Title: Childe of Daywalker, Part 7
Fandom: BTVS/Blade x-over
Disclaimers: See parts 1-6. Not Kazaa, but I honor the music I love by quoting them.
A/N: Ohh, I said soon but it’s been 6 weeks. I’ve been having medical issues and grad school issues, so this writing has been taking a backseat. Hope you enjoy!
Dedications: To my spouse, ANK, I love you. To my SCT, you have carried me through.
Rating: R. language, a bit of violence, no sex. For some reason I couldn’t write it. This is the tamest thus far, but just the calm before…
Feedback: Yes please.
I, I, I, I, I, I , I want you
You, you, you, you, you…
Still I , I, I , I, I want
You, you, you, you ,you…
What we gonna do?
What I’m gonna do?
The party was hopping at Deluge. The hard work of the Triad as they were now known, Raylan, Faith and Devon, attracted a wide variety of revelers and hangers-on. Faith and Raylan decided that with Devon’s flair for a party and her general joie de vive, she would be a hella good promoter and manager. They had restructured the club so that there were permanent high-profile DJs Wednesday through Sunday. Mondays were dark and Tuesdays were for upcoming artists to perform. In the ensuing months, they had redesigned the club walls to be all bullet-proof plexi-glass. The patrons loved the open-air look, but the clear walls also functioned to keep track of any problems, human or demon that would periodically sneak into the club.
Devon sat back and observed the crowd. They were in heaven but not so hyped up that they turned dangerous. She loved energy like this—majestic, like humanity was meant to me. Her eyes focused on another example of majesty, Jessie, the bartender for the last three months. Jessie had flirted with Devon from day one, but Devon had maintained a respectful distance, not wanting to date an employee. Or so I told myself. Really she did not know if she was ready to get involved with anyone, even superficially, after Eric’s death. I still miss you Yoon. The few pathetic attempts at dates she’d had in the ensuing years, left her no doubt that she was indeed some strange PTSD freak who would overreact at the slightest intimation of danger to her date. But Jessie. Devon had watched her and thought that the smooth-talking, big-hearted bartender might be worth pursing.She’s sure nice to look at. Jessie stood 5’11, like Raylan, but where the Daywalker was chocolate and supple, the bartender was a sand-color and sinewy. She had the most expressive hazel-brown eyes, that would sparkle and darken when she laughed. Her cheekbones were gorgeous planes standing erect and proud in her slim face. She wore her hair in a large, beautiful, wavy-soft auburn afro. She was the quintessential fine New York woman. Definitely from Brooklyn. Devon pushed off of the opposite bar and approached Jessie.
“Hey there boss, ya want a water?”
Devon was temporarily mesmerized by the strong forearms wiping the bar. The graceful Japanese lettering on said forearms didn’t help avoid distraction.
“Ah, yeah? Heh, heh, sorry got a little caught up thinkin’. Look , um, Jess. I was wondering, do you, would you like a ride home. I have my whip. I mean that is, if you need a ride. You know how the trains are fucked up late at night so...but you probably will take a cab so…”
“No!! I mean, ah, no I’d love a ride. To get a ride with you.” Jessie swallowed desperately trying to appear calm, but everything was shaking.
“Cool. Uh, you live in Brooklyn right?”
Jessie went the safe route and just shook her head.
“I live in Bed-Stuy, near Boys and Girls High School. You downtown or what?”
“I live uh, in Prospect Heights, off Vanderbilt.”
“Oh, that’s easy enough. You get off at…?
“Usually 2 on Tuesdays.”
“Okay, I’ll be in my office. See ya.”
“Yeah, see ya.” Jessie stood there blinking for a few minutes, before going back to people’s drink orders.
Faith sat in the conference room, her head back and feet up on the table. The Slayer Summit had been long and annoying in her estimation. She couldn’t stand all of the ass-kissing and bowing and scrapping directed at her, Buffy and Willow. It was strange to be back in the same room with Buffy and Wills. Can’t believe Red is still with Mini-Me. That girl so stole my style. Dawn sat going over the Slayer Central infra-structural changes whilst James stood guard silently behind her. Faith was getting impatient with all the pomp and circumstance and she missed her woman, fiercely.
“When can we get the fuck out of here?”
Dawn looked up at her friend and boss and just sighed and shook her head.
“Well, Faith, as soon as you, Buffy and Willow sign off on the changes, we can get back on a plane to The Big Apple.”
“Thank God. I’m mean D, I know you’ve been working hard and all, but I can’t take all the bullshit, ya know?”
“Yes Faith, I do.” Dawn removed her glasses. “Even after all these years, you still prefer bashing heads to organizing battle plans.”
“Exactly. And this is huge improvement over how I was years ago D, you should be grateful.”
“Oh Faith, I am.”
“We all are Faith” Buffy entered the room with an air of confidence and slight haughtiness.
Still the same old uptight, bratty, unforgiving, cold bi—
“So. Faith, as soon as Willow gets here, we can take a lookie at these papers and have a little head-to-head…to uh, head and then say yes to whatever we talked about before. Wait, why didn’t we just do this earlier?”
“My question exactly B.”
Buffy just rolled her eyes, re-directing them to her younger sister. She only momentarily glared at James for corrupting her sister, but James’ responding glare seemed pretty glacial itself.
“Buffy, the way we structured the Slayer Central is that we have to get consensus from the active Slayers and the Council. That’s why we have these little conferences. It’s almost over I promise, both of you. Geez.”
Willow rushed in trailing fairy dust, a long cloak and a sullen yet alert girlfriend.
“Sorry I’m late, got caught in a discussion of who was a better wizard Hermione or Harry Pott---. Ah, yes, so…”
“Red, you really are a dork.”
“Hey watch it Leather Tuscadaro.” Kennedy piped in, unwisely.
Faith’s short fuse was already lit and Kennedy’s words and attitude was the last singe. Faith moved so fast, even the Witch and other Slayers were amazed. She held Kennedy by the throat. Willow went to disengage them, but Buffy waved her off.
“Listen here, Mini-Me, I am your boss. I am the Second Slayer, B and I still duke it out to see who is the most powerful, but no one, not you, B or even Red, can beat me when I’m angry. So if you have any more wisecracks, about my love life, my choice of clothing, my Southie accent or any other inane, asinine, childish joke or prank. Swallow it, or next time you’ll be swallowing teeth.”
Faith lessened her grip.
“Do I make myself clear Ken doll?”
Faith slinked to her seat, tired, missing Raylan and with a headache.
Buffy looked at Willow and then Dawn. Asinine? She mouthed. They snickered and got back down to work.
Raylan hated the times when she and Faith were apart. It seemed so unnatural now to not be with the Dark Slayer. She especially missed the warm, restless body that would cover her own, more sedate form in their bed. She sighed into her pillow like only a woman in love can. Everything smells like her.
“Everything smells like you, Faith.” She tested her voice against the night sky, secretly hoping the darkness would give her solace. She knew it was hopeless, but that was part of her human nature to have hope and faith…Faith too. She got up and made her way to the bathroom, her ‘Slayers do it with the Dead’ shirt hugging her tall body familiarly. Looking into the mirror, surrounded by the dark night, her normally rich-mud brown eyes glowed violet. “Time to party Raylan.” She and Faith had a made a habit of stopping by the Kids House on patrols. Although she knew Dawn, James and Carlos could take care of themselves. They both still mourned Ricky’s death and Kit’s disappearance.
“One can never be too careful , right boys?” Raylan spoke to their newest acquisitions, Bo and Luke. The “boys” were two graceful, powerful 100 lbs Rottweilers. They actually were and brother and sister, but they were still the “Duke Boys” as dubbed by Faith. Bo and Luke were always happy to see one of their favorite humans. They had so many and were very lucky, but took their job of protecting both residences seriously. They would patrol through the connecting backyards, sometimes just sleeping outside if it was warm enough. Raylan found them on the ground floor, playing. ”Okay, babies, I need you to keep an eye on the places. Mama’s going out for awhile. I’ll check on you when I get back.”
“Rrrrr, ruff” Bo spoke for the both of them.
“Okay, stay out of trouble. Oh, here are little treats for being so good. Love you.” She kissed both her babies on the head before jumping into her car.
Raylan made it to Deluge in 15 minutes, flying over the Manhattan Bridge like a speed racer. She was determined to have fun tonight and she had promised Faith she would not go hunting in moods like this, but she needed some kind of release. The club would do. She entered her club and always got a thrill out of eyes turning on her, wanting her, hating her, fearing her. It was a small part of her, but still one that pleased. Lately, this part of her psyche wanted more attention. She knew that if she fucked someone tonight or bit them, Faith would not mind, but she would definitely want the details shared. She perused the club, not really wanting to do anything that would jeopardize her relationship with Faith, but feeling a deep, blood-warming calling to act out. In some way. She stopped short, spotting her prey.
“Oh my, my, my. What a beautiful sight.” The body in her sight was radiant, all muscle and womanly curves, jet black hair laying flat against a back drenched from dancing or other strenuous activity. The tightness of the cotton tank top, hugged the caramel-colored woman’s skin, her jet black pants, Leather? Mmmm, nice, giving away every secret they were supposed to keep. She smells nice, slightly familiar like, mmm, like…
Raylan’s eyes popped open just as her body was about pressed up against this stranger.
“Devon?” Devon’s movements, slowed, but did not stop and she did not turn.
“You sound surprised, Ray, shouldn’t you know who you are sneaking up on with the intention of seducing?” The smirk on her face was evident in her tone.
Raylan hummed as she put her arms around Devon’s warm, sexy body. “Well, I seem to have some good instincts, even if I don’t always know what they mean.” Devon stopped dancing and turned around, looking Raylan in the eyes.
“Don’t forget that Raylan Nissa. Please.” Raylan looked at her questioningly. Devon indicated they head to one of the quiet VIP velvet booths.
“We really did make this place more beautiful Devon. Especially with your help.” Devon nodded, but did not respond.
“I’ve never seen you happier Nissa. Never. Not when we were , er, ‘younger’, not when you though you were in love with me, not when your mother was alive, definitely not when you were with my—with Zaire. And now…please don’t blow this with Faith over the bloodlust.” Devon was quiet again looking at her long-time friend and confidant with determination.
Raylan sighed heavily. She hated the verity of the Angel’s words. How she knew that infidelity would not chase Faith away, but the resulting insecurities, or retaliation would.
“I am thinking about going to see Eric. Maybe he can help. He has experience with sort of thing.”
Devon was intrigued. “You would see Blade? I’m surprised. But pleased. I think it would do you good to see your father again and soon.” Devon was silent for a long while and they both stared out to the revelry their establishment created. “Raylan.” The plaintive tone in Devon’s voice alerted Raylan to the unpleasantness arriving. “Pain is coming. Zaire is back.”
She held out her hand for her lover. They both trembled lightly but knew in their young hearts that this was exactly what they wanted. When they wanted. Who they wanted. Gently a taller body pressed against its slightly shorter counterpart. The feeling, the contact was in a word, heavenly. Gone were the nagging voices or doubts, leaving only this soft, soft flesh and those warm, warm hands. She wondered how a deadly killer could be so loving and tender and soft. The first time their lips touched, well, it felt like the first time ever. There was the taste of aloe and almond mixed with cherry or strawberry. When the firm tongue pushed its way through thin but plump lips to tease the cupid’s bow of the lover’s lips. Words poured forth.
“James. Yes, I need you baby.” James smiled at her new lover. She was so please, so honored that she would get to hold Dawn and touch her and be inside of her. Her normally glacial, perfectly formed features resembled the contorted imperfection of first love. This was glorious. It was all she could do to not say or do anything too calculated. She needed dawn to know how much she had to be with her. She tested the waters.
“Anything Dawn. Anytime. I give you me.” Dawn broke their embrace to look into the palest bluest loveliest eyes she had ever seen.
“You mean it J?” James chuckled.
“When do I speak, let alone say anything I don’t mean.” Now it was Dawn’s time to smile.
“Never James, never. Take me to bed.” James looked at Dawn with adoration.
“Anything, Dawn, anything.”