Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

Los Angeles, 1996

Angel was angry, very angry. Whistler on the other hand, didn't even raise an eyebrow.

"He'll kill her! He'll spill her guts to Kingdom bloody Come just like the others he's met! She's only a kid, Whistler!"

Whistler gestured with his hands. "She ain't no kid, Angel; not anymore anyways. She's the Slayer it's her lot, she don't cut it? Not my problem, not yours," he said casually. "Look at yourself…you'd be nailed quicker than roadkill buddy. You have your own road friend…"

Frustrated, he kicked the inner wall of the tunnel. He had to help the girl. He knew Lothos, knew what he would do to her in a fight. He'd killed enough Slayers himself to know that a young Slayer was less than demon fodder if they hadn't been trained for long enough.

He couldn't just let her get herself killed. Not this one…not when he …when he cared for her?

"She doesn't even have a Watcher anymore. She's barely been out there five minutes and she's lost her only ally! I'm going to help her and I don't give a damn about what you think!" he growled.

Whistler frowned a little. "We've been over this."

"Yeah, I know! But if I keep my head down, she doesn't even have to see me!"

"Oh right, one look at those puppy thighs and you're just gonna walk away…sure Angel," Whistler said.

Grunting, Angel stormed off. Or least he would have done if hadn't been floored. Rolling onto his back he saw his 'mentor' stand over him fists readied.

His first thought was that the demon had lost his mind. Whatever he was, 'tough' didn't exactly describe him very well. His second was how to take him down without doing him some serious damage – he was still pissed off and the feeling hadn't left him yet. Seeing red was hardly a good state when you wanted to pull your punches.

"You wanna take on your old pal Lothos, Angel? You gotta take me first kiddo," Whistler said keenly.

Angel winced slightly. Natural, a vampire's demon face might be, but that didn't mean that he couldn't feel sinew being pulled, or the bones of his skull crack while it reshaped itself.

"Oh your vamp face! Scary!" Whistler jibed.

"You want scary?" Angel hissed eagerly. "I can give you some of that!"

Smiling viciously he charged at the curious demon with all the strength he could muster.

"Smart move," Whistler remarked dodging the vampire and delivering an elbow into his upper spine. "If you're brain dead."

"Bastard!" Angel roared ferociously, letting loose with a hard right hook.

Whistler looked unsteady.

Got you now wiseass! Angel thought, sending a left handed punch to Whistler's gut.

Right before the demon grabbed his shoulders; and brought him down with a double knee to his ribs.

"I don't…get it," Angel wheezed, clutching his chest. "You need me? The Powers That Be?"

"Wrong pal, I ain't gonna fight my way out of a brown paper bag. Reason I won was you. You're off ya game Angel, its gonna take more than a couple of mugs 'o pigs blood."

"But I feel…"

"Stronger? Yeah, important word - 'stronger' as in stronger than you was when I found you and not strong enough to think you're the goddamn Great White Hope," Whistler shrugged. "A little training a bit more healthy drinking and you'll be good as a new. Hell, I got a couple of tricks that'll make ya better than new!"

"So…I'm useless to her?" Angel asked despairingly.

"Will you quit with the 'oh woe is me I'm so tortured, brood, brood, boo hoo' act? You're gonna help her and a lot of other people if that's what you say you want to do!"

"I…"

"Wanna kill some of ya buddies? Don't worry, you're gonna do your share!" Whistler smirked confidently. "You're gonna do your share…"

"Darla! Nice of you to drop by!" Angel said brightly, tossing his coat onto his coffee table.

"So what do you think of her now that you've had a chance to get to know each other?"

"Sweet kid," he replied with an evil grin.

Darla laughed.

Angel felt sick. His every impulse told him to take a stake to hand and finish his sire. If he killed enough of The Master's followers then perhaps he could stop his awakening.

Or perhaps he would commit suicide.

Either way it couldn't prevent him from feeling rage. Whistler had given him a mission: protect mankind, hunt and destroy demon kind, find redemption. It was that simple. She wouldn't know it, but he would be the Slayer's ally in the night.

He would help her; help Buffy.

Yet here he was, talking to his sire with all the civility of a murderer like nothing had ever changed. Mentally, he bit his lip and chose to flash another smile. Given time not even the ultimate sin would be beneath Angelus; he would see her perish at his hand.

For Willow.

"Luke still doesn't trust you, you know," Darla said.

"Gee, how will I ever live that one down," Angel spat. And you really mean that don't you, Angelus. "Oh come on Darla, I've got better things to put my mind to than pleasing a stubborn idiot like him."

"How's it going?" Darla asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I kissed her," Angel said arrogantly. "Kid's probably hearing the tweetie birds singing already…she's in love…"

"You always were a charmer," Darla purred suggestively.

Angel snorted in amusement. "Sorry Darla but I'm spoken for right now! I have to give Willow my all now. Poor girl looks like she could use a lot of love…besides I need a little shut eye."

Darla looked surprised.

"Catch you later maybe?"

"Yeah," the older vampire replied mutedly. "See ya!"

The door closed.

Angel swore.

He'd hooked his fish. Willow would pine for him until their next meeting. Now, all he had to do was decide when that meeting was to take place.

But that, was a question that would have to wait until the night…

***

The gentle sunlight filled the corridors, the birds twittered their happy songs and all was right with the world as Willow made her belated way to her first class of the day. But though the bell rang to signal its prompt conclusion she could find the will neither to worry about it, nor to care.

She was the happiest girl on the planet and nothing would ever spoil her mood again.

Darn! I'll just have to borrow Owen's notes…

Walking on in the direction of the soda machine, she actually found herself humming. She hadn't hummed since before she got bullied because of it in the third grade, yet why should she worry about what some shanky ho's thought about her habits? All her life she'd been a plain Jane who hadn't managed to attract anything with a penis or at least not in a romantic sense (ridicule, sure enough but not anything else).

Which okay, is sorta my fault.

She hadn't exactly given boys much to think about – she wasn't a Cordelia of this world – she found it difficult to make syllables, let alone whole words if a guy came anywhere near her, when other girls dressed to kill, she chose to dress like the sort of nice Jewish girl that grandma was always rambling on about at family gatherings and to top it all off she had the kiss of death itself: she was smart.

But things had changed.

Angel wanted her. The most handsome man she had ever seen – outside the movies – had wanted to touch her intimately. The memory of their kiss filled her head until she could remember nothing else save that precious moment…

"Willow! My aren't we happy today?"

Cordelia.

"Did you get a little extra math homework to do last night?" the girl continued. "And the red cardigan…"

"Cordelia? Could you help me?" Willow asked softly.

Cordelia and her two 'gooseteppers' smirked in unison.

"Great," Willow replied. "Please shut up and get out of my face now!"

"What?" Cordelia gasped viciously.

Willow chuckled to herself as she walked past.

Jesse was fed up. He had a free period; he was hanging out with his best bud in town. Great, if said friend hadn't spent the past lesson passing quick notes about some guy named 'Angel'.

And was still managing to talk about nothing else.

"I don't get it Jesse man," Xander said gruffly. "The guy's out for something and in this case I am not thinking math coaching!"

For the love of God man shut the f…"Hey Willow! C'mon hang…please?"

"Good morning Ms Rosenberg," Xander added jokingly. "You're looking awfully chipper for somebody who skipped class?" He paused. "Did I say that?"

Willow sat down on the couch.

"Yeah Will, what's the deal?"

"Oh nothing…I just slept late that's all…" Willow answered with a yawn.

"Right sure I bet you were. Got all smootchie with Angel huh?" Jesse put in with a lop sided smile.

Xander went on the defensive. "What? No! A good Jewish girl like our Willster?!"

"Jesse," Willow giggled.

Xander thought he was ready to explode. Willow had smootchies with Angel and it wasn't just some dirty little idea in his buddy's almost pornographic head either.

Willow might have been able to hack into the city council's computer network and work out math problems without getting a sick headache. But a liar she wasn't, not a good one.

Her face always gave her away; try as he might not to think about it, her twitching gave her away today. The guy was after her groin and Willow was helping him on the road to get there.

The bastard!

"Will," he said, "Can we talk? Uh, in private?"

"Sure, Xander."

Xander got up and ushered Willow into an empty classroom.

He shut the door.

"The guy's no good Will," he said brusquely.

Willow smiled one of her sugary smiles. "Xander, what are you talking about?"

"Angel: he's no good, he'll mess you around. He's after one thing Will."

"What?"

Xander ruffled his hair and breathed in deep. He couldn't lose his cool with Willow. Hell, he was doing this because he cared for her. She was his best friend, he loved her, wanted to look out for her. He didn't want to fall out.

"When Jesse joked about you guys…you flinched just like the time you stole my GI Joe, sent me ransom letters and told me it wasn't you…"

"Xander, we were both five years old…" Willow managed a strange sighing noise like laughter. "Okay…but hey! How come you never asked for it back?"

"I stole your Barbie and had ole Joe torture her secret plans right out of her until she sang like…ahem…it was only fair. Hey! No changing the subject Will!" Xander frowned forlornly. "Look Will, I just don't wanna see you get hurt…"

Willow kept silent.

Thanks Will, give me the I don't wanna talk routine.

"It's none of your business Xander," Willow answered firmly. "I'd thought you'd be happy for me. Guys don't exactly walk up to me all the time in case you haven't noticed."

Xander thought about hitting back but Willow cut him off sharply.

"Angel likes me – for the first time, a guy really likes me…"

He felt for his friend, he really did. She'd been through a tough time of late and spending time thinking about a guy was generally a better thing to do with your time than thinking about a mutilated dead body, yet there was something about Angel that gnawed at him every time he saw the guy, a look in his eye.

A spark that, well, wasn't.

Angel had a story to tell and if he was more than just paranoid for Willow's sake, Xander knew that it wasn't exactly a fairy tale and that Angel was no prince charming.

He sighed, Willow was going to get hurt by Angel if things ran their course, though perhaps it was better to stand back and let them. When it was over, maybe it would be better to be a friend, a shoulder to cry on than say, "I told you so"

"I hear ya," he said sincerely. "Just hope it works out for you. I'm keeping my fingers crossed okay?"

Willow embraced him. "Thank you," she said brightly.

The bell rang for class.

"C'mon, we'd better hurry!" Willow prompted.

"Aggh! Headache! Ow..owie owie owieee!" Xander held a hand to his forehead. "Sorry Will, you'll have to suffer math alone today…"

"Xander Harris," Willow said knowingly. "See ya…"

As his friend walked out, Xander leaned on a desk, there would probably be a class coming in at any moment. He'd head off to the library. The librarian would be back today and as much as it pained him to say it, the guy was okay for a stuffy English person. Besides which he rarely saw any souls anyway. He'd be glad for company.

Well, that would be his excuse to self.

"Bloody woman!" Giles muttered to himself. "Barely more than a week and she buggers my entire filing system…"

"Y'know, if you actually used that computer over there you might actually have some hair on your head by the end of the day."

"Oh hello,"

As was usually par for the course with his faculty colleagues, Giles failed to recall the surname of the person standing in front of him. To be fair though, this one was a new arrival on what Bob constantly referred to as 'The Team'; a youngish woman, late twenties, early thirties, dark hair, shapely, certainly attractive, accent aside – from Detroit he believed. But didn't she take Computer Science or whatever Americans bothered to call it? Why would she need to see him?

"Ms…"

"Calendar." The woman added.

"Ah yes Ms Calendar," Giles continued. "How might I be of assistance?"

"I was kinda hoping that you could help me find some books?"

"Yes, of course," Giles replied perhaps a little more snobbishly than he intended. "But I understood that you computer types thought that books were now obsolete?"

"Some do," Ms Calendar admitted. "Still, they have their uses right now."

"What do you need?"

"Uh biographies of Jules Verne, H.G. Wells and a copy of 'War of the worlds' if you've got one thanks."

There she was: a computer specialist, emphasising to students how wondrous modern technology is compared to the written word and such like, checking out a novel warning man about the dangers of advanced machines, the threat that technology posed to society.

The irony of the last request wasn't lost on Giles in the slightest.

"A fine novel," Giles remarked.

"Really? Haven't read it," the teacher said plainly. "Listened to the album once though: in the dark…"

Giles found himself smiling. Librarian he might be, but he still had his LP collection; he'd done the same. Not that he was going to relate the story to her though. Tales of a candle lit room, Richard Burton, synthesized war cries and Marijuana didn't really sound all that appropriate at the current time.

"So what is the aim of the project?" he asked, scanning the stacks.

"I'm going to spend a few lessons talking about differing views on technology and ideas of what technology people like Verne expected by now…should keep 'em busy on the net for awhile."

"Interesting," Giles mumbled, carrying texts. "To be honest I've never gotten on with the damned machines – computers I mean. Here you go, I trust that these will be of use to you? I've included some books on Arthur C. Clarke as well…"

"Thank you Mr Giles," Ms Calendar said gratefully. "I'll have somebody drop these back to you sometime this afternoon."

"This afternoon?"

"I'll scan what I need."

Of course! How stupid of me…people and their gadgets…

"Bye"

"Uh yes, goodbye Ms Calendar," Giles replied.

Yawning, the Watcher went back to his office to restore his apparently "inefficient" records.

Computers. Why was everyone seemingly making such a ridiculous fuss about little grey boxes of circuit boards that did nothing save for display endless incomprehensible error messages on monitors? Information or "data" – quote marks for contempt - should be tangible, with form, not just characters that could get wiped away for all time just because of incorrect key presses.

It was simply beyond him.

"Why did I just do that? The guy's a creep and you know it!" said a gruff voice.

Do what? Walk in here? I'm with you on that one. Giles thought, rubbing his eyes. The paperwork of the accursed temp, Mrs Waltzberg, was becoming ever more depressing and nightmarish to behold.

"Sure he saved your ass from those freaks that one time but how can somebody who uses that much hair gel be okay? All right Xand you're getting way off track now buddy. You don't like Angel and that's all you've got…"

Angel? The name shot through Giles' head like a bullet. He put down his Parker. There was a chance that whoever was outside was talking about someone who wasn't an allegedly cursed demon - but this was Sunnydale; anything normal hardly seemed all that likely.

"Geez Will I'd feel safer if ya were going out with Jesse – Oh God, I really did mean that! Man, you have got to get some fresh air!" The boy paused. "You're talking crazy," he whispered hurriedly.

Giles poked his head out around the office door the moment he heard the library doors swing open. Will? "Excuse me," he called to the boy. "Did you want something?"

The boy stopped and turned around sluggishly. "Uh no, Mr uh Giles sir…" he said tiredly. "Just came here for a little peace and quiet, you know, seeing as nobody ever seems to come here…"

"Really? I could have sworn that I've seen you in here before" Giles said, thoughtful. "You're a friend of Willow Rosenberg's aren't you?"

"Guilty," the boy replied.

"How is she these days?" Giles asked, concerned. Willow had been the first student that he'd met since arriving at the school and certainly the most likeable and charming thus far in his career. He'd found it disturbing to see her as low as she had been since discovering Jaclyn McCormick.

The student seemed uncertain as he answered the question. "She's looking a lot better right now…I'll let 'er know that uh you were asking 'bout her…" He looked at Giles askance.

Giles smiled. "Oh yes, sorry for keeping you, yes you can leave now!"

The young man nodded as he walked out.

Returning to his office, the Watcher lost all interest in the duties of school librarian. Unlocking the top draw of his desk he turned his attention back to the photocopied Watcher Diaries that he had requested from England.

"Angelus takes the greatest pride in the corruption of all we consider innocent or pure," He read. "Thus his most common targets include young women, virgins, whom he will entice away from their families and forge romantic bonds before murdering them (and often their families, should the mood take him)."

Giles sat in silence.

Praying that his gut was wrong…

Praying for Willow.