Title: Last Moments
Prompt: Historical: Napoleonic Europe
Medium: Fic
Rating: R
Warnings: violence
Summary: Napoleon is haunted the last few days of his life. Companion piece to 'Cover Up'

Napoleon's hand froze hovering over the parchment, his eyes wide and his body shaking as the sound of the wind penetrated his ears. He had closed all the windows, locked them even, and all the doors were firmly shut with sheets tucked into any crevice.

His heart raced in his chest as he looked to the left and stared in horrified awe at the ominously ajar window. He couldn't tear his eyes from the daunting sight, and then his heart launched into overdrive and stuck in his throat.

There, directly across from the window, was a pair of leering yellow eyes.

He shot up from his chair, blubbering incoherently as he dashed forward to slam the window shut and re-latch it. The eyes disappeared to his immense relief, but even that didn't last long. The eerie sight was immediately replaced by a bubbling laughter that chilled him straight to the bone.

"Isn't that funny, he thinks that we can't get in!" he heard a female voice coo. The low rumbling of a mans laughter followed.

"You seem to be havin' too much fun here, pet. The poor sod 'll die of fear before you get even one little sip."

Napoleon stopped listening and drew the curtains shut, turning and pressing his trembling body against the wall. A churning pain in his stomach started and he groaned pathetically – not again! The pain had been plaguing him for months, and just yesterday he had called for a physician. Unfortunately, his instincts told him that he would not make it to that time.

There was a light knocking on the window, and his heart stopped for a terrified moment. A light giggle.

"Come on, Nappie! Buffy wants to play a little game."

The demon outside ran her nails down the pane, and Napoleon wasted no time in dashing off to his quarters. He locked the door and breathed a sigh of relief – there were no windows in this room. He would be safe here.

He slowly disrobed and pulled on his pajamas, his hands shaking. These demons had been stalking him for weeks, and he knew that they would eventually kill him. This was why he was recording his last moments, so that the world would know what really happened to the great Napoleon!

He lay down in his bed and closed his eyes, a cross clutched close to his chest. He was just drifting off to sleep when a loud moan penetrated his doze and made his eyes shoot open. He knew those sounds, and he knew those voices.

"Oh, God, Spike! Harder! Please!"

His heart shuddered and he clutched his cross closer, murmuring a prayer under his breath. They were close, he didn't need to see them to know that. He tried to block them out, to muffle the sounds with his pillow. It didn't work. He lay there and listened to the duo consummate their relationship, screaming words that no proper man or woman would ever say in public – let alone while in another mans home!

And then the noises stopped, and for a moment he dared to hope that they had left. Minutes passed until finally he relaxed into his bed.

Then the pillow was ripped from his body with a feral snarl, and he found himself staring up into the yellow eyes of his tormentor. She smiled, her long fangs glistening in the light.

"Hello, Napoleon." She said coyly.

And then she lunged for his throat, and all the former Emperor could do was scream.