Buffy the Vampire Slayer is the property of big people with much more money
than I have, who will undoubtedly continue on with their full, happy lives
never knowing of my existence, or that I quite illegally used their
characters in a piece of writing for the internet.
All comments are greatly appreciated, of any type.
The Blood Link
1.2 CHAPTER 1
"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Banderdsnatch!"
Ellie stumbled through the hedges, landing on her side in the
grass. Little thorns and branches left tiny abrasions over her skin, a
myriad of miniscule red drops welling to the surface of her skin. But they
were too few and too small. It wasn't enough—she knew it wasn't enough.
With her small chest heaving, the twelve-year-old wrenched herself to her
feet again and began to move forward, desperately trying to stay upright.
In the darkness her eyes—normally the cool grey of early morning—were
dilated near to being completely black, and her head felt heavy, like she
had had too much candy, only the dizziness was in her brain instead of her
Frantically she looked around for anything sharp—anything she
could use for slicing. In her dash from the wizard-lawyer's car she'd
dropped the stolen knife, and now Ellie had nothing to cut skin, only huge
slabs of stone and flat, even grass. If she only had more blood! With
blood she could raise the— the— things. With blood she could keep herself
Thick, orange curls, a colorless brown in the moonlight, fell into
her vision, and she weakly brushed them aside. The locks were too long,
almost shaggy—when had she gotten her hair cut last? Her mom used to cut
her hair. Ellie wanted her mother so badly. She wanted Charlie and Jessie
and her dad and her little hamster…
The hamster you killed! Devil Child! Hellspawn! Only a devil child could
possibly do such terrible, disgusting things!
No no no! she was in her aunt's house, crying again. Charlie and Jessie
upstairs, too far away … Jessie still hadn't woken up. But Charlie was
awake, Charlie would protect her. Where was he? Why couldn't he hear Aunt
You killed it! Everything you touch is dead! Little brat! How dare you
mother leave me with a monster instead of a child!
No! Aunt Jenn, it wasn't my fault! They were chasing me Aunty! They
wanted to take me away, just like the other kids! I needed the blood! I
had to have the blood to make it all go away! Aunt Jenn! Stoppit!
Please, stoppit! I'm not evil, Aunty! I didn't' mean to! Please, that
hurts! Please! Charlie?! Where are you Charlie?! CHARLIE! ! !
Car tires squealed in the cold night, and Ellie lurched forward,
the feeling going out of her limbs. She had to get away… they were coming…
Lights in the distance, and then footsteps. Many, coming from the
direction of the car she'd jumped from. The thrumming of boots running
across gravel, echoed in the empty night air next to her heavy breathing,
and then flashlights through the bushes. She hadn't gotten far enough
away, and she didn't have enough blood to raise it… No! She couldn't let
them take her again! Not like the others! Maybe—maybe if she could do
enough damage with her teeth, she'd still have enough time to—
"Well well, what do we have here, eh? Awfully lil' thing to be
out all alone in the graveyard, aren't you?"
Ellie, still on hands and knees, raised her tear- and dirt-
streaked features to the voice. It sounded strange, like a old movie.
Through the haze in her eyes she saw black clothes, long black jacket.
"Are you the reason that pack over yonder is making such a
ruckus? They don't sound too happy not to have you, love."
Straining her eyes, she tried look up in the dark and see him
better. He hunched down obligingly, a look of mild curiosity on his face
as he inspected her the way one inspects a new toy. His skin was white in
the moonlight, and when Ellie reached out to grab his wrist, she knew.
He's one of them! Her mind screamed. You can use him! Whatever
you do you can't go back!
"Hey! Watch the leather, pet! What is—" Ellie didn't release his
wrist, but she brought her own tiny hand up to her mouth and bit savagely.
It was painful; she hated pain! But she still bit and the blood still
leaked down her mouth and wrist, sprinkling onto the soft earth.
"What the hell are you doing you—"
Now, before he bites you!
Ellie caught his wrist with her bloody hand as well, wrapping her
fingers tight against the skin, and reached out her mind and grabbed.
It was like swimming in darkness. Things echoed in the monster's
mind, flashes of people and sounds and tastes and emotions, but Ellie paid
them no attention. She had him. She was safe now, she was in control. He
was fighting her, but something else was in there with them too—some
bright, shiny thing that sent out strange, rhythmic… somethings. She
didn't know what it was, but it was as foreign there as she, and somehow
she it was keeping him from trying to bite her, and limiting his ability to
resiat. He was old though, and Ellie didn't know how long she could keep
him. She had barely loosed enough blood even for this. But she had
control of him now, and with him she would be safe—for as long as her power
Take me away from the men with the lights and the things with
them! Take me somewhere safe!
The vampire called Spike was dimly aware of voices shouting as he
collected the child in his arms and began to run, but it didn't seem to
matter much. He had to get her away; he wasn't exactly certain why, but he
had the overwhelming sensation that it was vital. When he tried to
question the thought, even as he ran full-out into the night, his thoughts
could not seem to focus.
All he knew was that he had to get out of the cemetery and get her
away. The headlights of an oncoming car flashed at his sensitive eyes once
and he blinked, slightly jolted as his vision blurred. When he could see
clearly in the dark again, Spike looked down at the tiny girl in his arms.
Wasn't there something wrong about this? Wasn't there something he should
be fighting? He felt—restrained, caged, trapped. Why was he running down
the street at night with a strange child in his arms? Something was
definitely going on—
Grey eyes gazed into his, large and turning almost opalescent in
the sickly glow of the streetlights.
Safe. Spike had to go somewhere safe, and away from the bad
people at the cemetery. He had to protect the girl. Nothing else was
important right now.
When her door crashed open Buffy Summers jerked awake, jumping
violently from the couch and dumping blankets and popcorn on the floor as
she went. Her startled gaze beheld the odd vision of Spike, sitting
propped against the inside of her once again closed front door with a small
body clutched firmly in his arms & lap like a lifeline. The hood of the
heavy sweatshirt his strange cargo was wearing had slipped partway down,
revealing a mass of bright, fiery curls and small, freckled cheeks.
"Spike?" Buffy snapped, striding forward with Slayer-mode turned
up to the 'high' setting. "What's going on? Who is that. And why did you
bring her here?"
The blond vampire, for his part, jerked his head up and stared
blankly at her for a moment, then seemed to blink. Like a person waking up
from sleepwalking. Buffy judged this to be definitely odd behavior for
Spike, who took hyperactive awareness to startling new heights even among
"I don't know. I think—I—I don't know. He looked down. "She
seems to be asleep," he added, as if it ought to explain something very
important, but he wasn't sure what.
The Slayer's green eyes tightened. She needed to know what the
hell was going on, and fast. "Spike, why did you bring an unconscious
little girl to my house? Where are her parents?"
"I didn't—" he started confusedly, and then suddenly he was
shoving the red-headed body away from him, scrambling across the floor to
get as far away as possible.
"SPIKE! WHAT THE HELL IS—"
The vampire's azure eyes jumped hecticly back and forth between
the Slayer and the now unconscious child. "She was in my head, Buffy! Oh
god she was in my head, it was like what Dru used to do sometimes, only
much much worse! God Slayer I couldn't even THINK of anything else, you
Buffy slapped Spike hard, sending his head wrenching to one side.
"Pull yourself together," she ordered, with a cursory glance to the
sleeping stranger on her floor. "She's still unconscious."
Spike's eyes lost that panicked look, and Buffy felt her worry
start to calm down as well. The number of times she had seen Spike's blue
gaze with that look of horror she could count on one hand, with fingers to
spare. Even now he had his head in his hands, and his shoulders were
tensed up like skin on a drum.
"I found her in the cemetery on Chancey and Marx," he began, "on
the way to follow a lead on that Crenna nest. She was barely walking, and
I caught sight of her just as two cars pulled up outside the cemetery. I
knelt down to talk to her, and she just grabbed my wrist and—"
He shook his head violently. "It's— She took over my head, love;
she needed to use me to take her away from whatever or whoever was
jones'ing for her. I think she wanted to be somewhere safe, and I must
have instinctively brought her to you, I s'ppose. But she was able to
control my body, my thoughts…"
Spike cautiously glanced up from his hands, and was slightly
relieved to see Buffy wasn't angry at him for bringing a potentially
dangerous person into her house, no matter how much he was now internally
kicking himself in the shins for it. His love only looked pensive, and was
staring at him in that distant way which meant she wasn't really looking at
him at all, just thinking intensely.
"How, do you think?" she asked finally.
Spike swallowed a wave of discomfort as a notion started to take
form in his thoughts. He remember now how the girl had looked up at him
when he first spoke, and how she had grabbed his wrist and then savagely
bit into her own, drawing blood. It had been the human blood that
distracted him, just long enough for the little chit to jump in and steal
his willpower away from him completely. If he was right, he'd brought
right to Buffy's door the only thing that could strike almost as much fear
into vampires as a Slayer. The girl—the child—could be a great ally or a
terrifyingly dangerous foe. And if she was out of control, as he was
beginning to fear she was now that he could concentrate, then they were all
in for a big load of shit.
"I think she's a necromancer."