CHAPTER 51: HELLMOUTH REVISITED


And yet again an uncomfortable silence filled the lobby. Angel used the seconds of stunned silence to quietly count the many old books piled on the countertop while waiting for the explosion of a comeback that was surely due any moment. He got to twenty-eight before it happened.

"Your blood – they need YOUR blood?" Cordelia glared harshly at Angel. "Why?" He looked at her, a pained look on his face.

"For this ritual they need the blood of the last person closing the Hellmouth. That's me."

"Uh, Angel? Your old buddy Attila the Rockhead may have had a big hell sucking mouth, but that wasn't the Hellmouth, remember?" Xander pointed out.

"No, not Acathla." Angel looked at Giles. "Remember when the Sisterhood of Jhe opened it about two years ago?" Giles furrowed his brow for a second and then nodded slowly as Angel went on. "I was the key role in closing it that time."

"Brag much?" Xander said with a snort.

"No, no, he's right," Giles said. "As I recall, you were at home that particular night, Xander." Xander frowned, reminiscing.

"I SO wasn't, in fact I…"

"But Angel, you're good again. They won't get your blood, right?" Willow said, her voice small and insecure. He avoided looking at them.

"Well, that's just it. When a vampire is made, the blood of the sire remains in its system for months, years sometimes. It all depends… In this case, Buffy's own blood can act as mine…" he trailed off. There was no need to continue – everyone understood perfectly. Xander looked at Angel in disgust, all his emotions rushing to the surface again at the mention of what he had done to Buffy. The exchange of bodily fluids thing – it was too much. Giles desperately tried to look even and calm, for once refusing the urge to clean his glasses.

"Is there any way to close the Hellmouth after it's been opened?" Willow asked. Angel nodded.

"It will be a portal, created by the power of Proserpexa's medallion. A mystical force field kind of deal. My guess, not many earthly beings would survive passing through the energy, but…"

"The creatures waiting to rise as soon as the gateway opens surely will," Wesley filled in.

"Right. But my blood – and Buffy's, I guess, should close it." Angel fell silent, inevitably remembering Acathla but trying to shake it off. Reminiscing wouldn't do them any good.

"Alright." Angel noted that Giles had turned slightly pale, and who could blame him. Well, not that he was one to talk either, about being pale. "Normally I would suggest we regroup and consider this… but right now I think we need to get to Buffy as soon as possible. Even if there is supposedly plenty of time before this ritual is to take place, the sooner we can get to her, the better."

"Yeah," Angel agreed. "We should leave tonight, there is still plenty of time to get to Sunnydale before sunup. Just pack up everything we need to bring." He glanced at the object of salvation on the desk. "And don't forget to bring the spell book."

-


-

Just over an hour later Angel loaded the last bag, this one filled with weapons, in the back of his car. Okay, so maybe the weapons part of his luggage was a little heavy – but there was nothing wrong with coming prepared after all. It wasn't like they were going to Sunnydale on holiday. Sure, if things went smoothly they wouldn't have to do much fighting that required heavy weaponry, but how often did things go smoothly?

Everyone was set up and ready to go. Locking up the hotel Angel glanced at the others as they divided themselves between the cars, at first he thought he would be alone in his Plymouth, but he was wrong. Faith grinned at him as she leapt into the passenger seat, this time not occupied by Spike.

He managed a thin smile back at her. Faith had grown to be a good friend. There was a sort of understanding between them, one that he had never shared with anybody else – not even Buffy. Of course, if they did manage to bring Buffy back, that wouldn't be true anymore, and he hated himself for that. He never wanted to share that particular understanding with Buffy.

For a fleeting moment he considered whether he should feel guilty about the past events – well, his actions that had led to the past events – and how they had affected Faith, driven her to break out of jail. She had done what a lot of people failed to do, despite everything she had made the decision to turn her life around, to try to atone for her past. Now she was an escaped convict because of him.

And prison, in the human world of rules and boundaries was what was considered proper redemption. Well, calling it redemption would be a real stretch. In the real world, jail wasn't designed for rehabilitation, not designed for the people that had already decided that they wanted to try to change and make amends for their evil, merely a holding facility for those that didn't follow the human laws.

According to those laws, Faith would be incarcerated for the rest of her young life, possibly her whole life. She, unlike some other people – to remain unnamed – didn't have eternity to come to terms with herself and her past, after all. What point in her change if she would be punished for the rest of her life but never be able actually do something to make up for her past? He shook himself as if to relieve himself of the thoughts. Done is done, he told himself. You can't change the past, only work to make the future better. Which he did, in his own way, barring soul related recidivism, and Faith did, too, in her own way.

Willow, Xander, Anya and all their packing fit into Giles' car – at first, Spike seemed to consider squeezing in between Anya and a large potted plant that she apparently had taken the time to buy in L.A. on some occasion – but he quickly changed his mind. He glared briefly at Angel and Faith before he got into the backseat, making himself comfortable, pulling a can of beer from his coat pocket and opening it. There was a pop and a slight hissing and Spike threw his head back, taking a big swig out of the can.

"What are you doing?" Angel, approaching the car, asked with slight irritation in his voice as he let a look of concern run over the smooth black leather backseat. He had seen – and smelled – Spike's DeSoto, and that was a fate he didn't want for his own car.

"Sitting in your car – with beer," Spike stated.

"I can see that," Angel replied, annoyed. "Why? More specifically, why in my car?"

"Oh, don't flatter yourself," he snorted, putting his arm up and letting it rest on the backrest, the can balancing dangerously between his thumb and index finger. "Watcherboy Senior over there still hasn't realized that the sodding car can drive over 50 mph, plus I don't really fancy spending a couple of hours listening to Xander's nannering. And it's not like I'm gonna rub knees with Charlie and Watcherboy Junior when I can have this whole backseat to myself." He took another swig from his beer, and then grinned at Angel's expression. "Not to mention, this way I get to annoy you. Big plus." He let his beer swing threateningly back and forth between his fingers, grinning mischievously.

"You spill, I'll use your underwear to clean it up," Angel threatened. "With you still in them."

Angel watched as Gunn handed Wesley, who was already in place inside his truck, his cane and decided everyone seemed to have chosen with whom they wanted to ride. Even if he knew that she liked his car better, Cordelia hadn't hesitated before picking Gunn's truck – she was mad at him again. Or was it still? No time for analyzing it. It was probably for the best anyhow. Angel got in behind the wheel and headed out. No time to lose.

After a few minutes on the road, a grinning Faith turned around and watched Spike as his gaze practically licked the interior of Angel's car.

"Jealous of his ride too?" she asked in a mocking voice. Spike's head snapped up and he shot her a dirty glare. "Man, you got a serious inferiority complex going on, don't you?" Spike snorted.

"Nah, like me own car better," he said, unconvincingly.

"Yeah, it has that impenetrable reek of old alcohol and smoke going for it," Angel retorted, without looking back and, well, looking in the rear-view mirror would be really useless. "What is that you got smeared on the windows, anyway?"

"Some of us likes to get around in the daytime, you git," Spike said. "Just 'cause I don't fancy spending sunny rides huddled in the back seat under a blanket… And what's with a vampire owning a sodding convertible? Bloody sadism, that."

"Where is your car anyway? Since it's obviously so much better than mine, why not bring it?"

"Would've, if I remembered where I left it. Too sodding drunk last time I drove it."

Angel opted for silence. He had the feeling this was going to be a long trip.

-


-

Angel exhaled an unnecessary sigh of relief when they finally swept past the "Welcome to Sunnydale"-sign. Actually, the ride hadn't taken that long, but it sure felt like it due to the constant bickering between Faith and Spike.

Angel had quickly maneuvered himself out of the discussion and instead observed them in silence, not really feeling like making merry conversation. Well, not that he ever did.

At the turnoff that led up to the mansion, just outside of town, Angel stopped the car. Gunn and Giles did the same. They all got out to confer further. As soon as Angel got out of the car, inhaling a deep pointless breath of fresh non-smog-filled night air, he felt her. She was around alright, probably watching them from a distance right now. He hadn't really expected anything else. By leaving in the spur of the moment, going back to her hometown, she had gained the upper hand. She had gotten a few hours head start and she had the obvious advantage of knowing exactly where they were and where they were going to be. Buffy had hunted in Sunnydale for many years now, which would make her potentially even more dangerous here than in LA. Of course, she wasn't the only one who had hunted in Sunnydale.

"Okay," Angel said. "It's only a few hours left until dawn, we should probably just pack it in and regroup tomorrow." He paused, rephrasing. "Well, you know, later today. "Giles, we can meet in your magic shop to discuss tomorrow." He frowned. "It doesn't have sewer access, does it?"

"No, no, I'm afraid it doesn't," Giles confirmed.

"No danger there," Spike said. "Been working around that since the beginning, just grab a blanket and make a run for it."

"Yeah, Spike has always enjoyed frisky morning jogs in the sunshine," Xander said. "I'm sure you can do it too." He nodded enthusiastically. "And if you fail, we'll find some way to work through our pain." Anya swatted him in the arm. Xander winced.

"Honey, remember what we talked about? How my new one-eyed-ness gives me right to my share of pick on the Responsible One?"

Angel glared at them both, not dignifying Xander with a response. "No that's okay, I'll just take my car. There is shadow outside the shop at noon."

"Alright. Does everyone know where they are going for tonight?" Giles was looking especially at Gunn, Wesley, Cordelia and Faith – those who didn't have homes in Sunnydale.

"Are we all going home with him?" Cordelia nodded at Angel, looking very unsatisfied with the notion of that. "Not like I have anything against the creepy, musty mansion or anything… well, actually, I do, but more to the point – you know, Pointed Comedienne Girl can come and go as she pleases."

"You can bunk up with me if you like," Willow suggested. "I mean, I… It's not a big room, but there's always room for a mattress on the floor."

"A dorm room?" Cordelia grimaced but forced herself to hide it. "That's… nice of you Will. Sure."

"I'll drive you there," Giles nodded. "And, er, and I'm sure I can find a place to put you up at my flat if you like, Wesley," he offered and Wesley nodded his thanks.

"Personally I got nothing against the mansion, man," Gunn said and Faith nodded in agreement.

"Good. Guess we'll go there then," Angel settled. He looked at Giles. "So we'll meet tomorrow around noon." With that he and Faith got back in his car. Cordelia and Wesley crammed into Giles' car and Gunn took off towards the mansion in his truck. Spike remained standing, staring.

"So who's gonna drive me to my crypt?"

-


-

"Ooh, I'm thinking some serious cleaning is needed if anyone that actually needs to breathe is going to hang their hats, or stakes as it may be, here for a while," Faith said with a frown as she entered the mansion, dragging a finger across one of the tables and holding it up for emphasis, showing a thick layer of dust.

"Yeah, maybe you could… hire a cleaning lady or something," Gunn said, wrinkling his nose and faking a sneeze. Angel stepped in behind them, closing the door and putting down the bags with weapons. He could see alright in the dark. Everything seemed to be where he had left it and by the scent, he was pretty sure Buffy hadn't been around since she got back.

Faith moved on to the thick curtains that covered the French doors leading out into the atrium and moved them for emphasis, waving away the cloud of dust that dispersed from them. She looked amused.

"I can just see that ad now," she replied jokingly, looking at Gunn. "Former European Scourge in search of discreet cleaner. Experience dealing blood splattered refrigerators and sticky demon fluids an asset. Must know the plural of apocalypse. Please forward reply to Crawford Street Mansion, PS, yes, the creepy looking one."

Gunn grinned and Angel sighed, sitting back in the couch, not minding the dust that whirled up when he did so. He didn't need to breathe after all.

"Get some rest," he said, not in the mood for jokes. "It's only a few hours left until sunrise and odds are we have another long day ahead of us."

"Gotcha," Faith said, then paused, a thoughtful frown on her face. "What is the plural of apocalypse?"

-


-

Buffy was lurking. She had learned the fine art of sneaking around quickly, and it had been a useful skill several times tonight. Supernatural stealth may have been a part of the Slayer package to a degree, but not like this. Her senses and movements the ones of a predator,nothing escaped her. Literally or figuratively speaking.

As soon as she felt him, she had moved close to him to watch. Just watch – for now. She was on her home turf now, after all. Not an inch of this town, above or below ground that she didn't know. She wanted to play the game on her own terms.

She had already prepared a welcoming gift.

She had found the girl at the Bronze earlier – her name was Janice. Dancing and laughing with her friends. Reminding Buffy in a sickening fashion of her own self around that age. She had been a friend of Dawn's, as she recalled. Buffy had watched her from the shadows inside the club and followed her outside, into a dark alley one would have to be unbelievably stupid to step right into, alone, in Sunnydale at night.

She had chased the girl at a leisure pace, finally stopping her feeble attempt of escape by catching up with her and smacking her head against a dumpster. Of course, the girl was just knocked out at the time, not dead. Before she had knocked her out she had enjoyed seeing the look on her face, the look of confusion as she recognized her friend's big sister and the look of horror when she realized that her life may be coming to an end. Buffy had drained her, almost completely. For a second she considered turning her as well, but no, it would be of no purpose right now. That wasn't what she had in mind for her.

When she finally was sure everyone was asleep inside the mansion – she couldn't hear anyone moving around anymore, she moved soundlessly into the garden, carrying the body. She positioned the corpse propped up against the wall where she knew that the sunlight would shine on her face later. She picked a few jasmine flowers from the shrubs in the garden and placed them in the girl's hair. Perfect. She stopped and admired the setup for a second before retreating into the shadows for a well earned rest.