Warning, this fic includes violence, torture, character death, references to non-consensual sex, the works, so if you are not a twisted individual who enjoys this kind of stuff, I strongly suggest you give this a miss and go read some of my nice fluffy stuff. I have no idea where this came from, except my love of Nnoitra and my wish for some more Nnoitra/Nel action. It does get more fluffy towards the end though, because I can't seem to help myself. Update: Yeah, IT ENDS HAPPILY! Well, possibly. make up your own mind...
This fic takes place in a slightly AU world where Nnoitra leaves with Nel before Kenpachi arrives.
The fight was over. Ichigo was wrecked, unable to move, only able to watch as Nnoitra slung his weapon back over his shoulder and sauntered over to where the frightened child lay. Grabbing the prone form of the little girl, her round eyes tear-filled, her weak body trembling, Nnoitra flashed one last look of gloating triumph at Ichigo, wounded and powerless to prevent it, and flew from the area, Neliel under his arm, to the palace. It was too late for Ichigo to do anything, Orihime was too busy trying to heal Ichigo's many wounds to be able to react, as if she could touch him anyway, and Kenpachi arrived just those precious few seconds too late. Neliel was gone, at the mercy of her old rival, and god only knew what horrors he had planned for the innocent child whose adult form he had so resented.
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"Change," he demanded of the trembling child, rigged up in chains against one wall of the dark stone room. Nel's eyes were streaming with tears, her body pressed against the wall, as far away from the sneering espada as possibly.
"N-Nel-" she began timidly.
"Quit referring to yourself in the third person and freaking change, bitch," Nnoitra yelled, little flecks of spittle flying from between his tombstone teeth. He looked quite deranged. "I know you can, I've seen it, so if you won't do it willingly I'll just have to force you."
"Nel doesn't know," Nel wailed. "She doesn't understand. Nel wants Itsygo." Nnoitra let out a roar or frustration, and slammed his fists either side of the little child's head, but all he received for his efforts were broken sobs of "Itsygo." Finally, he left the room in a foul mood, stalking towards the main part of the palace, pissed-off reiatsu streaming off him.
"Side project not going too well, Nnoitra?" a sarcastic voice jibed from his left. He jerked his head round angrily to see Grimmjow lolling in an alcove, trademark irritating smirk in place.
"Fuck off, Grimmjow," he spat at the sixth espada. Grimmjow just kept on smiling.
"I'd give up on it if I were you, Nnoitra," he warned, still grinning his smug grin. "Aizen-sama is losing patience. She's just a kid. Forget it."
"I will not forget it. I want to see the look on her face when she realises she is at my mercy. This kid doesn't remember. I want to see the look in that bitch's eyes when she knows I am the strongest!" Nnoitra's own eye gleamed with a manic energy. He would not give up on this, not even after three weeks of wasted effort.
"That's what I thought," Grimmjow gave a mock-sigh, then pushed himself forwards with a single lithe flex of his well-toned muscles. "Then why don't we strike a deal?"
"What sort of deal?" Nnoitra's eye narrowed, focusing on Grimmjow, who did not flinch back as almost every other arrancar in the place would have done, even some of the espada. Grimmjow gave a mocking laugh.
"Oh, you do need my help then?" he gloated, leering towards the enraged fifth espada; anybody else would have seen that Nnoitra was ready to punch someone through the ceiling with his bare hands, but Grimmjow didn't care. He had never been one for walking on eggshells. "I so happen to be offering a trade; an hour with your prisoner, for an hour with mine." Nnoitra was too intrigued to render Grimmjow unconscious for the moment.
"You have a prisoner?" he asked grudgingly. Grimmjow somehow managed to strut without moving.
"Yup. Got myself two useless sacks of lard who just so happen to be your little Neliel's fraccion," he gloated. "Might wanna try torturing 'em to make her revert back to her old form."
"And what do you want with the snot-nosed kid?" Nnoitra asked contemptuously.
"I don't want the kid," Grimmjow said, voice raised with amusement. Nnoitra snorted at the insinuation.
"You pig," he spat at his fellow espada. "Wasn't that redhead bitch enough for you?" Grimmjow's leer was his answer.
"I never actually touched the woman," he admitted offhandedly, not bothering to deny that he had wanted to. "Bloody Ulquiorra wouldn't let me near her, and I only made that crack to Kuro-fucking-saki about her being hurt on the inside to piss him off and get a decent fight out of him. I'm still on the market for a bit of fun, and your Nel, if you can get her old form back, would suit me pretty well."
"You're a sick fuck, Grimmjow," Nnoitra shot, "but if you don't mind having people's seconds, then it works for me. Bring me the fraccion filth, and we'll see if we can get the bitch to cooperate."
"And you call me sick," Grimmjow taunted. "Sure, you can have the useless filth. They're no good to me. But you'd better keep your side of the bargain, or you'll have more than one hole in your head."
-
Nnoitra sighed theatrically, rubbing his temples. He had had enough of the sound of screaming to last him a lifetime, even if some of it was her screaming, something he hoped he would never tire of. The fraccion were proving hard to crack, and Nel, whilst she was distraught, was still resolutely childlike.
"I tire of this," he said harshly. "Grimmjow doesn't care how many pieces I send 'em back in, you know, Neliel. I might just take him up on his offer and send 'em back as bitesize snacks at this rate."
"Hurt Nel instead," Nel screamed for the umpteenth time. "Don't hurt my brudders." Snot was running copiously from her nose, staining her sacklike garment. Nnoitra surveyed her in disgust.
"I'd rather not touch you," he said disdainfully. "But I'll make it easy for you. I'm tired of games. It's time for the kill." He raised his large, curved weapon, chain rattling, and placed it under the chin of the lumpy fraccion with the spots. "Five, four, three, two..." He lingered on the numeral as Nel's eyes went round with panic, then thrust his weapon upwards.
"One!"
Nel's scream of horror as the hot blood burst from the lifeless body of her lifelong friend and splattered across her tear-streaked face was loud and tragic enough to rip the sky apart. It certainly had Nnoitra covering his ears, his face screwed up to dim the impact of the rending sound even as he laughed. The scream was certainly powerful enough to cause a simple shift in forms, and a puff of pink smoke made Nnoitra laugh all the louder, a wild, crazy sound, chilling and terrifying. As it and the smoke faded, two soft, gentle words hung in the air, heady with released tension.
"You bastard." Nnoitra looked into the amber eyes of the woman crouching before him.
"Welcome home, Neliel."
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