"So, where do we go from here?" asked Buffy as the partially reunited
Scooby Gang made their way over to Giles dilapidated Citroen.
"To t-the Family Home, where we link up with Willow and Oz. I'm sure they'd want to see you in the flesh", said Giles as he retrieved his car keys. He paused for a moment, then looked to Xander. "Here, Xander, you drive."
"Why me?" asked the youth, clearly confused at Giles actions. Despite Xander's leaps and bounds of growth in maturity and responsibility, Giles still would never allow Xander to drive with him in the car.
"I've been drinking. I know I didn't have much in a normal person's eyes, but unfortunately, the State of California has no bloody clue what intoxication really means. So, you drive, and we don't all go to county for a free delousing."
Xander shrugged. "Makes sense to me! Say no more, G-Man! I'm all over the driving!" He snatched the keys from the exasperated Watcher's hand, then slid into the driver's seat. Giles slid into the back seat, allowing Buffy to sit shotgun. Xander adjusted the mirrors, moving the seat back down into the "pretty fly for a white guy" position and stuck the keys in the ignition. Then, nothing. If it wasn't for the traffic already zooming by on the street, crickets would no doubt have been heard. Giles leaned forward to see what was the matter.
"Xander? Is there a problem? Please don't tell me some hoodlums filched the petrol out of the tank."
"If petrol means gas, no. We're sitting pretty on gas."
"Then for God's sake man, why aren't we driving?"
"I just realized something."
"And that is.?"
"This is a stick."
Giles groaned. "Yes Xander, this car has a manual transmission. So what of it?"
"Don't know how to drive a stick."
"Oh, lovely. That's just great, Xander. Thank you for telling me now, instead of after the transmission fell out of the car." Giles slunk back into his seat, only slightly irritated. Nothing could truly anger him right now, for his Slayer, his Buffy was coming home. He thought about what she had to go through over the summer, living on the lam with Spike, who until recently he had only thought of as a vicious enemy. Even when Buffy decided to leave with them, and not stay where he thought she was needed, he didn't get violent or try to fight. He just accepted it, as if he knew that it was inevitable.
Giles was brought out of his reverie by the sounds of shuffling feet and bodies scooting across each other. He looked to the front of the car again as Buffy and Xander traded places. He was perplexed by this. "Buffy", he said, "I thought you didn't know how to drive."
"I don't have a license, Giles. Doesn't mean I can't drive." Buffy started the car, shifted into first gear and guided the battered vehicle on to the street, heading towards the Family Home.
"Yes, but I thought your mother wouldn't let you take the test."
"I did fail the written test ONCE, when I went for my learner's. That was before I got called on to be the Slayer. After burning down the Hemery High gym, Mom just didn't want to take the chance of me adding vehicular manslaughter to my rap sheet. So, I got Pike to teach me how on the sly, before Mom moved us up here. Plus, driving Spike's DeSoto for three months in LA gave me plenty of practice." She began to accelerate, moving up to the speed limit when all of a sudden-
CRUNCH!! GRIND!! GRIND!!
"Where's third again?"
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"She'll come back. I know it. She needs me. I'm th' only one who understands what she's feelin'. She'll come back.". Spike kept repeating the same words over and over, like a mantra. A shot glass of bourbon sat on the table in front of him, brought over by the Host as soon as Buffy had walked out of Caritas. Ten minutes later, it was still untouched. The Host stood by Spike, placing his hand on the vampire's shoulder. The vampire looked up at him, as if noticing him for the first time. "She will be back, y'know, she needs me. She can't function in th' real world without leanin' on ol' Spike for support." Lorne sat down next to the obviously distraught vampire, placing his arm around Spike's shoulder.
"Sure, that's right, she'll be right back. She does need you. Everything will be okay again", he said, trying to placate him.
"Hey! Piss off, you wanker!! I don't go fer that!" Spike shoved Lorne away. Rising to his feet unsteadily, he began to stumble to the stage. After crashing into several patrons of various descent, he finally climbed onto the stage, roughly shoving the fungus demon performing 'Nothing Compares 2 U' down into the crowd. He stood up, swaying some, then tore through the karaoke book, looking for the perfect tune to fit his mood. Finally, the dimmed lights of his bloodshot eyes brightened as he found it. "Perfect!" He jabbed in the numbers into the karaoke machine, then grabbed up the mike, taking a spill from the sudden movement. Slowly, he brought himself back to his feet as the first strains of the song came through the speakers.
Lorne looked at the spectacle in dismay. He grabbed the nearest waitress, pulling her toward him. He leaned in close, saying in the sweetest voice he could muster, "Remind me to fire the idiot who convinced me to buy that Best of Punk disc", before collapsing into his seat, his face in his hands.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Will, this can't be Angel. He's kinda.dead." Oz stared at the shivering figure crouched before them, not truly believing what his eyes were showing him. "It's gotta be a trick or."
"No, Oz, don't you see? It makes perfect sense! Acathla was going to literally suck the world into a Hell Dimension! It stands to reason that when the process was interrupted, however Buffy did it, it sucked Angel in because he was the catalyst! Of course! The one who was worthy! Angelus was the most brutal and vicious vampire since the Master! Acathla would definitely consider him worthy!" Willow beamed brightly, proud of herself for figuring it all out.
"Uh, Will, shouldn't he be all.evil?"
"No! The curse worked! I restored his soul! I saved Angel for Buffy!" Then, as quickly as her smile had appeared, it vanished. "Oh, God! Oz, I was too late! Angel had already released Acathla! Then I restored his soul! Oh, no, no wonder Buffy ran away! She had to send the man she loved to Hell to save the world. She just got him back, only to lose him again! It's all my fault that she left us!" Tears began to roll down her face as she collapsed in a heap, sobbing. Oz went to comfort her, when all of a sudden, Angel moved. He got to his knees, unsteady, as if he hadn't moved in decades, and moved to Willow's side. He wrapped his arm around her, lightly squeezing her.
"Don't cry. They like to see weakness." He lifted her chin, looking into her eyes. What was in them before, the utter lack of personality, the desolate gaze that Willow and Oz had seen in them before was replaced by steely resolve. "I know it's hard, but you have to pretend like they've broken you to survive. Otherwise, they'll keep pouring it on until your mind fractures, and the whole 'I'm no one' act becomes a reality. I know. I've seen it."
"Angel? You're you?" Willow dried her eyes and peered at him in disbelief.
"Yeah, I'm Angel. Or at least what's left of him", he said as a small smile crept to his lips.
"You know who I am?" she asked, uncertain.
"Yes. He said your name's.Will. Isn't that a guy's name?" He looked slightly perplexed.
"No! I mean, yeah, it is, but it's short for Willow! Me, I'm Willow. Willow Rosenberg! Remember? Buffy's friend?"
"Buffy.I remember.I saw.Buffy. She went through a portal.I followed. It was bright, so bright.then.here. Where is here?"
"LA, man. You're in LA." Oz kneeled down to their level, intent on figuring out what was up with this person claiming to be Angel. He moved in, to look at his face, when Angel's head snapped around.
"I know you.I think. You.you were at a.party."
"Yeah, Buffy's birthday. That's where we met. You gave Buffy an arm for her birthday."
Angel continued to reminisce, his voice gaining strength. "The Judge.I had the arm of the Judge. I was going to leave town, leave the country. I had to get that thing as far away from Sunnydale as possible. Drusilla's goons ambushed me and Buffy. They got the arm, so we followed them. We were too late, the Judge was reborn. We barely escaped with our lives." He sat back from Willow, allowing Oz to slip between the two of them. He continued to speak, more to himself than the teenaged werewolf and his girlfriend. "We retreated to my loft.it was raining. She was so cold. I brought her there to warm up, then we.Oh my God! I lost everything that night! My soul, my heart, it just.went away! I became him again! Angelus! The Scourge of Europe. I became that monster, and I tormented her, night after night. I killed and I killed, piling up the bodies, just to remind her that she couldn't touch me!" He began to cry, shaking like a leaf as the tears rolled down his cheeks. He stood up suddenly, knocking Oz and Willow back as he staggered about, colliding with the nearest wall. Upon contact, he began to smash into it, harder and harder, bloodying his hands as he demolished the drywall. Chunks flew all around as the enraged, grief stricken vampire smashed through the support beams, causing the wall to shudder and crumble. As the wall gave way, so did Angel's legs. He collapsed in a heap, sobbing. Willow rushed over to him.
"Let me see your hands. They'll need to be bandaged." She grabbed his left hand, bringing it closer for inspection. To her astonishment, the hand had already begun to heal. She could feel the carpal bones shift and realign themselves, popping back into place. She watched as the small cuts knitted back together, fading into bruises. The larger cuts would take longer, but they were haling as well. This was Willow's first experience with vampiric healing. She knew about it, of course, but had never seen it in action. Needless to say, she was impressed. "Wow. That was quick."
"It'll be a day or so before they're fully healed", said Angel, as he gently took back his hand. "It speeds up or slows down, depending on if I've fed or not." He looked down, not wishing to look at the red head. She stood slowly, then put her hands on Angel's arm. She began to pull him to his feet, but he pulled away, not wanting her to help him. She stumbled slightly, but kept her footing.
"Will, we should go outside, check the cell, see if Giles and Xander found.what they were looking for", Oz said as he guided Willow toward the door. She obliged him, allowing herself to be guided out of the room, then finally out of the building. Only then did Oz take his hands of her, rushing to his van and retrieving his cell phone. Checking his voice mail, he discovered no new calls. "Hmm, odd. No messages."
"Maybe they haven't found her yet", said Willow, who was checking her own messages. "Huh. No new messages here, either. Oh! Maybe they did find her, and they were so happy, they forgot to call. Or, yeah this is better, they want to surprise us, so they're bringing her here!"
"Or maybe things went badly, and they're in trouble", supplied Oz.
"NO WAY! Why would there be trouble.oh no, this is Buffy we're talking about. There's always trouble whenever Buffy's involved! We should go look for them, Oz! They may need our help!"
"Or we could just stay right here."
"What! No! We gotta go help, Oz. What good would it do to stay here?"
"Cause they just pulled up."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Accompanied by Francis Doyle, Charles Gunn walked into Caritas with a smile on his face. They had cleared out another vamp nest, saving ten kids in the progress. He had to admit, having Doyle sober was a lot more beneficial than having him tanked. He tended to remember more details of his visions. Of course, they were here now to get Doyle drunk, but he deserved a break. So, Gunn figured, did Gunn himself. Which was why he was glad that they had met the Slayer. The Slayer. Damn, that was something else. Gunn had heard the stories on the street, about the Chosen One, the one person in all the world who could stop the vamps and the other nasties out there, but he had figured that it was all a fairy tale. Even when some of the older guys on the streets, the ones from Hell's Kitchen in New York, would tell stories of a sister, back in the '70's, who was their protector then, as he was now, he just figured they were drunk or stoned, tripping off of some drug or another. But now, now all those stories had taken on new life in his mind. So, now that the stories had been proven true, he was eager to make his own mark on the legend. Never mind all the good that they could do here, just reacting to the violence, now with Anne, Spike and Doyle working together with him and his crew, they could take it on a larger scale, maybe do some real good for the world. Or maybe he was kidding himself. All his life, Charlie Gunn just wanted do something worthwhile, to right some of the wrongs that he had seen, do help people who couldn't help themselves. Hell, he even bartered away his own soul to Jenoff, just to get a truck so he could help more people. What good was a soul, anyways? It wasn't like he had lost it or anything, just mortgaged it against the present, the now. And a truck was more helpful to the people out there now than his soul ever could be. Besides, in this line of work, chances were that he'd be a corpse before Jenoff ever tried to call in his marker. It was best to live in the now, Gunn had always thought. That way, there were no disappointments about the future.
Gunn and Doyle made their way through the crowd to the bar, where they attempted to order drinks. However, this was difficult due to the loud, raucous music being played. Being a demon hunter, Gunn kept an open mind about everything, even music, so he knew the band being sung to right off the hand. It was a Ramones tune, 'Rock and Roll High School'. Apparently, Doyle wasn't as musically broad.
"What in th' bleedin' hell is that racket! Can't they sing some U2? Or, even Cheap Trick? I always liked that song 'Dream Police'. It had a beat, an' didn't make ye feel like stickin' ice picks in yer ears!" He finally got a bartender's attention, and got himself a bottle of scotch. He opened it, went to pour some into a shot glass, hesitated, then shrugged and began to chug from the bottle. After several gulps, he tipped the bottle back, smiled, wiped his face and said, "Oh, yeah, that did th' trick. I feel much better now, if only someone would put that caterwaulin' beast out o' 'is an' our misery."
"Uh, Doyle?"
"Yeah, Gunn? Did ye want some o' this, cause I can always get us another bottle, if'n ye like. No trouble."
"Nah, man. I'm cool. It's just that.don't that guy singing sounds a little familiar?"
"Maybe. Now that ye mention, it does sound a wee bit like."
"That Spike guy? The guy who hangs with Anne?"
"Anne? Oh, you mean the Slayer? That's not her real name."
"How do you know?"
"Direct pipeline to th' PTB, 'member? They clue me in one these sorts o' things, now an' again."
"So, what's her name?"
"Don't know."
"You don't know?"
"Hey, I was drunk at th' time, boyo! It's kinda hard t' 'member all th' important bits, much less little details like names." He waved off Gunn, who was standing up to no doubt shake him into remembering. "Give it a mo', lad. It's comin' back. 'Twas.Birdy? No, that's not right. Bunny? No, that was that stripper who was so nice t' me when I had money, aren't they all?" He started to laugh, but decided against it after seeing the young man's anger start to flare. "Alright! Buffy! Buffy Anne Summers. Th' girl's name is Buffy Anne Summers." He sank down on the bar, as if spent. "Happy now?"
"Buffy? What kind of evil parents would name their kid 'Buffy'?" wondered Gunn.
"Can't say to her dad, but her mum's a great lady. Hit me over th' head with an axe, she did", said Spike, who had snuck up on the pair. Doyle shot out of his seat, so freaked that his face morphed. Gunn clutched his hand to his chest.
"Christ, man. You tryin' to give a brother a heart attack?!" yelled Gunn. Spike smiled evilly, obviously pleased with himself. He wasn't so snookered as to botch up sneaking up on these two after all. He pulled up a stool, settling onto it gingerly, as if he could fall at any moment.
"What brings th' bleedin' Dynamic Duo to Caritas, tonight? Celebratin' some bit of demon killin', or is this yer night off?" Not bothering to wait for an answer, he gripped the edge of the bar counter, then vaulted up onto it, waving his arms slightly to regain his balance. Kicking away drinks as he walked up and down the bar, Spike began to rant. "Yeah, you guys do real bang up job. Y'know, for every vamp you dust, dozens more get created. All yer doin' is stemmin' th' bloody tide. Yer like that story. Y'know, li'l Dutch boy pluggin' th' dyke wit' his plump little fingers? Every hole you plug, th' more cracks form. Yeah, good show, mates." He stumbled as he walked back towards the two demon hunters, but didn't fall. Gunn, angered by the vampire's comments, jumped up.
"Hey, screw you, you punk ass Billy Idol look-a-like! You don't get it, man! It ain't about the winning or losing! It's about saving lives!" Gunn ran his hands across his smooth scalp, suddenly wishing he didn't bic his head. Having some hair to pull right now would feel good. Next to him, Doyle slowly stood. At first, Gunn thought his slowness was due to his being really, really drunk of his ass, but after looking into his eyes, Gunn could see that he was stone cold sober. And in pain.
"Now ye listen ta me, ya little piss ant. We do what we do t' help people. Th' kind o' people who canna get help from anybody else. We help th' hopeless. It's my callin', an' it's Charlie's, here. He does it 'cause he was born t' do it. I do it so that maybe, someday, I can find a spot o' redemption for my misdeeds. I let a lot o' good people die. People like me, Brachens. Half breeds, not out t' harm a soul, but were targeted for extermination 'cause o' their heritage by th' Scourge. They did a good job, too. Not a one o' those wretched souls ever made it out o' th' hideout they were squattin' in, much less Portland. I got th' visions from th' PTB 'cause I failed them. I won't fail again. That's why we stick our fingers in th' bleedin' dyke, boyo. Why d' ye do it?"
"I don't, you pillock. Th' only reason that I've any of th' things I've done over these past weeks, is 'cause she needed me to. If she wasn't in th' bloody equation, I'd have been doing what it is that I do best." Spike jumped down from the bar, pulling up a stool, grinning from ear to ear.
"An' what, pray tell, would that be?" asked Doyle, eyeing the blonde suspiciously.
"Simple, really. Killing people!" exclaimed Spike, who at that point slipped into game face. He popped up onto his feet, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck. He looked from Gunn to Doyle, noticing their startled expressions. "Oh, didn't see this comin', didn't ya?"
"Oh, Christ! He's a vamp!" Gunn grabbed Doyle and yanked him away from the grinning vampire. Putting himself between the two, he pulled out a wooden stake from his jacket. "Alright, fang face, let's do this shit!" He assumed a defensive stance, ready for Spike's attack.
"That's really funny, junior. You think you can take me with a bleedin' stake?! I'm 118 years old, an' I've killed better than th' likes of you. Point of fact, I'm th' only bleedin' vampire in recorded history to 'ave killed two Slayers! Here, boy, let me show ya how." With that, Spike launched into Gunn, doubling him over with a vicious uppercut to the solar plexus. He grabbed Gunn's right hand, twisting the stake out of his grip and, in a fluid, spinning motion, launched it into the near wall, imbedding it in the sheet rock wall. As he completed his spin, he punched the demon hunter in the left temple with a hard right cross. Gunn grunted as he dropped to his knees. Spike didn't let up on the boy. He launched a hard kick into Gunn's midsection, knocking him back and up, falling backwards into Doyle. The two demon hunters stumbled back, Gunn's eyes glazed over. Doyle eased Gunn to the ground, and with a roar, launched himself at Spike, hands out like claws. Spike easily stepped into Doyle's attack, dodging his hands and laying a vicious strike to Doyle's chin, snapping the seer's head back. As he staggered back, Spike followed through with left snap kick, catching him in the gut and doubling him over. As Doyle tried to regain his bearings, Spike took advantage to bring a quick knee to Doyle's jaw, knocking him on his ass. Spike spun with the knee strike, spinning twice around with his arms stretched out in the crucifix pose. He roared like a lion, eyes gazing skyward. "Yah! I'm a bloody animal! King o' the world, an' all that rot!" Two bouncers came at Spike from each side, intent on taking Spike down. With little effort, Spike cold cocked both men, dropping them with one punch each. He looked at Lorne, who shrugged with the 'Hey, I gotta keep order' look on his face. Spike shrugged back at him, cocking his head to one side, as if to say 'hey, they started it!'. He settled back onto a stool, grabbing an unclaimed beer. He took a long swig, then looked at the two beaten men. "That th' best you two ponces got? I've fought women who were tougher than that!" He took another swallow. "'Course, they were Slayers, so you shouldn't feel too bad." He slid off the stool, then sauntered over to the fallen men. Helping Doyle to his feet, Spike dusted him off and helped straighten out his clothes. "There you go, mate. Good as new. Now, try an' keep yourself relatively vertical while I fix up Batman over there." Spike moved over to where Gunn was still shaking off the cobwebs. He went to help him up, but Gunn batted away his hands. Staggering to his feet, Gunn looked at the vampire with a look of disbelief.
"Why? Why aren't you killing us right now?"
"Well, as crazy as it seems, I kinda like this place. Shame if I couldn't come back."
"That's it? You won't kill us because you don't wanna get blacklisted?!"
"Well, yeah." Spike looked down at Gunn, then looked away, like he was ashamed of what he had done. He turned back. "No, th' truth is-Hey!" Gunn leapt into Spike, tackling him to the ground. He then sat on the vampire's abdomen, using his knees to pin Spike's arms. Doyle rushed over, handing Gunn a stake drawn from his own jacket.
"Funny thing, dead man. I don't have that problem!" Gunn raised the stake above his head in a double hand grip. He looked down at his target when all of a sudden, Spike's human face reemerged. He had a resigned look in his face.
"Go on, vampire hunter. Do it. End it, an' make it quick.", said Spike, grinning slightly. "You'd be doin' me a favor."
"What were you gonna say, before I tackled you?" asked Gunn, bringing his hands down to his waist, but keeping the stake at the ready.
"I wasn't sayin' a damned thing, you wanker! Just stake me an' go on!" screamed Spike, the pain in his voice evident.
"Uh-uh, man. Not until you answer my question." Gunn got off of Spike and helped him up. Moving back to give himself some fighting room, but close enough to talk, Gunn pulled a stool over to him and sat down. "Start talkin' money."
"It was because of her, wasn't it, boyo?" said Doyle, more of a statement than a question.
"Yeah, I was doin' all of this for her. She needed me. There wasn't anyone else who could help her, not after what happened to us?"
"What happened to you?" asked Gunn, intrigued.
"Well, to make you understand the strange little partnership between me an' th' Slayer, we'll have to start at th' beginnin'. Th' year was 1880."
To Be Continued.
"To t-the Family Home, where we link up with Willow and Oz. I'm sure they'd want to see you in the flesh", said Giles as he retrieved his car keys. He paused for a moment, then looked to Xander. "Here, Xander, you drive."
"Why me?" asked the youth, clearly confused at Giles actions. Despite Xander's leaps and bounds of growth in maturity and responsibility, Giles still would never allow Xander to drive with him in the car.
"I've been drinking. I know I didn't have much in a normal person's eyes, but unfortunately, the State of California has no bloody clue what intoxication really means. So, you drive, and we don't all go to county for a free delousing."
Xander shrugged. "Makes sense to me! Say no more, G-Man! I'm all over the driving!" He snatched the keys from the exasperated Watcher's hand, then slid into the driver's seat. Giles slid into the back seat, allowing Buffy to sit shotgun. Xander adjusted the mirrors, moving the seat back down into the "pretty fly for a white guy" position and stuck the keys in the ignition. Then, nothing. If it wasn't for the traffic already zooming by on the street, crickets would no doubt have been heard. Giles leaned forward to see what was the matter.
"Xander? Is there a problem? Please don't tell me some hoodlums filched the petrol out of the tank."
"If petrol means gas, no. We're sitting pretty on gas."
"Then for God's sake man, why aren't we driving?"
"I just realized something."
"And that is.?"
"This is a stick."
Giles groaned. "Yes Xander, this car has a manual transmission. So what of it?"
"Don't know how to drive a stick."
"Oh, lovely. That's just great, Xander. Thank you for telling me now, instead of after the transmission fell out of the car." Giles slunk back into his seat, only slightly irritated. Nothing could truly anger him right now, for his Slayer, his Buffy was coming home. He thought about what she had to go through over the summer, living on the lam with Spike, who until recently he had only thought of as a vicious enemy. Even when Buffy decided to leave with them, and not stay where he thought she was needed, he didn't get violent or try to fight. He just accepted it, as if he knew that it was inevitable.
Giles was brought out of his reverie by the sounds of shuffling feet and bodies scooting across each other. He looked to the front of the car again as Buffy and Xander traded places. He was perplexed by this. "Buffy", he said, "I thought you didn't know how to drive."
"I don't have a license, Giles. Doesn't mean I can't drive." Buffy started the car, shifted into first gear and guided the battered vehicle on to the street, heading towards the Family Home.
"Yes, but I thought your mother wouldn't let you take the test."
"I did fail the written test ONCE, when I went for my learner's. That was before I got called on to be the Slayer. After burning down the Hemery High gym, Mom just didn't want to take the chance of me adding vehicular manslaughter to my rap sheet. So, I got Pike to teach me how on the sly, before Mom moved us up here. Plus, driving Spike's DeSoto for three months in LA gave me plenty of practice." She began to accelerate, moving up to the speed limit when all of a sudden-
CRUNCH!! GRIND!! GRIND!!
"Where's third again?"
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"She'll come back. I know it. She needs me. I'm th' only one who understands what she's feelin'. She'll come back.". Spike kept repeating the same words over and over, like a mantra. A shot glass of bourbon sat on the table in front of him, brought over by the Host as soon as Buffy had walked out of Caritas. Ten minutes later, it was still untouched. The Host stood by Spike, placing his hand on the vampire's shoulder. The vampire looked up at him, as if noticing him for the first time. "She will be back, y'know, she needs me. She can't function in th' real world without leanin' on ol' Spike for support." Lorne sat down next to the obviously distraught vampire, placing his arm around Spike's shoulder.
"Sure, that's right, she'll be right back. She does need you. Everything will be okay again", he said, trying to placate him.
"Hey! Piss off, you wanker!! I don't go fer that!" Spike shoved Lorne away. Rising to his feet unsteadily, he began to stumble to the stage. After crashing into several patrons of various descent, he finally climbed onto the stage, roughly shoving the fungus demon performing 'Nothing Compares 2 U' down into the crowd. He stood up, swaying some, then tore through the karaoke book, looking for the perfect tune to fit his mood. Finally, the dimmed lights of his bloodshot eyes brightened as he found it. "Perfect!" He jabbed in the numbers into the karaoke machine, then grabbed up the mike, taking a spill from the sudden movement. Slowly, he brought himself back to his feet as the first strains of the song came through the speakers.
Lorne looked at the spectacle in dismay. He grabbed the nearest waitress, pulling her toward him. He leaned in close, saying in the sweetest voice he could muster, "Remind me to fire the idiot who convinced me to buy that Best of Punk disc", before collapsing into his seat, his face in his hands.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Will, this can't be Angel. He's kinda.dead." Oz stared at the shivering figure crouched before them, not truly believing what his eyes were showing him. "It's gotta be a trick or."
"No, Oz, don't you see? It makes perfect sense! Acathla was going to literally suck the world into a Hell Dimension! It stands to reason that when the process was interrupted, however Buffy did it, it sucked Angel in because he was the catalyst! Of course! The one who was worthy! Angelus was the most brutal and vicious vampire since the Master! Acathla would definitely consider him worthy!" Willow beamed brightly, proud of herself for figuring it all out.
"Uh, Will, shouldn't he be all.evil?"
"No! The curse worked! I restored his soul! I saved Angel for Buffy!" Then, as quickly as her smile had appeared, it vanished. "Oh, God! Oz, I was too late! Angel had already released Acathla! Then I restored his soul! Oh, no, no wonder Buffy ran away! She had to send the man she loved to Hell to save the world. She just got him back, only to lose him again! It's all my fault that she left us!" Tears began to roll down her face as she collapsed in a heap, sobbing. Oz went to comfort her, when all of a sudden, Angel moved. He got to his knees, unsteady, as if he hadn't moved in decades, and moved to Willow's side. He wrapped his arm around her, lightly squeezing her.
"Don't cry. They like to see weakness." He lifted her chin, looking into her eyes. What was in them before, the utter lack of personality, the desolate gaze that Willow and Oz had seen in them before was replaced by steely resolve. "I know it's hard, but you have to pretend like they've broken you to survive. Otherwise, they'll keep pouring it on until your mind fractures, and the whole 'I'm no one' act becomes a reality. I know. I've seen it."
"Angel? You're you?" Willow dried her eyes and peered at him in disbelief.
"Yeah, I'm Angel. Or at least what's left of him", he said as a small smile crept to his lips.
"You know who I am?" she asked, uncertain.
"Yes. He said your name's.Will. Isn't that a guy's name?" He looked slightly perplexed.
"No! I mean, yeah, it is, but it's short for Willow! Me, I'm Willow. Willow Rosenberg! Remember? Buffy's friend?"
"Buffy.I remember.I saw.Buffy. She went through a portal.I followed. It was bright, so bright.then.here. Where is here?"
"LA, man. You're in LA." Oz kneeled down to their level, intent on figuring out what was up with this person claiming to be Angel. He moved in, to look at his face, when Angel's head snapped around.
"I know you.I think. You.you were at a.party."
"Yeah, Buffy's birthday. That's where we met. You gave Buffy an arm for her birthday."
Angel continued to reminisce, his voice gaining strength. "The Judge.I had the arm of the Judge. I was going to leave town, leave the country. I had to get that thing as far away from Sunnydale as possible. Drusilla's goons ambushed me and Buffy. They got the arm, so we followed them. We were too late, the Judge was reborn. We barely escaped with our lives." He sat back from Willow, allowing Oz to slip between the two of them. He continued to speak, more to himself than the teenaged werewolf and his girlfriend. "We retreated to my loft.it was raining. She was so cold. I brought her there to warm up, then we.Oh my God! I lost everything that night! My soul, my heart, it just.went away! I became him again! Angelus! The Scourge of Europe. I became that monster, and I tormented her, night after night. I killed and I killed, piling up the bodies, just to remind her that she couldn't touch me!" He began to cry, shaking like a leaf as the tears rolled down his cheeks. He stood up suddenly, knocking Oz and Willow back as he staggered about, colliding with the nearest wall. Upon contact, he began to smash into it, harder and harder, bloodying his hands as he demolished the drywall. Chunks flew all around as the enraged, grief stricken vampire smashed through the support beams, causing the wall to shudder and crumble. As the wall gave way, so did Angel's legs. He collapsed in a heap, sobbing. Willow rushed over to him.
"Let me see your hands. They'll need to be bandaged." She grabbed his left hand, bringing it closer for inspection. To her astonishment, the hand had already begun to heal. She could feel the carpal bones shift and realign themselves, popping back into place. She watched as the small cuts knitted back together, fading into bruises. The larger cuts would take longer, but they were haling as well. This was Willow's first experience with vampiric healing. She knew about it, of course, but had never seen it in action. Needless to say, she was impressed. "Wow. That was quick."
"It'll be a day or so before they're fully healed", said Angel, as he gently took back his hand. "It speeds up or slows down, depending on if I've fed or not." He looked down, not wishing to look at the red head. She stood slowly, then put her hands on Angel's arm. She began to pull him to his feet, but he pulled away, not wanting her to help him. She stumbled slightly, but kept her footing.
"Will, we should go outside, check the cell, see if Giles and Xander found.what they were looking for", Oz said as he guided Willow toward the door. She obliged him, allowing herself to be guided out of the room, then finally out of the building. Only then did Oz take his hands of her, rushing to his van and retrieving his cell phone. Checking his voice mail, he discovered no new calls. "Hmm, odd. No messages."
"Maybe they haven't found her yet", said Willow, who was checking her own messages. "Huh. No new messages here, either. Oh! Maybe they did find her, and they were so happy, they forgot to call. Or, yeah this is better, they want to surprise us, so they're bringing her here!"
"Or maybe things went badly, and they're in trouble", supplied Oz.
"NO WAY! Why would there be trouble.oh no, this is Buffy we're talking about. There's always trouble whenever Buffy's involved! We should go look for them, Oz! They may need our help!"
"Or we could just stay right here."
"What! No! We gotta go help, Oz. What good would it do to stay here?"
"Cause they just pulled up."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Accompanied by Francis Doyle, Charles Gunn walked into Caritas with a smile on his face. They had cleared out another vamp nest, saving ten kids in the progress. He had to admit, having Doyle sober was a lot more beneficial than having him tanked. He tended to remember more details of his visions. Of course, they were here now to get Doyle drunk, but he deserved a break. So, Gunn figured, did Gunn himself. Which was why he was glad that they had met the Slayer. The Slayer. Damn, that was something else. Gunn had heard the stories on the street, about the Chosen One, the one person in all the world who could stop the vamps and the other nasties out there, but he had figured that it was all a fairy tale. Even when some of the older guys on the streets, the ones from Hell's Kitchen in New York, would tell stories of a sister, back in the '70's, who was their protector then, as he was now, he just figured they were drunk or stoned, tripping off of some drug or another. But now, now all those stories had taken on new life in his mind. So, now that the stories had been proven true, he was eager to make his own mark on the legend. Never mind all the good that they could do here, just reacting to the violence, now with Anne, Spike and Doyle working together with him and his crew, they could take it on a larger scale, maybe do some real good for the world. Or maybe he was kidding himself. All his life, Charlie Gunn just wanted do something worthwhile, to right some of the wrongs that he had seen, do help people who couldn't help themselves. Hell, he even bartered away his own soul to Jenoff, just to get a truck so he could help more people. What good was a soul, anyways? It wasn't like he had lost it or anything, just mortgaged it against the present, the now. And a truck was more helpful to the people out there now than his soul ever could be. Besides, in this line of work, chances were that he'd be a corpse before Jenoff ever tried to call in his marker. It was best to live in the now, Gunn had always thought. That way, there were no disappointments about the future.
Gunn and Doyle made their way through the crowd to the bar, where they attempted to order drinks. However, this was difficult due to the loud, raucous music being played. Being a demon hunter, Gunn kept an open mind about everything, even music, so he knew the band being sung to right off the hand. It was a Ramones tune, 'Rock and Roll High School'. Apparently, Doyle wasn't as musically broad.
"What in th' bleedin' hell is that racket! Can't they sing some U2? Or, even Cheap Trick? I always liked that song 'Dream Police'. It had a beat, an' didn't make ye feel like stickin' ice picks in yer ears!" He finally got a bartender's attention, and got himself a bottle of scotch. He opened it, went to pour some into a shot glass, hesitated, then shrugged and began to chug from the bottle. After several gulps, he tipped the bottle back, smiled, wiped his face and said, "Oh, yeah, that did th' trick. I feel much better now, if only someone would put that caterwaulin' beast out o' 'is an' our misery."
"Uh, Doyle?"
"Yeah, Gunn? Did ye want some o' this, cause I can always get us another bottle, if'n ye like. No trouble."
"Nah, man. I'm cool. It's just that.don't that guy singing sounds a little familiar?"
"Maybe. Now that ye mention, it does sound a wee bit like."
"That Spike guy? The guy who hangs with Anne?"
"Anne? Oh, you mean the Slayer? That's not her real name."
"How do you know?"
"Direct pipeline to th' PTB, 'member? They clue me in one these sorts o' things, now an' again."
"So, what's her name?"
"Don't know."
"You don't know?"
"Hey, I was drunk at th' time, boyo! It's kinda hard t' 'member all th' important bits, much less little details like names." He waved off Gunn, who was standing up to no doubt shake him into remembering. "Give it a mo', lad. It's comin' back. 'Twas.Birdy? No, that's not right. Bunny? No, that was that stripper who was so nice t' me when I had money, aren't they all?" He started to laugh, but decided against it after seeing the young man's anger start to flare. "Alright! Buffy! Buffy Anne Summers. Th' girl's name is Buffy Anne Summers." He sank down on the bar, as if spent. "Happy now?"
"Buffy? What kind of evil parents would name their kid 'Buffy'?" wondered Gunn.
"Can't say to her dad, but her mum's a great lady. Hit me over th' head with an axe, she did", said Spike, who had snuck up on the pair. Doyle shot out of his seat, so freaked that his face morphed. Gunn clutched his hand to his chest.
"Christ, man. You tryin' to give a brother a heart attack?!" yelled Gunn. Spike smiled evilly, obviously pleased with himself. He wasn't so snookered as to botch up sneaking up on these two after all. He pulled up a stool, settling onto it gingerly, as if he could fall at any moment.
"What brings th' bleedin' Dynamic Duo to Caritas, tonight? Celebratin' some bit of demon killin', or is this yer night off?" Not bothering to wait for an answer, he gripped the edge of the bar counter, then vaulted up onto it, waving his arms slightly to regain his balance. Kicking away drinks as he walked up and down the bar, Spike began to rant. "Yeah, you guys do real bang up job. Y'know, for every vamp you dust, dozens more get created. All yer doin' is stemmin' th' bloody tide. Yer like that story. Y'know, li'l Dutch boy pluggin' th' dyke wit' his plump little fingers? Every hole you plug, th' more cracks form. Yeah, good show, mates." He stumbled as he walked back towards the two demon hunters, but didn't fall. Gunn, angered by the vampire's comments, jumped up.
"Hey, screw you, you punk ass Billy Idol look-a-like! You don't get it, man! It ain't about the winning or losing! It's about saving lives!" Gunn ran his hands across his smooth scalp, suddenly wishing he didn't bic his head. Having some hair to pull right now would feel good. Next to him, Doyle slowly stood. At first, Gunn thought his slowness was due to his being really, really drunk of his ass, but after looking into his eyes, Gunn could see that he was stone cold sober. And in pain.
"Now ye listen ta me, ya little piss ant. We do what we do t' help people. Th' kind o' people who canna get help from anybody else. We help th' hopeless. It's my callin', an' it's Charlie's, here. He does it 'cause he was born t' do it. I do it so that maybe, someday, I can find a spot o' redemption for my misdeeds. I let a lot o' good people die. People like me, Brachens. Half breeds, not out t' harm a soul, but were targeted for extermination 'cause o' their heritage by th' Scourge. They did a good job, too. Not a one o' those wretched souls ever made it out o' th' hideout they were squattin' in, much less Portland. I got th' visions from th' PTB 'cause I failed them. I won't fail again. That's why we stick our fingers in th' bleedin' dyke, boyo. Why d' ye do it?"
"I don't, you pillock. Th' only reason that I've any of th' things I've done over these past weeks, is 'cause she needed me to. If she wasn't in th' bloody equation, I'd have been doing what it is that I do best." Spike jumped down from the bar, pulling up a stool, grinning from ear to ear.
"An' what, pray tell, would that be?" asked Doyle, eyeing the blonde suspiciously.
"Simple, really. Killing people!" exclaimed Spike, who at that point slipped into game face. He popped up onto his feet, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck. He looked from Gunn to Doyle, noticing their startled expressions. "Oh, didn't see this comin', didn't ya?"
"Oh, Christ! He's a vamp!" Gunn grabbed Doyle and yanked him away from the grinning vampire. Putting himself between the two, he pulled out a wooden stake from his jacket. "Alright, fang face, let's do this shit!" He assumed a defensive stance, ready for Spike's attack.
"That's really funny, junior. You think you can take me with a bleedin' stake?! I'm 118 years old, an' I've killed better than th' likes of you. Point of fact, I'm th' only bleedin' vampire in recorded history to 'ave killed two Slayers! Here, boy, let me show ya how." With that, Spike launched into Gunn, doubling him over with a vicious uppercut to the solar plexus. He grabbed Gunn's right hand, twisting the stake out of his grip and, in a fluid, spinning motion, launched it into the near wall, imbedding it in the sheet rock wall. As he completed his spin, he punched the demon hunter in the left temple with a hard right cross. Gunn grunted as he dropped to his knees. Spike didn't let up on the boy. He launched a hard kick into Gunn's midsection, knocking him back and up, falling backwards into Doyle. The two demon hunters stumbled back, Gunn's eyes glazed over. Doyle eased Gunn to the ground, and with a roar, launched himself at Spike, hands out like claws. Spike easily stepped into Doyle's attack, dodging his hands and laying a vicious strike to Doyle's chin, snapping the seer's head back. As he staggered back, Spike followed through with left snap kick, catching him in the gut and doubling him over. As Doyle tried to regain his bearings, Spike took advantage to bring a quick knee to Doyle's jaw, knocking him on his ass. Spike spun with the knee strike, spinning twice around with his arms stretched out in the crucifix pose. He roared like a lion, eyes gazing skyward. "Yah! I'm a bloody animal! King o' the world, an' all that rot!" Two bouncers came at Spike from each side, intent on taking Spike down. With little effort, Spike cold cocked both men, dropping them with one punch each. He looked at Lorne, who shrugged with the 'Hey, I gotta keep order' look on his face. Spike shrugged back at him, cocking his head to one side, as if to say 'hey, they started it!'. He settled back onto a stool, grabbing an unclaimed beer. He took a long swig, then looked at the two beaten men. "That th' best you two ponces got? I've fought women who were tougher than that!" He took another swallow. "'Course, they were Slayers, so you shouldn't feel too bad." He slid off the stool, then sauntered over to the fallen men. Helping Doyle to his feet, Spike dusted him off and helped straighten out his clothes. "There you go, mate. Good as new. Now, try an' keep yourself relatively vertical while I fix up Batman over there." Spike moved over to where Gunn was still shaking off the cobwebs. He went to help him up, but Gunn batted away his hands. Staggering to his feet, Gunn looked at the vampire with a look of disbelief.
"Why? Why aren't you killing us right now?"
"Well, as crazy as it seems, I kinda like this place. Shame if I couldn't come back."
"That's it? You won't kill us because you don't wanna get blacklisted?!"
"Well, yeah." Spike looked down at Gunn, then looked away, like he was ashamed of what he had done. He turned back. "No, th' truth is-Hey!" Gunn leapt into Spike, tackling him to the ground. He then sat on the vampire's abdomen, using his knees to pin Spike's arms. Doyle rushed over, handing Gunn a stake drawn from his own jacket.
"Funny thing, dead man. I don't have that problem!" Gunn raised the stake above his head in a double hand grip. He looked down at his target when all of a sudden, Spike's human face reemerged. He had a resigned look in his face.
"Go on, vampire hunter. Do it. End it, an' make it quick.", said Spike, grinning slightly. "You'd be doin' me a favor."
"What were you gonna say, before I tackled you?" asked Gunn, bringing his hands down to his waist, but keeping the stake at the ready.
"I wasn't sayin' a damned thing, you wanker! Just stake me an' go on!" screamed Spike, the pain in his voice evident.
"Uh-uh, man. Not until you answer my question." Gunn got off of Spike and helped him up. Moving back to give himself some fighting room, but close enough to talk, Gunn pulled a stool over to him and sat down. "Start talkin' money."
"It was because of her, wasn't it, boyo?" said Doyle, more of a statement than a question.
"Yeah, I was doin' all of this for her. She needed me. There wasn't anyone else who could help her, not after what happened to us?"
"What happened to you?" asked Gunn, intrigued.
"Well, to make you understand the strange little partnership between me an' th' Slayer, we'll have to start at th' beginnin'. Th' year was 1880."
To Be Continued.