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…
Part XX
Joyce arrived home, looking exhausted. "I'm home, honey!" she kicked her taupe traveling pumps off and let her rolling luggage fall with a thud. "How do you feel about Chinese for dinner? I'm in no mood to cook!"
"Be right there!" Buffy's voice was muffled.
Joyce took off her earrings and shook out her hair. "I'm going to have a shower first. I always feel so dirty after airplanes. How often do you think they really vacuum those seats?" She mounted the stairs -and screeched.
"Joyce! Easy, Luv!" Spike dropped the cardboard boxes he was carrying and grabbed her wrist as she toppled backward.
"Spike! What are you-"
"Mom! Mom, are you okay?" Buffy zoomed around Spike and they all met at the bottom of the steps, standing amid toppled boxes and spilling clothes.
"What's going on? Why is he in the house?" Joyce was breathing hard, eyes wide. Even after her phone call with Buffy, she instinctively felt uneasy when confronted by Spike.
"He's helping me pack. Moving to the dorm in a few days, remember?"
Joyce blinked. "Spike? Is helping you pack for college?"
"Well, I like to help the Slayer when I can," Spike said with a small grin, voice easy and nonchalant, shrugging shoulders in a tight-black tee. His grin vanished abruptly as Buffy pulled back from hugging Joyce. They'd been alone in the house together. Alone, in her bedroom together, as newlyweds.
Several hours ago…
"Is it too bright in here?" Buffy worriedly looked at the blinds.
"No," Spike breathed out, watching her turn from the windows. Her nipples stood out from her breasts, all of her was backlit and glowing, gold tinges around shadowy body. Her sweet mound was swollen and slightly distended. Her neck was healing, but his mark of "ownership" was still extremely visible. "My wife looks well-loved. Well-seen-to."
"You look pretty taken care of, too," Buffy replied, blushing slightly. "Actually… you look kind of pink."
"The lighting."
"No. Like- there." She pointed.
"You can say cock."
"I can, but I get all giggly. Your cock was this pretty whitish-pink. Now, it's turning Barbie pink."
"Slayer, stop. I draw the line at -"
"Is that from all the little sips you've been having? Or are you sore? Can men get sore?" She'd never had sex-a-thons like this before. She glowed. Spike can't get enough of me. My husband thinks I'm a sex goddess.
Holy shit. I'm married. I have a husband.
That's actually pretty good for Ms. I'm-Cursed-To-Die-Alone-Before-Graduation.
"I'm fine. Just got a workout. An' I'm still ready to go. We'd better be quick. Your mum is going to be home soon."
"A few hours."
"That's soon for newlyweds. Also, aren't you s'posed to check in with -"
"Shhh. Outsiders aren't invited to the world's shortest honeymoon." Buffy straddled the bed, followed by his hips. "You look bigger."
"You feel tighter. Ohhhh, sweet fuck…" Spike groaned as she shifted and took him in, inch by inch. Even though she was wet, it was a bit laborious this time. He bit down a laugh as she grunted and huffed in annoyance as her walls seemed to stick, then sank home, leaning back as he bottomed out in her. "Sweet Jesus."
"I thought I was the sweet one?" she panted, adjusting. "Don't break my bed."
"I make no promises. You're the one riding, I'm just enjoying the show."
"Making your wife do all the work," she purred in a teasing voice, raking her nails over his nipples, up to the bite she'd left on his neck- which was still there. "Spike?"
"Mmm?" He had his eyes closed, teeth starting to grit. At least one thing was good about his repeated calls to husbandly duty- he was building up even more than his considerable stamina. Buffy could have him for an hour on the first round at this rate.
"Look at your neck."
His eyes popped open, amused annoyance in them. "How'm I gonna do that?"
"Look in the- oh. Never mind."
"You'll have to describe what you see," he invited, flexing a bit, watching her practically salivate. Oh, well. The drooling would be mutual.
"Vampires heal fast."
"B'lieve we already knew that."
"Where I bit you- it left a mark. It's um- it's scarred over. Already. So it healed, but it made a scar. I don't think that's-"
"-normal? No. It isn't." He looked worried for a split second, then joy filled his eyes. "It's not normal. It worked."
"What?"
"I belong to you. I have a sire's mark and a- wedding mark. Let's call it that. I belong to Buffy Summers."
"Yes, you do," she traced her hand wonderingly over his neck. "I'm not a vampire. I thought I couldn't-"
Yes, that's what they'd both thought. He was never so delighted in all of his unlife to be wrong. "Miracles happen every day. Like you lovin' me."
She traced the spot high on her breast, the place he'd bit her as she sank her teeth into his skin. It hadn't healed yet and that was unusual for a Slayer. It was going to scar. "It really worked." The joy in his eyes matched hers.
"It really worked." He stroked her breast, her face, her shining single tear that overflowed and landed on his fingertip. Couldn't have that. No bride of mine will cry for long, even if it's happy tears. He tugged her to him and they rolled to face each other on their sides, nuzzling in deeper, making a pleasurable cocoon. He gave her a sudden devious smile as he hitched her bottom leg up on his side, settling her cheeks hard against her waist, starting to pound into her steadily, slowly. "Belong to you."
"Yeah, Baby…"
"Wanna take your new toy for a spin?"
"Not a toy. But I'll take you." She grappled with him gently, a playful battle of strength until he relented and let her get back on top of him, moaning in delight as her tongue danced over the marks she'd left.
Marks he'd left were completely obvious on her throat. He suddenly sprung between her and Joyce, hugging the startled woman as well. "So glad you're home safe! Planes- uh- nasty, noisy, dangerous things, if you ask me. Don't trust 'em. If God had meant man to fly, he'd have given us fins. Er, wings! Let me help you with your luggage, Joyce. Did you bring back anything for the gallery? I s'pose you'd have shipped that -"
Buffy stared after her lover as he hustled a bewildered looking Joyce ahead of him, stepping over boxes. He turned and mouthed, "Neck!"
Buffy's hair was damp and tangled from sweat, sex, and showers. She hastily yanked it to one side of her neck, and then caught a glimpse of herself in the mirrored-section of her mother's china cabinet in the dining room. With the slightest shift, her bite would be on display and Joyce would be on the warpath. She bit her lip and used Slayer speed and stealth to nip into her room.
Oh, shit.
The bed was unmade- not that unusual for a lazy, summer Buffy. The bed being out several feet from the wall and diagonal- that might raise some questions. She slid into a turtleneck sweater and hefted the bed back into place.
Joyce regarded Spike nervously as he rambled. He asked questions but didn't leave room for her answers. "Why are you really here?" she finally demanded, eyes narrowed.
It pained him at once. To see his mother-in-law- Bloody hell, I have one of those- suspicious of him- no, specifically to see her suspect him of harming Buffy. That must be it. "I wouldn't hurt her!" Spike suddenly burst out.
Joyce blinked at the desperation in his voice.
"Sorry." Spike coughed, eyes darting away and back. "I did come to help her pack. Honest, you can check the boxes."
"No, I understand that you actually helped her pack, I saw the boxes. Why are you helping her? She said you saved her life. You helped her patrol. Protected her from another vampire?" Joyce's forehead furrowed more deeply with each sentence. "Buffy doesn't usually need your help."
"That's true."
"Riley and Angel are gone, so-"
"I'm not a stand in. She wouldn't need anyone. She's a world-beater. Does the impossible on her own, I've seen it."
Joyce smiled, relaxing slightly. "World-beater. I like that." Spike is proud of her. As proud of her as I am. Again, unusual. Her tongue tripped over the next words. "Would you- like tea? Cocoa?"
"I'd love some, but I'll let you sort your shower first." He turned away, and then turned back, soft smile on hard features. "You always treated me like a person, Joyce. Must be where she gets it. Your daughter. Treats me like a man. You know what that does to a bloke?"
First, packing, now philosophy. Joyce arched one quizzical eyebrow. "What?"
"Makes him want to be a better one." He shut the door after himself.
Joyce sat down hard on the bed, narrowly missing her luggage. Oh no. Not another one.
"I need to shop. Seriously. In the winter, this'll be easy to hide, but- hey. I had that thought earlier. I thought, 'By winter this will be over.'" Buffy hissed to Spike as she joined him in the living room, turtleneck on and hair purposefully done in a low twist that went over one shoulder as a safety net.
"See? You're wrong sometimes," Spike winked.
"Not too often, so don't get used to it," she teased.
"Would I ever think such a thing? Happy wife, happy life, I heard that on a carpet-cleanin' commerical. Good advice."
"We're basing our marriage on ads for rug cleaner?"
"Bloody hell. Marriage."
"Dracula is going to flip his shiny black wig."
"So's your mum. Although, she invited me for cocoa. That's a good sign."
"That's awesome." She wound her arms over his neck, smiling up at him, probably besotted looking and not minding. "She liked you- sometimes. My mother has zero sense when it comes to vampires."
"Oi!"
"Not you! Dracula. She let him in the house."
"She did what now?"
"She feels bad already, don't bring it up. She doesn't know about the bite, the whole enforced bridal thing." Buffy bit her lip.
"You gonna tell her?"
"Yes. But not right now. I want to hear what the Council says. I have to call Giles. And I guess we should load these boxes."
"Want me to carry things to the porch and you slip 'em into the trunk?"
"You're going to drive me to the campus, to the dorm, and shlep boxes into my room?"
"Thought it was our room?" Spike's voice was dipping darker, stroking places that were hardwired to her pulse, pounding harder, pumping blood in the arteries high up in her thighs.
"It is. It is," Buffy's voice reached lower, a whisper, pushing his own sensory buttons, making lids flicker as lips met around her whisper. I have the darkness, he holds it for me, keeps my secrets- and some of them are beautiful. "How about we stop by your place and get what you want to put in the dorm? Make it ours?"
He ran his hands along her waist, watching her swallow hard. "I have it already, right here."
She would drag him upstairs or into his car, have him again. "Being married makes me horny," she suddenly confessed, not bothering to blush.
"It's mutual. An' it's not the weddin', Kitten, it's the couple. Perfect match for me. Burn me…" he flipped the words off of his tongue and she caught them on her skin. "My sunlight. Lights me up, my girl does. Shines for me…"
Buffy reached for his belt loops- and stopped, fingers tightening on them and pausing. "I need to stop this. Mom invited you for cocoa. We can't ditch her."
"Right. Right. Distraction. What can we do?"
"Uh… oh, we could fold laundry in the basement? It's boring, but I have stuff down there I want to pack."
"Being alone with you in the basement sounds anything but boring."
She giggled and slipped into the basement stairwell ahead of him.
"Buffy? Buffy!" Joyce groaned as the phone rang insistently and no one answered it. Fear of what happened to her child left alone with a vampire was dulled by the besotted look in Spike's eyes that he had tried to hide. She decided to let the machine get it when the annoying jangle resumed. With a curse, she stepped into a towel and marched into the master bedroom, leaving wet footprints behind her.
"Hello?" she demanded sharply.
"Ah, Joyce! Home from St. Petersburg!"
"Oh, hello, Rupert. Did you want Buffy?"
"If possible, yes, please."
"Well, she's here somewhere, but she didn't answer the phone. Spike was over here, helping her pack to move back into the dorms."
"Was he?"
"Still is, as far as I know. Rupert, does that sound-"
"Strange?"
"Yes!"
"Oh, indeed. However, I- uh- I don't think he means any harm. He's trying to prove useful to her in a - difficult time."
"Difficult time, how? Buffy told me he saved her life, protected from another vampire." She bit her lip. "Was it Angel?"
Giles hesitated. "She told you about the other vampire?"
"Yes, simply that, which is not enough detail. She's got this mistaken idea that keeping me in the dark is helpful. I suppose I deserve that, seeing as how I reacted in the past, but…"
"Dracula. Dracula faced her to a draw. He wants to win the battle he started." Giles hoped Buffy would forgive him for imparting this information and for wording it just so. It was truthful, without being specific. "Spike isn't as old as Dracula or as powerful, but he's incredibly persistent and a ruthless fighter. He outmaneuvered the Anointed One and Angelus and various other renowned vampires. Once he's loyal to someone-"
"He's loyal to Buffy?"
"Very much so."
"Why?"
"It's mutually beneficial. They can help each other."
The answer was weak and Joyce knew it. However, water was getting in her ears and shampoo was working its way into her eyes. "What should I tell Buffy?"
"That - the thing I told her our contacts in LA were working on has been delivered."
"You have contacts? Deliveries? Rupert, it sounds like Buffy is involved in something illegal when you put it like that!"
"Not illegal. Simply- discreet. I'm on my way there with Willow, Tara, and Anya. We have- a reason. Xander will be at my flat. If she could call me soon-"
"Hang on!" Joyce marched to the top of the stairs, clad in a towel and still trailing water and bellowed in her best "irate mother" voice, "BUFFY ANNE SUMMERS! Answer the phone!"
"Coming, Mom!"
Was it her imagination, or was there a guilty giggle and squeal in her daughter's voice as she answered?
"He got the Countess lady? How?"
"The conversation was brief. I didn't ask and he didn't volunteer." Giles didn't press Angel for details. If his research was correct, at some point Angelus and Darla had moved in the same circles as the Parisian vampires. They'd also moved through Europe when Dracula was active. Perhaps he'd claim to be an old acquaintance. The long-lived vampires knew how to manipulate, how to blend in. It wouldn't be uncommon, he supposed, for one to call upon another.
"He didn't say? That's probably not somethin' he wants to brag about then." Spike's voice was muffled and snarky.
Giles gave an impatient sigh. His phone call with Angel had been brief and practically one-sided, consisting of, "I have her. Wes says you can do the truth spell from there, but it might weaken over distance and time. Also- I think he'd feel better if you had Willow around. Like I'm going to go evil from this. Ha. This doesn't make me happy."
"We'll be there."
"I'll have her softened up for you."
"If there's a truth spell in play, surely there's no softening required?"
"I like to be sure." Then Angel had hung up.
"Xander will be at my flat. If we were… delayed-"
"We'll ride in." Buffy's face was grave. "That's not likely, is it?"
He wasn't sure. "Not likely at all."
Buffy put the phone down. She knew when Giles was holding something back. He'd been sort of twitchy lately, but so had she. "I want to go over there and wait with Xander."
To his credit, the suggestion didn't faze him, but he still had an objection. "I can't stand your Mum up. She'll think I'm unreliable. Not a suitable husband."
"We'll come back. We'll have cups of cocoa, pots of cocoa, vats of it. Okay?' Buffy pulled Spike firmly behind her.
"Are you at least gonna leave a note?" He balked.
"You must've been a way better son than I am a daughter," Buffy sighed and scribbled a note to her mother.
His spine stiffened. "Wish I'd been better. I didn't- I never hurt my mother." Killed the thing I let get inside of her, but that wasn't her. "I would love to show you off to her. I wish she could see how well I did for myself after all."
Buffy put her arm through his, eyes full of concern. Something he hadn't shared was hurting him, and it hurt her, too, she could feel it without knowing it. "I love you. My mom is gonna love you, too. Eventually."
Joyce debated slipping into jeans and a shirt or leaving her robe on. Spike was around. Spike was company- odd company, but still. She reached for her softest pair of faded jeans and flinched when the phone rang again. "Buffy! Buffy, did you- Buffy, are you even here?" Joyce poked her head around her bedroom door.
Nothing.
So much for cocoa and jeans. She cinched up her robe and took the portable phone with her as she went down the stairs. "Hello, Summers' residence."
"Joyce?"
"Oh, Riley! Riley, how good to hear your voice. Buffy told me you had surgery and she was waiting for your call once you were - safe."
"I'm safe enough. It went well. No active duty for a while, but I'll be out of this hospital in a few days. Look, I need to talk to Buffy. I need to warn her."
Red flags went off. "Warn her? About what?"
"She needs to watch out. You all need to watch out for Mr. Giles."
Two hours ago…
He hung up the phone. No one had answered. He would keep calling back. Unless it was too late.
Giles let himself get turned. Why in the world would he do that? The question circled in his brain all night, a vulture circling the dying creature that had been his sanity.
His drugs had been tapered down. He was sure he was thinking clearly and had no idea why the nurses and Graham kept giving him sidelong glances and asking if he was feeling okay.
Watchers control Slayers. Buffy is uncontrollable. Except by a vampire who bites her. Like Dracula. Like she wants Angel to do. Oh yes, he'd love to control her, already did, his presence in her life, his absence in her life colored everything she did and the girl was too stupid to realize it.
Riley let out a spasming breath. Buffy needs help. Everyone dances around her and does whatever Buffy says, little Scooby yes-men. He conveniently forgot all of the discussions he'd witnessed, relationships fragmented and rebuilt, all of the information exchanged and debated. If Buffy said "I need a vampire", Giles would get one. Become one.
To control her.
Images flashed through his mind, slanted and skewed, Giles in her bedroom, hands lingering on her. Fatherly hugs became salacious, his meetings with her in the dark turning into lovers' rendezvous, late night phone calls become heated plans.
None of that ever happened, a feeble voice of reason protested.
Anger shut it down.
He'd bite her and bind her to him. Decrying Dracula, claiming he was one of the "good vampires" luring Buffy deeper into his web until…
Well, everyone knows what spiders do once the fly is wrapped up tight, helpless, strangling in silk.
They suck the life out of them.
Now…
"Giles? What in the world-" Joyce couldn't fathom what danger he could present. Not unless he was under the influence of band candy, at least.
"He's a vampire."
Joyce blinked at the phone. The anesthesia must not have worn off. "No."
"Yes!" He almost snapped right then. If one more person dismissed him out of hand, he'd tear out his tubes and go flatten them.
"Rupert Giles? Buffy's Watcher?
"Yes, him. He's been turned, Joyce."
I just spoke to Giles on the phone. "And when did this supposedly happen?"
"A couple days ago!"
Buffy's seen him since then, talked to me since then. "Hm. Most vampires don't call and say they're headed to LA to pick up something. Not in the middle of a beautiful summer day, anyway," Joyce said drily. "Not only that, but Buffy's seen him and-"
"She's under his control! His puppet." Or hers. Give up his life for her, whatever she says because she's the "Chosen One." "Her puppet!"
"Riley, I think you need to rest, let your meds wear off and-."
"Los Angeles? Angel! Angel's always in this. Bet you he's the one that did the turning."
"Angel doesn't hurt humans anymore."
"Ha! I've met him. He hurts plenty."
Joyce was privately inclined to agree about that. "Riley, Buffy is headed over to see Giles right now. It's broad daylight and Buffy has backup. I'm sure that if there is a situation with Giles, she'll let you know."
"You think she'll let me know? No. I'm the boyfriend, second string. Last to know."
"I know how that feels, but-"
"Joyce, listen, I have intel. An agent buddy of mine tailed her, saw her patrolling with an older man, a British vampire. William."
Wait. Cogs in the dysfunctional machines juddered to a halt and started grinding in reverse.
Joyce drew herself up to her full height. "You were spying on my baby? No wonder she wants to end things with you! What sort of a man -"
Riley's voice was a harsh snap against her ear. "End things?"
Silence. "I'm sorry, I meant…"
"What did you say his name was?"
"Who?"
"Giles."
"Rupert."
Rupert. Not William. "Is it a nickname?"
"No. Giles is sort of a nickname, everyone calls him by his last name. Or Ripper." Joyce felt herself blushing. "Riley, I think this is all a misunderstanding."
Riley wasn't listening, he was muttering under her placating tones."British vampire. Older. Helping her the other night."
"Oh, Spike. He's older. I don't know just how much older, but I know he's been very helpful lately."
"What?! Who?"
Joyce held the phone away from her ear. The tone of voice was thundering, scorching with a sudden rage. "Riley, your heart!"
"Spike! Spike can't help her, he can't bite!"
"That's good, isn't it? He's harmless? Spike can't hurt people, only demons. He certainly wouldn't be a help if he bit her."
"That's just what they want you to think."
"You're not making any sense and I'm hanging up. Does Buffy have the number to call you?"
"Left a message earlier," Riley gave a reflexive reply, editing out bits he didn't want to hear.
Only people.
What if it doesn't hurt?
What if she likes it now? Vampires like to bite. Their whores like to get bitten.
What if she's not fully human? Infected? Dracula was controlling her. How? Controlling part of himself he put inside, that she drank from him? Lips curled in disgust and he suddenly retched, dropping the phone, disconnecting a monitor, earning a hyper-attentive flurry of nurses who'd been suspiciously close lately.
Joyce hung up the phone, biting her lip. Riley was clearly suffering from some delusions, probably related to post-operative painkillers.
It couldn't be anything else, could it?
She looked at the answering machine. Ten messages! Where had Buffy been? Probably with her friends, or patrolling last night. This morning- wasn't she home packing? Maybe she didn't check the machine. She pushed the button and listened to Riley's voice.
"Hi, Buffy. Surgery went fine. I'm doing okay. I hope you weren't too worried. I had a breathing tube for a while and couldn't talk. Let me give you the number you can call and they'll patch you through. Call me back. Love you."
"Hi, Buffy. Riley, again. I hope you're okay. Where are you? Call me back. Love you."
"Buffy, it's me again. Look, I don't know whether to be more upset that I can't get ahold of you and God knows what's happening with the- situations you've got going on right now, or more upset that you don't care if I even made it through surgery! Call me back."
The messages got worse. So did Joyce's frown.
"Something isn't right with that boy."
"I knew something was not right when the servants told me Angelus had arrived on my doorstep. Why, I wondered, would he call himself that name? He hides his true nature under a pair of wings."
"You can stop talking until they get here. Unless you have anything useful to say."
"You can always learn from your elders, Angel."
Angel was unsettled by the Countess, now that she was awake. Upon meeting her, he'd bowed, charmed, waiting until her servant left, and then "poof", a smashing blow to the back of her head and into the rather dicey portal Wesley had cast with the help of some very rare books that probably were supposed to be in the Council's Library.
"You don't look at me."
"Not really into brunettes." Angel shrugged.
"Don't feel bad. It's always the blondes. Blood? Tea?"
"Cordelia! Get out of here, now!"
"No! You bring someone into our agency to help us on a case and I treat them like a potential profitable asset. Wait, Buffy is paying us, right?"
Angel growled and flashed his fangs.
"Sheesh! Fine, a freebie, this time. Only because she saved my life a bunch in high school."
"Human or animal?" The Countess had deep brown eyes and long, thick hair that was the blue-black of midnight. The eyes and hair highlighted the lily-white of her skin and the scarlet lipstick she was wearing.
"Animal."
"Hm." The Countess looked at Angel curiously. "You do not avail yourself the pleasure of drinking with your lovers?"
"He has pleasure issues," Cordelia stage whispered, earning another snarl. "Also, lover issues."
"Well, I don't typically delight myself with the fairer sex, but you are lucious. I could teach her for you, Angel, show her there is nothing to fear. Although…" her eyes turned slowly to Wesley, who stood silently in the doorway, hoping to remain unnoticed. "I would prefer your sorcerer. I can smell power in him. Both of them." Her eyes narrowed again, accompanied by a brief shake of her head. "You truly are what they say, a murderer, a killer, unable to make it a gift-"
Angel backhanded her savagely, making a trickle of blood spurt from her nose and upper lip.
"Angel!" Cordelia gasped and ran forward, then stopped. What's going on? Why is the lady calmly sitting here discussing lovers and Angel is suddenly punching her in the face? She's tied up! What kind of threat can she be?
"There's no need for that, surely!" Wesley approached and shook his head.
"Don't listen to her. Both of you, leave." Angel yanked the slumping woman back upright.
"Your way is not the only way!" Brown eyes were now fearful, pleading. "I live peacefully! I do no harm. Never have I turned, never have I pained. Why kill me?"
"Kill you?" Wesley and Cordelia exclaimed as one.
"You did mention you needed information, didn't you?" Wesley asked, eyes glinting with sudden accusation.
"Did you just show up and bash her on the head? Did you even ask if she'd help us?"
His silence was broken only by the Countess' wheezing laugh and his shuffling feet.
Cordelia marched over to the taciturn vampire and slugged him in the arm, glaring at him. "Ugh! Oh my God! Angel! Of all the times not to talk! Look, Lady-"
"Countess Ana-Maria Elena Daniela. Call me Daniela, it's shorter."
"I'll say. Look, Daniela, how do you feel about your ex?"
"Which one? I have many. All living or passed naturally." She glared pointedly over Cordelia's shoulder and met Angel's gaze.
"Dracula," Wesley spoke softly and dabbed the woman's nose and lip with a folded handkerchief.
"Such a gentleman. They are hard to find now."
Wesley flushed and coughed at the sultriness of her voice. "I was saying, Dracula has harmed a friend of ours. He intends to turn her into one of his wives. She doesn't want to be turned, nor be his bride."
Daniela cocked her head. "Well, if he has claimed her as his, her wishes do not really matter. I'm afraid Dracula is like that. Very generous with his wealth and his praise, even lavish in his physical affections- but he doesn't give heed to anyone. She can beg all she wants, if he's determined to wed her, she'll be his."
"This one isn't really the begging type. She's more like the slaying and staking his undead ass type. Oh, sorry, are you two still friends?"
The proud figure drew herself up, wrists popping in their bonds as her shoulders squared. "He is no longer my lord and master. I was all a wife could be to him and more. He cast me aside for someone… exotic. New. No. He is not my friend."
"Then, might you perhaps share a few tidbits of information with us?" Wesley asked hopefully.
"Friend, I am not. Loyal, I am still. You may ask. What I will answer depends on if it will betray my allegiance. He is no longer my husband, but he is still my sire."
Cordelia winced. "Ewww. That's very messed up. Wouldn't that be like sleeping with your father?"
"No. A sire turns you into a vampire, sharing his blood. Dracula chooses to share for a specific purpose. He chooses for another type of love. As do I." Her eyes raked over Cordelia's curves and Wesley's handsome face. "I like sharing mortal beauty. Have you been with an immortal? The endurance alone would make it worth your while…"
"Your lovers like the toothless look, Dani? That's where you're heading if you keep playing the temptress with my people. Call it what it is- fucking your dinner."
"Language!" Wesley paled.
"Yes, they share blood with me. I feed. They don't miss a pint here or there. Mind you, it helps if you pick the young and virile. They grow to love it, the pleasure, the rush, the intensity… When I stop, they beg for more." Her voice had crept lower, stroking past ears and into erogenous zones, but it abruptly returned to factual. "I console them in other ways. I remind them that we can play again tomorrow. You'd be surprised at how many come back."
"You thrall them into-"
"No! Not for that. I know what it is like to submit unwillingly. I do not ask them to…" This time her eyes flickered with another kind of intensity, hesitating as she looked for a sympathetic face. She settled on Cordelia. "I do not ask them to do anything they do not enjoy. Vampires have different tastes, no? Angelus- he likes the ones that taste of fear and pain. Torture and rape and death. I like the ones who taste of passion, pleasure, abandon, uninhibited, unbridled-" one manacle suddenly snapped and one arm pulled free- "lust."
"Grab her arm!" Angel shouted.
Wesley lunged. She snarled, but didn't seem interested in the Watcher, only the vampire. "Move, human, I've no quarrel with you!"
"God, I see why he stayed married to you for four hundred years!" Cordelia gasped as she joined Wesley in subduing the flailing arm. Angel put a hand on her windpipe and squeezed until she went limp and fell back into the chair he had bound her to.
"Yes, quite a catch. Well-spoken, strong-"
"Insatiable," Angel sniffed disdainfully, all the while struggling not to give into the baser urges she reminded him of. Violence, followed by sex, sometimes the other way around, sometimes together.
"If what you say is true, we have no intention of harming you," Wesley soothed.
"Oh no, Angelus is known the world over for his gentleness and restraint," she laughed bitterly.
"Not Angelus! Angel," he corrected sharply. "I have a soul."
The woman in chains looked at him pityingly as he replaced the irons with something heavier and tighter. "A soul? Oh, dear. You act like you're two different people. A soul stops you from acting on your urges-" her voice dropped to a snake-like whisper, eyes unblinking, tongue flickering across lips, "but the urges are still there."
Angel didn't need to breathe, but he couldn't stop panting. "Come with me." He herded Wesley and Cordelia in front of him. I don't want you around this filth. Stay comfy."
As soon as the door shut, he grabbed Wesley by the lapel of his jacket. "Steady on!"
"Shh. Give me this." Angel removed the blood-stained handkerchief from startled fingers.
Cordelia stormed off and stormed back, slamming a steaming mug in front of Angel. "You need to drink. You keep flashing your bumpies. And if you're going to lick the blood off of that thing- just- no. Gag. Also, there's a message from Buffy. She was at Giles'. He'd already left. I don't know how long ago, but at bare minimum, she figures he should be an hour into the trip. And… take some time off because I don't know when she called. I was kinda distracted with sleeping beauty in there."
"So around an hour left to wait." Angel paced.
"You suck at waiting."
"I don't. I'm a master at the long game. Master at all kinds of games. Cordy-" he touched her arm and sent her an injured, soulful puppy look as she jumped and recoiled. "Hey."
"Sorry."
"It's okay. You're gonna do me a favor in a little bit."
"You're creeping me out! Go! Do something. Answer the phone. Return calls." Cordelia placed her hands on her hips and stood between the Countess and Angel as he glowered at their guest-slash-captive.
"I'm not going to leave you alone with her. She has thrall, whatever else she says."
The Countess huffed and met Cordelia's eyes.
"If I can handle you, I can handle her for a minute. You need a break. If you furrow your brow any harder it's going to leave a dent in your skull."
Angel rose reluctantly. "Just to check with Wesley about something. Willow was supposed to give him a list of ingredients for the spell. I'll make sure we have them. Here," he thrust a loaded crossbow into her hand. "Use it if you have to- but aim low."
Cordelia nodded and rolled her eyes once he left the room. She turned to Daniela without putting the weapon down. "Insurance."
"Understood."
"I love your dress. You've really moved with the times. It's totally on trend," Cordelia appraised as she sat across from her.
"You're very kind."
"You think you could do something for Mr. Basic Black in there?"
"He wouldn't listen to me. He's a different sort of person. All or nothing, no happy medium."
"No happy is right. Some days we approach medium." She quickly checked over her shoulder then leaned forward. "I want my boss to stay as far away from the Angelus side of himself as possible, which means no torturing anyone, even demons, no offense." Cordelia hesitated. "You really don't hurt people?"
"Well… It may pinch a little."
"What?"
"Biting."
"They let you bite them?"
"Have you ever been bitten by someone you have a connection with, someone you love, or at least lust after?"
"No on all counts. I avoid being bitten. This is a virgin neck and it stays that way."
"With Angelus about, I'd say you were wise. He could never stop himself."
Cordelia's voice was uncharacteristically soft. "He did, once."
"Good. There's hope for him, I suppose. If a vampire wants to stay alive without detection, he must move often and live in the shadows, stay in a huge city and feed off those who will never be missed, or feed and not kill, not even wound severely."
"Or find the local butcher."
"That would suffice in a pinch, if he can't withstand temptation."
"Or he doesn't want to gamble with his soul. You can mock him about it, but that soul is something that torments him, reminds him of how and who he was. He's doing his best to be a good man."
"Kidnapping a woman from her home and tying her up is not my definition of good."
"You never tie up your dinners?" Cordelia asked skeptically.
"No! Then the bite would hurt. Fear and tension do not relax a lover." Daniela clucked her tongue as if explaining things to a very dense child.
"Good tip," Cordelia muttered. "What about Dracula? How does he live so long? Which method?"
"Willing victims. Turning brides slowly, feeding off of them for days until they're ready - not that he hurts them. And then… he travels. He shares his prey. He turns a few per year, bites many. At least, that's what happened in the old days. Perhaps he's grown reckless. It seems as if he has, biting your friend and not keeping her with him. The bond weakens the farther apart you are."
"Are you still bonded to this guy?"
Daniela's face clouded, eyes unmistakably sad. "No. No, when he casts you out, you lose all the connections of a claim, of your vows."
Cordelia's voice softened, "That has to hurt."
"You cannot imagine. Mortals love and marry for less than a century. I was his for four times that. It hurt worse than you can imagine, but Dracula… for once he realized that I was more than a possession."
"What do you mean?"
"He did not give me away to another. He didn't end me."
"Is that how he usually 'divorces' someone? Holy cow, restraining order!"
Daniela's smile flickered to life and faded. "He is charming. He has faults."
"You have a serious case of Stockholm Syndrome, lady. He has faults? He's a controlling bigamist who has a major fidelity problem and a body count that crosses time zones and centuries." Cordelia's eyes were huge, her considerably wide mouth gaping.
The smile returned, with a little titter of laughter. "I like you."
Cordelia's jaw snapped closed in surprise. "That's probably the nicest thing a hostage has ever said to me. Don't ask me to let you go or anything, though. You're probably the only one who has the information we need."
"What information could that be?"
"Is it working?" Angel hissed.
"I don't know. But I take back everything I said about her being a terrible actress. The Countess has no idea," Wesley whispered a reply, both stepping back from the door. In the next room over, Anya, Willow, Tara, and Giles sat with a book in front of them, censor burning a strand of the Countess' hair and the cloth with her blood on it. "You're a very good actor as well. No need to be so forceful in obtaining the 'ingredients'."
Angel didn't smile, didn't look at the man he employed, who considered himself a friend. "Who says I was acting?" Getting the required blood and hair in the struggle with the Countess has been very… satisfying.
"You could have gotten it while she was still unconscious, a quick prick with a needle, a single hair, never missed."
"Shut up, this is it."
"How do we kill him? In the 'really, truly dead' way?"
"Ha! You'll have to kill me first. That I would never tell."
"Do you even know?" Cordelia asked, trying to keep her voice steady.
The Countess' voice shifted, dragging unwillingly, her eyes suddenly closing. "Yes… I do know. Probably the only one who he has trusted." She jolted upright as she stopped speaking, eyes startled. "What was that? What did I say?"
"Huh? Oh, nothing important. Just that he trusted you."
"Dracula and I were happy for many years. He allowed me my freedom in the end when I was unhappy. I must never hurt him."
"You won't hurt him. You might help a lot of other girls, though. Girls he's not so nice to. You're all about love and passion. My friend doesn't have those feelings for him."
"She will, in time."
"That's going to be a solid no. No way in hell. She'll die first."
"He'll be there at the moment of her death, to claim what is his."
"Is everything she says true?"
"Every word. You can tell it's working, listen to how her voice changes. When she resists, the spell forces."
Angel surged forward and Wesley frantically grabbed his elbow. "Angel, no!"
"Cordelia's taking too long!"
"She has finesse!"
"I should be the one doing this! I'm supposed to help Buffy! This is the only thing I can do for her!"
"Your ego is not the answer. Now, sit!" Wesley shoved Angel backward and the hulking figure landed on his backside, look startled. "That is, please, sit," Wesley revised nervously.
"Great, the natives are restless- and wrestling," Cordelia sighed as thuds and crashes were heard directly against the door.
"You have quite the pair. Delectable."
"Not so tasty once you get to know them. Mr. Broody and Mr. Uptight. Is Dracula big on the brooding?"
"No, he takes action- although the course may be hidden and long."
"So, if we wanted to take some action against him… Is there some way to undo this arranged marriage thing? Was there any girl he ever let go?"
"No. He cannot stand to lose. Pride, you see."
"I hear that." Cordelia shifted in her chair. "What if he wanted to let her go? Has he ever, ever broken a- what'd you call it?"
Daniela shook her head. "There was a woman he wanted. She escaped before things were complete. Young, virginal, engaged to be wed to some human- handsome, strapping, virtuous. I told Dracula not to bother with her, she was for his sport, would add nothing to our family. He wouldn't listen. He's stubborn, terribly stubborn."
"Damn, he and Angel could have a freaking club," Cordelia muttered under her breath. She heard a particularly vicious thud outside the door and recalled that under her breath was still possibly audible for Angel's ears. "What happened? To Virgin and Virtuous?"
"He showed up on their wedding night, before the consummation. Killed the groom. Killed the girl. Didn't turn her, he was just setting an example. He doesn't like to be made a fool of. No one questions him."
"Control freak much?"
"I much prefer being my own woman," Daniela whispered in a conspiratorial voice.
"You can get back to Paris and your own womanly ways as soon as you tell me how you kill this guy. The real way, the ending it all way. Please."
"What happens if not?"
"Pretty sure my boss will kill you in a pretty disgusting, vile, horrible way that will ruin the carpet and make me avoid him for a couple of months." Cordelia shuddered.
"Dracula would know I told you."
"He'd be dead, though, so would that matter?"
No answer.
"Tell me how. If you know, tell me how," Cordelia said in a firm voice.
Daniela's voice wavered, "You must kill him when he is in human form, not beast, nor mist. You must-" Her voice suddenly went dull and face slack.
Whatever she'd been about to say was either not entirely true or an outright lie, Cordelia realized. "Okay, human body, got it. What next?"
"Hands, heart, head."
"What?"
"Hands. Heart. Head. He was taken as one of the gypsy princes, long ago. They blessed his hands. He can re-form, he can always re-form if his hands were not first removed."
"Ewww! Cut off his hands?"
"Who would have thought of it? He was clever." Daniela's voice went from normal and conversational to flat and dead without warning, the effect disconcerting and vaguely frightening, like speaking to one possessed, in a trance. "The hands first. Then a stake through the heart and his head removed at once, exactly the same moment. No single being could do it. You must have two warriors in perfect harmony, perfectly attuned, able to move in perfect unison. They must read each other perfectly, two bodies moving as one something none of have mastered, none will master. He will live forever."
"Two people who are like- psychically linked, who fight together like a single machine! Where the hell are you going to find another Slayer- oh, wait. Faith. In jail. We could bust her out. But they don't exactly get along. I wouldn't say they're mentally attuned," Cordelia ranted and wrung her hands.
"Is the vampire lady okay?" Anya asked.
"She passed out when the spell was done. Having your will subverted must be exhausting." Wesley looked toward the slumped figure with concern. "Angel, when she wakes up… you'll have made a powerful enemy of her."
"I'm more concerned that she'll try to warn Dracula," Giles said.
"So, I kill her. No one to tell."
"No!" Tara protested. "You can't do that! You heard what Cordelia said. She's just trying to be loyal to the man who controlled her for years. She's finally free and she's not hurting humans. She - she doesn't deserve to die. Does she?" Heads reluctantly or vigorously shook, but Angel's stood still.
"Memory spell. Lethe's bramble," Willow spoke up. "If- if she could forget she was here…"
"She wouldn't be a threat. No need to kill her. I'm for that." Anya raised her hand.
"Let's save the ugly death for demons who hurt innocents, okay, Big and Broody?" Cordelia leaned on Angel's arm affectionately, hoping the worry in her eyes was concealed.
"I'll take her back," Angel said grimly.
"I think I'll do that." Wesley gently disengaged Angel's hand from the keys that opened the Countess' shackles. "You have a more pressing problem to sort out. Who in the world could match Buffy and be perfectly in sync with her?"
Everyone looked grave and pensive.
It has to be me, Angel thought.
Giles was thinking differently. He thought of the way Buffy had looked at Spike and announced, "You hurt" without even speaking to him.
She reads him.
He thought of the way he stood with her.
They way they move.
Like people in love.
Claimed, bound people. But she's not a vampire. It's not the same.
Perhaps it doesn't need to be. "I believe we have an answer. It's waiting at home. Willow, can you perform the spell you mentioned?"
"I have Lethe's bramble." Wesley motioned her to follow him.
"I need a crystal and sacred sage."
"In my purse. Always," Tara confessed with a sly smile.
"What's waiting at home?" Angel trailed Giles and Anya as they moved away.
"Buffy."
"But-"
"Buffy has help."
"What kind of help?"
"Anya, see if you can assist Willow." Giles gently shuffled her to the side so that he could face Angel. "That is her business. She has what she needs. And you've helped her immensely. She'll be most grateful, as am I."
Angel's face was stiff as he nodded. "She's going to need me. For this fight. No one works together like we do. We did. She's the only one I ever loved, Giles. She needs me. Buffy and I-"
"Are no longer moving as one. You made that abundantly clear when you left her and your roads diverged."
"But-"
"I'm sorry I should have been more clear. I should have said, 'She has whom she needs.'" Giles turned and sidestepped Angel, leaving the vampire staring after him, unhappy and uncomprehending.
To be continued…
End note: Sorry for the long delay, but I hope you find it worth it! I finished and published the third and final book in the spuffy-inspired paranormal erotica series, CrossRealms:Whole by S.C. Principale (available on Amazon) and I wrote and finished Screw Loose, Screwed Up, and Just Plain Screwed, a spuffy fanfic (available here). (It's all finished, it's just not all posted yet) Hope you enjoy!
