The Slayer finds her REAL darkness. And likes it.
RATING: NC-17 for General Dark Naughtiness - Hints of
character death. Did I mention the bloodplay and really RAUNCHY SMUT?
DEDICATION: To all the Dark Writers... (makes ya sound like sorceresses or
something, doesn't it?) Especially Kita, Maayan, and Margot LeFay. Hey, Kita,
how do you like my Darkness now, baby? *grin*
I used to be... I don't know... lighter, somehow? Even with all my
responsibilities and worries. But in the past year, I've been on this...
Quest, I guess? Since Ifelt the First Slayer come alive inside of me. Felt
her thirst for the hunt, for blood, for victory before all else... Ever
since I had that first taste of real Darkness. And later, when I drank
Dracula's blood... when I felt his power, the tang of immortality in that
cold, dead fluid...
Darkness, he said. Alike, he and I, he told me. Alone in shadow.
At the time, I thought he was full of it. But... as it turns out, I've been
looking for it ever since. In the hunt... prowling the cemeteries, just
like they do. Sniffing the air for their scent. Letting the vibrations of
the living... the dead... the undead... slide over my skin like an electric
My darkness. My power. Dracula was right. And all this time, I had no idea.
Or at least, I didn't want to...
Is that why I love Angel so much? Because we're so alike in that dichotomy
of light and darkness? Was my shadow just lusting after his?
No. I can't think of it like that, because thinking of loving only his
darkness spits in the face of everything we went through... everything he
is. It crushes the memory of his kind smile, his gentle hands, his tender
lips. The way he murmured to me so sweetly that one night...
No. It wasn't just his darkness. But I just can't discount that it was part
of it. Isn't that what I've been trying so hard to understand? How much
Darkness is in me? What is the Slayer? What makes me Chosen?
Blood. Darkness. Just like Dracula said.
And I know now it must be true. I know, because my most erotic memories
aren't of Angel's tender attentions, or hours upon hours of wild, free
romping with Riley... No. The visions in my mind that make me sweat... that
make me wet... make my blood roar and my heart pound... have nothing to do
with love, or touch, or lips and hands and penises between my legs. Nothing
to do with sighs or moans or words of love and affection.
It's teeth. Tiny stiletto points of pure agony and ecstasy. Canines
scraping, then piercing, then plunging into my flesh. My hottest moments
have been with a vampire's fangs in my throat. Angel... Dracula... Spike.
If that's not Darkness, then I don't know what is. And I think I'm finally
getting the point... no pun intended.
Slayer and vampire... two sides of the same coin. Brethren in blood.
So I've been hunting. Lurking around the places where the dead never rest,
tracking my brothers and sisters. The hunt fills me... satiates me. And
sometimes I screw Spike... let him feed from me... these things can take
the edge off.
For a while.
But that's not real, bottom of the abyss darkness. The hunt only lasts a
few minutes at the most, and Spike's hardly even evil anymore. I have this
feeling that if the chip suddenly disappeared, he wouldn't even bother
trying to kill me.
That's what makes him beneath me. Just a distraction. A half-shadow.
Quest has come to this. When Wesley called, crying, practically senseless
in his hysteria, I already knew. I felt him slip away. I went home and
cried for two days, even though I didn't think I had a single Angel-tear
left. I mourned him. Again.
And now I'm waiting for him. I don't have to hunt this demon... I know he's
coming for me.
He doesn't say a word as he approaches, which is a surprise, considering
how much the arrogant bastard usually loves to hear his own voice. He
doesn't make a sound. He's perfect animal grace. So flawless, his movement
is like a fine mist. If I wasn't the Slayer, I would never know he was
there, just behind that wide stone.
He is Darkness rising. I know he's here. I can feel him as strongly as my
own breath, my own heartbeat. And he knows I know. But still we play the
game. We pretend. We wait.
He stands at last, his patience finally wearing thin. Of course, he's been
waiting a Hell of a lot longer for this moment than I have. And he hasn't
had anything to distract him from thinking of me since the last time we
Willow said it once -- I'm the only thing he thinks about, soul or no.
I wonder, as he stalks toward me, wearing that heart-stopping lady-killer
smile, just what he plans to do. How many ways has he imagined killing me?
Will he try to turn me? Gut me? Snap my neck like he did Miss Calendar?
Skin me like he tried to do to Giles? Rip my head off like he did Riley? Or
will he slit my throat like Xander, and not even bother to drink, leaving
me to bleed as a signal of just how little he thinks of me?
No. I don't think so. I think he likes our little game. I think he wants to
just touch my Darkness. Just a little taste. He wants our stalemate to go
on, just as it always has. A demon's respect for a creature his equal in
He's inches away, now. So close, he could tear me in two before I took a
breath. Like a mountain of marble. A pale column giant of perfect predator.
What better way to attract human prey than with those deep, liquid
chocolate eyes, those regal cheekbones, those soft lips, that smile that
manages to be both intimate and deadly at once? And his body... he has a
body any man on the planet would kill for.
Or woman, as I well know.
His hands... as he reaches forward to trace my collarbone with a cool
fingertip, I'm suddenly filled with vivid memories of those hands on every
inch of my body. How is it that something so cold and dead is able to set
me on fire?
Our lips smash together with sweet violence, tongues plundering mouths, hot
and cold. Hands on backs, on necks, fingers tangled in hair, clutching. I'm
falling into this Darkness... real Darkness, at last. We hit the ground
hard, and my breath leaves me in a gasp I didn't mean to make out loud. I
don't want him to have the power. He tears off my clothes, and now I'm bare
beneath this shadow. But I've torn off his, as well. The demon, too, is
naked. I've torn off his shell to get to his flesh.
My Darkness equals his.
His muscles under my fingertips feel so right, and his mouth trailing down
my throat, over my sternum, to my breasts... where they belong. He takes
one nipple between his teeth and bites down -- not hard enough to tear, not
yet--just hard enough, and I'm forced to affirm the pure joy of this
battle... his hatred, my lust, with a cry that pierces the night,
scattering the night birds in fear of it. Terror of this mythic battle.
His mouth continues, not gentle, not sweet, not even passionate, down my
rib cage. He bites my stomach, nibbles my hipbones, his hands clutching my
flesh hard enough to bruise, and GOD I'm so glad to be rolling around with
this evil demon in the wet grass with all the stars and the stones and the
dead looking on.
I didn't think he'd be into foreplay, somehow, but his face is buried in my
crotch, and he makes little grunting noises as he laps at my core,
dragging... OH, GOD!... his tongue in and out, up and over, licking and
biting and sucking my clit. His fingers plunge and stretch and all I can
see are dark spots in my vision because I'm breathing too fast, my heart's
too fast... too fast... He forces me to the edge of the abyss over and over
again, but Jesus! he won't let me go over!
My heart thunders... crashes... calls... the hunt... the hunt... the
Kill me, Great Hunter... devour me. Fuck me. Drink me. Make me yours
because I need you... I need this. I need...
Who is the hunter and who the prey? I don't know anymore because I grab him
by a fistful of that thick, glorious hair and drag him upward to drink my
own juices from his lips and he growls, deep and low, that animal demon
sound that makes me weep with want. He cries out as he drives himself
inside me -- so deep, so... god...damn...deep! He splits me in two. It
hurts as he rams himself home, buried to the hilt in me and I love the way
he grunts and growls and the way his fingers dig so deep into my hips, but
it's not enough... It's so good, it's so hard, so deep, but it's not
enough. I throw my head back and offer my throat, just like that, like
that's the way I've always done it. Turn my head and ram my hips upward,
driving his cock as deep as he can possibly go... he howls and dips his
head down and...
The moment shifts to dragging slow motion.. Oh, God, yes... yessssss,
Darkness, you're invited. Come in, come in and meet the inner Slayer. She's
been waiting for you all these years, yesssss...
His breath is so cold on my skin. All the fine hairs on my body stand
straight up and welcome him and God, like a lover, he tenderly kisses my
pulse, and like a beast, he sniffs and tastes with a long pull of his
tongue. He pounds into my body with inhuman speed, bone breaking force, but
why is he waiting so long to take me???
Then it comes. And oh... oh, the wait, the long, long wait is worth it.
Those two tiny shards of exquisite agony that rip through my every nerve as
his fangs push though my neck as if I'm made of butter, not flesh. He bites
deep, penetrates hard, and it's pain... all the pain, all the bliss, all
the heat in the fires of Hell and the cool of the clouds of Heaven and GOD
now I'm screaming, finally flying, and I hear his throat contracting as he
swallows and YES I remember those sounds, the same feeding, grunting,
greedy noises that Angel made when he nursed from my vein, and I came then,
came... hard... just... like... THIS!!!
OH GOD! He drives his cock deeper, faster, he clutches me, he's latched on
to my throat and I can feel my blood draining, pint by pint. I'm so bloated
with that rushing, burning pull, every inch of my muscles and tendons and
bone contracting, shrinking, expanding, on fire, from where he penetrates
me to where he penetrates me, and I come again and again, shouting his true
name, chanting to the demon that drinks the life from my heart and my
Darkness welcomes his Darkness as his cold seed bursts into my womb the way
my hot blood bursts into his mouth, and now I'm bursting and exploding, and
he's drinking, and we're coming and coming and coming and coming and
Then, all is silence. All is darkness. But I can still hear my heart
skittering. I can't move... I'm too empty. Too weak. Too full. I'm not
dead. Frozen. Hot. Drained. Sated.
But I can feel. I can feel dull surprise that Angelus tries to rescue my
ruined clothes and cover me, and when he can't, I feel myself wrapped in
the cool leather of his coat. And I can feel so unreal as he scoops me
gently up into his familiar arms and carries me I don't know where, and I
don't care because I love the Darkness... this Darkness. This demon is
Then there are smooth sheets on torn, aching skin. Throbbing, spinning head
on soft pillow, warm comforter tucked in tight, cool hand on clammy brow,
gentle, like a lover. Tenderness.
Darkness loves me, too.
A single kiss, and he is gone. I'm still alive and oh, so full, and I slip into
that sweet shadow of sleep, and I know... I've touched the core. I've met
his center. The Slayer's love affair with Death... The end of my Quest. I
would beg for it someday, Spike said. Spike... the son of my Darkness, my
demon. He said I would want it.
He was right. And tomorrow night, I'll go hunting Death again.
This Darkness, I love.
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