Chapter Three
Trial by Fire
Disclaimer: I don't own them.... even though I wish I did. They belong to the evil genius god Joss Whendon, who keeps us on a very large cliff hanger for four months....(* hangs her head in defeat as she screams, "WHY?!!"*)
Rant: I still can't get over the fact that she's dead..... but, last night I read this funny interview with Joss, and now am trying to add a little humor to my depressing fic of mine..... please remeber, though, I'm not very good with comedy....
Summary: Take a trip away from our wonderful hero Angel to the mind of the woman he is trying to save from death...... then, back to Angel....... Not to mention the fire filled room I left him in.
It's really cold here, she thought to herself as she huddled her body closer in, trying to warm her freezing body, somewhat grateful. that she hadn't worn her tank top to battle Glory, the Hell -God who had tried to kill her sister. Failed, you blonde idiot, she though, not holding back the laugh that filled her. She might have died, but at least she looked good doing it.
Buffy sighed, trying to pull the strength together so she could stand and figure out where she was. If her plan had worked, she should be in Hell, the same place where Angel had been only two years ago.
The idea had struck her as she was on her way to her house to collect weapons. Spike was silent beside her, so her thoughts turned inward. She knew that she wouldn't be able to stop Glory in time to stop the ritual involving Dawn. There had to be a way to stop it without killing Dawn. As she filled a duffel bag with battle axes, knifes and stakes, she noticed a small flicker of silver at the bottom of her weapons trunk. Curious, she picked it up.
She wasn't that surprised to see the burn marks still there on the surface. She slowly dropped the duffel bag bag to the floor as she brushed a stray tear from her cheek. Just like then, she was going to give everything up to save the world.
"No friends, no hope. Take that away and what's left?" Angelus said, taunting her as he went for the kill. She closed her eyes, defeat washing over her. The final battle was here, and from the way things looked, she had lost. Her sword lay useless out of her reach, and the sharp point of his was only inches away from her throat.
As Angelus drew the sword back to add a dead Slayer to the list of his accomplishments, Whistler's words cam back to her. She had told him she had nothing left to lose. As she left him alone at Giles's apartment, she heard his reply.
"Wrong kid, you have one more thing."
Angel went to Hell. She had sent her lover, with a soul, to centuries of torture, not knowing if she was ever going to see him again. Months later, when she had left the claddaugh he gave her at the mansion as her final goodbye, he came back from Hell, the ring lost. At graduation, though, as she watched his silhouette against the smoke, she felt something in her pocket. She removed it, startled to find the claddaugh on her palm.
She sighed again, as she pushed herself to her feet, a groan coming from her lips at the soreness in her muscles. Looks like being dead doesn't include the loss of feelings, she thought as she looked around.
It looked hideous. She was in a cell. Dark, cold, and rather rank metal bars ran from the ceiling to the floor, thick as 3 2x4's. There wasn't any way that she was going to break through them. The other three walls that enclosed her were moss damp stone bricks. Giving up on the idea of a secret doorway, she sat back down, and waited.
"You know this isn't real."
She looked up, her mother's smiling face beside her. She raised her head, confusion washing over her.
"Mom?" she asked, her voice filled with child-like hope. A shaken head was her response.
"Don't worry, Buffy. Dawn is alright. That wonderful vampire Spike is taking care of our baby girl." Buffy smiled at that, her fears about her sister calmed for a moment.
"Then what is Spike trying to do?"
"Oh no," her mom said, her hand trailing lightly on her daughters's hair, smiling."It's not Spike. It's Angel."
He estimated that her had about five minutes.
As the flames neared him, he thought to remove his duster, knowing it might attract flames. The way through the fire was lost on him. I've got to find a way, he thought, his effort s renewed by the thought that if he didn't make it, he would never see his love again.
"What about me?" she asked, her tears flowing freely as she looked up to him."What about-Angel, I love you so much- and I've tried to make you go away. I killed you and it didn't help-" she went on. His eyes filled with teats at her declaration of love, even after all he had do to him. Tormented her innocent love for him, killed her friends, and tried to kill her so many times he lost count. Yet he still loved her. Always would.
Angel growled in frustration, trying to find a way to get past the flames that inched every closer to him....
"The hands stand for friendship, " he said, not able to meet her eyes. The circle of silver caught and reflected the lights from the docks. She watched him, her eyes beginning to gleam with unshed tears. "The crown loyalty, and..." his voice trailed off, not knowing if he could put his feelings into words. "Well, you know, " he said, embarrassed.
Of course, he told himself, cursing his brain because it couldn't come up with the answer. Quickly, he removed the velvet pouch he had been carrying, and removed what was inside. Shining just like the day he bought it, was a claddaugh ring. He slid it on his finger, the heart facing toward him. He stepped up to the flames, praying to every god he knew that this would work. Taking a deep breath, he took a step forward into the flames.
They surrounded him, hungry, starved animals thirsty for his flesh, no matter how dead it was. Yet, he did not burn. He felt as if his skin was burning off in layers, yet he still was alive. He ran in the direction he thought was the other side of the room. As the cool air reached him, he heard the slow, sarcastic applauding behind him. He looked up, gasping for breath to see the woman standing in front of him, offering her hand to help him up. He brushed it aside, choosing to rise to his feet on his own accord.
"Congratulations," she said." Test number one has been completed. Only two more to go,Liam."
Trial by Fire
Disclaimer: I don't own them.... even though I wish I did. They belong to the evil genius god Joss Whendon, who keeps us on a very large cliff hanger for four months....(* hangs her head in defeat as she screams, "WHY?!!"*)
Rant: I still can't get over the fact that she's dead..... but, last night I read this funny interview with Joss, and now am trying to add a little humor to my depressing fic of mine..... please remeber, though, I'm not very good with comedy....
Summary: Take a trip away from our wonderful hero Angel to the mind of the woman he is trying to save from death...... then, back to Angel....... Not to mention the fire filled room I left him in.
It's really cold here, she thought to herself as she huddled her body closer in, trying to warm her freezing body, somewhat grateful. that she hadn't worn her tank top to battle Glory, the Hell -God who had tried to kill her sister. Failed, you blonde idiot, she though, not holding back the laugh that filled her. She might have died, but at least she looked good doing it.
Buffy sighed, trying to pull the strength together so she could stand and figure out where she was. If her plan had worked, she should be in Hell, the same place where Angel had been only two years ago.
The idea had struck her as she was on her way to her house to collect weapons. Spike was silent beside her, so her thoughts turned inward. She knew that she wouldn't be able to stop Glory in time to stop the ritual involving Dawn. There had to be a way to stop it without killing Dawn. As she filled a duffel bag with battle axes, knifes and stakes, she noticed a small flicker of silver at the bottom of her weapons trunk. Curious, she picked it up.
She wasn't that surprised to see the burn marks still there on the surface. She slowly dropped the duffel bag bag to the floor as she brushed a stray tear from her cheek. Just like then, she was going to give everything up to save the world.
"No friends, no hope. Take that away and what's left?" Angelus said, taunting her as he went for the kill. She closed her eyes, defeat washing over her. The final battle was here, and from the way things looked, she had lost. Her sword lay useless out of her reach, and the sharp point of his was only inches away from her throat.
As Angelus drew the sword back to add a dead Slayer to the list of his accomplishments, Whistler's words cam back to her. She had told him she had nothing left to lose. As she left him alone at Giles's apartment, she heard his reply.
"Wrong kid, you have one more thing."
Angel went to Hell. She had sent her lover, with a soul, to centuries of torture, not knowing if she was ever going to see him again. Months later, when she had left the claddaugh he gave her at the mansion as her final goodbye, he came back from Hell, the ring lost. At graduation, though, as she watched his silhouette against the smoke, she felt something in her pocket. She removed it, startled to find the claddaugh on her palm.
She sighed again, as she pushed herself to her feet, a groan coming from her lips at the soreness in her muscles. Looks like being dead doesn't include the loss of feelings, she thought as she looked around.
It looked hideous. She was in a cell. Dark, cold, and rather rank metal bars ran from the ceiling to the floor, thick as 3 2x4's. There wasn't any way that she was going to break through them. The other three walls that enclosed her were moss damp stone bricks. Giving up on the idea of a secret doorway, she sat back down, and waited.
"You know this isn't real."
She looked up, her mother's smiling face beside her. She raised her head, confusion washing over her.
"Mom?" she asked, her voice filled with child-like hope. A shaken head was her response.
"Don't worry, Buffy. Dawn is alright. That wonderful vampire Spike is taking care of our baby girl." Buffy smiled at that, her fears about her sister calmed for a moment.
"Then what is Spike trying to do?"
"Oh no," her mom said, her hand trailing lightly on her daughters's hair, smiling."It's not Spike. It's Angel."
He estimated that her had about five minutes.
As the flames neared him, he thought to remove his duster, knowing it might attract flames. The way through the fire was lost on him. I've got to find a way, he thought, his effort s renewed by the thought that if he didn't make it, he would never see his love again.
"What about me?" she asked, her tears flowing freely as she looked up to him."What about-Angel, I love you so much- and I've tried to make you go away. I killed you and it didn't help-" she went on. His eyes filled with teats at her declaration of love, even after all he had do to him. Tormented her innocent love for him, killed her friends, and tried to kill her so many times he lost count. Yet he still loved her. Always would.
Angel growled in frustration, trying to find a way to get past the flames that inched every closer to him....
"The hands stand for friendship, " he said, not able to meet her eyes. The circle of silver caught and reflected the lights from the docks. She watched him, her eyes beginning to gleam with unshed tears. "The crown loyalty, and..." his voice trailed off, not knowing if he could put his feelings into words. "Well, you know, " he said, embarrassed.
Of course, he told himself, cursing his brain because it couldn't come up with the answer. Quickly, he removed the velvet pouch he had been carrying, and removed what was inside. Shining just like the day he bought it, was a claddaugh ring. He slid it on his finger, the heart facing toward him. He stepped up to the flames, praying to every god he knew that this would work. Taking a deep breath, he took a step forward into the flames.
They surrounded him, hungry, starved animals thirsty for his flesh, no matter how dead it was. Yet, he did not burn. He felt as if his skin was burning off in layers, yet he still was alive. He ran in the direction he thought was the other side of the room. As the cool air reached him, he heard the slow, sarcastic applauding behind him. He looked up, gasping for breath to see the woman standing in front of him, offering her hand to help him up. He brushed it aside, choosing to rise to his feet on his own accord.
"Congratulations," she said." Test number one has been completed. Only two more to go,Liam."