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CHAPTER ELEVEN
Seeing Angel silhouetted in the doorframe, his face a mask of barely disguised revulsion, Buffy jumped away from James like she'd been electrified. Why she should act in that way was a mystery to her; other than her promise to help him, she owed Angel nothing. He'd left her alone to sink or swim all those years ago, when he'd professed to love her, so what gave him the right to act as though he owned her now? On the other hand, she was almost glad of his interruption. Who knew what might have happened between her and James if he hadn't arrived when he did? The last thing Buffy wanted was a complicated relationship - with anyone.
James rose to his feet, bent with some difficulty and picked up his ruined shirt, put it over his ruined torso. He gave no indication that he was angry or disappointed; he showed no emotion whatever.
Back to normal, thought Buffy, somewhat disgusted that James was acting as though the last few moments had meant nothing.
Don't you know why I'm here? he'd asked, that intense look in his eyes, a look, Buffy had to admit, that had melted her resolve and reserve utterly, something she would never have believed possible. And now… Now he was acting as though she meant nothing. Buffy decided - and hadn't she already known it? - that men weren't worth the aggravation they caused. Better to live alone…
"You found some vampires then?" Angel remarked; his voice was full of ironic sarcasm, seeing their wounds, smelling the scent of sweat, blood and fighting on them.
James's mouth twitched up at one corner; not a smile, not by any stretch of the imagination.
"You could say that." His tone matched Angel's, and his eyes returned the black stare.
"Six of them," Buffy said, desperate to have the conversation return to known ground. Safe ground - safer than before, anyway. Safer than feelings. "We dusted them all, but not before we'd questioned one."
"Great." Angel's dark eyes moved from her to James and back again.
"Did you find anything?" Buffy asked; the atmosphere of mutual dislike and tension between the two men was stifling. Angel shook his head, looked back to her.
"Not a thing. No vampire presence anywhere. I guess they're ignoring me, same as the others have. And it's not like they can permanently damage me, is it?"
"I suppose not."
"So, what did you discover? You said you questioned one?"
"Y - Yeah…" God, but Angel was acting in a really bizarre way; possessive of her - it showed in his eyes - and yet cold and somehow distant. And that stare, from her to James and back again, made her unaccountably nervous. "I… er… James got the answers. He speaks really good French."
Angel sneered.
"Yeah. I bet he does. So, speaker of really good French, what did you discover?"
James remained icily composed, despite the obvious provocation.
"Well, it wasn't much." James spoke directly to Buffy; apparently, he thought Angel not worth bothering with. "Basically the vampire told me that yes, Chastaine does live in this city. They all know her, the vampires. Those that aren't in league with her are afraid of her which I suppose boils down to the same thing." He glanced at Angel then. "We'll get no help here, Angel. We three are all we've got, and we need each other, so we must co-operate, irksome though it may be. Understood?"
Angel put his head to one side, smiled insincerely.
"Absolutely, old man." An imitation of James's upper class voice, and James's mouth tightened into a thin line, but he made no sarcastic retort; Buffy had to admire his coolness. About the only time she did, she reflected.
"Good. Because if you don't want my help after all, I can easily go back to England today. It's no problem at all."
A few seconds' silence. Buffy found she was holding herself taut, waiting for Angel to answer. She thought she might scream. Things had been awkward before; what had happened to Angel to make him so obviously and openly hostile now? Apart from his catching her almost kissing James, that was…
"Okay. Yes, I want you here, James; we need your knowledge." Angel held out a hand, and Buffy released her breath in a rush as James - after a seemingly never-ending pause - took it. There would be no friendship, she understood, but a truce, at least. Better than nothing. "So, was there anything else? Any other information?"
"Well, it was rather garbled - the vampire was in extreme pain and terror - but I gathered that Chastaine has her - temple, he called it - somewhere under the city." James laughed bitterly. "Had to be, didn't it? Actually above ground, in the city, would have been much too easy. So I don't know - I suppose we'll have to… explore underground."
"But that's crazy," Buffy objected. "I mean… how? What do we do, get a map of the sewer system or something? Can't we just… set a trap?"
James turned his eyes on her; they were cool, with none of the emotion of before. Buffy found herself almost hating him, although why should she care if he was cool? Until tonight he'd rarely been anything different.
"Buffy, think," he said, in a patronising tone, making her sound as though she were still a naïve schoolgirl. "Chastaine is very powerful. We know that as a given. We also know that she guards Set, who lies in torpor, no doubt in some stone sarcophagus. How practical would it be to set a trap above ground? Is Chastaine going to think: Oh, I'll just drag this heavy stone coffin above ground with me. I'm certain it would come in useful…?"
"You sarcastic…" Buffy was so angry at his arrogant manner, she couldn't find the words to express herself. "I'll just leave you to think of something then, shall I? I bow to your superior knowledge."
Turning, she walked from his room, heard James call her name; he sounded sick and sorry. Well, let him be sorry, she thought bitterly. The man has no respect…
An arm on hers made her turn angrily; she half-expected James to be by her side, but it wasn't, it was Angel. He wore an unpleasant smirk on his face.
"What?" Buffy burst out. "You want to make me feel bad too?" She slapped his hand away. "I wish…"
"That you'd never agreed to help?" His face softened. Buffy shrugged.
"Something like that," she mumbled. Angel smiled; a proper smile tinged with sadness.
"Sorry, Buffy. I don't want to upset you. That's the last thing I want, the last thing I ever wanted. You know that, right?"
"I don't know… Maybe… Yeah… I guess…"
"Buffy," he was closer now, "you know, the problem isn't you helping me, it's having him along with us. He's the problem, Buffy. Not you and me; that need never be a problem again, if we can do this thing."
Buffy frowned; his stare was making her confused. Still the nagging thought: Angel was somehow different tonight, but she was unable to pinpoint exactly how.
"James is… a good man to have around," she said at last. "He was right, before. We need each other, all of us…"
"Yeah. I saw how you needed him, earlier."
"Angel… That was… I don't know…"
"You love him, Buffy?"
"Love?" Buffy shook her head violently. Truth was, she didn't know how she felt, but she didn't think love came into it. Especially now James had reverted to type. "I can't afford to love anyone," she said. "Not with things the way they are." Angel had backed her up almost against the wall; too close for comfort, but perversely, not close enough, in her confused state.
"You could love me again, Buffy," Angel murmured. "I know you could. And if I was human again…" He let the words trail off; they were tantalising. A dream unfulfilled. But Buffy shook her head again, determined not to cave in.
"Angel, if you were human again, I still couldn't love you. Don't you see? It'd make it worse. I'd be… well, protecting you all the time; you'd be a target if you were with me. I only want to help you now, Angel. After… Well, after, it'd be best if you left again. Live a normal life, Angel. Live it for me. Meet someone else. Fall in love with her. Give her children, Angel. Give her everything that I can never have, because eventually, it's going to end for me. I'm past my sell-by date, as they say. I've already lived too long by Slayer standards…" Buffy stopped speaking, tears closed her throat and she thought she might choke. "I can't do this," she said, suddenly sobbing. "I can't. Just let me keep my promise to you and then… Then go…" She was fumbling with her key, desperate to get away from Angel before she really broke down. Angel caught her wrist.
"And leave you to him?" he said. Buffy shook her head wildly.
"Don't you understand?" she cried. "There is no him. There is no us. Unless I can stop being who I am, there can be no anyone… Oh, just let me go."
With a final surge of strength, Buffy pushed herself away from Angel, rushed down the hallway and got inside her room, locking the door. Thank God there was at least a lock on the door of this crummy room.
Angel watched her go, feeling strangely satisfied. He'd confused her and that was
what he'd intended. No way was he going to let James have her. Not when Chastaine needed her more. Needed her Slayer blood to wake Set.
One drink from Chastaine, that was all it had taken. One drink of her blood, which had the effect of wiping away his grotesque sentiment for Buffy.
"I will remake you," Chastaine had whispered in his ear as he drank from the rich fount of her throat. "I will make you so you need fear nothing of Hell and the curse it has put upon you. You will want no humanity, Angel, if you join with me. With me, you can fully redeem yourself. Become Angelus again, and regain favour in the eyes of the Dark Lord. The curse will be lifted, and you will become great among us. As you were always meant to be."
He had looked up from his blissful feeding, his brain dazed with her power and her seduction; he felt her blood singing in his veins; felt… as he had never felt before. Words could not express his emotions.
"How?" he whispered, utterly helpless with desire. Desire for her, desire for redemption, however he might get it. Angelus was evil, true, but he had never suffered as Angel suffered. Never to suffer again… Sweet Jesus…
Chastaine had smiled; she looked positively angelic herself. No vampire face for her; Angel suspected she never used it. Why mar such perfection?
"Bring me the Slayer," she told him. "I know your feeling for her - still there, deep within you, Angel, despite the dark ecstasy you feel now. All the better, for the sacrifice will mean more."
"Sacrifice?" Angel said, his head whirling.
"To wake Set." Chastaine made it sound the most natural thing in the world. "We need powerful blood to wake him, Angel. He has been sleeping too long for anything else to work. So your arrival here was most providential." She looked at him with slanting green eyes. "Perhaps it was predestined? Slayer blood to wake the God. Do it and you are assured to become second to none in his glory beside me."
God, such temptation. Too much temptation. Even a saint would surrender, and Angel was no saint. Never had been, not even close. He found himself nodding.
"It will hurt, giving up the one you love, but the hurt will cease, I promise." Chastaine had drawn him back again, back to her warm embrace and warmer blood. And as he drank, Angel knew he would do as she asked. He was powerless to resist her, and he didn't want to resist. As he fed, he felt Chastaine stroke his hair, running her fingers through it, fogging his senses until he had no idea of who he was, except that he must obey her. Must have her. Wasn't that part of what she meant?
"Anything," he whispered, finally breaking the contact. Or had she broken it? Angel had no idea.
"Make her trust you. Make her want you, Angel, as she did before. Give her little bits of information. I will tell you all you need to know. Don't worry about the Watcher. He is dead already; he just doesn't know it yet. One way or another, he will die." Chastaine smiled; the perfect face became more perfect; positively lit up with her corrupt beauty. "Perhaps I will allow you to kill him too." She stroked Angel's face. "Yes. My gift to you. Even now, he tries to seduce her. And he is not clean from sin, either. Not what he seems…" Chastaine closed her eyes. "Enough," she whispered. "Listen," she said.
And began to speak very softly into his ear, dripping honeyed words of poison into his brain.
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