Payback's a Witch
Female character you'd like paired with Darla: Willow
Three elements you'd like included: dark, angst, manipulation
Two things you don't want: Fluff/Romance
Range of ratings you'd like to read: G-NC-17
Does your request require comics canon?: No.
If not, are you okay if comics canon is used?: I don't follow them at all so I'd prefer not.
Author's Note: This sordid little tale takes places shortly after the events of “Epiphany” and “Crush.”
Payback's a Witch
Darla found Drusilla on a bench in Kingman's Park, wailing and tearing at her hair like some Grecian priestess.
“I take it your reunion with Spike didn't go as hoped?”
“My darling boy is ruined! Blinded by the sticky sunshine girl,” Dru hissed. “I think I shall never have him back,” she whispered forlornly.
“Sunshine girl? You mean the slayer?”
“Horrid little home wrecker she is!”
Darla cursed and sat down next to her sire, wrapping an arm about the slender woman.
“I know the feeling, dear. Angelus is still locked away because of her. Because of Soul Boy's pathetic longing for her. What can I say? I guess he likes them dumb.” Darla tried to be glib but it came out bitter. “I think I shall never have Angelus back,” she echoed.
Dru turned to Darla with a pleading expression on her tear-streaked face. “Please rid our family of the nasty slayer. Please kill her for mummy.”
“Darling, there is nothing I'd like better, believe me, but I doubt I could succeed where Spike and Angelus failed. And even if I were up to the task, our little lost boys would surely hunt us down and destroy us for killing their 'sunshine girl.'”
Dru growled, “Is there no vengeance for us, then? She deserves pain!”
Darla's lips curled slowly upward. “Pain? That I can manage, and lots of it. If we challenge her physically, she'll feel nothing except our dust tickling the back of her throat. But if we attack her heart, well, that's a wound that never heals.”
Dru looked upon her knowingly. “My childe has a notion. What is it, lovey?”
“You know more of the slayer than I. Tell me, who does Buffy cherish most?”
“The shiny new key. Oh, how prettily she glows!”
“Dru, I don't speak crazy.”
“The sister-daughter.”
“How'd that happen? Please say, 'incest.'”
Dru giggled. “No, silly! Little bald elves swaddled in brown robes.”
“Well, of course. And what does this key open?”
“The skyyyy!”
“Fascinating. Who else?”
“The pixie with the crown of fire.”
“Dru.”
The brunette pouted and muttered, “The witch.”
It took several moments for Darla to unclench her teeth. “Does this witch have a name?”
“Willow tree!”
“Oh for fuck's sake, Drusilla!”
***
After Darla located suitable accommodations for the both of them, she put Dru to bed and stepped out for a bit of reconnaissance. Two cemeteries later, she came upon Buffy, a red-haired girl, and a chubby man-child fighting a rather pungent boretz demon. Darla watched with glee as the foul creature staggered the slayer with a vicious uppercut. However, before he could press his advantage, the remaining female conjured a fireball out of thin air and hurled it at the demon, igniting the moldy, flea-ridden rags draped about him. The creature howl in agony, and a recovering slayer barked, “Xander, axe!”
The stocky fellow tossed her his weapon, which she embedded deep in the demon's chest. They watched the demon writhe and crackle until it was still. Buffy grinned and said, “Good work with the mojo, Wills.”
The redhead positively glowed with the praise.“Thanks, Buff.”
Wills? Must be short for Willow. Apparently Dru was making some sense after all.
The fearless demon hunters moved on, and Darla trailed them at a discrete distance, watching the interplay between the three. The man-child was obviously the jester of the group, incessantly flopping and clowning about for a laugh. However, the two women scarcely noticed Xander's antics as they walked side-by-side, practically huddled against each other. Now that was a lovers' walk if Darla had ever seen one. She noted how their hands occasionally fluttered, aching to reach for the other, for the comfort it could provide. Oh yes, definitely more than friends.
This Willow would serve her purposes quite nicely.
***
When the three humans parted ways, Darla struck fast and hard.
One moment Willow was strolling along without a care in the world, save for one Buffy Anne Summers, and the next she was wrapped in arms like steel bands, struggling to coax a scream from her empty lungs.
Then sharp teeth pierced her skin, and the croak turned into a gurgle as her attacker savaged her neck. The pain was truly remarkable, paralyzing even, and it overcame all other imperatives. With each great draught the vampire took, Willow felt as though her heart were squeezed betwixt a vice. Then, mercifully, the agony went away and she could no longer feel much of anything. Through the misty veil she watched as a bloody wrist was pressed to her lips. Even in her diminished state, Willow recognized the implications and tried to lurch away.
However, Darla would not be denied. “It's okay, Willow tree,” she purred. “It's okay, my sweet girl. You don't have to fight anymore. All you have to do is drink from mother. Drink from me, darling. Drink.”
Willow sighed and went slack, tainted blood pouring over her tongue, down her throat. And then she was gone.
***
Willow woke to find two faces looming over her. On the right was Drusilla, insane vampiress and consort of Spike, and on the left was--
“Hey, Angel staked you! You're supposed to be dustbuster chow.”
Darla shrugged. “I got better.”
Willow sat up, and the coarse hotel sheet fell from her nude torso. She glanced down at her milky breasts and large pink aureole, thinking she should be embarrassed or something, but the concept seemed to elude her.
“Oh, grandmummy,” Drusilla cooed with hands clasped, a blissful expression on her moon face. “Isn't our pixie simply to die for?”
Willow eyed the brunette up and down lasciviously.
Darla smirked. “I certainly hope so, Dru!”
The redhead frowned and focused on her sire. “You vamped me. Why?”
“What, I'm not allowed to turn a pretty girl anymore?”
Willow donned her resolve face.
“Oh, very well. Dru and I have business with the slayer.”
“What kind of business?”
“She owes us pain.”
“And you want me to help you collect.”
“Yes. What do you say, dear?”
“I say it sounds like fun.” Willow stretched and leaned back on her elbows, the topmost curls of her bush making an appearance. Which, judging by hungry gazes and darting tongues, did not go unnoticed by her elders. “There's just one thing I don't understand,” she continued.
Darla had to drag her eyes back to her childe's face. “Huh,” she managed.
Willow smirked. “What I don't understand is why you and Drusilla aren't naked yet.”