
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/746546.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      F/F
  Fandom:
      Buffy_the_Vampire_Slayer
  Relationship:
      Rona/Drusilla
  Character:
      Rona_(BtVS), Drusilla_(BtVS)
  Additional Tags:
      Additional_Warnings_In_Author's_Note
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-04-03 Words: 1300
****** Call to Vengeance ******
by vinniebatman
Notes
     Rating/Warnings: Adult for references to violence/torture, and child
     molestation/murder., sexual content, language
     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
     [http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif?v=102.4]
_beetle_
Word Count: I'm not even bothering; besides,_ beetle_ is my beta, and is thus
above such petty things like "word counts."
Beta: [http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif?v=102.4]_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.
"No!"
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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