Chapter
Fifteen
When he'd first opened his eyes Angel had been confused. He couldn't be here. He couldn't.
Yet it was all so real, the smells, the sounds, his clothes. He was in Manhattan. Whistler was busy stuffing his face with a hot dog but they were standing near the same stand as that first night on which they'd met.
He'd travelled back in time? Had Sunnydale been nothing more than a daydream?
"I know what you're thinking," Whistler said, with a mouthful. "What the hell's happening right?"
"Something like that," Angel answered wearily.
The demon forced in the last two bites of his 'dog, licked mustard off his bottom lip and threw his serviette into the gutter. "This is a dream. This is a dream that you shouldn't even be having because you shouldn't even be here but what can I say?"
"What?"
"Never mind," Whistler mumbled. "Truth is Angel, the world wasn't meant to be like this but I did my best, fixed you up, gave you all the pigs blood you could wish for, figured you'd keep things steady for awhile –"
This world was supposed to be like this…
"But what you've done and what you're doin' ain't right kid. You got a role to play: the good guy. Now, to be honest, I ain't got a clue what role you got to play in this thing anymore Angel but I do know that you're not helping anybody right now."
"Its not that simple. Willy was killed; Giles doesn't seem to know much about The Master. I had to do something to find out what's gonna happen!" Angel retorted.
"Think so?"
Angel nodded.
"You remember where I parked the car last year? It's there now. I've got something to show you." Whistler said bleakly.
"I'm game," Angel replied.
"We'll see," Whistler told him. "We'll see."
The car, if you could still call it that, was parked three blocks away in a back alley. Angel smiled. Everything was exactly as he remembered it; the dented hood and bumpers, windows blacked out and the how could he ever forget the rust getting ready for victory over the front end.
But then car, like owner, kept a few tricks up its sleeve. The ability to move for one.
"You ready?" Whistler prompted from the driver's seat.
"Ready," Angel said slamming the passenger's door.
The light
blinded him.
***
The car stopped outside Willy's Alibi room. He was in Sunnydale again. What did Whistler need to him to see there?
Whistler got out first. "C'mon, it's all happening inside."
What Angel saw as he entered the bar beggared all belief.
There he was – black leather jacket, white tee – ramming another vampire's head hard into the bar, shattering several glasses in the process…
"I'm gonna ask you again," he rasped. "What's the plan?"
"You're too late!" the vampire drawled. He took hold of its collar and brought him up against a wall.
He punched the vampire in the gut. "What's the plan?" He punched again – harder. "What's the plan? If I'm too late Luke's not gonna give a damn about me!"
The vampire gurgled, a laugh?
He punched again. "You know the question."
Angel turned to Whistler. "What is this?"
"This is part of how things should've gone down," Whistler said, peeved. "Let me explain. Darla and co should have arrived in town a little later, but anyway, you see Darla hunting at The Bronze, alarm bells ring so you go ask ya 'pal' Willy for the dirt.
"Now you know that Willy is gonna get into serious trouble so ya stop hunting for awhile and stake out The Alibi Room every night until tonight, when you see three vamps ready to take Willy out…"
"And I stop them, I stake two and interrogate the other," Angel said sadly. "But if Darla 's come here early then if I did this I would've put myself at risk…"
Suddenly, he was out of doors.
"Now this is what you did with your info if things went right," Whistler announced. "Look over there…"
Buffy!
The Slayer was different. She was older now, with a hard look in her eyes and yet she remained the young woman with whom he had so completely fallen in love. And he, the Angel that he saw before him, was speaking with her.
But the moment was soon lost as the words reached him.
"…The harvest"
"Get it now?" Whistler asked.
"No!"
Angel woke with a scream. It was all so clear to him, so painfully clear. Buffy should have found her way to Sunnydale by now, yet something had altered events. The balance of power was wrong, the evil, the vampires were getting closer to their victory and…
The Slayer would never discover them.
Buffy! No! This is wrong! It's all wrong!
Willow needn't have died. He should have kept watch over Willy the snitch, stopped the vampires that murdered him, given word of The Harvest to Giles.
He tightened his grip on the bed sheets as Darla rose to his side.
"Angel?" she yawned, worried. "Angel? What is it?"
"Nothing," he replied, Darla had wrapped her arms around him. "Just, a bad dream," he kissed his sire's wrists.
Pulling on his vest, the guilt enraged him. Time had passed since he had been told of The Harvest but he remembered, he would always remember…
The hallowed words of The Master…
For two years, Angelus had prided himself on his lack of fear. Why, he'd murdered a Slayer – last years' beating aside – how many vampires could make such a boast honestly?
Yet as he stood before the one Darla had called The Master fear quickly became familiar again.
He was unlike any vampire he had ever encountered with his chalk white skin and the maintained inhumanity of his face. Whether it was attributable to his considerable age, Angelus was unsure, but it would fail to matter even if that were the truth. Evil was part of Heinrich Joseph Nest's very being.
And it drew Angelus to him as fire drew the moth.
"Oh please, don't bow Angelus!" the ancient vampire had said informally. "You have no idea how tiresome it is to see others of our kind bow when they see me…"
"Master?" he had exclaimed, rising out of bemusement.
The Master rose from his throne and walked down to him. "You're not the bowing type my boy! You're a law unto yourself! And…" The vampire was now only centimetres away. "I…like that!" he laughed heartily.
"Thank you Master," he had said with reverence as the older demon gestured for them to walk together.
"Darla has told me a lot about your exploits Angelus," The Master had said. "I particularly liked the ones about your murdering your way through the Welsh – I was there when they didn't speak English…ghastly native tongue!"
"Yes."
The Master then sighed longingly. "Ah to be young again," he had told him. "When you're young there's so much…experimentation left to do, so many new things! I really do envy you.
"You see Angel, I have lost all interest in this undead life. I mean what is the point in all this endless hunting? Sooner or later they all taste the same."
Angelus only nodded. Only moments ago he had trembled in the Master's presence. Now, the reason why became a mystery to him. Powerful as the elder vampire assuredly was, he was also more overtly human in his manner than any of his followers: So much for Luke and his hellfire and brimstone.
"However, not one to rest on my laurels," the Master continued. "I decided that ruling the world might be fun for a time, raising the Old Ones…hence my little family." He flashed a devilish smile. "Why have I asked you here you might be wondering…well, as loyal as Luke is -"
"You need a new lieutenant," Angelus had interjected.
The Master chuckled loudly. "This is why I like you Angel! Now, my followers will expect me set you some kind of great test!" he bellowed theatrically. "And make no mistake Angel, I will do so – I've no qualms about risking your existence…"
"I understand."
"Yes, I think you do," the vampire had replied.
Idle conversation continued for what must have been well over twenty minutes until the Master produced a book that - he had deemed to be a little oversized. But the Master wanted to draw his attention to it. He could hardly refuse to. He'd seen what happened to those who questioned the ancient demon and Angelus happened to be rather fond of both his eyes, not to mention his tongue…
"…But unfortunately freeing the Old Ones requires a little effort on our part," The Master had gone on. "And it always pays to have some insurance. Take this event for instance 'The Harvest'. Once every hundred years or so I am able to feed on the blood taken by one of my followers, 'The Vessel' thus making me stronger. Rivers of blood…
It's rather tiresome but still, you never know when it might come in useful!"
To that end the vampire then handed him the book for a little "bedtime reading" although in reality he did little more than browse through a few pages. Of course he would have done more.
Had he not fallen out with his grandfather, and eloped with Darla…and promised that she would never return…
***
From where Giles was standing, Don McLean had been right: the music was dead and noise now danced upon its grave like a brain damaged chimp.
His generation had Mott The Hoople, David Bowie, and The Velvet Underground. This one had some admittedly decent acts like R.E.M. but ultimately preferred mumbling long-haired morons who looked and sounded as if they were having spasms.
Thankfully, the Watcher hadn't come to The Bronze for the music.
The small club had become something of a snack bar for the town's vampire population. You could almost guarantee that someone would disappear; hence his decision to make his way to the nightspot. A Slayer he wasn't but Angel aside, few had put up much of a fight so far. If he could catch a few blood sucking fiends by surprise then maybe he'd save a few lives.
Or at the very least save his own back.
Come on, come on! There's plenty of necks to go around, he thought heartlessly. He needed to spot a vampire.
He wanted to spot Angel…
It was just like the good old days – Angel was at her side, eager for a fresh kill and even more so for her.
Darla was happy again.
"The Bronze," Darla said with a sly grin. "Shall we?"
"After you," Angel returned firmly.
What's wrong with him?
The Bronze was the same as it ever, that was to say that it was filled with dozens of easy meals and all of them young, tender. Hardly a challenge for two such as her and her darling but blood was still blood.
And the taste of fear was always a thrill for the senses.
"I'm getting a drink from the bar," Angel said. "Can I get you anything?"
"No thanks," Darla said preoccupied. Something wasn't right. Angel was distant, not his usual happy go lucky self…
No, a kill would change that.
He was fine.
He was Angelus…
"Hey,"
"Hey," Darla replied shyly.
The boy was a perfect start for the night: well-built, black hair gelled slightly, cock sure smile.
He'd do.
"Names Devon," the boy said smoothly.
"Darla,"
"Band sucks huh?"
"Uh huh"
And so do I…
Angel pretended not to notice but he knew he was there, Giles The Watcher, probably waiting for a glimpse of a demon ushering his prey out of the club. Most likely he'd been here for hours, coming in early so that the crowds could provide good cover. When you wore a jacket and tie in a joint like this one, you needed all the cover you could get.
But he knew he was there.
The man was waiting for him. Jonathan Levenson's murder had been well documented. Giles was a smart man; he'd have put two and two together without effort. He knew what he'd done to Willow. The whole affair was personal to the Englishman. He'd tricked him, betrayed his trust.
Angel could think of no better reason for killing a person, let alone a vampire.
He had to
do something. Darla was already getting to work on another set of balls and if
they both tried to leave the Watcher would be onto them…He downed the last
drop of beer from the bottle and swivelled on his stool.
Angel glanced at his sire.
Darla gave a slight smile as he made his way out the back of the club….
Sorry Giles old chap but you're not getting the satisfaction…
Giles waited while the blonde laughed her way out of the backdoor. She had to be Darla, Angel's own sire. The Watcher reached into his jacket, putting his hand to his crossbow and made his way down the stairs from the upper level.
It was time…
"Haven't you ever made out on a tombstone?" Darla queried.
Devon looked nervous. "Uh yeah! Sure…" he said amorously.
Graveyards had always been amongst her favourite places to feed. It was simplistic but it was still very fitting to kill someone in the same place where his bones would later reside.
Besides which this one was close to home, thanks to the electrical tunnel entrance underneath the mausoleum.
It was time to get on with the matter at hand. She leaned in close, giving him an opportunity to touch her breasts.
And giving her an opportunity to give him the hickey of a lifetime…
Jealous yet Angel? She wondered, taking a slight glance at her bloodchild as he stood in the shadow of a tree.
"Hey," Devon moaned. "That feels good!"
Darla let her instincts take over, her face changed… "Yeah," she groaned.
She could hear his heart beating faster. He wanted her to take him. He wanted her more than anything in the world now. Tenderly, she bit into his skin…
"Oh God!" Devon howled excitedly. "Jesus! Don't stop!"
"I rather think that she's going to!"
Startled, Darla pulled away. "Really?"
"It's over Darla," Giles said sternly, cross in hand.
Darla looked her adversary up and down. It was the Watcher, the one who'd dared to stop Angel. She chuckled. What was it with these Watcher's hadn't the twentieth century happened already? Tweed?
Still, she wouldn't hold his dress sense against him.
She'd make it quick enough.
"So you think that you can stop us." Darla giggled girlishly. "Oh please! I'll kill you."
"Fair enough," Giles conceded. "But then again, I'm the one with the crossbow at the ready."
"Whoa," Devon drawled groggily. "That was something else…"
"Get away from her, boy!"
"What?"
"Get away from Darla!"
The vampire took swift advantage of the exchange, grabbing Devon…
"No!" Giles had already let loose with a crossbow bolt.
Devon, whoever he'd been was dead. Dead at the hand of a stunned Watcher…
"No,"
Now she had her opening. Darla leapt onto the Watcher, clawing at his face. He screamed as her nails drew blood.
She was going to enjoy herself. "Angel!" The younger vampire moved to her side. "Take your share!"
"Sorry Darla," Angel was measured.
"What?"
Angel brought his right arm around Darla's throat. "The man was right," he lowered his voice to a whisper. "It's time for you to stop!"
Darla grimaced and turned her head to face her bloodchild.
"Angel…" she wept as her life faded unto dust…
Angel could not find it within himself to cry, however much he wished to, as he stared at the pile of ash beneath his shoes.
Silently he placed his stake inside his duster.
She had deserved to die.
She was a vampire, evil.
Nothing else mattered, not even his heart.
He held out his hand to Giles. "You gonna stay there all night?"
The Watcher coughed hard. "You killed her…you killed your sire…to save me…"
"It's a long story," Angel said, deadpan. "Long enough for you to bleed to death anyway."
"I'd rather bleed to death…than," Giles sounded out of breath. "Take your help!"
"Your choice," Angel replied without concern. "I'll stop the Harvest alone if I have to. Doesn't bother me…"
The Watcher spat as Angel held him up by his collar.
"But I really don't want to!" Angel told Giles as he delivered a hard left to the face …
With the unconscious man in his arms, Angel walked out into the night…
