Dust Thou Art
by Jeanne Rose
Part 7
Angel prowled the sewer tunnels in search of home, carefully avoiding the streaks of sunlight that pierced the murky air. He was hungry – hungrier than he usually let himself get, the kind of hungry that made passing strangers seemed horribly tempting. He could feel them moving to and fro in the street above.
The tunnels went on and on. He must have been walking for hours. Had he taken a wrong turn somewhere? Nothing looked familiar anymore.
There was something behind him. Something human. He could smell the blood . . . he turned, and froze with surprise.
"Buffy? What are you doing here?"
Her eyes did not recognize him. "It's pretty simple," she said sarcastically. "You're a vampire. I've come to kill you."
He could hardly hear her over the rush of blood through her arteries. He felt his face change.
"No," he heard himself say. "You've come to die."
The battle was brief and vicious. He didn't want to hurt her but he wanted her blood so badly. He remembered what it had tasted like, rushing from her neck and down his throat. But the only blood he got a taste of was his own, when she smashed his face against a grate and split his lip. She was stronger, quicker than he was, just as she had always been. She slammed him against one wall, turned, and threw him into the other. He fell to the ground in a twisted heap.
She knelt beside him, stake in hand. Suddenly her eyes grew warm, and sorrowful.
"I'm sorry. But I have to do this."
The hunger for blood vanished and he remembered the smell of her hair, the weight of her head on his chest. "Why?"
"Because I'm the Slayer."
She slid a hand under his shoulders and pulled him into her lab, cradling him. She kissed him gently on the forehead, then drove the stake through his heart. He collapsed to dust in her arms.
* * *
"Angel, did you want – " Cordelia froze in the act of barging into his office. "Oh my God. I didn't know you could cry."
He sniffed and brushed the tears from his face with the heel of his hand. "I don't do it very often," he admitted. He took a deep, calming breath. "Did I want what?"
"Nothing. What's wrong? Let me guess, another nightmare. And you haven't slept in days. I know I'm a wreck after just one all nighter, and if somebody was killing me in my dreams I'd probably be – "
"Cordelia – " he tried to cut through her spate of concerned babbling. She halted, mouth open, and he realized he would have to say something else. All he could think of was the truth. "It was Buffy."
"She was the one who . . . ? That's terrible."
"It was strange. At first she didn't know me, and I was so hungry that I – " he broke off abruptly, dreading the guarded look that would come into Cordelia's eyes if he continued. "God, I miss her," he finished lamely.
"I know. But it was just a dream. She wouldn't do that."
"She sent me to hell once."
"I'm sure it was the only way to save the world. You two have the best fairy tale love story I've ever seen."
"So when do we get to the happily ever after?" he asked bleakly.
"OK, maybe more like a Greek tragedy – only without the eye-gouging. The point is, no matter what, Buffy will always love you. And you'll always love her. So don't let some evil magic dream get you down."
She had a point. "Right." He looked at her hopefully. "Are you sure you didn't want something?"
"Oh, um, yeah. I just called the hospital. That police officer is going to be OK. They've stitched up his leg and they don't think there will be any permanent damage. Detective Lockley is there with him. Did you want to try to talk to them, see if they could tell us anything useful?"
"It all happened pretty fast – I doubt they know anything that we don't. Or that Kate would tell me, even if she did. Still," he added thoughtfully, "maybe she'd talk to you."
"You're still in the dog house, even after saving her life? Again?"
He sighed. "Her father was killed by vampires, and I was there but couldn't stop it. She thought I was human, that the world made sense. I doubt if I'll ever be out of the dog house."
"Right. I'll see what I can find out."
* * *
When Cordelia returned a few hours later, Wesley was alone in the office, surrounded by haphazard piles of more books than Cordelia had thought Angel possessed. Sweat stains were beginning to show under his arms. He had opened a single window shade to cast light on the small table in front of the couch, where he was perusing some ponderous tome.
"Great news! No, incredible, wonderful, earthshaking news!" she told him.
"What? You've discovered a way to kill the sea dragon? Or stop Angel's nightmares?"
"No, are you kidding? That would just be business as usual news."
"Oh." He looked deflated. "Then, what?"
"I got the part!"
"The part?"
"The part in the commercial that I auditioned for last night! I went home to change and there was a message on my machine!"
"Oh, very nice," he said with some effort. "What kind of commercial?"
"It's a nationally known, big bucks type company. Once everybody sees my amazing talent, I'll be able to get auditions everywhere! And my stardom will be assured."
Wesley picked up immediately on the tiny detail that she had chosen to omit. "And am I to know the vehicle for your grand debut?"
"OK, so, it's a cat litter commercial. But cats are really great, and everybody knows where you have cats, you've gotta have cat litter. Big bucks, you know? People don't realize how much money there is in common, everyday household products."
"Of course." Wesley's eyes strayed back to his book.
It was so unfair. Her first big break, the first step on her way to her dreams, and everyone had too many problems of their own to appreciate it.
"Anyway, it's tomorrow afternoon." She paused. "Any luck with all these books?"
Wesley shook his head. "It's slow going – my medieval Welsh is pretty rusty. I think I may have a lead on our sea dragon, though."
"What's that?"
"It may not be here voluntarily."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm not sure. But there's something very interesting in this book of spells that are used to conjure demons out of the deep – volcanos, bogs, lakes, and so on. I need to cross check it with . . . that one . . ." He trailed off, pulling another huge, leather bound volume from the piles, threatening to topple the whole structure.
She cleared her throat. "Umm, how's Angel?"
He looked up from the book again. "Not so good, I'm afraid. The nightmares seem to be getting worse."
"Yeah, I noticed. Well, maybe he could use some cheering up." She started toward the elevator.
"Cordelia, I don't think . . ." he trailed off as she ignored him, sliding the elevator gate shut and pushing the button.
Angel's apartment was lit only by a large three-branched candelabra on the desk in the study. In the open space behind the sofa, Angel slashed, parried, and lunged with a small blade, fighting off some monstrous . . . nothing. Cordelia sighed with relief as she realized he was just practicing. His movements were controlled, fluid, almost dance-like. She stood watching until he stopped and leaned against the back of the sofa, winded.
"Wow. That was beautiful," she observed.
He shook his head. "I'm just a novice. A true martial arts master – now that's poetry."
"Oh." She shrugged. "I talked to Kate. Or – tried to. I'm afraid we're all in your dog house. No leads." Angel nodded, unsurprised. "But there is a little bit of good news." It galled her to understate the case so, but Wesley's response had stolen some of her confidence. Angel glanced at her hopefully. "I got the part. In that commercial that I auditioned for."
"Oh." She prepared for a second disappointment, but then he smiled quite genuinely. "That's good. Congratulations."
She smiled back. "Thanks."
"So when do you go and do the, uh, acting thing?"
"Tomorrow afternoon. Two o'clock sharp!"
"That's good," he said again. In spite of his sincerity she felt a bit gypped that he didn't have the energy to muster a little more enthusiasm. Then again, the circles around his eyes were getting quite dark. Being stalked by killer nightmares was a pretty good excuse.
"Well," she said brightly, "I guess I should go home and get some sleep – " She winced, realizing she had inadvertently rubbed his nose it his predicament. "Sorry."
He smiled kindly. "It's OK. Go get some rest. You have big day tomorrow."
For an instant she wanted to hug him, but she lost her nerve and just let
herself out the sliding door instead.