The Devil's Workshop
By iyaorisha
Timing: AU S7 BtVS and AU S4 AtS
Pairings: Buffy/Spike, Angel/Cordy, Xander/Anya, Willow/other and Wesley/other.
Summary: Buffy and Spike's fragile new relationship is tested when Angel returns to Sunnydale, bringing with him a mysterious young woman from Spike's dark past. (Revised, with chapter titles!)
(This fic is part one of a yet-untitled series in progress. It can be read on its own or after my "Unmoved" series -four linked fics that chronicle my take on reensouled Spike's return to Sunnydale)
Rating/Warnings: R for violence, language, M/F sexual situations, and self-mutiliation.
Spoilers: None if you've seen S6 of BtVS and up through "Deep Down" in Ats S4. Spoilers for my "Unmoved" fanfic series. References to FFL, the trade novels "Pretty Maids All in a Row" and "Little Things", and my fanfic "Relating to a Psychopath.
Disclaimer: None of the BtVS or AtS characters or the world they inhabit belong to me. They belong to Joss and I promise to put them back when I'm done playing with them.
Author's Note: Reading (and for me, writing) Buffyverse fanfiction is a great form of escapism. Unfortunately, "cutting" or self-mutilation is a very real and terribly serious disorder that affects as many as one out of every 200 adolescent girls in the U.S. If you or someone that you know practices "cutting", please seek help from your local medical/mental health expert.
Feedback: My first BtVs/AtS crossover fanfic! Brutal honesty is best (I enjoy floggings, I really do), but warm fuzzies are accepted as well. You can post a review here or email me at fanfic_by_iyaorisha@yahoo.com
***
Chapter 3: Caveat Emptor
Three weeks earlier...
Charles Gunn was getting angry by the minute. The young man wasn't sure what the hell a damphyr was. But he watched it drink blood. And the name rhymed with vampire. So he figured that it fit in that category of demon that -Angel withstanding-he'd be all too pleased to wipe from the face of the earth.
Nonetheless, he had been tense ever since bidding began. The scene was just too close to an episode in his family's oral history.
Gunn's father used to tell him about his great-great-great grandmother Susanna being sold away from her mother and baby sister. She was no more than eleven or twelve when she stood on the auction block on an early spring morning in North Carolina. But that didn't stop the auctioneer from stripping her to the waist before a crowd of tobacco farmers. Ostensibly, her upper body was exposed to show that she didn't bear any whip marks -a sign that she was a docile slave. But the crackers used the opportunity to ogle Susanna's budding breasts. They hooted crude remarks as her nipples pebbled from the cool air.
Naturally, Gunn never met Mama Susanna. She died in 1928; before his own grandfather was even born. But his father's storytelling made her come alive. A frightened and humiliated girl at the mercy of a crowd of lecherous men, knowing that she'd have to go home with one of them. Looking around the room, Gunn recognized the expression on the faces of demon, vampire, and human alike. They wanted this damphyr. And not just as a curiosity to add to whatever menagerie of slaves they maintained. It was hard to find a fouler aspiration than that to own another person; but this was a still filthier desire.
He was damned if he'd let them have her.
As Gunn's hand tightened on his weapon, Wes was making his own preparations for the fight to rescue the young woman. He had long knives strapped to each arm and a Browning 9mm in a shoulder holster, but the weapon he readied was his mind.
The Kailiff demons handling the young woman were the biggest worry. They were not only strong, but fiercely loyal to their boss, Anselmo Molinero Sanz. Wes had seen them fight off thieves before. Heavily armed, with their heads bristling with spines, the dark-red skinned demons were a formidable adversary.
Unfortunately, they were not the only potential foe. The auctions at the ranch always drew a large and motley assemblage of collectors. Many were human men of staggering wealth who were amused by dabbling in the occult. They invariably came with bodyguards. If a battle broke out, the hired muscle might not wait to see who was under attack.
The other attendees were mostly demons of various breeds. Some were physically powerful and aggressive enough to enter the fray on general principles. Others might become involved simply in order to curry favor with Molinero.
Then, there were the human innocents. Some eight or nine serious scholars and occultists who, like himself, came to the ranch hoping to find some rarity. A scroll long believed to be lost. The very amulet needed to complete a spell. They were soft from the sedentary lifestyle that was a natural result of their work. Few, if any, would be armed; instead, naively trusting that Kailiff security guards would protect them from any assailants in the crowd. When the fighting broke out, they would become excellent human shields.
Wes gritted his teeth. They were outnumbered. And the potential for collateral damage was high.
A few feet away, Angel was making the same risk assessment. Like Gunn and Wesley, he felt a strong compulsion to rescue the damphyr. His own flesh crawled when the cross was pressed against her forehead. It might not have hurt her, but she was clearly afraid that it might.
Something told Angel that this wasn't her first time on the auction block. Perhaps the way that she wearily obeyed her handlers' orders. Sipping from a vial of holy water to show that it held no danger for her. Turning around at a bidder's request. She did it all without casting a glance at the crowd. She didn't care about their reaction.
How long had the damphyr lived this nightmarish existence? Angel shook his head almost imperceptibly. He couldn't think about that. It would make it even harder to do what needed to be done.
Stand back and watch as she was sold.
Because there was no way the three of them could rescue her right now. The ranch was too heavily guarded. The best chance to liberate her would come if she were sold. The buyer would take her away from the ranch and Molinero's Kailiff demon guards. Whoever bought her would be very wealthy -bidding had just reached three and a quarter million dollars-and therefore, they would have their own security team. But not as many men as Molinero. With luck, the bodyguards might even be human.
Those were odds he could take.
Gunn and Wesley both took a step forward.
"No," Angel hissed.
The two men were both battle hungry, but they stopped. It was a good thing. For a moment, the vampire was caught up in the eagerness to fight that shone in their eyes. His demon quickened inside him, clamoring to be set free -Angelus didn't care about rescuing the damphyr, but he was rearing for a good fight.
Angel steeled himself against the urge to launch a foolhardy attack. Instead, he motioned to his companions to follow him into a small curtained alcove just outside the great room where the auction was being conducted. Wes and Gunn did so reluctantly, casting worried eyes back to the spot-lit dais. Once they were all inside, Angel drew the velvet curtains closed so that they were concealed from any passersby. Then, he revealed his plan.
Fifteen minutes later, they emerged from the alcove, just in time to hear the auctioneer cry "Sold!" Many in the crowd burst into applause as a large man with badly jaundiced eyes lurched to his feet and approached the dais. He was shocked and angered when a cordon of Kailiff guards closed ranks, cutting him off from the damphyr he had just purchased.
Molinero himself stepped out the shadows to appease the buyer, explaining in diplomatic tones that the damphyr would be bathed and properly dressed while the financial arrangements were made. All of this was delivered in cultured tones so low that even with preternatural hearing, Angel had to strain to catch the words.
In contrast, the buyer's voice was booming and coarse. "So long as I can leave with her within the hour. I don't want to have to spend the night in Matamoros."
Of course not, Molinero said soothingly. Then, he invited the crude American to his office where the wire transfer would be conducted.
Angel conveyed all this quickly to Gunn and Wesley. Then the three split up. Each had a separate mission to complete before the buyer left the ranch with the damphyr.
***
Gunn left the ranch house. He made sure to look dejected when he passed the two Kailiff guards at the main entrance. They assumed he was a disappointed bidder leaving early and let him by with a second glance.
He walked slowly to the wide swath of tarmac that scarred the desert just inside the ranch's front gate. An easy four dozen vehicles were parked there while the owners attended the auction. A handful of the vehicles would not have looked out of place on the parking lot of your neighborhood middle school. They seemed so white bread that would be easy to assume that they all belonged to the scholars and occultists. However, Wesley's SUV visually fit into this I'm-a regular-Joe category and Gunn knew that it had been modified with secret compartments to carry weapons and other supplies. It was a reminder that appearances were usually deceiving.
In addition to the regular-looking cars, there were about twenty battered pick-up trucks, SUVs, and humvees. Gunn noted that a few of these seemed occupied. Gangsta rap blared in one. Country music leaked from another. Cigarette smoke drifted up from at least two vehicles. And, he spotted a bar of booted feet sticking out the windows of a rust-speckled Dodge Ram.
About a third of the vehicles were very high-end luxury cars. They were guarded, of course. But not well. Gunn could smell marijuana smoke in the air -bodyguards taking advantage of a long break before the auction ended and their bosses wanted to go home.
His assessment complete, Gunn went to Angel's convertible and retrieved a duffle bag from the trunk. He took a small tool from it and returned the bag. Then, he went to work.
With the exception of Wesley's SUV, every vehicle that was clearly unoccupied and unguarded got the same treatment. All four tires were slashed multiple times. The owners wouldn't be going anywhere tonight unless there was a NTB store somewhere on Molinero's property. Gunn chuckled a bit at the thought. The ranch was so large it was a possibility.
Once the majority of the vehicles were disabled, Gunn's mood turned grim. Since Wes had traveled to the ranch on his own, the team had two vehicles. Angel's convertible was fine for transportation to jobs in L.A. and its suburbs, but it would unsuitable for the mission ahead. Wes' truck was the best bet.
So, Gunn would have to drive Angel's car to Matamoros and wait for Wes and Angel to arrive with the damphyr. He didn't like that part of the plan. It sucked to be left out of the fighting, which was the fun part, after all. A year ago, he wouldn't have agreed. But then, a year ago he wasn't sure Wes could fill his spot in a battle. He grinned a little. English was full of surprises these days. It was good to have a man like that at your back. It was good to work with him again, even if most of the bad blood between Wes and Angel remained.
He cast a last glance back at the ranch house, then turned the key. The engine purred sweetly to life. Driving the convertible was a mighty small consolation for having to leave, but Gunn would take it.
***
Meanwhile, inside the ranch house, Wes spotted a human dressed in a suit cut from a particularly appalling shade of purple silk. The man was short and flabby with badly done hair plugs. Eight large diamond rings graced his pudgy hands. He was obviously one of the nouveau riche who collected occulterie the way that other suddenly wealthy people amassed cars or mansions.
The man didn't notice Wesley's approach. He was too busy fondling the girl in his lap. Leggy, with impossibly blond hair given her dark brows, the young woman squealed with feigned pleasure as the man's plump hands wandered over her assets. She gave a squawk of a different sort when she looked up to see Wes standing over them.
"Nick! Nick!" The bottle-blond cried urgently. She batted at her companion a bit until the man finally paid attention. "Er, yeah?" he peered at Wes, eyes noticeably unfocused. "Whadyuh want?"
Wes gave him a broad, friendly smile and replied in a tone to match. "I was wondering if you know anything about the gentleman who purchased the damphyr."
"Damn fire. What fire?" The man looked about him in confusion. The bimbo rolled her eyes and whispered in his ear. "Oh...yeah, the vampire chick." Nick shook his head. "I wasn't interested in her. Who wants a dead girl in your bed when you can gave a live one like my Shellie here." He slapped Shellie on the rump and she squealed. They both forgot about Wesley.
Wes tried again. "You were sitting next to the gentleman. Do you happen to catch his name?"
Nick turned around in annoyance and stared at the man questioning him. Tall, lean, dressed in faded jeans, t-shirt and a leather jacket, the man could have been one of the geeks who came to buy scrolls. Or, he might be one of those old money types who like to dress like slubs. The part of Nick's mind that handled classifying people into two groups: money and no money decided that the British accent was the key clue. This guy was probably English nobility, maybe even a member of the royal family -he could never keep all those dukes and princes straight. It didn't matter, if the guy had money, he had connections. And Nick needed connections.
Nick put on his best smile and held out a hand to the English guy. That loosened his grip on his girlfriend and she slipped a bit since both his lap and her butt were silk-covered. "Listen, Shellie, could ya grab a couple drinks. A Southern Screw for me and for our friend here..." he turned to the stranger, "I didn't catch yer name."
Wes smiled "Nigel Greene-Humphries." He shook Nick's oily hand.
Nick was a little disappointed that Nigel didn't add a "Lord" or "Earl" to his name, but maybe the guy was traveling incog-whatever. "What do you wanna drink, Nigel? I bet Molinero's got some warm beer somewhere around here."
Wes reminded himself that he had to play along if he was going to pump this guy for information. Shellie might be gone for a while if she was searching for warm beer. "Why yes," he replied, broadening his accent, "That would be veddy nice, indeed."
Shellie strutted away. Nick watched her rear end until it disappeared into the crowd. Then he turned back to Nigel. "So, you're wondering about the guy who bought the vampire."
Wes didn't bother to correct Nick. He just nodded.
Nick made a noise of disgust. "That's Jack Neelson. From Galveston. Paid four million for that dead girl. She's a looker, but you couldn't pay me four million to sleep with her. And what are you gonna do with a vampire in Texas. You can't exactly show her off poolside at the country club."
"Nigel" made sure to laugh along with Nick. The man visibly relaxed. Wes didn't even have to ask the next question.
"'Sides, Neelson only bought her to piss off the Austrians." Nick jerked a thumb toward a pair of scowling men who sat in the front row. "Father 'n' son. They were havin' their own private biddin' war when Neelson barged in. Drove the bids up to they had to drop out."
Wes doubted that. Neelson had been too eager to claim the damphyr. The Texan might have gotten coincidental pleasure from shafting the Austrians, but he wanted the girl for other reasons. He smiled. "How long has this feud with the Austrians gone on?"
"I dunno," Nick shrugged. "This is my first time at Molinero's." He dropped his voice to a whisper. "I came looking for some lufi powder. It's better than Viagra, y'know. Ya can't buy it in the States or Canada, but these Latin countries always have it. Buddy of mine said Molinero had a whole horn once. It sold for twice that vampire chick." Nick paused. "So Shellie 'n' me are on our way to Vegas to get hitched. I thought why not drive down here. He ain't got it, no big. I still got a three week supply of those beautiful blue pills for the honeymoon," he laughed.
Wes realized that he wasn't going to get anymore information from Nick. He decided to make his escape before Shellie came back with a warm bottle of Dos Equis. "Well, Nick it was a pleasure meeting you and your future bride, but I see an old friend and it looks like he's just about to leave. My congratulations on your nuptials."
Before Nick could protest, "Nigel" slipped away.
***
Angel didn't speak Kailiff. The best he could make out from the two guards' snarling conversation was a sense of urgency. Molinero had promised the buyer that the damphyr would be ready to travel as soon as the wire transfer was complete. The Kailiff had rushed the girl out of the great room and down a side corridor. Angel waited a few moments, then followed them.
Peering out of one of the many alcoves that dotted the ranch house, he watched the demons hand the damphyr over to a pair of female human servants. The women wordlessly escorted the girl into a room and closed the door. To Angel's surprise, the guards glanced at each other and, with the air of kids playing hooky, wandered off. Probably sneaking off for a coffee break or whatever form of refreshment Kailiff liked. They wouldn't be gone long since Molinero and the buyer would be expecting the damphyr soon.
Angel moved quickly to the door. Carefully opening it a crack, he peered into the small room. It was fairly dark and appeared empty. However, there was the unmistakable gurgle of running water. The sound and a faint rectangle of light across the room suggested the damphyr was being bathed in an adjoining bathroom.
He slipped into the room, quietly closing the door behind him. His preternatural eyes did not need time to adjust to the darkness as he scanned the bedroom. It was sparsely furnished with a narrow cot and an armoire, a stark contrast to the rest of the ranch house. Molinero clearly hadn't bothered to spend any money on the damphyr's comfort. Angel suspected that the girl's brief stay at the ranch had been spent in restraints on a narrow cot against the western wall. If so, then, her days had passed staring at the blank stucco walls or out the room's single window. He noted with interest that the window's heavy shutters were fastened open and wondered if the damphyr was as impervious to sunlight as she was to crosses or holy water.
There was a shuffling sound nearby. Angel flattened himself against wall just as the bathroom door opened. A short, dark-skinned woman crossed the bedroom to the armoire. Chattering in her indigenous language in a manner that suggested she was scolding her co-worker, she removed a white cotton bathrobe and pair of slippers. Then she turned around and came face to face with Angel!
To her credit, the woman didn't scream. Without taking her eyes from him, she took a step toward the door. His own movement was a blur as he blocked her way. His hand slid across her mouth before she could summon the breath to call for help. Her little rope sandals drummed against Angel's shins as he lifted her so that he could whisper in her ear.
It had been years since he'd spoken Nahuatl, the woman's native language. "You don't want to scream." Angel said soothingly. "There is nothing to be afraid of. I don't mean you any harm."
When the woman relaxed into the hypnotic state of thrall, Angel set her down. Unexpectedly, she whirled and spat at him. "Save your tricks, demon!" she sneered. "I am immune. Do you think Molinero is a fool to put vulnerable women in charge of his tlahuelpuchi."
Angel didn't know the last word she said, but he got the gist of it. It made sense. He knew that Molinero's security arrangements weren't limited to the guards. There were electronic gates at the ranch's entrance and at least four surveillance cameras in the great room where the auction was held. Angel should have expected the rancher to use magickal means to protect the damphyr.
He sighed and drew back his arm to knock the woman out. She saw the movement and didn't flinch. Rather, she seemed to be coolly appraising him. "You have a teyolia, demon."
As Angel struggled with the Nahuatl word, the woman grew exasperated. She switched to Spanish. "Usted tiene un alma." ("You have a soul.")
"Sí."
She digested this information. "¿Cómo?" (How?)
Before he could answer, there was a call from the bathroom. The other servant impatient. The woman rolled her eyes and responded in the same chiding tone as before. Then she repeated her question.
Angel shrugged. "¿Realmente importa?" ("Does it really matter?")
She folded her arms across her ample bosom. "Pero, por supuesto." (But, of course.)
"Me maldijeron. Un gitano me dio un alma para castigarme." "I was cursed. A gypsy gave me a soul to punish me."
The other servant called again, more strident now. The woman gave Angel another appraising stare. "Espera." ("Wait.") She ordered. Then, she carried the robe and slippers into the other room. There was much conversing in Nahuatl before she returned.
To Angel's surprise, she grinned, unselfconsciously revealing tobacco stained teeth. "Le pensé era una víctima de la tlahuelpuchi." ("I thought you were a victim of the tlahuelpuchi."
¿Tlahuelpuchi?" he shook his head. "¿No sé cuáles es eso?" ("I don't know what that is?")
The woman regarded him with contempt. "Un demonio tal como usted. Uno que parece humano, pero oculta a monstruo. Uno que bebe sangre y teme el sol. La única diferencia es que sus golpes del corazón aún." ("A demon like yourself. One that looks human, but hides a monster. One that drinks blood and fears the sun. The only difference is that her heart still beats."
Angel closed his eyes. Yes, he could sense the damphyr's heartbeat now, a third pulsing nearby. That and another vague, yet disturbingly familiar sensation. It puzzled him so that he almost missed the woman's next question.
"¿Qué usted desea con ella?" ("What do you want with her?")
No use lying, Angel thought. "Deseo rescatarla." ("I want to save her.")
"Imposible. La, como usted, maldicen." ("Impossible. She, like you, is damned,") the woman said grimly. The, before Angel could protest, she continued. "Molinero nunca permitirá que usted la tome. Sus demonios le destruirán antes de que usted fije el pie del rancho." ("Molinero will never allow you to take her. His demons will destroy you before you set foot off the ranch.")
Then she leaned forward and winked. "Ése es porqué usted debe esperar hasta que le toman del rancho. La política de Molinero es que él no es responsable de pérdidas que un comprador está una vez fuera de sus puertas." ("That is why you must wait until she is taken from the ranch. Molinero's policy is that he is not responsible for losses once a buyer is outside his gates.")
There was a knock at the bedroom door.
Angel moved to the wall behind the door. The woman opened it and spoke to the Kailiff guard in his own tongue. The demon grunted angrily, but went away. The woman closed the door and approached Angel quickly. "El gringo está impaciente por irse. Debo conseguir la tlahuelpuchi lista. Los demonios volverán para ella en cinco minutos y la llevarán a la entrada lateral. Usted debe ahora ir si usted espera ver qué dirección les dirigen." ("The American is anxious to leave. I must get the tlahuelpuchi ready. The demons will return for her in five minutes and take her to the side entrance. You must go now if you hope to see what direction they are headed.") She turned back toward the bathroom.
"¿Por qué usted me está ayudando?" ("Why are you helping me?") Angel asked quietly.
The woman turned "Usted habría podido matarme cuando usted me cogió." (You could have killed me when you caught me.")
When she reached the bathroom door, she turned once more and there was something very sad in her eyes. "Mi gente ha muerto en las quijadas de su clase para los millares de años Desde venir trabajar en este rancho, he aprendido que hay monstruos peores. Molinero es uno." ("My people have died in the jaws of your kind for thousands of years. Since coming to work at this ranch, I have learned that there are worse monsters. Molinero is one.")
Angel nodded.
Then the woman brightened. "No es la avería de la tlahuelpuchi que ella es malvada. Eso es justo la manera de tales demonios. Usted puede conseguir quizá a su gitano maldecirla." ("It isn't the tlahuelpuchi's fault that she is evil. That is just the way of such demons. Maybe you can get your gypsy to curse her.")
He laughed.
And she was gone.
***
Two hours later...
The sandy soil was seeping into Angel's clothing. It rasped annoyingly against his preternatural skin and made him shift position. The movement sent a trickle of sand and small pebbles skittering down the slope. The sound was horrifically loud in the desert night.
Wesley glared at Angel. It had been the vampire's idea to hide in the soft, sandy soil of the arroyo beside the road to Matamoros. Wesley would have preferred to launch the attack on Neelson's caravan a few miles back where an outcropping of rock provided a natural shelter. Now there was no time to move. They could see the lights of the lead vehicle, an ex-military modified humvee.
As the hummer roared by, Wes fired a series of expert shots that took out the tires. As he hoped, the driver panicked and sent the vehicle skidding across the road. The other cars didn't have room to stop. First one, then the other slammed into the hummer.
For a moment, no one moved in the pile of twisted metal. Then, the door to the humvee opened and a guard staggered out. He raised his Uzi and scanned the direction from which the shots were fired. Nothing. He turned slowly to the opposite direction, right into the stock of Wesley's rifle.
Before the guard had crumpled to the ground, Wes moved on. Together, he and Angel neutralized each guard that managed to extricate himself from the wrecked vehicles. A total of seven fell in less than two minutes. When no one else moved, Angel headed to Neelson's BMW.
The millionaire's car had bulletproof glass, but was otherwise unarmored. It had taken a lot of damage in the crash. Angel had to rip the left passenger door off to get it open. An eighth guard fell halfway out, unconscious.
There was a low moan. When they peered in, Angel and Wes saw Neelson huddled against the right side passenger door. The lower half of the Texan's face was crimson with his own blood. It looked awful, but Angel suspected that it was merely a bad nosebleed. The man seemed otherwise unharmed.
"Don't kill me!" Neelson begged. "I can pay you whatever you want. Just don't kill me."
Wes reached in and dragged the man out. They threw him across the trunk of the BMW. "Where's the damphyr?" Wes barked.
The Texan curled his lip in disgust. "You came after me for that freak."
Neither Wes or Angel bothered to respond. Neelson shook his head and pointed at the Humvee. "It's in there."
When they turned their heads to look, the man shifted. Wes was still staring at the hummer, but Angel reacted to the sudden movement. He grabbed Neelson's arm, but not in time to stop the shot. Redirected, the bullet struck Wesley's upper arm rather than his temple.
Angel wrenched the pistol from Neelson and used it to knock the Texan out. Then, he helped Wes to his feet. The tall Englishman was a little pale, but did no more than wince as Angel examined his bicep. Fortunately, Neelson had only inflicted a minor flesh wound. Wes bore an inch-long furrow that would bleed a lot and leave a nasty scar, but hardly life threatening. Bound with strips from his t-shirt, the ex-Watcher barely noticed the injury as he and Angel walked to the humvee.
A few of the guards stirred as they passed them, but most fell back into unconsciousness with a replaced kick or two. Nonetheless, Angel and Wes gathered up their weapons. There would be no more stealthy attacks. Neelson had his chance and he blew it.
Angel opened the back door of the hummer.
This time, there were no surprises. Only the damphyr lying on the back seat, handcuffed and shackled. At some point during the fighting, her gag has gotten slipped halfway off, and was twisted around her neck. Her mouth was free, but unlike Neelson, she didn't plead. Just stared at them with large, fearful grey eyes.
"You're safe now," Wes breathed. He leaned forward to remove her restraints. The gag, he decided, should come off first in case it was choking her. The movement brought Wesley's wounded arm close to the damphyr's face. She snarled when she smelled his blood. It was eerie seeing those all to human eyes staring out of a vampire's misshapen visage. Despite himself, Wes dropped the gag and took a step back.
"You'd better let me handle her." Angel said dourly.
Wes moved aside as Angel reached in. He watched the damphyr's reaction as Angel snapped the steel shackles on her ankles. She had restored her human mask, but stared in a frankly hungry way at Wes over Angel's shoulder as the vampire worked on her bonds.
Once free, she sat up. Her eyes never left Wesley's face. "I can never be safe. And now, you won't be either."
***
Continued in Chapter 4.
By iyaorisha
Timing: AU S7 BtVS and AU S4 AtS
Pairings: Buffy/Spike, Angel/Cordy, Xander/Anya, Willow/other and Wesley/other.
Summary: Buffy and Spike's fragile new relationship is tested when Angel returns to Sunnydale, bringing with him a mysterious young woman from Spike's dark past. (Revised, with chapter titles!)
(This fic is part one of a yet-untitled series in progress. It can be read on its own or after my "Unmoved" series -four linked fics that chronicle my take on reensouled Spike's return to Sunnydale)
Rating/Warnings: R for violence, language, M/F sexual situations, and self-mutiliation.
Spoilers: None if you've seen S6 of BtVS and up through "Deep Down" in Ats S4. Spoilers for my "Unmoved" fanfic series. References to FFL, the trade novels "Pretty Maids All in a Row" and "Little Things", and my fanfic "Relating to a Psychopath.
Disclaimer: None of the BtVS or AtS characters or the world they inhabit belong to me. They belong to Joss and I promise to put them back when I'm done playing with them.
Author's Note: Reading (and for me, writing) Buffyverse fanfiction is a great form of escapism. Unfortunately, "cutting" or self-mutilation is a very real and terribly serious disorder that affects as many as one out of every 200 adolescent girls in the U.S. If you or someone that you know practices "cutting", please seek help from your local medical/mental health expert.
Feedback: My first BtVs/AtS crossover fanfic! Brutal honesty is best (I enjoy floggings, I really do), but warm fuzzies are accepted as well. You can post a review here or email me at fanfic_by_iyaorisha@yahoo.com
***
Chapter 3: Caveat Emptor
Three weeks earlier...
Charles Gunn was getting angry by the minute. The young man wasn't sure what the hell a damphyr was. But he watched it drink blood. And the name rhymed with vampire. So he figured that it fit in that category of demon that -Angel withstanding-he'd be all too pleased to wipe from the face of the earth.
Nonetheless, he had been tense ever since bidding began. The scene was just too close to an episode in his family's oral history.
Gunn's father used to tell him about his great-great-great grandmother Susanna being sold away from her mother and baby sister. She was no more than eleven or twelve when she stood on the auction block on an early spring morning in North Carolina. But that didn't stop the auctioneer from stripping her to the waist before a crowd of tobacco farmers. Ostensibly, her upper body was exposed to show that she didn't bear any whip marks -a sign that she was a docile slave. But the crackers used the opportunity to ogle Susanna's budding breasts. They hooted crude remarks as her nipples pebbled from the cool air.
Naturally, Gunn never met Mama Susanna. She died in 1928; before his own grandfather was even born. But his father's storytelling made her come alive. A frightened and humiliated girl at the mercy of a crowd of lecherous men, knowing that she'd have to go home with one of them. Looking around the room, Gunn recognized the expression on the faces of demon, vampire, and human alike. They wanted this damphyr. And not just as a curiosity to add to whatever menagerie of slaves they maintained. It was hard to find a fouler aspiration than that to own another person; but this was a still filthier desire.
He was damned if he'd let them have her.
As Gunn's hand tightened on his weapon, Wes was making his own preparations for the fight to rescue the young woman. He had long knives strapped to each arm and a Browning 9mm in a shoulder holster, but the weapon he readied was his mind.
The Kailiff demons handling the young woman were the biggest worry. They were not only strong, but fiercely loyal to their boss, Anselmo Molinero Sanz. Wes had seen them fight off thieves before. Heavily armed, with their heads bristling with spines, the dark-red skinned demons were a formidable adversary.
Unfortunately, they were not the only potential foe. The auctions at the ranch always drew a large and motley assemblage of collectors. Many were human men of staggering wealth who were amused by dabbling in the occult. They invariably came with bodyguards. If a battle broke out, the hired muscle might not wait to see who was under attack.
The other attendees were mostly demons of various breeds. Some were physically powerful and aggressive enough to enter the fray on general principles. Others might become involved simply in order to curry favor with Molinero.
Then, there were the human innocents. Some eight or nine serious scholars and occultists who, like himself, came to the ranch hoping to find some rarity. A scroll long believed to be lost. The very amulet needed to complete a spell. They were soft from the sedentary lifestyle that was a natural result of their work. Few, if any, would be armed; instead, naively trusting that Kailiff security guards would protect them from any assailants in the crowd. When the fighting broke out, they would become excellent human shields.
Wes gritted his teeth. They were outnumbered. And the potential for collateral damage was high.
A few feet away, Angel was making the same risk assessment. Like Gunn and Wesley, he felt a strong compulsion to rescue the damphyr. His own flesh crawled when the cross was pressed against her forehead. It might not have hurt her, but she was clearly afraid that it might.
Something told Angel that this wasn't her first time on the auction block. Perhaps the way that she wearily obeyed her handlers' orders. Sipping from a vial of holy water to show that it held no danger for her. Turning around at a bidder's request. She did it all without casting a glance at the crowd. She didn't care about their reaction.
How long had the damphyr lived this nightmarish existence? Angel shook his head almost imperceptibly. He couldn't think about that. It would make it even harder to do what needed to be done.
Stand back and watch as she was sold.
Because there was no way the three of them could rescue her right now. The ranch was too heavily guarded. The best chance to liberate her would come if she were sold. The buyer would take her away from the ranch and Molinero's Kailiff demon guards. Whoever bought her would be very wealthy -bidding had just reached three and a quarter million dollars-and therefore, they would have their own security team. But not as many men as Molinero. With luck, the bodyguards might even be human.
Those were odds he could take.
Gunn and Wesley both took a step forward.
"No," Angel hissed.
The two men were both battle hungry, but they stopped. It was a good thing. For a moment, the vampire was caught up in the eagerness to fight that shone in their eyes. His demon quickened inside him, clamoring to be set free -Angelus didn't care about rescuing the damphyr, but he was rearing for a good fight.
Angel steeled himself against the urge to launch a foolhardy attack. Instead, he motioned to his companions to follow him into a small curtained alcove just outside the great room where the auction was being conducted. Wes and Gunn did so reluctantly, casting worried eyes back to the spot-lit dais. Once they were all inside, Angel drew the velvet curtains closed so that they were concealed from any passersby. Then, he revealed his plan.
Fifteen minutes later, they emerged from the alcove, just in time to hear the auctioneer cry "Sold!" Many in the crowd burst into applause as a large man with badly jaundiced eyes lurched to his feet and approached the dais. He was shocked and angered when a cordon of Kailiff guards closed ranks, cutting him off from the damphyr he had just purchased.
Molinero himself stepped out the shadows to appease the buyer, explaining in diplomatic tones that the damphyr would be bathed and properly dressed while the financial arrangements were made. All of this was delivered in cultured tones so low that even with preternatural hearing, Angel had to strain to catch the words.
In contrast, the buyer's voice was booming and coarse. "So long as I can leave with her within the hour. I don't want to have to spend the night in Matamoros."
Of course not, Molinero said soothingly. Then, he invited the crude American to his office where the wire transfer would be conducted.
Angel conveyed all this quickly to Gunn and Wesley. Then the three split up. Each had a separate mission to complete before the buyer left the ranch with the damphyr.
***
Gunn left the ranch house. He made sure to look dejected when he passed the two Kailiff guards at the main entrance. They assumed he was a disappointed bidder leaving early and let him by with a second glance.
He walked slowly to the wide swath of tarmac that scarred the desert just inside the ranch's front gate. An easy four dozen vehicles were parked there while the owners attended the auction. A handful of the vehicles would not have looked out of place on the parking lot of your neighborhood middle school. They seemed so white bread that would be easy to assume that they all belonged to the scholars and occultists. However, Wesley's SUV visually fit into this I'm-a regular-Joe category and Gunn knew that it had been modified with secret compartments to carry weapons and other supplies. It was a reminder that appearances were usually deceiving.
In addition to the regular-looking cars, there were about twenty battered pick-up trucks, SUVs, and humvees. Gunn noted that a few of these seemed occupied. Gangsta rap blared in one. Country music leaked from another. Cigarette smoke drifted up from at least two vehicles. And, he spotted a bar of booted feet sticking out the windows of a rust-speckled Dodge Ram.
About a third of the vehicles were very high-end luxury cars. They were guarded, of course. But not well. Gunn could smell marijuana smoke in the air -bodyguards taking advantage of a long break before the auction ended and their bosses wanted to go home.
His assessment complete, Gunn went to Angel's convertible and retrieved a duffle bag from the trunk. He took a small tool from it and returned the bag. Then, he went to work.
With the exception of Wesley's SUV, every vehicle that was clearly unoccupied and unguarded got the same treatment. All four tires were slashed multiple times. The owners wouldn't be going anywhere tonight unless there was a NTB store somewhere on Molinero's property. Gunn chuckled a bit at the thought. The ranch was so large it was a possibility.
Once the majority of the vehicles were disabled, Gunn's mood turned grim. Since Wes had traveled to the ranch on his own, the team had two vehicles. Angel's convertible was fine for transportation to jobs in L.A. and its suburbs, but it would unsuitable for the mission ahead. Wes' truck was the best bet.
So, Gunn would have to drive Angel's car to Matamoros and wait for Wes and Angel to arrive with the damphyr. He didn't like that part of the plan. It sucked to be left out of the fighting, which was the fun part, after all. A year ago, he wouldn't have agreed. But then, a year ago he wasn't sure Wes could fill his spot in a battle. He grinned a little. English was full of surprises these days. It was good to have a man like that at your back. It was good to work with him again, even if most of the bad blood between Wes and Angel remained.
He cast a last glance back at the ranch house, then turned the key. The engine purred sweetly to life. Driving the convertible was a mighty small consolation for having to leave, but Gunn would take it.
***
Meanwhile, inside the ranch house, Wes spotted a human dressed in a suit cut from a particularly appalling shade of purple silk. The man was short and flabby with badly done hair plugs. Eight large diamond rings graced his pudgy hands. He was obviously one of the nouveau riche who collected occulterie the way that other suddenly wealthy people amassed cars or mansions.
The man didn't notice Wesley's approach. He was too busy fondling the girl in his lap. Leggy, with impossibly blond hair given her dark brows, the young woman squealed with feigned pleasure as the man's plump hands wandered over her assets. She gave a squawk of a different sort when she looked up to see Wes standing over them.
"Nick! Nick!" The bottle-blond cried urgently. She batted at her companion a bit until the man finally paid attention. "Er, yeah?" he peered at Wes, eyes noticeably unfocused. "Whadyuh want?"
Wes gave him a broad, friendly smile and replied in a tone to match. "I was wondering if you know anything about the gentleman who purchased the damphyr."
"Damn fire. What fire?" The man looked about him in confusion. The bimbo rolled her eyes and whispered in his ear. "Oh...yeah, the vampire chick." Nick shook his head. "I wasn't interested in her. Who wants a dead girl in your bed when you can gave a live one like my Shellie here." He slapped Shellie on the rump and she squealed. They both forgot about Wesley.
Wes tried again. "You were sitting next to the gentleman. Do you happen to catch his name?"
Nick turned around in annoyance and stared at the man questioning him. Tall, lean, dressed in faded jeans, t-shirt and a leather jacket, the man could have been one of the geeks who came to buy scrolls. Or, he might be one of those old money types who like to dress like slubs. The part of Nick's mind that handled classifying people into two groups: money and no money decided that the British accent was the key clue. This guy was probably English nobility, maybe even a member of the royal family -he could never keep all those dukes and princes straight. It didn't matter, if the guy had money, he had connections. And Nick needed connections.
Nick put on his best smile and held out a hand to the English guy. That loosened his grip on his girlfriend and she slipped a bit since both his lap and her butt were silk-covered. "Listen, Shellie, could ya grab a couple drinks. A Southern Screw for me and for our friend here..." he turned to the stranger, "I didn't catch yer name."
Wes smiled "Nigel Greene-Humphries." He shook Nick's oily hand.
Nick was a little disappointed that Nigel didn't add a "Lord" or "Earl" to his name, but maybe the guy was traveling incog-whatever. "What do you wanna drink, Nigel? I bet Molinero's got some warm beer somewhere around here."
Wes reminded himself that he had to play along if he was going to pump this guy for information. Shellie might be gone for a while if she was searching for warm beer. "Why yes," he replied, broadening his accent, "That would be veddy nice, indeed."
Shellie strutted away. Nick watched her rear end until it disappeared into the crowd. Then he turned back to Nigel. "So, you're wondering about the guy who bought the vampire."
Wes didn't bother to correct Nick. He just nodded.
Nick made a noise of disgust. "That's Jack Neelson. From Galveston. Paid four million for that dead girl. She's a looker, but you couldn't pay me four million to sleep with her. And what are you gonna do with a vampire in Texas. You can't exactly show her off poolside at the country club."
"Nigel" made sure to laugh along with Nick. The man visibly relaxed. Wes didn't even have to ask the next question.
"'Sides, Neelson only bought her to piss off the Austrians." Nick jerked a thumb toward a pair of scowling men who sat in the front row. "Father 'n' son. They were havin' their own private biddin' war when Neelson barged in. Drove the bids up to they had to drop out."
Wes doubted that. Neelson had been too eager to claim the damphyr. The Texan might have gotten coincidental pleasure from shafting the Austrians, but he wanted the girl for other reasons. He smiled. "How long has this feud with the Austrians gone on?"
"I dunno," Nick shrugged. "This is my first time at Molinero's." He dropped his voice to a whisper. "I came looking for some lufi powder. It's better than Viagra, y'know. Ya can't buy it in the States or Canada, but these Latin countries always have it. Buddy of mine said Molinero had a whole horn once. It sold for twice that vampire chick." Nick paused. "So Shellie 'n' me are on our way to Vegas to get hitched. I thought why not drive down here. He ain't got it, no big. I still got a three week supply of those beautiful blue pills for the honeymoon," he laughed.
Wes realized that he wasn't going to get anymore information from Nick. He decided to make his escape before Shellie came back with a warm bottle of Dos Equis. "Well, Nick it was a pleasure meeting you and your future bride, but I see an old friend and it looks like he's just about to leave. My congratulations on your nuptials."
Before Nick could protest, "Nigel" slipped away.
***
Angel didn't speak Kailiff. The best he could make out from the two guards' snarling conversation was a sense of urgency. Molinero had promised the buyer that the damphyr would be ready to travel as soon as the wire transfer was complete. The Kailiff had rushed the girl out of the great room and down a side corridor. Angel waited a few moments, then followed them.
Peering out of one of the many alcoves that dotted the ranch house, he watched the demons hand the damphyr over to a pair of female human servants. The women wordlessly escorted the girl into a room and closed the door. To Angel's surprise, the guards glanced at each other and, with the air of kids playing hooky, wandered off. Probably sneaking off for a coffee break or whatever form of refreshment Kailiff liked. They wouldn't be gone long since Molinero and the buyer would be expecting the damphyr soon.
Angel moved quickly to the door. Carefully opening it a crack, he peered into the small room. It was fairly dark and appeared empty. However, there was the unmistakable gurgle of running water. The sound and a faint rectangle of light across the room suggested the damphyr was being bathed in an adjoining bathroom.
He slipped into the room, quietly closing the door behind him. His preternatural eyes did not need time to adjust to the darkness as he scanned the bedroom. It was sparsely furnished with a narrow cot and an armoire, a stark contrast to the rest of the ranch house. Molinero clearly hadn't bothered to spend any money on the damphyr's comfort. Angel suspected that the girl's brief stay at the ranch had been spent in restraints on a narrow cot against the western wall. If so, then, her days had passed staring at the blank stucco walls or out the room's single window. He noted with interest that the window's heavy shutters were fastened open and wondered if the damphyr was as impervious to sunlight as she was to crosses or holy water.
There was a shuffling sound nearby. Angel flattened himself against wall just as the bathroom door opened. A short, dark-skinned woman crossed the bedroom to the armoire. Chattering in her indigenous language in a manner that suggested she was scolding her co-worker, she removed a white cotton bathrobe and pair of slippers. Then she turned around and came face to face with Angel!
To her credit, the woman didn't scream. Without taking her eyes from him, she took a step toward the door. His own movement was a blur as he blocked her way. His hand slid across her mouth before she could summon the breath to call for help. Her little rope sandals drummed against Angel's shins as he lifted her so that he could whisper in her ear.
It had been years since he'd spoken Nahuatl, the woman's native language. "You don't want to scream." Angel said soothingly. "There is nothing to be afraid of. I don't mean you any harm."
When the woman relaxed into the hypnotic state of thrall, Angel set her down. Unexpectedly, she whirled and spat at him. "Save your tricks, demon!" she sneered. "I am immune. Do you think Molinero is a fool to put vulnerable women in charge of his tlahuelpuchi."
Angel didn't know the last word she said, but he got the gist of it. It made sense. He knew that Molinero's security arrangements weren't limited to the guards. There were electronic gates at the ranch's entrance and at least four surveillance cameras in the great room where the auction was held. Angel should have expected the rancher to use magickal means to protect the damphyr.
He sighed and drew back his arm to knock the woman out. She saw the movement and didn't flinch. Rather, she seemed to be coolly appraising him. "You have a teyolia, demon."
As Angel struggled with the Nahuatl word, the woman grew exasperated. She switched to Spanish. "Usted tiene un alma." ("You have a soul.")
"Sí."
She digested this information. "¿Cómo?" (How?)
Before he could answer, there was a call from the bathroom. The other servant impatient. The woman rolled her eyes and responded in the same chiding tone as before. Then she repeated her question.
Angel shrugged. "¿Realmente importa?" ("Does it really matter?")
She folded her arms across her ample bosom. "Pero, por supuesto." (But, of course.)
"Me maldijeron. Un gitano me dio un alma para castigarme." "I was cursed. A gypsy gave me a soul to punish me."
The other servant called again, more strident now. The woman gave Angel another appraising stare. "Espera." ("Wait.") She ordered. Then, she carried the robe and slippers into the other room. There was much conversing in Nahuatl before she returned.
To Angel's surprise, she grinned, unselfconsciously revealing tobacco stained teeth. "Le pensé era una víctima de la tlahuelpuchi." ("I thought you were a victim of the tlahuelpuchi."
¿Tlahuelpuchi?" he shook his head. "¿No sé cuáles es eso?" ("I don't know what that is?")
The woman regarded him with contempt. "Un demonio tal como usted. Uno que parece humano, pero oculta a monstruo. Uno que bebe sangre y teme el sol. La única diferencia es que sus golpes del corazón aún." ("A demon like yourself. One that looks human, but hides a monster. One that drinks blood and fears the sun. The only difference is that her heart still beats."
Angel closed his eyes. Yes, he could sense the damphyr's heartbeat now, a third pulsing nearby. That and another vague, yet disturbingly familiar sensation. It puzzled him so that he almost missed the woman's next question.
"¿Qué usted desea con ella?" ("What do you want with her?")
No use lying, Angel thought. "Deseo rescatarla." ("I want to save her.")
"Imposible. La, como usted, maldicen." ("Impossible. She, like you, is damned,") the woman said grimly. The, before Angel could protest, she continued. "Molinero nunca permitirá que usted la tome. Sus demonios le destruirán antes de que usted fije el pie del rancho." ("Molinero will never allow you to take her. His demons will destroy you before you set foot off the ranch.")
Then she leaned forward and winked. "Ése es porqué usted debe esperar hasta que le toman del rancho. La política de Molinero es que él no es responsable de pérdidas que un comprador está una vez fuera de sus puertas." ("That is why you must wait until she is taken from the ranch. Molinero's policy is that he is not responsible for losses once a buyer is outside his gates.")
There was a knock at the bedroom door.
Angel moved to the wall behind the door. The woman opened it and spoke to the Kailiff guard in his own tongue. The demon grunted angrily, but went away. The woman closed the door and approached Angel quickly. "El gringo está impaciente por irse. Debo conseguir la tlahuelpuchi lista. Los demonios volverán para ella en cinco minutos y la llevarán a la entrada lateral. Usted debe ahora ir si usted espera ver qué dirección les dirigen." ("The American is anxious to leave. I must get the tlahuelpuchi ready. The demons will return for her in five minutes and take her to the side entrance. You must go now if you hope to see what direction they are headed.") She turned back toward the bathroom.
"¿Por qué usted me está ayudando?" ("Why are you helping me?") Angel asked quietly.
The woman turned "Usted habría podido matarme cuando usted me cogió." (You could have killed me when you caught me.")
When she reached the bathroom door, she turned once more and there was something very sad in her eyes. "Mi gente ha muerto en las quijadas de su clase para los millares de años Desde venir trabajar en este rancho, he aprendido que hay monstruos peores. Molinero es uno." ("My people have died in the jaws of your kind for thousands of years. Since coming to work at this ranch, I have learned that there are worse monsters. Molinero is one.")
Angel nodded.
Then the woman brightened. "No es la avería de la tlahuelpuchi que ella es malvada. Eso es justo la manera de tales demonios. Usted puede conseguir quizá a su gitano maldecirla." ("It isn't the tlahuelpuchi's fault that she is evil. That is just the way of such demons. Maybe you can get your gypsy to curse her.")
He laughed.
And she was gone.
***
Two hours later...
The sandy soil was seeping into Angel's clothing. It rasped annoyingly against his preternatural skin and made him shift position. The movement sent a trickle of sand and small pebbles skittering down the slope. The sound was horrifically loud in the desert night.
Wesley glared at Angel. It had been the vampire's idea to hide in the soft, sandy soil of the arroyo beside the road to Matamoros. Wesley would have preferred to launch the attack on Neelson's caravan a few miles back where an outcropping of rock provided a natural shelter. Now there was no time to move. They could see the lights of the lead vehicle, an ex-military modified humvee.
As the hummer roared by, Wes fired a series of expert shots that took out the tires. As he hoped, the driver panicked and sent the vehicle skidding across the road. The other cars didn't have room to stop. First one, then the other slammed into the hummer.
For a moment, no one moved in the pile of twisted metal. Then, the door to the humvee opened and a guard staggered out. He raised his Uzi and scanned the direction from which the shots were fired. Nothing. He turned slowly to the opposite direction, right into the stock of Wesley's rifle.
Before the guard had crumpled to the ground, Wes moved on. Together, he and Angel neutralized each guard that managed to extricate himself from the wrecked vehicles. A total of seven fell in less than two minutes. When no one else moved, Angel headed to Neelson's BMW.
The millionaire's car had bulletproof glass, but was otherwise unarmored. It had taken a lot of damage in the crash. Angel had to rip the left passenger door off to get it open. An eighth guard fell halfway out, unconscious.
There was a low moan. When they peered in, Angel and Wes saw Neelson huddled against the right side passenger door. The lower half of the Texan's face was crimson with his own blood. It looked awful, but Angel suspected that it was merely a bad nosebleed. The man seemed otherwise unharmed.
"Don't kill me!" Neelson begged. "I can pay you whatever you want. Just don't kill me."
Wes reached in and dragged the man out. They threw him across the trunk of the BMW. "Where's the damphyr?" Wes barked.
The Texan curled his lip in disgust. "You came after me for that freak."
Neither Wes or Angel bothered to respond. Neelson shook his head and pointed at the Humvee. "It's in there."
When they turned their heads to look, the man shifted. Wes was still staring at the hummer, but Angel reacted to the sudden movement. He grabbed Neelson's arm, but not in time to stop the shot. Redirected, the bullet struck Wesley's upper arm rather than his temple.
Angel wrenched the pistol from Neelson and used it to knock the Texan out. Then, he helped Wes to his feet. The tall Englishman was a little pale, but did no more than wince as Angel examined his bicep. Fortunately, Neelson had only inflicted a minor flesh wound. Wes bore an inch-long furrow that would bleed a lot and leave a nasty scar, but hardly life threatening. Bound with strips from his t-shirt, the ex-Watcher barely noticed the injury as he and Angel walked to the humvee.
A few of the guards stirred as they passed them, but most fell back into unconsciousness with a replaced kick or two. Nonetheless, Angel and Wes gathered up their weapons. There would be no more stealthy attacks. Neelson had his chance and he blew it.
Angel opened the back door of the hummer.
This time, there were no surprises. Only the damphyr lying on the back seat, handcuffed and shackled. At some point during the fighting, her gag has gotten slipped halfway off, and was twisted around her neck. Her mouth was free, but unlike Neelson, she didn't plead. Just stared at them with large, fearful grey eyes.
"You're safe now," Wes breathed. He leaned forward to remove her restraints. The gag, he decided, should come off first in case it was choking her. The movement brought Wesley's wounded arm close to the damphyr's face. She snarled when she smelled his blood. It was eerie seeing those all to human eyes staring out of a vampire's misshapen visage. Despite himself, Wes dropped the gag and took a step back.
"You'd better let me handle her." Angel said dourly.
Wes moved aside as Angel reached in. He watched the damphyr's reaction as Angel snapped the steel shackles on her ankles. She had restored her human mask, but stared in a frankly hungry way at Wes over Angel's shoulder as the vampire worked on her bonds.
Once free, she sat up. Her eyes never left Wesley's face. "I can never be safe. And now, you won't be either."
***
Continued in Chapter 4.