Chapter
Thirteen
Xander stood alone now. Mr Rosenberg had asked if he wanted a lift back to his house but he just refused. He needed more time.
More time than he would ever be given.
So this was what happened when you died. One lousy slab of tombstone left in to disappear in a crowd of older and uglier variations on the theme.
But then Willow was a person, had been, a person, she'd been special she had been his friend. Didn't that count for anything? Didn't she matter anymore?
"Geez Will! Why did you have to die huh?" Xander swallowed the lump in his throat. "I've got a Math test tomorrow and I don't get it, who's gonna help me now eh?"
"I understand that there's a reception being held at Willow's home. Why don't you go?"
Xander threw a sideways glance at the man now at his side. "Mr Giles. I uh saw you hiding earlier…you know I don't think Willow would've minded another mourner…but then its not like she would have wanted any huh?"
"Xander," Giles said softly. "Staying here isn't going to make things any easier you know."
Xander looked the Watcher hard in the eye. "Guess not, but somebody's got to talk to 'er."
Giles looked down at his feet as the wind caught hold of his long black coat. "I heard that you were the one who discovered the body? "
He had.
He'd skateboarded his way to Willow's a few hours before school in the hope that they could maybe walk there together, like they used to – whenever he felt up for exercise.
Naturally he was wigged the second he reached the house – the lock had been forced open on the front door – so his first instinct had been to walk inside and call out to see if Willow was alright (not to mention scare off whoever had tried their hand at breaking and entering).
At that point he'd felt like one of those pretty kids in a slasher movie because if he heard anybody moving around it was him. So, in the spirit of the movie blood & gore fest, he'd walked up the stairs to Willow's room.
But no moviemaker would ever have the stomach to mimic Willow that morning – not even Craven.
For the next twenty minutes before calling the police, he'd kept himself rooted in the doorway: unable to speak, unable to hear, and unable to feel.
And unwilling to live.
She
was…
"…She uh…was as white as a ghost and she had this smile on her face…but then if I knew that I was gonna die then I'd probably look the same…" Xander sniffed as he wiped his tears in the cuff of his shirt. "She um had all these gaping wounds over her…the bastard ripped open her throat! The bastard ripped her goddamn throat open…and the worst part was I knew I could've prevented it!"
"You could have done nothing," Giles said firmly. "Please believe me…"
Xander crouched down by the grave. "Angel killed 'er didn't he?"
"Yes," Giles informed him. "I think he did."
"Thank you!" Xander snapped. "You see now this means that I screwed up! I should've listened to you! But I didn't and now my best friend is lying deep in the ground!" He ripped off a patch of grass. "Because of me…"
"Why?" Giles frowned. "Why? You live in a world where there's good and bad, evil is a word for serial killers or rapists and monsters live in books or movies. You call it 'real life' and for most of us it is…so why…"
"You told me the truth, that's why!" Xander yelled back. "You told me the truth and even though my gut said Angel was bad I called it bullshit!" He exhaled. "Damn…I'm sorry I'm just um out of it right now…so what's gonna happen to her?"
"Things hardly change," Giles said, grimly. "Willow Rosenberg will remain dead."
"But you said something about Angel turning her into a vampire."
"Something he's probably done," the Watcher said. "But mark my words, what will rise from that grave won't be Willow."
"I don't get it," Xander replied earnestly.
Giles shook his head. "Now isn't the time. Come on let's get back to Willow's house hmm? You've got more than enough to think about at the moment without vampires buggering things up."
"Yeah nobody's gonna worry about Angel any more," Xander said defiantly. "I'll tell ya that…"
Brave words Xander, the Watcher thought dejectedly. But I fear that however brave your actions, Angel is not yours to stop…
"Xander," Giles looked at the younger man askance. "I want you to swear that you will not come here tonight or ay night hereafter until the vampire 'Willow' has risen."
Xander bit down on his lip. "Why?"
"Angel will be waiting for Willow, it's his M.O. if you like. He always strives to take an active part in the 'upbringing' of those he turns. Why, a human might have a chance to stake a vampire as it rises but with Angel there you wouldn't get out alive."
"Parents," Xander grumbled. "So what do we do?"
"If we are going to do anything then we'll meet in the library tomorrow morning before classes commence," Giles told him. "Because if Willow does rise tonight then you'll have to ready for her…"
He was being suffocated by the darkness.
Where was he?
How long had he been sleeping? Many had been the night when he'd found himself waking up in a strange place but he almost felt like he was in a…grave?
The voices flooded his mind.
"Dust, to dust,"
"What the bloody hell de ye get yourself into now eh? God, I miss ye you worthless piece of dog shite! I bloody miss ye!"
"You'll be safe now Liam. Up with all the Angel's God will take care of ye…Hold me Mammy…"
"Rest now…my Angel…my darlin' child."
No!
Can't be dead! I can't be dead!
They were wrong. He was alive; his eyes were open as wide as they had ever been.
He had to be free.
He was alive…
Anxiously he pushed up, forcing all his power into his arms. "Come on ye bastard! Open! For Christ's sake open!" he growled.
Yes!
Soil now visible, he dug furiously. The outside world waited for him to return to it and he couldn't wait to be back.
As the cold night air took his hand, he sighed his relief and forced himself higher, coughing as his lungs filled with earth…
But he was free…
Angel studied the grave cautiously as the ground started to shift - someone was getting ready to spread her wings again.
His mind had drifted back to his own night of rebirth. He had known so little about his nature and yet Darla had taught him so much within hours. She had been the finest of teachers instilling him with the mistaken belief that he could do the same with the first of his creations, Drusilla.
Such a confused creature she had been back then. Not that he could truly blame the child - not after all he had done to her.
With luck, Willow would prove a somewhat easier pupil.
Or at least more predictable…
Straightening up from his crouched position, Angel put on a pleased smile as the newborn vampire's fingers reached out against the mound of dirt they had cultivated.
Welcome
to my nightmare Willow.
"Wakey, Wakey sleepyhead," Angel said exuberantly. "Ready for breakfast?"
Willow dragged herself out before whirling around. "Where…am…I?" she asked, startled. The vampire caught a glimpse of her gravestone. "Hmm…I'm dead."
"Something like that," Angel remarked gleefully.
"Huh?" the newborn turned swiftly, her face shifting to its demon state. "Angel," she hissed. "I don't like you!"
Angel held his arms out wide. "Now Willow is that anyway to talk to your Daddy?" he teased.
Willow took a step back. "You're a bad man, Angel!"
Angel shrugged. "Be that as it may kiddo, I'm the only one you've got right now. And if I know you as well as I think I do," he looked down at his wrist. "Then you've gotta be hungry eh?"
The other vampire sulked, nodding. "Hungry," she repeated parrot-fashion as her face became human again.
"Alright then! Let's go get someone to eat!"
"Hmm…hmm…someone," Willow murmured in amusement.
Angel flashed a smile in response.
The Sunnydale main street was always crowded at night. Teenagers took in a coffee (and a date) at the Expresso Pump while the drunken revellers who actually managed to get out of The Fish Tank made out in dark alleys with the loose women they'd just picked up or slurred a broken pass at anything in a skirt.
If you liked to hunt in the open air but wanted the confined spaces of The Bronze then it was a pretty good location to get your blood from.
Angel turned his thoughts back to his new companion. Who was she? How much of the girl he'd tortured remained now that she was a vampire?
Again his mind led him back to Drusilla. The girl had been as Pandora's Box to him. In life: a sweet and God fearing child of innocence.
In death: a murderess born of insanity.
Now another box was beginning to open, unleashing its darkest secrets on the world. But then that had been the whole point of the suffering he had made her endure. Willow Rosenberg could never be a predator.
He'd needed her to be something else.
Now, he would know if he had succeeded.
"They're all yours for the taking," he whispered in her ear.
"Yummy," the fledgling vampire mewed.
"You have to be," Angel cut himself off. Willow was already moving onward, leaving him to look on in morbid curiosity. "Careful…"
Life has its winners and, it has its fair share of losers. For every high school football star there's a baker's dozen of unpopular kids getting snubbed.
Case in point: Jonathan Levenson.
His shift at the Expresso Pump was history but it wasn't like he had anything better to do than just sit at a table, cradle a cappuccino, and stare out into space.
So that's what he did.
"They're all jerks," he told himself, for comfort.
Truth was; he'd never really been placed in a position to form an opinion about anybody apart from himself. People ignored him outright, said one meagre 'hi' per week, or took it upon themselves to make him not only the butt of jokes, but also a joke. That was the way things went, how could people not be jerks?
It wasn't if he ever really compensated academically. Oh, he would work until he sweat blood, and every single one of his teachers addressed him by name. But for all his effort, he got nothing. Praise was for other people. People like Willow Rosenberg who obviously could do no wrong. In-school clubs aside, the Expresso Pump was all he had.
And what a 'great' job he had. He worked an hour shift two school nights and weekends. His reward? Getting wrapped around Cordelia Chase's finger, that was what! Sometimes Jonathan wondered if the girl would ever be happy when he prepared and served her coffee. "It's too hot!" "There's not enough froth Jonathan." – he could take criticism, he really could, but did she have to sound like a kindergarten teacher talking to a little kid?
No, he had life down. He no longer talked to anyone and everything was better for that, he'd wasted too much effort.
He let his mind drift off again. He was in his world now, nice and 'happy' in his self contained little life.
"Hello Jonathan."
Willow Rosenberg?
Almost everybody in school knew Willow either by sight or her rep. She was bookish, shy, and hardly the most popular girl around. But the girl had brains and she used them.
The girl who now sat beside him though…
She looked like Willow, she sounded like Willow, she basically dressed like Willow (a pink cardigan and white tee), and yet there was something not quite okay about her. She wore the slyest smile that he'd ever seen and if he didn't know better, he could've sworn that she sounded like she was drugged up to her eyeballs.
Not to mention the fact that she looked off colour, the dirt on her clothes…he hadn't seen her around of late…Willow Rosenberg was becoming a junkie?
"Hi," he replied, surprised.
"Bored?" Willow asked, pouting.
"Why are you talking to me?" Oh great now she thinks you're weird! Jonathan thought angrily.
"I like you," Willow said, reaching out to touch his hands.
Jonathan jerked back at the girl's touch. She felt like ice. "Uh huh?"
"Don't you like me?" Willow turned her head away sulkily. "You're like Math."
Oookay,
now you're scaring me.
"You're just no fun," Willow continued. "And I'm all hungry…"
"I…I could get you something if …y…you want?"
Willow smiled. "You're sweet," she said slowly. "I bet you're sweet."
"Gee," Jonathan answered uneasily. "Thanks…I think."
"Come here," the red-haired girl beckoned for him to lean over the table.
Jonathan knew that he was shaking. "Okay…"
Willow leaned over.
What? What was she doing?
The girl groaned as she licked his neck. "Mmmm…tasty…mmm."
"Hey! What…are –"
Jonathan was interrupted as he felt the searing pain in his neck…
"Stop it!" he screamed agitatedly.
But Willow ignored him, moaning happily.
"Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!"
Suddenly, the girl pulled away from him.
He dug his fingernails hard into the table as he slumped down onto it – why?
"You are sweet," Willow commented.
Jonathan raised his head and placed his hands on the side of his neck "Wha?" He felt tears well in his eyes as he stared at his palms. "Blood? Oh God! Oh God!"
"Bored now," Willow stifled a yawn.
"Oh God! What are -"
Life has its winners, and it has more than its fair share of losers.
Case in point: Jonathan Levenson.
No social life, not even much of a school life, a job that he hated doing.
And the last thing he gets to see before he dies is the disfigured demonic face of a vampire.
Still, maybe he didn't lose out completely. At least she snapped his neck.
At least it came quick…
Angel said nothing as Willow casually walked back to the alley; he just smiled. She had killed without hesitation, ignorant to those who surrounded her, to whose who might have witnessed her.
And she'd had fun.
In that moment, he knew that he'd succeeded in his goal.
Though his restored soul cried out to him in torment, though the guilt would drive him to the point of madness, he would continue to run his gambit.
One life for a whole world, he had told himself for solace – now he knew that to be a lie, Willow would kill again.
The vampire almost laughed out at the irony of it all. For thirty-eight years he had proudly taken credit for Drusilla's kills and yet now all he wanted to do was disassociate himself from Willow.
Now he remembered who he was and why he had turned a harmless girl into a monster. But could the ends justify the means?
Angel still had no answer…
