 |
 Taming
the Beasts: Chapter 5
Disclaimer: I don't own them. Spoilers/Ships: This is AU. Buffy/Spike/Angel. Xander/Anya. Willow/Tara. Distribution: Sure, just let me know. Feedback: Is always nice. DarkRhiannon@aol.com Rating: NC-17. I mean it. Go away if you're too young. * Giles drove frantically through the streets of LA until he reached the address Wesley had hastily given him. He climbed from the aging Citroen and opened the passenger door, pulling reference volumes from the seat. Grasping the tottering tower of books closely to his chest, he made his way to the apartment and kicked at the door to announce his presence. Wesley opened it nearly instantaneously and Giles almost dumped the books onto him as they began to topple. Wesley grabbed the top five or so before they could fall. "Giles, excellent, do come in. The situation…it's…I…." "For God's sake man, spit it out," Giles ordered, his annoyance proportionate to the amount of worry that had been building in him since Wesley rang him up. "Where is she? Is she hurt? Is she rational? Have you found anything that might help?" his voice trailed off as he took in the sounds emanating from the kitchen. He dropped the priceless books without another thought and started in the direction of the animalistic grunts, slurps, and groans. "Before you see her," Wes began, "you should prepare yourself…attempt to prepare yourself…." Giles glared at him. "It's just that she…she's…bloody hell, just go see for yourself," Wesley finished. Giles walked to the doorway of the kitchen and gazed in. The sounds were absolutely clear now, as was the sight. Buffy crouched near the sink. Giles gasped at the sight of her—unprepared despite Wesley's dithering warnings. She was drenched in blood. Her face, spotted with it, was currently being licked clean by Spike. Angel sucked on her fingers. All three were emitting growling purrs and moans the like of which Giles had never before encountered. Buffy was clad, if one could even refer to it thus, in what appeared to be a shirt, perhaps one of Wesley's? It didn't look large enough to belong to Angel, but was larger than Spike's wont. Regardless of ownership, Giles could not forsee anyone wearing it again, as it was liberally soaked with blood and gore and both sleeves appeared to have been ripped off entirely along with half of the buttons. The males, stripped to their waists, were also sporting blood spatters, and Giles was, at first, concerned for them until Buffy upended a large ceramic bowl into her mouth and he recognized the source of the blood. They were feeding. Buffy was feeding on blood. Had they, perish the thought, sired her? Wesley's earlier assurances meant nothing. Giles started forward in horror but stopped abruptly as the Slayer's gaze met his own. There was, at first, no recognition in her eyes, which glowed a feral green at him in the barely lit gloom of the kitchen. Blood ran from her parted lips down her chin to drip onto the skin of her slender throat and Giles hissed at the glimpse of tiny pointed fangs in her delicate mouth as she licked at the escaping drops. Eyebrows raising, Buffy dropped the bowl to the floor with a clatter and bounded towards him. Giles backpedaled frantically, searching the room for anything at all he might use as a weapon, and, finding nothing, held up his hands before him in a futile gesture. He was borne to the floor by the powerful though diminutive mass of the Slayer and thought, "this is it, Ripper, prepare to die.* The Slayer lowered her carmine mouth to his neck and he braced himself for the pain of her bite. And then she licked him, sniffling at his throat and wiggling enthusiastically in his arms. She was, he realized slowly, warm. Hot even. In point of fact, heat radiated from her tiny form—heat so marked that he was surprised it wasn't visible as some sort of aura. As Buffy wriggled merrily in his arms, Giles realized that far from attacking him, she appeared to be…welcoming him, albeit as a puppy might. He gave up the fight and hugged her hot, *living!* body to his own, reveling in her enthusiastic, if atypical, embrace. "Yes, dear girl, I'm happy to see you, too, chuffed, really, but could you stop licking me, please, Buffy?" he begged, as her happy attentions threatened to flatten him completely. He glanced up at the vampires, hoping that they might exert some control over Buffy. His mouth dropped open at the sight of them. Angel was lapping languidly at Spike's porcelain chest, large hands holding the blond vampire still as he did so. Spike panted unnecessarily, his eyes shifting back and forth between demonic amber and crystal blue with each exhalation. He moaned wantonly, then stilled under Giles's gaze, going silent and wary at the Watcher's sudden scrutiny. Angel finished his sloppy ministrations and turned his head searchingly at Spike's stillness. Giles had never seen the big vampire look so feral. He was reminded abruptly of the demon's utter lack of humanity and its menace. Angelus had been urbane evil incarnate, but this aspect of Angel was actually more disturbing to the Watcher. Angelus, he understood and hated. Angel's feral gaze, though, was utterly foreign—alien. The vampire growled low in his throat at the sight of his Mate cuddling into the Watcher with such overwhelming joy. At the sound, Buffy's head came up and she withdrew a bit, enough for Giles to push himself into a sitting position from his recumbent one. "Angel?" he asked, wondering if he was yet to be attacked, if not by the one he'd initially thought might do so. "Giles," the vampire growled after a long beat, visibly attempting to control himself. "You're here." "I am," replied the Watcher. "Are you…" *sane, evil, going to attack me?* "…quite well?" "You need to help her, Giles. Help us. She's…it's affecting us. The spell. The Beast. It…she calls to us. It's getting harder and harder to resist. To think." The vampire looked down, suddenly realizing that he was petting Spike's now-clean chest with long, possessive strokes. He would, Giles thought, have blushed were that possible for vampires. Angel had always been an incredibly private individual, guarding his thoughts and feelings with care. To suddenly have them, have himself, exposed to the Watcher's inquisitive gaze clearly rattled the vampire. He stopped stroking the lithe vampire and pulled his hands away, provoking an indignant, "Whut?" from the blond. "Wesley!?" Giles called peremptorily. "Get in here with those books. Now!" * After perusing the books and the scroll of Aberjian for most of the evening, the two Watchers determined that they would need to return to the site of the initial spell in order to attempt its reversal. It had been highly distracting and downright disconcerting to observe the Slayer in her bestial state. Giles was particularly concerned about the dainty fangs that his charge now sported. "Angel," he said, "are you certain that Buffy's fangs are unrelated to the bond she now shares with you and Spike?" The dark vampire gazed at him broodily from the now-reassembled couch. They had resorted to tranquilizing Buffy with a mild sedative in order for the two vampires to function. Angel was not happy about it. "She was showing some signs of…leakage before I left Sunnydale this last time," he admitted. "She seems to have picked up a mild capacity for mesmerizing, and we, Spike and I, have seen her eyes… change." "Willow mentioned something about a spell to summon the power of the First Slayer," Giles said with concern. "Do you know anything about that?" "Only that they, Willow and her bird, thought that it might help the Slayer fight," Spike chimed in. The blond was seated at Angel's feet, his back in contact with the dark vampire's leg while Angel occasionally stroked his hair. The touch seemed to sooth them both, and Giles was loath to draw attention to it. "I have a thought as to why you have not reverted to Angelus despite being…with…Buffy," Wesley offered tentatively. Angel stared at him for a long moment. "What is it?" he asked warily. "I believe that the curse mentioned "perfect happiness" as the trigger, correct?" confirmed Wesley. "Yes," growled Angel. "Well, despite your physical enjoyment of the Slayer's, um, charms," the younger Watcher stuttered for a moment, "I believe that without Buffy's personality present, or with it suppressed by the spell, that you cannot be truly happy. You love her, not just her body. You love her mind, her soul, her entirety. The spell has taken part of that from you, preventing true happiness and thus Angelus remains locked away." Spike looked up at Angel, then dared to say what the other vampire could not even bear to think. "So, if we left her like this, no Angelus again, ever?" Angel jumped to his feet and snarled in response, "Will, do you think that little of me? That I'd let her live like this…maimed…forever, just so I can fuck her whenever I please? Just so I can get off?" His tortured eyes raked the younger vampire for a moment, then Angel turned away from them all, hunching his shoulders and staring out the window. Spike jumped up and strode to his Sire's side. "No, Angel, I didn't mean, I wouldn't do, bloody hell, look at me you great poof!" He grabbed at the larger man's chin, forcing Angel to meet his eyes. "I know how much you love her. Hell, I love her too. I know you wouldn't harm her. Not ever, Angel. What's more, the Watchers know it, too." Angel gazed down at him, mouth trembling and tears filling his dark eyes. "I, I just need her, Will. Like I need blood. Like I used to need air. She's everything to me, Childe. You and she, you're all that keeps me sane." Spike drew Angel into his arms. "I know, Sire. I know. We'll find a way. I swear by the Blood of Aurelius." Tears spilled from Angel's eyes and he collapsed, sobbing, into Spike's fierce embrace. The Watchers, momentarily transfixed by the violent emotions of the vampires, abruptly withdrew from the room to allow them some privacy. * Giles hoped that the physical changes Buffy was apparently undergoing could be reversed by the removal of the spell that imposed the Beast upon her, but he feared that if she continued in that state for much longer, that they might become permanent. She remained affectionate and animalistic. She had eaten huge quantities of nearly raw beef--drinking the accompanying blood with what certainly appeared to be great relish before the drugs they'd mixed into the blood took effect and sent her into sleep. He'd shuddered at the sight, glad that he'd had only strong black tea that evening, for anything more would have left his stomach as his gorge rose. Angel and Spike had attempted to change Buffy into more appropriate clothing before she slept, but the Slayer was unimpressed with their efforts. She had seemed, Giles thought, to prefer nakedness to anything. Finally they took the easy road and waited till she slept before changing her into a clean shirt with the sleeves ripped from it. She was amazingly beautiful when she slept, even given her general state of disarray, he thought, carefully smoothing one unruly curl from her face in a paternal gesture. Her hair had grown at least 5 inches in the short time since he'd seen her, and he'd already ascertained that her nails were equally grown, though they appeared to have been broken off against something. He pulled her upper lip back from her canines and confirmed that they were amazingly sharp. He winced at the puncture he'd given himself, mentally kicking himself for testing the razor sharp teeth that way. *Dunce.* Spike chose that precise moment to glide silently up behind him. "Want me to kiss it and make it better, Watcher?" he asked sardonically, tilting his head and quirking one brow at Giles. Giles jumped at his presence and stuck the wounded finger into his own mouth. Spike looked just a bit too eager for his offer to be entirely facetious. "Thank you, no, Spike," he muttered irritably before turning away to check the scroll again. At last Wesley had all the spell ingredients ready and Giles rolled the scroll carefully and tucked into his jacket pocket. The Watchers proceeded to Spike's DeSoto, the Citroen being entirely too small to accommodate the entire group. Spike drove while Angel, with Buffy asleep in his arms, rode with Giles in the back seat with Buffy. The underground area where Wolfram and Hart had performed the spell was deserted, and Giles breathed a sigh of relief at the sight. They moved from the car cautiously and entered the cavernous space. A scorched circle still marred the floor of the room, mute testimony to the sheer quantity of power that had been forced into the Slayer's slight frame. Giles was completely unsure that removing the spell would be harmless, but honestly had no better alternative given the Slayer's rapidly diminishing humanity. Angel laid Buffy gently in the center of the circle, stroking her hair softly and pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. Spike did the same, reluctantly stepping away from her and moving to one of the four cardinal points outside of the circle. Wesley censed the area carefully with a delicately fragrant mixture of cleansing herbs, then left the censor smoking next to him as he opened the book. He brought out the now clean ceramic bowl and held it under Giles's arm. Giles flicked open his butterfly knife and slit his forearm, dripping his own blood into the bowl. Both vampires morphed to game face at the smell. Giles handed the knife to Wesley and bound the wound with a cloth Wesley handed him, then took the bowl. The younger Watcher used the knife to slice his own arm, carefully adding his own blood to the mix. He took a cloth from Giles, bound his own wound and carried the bowl carefully into the circle, sprinkling a bit at each of the five points of the pentagram within the circle before placing the bowl in the center near the sleeping Slayer. Giles pulled out the scroll and began reciting: "We have prepared a holy place in the darkness and anointed it with herbs. We have taken of the blood of the living and gathered together the living dead." "As it was written they shall prepare the way and the very gate of hell shall open. That which is above shall tremble (the earth trembled) for that which is below shall arise. The world has known the beast--and the beast has known the world." Giles walked slowly from each point of the pentacle to the next, chanting the ritual as the three responded. "Two are without breath." "Yet they live." Giles: "Two are without time." "Yet they live." Giles hoped that changing the numbers wasn't going to completely skew the outcome, but they couldn't afford to actually sacrifice vampires… they had no way to know if that might endanger the ones they needed. "One is without soul." "Yet he lives." Giles: "Two are without sun." "Yet they live." Giles: "Two are dead." "Yet they live." Giles continued in Latin. "Blood for the sacrifice... and the one who is beast shall be made whole....Even as woman and beast are not one thing but two... in darkness is the light, in light is the darkness. Separate! Separate! Separate!" The earth shook and a whirlwind began to spin around the Slayer. The whirlwind pulled her prone body upright at its center. An incandescent light began to surface from within the Slayer's body at the center of the whirlwind and she screamed in anguish as she was violently wrenched awake and aware. Her screams continued and the four men took involuntary steps toward her, wanting above all else to silence the pain and terror that echoed from each terrible scream. A ring of light exploded outward, arrowing from Buffy into the bounds of the circle and scorching it anew in a huge blast as the wards held. The Slayer was thrown, screaming, to the center of the pentagram and slammed into the floor by the uncontrollable powers evoked within the circle. She lay unmoving in a broken heap on the floor as the men stared in horror at her bleeding body. |
