Title: Whatever I Am, You Made Me
TV Show: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Author: Beloved Slayer
Rating: T
Summary: The dimension is opening and an onslaught of vampires and demons are threatening to take over Sunnydale. Angel is the key, but his alter ego forces Buffy to ponder about the risk in saving him. Part III.
Author's Note: This is the last part to my 'Blood on Your Hands' series, and takes place months after part two. Enjoy!
She sharpens the end of the scythe, whistling softly as if she didn't have a care in the world. She proceeded with wiping the edges clean in an exact motion before perching herself on top of an abandoned crypt, landing with ease.
"You seriously think these vampires are gonna talk? All this slaying the last couple of weeks hasn't been doing you any good. You're wasting time," came the sneering voice of Angel's ghostly alter ego, whom she pretended not to notice as he shifted himself amongst a crypt opposite to hers.
She shrugged. She would get her answers eventually. She was the persuasive type after all.
"And here I thought you were going to swoon me with your gentleness and undying devotion," she retorted, tracing the lining of the blade against a single fingertip.
Angelus growled. Her smart ass remarks were a trait he didn't much appreciate. Even as a soulless vampire phantom. With an uncharacteristic sigh, he shook his head.
This was going to be a long night. If he had a choice, he would rather fade into oblivion.
Watching him, Buffy flashed a grin before toppling over the edge of the crypt into a small hill of grass, scythe in hand. She landed with a soft thud that matched her heartbeat.
"You can always go back home, you know. I didn't force you to come," she pressed, avoiding his eyes that bore holes to her skin. Angelus couldn't tell whether she was bluffing or not. Lately, besides the obvious snarky remark, her face was an impenetrable mask, kept hidden even from him.
But why should he care? Why should he notice? He didn't give a damn. At least that was what he told himself.
But what he said next was the opposite of what his mind was thinking.
"This isn't the way to do it, and you know it. They'll be expecting you. You're lamb to the slaughter. You can't afford to be reckless when your ass is on the line."
Leaves rustling, she rises to her feet, surveying the grounds with a sober expression as she took his words in.
A muscle in her jaw twitched.
"Look around Angelus. For some reason that we still don't know, Sunnydale is turning into a warzone. Most of the crypts and burial grounds here are covered in blood; being broken into. Bodies are going missing. More and more demons and vampires are coming. Hell is taking my home away from me. I can't let that happen."
He gives a nonchalant shrug. "Well, what do you want me to do about it? I'm a freakin' ghost. And hello, no soul. Or have you forgotten about that too?"
The Slayer went mum.
"Did you ever think that maybe your boyfriend is the reason why all hell is breaking loose? That he might be the key to setting forth another apocalypse?"
Still nothing.
Against a lone mausoleum, Buffy folded her arms and scythe across her chest. The sun leaves one last kiss of light as it lowers behind the horizon. She lets out a tired sigh.
"I haven't been sleeping since all this started. I tried so hard to deny that maybe he was it, that he might be the key, but I kept shrugging it off because I felt my heart being torn apart every time I thought of it. It hurt like hell. And right now it hurts even more. Like I'm being put into the Iron Maiden. But no matter what you say, don't you dare suggest that I shouldn't do anything about it. You and I both know that I just can't leave him there. I leave him to the wolves, and I'll know I'll fail not only myself, but him. And I fail those I'm Chosen to protect." Her eyes glittered dangerously at the vampire, challenging him to say something.
Angelus felt a rare tremor of fear coarse through him when her eyes laid on his. His ghostly mouth thinned into a grim line, and a growl emanated from the back of his throat. A strong urge to shake her ran through his veins.
Damn her. But even without him and that pesky soul of ours, she's mine. Way to go Angelus. Let's have a hearty hand clap for admitting that the Slayer made you feel something besides the usual hatred and resentment you carry. So much for the feared Scourge of Europe.
Leaping from the crypt, he forced himself to stand next to the woman he loathe and yet, loved. "Stupid girl." Stupid me, really. I'm a damned fool.
"So what's your plan, All-knowing and powerful Slayer?"
"We wait until one of them opens the door from that crypt over there," she thrust her head towards a mausoleum that was adorned with moss and orchids.
Angelus didn't waste time pacing back and forth. Along with the frantic movements, he shook his head. "You'll be the true death of me, did you know that?"
Buffy kept her eyes on the crypt. Her back towards him, she let out an unsuspecting smirk. "What can I say? Torturing you is fun. And payback is a bitch after the hell you've put me through."
He kept his temper in check this time. Digging his hands into his pockets, he asks, "Do you really want to do this? There is no way out of the hell dimension if you get caught. Do you think you can face an eternity of that, knowing that you might be tortured for endless days and nights? Or that there's a chance that he's the bait and you're the hook that they need to trap you in order to make a demonic playground out of your home? As I told you before, we both know and think that Angel might be the key to all this, but there's a chance that you are too. At least to them. You have to think this carefully."
Waves of emotions ran across the Slayer's face. Anger, rage, sadness, heartbreak. A sense of possible loss could be seen within the depths of her eyes before they turned cold and filled with a determination that was unbreakable.
Memories of Angel clouded her mind then. Xander, Willow, Giles, her mother, were next. Was she willing to risk it all, even her freedom to save the man she loved?
She didn't need to ponder anymore. She let out what needed to be said.
"We're not waiting anymore. Let's go."
Fin.