Buffy The Vampire Slayer Fan Fiction ❯ Her New Family ❯ A Well Needed Conversation ( Chapter 14 )

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

Riley has a meeting with the leaders of the Initiative, Spike and Angel have a much needed conversation, and Willow does WHAT???

Non Anime: Buffy The Vampire Slayer Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Supernatural / Romance / Occult / Hentai / Action | Type: Alternate Universe | Uploaded On: 11.06.2007 | Pages: 5 | Words: 6.9K | Visits: 400 | Status: Completed

Disclaimer: I don't own. I really don't.

------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------

There were times when Riley really didn't like Nate. Sure, Nate wasn't only the one who'd gotten into contact with Riley and informed him about the `Initiative' and brought him into it after mentoring him. And of course, he'd opened his eyes to the hidden dangers humanity tried to ignore. And yes, he was his best friend.

But there were times when Riley really didn't like him.

Like now.

Professor Walsh and Nate McGuire, the leaders of the Initiative, were Riley's role models. They were people who knew what went bump in the night and decided to bump back—but this? This was something Riley didn't consider bumping. This was suicide. And it was idiotic.

“I thought our mission was to hold, render harmless to humans and/or destroy Hostiles, sir.” Riley commented, eyes straight ahead, jaw tense.

Not much was known of Nate McGuire except that he was insanely rich and handsome. He'd mentioned once or twice that he was a born and bred Californian, and was known to joke about `Immaculate Conception' whenever anyone asked about his family.

And to be truthful, only a few in the Initiative knew this information. The kids at the college only knew him as their handsome History teacher.

Nate chuckled. “It is, soldier Finn.”

His jaw tensed further, a muscle jumping in his cheek. “If that's so then this is against our morals and our code of honor. Against the vows we swore to when we were initiated.”

Nate chuckled, and the sound wasn't pleasant. Pulling off his round, wire-frame glasses he smirked, running tanned fingers through spiky brown hair, turquoise eyes twinkling. “And that is why you are still a mere soldier, Finn. You have no higher vision.”

That muscle jumped once more. “How is opening the mouth to hell and letting loose an army of demon—higher vision?” How had he managed to keep his voice neutral instead of allowing his derision and disgust to show?

“Easily, soldier Finn.” Nate spoke as if with a child. “We will control those we allow over to this side, as we control the Hostiles we've successfully captured and chipped. Think of the army of killing machines we'd have at our disposal.”

Nate shared a look with Maggie Walsh. “Imagine no more human casualties in war. Our mothers and wives won't have to bury their dead. The war in Iraq we be as ancient history as the First World War. We'd find Bin Laden and destroy him completely. America will rule the world.”

“We hardly have control over the Hostiles that didn't die or go into coma from brain damage due to the implanting of the chip. How many have fried the chip and rebelled?” Riley knew he was stepping over the line that a simple soldier should, but he didn't care. “How are you going to control millions of Un-Chipped Hostiles on the loose?”

“Once again, that is why you are a mere soldier, Finn.” Maggie Walsh told him with a disappointed shake of her head. “You have such potential, if only you'd be more open-minded.”

Biting on his tongue to keep his response to that at bay, Riley squared his jaw, remaining silent, eyes staring ahead.

“You're dismissed.” Nate told him.

Twirling around on his heel, Riley headed towards the door.

“How are things going with the Slayer?”

Stopping cold in his tracks, Riley kept his back to his superiors. “They are going well.”

“Oh? Are they?” Nate mocked. “Has she told you about her midnight outings to `save humanity' from the things that go bump in the night? Has she finally confided everything to you as a loving girlfriend should?”

“No.” He nearly growled out the answer.

“Then I don't think things are going `well'.” Maggie Walsh announced with reproach. “Two years should have been enough Soldier Finn. We're seriously considering assigning another to that case. The Slayer would be a good asset to us and if you won't bring her into our fold, then we'll have to find someone who will.”

Riley closed his eyes tightly to try and calm his anger. “I have never failed you before, and I won't now.” With that clipped answer, he stormed out of the office.

Nate watched the younger man leave with a smirk.

“Do you think he suspects that you have—how do you younger people say it now?—have `tapped' the Slayer?” Maggie wondered curiously, wondering at the tension in their usually compliant soldier. Something was bothering him, and it seemed to be affecting his performance. It was unnerving.

“I doubt he knows of the Slayer's and my liaison.” Nate chuckled darkly, turning to his colleague. “Have you found the information I wanted?”

“Of course.” She sounded insulted. Opening her drawer she pulled out a large manila folder, and threw it on her desk with a plop. “It's all here. Though, I still don't understand why you're interested in the subject.”

“You wouldn't.” Snickering at the expression on the elder woman's face, he reached for the envelope and opened it. Browsing through the documents, he came upon pictures.

“Those were taken in Meaux, France.” Maggie Walsh announced lazily. “They were taken a week ago.”

Nate wasn't paying attention. He flipped through the shots of a redheaded woman walking through the streets of Meaux in both daylight and darkness of the night. In the daylight shots she was sometimes alone, sometimes accompanied by what would look like bodyguards, and in most of them she was with a young man with black hair and a pierced eyebrow.

In the nighttime pictures she was accompanied by the same young man, a dark haired woman holding a doll, and a tall blonde.

“And this was taken yesterday.” Maggie appeared right in front of him, slapping the picture she'd kept apart on top of the others.

Nate's eyes widened as he saw that it was of the redhead sitting in one of Sunnydale's local restaurants, with the Slayer and Riley Finn. “She's here?”

“Arrived the other night.” Maggie nodded, going back to her desk, obviously smug at her results and his reaction to them. “And why is this girl of such interest to you? She's any normal girl.”

“No.” Nate's vehemence shocked Walsh. “She's far from normal. She's the key to all of this.”

Maggie frowned, not liking where this was going. “What are you talking about McGuire?”

“Are you saying that you had a man tracking her and never discovered who she is?” Nate's scorn was obvious, causing the elder woman to squirm uncomfortably in her chair. “Maybe Soldier Finn isn't the only one proving to be a disappointment to this organization.”

Walsh shot up in her chair. “Spit it out McGuire!”

Placing the folder on a chair, Nate reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper, which proved to be a picture. Unfolding it, he slammed it face first on her desk.

Eyeing him suspiciously, Walsh reached for the picture and turned it over. It was slightly worn, so she pulled out her reading glasses and put them on, bringing the picture closer for observation. A gasp escaped her lips. “She's a demon!”

The redhead from the other pictures was in this as well, yet completely different. Her eyes and hair were midnight black, her skin pale and her lips blood red. Black flames licked her skin, and her hands were surrounded by a green, electric glow.

Demons, vampires and werewolves were around her, on their knees. And behind the woman the undead were bowing to where the black haired man, the blonde, and the woman with a doll.

“No. She's no demon.” Nate said in a nearly tender way as he retrieved the picture, looking at it longingly before folding it once more and placing it back in its place in his pocket. “She's the next step in the chain of evolution. She's human and demon, better known as the Dark Flame.”

“She's the Dark Flame?” Walsh hollered, close to having a heart attack. “But—but our reports said that it was male vampire sorcerer! Our informants all across Europe--.”

“Are lying, probably protecting her.” He responded. “Hostile 298 was there the night she was born, he was the first to witness her power, and when he was captured the vampire was pressured into speaking of what he knew of other vampire clans, and he told me of this Dark Flame. That is how I knew to look for her.” He smirked. “My spies in France have told me that the demon underground organization there has submitted themselves to her. She is the original Queen of the Damned.”

Walsh's eyes widened. She'd been grossly left in the dark. “The demon population in the whole of France is under her control?” She suddenly understood where Nate was going with this, and she sunk into her seat, hand on her forehead. “Amazing…McGuire…you are more cunning then I ever gave you credit.”

“I know.” With that he picked up the manila envelope and strode out of Walsh' office. Information on Willow Rosenberg now in his possession.

------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------

“How did she do that?” Angel asked, voice soft as Spike and he closed the door to the Master bedroom. Oz had gone to contact `Darius', whomever that was, and that left the two vampires the only ones awake in the Mansion.

Spike didn't answer, his mind on Willow. She'd fainted away and hadn't awoken yet and he was worried. Despite the fact that the mansion had a score of bedrooms, Cordelia and his redhead had been placed in Angel's room—the only one the other vampire assured them was livable.

“How did she do that?” Angel's voice darkened as he reached out fast like lightning, his fingers curling harshly around Spike's arm, jerking him slightly towards him.

“Don't touch me, ponce.” Jerking out of the death-hold, Spike growled at his grandsire. “And let's get something straight while we're at it. The only reason we're here is because Red is hurt and she needs somewhere to stay—and I bloody doubt that we'll ever be welcomed back at the hotel.” He paused, as if it pained him to continue. “I'm doing this for her—although it kills me to have to be near you.”

“You're already dead.” Angel pointed out, regretting his harsh actions towards his grandchilde, realizing he was going about this the wrong way.

“It souls me then.” Spike spat the barb, raising an eyebrow in disgust for Angel to see just how much he disliked his soul version. “And let me tell you that you might have been Red's first, but my claim is the one her body reacts to now, so you bloody keep your hands off of her!”

Angel knew that he was trying to make peace with his stubborn childe, but it was so hard when Spike was begging to be chained up and tortured. “I'll touch her whenever I want, William!”

“And stop calling me William you bloody, bleedin', soddin' ponce!” Spike either didn't sense his warning or didn't give a shit. “Angelus is the only one who can call me that, and while you might look the same, you'll never be half the vampire he was!”

In seconds Angel had Spike pinned to the wall, hands around his throat, gameface at full force. His amber eyes narrowed in fury as he snapped his fangs at him menacingly. “What do I have to do to prove to you two that I am Angelus—soul or not?!?”

“Killing the Slayer for what she did to Dru would be nice.” Spike snapped back, gameface slipping on. “Angelus would have done it in a heartbeat—her heartbeat of course.”

Suddenly everything made sense, and Angel's eyes widen in surprise as he pushed away from Spike. “You—you don't have a soul.”

A strange smell met their noses, but they both ignored it, glaring at each other.

“Of course I don't have a bleedin' soul.” Spike spat, features slipping back to his human disguise. “Do you think I'd really burden myself with that?”

“But Willow--.”

“My Red isn't your bloody Slayer.” Spike told him haughtily. “She doesn't need me to have a soul in order to love me.”

Angel winced. Willow did love Spike, that much was obvious. But he knew that what he and Willow had shared wasn't something easily forgotten, and if her bitterness towards his souled version was anything, it proved that she still loved him—even if it sickened her that she did.

“So that's why you came back.” He muttered, turning his back on Spike. “To kill the Slayer.”

“What else could we be here for?”

Me. But Angel kept his emotions at bay as he turned back to his grandchilde. “I'll help you.”

Spike's eyes widened, and for the first time he seemed unsure. “W-what?”

“I'll help you kill the Slayer.”

“It's a trap, isn't it?” Spike snorted. “You're playing double sides again, aren't you?”

“Damn it Spike!” Angel growled, once again losing his patience with his childe. “I asked you what I had to do to prove that I'm still Angelus, soul or not, and you said kill the Slayer.” He reminded tersely, soaking in the contemplative expression on the blonde's face as he said this. “So I'll do it. I'll kill the Slayer.”

“But your soul--.”

“Human murderers and rapists have souls too!”

Spike's eyes narrowed suspiciously as he looked him over, as if trying to read his soul. Eternity seemed to pass as the younger man inspected him silently, before suddenly, the harshness in his features softened, if only a little. “You won't kill the Slayer.”

“Damn it I said I--.”

“Red will.” Spike broke in, reaching into his duster and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and his trusty silver Zippo. “Dru was Red's favored childe. It's only right that the honor goes to her.” Lighting the fag, he offered one to Angel. “Want one?”

Confused by the turn of events, Angel shook his head, never one to smoke despite the fact that it couldn't kill him or anything.

Why was Spike letting Willow kill Buffy? Why had he called Drusilla Willow's childe? What the hell had happened these last four years to change things so drastically?

“Dru was my childe.” He announced, slowly, confused.

Spike smirked, blowing a ball of smoke in his face. “The whole of France would contradict you on that mate.”

“What?” With every word Angel felt more lost and confused. What did France have to do with anything? Hadn't Spike and Willow been in Colorado all this time?

“If she wants you to know she'll tell you.” Spike shrugged, obviously enjoying leaving Angel in the dark for as long as possible. “Do you have any blood here?”

He nodded. “Pig.”

“Disgusting. How do you drink that?” Spike made a face of disgust as they turned to go to the kitchen. “The things I do for Red.”

Angel raised an eyebrow. “And how is you drinking pigs blood going to help Willow?”

“Well, it's still sunny so I can't exactly go out and hunt, now, can I?” Spike snorted. “And I'll need to be filled when Red awakes. She'll be weak and hungry from that bloody spell she cast to help the cheerleader. She'll be bloody famished.”

“So you'll let her feed from you.” Angel tried to keep the jealousy and resentment out of his voice, but from Spike's smug smirk he knew that the other vampire had caught on.

“She always feeds from me.”

Angel's jaw tense. He knew what usually happened after feeding—how horny it left vampires.

Spike smirked brighter before it was replaced with a look of horror and he turned in the hallway, looking back in the direction of the bedroom. “Red.”

That's when Angel realized what had Spike frozen in horror.

There was only one heartbeat in the whole mansion.

Both vampires hurried towards the door and flung it open, gasping at the sight that met them.

The blankets had been thrown on the ground, and Willow, only wearing Spike's shirt, straddled Cordelia's limp figure. The redhead's hands dug deep in Cordelia's dark curls, her mouth attached to the former cheerleader's long, slender neck.

“Red?” Spike gulped, aroused beyond words at the sight before him as she lifted her gaze to theirs, reluctantly removing her mouth from Cordelia's neck.

Black eyes glared back at them for the interruption, and blood dripped from the side of her mouth.

Cordelia Chase was dead.

------------------------------------------------------------- --------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------------------------------------------------------

Please review and tell me what you think. Your thoughts really mean a lot.