Disclaimer : Still not mine... I tried, but Joss just doesn't want to give them to me! Go figure...
Author : BlackbAngeL
Summary : Post NFA, and that's all I'm gonna say... just read!
A/N : I know I was supposed to make it dark, but finally, I had a better idea. I hope you'll like it!!
Rating : Same as the show
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Angel was speeding on the highway, as fast as his rented car would allow him. His feet never leaving the accelerator, he kept glancing at his watch, and at the sky… He only had a few hours left, and he hoped he would get to the airport in time. He couldn't afford to waste a whole day hiding from the sun in some filthy gas station's restrooms. He had to make it there before dawn, and get on the first plane he would find that headed for Italy, even if he had to spend the ten-hour flight in the baggage hold. Because otherwise, he would be too late. She would be lost.
It had all happened incredibly fast. But also, oddly enough, too slow… One minute he was sitting in a demon bar, drinking and eavesdropping, hoping to find something evil to kill… and the next, he was on a plane, praying whatever God or Power that Be that he had not wasted his chance. That he had not wasted too much time.
Because in reality, these few minutes had been days.
He remembered perfectly how it had all started.
ooooooooooooooooo
Philadelphia, September 7th, 2004
He was sitting at the bar, quietly drinking his Whiskey, listening to the conversations around him. He had noticed a slight increase of the demon activity for the last few days, but he had yet to figure out what exactly was happening. So, here he was, for the third day in a row. The place was dark, and grim… not to mention the horrible smell that assaulted his sensible nostrils every time he set a foot in the main room. But he didn't really have a choice. The Nest was the place you had to go to in Philadelphia if you wanted to hear something from the demon grapevine. Everything happened there… and the bartender was very well informed. And also very willing to share his knowledge if you knew the right way to 'convince' him; or if your wallet was full enough.
Besides, it wasn't like he had anything better to do.
He had left L.A a few months before. A few days after the battle against the Black Thorn.
Every single one of his friends was dead. Or, in Lorne's case, had left.
But he had survived. Something he hadn't really thought was possible… And something he had had a hard time to accept.
Gunn, as Illyria had foreseen, had only lasted a few minutes. He had fought until the end, until his last breath, taking down as many demons as possible with him. They hadn't even found his body in the mess afterwards.
Spike, he, and Illyria had been the only ones left at this point. They had fought for hours on end, punching, kicking, slicing, dusting, almost all at once, in a disgusting and lethal dance they thought would never stop. The more they killed, the more were coming. But neither of them had complained. Not even once… They were there for a purpose, to do what was right, to fight the good fight. To give their lives.
But out of the three of them, only Illyria had given hers. At one point during the battle, she had stopped moving, and taken an instant to stare at the demons around her. She had turned around, looking at both men in the eyes, and they had known. They had known what she was going to do, even if they had never thought it was possible. And they hadn't had the time to stop her. In a matter of seconds, she had thrown them over the roof of the nearest building, and she had started to glow… a light so bright that they had had to cover their eyes.
When they opened them again, Illyria was nowhere in sight… and half the demons were gone.
Angel and Spike hadn't taken time at that moment to ponder what had happened. They had jumped back into the fight, and annihilated the rest of the demons.
A few minutes before dawn, they'd found themselves alone in the alley.
The following days had been… strange, to say the least. Both men hadn't thought they would make it out of this. But they had. What were they going to do now? Angel didn't have anything left, only the clothes on his back… and his three friends' deaths to deal with. Add to this all the things he had done in the last few months…
They had gone to pick up Wesley's body, and buried him outside the Hyperion. They would call his family later… or maybe not. Some things were better left unsaid, and his parents would figure out on their own. They had looked for Gunn for a whole night, but they had never found him. Too many bodies, most of them burnt by Illyria's sacrifice… So, they just buried some of his personal effects in a box next to Wesley's grave, and left it at that.
The army had quickly taken over the city, trying to hold the population, and to find a 'rational' explanation to what had happened. The Initiative obviously had something to do with it. Spike hadn't stayed long… He had left after a few days, saying that he had to find his own way, his own purpose; Angel hadn't asked questions.
He had spent some days on his own, haunting Spike's apartment rather than living, wondering why he was still alive when his friends, his family, were all gone. Forever. It was one thing to tell them to go on a suicide mission with him, to fight by his side at the price of their lives… but it was another to survive them. One more proof of what his company was worth… Doyle, Cordelia, Fred, Wesley, Gunn… Be friends with Angel, and you'll meet death long before your time. It was one of the reasons why he'd sent Nina away. He was dangerous, if not always personally, being with him was dangerous. He lived a violent and painful life… There was no need in dragging more innocent people in the darkness with him. This was his fate, not theirs. He had realized, when he'd given her the plane tickets, the full implication of what he was doing… The meaning of his acts. It wasn't so much the fact that he was leaving Nina behind that had upset him… it was the fact that having to do this had reminded him that he would always have to avoid every chance of comfort, of warmth, that he could ever get… He couldn't afford to let anybody in, even if it was only to ease the cold and the loneliness in his heart. The realization that no matter what, he would spend his long life alone had been hard to process.
But in the end, that was what he was. What he always would be. Alone.
And now, here he was, in this bar, more than three months later. He had left L.A without looking back, only stopping to make sure his son had made it home safely. He had watched him laughing with his friends, having fun, living… Just this, had made the fight worthwhile. He hadn't tried to talk to him. Connor was better off believing he was dead… he had turned around and walked away, never seeing his son cast a long glance in his direction with a sad smile on his face before going back to talking to the girl next to him.
He had hidden for a few weeks, trying to disappear, not wanting to draw attention on him… some demons sent by the Senior Partners were still on his tail. As much as he wished that he had died with the rest of them in that alley, he knew that trying to get himself killed wasn't the solution. He'd learned that the hard way, on a snowy Christmas morning a lifetime ago. Or two.
And he had succeeded. They hadn't found him, at least not so far, in Philadelphia.
He was drinking at least his third glass that evening. He didn't know why he even bothered to come here every night… It would have been easier to walk the streets and seek for answers with his fists, instead of his sole ears. But even if he always tried to convince himself not to go, he kept coming back. Maybe it was because it was so… alive. Which was strange, for a demon bar, but still. It was always full, and noisy… Angel missed the company of others. No matter how much he tried not to, he missed the sense of belonging that his family had brought him. But he had resolved not to let anybody come this close, ever again. Too much danger, too much pain. It would be harder to do this by himself, but he would deal. After all, he'd spent a whole century alone, he could probably handle loneliness for another hundred years or so… couldn't he?
He was listening to the conversations around him, trying to pick out any useful information that would tell him why the demonic activity had increased so fast. So far, he didn't have a single clue. So, he sat there, waiting. He kept drinking, knowing that even a dozens of glasses wouldn't get him drunk. Thank God for vampire's constitution… or, maybe not. Sometimes, he really wished that he could drink his sorrow away.
He'd been there for at least three hours when he decided that he wouldn't learn anything that night. He might as well hit the streets, and try to coax an unlucky vampire or demon into talking. He had just left a bill on the bar and was about to leave when he heard a word that made him stop dead in his tracks.
Slayer.
So, that was the reason for all the demons getting over enthusiastic these days? They were killing now, doing as much damage as possible, before the arrival of a slayer. They knew they would have to lay low after that, if they wanted to keep walking.
It was interesting news… He didn't think he would risk trying to meet a slayer. He didn't really fancy the idea of ending up at the pointy end of a stake. But he would watch over her from afar during the first days, making sure she settled in and could handle the town.
Well, it also meant that he would have to leave after that, but after all, he wasn't planning on staying here forever.
The three demons and vampire he could hear were sitting at a table, in the far corner of the room. He didn't know what species they were, but it didn't really matter.
He walked closer to them and discreetly leaned in, seemingly waiting at the restroom door, and finally could get the whole conversation. But the more he heard, the less he liked what was said.
"That's the best solution, if you ask me. How many are there now? Four, five hundred? That's more than anybody could ever handle. And if we kill them one by one, others will take their place" the yellow one said.
"But what I don't understand is how killing one is going to weaken them…"
"Well, you know, the best way to kill an enemy is to behead it. You cut the head, you win. And that girl, that Slayer… She's the head. Get rid of her, and it's gonna take them months to get their bearings…" the one with the long horns replied.
"Do you know who is gonna do it? Because, I don't want to seem pessimistic, but she's pretty strong… I heard that she can't be killed. She always comes back."
Angel felt a wave of cold coursing through his body. There wasn't any slayer coming to town… But there was a slayer in grave danger. And not any slayer, if he understood correctly. The Slayer.
"Just a myth, pal. Slayers are human, not more. She just got lucky once or twice. Don't tell me you believe in those stories…"
The one who had talked bowed his head in embarrassment. "I don't know… more than eight years… it's not that common."
"Maybe. But the guys in the Order know what they're doing."
"The Order? Order of what?" The guy was obviously a fledgling. The only vampire of the group.
"The Order. Period. But they're not alone in this. The rumor is spreading fast… it's gonna be quite important, and they just have to find her alone. After her death, they're gonna kill the other one… and it's gonna be easy, because the girl's gonna want to avenge her friend. They won't even have to look for her, she's gonna come by herself. And after her, the watchers." He paused. "Once it's started, it's gonna take only a few weeks and all the new slayers are gonna be by themselves."
"What about the Witch? She's protecting them" a fourth one asked.
"Well, that's why they have to do it now. The Wicca is not on this plane… When she comes back, she's gonna find her friends all dead…" he said with a twisted smile.
"You sure the Slayer isn't aware of what's going on?"
"Positive. My cousin told me he saw her in Italy, partying. She's on holiday."
"Italy? One of my friends saw her in Africa last week…" the vampire said.
"Friend? You have friends?" the yellow demon said with a laugh.
"Well, you know what I mean."
They all laughed quietly, and the fourth demon lifted his glass. "My friends, let's drink to the end of Buffy, the vampire slayer. May she stay dead, buried, and rot six feet under so that we could go and dance on her grave." And they all drank together. "And what kind of a name is that, anyway?"
Angel felt like something had hit him on the head. Hard. He didn't spare them a second glance, and hurried out of the bar.
Once outside, he took a few much needed gulps of fresh air. And not only to get rid of the stench that always seemed to follow him every time he left The Nest…
He'd thought he would be over this by now. But all it had taken was one mention of her name.
One mention of her name in a conversation that also contained the words "Order" and "dance on her grave".
He realized after a few seconds that he had clenched his fists so hard during the conversation that he had drawn blood. The temptation to kill the bastards and make them talk, of course not in that order, had been overwhelming. But he couldn't afford to start a fight. He was under cover here.
He walked away from the bar, trying to calm down and to relax. Buffy could handle herself. He wasn't going to barge in on her once again only to have his nose rubbed in the fact that she could move on… and he could not. She was a grown woman, and a more than capable slayer. She had her friends, her team, to back her up, there was no need for him to make a fool of himself by just coming to save her like the White Knight that he wasn't, and never would be. He had to learn to let her go, and to forget her. It was better for the both of them.
He spent the next two days pacing around the phone. He couldn't shake away the feeling that something was going to be wrong, and that he needed to help. He'd woken up with a start twice since he'd overheard the conversation in the bar, still shaking from the shock of his nightmares.
Now that he'd had time to think about it, he regretted that he hadn't waited for the demons to come out so that he could have made them talk. But it was too late now.
He didn't want to get involved in this. It was the last thing he needed. Besides, what exactly could he do? Call Giles? The former watcher would hang up on him in the second. He didn't know how to reach Faith, or Willow, and he'd thrown away Buffy's personal number after his last visit to Italy.
Well, that last excuse didn't really count. He knew the number by heart, even if he had never used it.
What if she didn't see it coming? What if she got herself killed because of him? Because he knew, and didn't tell her? And she wasn't the only one in danger. They'd talked about killing Faith too, and the watchers. If all the new slayers were to be left by themselves, it would lead to chaos. The thoughts kept torturing him again and again… until it became so loud in his head that he couldn't stand it anymore.
He was walking in the street when he finally decided to call. It was only to warn her, he kept telling himself. To make sure that she was okay, and then, he would go back to his life.
He didn't have a cell phone anymore, so he stopped at the first public phone he could find.
He tried to reach Giles at first. Maybe he could talk some sense into the man, and get him to listen to him. If Buffy's interest was at stake, he knew he would listen. But he waited for a few minutes, and nobody picked up.
He hung up with a sigh, and stared at the phone for a few seconds, finally picking it up again.
He dialed Buffy's number, and waited… only to be greeted by a feminine Italian voice telling him the number he tried to reach didn't exist. This was more than he could stand.
"Dammit!!" he shouted, slamming the phone into its cradle.
He buried his face in his hands, sighing again, his elbows resting on the wall front of him.
"I was wondering when you would work up the nerve to call her" a familiar voice said behind him.
If it was actually alive, Angel's heart would have skipped a beat. Without even looking, he knew who the person was. He could picture him in all his fashion-challenged glory.
He dropped his hands on either side of his body, and turned around to glare at the demon.
"Whistler" he said, rolling his eyes, his annoyance more than obvious.
"In the flesh, kid. Long time no see!" the newcomer said with a small smile.
"What do you want? I don't have time for this."
"Gee, and here I thought we could catch up around a beer, or something… But no, right into business, as always" Whistler said with a sigh. "I was sent here. You've kinda got… sidetracked. I'm here to show you the path, once more."
"What do you mean? I took down the Black Thorn, and averted the apocalypse, Wolfram and Hart is history… What else could I possibly do?" Angel asked with anger. "I'm tired of working for the Powers. Tired of all the sacrifices…"
"You didn't think it would stop there, did you?" Whistler asked "There's still evil out there, waiting to be fought. You can't just give up like that, and go back to your 'King of Pain' years. I thought you had learned, over the years, to let people in, and fight." he said, walking closer to Angel.
"Yeah, I let others in. And look what it brought them. They all died, because of me."
"Whoa whoa, stop right there. Because of you? They didn't die because of you. They chose to fight. They chose to give their lives to the cause… Those people were heroes. Don't belittle their sacrifice by taking all the responsibility."
"I'm just stating a fact, Whistler. If they hadn't known me, they'd probably be alive now… I'm the one who took the bad decisions."
The balance demon let out a dramatic sigh. "Yeah, keep telling yourself that." He paused, then added "But there are more important things to talk about right now, than your little guilt crisis."
"And that would be?" Angel asked.
"Your precious little Slayer, who else?" Whistler replied. "She's in serious trouble, man."
"She's not my Slayer."
Whistler stared at him, his expression half of annoyance and half of disbelief.
"You really are a piece of work, aren't you?"
Angel didn't answer, and stared at him. Whistler sighed again, and rested his shoulder on the wall next to the vampire, crossing his arms. They stood in silence for a few seconds, until Angel added "She doesn't need me. She can handle herself. Besides, she's moved on" he hadn't meant to sound like a jealous moron, but he had, to his dismay. Where had that come from?
The demon held back a laugh, but couldn't hide his smirk. "Maybe. Maybe not. But even if she did, that hardly justifies letting her suffer a horrible death, don't you think?"
"Yeah, well, I would have helped her, but the number I have doesn't exist" Angel said angrily.
"And you're just gonna leave it at that? No running to her, with flowers and a box of chocolate, no kiss under the moonlight, no tears? Kill a few demons, sweep her of her feet… I was really looking forward to this. You spoil my fun." Whistler said, looking falsely disappointed.
"Sorry, but that's not on the menu."
The balance demon let out another exasperated sigh. "She's in danger. Those demons? They're not joking; they know what they're doing. And she's not ready to face them."
"What do you mean, she's not ready?"
"Well, if you want to know, you're gonna have to go and see for yourself. But we can't lose her now. I don't care how you do it, but she has to survive. She's important."
"Is it The Immortal? Did he hurt her? And what do you mean by 'important'? When will you all finally cut her a break?"
"Forget The Immortal for a second, will you?" Whistler said desperately. "If you want to save her, you're gonna have to find her, talk to her, and then finally, maybe they're gonna leave me alone for a while up there because I really need a vacation."
"You didn't answer my second question."
Whistler just glared at him. "I know."
Angel held his gaze, before finally moving and starting to walk away. "I'll go."
"Oh, thank God!! I was starting to wonder…" Whistler cried, obviously relieved. "She's…"
"I know where she is…" Angel cut him off. And he left, not looking back.
The demon watched him go, speechless. That guy was impossible… He thought he knew?
"Well, you're in for a surprise…" he said under his breath. And then he walked in the opposite direction. "I'm too old for that job…"
oooooooooooooooooo
Back to the present, September 10th, 2004
That was how he had found himself into this mess. What was he going to tell her?
He made it in time to the airport, left the car on the parking lot, and made his way to the baggage hold of a plane that left for Rome. He didn't know how he would manage to get out of it once in Italy, but he would find a way.
He spent the ten hours of the flight wondering what would happen, how she would react, what she would say… He didn't even know how he would react. He had tried so hard to put her behind him, to leave the past to what it was. And he had managed to do it, he was over her. Wasn't he? He hadn't even thought about her in the past few months. Not a dream, not a single minute of brooding… He had had too much on his mind anyway. Too much to deal with. He couldn't have her, he knew it, so there was no need to dwell on what might be, or what might have been…
But now that he knew for sure that he was going to see her, it was a whole other story.
He would make it quick, he decided. He would help her, and then go, before he could open any old wound, or say things he would regret.
Thankfully, it was raining outside when they reached Italy. The sky was so dark that he could go out of the plane without too much trouble, if he ran fast enough. He waited for the sun to set, and as soon as he could he took a taxi to get to Buffy's apartment.
oooooooooooooooooooooooooo
So, what do you think?