WARNING: This fic will include violence, torture, bondage, character death,
bloodplay, etc...
 

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Part 1
*****

?The world can be a funny place sometimes, don?t you think?? Xander glanced
down at the head pillowed on his chest, his hand coming up to idly stroke long
blonde hair. ?Not funny ha ha. Funny... strange. I mean, a couple years ago, I
would have never believed I could end up in a place like this, with a person like
you.? He pulled some golden strands away from the side of her face, exposing a
soft cheek. ?Oh, I dreamt about having moments like this...? His fingers brushed
smooth skin, moving down to her throat. ?Though, some of the particulars
changed over the years.?

Xander lifted his fingers to his mouth and sucked off their rich, tacky coating.
He sighed. Without the steady pumping of her heart, the nameless girl?s blood
had begun to chill, the dormant fluid growing thick, and as dead as the vampire
who had spilt it.

Xander gave a shove and the corpse rolled off the bed, landing on the floor with
a dull thump. He?d have to remember to tell the minions to dispose of the body.
Some of the newer, hungrier ones might even have a little fun with such a fresh
corpse. Good for them. Xander knew it must be nice to have no desires beyond
the need to feed. The only hunger a minion had to sate was the pesky one in his
veins.

Xander just couldn?t enjoy mindless kills and he completely blamed this fact on
his bloodline. The Order of Aurelius. Figures a human slacker would be sucked
into the overachievers of the vampire world.

Xander didn?t just want a victim. He wanted art.

The girl on the floor wasn?t art, she was a waste. All that lovely potential gone
in the space of a few heartbeats. Human lives were so fragile, what they had to
offer so finite.

Not that he would have wanted this meal around for very long anyway. She had
been a sniveling little thing. Begging and pleading to be spared. What annoyed
Xander, what got under his skin and made his fangs practically itch with
indignation, was the fact that she never bothered asking for mercy directly.
Why some humans believed that any all knowing, all powerful being who let one
of his ?children? get into a situation like that in the first place would suddenly
miraculously save their sorry asses was simply beyond Xander?s demonic
comprehension.

This girl?s last ditch attempt to find faith abruptly ended when Xander forced
her religious rhetoric spouting mouth open and tightly grasped her little pink
tongue with his thumb and forefinger. The look on her face had been priceless,
and Xander still chuckled at its memory. He gave the moist organ a little tug and
asked if the girl knew what he would do provided she continue with her ?Oh, God,
no. Please, God. Save me?s. The girl nodded. Xander looked into her eyes, noting
the fear, the submission. From then on, if he told her to keep quiet she would,
unquestioningly. Of that he had no doubt.

He had smiled at her as his arm jerked back suddenly, fingers still grasping
their prize.

Unfortunately, things had just gone downhill from there. Oh, her initial reaction
had been delicious, full of wide-eyed horror and gurgled attempts to scream.
But then shock set in. Her entire face went slack, and Xander watched with
disgust as drool began to leak from the corners of her mouth.

It had been disappointing to say the least. Where was the fun in torturing
someone who was catatonic? He had chided himself for thinking this one would
have lasted any longer then all the others.

Not for the first time, Xander wished he had been able to take a little longer
with that cheerleading bitch, Cordelia. She would have fought him ?til she was
allowed to take her last breath. She would have lasted. But, her immediate death
had been ordered by the Master, and since Xander had no intention of ?kissing
daylight?, as old Batface had so eloquently put it, the girl was killed swiftly. It
was still enjoyable, though... sinking his fangs into her throat, holding onto her
curves, copping a feel as he killed her. Willow might have been a bit jealous... if
she hadn?t been doing the exact same thing.

Snapping the neck of that White Hat librarian had just been icing. And with the
washed up Watcher wannabe out of the way, the other goody goodies got the
hell out of Dodge.

The vampires ruled unopposed now, and unlife would have been good... if it
wasn?t so unequivocally boring.

Monotony was all well and good if that?s what you wanted out of the world, but
Xander needed something more from this so-called demontopia. Privately, he
thought the Master?s ?glorious? new machine was a travesty to their race. Blood
in a bottle. Where was the thrill? The satisfaction?

If Batface ever did find out about Xander?s opinions the elder vampire would
probably chalk it up to the indiscretions of youth and assure him he?d grow out
of it in a couple hundred years. But if that were true, why was the nearly four
hundred year old Darla happily hunting her way through Europe again?

Xander sighed at the wanderlust that came over him. Perhaps his Sire had the
right idea. Greener pastures and all that. Maybe it was time to move on. Of
course, before he did anything like that there were a few... obligations that
needed to be taken care of first, like the redhead who just entered his
bedroom.

Deep down Xander knew it had been a mistake to turn Willow. With the death
of her two best friends, her once brilliant mind had gone around the bend. Darla
had warned him, but he hadn?t listened. Jesse had been turned as his brother,
but Xander wanted someone to be his and his alone. If he had *any* idea how
cloying the demented vampiress would become...

Xander watched through hooded lids as Willow sauntered over to the bed, an
annoying pout on her lips.

?Thought that would take longer,? he remarked.

?Puppy passed out,? she sighed. ?It?s just no fun doing stuff when he can?t
scream.?

Xander snorted. ?Scourge of Europe, my ass.? What the hell had Darla been
thinking... or smoking, for that matter? He guessed the souled wuss was pretty
enough, in a linebacker sort of way, but he was soft, broken.

The redhead frowned at the body on the floor. ?Thought you said you?d wait for
me. That we could have fun with this one together.?

Xander shrugged. ?Changed my mind. ?Sides, she started babbling. You know I
can?t stand it when they babble.?

?There?s some fresh stock downstairs that have already had their lips sewn up,?
she said brightly. ?We could play with them.?

?Nah. You go ahead and have fun.? Xander closed his eyes and rolled over, away
from his increasingly irritating Childe. ?I can wait.?
 

**********
 

?All right, gentlemen. You?ve heard what these things are capable of. Now, I
think it?s time you see it.? Maggie Walsh pulled back the tarp covering the inert
form on the examining table.

Most of the men paled, and a few began almost convulsively swallowing, but
Riley was proud of his team. Not a one heaved up their lunch at the gruesome
sight before them. It was a girl, and Riley analytically took in her appearance.
Late teens. Nude. She probably had been pretty in life, but in death her face
was permanently fixed in a horrific mask, paying testament to the Hell that she
went through in her last minutes. There was one precise wound over her jugular,
but her lower extremities appeared to have been... gnawed. Walsh off handily
mentioned other injuries, internal injuries. His stomach twisted at the
description of how her tongue had seemingly been torn out of her throat.

Everyone involved in the Initiative project knew what kind of creatures they
would be dealing with. They had been fully briefed on the growing menace, but
no words or pictures could have done justice to the horror in front of them.
Words were just ink on paper. Pictures, no matter how detailed, were just two
dimensional. This girl was real.

Occasionally throughout the macabre lecture Riley hazard to glance at some of
his fellow Marines. Forrest was clear enough to read. His face was blank, his
posture ramrod straight, and to the unacquainted he looked every bit the
well-trained, attentive soldier, but Riley knew better. Riley knew his friend,
and all Forrest wanted to do was fight. Upon closer inspection it would have
been easy for anyone to spot the twitching muscles, the almost palpable *need*
to find something, anything, to make pay for what happened to the girl on the
table.

Forrest believed in actions and Riley knew that all this waiting around must
have been pure torture for him. It was necessary, though. They were the new
players in town and Intel was still sketchy regarding much of the local demon
population. Running off half-cocked would only get them tables and tarps of
their very own, and Riley had no intention of losing any of his men, especially
not one of his best friends and one of the better soldiers they had.

In fact, there were only two people in that room whom Riley would feel
comfortable with watching his back in any situation. One was Forrest. The other
was Graham.

Graham, who?d managed to maintain his trademark stone faced expression even
throughout the autopsy report. He looked like he didn?t care. Like it was just
another day on the job for him. But once again, Riley knew better.

Like Forrest, it was all about the little things. To read Graham, all you had to
do was look into his eyes. If eyes were the windows to the soul then Graham?s
were washed daily with Windex. The streak free kind. In Riley?s opinion, his
friend?s thoughts were actually pretty transparent, but only when you looked
for them.

Because he was quiet and unassuming it was all too easy for some people to write
Graham off. It annoyed Riley and Forrest to no end when someone made
comparisons between silence and dimwittedness, and one day they had screwed
up enough courage to ask their friend why he never bothered defending himself.
Graham had graced them with a truly beautiful smile and asked why he should
bother with the opinions of people he didn?t give a flying fuck about. And that
had been the end of that.

Riley had no doubt that if he could look into Graham?s eyes he would see the
same emotions emanating from Forrest. Outrage. Fury. An overwhelming desire
to -

*****

?-Send those undead bastards back to hell.? Forrest launched his tiny, orange
Nerf ball towards the basket hanging on the back of the door... and missed.
?Fuck!?

After the briefing was over the three friends had returned to Riley?s room and
tried to unwind, but the grisliness of their ultimate mission refused to leave
them. Their newfound knowledge creeped around their brains, tainting even this
most mundane of games.

Riley smiled wearily at his friend. ?While I?m all for improvisation, that?s not
the way it works. You know that. When we go out, we play by the rules.?

?Tag ?em, bag ?em, and bring ?em back here.? Graham took his shot, and winced as
the ball sailed a good five inches above its intended target.

Forrest blinked. ?You are gonna have better aim with a rifle, right? And, that?s
total bullshit.? He shook his head. ?Those things should be destroyed on sight,
not delivered with a bow on their heads so Walsh can play doctor.?

?I?m not disagreeing with you.? Riley said softly. ?If I had my way we?d
exterminate the lot of them. But, it?s not our call. We?re here to do a job, not
to-?

?Think for ourselves, right??

?Forrest, if you wanted to think for yourself, why the hell did you join the
Corps?? Riley asked jokingly.

Forrest stared at him for a moment, mentally debating whether or not he should
accept the attempt at humor. Deciding that the tension in the room was getting
too thick, even for him, he responded with, ?Those fabulous government
benefits, of course. What about you, Graham??

?My recruiter said I would go to exotic places, work with cutting edge
technology, and meet interesting people. Three years later I?m stationed in a
town in northern California playing Nerf basketball with the two of you. If
that?s not false advertising I don?t know what is.? Graham smiled as orange balls
of foam bounced off his head, and for a moment reality was forgotten as his two
friends rose from their respective seats and launched their mock attack in
earnest.

From a control room deep inside the compound Maggie Walsh watched the
horseplay on one of the numerous video monitors in front of her. Her reaction to
the activity was mixed. On one hand this was valuable time that could be used
training, but... it was so nice to see Riley smile. Walsh let her fingers ghost over
his grinning image. She decided to let her boys have their fun... while they still
could.

**********