The S.I.T. or Slayer-in-Training (or Baby-Slayers, as Faith might say), watched as the gleaming, black, muscle car with tinted windows, came to a stop at the gate. An arm encased in leather reached over to the security panel and pressed the button for admittance. The S.I.T. confirmed with her W.I.T. – or as another Faith-colloquialism, Glindas, to confirm any unusual anomalies within their magical wards, by their unannounced guest. When Rachel the W.I.T., frowned, looking confused but concerned, she pointed at something on the screen.
Red, indicated something evil, Green meant the presence was good, Black designated the visitor as a member of their organization, White meant undetermined which meant you you had to call down the Slayer-on-duty or the Witch-on-duty, and Purple indicated also uncertainty but that the entity contained both dark and light energies. The person(s) at the gate came up Purple. Quickly, the Baby-Slayer known as Frankie, placed a call to one of the supervisors. “Hey Amanda. It’s Frankie down at the desk. It looks like we gotta live one; they’re Purple.”
Silence met her ear for a few moments before a voice replied. “Ok, we’ll be down in a minute. For now, get a name, run an I.D. scan, and run an aura test,” replied Amanda.
“Gotcha.” Frankie disconnected before repeating the instructions to Rachel, and while she ran the aura test, Frankie pressed a button to talk to their visitor.
“Please state your name and turn towards the screen please.” They watched what appeared to be a woman with long dark hair, wearing sunglasses, stare at the screen.
A smooth, feminine voice answered. “Abigail Whistler, here to see Buffy Summers and Rupert Giles . Tell em’ I was sent by Angel.” She was American.
Since there was no indication of any appointments with Buffy or Giles and no mention of Abigail Whistler, they had a sense that this was above their pay grade. “One moment please.”
They ran the scans which confirmed the woman’s name, along with the purple signature turning a strange deeper color, with swirling red undertones. Looking at Rachel as she shook her head in shared confusion, she called Amanda again.
After Amanda disconnected with Frankie, she turned towards Andrew and Rhona who’d been hanging out in her office. “Did you hear all that?”
“Let’s call Xander,” suggested Rhona, Andrew nodded in agreement, while munching on a Hot Pocket.
Xander having just finished a bunch of reports from his last trip, had settled down on his over-stuffed couch to play some Halo, so that the next time Dawn challenges him he’d be ready. That’s if she comes up for air with her new, uber-hot, girlfriend, Bela. Shaking his head in wonder, he still had a hard time believing this new turn of events. As usual his thoughts started taking a more x-rated turn before they were interrupted by the high-tech, HQ intercom set up by the the wonder-geek Andrew and his fellow geek squad, interfaced with a Willow-esque magical communications spell, made communications very easy through their HQ.
Slipping on the ear-clip, he answered. “Xander here. What’s up?”
“Hey Xander, its Amanda. I gotta call from the front desk about a visitor at the gate, named Abigail Whistler. Now normally I wouldn’t bother you, but she’s asking to see Buffy and Giles” Lightly frowning because he didn’t think that was a big deal, so he was about to tell Amanda to deny the visitor, but the next statement managed to catch his attention and had him sitting up. “She says she was sent by Angel, and while everything else checks out, her aura is pretty funky.”
Frowning even harder, knowing that Angel and Spike died from their own mini-Apocalypse in Los Angeles that they were still grieving over, this development definitely had his attention. “Tell em’ to let her in, but bring down extra security. In the meantime, you take another Slayer with you to meet her at the desk, and Rhona, you’re with me to greet her at the elevator.”
Once he disconnected he called Giles. After a few beeps (no doubt Giles trying to figure out how to connect), the Scooby-Watcher finally answered. “Hello?” Xander heard a few more items crashing to the floor, followed by a few choice curses.
“Hey G-Man. We may have a situation downstairs at the front desk. Got someone who just arrived named Abigail Whistler, wanting to see you and Buffy, and she says she was sent by Angel.” All sounds of rummaging around stopped, along with gasp from Giles.
“I’m sorry, but did you say Abigail Whistler?” came the urgent question from Giles.
“Yeaahhh?” Xander began wondering what was going on. It was clear something ‘pinged’ on Giles’ radar.
Giles sighed, gathering himself for the coming storm that was Abigail Whistler. “Xander if you would be so kind as to escort Ms. Whistler to my office, I would appreciate it.”
Surprised, Xander began to get more curious. “Oh, they also said her aura was kinda off. But not evil-off.”
“Fine. Apprise Willow and Buffy of the situation, then if you’d be so kind as to escort our guest here.”
“Are you sure? Especially I--,” Xander was interrupted.
“I’ll be fine Xander. Now please go greet Ms. Whistler.”
In the huge, cavernous, work-out section of HQ, Buffy was currently pummeling a ‘dummy;’ sweat dripped off her skin, splattering on the ground, her wrapped hands were white-knuckled as the pummeling continued. Her muscles stood out in stark relief, as the frustration and anger worked through her. How Dawn could be interested in such a narcissistic, snarky, disrespectful, bitch was beyond her. Plus, who knew that Dawn liked women?! Why was she the last to know?! She ignored the voice telling her about the obvious signs Dawn had dropped the past few weeks. At first she thought it was some beef-cake, European footballer that was putting that… look on face. A look that rarely found itself on her own face, Buffy‘s voice snickered to herself.
Then Dawn began to use gender-neutral pronouns that had Willow narrowing her eyes in thought, while Buffy pretended to not notice. But when Dawn showed up with Bela in tow after a patrol, Buffy knew she could no longer ignore what Dawn had been “telling” her. Hence the reason she was down here working out her frustrations. Once again she ignored the voice telling her that it wasn’t so much that Dawn was withthat… woman, it was also about the fact that Buffy was… lonely.
There had been few moments when there was some… curiosity about Faith and possibly hooking up with her Sister Slayer, but there was too much stuff between them. Any feelings they might have had had turned into more sisterly feelings, rather than potential lovers. Buffy had dated a few times since the clusterfuck that was Sunnydale. That list even included a couple of women, including the debacle called Satsu. Finally Buffy stopped, panting huge bellowing puffs of air, her hair soaked with sweat, wet strands had long escaped the ponytail hanging around her face and shoulders, as she wrapped her toned, muscular arms around the swinging heavy-bag.
Satsu had been a hot, whirl-wind affair, that had left the younger Slayer with a broken heart, and storming away to their one of their satellite facilities in Vietnam. Buffy still felt bad about the whole thing, plus, Buffy had lost a good friend. But the connection, that deep abiding need, she’d been hoping to feel, was just not there. The sex was good. The sex was great even. But that toe-curling, insanely hot, nearly unconscious, almost drool-worthy, heart-stopping, and a little naughty, sex, had been missing in their brief relationship. After copious amounts of Willow-BFF-girl-talk and ice-cream, plus a little shopping in Milan, she thought she was well on her way to ‘recovery.’ Until Dawn walked in with Bela fucking Talbot. Not to mention, they’d been trying to reach Faith for the past few days to no avail, creating the tension-ridden person that was now Buffy.
Perhaps this would be a good time for a road-trip back to the States. As she started to unwrap her hands, Buffy watched all the various training sessions. All the Junior-Slayers, walked a wide berth around her, instinctively knowing that their leader wanted to be left alone. But that didn’t prevent them from marveling at the Legend, which Buffy tried to ignore-- hero-worship was never her thing. Instead she focused on the feeling of restlessness that had been steadfastly for more than a year now. Even the occasional apocalypse hadn’t been enough to curb the feeling. And it was starting to drive her insane. It was like having an itch tickling the bottom of your foot; only you’re unable to scratch it because your feet are laced up tight, in a pair of steel-toed boots.
After her debacle with Satsu, she started hitting the clubs and pubs more often, letting the thrum and base of the music carry her away, soaking up the lust-tainted air. Next to the moments when she was slaying, dancing, prowling for… something, seemed to trigger her Slayer. She’d scared off more than a few potential pick-ups when they'd hear an unearthly growl leaking from her lips, or her eyes would begin shimmering with a copper undertone. However the few times she allowed herself to let go; when the restlessness and lust became too much, particularly after a hard slay, when the need became so great, she gave into her baser-Slayer-instincts, and would find someone to lose herself in for a night. The first couple of times she did it, she wondered how Faith managed it because they tended to get either all-clingy or they became majorly insecure – particularly men (but really, who could keep up with a Slayer, much less one of the Chosen Slayers?!). Plus, Buffy couldn’t be bothered with trying to soothe ruffled feathers, because she was usually too busy trying to escape the following morning with some of her dignity intact.
Rolling her shoulders to alleviate tension, enjoying the way her muscles bunched and released, as the energy zinged around her veins. Her inner monologue was cut off when she saw Rhona approaching. “Hey Buff. Giles and Xander sent me to get you. Gotta situation out front. An Abigail Whistler asked to see you and Giles.” Buffy frowned because she had no idea who that was or why she was important enough for Giles to summon her.
“Did she say why?” Buffy grabbed a towel to wipe up the sweat on her face and shoulders to give her a moment to process the information. Looking over at Rhona again, as she waited for her answer.
“No.” Rhona paused for a moment, swallowing because she knew how touchy this next part was. “Just that Angel sent her.”
Buffy stilled, her eyes narrowing making Rona even more uncomfortable. “What?! Angel sent her?! What… how?”
Rhona held up her hands in placating gesture. “Look that’s all she said. I don’t know anything more than that.”
Turning away from her Senior-Slayer to calm a waking storm, Buffy released her hair from her ponytail, then ran a hand through the wet length. The tension that she’d just worked off suddenly reappeared, while the restlessness crept into her awareness like angry bees. “Ok, tell them on my way. I’m gonna take a shower. “ She refocused her attention on Rhona before continuing on with her instructions. “Make sure to put together a preliminary report on her and have it on my desk not later than two hours from now.” They began heading towards the double-doors. “And make sure to post additional security by Giles’ office.”
She nodded her thanks, watching as Rhona walk off to carry out her instructions. She grabbed her high-tech, ear-set-thingee, and contacted Willow, as she started a quick walk to her rooms. “Hey Will. Yeah, you got the memo too? Well apparently she only wants to meet with Giles and me. We’ll keep you posted.” She listened as Willow told her about the aura and that she and that her staff were busy trying to glean what it meant. “Well we’ll probably find out more information soon anyways, so just sit tight.”
She finally reached her rooms, unlocking her door to let herself in. “Ok. Will do. Later.”
As she finally stood under the heat of the water, she realized that she was actually looking forward to whatever was awaiting her in Giles’ office. Perhaps whatever it was would alleviate some of her agitation.
Abigail slowly put her beloved car in park. Blade’s car, but since his True Death, was now her car. She took a moment to prepare herself. She almost couldn’t believe she was here. But Angel swore by them, and other than a select few, his word was bond. Sighing, she reached over and grabbed her leather messenger bag. Black of course, like almost all of her clothing and other accessories. She had Blade’s famous leather trench tailored to fit her, which she was now wearing, along with a pair of black leather pants, with hidden compartments to hold various weapons. The only color to be found in her clothing was the black, was among the design of her Led Zeppelin t-shirt, which had hints of red, purple, blues, and yellows as part of the motif. Her creamy skin stood out against hair, the color of caramel and hints of lager. But it was her intense cinnamon-colored eyes underneath the sunglasses, that were even more striking. A swirling mix of brown, rust, with gold-flecks, had her fending off more than a few advances, throughout the years. The obvious muscle-tone, plus the mysterious, no-bullshit-allowed attitude, made her even more intriguing.
But the changes from this year made all of that irrelevant. She lost her… mentor, her Father-like figure, in the shape of an African-American, Daywalker Vampire. But the grief had had little time to settle in, before she was fighting for her life against a well-armed, strategically-smart, group of Vampires, who’d teamed up with some mean-as-hell demons. However, it was only the Gift from Blade that ‘saved’ her. Naturally he’d been reluctant. But as he watched her life flow away in a steady stream of metallic-smelling blood from a wound she’d been certain to die from, he slowly reached over and grabbed her wrist, taking a moment to search in eyes in askance, seeking acquiescence, before he bit down into the pulsing vein in Abigail’s wrist. She hissed in response to the brief, sharp pain, but in comparison to her broken wrist, a gash from a bit of shrapnel that laid open a deep wound across her abdomen, and a gun-shot wound to her thigh, that was suspiciously bleeding out much faster than it should, indicating an artery had been hit, the Bite in comparison was nothing
Then finally falling once again onto his back, her blood giving him a brief reprieve, he painfully brought his arm up to his mouth, slashed his teeth along the artery in his wrist, then weakly brought his arm to Abigail’s mouth, and began to feed her his blood. At first she wanted to resist, but once the first few drops slid past her tongue, she quickly began to get used to it, and then as unfathomably the metallic flavor began changing to an almond-tangy flavor, she began to enjoy it, until finally she began to need it. That was when he started to weakly pull it away, ignoring the unintended growl that erupted from Abigail’s blood-stained lips.
As she looked into his otherworldly icy-blue eyes that were slowly dimming, he gave his last request. “You must continue on. You must continue fighting. What is mine is now yours.” He coughed up blood that began unnaturally pouring from his mouth and nose, inky black lines began breaking out over his skin, and then his skin began darkening, even crisping. “Find… Krista…Angel will help.” But as his blood ran in rivers and his skin started to decompose, hers began to burn. As the burn became so painful, it became harder to breathe, harder to watch the ‘life’ leak from Blade’s eyes, until finally she began shuddering so violently it was like she having a seizure, causing her to miss the final moments of Blade’s life. By then everything started to go dark.
Later she’d awakened in a bed, with Hannibal sitting in a chair with his face in his hands. That was when she noticed scents so strong and sounds that seemed far too loud. Slowly shifting her limbs, trying to access her injuries, was when she noticed that she seemed to be virtually pain-free, if a bit stiff. Her movements caused Hannibal to quickly lift his head at the sound.
“Abby! You’re awake!” He erupted from his seat like a jack-in-the-box and launched himself at her bed, to gently, but urgently gather her shoulders in a hug.
And that was when she noticed that he smelled… like exhaustion, like stress, like… food. Suddenly his blood sounded loud as it rushed through his veins, and the smell of it was... so intoxicating. She could actually hear the blood running through his veins like oil being poured over rocks and silt. But it was throb of that lifeforce in his neck that drew her in. The thump followed by the rush of blood, as the heart pumped the thick fluid, was almost hypnotic, making her lean up towards Hannibal, wanting to nuzzle his neck. But as quickly as those thoughts occurred, they were dashed away, making her turn her head away in distress. Light streamed into the room, warming her side. She pushed Hannibal away, desperately needing space.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Where am I? And where’s Blade?” That was when he stilled, his head hung down for a moment, his shoulders hunched, before he looked at her again, making her notice his blood-shot eyes.
“Blade… Blade didn’t make it Abigail. You’re at a safe-house and their medic fixed you up.”
Her eyes became salty with hot tears as she closed her eyes briefly, trying to recall what happened at the warehouse. Blade had inadvertently fallen into a trap. Usually reinforcements arrived in time, but not this time, and these adversaries were much more ruthless and smarter. When they reached him, Abigail running over to the partially skinned, Daywalker, blood pooling around his body, hanging up on some kind of Cross, made entirely out of silver. His stomach slashed open, some of his entrails hanging out like bloody snakes, made for a gruesome picture. Abigail had been intent on trying find any way to save him once she got him down, his blood staining her clothes and skin, but she knew, and he knew that he might not make it.
When she looked into his eyes she saw something that confirmed it. Blade was ready to die. He’d had enough. That’s when the world exploded.
It was later as she was standing on the roof of the safe-house, looking out onto the city that she finally acknowledged that Blade passed on his legacy onto her in more ways than one. Plus, aside from killing bad vampires, she had no idea what to do next. Then she remembered Blade’s last words: find someone name Angel and telling Krista. But with all the problems Krista had been dealing with regarding the powerful vampire House of Chthon, in addition to controlling her blood-lust, she could only hope that Blade’s demise didn’t send her completely spiraling. Blade and Shen (his new Whistler), had been running the operation, while Abigail and Hannibal had been working on the Eest Coast.
She remembered the first time when delicately and carefully ran her tongue along her gums and teeth, until she came to her now lengthened incisors. The smell of blood, the sound of it rushing through people’s veins had become too much, which was why she found herself on top of a building. Hannibal and the medic were still trying to figure out how she’d healed so quickly. But she stole a quick but telling look at Hannibal, watched as his eyes widened in realization, before he quickly and confusingly looked at the sun pouring into the room, its rays caressing her unharmed skin, a muscle jumped in his jaw as the realization dawned on him, before returning his attention to her. She wondered if the others would think she was a danger. Oh she was definitely dangerous, but as intoxicating as blood was, she was human enough to ignore her urges... for now.
She knew that wouldn’t be enough. She also knew that going around hating herself, hating what she'd become, like Blade did, was not the way she wanted to live her life. Perhaps it was time for a road trip. After many discussions and heated arguments, tears, and anguished pleas, Abigail left a week later, leaving Hannibal behind. The Nightcrawlers, their a cell of vampire hunters, were scared of her, as they should be. She could jump higher, hit harder, and kill and maim faster, than a human can. She could also still eat food, but not much. She still needed blood, but for now she used the essence of garlic Blade used. It was an unpleasant experience to say the least.
Blade always claimed that the Thirst could turn him into an animal, bringing forth the more feral, evil vampire nature. But Abigail wasn’t sure. Was there a way to combine blood and human food without giving into the more feral, predator type of instincts? She planned to find out. In the meantime, she’d finally been able to find out information about a person named Angel. It turned out he wasn’t a ‘person’, he was a Master Vampire. She decided to find Krista, have her accompany Abigail on her quest to find this Angel, and then try to figure out what to do next. Which was how she found herself in Blade’s car, the black and chrome ’68 Camaro Z28, driving West.
Naturally things didn’t go quite as planned. She found Krista at the tail-end of a huge battle among the House of Chthon. Another Vampire named Chase killed Marcus, their leader, and had somehow or for some reason saved Krista. So Abigail ended up traveling with two Vampires, who had bigger Wanted signs on their necks than probably even Blade did. They made various stops along the way to allow them to feed, with very strict instructions to not kill anyone, unless they were human-evil: rapists, serial killers, murders, child molesters, Dick Cheney. It was all very… surreal. Krista, upon learning about Blade’s True Death, had to literally be talked out of (and held back) walking into the sun. Chase, found it all very tiresome and being generally unhelpful, revealed as much.
Once they arrived in Los Angeles, they discovered that Angel was heading up a law firm called Wolfram & Hart, which was reportedly Evil Inc. However Abigail was beginning to learn that despite what Blade believed, not everything was so starkly defined. Not all Vampires were completely evil, many were power-hungry and mischievous, many were evil, but how that differed from humans she wasn’t sure. Sure there were the physical differences, which many Vampires believed made them superior. But their weaknesses were distinct and their biggest open secret -- the 'allergy' to the Sun, or UV rays, and silver
left them very vulnerable to anything that wanted to kill them. On the other hand humans continued to litter history with their own diabolical accomplishments that almost rivaled the most evil Vampires.
Of course this was Abigail’s world view before she realized that there were… other things out there, including different species of Vampires. Then again, so was Blade, and now so was she. Meeting Angel was a bit of a revelation; similar to Blade, but more broody than angry, and always with perfectly coifed hair. But it was from him, along with snarky, biting tidbits from Chase, that she learned just how big their world was; Hunters, Witches, warlocks, demons, Apocalypses, The Council, Watchers, Hell-Gods, not-so-pleasant Angels, and the Slayer. When Abigail thought about all these various factions fighting the ancient fight of good verses evil, neither side winning, neither quitting, she suddenly felt… tired.
There were other people she gotten to know; Lorne a green-horned demon, Kate Lockley a hard-nosed, jaded former L.A.P.D. detective and now private investigator, Illyria, who gave even Abigail with Blade’s blood running through her veins, a run for her money. Even Harmony a weak, irritating, but somewhat likeable Vampire, who did a terrible job of keeping her hands off the product (blood-bank) or her ass, until Chase and Krista paid her a ‘special visit’, threatening to turn her into their Pet. And you don’t want to be Chase’s Pet, even with Krista as a buffer. Then there was Spike. She hated him at first, until they had a knock-down, drag-out fight; with her straddling a bloody-to-a-pulp Spike. As her bloodied hands clenched tight around his leather trenchcoat, her fangs long and gleaming, itching to tear his throat out, instead ended up dripping more blood onto him from her own wounds, from above.
But then Spike started laughing, broken up by bubbling coughs that speckled blood across his torn lips. “Oi, I think you’ll fit in just in just fine.” After that it was a couple pints of blood and way too much booze made them almost long-lost friends.
So while Angel was busy trying to take over the dangerous world of Wolfram & Hart, Spike and Abigail made for an impressive hunting duo throughout L.A. Until they heard about a Hell-gate opening up and they started seeing demons inhabiting people more often than usual. It was also at this time that Angel learned about a hunter-duo, two brothers; one good, one evil. But Abigail knew nothing was ever that black-and-white.
Abigail left Chase and Krista behind; somehow Chase had some money stashed away, allowing her to open up a swank neutral lounge: anyone and anything is allowed in as long as they behaved themselves. Angel, with the help of a W & H warlock, installed a species detector. With the sudden rise of demons inhabiting humans and those ill-behaved Shapeshifters, one couldn’t be too careful.
All of this went to shit when everything went down in LA.; Angel, Gunn, Illyria (possibly), Wesley, Lorne, and Spike, all died in what Abigail deemed an ill-advised scheme to take out W&H’s Circle of the Black Thorn or more commonly known as the Senior Partners, while Abigail was visiting Chuck. As for Krista and Chase, reports of their demise also made the underground-supernatural gossip circuit, devastating Abigail. For lack of a better word, they were her family, aside from Hannibal, they were all that she had left, and now they were gone. It wasn’t until she received a package, post-dated from Angel, as a sort of Last Will and Testament, with additional instructions for bank accounts, relics that should be kept safe and away from anything evil, and information about Slayers and Watchers, that she began her quest to seek out Buffy Summers and Rupert Giles.
However, it didn't negate the aching hole in her chest from lost friends and family or diminish the loneliness that seemed to leave her breathless at times. Somehow Angel knew that about her and believed that Buffy and Giles would renew her connection to the world, help her plant 'new seeds' to begin again.
Abigail was met by two young unassuming women, who more than likely were bristling with weapons. Once they stepped through the huge oak and iron, heavy, double-doors, she was asked to wait a moment while they provided her with a Visitor’s badge (and no doubt completing a scan on her). She just hoped Angel was right, that they wouldn’t rush to judgment. Following that, she was led over to a set of elevators by her ‘escort’ and once they reached their destination, they pressed a code into the security panel, followed by alerting someone via their ear-mic, of their arrival. The gleaming onyx elevator doors slid opened with a hiss; they were met by a brown-skinned woman with long braids, and a tall man with dark hair and an eye-patch.
He stepped forward. “Hello, Ms. Whistler. Welcome to Slayer HQ or formally known as the New Council. This is Rhona and my name is Xander. I’ll be your brief guide to Giles’ office.” He stepped aside, nodding his thanks to Amanda and Rachel, and made a gesture for Abigail to follow them.
She stepped onto the polished marble floor of the hallway, removing her sunglasses since the lighting was muted, as she walked with her newer escorts. “No need to call me Ms. Whistler, Abby or Whistler is fine.”
Xander, she thought. That name sounded familiar. Then she remembered; Angel had mentioned Xander as part of the now legendary fighting crew from Sunnydale. She actually took a trip there once, because of what she’d heard through the grapevine, even before she became a Daywalker, and could only marvel at the gi-normous hole-in-the-ground, along with the fact that the government has seemingly steered clear of it. Then Angel’s crew talked about Sunnydale and the impressive Original Slayer-Buffy Summers. What kind of name was Buffy?! Although she suspected that everyone wondered the same thing, right before she put her foot in their ass, or at least that’s what she’d do, if Abby's parents had “gifted” her with such a name.
Silently taking a deep, unneeded breath, committing the various scents to memory, allowing the tension to seep out, before realizing that her stomach was slightly knotted up, and that’s when it hit her; she was nervous. Although she’d drink copious amounts of garlic before she’d ever admit it. She’d learned to hide her emotions, face her fears a long time ago, even before she became something else. She wouldn’t have survived as long, if she didn’t acknowledge these essential truths. They finally arrived at another set of heavy, double-doors with beautiful, detailed scrolling all over. it was like something out of the House of Ushers. Xander knocked, then opened the door upon hearing a come in.
The door opened into a room with beautiful Berber rugs, a huge fireplace, with a large mahogany round table littered with books, papers, even scrolls, and oddly a box of… Twinkies? She didn’t even know you could buy Twinkies in Scotland. Along with a huge desk in similar condition as the table; with stacks of books, scrolls, many ancient from the looks of them, everywhere, and along a wall, great, tall cases of more books; a veritable library. Over to one side was a sitting area complete with two leather, wing-back chairs, a wooden coffee table, and an over-stuffed couch that she suspected saw a lot of action. Beautiful, stained-glass, floor-to-ceiling windows took up one wall, while regular window took up the other, indicating a corner room. A graying-man, wearing a button-down shirt and a sweater-vest, along with a pair of corduroys, stood near the glass windows. He was currently polishing a pair of eye-glasses, before he quickly finished -which Abby suspected was a common occurence, upon them entering. He quickly walked over towards them with his hand outstretched in greeting.
“Ms. Whistler, I’m Rupert Giles.” He paused for a moment to look at her, seemingly peering into her soul. “I knew of your Father. I was sorry to hear of his passing.” Gesturing towards the seating area, he continued. “Please have a seat. Buffy should be joining us soon.”
Abigail watched as Xander snatched up a Twinkie, Giles rolled his eyes in exasperation “Thank you that will be all Xander.”
Xander just smirked in amusement as headed to the door. “No problem. It was nice to meet you Abigail.”
After he left them, Abigail could still hear the heartbeats of the no doubt, posted security on the other side of the door.
“May I take your coat and offer you something to drink; tea, coffee, or soda?”
Abigail shrugged off her coat, but wanted to keep it close; too many weapons. “No… thank you, I’m good. And you can call me either Abigail or Abby .” She walked over towards the window, taking a good look at the beautiful grounds, seeing a few people, mostly more young women, milling about.
For some reason the silence wasn’t awkward. “So how did you know my Father?” Not many people did, her Father was a very insular person, mostly because there was a bounty on his head. Well that and he was mostly too crotchety and mean to socialize.
“Well, as a Watcher it was our job to know who, what, and why. Your Father was a well-respected hunter. Made even more legend by his association with the only known Daywalker, Blade.”
Just hearing her Maker’s name made her mostly dulled heart jump. “Blade’s dead,” she responded flatly.
Hearing a gasp, she assumed for all their vaunted networks, he didn’t know. Of course, that was part of the plan that she and Hannibal cooked up. It gave them some time to prepare the network of hunters.
“I-I’m terribly sorry. Ho—when did he die?” Sensing the grief still too fresh for the female warrior before him , he gently made the inquiry.
A muscle jumping in her cheek was the only physical clue to her upset. “Almost 2 years ago next month.” She walked over towards a tall tower of books, glancing over the various and strange titles. “He was my mentor.”
Finally she looked at Giles, showing a hint of fang. “He was also my Maker.”
Buffy finished putting the final touches to her outfit; a chocolate-colored pencil skirt, a pair of gorgeous dark-brown, Prada heeled boots she got from Milan (Giles was still complaining about that purchase), and a form-fitting grass-green button-down shirt that did wonders for her eyes, opened enough to show a nice hint of cleavage. Dawn unceremoniously walked into her room, after an all-too-brief knock.
“Nice. Where are you going?” She wandered over towards her DVD collection. “Hey I need to borrow a movie. Bela’s spending the night.” Grinning she ignored the growl that met that bit of information. “You know Sis, it wouldn’t kill you to try to get along with her you know. Just because she’s pervy in bed doesn’t mean you wouldn’t ha---,” she was cut off by a small, calloused hand covering her mouth.
Knowing Dawn was trying to needle her, she decided to make a hasty exit. “I know you go out of your way to make me crazy, but… I just need some time.” Looking down at her watch, she realized she was running a bit behind—nothing new. “And I’m running out of time right now. So if you’re through irritating me, I have to go.” She paused, taking a very deep breath and then smiling a somewhat fake smile. “Say ‘hello’ to Bela for me. Perhaps we can do lunch tomorrow.”
The resulting smile and crushing hug, made her feel a little bad for not making an effort to deal with Dawn’s new love-life. “Thank you! I’ll let Bela know.”
Then Buffy escaped before she got roped into something else or before Dawn said another traumatizing-little-sister-sexual-comment. Her heels clacking as they walked down the hall to the elevator, she returned her attention to the surprise guest. But as she got closer to Giles’ office, that buzz indicating something not-human, was slinking up her back, causing the hairs to stand on the back of her neck. All Slayers had this ability, but this alarm system wasn’t as nuanced as it was for Faith and her. Most Slayers could only tell if another Slayer close by or if something purely evil nearby, and if either Buffy, Faith, and Willow (because of the Sunnydale Spell) were in the area. Buffy could detect shades of grey, or benign supernatural or undetermined entities, she could sense magic, and of course she had unique 'alarm' for both Faith and Willow. Willow suspected it had something to do with Buffy and Faith being Chosen, in addition to being the longest-living Slayers, allowed this ‘alarm’ to season and evolve.
Weirdly the sensation she was experiencing now wasn’t far off from what she felt when she was around Faith, but it also felt a tad bit like… Angel. Xander met her a few doors down from Giles’ office.
“Hey Buff. Lookin’ good as always. So I’m assuming you’ve been briefed. She’s all mysterious-danger-like and apparently she has Faith’s affinity for lots of leather.” Buffy rolled her eyes at that as he continued on. “She doesn’t say much and her car rocks.”
Buffy looked at Xander in fond exasperation. “Um, do you actually have anything important or relevant to report before I open these doors or are you just gonna mentally drool?”
Grinning sheepishly, Xander replied. “Nah, she’s all yours.” And with that he opened the doors for Buffy to enter.
Giles immediately stood up from reading something on the coffee table before him. “Ah, Buffy, you’re here. Please allow me to introduce you to our guest, Abigail Whistler.” He swept his arm towards the woman near the window.
At this point Abigail had taken off her glasses, allowing colors to become brilliant, even in the somewhat dark, stereotypical-castle, House of Usher-like, room. But none were as brilliant as the woman that stepped through the door. As she walked closer she was snagged by the gorgeous green, with gold-flecked eyes staring back at her. She felt… caught, like she couldn’t shake the Slayer’s gaze. Looking closer she saw some a shade of something slide through them, something inhuman, before it disappeared so quickly it was like it was never there.
She could also feel the unnatural warmth emnating from her; like standing near a sauna but without the humidity; making her want to curl up like a newborn baby to sleep. Then there was the scent emanating from the Slayer; a natural scent underlying the perfume she wore. It smelled ancient, a musky feralness, mixed with a tinge of vanilla, cloves, and subtle flowery scent. Abigail had to consciously stop herself from stepping closer. However, a growling sound coming from the Slayer sent her eyebrow rocketing towards hairline.
“Giles move away from her.” Buffy stood, tensing for a fight, hands shaking loose and ready, legs on 3-inch Pradas, shifting her stance shoulder-length apart, narrowing her eyes in intensity at Abigail. She slowly began moving towards the weapons partition, while keeping her eyes on Abigail.
“Buffy! What are you do--,”
“It appears, Mr. Giles, that she’s concerned that I’m going to hurt you,” Abigail drawled with some amusement.
Though she felt anything but amused. The Slayer going into battle-mode made her even more… intoxicating to Abigail. It was all she could do to not pounce and wrestle her to the ground. She shook her head slightly, trying to focus, wondering why this woman, the Slayer of all people, was having this effect on her.
“Buffy, please remain calm. I’m fully aware of that Ms. Whistler is setting off your Vampire-warning instincts.” His statement was met with silence as Buffy tried to process additional, yet confusing, information to support that statement: because Abigail Whistler was standing in front of a window with the sun pouring over her un-burnt skin.
Frowning, Buffy quickly grabbed a sheathed-Bowie knife before moving towards Abigail. She tried not to notice other things about their guest; like how great she looked in leather with flowing caramel-colored hair falling in soft waves around her strong shoulders. Inhuman, glowing, cinnamon-colored eyes, with flecks of gold, made their color resemble the finest lager, stared back at Buffy, showing no reaction to Buffy grabbing a weapon. A pair of knee-high, polished, black boots, fitted over slim, yet long, muscular, legs encased in black leather pants that weren’t quite painted-on, but definitely snug. Currently they were crossed at the ankles as Abigail leaned against the wall next to the sunlit window, with her hands shoved deep in the front pockets of her leather pants.
“Why aren’t you crispy?” Buffy slowly moved, with an almost animal-like grace, towards Abigail.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Buffy please sit down. Everything will be explained in good time. She was referred by Angel.” Giles returned his attention to his guest, while pouring himself a cup of hot tea. He waved his hand at the comfortable chair across from him. “Please sit down Abigail.” His shoulders loosened as his Slayer finally slid into the seat next to him, no doubt keeping her intimidation at full mast.
Buffy watched as Abigail languidly slid into the chair before leaning over, the sunlight catching the lighter highlights in her reddish-brown hair, as she picked up her own cup to bring to surprisingly full, pink lips. “Are you gonna keep starin’ or are you gonna kiss me?”
She smirked as she watched the blush sweep up Buffy’s neck to spread over her face, the Slayer proceeded to glare even more fiercely at her. It only served to sharpen Abigail’s senses towards Buffy’s autonomic responses to her. Hearing the Slayer’s blood rushing faster through her veins like water forcing its way over rocks and crevices, her heart sounding like a base drum, furiously pumping out the precious life-giving substance, causing Buffy’s natural scent to waft more strongly in the air. It was all Abigail could do to no close her eyes in pleasure. Instead her cinnamon-golden eyes, warmed to a molten gold, becoming hooded. Buffy’s own eyes greenish-hazel eyes narrowed, because her inhuman senses, Her Slayer, could detect a reaction coming from Abigail that was just as confusing, but no less powerful as her own.
Giles of course, remained oblivious to the sexual tension thickening the air. As usual, he removed his glasses, furiously wiping them down needlessly, before replacing them on his nose. “Now, Abigail, if you could begin? I’m aware of your… Sire’s background. Abigail is also the daughter of the Hunter named Whistler. ” Ignoring Buffy’s incredulous look at that statement, he continued. “He was a formidable Hunter.” Once again, he removed his glasses, ignoring the amused frown from his guest. “Which leaves us to you.”
Taking a deep, unnecessary breath, raising a hand to run it though her brownish-red locks, Abigail was able to refocus her attention from her… simmering arousal, towards Buffy to Giles and her…story. “My name is Abigail Whistler, born a few years after the slaughter of my Father’s original family. Once I figured out who my Father was, I sought him out and convinced him to teach me everything about the ‘business.’ So for the next decade or so he darted in and out of my life, running me through my paces, and then he hooked me up with a Hunting cell, once I was old enough to hunt on my own. That’s about the time he told me about his work with Blade.” She watched as Buffy’s eyes widened at the unusual tale.
“When we met him he was… reluctant to trust us to have his back.” she chuckled at that long-ago memory and Hannibal’s interactions with Blade, before she became somber. “Nevertheless we tracked down we thought wasthe oldest Vampire… or rather he tracked us down, especially after he…,” she swallowed down the sudden lump, as the painful memories raced through her mind, “he killed most of the members of our Cell.” Clenching her jaw, a muscle jumping in her cheek as she thought about Sommerfield, Hedges, she shook her head as she realized that the pain was still tender.
She went on to tell the story about Sommerfield’s Anti-Vampire virus, the uncertainty of its impact on Blade, how he survived, and how she continued her tutelage under him, until the one trap Blade couldn’t escape, resulted in him giving her his blood and turning her, and how his final words were for her to find a Vampire named Angel. Then she went on to talk about Chase, Krista, their settling in Los Angeles, and their budding relationship with Angel and his compadres. She also found herself talking about her reservations regarding Angel's work on W&H, especially the Senior Partners.
So aside from the long talks with Angel, the sparring and hunting with Spike and Krista, more sparring with Illyria, she tried to remain as distant from the goings-on at W&H as much as possible. Mostly because if Angel was turning evil, she wouldn’t feel so conflicted about having to put him down or at least that’s what she told herself. She still wasn’t sure if she’d be able to go through with it; Angel became a good friend, and there was almost nothing she wouldn’t do for him. Which is why she is still furious that he waited until she left for her search for Chuck, that he decided to launch his Apocalypse-like fight.
“As for what I am; Blade was my maker, he was the next evolution in the Vampire gene pool, and I’ve got the same ‘bells and whistles.’ It also makes me a target. So I figured if anyone could use someone with my… unique set of abilities, it’d be you ladies – and gents.” She leaned back into the seat, slung a leg over the arm, with sunlight streaming over her; conveying a picture of utter contentment, like a big jungle cat lying in the sun.
But the fact is she was tired, exhausted even. She’d been on-edge since everything went down in LA, trying to find out if Krista and Chase were swept up in the bedlam, tying up any and all Blade-related business, hunting demons and Vampires, and then making arrangements for this trip. And she was hungry. At least the Slayer was no longer glaring at her. For now she was looking confused and sad. Angel had given her a run-down of his illustrious history with Buffy Summers, so she can imagine that the brief summary of his death is still painful.
Clearly in his Watcher-mode, when Giles opened his mouth to ask follow-up questions Buffy held up her hand to interrupt. “So you’re what? Some kind of Daywalking-Vampire? And how come I’ve never heard about this Blade character?”
Rolling his eyes, quickly responded to that last question. “Buffy if you’d simply read the pertinent materials I’ve sent around to everyone, particularly the part about our most important mystical allies, you’d have some knowledge of who Blade was and what an important contribution to the fight between good an--,”
“Ok, ok. No need to go all Watchery on me Giles.” Returning her attention to Abigail, Buffy could see she had become distracted, even see the hint of exhaustion in her cinnamon-gold eyes. “It looks like you’ve been on the road for a while. I’ll have someone set you up with a room. In the meantime, you’ll need to go through some prelim security stuff so that we don’t have any problems.”
Ignoring the beginnings of protest from Giles, she stood up, walked around the table, and held out her hand. “Tomorrow you’ll have a proper,” she had to prevent herself from snickering at that stuffy-British-sounding term, “vetting. A full-physical, a magical-something or another, and then you’ll meet with the Scoobies for a debriefing, so we can get a sense on how to utilize your skills-set--,”
“I’m not hunting with anyone but the best. So either you’re in the mix or that other Slayer, Faith, even the Red-Witch, will do fine.” She couldn’t help but want to… challenge Buffy.
After downing some pancakes and mug of warm pig’s blood, she decided to head down to the impressive gym, shown to her earlier by Andrew. Abigail inwardly smirked, as she thought about what Spike would think of the guy. No doubt he’d classify him as a Poof. Abigail began her trek down to the gym, ignoring the whispers and stares of the Slayers, as she was probably setting off their inner demon-alert. But it was the golden-haired Slayer, The Slayer that’d been preoccupying her mind. She’d been here for three days so far, and it’s been testing, upon testing, more debriefings, before they (the Scoobies) decided to give her a test run.
Good thing too, because she had a hard time within structured organizations, protocols, and a lack of hunting and fighting. Plus every moment spent in Buffy’s presence, meant her instinct to… take, became stronger. Buffy had no idea how close Abby had come to throwing her on the table in front of Willow, Xander, and Kennedy, last night. It was becoming too distracting.
Naturally she couldn’t help baiting her, testing her, loving the way Buffy’s gorgeous hazel-green eyes would flash hotly, almost seeing the Slayer rise from her core wanting to reach out, probably wanting wrap her hands around Abigail’s neck most likely. But then there had been other moments; where Abigail swore she could see something else flash across Buffy’s eyes, something that would make Buffy break off her thousand-yard stare with Abigail. Abby would swear that that something was lust. Their verbal duels were exhilirating, exciting, and intense. Abby hadn’t felt this alive (no pun intended) in a very long time, if ever.
Her evenings, after all the debriefings, pummeling through two heavy bags before the stuffing started spurting out, suffering through the blood, mystical, and physical, tests, were spent perched on one of the sloping roofs. She liked looking out, the fresh clean breeze sweeping over her form, and her arm thrown over an impressively-intimidating stone gargoyles. She could hear Vampires stumbling around looking for their next victim, just as she could hear the Junior-Slayers mostly stealthy movements right before the ‘snick’ of knife, or the ‘hack’ of sword, followed by the inevitable ‘swoosh’ of ash signifying the True Death of a Vampire.
She wondered what Buffy was like on the hunt. From what she’s gleaned from Angel or Spike, or whatever information she’s read from the books she snuck out of the huge library here, the blonde was already legend, along with her Sister Slayer, the Dark Slayer, Faith. What Abby hadn’t told anyone yet, was that during her last road trip to a designated port, on her way to put Blade’s car on a cargo ship for transport overseas, was the red-headed woman that suddenly appeared in the passenger seat, almost causing Abby to drive off the road.
After forcing the car to complete stop, after fish-tailing it, complete with skid marks, she looked in astonishment at the… woman next to her. “Don’t worry I wouldn’t have let you crashed.” Came the musical voice from the red-head.
Needlessly breathing heavily, even her dead heart managed a few pumps. Her mouth opened wordlessly for a few moments before words finally reached her lips. “Ahhh, thanks. Now you wanna tell me what…or who the hell are you?! And where…how did you..?”
The long-haired, red-head tilted her head to the side, golden-brown eyes measuring Abigail. “My name is Anna. And let’s just say that you will soon have a higher purpose and I’m your… messenger.”
Frowning, Abby tried to piece together the vague message. “What the hell does that mean?! What ‘higher purpose?’”
“An apocalypse is coming. Michael and Lucifer are headed on a collision course that will destroy hundreds of millions of lives. Beyond that will be the competing interests on the sidelines, waiting for the right opportunity to strike, to takeover, and it won’t be the humans.”
“What happened in Los Angeles was but a taste of what will happen the world over. You must tell the Slayer and the Red Sorceress to prepare. Because regardless if the Winchesters halt the Apocalypse what comes after will be… more insidious, more dangerous, and that is their area of expertise, despite what the Winchesters may think. They’ll have been compromised: Sam cannot be trusted and his brother Dean will do anything to save Sam, even if the world might burn for it.”
Abby would think this chick was bat-shit, except for how she appeared out of thin air.
Anna smirked. “I assure you I’m not bat-shit. You could say that I’m sort of a Guardian.” Her eyes began to glow a deeper gold. “For now it’s important that you give Rupert Giles, Buffy Summers, and Willow Rosenberg this information.
“When you say… Michael, do you mean… the Archangel Michael???” Then with a deeper frown and a bigger worry, a thought occurred. “Lucifer, as in the Lucifer?! Wh—how?!”
However, Abby remembered a rumor that she just chalked up to some fanatic religious hunter’s talk. “There was a rumor that he’s out and about. Please, please, tell me that’s not true.”
“All true. But that’s not your path. And it’ll be the least of your problems if Michael and Lucifer’s plans fail. Tell them to keep their eye on the storm; the Winchesters are at the heart of the battle of darkness and light. Bigger things than them will follow the storm soon after.”
Anna then opened her door and slid out to stand, suddenly she appeared on Abby’s side, startling her yet again. “Also tell them not to worry about Faith, she’ll be home soon. Oh, and don’t worry about shipping your car. You’ll both be heading there right now.” And with that she smiled, snapped her fingers, and suddenly she was on a narrow street, with an unrecognizable landscape surrounding her.
Needless to say when she repeated this bit of information it sent everyone here in battle-mode. They hadn’t believed her at first, until Willow laid her warm palm against her forehead. A sensation like blood rushing to her head, followed by a feeling like brain freeze, she watched in an almost out-of-body experience as the moments with Anna played out. When Willow lifted her hand, she looked shocked.
“To use a Faith word: fuck!”
“Willow if you would be so kind as to elucidate a little further I would be very appreciative.”
“Geez, Giles can’t you just say: hey Will, you wanna give us a little more info than that?!” Xander chimed in, receiving an eye-rolling from Giles in response.
What followed was a frantic session of trying to interpret Anna’s warnings, trying to find out what a Guardian meant, then Buffy barking out instructions. After that Buffy dragged her out of the room into her office, briskly telling her S.I.T. assistant to hold all calls, pushing Abby into her inner-office, and then shoving her against the wall.
Instinctually Abby hissed at her, her gleaming white fangs dangerously snarling at Buffy. “You think you have everyone fooled here, but I’m not. I wanna know what the fuck you’re up to.”
In that moment Abby so wanted to taste those pink lips, she wanted to wrap her legs around the Slayer’s waist, rub up against her. Buffy was pushing all these mating instincts and Abby had a sniggling suspicion she knew, if that hint of… feminine arousal wafting up to her nose was anything to go by. “What’s a matter Buffy? I’m not fawning all over you cute little ass? Or is it that sparring session we had earlier made you wanna see if I give just as good as I get in other ways,” Abby heatedly whispered in Buffy’s ear.
She grinned as she watched goosebumps erupt all over that golden-tanned skin. However, it didn’t diminish the menacing glare leveled at Abby. “You wish. Look I did the Vampire-lover’s routine, not interested in repeating it. Especially, with an arrogant, sullen, half-pint, like you!”
Abby pushed her face even closer to Buffy’s her lips inches from the Slayer’s; pushing the envelope, wanting to see how Buffy will react. Will she back down, try to lessen the growing sexual tension or will she push back, wanting to assert her dominance. Abby couldn’t wait to find out. She felt like she was having an out-of-body experience, she’d never been one who’d be labeled as… confrontational. She’d been quiet, a person of few words, even-tempered, and methodical, but ever since she’d been Turned, her primal instincts had been heightened. In addition to all her other instincts; hunger, violence, protectiveness, and sexual, all seemed to go from zero-to-sixty in a matter of seconds if provoked. Her sexual instincts had been mildly satisfied by Krista and Chase, she hadn’t even realized her restlessness or how her deeply unsatisfying those sexual encounters were until she was in a room with Buffy.
“What? I’m not… Vampire enough for you,” Abby sneered. Buffy responded with a punch to her mouth, eliciting a painful grunt, followed by growl. Holding a hand to her bleeding mouth, she grinned again, her teeth red from the blood welling in her mouth from the punch.
“So that’s how you wanna play it. Kinky. But I think I can manage.” And with that she pushed off the wall, brushing Buffy’s hand from her shoulder to propel her shoulder into the Slayer’s stomach, her arms wrapped tight around Buffy’s waist, until she landed on top of Buffy, on the desk. Papers and a picture-frame scattered on the ground from their bodies.
As Buffy hands came up; one to wrap around Abby’s head, the other to begin pummeling the Daywalker’s shoulder, until Abby snuck a hand into the Slayer’s long, blonde hair, quickly wrapping the soft strands around her hand to yank Buffy’s head back, exposing her graceful throat, her pulse point visually throbbing to Abby’s hungry, now inhuman, glowing blue eyes. Quickly breaking the hold Buffy had on her head, Abby brought her lips to the Slayer’s throat, her cool breath seemingly hot against Buffy’s skin, as she wrapped her legs around Buffy’s thighs. At feeling the dangerous fangs close to her pulse point, Buffy suddenly went still.
Both of them seemingly frozen in time, greenish eyes boring into glowing-blue orbs, panting loud, bellowing gusts of air, sweat beginning to dampen their clothes, the sound of Buffy’s blood pulsing through her veins, tantalizing Abby. Their natural scents of vanilla, cinnamon, flowers, and ancient, mingling in the air, painting the inside of their nostrils, both wondering if the other always smelled this…. yummy. Both wondering what happens next.
The pressure built even more, a throbbing vein pulsed near Buffy’s left temple, her chest heaving, nipples becoming rigid digging into Abby’s t-shirt covered chest, the ever-present simmering arousal growing, dampening her panties, a salty-sweet scent adding to the their natural scents. But Buffy’s wasn’t the only scent of arousal she smelled. “What the hell do you want from me?”
It was at that time, that Buffy realized her Slayer wanted out, like tugging on her core, she desperately tried to keep her weakening restraints in place. Little did she know that her greenish-hazel eyes were becoming darker, and almost an orangey-rust color bleeding in from the edges. A flashed image of Semaya; painted face, rust-colored dredlocks, the glowing orangey-rust colored eyes, crouched like an animal about to powerfully launch upwards from the floor, her mouth slightly open, panting, her fangs flashing.
Then Buffy felt soft lips press lightly against her heated skin, making her body jerk in response, her instincts to fight back stilling. When Abby nibbled her way down towards the Mark left behind by Angel, she suddenly heard a rumbling from Abby’s chest and realized it was growling.
Sniffing, it took every sense of steely strength not to bite down, and fully Mark the Slayer herself. “Angel! You were Marked by Angel?!” she growled.
At that, Buffy brought her hand up to firmly clasp around Abby’s neck jerking her face to Buffy’s. “That is none of your business. Nor will it ever be!” She hotly whispered.
For a moment they both glared at each other, playing a game of chicken to see who would be the first to break their stare, their lips, pink, full, and glistening, inches apart, and their noses almost touching. It was an increasingly incendiary situation. However, Buffy had little experience in trying stem an intense attraction that was felt on Slayer-level, she felt out-of-control, like her skin was on too tight, she couldn’t catch her breath because she kept inhaling their mingling scents and Abby’s arousal. She wanted to drag her hand to her hair and pull on it in frustration, she wanted to stomp her feet, scream, anything to stop this tension. Instead she involuntarily dropped her eyes down to Abby’s lips which were at that very moment being wetted very slowly by Abby’s tongue.
Growling loudly, Buffy wrapped her hands tighter in Abby’s hair and crushed her lips against Abby’s mouth. When Abby moaned, Buffy felt her wet heat tighten in reaction, she could almost feel her clit becoming engorged, filling with blood, and she knew her panties were soaked, sticking to the crevices of her swelling lips. Thank goddess she was wearing slacks or she was certain her skirt would be up around her waist, her arousal permeating the air strongly, and probably slicking the insides of her thighs because she mostly wore thongs.
When Abby pressed that tongue against her mouth, seeking entrance, for a moment Buffy hesitated. It was a sense of no looking back or the whisper of destiny icily flashing down her spine, that made her pause. But when Abby began suckling on her bottom lip, before lightly nipping it, she gasped and that hot muslcle darted into Buffy’s mouth, giving the Slayer her first taste of the Daywalker. Whimpering, tugging Abigail closer, their bodies shifting, their hips curling into the other’s, hands lightly scratching Buffy’s scalp, before slicking down her neck, lightly massaging down her back, all the while both of them mapping out the insides of the other’s mouths, Abby suckling Buffy’s tongue before nipping the end, then chasing her tongue into Buffy’s mouth, allowing her to return the favor, eliciting a growl from Abby. Their heads turning this way and that as if they couldn’t get enough of each other, neither heard the knock, followed by another, before the door opened.
Willow could only look on in amused astonishment. Figures, Dawn so owes me fifty pounds, she thought.
Buffy hated feeling vulnerable, just as she hated being different. The later she knew was a bit too late, considering she can lift a car without effort, and eat like a football lineman. But even in the world she lives in, standing out more than usual makes her very uncomfortable. Since the arrival of one Abigail Whistler, she’s discovered that those sensations aren’t mutually exclusive, and it made her more… grumpier (as Willow complained earlier), than usual. Unlike Faith, Buffy became expert in managing her Slayer. Both being the last two Chosen Slayers, meant they shared the essence of Sineya-the First Slayer, making them more powerful than the Called Slayers. It also made it harder to stifle their natural feral instincts, and while Faith believed in allowing the Slayer out to play once in a while, Buffy maintained careful control over hers.
Abby was testing every bit of that carefully leashed rein of her Slayer. She found herself growling at the weirdest times; in a meeting with Giles or Willow, sometimes her voice would sound inhumanly deep; a growling-base like resonance that echoed in each word. Then there was her H & Hs: her hungry and horny, as Faith called it. Although Faith seemed to revel in it, even if she has slowed down within the past few years, Buffy still attempted to carefully control it until it became like a bulging dam at its breaking point, before finding an outlet, and then it became manageable again.
But with Abigail or Abby as she liked to be called, she provoked all her Slayer instincts to hunt, to dominate, to fight (more than usual), to… mate, and it’s driving Buffy crazy. The last time she’d been this out of control was when she’d been resurrected…she frowned trying to mentally count, the third time? However, even then it was different, because it was about being cut off from the Slayer, from emotions. She felt and acted like she'd been encased in ice. In this situation, she felt like she was being immersed in lava.
Yesterday she attempted to ‘deal’ with the issue by first, sparring with her nemesis, only to make things worse. Faith was the only other person who’d made weakened her control or made her feel as… alive, when they were sparring. Then there was the mysterious buzz she felt around Abby. Usually the buzz was almost unpleasant when there was either a Vamp or a demon nearby, with other Slayers it was more of pleasant buzz, with Faith it was stronger, crisper. But with Abby, it was a unique combination of mildly unpleasant and Faith-like; she had no idea what this meant, and she knew that either Giles or Willow would want to know.
But this sense of her life going out-of-control wasn’t something she wanted to share. As long as she conducted Council/Slayer business satisfactory, she’ll be fine. At least that’s what she’s trying to tell herself. Usually Dawn was good at noticing her sister’s distraction, particularly around Abby, but luckily for Buffy, she was too preoccupied with her girlfriend Bela (which Buffy still wasn’t too happy about how she was preoccupied) to notice. The fact was yogurt and several sessions with heavy bag, shopping, or playing ‘dictator’ out in the field with the other Junior Slayers, wasn’t helping. Because as soon as she found some vague definition of equilibrium, Abby was there to upset her state of being.
It was infuriating and the amount of time she spent on her vibrator(s) was ridiculous. She found herself having the weirdest, strongest urges to find… relief even during the day, all because of that… Vampire! Faith is never gonna let her live this down! Then there was the incident yesterday. Having Willow, find Abby and her getting almost-horizontal on her desk, was beyond mortifying. It was made even worse when Abby left the scene of debauchery so quickly, that she became a blur to even to Buffy's inhumanly sharp eyesight, and she hasn’t been seen her since.
At least not by Buffy. Kennedy claimed she saw her early this morning, when she snuck out for a snack; apparently she’d been out hunting and only grunted a greeting as she sped by once again. Kennedy also claimed that she looked slightly bloodied from whatever she tangled with earlier. So far, she had to swear Willow to silence, because Buffy wasn’t even close to having a clue as to what was going on. She didn’t even like women! Well… except for that brunette in Positano, Italy…and there was that red-head in Chicago… oh, and there was that time with Satsu… ok, so her sexual perspective has changed since the Sunnydale days.
As she stood before her huge window, she desperately tried to figure out what to do now. Perhaps she should play avoidy. Yes, that’s what she’ll do, especially since Abby is clearly thinking along the same lines. Then hopefully within a few days, whatever this was will go away. Buffy ignored the almost shout of No! from her Slayer. Yes, that’s been a problem as well. Buffy now had a ‘back-seat’ driver named Semaya, and she was getting more vocal. It was irritating to say the least. She’d been reading everything she could that didn’t send her into a coma with boredom about what happens when a Slayer fully merges. There’s been so little info, which added to her worry.
Sighing, Buffy started walking back to her room to change for her next class. At least a little sparring and teaching will take her mind off her… problem.
2 Weeks Later
Buffy found herself phasing out of whatever Dawn was saying during the weekly Scoobies meeting. She thought about her last interaction with Abby, only to notice her younger sister glaring as she watched Buffy become yet again distracted. Dawn had already declared earlier that if ever a person needed to get laid, it was her sister Buffy, after Buffy snapped at something Dawn’s lover, Bela said. Yesterday, Willow had told her that given her history with not-dealing with things and how not-of-the-good it turned out, that she’d be a little more proactive with the Abigail-situation, as she called it. Not to mention, it sent Giles into one of his almost-lens-popping-wiping routine, when he stumbled into one of their now, infamous sparring sessions.
But now a new element had arrived, making an already incendiary situation almost intolerable, and Buffy knew she’d been an absolute bitch lately, especially to Abby. The ‘element’ being two Vampires who’d been looking for Abby since Los Angeles; apparently they belonged to Abby since the Vampire-Divorce—meaning both of these Vampires’ Houses (who knew they had houses?!), were destroyed. They didn’t dare attempt to venture onto the New Council grounds; instead they surprised Abby while she'd been on a hunt.
Apparently, Abby barely saved them from being dust from the other Slayers she’d been leading. There was a rumor that there was even… tears! Abby set up a neutral meeting place at a pub, with Buffy, Willow, Kennedy, Satsu, Dawn, Vi, and Xander. Bela ended up meeting them there. It turns out she’s quite knowledgeable and has been invaluable in acquiring important relics for the them. She claimed she had a too curious mind, Buffy mentally sneered. Naturally the beautiful blonde Vampire named Chase and Bela ended up being long-lost friends.
“Unlike some people, I’m willing to give every creature a chance,” Bela had stated with mocking amusement, before popping a cherry in her mouth from her drink.
Krista funnily enough reminded her of Angel, all brooding and conflicted. She was also a bit like Abby, in that she was a woman of few words, and she seemed to be the angel-to-Krista’s-devil. While Xander tried to maintain his usual I-hate-Vampires persona, it was a little hard when Chase dropped more sexual innuendos than Craigslist, and Krista was actually… nice. They also admitted that they drink blood, even human blood. The immediate deadly tension emanating from the Slayers, had them quickly explaining that they only targeted human monsters, as Krista insisted: pedophiles, serial killers, sociopaths, child abusers, etc.
Of course, Chase being Chase according to both Krista and Abby, they still had to keep a careful eye out on her simply because she was too smart, easily bored, and too mischievous, a bad combination for a Vampire like Chase. But you couldn’t help… liking her. First, Chase practically had to fend off Dawn and Bela from stealing her Prada heels… they were almost too die for, Buffy admitted. Plus her Spike-colored hair, was beautifully styled, along with her perfect make-up, expensive clothes, and grayish-blue eyes, made her look like someone out of a magazine. Krista’s darker-coloring, with her broodier, strong, silent-type, made her just as attractive, which led Buffy to having to acknowledge the hot, metallic feeling growing inside her chest, as none other than jealousy.
What made it even worse, was Buffy's foot-in-mouth approach to dealing with those emotions that sent a fleeting look of hurt through Abby’s eyes. That was when Krista pinned Buffy with a look that almost made Buffy shove the table aside in case she was attacked. However, a pinch from Willow , plus the infamous ‘Resolve-face,’ made Buffy sheepishly calm down. That went out the window when Chase dragged Abby to the bar, wiggling her hips for good measure, snuggling, threading her arm with Abby’s, made Buffy sit up straighter in her chair once again.
When Chase sneaked an amused glance in Buffy’s direction, before she leaned up to quickly steal a kiss from Abby’s lips, that action started a chain-reaction both physically and internally, that ended up cutting Buffy’s social visit short. She had been unaware that she’d crushed her bottle of beer in her hand, unaware of the glass cutting into her palm sending droplets of blood unto the table, she’d been unaware of the growl that echoed around the table, just as she’d been unaware of the stunned reactions from everyone around the table. Well everyone but Krista, she actually relaxed for the first time, sitting back in her chair, sipping her drink to hide her grin.
“Buff! What the hell?!” or “Your hand!” or “Geez, Buffy, talk about unrequited much?!,” were some of the more colorful responses to her behavior. But Buffy had become so mortified, that she quickly dismissed herself, ignoring the protests of Willow, Xander, and Dawn, and dashed out of the establishment. Unbeknownst to her, she also missed Abby irritably shoving Chase to the side, and almost running after Buffy.
Apparently she turned around and glared everyone, before storming out herself, according to Dawn. By then Buffy was busy trying to fend herself from the Dawn-interrogation, which wasn’t pleasant, by any means. In the meantime, Giles wanted to meet with Krista and Chase, plus Willow wanted to do a Recenseo Animus spell, which assesses whether a Vampire has a soul or not. For now Buffy needed to deal with her feelings for Abby; she wanted her and her Slayer wanted her, regardless of how inconvenient it all was.
Throughout the month Buffy made an attempt to be polite, even getting to know the woman beyond the Vampire-Daywalker. She reminded her of Faith at times, but she definitely had an Abby-sized personality all of her own. She was patient with the younger women, when she wasn’t humoring herself by scaring Andrew, she was actually kind, and apparently she and Giles spent lots of time debating various mythological and supernaturall-y things together. Apparently, Abby loved to read. Even though they’d provided a room for her here on the premises, Abby insisted she liked her privacy, plus she knew Chase would never live on the premises, and she knew Krista might need help to keep an on eye on her, so she had a huge, industrial, loft apartment, she shared with the two Vampires, close by.
Not to mention, whoever taught her how to fight, did their job. She was skilled, fierce, courageous, with an animal-grace matched only by either Faith or herself. Plus the work she did with her katana was… sexy. Satsu challenged her many times, mostly out of jealousy and mostly because she was an expert on the katana herself; clichés notwithstanding. So when they sparred the first time, Abby quickly pounced of the side of the wall, flipping, leaping high in the air, only to land in front of an almost bewildered Satsu, swirled and slashed with her katana, and sent Satsu’s sword spinning away, before quickly bringing the tip of her katana to Satsu’s pulse point. It was an impressive display of her inhuman abilities. It also had Buffy’s heart racing.
Mentally turning back to the problem at hand, she thought about the best way to deal with the situation: continue ignoring or denying the almost involuntary want of the Daywalker or let go, and take a leap of faith. Sighing, she knew at some point soon she was going to have to apologize. She swallowed hard at the thought, while running a hand through her hair. Buffy can admit that she’d been almost unbearable, since the arrival of a certain someone.
When Buffy entered the huge, high-ceiling, training center, she almost turned right back around when she saw Abby standing near her waiting class of Junior-Slayers. She forgot that she was going to be her Co-Trainer today. Usually it’s either Kennedy, or Faith if she’s here, or Satsu. But since Kennedy was handling a hot-spot in Germany, Faith was still in the States, and Satsu was in Japan, Giles had added Abby in the rotation. Becca, a short-haired blonde from North Carolina, was talking to the Daywalker, gesturing excitedly. She tended to use her hands to talk. Another Junior-Slayer named Devon, from a small town in Canada, stood next to her grinning. Abby stood in a tight, sleeveless, Henley, her muscles standing on display, her medium-sized breasts straining the cloth, wearing a pair of almost-tight Adidas jogging pants. Like Buffy, her hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Presently she was twirling a stake (there’s gotta be some irony in that, Buffy thought with a smirk), her stance relaxed and patient as she listened to whatever the girls were telling her.
However, Buffy could tell when she knew Buffy entered the gym, when that relaxed stance became a little tense. Buffy’s Slayer immediately perked up at knowing Abby was in the vicinity. With an inner eye-roll, Buffy greeted the various Junior-Slayers, nodding at one of her Slayers who teaches all things related to bow and arrow, before finding her way to the front of the room. She took a swig of her water, while stretching out a few knots, waiting for girls to quiet down.
“All right everyone, line up! Today we’re going to focus on hand-to-hand and we’re going to end with some light sparring. We’ll stick to the pairings I selected last time.” She desperately tried to squelch her body’s physical reaction to the Daywalker approaching her. Sneaking a look into Abby’s eyes, she watched those icy-gold orbs become warmer, as she nodded a greeting at Buffy. Blushing hotly, especially when Buffy’s eyes involuntarily fell to Abby’s lips, before refocusing her attention on the girls in front of her, she cleared her throat to speak again.
“As all of you already know, this is Abby, our on-staff Daywalker. You might feel that slightly unpleasant buzz around her that’s similar to the sensation you get when something stakey is around; know that Abby is strictly off-limits. And she’s unique,” she paused to gesture at the sun streaming in from the sky-lights, before refocusing on her audience. “As you might have noticed, she’s going to help me conduct this class today, and will be teaching some additional classes this week, if not more.” Looking around, Buffy watched as the Junior-Slayers snuck surreptitious looks at Abby, who looked completely unconcerned.
Then she smiled, showing her glistening white fangs, eliciting involuntary Slayer-gasps among the Slayers, and causing Buffy to roll her eyes, as she tried not to laugh. So for the next hour Buffy and Abby walked around the girls as they practiced their forms before pairing off to spar, correcting forms, advising and motivating them into better fighters. When they called the class to a halt about an hour later, with the girls breathing heavily, lightly bruised and battered, hanging onto every word The Slayer and the Daywalker said, Abby turn towards Buffy.
“It looks like we have a few moments, I’m dying to know whether The Slayer can handle a Daywalker.”
“Surely you can do better than that.” She paused, her muscles bunching, her feet shifting into a fighter’s stance, her arms hanging loose and ready, she could feel her blood suddenly start zinging through her veins as the adrenalin built. Just as Abby settled into a fighter’s stance of her own, Buffy spoke right before she swung her right fist. “In fact, you’ll have to do better than that.”
Her fist connected with Abby’s jaw, causing her to swing her head to side, cutting her lip on her teeth, before she slowly rolled her head back to refocus on the Slayer. Abby calmly brought her hand up to swipe up her blood with her thumb, narrowed her eyes on Buffy, before she started circling her.
Raising one perfectly manicured brow, she mockingly drawled, “Ouch.”
Then quickly Abby crouched, swiped out with her leg, dropping Buffy to the ground, and then the fight was on. An exchange of katas, punches, leg strikes, and grappling ensued, that was so fast it almost a blur to everyone watching. Abby launched a leg-kick into Buffy’s chest sending her back into the wall so hard, it loosened some of the plaster. The Junior-Slayers watched wide-eyed, having only heard about the legendary Buffy-Faith sparring sessions being similar in strength, power, and skills. Just as they thought Buffy was down for the count she flipped o her feet, then took a running start before she faked a leg strike, only to flip over Abby then double-kick her in the side as the Daywalker was turning, catching or breaking a rib or two.
As the resounding crack sounded around the room, Buffy moved as Abby let loose a vicious strike towards her head only to upper-cut into her stomach with her other fist, causing an oof from the Slayer. But as Abby brought her hand to strike Buffy in the chest, the Slayer grabbed her arm and expertly moved so that Abby’s arm was hyper-extended. But due to the strength and tenacity of the sparring, even with blood running from a split lip or a cut splitting a sculpted eyebrow, it was at odds with the sheer look of enjoyment on both women’s faces; fierce grins splitting their faces, as their adrenalin levels spiked, reveled in each other’s presence.
This was also a game of dominance, so when Buffy had knocked Abby down onto one knee her arm at an unnatural position, everyone watched in awe as Abby simply stretched the injured arm, inhumanly rotated her shoulder, as the displaced socket snapped back into place, before she launched a powerful, full-body move up into Buffy’s stomach, propelling her shoulder into Buffy, knocking her onto her back with Abby landing on top of her. The Daywalker quickly secured her hold on Buffy, her face inches from Buffy’s, sweat and blood dripping onto her cheek, their bodies melded together, hardened nipples practically piercing their shirts grazing against each other, legs entwined, chests heaving from exertion – well Buffy more so than Abby’s.
Abby’s eyes were no longer icy, instead they were glowing icy-blue, hooded and gleaming, into Buffy’s now copper-orangey-infused, glowing eyes. Abby noticed that whenever their interactions became… intense Buffy’s beautiful green irises began bleeding out, to be replaced with an orangey-copper color. But right now, the smell of Buffy’s blood, sweat, and now arousal, scented the air, causing her nostrils to flare to take in more of the intoxicatingly, fragrant cocktail. She watched as Buffy’s glistening pink, split lips, parted, beckoning Abby’s mouth, tongue to lave that wound; which is what she found herself doing. When Buffy once again dropped her gaze onto Abby’s lips, the Daywalker began to lower her head. But millimeters from tasting that wonderful mouth, a voice interrupted their hazed of lust.
“Ummm, is this part of the Vamp-killing process. Cause I didn’t sign up for that.” Ivy, a Junior Slayer from Michigan stated, causing laughter to erupt from everyone, while Buffy quickly pushed Abby off of her, and sprang to her feet.
“Ha-ha. No, that’s it for today. Don’t forget to check the patrol schedule.” Buffy began walking towards her towel, desperately trying to ignore the eyes staring into her back, her body instantly missing the cool-heat connection between them, like sitting in shade during a warm summer day. She brought her hand up to swipe up the sweat and blood dribbled onto her from Abby. Buffy slowly rubbed the liquid together, staring at it, not hearing the light footsteps coming up behind her. It was only as she felt that person coming up behind her, standing close, the hairs on her sweaty skin once laying lank and wet, were now standing up in response.
“Why do you… run from me, from this? Is it something I said or did?” Running her hand through her sweat-dampened locks, Abby was suddenly tired; tired of stepping wrong, yet not understanding the ‘dance.’
She was tired of the Slayer going hot then cold; one moment they’re chuckling over something or Buffy seems interested in knowing Abby, then the next Buffy is ignoring her. Most of all, she was tired of Buffy fighting this… thing between them. It was infuriating and made her more restless than ever before. She felt this growing ache next to her heart that rarely beats, whenever Buffy pulled one of her yo-yo acts.
Her Vampire, the more animalistic, feral, ‘living’ entity inside her, made this situation even worse; like some kind of animal beating against Its cage anytime the Slayer was near. It didn’t understand why Abby wasn’t taking, it wanted to mate, It wanted this woman, even if the woman was The Slayer. It could also smell that the Slayer wanted them and was puzzled, growing more frustrated why she denied them. The Slayer was made for them, didn’t she know this?! What prevented Abby from completely slamming Buffy against a wall or throwing her on her desk, was the fact that while her Vampire was more predatory, it had a different ‘flavor’ than a regular Vampire. It seemed to have a… conscious. It acknowledged that while it wanted to do those things, It knew it would be better if the Slayer acquiesced. It wanted the Slayer as a Mate. Abby wanted to Slayer as her lover.
Chase sat curled around Krista, snuggled into the over-stuffed couch, staring amusedly at Abby across from them, as the Daywalker sat slouched in her favorite chair with her feet up in the coffee table.
“Really, Abigail,” she refused to call her such a plebian name as Abby, “why you thought attempting a relationship with a VAMPIRE SLAYER, THE Vampire Slayer was a good idea, means I’ve taught you nothing.”
“Chase, be nice. Besides if Abby went about her love-life the way you do, it’d look like a toddler coming out of a WWE match. Sweaty, bloody, bruised, and wondering about the name of the car that just ran them over.” At Chase’s mock pout, Krista relented. Affectionately, nipping at Chase’s collarbone she added, “Except in our case. Who knew you had any… sensitivity left in you?”
Taking a sip of her wine, Abby sighed. “Well as awesome your insight is, none of that matters. I mean what’s a Vampire have to do to get noticed?!” Frowning she leaned intently forward. “I can smell her; I know she returns the… attraction. But she fights it. I don’t understand.” She ran frustrated hand through her hair, her other hand clenched, as the feelings raced around her like a pin-ball machine. “I feel like a yo-yo around her and sometimes it takes everything in me to not… take her.”
Chase and Krista shared a look before Chase leaned forward. “Then you’ll have her. But first, perhaps it’s time to show,” she rolled her eyes in mock disgust, “the Slayer just what it she’s denying herself.”
Both Abby and Krista grew mildly alarmed as the look of wickedness danced across Chase’s features. “Let’s have a house-warming party,” she purred.
Buffy tried desperately not to scowl heavily at the scene across the vast, warehouse-loft apartment, ignoring the people laughing, talking, drinking, even some people making-out (she thought with mild disgust), like her sister Dawn and her lover, Bela. The party was in full swing. Even Giles had managed to relax enough, even brought a date; a woman with gorgeous and seemingly beautiful, unblemished chocolate skin. Apparently she was a barrister in London. Willow stood laughing with some of the Council’s staff, while outrageously flirting with Chase.
However, Chase, Krista, and Abby—but probably mostly Chase, had managed to invite a rather diverse crowd that included more than just Council people. There was the yummy Hannibal King, recently arrived from the States. Apparently he used to be Abby’s partner-in-crime, before Abby got turned. He brought with him a certifiable tech and weapons geek named Shen. Currently he was talking excitedly with Xander, no doubt about either a video game or comic books.
There were also other people in the trade, such as; Mages or Witches, neutral-demons, even a Were-Wolf or two, or human hunters. It was among these people; in particular, a woman that seemed to have her sights on Abby. Who looked… way past hot, Buffy reluctantly admitted. Honestly, did those leather pants have to be so… tight and sleek? And did she want her breasts to be completely on display? When she saw the black-haired woman run a perfectly manicured nail teasingly along the curve of one of Abby’s breasts, it was all Buffy could do to not march across the cavernous room and jerk her away.
The woman’s name was Tristan and apparently she was a witch, but Giles had indicated that she few additional unique qualities. He also said that if Buffy wanted to know she needed to ask Tristan herself. However, the only thing Buffy wanted to do was cause her bodily harm. Gorgeous, ebony hair, that fell in gentle waves down her back, deep blue eyes that were easy to fall into, tall and lithe, with a body like a dancer; sleekly muscled and svelte. Once again, Buffy didn’t realize she was growling until a few people nearby started giving her startled looks of worry or fear.
What she didn’t know was that her eyes were glowing that same orangey-amber color; the Slayer was making itself known. A tapping near her shoulder, shifted her attention from the object-of-her-obsession to the startled amused countenance of Willow. “You know if you’re planning on knocking Abby over with a club and then dragging her away, I’ll go and distract the yummy-but not as yummy, as my bestest-friend, Slayer.”
Putting on the famous Summer’s pout, while huffily folding her arms across her chest in a look of supreme displeasure, Buffy responded. “Ha-ha.” Returning her attention to the Abby and the obviously flirting Tristan, her pout turned into a scowl. “Does she have to throw her breasts in Abby’s face?! I mean, Abby’ll practically need stitches on her chin by the time she can come up for air,” Buffy bitchily snarked.
Chuckling, Willow could only shake her head. “Look, it’s clear you have a major girl-crush on Abby, you just have to figure out what you’re gonna do about It.” Willow then launched her Resolve-face. “But you have to do something soon because it’s driving you,” lowering her voice, Willow added “and definitely us, crazy!”
Sheepishly Buffy tried to stifle a blush and managed to refrain from giving into the urge to stomp her foot in irritation. Running a hand through her hair and sighing, she knew that things had been a little… tense lately.
What’s worse is that she seemed to have little to almost no control, over her reactions around Abby. “I know, I know. Perhaps I need to go on an away-mission, maybe visit a couple of our satellite offices, followed by some shopping of course.”
Regarding her best friend with fond exasperation, she rolled her eyes at Buffy’s attempt to not deal with the situation. “Do you think that’s wise? I mean avoidy much? Distance does not make the heart grow fonder; it’ll just make you more crabbier.”
Now that the idea formed in her head, it strengthened. “Yeah, I’m overdue from some away-time, this’ll be perfect.”
Sighing, shaking her head, she thought back to her conservation with Giles yesterday over some ancient information he’d recently uncovered regarding the Slayer. “Well before you go, a visit with Giles might be in order.
Waving her hand dismissively, her eyes once again returning to Abby, she thought that this would be the perfect solution. Maybe even have a nice vacation-fling, would ‘seal the deal. “Don’t worry I’ll stop in for a moment.”
She slugged back the rest of her Martini, before finally tearing her gaze away from Abby’s – who also seemed to have just as hard a time focusing on the attentions of Tristan, before setting her glass down, and starting towards the exit with Willow in tow.
However she was stopped when Willow laid a warm palm on her shoulder. “I’m gonna stick around here a little longer.” Looking over the crowd, ignoring her own sense of loneliness, she wondered how Kennedy was faring back in Brazil, and then dismissing it, not wanting to remember the increasing problems of her own relationship. “Buff, just take care of yourself and we should make a mocha run as soon as possible.” Leaning over she laid a chaste kiss on Buffy’s cheek before turning back to mingle.
Buffy just stood there, her gaze once again involuntarily shifting towards Abby, only to find those cinnamon-colored eyes staring right back, sending warm shivers down Buffy’s spine. But when that gaze suddenly turned heated; and then proceeded to take a long, steady, glance starting from Buffy’s snug designer 7 Jeans, up along her torso encased in a satiny off-the-shoulder blouse, allowing for some nice cleavage. Pausing for a moment to take in the golden sheen of Buffy’s skin, slightly shadowed by her breasts lifted to their most optimal position, in an expensive La Perla lacy bra, Buffy’s nipples automatically hardened under that heated gaze. Tendrils of heat spread outwards along her body, as that gaze hungrily landed on her lips for a few moments, before finally falling into Buffy’s heated hazel-green eyes.
Feeling her pulse speed up, her chest slightly heaving, and her hands clenching on the door causing the knob to crack under her strength, Buffy found the strength to break off from that heated gaze and turn, leaving the apartment to find her way outside, finally finding some relief in the chilly Fall evening.
Buffy was having some problems. She thought she’d be able to manage things with some distance but it turns out that it has only increased her difficulties. Right now she was blaming it all on Giles. Once she finalized her upcoming trip, fielding (more like dodging) Dawn’s inquiries, she finally made a point to meet with Giles about the issue Willow mentioned at Abby’s housewarming party. What she was told was simply… too uncomfortably unreal.
Apparently, her being the longest-surviving Chosen-Slayer in history, plus all the major magic done during the Battle of Sunnydale, had affected Faith and Buffy, the last of the Chosen, in unique ways. They were stronger, heal faster, than the Called Slayers, and last but certainly not the least, those H & H’s became more feral, more focused, and intense because the need to Mate was somehow… activated. Simply put: they’ll be driven by both the need to Slay and the need to Mate, lowering their inhibitions (at least for her, not so much for Faith), preferably with the One, their Mate. And Giles believes that her response towards Abby could indicate that the Slayer inside of Buffy has found Its Mate. Of course the idea is that the Slayer, infinitely and intimately connected with Its human-side, innately… knew that their Mate would suit both sides of the Chosen Slayer: The Slayer and Human.
How Spike would get a good laugh out of this one. It seems as though Buffy the Slayer, is destined to be with a Vampire; albeit, an unusual Vamp, but a Vampire just the same. Sighing, Buffy ran a calloused hand through her long, golden hair, while she stared out at the picturesque Scottish landscape. If there was one thing that Buffy was cognizant of, it was that in a life where control could be taken away at any moment, it stood to reason that she often tried to exert control when and if she could. It was why she’d always maintained tight control over her Slayer-lust and her inner-Slayer in general. There were moments when a particularly brutal fight would loosen the tethers to her control and she’d find herself clenching her fists, a muscle bunching in her jaw when standing in the shower, as she washed the grime and other fluids off of her.
It was also why she went through at least two vibrators a week and she had a discrete account with an American company called Good Vibrations, who absolutely loved Buffy. Rolling her shoulders she turned from the window and sat down to catch up with all the reports that Giles insisted she do. She wished she could pass some of it onto her assistant, but Giles remained adamant that as one of the leaders of the Council, she should set an example for the rest of the Slayers regarding responsibility. Whatever, thought Buffy with some exasperation, at least it’ll take her mind from her all-consuming thoughts regarding Abby. Or so she hoped.
Abby stood carefully watching as the Junior Slayers dispatched the group of Vampires, her eyes scanning the landscape behind them to ensure no other unpleasant surprises popped up. It was her night to co-supervise or as Xander says it “babysit” the Junior-Slayer’s patrol. That was fine with Abby, if she’s lucky, they’ll be some action for her. So far these Newbie Vamps weren’t much of a challenge. She knew that if she didn’t expend some of this… energy, the Thirst would only become worse.
Yes, a little side-effect of Blade’s gift to her was that sex took the edge off the Thirst and she wondered if Blade experienced the same thing. Abby had no idea if Blade had a sex life, he was so focused about destroying Vamps, that she never saw him with anyone. Although she suspected that there might have been something with Nyssa, the daughter of the Overlord Damaskinous, one of the Vampire Nation Elders, but it was reported that she died from the attack by the Vampire-Hybrid-on-Crack, named Nomak. However, Buffy has made everything worse, and it was all Abby could do to not pull her hair in frustration.
It has gotten to the point that she couldn’t be in the same room for too long, without feeling like her slightly cool skin become hot, almost too hot, a bead of sweat that felt like trails of icy-heat as it trickled down her back. Other moments felt like her pores had opened like a gasp, only to feel them crinkle into goosebumps. But it was the pool of wetness soaking her panties, the throbbing sensation that made her clit stand up, on edge, waiting for some kind of relief, her labial lips became swollen and full, complete a sensation of emptiness that had her sneaking looks at Buffy’s fingers and hands, before shifting to once again stare at Buffy’s mouth.
The darkening of the Slayer’s eyes clued Abby into realizing that Buffy knew… she knew exactly what she did to Abby. This was made even more apparent when she saw the blonde discreetly scenting the air in her direction, only to blush when Buffy realized that she was smelling Abby’s arousal. Abby often had to leave with fists clenched, to work out some of the frustrations or she’d end up taking Buffy. What she didn’t understand was that she knew that Buffy wanted her as well, because the smell of arousal was definitely a two-way street, and her attempts to talk to the Head Slayer about it was met with avoidance or polite dismissals.
Surprising it wasn’t just irritation bubbling under her skin, it was… hurt. She didn’t understand why Buffy kept rejecting her or them. Abby knew her breaking point was approaching; she found herself snapping at the Junior-Slayers on occasion-which made her feel horrible afterwards, complete with lots of apologies. In addition, Abby’s ability to enter a challenging situation like out on patrol or even during sparring, calmly and poised was also compromised. At one session facing off with Kennedy she found herself… growling, blood-lust crept into her consciousness, so much so that she suddenly ripped her hand from Kennedy’s throat; she realized she’d been holding her aloft, her feet dangling off the ground, before suddenly dropping her to land on her ass, and then storming from the room.
Later that night, back at her loft-apartment, after several shots of vodka laced with O-Negative, with Chase and Krista, she’d finally settled down, traces of Buffy had disappeared from her senses, the lust had quieted down enough to be able to think, albeit drunkenly. She’d stayed away from HQ for two weeks, only to finally return to Buffy anxiously inquiring her whereabouts… as if she cared. It was infuriating.
Her attention was brought back to the present when an unusual growling came from the left of the fighting. Tilting her head, her hand immediately going to the handle of her katana, shifting to the balls of her feet, widening, readying, hoping actually for some real, high-tension-relief action. From the looks of the bald, grayish thing crawling on all fours, on its hands and feet, with a few others following, it seems Abby’s found what she’s looking for.
The unnatural whining-scream emanating from the foul stench of the creature’s mouth, made her want to cover her ears. Instead she simply sliced its head off. Frowning, she saw one its buddies attempt to eat like a Vampire, one of her Junior-Slayers. After disposing of another creature, she leapt gracefully up in the ear, flipped, and landed soundlessly behind the approaching creature.
“Hey Mira, watch your back,” she warned, before she ducked under a clawed hand, and then quickly pierced the area near where she assumed would be its heart.
When her sword was halted on something very hard, the creature tilted its head, its eerie blue eyes glowing, and then its mouth opened. Yet instead of fangs and teeth, its mouth opened like some kind of macabre flower, its tongue with a barb attached to its end, erupted from its foul mouth. Abby could detect some kind of substance, probably a neurotoxin dripping from the end.
But her perusal was cut short when a large knife slid through its head as the body jerked in place for a few moments before falling to the ground. Mira, the Junior-Slayer, her eyebrow bleeding, stood breathing heavily. “You ok?”
Abby smirked. “Of course, I had it you know.” she gestured towards Mira’s bleeding eyebrow. “Are you?”
She looked around to see the last of the creature meeting its demise at the hands of two Junior-Slayers. “All right everyone, let’s finish up and then head back. Staking doesn’t work, only decapitation. And then, we’re done for the night.” She squatted down to take a closer look at one of the creature, using the tip of one of her hidden knives to lift its lip. She noticed that it had two sets of prominent fangs, with a small pool of yellowish-fluid on its gums. She wondered if there were more, she hoped not, because these things looked suspiciously like the Hybrids that Blade killed way back when.
“Everyone stay alert. There may be more of these things.”
Like mindless, Vampire-Hybrids-on-Crack, their need to ‘feed’ was their one driving need. Nothing else mattered; if they bit you and you lived, you Turned almost instantly, like a virus. And like a virus, they could multiply almost overnight. UV rays and beheading are the only thing that works, staking doesn’t because of some kind calcified-bone, protective plate in front of the heart. Abby knew she needed to alert HQ as soon as possible to be on the look-out for these nasty things. Perhaps she’ll need to pay a visit to the new Overlord, where the records on both the experimentation and what went down all those years ago, were housed.
No one knew who this Overlord was, he never makes an appearance or schedules appointments, and his immediate underlings were Blood-bonded to him, so they’d rather die than betray their Master. Whatever, Abby knew that she was as much of persona non grata as Blade was. It made her proud. As she made her way back to HQ, she was forced to recognize the simmering want bubbling up again. It was if her body knew she was heading back to where Buffy was and it was readying itself. She also seemed to have no control over it.
Abby is once again sparring; ducking, weaving, kicking, punching the heavy-bag; a sheen of sweat glistened along her body. Her fangs were out as she grunted and growled her way through her work-out. But it wasn’t enough. She knew it wasn’t enough when the unique buzz indicating Buffy nearby, increased. Snapping out a punch, but shifting her eyes to the doorway, she saw the petite blonde pause, staring at her. Curiously (and with no little excitement), Abby watched as Buffy walked towards her, not even acknowledging the other Slayers in the room. The Junior-Slayers, as if knowing that Buffy was in no mood for pleasantries didn’t attempt to approach their leader; besides there was a serious betting pool that involved Buffy and Abby and so they watched with carefully focused eyes for any development between the two women.
Little did Buffy know, that so many were discreetly watching her approach Abby, waiting with expectation for any explosive interaction. When she finally stopped in front of Abby, Buffy hadn’t spoken, her eyes doing that bleeding coppery-orange color thing, along the edges, as she began wrapping her hands.
“You wanna spar?” The moment Buffy said those words; Abby felt her sex clench, her pussy moistening, because the few times they sparred were more like foreplay than actual sparring. And the Slayer had to know it.
There was also something to be said about the fact that Buffy’s Slayer was merging with her human side. Abby couldn’t believe that she hadn’t completed the Merging long before now, Buffy was a Chosen Slayer, the oldest, one of the strongest, if not the strongest, and how could she not have completed the Merge? Nodding, she began walking over towards the nearest mat, watching the blonde creep closer, readying herself into fighting position. Abby was aware of the watchful eyes throughout the training room, knowing that a chance to see their leader spar was a treat.
However, all of these thoughts were dismissed the moment Buffy’s fist came flying at her face. Shifting enough so that the blow only glanced off of her check, Abby immediately dropped to do a sweeping leg-kick, only to have Buffy gracefully jump to avoid being taken down. Next were a varying series of punch-block-kick-block-punch-block so fast that they looked like flashes of light, Buffy’s eyes were now completely coppery-orange, while Abby’s had fully accessed her predator, the Vampire, making hers glowing and blue. The new and unusual eye-color wasn’t the only thing Buffy was experiencing.
Throughout the years, Buffy had become expert in taming her inner-Slayer, aside from ‘feeding’ her Slayer through the H & Hs, she only allowed Her out when she was patrolling, an apocalypse, or sparring with Faith, and even then it was only a little. The fact was, Buffy was… scared to let Her out, scared that she’d like it, and terrified that she wouldn’t be able to control Her again. This… attraction was challenging that control in ways she knew she wouldn’t be able to tether much longer. Giles had given her a clue, whenever she was in Abby’s presence simply confirmed it. The rush of heat curling through her veins, the intense need to press Abby to the floor, higher mental functioning becoming harder and harder each moment they continued to spar, and had she had access to a mirror, she’d be able to see the physical changes as well.
Abby wanted to purr every time a waft of Buffy’s scent, along with the blonde’s arousal’s crept into her nose. Her Vampire only wanted to fight until Its Mate gave in, Accept her. Unlike Buffy, Abby’s Vampire was a lot more psychically and metaphysically invasive than Buffy’s Slayer. The Thirst made it impossible to be otherwise. When Buffy slap slipped through her defenses to land a punch to the Daywalker’s stomach, Abby growled, narrowing her eyes at the Slayer, stilling both of them in their tracks, the watching audience waiting with baited breath for the next move.
Crouching down with a roar, Abby leapt high in the air until she flipped to land directly behind Buffy. Quickly wrapping an firm arm around her, their bodies flush against each other, until she nuzzled her nose along the blonde’s ear, stealing Buffy’s breath. Buffy could feel the Daywalker’s rock-hard nipples through Abby’s sports-bra, digging into her shoulder-blades. She only just managed to restrain herself from rubbing up against the dark-haired woman, like some kind of cat.
“I don’t think this is part of the sparring routine.” Her voice lower than normal, almost guttural, it was her Slayer talking.
“Stop fighting me, fighting us.” Growling again, Abby nipped Buffy’s earlobe, as she whispered into the Slayer’s ear, “Mine.” Slowly turning her head, Buffy locked eyes with the Vampire, before almost involuntarily dropping them onto her glistening lips with a hint of fang peeking out.
An amused voice broke their trance and had the blonde springing away from Abby, “Ummm, Buff, if you’re about to do the horizontal, you might want more private accommodations. You know with impressionable teens nearby, and all.” Willow gave a mental shake of her head as she watched these two figuratively circle each other like lions.
Abby wanted to break something; they’d been so close and while yes, it wasn’t the best place, it didn’t prevent them from seeking their own quarters. She could only watch as Buffy wrestled her Slayer down, at the same time she could smell a full-blown blush sweeping over the blonde. The blood rushing through Buffy’s veins smelled divine; she knew from Angel and Spike that Slayer-blood was some of the best blood. She could barely contain her growing rage at knowing Buffy had been bitten, and every time Abby saw the scars from Angel’s Bite, it was all Abby could do to control her Vampire from asserting her instincts to Mate, to erase Angel’s Bite with her own. Yes, she knew about the Master’s Bite, but that had been essentially erased with Angel’s bite. For now she could only watch helplessly, as Buffy snuck one unreadable look in her direction before quickly sweeping from the room, with Willow following on her heels.
Perhaps it was time to seduce her Slayer, Abby thought with no little frustration. Problem was she had no experience in that regard. Sighing, she knew she’d have to allow her predator, to take charge in this case. It had no inhibitions and with Its instinctive understanding that Buffy was her Mate, chances are It wouldn’t hurt her. Abby was through playing around, it was distracting her out in the field, and her life in general. The biggest reason of all was Abby knew deep down, that together they would be stronger
Abby stood under the extra hot water; the shower warming her and somewhat soothing the beast inside her, aroused by her sparring session with Buffy. Slowly running her hand along her muscled torso, the other hand pinching and rolling her turgid nipple, while the other paused to circle her navel, building anticipation, before sliding her fingers into her silky, wet curls, pulling on them slightly, enjoying the scent of her arousal, desperately wishing Buffy were here, if only to watch.
It was why she didn’t even scent her before her bathroom door slammed open and in strode the object of her thoughts. But whatever Buffy was about to say was halted when her actions finally caught up with her brain, seeing Abigail Whistler naked and wet, her fingers between her legs, while the other was palming her breast, was almost more than she could handle.
She didn’t realize that one eye had remained her natural hazel, while the other remained that coppery-orange color. Buffy stood staring, body rigid, eyes hooded, with her hands clenched white-knuckled at her sides, instinctively knowing that any sudden moves would incite an already on-edge Slayer. Abby slowly opened the glass shower-door, with a sensual alertness, her movements languid and smooth, stoking the fires, as her once again sensually stroked her abdomen, drawing Buffy’s eyes to that area.
Dragging her bi-colored eyes up along that gleaming, wet torso, watching as Abby’s other hand remained busy tugging on a pinkened nipple, continue to her beautifully proportioned and sleekly muscled arms and shoulders, up along a graceful neck, past the Daywalker’s rounded chin, pausing on pink and glistening lips, up until she fell into glowing, inhuman blue eyes. Want simmered, bubbling to the surface.
“What are you waiting for?” asked Abby.
But before Buffy took a step in her direction she was halted by someone frantically calling her name via the communications-thingee that she’d forgotten take out of her ear.
Hoarsely, Buffy reluctantly answered. “Buffy here. What is it?”
“Ahh, this is Andrew, we got reports of those Vampire hybrids Abigail mentioned. One of the Watchers on-patrol with them got bit.” He paused to allow that to sink in. They all read Abby’s reports and the redacted reports from the new Vampire Overlord regarding these creatures. “You’re gonna want to see this.”
Closing her eyes for a few moments, trying to regain her equilibrium, while viciously wrestling her arousal to a manageable level, Buffy finally opened them, locking her gaze on Abby’s suddenly tender gaze. “I’m on my way.”
“We’ll finish this. Soon.” Abigail assured her as she grabbed a towel. Her acute hearing allowed her to hear Andrew’s report.
Buffy could only nod before turning on her heel and leaving the room; taking with her the potent energy. Abby allowed herself to momentarily lean against the tiled wall, as her limbs had become weak and heavy. She hadn’t been able to even cum by her own hand, because not only due to an emergency, but somehow she knew her… fingers wouldn’t be enough. She needed badly, deeply, and Buffy was the only way to alleviate that taut tension.
For the next two weeks, following the encounter on the mindless Crack-Vamps (as dubbed by Xander and ‘co-signed’ by Dawn), and having carefully monitored the Watcher named Richard become aTurned-Crack-Vamp, patrols had been increased in order to clean out these nests. Nests that could erupt overnight; it only took less than an hour for someone to Turn; two turned into ten, which turned into thirty within a matter of hours. Almost like flesh-eating zombies, higher intelligence became limited, and like an addict they needed to feed constantly, easily creating more of these creatures. What made it even worse was that any Being could be Turned; from Spike-like Vampires to demons.
Luckily Willow developed a spell to help locate them. For now they’d only seen sightings of them in Europe. What Buffy, Giles, and Willow really wanted was the location of the Vampire Overlord’s HQ, and access to their files. So far, hacking into their system had been difficult; Willow believed they had a magic-user to assist with protection, that or everything was hand-written.
Added to this heightened battle-mode was Abby, who now seemed to be everywhere, reminding, subtly taunting and not-so-subtly inciting a reaction from Buffy. This was a change from her usual quiet, self-possessed, persona, with an occasional growl, kinda girl. The additional patrols also added to their tension, so that by the time the weekend rolled around Buffy was wound so tight, like a cable pulled taut, ready to snap at any moment. Sparring didn’t help because Faith was still in the States, Krista was decent, but she was no Faith or Abby, Chase couldn’t be bothered (Buffy suspected that Chase was a more than competent fighter), and Abby was… well she simply wasn’t an option at the moment. Not with ‘impressionable’ Baby-Slayers around.
Willow had been having problems of her own. Apparently she and Kennedy were taking a break. Kennedy had been having way too much fun with her fellow Slayers; often leaving for days with her Slayer buddies, with only a cursory explanation to Willow, increasing her sense of exclusion from Kennedy’s life. The red-head suspected that Kennedy might be cheating on her, but it hasn’t been confirmed and she’s reluctant to seek that confirmation. Buffy didn’t blame her – who goes looking for bad news in their business.
Currently, Buffy was leading a group down into the sewers; reports of the Crack-Vamps, a huge nest of them, were settled deep inside ready to explode their population. Along with Buffy, were Senior Slayers, like Kennedy, Amanda, Satsu, along with Abby’s friend, Krista, and Willow’s Witchy Second, Rowena, and another Witch, Marcus. Abby was bringing up the rear. Xander and a few of his military-trained squads, stayed up top to direct Communications and provide potential back-up. Andrew and Willow supplied the team with some neat gadgets, compliment of some folks Abby put them in touch with. Like Sun-Dog bullets that could light up a Vampire with UV charges. Abby, along with her trusty sword, now had her favorite bow and arrow; the bow part able to cut through a Vampire like butter due to a UV laser used instead of the taut string. There were also UV grenades and bombs to complete their arsenal. All of which needed to be dispatched quickly and efficiently, because these things were strong and fast, with only one motivation: to feed.
Following an autopsy on Watcher-Turned-Crack Vamp and the subsequent briefing by their medical squad about the best methods to kill these Crack-Vamps, they knew it would take too much time to shove something through that calcified bone structure protecting its heart. So they decided the UV rays were the most efficient way kill these things. Buffy was ever-thankful for Giles, Willow, (and she grudgingly admitted) Dawn’s tireless efforts, in making the New Council into a streamlined organization; lots of parts that served while supporting each other, and more importantly, prepared and saved Slayers
But Buffy still hated sewers. She was reminded of this when she heard a scuffle up ahead. Holding up her hand in the universal sign for stop and be silent. She reached out with her senses, letting her Slayer edge out, knowing she’d need Her for the ruthless savageness needed for this assignment. She felt something tug on her senses, along with a wash of warmth, and then tingles. Sparing a split second to seek where it was coming from she fell into Abby’s now glowing blue eyes; they both shared a look: watch your back and then Buffy quickly refocused on the task at hand.
Good thing too because of those Crack-Vamps scenting fresh blood, started that weird crouch-walking towards them. Buffy unleashed her UV-enhanced silver-stake (Abby’s people really had some of the coolest stuff!), while the others began spreading out unleashing their own weapons. The next few moments were intense because unlike regular vamps, they couldn’t afford to let any of their blood or venom enter their bloodstream. After stabbing several Crack-Vamps in the eye, cringing every time they let out that echoing shriek, she finally unleashed the Scythe. Keeping a peripheral eye on Abby, Buffy began halving the creatures, since the blade was coated in holy water, they blew apart in fiery ashes.
Checking to see if any of her Slayers were trouble; Amanda, Kennedy, and Krista were busy sharp-shooting to oblivion, while Buffy, Satsu, and Abby sliced and diced their way through whatever Crack-Vamp made it through the rain of specialized bullets. And the few stragglers that made it past them, their Witches had fire-balls waiting to finish them off. And then Satsu lost her katana, the Crack-Vamp was trying to dig its impressive claws into her back, luckily she was wearing one of the new body armor. But it didn’t prevent the thing from tugging Satsu’s body closer, its mouth opening like a mutated flower, and as it was about to pierce Satsu’s neck, it suddenly released its hold when a silver throwing star, sliced off the end of its barbed tongue causing it to instantly rear back, shrieking in pain. By that time, Buffy had made it to Satsu and was already doing some slicing of her own; through its head, ending its screaming.
Buffy leant a hand to help Satsu to her feet, allowing the Slayer a few moments to quell the moment of fear she experienced when her life flashed before her eyes. Lifting her eyes to Buffy, she nodded, “Thanks Buffy.”
Buffy flashed a small grin before stepping back to give her Scythe a swirl, she responded, “No prob.”
The widening of Satsu’s eyes alerted Buffy to the immediate danger and had her turning around to meet it. But it was the inhuman, yet familiar growl coming from nearby that stopped her in her tracks. A shapely body, shrouded in black leather came flying through the air, her sword at the ready to take on the largest Crack-Vamp they’d seen yet. Lightly landing on her feet Abby sliced off the forearm of the creature. Letting out that annoying inhuman shriek, it still managed to heft a huge war-hammer to swing it at Abby, catching her in the ribs.
But it had forgotten that The Slayer was right behind him, a Slayer whose soon-to-be-Mate just had her ribs caved in by that behemoth. Feeling the rage bubbling to the surface like shaken bottle of champagne about to pop its cork, she could feel that Slayer-fueled rage infusing her veins, heightening her primal protective instincts, quickening the blood rushing through her body. Her need to protect her Mate, to destroy everything that threatened her Mate’s existence, Buffy focused in on the creature with menacing intent. With her eyes shimmering a glowing coppery-orange color, her own fangs growing a touch longer and sharper, Buffy let out a rumbling growl of her own before launching herself at the creature that now had Abby’s neck in its huge claw.
Satsu and Kennedy had been prepared to enter the fray, but as if their own Slayer knew that this was Buffy’s kill, they moved out of the way as blonde came leaping at the hulking Crack-Vamp, protectively watching the scene for any strays. So far, almost the entire nest had been wiped out using a combination of the UV bombs and grenades, along with the steady use of the Sun-Dog bullets and general ass-kickery from Slayers and Witches.
In fact, everyone watched as a fully unleashed Chosen Slayer; the First Slayer, the demon essence, which unlike Its human host had already Claimed Abigail Whistler; seeing her hurt by an enemy enraged It so much, that it had completely suppressed Its human host. More Power, enhanced strength and senses, flowed through the fist that landed in the temple of the Vamp, the side of its face denting, causing the creature to loosen its hold on Abby, dropping her on the ground.
But Buffy was nearly done. When she landed on her feet, she expertly twirled her Scythe, quickly ‘singing’ its blade through the creature’s knees, literally cutting him “off at the knees.” Screeching in pain, it tried to crawl away, only to have Buffy leap up and land heavily on its back, pinning it in place, and cracking the calcified bones underneath its skin. Growling, baring her teeth, the Slayer spared a look at its Mate, assuring Herself she was safe. When She saw Abby straining against Amanda and Kennedy’s hands, wanting to enter into the fray again, the urge to protect and kill for Buffy equally strong. She calmed when she saw her Slayer give her a look that said stay back, that this was Her kill.
Abby realized that while she was very good, one of the best in the business, but Buffy was a master. She also thought that her Slayer was magnificent like this; fully merged with her demon essence. She could feel her body’s response, like answering some kind of sexual primal call, the Daywalker watched as the growling Slayer buried the Scythe in the creature’s neck.
On the ride back to their local Council property, everyone was buzzing from post-patrol energy, particularly the Slayers. However, as Kennedy shared a look with Amanda and Satsu, the energy coming from the Head-Slayer and Abby was different; an energy that didn’t include them or invite them to inquire about it. Even Xander, who usually engaged Buffy to help her bleed off her post-slaying energy as part of the Co-Scooby responsibilities, could tell that his interference would not be welcomed—not when Buffy looked like that. He’d been briefed a long time ago from Giles and Dawn, that Buffy and Faith’s connection to the First Slayer was much more intimate; making them stronger, faster, senses sharper, and accelerated healing than the Called Slayers. At some point both women would fully merge with their demon essence, making their suppressed primal instincts more apparent. Since the Scoobies, family, other Council members were considered part of their… Pack, (or that’s the word that Dawn used with no little amusement), their need to protect them would be greater, but so would the need to Mate, as evidenced with Abby.
Xander chuckled over the chatter in the SUV as he remembered Giles squirming, furiously cleaning his glasses, and his outright awkwardness when discussing anything related to sex, especially Buffy and sex. Sparing a look into the overhead mirror as he finally pulled into their facilities, he’s guessing that all that Mating and sex stuff was coming to a head – he owed Willow $20 bucks; there’s no way they’re gonna be able to hold out for another week.
Both women sat silent and tenser than a strung piano wire, an occasional muscle would bunch in Buffy’s cheek, or Abby’s white-knuckled clenched fists would once again squeeze down on the pommel of her sword lying across her lap, both refusing to look at the other for fear that whatever tether that held them to social inhibitions would release. Otherwise, the hot pool of want boiling right at the surface would pour over regardless of their audience. Buffy’s Slayer wanted; she wanted so bad and didn’t understand why her human kept holding back. She wanted to Mate, to Claim. So like some kind of mass pushing against the walls of a bubble it kept pushing, prodding Buffy to act. The little bit of the Slayer’s human energy that hadn’t been lost to her Slayer, knew that if she didn’t deal with this… thing within the near future she wasn’t sure that the results wouldn’t be damaging. After all, Giles and Willow had warned her.
Krista was staring hard at Abby. Her Vampire was practically vibrating with the tension from the Daywalker. The lust was so thick she had no clue how Abby or the Slayer were able to hold back. Krista wondered if she’d need to intervene; would Buffy be safe or would Abby? After all Abby could more than hold her own against the Slayer, for the most part. She knew that Abby had been having issues with the Slayer; Chase had, in her usual arrogant fashion, sneeringly dismissed Abby’s notion that THE Slayer was her Mate. Krista wasn’t so quick to dismiss Abby’s claim. In the world of the supernatural, stranger things have happened. For now all she could do was watch the two women and be prepared to intervene, should it be necessary.
Finally, everyone piled out of the vehicle, anxious to be away from whatever was happening. Still avoiding the other’s eyes, both Abby and Buffy briskly walked towards the entrance. The door opened and one the Senior Slayers, an attractive red-head from Croatia, named Rada, greeted the group. But it was when her eyes appreciatively lit up on Abby’s form, her hand outstretched to shake the Daywalker’s hand that things went from zero-to-crazy-sixty. Buffy’s Slayer, barely tethered, was suddenly unleashed, seeing Rada as competition, perhaps even a threat to Her Claim on the Daywalker. By this time, Buffy’s human side had once again become completely subsumed within Slayer, so with a sub-vocal growl that every Slayer and Krista could hear, she pounced. Scooping up yelping Abby, causing her to lose her grip on her sword, Buffy cradled her tight against her chest, baring her teeth in warning at the stunned group, before loping away, to find a more suitable place for mating. Satsu quickly stepped to pick up Abby’s sword.
Xander’s mouth hung open for a few moments, before Krista used to two fingers to close it. “Yeah, we saw it too.
She smirked as she watched Xander gain composure. “Do you--,”
“Hell no!” Kennedy chimed in. “It’s about goddamn time! It was driving us crazy!”
Krista directed her attention to the now pale Rada, “So, um, yeah, you’re barking up the wrong tree. That’s Buffy’s…,” she looked at Xander and Kennedy, both shrugged, “woman. So yeah…,” she rolled her eyes at the inadequate explanation, and then disappeared up the stairs.
“Well I gotta report in. after debriefing and some food, who’s with me on a ‘bar-patrol?’” asked Xander.
Buffy shouldered past the heavy door, used her foot to close it. Surprisingly after the initial surprise, Abby calmed as she was carried away; feeling secure in the knowledge that Buffy was finally going to Claim her. Once Buffy stopped, she slowly allowed Abby to her feet, their bodies tightly pressed against each other. The Slayer slid a weapons-callused hand up along Abby’s neck up into her hair to unfasten the ponytail, allowing the chocolate waves to spill around her fingers, and along Abby’s neck and shoulders. Abby lowered her head until her lips came to within a tiny distance from Buffy’s. Purring as the blonde began sifting her fingers along the silky strands, lightly scratching her nails along her scalp, until suddenly Buffy tightly clenched the mahogany strands to tug Abby’s head that small distance to the Slayer’s lips, crushing them against each other.
The Daywalker looped a muscular arm around Buffy, clenching their bodied even tighter against each other. Abby’s other hand smoothed its way down the tightly toned back, past Buffy’s waist until she came to one of Buffy’s most delectable body-parts, her ass. More than once, Abby had been caught scoping out that particular feature, thinking about the many ways to become intimately acquainted with the Slayer’s body part in question. Squeezing the tight, muscular globe caused Abby to spill a pool of heat into her already soaked panties. She wondered if the Slayer was smelling her scent, judging by the moments she caught the blonde slightly tilting her head up, her nostrils flaring as if inhaling some tantalizing smell on the drive back, Abby had an idea she did.
Buffy realized after her first or second time that she really enjoyed sex with women, in particular, she loved the smell of an aroused woman, and even more so, the taste of a woman. With her Slayer stamina she’d been known to hungrily gorge on woman to the extent that a human lover would be begging her to stop, as she throbbed from her latest orgasm. But the scent wafting from Abby was like none other; she wanted to feast herself, to bathe in her juices, to lap up every drop so that there was none left, and then start all over.
For now, it was almost enough to twine her tongue around the Daywalker’s, coaxing it into her own mouth so that she could suckle it, reveling in the moan-growl that erupted from the brunette’s throat. Twisting their heads to get even closer, momentarily lifting their heads to sip a bit of air before once again crushing their kiss-swollen lips against each other. Nibbling and sucking on her bottom lip, Buffy began to once again track kisses down Abby’s strong neck, coming back to the juncture where neck met shoulder, now darkened from Buffy’s earlier efforts. Buffy mouthed the area, sunk teeth in even harder, not quite breaking the skin, but close, enjoying the whimpers and occasional involuntary thrust against her thigh, from the brunette.
Occasionally Buffy would growl warningly when someone would attempt to pass them in the hall; Mine! was echoed down the connection of every Slayer in the building. Their connection to the Head Slayer, while not as intense as Faith’s, still felt the fine hairs on the back of their neck and arms stand on end, goosebumps breakout along their skin, as they felt the ferocious lust trickling down the connection. It wasn’t Buffy they were feeling – it was the demon essence, the First Slayer. Had Giles also been visiting the facility, he’d have been fascinated, right before realizing it was Buffy, whom he considered his ‘daughter,’ which would then send him into a fit of eye-glass cleaning, stuttering, and blushing. As it stood, he was being briefed, although it was more like a gossip update from a smirking Xander.
However the subjects of speculation, were finally inside one of the facilities’ many guest rooms. A huge room complete with a large four-poster bed dominating the room, a 42-inch flat-screen TV mounted on the wall, along with small sitting area that included a mini-fridge, and an ensuite as the bathroom. Abby acknowledged the lust had been ebbing and flowing for months, yet building from the moment she met Buffy had finally become unleashed. Once Buffy stopped in the middle of the room, their bodies tightly pressed against each other, the Slayer slid a weapons-callused hand up along Abby’s neck up into her hair to unfasten the ponytail. The chocolate waves spilled around her fingers, and along Abby’s neck and shoulders. Abby lowered her head until her lips came to within a tiny distance from Buffy’s. Purring as the blonde began sifting her fingers along the silky strands, lightly scratching her nails along her scalp, until suddenly Buffy tightly clenched the mahogany strands to tug Abby’s head that small distance to the Slayer’s lips, crushing them against each other. All the while both women were busy divesting each other of their clothes, occasionally tearing a button or ripping material there; there was simply no patience for a more methodical approach. Coming to, Buffy mouthed the juncture where neck met shoulder, setting her teeth a tad harder, enjoying the whimpers and occasional involuntary thrust against her thigh from Abby.
Once both women were completely naked, a few moments were spared to take in the other’s form. Tanned skin pressed against slightly too-pale and lightly freckled skin, smallish taut breasts with eraser-sized hardened nipples, dragged against fuller breasts capped with coral-pink rigid nubs. Pale muscular legs stood intertwined with golden-skinned shapely ones, and the combined scent wafting from either the well-manicured soaked center, with an engorged nub, nudged against the bare-shaven glistening cunt, accentuated by a red and quivering clit. When Abby began nuzzling, probing, and swirling her tongue around Buffy’s ear receiving a grunt for her troubles, the Slayer’s mouth had worked its way down the slope of an alabaster breast, swirling her tongue along the dark-pink crinkled areola, enjoying the feel of her Vampire’s nails digging into her shoulders. Abby cried out, hoarsely calling out Buffy’s name when the blonde tugged an erect nipple into her mouth, her cheeks hollowed out as the suckled hard, her tongue flickering the tip.
Even though Abby was a few inches taller than Buffy, the Daywalker felt… dominated, the fully-merged Slayer’s larger than life essence; the Vampire, even the new-and-improved Vampire-Daywalker was prey, the Slayer was the ultimate hunter. However in this case, the Slayer wanted to lay a Claim, It had found its Mate; She could never willingly hurt her Mate, but She knew that in order to complete the Claiming the Vampire essence had to ultimately accept Her. Being a weak, passive Submissive wouldn’t suffice and She instinctively knew it, it was the way of the primal, supernatural world. Higher human thinking had now fallen to the wayside; as indicative of glowing copper-orange and inhuman blues, elongated fangs – Abby more so, their primal sides were now motivating their actions.
Tossing her Mate on the bed, the Slayer began working her lips from Abby’s delicate feet, suckling her toes, lapping up along a shapely calf, mouthing her sensitive kneecap, causing the Daywalker’s body to shudder and jerk, as she watched, with hooded eyes, on propped elbows. But there was another instinct growing inside the Daywalker’s body, making her fangs ache so fiercely with need. While the Slayer’s blood smelled like none other, calling to her to taste, to let it wash over her tongue so that she’d know it forever, what Abby really wanted to do was replace the Mark on the Slayer’s neck, made by Angel, with her own, to show that the Slayer was hers. So as the Slayer’s tongue and lips mapped the skin along her muscular thighs, her hips undulating in keen desperation, it was all she could do to hold herself back from snatching the blonde to her to plunder that wicked mouth and then bite down on that throbbing pulse point that was calling to her.
Abby sifted her hand through Buffy’s blonde locks, particularly when those lips grew closer to the wetness coating the inside of her upper-thighs. “Buffy don’t tease me,” she hoarsely begged.
With a long languorous lick along the side of one swollen, wet labial lip, eliciting a hum of intense appreciation at the taste, Buffy decided she’d waited long enough to have her. Her fingers stroked and caressed the slickness, circling the entrance to Abby, swearing she could feel the answering grasp before briefly removing her fingers, glistening with the brunette’s juices, and sucking them in her mouth. Buffy’s eyes closed as Abby’s taste coated her tongue. Delicious, she thought, her mouth watering for more.
Sliding both of her hands underneath her writhing Daywalker to knead, fondle, and cup the firm bottom; her nose and mouth, nuzzled and dabbled her tongue along the groves of the over-flowing nether lips. Her nose prodded the quivering knot of flesh at the top of her Daywalker’s cunt, while her hands brought Abby’s hips closer, firmly holding the brunette in place, she finally worked her tongue to dip into the clenching opening. Allowing the juices to wash over her tastebuds, Buffy began working her tongue even further, instantly knowing that she would never be able to get enough. Growling, the reverberations created added sensation inside the tight channel, along with her tongue plundering, lapping, and sucking the fluid spilling into the mouth; so much that it was coating her chin and dripping down her neck.
Buffy could vaguely hear the sounds echoing around the room from Abby’s mouth, but the brunette’s thighs were clenched alongside her head, blocking her ears. Abby could hardly believe the sounds coming out of her mouth. She’d never felt so out-of-control; she’d always been able to maintain a certain… distance during sex from her past lovers. Her blood had become thick and hot as it raced through her veins, the coalescing tension built in her lower abdomen, until it felt like a hot ball of tension. Her chest heaved in great bellows of air, even if she didn’t need it, almost making her light-headed. the feel of Buffy tongue-fucking her so thoroughly, hearing, knowing she sucking up her juices, and knowing that if Buffy somehow ghosted her tongue over that rough-patch of skin inside her one more time, she wouldn’t be able to last.
“Fuck, Buffy! Wh-what are you doing to me?!” Abby growled when Buffy paused to nip the tip of her clitoris.
One of Abby’s hands was clenched tight in Buffy’s hair, the golden strands wrapped around her fist, practically smashing the Slayer’s face into the cunt, while her other hand was busy cupping her own breast; firmly pulling, tugging, and pinching her nipple in time with every thrust of Buffy’s tongue. “Yeah, right there Slayer. I love your tongue right there. Don’t stop!”
Her head rocked back, not able to watch her Slayer work, the sensations were too much. But when Buffy once again removed her tongue from her grasping hole, only to replace it with three fingers that slowly, yet firmly twisted, pushed, rubbed, and circled inside the tightening walls, and over the rough knot of skin, she felt that hot ball of tension suddenly expanded, her honey walls began a light fluttering. At the same time Buffy lapped her way up to that pulsating clit begging to have her lips wrapped around.
“You taste delicious, baby. But right now I need you to cum in my mouth.”
Shouldering her way past Abby’s taut thighs, so that Buffy had enough room to properly finger-fuck her Daywalker, yet have enough room to hear her cries of pleasure, as she wrapped her swollen lips around Abby’s throbbing nub, sucking hard. A low scream was the first indication that her Daywalker was responsive to Buffy’s dual attack.
Looking up along her lover’s body, watching how stunning and desirable Abby was as she pulled on her nipples, her head tipped back, corded muscles standing out in relief, as the tension continue to build. Buffy could only straddle Abby’s tense leg to relieve her own intense need to cum; rubbing and pressing her clit against Abby’s knee. Whimpering as she lashed the tip of Abby’s pulsating nub, feeling it grow firmer, the flesh around her fingers growing tighter, rhythmic contractions signaling the oncoming orgasm, Buffy reveled in the heated cries, curses, and pleas coming from her Vampire. When Abby’s clit grew so hot and hard, she once again massaged and pressed against the rough patch of flesh inside the tight cavern of her cunt, as fluttering around Buffy’s fingers grew stronger, she knew she only had moments left.
Knowing her lover was about to cum, the blonde lightly bit down on the pulsating muscle in her mouth, watching as Abby practically sat up, the six-pack bunching in stark relief, her fangs glistening, the Daywalker howled as her orgasm thundered through. “I’m cumming.” Abby opened her eyes to stare into her Slayer’s copper-orange ones as the waves of intense pleasure rolled along her veins, allowing the love and possessiveness shine through. “for you.”
It was the Slayer’s moment to Claim her Vampire; slightly shifting, leaning down once again, searching for that spot she found earlier, scenting where the blood was most thick and potent. Finally she found it; at the apex of where Abby’s leg met thigh, on the left side. While the Slayer’s fangs weren’t as impressively long and dangerous, they were still noticeably longer than her normal human length. Buffy licked and sucked the area until the pale skin grew darker. Pausing a moment to look up at her lover, all the while her fingers continued to twist, curl, and massage Abby through her orgasm.
Buffy slid her fangs into Abby’s skin, fluid immediately filling her mouth, and like that it felt as if her metaphysical body was being pulled out, riding memories and events throughout Abby’s life; a family murdered, a straggly old man named Whistler, woman named Sommerfield, Hannibal, and Blade, even a mutated Pomeranian(?!). She saw a fight gone bad in a warehouse; Buffy’s heart clenched – Abigail should’ve been dead. Blade Turning her, Blade’s True Death, her grief, her time in Los Angeles, a red-head named Anna, all of it.
The bond, connection that somehow found its way between them from the very beginning, pulled tight, became interwoven, and Buffy knew she’d forever remain connected to her Daywalker. Lifting her reddened mouth, she stated, “Mine.”
Abby hissed, “Yesss,” in response.
At that Buffy completely lifted her lips from her Mate’s skin, her lips and teeth stained red, while her fingers still plunged and curled inside Abby’s cunt, dragging out another orgasm from the brunette. Buffy climbed up her torso, her lips and chin shiny with Abby’s cum and blood, to recapture her Mate’s lips. Wrapping her arms around her Slayer, her legs readjusted to wrap themselves around Buffy’s hips, holding her in place. Plundering each other’s mouths, pressing the lips together so hard, that Abby nicked the blonde’s bottom lip caused the Daywalker’s eyes to roll back as her Slayer’s blood washed across her tongue. Her Vampire cooed in pleasure, inciting her instinct to Mark Buffy as hers permanently, more urgently.
Lifting her lips from the Slayer’s, gently running a thumb along her delicate jaw until those copper-orange eyes focused on her. “You ready love?” At her nod, Abby added, “There’s no going back, so make sure.”
At Buffy’s exasperated, yet affectionate nod, Abby began working her way down along the blonde’s jaw, suckling soft kisses, down alongside her neck, sniffing for the place, growling when she could still scent Angel’s Mark. She grunted her as she clenched her thighs around Buffy’s hand when she tried to extract it from between her legs. “Keep it there.”
Buffy could feel tension of her own, coming from her Slayer, tasting the Claim about to made. She never submitted, but this Vampire was Hers, and she earned the right to make that Claim. Abby allowed one hand to stroke down her Mate’s body, stopping to cup her breast; kneading and fondling it before moving on, circling her lover’s bellybutton, the Slayer’s body heaving and undulating in unrequited lust. Her fingers loved the sensation of the soft, wet curls caressing her fingers, her fingers forming a ‘V’ on either side of the Slayer’s thoroughly drenched hole.
Purring, she loved how the Slayer responded to her. “Goddess you’re so wet. Later, I plan to lap it all up.” Her fingers prodded the grasping entrance, “Right now, I think you need something longer and firmer, like my fingers.” With that she unceremoniously plunged two fingers inside Buffy. Buffy cried out, as a growling Abby gently sunk her fangs into the Slayer’s pulse point, over Angel’s Mark.
If Abby had been able to gasp she would have, as the potent blood rushed through her veins, waking cells she long thought dead, she could swear that she felt a ‘thump’ from inside her chest. When she felt it again, accompanied by an ache, like a muscle that suddenly cramped from being used after being stagnant for so long, she almost jerked her mouth away in response. Accompanying the stuttering heart, was sensation akin to the wash of fine brandy racing through veins, warming her skin, Abby could only tip her head back, eyes closed, as the sensations wracked through her body while she continued to plunder the Slayer’s body, her thumb pulling back the hood of Buffy’s clit and then stroking the quivering, sensitive glands.
Buffy felt as if she’d been broken apart and brought back together, the orgasm coming at her like a freight train. When three fingers plunged inside her weeping cunt, filling her deliciously, the tips of Abby’s fingers nudging her own knot of rough flesh, caused her walls to clamp down hard around Abby’s fingers, and her clit to erupt in piercing pleasure. “Abby! Fuck!” Buffy wailed in pleasure as the orgasm tore through what little defenses she had left.
Chest heaving, Abby finally opened her eyes, not realizing that a tear had started to make its way down her cheek, followed by another, until a smaller hand gently palmed her jaw, Buffy’s thumb brushing the tear away. “Buffy.”
“I know.” All the guilt, the disappointments, even the betrayals that had long ago settled on Buffy’s shoulders felt suddenly lightened. It was almost a spiritual experience.
Clasping the blonde close, letting the experience roil, ebb, and finally smooth away to be reborn into an enhanced Bond, an altered Buffy, The Slayer, and her Mate, Abigail, the Daywalker, who wasn’t aware of the blood-tears making slow tracks down her cheeks, until her Slayer leaned over to kiss them away.
Stroking her wet cheeks, both women wrapped tightly around each other, their foreheads gently pressed together, allowing themselves to adjust to the intense connection. The Slayer finally receded, sated, belonging, allowing her Human to the forefront.
The blonde almost startled, hearing Abby’s voice ricocheting in her head, before realizing that she was talking to her like Willow occasionally did through magic. This was obviously the result of their new link.
How did you know?
Shrugging, she answered, I don’t know, I just… knew.
I wonder what other… new tricks comes with this… Bond. Brushing her swollen lips against Abby’s, still smelling of the brunette, she snuggled into her Mate. I’m sure Watcher-mine will get all ‘tweedy’ and ‘watchery’ when we tell him.
Chuckling, Abby privately agreed with Buffy – Giles did tend to get all excited about these kinds of things.
Standing before the couple who were snuggled in on his couch, except the ‘loving’ scene was broken up by Abby casually twirling a beautifully crafted knife, Giles internally cursed the fact that Buffy still had the ability to unnerve him. Naturally he was busy, needlessly wiping his glasses before replacing them on his face.
“So am I to believe that you are now fully merged with your Slayer?” He decided he’d put off the more… intimate aspects of this unusual phenomenon until he couldn’t.
Snickering from Xander, who was busy stuffing his face with a slice of chocolate cake he snagged on the way to Giles’ office. One of the Junior-Slayers was/is a pastry chef and she tended to bake when she was feeling anxious. Xander was thankful he was on the road a lot or he was positive his “svelte” good looks would’ve gone south, he thought some amusement. Willow was sitting at a huge table nearby, mixing up some ingredients for a spell to access the Bond between the two women. She was feeling equal parts relieved -Buffy had been a major poop-head since this UR-Lustiness started and slightly envious as she thought about her own failing relationship with Kennedy.
Krista sat in the other chair, remaining watchful, but fascinated. After there aren’t many occasions for a Slayer to be Mated to Vampire. Plus, she was still reeling from the feedback through the other Slayers at the site of phenomenon. Luckily she’d been able to quickly stop in at the local blood-house (like a whore house, except instead of sex a patron received blood from a willing victim or in some cases sex came with blood), to level off her incited blood-lust
Chase looked cool and polished and exceedingly amused as she sat in one the leather wing-back chairs, wearing expensive Jimmy Choos, (which Buffy barely prevented herself from drooling over), while unfathomably licking her way through a dish of chocolate-mint gelato. Buffy was thankful that Dawn and Bela were in New York, handling some kind of diplomatic snafu. Sighing she shared a look with her Daywalker, before answering.
“Yes.” She paused trying to gather her thoughts. “I mean She’s always been there, but in the background, except when Slaying.”
Are you going to tell him? This was followed by a deep, seductive chuckle that washed over her skin from the inside.
Since this… Bond the flare of want could erupt at any moment; like now. Mentally pouting, she responded, Do I have to?!
Still chuckling, ignoring their audience for the moment, Abby pressed a kiss against the blonde’s brow. It’s entirely up to you. Just be glad your sister isn’t here.
Snorting, Buffy thought of one other person she was glad she wasn’t here. Frowning, that reminded her of something. “Has anyone heard from Faith yet?”
Willow chimed in at this point, as she walked over towards the couple with her bowl of ingredients. “She sent me a text this morning. I traced it to somewhere in Kansas.”
“Well, I for one am bloody thankful you settled this. Abby was positively unbearable these past few weeks. It wasn’t even worth my effort to find a little amusement at her expense.” Chase only wanted to hear the juicy details; everything else was incidental as far as she was concerned.
“All right, I believe, aside from Willow, Xander, Krista, and Chase, please leave. From this point on, this matter will be facilitated as efficiently and as discretely as possible.” He held up a hand to stave off any protest from Chase. “Regardless of how much ‘entertainment’ the less… enlightened have derived from this situation.” Then he leveled a stern glance at the now sheepish expressions on their faces – minus Chase, of course. “I’m aware that some have even gone so far as to facilitate financial arrangements based on the results of the matter at hand. That stops today.”
Chase simply rolled her eyes at the admonishment as she sailed out the door. Krista shrugged apologetically, while Xander leveled sorrowful-puppy-dog eyes at an amused Buffy, as they paraded themselves out of the room. Sighing Giles often wondered how they’ve made it this far, but he knew he was only humoring himself; after all they were the most courageous, resourceful, loyal, if a bit mischievous, group of young adults she’d ever met.
Willow had finally joined them with a mortar and pestle, used for crushing and mixing herbs, accompanied by an odd-smelling paste. Abby took a few discrete moments to run an appreciative glance over the red-head, thinking that Kennedy was an idiot. The Witch turned towards them, scooping a dab of the paste to place on their foreheads, and then sprinkling the additional paste around them.
“Really, Willow must you throw it on the floo—,” but Buffy began feeling that unique buzz only applied to Faith grow suddenly grow stronger. Abby felt the sensation wash down through their link
Abruptly the door crashed open and in strode the dark-haired slayer, accompanied by another red-head, who set off Buffy’s senses like nothing she’d ever felt. Abby knew who exactly walked into the room. Quickly leaping to their feet in case the red-head proved dangerous, joined by Willow who readied a spell, they shared an uncertain look before taking any further action. Although it appeared unlikely necessary, considering she was wearing Faith’s favorite t-shirt, along with Faith’s penchant for leather pants.
Her Sister-Slayer smiled, dimples and all. “Hiya B! Red. Missed me?!” Faith turned her amber gaze on Abby whose gaze remained on the red-head. “And ya just can’t seem to keep your hands off the Vamps, huh?” She snickered, before marginally toning down at the red-head’s light punch on her arm. “Just kiddin,’ B. This one is definitely an upgrade from the last two.”
Buffy could only shake her head. Looking into Faith’s now fully amber eyes, it appeared she wasn’t the only one who merged with her Slayer, before shifting her eyes onto the red-head’s. “Welcome back. Who’s the red-head and why is she pingin’ like crazy on our senses?” willow’s own senses were lighting up like sparkles because of the other red-head.
Faith tugged the red-head into her side. “B, meet my angel, Anna.” She redirected her gaze to Abby. “And I believe you two have already met.”
It would be a while before they all realized that Giles had been momentarily frozen by Anna. But by then they were all making plans for margaritas later.