Chapter Twenty-Four
Willow wondered how Buffy was able to trust them. How she could look at one vamp and decide he was the one to believe in—to let him in. Know he was good and solid and wasn’t going to attempt to eat any of them the second they turned their backs. And then make him be the one choice they had that didn’t have a soul.
Knowing Angel didn’t make Willow automatically accept the presence of a soul as being his motivator for good. She had the loss of Jesse to show her that that measure was faulty. The loss of Jesse to make her suspect the danger in trusting any vampire too far—even Spike. And it sickened her to suspect him of always being evil and that maybe he was just tricking them all with some kind of act.
Giles had dropped her off with a stern lecture to not take Angel’s smooth words and proclamations to heart—and to never take him into her house. He needed an invite to kill her in her sleep, and he’d be very disappointed in her if she gave it.
There were no worries there. She’d be one dead teenager before she ever allowed herself be in Angel’s presence without back-up. And loathe as she was to insult Xander, she was thinking that slayer back-up would make her feel a whole lot more secure.
Still, this was the first night she’d had to sleep with the knowledge that one of her closest childhood friends was dead. And not only dead, but possibly intent on killing her. The first night she’d sleep with her head on her soft pillow and allow her body to sink into her comfy mattress, while Jesse likely got accustomed to slabs or dirt. The first night she had a quick sandwich before turning in while he had a quick freshman.
The tears weren’t a surprise and finding her pillow rapidly dampening beneath her cheek did little but make Willow want to sob her heart out. She’d been holding back all day—firstly for hers and Xander’s benefit, and lastly for Buffy’s. Because as new a friend as Buffy was, the blonde had crawled her way inside Willow’s heart and was lodged deep there. And Willow was not oblivious to her pain. The strongest girl she knew was devastated by the condition of a vampire, and as wrong as Willow thought that might be, she also knew you couldn’t help who you loved.
And there was no doubt in her mind that Buffy loved Spike.
Buffy was alone with him right now, more than likely NOT resting her head on a nice, fluffy pillow and releasing the stress of the days away in a deluge of tears. Willow could see that Buffy handled things differently to her. Buffy was tough; a fighter. Grown for great things where Willow was just a girl. And a geeky one at that.
It didn’t mean she didn’t worry about Buffy. Didn’t tire her brain on wondering why she’d asked them all to leave when they would have stayed and done all they could to share the burden of guilt. Willow wasn’t blind. She didn’t even wear glasses, and what she’d seen was a beaten Spike who had scared them witless with his unexpected attack. Yeah, Jesse had been crude in his warnings, but it didn’t mean any of them had believed Spike—the vampire that had quite obviously fallen hard for the diminutive slayer—would ever actually hurt Buffy.
It somehow hadn’t surprised Willow when she’d seen the glow of forgiveness, even as Buffy had pried his fangs from her breast. She’d handed him understanding of a level none of the rest of them could probably ever comprehend. She’d been humiliated, but Willow knew even then that punishment had been something below what Buffy would have wanted for him. It would never have crossed her mind as a plan. She was just glad to have him back before some crazy had made him indistinctive with the dirt at his feet.
Giles had been acting weird when he’d driven Xander and herself home. He’d been uncommunicative, except in his timely warning to not invite Angel or anyone else suspicious into their homes. He hadn’t wanted to know where Jesse was, and what had happened when they’d retrieved Spike. He’d barely looked at them even when he was talking to them and cautioning them on how to extend their lives past the night. Somehow, it made Willow feel even more alone.
How had everything gone so wrong?
How had a Hollywood horror movie come to life in her hometown and claimed one of her dearest friends?
Willow succumbed to the stress of the night and cried herself to sleep.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
There was no denying that, in the grand scheme of things, he was very young. A newborn, in fact. But in his current state, youth begged in his favour. Particularly when a serpentine beauty was eager to coat him in sex and death until the heady flavour of it all made his eyes roll back and a greedy laugh break free from his throat.
Already his rebirth was a distant memory—but one that brought a smile to his lips. Though he’d been starved of a fresh meal, he’d been able to taunt and tear at the heart-flesh of his friends-in-life instead. It was something a sire should be proud of—the way he’d handled such a difficult beginning. But his sire was morally twisted and apparently less than worthless. Jesse had soaked it in, dealt with it, and moved on. It seemed completely natural to reject that try-hard who had had to be heavily coerced to share his gift, and Jesse was learning what a pleasure taking that next step could be.
He’d discovered a family under the ground. While his closest member was now gone—taken by the slayer and her sorry little group of off-casts—Jesse was still thoroughly embraced by those that were left, including the amorous Dru who had now taken him on as her own.
Made him her childe.
Very quickly he worked out that being with her was going to be a challenge. She was more than a little off with the fairies, and yet in some way that escaped him, he liked it. Loved her fluttery ways and her batty exterior that gave him ideas along with her words of warning and encouragement.
She introduced him to their Master in a ceremony of blood, and he tasted the fresh warm elixir of life fresh from the tap for the very first time. It was like nothing he’d ever consumed before—surpassed all those human tastes he’d shared with family and friends over the course of his life. Now human was the taste he was addicted to and if Dru had her way, he would be immersed in rivers of fresh blood until the end of time. With his teacher, he’d paint vivid pictures of violence and beauty and he’d laugh all the while. Life was grand. Unlife was better and it fed his confidence until he brimmed over with it. Until he experienced everything death had to offer him; until there was nothing left to discover.
Drusilla drifted into his line of vision: pale, ethereal, deadly and magnificent. His mind boggled at how her childe could have deserted her here, in this place so right for the makings of Hell on earth. But now that he’d appeared and she’d captured him in her sharpened claws, she wasn’t grieving for the once fearsome vampire that had held the demon world in the palm of his hand.
He liked the calculating way she peered at those around her when she’d convince herself they weren’t looking, skilfully eclipsing that vague, nutty persona that she’d used to draw everyone to her. The balance was a little mixed and Jesse was unsure which was truly her. Was she the one who plotted and schemed and understood more of the world around her than the majority of those who had assumed her care? Or the one who truly needed a prop to walk the nights and remain in undusty servitude to their Master?
Jesse groaned as sharp nails sliced across his belly and a cool mouth bent to consume his flavour. He hadn’t worked it all out yet, but he had an eternity up his sleeve to try. He shuddered as Dru sucked at the wounds she’d given him, drawing out his blood as she mounted his body. Her ride was always wild; she spurred him on to depths he’d never been able to imagine. She was so good at what she did to him that he’d almost forgotten his first lust—Darla. Almost, but not quite. If he forgot his blonde goddess then he’d forget how much he had to make Buffy and her group pay. Forget why he had to kill the one who’d sired him.
Forget everything, and in that lay a terror too deep to allow release.
But for now, he’d submit to Dru and allow her to ride him into ecstasy—and hope she’d brought something for them to eat after. She always worked up quite an appetite.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
Jesse’s mom had phoned him. Jesse’s mom had asked if he knew where her son was and why he’d not returned home in several days. Jesse’s mom accepted his lie and cried her worry into his ear while Xander tried not to fall apart and tell her that her son was dead and now a human-slaughtering demon. Jesse’s mom rang off promising to call the police and letting him know if his best friend since kindergarten ever saw the light of day again, and Xander collapsed on his bedroom floor and tried to sob his pain away.
God, he’d screwed up plenty of times before, but nothing prepared him for the screw up of all screw ups—or that he was now responsible for complete and utter madness to have befallen them all.
His own folks hadn’t missed him. He’d not seen them in days and not once did they attempt to find him, relying typically on the liquid refreshment that made their world look much rosier than reality. So, because he wouldn’t have been missed, and Jesse was, he tried to justify why he was still here and breathing valuable air while his friend was not breathing any at all.
Nothing about his world made sense. For the first time in his life he’d found himself surrounded by monsters that weren’t just in his head and a girl alone in all the world to help him fight them—and yet between them all he’d still managed to allow his friend to be seduced and murdered. He’d made a bad judgement asking Spike to sire Jesse. Something that should have been so simple had turned so catastrophically wrong. A vampire who should have lapped up the chance to make minions under the watchful eye of a human should have been in Heaven—not be so wracked with guilt and fear that he ran out and got himself caught and tortured. His example of change should have been enough for Jesse to rise without the evil tongue that had almost thrashed them alive.
Too much that followed Jesse’s rise had gone over Xander’s head. Seeing his best friend turn into an evil being right before his eyes had been devastating, but seeing the fractured, primal state Spike had been left in for being different than what evil dictated for other demons had left him reeling. Buffy loved Spike. He’d been able to see it in her eyes, even if her forgiveness of the vampire’s attack hadn’t given him a big red tick clue. And because Buffy loved Spike, Xander hated himself for what he’d caused.
The night grew older and Xander finally pulled himself up from the floor, rubbing at his eyes with an angry swipe of his fist. He wanted to be violent; he wanted to give in and tear his room to shreds and lose his grip on sanity. But the thought of Willow’s stricken expression held him together. Willow had already lost one friend; it wouldn’t be fair to make her lose another—even if the remaining one was unworthy.
He collapsed in his bed, dragging the covers up high in the hopes of blinding everything out. If he couldn’t see anything of his world, maybe he’d be able to ignore it. Maybe he could block it all out and pretend he wasn’t so pathetic. Maybe he could forget for just a minute that he was grieving the loss of his best friend. Minutes before he succumbed to sleep, he wondered if he could ever find its release ever again. Wondered if he ever wanted to again.
And then he was gone, leaving himself open to numerous attacks on his subconscious by the evil that trespasses into dreams.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
It was the smell of blood that aroused him. Blood on his lips, in the air, on his sheets. It was potent, blood he’d tasted once before and made his life mission to hunt down more and consume it as the rare delicacy it was.
As he opened unwilling eyes, Spike battled the demon that wanted to consume him. He was weak, though not as weak as he had been. He remembered little initially, but then too many images flooded his head and he couldn’t stop the cries of fury at what had been done. At what he’d done.
He should be dust. There was no reason for him not to be and he tried to figure out her possible reason for keeping him in her house while he wept bitter tears of self-reproach.
The cot creaked as she sat next to him, gently wiping his brow with a damp cloth while he moaned pitifully. He wanted to push her hand away but he couldn’t move.
His throat felt raw, hot agonising flames slashing him at the attempt to speak. “What…what…did you…do?”
He was answered with silence, and he concentrated hard on what his sense could tell him. Virgin blood still crusted on his cock and he felt the nausea rush up and make him writhe with the inability to release it.
“Oh fuck, what did I do?” he rasped, tears building in his throat until the pain made him howl.
“Ssh.”
She obviously had no words for him, nothing in her arsenal of womanly wiles that could settle his panic and tell him he hadn’t just taken her virginity. No, not him. His demon. His demon had attacked her, taken what it wanted and bugger the consequences.
It was just a matter of time now. He could smell her tears mingled with the pungent scent of her blood and while it made his every sense react, he didn’t want it to. Only time and the others would know what he’d done to her, what he’d brought Buffy down to, and the watcher would put a redwood in his chest. He’d probably have a fight on his hands. A fight over who got the privilege, and Spike was resigned to lying there and taking it. He was shackled to the wall and he was doomed to punishment. At least it wasn’t Dru. All his imaginings had seen Dru plunge him toward a dusty reward, but here he was, saved and yet damned.
It was just a matter of time.
~ * ~ * ~ * ~
It couldn’t be true. Not Willow. Not Buffy.
His closest remaining friends grinned at him around their dripping fangs and Xander felt his heart seize in his chest. Gone. Everything was gone from him now and he had no remaining purpose in this world. No reason not to fall upon their fangs and scream out all his pain and loss as they tore his throat apart.
Unless they had a different plan. As realisation sparked in his eyes, he slowly backed away, his hand raised in an unconscious plea.
“Please, don’t make me be like you. I couldn’t deal with it. I need to be punished, absolutely, but don’t make me into you. Please?” Tears stung his eyes, but they didn’t blur. He saw the look they shared, the decision they made with the upward turn of their lips, and his stomach sunk to his toes.
Horrified, he spun on his heel and began to run as fast as he could to shelter. Jesse’s house was closest and he fell up the porch steps and pounded on the door. It fell open and he slumped inside, quickly crawling past the threshold that would keep them out.
His heart was racing, overly loud even to him and he couldn’t hold back the tears that ran unheeded down his cheeks. The two girls had followed, standing just back from the door and watching him curiously while arm in arm, giving nothing away with their expressions. He panted in relief, turning toward the footsteps that had progressed from inside the house and smiled his gratitude for being let in.
Xander stumbled to his feet, turning with reluctance to present his back to the vampires waiting for entrance.
“Hey, Jesse’s parents. You have no idea how much I owe you for…” He stopped as his slow eyes encountered amber, and he shook with uselessness. Taking a step back he suddenly realised there was nothing now to save him. A quick glance over his shoulder proved to him his fate. The two girls took turns crossing the barrier that didn’t exist, and in one twisted, gut-churning second, all four were upon him and his fate was sealed.
The bites were agony, vicious and hungry as they taught him a short lesson and took his life. There was relief, but then as his heartbeat faded and his eyes were on the verge of closing for good, there was the blood at his lips and the powerful urge to sip. Just one, he thought, his lips slack and falling open to the offering. His tongue eased out to try a lick and then his mouth circled the small wound and he sucked, drinking the tainted blood deeply.
“NOOOO!” Xander jerked awake with an inhuman scream, his blood pounding through his body and reassuring him he was still in majority possession of it. Shaking and panting heavily, Xander tried to fight the hopelessness of the nightmare and took the glass of water from his dresser and drank deep. Calming slightly, he looked out his window into the night, and clashed with the demon eyes and feral grin of his friend.
He swallowed hard, huddling back against his pillow.
Nothing was ever going to be right again.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
It has been a very long time since I updated this story. I have recently started watching Season One and it has inspired me to work on this, relearning how Jesse was in his very brief stint on the show. My thanks as always to the wonderful Holly for her beta efforts, and many thanks in advance to those readers who have stuck by me when I've struggled with this story. I hope you enjoy this chapter.