BtVS belongs to Joss Whedon. Southern Vampire Mysteries and True Blood belong to Charlaine Harris, Alan Ball, and HBO. Spoilers:
BtVS through Season 7, all of SVM just to be safeSummary:
The government wasn’t quite as accepting of vampires as they appeared to be... A series of ficlets that center around killing Bill -- Compton, that is. **Written for the August fic-a-day challenge** A/N:
Thank you, kerrykhat, for the idea to write a fic killing off Bill Compton!+++
Bill sat at his desk, hunched over his computer. The database containing information on every known vampire in North America was essentially complete, which meant his secret work for the Queen was almost at an end.
He would be glad when this was over with. Perhaps he could even attempt to repair his relationship with Sookie.
Needing a brief reprieve away from the unnatural glow of computer monitor, Bill stood up and walked to his front window, instinctively looking over to where he knew her house was, just beyond the cemetery that separated their properties.
It was then that he noticed it; something was not quite right. The air was too still, the night too silent.
Bill growled, his fangs extending with a faint click. When they attacked a few moments later, he was ready, taking a few out before they could even fully register what was happening.
Unfortunately, his attackers were not Fellowship amateurs, armed mainly with their fanaticism and not much else. Nor were they drainers, who relied more on trickery than brute force. They weren’t even supernatural, with whom he was more accustomed to fighting.
No, they were military, highly trained, possessing weapons that defied imagination, and they greatly outnumbered him.
Bill hissed as silver bullets ripped through him, weakening him. Still, he managed to injure a few more as he attempted to reach the front door to escape.
When the nets of silver shot out from some kind of mechanism and landed over him, however, he knew he was trapped.
“What do you want?” he demanded, even as his flesh sizzled. “I do not harm humans.”
“Really? Want to try a different answer?” one particularly tall soldier asked, gesturing to his fallen brethren.
Bill glowered back. “You attacked me, in my home
Frowning, the solider opened his mouth to reply. Before he could say anything, however, another soldier came running up with a very familiar set of computer disks in hand.
Bill’s eyes narrowed. How did they know? Even Eric, his own Sheriff, knew nothing about his secret project. He knew better than to ask, however, as an answer was unlikely and would only serve to draw attention to himself. Instead, he watched and listened.
“We found the database, sir,” the subordinate announced.
“Nice work,” the tall one said approvingly. Then he turned to another soldier, one standing close to him, just off to the right. “Miller, let’s gather the boys and clean the place up. Remember, make it look as amateur as possible.”
‘Miller’ nodded, and after barking a few orders to the others, he left the house, only to return with cans of gasoline a few moments later.
It was then that Bill knew for certain that, barring some miracle, there was no escaping this. This was the end.
He made one last attempt to free himself, but it was useless. The heavy silver nets were well-made, offering no opportunity for escape.
Strangely, he felt no anger, no fear, simply... disconnected. He watched almost indifferently as the soldiers doused all his belongings with gasoline.
Soon, the smell inside was overwhelming.
“Let’s move out!”
Bill closed his eyes as the humans evacuated his house. The end would not be far from now.
He was slightly startled when he heard the floorboards creak.
Opening his eyes, he saw that the tall soldier was still standing in front of him, only now he was holding a long wooden stake in his hand. And it was pointed right at Bill’s heart.
The human didn’t say anything; it was unnecessary.
Bill couldn’t help but look at him in surprise. Most humans would be willing to let him burn and not trouble themselves with this. Perhaps they feared he would find a way to escape? Or maybe they needed to confirm the kill?
Whatever the reason, Bill found himself – certainly not grateful
– but less... apprehensive. A quick staking was far less agonizing than burning to death.
Though pain lanced through him, he rose to his knees as best he could, facing his true death head on.
And then there was nothing. +++
Riley walked out of Bill Compton’s house and headed straight for Graham, who was standing at the bottom of the stairs with two Molotov cocktails in hand.
“Do you really think these vamps are lying, that this whole ‘mainstreaming’ thing is just a bunch of BS?” Graham asked as he handed over one bottle.
Riley thought about this for a moment. Then he shrugged. “Not necessarily, but that doesn’t mean we should just sit around and wait until then, right?” he reasoned. “We’re just lucky we got wind of this registry.”
He motioned for the lighter Graham was holding, and the two men lit the cloth sticking out of the bottles. Moving quickly, they then lobbed the Molotovs into the open front entryway and immediately ran for cover, not waiting to see if they hit their mark.
A few moments later, the house was a raging inferno.
As they headed for the rendezvous point, Graham snuck a look at his commander and friend.
“Okay, I gotta ask. Even though this whole situation is pretty much fubar, killing that vamp, it had to feel good, right?” he asked.
A ghost of a smile appeared on Riley’s face. “There was a certain catharsis there, killing a vamp who’s playing a girl for a fool,” he admitted. Then he glanced at Graham, a worried look on his face. “Don’t tell Sam, though, okay?”+++