Summary: When an unforeseen evil once again threatens to destroy the world,
Buffy and the gang, along with some unexpected help, join together to
release a reluctant champion from the clutches of hell. But will he be the
prophesized savior or will he destroy them all?
Notes: Contains spoilers from BtVS seasons one through three.
Feedback: Any and all comments are welcome and appreciated.
Chapter Nine
"Cordelia was right," Buffy muttered quietly as she walked into the library, "he does live here." A slow, almost tender smile crept unbidden across her lips as she watched the sleeping librarian. He had fallen asleep in the midst of research, as the ancient book currently being used as a pillow testified. His glasses hung precariously from one ear, threatening to fall off at any given moment. Gently she reached out to retrieve them before disaster occurred.
"Buffy?" Giles blinked as he gazed at his ward through bleary eyes.
"We've got to work on my stealth-mode," Buffy said with a forced smile as she handed her Watcher his glasses, "if I can't steal glasses from a Watcher then I definitely need some training in that department."
"Yes quite," the Watcher murmured, obviously still groggy from sleep. He suddenly jumped in his chair as memories hit him, "Angel! Did you and Spike find him?"
"Somebody's in the know," she replied as she shook her head.
"Willow called and told me what happened. I wish I could have been here to see it," he sighed regretfully. "After that your mother called. I had to lie and tell her that you were sleeping over at Willow's after some lengthy research. She was not a happy woman." He gave her a stern look, "try to keep me in the know, so to speak, Buffy. With that storm raging last night you really had me worried."
A delicate eyebrow rose humorously, "I went after Angel with Spike and you were worried about a little rain? Contradiction much?"
He gave her the familiar resigned look he usually did when she abused the English language, "it wasn't a regular storm, Buffy. It felt all wrong. Besides," he added as he ran a weary hand through his graying hair, "the bloody thing kept me up half the night. Finally I just gave up on sleep altogether and came here."
"Find anything interesting?" Buffy asked as she motioned towards the slept on book.
"Nothing terribly exciting," Giles admitted as he guiltily smoothed out the rumpled cheek-shaped pages. "There was one passage that seemed relevant, but I couldn't make heads or tails of it. Something to do with power."
"Really?" Buffy asked as disinterestedly as she could. "What did it say?"
Giles shrugged as he finally gave up on the book and moved on to clean his glasses. "Something about power and corruption," he thought for a moment as his hands meticulously cleaned the glistening lenses. It's almost like meditation for him, Buffy suddenly realized as the Watcher began reciting. "And she shall empower him with the strength above all others, for it is known that power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely." He shook his head in frustration, "absolute gibberish is what I say," he muttered.
She felt the delicate hairs on the nape of her neck rise as shivers ran up and down her spine. It all fit together in a kind of horrible logic that made her want to scream. She needed to tell him about the elders, keeping him in the dark left her all alone. She couldn't do this alone. "Giles," she began hesitantly. This will destroy him, she thought miserably.
"I still say it's your fault," Cordelia's shrill voice came floating down the empty hall.
"How is it my fault?" Xander asked, his voice hovering somewhere between humor and weariness.
Their argument had obviously been going on for some time and was merely reaching its high point as the unlikely pair burst into the library. "Not just your fault," the may queen replied acidly, "all of you. It's all your fault." She motioned towards the startled Watcher and Slayer as if it were the most natural thing in the world for them all to be at the school slightly after dawn. On second thought, Buffy thought irritably, it wasn't really that rare either. "It's unnatural that every time something falls out of the sky it happens to land on me!"
"It didn't really fall out of the sky," Xander corrected demurely.
"I don't care where it fell out of," Cordelia grated through clenched teeth. "It still managed to land on me! It's a curse, it has to be a curse. There's no other explanation. I hang out with you people and I get cursed!"
"Your hair's wet," Buffy observed helpfully as the pretty brunette opened her mouth to deliver another blistering accusation.
Xander winced as Cordelia slowly turned towards the Slayer, her eyes narrowed and flaming as if she had received a deadly insult. "Gee, you think?" She said bitingly. "See, somehow I managed to miss it when that tree I was walking under decided to rain on me." The cheerleader's dripping hair made her mascara run giving her the appearance of an extremely annoyed clown. One look at Cordelia's face, however, deemed it best not to mention that. With a huff she retrieved a small facial towel from her bag and stormed out of the library. "I still say it's a curse," came floating back from the hallway through the swinging doors.
"Well she's a regular Miss Congeniality this morning," Buffy said brightly. "What's her issue?"
"Beauty sleep," Xander shrugged helplessly, "or rather lack thereof. Damn storm kept both of us up half the night. She called me and we talked till dawn," he added as they stared at him. "You two have very dirty minds. That's usually my field of expertise."
"Trust him, it really is," Willow murmured as she walked haggardly into the library. "I just saw Cordelia dripping down the hallway babbling something about a curse and things falling on her." The tired redhead looked up at the Watcher, "is it anything important?"
"Not to us anyway," Buffy muttered, ignoring the dirty look Xander threw her way. "You're looking a bit un-Willowy, Will," she said, noting the dark circles under her friend's eyes.
The pretty hacker sighed and slumped into a nearby chair, "stupid storm kept me up."
"Half the night?" Buffy offered.
"I wish," Willow snorted, "try the whole night. After the earthquake I couldn't get back to sleep."
They stared at her, "earthquake?" Giles finally spluttered.
Willow nodded, lost in her own fatigue and oblivious to their shock, "yeah, a real doozie too."
The Watcher reached for his glasses, "I knew that storm felt unnatural," he muttered as he fiercely cleaned the unoffending lenses.
"You think Angel had something to do with this?" Buffy asked quietly.
"Let's see," Xander said, sarcasm dripping off his voice, "a kick-ass thunder storm in the middle of autumn in a place were you have to pray for some rain around wintertime. And oh yeah, another earthquake. Nope, just Mother Nature back to her old tricks, no Angel intervention there."
"See, I knew this had something to do with you people," Cordelia muttered sourly as she pushed her way through the library's swinging doors. Her face and hair had returned to their usual perfection, but there was still a dangerous glint in her eyes.
"There's more," Willow said, a yawn escaping her lips. "After I accepted the fact that I wasn't about to fall back to asleep, I slipped into the city coroner's web site."
"Eww, morbid much?" Cordelia complained.
"I didn't know the coroner had an open web-site."
A slow flush crept up the timid hacker's face, "well not exactly a web-site per say, more like encrypted files with a state of the art security system," she couldn't hide the pride in her voice. "Well, it was a long night and I got bored," she explained as her friends stared at her. "Anyway," she went on quickly, "they found a homeless guy's body last night," she raised her pallid face to look the Slayer straight in the face. "He had two sets of bite marks on his neck."
"Looks like Angel had himself a little party last night," Xander grated brusquely.
"Two different sets of bite marks," Willow emphasized.
"So he invited a friend?"
"Spike was with you last night?" Giles asked, looking at his suddenly pale charge. With her jaws clenched tight and her muscles aching to strike, Buffy slowly nodded her head. "So if it was Angel that only leaves Drusilla."
Willow shook her head, "according to the report the marks were large and roughly the same size. Women generally have smaller teeth then men. It wasn't Dru." She gave Buffy a comforting look, "it was probably a couple of rogue vampires who couldn't help themselves."
"When the cat's away," Xander murmured.
"I don't like this," Giles said shaking his head, "if it was just a random vampire attack then that means Spike is loosing control over his clan." He looked his shaken Slayer in the face, "which in turn means that any deal you've made with him is deemed worthless. You need to talk to Spike, head this off before it goes any further."
"Yeah," Buffy agreed mechanically, her thoughts an uncontrollable whirlwind in her head, "I'll talk to Spike." Right before I make sure he fits in an ashtray, she thought wickedly.
Xander shook his head, "I'm still not convinced it wasn't Angel, I mean with the earthquake last night we know something happened that had to do with him."
"It could have just been the storm," Willow offered, barely suppressing another yawn.
"Which really brings up my curse," Cordelia threw in.
"I mean how many vampires have you seen around Angel besides Spike and Drusilla?" Willow went on, completely ignoring the irritated brunette.
"Hello people, what about my curse?"
"Yeah," Xander conceded, "I guess that's logical."
Cordelia turned on him, her eyes promising violence. No one ignored her and got away with it, "what," she said acidly, "you're a Vulcan now?"
He gave her an impudent grin and she flushed realizing she'd been duped, "live long and prosper," he replied automatically.
"Huh?"
"Never mind."
"I think that on that note you should all get to class," Giles said rolling his eyes at the entire exchange.
"We still have plenty of time," Xander objected.
"Nevertheless," the Watcher replied.
"Come on Xander," Buffy said lightly, "lets leave Giles alone so he can bond with his books."
"Oh God," Willow moaned, "classes! I can't deal with classes. Thinking hurts."
"Now you know how I feel most of the time, Will," Xander said sympathetically as he put his arm around his friend's shoulders, half supporting her.
The tired hacker yawned as she rose to her feet, "I have no idea how I'm going to get through this day," she complained as they all left the Watcher to his books.
Willow's sentiment was apparently wide spread, Buffy discovered as the empty school began to teem with life. Pallid and lethargic students made their weary way to class to face irritated and bleary-eyed teachers. Finally, around mid-day the teaching staff had managed to corner Principal Snyder into giving them all the rest of the day off.
"What are you going to do today, Will?" Buffy asked her friend as they stepped out of the school and into the sunshine. Most of the evidence of yesterday's storm had dried up in the warm Sunnydale climate, but stooped trees and the occasional shattered window spoke volumes of the violence they had suffered.
"Home. Sleep," the tired hacker replied.
Buffy smiled, what one sleepless night will do to some people. "I meant after, when you've started to talk in full sentences again."
Willow tried to pout in response, then sighed miserably as she found herself too tired to do so, "Oz is playing at the Bronze tonight. Feel up to it?"
Let's see, Buffy pondered gravely, a night of fun with her friends, hmm. "Sounds like a plan," she replied quickly. "Are you going to make it home okay?" She gave Willow a concerned look as the redhead nearly collided with a tree.
"Yeah, I'll be fine," she said, glaring at the offending form of vegetation. "I'll talk to you later tonight. Bye."
Buffy muttered her good-byes as she watched her friend shuffle drunkenly down the sidewalk. She considered following the hacker for a bit, then decided against it. It was still morning and besides the occasional tree bumping Willow would be fine. What was she going to do then? Her mother, like most of Sunnydale, was most likely either home or on her way there and was probably, as Giles had put it, not a happy woman. She could, of course, check the mansion to see if Angel was there. She weighed the matter carefully, but as always, save once, in the tug of war between Angel and the world the dark vampire came on top.
With a new bounce to her gait the small Slayer made her way to her former lover.
*************
The stench of brimstone assaulted his senses bringing him instinctively to his knees on red-hot stone and burning coal. Terror-filled shivers ran down his spine, he'd been here before, suffered here before, and he knew what to expect. The stone beneath his body grew hotter, mingling the reek of smoldering flesh with the horrible brimstone smell.
He heard the shuffle of small feet, smelled the scent of burning flesh that was not his own. His body tensed and his head dropped, his eyes preferring to focus on his own smoldering skin, his mind favoring his own pain over that of the small creature that loomed above him, the creature that was once a human child. A child that he had destroyed in more ways than he could ever hope to atone for.
"You did this to me, Angelus!" Came the near unintelligible hiss. "Look at what you did to me!"
A whimper escaped his lips.
*************
The mansion was dark when she stepped inside, a grim contradiction to the bright day outside. It took her eyes but a moment to adjust to the darkness, a moment filled with anxious thoughts. What if he was here? What could she say to him? Should she accuse him of last night's murder? And if he was guilty what could she do about it? Nothing, she concluded. She could do absolutely nothing. She had made a promise she intended to keep, regardless of how difficult he would make it for her to do so.
"Angel?" She asked, her voice barely above a whisper, her heart drumming a frenzied beat in her ears. I'm being ridiculous, she thought, I've got to get a hold of myself. With a deep breath she straightened her back and squared her shoulders, "Angel?" She called out confidently, deliberately ignoring the way her voice was shaking. The quiet mansion offered no reply. He wasn't here, her shoulders slumped with disappointment. She turned to leave but stopped dead in her tracks as a muffled moan demanded her attention. She held her breath and cocked her head to listen. There were definitely sounds and they were coming from the bedroom.
Throwing dignity to the wind she tiptoed quietly towards the bedroom and with a feather-light touch pushed open the heavy wooden door, praying it wouldn't creak.
It creaked.
She froze, mentally cursing all makers of creaky doors, reflecting briefly on their birth, heritage and cleanliness habits. A moment passed and then, as they generally do, another. Finally she felt secure enough, and dizzy enough, to resume breathing. Slowly she poked her head in through the doorway and once again gave up on breathing.
He slept, and while he slept he truly portrayed the creature after which he had been named. His human mask glowed with ethereal beauty in the scant light that managed to filter through the dark curtains, his pale torso a work of art even the old renaissance masters would have been proud of. She watched his eerily still chest with detached fascination, her eyes roaming her former lover's body with abandon. Her fingers ached to touch him, her lips parting to meet his, to claim him as her own. But he wasn't, not anymore. She pushed back a sniffle as she morbidly came to term with that piece of truth.
Lost in her own self-pity she almost missed the soft whimper that escaped his lips. Her eyes narrowed in thought, under closer inspection he didn't really look all that calm for a man asleep. His eyelids fluttered madly and his fingers clawed lightly at the bedspread. He was having a nightmare and it had obviously been going on for some time as the tangled covers around his waist, victims of an ongoing war, mutely testified.
She considered waking him, saving him from his mind-terrors and dream- monsters, but decided against it. Some battles needed to be fought alone. If things got out of hand, she'd be here. Determined, she sat on the edge of the bed and watched.
*************
There were more now, clinging to him, touching him, demanding he acknowledge them in death, for he never did in life.
"Look at me!" They howled, their fingers clawing at him, grabbing for what was theirs.
Anxiously, the vile taste of terror in his mouth, he tried to pull away, preferring the pits of hell to the faces of his victims. They would never let him go, he knew that, although he had to try. In here, in this place where past sins were transformed into present acts of vengeance there would be no escape.
They closed on him, an angry, undulating mass of faces he was responsible for, a sea of people whose life ended at his whim. Most had begged, but he had no mercy for them. Others had tried to bargain, argue, but he had laughed at their pain. Then there were the rare few that had died quietly, those had been a mystery to him. He had always wondered, in a clinically detached sort of way, what they had been thinking in those last few moments of precious life.
And now, those who had screamed, who had begged, who had argued and fought, who had gone gently into that good night, all of them were closing in on him. They moaned and hissed, they clawed at his body as they drew closer bringing the stench of the grave hideously near. He couldn't move, couldn't lift a finger as they swarmed over him, covering him in a horrible blanket of damaged humanity. He could restrain himself no longer and with the claustrophobic strength inherent to all men he screamed like the damned.
*************
She held him in her arms, rocking him like a wounded child, cooing meaningless words comfortingly. Her resolve to leave him to his inner demons had broken during the first few moments of his terrified scream. Immediately she rushed to his side, cradling him as she would an infant. Her hands stroked him gently as she rocked back and forth in response to his trembling body. It felt so good, so right.
She didn't even realize she had been kissing him until he looked up at her with those deep, fathomless eyes.
She immediately jumped to her feet, her eyes wide with shock at what she had just done. "I came by to see how you were," she croaked. He stared at her, his eyes dark and mysterious holding no accusation but no acceptance either. "I brought you some food and more cloths," she motioned towards the floor. His eyes followed the direction she was pointing at then flickered back to her face. "Only I left the bag in the other room," she explained once she realized there was nothing on the floor. Wordlessly he pushed back the covers and rose to his feet with fluid grace. "Because I thought that you might be hungry and you might need some fresh cloths. Not that your old ones aren't okay or anything," she babbled as she took in his pale form, nude from the waist up.
He took a step towards her, his body strong and capable. He suddenly reminded her of a big cat out on the prowl. What would that make me? She wondered as she subconsciously took a step back. He moved towards her again and she felt cold sweat begin to drip down her back as her heart beat crazily. She looked up into his eyes and saw a strange fire burning there, a fire at once both alien and familiar. He wanted her, she realized, with a hunger that wasn't quite human. She instinctively stepped back, her body trembling uncontrollably, and collided with the wall.
He looked down at her for a moment, watching her chest rise and fall with her unsteady breathing, watching her face glisten with sweaty fear and anticipation. Watching her eyes dart nervously as she thought of a way to escape, savoring the moment before taking that final feline step that trapped her entirely.
"Angel, I," she stuttered, suddenly very aware of his bare chest only a hairsbreadth from her own. She didn't know what she wanted to say, and he never gave her a chance to find out. With a smooth sweep he covered her mouth with his, enjoying the shocked tremors that ran through her body.
It took her but a moment to respond. Her lips, hungering for his, parted of their own accord. Her body rejoiced as she felt his tongue slip through, exploring her depths, touching, tasting, savoring her essence. Their kiss deepened as hungry mouths devoured one another, their gentle kiss turning into a battle of wills and passions too strong to be denied.
Shivers ran up and down her spine as his strong hands closed on her slender waist, lifting her without breaking their kiss. Instinctively she wrapped her legs around his hips even as her fingers tangled in his hair, fiercely pulling him even closer.
Hot sweat burned down her body, drenching her as she undulated against him, uncomfortable in her suddenly constricting clothes. She could feel the lust rise in her body like a tidal wave, stronger than she had ever experienced before. She wanted him here and now and be damned everything else. She moaned with sudden loss as he suddenly withdrew his mouth from hers, then gasped with trepidation as his lips locked on her neck.
She froze, her glazed eyes staring unseeing at the far wall as his blunt teeth grazed gently down her neck to the base of her throat. Her back arched wildly as danger sent new shivers down her body and promptly knocked her skull against the wall.
The pain cleared her lust-filled mind just in time to see him tearing through her blouse, his mouth fastening on her lace-covered breast. "Angel," she moaned as her mind clouded over again, "Angel, we can't." She cried out as his lips found her sensitive nipple, "the curse!"
He stopped to look up at her darkly, his deep, passionate eyes mirroring his emotions, "there is no curse," he growled. He could feel the slightest twitches of anger awakening in him, she of all people should have been able to understand.
She looked down into his deep, dark eyes as his words slowly registered in her fog filled mind. If there was no curse there was no soul, if there was no soul there was nothing left but the monster she remembered. Burning sweat turned cold as the icy gauntlet of fear gripped her heart. "What are you?" She choked.
The dark lust in his eyes turned to cold hurt and then to icy anger as he savagely pushed her off him to land unceremoniously on the floor. In a sudden flash of insight she suddenly understood, it all came together with an almost audible click. He's not my Angel anymore, the dark vampiress had said. It's almost like he's everything rolled up into one, her consort told them all. It all came together, the storm, the murder, the power, the corruption and most of all the confusion. She looked up at her lover as she lay crumpled on the floor and her heart shattered as she watched him turn his back to her, close himself from her. It was too late. "Get out," he said quietly, not even bothering to turn back to look at her.
He couldn't look at her, couldn't bear to see her face. What are you? She had asked as hellfire exploded in his mind. It all came back to him; the sword, the pain, the overwhelming confusion. And she had lied to him; don't worry about it, she said as hell's vortex erupted behind his back; I love you, she had whispered only moments before plunging a sword into his body. His face changed, his human mask slipping as righteous fury overtook him. What are you? She asked as if he were a monster, an abomination. Was he an abomination in her eyes when he held out his hand to her from within the vortex? Confusion in his eyes, pleading in his outstretched arm, was he merely a means to an end? What are you? She had refused to take his hand then, why should now be any different?
"Angel, please," she said brokenly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I love..."
He turned on her, anger gleaming from his golden eyes, "get out before I rip your bloody throat out!" he cried, his voice hissing through his fangs.
She stared at him in shock, taking in his demonic features and the hate etched on his disfigured face. With a despairing cry she clutched her torn blouse to her body and ran out of the mansion into the warm sunlight, where he could never follow.
His hands clenched into fists, his claws digging bloody half moons into the palms of his hands, his body trembling with tension. He listened to her run till she disappeared from earshot entirely. A roar escaped his lips as he listened to the quiet in vain, he loved her and hated her so much it nearly destroyed them both.
"And so you finally understand," the maniacal voice from within his mind cried gleefully. "You have finally come to realize the truth."
He couldn't deal with this now, it was just too much. "Leave me alone!" He howled like a wounded beast, his demonic visage contorting wildly with every word. "Just leave me the hell alone!"
A rushing sound began to form in the confines of his mind, growing stronger, angrier with every passing moment. "LEAVE YOU ALONE?" The harsh voice demanded, "I WILL NEVER LEAVE YOU ALONE!" His eyes clamped shut and his hands pressed against his ears but he knew nothing could stop the dark winds of fury blowing through his mind. With a despairing wail he dropped to his knees. "YOUR NAME WAS WRITTEN IN THE STARS SINCE THE BEGINNING OF TIME. YOU WERE MINE BEFORE YOU WERE EVER BORN!"
"No," he moaned, but he could not deny the truth he heard in the fanatical voice.
"YES! ALL THAT YOU ARE, ALL THAT YOU HAVE EVER BEEN IS MY DOING! YOU WERE MINE FROM THE VERY START! "
"Dear God, No!" He cried, unwilling to accept the horrible truth.
"YOU THINK YOUR BEAUTY COINCIDENTAL? AN ACCIDENT OF BIRTH?" his tormentor pushed on relentlessly, exposing all that he was, tearing him apart ruthlessly. "YOU THINK YOUR MIND A GIFT OF CHANCE? YOU ARE MY DOING! MY CREATION AND MY REWARD!"
"I am my own man!" He screamed, although he knew it was useless, although he knew it would probably cost him his life. Maybe it was all true and he was indeed the product of a warped imagination, but in the end his life was what he had made it out to be, the choices he had made throughout his long and sinful existence. That was truer now then ever before.
"OBSTINATE CREATURE! YOU ARE NOTHING IF NOT CORRUPTIBLE AS THE REST! WILL YOU REMAIN YOUR OWN MAN ONCE YOU HAVE FELT REAL POWER? FEEL THE POWER!"
He let out no more then a single despondent cry as the now familiar rush of burning power engulfed him, transformed him, corrupted all that he was.
She ran blindly, her fingers clutching the torn material of her blouse to her body as if that single desperate act could ward away the pain. It couldn't. Nothing could.
More than anything she wanted to run home, curl up in a little ball on her safe familiar bed and cry herself to sleep. Even that small comfort
was denied her as events more important then her own needs and wishes were taking place.
She slowed her run to a slow walk and took stock of herself. Her shirt was torn in the front, her face was wet with tears and her hair felt like it had been slept on. With a miserable sigh she recalled the Kleenex, mirror and bobby pins in her purse, which was now conveniently located on the floor of Angel's bedroom. With a shudder she steered her mind clear of Angel's bedroom, she couldn't go there just yet. Especially if she was going to do what needed to be done.
With a resolved sigh she ran her fingers through her hair, wiped her face with the hem of her shirt and tied it as best she could around her body. Not exactly Versace, she thought as she surveyed herself, but it'll do.
Slowly, hesitantly, moved by a power far greater then herself, she made her way to the factory.
The guards weren't much of a challenge, too shocked and worn by day to offer much resistance. Spike really needed to get himself better lackeys, especially if he was about to get daytime visits from the likes of her. The dark vampiress was quite another matter altogether.
"Spike!" Buffy called out as the crazed Drusilla lashed out at her. She ducked and rolled, kicking Drusilla's feet from under her in the process. "Spike!"
"In my home!" Drusilla screeched, her demonic features contorted with rage. "The Slayer is in my home!" With fluid grace she rose off the floor and lunged at the irritated Slayer.
With calculated ease Buffy side stepped the charging vampiress. She quickly jumped around to face the enraged Drusilla only to receive a hard fist in her face. Enough was enough! With a very vampire-like snarl Buffy whipped out a stake, "Spike!" She yelled, "unless you want to vacuum your girlfriend, get your ass out here!"
"No need to yell, Slayer," Spike said calmly from the balcony to her side. Both Buffy and Drusilla whipped around to face him. With dignified grace he slowly made his way down, "you could have just knocked, you know." He pointed out as he wrapped his arms around his maddened lover from behind. She seemed to visibly relax in his embrace, easing from a lethal killer into a contented kitten in his arms. "Had yourself some fun, luv?" He whispered in her ear as he placed soft kisses on his lover's jaw.
"Nasty Slayer woke me up," Drusilla reported sullenly, glaring at Buffy with undisguised malice. "I want to punish her, Spike. Let princess punish her."
Buffy rolled her eyes, "we need to talk, Spike."
He gave her an impudent grin, "that's usually my line, pet. Dru does have a point though. You can't just barge into people's homes in the dead of day and expect them to..."
He was playing games with her! Buffy felt her fist tighten on her stake as she fought to remain calm, "we need to talk now!" She grated through clenched teeth.
Spike looked her up and down noting her disheveled appearance and the deadly weapon in her hand. Nodding once he let go of his lover and led the tightly wound Slayer into a back room. "That wasn't very smart, Slayer," he started as soon as he closed the door.
She lunged at him, pinning him to the wall and planting a knee against his gut as he groaned in pain. "I don't care why that man died last night!" She hissed in the surprised vampire's face.
"Well that makes my job a lot easier," Spike gasped. The knee in his gut pressed deeper.
"I don't even care who killed him!"
"If only all Slayers thought like you." He silently wondered if it was possible to be staked by a knee. He sincerely hoped he wasn't about to find out.
"But if anyone else shows up with so much as a bite mark I'm going to hold you personally responsible!"
"I knew it was too good to be true," Spike murmured, then breathed with relief as the blonde Slayer abruptly let him go.
"The only reason I'm not staking you right now is that I need you to do something for me."
Spike turned to glare at her, a condescending smirk on his lips, then taking a good look at the furious blonde he thought better of it. "What the hell happened to you?"
She ignored him, "I need you to go to the Elders. Tell them I need to talk to them as soon as possible."
He frowned, a concerned look creeping on his pale features, "what's going on?"
She went on ignoring him. "On second thought tell them one will be enough. I don't need to see them all."
That was it! His patience snapped as easily as a twig. "Did you rehearse that little speech all the way down here, pet?" His face, still human but intensely angry was mere inches from hers, "you can't just kick your way in here and order me around. I am not your errand boy!"
"That's right," she agreed as sweetly as she could. "You're theirs." Silently rejoicing over the shock on his face she turned to leave. Now she could cry in peace.
Notes: Contains spoilers from BtVS seasons one through three.
Feedback: Any and all comments are welcome and appreciated.
Chapter Nine
"Cordelia was right," Buffy muttered quietly as she walked into the library, "he does live here." A slow, almost tender smile crept unbidden across her lips as she watched the sleeping librarian. He had fallen asleep in the midst of research, as the ancient book currently being used as a pillow testified. His glasses hung precariously from one ear, threatening to fall off at any given moment. Gently she reached out to retrieve them before disaster occurred.
"Buffy?" Giles blinked as he gazed at his ward through bleary eyes.
"We've got to work on my stealth-mode," Buffy said with a forced smile as she handed her Watcher his glasses, "if I can't steal glasses from a Watcher then I definitely need some training in that department."
"Yes quite," the Watcher murmured, obviously still groggy from sleep. He suddenly jumped in his chair as memories hit him, "Angel! Did you and Spike find him?"
"Somebody's in the know," she replied as she shook her head.
"Willow called and told me what happened. I wish I could have been here to see it," he sighed regretfully. "After that your mother called. I had to lie and tell her that you were sleeping over at Willow's after some lengthy research. She was not a happy woman." He gave her a stern look, "try to keep me in the know, so to speak, Buffy. With that storm raging last night you really had me worried."
A delicate eyebrow rose humorously, "I went after Angel with Spike and you were worried about a little rain? Contradiction much?"
He gave her the familiar resigned look he usually did when she abused the English language, "it wasn't a regular storm, Buffy. It felt all wrong. Besides," he added as he ran a weary hand through his graying hair, "the bloody thing kept me up half the night. Finally I just gave up on sleep altogether and came here."
"Find anything interesting?" Buffy asked as she motioned towards the slept on book.
"Nothing terribly exciting," Giles admitted as he guiltily smoothed out the rumpled cheek-shaped pages. "There was one passage that seemed relevant, but I couldn't make heads or tails of it. Something to do with power."
"Really?" Buffy asked as disinterestedly as she could. "What did it say?"
Giles shrugged as he finally gave up on the book and moved on to clean his glasses. "Something about power and corruption," he thought for a moment as his hands meticulously cleaned the glistening lenses. It's almost like meditation for him, Buffy suddenly realized as the Watcher began reciting. "And she shall empower him with the strength above all others, for it is known that power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely." He shook his head in frustration, "absolute gibberish is what I say," he muttered.
She felt the delicate hairs on the nape of her neck rise as shivers ran up and down her spine. It all fit together in a kind of horrible logic that made her want to scream. She needed to tell him about the elders, keeping him in the dark left her all alone. She couldn't do this alone. "Giles," she began hesitantly. This will destroy him, she thought miserably.
"I still say it's your fault," Cordelia's shrill voice came floating down the empty hall.
"How is it my fault?" Xander asked, his voice hovering somewhere between humor and weariness.
Their argument had obviously been going on for some time and was merely reaching its high point as the unlikely pair burst into the library. "Not just your fault," the may queen replied acidly, "all of you. It's all your fault." She motioned towards the startled Watcher and Slayer as if it were the most natural thing in the world for them all to be at the school slightly after dawn. On second thought, Buffy thought irritably, it wasn't really that rare either. "It's unnatural that every time something falls out of the sky it happens to land on me!"
"It didn't really fall out of the sky," Xander corrected demurely.
"I don't care where it fell out of," Cordelia grated through clenched teeth. "It still managed to land on me! It's a curse, it has to be a curse. There's no other explanation. I hang out with you people and I get cursed!"
"Your hair's wet," Buffy observed helpfully as the pretty brunette opened her mouth to deliver another blistering accusation.
Xander winced as Cordelia slowly turned towards the Slayer, her eyes narrowed and flaming as if she had received a deadly insult. "Gee, you think?" She said bitingly. "See, somehow I managed to miss it when that tree I was walking under decided to rain on me." The cheerleader's dripping hair made her mascara run giving her the appearance of an extremely annoyed clown. One look at Cordelia's face, however, deemed it best not to mention that. With a huff she retrieved a small facial towel from her bag and stormed out of the library. "I still say it's a curse," came floating back from the hallway through the swinging doors.
"Well she's a regular Miss Congeniality this morning," Buffy said brightly. "What's her issue?"
"Beauty sleep," Xander shrugged helplessly, "or rather lack thereof. Damn storm kept both of us up half the night. She called me and we talked till dawn," he added as they stared at him. "You two have very dirty minds. That's usually my field of expertise."
"Trust him, it really is," Willow murmured as she walked haggardly into the library. "I just saw Cordelia dripping down the hallway babbling something about a curse and things falling on her." The tired redhead looked up at the Watcher, "is it anything important?"
"Not to us anyway," Buffy muttered, ignoring the dirty look Xander threw her way. "You're looking a bit un-Willowy, Will," she said, noting the dark circles under her friend's eyes.
The pretty hacker sighed and slumped into a nearby chair, "stupid storm kept me up."
"Half the night?" Buffy offered.
"I wish," Willow snorted, "try the whole night. After the earthquake I couldn't get back to sleep."
They stared at her, "earthquake?" Giles finally spluttered.
Willow nodded, lost in her own fatigue and oblivious to their shock, "yeah, a real doozie too."
The Watcher reached for his glasses, "I knew that storm felt unnatural," he muttered as he fiercely cleaned the unoffending lenses.
"You think Angel had something to do with this?" Buffy asked quietly.
"Let's see," Xander said, sarcasm dripping off his voice, "a kick-ass thunder storm in the middle of autumn in a place were you have to pray for some rain around wintertime. And oh yeah, another earthquake. Nope, just Mother Nature back to her old tricks, no Angel intervention there."
"See, I knew this had something to do with you people," Cordelia muttered sourly as she pushed her way through the library's swinging doors. Her face and hair had returned to their usual perfection, but there was still a dangerous glint in her eyes.
"There's more," Willow said, a yawn escaping her lips. "After I accepted the fact that I wasn't about to fall back to asleep, I slipped into the city coroner's web site."
"Eww, morbid much?" Cordelia complained.
"I didn't know the coroner had an open web-site."
A slow flush crept up the timid hacker's face, "well not exactly a web-site per say, more like encrypted files with a state of the art security system," she couldn't hide the pride in her voice. "Well, it was a long night and I got bored," she explained as her friends stared at her. "Anyway," she went on quickly, "they found a homeless guy's body last night," she raised her pallid face to look the Slayer straight in the face. "He had two sets of bite marks on his neck."
"Looks like Angel had himself a little party last night," Xander grated brusquely.
"Two different sets of bite marks," Willow emphasized.
"So he invited a friend?"
"Spike was with you last night?" Giles asked, looking at his suddenly pale charge. With her jaws clenched tight and her muscles aching to strike, Buffy slowly nodded her head. "So if it was Angel that only leaves Drusilla."
Willow shook her head, "according to the report the marks were large and roughly the same size. Women generally have smaller teeth then men. It wasn't Dru." She gave Buffy a comforting look, "it was probably a couple of rogue vampires who couldn't help themselves."
"When the cat's away," Xander murmured.
"I don't like this," Giles said shaking his head, "if it was just a random vampire attack then that means Spike is loosing control over his clan." He looked his shaken Slayer in the face, "which in turn means that any deal you've made with him is deemed worthless. You need to talk to Spike, head this off before it goes any further."
"Yeah," Buffy agreed mechanically, her thoughts an uncontrollable whirlwind in her head, "I'll talk to Spike." Right before I make sure he fits in an ashtray, she thought wickedly.
Xander shook his head, "I'm still not convinced it wasn't Angel, I mean with the earthquake last night we know something happened that had to do with him."
"It could have just been the storm," Willow offered, barely suppressing another yawn.
"Which really brings up my curse," Cordelia threw in.
"I mean how many vampires have you seen around Angel besides Spike and Drusilla?" Willow went on, completely ignoring the irritated brunette.
"Hello people, what about my curse?"
"Yeah," Xander conceded, "I guess that's logical."
Cordelia turned on him, her eyes promising violence. No one ignored her and got away with it, "what," she said acidly, "you're a Vulcan now?"
He gave her an impudent grin and she flushed realizing she'd been duped, "live long and prosper," he replied automatically.
"Huh?"
"Never mind."
"I think that on that note you should all get to class," Giles said rolling his eyes at the entire exchange.
"We still have plenty of time," Xander objected.
"Nevertheless," the Watcher replied.
"Come on Xander," Buffy said lightly, "lets leave Giles alone so he can bond with his books."
"Oh God," Willow moaned, "classes! I can't deal with classes. Thinking hurts."
"Now you know how I feel most of the time, Will," Xander said sympathetically as he put his arm around his friend's shoulders, half supporting her.
The tired hacker yawned as she rose to her feet, "I have no idea how I'm going to get through this day," she complained as they all left the Watcher to his books.
Willow's sentiment was apparently wide spread, Buffy discovered as the empty school began to teem with life. Pallid and lethargic students made their weary way to class to face irritated and bleary-eyed teachers. Finally, around mid-day the teaching staff had managed to corner Principal Snyder into giving them all the rest of the day off.
"What are you going to do today, Will?" Buffy asked her friend as they stepped out of the school and into the sunshine. Most of the evidence of yesterday's storm had dried up in the warm Sunnydale climate, but stooped trees and the occasional shattered window spoke volumes of the violence they had suffered.
"Home. Sleep," the tired hacker replied.
Buffy smiled, what one sleepless night will do to some people. "I meant after, when you've started to talk in full sentences again."
Willow tried to pout in response, then sighed miserably as she found herself too tired to do so, "Oz is playing at the Bronze tonight. Feel up to it?"
Let's see, Buffy pondered gravely, a night of fun with her friends, hmm. "Sounds like a plan," she replied quickly. "Are you going to make it home okay?" She gave Willow a concerned look as the redhead nearly collided with a tree.
"Yeah, I'll be fine," she said, glaring at the offending form of vegetation. "I'll talk to you later tonight. Bye."
Buffy muttered her good-byes as she watched her friend shuffle drunkenly down the sidewalk. She considered following the hacker for a bit, then decided against it. It was still morning and besides the occasional tree bumping Willow would be fine. What was she going to do then? Her mother, like most of Sunnydale, was most likely either home or on her way there and was probably, as Giles had put it, not a happy woman. She could, of course, check the mansion to see if Angel was there. She weighed the matter carefully, but as always, save once, in the tug of war between Angel and the world the dark vampire came on top.
With a new bounce to her gait the small Slayer made her way to her former lover.
*************
The stench of brimstone assaulted his senses bringing him instinctively to his knees on red-hot stone and burning coal. Terror-filled shivers ran down his spine, he'd been here before, suffered here before, and he knew what to expect. The stone beneath his body grew hotter, mingling the reek of smoldering flesh with the horrible brimstone smell.
He heard the shuffle of small feet, smelled the scent of burning flesh that was not his own. His body tensed and his head dropped, his eyes preferring to focus on his own smoldering skin, his mind favoring his own pain over that of the small creature that loomed above him, the creature that was once a human child. A child that he had destroyed in more ways than he could ever hope to atone for.
"You did this to me, Angelus!" Came the near unintelligible hiss. "Look at what you did to me!"
A whimper escaped his lips.
*************
The mansion was dark when she stepped inside, a grim contradiction to the bright day outside. It took her eyes but a moment to adjust to the darkness, a moment filled with anxious thoughts. What if he was here? What could she say to him? Should she accuse him of last night's murder? And if he was guilty what could she do about it? Nothing, she concluded. She could do absolutely nothing. She had made a promise she intended to keep, regardless of how difficult he would make it for her to do so.
"Angel?" She asked, her voice barely above a whisper, her heart drumming a frenzied beat in her ears. I'm being ridiculous, she thought, I've got to get a hold of myself. With a deep breath she straightened her back and squared her shoulders, "Angel?" She called out confidently, deliberately ignoring the way her voice was shaking. The quiet mansion offered no reply. He wasn't here, her shoulders slumped with disappointment. She turned to leave but stopped dead in her tracks as a muffled moan demanded her attention. She held her breath and cocked her head to listen. There were definitely sounds and they were coming from the bedroom.
Throwing dignity to the wind she tiptoed quietly towards the bedroom and with a feather-light touch pushed open the heavy wooden door, praying it wouldn't creak.
It creaked.
She froze, mentally cursing all makers of creaky doors, reflecting briefly on their birth, heritage and cleanliness habits. A moment passed and then, as they generally do, another. Finally she felt secure enough, and dizzy enough, to resume breathing. Slowly she poked her head in through the doorway and once again gave up on breathing.
He slept, and while he slept he truly portrayed the creature after which he had been named. His human mask glowed with ethereal beauty in the scant light that managed to filter through the dark curtains, his pale torso a work of art even the old renaissance masters would have been proud of. She watched his eerily still chest with detached fascination, her eyes roaming her former lover's body with abandon. Her fingers ached to touch him, her lips parting to meet his, to claim him as her own. But he wasn't, not anymore. She pushed back a sniffle as she morbidly came to term with that piece of truth.
Lost in her own self-pity she almost missed the soft whimper that escaped his lips. Her eyes narrowed in thought, under closer inspection he didn't really look all that calm for a man asleep. His eyelids fluttered madly and his fingers clawed lightly at the bedspread. He was having a nightmare and it had obviously been going on for some time as the tangled covers around his waist, victims of an ongoing war, mutely testified.
She considered waking him, saving him from his mind-terrors and dream- monsters, but decided against it. Some battles needed to be fought alone. If things got out of hand, she'd be here. Determined, she sat on the edge of the bed and watched.
*************
There were more now, clinging to him, touching him, demanding he acknowledge them in death, for he never did in life.
"Look at me!" They howled, their fingers clawing at him, grabbing for what was theirs.
Anxiously, the vile taste of terror in his mouth, he tried to pull away, preferring the pits of hell to the faces of his victims. They would never let him go, he knew that, although he had to try. In here, in this place where past sins were transformed into present acts of vengeance there would be no escape.
They closed on him, an angry, undulating mass of faces he was responsible for, a sea of people whose life ended at his whim. Most had begged, but he had no mercy for them. Others had tried to bargain, argue, but he had laughed at their pain. Then there were the rare few that had died quietly, those had been a mystery to him. He had always wondered, in a clinically detached sort of way, what they had been thinking in those last few moments of precious life.
And now, those who had screamed, who had begged, who had argued and fought, who had gone gently into that good night, all of them were closing in on him. They moaned and hissed, they clawed at his body as they drew closer bringing the stench of the grave hideously near. He couldn't move, couldn't lift a finger as they swarmed over him, covering him in a horrible blanket of damaged humanity. He could restrain himself no longer and with the claustrophobic strength inherent to all men he screamed like the damned.
*************
She held him in her arms, rocking him like a wounded child, cooing meaningless words comfortingly. Her resolve to leave him to his inner demons had broken during the first few moments of his terrified scream. Immediately she rushed to his side, cradling him as she would an infant. Her hands stroked him gently as she rocked back and forth in response to his trembling body. It felt so good, so right.
She didn't even realize she had been kissing him until he looked up at her with those deep, fathomless eyes.
She immediately jumped to her feet, her eyes wide with shock at what she had just done. "I came by to see how you were," she croaked. He stared at her, his eyes dark and mysterious holding no accusation but no acceptance either. "I brought you some food and more cloths," she motioned towards the floor. His eyes followed the direction she was pointing at then flickered back to her face. "Only I left the bag in the other room," she explained once she realized there was nothing on the floor. Wordlessly he pushed back the covers and rose to his feet with fluid grace. "Because I thought that you might be hungry and you might need some fresh cloths. Not that your old ones aren't okay or anything," she babbled as she took in his pale form, nude from the waist up.
He took a step towards her, his body strong and capable. He suddenly reminded her of a big cat out on the prowl. What would that make me? She wondered as she subconsciously took a step back. He moved towards her again and she felt cold sweat begin to drip down her back as her heart beat crazily. She looked up into his eyes and saw a strange fire burning there, a fire at once both alien and familiar. He wanted her, she realized, with a hunger that wasn't quite human. She instinctively stepped back, her body trembling uncontrollably, and collided with the wall.
He looked down at her for a moment, watching her chest rise and fall with her unsteady breathing, watching her face glisten with sweaty fear and anticipation. Watching her eyes dart nervously as she thought of a way to escape, savoring the moment before taking that final feline step that trapped her entirely.
"Angel, I," she stuttered, suddenly very aware of his bare chest only a hairsbreadth from her own. She didn't know what she wanted to say, and he never gave her a chance to find out. With a smooth sweep he covered her mouth with his, enjoying the shocked tremors that ran through her body.
It took her but a moment to respond. Her lips, hungering for his, parted of their own accord. Her body rejoiced as she felt his tongue slip through, exploring her depths, touching, tasting, savoring her essence. Their kiss deepened as hungry mouths devoured one another, their gentle kiss turning into a battle of wills and passions too strong to be denied.
Shivers ran up and down her spine as his strong hands closed on her slender waist, lifting her without breaking their kiss. Instinctively she wrapped her legs around his hips even as her fingers tangled in his hair, fiercely pulling him even closer.
Hot sweat burned down her body, drenching her as she undulated against him, uncomfortable in her suddenly constricting clothes. She could feel the lust rise in her body like a tidal wave, stronger than she had ever experienced before. She wanted him here and now and be damned everything else. She moaned with sudden loss as he suddenly withdrew his mouth from hers, then gasped with trepidation as his lips locked on her neck.
She froze, her glazed eyes staring unseeing at the far wall as his blunt teeth grazed gently down her neck to the base of her throat. Her back arched wildly as danger sent new shivers down her body and promptly knocked her skull against the wall.
The pain cleared her lust-filled mind just in time to see him tearing through her blouse, his mouth fastening on her lace-covered breast. "Angel," she moaned as her mind clouded over again, "Angel, we can't." She cried out as his lips found her sensitive nipple, "the curse!"
He stopped to look up at her darkly, his deep, passionate eyes mirroring his emotions, "there is no curse," he growled. He could feel the slightest twitches of anger awakening in him, she of all people should have been able to understand.
She looked down into his deep, dark eyes as his words slowly registered in her fog filled mind. If there was no curse there was no soul, if there was no soul there was nothing left but the monster she remembered. Burning sweat turned cold as the icy gauntlet of fear gripped her heart. "What are you?" She choked.
The dark lust in his eyes turned to cold hurt and then to icy anger as he savagely pushed her off him to land unceremoniously on the floor. In a sudden flash of insight she suddenly understood, it all came together with an almost audible click. He's not my Angel anymore, the dark vampiress had said. It's almost like he's everything rolled up into one, her consort told them all. It all came together, the storm, the murder, the power, the corruption and most of all the confusion. She looked up at her lover as she lay crumpled on the floor and her heart shattered as she watched him turn his back to her, close himself from her. It was too late. "Get out," he said quietly, not even bothering to turn back to look at her.
He couldn't look at her, couldn't bear to see her face. What are you? She had asked as hellfire exploded in his mind. It all came back to him; the sword, the pain, the overwhelming confusion. And she had lied to him; don't worry about it, she said as hell's vortex erupted behind his back; I love you, she had whispered only moments before plunging a sword into his body. His face changed, his human mask slipping as righteous fury overtook him. What are you? She asked as if he were a monster, an abomination. Was he an abomination in her eyes when he held out his hand to her from within the vortex? Confusion in his eyes, pleading in his outstretched arm, was he merely a means to an end? What are you? She had refused to take his hand then, why should now be any different?
"Angel, please," she said brokenly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I love..."
He turned on her, anger gleaming from his golden eyes, "get out before I rip your bloody throat out!" he cried, his voice hissing through his fangs.
She stared at him in shock, taking in his demonic features and the hate etched on his disfigured face. With a despairing cry she clutched her torn blouse to her body and ran out of the mansion into the warm sunlight, where he could never follow.
His hands clenched into fists, his claws digging bloody half moons into the palms of his hands, his body trembling with tension. He listened to her run till she disappeared from earshot entirely. A roar escaped his lips as he listened to the quiet in vain, he loved her and hated her so much it nearly destroyed them both.
"And so you finally understand," the maniacal voice from within his mind cried gleefully. "You have finally come to realize the truth."
He couldn't deal with this now, it was just too much. "Leave me alone!" He howled like a wounded beast, his demonic visage contorting wildly with every word. "Just leave me the hell alone!"
A rushing sound began to form in the confines of his mind, growing stronger, angrier with every passing moment. "LEAVE YOU ALONE?" The harsh voice demanded, "I WILL NEVER LEAVE YOU ALONE!" His eyes clamped shut and his hands pressed against his ears but he knew nothing could stop the dark winds of fury blowing through his mind. With a despairing wail he dropped to his knees. "YOUR NAME WAS WRITTEN IN THE STARS SINCE THE BEGINNING OF TIME. YOU WERE MINE BEFORE YOU WERE EVER BORN!"
"No," he moaned, but he could not deny the truth he heard in the fanatical voice.
"YES! ALL THAT YOU ARE, ALL THAT YOU HAVE EVER BEEN IS MY DOING! YOU WERE MINE FROM THE VERY START! "
"Dear God, No!" He cried, unwilling to accept the horrible truth.
"YOU THINK YOUR BEAUTY COINCIDENTAL? AN ACCIDENT OF BIRTH?" his tormentor pushed on relentlessly, exposing all that he was, tearing him apart ruthlessly. "YOU THINK YOUR MIND A GIFT OF CHANCE? YOU ARE MY DOING! MY CREATION AND MY REWARD!"
"I am my own man!" He screamed, although he knew it was useless, although he knew it would probably cost him his life. Maybe it was all true and he was indeed the product of a warped imagination, but in the end his life was what he had made it out to be, the choices he had made throughout his long and sinful existence. That was truer now then ever before.
"OBSTINATE CREATURE! YOU ARE NOTHING IF NOT CORRUPTIBLE AS THE REST! WILL YOU REMAIN YOUR OWN MAN ONCE YOU HAVE FELT REAL POWER? FEEL THE POWER!"
He let out no more then a single despondent cry as the now familiar rush of burning power engulfed him, transformed him, corrupted all that he was.
She ran blindly, her fingers clutching the torn material of her blouse to her body as if that single desperate act could ward away the pain. It couldn't. Nothing could.
More than anything she wanted to run home, curl up in a little ball on her safe familiar bed and cry herself to sleep. Even that small comfort
was denied her as events more important then her own needs and wishes were taking place.
She slowed her run to a slow walk and took stock of herself. Her shirt was torn in the front, her face was wet with tears and her hair felt like it had been slept on. With a miserable sigh she recalled the Kleenex, mirror and bobby pins in her purse, which was now conveniently located on the floor of Angel's bedroom. With a shudder she steered her mind clear of Angel's bedroom, she couldn't go there just yet. Especially if she was going to do what needed to be done.
With a resolved sigh she ran her fingers through her hair, wiped her face with the hem of her shirt and tied it as best she could around her body. Not exactly Versace, she thought as she surveyed herself, but it'll do.
Slowly, hesitantly, moved by a power far greater then herself, she made her way to the factory.
The guards weren't much of a challenge, too shocked and worn by day to offer much resistance. Spike really needed to get himself better lackeys, especially if he was about to get daytime visits from the likes of her. The dark vampiress was quite another matter altogether.
"Spike!" Buffy called out as the crazed Drusilla lashed out at her. She ducked and rolled, kicking Drusilla's feet from under her in the process. "Spike!"
"In my home!" Drusilla screeched, her demonic features contorted with rage. "The Slayer is in my home!" With fluid grace she rose off the floor and lunged at the irritated Slayer.
With calculated ease Buffy side stepped the charging vampiress. She quickly jumped around to face the enraged Drusilla only to receive a hard fist in her face. Enough was enough! With a very vampire-like snarl Buffy whipped out a stake, "Spike!" She yelled, "unless you want to vacuum your girlfriend, get your ass out here!"
"No need to yell, Slayer," Spike said calmly from the balcony to her side. Both Buffy and Drusilla whipped around to face him. With dignified grace he slowly made his way down, "you could have just knocked, you know." He pointed out as he wrapped his arms around his maddened lover from behind. She seemed to visibly relax in his embrace, easing from a lethal killer into a contented kitten in his arms. "Had yourself some fun, luv?" He whispered in her ear as he placed soft kisses on his lover's jaw.
"Nasty Slayer woke me up," Drusilla reported sullenly, glaring at Buffy with undisguised malice. "I want to punish her, Spike. Let princess punish her."
Buffy rolled her eyes, "we need to talk, Spike."
He gave her an impudent grin, "that's usually my line, pet. Dru does have a point though. You can't just barge into people's homes in the dead of day and expect them to..."
He was playing games with her! Buffy felt her fist tighten on her stake as she fought to remain calm, "we need to talk now!" She grated through clenched teeth.
Spike looked her up and down noting her disheveled appearance and the deadly weapon in her hand. Nodding once he let go of his lover and led the tightly wound Slayer into a back room. "That wasn't very smart, Slayer," he started as soon as he closed the door.
She lunged at him, pinning him to the wall and planting a knee against his gut as he groaned in pain. "I don't care why that man died last night!" She hissed in the surprised vampire's face.
"Well that makes my job a lot easier," Spike gasped. The knee in his gut pressed deeper.
"I don't even care who killed him!"
"If only all Slayers thought like you." He silently wondered if it was possible to be staked by a knee. He sincerely hoped he wasn't about to find out.
"But if anyone else shows up with so much as a bite mark I'm going to hold you personally responsible!"
"I knew it was too good to be true," Spike murmured, then breathed with relief as the blonde Slayer abruptly let him go.
"The only reason I'm not staking you right now is that I need you to do something for me."
Spike turned to glare at her, a condescending smirk on his lips, then taking a good look at the furious blonde he thought better of it. "What the hell happened to you?"
She ignored him, "I need you to go to the Elders. Tell them I need to talk to them as soon as possible."
He frowned, a concerned look creeping on his pale features, "what's going on?"
She went on ignoring him. "On second thought tell them one will be enough. I don't need to see them all."
That was it! His patience snapped as easily as a twig. "Did you rehearse that little speech all the way down here, pet?" His face, still human but intensely angry was mere inches from hers, "you can't just kick your way in here and order me around. I am not your errand boy!"
"That's right," she agreed as sweetly as she could. "You're theirs." Silently rejoicing over the shock on his face she turned to leave. Now she could cry in peace.