Family of Eternity

Okay, this would be the non-con. And I consider any action without a consenting party, sexual or otherwise, non-con.


Chapter 1

The sewers system under Sunnydale were a twisting, turning mess of tunnels and blocked off sections. Since the vampires of Sunnydale were more than a little bit allergic to sunlight, they were all very familiar with the confusing maze of tunnels. At the end of one such tunnel, a small clan of vampires gathered around a rogue recently captured. Arms bound behind him and a bag over his head, he tensed as one neared. In one fluid motion the bag was gone, revealing white-blond hair and narrowed blue eyes. The lead vampire stepped forward and leaned down close to the captive’s head, grabbing his hair lightly to keep him from jerking away, “Orders are orders, Spike...and your time just ran out.”

The words were softly hissed into his ear and the blond tensed further, not liking where this was going. Not at all. The gag over his mouth kept his angry retorts silenced. Releasing him and stepping back, looking at the circle of vampires the leader spoke louder for them. He had his orders and while he may not like it he knew when and when not to test his superior. Spike tested his feet, trying to pull them further apart and discovered himself bound at the ankle. He felt his fear rising but stifled it. He was a master vampire, he could take anything they dished out. Besides, no one could beat Angelus’ sadism, “This ‘creature’ has been consorting with the humans, even the Slayer, without killing them. In fact he helps them to hunt and kill us. A regular white hat if you ask me. In many ways he’s no different than them. So...we’ll treat him like one of them.”

Except that.

The leader growled deeply before charging forward. He grabbed Spike by his hair and yanked his head back. Taking a moment to savor the restrained fear he could smell on the older vampire, he smiled. Sinking his teeth into the shoulder, his grin widened as Spike swallowed a cry of rage and pain. The blond gritted his teeth as he felt his blood flow out of his body, the other lapping hungrily.

Spike’s eyes rolled back behind his closed lids in disgust as he felt the intrusive fangs. The cool breath hitting his skin between gulps. Even the rough tongue probing around the injury to keep the blood flowing. He knew he was shaking but he couldn’t help it. The others closed their ranks, eager for their turn. Spike screwed his eyes shut, his body jerking as the world around him faded away.

Off to one side, a Molak Demon concentrated on his purpose. He had been paid handsomely by the Watcher’s Council to destroy this one’s mind. It seemed a pity to him. He could sense the strength from this one. One of the few truly powerful ones left. He understood that the council detested vampires but he didn’t see why they would hire a demon to kill just one. Perhaps it was because this one was helping the Slayer. Internally shrugging, he focused himself to the task at hand. Concentrating, forcing the vampire into a trance and read his thoughts, searching for personal hells. When he had a good start, he projected the most torturous fates to break the blond vampire’s spirit and kill him from the inside out. Moments later, Spike started to howl.

***

Buffy opened the door to her dorm room with the last of Willow’s stuff. Her friend had finally decided to move in with her girlfriend, Tara. It made her smile to think about how happy her friend was. She knew her friend had been hesitant about telling her about her lover, but she was happy for the redhead. Something hit her foot and went skidding away. Frowning, she put down the box and crossed the hallway.

It was a book. Wrapped with a simple string around it to keep it closed, it intrigued her. Picking it up, she skimmed over the title. One Hundred of Today’s Greatest Poets. She raised her eyebrows in surprise. Not more than a couple of days ago her old poetry book had been destroyed during patrol. She’d been a bitch about it ever since, “Who knew?”

Taking the book back inside, she tore off the ribbon and opened the cover. On the inside, scrolled in olden style: Sometimes all we need is one good beginning.

She frowned slightly. Something about that tickled a memory in the back of her mind. Then it clicked. It had been just after patrol. She’d just got done pounding her vampire opponents into mulch. When she backtracked to retrieve her school stuff she’d found them destroyed, including her poetry book. Off to one side, Spike was leaning up against a tree, watching her. In no mood for the bleached blonde’s sarcastic wit, she threw the book at him before stomping off. She knew he had nothing to do with the damage. It just wasn’t his style. Now that she thought of it, she wasn’t sure why she had done that, “Why would Spike give me a new book?”

That thought was followed by a series of others. /Why would the blond idiot even care? Especially leaving his writing in the cover, dead give away. So why would he want me to know it was from him?/ She handed off the rest of Willow’s stuff to Tara and cleaned up her room, still thinking.

***

Buffy frowned to herself in her dreams. She was in the old warehouse that had been Angelus’ favorite haunt. Her friends were grouped together in the distance, quietly discussing Big Blue. She found herself walking forward, pushing a wheelchair bound Spike into the light so everyone could see him. Looking down, she could see the blonde’s hands shaking but his posture remained stiff and defiant. She was shocked when Xander came forward with a railroad spike in his hands, taunting the blond. About to ask what the hell was going on, she gasped as the spike was thrust into his stomach.

Then the scene shifted. She was now in the background, Spike strapped down to a lab table. From the looks of things it was the Initiative’s underground lab. She watched in horror as they started hacking into him, his howls haunting her. She couldn’t let this happen, even to Spike. She ran over, her hands passing right through them, "Stop it! Leave him alone!" She was helpless but to watch as these soldiers and doctors took the fearful vampire apart a piece at a time. Then another shift again.

Each one designed to hurt Spike and each time he shook harder and harder, became more distant and fearful of even a simple touch, “Spike...” She felt a pang in her heart and wrapped him in a protective hug. It still startled her when she realized she wasn’t really touching him, her hand almost transparent against him. Glaring at everyone over his shoulder, she was more than a little put out when she was ignored. He never turned around or acknowledged her presence, no one did, but his shaking had slowed down.

When everything changed again to a rather disturbing bathroom scene involving holy water baths and the two males of the gang dunking parts of him, it finally broke him. He struggled in their arms and cried in despair, begging them to stop. She tried to whisper reassuringly to him, hoping to help him through this but it wasn’t helping him anymore. Anger welled up inside of her and her eyes flashed at Giles who was approaching with a syringe of holy water, intent on slowly burning him from the inside out. Spike curled into a ball, baring his throat submissively in the hopes of surviving. With a growl, not caring if it was futile, she kicked the weapon out of Giles’ hand. It surprised her as well as them but she wasn’t done by half as she pushed them both out the door, locking it.

Spinning around, she watched him tilt his head. Spike looked confused but hopeful, like she would save him. His head drooped a little and he looked so tired. Ignoring her impulse to insult him, she came forward and knelt before him. Over and over she reminded herself that he was a person, not just a vampire, “It’s okay...”
He shook his head, the blue orbs filled with fear and pain. Buffy could almost feel the soft whimpers being pulled from his chest and it tore something inside of her to hear them. These weren’t sounds that he made. He’d never allowed this level of his instincts to overrun his Big Bad facade. His eyes were flecked with bits of gold, his demon personality threatening to take over completely. Somehow, instinctively she knew this couldn’t happen or the semi-civil Spike they knew would be lost forever.

They were mortal enemies, thrown together by circumstances and his misfortune but she was Buffy first and foremost, not the Slayer. Pushing away her habit to hurt this seemingly fragile creature, she pulled him into a hug. He struggled and jerked from her touch, but only until her body started gently rocking him, comforting him. She found herself whispering softly in his ear but knew she meant it, “Okay...a truce then...”

He slumped almost immediately, the fight going out of him as he fell into a deep sleep. With a sigh of relief Buffy closed her eyes. She couldn’t help but feel that his being in her arms felt so right. When she opened them next she was shocked to see her dorm room surroundings. She looked down, realizing her arms were empty, curled up in a half ball on top of her covers. The dream had felt so real.

***

In reality the other vamps watched as Spike slipped into unconsciousness at their feet. One of the young ones rushed forward for another turn but he was soundly rebuked with a fist by the leader, “Enough. We did our job.” The leader looked to the beta under him, “Take him top side. Leave him for the sun.”

A small one with orange hair frowned, “Why not just kill him–...”

The Molak Demon sneered at the young fool, “Do you want to be hunted down by every master vampire in the world? Because that’s exactly what will happen. The old laws are quite explicit. To kill is one thing but you have fed from him first.”

“Right so we kill him–...”

“I can smell his blood on you. On all of you. The smell of his death is permanent and the two mixing together would guarantee your destruction.”

Two of them lifting the unconscious vampire up, “Who would miss him?”

The demon turned away and smiled an almost ironic smile, “The Slayer would.”

He’d felt the presence enter Spike’s mind and had been unable to break it’s hold. And he’d seen the face of that person. The Slayer. It suddenly became clear to him that the powers upstairs had a vested interest in this one if they sent their slayer to save him. He wouldn’t help them, but he also wouldn’t betray their obvious wishes to keep the blond undead. Above everything else, they kept the balance on the Hellmouth. He watched as they carried the vampire away and disappeared into the darkness from where he’d come from. Moving silently through the access tunnels, he was startled when a burly man jumped in front of him, two more behind. Dressed in army fatigues, they had weapons trained on him and waved some sort of device at him, “Molak.”

“Keep or eliminate?”

Cold hazel eyes looked the demon up and down. He was familiar with this species. They were tricky with their mind tricks but they were harmless, “Already have two. Eliminate.”