Buffy The Vampire Slayer Fan Fiction ❯ Her New Family ❯ Birth of the Dark Flame ( Chapter 8 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

A year in France sees Dru's prophecy concerning Willow to come true...and back in Sunnydale the Scoobies hear an exaggerated version of what really happened.

Non Anime: Buffy The Vampire Slayer Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Supernatural / Romance / Occult / Hentai / Action | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 11.06.2007 | Pages: 8 | Words: 10.3K | Visits: 422 | Status: Completed

Disclaimer: It's painful but true. I don't own Angelus or Spike (sniffles). Oh, ya. Don't own the rest of Buffy The Vampire Slayer either (As If I Care About The Rest).

A/N: Just so no one is confused as to why Oz is different in my fic.

1.. Oz in the series is compelled by his human side, while Oz in my fic is more wolfish, enjoying his being a werewolf and all the added bonuses (super strength, extra speed, great sense of smell etc…).

2.. The reason MY Oz dislikes Buffy so much was that twice now when he'd changed into a werewolf he and Buffy had had an encounter and both times he was wounded and barely got away with his life. So he resents the fact that she was stronger than him (and she's a mortal), and every demon hates the Slayer because of the threat she is for them and their lifestyle.

Dodging the blow to her right, Willow twirled and there was a gleam of silver in the moonlight before the vampire's head tumbled off of his head, rolling on the ground. It hadn't stopped rolling, nor had its body managed to fall, before she finished the twirl, this time driving the stake in her left hand into its heart. Both its head and body exploded into dust.

Looking up, she spotted her friends, fighting the vampires attacking them.

Dru might have been incoherent at times, but in battle she was deadly, and her demon bloodthirsty. She fought the two vampires around her, easily killing both, before turning on another.

Spike seemed more amused with the vamps attacking him in hordes than worried. His movements were graceful and precise, and deadly accurate. His hands and mouth were bloody with the blood of those whom he'd killed. He'd torn out their throats before breaking their necks and pulling their heads from their bodies. Willow sure that there was a less cruel and violent way to do it, but Spike seemed to be enjoying him too much to even consider the alternative.

And they were being attacked, so Willow really wasn't going to defend their enemies.

A howl nearby told here Oz was located. In the year in which they'd been living in France Oz had not only found a community of werewolves, but he'd had to gain their reluctant acceptance and learn their ways. His dedication had paid off, for he was learning to cultivate his werewolf strengths while still in human form.

Stakes in hand, he fought with the silent yet deadly accuracy that had the elders of the small werewolf pack resentful yet respectful. He dusted the on-coming vampires with such agility and speed that Willow was glad that he was on their side. Oz as an enemy would be something to fear.

Returning to her own fight, Willow tightened her hold on her sai and stake, battling the vampires charging her on every side, once again silently thanking Spike for stubbornly insisting the day after they'd arrived at the chateau that she needed to be trained to fight…and fight dirty if need be.

Slicing heads off with the sai in her right hand, and staking hearts with the stake in her left, Willow felt the same odd feeling in the pit of her stomach that appeared when she fought or trained. It grew with intensity as the fighting continued in blurry speed.

When she'd said that she wanted an exciting adventure in the town's famous Rose Gardens, she hadn't meant this, but Willow was the one who'd insisted on her friends coming with her to see the famed gardens, so she tried not to complain about the blows the vamps landed.

Why were demons suddenly out to get her? What had she done to piss off someone up there, or maybe she'd pissed off someone down there? She wasn't sure. But these last months they'd suffered numerous attacks from various demons and vampires. And they all seemed out to get her in particular.

Hearing Dru cry out, Willow quickly staked another vampire and looked up. The dark haired vampires was on her knees, two vampires holding her down, another larger one sneering at her, barring his teeth, ready to tear her throat out.

“Dru!” Spike's cry of fear showed that not only did he see what was happening—but couldn't reach her due to the numerous vampires surrounding him. “Oz!” He called.

But the werewolf was just as surrounded as him.

Seeing the vampire slash Dru's beautiful face with his claws caused something in Willow to snap. The feeling in her stomach exploded, and her eyes, which had been golden in rage, bled black.

“Don't you touch her!” Her voice was like the roar of many oceans as she screamed, dropping both of her weapons, the waves of the fury in her voice causing the vampires around her to whimper and draw back with uncertainty.

Waves of dark power were unleashed as rage took over. The moon eclipsed, causing the darkness to grow, and the roses, beautifully red only moments before, began to wither to deathly black.

Screaming as the power exploded throughout her body, Willow fell to her knees, black flames leaping from within her, licking at her pale skin, growing in intensity as the power grew, boiling her blood, burning her skin, howling in her ears, readying for one last explosion, for the final seal keeping it in place to break loose.

The vampires were backing away slowly, watching her with morbid fascination. They sensed the power within this one, and it both terrified and attracted them.

Finally her last seal broke, and the power it'd been restraining broke loose with an eruption of force. The black flames licking her skin exploded around her like a dark wave, shaking the earth with its intensity, the rose bushes exploding from the intense heat.

The vampires screamed as the black flames incinerated them. Some became dust instantly, while others burnt slowly, crying to all unholy for the pain to end.

And in seconds it was over. The wave of dark fury and flames rushed back into their vessel, and Willow took in a sudden breath of air, sagging to the ground in exhaustion.

Spike, Drusilla, and Oz looked at each other in amazement. When they'd seen the vicious blanket of flames racing towards them they'd closed their eyes, sure that their time was near, but the flames had parted around them, only surrounding them in their suffocating darkness, yet not even the hem of their clothes were signed.

“Mummy?” Dru, the first to react, hurried towards the limp figure on the ground. Throwing herself down by the redheaded woman, she turned her over, so that she was lying face first.

Spike and Oz quickly reacted and hurried towards the women.

Black, withered petals descended from the heavens from the exploding rose bushes.

Dru cradled Willow's head on her lap. “Mummy? Mummy!”

The distress in Dru's voice broke through the darkness, and Willow forced her tired eyes open. “Wh—Dr—Dru, you're face. Are you okay?” A weak hand lifted to touch the bloody cheek, and to the amazement of the others, the wound healed at her touch.

“Bloody hell.” Spike whispered, running shaky hands through his hair.

“Dude.” An awed expression covered Oz's face as he smiled.

Pulling her hand back quickly, Willow slowly got up on her shaky feet, and blinked in surprise to see that five vampires hadn't died from the attack. They were watching her in horror, eyes wide. She frowned at them, her family standing behind her like an army of death, the darkness of her eyes and the black petals falling around them omens of hell and fury.

“Tell every vampire and demon you know of what just happened tonight.” She told them, her voice once more her own. “Tell them they'll meet the same end if they dare bother us.”

The vampires nodded, and four of them ran off into the night, terrified.

But one stayed. He looked into her dark eyes and then lowered his gaze rapidly, bowing his head before falling upon his knees. “Please Mistress, let me stay.”

Willow blinked in surprise. “What?”

He bowed his head lower if possible. “Please, let me stay and serve you.”

“S-serve me?” Willow turned to look at her family, as if silently asking them if they'd heard the same as she had. Seeing the surprise on their faces, she realized that they had, so she turned to face the vampire once more. “Why would you want to serve me? You just tried to kill my family and myself.”

“We were following the wishes of leader of our pack. He wanted to challenge the new Master he sensed lived in the area, and the one with the odd aura.” The vampire spoke truthfully, yet his voice tinged with fear. “Please, I ask not for forgiveness, but allow me to pay penance by serving you.”

He raised his gaze this time, watching in awe as the sky rained black petals around her, darkness and power radiating from her, giving her a dark sort of glow. “I beg of you, Mistress of the Night, let me serve you.”

A year ago Willow might have been surprised that he wanted to serve her, a mere woman, when there was a Master Vampire in their midst, but this year had surprised her with much. Like Spike's loyalty and meekness (although he'd rather die then admit he was meek) concerning her. She was his Grandsire's Mate, his Sire's Mother, and thus she was the head of the family, the Matriarch—a role she'd found hard to fill, but he'd assured her that she was doing a good job of it so far.

The redhead paused, and turned to look at Dru when the vampiress grabbed her hand lovingly. “Dru, this vampire's clan hurt you. Do you think I should just kill him for that or should I let him join us as my servant?”

The kneeling vampire lowered his head in resignation, knowing that the dark vampiress would want his slow death.

Dru was silent for a moment, looking up at the sky, listening intently before nodding and turning to Willow. “The stars were arguing again, but mostly they were dancing and celebrating your liberation. So they weren't much help.” She informed quite seriously. “But the moon said that you should keep this vampire.” She looked at him in childish interest. “Said that he shall be the first of many.”

Intrigued and confused by that cryptic answer, Willow shrugged it off and turned to look at the surprised, kneeling vampire. “What's your name?”

“Darius.” He answered.

“Get up Darius.” She commanded, going towards him slowly as he did so. “You should be thanking whatever it is you worship that my daughter told me to keep you.”

Dru gasped, tears of blood forming in her cheeks as she turned to the young werewolf she affectionately called `puppy', and whispered so only he could hear. “She called me daughter.”

Oz smiled at her, having grown to think of Dru as a younger sister, although she was centuries older than he was. “Well you are her daughter since Angelus was your Sire.”

“I know that.” She sniffed, wiping at a tear. “But she's just never called me it before.”

Spike smiled. He hadn't intended to listen to their conversation, but enjoyed the shocked happiness thick in his dark goddess' voice.

Darius kept his head bowed. “I worship you now, Mistress.”

“Worship is a little over the top.” Willow laughed, surprised to hear the sincerity in his voice. “I'm just human.”

“No my lady.” Darius sounded afraid to contradict her. “You are the Black Rose, the Dark Flame, you are my Mistress of the Night.”

She blushed, pulling a strand of fire hair behind her ear. “Um-uh.” She cleared her throat, irritated at her pleased embarrassment. “Just get up already.”

He did so, keeping his head lowered a fraction. Apparently he thought it was respectful.

Willow was about to return to them when Spike spoke up. “You're going to have to bite him, luv.”

“Huh? What?” she made a face. “Why?”

“He reeks of his sire.” The blonde vampire informed her.

Dru made a face to show just how distasteful the smell was to her.

Oz just looked on in interest. While he'd grown more used to vampires and their customs than those of the werewolf tribes, he still learnt new things every day.

“He's yours now.” Her mentor went on to explain, searching the many pockets of his duster for a pack of cigarettes and his trusty lighter. “You need to claim him—not CLAIM HIM claim him—but claim him like your property. Give him a quick bite, draw some blood, he'll wear your mark and smell of you.” He paused, lighting the fag now in his mouth, blowing out a ball of smoke. “It's a vampire thing.”

Looking back at the vampire in question, Willow blinked to see that he'd already assumed the position. He'd barred his neck and stretched at an odd angle, giving her better access to it.

The redhead gulped. Other than feeding from Angelus or Spike she'd never done this before, and then it'd been because of bloodlust, not for any other reason. She wasn't a vampire, biting stranger's necks wasn't a normality for her.

Putting on her resolve face, she steeled herself and went to him once more, deciding that she'd rather stand behind him then do so in front. That way he didn't see the confusion and nervous expression marring her features. Plus, she was amazingly exhausted from the display of power, and all she wanted to do was give into her body's desires and drop to the ground and sleep for a couple of centuries.

Deciding that the sooner she got this done with the sooner she could sleep, Willow leaned forwards and, on instinct, sniffed his neck before running her tongue over the pulsing vein in his neck. The surprisingly vampiric action caused her to stiffen, and Darius to shiver and whimper in pleasure.

Surprised and a little embarrassed at both her action and his reaction, Willow willed her fangs to appear before she bit down on his neck, drawing some of his borrowed blood.

He whimpered louder, the smell of his arousal meeting her nose and causing her to quickly retract her fangs from his skin. Licking the blood on her lips she cleared her throat and stepped away from him, ignoring Darius and looking at a smug Spike. “Smell better now?”

“Quite an improvement, mum.” The amused sound in his British accent proved that not only did he smell Darius' arousal too, but he smelt hers as well, as was quite amused by it. “Shall we return home before more bleedin' demons decide to give a go at destroying us tonight?”

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A year had passed since Willow disappeared.

Angel sat on in the library with the others, researching yet his eyes didn't read what was written in the book in his lap. No, he was thinking about his redhead again, worrying about her, wondering where she was, and if she'd run away with the stranger everyone had assured him (after he'd given a vague description of the guy he'd seen in Willow's room) was Daniel Osbourne.

Of course, he hadn't told them that he'd seen Oz with Willow in her room, while she looked like the rape victim he'd made her, but that he'd seen them together after getting his soul back.

No one had doubted his word.

No one had noticed the dark bags under his eyes, his thinning frame, or the darkening in his eyes.

Willow was alive, he could sense that—and he could also sense his claim weakening.

Someone else had claimed his Willow—kept claiming her over and over again every few nights.

Growling, Angel didn't notice the look Cordelia Chase gave him. The ex-cheerleader frowned, eyes narrowed suspiciously. His mind was on Willow, as it had been since he'd been given his soul once again.

Before having lost his soul he'd never touched the fortune he'd accumulated, but once regaining it he'd used it to hire private investigators— of both the human and demonic kind. No one named Willow Rosenberg had left the United States, which meant that she was still there, but very well hidden. None of his investigators or bounty hunters had found a trace of her.

He was growing desperate.

“You'll never believe what I heard!” Xander announced, entering the library in a rush, causing the others to look up at him in surprise. “I was walking around the cemetery, you know, going through the shortcut? Well, anyways, I heard this group of vamps talking--.”

“Xander, you should have gotten me! You could have been killed!” Buffy exclaimed, standing up, obviously glad for an excuse to go out and not continue to research. “Show me where you saw them and I'll go dust `em.”

“Will you just listen to me?” Lately, Xander hadn't been doting on Buffy as he was known to do. “Well, as I was saying, this group of vamps were so interested in what they were saying that they had no idea that a free snack was right there, you know? So I thought, what could they be talking about to have them so preoccupied?”

Even Giles looked reluctantly interested.

“Spit it out Harris!” Cordelia, ever one to cut to the chase, prompted him on.

“Well, they were talking about a vamp who'd just come scurrying from `the continent', and was half-mad in fear of something he called the Dark Flame.”

Giles narrowed his eyes. “The Dark Flame?”

“Yeah.” Xander nodded. “Said this dude is some kind of vampire sorcerer who incinerated millions of vampires and billions of demons with a big ball of black fire he has instead of his heart. Says this Dark Flame has his flame creep out of his throat like some sort of dragon, and when he'd finished killing everything that breathes, he makes black petals rain down from the sky.”

Cordelia blinked. “What luck do we have in that that's just an exaggeration?”

“Considering our luck?” Buffy muttered. “None.”

Angel frowned, putting down the put he'd been pretending to read. “What part of `the continent'? Did they name a specific place?”

“Na.” The youth answered, sitting down on a chair. “But I did hear another group of demons whispering about a something`of the Night' from the Continent who did pretty much the same things this flame dude did.” He reached into his bag and pulled out a box of donuts, placing it on the table. “They were whispering that this person had demons and even werewolves joining his rank.”

“Does someone else smell an Apocalypse in the making?” Buffy asked.

“You mean another Apocalypse.” Cordelia moaned, pout on her face. “I better move up my appointment at the beauty salon.”

Xander raised his eyebrow at her. “Why?”

“Well, I've paid in advance—it's a luxurious place in L.A., and I am not missing out on the beauty treatment just because the world ended.” Cordelia told him, as if only an infant wouldn't understand her reasoning.

Giles got up and began looking through some books as if he'd heard of this mysterious Dark Flame before.

Xander moaned into his donut, muttering something about women in general.

Angel couldn't keep the smirk off of his face, but it died when he realized that Buffy was watching him again.

After being resouled he'd let her know that they couldn't be together. Things had changed between them—plus she was seeing some mortal named Scott, so he really didn't see why she made the fuss she did.

And this last year he'd seen her without his Buffy-Blinders on. He'd seen her in ways he wish he hadn't.

And it made him miss Willow even more.

Willow was a gentle spirit. He knew she would forgive him for having raped her—she was just generous that way. And she was with a demon, wherever she was. All he had to do was find out in which state she was hiding in, find her, beg her forgiveness, and begin to woo her. He'd take her from whatever mate had claimed her, and he'd reestablish his claim on her.

He'd claimed her first anyway, and in the demonic archaic system that went above and beyond. There was nothing this other demon could do or say to stop him if he wanted to take back what was rightfully and legally his.

Well, she'd been Angelus'…but lately Angel felt different. He didn't feel exactly like Angelus, nor did he feel like the soul he'd once been. He felt like a mixture of demon and soul—as if they'd merged perfectly into whatever it was he was now. He was a new creation.

He was Willow's.

And Willow was his.

Only his.

He'd just keep looking for her until he could find her and convince her of it.

A month had passed since that night in the Rose Gardens, a month of new beginnings and even odder happenings. The vampires she'd let live had told what had happened that night—but they'd grossly exaggerated a lot of the happenings, and the rumors she'd heard about the Dark Flame had made her blush in shame.

Spike, of course, was bloody amused at all of it and was quite annoying.

She smiled fondly as she thought of Spike. While at first they'd believed that their attraction to each other was enough for them to sleep together, they'd only done so once, during the blood bonding.

They hadn't touched each other sexually after that, not even when bonding, sharing blood. Sure, there usually was heavy petting, for the drawing of blood was an act so sensual it heated ones blood and made one hazy with need, but they hadn't taken it further out of respect for both Dru and Angelus' memory—although Dru didn't seem to mind the thought of Spike and Willow having sex at all.

Willow and Spike shared an entirely different sort of intimate relationship. One of trust, love, and loyalty—she knew he'd gladly walk into the sun if he knew it'd save her life. She shared a similar relationship with all those who lived in Spike's chateau, but her bond with Spike was stronger, much stronger.

And thinking of Spike led to thoughts of Angelus. There wasn't a day when her dreams weren't plagued with images of her one true mate. She dreamt of the times they'd shared, of how they'd loved each other—of how she missed the feel of his calloused fingers trailing down her naked skin.

She would have cried, but it was such a foreign thing for her now.

But oh, how she missed Angelus! She loved him, and it pained to think that he was gone forever thanks to the stupid, permanent soul. Buffy's stupid, permanent soul.

How those two must be so happy together. They'd probably spent the last year fucking themselves into an early grave.

Her heart was so pained it was numb, but Willow forced herself to think of Angel and Buffy, forced herself to remember why she was doing what she did—why she was willingly becoming the creature she was.

A growl to her right broke her out of her thoughts.

She raised an eyebrow. “I thought I told everyone I wanted to be alone.”

“I'm sorry for disobeying your wishes, my Mistress.” Darius Lestrange slipped out of the surrounding shadows he'd used to hide in. “But how am I to keep you safe if I am not with you at all times?”

She snorted. He wasn't just saying that. Darius insisted on being at her elbow at all times of the night, and slept on the floor in front of her bed while she slept through the day, despite the fact that she'd ordered him on countless occasions to sleep in the guest room next to hers.

He took body-guarding to the next level.

It would have been infuriating if it wasn't charmingly cute.

“I should torture you more often.” She muttered to herself.

He smiled, a dimple flashing handsomely in his cheek. She never tortured him, both of them knew it. While he still was slightly withdrawn from the rest of the `family', Darius worshipped Willow and doted on her like Spike did Drusilla…and was quite resentful of the relationship his mistress had with Spike, something he never admitted yet was easily discernable due to the expressions on his face when they were together.

The handsome, dark haired vampire with breath-taking blue eyes frowned, looking ahead of them. They were at the park, where Willow was known to go when she wanted to think.

“Someone comes.”

“Oh? What is he?” Willow asked, having sensed something yet not certain of what it was.

“Demon.” He growled the word as if it were a curse.

“Good guess, vampire.” Another voice, one silky in its sexiness, spoke as another man emerged from the shadows ahead of her.

Willow gasped in appreciation as her eyes fell on his purely masculine face. “Who are you?”

“My name is Vicus, My Lady.” He told her, eyes assessing her and finding her more than acceptable. “I have come to be of assistance to you, oh Mistress of the Night.”

“Why would My mistress want your services?” Darius growled, gameface slipping on as he took a protective and defensive step in front of her.

“Because she has strong magic in her, but magic that is untrained. I can tutor her in its uses, show her how to draw it, control it.” Vicus answered, his silver eyes flashing. “Do you think you will always be there to protect her?”

Darius' growled, ready to attack in pure rage.

Willow stood and placed a hand on Darius' shoulder, his muscles trembling and relaxing as they always did whenever she touched him. But her eyes, her eyes were on Vicus. “Why would you offer your services? What do you get out of this?”

“Your protection.” He answered sincerely. “There's going to be a war, and I want to be on the winning side.”

She smirked. So he thought her side was the winning side? That was a little overconfident on his part. “You do realize that I'd have to claim you as my possession? Like a vampire would? That when I do—I'll know if you're lying to me and won't hesitate on killing you after letting Darius torture for a couple of centuries?” She taunted in pure Spike style, measuring his reactions, trying to discern truth from well-worded lies. “How would a mighty demon feel having a mere human woman's mouth on his neck—her teeth buried in his flesh?”

He'd listened silently to her, nodding now and then as if he wouldn't have expected it any other way, but when she'd mentioned her mouth on his neck, his eyes glazed over in obvious desire and his voice was a seductively husky purr when he finally spoke. “A demon could do worse.”

Darius growled.

Willow smiled slowly, reacting to him as she hadn't to anyone since Angelus.

And thus Vicus joined her growing family.

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