Body
16
Angel's pager went off. He found a vizuphone and dialed in to check his message. It was from Christina.
"Hey love. I just found out my evening class is canceled. Your still working on that case right? Anyway," at that point her hair whipped in her face, "bloody hair, um, what was I saying? Oh, since your probably going to be home after me why don't I cook dinner. Now don't make a face, cause I know you are, it'll be something simple. 'Kay? See you when you come home." She smiled then, as he watched, hung up the vizuphone.
He was indeed on a case. Angel had never quite given up the detective business, though he tended to stay away from demon cases now that he was only human. Somehow he doubted Christi would be happy if he looked more like bruised fruit than himself. However, for the moment it was on the back burner, as the saying went. Right now he was in search of someone who could open the Door between worlds so that he might speak with The Powers That Be. Well, speak with their representatives.
There was the matter of the gift, of course. But that could wait till he knew he could actually talk to them. This was becoming mildly nerve wracking. It was coming to the point where Angel nearly dreaded sleep. It wasn't that he couldn't handle his share of nightmares -- he had been one -- but who wants to watch himself kill his wife? Who wants to feel it as if it were real, not just some weird dream or memory, but an actual living experience? But sooner or later Christina would notice. Angel was trying to protect her which was why he'd purposely not mentioned his dreams of late. Why worry her?
Angel's pager went off again. No vizuphone nearby, he'd have to wait till later to view the message. It must not be too important or else the person would have left a numeric page. Christi was trying to get him to buy portable viz, but he was almost stubborn in his refusal. It was too bad because he was beginning to realize that he'd not be home till much later than usual.
As the night wore on he realized it would be extremely late. Christina was probably becoming annoyed with him. Whatever dinner she'd prepared was cold now. Back in his office Angel phoned the apartment.
"Angel where are you?!" she asked, worried. This wasn't like her. Or at least, she hadn't acted like this since becoming the Slayer. Fighting vampires, demons and outer ghoulies had made worrying over his being late-- as he often was -- minutiae.
"I'm at the office," he replied slowly, trying to calm her. "I'll don't know if I'll be home tonight." He paused a moment, "Are you all right?"
She nodded. "I'm just glad you called. I was starting to freak out."
He gave her an odd look, but she didn't seem to notice. "Well, as long as your okay. So I might not be home till morning."
"That's fine," she answered. Christina had visibly calmed and seemed more like herself. "So, how 'bout I have breakfast ready for you?"
"Sounds great."
She smiled. " 'Till the morning," and blew him a kiss.
"Hey, what exactly are you wearing?" Angel'd barely noticed past her behavior although the vizuphone allowed him to see her from the waist up.
Christina laughed. "Just got out of the shower. Too bad your not home." She smiled somewhat devilishly and broke connection.
It was, as he suspected, some time before Angel came home. It wasn't, as he feared, after breakfast. Actually Christina was just finishing the toast when he walked in, exhausted. "This was easier when I was a vampire."
She turned then, walking to her husband. "Aw, poor baby. Look at it this way love," she wrapped her arms around him, "as a vamp, would we do this?" She kissed him with a hungriness that surprised as much as it aroused him.
Angel drew her closer, but she pulled away, keeping him at arms length. "Nuh-uh, breakfast is getting cold and now that I know I'm going to eat it with you I want to enjoy it while it's edible. That and your company," her smile was full of promise.
He groaned.
She laughed.
Breakfast went better than either expect. The sexual tension took a temporary back seat to animated discussion about Angel's current case, which eventually made it's way to Christi's doctor visit.
"Turned out it's just fatigue. Nothing that can be cured with a drug, nothing that can't be cured with better sleeping habits, or so says Doc. Medora. Actually, she suggested that I do more exercise." She laughed, "Isn't that ironic, I'm a Slayer and my doctor tells me to do more exercise." Getting up, she took their plates and dropped them -- carefully -- into the sink.
Angel was nursing his coffee -- caffeine was the only thing keeping him awake. "Christina, your a Slayer, an ex-Slayer. You don't do much real slaying anymore. Your more busy with school and writing, things that have you sitting a lot. You're used to being more active. I think your doctor has a point. And your not eating," he made reference to the food she had been toying with.
She looked back at him somewhat crossly.
"Don't get mad at me," he said defensively.
"Not mad, just...I don't know," she shifted out of the sun coming in through the kitchen window, "I suppose your right. I've even been feeling more alive at night. Symptoms of Slayer withdrawal?"
He smiled. "Just Slayer withdrawal, I'm sure." He came around the table then. "So, no baby," he asked, arms around her
She looked up and back at him, shook her head and said, "No baby. Thought you'd forgotten for a moment."
"Something that important? Nah. Besides, your not eating for two." He indicated the food in the garbage and kissed her head.
Turning around, Christina sniffed at her husband, ignoring the second comment. "Hmm, smells like someone could use a shower."
Angel grinned, "Care to join me?"
"Tonight, darling," she grinned back. "My graduate advisor wants to see me and," she paused, "what I have in mind needs more patience andtime than I have." She nipped his chin. "Go, get clean," she said changing the subject. (How do women do that? Angel wondered.) "I should be ready to go by the time you're done.
"Oh, and Hermione called just before you got in, said to call back anytime this morning."
Angel's "thanks" was muffled beneath his shirt. "I'll call her back after the shower."
Christina barely heard him though. Instead she was busy picking up dropped clothing and mulling over a dream she had. It was interesting in a weird way. Course her dreams were always weird, but this one was weird and memorable. That made it worth telling Angel about, if he cared to listen. If she had time. Well, she could always tell him later when she got home.
A cloud of steam announced Angel was finished. "So," he said drying his hair with a towel, "you're leaving now?"
"No. Actually, you finished earlier than I thought you would. I don't have to leave for a while still. Going to bed then?" she asked, putting away things here and there.
"Why?"
She shrugged, "Oh, well, I had this dream las-"
"Oh," Angel buried his head in his hands "not," fell flat onto his back, on their bed, melodramatically, "another dream."
Christina laughed at his dramatics and bounded onto the bed with him. "It's not so bad, silly. Anyhow, I thought your dream/nightmares stopped."
He mumbled something incoherent into her shoulder.
"Uh huh. Whatever." She leaned up on her elbow, "So, do you want to hear it or not?"
Something else incoherent.
"I'll take that as a yes.
"Okay. So it started here in the house. We were apparently throwing a party for some pretty snooty people. Anywho, I was sitting, crosslegged, on the couch next to some guy who thought he was all that. He was trying to talk to me, you know, get my attention. Like I should know him. Like he was special or some-
"Are you listening to me?"
"Mmf-hmm," Angel nodded mumbling into the bedcovers.
He was listening she was sure. Otherwise he'd be snoring. "So, he apparently thought he was Mr. All That and that I should be worshipping the couch space he sat on. So, you know me, I couldn't let him think he was Mr. Wonderful, especially when you were standing right across from us.
"Okay, here's where it gets interesting. To show the little prick up I decided to let him see just how little he was. I reached over my crossed legs as if I was trying to stretch or something, you know, down to the floor. In the process my body rippled or something," she paused, her stomach grumbling.
"Shoulda finished breakfast."
Christina ignored him and her stomach and continued, "All I know is I made it to the floor without unfolding myself, walked over to you and stood up. Yeah, I know, but for some reason I wasn't standing fully. Anyhow, I stood up and kissed you smack on the lips. It drove the girls who were hanging around you away, which was a plus. So, mind dissolving kiss finished I turned around and Stupidly Gawking Guy and smiled evily, lashing my tail."
"Your what?!" Angel sat up.
"My tail." She grinned. "Told you it was weird. Apparently I'd changed or morphed into a cat on my way to you and didn't totally go back human when I reached you. Guess that means I want a cat?"
He groaned.
"But that's not all," Christi said, ignoring her husband.
Who took the opportunity to groan again.
"The scene shifted to a wooded area behind town--" she didn't notice, but Angel had started to pay attention, "--and there we were, well, you, me, Sonji and Rachel. Anyway, apparently I had fallen into the stream and you guys were looking for me. You thought I would freeze to death. Wonder why. Maybe we weren't in California? Anyway, I did die of hypothermia. I was wearing this crimson muslin dress, almost the color of blood--" Christi didn't notice but when she mentioned the dress she licked her lips as if hungry.
Angel noticed.
"--and it weighed me down. But I wasn't dead. I could hear you all above me, argueing, looking for me, thinking I was dead. I fought the water and surfaced. You guys barely noticed when I came out," her voice had taken on a far away sound, "half frozen, slightly blue. My dress was covered in little icicles."
Angel had gotten up when he first noted her strange behavior, she hadn't noticed. He'd sat back on the bed, wondering if her dream related to his.
"Then you turned around and saw me. You all stopped talking and stared at me." She paused, running her tongue over her teeth.
"I was so hungry. Angel," she looked at him, something feral in her eyes, "I'm so hungry."
Christina lunged for him.
17
"So you're saying she's a vampire," Hermoine asked incredously.
"Yes," Angel replied a second time, "and a strong one at that. How do you think I got these marks?" He raised his bruised arms to the tele-cam and exposed his clawed neck.
Hermoine grimaced. "Yes, those are rather nasty. But are you sure? I mean," she hastily interjected when she saw Angel's look, "if Christina's a vampire what did you do with her?"
"I locked her in the sun room."
"You did what?!" Hermoine asked, outraged. "But, but," she sputtered, "she'll combust! Angel you've killed her!"
"No she won't," Angel replied calmly, "considering she's been in there for over an hour and hasn't so much as gotten a tan."
She was thoroughly confused. "How is that possible?"
"I don't know," Angel said, shaking his head, "but that's not the only weird thing. Christina doesn't look like a vampire."
"What do you mean 'doesn't look like a vampire?'"
"Well, she's got the fangs, but they're more delicate. But her face is the major difference. Christi doesn't look demonic at all. There are no obvious changes at all, although she does look more feral. And I'm not sure but I think her irises open wider than a humans. I think whatever changes occur are simply less visible than her fangs, which aren't obvious either unless you're close up. But I guess by then it's too late," he added with a grim humor
Hermoine looked awed. "That's amazing. Perhaps she's a new breed of vampire, or maybe she hasn't been fully transformed. Perhaps--"
"Hermoine!"
"What?"
"Hermoine, she's my wife, not some specimen to examine."
She looked slightly abashed. "Right. Quite sorry, Angel. Now we have to figure out why she's not frying to a crisp." Hermoine thought for a moment. "Angel, does Christi still have that carved silver cuff set with lapis lazuli?"
"Yes, but--"
"And does she wear it often?"
"Christina's been known to fall asleep with it on. It's her everyday piece. But what does that have to do with anything?"
Hermoine seemingly ignored his question, "Would you know its design if you saw it?"
"Yes, but what does that have to do with her being a vampire?" Angel asked, exasperated.
"Give me a moment and we'll find out." She moved out of range of the telecam.
Angel was frustrated. He was certain Hermoine had gone of to search for something she thought was helpful, but she wouldn't say what or how. Well, at least he could see how Christina was doing trapped in what he'd told Hermoine was the sun room. It was actually a greenhouse added by the previous owners wrapped around the two blind sides of the apartment. For most of the day it was extremely sunny and hot.
And that's where Angel'd put his wife turn vampire. She was still there, sitting wanly it what little shade she could find. The light kept her too weak to to break the greenhouse's heavy door. He wasn't sure when he realized their fight had moved into full sunlight. The realization had nearly finished him. When his guard was down Christina took the opportunity and went for the throat. That's where the claw marks came from.
Christi felt his eyes on her. Slowly she turned to look at him. Her gaze was full of abject hunger. He'd called Hermoine right after locking her in the sun room. Maybe he should feed her now.
"Angel? Angel, where are you? I'm back," he heard Hermoine call through the viz.
He dashed back to his office. "Yeah, I'm right here. Just checking on Christi."
"Oh good, I think I've--" Angel held up his hand.
"I'll be right back Hermoine. I have to feed her."
She wrinkled her brows, perplexed.
"Christina." He paused. Face stony, he said, "She's hungry."
"Oh," Hermoine looked abashed.
"So, you were saying, about the arm cuff Christina wears?"
Hermoine perked up. "Oh, yes." She held up the picture from an ancient tome. "Does this look familiar?"
Angel studied it. "That's the design on the arms of Christi's cuff."
"And it's what's keeping her from frying out in your greenhouse."
"What?"
Hermoine explained. Apparently the symbols were more than decoration, but a simple spell.
"But I've seen vampires with similiar cuffs die of immolation."
"That's because it's the lapis lazuli that makes it work," she said, smiling self satisfied. "It hasn't been a popular or well researched stone for many years. The symbols are better known. Most simply wear them out of superstition, keeping the usual precautions in mind."
Angel nodded, "So if she takes it off --"
"Poof."
"Thanks. I'll keep that in mind. Now what can we do about it?"
Hermoine shook her head. "I'm sorry Angel, I haven't figured that part out yet. Give me a little time."
"In the meantime I have an idea," he said more to himself than Hermoine.
"What was that?" she asked.
He waved her off, "Nothing, yet. Just an idea." He took a deep breath before saying, "You keep searching and get back to me."
He was about to disconnect when Hermoine said, "Do you think this has anything to do with what Bishop told me?"
Grimly Angel said, "That's what I'm about to find out."
18
She was older, but either time, or magick, had been kind to Willow. After her retirement she'd taken over The Magick Shoppe in Sunnydale. Being there reminded her of the days with the "scooby gang," as Cordelia had maliciously dubbed Buffy and her friends/teammates. The name had stuck. Now she was the source of magical ingredients for the town's small population of witches.
Oz was somewhere doing something. There's had been an interesting marriage. Oz was simply...well Oz. Except for turning into a werewolf ever full moon it was as much a mystery as ever. He was an icon around town to young rockers starting their craft.
And they were happy. They'd been around the world and seen things most people only had nightmares about. One such nightmare, or former nightmare, walked in her store.
"Hello? Is anyone here?"
"Angel!"
He turned, "Willow? You look wonderful," he said as she stepped into his arms for a hug. "It's been so long."
She smiled up at him, "Oh, not so long. I can still keep an eye on you with a scrying glass."
Angel quirked an eyebrow at her, "You haven't have you?"
Night Festival
By: Vashti