A Woman's Initiative
By Fyre
TITLE: A Woman's Initiative
AUTHOR: Fyre
EMAIL: Fyredansa@hotmail.com
SUMMARY: Drusilla wants her sweet back and returns to Sunnydale for him.
FEEDBACK: Hey, if you like it, please comment. If not, I'll go and sulk in the corner.
DISTRIBUTION: Just here at the mo...but anyone can have it :-) Just ask nicely ;-)
SPOILERS: Season 4 of Buffy
COUPLE: Spike/Drusilla with implied Spike/Harmony, Riley/Buffy
RATING: Erm...A bit above PG16 but below the one above it...or something.
DISCLAIMER: Let me get this clear - if I owned these guys, do you THINK I would waste time writing? Ho no! ;-) These chaps and chapettes (chaps preferred) belong to Joss Whedon and all the other companies involved with the TV show. I should have asked for permission to use them, but I didn't and its too late now, so please don't sue me cos I'm poor!
CLASSIFICATION: I could write more...possibly an explanation. I'm useless. I know :)
NOTES: After watching the episode 'The Initiative' after 'School Hard', I got to thinking and this is the nice, messy result
_________________________________________
He was bad.
He said he was different. Told me he was not like my other daddies, but he was just the same as them. He didn’t really care about looking after me.
With all his sharp-tipped horns, all as smooth as butter against my fingers, he made my heart sing and dance when my little Spike was still thinking sweet things about the sun-haired Slayer.
But not any longer.
Just like my Angel and my Spike, his heart was full of someone new. Someone else. I wasn’t his only dark Princess anymore and it made me cross with my sweet.
He told me it wasn’t so, that he only liked his Princess, but I know he lied. Miss Edith told me he lied and Miss Edith never ever lies to me. I don’t like it when my daddies lie to me. It makes me get ever so annoyed with them.
So I told him I was very annoyed with him. Told him I didn’t like being lied to by my daddies. Told him he was a fibber and that he had made Miss Edith stop talking for ever such a long time.
He laughed, such a sweet sound. It made me feel quite sick.
So I punished him for being a bad, rude daddy and not doing what I told him. He stopped laughing very quickly.
First, I had to wash him all clean with my special white spirit water, scrubbing him all over and telling him he was dirty and bad to me.
“It burns, doesn’t it?” I smiled, but he just laughed.
“I’m not a vampire.” He laughed more, his gooey slime dripping on the ground around him. “Holy Water doesn’t burn me. Just untie me and let me go, dearest, and stop being silly.”
I looked at him and took my Spike’s fire-torch out of my pocket. “But its not Cursed water.” I told him. “And it does burn.” A little flame danced and sang on the tiny silver box that Spike had left behind. I held it close to my bad sweet’s face. “See?”
He stopped laughing when the pretty flame turned gold, then blue in his big, dark eyes. He stopped laughing and started to scream and scream and scream.
It was like music to my ears, as he screamed on and on, never stopping. The splashing of his blood rang like bells in my head, the crackle of the flames dancing in the dark.
It was beautiful.
Then I danced under the moonlight, until my sweet stopped making his beautiful music for me and all that remained were the glowing, red and orange embers, a sprinkle of soft ash.
“Night night, sweet.” I told him, squashing his pretty, toasty antlers under my foot, listening to them crack.
Then I went and found his old metal carriage and climbed in.
I was going to find my true sweet, in the place where he had gone to find the sun-haired one. The one who wanted me back, not like my black and grey fire demon. Now he tasted like ash, instead of my Spike.
My Spike is waiting for me.
~~~~~
Smoothing down the soft material of her peach silk nightshirt, Harmony smiled confidently. Her Spikey-wikey would love her in this, or out of it, depending on how eager he was.
Whirling around, a muffled shriek was cut off from her throat as a hand locked tightly around her neck, her own hands flying up and struggling against the vice-like grip, long nails digging into the flesh of her throat.
“ ’Ello, kitten.” The woman purred, tilting her dark head to regard the young vampiress, a look of intrigue on her face. “So young and innocent…” A perfectly-manicured nail trailed down Harmony’s cheek.
“Get off me!” Harmony squeaked in a muffled, terrified voice.
The dark woman gave her a smile that chilled her to the bone. “Are you afraid of me, kitten?” Harmony gasped, as the other vampiress’ nail sank into her cheek, deep enough to draw a garnet drop of blood. “Don’t be afraid.” Leaning close, the dark-haired woman’s cool tongue traced a tingling path up the blonde’s cheek, capturing the crimson drip. “I won’t ’urt you.” Pausing, she smiled again, even more chillingly. “Yet.”
Harmony whimpered, trying to pull away, but the nightmare that was gripping her throat would not relinquish its grasp, the blonde’s flesh bruising with the blood she had drained from a freshman just hours before.
It just wasn’t fair.
Her blondie bear had been spending all his time with the bitch of a Slayer and now this vampire – who was a definite throwback from the seventies at the very least, Harmony noted with distaste – had attacked her in her own lair.
The silence between the two women lengthened, the dark-haired vampiress staring fixedly at the blonde she held prisoner, her eyes seeming to search beyond the exterior, her face expressionless.
“So few thoughts.” She finally murmured, raising a hand to brush a lock of Harmony’s loose hair back from her bloodied cheek. “But they’re so busy, like little bees, all thinking about my sweet.”
“Huh?”
Tightening her grip, the vampiress tilted her head again, running her thumbnail under Harmony’s chin slowly, a shallow cut opening, weeping tiny beads of ruby onto the girl’s porcelain skin.
“Spike.” The dark-haired vampiress whispered huskily, tilting her head, her dark hair tumbling around her shoulders. “My sweet little Spike.”
Harmony’s eyes widened. “He’s my Spike!” She gasped indignantly, her demon’s golden eyes glowing possessively. “He’s my blondie bear! I don’t know who you are, but he’s all mine.”
The dark vampiress’ own demon rose to the surface, her lips curling back from razor-sharp fangs, her eyes glinting evilly in the darkness. “You are very silly, kitten.” She cooed softly. “Spike is mine. He has been mine from the moment I drank him all up.”
Harmony gagged, as the dark woman’s hand tightened around her neck, her human visage sliding back into place, a small, enigmatic smile on her lips.
“I hear you don’t like my pretty chains.” She murmured to the blonde, a trace of humour in her voice. “That’s a shame. Would you like my branding iron, dear? It leaves such wonderfully painful scars…”
She pulled down the shoulder of her dress, revealing an age-old scar that she had never allowed to fade: A stylistic “S” imprinted on the pale flesh. With a smile, she watched the blonde vampiress’ deathly white face pale. “See.” She whispered. “Do you want one too?”
“Let me go.” Harmony whimpered weakly. “Please?”
The dark vampire chuckled softly. “I’ll make you beg.” She promised, stooping to kiss the blonde gently on the forehead. “You’ll beg and cry and whimper just like Spike used to. It’ll be fun, won’t it, kitten?”
The tear of terror that trickled down the blonde’s cheek, leaving a pink-tainted stain, did nothing to change the dark-haired vampiress’ mind.
~~~~~
I haven’t heard such a pretty scream for so many years.
The last time I played with my little toys, it was in Paris, when I was still happy with my Spike. Before the nasty people at Prague found us and hurt me and made me weak.
We had such a lovely time there.
That was when he had his branding iron, just like my dream. He was such a clever boy with that iron. He always made it so hot and made it hurt so much, I used to scream and beg.
It was wonderful.
But he hasn’t been letting his pretty little girl – this silly one with the sunshine in her hair – play with the iron or the chains or the whips.
She is a baby.
Young and hollow-headed.
Now, she belongs to me. I left my mark on her, so all the World will know that I have a new pet to play with, even if she screamed and cried and said I should go to Hell.
I taught her to respect me. I punished her so she would behave how she was meant to. I made her beg and beg.
It was such delightful fun. She told me all sorts of funny stories about my sweet being mean and told that he wanted to chain her, but she always said no.
She said “No.” to me and I didn’t like that answer, so I hurt her and her pretty blood made such sprinkly patterns on the dark walls, sweet little rubies, sparkling like the tiny stars in the sky.
My Spike will be so surprised when he sees the present I left for him. He will see that I can still make him proud.
~~~~~
Making his way through the passages, towards the lair he had shared briefly with Harmony, Spike rubbed his neck wearily, reminding himself to stock up on pillows before attempting to sleep in the stone sarcophagus again.
True, it might happen to look suspicious for a corpse to have pillows, but it was uncomfort…
Sniffing the air, he gave a low growl, the scent of vampire blood carried on the draughts that rippled through the dark, dank tunnels.
A low, keening sob echoed through the passages as well, a familiar sound – a sound he had heard often from his immature lover, when he had insulted her hair or clothing.
But this cry was different.
It was one of pain.
His duster brushed along the puddled, stone-slabbed floors as he broke into a run, his intrigue piqued, by both the scent and the cries. Something strange was going on.
“Harm, what the hell are you whining about n…” Trailing off, he stopped short, in shock, staring blankly at the girl who was half-standing, half-suspended from the ceiling by manacles and long, rusted chains. “Bloody hell…” He had never truly wanted her, until that moment.
Circling her, he wondered if he should give into the lust that was surging through him, or actually help the dumb, little chit, who was obviously in a lot of pain. Someone had gone over her with a master’s touch.
Her bare, once-smooth back was criss-crossed with a latticework of weals and cuts, a sheen of blood turning him on even more. The open wounds were rimmed by dark burns that could only have been inflicted by Holy Water.
Twin marks of crucifixes were burned into her shoulders, the burns crusted with thick, black scabs that oozed garnet droplets of blood.
Moving in front of her, he stooped, tilting her face up, despite her moan of pain, bloody tears runnelling down her marred cheeks.
More Holy Water burns ringed her swollen eyes, barely leaving slits enough to allow her the privilege of weeping. A crusty puce cross was cruelly burned into her forehead, weeping crimson.
A tight ring of leather circled her jaw, looping around the top of her golden head, holding her mouth shut, blood bubbling from the corners of her sealed-shut mouth, her whimpers growing weaker.
Loosening the strap, he had to leap back as she found the strength to force a small silver cross out from between her lips, in a gush of blackening, clotting blood, drawing ragged breaths.
“Spike?” Barely a moan, she blinked feebly at him. “Wh…where is…she?”
“Where’s who, pet?” Looping an arm around her waist, he reluctantly undid the manacles, her body slumping against his chest heavily, crimson streaks staining every inch of her marble-white skin.
“My…mistress…”
Carefully laying the blonde girl on the bed, Spike straightened up with a frown of confusion. Mistress? Had her Sire done this? Or had it been someone else? He couldn’t ever recall her accepting that someone had claimed her. “Who, pet?”
“Mistress.” Harmony mumbled painfully around her swollen tongue, all thoughts of clothes and looking good overwhelmed by the need to see her newly-accepted and mysterious mistress. “She…was here…”
Bloody Hell.
“Anyone I know, luv?”
“She wants…you.” The young, blonde vampiress’ final word hung on the air, as her scarlet eyes fluttered shut, her body going limp, in the grip of painful unconsciousness.
“That’s fantastic.” The bleached vampire sat down on the bed beside her, exhaling a low breath, his head buried in his black-nail-polished hands. “Just fan-bloody-tastic.”
~~~~~
I danced through a field of fresh, young daisies. They haven’t withered and died, all their pretty, golden, sun-tainted faces raised to the sky, savouring the night that is all mine.
Each was longing, dreaming, to be picked, their essence singing to me, calling and pleading that I sup their nectar, drink them all up and make them live forever, like me.
Their building sings of the humanity within, the youth, the life, the energy.
The Slayer.
This is her building. Miss Edith whispers up to me that I should wait. Be patient and bide my time.
I always do what my Miss Edith says.
But I need to drink the nectar of the daisies. I must be strong.
~~~~~
Weapon against chest, the figure made a swift gesture with his hand, his companions moving silently ahead of him, following his direction to where the two figures stood.
Crouching behind the notice board, the tallest of the three raised his assessor pack, the image registering that one of the two figures was a normal, average human.
But the other…
“Hostile Sub-T, dead ahead.” He hissed into his tiny radio, making several gestures to his companions, directing them to circle on either side of the couple.
“Dead ahead…ha-ha.” The quieter of his aids muttered, raising the barrel of his stun-weapon and aiming carefully at the slender woman who looked all too frail and delicate to be a vampire.
It takes all sorts, he thought bitterly, clamping his teeth together in complete concentration, but especially pretty ones.
“Ready?”
“Yes sir.” Twin voices rang in the leader’s ears.
“Fire.”
Three glimmering blue bolts of electricity arced out of their weapons, one of the three commandos moving swiftly enough to jerk the civilian out of the vampiress’ clutches, a shriek bursting from her lips as the stun blast surged through her.
Crumpling to the ground, her twitching arms convulsively snagged the ornate porcelain doll that lay beside her, clinging to it desperately, as unconsciousness took her in it’s thrall.
Lowering their weapons, the trio exchanged glances, smiles invisible under their khaki-coloured balaclavas, as they surveyed their latest capture.
“The Professor will be pleased with this one.” The tallest of the group stated confidently.
“What about the doll?” His right-hand man raised an unseen eyebrow. “Do we let the Sub-T keep it? Or give it to the Prof?”
“We’ll see what Walsh decides.” The commander acknowledged, bending to lift the unconscious sub-T easily. “It’s not normal procedure to let hostiles keep their possessions.” Nodding at the pair, he ordered. “Return to base.”
Both nodded. “Yes, sir.”
~~~~~
My head hurts dreadfully. They put something in it to make me behave, so I won’t be able to eat my dinner. Miss Edith is not amused.
They put me in a box. Now, I’m all trapped like a little animal in a zoo, blocked in by shiny white walls and electric glass and nasty smells of medicine and doctors and all things vile.
Miss Edith is aggravated with them. They hurt her sweet Princess and they made her pretty dress get all dirty with dancing blue fire and mud.
There are others here. Lots of animals, all like me, all in shiny, clean boxes, walking and growling and making sad sounds. Their despair rings in my head beautifully, the sorrow chiming like bells.
But they don’t have Miss Edith to take care of them. She will tell me what I must do, she will tell me how to escape my cage and eat my dinner all up.
The nasty people are always watching me. They have a magic eye hidden in my white cage and they watch me and write notes and think I don’t know what they are doing.
So, I sit down in the corner and put Miss Edith in my lap and wait. I won’t act like an animal or wander round just because they want me to. Miss Edith approves of my clever idea and she tells me so.
And later, she tells me, when they want me to eat my dinner, I have to surprise them again. She tells me that my little Spike will come and rescue me from the nasty people.
So I will do what she tells me.
I always do what I’m told.
~~~~~
Dismissing the other troops, Professor Maggie Walsh turned her attention to the young Iowa commando, laying her folder down on her desk, no expression on her stoic features.
“I was impressed by your latest capture. The Sub-T was obviously extremely dangerous.” She finally said, gazing at him. “But I can’t understand why you thought it should be allowed to keep that doll with it.”
Riley ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know.” He replied honestly, glancing up at the screen, where the image of the dark-haired vampiress flickered, her slim body curled passively in a corner of her cell, the aforementioned doll clasped on her lap. “It was scanned and checked, with no sign of a threat in it.”
“This is supposedly a homicidal demon and yet, it carries an antique porcelain doll, like a child would.” Walsh eyed him speculatively. “It wears clothes from over a century ago and it shows no visible aggressive behaviour at all when it wakes in a cell. Any suggestions?”
Finn stared at the screen again. It was true. The girl sat quietly running her hand over the doll’s head, her skirts spread in a pool of crimson silk and black velvet around her, her haunted eyes staring vaguely up at a spot on the wall.
“She looks…blank.” He spoke uneasily. “Like she’s not really there.”
Professor Walsh nodded. “There is a chance she is – mentally – relatively harmless.” She admitted. “But I’m not willing to take that chance. She could make a very interesting case for study, don’t you agree?”
Riley glanced up at the screen, only to find the vampire’s dreamy dark-blue eyes staring penetratingly and directly at him, accusingly, as if she knew he was there, watching, somehow.
With a curt nod, he rose from his seat, not wanting to be in the line of those staring eyes any longer. “Do what you like with her.”
As the young commando jogged away to join the rest of the corps, Professor Walsh let a slow smile curl her lips. “I intend to.” She replied coldly to his receding back. “As always.”
~~~~~
Feeding time at the zoo.
Little bags of food for all their pets are dropping through magic holes that appear in the roof, all falling, waiting to be gobbled up by the nasty creatures in the cages.
But I won’t.
Miss Edith forbids such a thing. The food is tainted, she whispers to me, it will make me get all sleepy and my keepers will take me away and cut me into lots of little pieces to see what’s inside.
I won’t let them do that to me. My Spike loves my insides – eyeballs to entrails, he told me, when I knew he still loved me – and he would be angry if they were all cut into messy pieces.
Miss Edith says I can’t waste such precious food, be it sweet and pure or all tainted and nasty.
She says I should make something of it. Something that will make them look at me and wonder what’s inside.
But they will only look.
I want to make them look, but not touch. Never touch.
So I make a pretty painting on the white walls. It’s like seeing rubies on snow, so pretty and beautiful and I know that it will really make all of my keepers stop and look.
~~~~~
“Finn.” Walsh stalked passed him, gesturing the commander to follow her to the monitor. “Take a look at that and tell me what you see.”
Pushing back the floppy curtains of his hair, the young soldier frowned at the screen. “That’s…” He frowned, pausing to glance up at the Professor, who nodded grimly.
“Our new friend has apparently had some…acquaintance with Hostile 17, who, if you recall,” She narrowed her eyes. “Is our one and only escapee.” She glanced at the screen. “Perhaps she is the key to finding him.”
“She knew the blood was drugged.” Riley stepped back, inhaling a sharp breath as the vampiress glared malevolently up at him, through the tiny lens of the camera she wasn’t meant to know was there.
Professor Walsh raised a sceptical eyebrow. “And what makes you say that, agent Finn?” She enquired snidely.
“Well, she hasn’t eaten for days, but she still didn’t drink it, did she?” Riley countered coolly, briefly wondering if it was wise to reveal his extra knowledge of vampires that came from dating the World expert on the subject.
Walsh nodded in slow acceptance of this explanation. “I guess this could be the case.” She agreed mildly. “Assuming this is this, she could be a liability, but I still want to study her.”
Riley nodded. He knew exactly what Walsh wanted. She wanted to see how far this seemingly-intelligent demon would be pushed, before breaking. Most cracked within days, but this one – he sensed – would last longer than any of them would believe possible.
Continue