[personal profile] vinniebatman
Title: Call to Vengeance
Author: [livejournal.com profile] vinniebatman
Fandom: BtVS, AtS
Characters/Pairings: Rona/Drusilla
Rating/Warnings:  Adult for smut, language, references to violence/torture, and child molestation/murder.
Spoilers: General spoilers for BtVS and AtS.  The comics have no bearing on this.
Prompt:  Rogue!Rona/Drusilla  Bandages, blood, and bruises. Teeth. Velvet. Lilies. Weary laughter. A lost soul for [livejournal.com profile] _beetle_
Word Count: I'm not even bothering; besides,_ beetle_ is my beta, and is thus above such petty things like "word counts."
Beta: [livejournal.com profile] _beetle_
Disclaimer: I so totally own this show.  Bow Down!  *Doctor's Note: Patient exhibits delusions of grandeur and any claims of ownership are pure fantasy.  No harm is meant.  Seriously, it's better than her throwing rocks at people.*
Real Disclaimer:  I make no money from this, and claim no ownership over the to any of the copyrighted material of "Buffy the Vampire Slayer," or "Angel the Series."  These works belong to their creator.

It was on a dark street, like countless others, that Drusilla found found her lamb, a slayer.  The slayer's heart was bleeding pain while her eyes burned with fury.  She smelled of wrath, a creature that sought blood and pain.  It was all too much for Drusilla's curiosity.

"Your heart cries so loud, but it burns; hot coals inside your chest."

Her lamb spun in the moonlight, ready for battle, braids moving like curious fingers.

"Back off, Fang.  I'm not looking for you," she spat out.

The pain rolled off of her in waves, drowning Drusilla.

"There's a worm inside you; it bite-bite-bites, it's going to gobble you all up," Drusilla murmured.

"Go away."

It was always so easy to pull them into her eyes, and Her Slayer was no different.

Then Drusilla saw.

And she burned, filled with such rage, eyes haunted with the image of tiny girl, covered in blood, torn apart by a man-beast much darker than any demon.

Drusilla broke the trance and roared.  Even Miss Edith had rules; children were tasty, sweet treats, the kind you didn't bruise or dirty.  They had to be kept clean, safe, or else their blood would curdle in her mouth.  And Miss Edith certainly didn't tolerate those that dirtied such sweet blood; that sort of behavior simply wasn't allowed.

Her Slayer stared, confused and alarmed, until Drusilla spoke.  Later, Drusilla wouldn't remember her words, just her promise to find that man-beast and rip him apart.


Drusilla kept her promise.  Three nights later, she presented Her Slayer with the filthy worm that had torn her sister.  Her Slayer, her Rona, had stared, heart screaming and gaze steady while Drusilla made the worm cry.  It was only once the worm's voice died that she handed Rona a blade.

The doors burst open, and trio of slayers rushed in.  They chirped about rules and laws, their minds uncluttered by dark visions of dead sisters, telling Drusilla's dark lamb she had to let the worm live. But they didn't know the burn or the rule written into Rona's being. The worm had to die by Her Slayer's hand.

Rona struck quickly, killing the worm.  The other slayers rushed forward, scratching at them.

Her Slayer moved like blood flowed, her body fluid as she avoided hits; she danced.  She pushed them aside with strength fueled by anger; not too hard, but enough to make them stop.  When one tried to move behind her Rona, Drusilla burned again.

She snarled, rushing over to slap the little hunter, sending her to the wall.  The little hunter was pathetic; she didn't even know how to fall.  Drusilla moved over her, lifting that pretty throat to her lips.


Drusilla turned, facing Her Slayer. "Not even a little taste?" she asked, pouting.

Her Slayer smiled, tired, so tired.  "No."  Rona looked to the door, then back at Drusilla.  "You need to go.  There'll be more, soon."

The little hunter in her arms moved.  Drusilla struck once, sending her to sleep like the other slayers.  Then she dropped her and moved closer to Rona.  Her Slayer didn't flinch, didn't move away.  Reaching  up, Drusilla trailed her hand over that warm skin.  Her Slayer smelled of jasmine, earth and power.  She moved closer, into that warmth.  She wanted to be wrapped in that scent, have it bleed from her skin.  She wanted Her Slayer, wanted to join that darkness with her own.  "Come with me.  We can hunt them."

Rona's eyes narrowed.  "Hunt who?"

"The beasts.  We'll make them weep and beg," she whispered, brushing their mouths together.  She traced the lines of Her Slayer's face. Rona shivered, her smell thicker, drawing a moan from Drusilla.  "Come with me."

Rona crashed their mouths together, and Drusilla wanted to weep.  Her Slayer tasted of sunlight and moonlight, tainted by jasmine and hate, and spiced with need for more things than Drusilla could say.  It was kiss that tasted of promise.


Drusilla watched from the shadow as her dark lamb entered their house, smelling of death, pain, and ash.  It leaked from her pretty lamb, from the inside and outside, and made her moan.  The sun outside was just setting, but Drusilla had no plans to venture out.

"My pretty lamb, did you tear them apart?" she asked.

Rona entered their bedroom, pulling off her shirt.  "Yes."

"Did you make them burn?"

Tiny cuts winked at Drusilla, tempting her.  She pressed against her lamb, tracing them with her tongue.  The blood of Her Slayer sang to her.  She kept licking, her tongue picking off bits of ash that told tales of vampires now slain.

"Yes," Rona whispered, shivering as she pressed against Drusilla's mouth.

Drusilla ran her hands over taut muscles, enjoying the warmth.  This was her tradition, to touch and taste, not only for her pleasure but to find the places that cried with pain.  Her Rona's ribcage was too warm, aching with bruising that had yet to rise.  Carefully, she peeled off Rona's bra, bearing warm, dark skin to her eyes.

She dropped the bra on the ground then retrieved the bandages from the dresser.  Rona stuck out her arms, baring her ribs.  Drusilla wrapped them counting off the steps she'd been taught.  A quick gasp of pain sounded, but she didn't stop, not until the bandage was pinned.  She rested her hands on the flare of hips and pressed their chests together, velvet rasping against flesh.  Rona gasped, and Drusilla surged forward, capturing the sound with her mouth.

Her Rona moaned, the scent of want overpowering the traces of blood. Drusilla gently pressed her onto the bed.  Rona spread herself out, the bandages stark against her skin.  Drusilla crawled over her, her tongue teasing.  Her Slayer was always so ready after a fight, her slit dripping, begging for Drusilla's lips and tongue and fingers.

She lowered her mouth, sucking on a hardened nipple.  She worshipped it with her tongue and lips then teased with her teeth, while her hand pressed between Rona's legs, her skin burning through pants and underwear.

Drusilla kept tasting and teasing, her own mind swimming with lust as she drew cries from Her Slayer's perfect mouth.  Soon, Rona's hips were bucking against Drusilla's.

"Please, Dru, please," Rona cried.  "I need more."

Drusilla raised her head.  "What do you need, my love?"

Rona raised her hands and cupped Drusilla's face.  "You."

Drusilla's heart lurched in her chest.  Whatever her lamb desired, she would have.

Moving with as much speed as possible, she stripped Rona of the rest of her clothing then settled between her legs.  At the sight of Her Slayer, spread open and wet for her, begging for her, Drusilla groaned.

"My pretty pet," she murmured, trailing her hands up strong calves and tense thighs.  She combed her fingers through thick, wiry curls, brushing her fingertips against her lips.

Rona gasped, arching her back.

Her lamb's scent was so much stronger, Drusilla needed to taste.  She lowered herself, pressing a chaste kiss to Rona's clit before spreading her labia and driving her tongue in.  She moaned, lapping up the moisture.  She couldn't take her mouth away, growling as more and more wetness met her tongue, the taste of Her Slayer.

Her fingers pinched and teased, rolling Rona's clit, rubbing at it. More and more wetness bathed her tongue, until Rona's hands tangled in her hair, holding her to the Earth as she came, keening.  Drusilla's hands stilled, her tongue slowing, easing her lamb through the aftershocks.  Once Rona finally stilled, Drusilla trailed gentle kisses up to those perfect lips.

Rona moaned into the kiss, pulling Drusilla flush against her.  They soon parted, exhaustion weighing on Her Slayer.

Drusilla covered them with blankets and curled against her.

"Sleep, my lamb," she cooed, brushing Rona's cheek.  "Sleep."

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