Author: divine one PM
Dark Blood. Pre chip Spike, but man and demon both still love buffy.Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Angst - Spike & Buffy S. - Words: 616 - Reviews: 1 - Favs: 2 - Follows: 2 - Published: 10-11-08 - Status: Complete - id: 4589439
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Title: Dark Love
Pairing: Erh, faint spuffy?
Fandom: Buffy The Vampire Slayer
Disclaimer All publicly recognizable characters, settings, plot, etc. are the property of the creators of the TV show Buffy the Vampire Slayer Any original characters, settings and plots are the property of devylish. devylish is in no way associated with the TV show BTVS and no copyright infringement is intended. This work is an amateur fan effort and no profit is being made.
Summary: October prompt
Warning: Eh nothing much... just a bit dark.
The jeweled grip of the dagger glinted in the candlelight as he tossed it from one hand to the other. The blade -- a gift from his grandsire – brought back memories; none of them good. That being said, the weight of the cool metal – heavy and tangible -- felt right. It made his demon howl with anticipation.
Placing the blade against his wrist, he made a small cut, breaking through a thin layer of pale papery skin, then through the slick curving surface of a vein.
Hissing quietly at the sharp pain, he watched the small drops of blood flow into the uncorked bottle of Burgundy.
He counted blood as seconds, measuring life in droplets….
15 drops; a bit more than called for, but then, she was a bit more powerful than most slayers.
The recipewas old; handed down from clan to clan, vampire to vampire.
He smiled darkly; recipe was a strong word, it was really little more than a bedtime story shared with fledglings as their sires nipped at their necks and clawed at their dead skin…. It was a lullaby whispered in the ear of every childe to help them fall asleep as the sun rose and the world spun.
As Children became Masters, voraciously living through every jugular they tore, every vein they siphoned, they learned the difference between truth and fable. They learned the difference between reality and farce. They learned which stories were just stories, and which were stone; carved and beaten and solid.
But this story… this tale, was so old, so preciously gossamer, its truth was never tested…, never known.
No, this recipe remained hidden in the mind of the demon, it faded into near-nothingness, joining so many moments, so many truths… so many excised existences. The recipe for the darkest love, was written in black ink, at the midnight hour, on a ebony night.
To most, it was little more than a corrupted fairytale. A nightmare on the wind; a song of lust and love, black and white, evil and good.
But, he'd take that.
He'd take on a nightmare if it meant he could possess her.
And once he owned her, body and soul, he'd wrap her up in those golden chains that she'd wound so tightly round his heart. The golden chains that teased his demon; thwarting and taming the beast.
To possess her or to set loose his demon -- whichever option was offered to him first -- he'd swallow a thousand souls, one by one. He'd do anything.
Even if that 'anything' meant placing his faith in one little 'nothing'. One little recipe. One little breezy nightmare.
Since there was no one to listen to his prayers, the devil's recipes were all his love had.
He re-corked the bottle that now contained fragrant wine and 15 amethyst drops of vampire blood. He wrapped it in paper and ribbon before pulling out the small card that would accompany the gift.
Now, for something fitting for a slayer… from a vampire.
To the Light
In the dark
To let you know
Your presence is felt
May hearts' desire