Ten Thousand Days - 3 - Vicarious
by Valyssia
Blood Like Rain
[reviews]
Description: Season 8 - An evil twisted dark fic that may cause some of you to walk away shaking your head, and wondering who spiked my punch. Those of you that stick around...? *grins evilly*
Warning: You must be *stretches out with her hand over the crown of her head* this tall to ride this ride. It's not for the squeamish!
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. Ahn for playing secondary beta, reading the material for flow and content.
Lyrics: Tool - Ten Thousand Days - Vicarious
Feedback: Yes...please... It gives me a happy.
The universe is hostile, so impersonal. Devour to survive, so it is, and so it's always been... We all feed on tragedy. It's like blood to a vampire. Vicariously, I live while the whole world dies. Much better you than I.
Buffy shut her eyes tight. The crisp salt breeze rushed past her. She filled her lungs, enjoying the sensation of the air currents caressing her skin. Falling...or was that 'falling now'? A wry grin flashed over her otherwise impassive features. Been falling—falling as a state of being—falling for years... Fall long and hard enough you sorta begin to get it figured—eventually I think I grew wings—the metaphory kind.
Slowly opening her eyes, she peered down at the dark water below. We all died that year. It wasn't just me. Yeah, okay...so for me it was slightly more literal, but— Strange thing about death—there're worse fates—death of hope—death of innocence—both much worse than the real deal—least more painful. I mean—yeah, we kept on, we fought, struggled, more of us died...literally. When she heard the distant sound of footsteps, Buffy grabbed the railing she was perched on with both hands. Twisting her body sideways, she mused, not exactly 'king of the world, ' and pulled herself into a brief handstand. She took a long controlled breath as she gazed out over the black ocean, and launched herself backwards into a flip, landing noiselessly in a crouch on the deck of the large cargo ship.
Taking another deep breath, Buffy clung to the shadows, silently moving across the great expanse of deck. So not in the mood for company—male pheromones—ship crew—not so much... You have to be a little lost—bit out of control to think, 'Yeah, Scotland...sounds okay.' Falling... It wasn't okay. Not falling anymore. Thanks for the wake up, Giles. You always were able to make me see.
Buffy slipped through a doorway and set off down a flight of stairs into the bowels of the large ship. Thing that sucks—what they don't bother to tell you...you don't just lose the innocence, and then magickally become an adult. It'd be great if you did but, truth is, there's lots of pain. Think it goes that way for everyone. You gotta morn the loss. Three flights down, she popped through a hatch, and started down a long hallway. For me, the loss was hope. I used to look at the things we did and sorta just know. It was a case of too young and stupid. Anyway, I knew it'd be okay. Somehow it'd just work out—didn't matter so much how crazy. It took death to show me it wouldn't always be that. When I clawed my way out of that grave, I left a piece behind—my innocence—hope. She turned left on her heel down another corridor. Haven't felt that it'd 'just be okay' for a long time...
Honey, I'm home, Buffy mused silently as she lifted the handle and swung open the door to the cramped cabin. Humm... No Will... Wonder where she went? Not much in the way of places to go on a freighter. She said she'd be here working. Shrugging, she swung the door closed and locked it, beginning to undress for bed. Quite a change, but it's the best way. We sorta needed to get lots of stuff from one place to another. And well...Will and I needed the slack to work things out. So...two weeks—no people—sounded pretty damned good. New role for me—book protector... Almost there...the Panama Canal was cool—slow and boring, but nifty all the same.
Buffy slid under the covers and closed her eyes. More irony... A sardonic grin washed over her features as she reflected, My answer to the current crazy—I decide to take my ball and go home. Yup...very mature—so proud. It makes total sense, though... 'No house divided can stand.' Think that was from some history class I failed, or almost failed 'cause Will helped me deal. So me—great leader I am—I pulled an end-run. There are two people on the planet that actually have a clue where we are: Faith and Xander. Bet Giles is pissed. Wish I could see his face. 'Specially when he realizes that we skimmed the cream. It's a bit crappy to take all the really skilled ones with you but, after the shit with Will, no guilt. Faith thought that 'foot-loose and Watcher free' again was a 'wicked cool' plan. Gotta admit... It's sounding pretty good to me too.
***********
Dimly aware of her surroundings, a soft moan escaped Buffy's lips as she drifted lazily into consciousness. Her body was humming with excitement; gentle caresses brought with them waves of pleasure. Lucidity accompanied the muscle spasm that shook her to the very core when her lover penetrated her. An involuntary groan of approval masked the whispered incantation as she was pinned to the bed by an unseen force. "Quite the—" she gasped reflexively as the redhead started to move in a languid rhythm, "Oh Goddess," she groaned, pulling hard on the magical restraints.
"Morning, lover," Willow cooed, watching the slayer tremble and tense as she increased the cadence.
Buffy fought through the barrage of sensations to gasp in a shaky voice, "Way to wake up." The world tilted slightly off-kilter as her partner returned her full attention to the slayer's center.
"Slayer," Willow hissed in a voice barely audible while she slipped another finger inside. Gasps and sighs of ecstasy filled the room as her lover's body trembled and arched. She deftly slid the final finger home while shifting her thumb to apply pressure to the tiny nerve bundle. Picking up the rhythm, she listened to the slayer's cries of approval. Golden eyes went completely unnoticed as they scanned tanned skin. When her partner came, Willow sank her fangs into the slayer's thigh, piercing the femoral artery. She drank deeply as the blonde convulsed under wave after wave of pleasure. The human heart labored, slowed and finally stopped as her victim writhed, caught in the throes of passion. As she rose from the bed, the witch mumbled, "Let the spell be ended." She seized a small knife, then cut a deep gash in her own throat. Returning to the blonde, she whispered as she raised Buffy's mouth to the open wound, "Welcome to the nightmare, lover."
***********
Willow listlessly lay propped on the bed, fondling herself to pass the time. She ran her eyes aimlessly over the slayer's lithe body hanging by its arms in the corner of the room. "My first instinct was to kill. But then, what fun would that be? Play...play is much less boring," she whispered to the unconscious blonde. Her eyes darkened as she focused her magics and began to open an incision from sternum to groin in her lover's body. As the wound opened, it instantly healed. She was giddy with anticipation. A cruel laugh escaped her lips as she started to randomly open gashes in the limp form, her eyes fixed as each one instantly healed. "Boring? Definitely not, 'puppy'... She's perfect," the redhead cooed as she dipped her fingers inside.
Stirring out of the thick dark sleep, Buffy tried to raise her head. Her flesh stung and she wasn't able to understand why. She cracked a weary eye, staring down at the floor. Her chin dug into her chest, but she couldn't raise it. Flexing the muscles in her arms simply yielded more pain.
Turning to watch the struggling slayer, Willow offered pensively, "Might wanna quit while you're ahead, lover. See...both your shoulders are— Well, I sorta broke you. Wouldn't want you to rip your arms off. Bet that'd be all kinds of no-fun."
"Let me down," Buffy fumed, afraid to move because she knew the witch was right. Her body weight rested on nothing but tendon and muscle that was hopelessly wrecked until she found a way to free herself.
Willow rose from the bed, and walked over to her helpless mate. "You sure that's what you want? Could be worse...you can just never tell about these things." She ran a cold finger down the slayer's body as she spoke, following the line of the first incision she'd made.
Rage boiled in the slayer when her witch spoke. "Why, Will?" she asked heatedly. Her question was answered with a chilly laugh. Reflecting for a moment, she added, "Why couldn't you just let me die?"
"Oh, Buffy... I'd think you'd be able to get that one on your own. But if you need help—let me make it simple for you..." Willow whispered as she allowed the slayer's body to fall crashing to the floor in a heap. She kicked the prone form, listening to the sound of cracking bones with delight. Continuing in her monologue, she moved the desk chair in front of the broken body of her lover, "I know you better than anyone, Buffy. I know you'd rather die than become a vampire. Do you think I haven't watched?" She lifted the slayer by magic and draped her over the chair, binding her thighs and arms to the legs of the chair.
Buffy bit her lower lip to stifle the scream when she felt something red-hot land between her shoulder blades. She could smell the smoke rolling off her flesh while she steeled herself to speak. "So, you're gonna go all Angelus on me, Will? Somehow I thought—"
"You thought what? I'd be better than that? I'm a vampire," Willow spat. Reaching down she seized Buffy by the hair and wrenched until their eyes met. A low feral growl erupted from the witch as she bared her teeth sneering with contempt. "I left the room for a minute to get something to eat while you were screwing around doing goddess knows what." She snickered mirthlessly, interrupting her rant. "Promising track record...this time your lover turned you into a monster," she hissed as she slid the cross down the slayer's back by magic. A cold smile washed over her features when she saw the marks continued to immediately heal. "You and I, lover... We're gonna have such good times. We have an eternity to redefine pain together." As the skin on her partner's ass bubbled and smoked, she added, "You ever see The Exorcist, Buffy?"
The slayer bit hard enough into her lower lip to draw blood when the cross ripped inside her. She began to frantically search the room. Mentally going through a checklist of all the items they'd brought with them into the tiny cabin, her attention fixed on the bag at the foot of the bed. It was open. The pain was almost indescribable, and smell of her own searing flesh was making her ill. She desperately seized a stake by magic. Working frantically to focus past the pain, she floated the stake into the air, and maneuvered it between Willow's shoulders. A quick thrust and it was all over. The pain ebbed, and the magic holding her to the chair vanished as a thin coating of ash covered her aching form.
Buffy whimpered softly to herself as she labored to rise. Her shoulders were still badly dislocated, and the best she could manage was to sprawl out flat on her back on the floor. Tears flowed down her temples disturbing the layer of ash while her shoulders repaired themselves. "Congratulations, Will, you finally got me to use magic defensively," she mumbled in a trembling voice as she struggled to bite back the pain.
Once the healing was complete, Buffy lifted herself to her feet and began to mechanically dress. The first thing she put on was the necklace. It was instinctual by now. As she crossed the small space, still numb from all that had transpired, she stepped barefoot on the cross. Nothing happened. It didn't even faze her for a moment or two. She dug through the cases, looking for clothing, black leather pants, white tee shirt, black leather jacket, and boots.
As Buffy dressed her gaze fixed on the cross. She reached down and picked it up. Again nothing happened. Dropping it on the bed, she pulled off the necklace, and picked the cross up again. Instantly her hands began to smoke, and the flesh boiled. She peered down at her smoldering hands. "Inside," she whispered as she placed the cross on the bed, and picked up the necklace. Tearing the chain and ribbon free from the pendant, she placed it in her mouth and swallowed. "Hungry," she considered as she sat down on the bed to put her boots on.
***********
D'Hoffryn grinned wolfishly as he peered into the pool. The cargo ship he was watching turned eastward toward the shore. Pressing a button on his remote, he zoomed in just in time to see the little blonde vampire rip the still-beating heart from the chest of the ship's captain. He met the golden eyes in the display and began to chortle. "She's so much more fun this way," he offered, sounding delighted, as he watched Buffy lick the blood from her hand.
"Yes, sir, most entertaining," Lloyd agreed. Pausing thoughtfully, the demon added, "It might've been more interesting if she'd stopped to grieve for the witch a bit longer. Suffering always makes a show better."
Placing a hand pensively to his chin, D'Hoffryn stroked his goatee as he responded, "Yes, I'll agree that might've been an improvement, but tears are so human, and this creature she is is far from human."
Lloyd nodded. "Perhaps you're right, sir. May I get you something?"
"Not now, Lloyd," D'Hoffryn replied, his attention still fixed on the pool.
Turning to stride out of the room, Lloyd affirmed, "As you wish, sir."