Blood Letting
by Valyssia
Broken Dreams
[reviews]
Description: As that other description says... This piece is way AU. It takes place seven years after 'Welcome to the Hellmouth'. Buffy was turned at 15. Sweet and cute, but she's no Angel despite the soul. What she is, is a psychotic killing machine. Add many interesting things to her resume. Death and mayhem follow her. What about Willow, you ask? You'll see... Read on... Dare ya...
You may find this piece a bit hard to follow at first. I sort of drop you into the middle of her world right after a gratuitous ass kicking. Patience...by the end of chapter 2 you should get it. The pieces fall together as you read. Keep track of them and for God's sake keep the cat away from the table.
Disclaimer: Buffy, Willow and all things Slayer belong to Joss Whedon and the good folks at Mutant Enemy.
Fankies: Howard Russell for working with me as primary beta. Poor guy patiently corrected all of those frightening bits of grammar and punctuation. Howard has provided enough input on the piece that we're gonna elevate him to demigod status. If I'm god in this world, he's my right hand.
Mabus for beta, reading the material for flow and content. And specifically for providing fuel... This piece is based on a radical tweak of his story 'Blood Line' I played beta for him on the piece, reworking it throughout. It was originally a piece of first-person exposition. Post Val...it's third-person omniscient. Not fun... He told me to knock myself out with the changes, so I wrote an alt ending and 'Blood Letting' was born. Find 'Blood Line' here if you're curious: http://mabus101.livejournal.com/33416.html#cutid1
Ahn for the beta work! Ahn is my heart in matters of content... Blame her if this is scary. She's also kick ass at finding the tiny errors that seem to slip past.
Lyrics: Tool - Undertow - Bottom
Feedback: Yes...please... It gives me a happy.
My compassion is broken now. My will is eroded, my desire stolen and it makes me feel ugly.
Buffy rolled her eyes as she made her way onto the city bus. Transportation for the huddled masses. A way to get the cattle from point 'A' to 'B'—so they can graze—and I'm— Sighing deeply as the thought flitted across her mind, she dropped coins into the slot and made her way to the rear of the bus. Taking an empty seat, she had to restrain a snarl as some weirdo eyed her. Low key, she reminded herself, evenly releasing a deep breath. May as well steal another car if you're gonna lose it. Funny, I had trouble with cars at first...then I noticed they just do what you tell them. Better than any minion—
Looking out the window, Buffy ignored the attention she seemed to be drawing. I took a shower today so I'm an instant target at this hour. It'll be amusing if someone does— They've got no clue. I bite... But we'll just skip past that—and make with the violence. Better for what's left of my soul. "Soul," she hissed in a voice barely audible. Rolling her eyes, she released another deep breath that resonated into a soft cat-like growl, baring her teeth.
"God I miss that car," Buffy groaned softly to herself. This whole mass transit thing is a fucking nightmare. Suppose I coulda called a cab, but— Anyway, I would've loved to abuse it for a few more miles. I had to put it down—seems to be the story of my life. Get something I like...it has to die. Thinking back to the fate of the poor little red Porsche, a wicked grin and a stifled snicker infected Buffy's features. Some doctor's mid-life cliché-mobile—what a fossil...
Course I couldn't just ditch it like a good little girl. I'm so not— Good times. Just like old times in fact. And the fireball was pretty—getting out of the car before it went boom—total rush— Funny thing—for all the crazy—not a drop of guilt... Lawyers—worst sorta vermin. What was the name of that place? Wolfroms or something... The note was classic—stuck to their corporate sign, 'Decorate out of Ikea next time and this'll happen again'. Fucking inspired... Give me another week in this hell and there won't be a downtown. Way to lay low, Summers...
"Do it and lose an arm," she growled at the man who was trying to sit next to her. Looking up, she met his gaze. As she did, she quickly forced her eyes to flash golden, snarling softly for effect. She watched as he turned, practically running back down the aisle. He was off the bus in moments. Stupid cattle... he'll prob'ly just dismiss that as a 'trick of the light' in a few.
LA again... Why'd I have to pick LA? It's a big place—better for the disappearing, Buffy reminded herself. And to think—I did have a handle on my life once—and my hand around the throats of anyone else who counted... Then came the realization: I was fucking a cellar dweller... Yeah, such the stud—twenty-ish-years-old and still wearing his letterman's jacket...total loser... Should've been a revelation that my life was about to turn to shit. Now I'm saddled with a worthless spark—and a traveling companion...who's a bit... Well, she's interesting—challenging—intriguing even...
Wish I could think of something else—some other way... This is... I don't think there's a fix short of this for her—best idea I've got. Anytime she's even a little bit lucid—she acts like I'm the special of the day. Scratch that—like chocolate—and not that Hershey's shit— That stuff's okay in a pinch—but pretty much boring—
Wish I could still taste—big surprise—dying kinda destroys that too. There's just the blood—and that's not about taste...if it were—what a total deal breaker that'd be. That's about the rush... Oh yeah—and the obvious 'not going hungry'—miss the rush—but I'm not starving—suppose that's a good...
So, where was I? Oh yeah—the traveling companion... Rather not get raped—well, not again, I guess—and that's so clearly where this one's headed—saw the writing stenciled on the wall. I'm running a bit short on happy pills for her so—off to see the gypsies... Got no choice...sorry, Will...
I'd totally sell mine—the soul that is—but seems there's no shortage of immature, superficial, drama-queen souls out there...or at least that's what the demon said before I eviscerated him and strung him up by his entrails. Bit insulting to find out you can't even give your soul away...to a demon no less... I just had to kill him.
Speaking of the fun—and the souls—and all that...here's my stop. Thank God! Buffy got up and left the bus. As she hit the street, she lit a smoke. Nasty habit... Talk about mistakes—asking that guy—totally cute—couldn't see why he would—made no sense. He said 'nerves'. So, I grabbed a pack to test the theory. Not like I'm gonna die of cancer—he might... Anyway, it helps some. Taking a drag, she set off purposefully down the street.
Turning down an alley, Buffy made her way to the back of a building. Jumping to grab the ladder, she deftly climbed the fire escape. Crouching outside a window, she hammered on the glass. "Look Mr. Kalderash...know you're in there... I just need a minute of your time," she called out in an even voice. Old bastard has to be part of the same clan—stupid gypsies. Like 'Kalderash' is a common name. Little magick shop below the apartment—it's the same crowd.
Thudding sounded from inside the shabby little apartment. "Go avay!" barked a man inside.
"Not gonna... Call the cops and—let's just say—not the smartest move you'll ever make. I just wanna talk," Buffy replied, struggling to keep her tone amiable. After plenty of stalling and annoyance, she watched the old man finally come to the window with a cross. Jeez, this guy makes Mr. Heckles look young and sexy. And what trash pile did he fish that robe out of? I've seen homeless people with more fashion sense. Rolling her eyes, she said dismissively, "Look at me, Mr. Kalderash. All chock fulla soul here. 'Sides, if I wanted you dead, I sure wouldn't do it this way. Now open up."
Stopping to consider this, the old man finally slid the sash up, asking in an irritated manner, "Vhat do you vant?"
"Gotta problem and I'm paying well if you can fix it. Simple; easy money; has to be done tonight," Buffy offered bluntly, still rallying her patience. Any luck—he'll see the light—or the green...either works.
Considering this for a moment, he started to slam the window. "I do not feex ze eessues of ze dead. Deis? Deis is no trouble of mine! Now be gone!" He turned away from the window, knowing that the vampire couldn't follow.
Buffy caught the window with the tips of her fingers as it fell, asking carefully in an enticing voice, "Five hundred down and five hundred on completion—change your mind, Mr. Kalderash? Look, it's even in your best interest to help."
Turning back, the old man said, "I'm leesenink."
"Simple. Gotta friend—recently vamped—majorly powerful witch. Bad combo...she needs a soul stat," Buffy rattled off, hoping the old guy would just budge. Halting momentarily to let this sink in, she added, "Been keeping her too medicated to function—running out of the drugs. When I'm totally out, you'll know—even if you're stupid enough to turn me down. My guess...she's gonna wanna turn this part of town into a beach park." Like I give a rat's ass...but he should. LA'd be a much nicer place at the bottom of the Pacific. Well, okay so—it'd be a great loss in fashion and retail, but...
"But ve are thirty miles from ze ocean," the old man replied, appearing perplexed.
"Now you're firming up..." Buffy retorted, flashing him a toothy grin. Pulling a wad of cash out of her pocket, she waved the money in front of him. "If you're in, meet me out front in ten. If not...move." Flipping backwards over the rail, she landed on her feet below the fire escape. Shoving the wad of cash back into her pocket, she took out a smoke and fumbled for her lighter. Another exasperated gasp passed her lips as she made the walk around the building, lighting the cigarette. Nasty things...but I think they help.
***********
Faith stumbled in the door of her motel room aware she was leaving a trail for any vamp to follow, but unable to do anything to prevent it. Falling into bed face first, she prayed her slayer healing would pick up soon. She lay still for what seemed an eternity drifting in and out of consciousness when a knock at her door stirred her back to reality. It was all she could do to pull herself up and get to the door. She threw it open without a word, hoping the act wouldn't be her last.
Catching Faith as she slumped forward, Amy wrestled to her back in the room. Roughly dragging the limp slayer onto the bed was all she could manage. "What the hell did you get yourself into, Faith?" she queried, trying to keep the panic out of her voice. She lifted her friend's shirt staring at the gash in her midsection.
Faith struggled to say, "It's started," but it came out as a rough choking noise.
Amy ran into the bathroom, pulling out as many fresh towels as she could find to apply pressure to the wound. "This is way beyond my first aid skills," she noted, picking up the phone to call an ambulance. With her free hand she bundled a towel and began to tentatively compress the laceration.
Faith winced at the contact. Her eyes rolled back as she lost consciousness again.
***********
"You can't seriously expect me to get in that thing?" Buffy asked, hoping the old man was kidding.
Mr. Kalderash leaned over and threw the passenger door open on the ancient Buick. "You vould prefer ve valk?"
Buffy watched as thick oily smoke billowed out of the exhaust pipe of the old car. Raising an eyebrow, she took her seat, mumbling to herself, "May anyway, but whatever." Guess it beats the damned bus. "So you have everything?" she queried. Slamming the door on the beater, she could have sworn she heard something fall off the car. Hope we didn't need that.
"I have vat ve need, yies," Mr. Kalderash replied thoughtfully.
Staring out the window, Buffy appeared completely lost in her musings. "Place is just off the two-ten in Pasadena," she offered dully. Propping her elbow against the glass, she took her head in her hand, staring sullenly off into the world outside.
I've been over this a hundred times this week and I'm still clueless 'bout what the hell went wrong. I said my lines—I coated either end of the scythe with my blood and Faith's—just like— Will and Tara did their part—being batteries really—focusing the energy. I mean I didn't expect it to feel good—well, maybe I did— but when the blood met in the middle of the scythe... Wow! It started to glow red, then white, and there was this light that hit me. I thought I was gonna burst into flames on the spot.
Think that's when it happened—the soul—but I have no idea why. I mean—so not a part of the expected programming. Faith was on her feet before me. Somehow the tricky bitch managed to get free while I was on the ground wondering whether I was dying. She started unloading on me. At first it was all about her owning me—but as the spell worked I got stronger—I got what I deserved—what was stolen. There was this annoying little gift with purchase, but I'm—
There were these awful—head splitting—visions... Girls getting turned—'cause of the vamp part. Some of them—well the ones in day light—they didn't make it. Dunno how I feel about that yet—one thing at a time. I immolated a ton of little girls. Before the soul—it was all 'cost of doing business'—now it feels like shit. Stupid soul! Not that it makes a diff—still a mass murderer. This one's all about the frosting...
Anyway...Faith was getting hit hard by the visions. She'd double over each time. No clue why she wasn't turned—but sweating the small shit—not so much... I was getting faster—stronger—more powerful...but I was afraid... Hard to admit it—the watching—I ran... Second time in my whole life, I panicked— Pain always pissed me off... So hurting me to make me weaker never went well for the other side. I always processed it backwards—even as a little girl. But what I saw in that room... Something told me that getting outta there would make it stop. What actually stopped it was Faith. She was knocked across the room when she went for the scythe. Guess she wanted to kill me with it—and who could blame her. Like everything else that night...pretty much fucked up...
When I poked my head up through the trapdoor, what I saw scared me more. I heard the gunshot and ignored it—actually it happened right as the blood met in the middle of the scythe. Ironic that—I get hit with a soul and... I stared into her eyes for a few seconds before I could move—watched as a tear slipped— Weird thing—she looked exactly like she did the day we met—red hair falling down over her face—bright greenish hazel eyes. It was like I'd flashed back in time. Her eyes and hair had been black for so long I'd sorta forgotten.
So I pulled myself outta the hole in the floor—snatched her from the Superfriends. I think those morons were actually trying to help her. She was way too far gone for any of Amy's pathetic tricks...
I kept running until my gut told me it was okay. I could smell the blood all over us. I had taken a bath in Willow as I ran. I remember thinking, 'Did I rescue her?' Then I laughed—bitter like— Me rescue someone? But I hadn't just taken her for road munchies. So what was the point? I told myself I took her 'cause she was familiar... 'cause I needed something recognizable in the chaos. Thing is—I think now I took her 'cause I felt compassion. Totally alien emotion for me... Stranger still—it hit me as I stared at her—some part of her—something I didn't manage to kill—actually loved me. That's why she stuck around—it was never about being a good minion— She actually loved me. Total mind fuck for a vamp—hard to even get your head around. It was the soul. I never would've seen that without it.
I watched as the blood bubbled from the wound in her chest. She wasn't gonna last much longer. Running with her had made it that much worse. She had a few minutes max. So I did the only thing I could. I made her a real monster—really mine in every way. I held her as she died—ran my fingers through her hair—felt her go limp—carried her with me as I ran. I have no idea whether it was the right choice, but it was the choice I made. My traveling companion...
"You vill 'ave to tiell me vich exit," the old man said. Glancing over, he watched as his passenger stirred. "Vich exeit, Miess?" he stressed, noticing the way the vampire jerked when he spoke the first time.
"Oh..." Buffy gasped, looking around to get her bearings. "It's the next one up, make a right at the light." Pieces of the daydream resurfaced as she watched the buildings pass by. Regret now... This soul thing's a total kick.
***********
Giles and Jonathan ran in the emergency room doors, stopping in front of Amy glaring expectantly at her. "How is she?" they both puffed in unison.
"They took her up to surgery a little bit ago. No clue, but they were doing their best to shine me on," Amy offered, appearing worried. She laid down the magazine she'd been idly flipping through in a feeble attempt to calm her nerves.
Giles nodded. "Perhaps I might be able to get some answers," he offered genially, strolling over to the intake desk.
Jonathan sat down next to Amy giving her a concerned glance. "So what happened? Last I checked, we were doing okay. I mean, we did stop Buffy, right?"
"Faith said there were visions of girls turning. We have no idea how far it went. I hoped when she grabbed the scythe, Faith stopped the whole thing—reset it," Amy offered thoughtfully. Pausing to make eye contact, she intentionally avoided the desperate act of shooting the witch, knowing how much the subject disturbed Jonathan. Shocked the hell outta me...no clue where he even got a gun. Suppose it's a good thing he did. It was about to turn ugly. "Buffy got away and took Willow with her. No telling what those two are up to."
"So it might've been them?" Jonathan asked, looking nervously around the room.
Amy shook her head. "No idea... Jonathan, she was trying to turn every potential on the planet into slayer-vampires. If she turned even one...our problems just got lots worse. Faith said she was trying to control them too. We're dead if she did."
"Yeah, I heard her say that. I thought the spell flopped too. I mean, Faith's still human and you'd think..." Jonathan remarked. Taking a moment to look over the witch, he asked in a pensive tone, "Amy why don't you go home for a bit. Giles and I can take it."
"What makes you think I'd even consider—?" Amy spat angrily.
Jonathan sheepishly motioned for her to look down.
"Oh shit!" Amy gasped, staring in horror at the blood that was soaked into her shirt and jeans. How'd I miss that? Something inside her finally snapped and she began to sob.
Getting up to offer the witch a hug, Jonathan gently coaxed, "We got it. Go get a shower and come back. If she's in surgery, there isn't anything we can do now. It'll be hours before she's out of recovery."
Amy leaned into the embrace, conscious she might pass her current problem on. Silently weeping onto her friend's shoulder, she said in a thick voice, "I don't know if I can do this, Jonathan."
"You can... Go home and get your head together," Jonathan reassured in a soothing manner.
***********
Buffy slid the keycard into the lock, opening the door. "It's been a pain keeping the maids outta here," she remarked offhandedly, gesturing the old man inside.
Humm...clever... Mr. Kalderash reflected as he wandered into the room glancing at the young woman strapped to a hospital backboard and secured with ratcheting straps. "And she vill be unconscious for 'ow long?" he queried pensively.
"Ummm... We may have another hour—maybe two..." Buffy responded quickly counting back in her head.
Mr. Kalderash nodded, beginning to setup for the ritual. "If you could steip outzide, Meiss...?"
"Not a chance," Buffy replied, settling down in a chair. She pulled out her cigarettes and placed them on the table next to her. Taking one from the pack, she patted her pockets to locate her lighter. "Not gonna let you just stake her. I'd have to kill you—and, well...I've been trying to clean up my act. Wouldn't wanna ruin that for me, would ya?" she drawled. Fishing her lighter out, she slid the smoke between her lips and lit it. Watching as the old man looked nervously up at her, she took a sharp drag off the cigarette. Exhaling slowly, she eyed him as she drew the smoke back into her lungs via an extended French inhale. "Have you ever done this?"
"Deis eis not ze sort of ting a man eis normally called upon to do amongst my people," the old man admitted. Glancing up at the vampire, he offered, "I vill do eit...or I vill call on one who kien."
Buffy nodded, holding eye contact to establish an understanding with the old man. "You will get it done—or we will have a problem," she growled. Her eyes flashed golden for a brief moment, when their natural color restored, she winked. "No pressure...carry on..." she added suppressing a giggle as she spoke.
"Eif you vould not do deese," he motioned to the cigarette.
"Christ! Now I can't smoke!" Buffy snarled, violently stamping the cigarette out in the ashtray beside her.
The old man was shaking hard enough to rattle the various items he was pulling from his bag. "Ee-eit eis just dat dere aire speecifeec tings vee burn for deis ritual. I am uncerteen vhat effect ze tobacco vill 'ave," he offered sheepishly.
"Oh! Okay...I can see that," Buffy submitted. Sighing deeply, she added a muted, "Sorry," a moment later as her eyes fixed on a blank patch of wall. Wow! What's my damage? I mean, yeah...Will and Tara served me for years, but— I wonder what happened to the vengeance demon. She was hella useful. Not very smart either—or just way more tolerant than— Will flirted with me all the time—none too subtle... In a way I don't blame Will for wanting to hurt me, but— I mean, I did sorta threaten to kill her. Thing is...I was trying to prep for the spell and she copped a feel. She's like a dog with a bone sometimes.
Listening as the old man started chanting what sounded to her like gibberish, Buffy leaned back in the chair, tossing her leg over the arm. I'm not even sure why I'm bothering with this. After all the shit I put her through—what's a soul really gonna mean? Will sorta rewrote the definition of 'loose morality'. I think she was worse than me in some respects—and, up till last week, I was soulless. I always did stuff for a reason—there was always a plan. She never seemed to need one—or, if she did, it was totally lost in the Willow-logic—mystery to me. She did what I asked, though—well, mostly. Now, I can't do some of the stuff she'll take for granted. Finding a middle—if we can—may just get fun.
Bottom line...I can dust a vamp in a tenth of a second—give, take—if they're in reach. No weapon, just me—gotta love the new tricks. Pricey enough—I'd better. Wills can immolate a vamp with an absent thought. It won't come to that, but... Realistically, if it did—flip a coin. Before it's back in hand—one of us is ash.
Thing is, I think Wills will be as puzzled as I am about the big rescue. She'll wanna know what the hell's wrong with me—and if I knew... I'd consider sharing. Fact is...my ass is way more important to me than just about anything—no, being fair—than anything else. That's how I survive. No one else gives a shit about me. Okay—fair again...'cept maybe Wills. And the logic mobile just made a full lap.
Buffy watched with mixed interest as the orb in front of Mr. Kalderash began to glow with a soft golden light. Looks promising— Go, go Mr. Heckle. Be a shame to have to hurt such a nice old man. She saw Willow's eyes flash with a brief radiance. Leaving her seat, she dug into her pocket, counting out another five hundred dollars. "We done?" she inquired, passing the money down to the man half conscious on the floor.
"Yies, yies... I believe so," Mr. Kalderash replied weakly. Gratefully taking the money, he rushed dizzily to pack his things.
Buffy flopped back down and grabbed a cigarette. Lighting up, she watched as the old man staggered out the door. And now things get interesting.
***********
Walking up to Jonathan, Giles took a seat next to the lad. "I'm told Faith will make a full recovery. More rapidly than any of them suspect, would be my guess," he offered in an even yet relieved tone.
"Wow! Really? I need to call Amy," Jonathan responded. Glancing at Faith's watcher, a thin smile tugged at his features.
"Yes, indeed you should. She'll be quite pleased by the news," Giles remarked thoughtfully. "At any rate, Faith will be out of the recovery room inside the hour. I've been instructed that we may visit her briefly, one at a time."
Jonathan got up to use the phone, calling back over his shoulder in a subdued tone, "I'll let her know."
***********
Buffy released the straps holding Willow in place on the backboard. Rolling her onto her side, she pulled the board off the bed and took it out to the dumpster. She's gonna be pissy enough without this thing. It'd totally freak me out, so— Suppressing another trip down memory lane, she made her way back into the room.
I'm thinking shower and clean clothes. I smell like an ashtray. Got just about enough time... She walked into the bathroom, peeling away her clothing. Actually getting clean was sort of formality, but she washed her hair to get the smoky smell out of it and ran a soapy cloth over her body. It's not like I sweat. Maybe that was a bad idea—but it helps... Keep telling yourself that and make it all better... How 'bout this—I get a handle on the shit heap that is my life. Well—it's a good excuse to change clothes and I bought this great little outfit... Had to shop for Will anyway—treating myself—never bad.
Wrapping towels around her hair and body, Buffy made her way out of the bathroom. She went to the kitchenette and pulled a bag of blood out of the small refrigerator. Taking a large chardonnay glass off the counter, she emptied the bag into it and stuffed the wine glass into the microwave. Just enough to take the chill off, but not enough to totally kill the blood... Living like this still sucks... Did I really want to know that forty seconds in a microwave is—? A world of no's!
"Buffy?" Willow croaked. Groggily looking around the room, she located the vampire. Blinking furiously to focus her eyes, she had trouble understanding what she saw. "What happened? Did you get into a fight?" she whispered, peering muzzily at the scars. I would've noticed those. Thinking back she tried to recall whether she'd ever seen Buffy's back before or not. The answer she came up with was somehow not 'yes'. That's so weird.
"Huh?" Buffy gasped, surprised that the witch had managed to wake so soon. Shit! I would've dressed first...now with the questions... Xander was a complete laugh riot. But, all things said—it just made me his least favorite girl...small blessing... I think the only reason he ever touched me was 'cause he liked torturing stuff. Touch—it's a bad thing when it makes you feel like you have ants on your skin or something. Pulling the glass out, she walked over to the bed, ignoring the looks Willow was giving her. Yeah...I know I'm pretty. Swirling the blood around, she placed the wine glass on the bed table. "You're gonna want that," she replied matter-of-factly.
Picking the shopping bag up off the floor, Buffy made her way into the bathroom to dress. When she exited, the litany of questions began again. "Look, Will... As a vampire you get to keep all those little mementos of your past. They never go away. My past...not good dinner conversation. Now drink up like a good girl," she growled, pulling the zipper on the tight black leather jacket up just a tick or two more to insure all the scars between her breasts were lost in the cleavage.
Willow furrowed her brow. Reeling to put the pieces together, she dutifully picked up the glass and took a tentative sip. It was all she could do not to spit the liquid out. Suddenly her body folded in agony. She almost dropped the glass, sloshing only a small amount onto the carpet.
Buffy was at her side before the glass fell, steadying it. She slid in behind the witch, propping her up into a sitting position. "You need to drink, Will. It'll only get worse if you don't," she whispered patiently into the redhead's ear. Helping her to hold the glass, she watched as Willow drained it without protest. "'Kay... Now: shower and new clothes. You look like hell. Next: the questions..."
Willow stood up, peeling the little black dress off her slight form immodestly. She looked down at the scar on her chest and the caked blood. Shaking her head, she slowly made her way to the bathroom.
Rolling across the bed and away from the witch, Buffy stood up. Moving over to the corner of the room to take a seat in one of the chairs, she lit another stick of artificial tolerance and remarked offhandedly, "Like I said... Exactly—every last mark—the moment of your death—" The mirror thing's a small blessing. Oh...mirror! She listened as Willow gasped. "That part takes a bit of getting used to. Just ignore it," she instructed, taking another drag.
Stepping into the shower, Willow carefully scrubbed the blood off her body. She washed her hair twice when she noticed the water flowing down the drain was a brownish color. 'Kay so...total brain fuck... When did Buffy get nice? And the smoking...? How long was I out? I mean I got the 'been vamped' part—not so much sorry—beats the hell outta dying. But why would she save me? Oh shit! The wish! Tara!
Settling under the spray, she tried to recall what exactly she'd asked for. "I wish Buffy had the capacity to feel for me the way I feel for her." That was it...but I was just talking about the naughty parts. I thought she was just frigid—or too straight for her own good. Fuck, Tara! You gave her a soul! Talk about a radical interpretation of the text! That nasty, cunty, jealous, unbelievable bitch! I should've known better than to take her offer. Wishes—not so much— But, well—still alive—so I guess I start adapting... Bet Buffy's confused as hell. No way am I ever gonna let her know I did it. Oh, and Tara...? She looked damned good as a rat. Need to find her power center and keep it safe. Otherwise...no more Willow... Turning off the shower, she grabbed a towel. Wrapping it around herself, she walked up to Buffy. "Your turn," she said in a restrained voice.
"What part?" Buffy replied, meeting Willow's gaze.
"You first... What the hell happened to you?" Willow asked tactlessly. Taking a seat on the bed, she began to go through the shopping bags. Well...Buffy still has good taste. Big surprise...
"Not gonna talk about that...ever—so give it up. If it'll help, remember what we did to Cordy?" Buffy replied in a low, dangerous voice.
"Yeah..." Willow said, only half listening. She pulled a black leather bustier out of one of the bags and her eyes lit up. "For me...?"
"Well it sure wasn't for me," Buffy said snarkily. Taking the last drag off her smoke, she crushed it into the ashtray. "Thought you'd like it—and your scar is sorta below your breast so..."
Willow pulled off the towel. Unhooking the front of the bustier, she wrapped it around herself, refastening it. "So you were saying? Oh and lace me, please?" She got up and walked over to Buffy, turning her back.
Buffy stood up. Cinching the laces down, she repeated, "Remember what we did to Cordelia Chase? And this is the last time I'm saying it, so listen."
"Yeah...?" Willow bent over slightly to rub her bare ass against the vampire.
"Would you just quit?" Buffy spat impatiently, resisting the impulse to spank Willow for fear she might like it. Pulling the laces tight enough they almost snapped, she quickly tied them. "Look, Will... If you and I are gonna get along—" Finding herself taking slow deep breaths again, she shut the impulse down. Flopping back into the chair, she lit another cigarette. "What we did to Cordy was inspired."
"No shit...? You let someone do that to you?" Willow remarked coldly. Pulling a leather miniskirt out of the bag, she slipped it on, zipping it closed.
"Not so much with the letting. The vamp that turned me kinda took her time," Buffy grudgingly offered, pulling hard off her smoke when she finished. Well this is a blast. If she isn't in the maid's vacuum tomorrow night, it'll be a small miracle.
Willow took a pair of black stiletto-heeled thigh-high boots out of the box and began to remove the packing material. "Well that explains a lot... 'Kay so...how long was I out?"
"About a week," Buffy replied. She couldn't help but glance at the fine copper curls visible as Willow spread her legs to put the boots on. "You know I did buy—"
"Noticed... Never wear those things—unless I'm wearing pants. Dunno if you managed to figure this yet: I like to fuck, so... Underwear's just a complication. Now let's go," Willow said impatiently. Getting to her feet, she strutted over to Buffy, extending a hand. She's scared of me. I can work with that.
Raising an eyebrow, Buffy looked up giving the witch an incredulous glare. Taking her time to answer she eventually said, "Where? It'll be light in a coupla hours."
A wicked grin settled over the witch's features. "Well unless you wanna fuck me... I'm gonna go get laid and have a snack."
"Will, I stopped feeding on humans...and I can't let you," Buffy responded in a firm tone. Standing up she placed herself between the witch and the door.
"You...? You think you're gonna stop me?" Willow snarled, running her eyes over Buffy's slight form. As she did she grabbed hold of her victim magickally, splaying her limbs roughly out to either side. Lifting her off the ground, she pulled until she heard a series of soft pops.
"Will, don't...please," Buffy croaked. Tears welled up in her eyes as she watched the witch's tresses turned black. So much for the soul...not enough left to make a difference. I just had to be good at—well, pretty much everything I do. Funny, it's all coming back to bite me on the ass now. It's the worthless soul. Kindness equals weakness in my world.
"You made me, Buffy. Blame yourself," Willow spat. Walking back into the bathroom, she let the other vampire fall to the floor. Glancing up into the empty mirror, she picked up the hair brush and pulled it through her short locks.
It took Buffy several minutes to recover. She watched as Willow made her way purposefully to the door unable to do anything about it. When she was finally healed enough to move, she grabbed her smokes and the keycard. Tearing off behind the witch, she tracked her scent to the street, blurring as she ran. It took her no time at all to appear directly in front of her quarry. "Look, Will... Seriously, don't." she said in a firm voice, holding her hands out in a halting gesture.
Willow watched with interest as Buffy moved. Staring obstinately, she placed her hands on her hips. "When did you go and get all noble? Saving humans now? Louis much? You're boring me, Buffy," she snarled. Her eyes turned golden as she spoke. "Now I'm hungry. Move...or I'll move you."
Buffy rolled her eyes. Considering the reference for a moment, she offered, "You may have something... This is gonna—sound way too Anne Ricey—as you so sweetly pointed out—but there're a coupla dealers that hang in a parking garage up here. One of them's even kinda cute. Compromise?"
"And they don't use?" Willow replied pensively. Knew she'd fold. She hates bagged blood.
"I'd smell it— Remember me...?" Buffy offered, setting off down the street.
"Yeah... You used to love the hunt. It was what you lived for. Inflicting...terror...pain... That's my girl," Willow cooed, smiling as she glanced over to see Buffy grinning.
Buffy made her way purposefully up the ramp. "Only the bad guys, Will. From here on out, we kill...to thin out the other predators."
"Works for me, as long as they're pretty," Willow confirmed. Yeah...so noble... Hope she enjoys the show. Grabbing Buffy's shoulder, she instructed, "Wait for me. Don't come till I do." Watching as her partner in crime nodded, she strutted across the distance between herself and the dealers. Oh, I see what she means. He's—just tasty. Making her way up to the one who caught her eye, she ran her fingers over the back of his neck. Holding his gaze, she smiled seductively.
Buffy circled silently around behind dealers. She watched as Willow worked. It took the witch under a minute to press the cute one against the car, going through all the motions. When she saw Willow hike up her skirt and wrap her legs around the first man's waist, settling onto his cock, she slipped up behind and took the second. Covering his mouth so he couldn't scream as her fangs tore into his neck. She listened to the witch as she all but purred her satisfaction while the blood thrall washed over her. Wrenching hard at the man's head, she crushed across his chest, trying to milk every last drop from him. Will was right. This is just too good to— She finally dropped the second dealer quietly to the ground and leaned casually against the car with her legs and arms crossed within reach of Willow.
Buffy stared as the witch thrust her hips down against the strange man, her arms around his neck. His eyes were closed and his head was tilted back resting on the roof of the car. He groped the witch's ass, trying hopelessly to direct her. Wonder if he's noticed how strong she is? Should strike him as wrong, but—boys are usually stupid...'specially about sex... Both lovers were close to climax, moving hungrily and moaning in near harmony. Buffy could feel the charge in the air around them. She watched in amusement as Willow's hair slowly shifted back to its natural color. She's purging—no wonder the need. As she came, Willow sank her fangs into the dealer's neck. He was pushed over the edge by her orgasm and barely noticed. By the time he did, it was too late. Willow rode him to the ground as his body slid down the car, nursing the wound for all she could drain from it. Smiling as she watched the witch dismount her victim, Buffy remarked, "Quite the show...not sure whether I should applaud or not." Funny, she never kissed him. Prostitute rules: if she kisses you, she loves you.
Willow curtsied gracefully. Her face shifted back to human as tipped her chin. "Thank you," she said in a husky voice, tugging her skirt down.
"Get his money—ditch the drugs," Buffy instructed dryly as she threw her victim over her shoulders and walked off for the dumpster in the far corner of the garage.
Willow did as directed. Wow—profitable... Buffy may have a point. This has to be at least five-grand—and not a bad fuck. She took the money roll and pressed it down into her bustier. Heaving the large man over her shoulder, she made her way to the dumpster. Tossing him inside, she slammed the lid. "Nice take...they were quite the enterprising fellows," she commented, making eye contact with the other vampire. She held out her hand, smiling as Buffy took it.
"Let's get home," Buffy said, towing the witch along with her. "I can smell the sun."
"Yeah...I always wondered about that. Now I know what you mean," Willow replied. Wiping the trace of blood from her lips, she licked her fingers. "Don't you miss it?" she asked, glancing pensively over at Buffy.
"Miss what?" Buffy responded, not quite certain which 'it' Willow might mean. Do I miss the sun? Yes... Did miss the kill? Hell yes... and, like the lawyer...the drug dealer isn't something that affects. No guilt... Zero...none...nada... I just killed a parasite.
"Sex," Willow offered in a tone unblemished by any emotion.
Buffy almost fell over as she started to laugh. "You're kidding, right?" she choked through her giggles. Rushing a little to catch up, she was a bit surprised as the witch took her hand again.
Giving Buffy another thoughtful glance, Willow replied bluntly, "I don't think I am."
"No...nothing to miss," Buffy said, fixing her eyes firmly on the ground directly in front of her. "Look, Will... I'll leave the fucking to you. Let me handle the killing—and planning. I'll make sure you get lots of tasty treats. 'Kay?" Taking the pack out of the front pocket of her leather pants, she pulled out a smoke and began to pat around for her lighter. Sliding the cigarette between her lips, she replaced the pack and pulled out the lighter. Click, flip, puff, and the tension seemed to magickally bleed away. Yup...they help...
Willow nodded. Wow again. She's never—well not with anyone she just wanted... Xander hardly counts. Bet that was a nightmare for her. Twenty-two-years-old, she still looks fifteen, and technically she's still a virgin. How weird is that? No wonder she started smoking.
***********
Amy tugged at the hem of her shirt, trying to calm her frayed nerves. Absently brushing her hair back, she pushed the door open, putting on her best fake smile. She made her way to the bed, leaning in to kiss the slayer lightly on the forehead. She pulled back, restoring the false smile the instant she moved. "How you holding up?" she whispered, making eye contact with Faith.
"'Bout the same. Only here 'cause I'm good at the faking," Faith quipped painfully.
Reaching to clasp the slayer's hand gently, Amy asked the question burning in all their minds, "What happened?"
Furrowing her brow, Faith noticed tears welling up in the witch's eyes. Ignoring the question, she growled, "No crying over me."
"Can't help it," Amy rasped as she felt herself give in again.
Faith pulled the witch carefully over the bed rail into a gentle hug. "Give me a few hours— I'll be up, and ready to kick your ass. It's no big. Slayer healing—part of the package," she whispered reassuringly.
"Slayer healing replace organs now? Giles told me they had to take a kidney," Amy replied. Pulling out of the embrace, she backed up, settling into one of the hard hospital recliners.
Faith just stared. Well, guess I can't argue with that. Witch has a point.
"So quit stalling..." Amy prompted. Working to steady herself, she scooted around in the chair until her back stopped aching. Chairs need to be more miserable. They could install spikes. That'd be about the only way to improve the design.
Faith winced as she sighed. "I was at The Bronze and this vamp left with a meal in tow. So I did my thing... You know—the one they pay me so well for. I get out there—bitch has him pinned—so I spun her and punched. That was it. Only blow I got in the entire fight. She moved like nothin' I ever seen. Sloppy: all over the place—no style at all— But you don't need style when— I'm just lucky her aim wasn't better. Total amateur night with a wicked twist."
"Slayer-Vamp...?" Amy remarked already knowing the answer.
"Had to be... Moved like the queen bitch herself at the end. No clue why she was here and her highness dropped off the planet. Sorta glad for that last part," Faith grumbled, wincing again as she tried to adjust the pillow behind her head.
Amy got up and tried to help the slayer get comfortable. "We got trouble."
"Ya think?" Faith groaned. Shifting slightly, she clutched at the side.
Turning to leave, Amy said, "I'll let the others know, so—"
"Thanks," Faith replied, turning her head to stare out the window.
***********
Buffy moved around the room, making sure the door was chained and the drapes were closed tightly. She went to the bathroom to change and brush her teeth. When she got back, Willow was already under the covers. "All I could get with a fridge was a single queen," she commented, sliding under the covers. By the time she was in bed the naked little witch was tucked up against her. She rolled her eyes, trying to ignore the intrusion. I should've saved the board...getting her onto it would've been a party. Well worth it, though—every single bruise.
"No skin off my back," Willow quipped.
Buffy snarled, reaching over to turn off the light. "Look, if you just have to touch me... Don't do it light—none of that gentle shit—makes my skin crawl."
Willow snickered. "Think I can handle that," she purred into her bedfellow's ear.
"Oh...and don't get used to this. We're leaving tomorrow," Buffy growled softly, trying to settle for sleep. She was grateful that the witch seemed to have taken the hint by firming her grip.
Brushing Buffy's hair from her neck, Willow gently kissed her. "Where we headed?"
Shrugging the kiss off, Buffy said in an arid voice, "Back to Sunnyhell."
Craning over to try and get some sense of the expression on Buffy's face, Willow appeared aghast. "Why in the hell would you want to go back there?" Guess it's just as well—power center—but she'd better not think we're staying.
"Some friends of mine from outta town are visiting. I need to give them a warm welcome," Buffy remarked offhandedly.
"Friends...?" Willow questioned, settling back down to spoon her reluctant partner.
Buffy pressed against the witch to increase contact so her skin would stop tingling. "Yeah... You know—the slayerettes. No clue why, but I can feel them moving. They're headed for The 'Dale, and so are we. I need to kill them before they get the bright idea to kill me. It's a matter of time, Will—so, if you really do love me...you'll come help."
"Oh boy," Willow sighed. Kissing Buffy's neck again, she threaded her hand under the tanktop she wore. Pressing firmly, she began to survey. Stomach too...? Is there anything that bitch didn't—?
Buffy quietly grumbled, "No," answering the unasked question.
"I do—you know," Willow whispered sleepily.
"I know, Will," Buffy replied. Concerned that she found the touch strangely comforting, she actively decided to push the potential musings aside. Sleep now—questions tomorrow...