would suggest some kind of ambush plan in order to limit the number of humans they kill. Until then, you can stop them when they are killing, but I would only try to scare them away.” Buffy looked like she was already working on those ambush tactics. Willow herself was trying to think of any spells she knew that could be helpful. As she was about to suggest some options to the group present, William stood up. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I must get home to Drusilla. She…is not well, and I do not wish to leave her alone for too long.” He pushed his chair under the table as he turned to leave. “It was good to meet you all. We will return tomorrow.” As he walked past her, Willow softly said “Thanks” to him. He smiled a little and directed a brief bow in her direction. Well, well…maybe it was just because they were English… *************************** Shadowverse Willow couldn’t have known that one night at the Bronze could begin shaping a whole life. But sometimes important things come in innocuous packages. Who would have thought that one night at the Bronze could be so important? Ok, so they weren’t actually at the Bronze so much as casing out the Bronze…semantics. The Master had recently taken over this building as a headquarters, and the gang needed to do recon. Over the summer, Willow had obtained them some police-issue gear for situations like this. Not only had it proven useful in the information gathering phases, but the boys had a lot of fun playing with it. Fun was a sparse enough commodity in their lives. Willow was camped out with Jesse and Larry on the roof of an adjacent warehouse, while Giles, Xander and Jenny were in the second floor of the abandoned factory on the other side. They knew that something was going on with the Master and his cronies, but they had yet to figure out what it might be. It was often very difficult to get information on the vamps. None of Giles’ books contained helpful information for them on the local trouble. So this was the only method they had, and it was really hit or miss. Willow slid down her night vision goggles hoping that she would be able to see something useful. After an hour of lying on her belly on this roof she was ready for some success. Jesse elbowed her in the side. When she flipped up the goggles and turned to him he pointed down the alleyway that led up the entrance to the Bronze. She recognized the person at which he pointed. It was Harmony, one of Cordelia’s former friends, or the dead remix of her anyway. Willow couldn’t understand how anyone could have been either stupid or desperate enough to think making the witless, albeit beautiful, blonde into an immortal creature was a good idea. She guessed that, even in the demon world, it took all kinds. Just as she was about to turn to Jesse and make some snarky comment about Harmony’s undead status, Willow’s eye was drawn back to the alley in front of them. When she didn’t respond as he expected, Jesse followed her eyes to the sight that had her transfixed. And when he saw what she had seen, he directed Larry’s attention to the same spectacle. Oh, this couldn’t be good. Willow didn’t know who these strangers were, but from the looks of them they were creatures to worry about. The four of them were stalking down the alleyway at a leisurely pace, the two men flanking the two women. From left to right they were: tall, dark and built; delicate, blonde and tarty; frail, demure and brunette; and Holy Fucking Jesus…err, chiseled, bleached-blonde and wiry. And that was just what she could tell through her regular binoculars. Jesse responded with caution at Willow’s sharply indrawn breath. He had come to trust the redhead’s instincts over the last year. She seemed to have developed her own kind of Jedi mind tricks or something. So when the redhead seemed struck to stillness by these four unknown figures, Jesse knew that he wouldn’t need to call over to the other team on the talkies to tell them to check these guys out: they would already be recording all they could. Of course, Jesse didn’t know that a part of Willow’s drastic reaction was due to the startling beauty of the man on the outside of the parade. And if he had, he would have been struck dumb; after all, Willow had never really shown any of that kind of interest in anyone. The four figures that were the focus of the gang got up to the door of the Bronze and the blonde female knocked. When a servant answered Willow saw the woman speak. It looked like the blonde had said something like “Tell my father we have come at his bidding” or something like that, but the angle was bad for lip reading. Willow also acknowledged that she was a little distracted by not only the most beautiful man she had ever seen, but also by the fact that she had even noticed his beauty in an other-than-clinical way in the first place. She hoped that Giles would have better luck. A moment later the servant returned with a vampire the gang knew to be Luke, the Master’s right-hand. He smiled at and embraced the blonde eagerly, which was startling in and of itself as he seemed to tend toward a general lack-of-expression. Luke allowed the blonde to pass through the door and then embraced each member of the party individually before letting them into the building. He then looked down both directions of the alley and shut the door. Once the scene seemed quiet, Jesse felt it time to speak. “Did you recognize any of them Will? They looked old, powerful. Who do you think they are?” And waited several moments without an answer before he said, “Willow…” Willow shook her head to clear out the unnecessary thoughts and then turned to Jesse. She had heard his questions but had been trying to answer her own. “No, I didn’t recognize any of them. But there was something very familiar about at least a few of them. I think the blonde told the servant at the door that she was here to see her father at his request or something like that. I’m wondering if they are part of the Master’s family. Giles will know I’m sure.” Willow wiped the sweat off her brow and finished. “Well, maybe it is a good thing after all that the new Slayer and Watcher are coming. If the Master has family showing up there must be something big going down…” Larry looked down at his watch and said, “Well, it’s already 4am. We’re not going to get anything else new tonight, at least not if past history serves. Let’s breakdown and meet the others in the library. Hopefully they caught a little more on the new arrivals than we did.” Willow experienced the still new sensation of genuinely liking Larry and smiled at him. It wasn’t really a smile in the traditional sense, but it was as close as she ever really got anymore. Larry had been helping them long enough to know that no one outside of their group ever got to see even this much from the beautiful redhead. It was hard for him not to feel daily guilt for how he used to treat her and what he knows of her now. Where he used to see a colorless target with a large bull’s-eye now is filled with shimmering shoulder-length red hair, old-fashioned but well fitting clothes, flashy green eyes the shade of emerald sadness, and the most courageous soul he’s ever met. And he’s gladder that he’s lived long enough to see the truth of her than he could ever say. But there was never really time for things like guilt in their world. The three picked up their gear while Jesse radioed to the other team. Willow was still distracted, but ever wary. She never let her guard down, even when she slept. Not that that ever happened more than a few hours in the mornings before school anyway. She sometimes thought that if she ever let herself relax, even a little, her entire body would puddle irreversibly. Each team took a different path back to the library. They had begun this practice some time ago, figuring that if they met up with something that could wipe them out at least it would only wipe half of them out. The others could rebuild and continue the fight. Decisions like that had stopped seeming fatalistic a long time ago. ****************************************************** PART
4 God, sometimes eternal life could be so bloody boring. Some days it just seemed like it was the same shit over and over again. Spike hated few things more than boredom. And boredom made him impulsive. Hence the reason he had openly challenged the Slayer instead of just waiting to ambush her on the night of St. Vigious. It wasn’t that he couldn’t formulate successful plans. It was just that he lacked patience. The most successful things he ever did were those that happened impulsively. Not that it stopped him from making plans or anything: he had always been very intelligent, but one of the human vestiges he had thrown off was a certain amount of self-discipline. He didn’t see the point. One of the best parts about being a vampire was that you could take what ever you wanted from the human world and not have to feel the least bit bad about it. Besides, there was another reason Spike had decided to go after the Slayer. Okay, so he’d already killed two of them and the idea of adding to that score was appealing. And sure, he told the Annoying One that he’d do it, but Spike cared fuck-all for prats like him. That was really just a show of confidence and a way to build a solid reputation in a new place. The real reason Spike had decided to take on the Slayer was because he hadn’t been able to find a cure for Dru. Taking on a Slayer would help him get some of his aggression out, and feeding Drusilla the Slayer’s blood might make his love stronger, even if it wasn’t a cure. So Spike set his sights on this girl, and began the task of seeing what she was made of. He had already seen her fight a vamp, but a minion was never a good test of a Slayer’s skill. So he would have some of the boys take her on while they taped it. God he loved living in the modern world with all its wonders. Sure made his life easier. But in the back of his mind was something that Drusilla had said to him when they had first learned this Slayer had friends. His princess had already asked him to kill the Slayer for her, and told him that the angels would weep at her death. Spike had grown used to Dru speaking like this, so her responses were expected. But when they had found out that this Slayer went against the rules by working with a group of other kids, his princess’ words stopped him cold. Dru told him to tread very carefully with those who work with the Slayer. She told him that those who would be the Slayer’s heart, mind and spirit would either break him or make him new. That the course would be determined by his actions, so he needed to choose wisely. And then she told him to pay special attention to the tree that shelters the Slayer, for that tree was to be his grace. Yeah, he thought to himself, that’s cryptic, even for Drusilla. Well, as all things she spoke, it would eventually come to pass. What would matter was that he recognized it when it happened. Spike finished the cigarette he was smoking and stubbed it out on the floor. This abandoned factory he had found would suit his purposes just fine. It was big enough to house all the minions and leave an entire wing for just Drusilla and himself. The sun would be up in a half-hour and it was time for all good little vampires to be in bed. And he was looking forward to being with his princess. Sometimes he was amazed that he still thought making love with her was the most wonderful part of being, even after a hundred years. As he opened the door to their bedroom, Spike found Dru sitting at a table having tea with her dollies. Apparently Miss Edith had been bad, as usual. Spike knew that the part of Drusilla that had been imprisoned in a child-like state had not been able to cope with her visions or Angelus’ courtship. The crazy bastard had driven her entirely mad before changing her, and Spike didn’t always want to thank him for it. In her need to cope with her visions, Drusilla had them through Miss Edith. That meant that any time she had a vision she didn’t like or want, Miss Edith was punished for being bad. Spike knew that she was still upset by what she had told him about the Slayer’s friends. Slayer’s friends…now that was a concept Spike was still having a really hard time saying with a straight face. Where the fuck did a Slayer get off having friends, and since when did that bloody Watchers’ Council let them get away with anything outside of tradition? From what Spike had seen, these friends didn’t seem very impressive. Just a gangly boy who probably spent more time chasing her skirt than helping her, and a totally unremarkable girl who seemed like she would faint if you said ‘boo’. And while Spike wasn’t stupid enough to underestimate her Watcher, he just wasn’t impressed. Except that Dru was never wrong, so he had to be missing something. He would know how to proceed when his minions returned with the information he’d requested. “How is my dark goddess this eve?” he said in slow comforting tones. When she didn’t respond immediately, he continued on. “Pet, why didn’t you eat your dinner? I brought you a nice young girl to eat.” “Not hungry,”’ Dru said sullenly, still distracted with her dolls. “Luv, you have to eat. You have to keep your strength up. You’re still so weak. It hurts me to see you so. Please Dru, eat something for me.” Spike pouted, knowing it would make her laugh and give into his request. But instead she just looked at him, like for a moment she didn’t know where she was, or who he was. Every once in a while she looked at him like that. He never knew what to make of it. And any time he asked her what was wrong it was like she didn’t even remember it had happened. Spike stepped to the door, summoning a minion to bring the girl for Dru anyway. After he had coaxed her into eating, he got her changed into a nightgown and tucked into bed. Then he shed his own clothing and slipped under the covers beside her. As he pulled her to his chest to hold her she looked up at him from under her eyelashes and said coyly, “Spike, do you want to play with Mummy?” Spike could feel his cock trying to answer for him, but his lips said only, “Only if you would like to play? I know you’re tired, luv. I could just hold you through your dreams…” “If I let you play with me, will you play nice?” God, why did they always have to go though this? There wasn’t anything about it he liked, whether it was the reminder of what Angelus had done to her, or that he wasn’t, and never could be, Angelus. Even still he played out this game as he always did, out of love. “No pet, I won’t play nice. You know I don’t like to hurt you. But I’ll make you giggle…” And, as always, he left that last part to dangle out there like a treat…and hoped she would take it. After a second Dru giggled a little, almost under her breath, coyly lifted her eyes up under half-lowered lids, and asked “How will you please me, my Spike?” Instead of answering, he showed her. Spike reached up to the headboard of their beautiful canopy bed and pulled out the set of cuffs they left there out of impatience. After laying them on the pillow, one on each side of Drusilla’s head, he lifted her head up and brushed all her hair back to lay across the pillow. He gazed into her eyes and brought the ‘devil-may-care’ smirk to his lips. She giggled in anticipation. He started his fingers fluttering over her collarbones, slowly drifting them down her shoulders and across her slight ribcage. As he reached its curved bottom he reversed his path until he could reach underneath her arms, pushing them up with his hands as they ascended toward the cuffs. Without breaking their eye contact he secured first one wrist and then the other into the ancient but still effective restraints. He squeezed a little harder than he wanted to as they each were fastened because he knew it pleased her. He had always preferred the smell of leather to the glint of metal. And the act of binding the buckles had always been more satisfying to Spike than the hollow “snick” of the newer metal handcuffs. He had always been a sensualist…even before he had ever known there was such a thing. And the old-fashioned ritual of these century old restraints appealed to him as much as it comforted Drusilla. “Now princess, you have to hold still or baby will have to shackle your ankles.” Spike let the end of that thought drip with meaning, knowing that even in Dru’s most demure and prude moments she still loved to wrap her legs around his hips so that she had some control over their movements. Restraining her legs was as close to torture as he would ever go with her. True pain and control were things he only engaged in with his other partners, and they were usually a source of food after they were a source of pleasure. He just could never bring himself to indulge those desires with Dru, because it never could have just been about sex and love for her. Once he saw Dru’s eyes widen and her head nod not unlike a small child’s, he slid himself down the length of her body, skimming easily over the satin of the Edwardian style dress she always favored. This one was a deep purple, reminding him so much of why he called her his Ripe Wicked Plum that he couldn’t help but comment as he rose up off the bed. “You look good enough to eat, princess. So good, in fact, that I think I’ll have to take a taste. I’ll slide your dress up over your knickers, pull that airy scrap of temptation down, and take a bite of your tangy fruit…letting your sweet juice trickle down my face as I devour you from flesh to core.” He licked his lips, imagining the actions that corresponded to his words, and was sure to infuse his voice with just the right purr. His smile widened when he smelled the effect his words were having on his sire. “Can I, pet? Can I taste your dark fruit?” “Mmmm, yes,” Dru growled playfully, purposefully stretching out her body to its full length, knowing that the material of her dress would mold to her breast enough to make her hardened nipples visible. “But first…” Spike let that dangle as he retrieved his favorite torture device. This toy always made Drusilla come so hard…when he finally let her come, that was. He opened the trunk at the foot of their bed and extracted a long ostrich feather he had gotten when they lived in Paris. At the sight of it, Dru began whimpering and rubbing her thighs together. The latter earned her a small, soft slap against her knees. “Un, un…naughty princess. Now I’ll have to bind your ankles.” He smiled, the grin of the wolf right before he ate grandma, and reached for the other set of cuffs they kept attached to the bed. He reached for his sire’s resisting right leg, knowing that the resistance was one of teasing rather than fear, and buckled it into the shackle. He kept eye contact with Drusilla as he placed her other ankle in the cuff, watching the sparkle in her gaze glint her desire. “Now you have no choice. You have to be good. And you will be, princess. You’ll be so good you just might kill me again.” There was no question that he meant it. One of the reasons Dru chose him was because he would love her completely and without restraint. One of the reasons Spike stayed with his sire was because she let him love her completely and without restraint. It was something only they had been able to give to each other. Many times it had served as a balm to sooth the wounds inflicted upon them by Angelus or Darla. Spike brought the feather down on Drusilla’s quivering stomach, just touching her with the tips of the plumes. He watched as her skin pebbled up into millions of small peaks, showing him how sensitive she was to his play. He brought the tip of the feather over her left ribcage and trailed it across the length of her arm. When he reached the cuff at her wrist he twisted the feather into the small space between leather and flesh to tease her languid limbs. A moan gurgled in the back of her throat and her wrist automatically jerked, rattling the chain that held her to the bedpost. “You have no choices now, pet. You’re at my mercy. I’m going to take my pleasure from you in any way I want. And I’m going to make you come so hard you won’t be able to walk for a week. I am going to take my pleasure from you by torturing you with yours. And you won’t be able to even participate.” His laugh would have peeled the pain from a monastery. “All you can do is just lie there and endure it.” Spike slowly moved the feather over every inch of her body, even turning her over as far as the shackles would allow, while studiously avoiding her breasts and genitalia. He knew from experience that he could sensitize her skin to the point that one touch to her clit would have her coming in great shaking spasms. So he slid the tip of the feather in circles from head to toe, returning up in short skimming motions. By the time he began to circle the outsides of her breasts she was shaking so hard her keening came out as a vibration. When his figure eights drew slowly inward toward the areolas, decreasing in diameter a millimeter at a time, she began to beg incoherently. They were more just pleading sounds pulled from her throat, but they were sincere requests nonetheless. His sire’s volume increased to ear-splitting as he crested the tops of her achingly hard nipples. He knew she was just about to implode, so he brought the tight figure eights slowly down over her ribcage, to the tops of her hipbones. “Open your eyes, Drusilla, and look at me.” When his sire’s chocolate colored eyes peaked out from under her lashes, Spike softly uttered, “Here it comes…” And she did, with such force she might have flipped the bed over were it not secured to the floor. He let her ride out the peak of her orgasm with the gentle pressure of the feather rubbing the hood of her clit, but as she stared to slide back into awareness Spike dropped the feather and dove head first into her beautiful, ripe, juicy fruit and kept his promise to devour her whole. Spike gorged himself on her juices, filling him better than blood, and let his humming against her sweet pussy tell her how sweet she tasted. He couldn’t help but smile at the abandon in his sire’s continuous orgasm, so sensitive now that just looking at her would sustain her climax. But he still wanted more. So he kissed his way up the center of her body, his lips meeting hers with a plunging of tongues and a scraping of teeth as he slid his cock gently into her body. When he seated himself deep enough to caress the entrance to her womb she convulsed, biting his lip. The resulting blood threw them both into game face, ridges and fangs to the fore, and Spike’s pace went from leisurely to frantic in the space of a heartbeat. The rest was all hard thrusts and guttural grunts, both so communed with their demons that they ceased responding in human words. The demon in each responded to the harmonics utterable by the human vocal cords but not processed by the human ear. The force of their coupling was a testament to the intimacy of both their human and demonic parts. Spike pulled Dru as close to him as possible, almost curling around her to be better able to leverage his thrusts. As they both reached a pinnacle peak, Spike leaned down to nip at his sire’s neck, giving her the right angle to do the same to him. Their bloody embrace was only broken because they couldn’t handle their climaxes without vocalization. As his orgasm slowed, Spike raised his head to regard his sire, licking his mouth of her blood. He waited for her eyes to open and placed a delicate kiss on them, hoping to convey the entirety of his emotions for her in that one act. *************************** Pinionverse God, sometimes eternal life could be so bloody boring. Some days it just seemed like it was the same shit over and over again. William hated few things more than boredom. And boredom made him foolish. Hence the reason he was sitting next to Drusilla on their bed looking at a book of Angelus’ drawings. When they had first arrived in Sunnydale, William had found them an abandoned house to live in. It had been occupied until recently, William assumed that here houses were often just abandoned and never re-sold. There probably wasn’t much demand for property on a Hellmouth, even if people didn’t know what was really going on. So he had done a little fixing up, putting in curtains and finding them a nice bed, while he had been waiting for the right time to approach the Slayer and her gang. Even though he and his family were known to the Council, William was also aware that his help wasn’t always easily or quickly welcomed. He was pretty sure that, if the experience he had with them tonight was any indication, this group would accept his help with little posturing or protests. Not that the Slayer was real bright or anything, but she had a well informed Watcher who understood the gravity of the events that were upon them. And the next thought made him smile almost wistfully; there was that redhead who seemed to have everything together. What a contradiction she seemed to be, all wrapped up in a tiny little package. Shy but forthright, knowledgeable but not bragging, supportive yet honest. She was a lot like he himself had been as a human. It would be interesting to know her. And he could admit that he had been taken by her classic looks. With her long vibrantly red hair, sharp and shuttered green eyes, and skin like milk dotted with tiny little freckles, she was the epitome of what his generation would have found beautiful. And he did. William imagined that she, more than anyone except perhaps the Watcher, had a real understanding of what their group really faced. He wasn’t sure how, or why, but he had the feeling that she had worked to overcome some of her less useful traits in order to get the job done. William thought that no one her age should be that grown up. And he found that he had immediately related to the bone-deep sadness he caught buried in the corner of her eyes. Some day perhaps, if he got to know them all well enough, he would discover what had caused it. But until then he would be sure to try and actually befriend the redhead, rather than just develop a working relationship as with all the others, for he knew instinctively that she would be the kindest, the most understanding, of his precious Drusilla. Unknown to William, Drusilla had been observing his face as he ran through his thoughts. When he shook himself back to the present he saw her looking at him, and his face broke out in a huge grin. “Sorry, pet…just going back over my meeting with the Slayer’s group. I think it went well, all things considered. I haven’t figured out all the little bits and pieces yet, but it seems to be a large group that works well together. I think they will welcome our help. Anyway, how are you feeling tonight? Have you eaten anything?” Drusilla smiled at him slowly, almost as if she was drawing that smile from very far away. “No my Spike, I have not eaten. I was not hungry. And there is more in your eyes than what you have told me…” “Of course pet, but you must eat first. I’ll feed you and then pick up some more dinner for myself later.” At Dru’s frown William teased her with “If you eat I’ll tell you all about it” in an almost sing-song voice he knew would bring her around to his way of thinking. And William knew that when she acquiesced it would be more out of love for him even than out of her survival instinct. But that would have to be enough for him until he could find her a cure. Almost ritualistically William unbuttoned his shirt and moved the collar away from his neck. A set of steps that used to prepare him for the ecstasy of sharing blood with his sire had long since been almost entirely reduced to the preparation of a meal, and William wasn’t too proud to admit that part of him resented it. For his kind, blood was always about more than nourishment. They drank in passion and anger and fear and triumph. And while he knew his sire loved him, he sometimes felt as though she was no longer fighting to survive. But if he thought about that… Instead he would relish what he could. So when Dru leaned up to kiss his neck, he purred his encouragement and pleasure to her. When her face shifted, and her fangs sunk into his carotid artery, he gave a low cry of pleasure that seeped through his entire body. He let himself enjoy the simple pleasure of it as long as he could, but he knew Drusilla wouldn’t drink enough unless he made her. So he pulled himself away from the purity of his own pleasure to shift his face and sink his teeth into the corresponding place on his sire’s neck. With the sensation of her own blood being drawn, Drusilla instinctively drew more out of William. He had found over the years that this was the only way he could successfully encourage Dru to feed enough to keep her alive. And though it was almost a mockery of the intimacy he and his sire had shared, it was a kind of mockery he could accept in lieu of the real thing. For now. When Drusilla had drunk her fill, they pulled away from each other and settled down in a cuddle on the bed. William drew her head onto his chest and began to tell her the events of his night. He told her about watching how the Slayer and her group interacted with one another. He told her about how informed the Watcher seemed to be. And he told her what he could remember about her friends. When he got to the part about the redhead, he realized that he hadn’t gotten any of their names. Then he felt Dru smile against his right nipple. “Yes, I know her…she’ll be so good to Princess, William. She will have tea with me and my dollies, she will let me braid her hair, and we will be like sisters. Sisters…” As Dru repeated that word, her face turned from one of child-like eagerness to one of lost confusion. William didn’t know what had come to her mind to change her expression so, but the word ‘sister’ seemed to have somehow triggered it. She had looked at him like this before, like she was suddenly completely disoriented. But always the look would pass and she would leave it unmentioned. “Dru, luv, are you alright? Is something hurting you?” And then the fog had cleared almost as fast as it had rolled in, and Drusilla turned her face back up to his and said, “Oh, my love, we will be happy here. Everything will be alright. Make love with me, my boy…” He engulfed his sire’s mouth with his own, but the thrust of his tongue into her mouth was more playful than forceful. William wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her onto his lap. Without breaking their kiss he began unbuttoning her dress. When he encountered only bare flesh under the satin he broke their embrace to smile at her wickedly. “No knickers, luv? Naughty girl! What shall I do to punish you?” William knew Drusilla never wore undergarments, but this was a game they often played. Dru lowered her head, in the same way a child who’s just about to be scolded for something they actually did, and said to William’s chest, “I don’t know; what do you do to naughty girls who don’t wear their knickers? What would you like to do to me, my William?” In lieu of answering, William picked Drusilla up off his lap as he stood. He walked around to the side of the bed and set her down on it, placing her on her hands and knees facing the headboard. “Don’t move unless I tell you otherwise. This is how bad girls get punished.” William spent what felt to her like hours running his fingers over every inch of her flesh, never pressing hard enough or long enough to do anything except excite her into a place beyond reason. He had removed her dress slowly, moving it up a centimeter at a time and kissing all the flesh he uncovered along the way. He let her raise up on her knees long enough to pull the dress over he head, and then as she lowered her upper half back to the bed he snuck his head under her body, latching unerringly onto an already peaked nipple. He felt his cock throb at the sound of her moan. He worshipped her small breasts and their caramel colored peaks, alternating hi |