Title :: Bled to Black
Word Count :: 855
Disclaimer :: I do not own BtVS or SPN. They belong to Joss Whedon and Eric Kripke and I am making no profit from the use of their creations.
Synopsis :: She stated, “I will not lie below,” and for these words, this belief she was cast out of paradise and into torment before once again being called upon to be used.
Bled to Black
There was a flicker. A spark of humanity that fought against the cold and brought with it a brilliance that she had not seen since time held meaning, when her world hadn’t been lost to the endless dark. She shifted toward it, her essence no longer imprisoned and the migration of others beyond and around her forced her upward, toward that glimmer and what lay beyond.
She spiraled, twisting in glorious movement after so many eons of inactivity as the spark brightened and she slipped free of the silence, the darkness and into a world permeated with the stench of man. They had long ago lost the robes that her oppressors had worn when she’d been torn from hell once before and brought into this world to create, to infuse her essence with that of a child.
She stretched wide, canvassing the night sky and bringing all that was within her grasp into shadow. The teasing caress of the moon’s light slipped along her essence as she bore witness to Azazel’s demise by the hand of his own child before she rippled. Her confusion pulled her from her general’s fallen side and held her motionless as she shuddered under the pricks of sensation caused by the bits of her essence sown throughout so many. She shifted, unwilling to ignore the urge to reclaim what had once been hers as she sprung forward through the night and around the curve of the Earth toward her strongest tie to this world.
The darkness around her faded to the palest of lavenders as the light stole away the stars and a city drew closer. She arched downward, toward the street and between the chilled metal bars into a heated and damp darkness under the throb of humanity. She twisted, curving around one corner after another as she lost herself in the maze beneath the streets of a city that throbbed with human life. Water churned just below her and brought with it the stink of their excrements—a scent not unfamiliar to her aged perception.
A flash of colored silk and honey, paused her forward momentum and she watched as her child fought off the assault of a half breed. While her child’s focus was on the battle at hand she engaged her, distracted her and drew her sharp focus outward before green eyes widened and she pushed her way into them, around them. Glossed lips parted with a cry of pain as a slim frame impacted the cobbled wall behind them and she used that open crevice as another form of entry.
Her child’s humanity sparked, fought back and she basked in its warmth after so long lost to the cold. She welcomed the wave of rage that beat against her possession and swallowed it. Her essence perforated the soft tissue within the human shell as she absorbed all that her child was and ever could be until Buffy Summers’ sagged against the harsh bricks at her back and shuddered, expelling her last breath. Sooty lashes fluttered against ashen cheeks before those green eyes opened and bled to black.
She rose from the ruin of the wall and cocked her head. The half breed before her growled and her lips curled in response as it leapt forward and she flattened her palm into the underside of its chin, forcing curved teeth through thin lips.
There was a low pop as it pulled them free and stepped back, saffron eyes narrowed on her petite form. “Bitch.”
Her brow rose as her child’s broken memories supplied the meaning of that label and she responded slowly, unsure of her vessels’ ability to speak as she drew in an unneeded breath. “I am Lilith.” Her lips spread slow and wide with her success and she finished with, “And you are, as they say, history.”
The half breed rolled its eyes and she lifted her arm, crossed it above her now still, silent chest and brought the back of a closed fist against a rough jaw. The blow snapped her opponent’s head to the side and forced them back through the calf high water.
Onyx eyes narrowed as he began to sink and steady thrum filled the silence of the sewer as his body rose up from the muck filled water and slammed back against the wall across from her with a wet slap. His head lulled forward and he made no motion to defend himself as her other hand rose, pulling the jacket made of a bovine’s flesh away from her chest and removed the delicate silver blade from the inner lining. She brought it up and around as she made her way toward his motionless form and she then forced him back to consciousness with the slow removal of his flesh. His ragged scream brought a pleasant smile to her lips as she continued her work until there was nothing left but ashes.
A flicker had freed her, a spark had drawn her and her child’s fire had given Lilith the ability to live in this world and reclaim all that she had lost to the Shadow Men.