Chapter Two-
+Bloody Retribution+
Soaking rains poured from weeping skies for over an hour and the Slayer sat in the cold with her dearly departed sister. All the warmth and gentleness that made Dawn who she was, was forever gone. As was the girl whom the Key shared her blood with. Buffy stared at the gaping, bloody hole in her sisters chest. Murder glinted in her eyes. Rage boiled in her blood. Her hands twitched with the need to kill.
Dawn was cold.
Buffy saw her dear sisters lips turning blue and stood up, gathering her small body in her arms. They had been outside too long. Dawn was going to catch a cold.
"Silly pumpkin-belly." Buffy cooed softly, sweetly, insanely. "Now look what you've done. Convincing me to let you play in the rain." She shook her head as she started up the stairs.
Buffy looked at Dawn with soft eyes. "Your clothes are soaking and you've probably ruined your pretty shirt." She walked into her sisters dark room. "Lazy girl. Making me carry you when you can walk."
Buffy set her sister on the bed with a gentleness like no other. She then went to her closet and pulled out a girly nightgown, pink with little ruffles. Dawn loved to wear it when no one was around. Buffy shed her sisters dirty, blood stained clothes and changed her into the gown. She brushed out her sisters hair, laying it out over the soft pillow.
"You look like a princess. I have a present for you." She soothed, leaving the room quickly.
Buffy went to her own room and took her plush pink pig from its' spot on the cabinet and wrapped it in her sisters arms.
"See? Mr. Gordo will make you feel better. He'll scare your cold away." She smiled as she kissed her sisters forehead, never noticed how cold or stiff her skin was.
"Goodnight, my little sister."
Buffy gathered the soiled clothing and carried them downstairs. She threw them in the hamper and dragged them into the living room. She took another bottle of whiskey from the cabinet and down a long, burning gulp. Then, she poured the rest into the hamper and threw the bottle against the wall, rage suddenly building in her.
"Dirty…" She murmured. "It's all dirty…"
She grabbed a book of matches, lit them, and dropped them into the hamper. Flames erupted and Buffy breathed in the burning clothes, blood, and booze. A harsh sob escaped her throat and she screamed again, throwing anything and everything within her reach other the wall.
The loud crashes and shatters of wood and glass didn't break Buffy out of her rage. If anything, she became angrier. Loud, animalistic screams erupted from her throat. It was a horrible, ragged sound. A sound of someone who's blown clear past their own limit.
This girl had gone past her own years ago.
*
Over two hours away from the unstable Slayer who lived in a small town named Sunnydale, lived a vampire whose body was filled with a soul and a demon. In the city of Los Angeles, it was relatively slow. The night was heavy, as was the heat. But, something was keeping all of the demons inside, and keeping a vampire named Angel on edge.
The back of his neck prickled and his hair stood on end. Something was going top happen. Soon. If, it had not already. Angel stood on his balcony, watching the busybodies that were LA, down below. Everybody seemed to always be in need of time, in this city. There were other places where time moved slower, and people actually took the time to watch the sun set. And, in some towns, you had to rush inside once the sun had set, and the light was gone. Because, once the harsh threat of the sun was gone, the monsters would come. As they always did and would forevermore.
Sunnydale was like that. A small town atop a hellmouth. Guarded by the only soul in this world who could stop said monsters. The Slayer. One girl in all the world. That same girl happened to be the keeper to Angels' heart. A was he to her.
Though, on this hot, uneventful night, Angel could not help but feel that he had lost something. Something important. Something that he couldn't live without. But, he had no way of knowing what it was. Or even if it was true.
"Angel!" A loud, familiar voice called from behind him.
Angel turned slightly, seeing Cordelia standing in the doorway. She had her hands on her hips and looked a little upset.
"What?" He asked her, trying like hell to shake this feeling of anxiety that washed over him in waves.
"Wes and Gunn need you downstairs." She said, turning and disappearing down the stairs.
Angel sighed as he followed where his friend had gone. He walked slowly, his movements feeling muted and slow. Tonight just wasn't his night.
"What?" He asked monotonously as he came into sight of his friends.
"Angel, it seems that something strange is happening." Wesley said, staring at the computer.
"Like what?" Angel asked, steeping behind the British man, wishing he'd elaborate.
"I hacked into Wolfman and Hart's demonic ratings system." Wesley swiveled around to face the vampire. "I was going to hook it up to our own computers, so we could get some semblance of the demonic activity in Los Angelus. I thought with some idea of that number, we could have a better chance of stopping it. "
"Wes." Angel gently interrupted, hoping his friend would get to the point.
"Yes, uh, anyways. Over the last fifteen minutes, the demonic activity spiked up almost double its ratings, then plunged down to nothing." Wesley said, his voice troubled. He typed in something into the computer and showed Angel. Lines on the computed when over the top and violently plunged down.
"What does that mean?" Angel asked, slightly baffled.
"Something extraordinary must have happened to make everything just…stop." Wesley shook his head.
"Yo." Gunn said, making himself noticed. "I was with my crew, we was huntin' down a nest of vamps, and all of a sudden, they just stopped. Stopped attacking us, stopped whatever they were doing. Just stood there." Gunn paused semi-dramatically. "Then they started to scream. All twenty of them. Damn well lost my hearing."
"What could have done this?" Angel asked nobody in particular.
"Anything…or nothing at all…" Wesley murmured.
"Uh-oh…" Cordelia muttered softly.
Angel looked at her. She was swaying on her feet and her eyes were wide and unseeing.
"Cor?" He asked.
"Vision…" She murmured. "Vision!" She screamed, crumpling to her feet.
She grabbed her head, writhing in pain. Angel was at her side instantly. He grabbed her wrists and was shocked when she shoved him away with inhuman strength.
"Ask me why I could never love you!" She screaming, tears streaming down her face.
But, she wasn't talking to him. She wasn't even seeing him. She was somewhere else, someone else, in a world of pain.
She then let out an animalistic scream. "NO! Stop, don't touch me!" There was a deafening pause. "Stop… Spike, please stop…! Spike, NO!" Cordelia cried.
Angel froze when he heard Spikes' name. He felt a pit of dread grow in is heart. Something was happening. Something was wrong. Spike was in Sunnydale.
Angel prayed to whatever God who would listen that the person in Cordelia's vision was not Buffy.
He closed his eyes and willed his prayer to reach the unwilling ears of a God so many believed in. He willed it not to be Buffy. Willed with all of his being.
But, somehow, he knew that prayer was fruitless.
He knew…though he didn't want to believe.
He knew that the chants of 'no' coming from Cordelia were really Buffy's.
He knew.
*
It was a fun night. Fun, that had once been forgotten was now being found again. Laughter rang from everyone as the night wore on. Four friends, two couples were having the time of their lives. Getting away from the magic, the blood, and the constant fighting. They were happy.
Will and Tara, and Xander and Anya had agreed to go on a double date. They had been gone most of the night, playing around, having dinner, and just content in their own bliss. There had been a carnival on the outskirts of the town.
And, then the phone rang.
The four of them stopped suddenly, all staring at the small phone clipped to Willow's belt. It seemed to be a foreign sound to them. Their day had been filled with laughter, music, and happy sounds. The ring seemed hollow, alarming. It was almost as if they knew once someone answered the phone, they lives would change.
And, not for the better.
"Will somebody answer that? It doesn't seem as if it will stop anytime soon." Anya barked quietly.
Willow shot her an irritated look, then reached for her phone. "Hello?" She answered, covering her other ear to hear the caller better.
There was no answer, but Willow could hear the sound of harsh breathing. Her mind flashed to the many horror movies that she had seen over the years.
"Hello?" She asked again, her voice slightly impatient.
She was about to hang up when she heard an almost muted voice mumbled her name.
"Who is this?" Willow asked, slightly drifting from her friends
"Dawn's cold." The voice said.
It was Buffy.
"Buffy? Is that you? What are you talking about?" Willow asked.
"She was laying in the rain, and now she's cold. She sick." Buffy murmured.
"Dawn's sick?" Willow asked, not know quite what was going on.
"And, there was blood. I burned it. She's clean." Buffy's voice was raising.
"Blood? Buffy, are you and Dawn alright?"
"He came! They both did! They hurt us! His hands were cold." Buffy paused. "I begged him to stop… He wouldn't listen!"
She was screaming now.
Something was wrong, oh God, what was happening?
"Buffy…" Willow tried to break in, but Buffy wouldn't allow it.
"He said I wanted it! Said I was like him… I'm not… I'M NOT!" Buffy cried. "The gun went off… Said I loved him. The floor was cold and so is Dawn."
There was a heavy silence. Willow was too confused and scared to say anything. Buffy was breathing harshly again.
"Willow, Dawn needs you to tuck her in."
Then there was a click. The connection was lost.
Willow was afraid.
Something was wrong. She could feel it. Smell it.
The smell of death filled the air, it seemed. Willow chocked and dropped the phone. Her friends asked her what was wrong, but she didn't answer. Picking up her phone, she ran to her car.
She had to get home.
*
The bullet went off.
Buffy was pushed out of the way.
Dawn was hit.
Dawn was dead.
Cold.
The scene played over and over and over again in Buffy's head. She couldn't make it stop.
"Lookin a lit'le lonely there, love." A voice drawled from behind her.
She knew who it was. Never in her life would she ever forget that voice. His voice… The movie in her head of her sister dying stopped. Her shoulders sagged in sad relief. But, before she could block it out, a new film started. One just as awful as the first.
//In her minds eyes, she can see herself turning on the water. She can hear her old pipes groan as the tepid water spills into the white basin. Her back still hurts. The wounds are raw and still bleeding. The hair on the back of her neck stands up and she hears heavy footsteps. She knows who they belong too.//
Another thing she will never forget.
"No!" A ragged cry escaped Buffy's throat. She lifts her hands up and grabs at her head, gripping and pulling her hair.
Anything to make it stop.
Behind her, Spike steps to her slowly, a smiling stretching his gaunt cheeks. There is a merciless gleam in his eyes. He has broken her.
Finally.
//He wraps his arms around her waist, squeezing hard, kissing her neck.
"Spike, stop." She orders.
"You love me." He whispers.
"No." Buffy whispers, knowing it is the truth.
"I'll show you, you love me." He murmurs.
He turns her around and kisses her. His teeth bite her lower lip hard and she cries out. He steers her to the wall and pushes her up against it, gripping her robe.
"Spike, no!" She yells, and pushed him away.
Hard.
He stumbles away, recovering and reaching for her again. She kicks away, into the wall behind him. His eyes widen slightly, as if waking up.
"I-I'm sorry…" He mutters.
"Get out." Buffy orders, clenching her fists.//
Buffy makes a whimpering sound. It won't stop! Tears pool in her eyes. She can feel it all over again. God, make it stop…
Spike is right behind her. Her knees buckle and he catches her, holding her flush against him. She shrieks, thrashing away from him like a wild animal. He holds her tight.
Then, he lets go.
His gaze is looking down the street, mesmerized by something. There's smoke in the air. There's a fire. He can see it. He knows where it is.
"Goddamn." Is the only thing he says.
He does nothing as Buffy, taking this distraction for all it's worth, runs away from him and soon out of sight.
But still he stares.
The Summers' house is on fire.
TBC