Kindred
By Sweetprincipale
Set in early Season Five. When Dracula called Buffy 'kindred'', he was doing a bit more than just saying they had a lot in common. Hungry for knowledge of herself and her power, Buffy didn't realize what kind of connection he had forged with her until he left town, and the damage was done. Hoping to break his hold over her, Buffy requests help from Spike. However, the way you break the hold of one vampire is to let another one possess you more fully. But, it'll only be temporary, right? Simple business, that's all…
Author's Note: Sorry for the long delay! But, hopefully you're enjoying Screw Loose, Screwed Up, and Just Plain Screwed in the meantime. I promise to get a little more frequent here! If it's any comfort this piece is already up the 30th chapter, just not all posted!
Part XXI
Wesley thought, unreasonably, he supposed, that vampires would be heavier. They were so supernaturally strong and powerful. He'd supported Angel following a few fights and the bulky man was solid muscle. He expected the Countess to weigh him down like iron chains draped about him, and instead she weighed no more, perhaps less, than an ordinary woman. He juggled the book and the body in his arms and dropped the peeling leather volume with a hiss when they landed in a lavish bedroom suite.
"Oh dear." He sidestepped the book and hurriedly placed the Countess on her bed and rushed to retrieve the spell that would open the portal and take him back to a growling, pacing Angel and an annoyed Cordelia. "Spatium foribus portarum-"
"You're not Angelus."
"Bloody hell!" Wesley gasped out the oath which had a decidedly negative impact on the portal that had just begun to form. The opening now glowed hot and red. "Finis!" He closed his first attempt and stood still. Dare he attempt to open another one so soon? The Countess was awake and not likely to remain quiet and content with a strange man in her room performing spells. All the reassurances that she no longer killed might not pertain to invaders in her home.
"Have we met?" Daniela got off the bed with a woozy stumble and approached the handsome man who seemed vaguely familiar. She'd admired him before, briefly, a passing encounter that hadn't amounted to much, perhaps?
Wesley turned and tried to brazen this out. The parameters of Willow's spell were to make the Countess forget her encounter with them and forget the information wrested from her. Apparently, certain subconscious impressions remained- as well as the recollection of Angelus appearing in her home. "Yes. Today."
"Did I... " The Countess hesitated, then frowned, "I would not have picked a lover who would take advantage of a situation, a lover who would maneuver me into my bedroom without my knowledge."
"Lover? Advantage? Oh, no! No, no, I had no-"
But Daniela didn't let him finish whatever poorly constructed explanation might have been about to pass his lips, circling and pacing, hands running over her body, her wrists and face. "Angelus would have no such qualms." Her eyes took in the bruises on her arms, felt the swelling of her upper lip. "Chained? Until he finished with me? Tell me, did you watch? Do you know… how bad it was?"
"Please, Countess, I promise you, nothing untoward- well, nothing of that nature happened. I swear it. Angel-us," he switched the moniker at the last second and hoped she wouldn't notice, "did indeed visit you in your home, hoping you were- uh- able to offer him information. But you weren't willing to. He was stopped from harming you. I -uh remained with you until I was sure you were quite all right. I'm sorry for the inconvenience and I'll let you go about your business." All of that was true. Angel wanted information about Dracula. Daniela was unwilling to give it. She was forced to under a spell that she wouldn't recall, and when Angel had suggested killing her to leave no witnesses, Wesley and the others had prevented such unnecessary destruction.
Daniela felt sore and tired. Hungry. "Angelus prevented from harming his intended victim?" Only someone powerful… A man who can open holes in time and space in the middle of my boudoir seems rather powerful. Sorcerer. "The handsome sorcerer protects a vampire? Why?"
"You were forthcoming about your feeding habits, no longer killing," he said quietly. "If more vampires would live as you do, the world would be a different place."
Soft spoken. Not bragging. Not blustering. "You are refreshing." She imagined he tasted that way, too. Like warm brandy and citrus, like clean rain and the English countryside.
Wesley found himself blushing, but he didn't know why. There was nothing untoward about her comments. She wouldn't remember the flirtatious, or perhaps merely truthful, exchanges of earlier.
"And the blood rushes to his cheeks," she smiled, lips aching over the quickly healing split. "He is a gentleman. He protects my life and my virtue- such as it is."
"Well, he, that is, I, try."
"May I offer you a drink. It's not too early?"
"It is not indeed." It was dark in Paris, past sunset. "But, I won't, thank you. I must get back."
"Must you? Even if I wanted you to remain?"
There was something lilting in her voice. Wesley recalled with Angel had said about Dracula's brides having his gift of thrall, to a lesser degree. He blinked hard. "Do your lovers have freewill, or are they enthralled?"
She looked offended for a second, then smiled sadly. "Enthralled by my charms only, or so I like to think. I prefer genuine emotion after centuries of finding my own feelings … muted. I like full volume." Red nails delicately took the arm of a late model victrola and put the needle on a record. "Do you like the classics, Mr.- Oh. I don't even know your name."
"Wesley."
"Wesley. Very puritanical."
"My mother had a warped sense of humor. She would have had to, after marrying my father," he said dryly.
"Wesley is witty. Refreshing, charming, a gentleman of power and thought. Dear me. I have only known you for a few minutes and I can list more attributes for you than I can for men I've known for weeks."
"You are too kind." Wesley backed away from the dark entrancing eyes and the beautiful smile, the music that was seductive.
"I can't repay you for your assistance?"
'"No repayment is necessary."
The Countess hesitated. "It's been a very long time since I met someone I would ask to come for a visit, just because I was curious about him. I extend you the offer. If you have to leave now… will you return sometime soon, Mr. Wesley?"
The portal still wasn't open. He had no idea if it would be safe to try again so soon. He had no idea if it would be safe to remain here, either. "I wouldn't insult a lady by asking what would happen if I said no-"
"-but you would like to know?" she laughed, light and golden, richer than silver, deeper, coming from the region of her chest rather than her throat. "Nothing happens. I remain curious about Wesley. He refuses to satisfy me."
He could have sworn the portal with its red hot plasma was open again. She meant the phrase innocently. His wayward mind misconstrued. That was all.
"I will not detain you, if you would show me the same courtesy. The brute tore my seams." Daniela looked at her shoulder and one sleeve with a grimace- before she reached round and unzipped her chic lilac dress. Wesley turned his back abruptly, breathing silently, but much harder. She smiled to herself. "So… Angelus had me bound and restrained- and he only ripped one sleeve? A small price to pay. You should have heard what he did to my ex-husband's people."
"Your- ex-husband?" Wesley wanted to avoid this topic at all costs, but his tongue tripped heavily over the question.
"I'll spare you the grisly details. It was tragic. There is bad blood between them. The gypsies and the Romany will never forgive nor aid Angelus. My husband was an adopted son of the Romany. He never took a bride, nor son, nor daughter, never took a single soul from their tribes unless they wanted the honor."
"The honor?"
"Some considered it such." She now stood in front of her wardrobe, stepping out of her dress and heels, wearing a black lace underwear with a matching bra that uplifted generous, creamy breasts. She turned to look at Wesley. His back was still turned. Truly a gentleman. She pulled on a royal blue robe and laughed sourly. "At least the color matches the wounds."
"Arnica."
"Pardon?"
He repeated himself with a cough, speaking louder without turning to face her, "Arnica. Arnica on wounds and contusions. Heals them more quickly."
"I shall remember that. I haven't suffered an injury in many, many years. I don't play roughly with my lovers and they don't play roughly with me. Well… not rough enough to bruise. My modesty is in tact, good Sir Wesley. You may turn."
God, why was his heart beating so hard? Demon. She's a demon. A demon who is stunningly beautiful and well-spoken. Excellent taste in music. Fashionable, according to Cordelia. "It's just plain Welsey. Christian name. As for the arnica, I imagine you can get it at the local homeopathic shop or some chemists carry it. I have some, but- hardly worth popping home and back."
"I could make your visit enjoyable." She stepped closer.
"I know you could." Oh cursed, betraying tongue. He locked his jaws.
"You do know what I am?" The Countess suddenly asked with a worried frown.
"Yes." He frowned as well. He'd made reference to that. They'd made multiple references to vampires and vampiric acts.
She shook her head and put a hand to it. "I'm so sorry. I feel just a little confused. As if- I had a very vivid dream that I cannot remember upon waking. Achey. Tired. Hungry. I need blood to heal. Is it -" she looked at the golden Ormolu clock, "after six? Yes, the servants will have left." Her eyes closed and her hand searched among the long midnight-colored tresses, wincing when she found two different lumps on her skull. "Angelus made these. Mortals don't hit so hard and leave so much damage."
Again, his mouth moved without his brain orchestrating, "Is there blood in the house?"
She looked at him for a long moment. "Yes."
Oh. Me. "Can I get it for you?"
Why in God's name did I ask that? Is she going to think I was offering…
Well. Am I?
Another penetrating stare that seemed to be taking off layers of clothes as well as inhibitions. "The wet bar in the sitting room." She pointed to the double doors at the end of her room.
Wesley nodded woodenly and walked slowly forward, sighing silently in relief. He told himself it was relief. He opened the double doors with their L-shaped golden handles and entered the sitting room of the suite. She had moved with the times, as Giles had informed them, as Cordelia had noticed with her clothing. There were fine antiques everywhere, but there was also a huge television and a desk with a laptop and rolling office chair, a wet bar filled with crystal decanters next to bottles of liquor and vodka. He assumed this bar was for her use and those of her lovers who knew what her diet was. He wondered if the servants knew or not. Inside the small fridge, past bottles and cans, were three bags with dark red fluid. Each bore a name and a date. "Does it matter which one?" he called loudly.
Her voice was only a few feet away, making him gasp and jump, sending cans rolling. There was a smile in her eyes as she answered, "Is there any Jacques R.? Or Fabian?"
The names refer to the donors. I imagine they were willing donors. He looked up at her for a split second. Very willing. His voice was struggling to remain steady as he read aloud."Um. Hrm. Philip. Maxwell. Fabian. Yes, here you are." He held out the third bag nervously.
She took a long stemmed glass from the side cabinet. "Would you care for a drink? Obviously not Fabian, he gifted this to me for my private use."
Curiosity overcame him. "Your lovers leave you these practical sorts of presents?"
"Yes, if they know they have to go out of town on business, they often offer to leave a few pints 'in the larder' for me." Her smile grew as she pressed a button on the microwave above the sink and put the bag in. "I don't let it get too hot. It tastes burnt."
"Good to know," he replied, having no idea why it would be good to know. For Angel. Angel who is probably growing more frantic by the second. Remember him?
Not at the moment. "They don't mind?"
"What, that I'm a vampire? They can hardly change it if they do. Nor can I."
"Why don't you hunt humans?"
"I don't enjoy pain. I don't inflict it," she said simply.
"But- the evil in your nature?" he concluded lamely.
"Oh, I'll gladly ask one of my dear gentlemen to manipulate a store's database and have them send a 90% off coupon for any item in the store, including new arrivals. I'll even seduce someone's husband, providing his wife seems suitably odious or he seems suitably underappreciated. The definition of evil is very inconsistent, wouldn't you say? In my day, a woman who entertained so many men in the carnal sense of the word would have been deemed a harlot, a tool of the devil. Today, I'm simply liberated. Selectively liberated." Daniela smiled complacently as she retrieved the bag and poured the liquid into the wineglass. "I like my evil fashionable, darling."
For the first time all day, in several days, Wesley felt a genuine smile cross his face. "Perhaps something quick. Sherry?"
"How predictably English." Daniela reached past one decanter and pulled out something darker in color and sharper in scent. "You are not predictable. You are unique." She poured him a glass and clinked hers to it. "A votre santé."
What a remarkable day. What a remarkable woman. What the hell? "Cheers."
"We got it. We got it, we know how to do it!" Giles was so giddy that he hugged Buffy. He hugged Xander. He utterly forgot himself and hugged Spike, thumping him on the back as he would a grown son come home from university after weeks away.
"Steady on, Rupes," Spike muttered in his ear, even though he couldn't hide his smile. It wasn't out of place. Everyone was smiling. Beaming. Hugging. He managed to pull a scowl out of his "former villain of the piece" repertoire, but his wife nudged him in the ribs and knocked it off his face.
"Hurray and yay to the celebratory touching, but shouldn't we tell Buffy and shouldn't you be worrying? Aren't the Council people and their ambiguous help arriving soon?" Anya tugged Giles' sleeve with a tight smile.
"They should have arrived at the airport in Los Angeles already. I suppose I should have offered Travers a lift, but…"
"But no one deserves to manage LA traffic and that bastard?" Spike suggested.
"Precisely. Sit, sit. As always, there is a bit of a catch."
"Spill. I'm used to catches." Buffy sat and tugged Spike's arm to bring him beside her.
"Angel was able to procure Dracula's former wife, the Countess with the very long name."
"I liked her. If she wasn't a vampire, I think she'd have made an excellent Vengeance Demon, specializing in subjugated females." Anya looked thoughtful. "I wonder if D'Hoffryn would-"
"Anya, one existential crisis at a time. Let's focus on keeping Buffy mortal before we worry if D'Hoffryn would consider demon comorbidity," Xander suggested, squeezing Anya's knee gently as she straddled his lap.
The room went silent. Willow knelt down and peered over Anya's shoulder into Xander's eyes- then reached out a jabbed him squarely between his brows. "Who are you and where is the guy who asked me what iambic pentameter was in inches?"
"You were gone, Buffy and Spike bailed, I was bored, I read some of the textbooks you left lying around. Only because Giles threatened me with death and cross-referencing duty if I read his books."
"Let's not forget the last time you happened to read aloud." Giles winced.
"This is fascinating. Droopy Boy has gained some valuable college vocabulary. Can we get back to how my- Slayer kills the Caped Braggart?"
Giles stared at the vampire intently under the guise of shifting some notes from his pocket to his lap, looking up at him under lowered lids. His slayer, hm? His because he's marked her, claimed her as kindred, and his because she's claimed him back. "Dracula's former wife was loyal to him as her sire, not her husband or lover. The truth spell worked on her, however."
"Poor thing. It really weakened her," Tara murmured.
Giles nodded, "But she'll survive. She was, as Anya said, a likable creature. Woman. She certainly had the measure of him. She also mentioned that no woman had ever managed to avoid her fate once Dracula had set his sights on her. Even if he didn't love them or intend to keep them for long…" he paused, debating whether to tell Buffy about the one who had nearly gotten away.
Tara surprised him by speaking up. She didn't need to raise her voice. When she talked, so quietly and seriously, the room paused for her. "One girl tried. She was already engaged. She managed to escape from him long enough to marry the man she loved- Dracula showed up on their wedding night. Killed them both. Just to teach a lesson. Juet to send a message to everyone in that town, everyone who encountered him." Her voice was shaking now, white-violet sparks sprinkling the floor under her feet as her hands twitched in her lap. "He killed someone he claimed to love, rather than let her love anyone else. Selfish, Buffy. He's selfish and dangerous. Watch out for the ones who put themselves first, the ones like-"
Somehow she was standing now, trembling, Willow rising with her, eyes wide.
Then she sat heavily. "I'm so sorry. I - Giles, could I make some tea?"
"Please. For all of us, if you wouldn't mind?" The Watcher agreed at once.
She nodded, grateful for the escape.
Spike sniffed in. Fear. Anger. Guilt. "She was about to say the name of your army lad," he announced conversationally as soon as Tara was out of the room.
"Shut up!" Willow hissed.
"No. No, Will, Spike's right. Tara's right. Selfish ones are the ones you watch out for. The ones who hurt you or leave you. Give me the guy who would stick with you for a hundred years, no matter what you did," Buffy's tone turned affectionate and her head leaned toward Spike's shoulder- just in time to catch the sofa as he abruptly rose.
"I dunno who I'm worried about more, Dracula or Finn." Spike paced. At least Slayer and I were right. A wedding would draw him out. Draw him out, fangs out.
But now we have a way to put him down, permanently.
"I'd bet on Dracula," Anya stated practically. "Buffy can kick Riley's ass. Dracula's ass just changes shape."
"Ah, but we have a method that will solve the pesky ass problem!" Giles sounded triumphant- which was hard to do considering the farcical quality of what he'd just said.
"Spandex?" Spike raised an eyebrow.
Giles shook his head and sighed. "His hands. His hands are the source of his power, not his demonic nature but his sorcery, his tricks that enable him to go above and beyond what any other vampire can achieve. His hands must be cut off and then his head and heart must be attacked simultaneously, decapitation and staking, at precisely the same moment."
"A two pronged attack!" Xander rubbed his hand gleefully. "Like Macarthur and Nimitz in the Pacific!" At everyone's stunned looks, he rolled his eyes, "That's military history, something I happen to enjoy after my time in 'Nam."
"That was one Halloween!" Willow cried.
"You never forget, lady," he replied in his gritty "soldier voice" that apparently caused Anya's knees to weaken. Xander suddenly found himself with an armful of admiring ex-demon and a beaming best friend. "So, we get him pinned down, we count to three and we do the grossest and yet oddly most satisfying high five ever in a big ol' shower of Dracu-dust, thus ending the reign of terror and insect-eating once and for all."
"I would love it to be so simple," Giles began.
"Here comes the catch," Buffy sighed, gratefully taking a cup of tea from Tara as she returned.
"The Countess- did I mention she no longer kills? She - well, that's another story. She said such a task can only be performed by warriors who are perfectly attuned, who move as one, who read each other perfectly. Buffy, you're obviously one of the two, but even without his hands, even with a binding spell cast by Four Corners, we must be prepared to fight him to his last moments of life- or unlife. The Countess claimed he will live forever. He's that confident that no one will learn his secret, or once they do, there won't be two beings with that level of connection. Not two who would fight him, at any rate. I imagine the bond he shares with his brides is very intense. You claimed he could speak to you, he could penetrate your mind."
"He hasn't lately." Buffy avoided meeting anyone's eyes. The bond is broken. He has to realize it. That means he's just biding his time, maybe he's realized I can fight a bond, I can fight him, and he wants to build a better battle plan. Or he's still healing from the attack and the double-dusting. Spike is the only one who can penetrate my thoughts, talk to me in my dreams. Her head turned slightly. Always feel him when he's near me.
"Mmhm." Giles surveyed the uncomfortable looks Buffy and Spike darted at each other as he paced his living room-slash-library-slash-Watcher's office. They'd been exchanging blood and "intimacies" for days. They seemed to genuinely respect each other, they could command loyalty, they could love. Oh, dammit, yes, they could, and they could do it in ways that Drusilla couldn't do it in a century or Angel couldn't do with or without a soul.
It was one of those split second decisions he would regret in the moment, actually regret as he was doing it, and later pat himself on the back. He hoped. Or, he would create a memorable disaster. Either way…
He moved surprisingly fast for a human much older than his slayer, for a man much more ordinary than the vampire. Two weapons from the shelf found their way into his hands, a large curved dagger made to be thrown and find its mark, and a crossbow with slender, rapier-sharp wooden bolts.
He had very good aim. He had very good training. In his head, he counted from ten and reached zero, turned, saw where they were in proximity to each other, hurled with one hand, pulled the trigger with the other.
"Slayer!" His voice a snarl and his face shifting as his body moved.
"Spike!" No breathless little girl in her tones anymore, this was someone who would call out the demons in the dark and challenge them to invade her turf.
And Spike was hers.
She was his.
"Down." One word, two mouths, two bodies that met in the middle of the floor as they toppled each other and the bolt went sailing into a door jamb and the dagger ruined his desk chair.
In the split second that followed, Willow screeched, Tara's ashen fingers dropped the two remaining mugs of tea, and Xander and Anya proved they were also very well attuned by cursing out Giles in perfect chorus.
Xander began, "What the hell kind of a-"
"-stupid stunt was that? You could have-"
"-killed one of them, or one of us, or-"
"- both of them or two of us!" Anya ended with a shriek.
"Can we all calm down?" Giles asked mildly, ignoring the hectoring from Anya and Xander and watching Buffy and Spike grip each other by the shoulder, unspeaking, looking each other over.
"Okay?" He breathed, nodding at her.
"Okay." She nodded back and surged into his arms, kissing him and not caring.
Giles looked pleased. She moved to protect him, he to protect her, both saved, and their actions were instantaneous and simultaneous. "There are the two warriors in tune. Dracula won't live forever. Just until he crosses paths with them."
To be continued…
Thank you again for all the awesome reviews and the nice notes! Also, in answer to a question I got- yes, the S.C. Principale spuffy-inspired erotica/romance books are available in the UK, Canada, Europe, etc. I think you just have to go into your own country's Amazon store. If you have any questions, drop me a PM. Love, Sweet