Breaking a Slayer
folder
-Buffy the Vampire Slayer › Threesomes/Moresomes › Angel(us)/Buffy/Spike(William)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
50
Views:
10,478
Reviews:
19
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
-Buffy the Vampire Slayer › Threesomes/Moresomes › Angel(us)/Buffy/Spike(William)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
50
Views:
10,478
Reviews:
19
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Chapter 21
Breaking a Slayer: Chapter 21
Disclaimer: I don't own them.
Spoilers/Ships: This is AU. Buffy/Spike/Angel.
Distribution: Sure, just let me know.
Feedback: Is always nice.
Rating: NC-17.
Giles had truly believed that patrolling with Buffy would reestablish the rapport that they had previously shared. They had, after all, spent countless nights out under the stars waiting for this or that vampire or demon to arise and bedevil Sunnydale. Surely this could be no different.
But it was.
Buffy was radically different in every aspect, Giles realized. It wasn’t just her social persona that had been damaged to the point of destruction. The Slayer aspect was just as altered. Buffy no longer quipped or slurped on soft drinks while waiting for fledglings to arise. She crouched in inscrutable silence, unwilling to speak, or even acknowledge her Watcher.
Instead, the Slayer waited in the dark, barely breathing, senses obviously extended as far as they could go. Giles hesitated to disrupt such focus, especially when it was precisely what he had been pushing her toward for so many years. To have it now, exactly as he had demanded, yet find it wanting seemed unfair to his Slayer and unreasonable of him. So he held his tongue, more upset with every passing minute at the changes that had occurred while he was gone.
Buffy had shifted into the Now the moment they left the apartment that night. She couldn't begin to explain how it felt, hadn't articulated it even to herself. To her vampire lovers, it was routine, a shift that they themselves made when hunting prey, thus they didn't question it in her. But Buffy sensed that Giles had seen the difference and was made uneasy by it.
Where before, she'd been a girl hunting vampires, occasionally harnessing her powers, but most of the time retaining her own individuality and personality, now she was Other. She was more, and yet less. She existed in the moment, dwelling in her senses. She was alive to every vagrant breeze that wafted through the cemetery. Aware of each footstep, each twig, each blade of grass over which she stepped. She was the Slayer, a consummate predator and an inhuman one. She had finally allowed that persona to encompass her own. Instead of harnessing the power, she *became* the power.
Giles was visibly uneasy with her, attempting to force her to converse when all she wanted to do was stalk. Track the prey, annihilate it, move on. The destructive urge overwhelmed her, controlling every instinct and stealing her volition until all that remained was Slayer. She glanced up at him ferally and he flinched back from that implacable gaze.
*
Angel drove through the welcoming dark, his mind focused on the twists and turns of the road, deliberately blanking out all thought. His concern for his mate and childe could only be a weakness. He must focus on the here and now. He'd promised Will a doctor, so a doctor he would have. The surgeon waited for them, room prepped and blood waiting for the aftermath. Angel would arrive on schedule and Will would go under the knife. After that, well, Angel wouldn't think about that. Because, if he did, he might turn the car around and drive his childe back to Sunnydale, against his own word and the the consequences.
Angel knew that refusing his childe would only delay the inevitable. Even if he did, Spike could always find another doctor and coerce her into performing the opeon. on. It was easy enough to do. But Angel was terrified of modern medicine. He'd never needed it, but had watched Buffy and her friends undergo treatment for various and sundry maladies. He'd come away with a greater distrust of the modern miracles of medicine, not less.
Somewhere deep within, he remained a child of the eighteenth century. Doctors were not to be trusted. Most were drunks, dirty and unskilled. Surgery was a last resort and killed more than it helped. Women were better off with midwives; and men…men should just grit their teeth and bear the pain. Everything in his being resisted taking his childe to such a deadly place.
To be continued…
Disclaimer: I don't own them.
Spoilers/Ships: This is AU. Buffy/Spike/Angel.
Distribution: Sure, just let me know.
Feedback: Is always nice.
Rating: NC-17.
Giles had truly believed that patrolling with Buffy would reestablish the rapport that they had previously shared. They had, after all, spent countless nights out under the stars waiting for this or that vampire or demon to arise and bedevil Sunnydale. Surely this could be no different.
But it was.
Buffy was radically different in every aspect, Giles realized. It wasn’t just her social persona that had been damaged to the point of destruction. The Slayer aspect was just as altered. Buffy no longer quipped or slurped on soft drinks while waiting for fledglings to arise. She crouched in inscrutable silence, unwilling to speak, or even acknowledge her Watcher.
Instead, the Slayer waited in the dark, barely breathing, senses obviously extended as far as they could go. Giles hesitated to disrupt such focus, especially when it was precisely what he had been pushing her toward for so many years. To have it now, exactly as he had demanded, yet find it wanting seemed unfair to his Slayer and unreasonable of him. So he held his tongue, more upset with every passing minute at the changes that had occurred while he was gone.
Buffy had shifted into the Now the moment they left the apartment that night. She couldn't begin to explain how it felt, hadn't articulated it even to herself. To her vampire lovers, it was routine, a shift that they themselves made when hunting prey, thus they didn't question it in her. But Buffy sensed that Giles had seen the difference and was made uneasy by it.
Where before, she'd been a girl hunting vampires, occasionally harnessing her powers, but most of the time retaining her own individuality and personality, now she was Other. She was more, and yet less. She existed in the moment, dwelling in her senses. She was alive to every vagrant breeze that wafted through the cemetery. Aware of each footstep, each twig, each blade of grass over which she stepped. She was the Slayer, a consummate predator and an inhuman one. She had finally allowed that persona to encompass her own. Instead of harnessing the power, she *became* the power.
Giles was visibly uneasy with her, attempting to force her to converse when all she wanted to do was stalk. Track the prey, annihilate it, move on. The destructive urge overwhelmed her, controlling every instinct and stealing her volition until all that remained was Slayer. She glanced up at him ferally and he flinched back from that implacable gaze.
*
Angel drove through the welcoming dark, his mind focused on the twists and turns of the road, deliberately blanking out all thought. His concern for his mate and childe could only be a weakness. He must focus on the here and now. He'd promised Will a doctor, so a doctor he would have. The surgeon waited for them, room prepped and blood waiting for the aftermath. Angel would arrive on schedule and Will would go under the knife. After that, well, Angel wouldn't think about that. Because, if he did, he might turn the car around and drive his childe back to Sunnydale, against his own word and the the consequences.
Angel knew that refusing his childe would only delay the inevitable. Even if he did, Spike could always find another doctor and coerce her into performing the opeon. on. It was easy enough to do. But Angel was terrified of modern medicine. He'd never needed it, but had watched Buffy and her friends undergo treatment for various and sundry maladies. He'd come away with a greater distrust of the modern miracles of medicine, not less.
Somewhere deep within, he remained a child of the eighteenth century. Doctors were not to be trusted. Most were drunks, dirty and unskilled. Surgery was a last resort and killed more than it helped. Women were better off with midwives; and men…men should just grit their teeth and bear the pain. Everything in his being resisted taking his childe to such a deadly place.
To be continued…