She strode through the forest, following the path Angel had shown her the previous night. "I meant to visit. Eventually."
He was silent for a few minutes. "Was that going to be before or after you moved to Milan?" he said finally.
Ouch. She whirled around, upset that he knew and wanting to deny, deny. "Who told you that?"
"Does it matter? You could have at least had Willow call me, if you didn't have the guts to tell me yourself."
He was genuinely angry and Buffy quickly matched it with her fury and shame. She hadn't planned on giving notice at all. "You thought I was going to stay chained up in Southern California all my life? Sticking it to vamps in the local ma and pa cemetery?"
"You can't possibly be seeing The Immortal again." Angel referred to her one-time Italian romance a few years ago and couldn't keep a jealous inflection from his tone.
"This is all about you!" Buffy rounded on him. "You want your happy ending, everything all wrapped up and tidy. You should've stayed with the fancy CEO job for that. In the real world, people change."
She winced inwardly—bad move. Thankfully she couldn't see his expression in the gloom. There was no reply and she felt the guilt weighing heavy. She wasn't honestly that angry at him; did she even mean all she said? It was Angel…
"I--I didn't mean that."
"Forget it," was the brusque reply.
Buffy stopped and faced him fully. His dark eyes were even more absorbing in the darkness. "I promise we'll talk about it later, okay?" she compromised softly, earnestly.
He shook his head. "You don't owe me anything, Buffy."
"I know… But I don't work well with the whole guilty thing. I'll mope."
"Bad habit."
The tension relaxed a little and they rounded the last bend to again encounter the mine shaft entrance. Mike's lantern flame burned steadily, taking away some of the eeriness that had seemed so tangible with the flashlights. She peered into the shaft but saw nothing. There was something wrong; her mind was sending out red siren alarms of danger. Get a grip, Buffy. She saw her knuckles were white from clutching the Blessed Axe. Maybe not that strong of a grip.
Angel glanced down at her. "You feel it too." It was a certainty, not a question.
"Yeah…" She had a tingle of foreboding, as if waking from a vague nightmare.
"Here goes nothing." Angel held the lantern in front of him and entered the mine shaft, Buffy close behind and wielding the Axe.
They were silent, listening for any telltale footsteps or shuffling. The shaft gradually declined and soon Angel had to bend to avoid scraping his head on the top. Shattered glass lightbulbs were strung along a wire on the wall, clearly decades old. A stale breeze continually sighed past them, flickering the lantern flame. So far no fatal fumes, Buffy thought.
"How far down--"
An unearthly screech descended upon them and Buffy had a split second to block some kind of mace as it reeled towards her. She grunted and then thrust back at the Kobold. The lantern illuminated grotesque blunt features set in a wide block of face.
"Hi there, princess!" Buffy chirped before swinging up the Blessed Axe in a cut that totally demolished the Kobold's head. A mosaic of brain matter appeared on the wall. "Eeeew…" She wrinkled her nose.
"That wasn't so bad," Angel noticed.
"Don't sound disappointed. I'm sure there's an all-powerful evil lurking around."
"Shh." He listened for a moment. "There's more coming. Four or five."
"Does the plan 'split up and chop up' sound good to you?"
"Always reliable."
They grinned. It just felt right, Buffy thought. You know you're a slayer when: bonding occurs while spilling brains.
Another ear-splitting cry and her arm nearly went numb from the force of a Kobold's blow to the Axe. To her left she saw Angel engage with two of the other clan members. Well if he could take two, so could she. She spun the Axe and jabbed forward with the end, catching a Kobold in the lower stomach. An arm grabbed her ankle and she swung down, hearing the scream as a limb was severed. Taking advantage of the Kobold's pain, she kicked it back and beheaded the troll with little resistance. She jerked back as one of them grabbed a handful of hair. "Son of a--! Don't pull a girl's hair to get her attention; what are you, eight?"
Angel gritted his teeth against a shout of pain as what seemed to be a medieval flail hit his side. Who the hell came up with that weapon, he thought angrily, reverting to his game face. He twisted the neck of the offending Kobold, then took the flail and shoved it through an eye socket.
"Angel?" She heard his shout and did a quick check.
"I'm fine!" he yelled back, swinging his axe through something that yielded.
Buffy slammed the Axe down on a third neck, her arms screaming that yes, they were going to wreck hell on her tomorrow. In the flickering lantern light she saw one of the last Kobolds scampering back along the wall in retreat. "Oh no, playtime is so not over yet." She grabbed her flashlight.
"Buffy, wait!" Angel saw her go further down the tunnel and felt a pit of dread open in his gut. Something was wrong. That certain scent he couldn't quite place… it was stronger. A Kobold swung with a broad sword and he leapt back, grabbing the troll by an arm and slamming it into the wall. He turned in time to deflect another mace, and then sliced neatly through an entire torso. When he looked up Buffy's flashlight beam had been devoured by the tunnel. "Buffy!"
The tunnel was wider and larger than at the entrance and she had a few feet between her head and the ceiling, although the Kobold was still outrunning her. She briefly wondered how such a cumbersome creature could move so quickly, and then remembered the knife she had packed. Running through a fork in the tunnel, she yanked out her Cutco Pro and took aim. The cutting knife hit like a javelin; the Kobold dropped forward and gave a final howl before she finished the job. Buffy let out a short sigh and inspected the Blessed Axe. More like Gory Axe now, she thought. And it smelled like dirty wet socks. "Dibs on not cleaning this," she muttered.
It was pure slayer instinct that made her turn in time, putting up a defense as the thing tackled her, and then kicking it off into the wall. Buffy rolled to her feet and shone her flashlight at… "Yikes."
The supernaturally beautiful woman was barely clothed and hugged the wall, blinking in the sudden glare of light. Her eyes were golden saucers. Tilting her head, the woman studied Buffy a moment and then smiled with a mouthful of fangs. "A slayer they have brought me! The blood will run sweetly."
Buffy cursed; a vamp in a Montana cave? Even worse, no stake. And all the warning Angel had been able give was a 'bad feeling'? Figures. "Thanks for the imagery. So how comfortable is that dirty bikini?"
The vampire growled. "You underestimate me, child." She moved with catlike agility from the wall.
Buffy grabbed her bottle of holy water and splashed it out, delivering a roundhouse kick at the same time. The bitch was creepy but still just a vamp. The flashlight was jarred from her grasp and she heard a shriek as the holy water hit home. She swung the Blessed Axe in roughly the same area but hit nothing except for air. Okay, the speedy thing was going to be an issue. Buffy reached for the flashlight and barely missed a vicious kick to the stomach. She punched upward and connected with solid bone. Stake, she needed a stake! Wait--the Axe! Duh, beheadings worked just as well as a big toothpick. But the vamp was gone… What the hell? She knew her mistake the minute something slammed into the nape of her neck. The woman was above her, clinging to the grooves of the rock ceiling.
She fell hard to the floor and saw only variations of colorful white fireworks. The worst place to take a hit, Buffy, she managed to think quite clearly. Her spine felt like nails were tap-dancing on it. Where was Angel! Get up, get up! She was aware of hot breath on her neck and didn't quite feel the pain; it only intensified the visions of fireworks and gave a soothing pulse to the shooting needles in her back. Dazed beyond reality, she watched the bright spots of light fade to fuzziness and there was a distant ringing in her ears that grew very high. She focused on that fading light and followed it though.
It was late afternoon. The cookie batter was sweet in her mouth. Joyce looked down and smiled, washing dishes. Her hands were warm and full of suds. A man sang on the radio.
Angel couldn't explain the mounting panic he felt, a cold ice clutching his mind. He ran down the tunnel, almost extinguishing the lantern flame, and came to a fork in the path. Damn it! Catch her scent, find it… there… it was light, almost flowerlike. To the left. He halted again for a moment, smelling the overpowering scent of blood. And vampire. That's what was living down here, he thought in a flood of horror. "Buffy!" he called, praying for some kind of answer. Up ahead he saw the slain Kobold and wanted to smile at the professional kitchen knife plunged into its skull. "Buffy?"
There was a snarl of anger as the lantern light fell on a scene that froze Angel. Oh God, no. The scantily clad vampire leapt away from Buffy with amazing agility and resumed human features to lick blood from her lips. She was stunningly gorgeous and her golden eyes glinted at him. "You… I know of you. Angelus. We could be kindred spirits, you and I," she laughed, and crawled away against the wall at a supernatural pace.
He hardly heard what she said as he rushed to Buffy's side, scooping her up in a single fluid movement. Get her out of the mine, use the flare, find Mike, get help; his mind was flashing a thousand alarms at once. "Buffy? Buffy! Oh God, please don't do this, come on…"
In minutes he laid her gently on the pine needles outside the mine entrance. He moved her head to see how much damage had been done, but he already knew. The bite was full and deep; she had nearly been drained completely. A wave of nausea hit him, followed closely by an even more powerful wave of total hunger. He had tasted her before and at the memory he craved a second sampling. Angel spun away, disgusted at his own urges. Get the flare! He pulled the flare gun from his belt and glanced again at Buffy. She was pale… too pale. Angel blocked out the fragrance of her blood and moved closer. Her heartbeat wasn't audible, even to his heightened hearing. There was blood on her lips… vampire blood. The world dropped out from under him: She had been turned.She's dead, he thought with a strange disbelief.
She'll be alive, another part of him whispered.
As the thing she hunted? A soulless monster? Finish it now, before it takes her over… But he could never do it. He ran a hand through his hair in frustrated agony.
He looked at the delicate yet strong face he could draw from memory. The only woman he had ever been able to love with his soul. But her features were already taking on that deathlike quality, no more alive than carved wood, save for a rosy flush on her cheeks. He cradled her head in his lap with infinite care and gave her lips a soft brushing kiss.
He didn't know how long he sat there next to her. Hours passed into another and merged as one continuous night. It was a dream. His mind raced through circles of anguish, though one idea remained central: he would restore her soul. He briefly remembered the trials he endured to save Darla's humanity, all to no avail in the end. He would go through tortures ten times as bad for Buffy. Angel blinked and suddenly became aware of the time; it was gray on the eastern sky. He would have to take her back to the cabin, he thought. The Blessed Axe could rot in the mine for all he cared. His consciousness was oddly detached and objective as he picked her up.