- Fic From These Seeds (Chapter 1)
- Fic From These Seeds (Chapter 2)
- fic From These Seeds (Chapter 3)
- fic From These Seeds (Chapter 4)
- fic From These Seeds (Chapter 5)
- fic From These Seeds (Chapter 6)
- fic From These Seeds (Chapter 7)
- fic From These Seeds (Chapter 8)
- fic From These Seeds (Chapter 9)
- fic From These Seeds (Chapter 10)
- fic From These Seeds (Epilogue)
Title: From These Seeds (Chapter 2)
Rating: R to NC-17 mostly for violence, some non-con and allusions to rape, very, very dark in places.
Summary: Angelus decides to take Buffy back to the mansion to begin his revenge upon the Slayer who made him feel human. Captive Buffy gets a close-up introduction to this dysfunctional vampiric “family” that gives her new insight into Angel(us) as well as Spike.
Will Spike be able to sit back and watch this Slayer he grudgingly respects be destroyed by the same vampire who created the tragic mess that is Dru?
Can two enemies, now vulnerable to the greater evil of Angelus, become allies and maybe something more?
Setting: S2 goes AU toward the end of “Innocence”.
Disclaimers: Joss Whedon, ME, WB, Fox are the sole owners of all aspects of “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” and “Angel”. Thanks to Joss; he allows us to play in his sandbox. I derive no compensation for these flights of fancy. The story concept is my “creation”, as is all dialogue not in the original story scripts. Some dialogue from episodes, (specifically Innocence, Passion, Becoming parts 1 and 2) at times altered for my purposes.
“Fáilte; déan tú féin sa bhaile.” Neither Dru nor Spike actually spoke Irish, but this phrase had been one used by Angelus many times during their travels. As vampires, they never had a home for any long period of time, so each nest came with a new welcome and offer to make themselves at home. It may have been a long time since a soul-free Angel touched on his pre-vampiric roots, but the old traditions remained.
Spike wheeled his chair into the modernistic mansion, noting that the sparse decorations seemed to fit the personality of his grandsire. A phrase from the Bible, learned a century ago, flitted through his mind: “Whitewashed tomb filled with dead things.” He laughed a bit to himself at the aptness of the description.
“Already filling the larder then, Peaches?” Spike had instantly sensed a human heartbeat in the home. Since they didn’t need an invitation to enter, it was not likely that the heartbeat belonged to the owner of record. “Plannin’ to share?”
Spike didn’t want his grandsire to know just how very hungry he really was. Angelus was more likely to withhold food knowing the younger vamp was near starvation than he would be to offer a feeding. Spike determined that he wouldn’t allow Angelus a clue about how much he wanted to tear into a warm neck and drink down the nectar hidden beneath.
“Not food. At least not yet, boy. More like a houseguest.” Angelus was almost bouncing with glee, acting like a child anticipating a visit from Father Christmas. “All in good time.”
Dru began to spin about, her arms out at her sides. She was humming an unfamiliar tune, head tilted back, a look of rapture on her lovely face. Her manic dance finished, she fell into Spike’s lap and began to giggle. “Daddy’s brought the sunshine in, but the sun doesn’t like it indoors.” Her face took on a slight pout. “The rain has dimmed ‘er brightness. My Spike mustn’t touch or ‘e’ll burn. Sunshine isn’t good for my lovely, dark puppy, not good for my Angel either.”
“Dru, love, nice as you feel here in my lap where you belong, the minions need to get past us with all our stuff.” Spike tried to dislodge Dru, who had begun to cling to him and croon the old melody again.
“Dru, much as I hate to say it, Spike’s right. I’d much appreciate it if you’d leave off with the old folk ditties too. Let’s get moved in and I’ll introduce you to our reluctant guest.” Angelus began to order the minions about, telling them where to stow various items brought from the factory.
“The captains name was Ned, and he died for a maid…” Dru sang continuing her sad tune in spite of Angelus’ request.. “But your name isn’t Ned, my Spike. You shouldn’t have to.” She began to scowl. “She’s no maid either. Our Angelus took care of that bit. Took our Daddy out of chains, it did, but put ‘er in them.
Dru turned to Angelus and whined, “Can’t we eat ‘er now before she works ‘er wiles on my family? Destroy us all, she will. Break my poet like Daddy never could.”
Spike felt himself shiver as if someone had walked over his grave. Of course, that was completely possible, even though the area where Dru had buried him over a century ago was likely paved over by now. Whomever this ‘walking sunshine’ was that Dru was blathering on about, she seemed to be bad news for the Big Bad.
Angelus was too busy ordering the minions about to take much note of what his offspring was saying. He never did understand Dru’s visions as she spoke them. Spike had been a welcome addition to their family, if only for his ability to piece together what Dru was going on about when overcome with psychic revelations put through the blender of her madness. Truthfully, Spike’s abilities in dealing with the damaged Dru had been the one thing that kept Angelus from dusting the cocky younger vampire long since.
Spike wheeled his dark princess further into the room and kissed her on the forehead as he urged her to get up. “See, love, no sunshine here to worry your pretty head over. Nice and gloomy, just like your daddy ordered.” Dru shook her head sadly but said nothing as Spike continued. “Why don’t you take Miss Edith and go pick out a nice room for us, yeah?”
Spike had little hope that Dru would actually be sharing a room with him now that Angelus was back. Her heart had always belonged to the vampire that had driven her insane and locked her affections in his iron cuffs of pain and desire. No, Spike had learned that lesson long before. Dru was his only when and if Angelus tired of her, or if he chose to fight the older vampire. And Spike was not in any condition to fight the sod at this point.
Since it wasn’t likely that Dru would be gracing his bed any time soon, Spike began a short tour of the rooms on the ground floor for his own bedchamber. He found a suite with a small sitting room of its own that had once been meant for live-in help. It would suit his needs perfectly to be on a floor that would not require him to ask for assistance climbing stairs. He felt humiliated enough as it was without having to ask to be carried to bed like some languishing maiden.
After laying claim to the room in question, Spike began to explore his new home a bit. The loud thrumming of a human heartbeat called to him like a beacon and he followed his senses to the source.
He brought the chair to an abrupt halt at the unlikely sight that greeted him as he turned the corner into the large pantry area. The Slayer, the same slight girl who had dropped an organ on him and put him in the damned chair! The same girl Angelus’ souled counterpart claimed to love passionately was manacled and chained to the wall in a room filled with more ordinary foodstuffs. She was unconscious, but aside from the dried blood on the back of her head, appeared unharmed.
If Spike knew his grandsire, and he did quite well, that situation would be changing for the poor bint soon enough. Spike wondered a bit at the pang of sympathy that ran through him at the realization that Buffy Summers was about to become the latest canvas of the artist who worked his art in blood and pain and terror. The artist who appeared to be as mad as Dru this time and therefore possessing even less restraint than he had shown a century before. ‘God have mercy on you, Slayer,’ he thought with a shiver.
As Spike looked at the pathetic girl in chains, he didn’t hear the approach of the artist in question until Angelus was nearly behind him.
“Well, seems you had to go and ruin my surprise. Always impatient, Willie.” His voice was full of scorn and contempt.
“What do you think of my girl here? Pretty little piece, isn’t she?” Angelus was gloating over having won the Slayer’s heart as well as a new position that would allow him to eat that very heart if he so chose. “Practically threw herself at me, she did. Not much talent, but then she was a virgin. I think she’ll be trainable in time though. She’s a bit like Dru was at first, bit too holier-than-thou and innocent. When I’m through with her, she’ll be my masterpiece.”
Dru had entered behind her sire and was frowning deeply at the chained girl and the two powerful male vampires gazing upon her. With a furrowed brow, she repeated her earlier warning, “Destroy us all, she will.”
Angelus turned to Dru and laughed lightly. “Not likely, my little oracle. Got your wires crossed, obviously,” he said with a wink at Spike. “I have all the power here. The silly bitch loves me. That’ll last long enough for me to destroy all she ever was or hoped to be. By the time she learns she should hate me, it’ll be too late. Maybe I’ll even let you play with her a bit, Dru. Would you like that? Nice Slayer to bite and scratch and torture a bit?” Dru didn’t respond to the offer. “Not right away though. I’ve too many plans for this girl right now and I don’t feel much like sharing. Now how about the Damaged and the Daft clearing out of here while I wake up my girl for her first lesson.”
Spike glared at Angelus, not sure what offended him more: the demeaning titles just given to Dru and himself or the idea that the best Slayer he had ever come up against was going to be destroyed in this way. ‘Slayer that good should go out in a fair fight. That was my plan anyway,’ he thought.
Somehow the idea of this particular Slayer meeting the fate Angelus had planned sickened Spike and he wasn’t sure it was just because he had planned to make her his third kill.
Originally posted at http://seasonal-spuffy.livejournal.com/43457.html