It All Ends Sometimes…
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. I'm just playing with them for fun, no money involved. This story will be multiple chapters, at parts the rating will change, and those will be announced as they do. Over all, it will be at least PG-13, and definitely R to Adult in spots. Enjoy.
Chapter Three
Buffy kicked in the door to Spike's crypt, yelling out for the vampire. "Spike! Spike, come out!" The Slayer began to root around the furnished tomb, checking the bed, which looked slept in even when it wasn't, and the below floor "basement" area. Nothing.
The Slayer slammed her fist into the wall, releasing her breath in a disgusted snort. "Great. The one undead guy in Sunnydale that suddenly has a life."
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"No…I made you!" He gurgled.
The tall vampire's eyes rolled in his head in terror and confusion. This isn't how it's supposed to wor— flitted across his mind as his "Childe" forsook all familial bonds and drove fangs into his throat with ferocious intent. Growling deep in her throat, the vampiress ripped the dead flesh and pierced his carotid, greedily draining his undead blood, still thick with her own life, so recently drained from her body. Hungrily, she drank of him until he was too weak to move, yet still with enough blood to stay rooted in his unlife. She dropped him to the ground and stomped on his foot, crushing bones and tearing supporting ligaments and tendons. Giggling, she sensuously ran her hands over her body, caressing her breasts and her sex. Smiling with pleasure, she stomped down on the other foot, crushing it as well. The panicked vamp at her feet began to scream, trying to move and get away from his Childe and wondering what went wrong.
"Now now," she cooed. "We can't have people finding you just yet." Willow gestured with her hand and motioned towards the roof of the college alley. The vamps arms twisted behind his back and up, suspending him there as if tied, lifting him from the ground to hang, suspended. He opened his mouth to scream, and she gestured once more. Space around her rippled and a barely visible bubble surrounded them both, his scream sounding strangely echoed in the mystically confined space. "Now I can hear you scream, and no one else can, Sire." Willow whispered, the emphasis on the honorific fairly dripping with venom and sarcasm. The redhead began to run her hands over his body, nails sharp as talons, slicing here and there. Finally, she undid his belt, unsnapping the jeans and slowly working the zipper down with her teeth. In his damaged state, all he could do was moan and weakly attempt to resist. Willow worked his jeans down and considered his shriveled penis and testicles. Reaching out she stroked them, gently, caressing them as a lover. She leaned forward and cupped his sac, touching her lips to the head with a soft kiss before easing her fingers together, talons punching through the skin of his scrotum and tearing the flesh. With a snarl, she ripped his manhood from his body with her claws, and then sliced his penis off with a single swipe of an elongated talon. The vampire screamed in pain, body writhing as his Childe viciously removed his masculinity. Willow pointed with her free hand to his face, and his mouth opened wide, impossibly wide, the mandibular joints cracking as the bones separated in his jaw. She reached up and shoved his organs into his mouth, stifling his screams. Stepping back, she critically eyed her handiwork. With a sadistic gleam in her gold speckled black eyes, she licked her lips and stepped forward, maliciously whispering, "Playtime, daddy…"
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Buffy stormed out of the crypt, not even bothering to slam the door behind herself. Frustrated beyond reason, she kicked out at a tombstone and didn't even blink when the marble shattered. She muttered, "Damn him to some kind of hell! Once, just once, I need him…and where is he? Gone. Vanished. Probably out with nothing better to do than moan and groan about how much he loves me, getting drunk, screwing some demon Goth skank chick--blah blah blah." Cursing, she stalked off into the night, still ranting and completely unaware of the eyes that followed her movement, eyes that gazed speculatively upon her through a thin veil of smoke…
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Drip….drip…drip…
Slowly and rhythmically the red fluid leaked, a single drop at a time, puddling on the ground under the broken and suspended body. Hoarse rattles echoed from the lungs and airway of the victim, body slowly healing but impeded by the massive blood loss his Childe inflicted. He didn't need to breathe, but it made moaning so much easier. Slowly in a circle he spun, now actually tied from the ceiling instead of mystically suspended…his Childe nowhere in sight. The only evidence of his attacker remained his own body and the gory footprints leading away from the bloody prey.
Drip…drip…drip…
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"Willow! Willow!"
The dark haired young man called out again, "Willow!!" Frustrated, he punched a wall. In pain, he began to curse. "Ow, SHIT that hurt. An', we've been looking for hours…she has to be here somewhere." Xander Harris turned to his fiancée and cradled his hand. "And she's obviously not in my broken hand…ow…"
The blonde next to him groused, "Xander! Don't do that! If you break your hand we'll have to take you to the Emergency Room and that costs money! Money we don't have while planning for a wedding, I might add…" Anya glanced around the commons area. "Besides, after this long, she's either shown up at Tara's and they're making with the wild lesbian smoochies or something grabb—"
Xander rounded on Anya, his face a mask of incredulous rage. "Don't. SAY. That. Again." He snarled, jabbing her in the chest. "She's ok and nothing's grabbed her. She's ok…she's ok, I just know it." The dark haired youth inhaled deeply and turned away, placing his hand on his mouth before tiredly rubbing his eyes. "I'm just worried. She's been my best friend since we were kids. She's always been there, and now—" He looked mournful. "And now she's missing." He looked up at his fiancée, saw her hurt expression. "Oh, An', you know I love you…I'm sorry I poked you." He gathered the slim woman into his arms and pulled her into a tight hug. "You're my life, my all, my—" He broke off and choked out, his face pale and slack. "My God."
Puzzled but smiling, she pulled back. "Xander, how sweet! No one has wanted to worship me since—" Seeing the look on his face, Anya quit talking and spun from his arms to look over her shoulder at what ever it was he saw. "Xander, wha—" Her eyes got big as she saw what he saw swinging in the shadows. "Ew. Is that—"
He moved to see, inching into the shadows to get a better look at the swinging body, his heart in his throat. "No, it's a guy, or what's left of one…OH SHIT!" Xander howled, pulling back in shock. "It's a vampire!"
The former vengeance demon moved forward to peer into the shadows, taking in the half-closed golden eyes, the ridged face with clinical and professional interest. "Yep. Vampire. Or, like you said, what's left of one." She arched an eyebrow and nodded approvingly as she surveyed the demon. "Nice work."
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Willow strolled along the walkway, her demon mind spinning with the possibilities of the unlife before her. The redheaded vampire/witch's torn skirt from earlier had been further torn and shortened to resemble a mini-skirt, coming to an inch or two below her buttocks. The ripped panties no longer rode her hips, long removed and discarded along with her bra. Her shirt, torn and without buttons, now rode untucked and tied at her waist, pulled tight over her breasts, her nipples taut and erect through the thin fabric. As she strolled in the night air, she considered her options. "Buffy…she'll be a problem. Xander and Anya? Oooooh, Anya…I can't wait to kill that bitch. Hmmm…Dawnie? She'll be SO sweet to eat, yum…" She paused in her wandering, realizing with a wicked grin that she had found her way to the dorm where her former lover resided.
"Tara…" She sighed, her nipples further hardening at her lover's name, her already aroused sex getting warmer. "Oh, I don't have time for you tonight, dearest. I want to take so long with you, play with you…mmmm, but just wait." She grinned. "Your time is coming, my pet. Momma is coming for you, oh yes." Checking her watch she frowned, realizing sunrise was only two hours away. She looked up and blew a kiss to the window, the light still on, a shadow pacing back and forth behind it. "I'll be back." Her face vamped out, fangs elongating to their full length. "I'll be back and you'll be screaming my name, sweetheart."
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Xander and Anya gaped at the vamp incredulously, their eyes never leaving the swinging living corpse that hung suspended by what appeared to be a bloody rope. It was only when they shone the flashlight on the body that they realized the "rope" was actually a length of its own intestines, the organ shining in the light, his abdomen a gaping, oozing wound…and empty. The bones of the vamps ribcage glistened whitely in the light, cracked open and showing his heart…still, unmoving…undead. The tortured demon slowly spun via his guts, his bare back showing multiple slow healing wounds, the bones of his spine obviously crushed and shattered, shards peeking from beneath the skin, the spinal column stretched impossibly long due to the broken bones.
The two lovers stood mesmerized, unable to tear their eyes away from the most complete and devastating vampire torture victim they'd witnessed to date. Each of his legs exhibited breaks in multiple locations, proven by the arc they bent perfectly in, each up to his side, tied above his head by his torn jeans, arcing in a crescent. The foot bones appeared equally smashed due to the flat but bumpy appearance of the feet, similar to the hands, the fingers on them actually tied into impossible knots. The horrible wound in his groin made Xander wince, wondering what happened to the organs. Upon closer inspection they discovered the penis hanging from his anus, the testicles still in his mouth, and his tongue hanging from an open wound in his throat, the proverbial Colombian Necktie. In addition to every bone being broken in his body, his skin exhibited deep and shallow slashes over all of the most sensitive areas: Buttocks, groin, armpits and beneath, face and chest.
As they watched, the vamp's eyes opened and he fixed them with a baleful glare. His mouth worked, but no sound came out, largely due to the fact his ribcage yawned open and there appeared to be no lungs to exhale the air necessary for speech. Xander was trying to read the vamp's lips when a hand fell on his shoulder, causing him and then Anya to jump and scream.
"Guys, any luc—Oh Jesus Christ!" Buffy began, stopping in shock as she caught sight of the hanging dead meat. "What happened to THIS guy?!" She approached the vamp then stepped back in astonishment as she realized it was moving. "Who did this, guys? Did you see anything?"
Anya gestured and offered, "No, we found him like this. He's trying to say something but we can't make it out…and speech isn't very easy for him, apparently." She peered closer. "Nice job, whoever did it."
Buffy's face crinkled in distaste at Anya's comment. It was then she noticed the vamp's lips moving. Looking closely, she tried to make sense of the words he was mouthing. "Slayer…stake…me…"
Buffy's eyes narrowed in thought and her head tilted slightly, then to the other side as she considered what the vamp was saying. "Stake you? First, who did this? Then I stake you."
The vampire made a motion as if to laugh, then began to gag, spasms wracking its tortured body. "Childe…"
The Slayer's eyes widened in disbelief at his statement. "Wait a second. A vamp you made did this to you? Doesn't that break some kind of rule or something?" She queried.
He opened his mouth, fangs growing out as he fought the delirium brought on by his pain. "Stake…PLEASE…"
Buffy grimaced and angrily pulled the stake back and drove it home into the exposed heart of the vampire, the body immediately turning to dust, the expression on that of the vampire one of profound relief. Speculatively, Buffy stared down at the ash and dust he had become then spoke, eyes never leaving the drifting remnants. "Did you find anything?"
Xander blinked and shook his head as if returning from a trance. "Nothing but living dead boy there. Did you?"
Buffy began to relate her findings as Anya began to poke around the area where they were standing. "Um, guys?" She called over to her friends. "Come here and take a look at this." She held up a purse and a carry bag that contained some tools and software disks. "Isn't this Willow's stuff?" She asked.
Buffy took the bag and examined it, noting the ripped and broken carry strap. Pulling her hand away it came back sticky and red, blood smeared across her fingers and palm. "Oh this is so not good. Let's go see Tara; we're not that far from her dorm. Maybe Will's shown up there." She said. *God, I hope so, please let her be ok…*
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The clock on the nightstand said the time was 4 AM, but Tara Maclay paced her floor, her fingers twisting and working at the handkerchief she held. It had been eight long hours since she had called Willow to come and look at her computer, the only pitiful excuse she could think of to get her partner to come over inconspicuously. Willow had been doing so well in coping with her addiction to power, which is how Tara saw it, not an addiction to magic, that she found her feelings for the red haired witch slowly coming back around to the peaceful comfort she usually had for her. And now those feelings might have killed her.
She was still pacing some 15 minutes later when the phone rang and she heard Xander's voice. "Xander? Please tell me you've found her and she's ok!" She cried, her heart breaking for the infinite time that night. "Have you found anything?"
Xander's tinny voice on the other end, obviously on a cell phone, was cautious sounding, which didn't reassure Tara at all. "Ah, no, we didn't find her…um…we're downstairs and we'll come up to your room, k?" He rushed then hung up, giving her no time to answer or further question him. Growling in frustration, she went to her door, unlocking and opening it. Standing in the open door, she listened for their voices coming up the stairs, expecting to hear something from them, but wasn't reassured when they appeared at the top, faces solemn, haggard with fatigue and loss of sleep, and, most of all, concern.
Fear gripped Tara's heart with icy fingers as Buffy walked forward, her usually perky face long and sad, eyes red and seemingly about to burst into tears. "What Buffy?" She demanded. Buffy said nothing, her arms angled behind her, partially hidden at the back. Tara could see something hanging from her hand. "Buffy, what? What aren't you telling me?!" She grabbed the Slayer's arms and shook her, Buffy's hand coming around to the fore, holding Willow's bags. She said not a word.
Tara grabbed the bags and immediately noted the sticky cloth, the red coagulated blood staining her fingers. She looked up to Buffy and saw her eyes brimming with tears. "Tara, we don't know anything…it might be someone else's blood and she just might be hiding out or at the hospital or knocked out somewhere or…"
Tara made a gesture in the air with her free hand, her lips moving tonelessly, smearing some of the blood onto her forehead, cheeks and chin. Motioning again with her fingers, she muttered "Acclaro." Buffy, Xander and Anya both gasped as Tara's features gave way and morphed into that of Willow Rosenberg. She put her head down, and when she pulled it back up, her features had returned to normal. "It was her face, wasn't it." The words came out as a statement, not as a question.
Xander and Buffy spoke at the same instant, tripping over their words. Buffy silenced her voice and allowed Xander to speak. "Tara, we don't know what's happened. Ok, so that's her blood. It doesn't mean she's…it doesn't mean that she's NOT ok." He ran his fingers through his hair and continued. "There's more though…Buffy?" He paused, looking to the Slayer for further elaboration.
Buffy sighed and continued. "Tara, close to where we found the bag we found a vampire. Rather, we found what was left of him. He'd been tortured, disemboweled, castrated, and hung for us or someone to find. He indicated his own Childe did him like that…it was pretty bad." She sniffled and wiped her eyes. "It still doesn't mean she's dead. We'll find her Tara. One way or another, we'll find her."
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The early hours before dawn are the quietest in Sunnydale. All of the living are sleeping, all of the dead are about to sleep, and the demons fall somewhere in between.
The quaint little store called the Magic Box was often visited by beings that filled all three categories, looking for knowledge, power, love, revenge…sometimes all of the above. This morning though, one lone figure came up the sewer entrance and entered the basement, a canvas bag in hand. The lithe figure danced through the aisles, lightly touching objects, gently caressing tomes, the caress of a long absent lover. The demon formerly known as Willow Rosenberg cavorted through the stacks, bag in hand, humming a merry tune as she picked items up and deposited them into it, as if shopping to beat a rush. As the bag started to fill, she began to merrily sing.
"*Happy Birthday to me, Happy Birthday…*"
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Author's Note: No, I didn't lie, there is a DBZ crossover, and it may make it's first appearance in the next chapter, or the one after at the very least…as a friend of mine called it, it's just a plot element crossover, so don't expect any DBZ characters and Goku will not take out Willow or anything….and a review or two wouldn't hurt…not one for that last chapter.