Flinch
By Jacqui

Title: Flinch
Author: Jacqui wily_one24@yahoo.com.au
Rating: NC-17. Very bad things happen.
Spoilers: First three seasons is fair game.
Disclaimer: Not mine, no sirree, no way no how. Uh uh.
Comments: I can be a cruel bitch when I want to be.
Feedback: Please. I’ll be your best friend.

Blood clouded his vision, everything was imbrued with it, tainted with it. His head was barely more than a seething mass of pain, excruciating agony that made him want to retch. A searing spark ran from his shoulder and split into a thousand paths of fire across his body. A loud thumping sounded in his ears and he felt as if he were dying. Again.

She stood in front him, the reason for his accelerated torture. He could sense the very thing that would cure him, knew it instinctively as his body thirsted for her like never before. It was a physical pull, this need for her blood. He could smell it pumping away under her heated skin, spicy and thick, obscenely tantalizing.

"Drink."

Did she know what she was asking? He couldn’t do it. She hit him. He still couldn’t do it. She hit him again. Then he couldn’t do it, he couldn’t hold back the monster within him, he’d been weakened too much. There was no thought after that, as the hot blood squirted into his mouth and splashed against his throat, a sensation so orgasmic he never wanted to come down.

One might even say it was a moment of pure happiness.

Angel pushed himself off of the figure beneath him. Already he could feel the fever lessen and the pain dissipate. He looked over at the limp form on the ground. He called her name. There was no answer, she lay still and silent, her eyes staring lifeless at the ceiling. He laughed loudly, this was all too delicious.

"Ever so bloody selfless, aren’t you Buff?"

* * * *

It was through a thick haze that she heard the words ‘lost too much blood’, ‘doesn’t look promising’, ‘probably won’t make it’. The beeping of the machines, rather than the annoying distraction she’d expect them to be, seemed to relax her, keep her in a trance. A gentle pattern, repeated and unceasing. Beep, beep, beep.

She ignored them for the pretty vision in her head.

Two girls were walking hand in hand in the middle of a field. The sky was a deep, cloudless blue, the grasses were spotted with blood red posies. Faith could swear she saw blood dripping from them as she passed.

"You have to play in my meadow now."

Buffy’s voice came from far away, though she was standing right next to her. Faith wasn’t sure she knew what the blonde girl was saying to her. The urge to fight the girl, so powerful in recent times, was pushed back.

"B? Are you ok?"

"That’s not an issue right now."

Faith gasped, she watched as Buffy’s neck ruptured and thick, black, blood rose like lava from a volcano. Buffy raised a hand to touch the wound, her fingers were stained crimson, she looked at them sadly. Her eyes suddenly glowed yellow and she snarled at Faith.

"How can I do it all? You have to stop him, stop them both."

"B? What’s happening?"

The glowing ceased and Buffy seemed to shrink before Faith’s eyes, becoming a scared, frail creature. She began to shake, reaching out a hand, stained red like wine, to Faith, who could not help jump backwards, not wanting the blood to touch her.

"Some of the blood has to be yours. It can’t all be mine. Faith? Don’t step on the posies, they’ve already bled too much."

How easy would it be to lie here? Knowing that rising would be harder than anything she’d ever had to do before. Not once before had she ever felt as if she’d met people’s expectations, now it would be easy, all she had to do was stay still.

The mistakes she’d made in her life came crashing down on her, suddenly things were so very clear. She could not believe she’d made the choices that she had. It would all end now, she had the knowledge, and thus the power, to end it all.

Faith’s eyes snapped open.

* * * *

"We don’t have time! If the Mayor ascends…"

Wesley knew he was right, he knew without a doubt that their main priority, the matter of most urgency was stopping the Mayor. Yet he also knew that he was outvoted, most especially by the man who had jumped in front of him, drawing himself up to full height. Giles could be very intimidating when he wanted to be. Wesley stepped back feeling, as he did so, that he was being deflated.

"Funnily enough," Giles almost spat the words out. "I don’t give a flying fuck about the Mayor, or Graduation. Buffy is in danger."

Wesley breathed in and started again.

"And she’ll be in even more danger if you let the Mayor succeed. Did you think about that?"

Giles punched him square in the nose and he felt the rush of blood more than he tasted it. Wesley breathed hard as he faced Giles. The two men stared at each other with hostility. Nobody else in the library spoke, they were mesmerized by the ferocity of the argument and paralyzed by the lack of instruction. Both men were right, yet they were both wrong. It seemed almost impossible to fight the Mayor without Buffy, but they’d lose valuable time looking for her.

The doors opened and a figure strode in. For a split second, the reactions of every one were to breathe a sigh of relief at the familiar sight. Then the details began to sink in, Angel’s stride was a little too confident, his smile a little too wide. His laughter a little too vicious.

"And the gang’s all here! Isn’t it cozy?"

"Angelus!" Willow whispered the word with fear, for an instant Angel’s yellow eyes focused on her, daring her to come forward, teasing her.

"Though you seem to be missing someone. Who could it be?" He turned around in wide circles, playing on his words. "It couldn’t be a small tasty blonde, could it?"

On the word tasty, he licked his lips suggestively. Giles roared and rushed forth, Angel easily held out his hand and caught him by the throat. Blood quickly filled Giles’ face, turning it purple as he struggled to free himself.

"Don’t worry Book Man, she’s not dead." He licked his lips again. "Not technically anyway."

Without a flicker of an eyelid, Angel shot out his free hand and pointed.

"One step closer, Red, and you join your friend on my menu."

Willow stood stock still, the cross she held in her hand drooped down. Nobody moved. Xander and Oz were still seated at the table, both trying to come up with a plan to kill the vamp without getting them all killed and Wesley was staring at the two men in the middle of the room.

"I bring a message from Buffy." Angel moved his face close to Giles. "Help me. Help me."

Angel laughed as he dropped the watcher to the floor. Immediately Giles began to choke as he tried to take in gulps of air. He scrambled to his feet as he glared at Angel.

"Unfortunately, that message may come a little too late."

He swept his dark jacket into a large circle as he turned back to the doors, only to find a foot lodged firmly in his face. He stumbled back and then sprang forward with a growl. Faith dodged his attack and turned her body into a round house kick. Angel was ready, he grabbed her foot and threw her off balance.

"You’re supposed to be dead!"

Faith jumped back to her feet and glared at him.

"Yeah, but I never did follow the rules, Fang Boy. Or didn’t ya notice?"

Angel back handed her in the face, she retaliated with a hefty blow to his groin.

"Don’t tell me you’ve gone back to the goody side?"

As he doubled over slightly, Faith grabbed his head and bought it down to meet her rising knee.

"What can I say? Vampires suck!"

Angel dug his fangs into the skin of her knee and she cried out.

"Don’t we just?"

As the flesh tore from bone, Faith squirmed away, her face red and her breathing hard. In her eyes was a hatred that ran deep. Angel stood up, he glanced around the room and smiled.

"I’ll tell my lady love you all send your regard."

Angel tossed something on to the table before he walked out, his laughter ringing in their ears. Giles turned to the table and groaned, the others followed his lead and several more exclamations and groans were heard. He reached out and picked up the delicate silver chain, the cross dangling sweetly, in the chain was twined several bunches of matted, bloody, blonde hair.

"She’s still alive." Oz sniffed the air.

"You guys focus on finding her." Faith paused to hiss as Willow tied a makeshift bandage around her knee. Somehow nobody questioned her orders. In the larger scheme of things, the details of her return to the good side were not important right now. "Leave the Mayor to me."

* * * *

An ache gnawed ceaselessly at her arms, she couldn’t move them. Her whole body felt heavy and drugged, purple neon lights danced under eyelids with agonizing precision. She should open her eyes, but her lids felt sealed tight. Something didn’t want her to wake, but Buffy knew she should. She could hear a light humming and it seemed to soothe the heavy throbbing in her head. A slow, burning pain radiated from her neck and she was overcome with a thirst so deep it hurt. Her lips stung with the air that hissed past when she breathed, the insides of her mouth and throat were covered with a thick, sticky substance.

Something was waved just in front of her face, her nostrils twitched with the metallic scent. Purely by instinct, she felt herself lunge forward, straining to get some in her mouth. A familiar laughter entered her conscious and she forced her eyes open.

"Angel?" Her voice cracked and sounded extraordinarily weak to her. "You’re better? It worked?"

Several things weren’t right, she knew that deep in the fog of her thoughts, things were definitely not of the good. She felt it to her bones, her spidey sense was vaguely itching. Angel was kneeling above her, she couldn’t possibly be as bad as she felt, could not possibly have sustained the damage she thought she could feel, because he was smiling. That thought niggled at her brain: he was smiling.

"Angel? I’m okay, right?"

The last word was spoken shakily, almost as if she were afraid of the answer. And she was, deathly afraid, because all those things that had not seemed right, all the little details that had seemed out of character, were sliding into focus. A sharp focus that slid into her like a blade, even as she tried to stop it. Buffy refused to believe it, it couldn’t be true, he couldn’t have turned again, there was no possible way. She tried to get her eyes to focus.

"Angel?"

"No, lover, you’re not alright. You’re nowhere near alright."

Buffy’s eyes focused automatically, air rushed into her lungs and her brain screamed at her. Angel’s eyes laughed back at her, cold and without feeling. Her nerves were crawling like a swarm of ants over her body, but she couldn’t move. Clarity is a vicious thing when you are too weak to do anything about the reality it shows.

She closed her eyes, the darkness called to her and she wished she could sink into it and disappear, but he was there and she couldn’t get away. Even if she wasn’t in chains, she didn’t have enough strength to keep her eyes open let alone fight him and walk away.

"I would say you’re pretty close to death." He leaned over and drawled the last word into her ear, whispering he continued. "What with me drinking you dry and all."

The metallic smell came back and she opened her eyes to see him offering her a glass of water. She raised her eyes to look at him, trying to guess at his game. Everything in her screamed to open her mouth and drink, to ease the thirst that scraped at her, she could almost feel the liquid wash over her parched lips and sluice down her throat, but she wouldn’t give him that pleasure. Instead, she kept watching him.

"Come on, Buff, can’t have you dying on me." He paused, as if to think about it. "Yet. Now, that would be no fun, would it?"

His free hand came to rest on her throat, lingering there, his forefinger bent and tracing the lined of her jugular. She shuddered but did not drink. He growled at her suddenly, his hand coming up to prize her chin between his thumb and forefinger, squeezing painfully. The action made him spill water over her chest. Buffy realized with shock that she was naked. Her fear increased and she could smell it in her sweat. Angel brought his vamp face inches from her own as he held the cup to her lips.

"I said drink."

The fingers closed cruelly tight over her chin and she was forced to open her lips. The water spilled out of her mouth and down her front as he poured it. Just as she had thought, the relief it bought to her parched mouth was almost too much to bear. She shook her head from side to side. The glass smashed as it hit the far wall.

Angel was looking down at her and there was no mistaking the look in his eyes. Buffy shook her head harder, her eyes screaming at him not to do this, but he held one hand over her mouth so hard that she could taste her own blood. The other hand he bought down over the exposed flesh of her right breast, pinching the skin until she whimpered. He pressed the skin so hard that it felt as if the flesh underneath would surely tear from the bone. Her muffled screams grew louder.

"Do you have to make this so hard? All this screaming and fighting, you know, it’s very distracting."

He shifted, forcing himself between her legs and chuckled.

"What now? You didn’t seem to mind this before."

Angel stretched his body to cover the length of hers, feeling her squirm and struggle beneath him. He let his fangs rest upon the edge of her barely healing scar and paused to savor the moment. Her skin popped beneath his teeth like the skin of a grape, bursting forth with more heated blood, at the same time that he pressed into her.

As the cells inside of her exploded, the blood being drawn in agonizing droughts, her body snapped into throes of pain, causing her to arch her back and press closer to him. She did not know which of his acts hurt her more. Her grasp on reality began to slide as she stared above her, at the ceiling, knowing that if she had any strength at all, she would be crying.

* * * *

Faith sat at the right hand of the Mayor, he glanced at her and smiled an encouraging little smile. She gave a weak little attempt at smiling back. He’d barely been able to believe that she had come out of her coma, the doctors had given her such slim chances. That would teach him to underestimate his slayer. Speaking of which, there was no sign of the other slayer, or her pesky friends. That could be nothing but a good sign.

Her left hand clenched tight as she sat there. Mayor Wilkins stood up to make his speech, laughing at his own jokes and feeble attempts at humor. She pressed so hard with her hand that she felt the object hidden within tear at her skin. Nerves ran rampant inside of her.

Faith had had to prove herself pure of intent before the lady in the magic shop had allowed her to buy it. Fair enough, she shrugged, these little bastards could do a lot of damage in the wrong hands. It was with whispered warnings and blessings that she had been given the small, oval glass tablet.

How could he not know? As she sat here next to him, her brain was full of the plan, how could he not read it in her eyes? She looked out to the faces in the audience, students, behind them parents and teachers. All of them more or less innocent. Not one of them deserving what the Mayor had planned.

It tasted bitter in her mouth to know that she had been a part of it all. She was glad that she’d sent the others away, made sure they’d be far away when the time came. Most probably, they’d be just what she needed, but in reality she knew Buffy had been right. They’d suffered enough.

Don’t step on the posies, they’ve already bled too much.

The sky overhead began to darken and the Mayor’s words began to falter. This was it, this was what she had been waiting for. Faith closed her eyes for an instant, sending a fevered plea to whatever power happened to be listening.

Standing up, she could read the terror and confusion in the faces of all the students. She stepped forward and began to chant. The mayor spun around, a shocked look on his face. The skin on his scalp shifted and changed texture before shifting back.

"Now Faith. You don’t want to do that."

She kept chanting.

"Faith? You know they don’t want you. I’m the only one who cares for you. Stop it, stop it now."

Faith closed her eyes and refused to listen to him. The words flew out of her mouth with a ferocity she had only dreamed about before. She no longer needed to think about her words now, they came as second nature to her. Her hair began to float beside her face.

In front of her, not that she could see, the air around the Mayor began to spark and sizzle, giving off a blue tinge. It snapped with electricity and the Mayor jumped as if he’d been burned. He could sense that his words weren’t having any effect on her.

"Listen to me, Bitch, you think you can stop me? You’re nothing but a two-bit tramp so hungry for affection you’d give up on the only friends you’d ever had to be with me. Don’t think I can’t…"

The wind grew so strong and the Mayor could no longer resist them. His features shifted from demon to human and back again as he was twirled back and forth. His loud scream obliterated any other sound and suddenly there was quite.

Faith opened her eyes and stared with disbelief at the stone in her hand. It glowed a deep red and heat radiated from it. Under any other circumstances she would have dropped it, but now it held something that should not be loosed on to the world again.

Shouts from the far end of the quadrant made her look up. Legions of vamps were attacking the crowd. Faith jumped into action, racing as fast as she could. With any luck they hadn’t witnessed the entire thing and most of them would bow to her power with the Mayor.

* * * *

They stood in the empty mansion, staring at the ground. To one side lay the broken remains of the table, near that the crumpled metal jug, and a tattered black top that Buffy had been wearing. What they all focused on, however, was the large reddish brown stain that covered the floor. Blood. Buffy’s blood.

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