• Thank you for visiting Buffy-Boards. You obviously have exceptional taste. We just want you to know that:
    1. You really should register so you can chat with us!
    2. Twelve thousand people can't be wrong.
    3. Buffy-Boards loves you.
    4. See 1 through 3.
    Come on, register already!

Firestorm's Daughter (Dru/Wes: Angel Season 4 AU) Mature: Violence, Implied Incest, Human Sacrifice.

Altoz

Potential
Joined
Nov 23, 2019
Messages
164
Age
57
Location
Palmerston North, New Zealand
Samantha Dykstra sat in his room, waiting for the moment to arrive on her clock. She may have been locked in her room, but there were ways out of her current hell. Because she was in that, surely enough. As the cacophony of voices screeched upward from the Pentecostal storefront church below where her father proclaimed himself as pastor, she removed her grimoire from under the floor boards and pricked her finger, letting two drops of blood fall on the ancient vellum before adding a sprinkling of herbs, ground mushrooms and a preserved animal claw. She let a few drops of wax blanket the mixture before it became harder and more malleable, transforming it into a makeshift candle. She opened her window and placed the lit candle on an elaborately scrawled chart.

"Dru?"
"What is it, Price? Can you smell it too?"
"Even given our enhanced sensory abilities, the odour is unmistakeable. Someone meant us to encounter this.:
"But who? This isn't an area that exactly has an abundance of supernatural history to it. It's like lavendar and ambergris, a delicious perfume."
"Could it be a trap?"
Dru shook her head: "It was meant to attract us, not intoxicate us."
"There. Can you see? It's a almost deserted row of shops. Only one of them seems inhabited..." Price broke off. His brow furrowed:
"Dru? Am I imagining things or is that an Enochian sigil?"
"Look what's beneath it, though. A holy roller church."

As he closed the door on the last of his parishioners, Howard Dykstra caught wind of the scent as well. He scowled at what it meant, stalked back to his pulpit and knelt by the vestry fridge. Back behind the fruit and vegetables, in a brown paper bag, a whiskey bottle sat, perfectly chilled. He gratefully downed it, fire coursing down his throat and yet also, increasing his rage at his wilful daughter. Damn her. Damn her to hell for being so tempting, so much like her mother, so much that he had to have his way with her. Damn for being wilful and perverted from the ways of the Lord, obsessed with idolatry and sorcery. When he'd had enough whiskey, he unlooped his belt, and began staggering upstairs:
"Samantha! Stop doing whatever deviltry you're doing and face your punishment! It'll go easier for you." He reached the door, forgetting he had locked her in earlier. Angry at what his addled mind considered further defiance, he threw himself against the door as Samantha tidied the parchment and debris away, as the candle shone stronger and the wind crested. Ultimately, though, Howard Dykstra did break the door down and stalked toward his daughter, backhanding her with a slap, laying into her with his belt, trying to cower and intimidate her. Then another idea took hold of him. He grinned down at her and began to unbutton and unzip his trousers.

And got no further, as the neon cross in front of the Everlasting Hand of God Holiness Church guttered into darkness and fell from over the entry, as it shattered into tubes and inert fluorescent gas and smoke. Price and Drusilla were at the window now, as Samantha caught their outline. She cried: "Welcome and come within!:" There was an edge of panic and fear within her voice as she kicked hard, upward and connected with Howard's groin:
:"OWWWWW! You'll pay for that, you little-"

And then the wall gave way as two forms tore through it. One of them was a young woman in a russet sleeveless frock and a long black dress. The other was a slightly taller man in his thirties, hair dark, face stubbled. jaw set and determined. Howard blustered: "What the hell are you doing here? This is my house. Get out of it. Now."
The young woman smiled. Was it his imagination, or was there something wrong with her teeth- those impossibly long, sharp incisors? Then her face contorted into something unmistakably demonic, and as he watched, so did that of her male companion. Quaking with fear and anger, he held up the cross on the end of his chain and tried to say, resonantly:
"The power of Christ compels you-" Once again, he got no further, as his daughter threw a knife, snaring the crucifix and depositing it near Price, It had already disintegrated and Dru knelt by the little girl and helped her to her feet:
"Did that piece of offal hurt you? Was he trying to...?"
Mute, for the moment, Samantha nodded, then found her voice:
"I know what both of you are. Feed on him, you beautiful couple of hunting leopards. Feed. With my blessing."

As if to emphasise her point, the bedroom door slammed shut. Balefully, as Howard Dykstra backed away from them, he saw that the eyes of both creatures were blood red and that both of them had unholy grimaces as they closed the distance. He tried to think of a prayer of exorcism or something that would drive these two demons away from him. But suddenly, he found himself captive in the female demon's grasp. Despite her slender build, she was inhumanly strong and held him fast, holding back his head as he gasped and tried to break free. Her male companion bent his prey's head back and brought his teeth down, piercing his throat on one side, as the female ate into him from the other. As the blood left him, Howard Dykstra felt his knees buckle, but still the lamprey-like fangs held his throat, until he focused on one thing:
"Samantha! Help me! Don't let them do this to me!"

From the far side of the room, Samantha Dykstra had produced a surgical scalpel. She had also marked her forehead with another Enochian sigil, Price saw. What impressed Dru the most was the girl's gravity and carriage, her lack of fear, and the anger, desire for vengeance and hatred burning in those black eyes of hers. She halted, holding her knife:
"I'm sorry to interrupt your feast, but there needs to be one final stage to this summoning. "
"Do you want us to kill him for you?" Dru asked. suddenly feeling a growing bond and empathy for the girl...no, the young woman... before them. She had just witnessed vampires enter her home, attack her father and yet, she had willingly assisted them, shown no fear when she realised what they were and colluded with them.
"I apologise if I manipulated you into this..."
Price shook his head: "You didn't. So what are you going to do now?"
"Sacrifice him to Erishkegal, the Babylonian goddess of the underworld."
Dru put out her hand and touched the younger woman's face:
"After this, can we talk?"
"If you want. Hold me for me?"
Howard was gasping for breath as Price and Drusilla forced him to his knees, twisting his arms behind his back, gazing up at the impassive, scornful merciless face of his daughter. HE tried to summon up something to say to her, but then, he saw the blade of the athame glistening above her head as she raised it, intoning a passage of litany in Akkadian or Sumerian, and then her knife swept down and slashed into his heart:

"Napistu!" Samantha exclaimed as the knife sliced downward and he shuddered and tried to scream. Then his eues rose upward into his head and he collapsed, blood spurting as Price and Dru drank further and deeper. At length, they were sated, watching eldritch energies snarl and warp around Samantha Dykstra:
"You definitely have our attention...Samantha, is it?"
Samantha Dykstra shook her head: "Before the pile of shit over there took me out of public school to 'home school' me because he got scared child protection realised what he was doing, I discovered Dark Wicca. And all those beautiful dark goddesses. And talked to trans friends about what deadnames are. Well, now. I don't want to be Samantha anymore, so you can call me Hekate if you want. If you want to kill me now, it's up to you. I'm not afraid to die."
Dru stepped forward and embraced the younger woman in her arms:
"Do you want us to turn you? You are such a dark, wilful, precious piece of polished obsidian. You are fury and malice and vengeance and deliberate parricide."

Price nodded: "Quite apart from which, you have extraordinary self-discipline, focus and knowledge of the dark arts. You are far too valuable to waste in oblivion. Dru? You do realise that we've done something morally ambiguous here? Rescued Hekate here from rape and violence?"
Hekate stared levelly at them: "It'd mean I have to give up darkmagick though, wouldn't it? Okay. Can I still come with you?'
"Yes! Oh, I've always wanted a daughter of my own. And even if you're not a childer, you're dark inside and ruthless and predatory and quite enchanting, really."
"Can I call you Momma, Drusilla?"
"Of course you can, darkheart. And thank you."

Later that night, they watched as the building caught fire and steadily erased any trace of the past life that Hekate had led. As Drusilla held her new daughters hand, clad in a long black gown, with pentacles and jewels encircling it as a belt, the younger woman let loose a series of cries and shrieks. When the last embers had dulled, Drusilla held Hekate as the exhausted but radiantly joyful psychopathic darkmage fell asleep. Dru planted a kiss on Hekate's head and looked down at her tenderly. Drusilla finally had what she had always wanted and what vampirism had long denied her. And now, she would fight heaven and earth to hold on to her.

THE END
"
 
Top Bottom