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Chapter 26

Buffy’s POV

It’s strange, really. I never thought about life and death when I was alive.

I knew that my time was short and I should live it to the fullest extent. It was drilled into my brain from that very first night with Merrick. It’s a shame that I can barely remember what he looks like anymore. Too many faces have passed before my eyes to remember each one individually nowadays.

I can remember Giles’ glasses and Willows red hair, Xander’s greasy hair falling on his forehead and his shirts. I recall the smell of Angel’s cologne in the damp night air and his towering height. I remember the smell of my mother’s hair, the soft texture as I curled it around my fingers. Dawn’s doe eyes. Large and round. Nothing seems real anymore.

William.

I can’t believe that my William from all those years ago is lying next to me right now. He feels so tender and warm, but it’s impossible. He isn’t any warmer than I am. His lips are soft and full and they feel like paradise as he pulls my lips between his teeth. He looks at me with such intensity; I can’t help but close my eyes and enjoy it. Sometimes I feel that he can see deeper and I have to look away for fear that he can see something that the others can’t. Something I don’t want to admit.

I don’t want him to see that part of me. I wrap my arms around him, bringing our bodies closer and I can feel the soft plains of his body. I rub his nipples under his shirt and they pucker with excitement. I can sense the lust in his veins and I feel like I could feed off it. He’s never harsh, never demanding. I never knew it could be this way. And it really isn’t. I know. It’s an illusion I have. William can’t be this caring. He’s a vampire.

Like me.

I don’t think I can feel love. Not the human emotion, anyway. I’m not sure if I ever felt the head over heels love that is described in romance novels and the movies. I’ve felt the giddy infatuation. Young and indescribable with my heart beating fast and light, my lungs overfilled with oxygen until I felt like I could burst. I remember sitting up in my bedroom, quietly tracing over our names.

Angel and Buffy Together 4-eva.

That’s what you did when you had that type of crush in high school. Of course, everything was puppies and chocolate ice cream. We were meant to be. Forget the age difference or the fact that my life was destined to be short. Forget that he was a Vampire and me a Slayer.

I know now that we weren’t meant to be and we weren’t in love, or at least the not never-ending kind of love, it didn’t last. We discovered the curse on Angel’s soul after my 17th birthday, after it was gone.

It was shock to all of us, including Jenny Calendar, who turned out to be Janna of the Kalderash gypsy clan. She had been sent to ensure that the monster that killed the favorite daughter of her gypsy clan was being suitably punished with the curse of a soul. She never suspected that it would be lifted so easily, just one night and everything changed.

I’m not even clear on the fact if he was cursed with his human soul or if they took some random soul to curse him. I doubt it was his soul. After the curse was lifted, I read the passages in the Watcher’s Journals regarding Liam, the man that became the dreaded monster Angelus. He had been an alcoholic womanizer with no sense of responsibility.

I doubt the soul of that man could suitably be used to curse the demonic monster. I bet they took some holy man’s soul. They said Angelus had a penchant for the church; it would be apropos to curse him with the soul of one of his holier victims. Of course, I never asked Angel. Never. Not once did I ask him whose soul he had.

No one suspected that after one moment of the purest happiness, rapture even, Angel would turn back into the monstrous demon that he once was. Especially me, I never thought that the man I gave my virginity to, my love and my trust would wake up the next day intent on torturing me. He told me I made him feel human, that he hated to feel the emotions of a human. He scoffed at my tears and my heartbreak. I don’t remember much of that time, too sad and too tired to even think what was around the corner.

Wasn’t it ironic that the moment that he felt happiness, the leash of the soul would be lifted? All his suffering and attempts at redemption went down the drain, allowing the demon to reign freely. The gypsies had it wrong, I think. The curse should be that he would never feel happiness, that he would be cursed forever with the guilt of his misdeeds. Why would they build in a loophole that would release the demon?

After all was said and done, Angel literally went to Hell after his soul was returned and Jenny was dead. Giles was in mourning while my mother found out about the supernatural that surrounded us. I… well, let’s just say I took a breather from it all. Mom doesn’t like to talk about it; at least she didn’t want to talk about it when I finally came back to Sunnydale.

I guess we all learned something the summer I ran away. After some time I looked back and thanked god Kendra was there to take over the slaying duties associated with being on top of a Hellmouth. Who knows what could have happened to my mother during those months I was gone? Of course, it proved that I didn’t have to stay on the Hellmouth for it to be safe. I didn’t have to let my calling destroy my life.

I took the SATs and focused on school. Just like the perfect daughter Mom wanted me to be. It turned out that the Powers-that-Be sent Angel back to our dimension with his soul. I don’t want to go into that mess. I don’t even remember most of it, just vague feelings of disappointment directed at me. My SAT scores came back and surprise! I was sent away from the Hellmouth. School in New York would stretch my life expectancy. That’s what everyone said. And so… being the good Slayer, friend, and daughter… I left to live a life in New York.

~*~*~

Spike. He’s my Sire. Sire. That’s such a funny word. It boils down to families and bloodlines; the strong versus the weak. I never gave it any thought when I was a Slayer. Didn’t have to think in those terms. I never thought of much beyond my world when I was a Slayer. There was no point to pay attention to politics or life outside of the Hellmouth. I wouldn’t live long enough to use that knowledge. Even with the limited life span, life seemed strictly black and white.

Kill demons.

Now I am a demon.

I can sense Spike as he wakes in his bedchamber. He calls for me, wanting me. I must go to him. I can’t describe the pull. There isn’t a word or phrase that pops into my mind, but an all-encompassing drive to obey. I don’t even know what I’m doing until I’ve done it. He captivates me, causes me to bend to his every desire.

I’m standing in front of him now, naked and aroused as I watch him drain a human male. Blood trickles down the cow’s throat and onto his bare chest as he gasps for his lasts breaths. His body is beyond fighting now and accepts his fate. The smell of defeat and death fill my nostrils. It excites me. I crave Spike and the violence that he teaches me.

I see Spike’s cock swell with the new blood. He wants me. I can see it in his amber eyes, feel it in my bones. I take him into my mouth as he is finishing off his food. His growl fills the room as he bucks into my mouth, forcing my throat to take his length in. I submit as I’m compelled to do so; but I’m not sure if I do because I have to or if I want to anymore. I like him taking charge, forcing his will onto me. In the past I’ve always had to be in control.

I feel a war inside me, bubbling up to the surface. Do I have a soul? It seems like I should, but I don’t feel it. I’ve been asking myself what is a soul? When I was human, I thought I knew, but I’m not sure. Is it a conscience? I don’t have that anymore. I look at my food without distaste. They are my cows.

Is a soul some sort of spirit that inhabits my body while I am alive? Did it go into heaven when I was turned? Is it sitting with William’s, munching on popcorn as they gaze down on us? What happened to it when I drowned at the Master’s hand? I was dead; I remember Xander told me my heart stopped. I can still see the relieved look that crossed Angel’s face when my eyes reopened. And if I did die and it went to heaven: what happened to it when I was revived?

What is my demon? I can feel it, scratching under my skin like worms after a summer storm. I hear the seductive tones of it whispering in my brain. I know it is weak from traveling into my body from the underworld. I feel the pain and torture it endured while in damnation.

I hear Lucifer’s call in my blood, seeking me to go to hell.

It’s strange to feel something like a demon inhabiting my body. I never thought about Vampires as being a human damned with a demon. I don’t feel damned, though. My senses feel alive. The scents and sounds of the world are distasteful, I agree, but when I was alive… humanly alive I never realized how much I missed. I never felt more alive as I feel now.

What is a Slayer?

Giles once told me about the First Slayer. I probably didn’t hear half of the things he told me. She was an ordinary girl and the shaman of her tribe forced demon essence into her body, raping her of the humanity, stealing away her mortality so that they could live longer. I don’t feel different now. I still feel like a Slayer, only I don’t feel the need to destroy demons. I don’t know if I ever felt the need to destroy demons. I had to hunt; I remember the pull of the night. Life on the Hellmouth forced me into it. School, fighting, school, home life, fighting. It was what I did late at night when my mom was asleep. A never ending battle of good versus evil. It felt natural. I fought against it in New York, though.

At first, I couldn’t control it. I had to hunt. I went out to Central Park, walking along the paths and grass, just waiting for a predator to turn into my prey. The draw became weaker as time passed. No one was in my face encouraging me to uphold my calling. Studying, friends, and parties; they filled my time. Soon the urge to hunt left, leaving my energies focused elsewhere.

I feel the urge to hunt now, deep down in my gut, twisting around until I finally appease it. It calls for the blood and violence. I can’t help it. The pull to the dark is so strong and I can’t help but want to be here.

With them.

I have all these questions in my head, zooming around like fireflies. I see the synapses lighting up, sparking life to the next thought… but I always come back to the same question. Who am I?

Drusilla seemed to know something. I didn’t talk to her when we were fleeing from the house, I was too weak and we were moving too fast to have a serious discussion. I remember laughing and crying in the dirty store. I knew I was going to die. She held me to her breast, cooing at me like a child. I didn’t understand most of her ramblings, but for some reason I knew what would happen. I wasn’t scared like I thought would be. Maybe she put the big whammy on me; according to Giles she had the thrall ability. Of course, I now know.

She told me of the future. I don’t remember all of her words anymore. Doubt I heard them all during those excruciating hours waiting for my death. I remember her instructions to take care of Spike. He would need someone to help him along in his journey. He needed to see beyond his existence, to learn what it meant to be in a family.

She said William would stand by me, no matter what. He would learn to stand up and protect what was his. And that Daddy would serve his purpose in time. Most of it doesn’t make sense, I know.

I remember her saying goodbye. And Miss Edith. I remember the doll; she made me hold it as I arched my neck submissively to her mouth as she sunk her fangs into me. Her fingers massaged my scalp as she took deep pulls of my blood. I remember the orgasm that hit me soon after she started the process. I must have blacked out after my muscles stopped contracting because the next thing I remember is waking up in that damned box Angel stuck me in.

Not sure if it was Angel that did that to me. Putting me into a box and forcing me to break myself out sounds a bit like Angelus. He liked playing those games. I bet he buried his Childer extra deep so he could watch them, the sadistic freak. Come to think of it, I don’t know if Angelus turned any one other than Drusilla. Angel never wanted to talk about it. Maybe he thought if he told me I would realize he was a vampire or maybe he just didn’t want to accept it.

It seems silly now that I think about it. Of course he was a vampire. He wasn’t kidding any of us when he tried to push away his demonic nature. I remember bits and pieces of conversations with him, the fact that he didn’t want me to see his demonic face or watch him drink blood from a mug.

I chalked it up to the soul and being ashamed of it all. I don’t think it was that, though. I think he didn’t want to admit to himself that no matter what he did, he was still the demon that was cursed.

So here I sit now, in a private room Spike put aside for me. It doesn’t have much, not even a bed. I suppose I am supposed to share his bed. It is a clear message to everyone, including William.

I can tell William isn’t happy with Spike’s dominating ways. I notice him when we come in from the hunt. It’s a private affair, Spike said in the beginning, teaching the chase and the bite. William’s eyes look so sad when I come in after hunting with Spike. I don’t want to hurt him. Not like that. I’m not even sure what I feel for William. It’s not the same as it is with Spike. It’s… kinder, gentler. I want to sit next to William instead of being pulled behind Spike.

Drusilla claimed that I was William’s present; and that I would insure the family’s survival in the future. I don’t feel like his present… his gift. I’m not even sure how I’m supposed to save the family. I saw a couple of visions when I was sleeping the new vampire sleep. Just flashes and images now; I’m not even sure if it was my imagination or a true vision. I don’t want to think about it. It’s too terrible to even voice.

I don’t know if I want to save the family. I know, I know. Selfish. But I’m a demon now, I can be selfish. They’re awful. Not Spike or William… but them. I wasn’t allowed to wander the house the first couple of days. Too weak, Spike said. I don’t think that was the reason. I’m not saying that I didn’t enjoy the sex with Spike, far from it. I just don’t buy that I am too weak. I defended myself just fine a few weeks after we arrived.

It was day and Spike never came home. I spent the night with William, but he was asleep. I didn’t know anyone else was awake. I was sitting in the living room reading a dusty book about vampires when the group walked in. I recognized a few of them. They were part of the challengers to Spike when we first got home. At first I ignored them, hoping that I wouldn’t have to deal with them. But when the four surrounded me, I knew I wasn’t going to be able to hide my head in the sand.

It started out with taunts about me. I knew what they were trying to do, and I refused to give it to them. I survived years at Sunnydale High School outside of the cool group, called a freak. So I kept up the pretence of reading.

Then the touching started. A hair pull here, and a graze of a hand there. I smelled their arousal and it disgusted me. The book flew out of my hands before I knew it. The largest of the minions tore it away. I stood up, ready to retrieve it when one of them grabbed my arms. I felt the muscles of my shoulder rip as he twisted my arms behind my back.

I barely gasped when their words flew at me. Whore. Slut. Ignoring them just made their taunts worse.

“What do you think, just because you share a bed with Spike that you are the Queen?”

“She knows just how to spread them, doesn’t she?”

“Going to get us all killed, there’s a reason why there aren’t any turned Slayers.”

“Let’s see if it’s worth it.”

I tried not to react, knowing that they wanted to dominate me and hear my cries. So I stayed compliant, hoping that they would underestimate me.

They pawed at my chest, squeezing my breasts and humping against my leg as they tried to undress me. I didn’t make it easy, mind you. I kept slack in the awkward embrace and curled my body enough so they had to struggle with zippers and buttons.

They taunted me, my demon. I wasn’t a true Childe. I killed my Sire. I didn’t have any position other than spread eagle on a bed. It infuriated me. I felt the call of their blood, of violence, but I maintained.

I waited until one of them had their pants down to their knees and his hand down my pants. The others were taunting, spread around the room. I had one chance to act and I couldn’t blow it.

Rule number 1 of the Missing Slayer Guide: Always carry a stake.

I guess I wasn’t the only one that didn’t receive the guide. With one strong yank of my arms, I was free. The grubby vampire with his hand down my pants didn’t know what was happening until he was dust. I twisted free from both of my capture’s grasps. I grabbed the stake that was hidden in the chair. I’m not sure if I was faster than normal or what… but the two that were touching me were now dusted.

I looked around the room at the remaining two minions. Their fear smelled divine. I knowingly shifted into my demonic face and growled.

It was funny. They started to back out of the room. Like I was going to let them live after calling me those names. Touching me. They were so wrong.

My demon still craved their deaths, but I knew that this would happen again. So I staked the one not near the door.

I waited a few minutes and straightened my clothes. In all honesty I wanted to cry and huddle in the corner, but I knew I couldn’t. I couldn’t rely on Spike or William to protect me. I had to prove my place.

So I waited in the hallway outside the minions rooms. Waiting for my chance. It didn’t take long. I heard the whispers through the walls. I successfully fought off an attack and dusted three of the attackers.

I hid in the hall soon after I heard the minions spread the rumor around. I waited and waited. Finally, the minion I allowed to get away came out to the hallway.

He was dust before his eyes adjusted to the difference in light.

I think about blood now. Every moment that I’m awake, I am aware of the blood around me. I even dream in crimson tones. I’m not sure if this is part of being a vampire.

Actually, I never thought demons could dream. Some say dreams are the brains way of organizing memories. Others say that dreams are your subconscious working out issues. Others… like Drusilla and I have prophetic dreams and they mean something different.

I always knew when I had a prophetic dream… the images were green. Strange, I know. But I learned to distinguish the Slayer dream versus just a normal one. I wonder if I will still get those. I would wake up with a start, panting with my heart pumping fast. If I do get one, I doubt I’ll wake up with my heart beating rapidly.

I dream of the hunt mostly, the dark game of cat and mouse. Last night I dreamt of hunting a faceless woman. I followed her down the street, her long blond hair bounced with every step. I stayed in the shadows as I stalked her.

She smelled of summer cucumber salad. I lick my lips with anticipation. I walk behind her and watch has her hips sensually move in time with her legs. She turns the corner and I’m right behind her. The street is dark and oppressive, the lights must be broken. She slows as she nears a building that I presume is her home. She’s fishing in her purse, trying to find her keys. I glance about, no one is watching. I become wet with the anticipation. I feel the bones in my face grind and move under my skin, my teeth are distorted into sharp fangs.

I grab her arm and I smell the rise of her fear. She struggles. My other hand grips her other shoulder and bring her body against mine. Her cries are silent in the dark street as she fights for freedom. I bury my nose in her hair, inhaling her scent. Such a lovely and intoxicating scent.

My fangs scrape along the back of her neck, nicking her skin. I lap up the small bead quickly, unwilling to let go of her struggling body. It tastes like warm ripe melons. I tighten my grip, bruising her flesh with my dominance. Lust drips down my whole body as I prepare to take her life. My arm winds around her throat, controlling and choking. Her struggles are renewed, but I’ve cut her air supply. I’m going to win.

My hips grind into her buttocks and my nipples are hard against her back. I sniff her neck and feel the blood pump underneath the delicate covering.

It calls to me.

My life and my salvation.

I find her jugular easily and my fangs slide into it. She is still fighting me, fighting what she has become.

My victim.

I pull on her blood quickly, wanting instant gratification. Her pulse rate rises with each deadly second, making it easier for me. I feel her muscles sag in my arms. She’s unconscious. My hand around her throat moves down to her waist and it tucks beneath her shirt. I can’t help myself as my nails trail a crimson line up her stomach. I pinch her nipple as I finish draining the blood from her body.

Sated, I let her body drop out of my arms. I stare down on her. Her shirt is disheveled and I see where my nails cut into her gut.

It’s beautiful.

I blink as my gaze wanders around her body. Her legs are bent underneath her and her breasts are still perky. I bend down to brush the blond hair out of her face.

I gasp in surprise. Staring back at me is… ME.

a/n: So this is it... the last chapter I have wrriten. Don't freak out... there's more... a lot more to be written. And, yes.... Spike and William do bond further into the story. The family dynamic is new to them and they are all trying to find their place.





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