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Broken Circle 
14th-Aug-2008 04:11 am
bmbl-spike
TITLE: Broken Circle
34/42
AUTHOR: BmblBee
PARING: S/X
RATING: Adult for language and content
DISCLAIMER: The Bee has no rights or claim on any
of the characters or products named in this story and makes
no profit from them.
SUMMARY: This is the third story in the Rosebud/verse.
Tara has been abducted and the police rush to find her.
The other members of the Circle decide that they can do
a better job and begin their own investigation.
Who will find her first and will it be in time?




Huge thanks to Purpledodah for the amazing banner.


Spike and Faith raced through the streets. They were less than
ten minutes away from the Washburn residence and each was mentally
reviewing the facts and preparing a plan.
With no tangible evidence they had no hope of getting a search
warrant which meant they would have to either talk their way
in or force it.

Over the last few years, Spike had learned a fair degree of self control.
He knew collecting evidence and extracting confessions had to be
done by the book or any slick, weasel of a lawyer could file for
suppression and cost the prosecution the case.
The days of by hook or by crook were gone.

Sometimes, however, all the rules had to be thrown out the window.
The ends justified the means. Spike wasn't thinking about an arrest,
a trial or a conviction. All he wanted was Tara, safe and sound,
back home and bitching about his failure to recycle or his disgusting
smoking habit.
Tara was the little sister he never had. Tara was his family.

"We're getting close, Spike. Shut off the light and cut the siren.
I think it's best if we don't give any early warning of our arrival."

Spike nodded his agreement and did as Faith suggested.
"Good idea. I also think we need to shut of our phones. If we
have to creep, I don't want any noise giving away our position."

Faith hesitated.
"What about Xander?"
Spike held down the 'end' button till his cell phone rang off.

"I love Xander, but I swear, when he has something on his mind, he
can call me twenty times an hour. It won't hurt him to not be able to
reach me for a little while. Besides, he and The Ringley Brothers are all
safely tucked in back at the mansion. I'll ring him later. Hopefully
with good news."

Faith nodded, thought briefly of Kennedy, all warm and sleepy, and
copied his action.

The Corvette sped silently on.


By Tara's estimation, the two women had been in the bathroom for at
least a half an hour. The shower had completely restored the strength
in her arms and legs and she knew if given half a chance, she was ready
to either run or fight like hell.
She had to trust that she would know when the time was right.

She swallowed her pride and, adopting a clinical, detached attitude, gave
herself the enema while Rita watched, enthralled. Conversation had
slowed. Any question Tara may have had that she hadn't ask was one
that she really didn't want answered.

Rita had told her that some of the other Satan worshippers had already
arrived but she had no idea if that meant there would be five, ten
or fifty. The house was large but not huge, so the basement would
be a good sized area.

Tara knew the password. It had shot from Rita's mind to hers on a
bolt of lightning and Tara had no doubt, still, that was critical information.
It was one more thing that she hoped would give her an edge when she
needed. For now, she would claim ignorance.

There was only one window in the second story bathroom and it had
been covered with that cheap, tacky, stick on, peel off frosting, making it
impossible to look out and see the landscape. It did, however, offer a fair
amount of natural light and Tara was certain that the bright moon light was
ending and the sun would soon crack over the horizon.

Her interest and knowledge of the natural world told her that sunrise
would be right around the same time as the ritual and she shuddered.

"You still cold? Come on, let's get you dressed."
Rita grabbed Tara by the arm and tugged her out of the bathroom.
Tara looked at her soiled clothing that lay on the floor and she
wondered what Rita expected her to wear.

Back in the bedroom, the first thing that Tara noticed was that the
corner was now empty. No rocking chair, no corpse. Jim Jones
apparently had business elsewhere.
Rita turned her key and locked them in the room.

"Oh, good, Richard must have come and got him. That means they
are almost ready to start."
Immediately she hurried to the closet and opened it up. The only
thing that hung in there were two long, hooded robes.
One white and one blood red.

Quickly, Rita took off all her clothes so that both women were standing
naked, face to face. Rita's breath came in heated pants as she
stepped close and ran her hands over Tara's naked breasts.

"Damn, I wish we had more time. I'm getting all wet just touching
you like this. Is your pussy wet for me, Tara?"

Tara smiled weakly.
"Yes. I'm wet, too."

Rita moaned and closed her eyes as her hand slipped between Tara's
legs, her finger's probing for the hot opening she sought. At the last
second before she could slide it in, Tara's squick alarm went off
and she grabbed Rita's wrist.
"Wait. You said we didn't have time."

Rita reluctantly opened her hooded eyes.
"Damn, you're right. Well then, that should be an added incentive for
you to make a mental connection with Jim. You give the word, name
the next priest and after he is done with you we can have all the pussy
time we want."

Tara was aghast but did her best not to show it. All her attention had
to remain on any opportunity to escape. Rita said everyone was in
the basement which meant the two of them would be going down
alone, together. If she could convince Rita that she was cooperating
she could make a break for it as soon as they get to the main level.

Snatching the red robe off the hanger, Rita pulled it over her head
and smoothed out the front. Tara stood back, her naked body
shivering in fear and cold. Next, Rita tossed the white one over
and Tara caught it.

"Pull it on and I will make sure it is straight. We need to go, it's
time."

Tara jerked the robe on and started for the door.

"Wait."
Tara stopped. Rita reached in to the top dresser drawer and took out
two strong lengths of silk cord.
"Gimme your hands."

Tara stepped away and instinctively put her hands behind her back.
"No, please. I won't do anything. I won't run. Please don't tie
me up."

Rita frowned. Run? Had Tara been fucking with her? Was all that agreeable,
cooperation just bull shit? With no previous warning, Rita's hand flew
up, seemingly out of nowhere, and soundly slapped Tara across the face,
bloodying her nose and leaving a fiery red hand print across her cheek.

"Don't you understand what a fucking honor this is? You should be thanking
me. You're just a bitch just like all the others!"

Quickly, before she had a chance to struggle, Rita grabbed Tara's hands
and jerked them, painfully wrapping the cord around her wrists.
She then gripped her shoulders, turned her body toward the bedroom
doorway and, as Tara tried to protest, the blindfold was again
placed over her face and Tara's world went black.

Now, with the BFF vibe clearly gone, Rita shoved. Tara stumbled,
regained her balance, and the two women headed for the stairway.
Comments 
14th-Aug-2008 08:50 am (UTC)
...Always with the robes...I like it. And I still hate Rita.
Nice addition,
14th-Aug-2008 08:55 am (UTC)
Just can't have a satanic ritual without robes and candles.
It just isn't done.
14th-Aug-2008 10:56 am (UTC)
Robes. They have robes.

Of course, no satanic cult is complete without the hooded robes. And the candles. And the rituals.

Although, if you look at it, catholic monks do have the rituals, the hooded robes and the candles, too. Huh. At least there are no human sacrifices.
14th-Aug-2008 11:41 am (UTC)
No human sacrifices? What about the alter boys?

OUCH! That was waaay over the line of good taste.
Now every catholic that reads that will toss their
bingo dobbers at me.
14th-Aug-2008 11:45 am (UTC)
As the 99,5% of Spain, I am catholic, but, also as the 99% of Spanish catholics, we are pretty liberal and don't ever go to Mass or anything, so don't worry 'bout dobbers.

Although now I have this image of priest!Xander being tempted by not-so-pure altar!boy!Spike that is sure to send me to hell...
14th-Aug-2008 12:59 pm (UTC)
OH,HELL, NO! You did not just stick that very wrong, very dirty,
image in my head. Pardon me while I go buy some batteries.
14th-Aug-2008 01:53 pm (UTC)
oh wow, everyone's getting close, *shudders* Rita is just vile, hope they get there in time to keep tara from getting cut...or worse.
14th-Aug-2008 02:09 pm (UTC)
Before she gets cut? Oh, um, well,
they are on their way.
14th-Aug-2008 05:14 pm (UTC)
If Spike is going to try and build a case against Rita and Company The Circle just might have blown it for him big time. Xander at times just doesn't know when his help is not needed or wanted. As for the ritual robes and candles are a must.
14th-Aug-2008 06:35 pm (UTC)
Spike may be thinking legal but Xander's only
concern is Tara. If they don't hurry, this will
be a homicide case.
14th-Aug-2008 09:24 pm (UTC)
I hate Rita and something vile needs to happen to her. Robes, candles and more robes, just what you would expect from a Satanic cult (brings to mind The Ninth Gate with Johnny Depp). And Spike turned off his phone! Argh. Hurry, hurry, hurry!
14th-Aug-2008 10:09 pm (UTC)
Bad Spike! Turn that phone back on!
Back to Whitey's tomorrow. It is all quickly coming
to a head.
15th-Aug-2008 04:46 am (UTC)
Sigh. Both phones are now off. Bigger sigh. No help for the detectives. No help for the Circle.

Yes, Spike is thinking legal entry to the house, but won't a scream, or noise of a fight, be legal enough for him to enter? Not too sure on the American legal system. I'm hoping so, anyway.

Back to Whitey's? Oh my, what trouble will Angel be in now? Will Lindsey (BTW love his nickname Hoot) be able to save Angel, and himself, from the nice gentlemen at the bar?

On to tomorrow.

Cathy
15th-Aug-2008 09:10 am (UTC)
A scream would be enough. Right now Spike doesn't care
he will do what he needs to do.
Hoot's evening is about to take a drastic turn
for the worst. Good old Angel.
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