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Kallysten
Disclaimer : Of course they belong to someone else, I just play with them sometimes.
Distribution : Sure, just tell me where.
Story notes : AU, set after As We Were and before Hell's Bells.
Warnings : Character Death, Bloodplay, NC-17 in future chapters
Feedback : Anything but flames kallysten_fr@yahoo.com As for most fanfic authors,
feedback motivates me to write faster... (hint, hint)
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Not bothering with knocking, Buffy strode in the crypt. She had never knocked before, she wasn’t about to start now. Not when the occupant of the crypt was stalking her. No respect one way, no respect back.
It took her only a second to find him, sitting on the floor, his back to the wall. His eyes were closed, and she hesitated about waking him. Her anger at finding him below her window the night before had been fueled by a long day stuck at home. Angel had been a little over-possessive, holding her hand or touching her in some way just about all day long, grinning like a schoolboy. Dawn had noticed and understood, acting in response like a spoiled brat, which had annoyed Buffy to no end. Yet now, the irritation was subsiding slowly, and she almost had to remind herself why she was there.
“What do you want Slayer ?”
She jumped in surprise at his quiet words. He had not moved an inch, not looked at her, not given any clue he knew she was there.
“We need to talk,” she said firmly.
“We are talking right now.”
She scowled at him, which did no good as his eyes were still closed.
She had thought about her speech for a large part of the day. How she was going to tell him to stop stalking her or even better leave town, otherwise she would dust him. How she was going to be firm and threatening. How she would just make him see it couldn’t go on like that.
Now, she was forgetting all of it.
She went and sat just in front of him, her arms around her legs, her chin resting on her knees. She observed him for a few seconds. She knew every part of him, having studied him often enough when he wasn’t aware of it, but she would never get tired of detailing the sharp angles of his face.
“What is wrong with you ?” she asked quietly.
His laugh was brief and sounded false. “Who said there’s something wrong with me ?”
“Look at me.”
Surprisingly, he did as she requested. The blue of his eyes was pale, almost gray. What she saw there simply confirmed her idea.
“I say it,” she declared. “If there was nothing wrong with you, you wouldn’t be brooding.”
Gold flakes dancing in the blue-gray.
“I am not brooding !”
“What do you call sitting on the floor in the dark ? What about following people, watching them without saying two words to them ?”
He shook his head slowly. “Not people. You.”
“Why ?”
If she had followed her little prepared speech, she wouldn’t have asked why. She knew. He had said it often enough in the past. And even when she denied to his face the truth of his words, hearing them always sent shivers down her spine. Which was exactly why she hadn’t been planning to give him the opportunity to say them now. The hell with planning…
“You are my Childe.”
It took a couple of seconds to her brain to register that he hadn’t said what she expected.
“Your Childe ?” she repeated.
He nodded. “I have to keep an eye on you. Protect you. Can’t let anything happen to you.”
She felt numb as if he had just slapped her. So, he was just doing what he was supposed to ? In a flash she was on her feet and walking away from him. She faced him again, barely containing her fury.
“That Childe stuff, that’s bullshit ! Angel told me what it’s supposed to be like, and it sure doesn’t feel like that for me. You screwed up somehow. Poor Spike. Can’t drain people, can’t even make a vamp the right way. You are…”
“Kiss me.”
In a slow and sinuous motion, he stood, remaining by the wall, not moving toward her at all. Before she knew it, she was inches from him, and her lips were on his. Not understanding what was happening, she watched from a corner of her brain as she rested one hand on his chest and deepened the kiss, exploring his mouth with her tongue. He just let her do, not reciprocating in any manner.
Finally she was able to pull away. Her hand came up to touch her lips as her eyes widened in surprise at what she had just done.
“Any more doubt that you are my Childe ?” he asked, a pained expression on his face.
She shook her head, not in denial but to clear her thoughts. She had heard his words, and had been compelled to obey. She couldn’t not have done as he had asked. It had been like being on autopilot.
“Don’t do that again,” she asked raggedly.
“Wasn’t planning to do it at all,” he said softly. “I just had to show you.”
“Show me the power you have over me ?” she spat angrily.
“No luv. Show you the power you have over me. Just like you couldn’t help obeying, I can’t help needing… to take care of you.”
His hesitation had been brief, but she knew what he had been about to say. He needed her.
There was an easy solution to his need. He just had to command her to do whatever he pleased, and she would literally be his slave. But he hadn’t done any such thing so far. And she believed him when he said he wasn’t going to.
A thought struck her.
“If it is that bad for you… It must be just as bad for Angel.”
Gold danced in his eyes again at the mention of Angel. He walked around her to the fridge and retrieved a bag of blood. She watched with a combination of disgust and fascination as he poured the blood in a large glass and added to it a copious amount of what seemed to be scotch.
“Angel is not my Sire, pet. Angelus is. Remember the last time our friend Angelus was in town ?”
He drained the glass all at once. She remembered. Angelus had run to Dru. Or
was it to Dru and
Spike ? The idea sent a shiver through her.
“As far as I can figure,” he muttered, as if talking to himself, “the bloody soul makes a kind of barrier. It somewhat mutes the feelings from the Childe/Sire bond. But only for the one who has a soul.”
His sentence finished in a whisper, and without her vampire earring she might not have caught his words.
“If there’s a barrier,” she said with a frown, “why do I feel compelled to obey when you do whatever it was you did ?”
He shrugged, peering into his glass as if surprised to find it empty.
“Don’t know, pet. I guess there are fissures in the wall. Just like you not wanting to dust me.”
She shook her head. “It doesn’t make sense. I don’t want to dust you, but Angel has no problem about it.”
The usual smirk appeared on his lips, but the grin didn’t reach his eyes.
“Again pet, Angel is not Angelus. And even if he was, who said Sires can’t kill their own Childer ? Come to think of it, Angelus would have staked me without a second thought. You take care of them, sure, but if they act up you punish. As hard as you want. Up to death if necessary.”
He came back to her, and his fingers brushed against her cheek.
“Now no worry about me killing you, luv. Been there, done that. Once was more than enough.”
Again, the pain. The same she had read in him the night before at the factory.
“You said you wouldn’t ever regret changing me,” she said slowly, making the words half sound like a question.
“I don’t. Doesn’t mean I’m happy about the killing part.”
Buffy felt like a sudden light had just been turned on in her mind, and she wanted to kick herself for not understanding sooner. That was what was wrong ! He was all gloomy and brooding because he had killed her !
“If I say I’m not angry at you, will it make things better ?”
He tilted his head slightly, looking puzzled. She took his hand, the one that had caressed her cheek, and brought it back to her face.
“I mean it. I’m not angry. I understand. And I accept your gift.”
Slowly, his whole face was lightened by a childish grin. The look in his eyes was hopeful but still a little hesitant, as if he didn’t dare believe her words.
“I do mean it,” she repeated.
If she hadn’t known any better, she would have thought he was on the verge of tears.
“Thank you,” he murmured.
She nodded, and forced words out of her tight throat. “I have to go. Patrol. Slayer stuff.”
Still, she wasn’t moving, oddly unwilling to be the one to break the contact. His hand against her cheek felt nice, the stroking motion was soothing. His thumb ran over her lips, tracing her mouth.
“Drink.”
A quiver ran through her at the invitation. She recognized it was only that. An invitation. Not an order against which she was powerless. And yet, she was just as helpless. She had declined his offer before, and felt miserable about it. She had wanted this from someone else, and had been painfully refused. The demon in her was screaming. The soul wasn’t protesting.
He seemed to know the exact second she decided herself. His head tilted just a little as his fingers glided to the back of her head. He didn’t pull her to him, just accompanied her movement. She realized she had shifted to game face without being conscious of it, and bit down.
As his blood flooded her mouth, everything else disappeared. She felt her knees weaken, and was grateful for the arm that sneaked around her waist, holding her against him, supporting her. She had fed before leaving the house, but this was not about feeding. It was about a Sire and his Childe, sharing the one thing that had brought them together in the first place.
Too soon, she stopped herself. As she gave a gentle lick to her marks, he let go his embrace, freeing her. He kissed her still-bumpy forehead, murmuring three soft words against her skin. And she understood that he loved the demon in her just as much as he loved the woman.
She left the crypt without saying anything, his words still echoing in her mind.
You are beautiful.
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