"I can't." Buffy sniffled against his shoulder. Leaning her head against the firm muscles and gathering strength from his presence.
"Can't what love?"
"See them...I don't think. I can't face them...not right now," she whispered against the comforting black leather. She clutched at him, trying to anchor herself in the maelstrom of emotions that buffeted her from all sides. Her family was gone and he was the only constant she wanted in her life now.
"But they're your mates Slayer," Spike ran a nervous hand over her tousled hair, smoothing it. He tried to edge towards the double doors. He glanced over to the small windows, hoping that one of the gits that plagued his unlife were peering through and could come and help him.
As much as he was delighting in holding the object of his affection, part of him worried that she needed more than he could offer. He was used to insane and unable to care for herself in his long gone sire, but this was Buffy. She had just lost her mother and now her sister he was at a complete loss, he was a nurturer by nature -- but her overwhelming grief was too much. Usually he was the cause of the grief not someone who tried to cure it. But for Buffy he would do anything, overcome his demon's natural instincts - change his entire nature if he could.
"Take me away from here please, I need some time before I can face them," Buffy plead. The thought of the Scoobies sympathetic faces and fumbled attempts to comfort her was too much for her to cope with and the moment. She needed some quiet time to lick her wounds and heal. Staring up at Spike Buffy silently begged that he would understand and take her away.
Spike looked down into her red rimmed hazel eyes and her flushed tear stained cheeks and his heart clenched in sympathy. He nodded quietly and pulled her to her feet. Silently he offered his arm to the grieving girl and the two of them walked slowly down the corridor. So caught up in their grief neither of them noticed or sensed the vampire watching them through black shot emerald green eyes.
"You think we should go and see where they are?" Xander glanced over at the doors that Buffy had disappeared down. The snacks he and Anya had collected earlier were all consumed and he was starting to wonder what to do.
Willow and Tara exchanged a look and then the slender redhead stood. "I'll go." Tara's words of warning still ringing in her ears the redhead took a breath and slipped away.
Anya cocked her head, her usual ebullience gone with the spectre of death that hung over the small group. She was confused scared and feeling very much alone. Death she understood, something she had offered to her victims for a thousand years, but the grief that her humanity now cursed her with was something the ex-Vengeance demoness had no concept of. Her fumbled attempts to understand and talk about them had been greeted with the usual Xander silence. Her boyfriend as usual, seemed almost embarrassed when she tried to explain her confusion and made no effort to explain or help her understand.
The beginnings of antipathy were budding in her heart and it made her itch, she was alone in this world. Abandoned by all that was familiar to her, Arashmahir was a distant memory and her fellow demons now so far from her
that she wanted to scream and rail against her sudden orphaning.
Her new family treated her like an unexploded bomb; waiting to see what disaster her mouth would spout. Only Tara, Giles and Mrs Summers had treated her normally and for that they would hold a special place in her heart. And now one of them was gone and she left behind her two daughters who Anya vowed to help in the memory of all of Joyce's kindness and compassion. Even if they didn't want it or understand why she offered it.
Anya glanced at the swinging door that the Willow had gone through and sighed, that was one person she could live happily without in her life. Willow hated her with a fire of a thousand suns, Anya was no fool and the jealousy that the redheaded Wiccan tried to suppress was something the sharp witted ex demon had picked up on. She also knew that whomever Xander took to his bed would be treated with the same cruelty and unkindness that Willow treated her with. It was disturbing that a fully-fledged lesbian still wanted her oldest friend. Anya wrung her hands nervously and felt even worse for her unkind thoughts, now was not the time to think about Willow.
But little did she know.
The first one had tasted of innocence, her blood full of an untold power and her fear and added a taste to it that he had savoured. His only regret was that he had not been about to sample the delights hidden between her virginal thighs, but there had been too many distractions.
The blond vampire would die slowly and painfully and as for the other one who had tried to protect her sister. He had plans for her that were making his stolen blood sing in anticipation.
This one tasted so sweet and the power simmering in her untapped depths was something he wanted for his own. But unlike the teen, her blood didn't infuse him with her magicks. So instead he decided to keep her bound to him for all eternity. Biting down hard the newly risen Fledge instinctively began to drain the struggling redhead to the point of death.
His hands deftly stripped her off her clothes and he threw her to the floor. His actions causing his fangs to be torn from her pale throat, and the wound left behind bled copiously. Anointing her pale freckled skin with scarlet ribbons that would become a familiar sight and experience for her.
He stared down admiringly at the weakly struggling slim form pinned beneath him.
Her small breasts shook as she tried to wriggle free; the pale coral nubs that were tightening with her fear and the cold of the morgue made his mouth water in anticipation. He wanted to feast on all her charms for hours, make her scream and bleed until he remade her into a minion that would cower at his feet and do his bidding.
His oddly coloured eyes scanned the rest of her body appreciatively; the sparse red curls on her mound were carefully groomed and framed the juncture of her thighs perfectly. Her soft belly shook with each sobbing breath she took, he reached down and clawed at the white freckled skin. He watched mesmerised at the trails of blood that seeped from the fresh cuts. Leaning down he licked up the precious liquid and then gripping her inner thighs he forced her legs apart. Revealing her soft cleft to his greedy gaze. Sniffing the air around her he laughed this one was covered in the scent of another woman; he was going to enjoy this.
Willow's mouth opened as she tried to scream, but a cold strong hand clamped around her throat and squeezed it tightly, cutting off her air supply. Her captor hovered over her his hard cock seeping precum, her gaze never leaving it, she shook in horror, Willow realised that there was nothing she could do. All her magic spells had abandoned her the moment he had stripped her and thrown her to the cold floor. In its place was a terrified girl lay there defenceless—a sacrificial lamb on the altar of the demon holding her madness.
Her fingers weakly clutched at her attacker and as black spots began to dance in front of her eyes she weakened. Her hands dropped limply to her sides and her muscles started to slack. The green - eyed vampire used his free hand to part her quivering thighs more so he could slide between them and he laid over her, his cock pressing against her.
Willow whimpered and tried to push her hands between her thighs and cover herself in a futile attempt to prevent him raping her. But before she could muster a tenuous defence of her virtue her captor bashed her head hard against to floor. Pain shot down her spine and her tenuous hold on consciousness began to falter.
Dimly she felt his hand move from her throat and down between her legs, his thick fingers pushing into her tight channel using her own blood to lubricate her. Willow sobbed a thin weak hand clutched pathetically at his wrist trying to remove his hand from her.
“Now honey just relax and let me make it sooo good for you,” her soon to be rapist and murderer crooned as he rubbed his seeping erection against her. His hips rocking back and forth, in a motion Willow remembered from happier times with Oz.
“No…no…no…please don’t do this too me…” she wept, mucus pouring from her mouth and into her pleading mouth. Choking her as she begged pathetically for clemency. All she received in answer was a callous laugh and a tearing sensation in her breast as he bent down and sank him fangs into the juddering flesh, almost tearing her nipple off as he shook his head from side to side.
Her last memories of life were the sting of his fangs entering her defenceless throat and the agony of his cock tearing into her channel. Two solitary tears escaped her screwed shuteyes as Willow's chapped pale lips moved only once before she passed out never to wake again as a mortal.
"Tara...baby, please save me."
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