Resurrection is for the Unbelievers

By

sHaYcH

 

Part Four

 

All Previous Disclaimers Apply

Razz Me: shaych3@yahoo.com


 

~Chapter Seven~

 

They were back in the main room.  Once again, Elizabeth was curled up on the bed, with another glass of ice water in hand while Kate was kicked back in a chair.  Her cheeseburger, which had grown cold, was slowly diminishing in size.  The fries were long gone and so was the cola. 

“He had come all that way, fought so much and seen me at my absolute worst – and still I almost killed him.  He loved me so much.”  Elizabeth closed her eyes and smiled.  “When he told me how he felt, I knew – I knew what had to be done.  The priest would slay Iscariot, and I would die with my maker.  Taking the sword was easy, and all I had to do was talk Luke into doing it.”

“Doing it?”

Elizabeth smiled sadly and ran her finger over the rim of her glass.  “Killing me.  When I was not feeding, my thoughts were consumed by guilt.  My conscience kept me from sleep even when those around me would be nearly comatose with satiation.  Iscariot’s ways were insidious.  In time, he would have cleansed my mind and taken all that remained of my humanity.  I would have been just like him – a disease that spread from generation to generation.”  She snorted.  “As a doctor, I couldn’t have that.  You cure cancer by cutting it from the body, root and branch.”  Pinning Kate with her gaze, Elizabeth said, “So I begged Luke to kill me.”

“Guess he didn’t do it, huh?”

“Oh no, he swung that sword like a major leaguer aiming for the fences.  I’m pretty sure my head and my body parted ways because the last thing I remember was this intense burning sensation, and then nothing until yesterday.”

“Son of a bitch,” said Kate as she tossed the remaining half of her burger into the Styrofoam container.

“Yeah, I know.  I’m not exactly thrilled either.”

“No, not you.  I meant the burger.  I ordered it well done and the center’s fucking raw.”  She picked up the sandwich and showed Elizabeth the patty. 

The vampire laughed.  “Just when I think you might actually care…”  Shaking her head ruefully, she said, “There’s always the pig’s blood.  I assure you that although it tastes like the worst thing you’ve ever smelled, it’s quite nourishing.”

Kate glared at Elizabeth.  “If I won’t eat rare meat, what in God’s name makes you think I want to drink blood?”

The redhead shrugged.  “Well, I was just trying to show you that I know how to share.  My mother taught me to play nice and be kind to strangers.”

Kate groaned.  Bracing her elbow on the table, she cradled her head in her hand and said, “I can’t believe this.  I’m being lectured on manners by a vampire who claims to have come back from the dead.”

Elizabeth stretched out on the bed, rested her cheek on her fist and smiled prettily at Kate. “Angel did it, or so I heard.  Why not me?” 

Turning her head, Kate said, “The Powers that Be brought Angel back for a reason.  Are you saying that there’s some Purpose to your alleged resurrection?”

“Well I bloody well hope so!  I’d hate to think I was stuffed back into this fucking body by a capricious God who wanted only to torture me!”

“Maybe he wanted to torture me,” Kate muttered.

Elizabeth’s stomach, which had suffered much abuse, chose that moment to loudly announce that it was not happy with its current state of emptiness. 

Without saying a word, Kate opened the bag and pulled out another cup of blood.  Elizabeth glared at her.

“No.”  Instead, she looked at the half eaten burger.  “Are you going to eat that?”

“Go for it.  If you puke again, I’m laughing.”  She tossed the container at Elizabeth, who caught it.

“Thanks.”

At least she’s not going to dip it in the blood, like Spike would.  Once, only once had Kate seen the bleach blonde vampire do just that – and it was a disgusting enough memory that even now, her stomach clenched with remembered nausea.  Biscuits and blood – it would be just my luck that Miss Back from the Death of Undeath over there loved it as a snack.

Taking a big bite, the vampire only grinned.  “Perfect.  Tastes like heaven.”  It did.  The meat, cold though it was, had a texture and a quality that seemed to activate every salivary gland she had.  It was so good she had trouble keeping herself from wolfing it down.  Instead, she forced herself to slow down and take small, decent bites. 

While the vampire ate, Kate cleaned up the mess and walked her trash outside to a nearby garbage can.  There was a soda machine and an ice dispenser not too far away from refuse bin so she took the opportunity to get a bucket of ice and a couple of cans of cola. 

When she returned to the room, Elizabeth had finished eating and was cleaning up her mess.  The tattered blanket and shredded dress she had worn when Kate had first found her were already shoved into a trash can and she was carefully crushing the Styrofoam container on top of them.

Elizabeth looked up as Kate entered the room.  The detective stopped when she saw the vampire’s face.  A trickle of something thickly red had stained the corners of her mouth.  Casting her gaze to the table, she saw that the sack containing the pig’s blood had not been touched.  Rage sparked to life, spreading like wildfire through her veins.

With careful, deliberate moves, Kate set the ice and soda down and then drew her gun.  Dropping the clip, she released the bullet in the chamber and replaced the clip with one loaded with wooden bullets.  She chambered a round and then said, “You know, I was almost ready to believe you, Elizabeth.”

The vampire, who had gone back to lying on the bed, started.  “Huh?  What are you talking about, Kate?”  She licked her lips, absently noting the lingering traces of her dinner. 

Raising the gun, Kate clenched her teeth and said, “You had to make up an elaborate story just to get fresh blood?  Why?  Why didn’t you attack me?  Why pick on someone innocent?”

The look on Elizabeth’s face could have made a dog laugh.  “What?”  Jumping to her feet, she began to pace about the room.  “Kate, I don’t know what you’re smoking, but I swear, the last blood I had was the pig’s blood and you know how well that went down!”  She licked her lips again, tasting ketchup.  The sudden knowledge almost made her laugh out loud.  Instead, she grinned.  “So you think I’ve been drinking blood?”

“Yes!  I’m not blind.”

With the speed endemic to her race, the vampire moved from one side of the room and into Kate’s personal space.  Grabbing the gun, she disarmed the detective, pulled her into a rough embrace and fiercely kissed her, forcing her to taste the liquid spattering her lips.  When she released her, she calmly handed Kate her gun and said, “Does that taste like blood to you, Kate?”

The moment Elizabeth’s lips touched hers, Kate was overwhelmed by a swell of emotion.  The vampire’s mouth was soft against Kate’s and then rough when she forced her tongue into the detective’s mouth.  So unexpected was the touch, that Kate reacted, sliding her tongue against Elizabeth’s, tasting the ketchup and learning how wrong she was.  When the vampire pulled away, Kate felt as though something precious was being torn from her arms.

Confused, scared and a little angry, she said, “No, it tastes like bitch to me.”

“Ooo,” Elizabeth purred.  “She has claws.”  Lifting her hands, she hooked her fingers into mock paws and scratched at the air.  “Rarr.”

Rolling her eyes, Kate said, “Tell me again why I’m not going to kill you?”

Elizabeth laughed. “Kate, if you were going to kill me, you’d have done it already.  Instead, you’ve clothed me, fed me and now, kissed me.  I think we’re beyond the death threats phase of our relationship.  So can the attitude and get ready for bed.  I’m betting you have a busy day tomorrow.”

With that, the vampire climbed under the covers, rolled over and proceeded to ignore the detective.

Kate stared at the woman in her bed.  The gun lying in her hand felt like a lead weight.  Holstering it, she slowing untangled her shoulder rig and set it on the table.  The door was already locked so she wandered dazedly into the bathroom where she stripped, showered and put on a t-shirt and shorts.  Only then did she consider where she would sleep.

The room was equipped with a queen sized bed.  Space was not an issue.  The problem was within Kate.  Could she bring herself to actively seek rest while lying next to the very creature whose brethren had murdered her father?  Standing on the brink of indecision, she leaned against the wall and stared at the dozing vampire.

“Kate, get over here, get in bed and go to sleep.  I am not now, nor ever planning to bite you.”  Unless you ask me to, and even then, it won’t be the kind of bite that my sire made famous.  The thought surprised her, but Elizabeth refused to let that show in her body language.

At the sound of Elizabeth’s voice, Kate jumped.  For one minute, she considered a rejoinder, but she was tired.  Surprisingly, she really wanted to sleep.  Pushing off from the wall, she padded over to the other side of the bed, slid under the covers and said, “I hope you don’t snore.”

A smile curved the vampire’s lips.  “Not that it matters, but I wouldn’t know.  I haven’t slept in a long time.”

 

~Chapter Eight~

 

I may not snore, but you sure do, Kate Lockley.  Elizabeth rolled over to look at the sleeping detective.  Caught in Morpheus’ web, Kate’s face was relaxed, the careworn lines that carved her eyes into sadness had smoothed away and left her appearing younger than she was. 

Tucking her hands up under her chin, the vampire whispered, “Who are you, Kate Lockley?  What makes you hate me when you don’t even know me?”

Kate stirred, moaning softly in her sleep.  “No,” she whispered inarticulately.  “Oh God, Daddy, no.”  She began to thrash about restlessly.

Helpless, Elizabeth could only watch as the nightmare sunk its hooks into Kate’s dreamscape. 

“Daddy, oh no, no, no.  No, not this way.  Can’t be this way.  Daddy –“  The detective’s convulsions became worse.  Head thrown back, Kate let out a soft, keening wail that evoked such a depth of pain in the listening vampire that her eyes filled with tears.

Slowly, she reached for Kate.  There had to be something she could do – some comfort she could offer this broken woman.  Licking her lips, Elizabeth struggled to gain control of her indecision. 

Kate’s head flopped about and it was then, in the shifting light, that the vampire saw it.  Faint marks, spaced evenly over the detective’s carotid artery – puncture marks – the kind that could only have come from the teeth of a vampire.

But she’s – she’s not Kindred.  I’d know – I always knew when Iscariot or one of his “children” were about.  Kate is human – I can smell it.  She inhaled deeply.  Hell, I can taste it.

Another whimper escaped, putting more fractures in Elizabeth’s emotional armor.

I kissed her.  Surely it can’t be too hard to hold her?  Can I?  Could it be that easy?  To just… reach -  With tentative slowness, Elizabeth scooted closer to Kate.  As quickly as she had kissed the pretty detective earlier, she was equally shy in laying a gentle hand on Kate’s shoulder.

“Shh,” Elizabeth crooned.  “It’s okay.  You’re not –“  She swallowed, closed her eyes and took a deep breath.  “You’re not alone, Kate.”

The sob that bubbled up from the detective struck Elizabeth like a blow.  Filled with the anguish of a lifetime, it rocketed through the vampire and ignited a strange and heady sense of purpose.    

Oh fuck this.  Driven to act, the vampire muttered, “Strike me down if you must, but you brought me back for a reason – and I will not let her suffer any more!”  Borrowing a little of her supernatural strength, Elizabeth curled her arms around Kate and pulled her into a loose embrace.  Pressing a soft kiss against the detective’s temple, she began to softly hum and rock back and forth.  The lullaby was one that the vampire remembered her grandmother singing her as a child and now, as it did then, it had its intended effect.  Kate calmed and soon, soft snores filled the room.

Continuing to rock the detective, Elizabeth whispered, “Sleep in peace, Kate.  I’m not going anywhere.”

 

%%%

 

The morning sun rippled through the blinds, limning the two women twined in each other’s embrace in a golden halo.  Red and blonde hair tangled and meshed in a net of silky strands.  Elizabeth’s taller, thinner form was spooned against Kate’s shorter, stockier body. 

One long, pale arm was wrapped around Kate’s waist, and sometime in the night, the detective had taken hold of Elizabeth’s hand and now their fingers were clasped and held tight against the detective’s chest.  They both slept soundly.

The two wraithlike beings watching over them wore identical smiles.  Sharing a glance, one said to the other, “You think they’ll figure it out?”

The wink that preceded the answer was saucy.  “I know my girl.  She’s a smart cookie.  It may take time, but they’ll find the right road.”

A snort.  “I don’t know.  Mine’s not so bright when it comes to these things.  Takes after her old man, you know?  Might need to get out a two-by-four and whack her a few times upside the head before she gets it.”

Making a face, the ghost said, “Men.  Even in death you’re still so full of violence.  Relax Trevor.  The Powers wouldn’t have chosen them if they weren’t capable.”

The ghost of Trevor Lockley frowned.  “I’m still not sure what they want with my Katie, Helen.”

“We’re not meant to know, Trevor.  Our duty to the world has passed.”

“Yes, but… A vampire?  A dead one, at that?  Smacks of that crazy law firm, if you ask me.”

Helen made a face.  “Oh, pshaw, Trevor.  You worry too much.  Now come on, we’ve spied enough.  It’s time to move along and let the children begin their destiny.”

She offered him her arm, and gallantly, he took it.  Together, they turned and took one last look at their progeny. 

“I love you, Katie,” Trevor whispered as they faded into mist.

Helen’s blessing was spoken just as softly.  “You’ll find your way, Little Bee.  I believe in you.” 


Part Five

Part Three

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Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all related characters, history and storylines are copyright to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, the WB and who ever else owns a piece of them. Elizabeth Blaine is copyright to Wes Craven and whoever else owns her.