| Title: Reckoning Author: Alexandria Pairing: S/Dawn � not like that though Summary: Someone takes something they shouldn�t Feedback: First time writing about Dawn, let me know what you think Rating: NC-17, language, graphic violence Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, WB, Fox � please don�t come for me Distribution: List archives, anybody else, let me know Spoilers: Season Five � set after �The Body� Archives: My site: www.angelfire.com/rant/AlexandriaBrown - which is slowly branching into other things Notes: I don�t even want to think about where this came from. Character deaths. Lots of character deaths. Spike is finally pushed too far. Lots of blood. Lots of violence. Mention of rape. ======================================================================= The cloying smell sickened even him, blood and death drenched about him on every side. Glassy eyes took in the scene, not quite believing what he was seeing, not yet convinced it was real, even after witnessing it with his own eyes. He had been coming to sit on the back porch, taking up his lonely vigil yet again, what was it now, a day, a week, a month. He blew out the cigarette smoke, focusing only on that question, narrowing his world to just that one thing. An old trick. A way to force his mind to stop, to step back, to separate from when the horror around him became too much. He counted back slowly. One week, two weeks, three weeks. Three weeks and three days. Three weeks and three days of coming here to sit wreathed in shadow and mourn the only woman he dared call friend. Three weeks and three days of keeping silent guard, of ensuring that her youngest child did nothing foolish. Three weeks and three days of protecting them from the demons that had come hunting, sure that now the Slayer would be weak, now she would be vulnerable. Three weeks and three days of silent wars far from judging eyes. But he had been unprepared for this. He had slunk around the corner, creeping in the shadows as he always did now. The open door shocked him. They knew much, much better than that. Just because he could no longer enter didn�t mean there weren�t other creatures about to whom the open door was invitation enough. He bolted up the stairs, sharp words poised on the tip of his tongue when the scent of blood slammed into him like a fist, the muffled screams reaching his ears a missing heartbeat behind. Stunned, he saw the blood slowly running down the hall, rich, thick, the smell of the witches rising to him. He threw himself towards the open door, battering against the invisible barrier, screams pulled from his throat. �Slayer, Slayer,� No mocking, no hate, just blind panic. Panting, he ran to the front of the house, vaguely registering all the cars. They must have gathered again tonight, must have been trying to find some way to pull the youngest from out of the pit she seemed to have fallen into. He pulled up short at the scene framed in the window. Willow�s head tilted at an impossible angle, Tara�s mouth joining hers in an obscene kiss, blood still dripping from their slit throats. Growling now, louder and louder as he stalked towards the door, desperately hoping that somehow the spell hadn�t survived their deaths. He slammed to a stop, frantic as he heard the fighting going on inside. He just managed to dodge out of the way when a large body hurtled through the door. His mind registered a name. Xander. Then he was turning away as the head hit the sidewalk, a sick wet thud as the skull cracked apart. Spike ran and crouched next to him, hoping against hope that there was something, anything that could be done. Dark eyes met his and Spike just barely caught the words as the last breath was exhaled. �Spike, help� then nothing, eyes glossing over, brains mixing with the blood coming from Xander�s head. Spike�s mind catalogued the body quickly. Skull shattered. Knife wounds to the face and arms. Gun shot to the stomach. Hissing now, rage building and burning inside him. His to kill. No one else�s. No one touched them but him. The sounds of struggle grew louder and he turned back to the house, just in time to see Giles slam face first into the window, an ax buried in his skull. No time to spare on that though, not when he could see the Slayer, still fighting, still struggling to the last. She was drenched in blood, whose it was impossible to say. She was viciously attacking some dark figure, dodging the knives in the being�s hands. �Slayer, invite me it,� the scream ripped from him before he could stop it, realizing a split second later that the distraction could kill her. �Come in, come in, gods, help us, please, Dawn, Dawn, Dawn,� terror ripped the words from her mouth as she fought on. He was moving before the first word had fallen from her lips, moving inhumanly fast, tearing up the stairs, heading for the child�s room, leaving Buffy behind, knowing she could fend for herself. Knowing that the child could not. Two men there, carrying the limp body between them. He flung himself onto the first, dropping down in a howling rage as pain seared through his mind. Humans. These were humans. Humans who had done this atrocity. The men simply ignored him and continued to carry their burden down the stairs. Spike glanced up just in time to see the tattoos wrapping around their necks, then fell back to the floor, crawling behind them, trying desperately to move through the searing pain. He watched, detached, as they paused briefly on the stairs. A hand reached into a coat and he saw the barrel of the gun. �Buffy,� a desperate scream, warn her, had to warn her. She turned her head just as the trigger was pulled. Spike watched as that beautiful face vanished in a haze of red. She dropped like a rock to the ground and the man she was fighting stepped back. He joined the others as they headed out the door, Dawn now cradled in the largest man�s arms. Spike crawled down the stairs, dragging himself over to the remains of the Slayer�s shattered body. Gone. They were all gone. Caught in a moment of weakness, trapped like rats. He duly registered the trail of bodies. Anya the first, caught as she opened the back door. Then the witches, trapped trying to perform some chant of protection. The broken door frame through which Xander�s body had flown. Giles sprawled face down on the couch. And the Slayer. Dropped like so much cattle, her blood still pumping from the remains of her face. Spike pulled himself upright, staring at the ceiling. Humans. He lit a cigarette, desperate for something to do. He recognized the tattoo. A cult that worshipped some snake god. They must have been hunting her for months waiting until just the right moment when her guardians would be weak. A snort of disgust. They spent so much time protecting her from the demon realm they had forgotten about the evil that dwelled in man. They had watched. They had waited. They had struck. They had taken Dawn. Spike felt the rage spiral higher and higher. He knew what they had in store for her. Taken for her youth and purity. To be debased and defiled then sold into slavery where she would surely, surely be killed. And killed harshly. They had attacked. They had taken Dawn. A buzzing noise filled his ears as he howled into the night, impotent fury at his helplessness. The anger burned in him, hot as the sun. Higher and higher the fire built, the buzzing growing with each moment, with each furious thought at just what he would do if he could, just how he would make them pay. The hoarse howling of his voice mingled with the burning in his brain until it was all just a sea of red. Louder and louder, higher and higher, until he burned with a white hot heat. Suddenly, the world went quiet. He felt something snap deep, deep inside him. It felt like a switch suddenly being flipped off. Quiet. Perfectly quiet and still. The buzzing had stopped. He reached a bloody hand up and ran it over the back of his skull. The buzzing had stopped. The faint sound of the chip audible only by its absence. Gone. Stopped. Done. Broken. He tossed the cigarette aside and tore down the street as if the Furies themselves were at his heels. The chip was broken. He was free. Free to main and kill. Free to take his revenge. Free to hunt them down. He was free. And they had taken Dawn. He crouched in the bushes, watching and waiting. He had tracked them here, to this old house on the edge of town. Circling down in an ever tightening pattern, he quickly determined there were twelve men. Dawn would make lucky number thirteen. The chosen one to complete the ritual. The fire flicked in the pit behind the house, the altar already set. He set his jaw tightly, ignoring the sounds coming from the bedroom. Twelve men. Each determined to have his turn. Spike knew the ritual well. The leader of the cult first, taking her virginity as his own prize. Then the rest would follow after in the order of their joining. She would be tied to the bed, gagged, painted red with the blood of her fallen family. His stomach twisted and he pushed the thought aside. Now was not the time for that. Now was the time to plan. He only had a few hours until the sun rose and they brought her down to complete the ritual. He saw the snakes tangling together in a writhing mass under the altar. The snakes that would be draped over her battered body. Spike forced back another growl. Now was the time to plan. Now was the time to call upon all his decades of skill in the art of torture to take true revenge. They had taken Dawn. They would pay. He eased into the door, senses heightened to razor edged perfection. He could see everything clearly, could smell the sick scent of them on her skin, could hear them moving about, could taste the metallic tang of her fear, could feel the coldness of the steel in his hands. He moved up the stairs with preternatural grace, waiting for the first to emerge from the room. They were foolish, they had set no guard, satisfied that their long dead god would protect them. He smiled coldly at their folly. He pressed against the wall at the top of the landing, melting into the shadows as he saw a man stagger from the room. He followed him down the hall, watching the man head for the bathroom. Perfect. No need to alert the others quite yet. The man slumped against the wall, leaning as he pissed into the toilet, yawning a little from the exertion of the night. Damn but she had still been so tight, so very, very tight. It was only the hand that suddenly clamped over his mouth that kept the screech of agony from reaching the others. His eyes grew wide as his penis fell into the bowl, blood spurting everywhere. He started to collapse, only to be yanked back to his feet. A demonic visage greeted him as his torment grew and grew. �Least of what you deserve. You�re lucky, mate, rest won�t have it this easy.� Fangs pierced his neck and he struggled weakly as the remainder of his blood was quickly sucked away. Spike stepped back, easing the body to the floor. One down. Eleven to go. The thick, hot taste of human blood taken from a living victim sang in his veins, strengthening him even more. He moved back down the hall, watching the door carefully. He listened closely, blocking out the sounds of her sobbing. Not yet. Not yet. He wouldn�t let himself feel it just yet. If he did he would simply tear into the room, killing them both. No. Not yet. He watched as three men emerged, one heading down the stairs, staggering slightly, the other two heading towards him and straight for the bedroom door behind his back. He eased the door open, just enough to enter, then moved to stand pressed flat against the closet door. The men entered the room, the first calling back over his shoulder, �Only about 1:30, still time to catch the end of the movie,� he flicked on the light, then froze. A man stood there, fire blazing in his yellow eyes. �Don�t think you�ll be watching anything, ever again.� One step, then a loud crunch as Spike easily snapped the man�s neck. He whirled and ripped open the second man�s throat, the scream of warning dying in Spike�s mouth. He gulped down the blood, then pulled the bodies into the room, turning on the television as he did so. There, the normal noise the others would be expecting. He slid back into the hallway, pulling the door mostly shut, damning the sliver of light that remained. He crept down the stairs, hearing the man moving in the kitchen. �Hey, Bob, Steve, you guys want a beer,� the words grew louder as the man came around the corner, a bottle raised to his lips. Spike grabbed him by the throat, beer spilling out of the man�s mouth and cresting over his hands. He pulled the struggling man out the front door and across the yard, moving steadily towards the old rake half hidden in the weeds. The man fought to scream, unable to do so through his broken throat. He began to gag as his larynx swelled, cutting off his oxygen. Spike marched him onward, moving faster now, determined to reach his target before the man died of suffocation. He raised the body over his head and dropped it down, impaling the man on the tines of the rake. He watched as the man squirmed, death coming at him from all sides. Finally, all motion stopped. One last look, then Spike brought his boot heel down on the man�s face, shattering the bones. Duster flying behind him, he ran back to the house, hearing her heartbeat begin to fade, just a little. No time for all he had planned, no time to make them pay as they should. He had to get there, had to reach her, had to stop them before she broke completely. He moved unerringly towards the living room, knowing just where their weapons would be. He grabbed two pistols, checking to make sure the clips were fully loaded. No time for stealth now. He paused at the foot of the stairs, coming to a quick decision. Draw them out, then drop them as they came at him. He forced his face back to human form. Let them shoot all they wanted, as long as the bullets weren�t wood he would take all they could hand him. He was gorged on blood, losing some wouldn�t hurt nearly as much now. With no hesitation he raised a hand and placed three quick shots into the ceiling. They came pouring from the room, half dressed and utterly confused. The light from the cracked door and the moonlight coming through the windows weren�t nearly enough for them to see what was happening. Spike shot them like so many targets. One. Two. Three. The bodies began falling down the stairs, perfect round holes in the center of the skulls. He stalked forward like the angel of death. Four. Five. Six. Stupid, stupid, stupid, still coming towards him, making it easier still. Ten down. Two to go. He moved smoothly to the top of the stairs, dropping the emptied guns behind him. He wouldn�t need them now. He stepped into the room, dropping and spinning as he did so. The ax sailed over his head, embedding the blade firmly in the door. The man wielding the ax let out a guttural cry as Spike spun behind him, yanking the knife across both Achilles tendons. The man dropped to his knees, unable to stand. Spike continued the spin, rising as he did so, the knife spinning to land squarely in the leader�s chest. Spike rose, ridges prominent on his face. He yanked the squirming man off the floor, holding him in the air. He tilted his head to one side, curiosity getting the better of him. He always had wondered what true evil looked like. He stared into the monster�s eyes, then growled, disappointed. The monster looked like just another human. Just another meal. Spike dropped him to the ground, then leaned over the man, rubbing his forehead along the man�s cheek. �Picked the wrong little girl to play with. See, mate, that one�s mine. Like family to me, she is. And I protect what�s mine.� He growled deep in his chest, then pulled the other knife from his boot. �Think I�ll just feed her your heart.� He slammed the blade down, the serrated edge ripping through the flesh. The man�s screaming covered the sick scrape of metal on bone. Blood gushed like a fountain into the air, spurting in time to the rapidly fading heartbeat. Spike turned his back to the bloody mass, moving straight for the leader. Spike threw his head back and laughed as the man slowly tried to raise the gun to him. �Hard to aim when you�re shaking like that. What, that little penknife hurting you some?� He grabbed the gun away as the man began to chant some mad litany. Spike knelt next to him, leaning down to whisper in his ear. �Go right ahead, mate. Don�t think your god�s going to listen to you now. Should be careful when you muck about with demons. One might just come to visit.� He licked the man�s neck, relishing in the shudder it produced. He stood back up, finally turning his attention to the still figure on the bed. She was unconscious. Spike swallowed as tears came to his eyes. She was so pale, blood crusting around the handcuffs around her wrists and ankles. He whirled back to the man on the floor. �Key.� The tone of his voice held the promise of infinite pain. The man raised a shaky hand and pointed to a box on the small dresser. Spike retrieved it, then gently undid the locks. He settled her on the bed, pulling the dusty blanket over her. �Clothes.� A nod to the closet and Spike yanked the door open. As he thought, there were a number of outfits, all in Dawn�s size. All to her taste. They must have been watching her for months. He chose the most comfortable looking one and gently dressed her, careful to touch only where absolutely necessary. When he was finished, he dropped down to rest alongside the quivering body. �Not going to die yet, mate. Takes quite some time to die from internal bleeding. Think I missed your heart by accident? Not quite. Hit your intestines, I did. You�ll be dead in a bit.� Spike moved back to the bed, pulling the still form into his arms. �Just want her to see first.� Dawn slowly opened her eyes. She went still, confused, unsure of where she was. The memories struck her all at once and she began to scream. She vaguely felt arms wrap around her and she shrieked louder and louder. �Hush, ducks. Spike�s got you. Killed them for you, never hurt you again. Nothing will ever hurt you again, hush.� He stroked his hands down her back, trying to calm her. The sound of Spike�s voice penetrated her terror and she threw herself into the cool embrace. �Are they all,� she choked out. �Buffy, too?� She was just sitting in her room, staring into space when the men burst into her room. They overpowered her in seconds, tying her up. Then, they proceeded to tell her exactly what they were going to do. Spike tightened his grip, tears falling from his eyes. �Yes, pet. Sorry, couldn�t stop it. Tried, but, so sorry.� He stopped, knowing no words could ever be right, no words could make it easier. �Have something for you, though.� Dawn pulled back, frowning as she felt the blood on her face. Her eyes went wide as she looked at Spike, blood covering him from head to toe. �How, how did you find me?� �Followed your scent. Took care of the wankers for you, all but this one. Thought you might want to do that yourself.� Spike watched her closely, seeing the traces of shock in her eyes. He pulled her over to the edge of the bed. The leader lay there, shivering as the pain rattled through him. �You fucker,� the words spilled from her mouth as a look of unfathomable hatred crossed her face. �You fucker.� �Thought I would turn him, let you stake him when he wakes,� Spike�s voice sounded in her ear. �You can do that?� Dawn breathed out, turning to look up at him. �But what about the chip?� �Seem to have buggered it somehow.� He felt the blood pounding in her veins as she stared down at the beast. �Oh.� She continued to stare, then her face set into a look of fierce determination. �No, Spike, I don�t want you to turn him.� She looked up, staring him straight in the eye. Spike took a sudden step back, every instinct screaming to get away from such a deadly creature. �I want to do this all on my own.� She reached down and yanked the knife from his chest, drinking in the immense scream of agony. Blood spurted out, covering her in its dark warmth. She stared at him for a long moment, then slammed the knife into his chest, directly into his heart, all the times she watched Buffy train finally being put to use. A gasp, a gurgle, then he was dead. Spike reached out and took her hand. �Come along, then, nibblet. Have to get going, sun�s going to be up soon and I want to find you a nice place to stay.� Somewhere she can bathe all she wants, get her some food, bloody hell, have to stop at the crypt and pick up some dosh, the thoughts scattered through his mind as he led her down the stairs, carefully picking their way through the bodies. He settled her into the front seat of the DeSoto, for the first time wishing he could belt her in. He turned back and ran quickly to the side of the house. He dropped a match, then dashed back to the car. �Spike, why did you come,� the quiet voice broke his heart. He turned to the shattered child next to him and a faint smile touched his lips. �All we�ve got left is each other now, baby girl. Not going to let that go.� He started the car and pulled away, leaving the house blazing behind them in the night. TBC... |