Title: Love Squared (5/9)
Author: Cyclone
Feedback: Please be gentle.
Distribution: Gimme credit and a link. Plus, archived at http://fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=62966
Rating: I'm gonna go say R.
Spoilers: Up to Seeing Red and Deep Down.
Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein belong to the almighty Joss. I'm just borrowing them for a while.
Summary: Sequel to Dancing Around Love. The Scooby Gang comes to grips with the recent events and deals with the Trio.
Author's Note: B/W/T/X, along with hints of X/Amy and Jonathan/Amy.
* * *
Winifred Burkle and Charles Gunn were all that remained of Angel Investigations, and they were swamped. Technically, Conner was a part of the team as well, but aside from his combat prowess and intuitive thinking, he had little to offer the team, which was sorely lacking the sort of supernatural expertise that had been provided by Wesley and -- to a lesser degree -- Angel himself.
Between the cases that kept coming in and the search for Angel and Cordelia, the two barely had time to catch a breather, even with the usual summer dry-up that was starting. Lately, though, there had been fewer cases coming in, and they'd been able to start clearing up some of their backlog.
A wild-eyed man burst into the Hyperion Hotel. He was slender and well-muscled and had bleached blond hair. "All right, where is he?!" he demanded.
Gunn looked up, "Where's who?"
"The Poof," Spike snarled. At the matched pair of blank looks he recieved, he sighed and said, "_Angel_. I need to have a few words with 'im."
* * *
Buffy kissed Xander and smiled.
"Mmm... I never get tired of that," she said coyly.
Xander smiled, "You'd better not, 'cause there's the whole me loving you bit."
"God," Buffy said, shaking her head, "I can't believe I turned down kisses like that. If I knew what I was missing..."
"Hey," Xander grinned, "in your defense, my natural talent for smooching had yet to be revealed."
"Well, let's find out what other talents you have," she grinned, looping her hands behind his neck.
* * *
"What do you mean, he's missing?!" Spike bellowed incredulously. "Bloody hell!"
"Exactly that," Gunn said. "He's been missing for the past couple weeks. Why you lookin' for him, anyway?"
"It's all his fault," Spike growled. He sighed, "Look, forget it. What can I do to help find the Poof?" His gaze drifted toward Conner, "And who's the puke?"
"Oh, that's Conner," Fred said. "Angel's son."
"WHAT?!?"
* * *
Xander blinked. It was night time, and he was outside with no weapons, standing in front of a house with its front door ajar. This _had_ to be a dream.
At least, he darn well hoped it was.
Shrugging to himself, he slipped through the opening and looked around inside. The place had a homey atmosphere, but it was tainted with... something. Most things were neat and tidy and tucked away like any home... but he could tell. He could see the signs, the little tell-tale signs that filled his own home.
This was a house of violence. Over there, a white spot on the wall, about shoulder level, where a hole about the size of a fist had been plastered over. Near the far wall, a wooden chair duck taped back together. Next to the chair, a table with a leg broken off and a pile of books under it to support that corner.
He shuddered but stepped in. Somehow, this was important. He could feel it in his heart.
And he always trusted his heart.
He stepped down the hall, noting that the hallway double-backed into a staircase, and peered through the banister posts.
Xander frowned at the sight. Tara cowered in the corner, surrounded by vaguely familiar people. It took him a moment to recognize Donny and the other Maclays.
When he heard the epithets and taunts they were hurling at the blonde witch, anger boiled up from inside him, but before he could act, a soft voice crooned, "Do it, sweetie. You know they deserve it, after what they did to you... to me. To us."
He blinked at the woman sitting on the stairs, looking sympathetically at Tara. With a sudden jolt of clarity, he realized that the woman must be her mother.
Suddenly, Tara's head jerked up, and Xander felt his throat catch at the sight of her all-black eyes. The blonde witch swept out her hand, and purple lightning leaped from her fingertips toward her family, who crumbled to dust.
Her eyes met his, and her arm faltered as her eyes returned to normal.
"Xander?" she said uncertainly.
Pain. Searing white pain flashed through Xander, even as the image of a person dressed in brown robes and obscured in shadow burned itself into his memory.
He bolted up and looked around wildly. He was covered in sweat on Buffy's bed, the Slayer lying peacefully next to him.
*What the _hell_ was that?!*
* * *
"Bloody f***ing hell!" Spike swore as he ducked the massive axe and sent one-two-three punches into the demon's gut.
Dancing back again, he shot a look at Gunn and demanded incredulously, "Is there _anybody_ in this town dear old Daddy _hasn't_ pissed off?!"
"You've known him longer. What do _you_ think?"
Spike snarled and vamped out, launching himself into a more aggressive attack.
*This is all _your_ fault, Angelus!* he thought angrily.
It was getting to be a regular mantra for him lately.
* * *
"Hey."
Tara looked up and smiled, "Xander, hey."
He glanced around her room nervously, "Look, uh, this is gonna sound strange, but, uh, have you had any... weird dreams lately?"
She blinked in surprise for a moment, then shook her head, "N-no. Wh-why?"
He shrugged, "Ah, well, it's just... I been having some dreams lately. You were in them, and they felt so... _real_ -- I mean, scary real -- and I just... got worried."
She smiled and rose off the bed. Kissing him lightly, she said, "That's sweet of you, Xander, but I'm not having any nightmares."
"Good to know," he said, relieved. He turned and left, closing the door behind him.
Had he lingered by her door a moment longer, he might have heard her sob quietly, "I lied to him. I lied to Xander."
A figure detached from the shadows in the corner and sat on the bed next to her, saying soothingly, "It's all right, honey. You know it's for the best."
"Yes, Mother."
* * *
Spike splashed water on his face and glared at the empty mirror. Bloody hell, this was starting to annoy him. He shook his head and hesitantly reached down to the item on the counter.
It was a nightly ritual for him, a way to punish himself for what he'd done. He began each night with this ordeal, an ordeal that would last all night and remind him of the people he'd tortured... raped... killed.
Steeling his nerves, he picked up the small crucifix and quickly looped the chain around his neck. He bit back a cry of pain as the holy symbol burned into his chest, letting out a low hiss instead, but he couldn't stop the tears from welling up.
Blinking them back, he put on his shirt and donned his jacket, concealing his penance, ready for another night in search of his sire.
* * *
"Amy? Jonathan?" Willow raised a curious eyebrow at the two as she entered the Magic Box. "What are you two doing here?"
Amy looked down from where she was arranging some books on the top shelf behind the counter. "Oh, um, Xander kinda inherited the place after... and we figured..." she shrugged.
Jonathan nodded as he put down the box he was carrying, "Yeah, we figured someone ought to keep the place open, get some money flowing in, so... here we are. It'll let us keep track of who's buying what, too, in case we need to head off another apocalypse."
The redhead smiled, "Good idea." She frowned, "Hey, are those dark magic books?"
Amy nodded, "Yeah. I figured it'd be safer sticking them up here. If we put them into storage, someone might steal one, and we wouldn't even know it until it was too late."
* * *
Spike slammed Marissa up against the wall. "No more games, pet. Did you see anything?"
She spat in his face, but he didn't flinch. Instead, he slowly -- not by choice, but by necessity, as every instinct screamed for him to hurl the burning thing away -- drew the cross from beneath his shirt and held it up to her cheek.
Marissa howled in pain and outrage as the holy symbol burned into her face. He pulled the cross back and said evenly, "I'll ask you one more time, then I start getting creative. Where. Is. Angelus?"
* * *
Author's Note:
There's part five, and things are about to hit the fan. ^_^
Author: Cyclone
Feedback: Please be gentle.
Distribution: Gimme credit and a link. Plus, archived at http://fanfiction.net/profile.php?userid=62966
Rating: I'm gonna go say R.
Spoilers: Up to Seeing Red and Deep Down.
Disclaimer: The characters depicted herein belong to the almighty Joss. I'm just borrowing them for a while.
Summary: Sequel to Dancing Around Love. The Scooby Gang comes to grips with the recent events and deals with the Trio.
Author's Note: B/W/T/X, along with hints of X/Amy and Jonathan/Amy.
* * *
Winifred Burkle and Charles Gunn were all that remained of Angel Investigations, and they were swamped. Technically, Conner was a part of the team as well, but aside from his combat prowess and intuitive thinking, he had little to offer the team, which was sorely lacking the sort of supernatural expertise that had been provided by Wesley and -- to a lesser degree -- Angel himself.
Between the cases that kept coming in and the search for Angel and Cordelia, the two barely had time to catch a breather, even with the usual summer dry-up that was starting. Lately, though, there had been fewer cases coming in, and they'd been able to start clearing up some of their backlog.
A wild-eyed man burst into the Hyperion Hotel. He was slender and well-muscled and had bleached blond hair. "All right, where is he?!" he demanded.
Gunn looked up, "Where's who?"
"The Poof," Spike snarled. At the matched pair of blank looks he recieved, he sighed and said, "_Angel_. I need to have a few words with 'im."
* * *
Buffy kissed Xander and smiled.
"Mmm... I never get tired of that," she said coyly.
Xander smiled, "You'd better not, 'cause there's the whole me loving you bit."
"God," Buffy said, shaking her head, "I can't believe I turned down kisses like that. If I knew what I was missing..."
"Hey," Xander grinned, "in your defense, my natural talent for smooching had yet to be revealed."
"Well, let's find out what other talents you have," she grinned, looping her hands behind his neck.
* * *
"What do you mean, he's missing?!" Spike bellowed incredulously. "Bloody hell!"
"Exactly that," Gunn said. "He's been missing for the past couple weeks. Why you lookin' for him, anyway?"
"It's all his fault," Spike growled. He sighed, "Look, forget it. What can I do to help find the Poof?" His gaze drifted toward Conner, "And who's the puke?"
"Oh, that's Conner," Fred said. "Angel's son."
"WHAT?!?"
* * *
Xander blinked. It was night time, and he was outside with no weapons, standing in front of a house with its front door ajar. This _had_ to be a dream.
At least, he darn well hoped it was.
Shrugging to himself, he slipped through the opening and looked around inside. The place had a homey atmosphere, but it was tainted with... something. Most things were neat and tidy and tucked away like any home... but he could tell. He could see the signs, the little tell-tale signs that filled his own home.
This was a house of violence. Over there, a white spot on the wall, about shoulder level, where a hole about the size of a fist had been plastered over. Near the far wall, a wooden chair duck taped back together. Next to the chair, a table with a leg broken off and a pile of books under it to support that corner.
He shuddered but stepped in. Somehow, this was important. He could feel it in his heart.
And he always trusted his heart.
He stepped down the hall, noting that the hallway double-backed into a staircase, and peered through the banister posts.
Xander frowned at the sight. Tara cowered in the corner, surrounded by vaguely familiar people. It took him a moment to recognize Donny and the other Maclays.
When he heard the epithets and taunts they were hurling at the blonde witch, anger boiled up from inside him, but before he could act, a soft voice crooned, "Do it, sweetie. You know they deserve it, after what they did to you... to me. To us."
He blinked at the woman sitting on the stairs, looking sympathetically at Tara. With a sudden jolt of clarity, he realized that the woman must be her mother.
Suddenly, Tara's head jerked up, and Xander felt his throat catch at the sight of her all-black eyes. The blonde witch swept out her hand, and purple lightning leaped from her fingertips toward her family, who crumbled to dust.
Her eyes met his, and her arm faltered as her eyes returned to normal.
"Xander?" she said uncertainly.
Pain. Searing white pain flashed through Xander, even as the image of a person dressed in brown robes and obscured in shadow burned itself into his memory.
He bolted up and looked around wildly. He was covered in sweat on Buffy's bed, the Slayer lying peacefully next to him.
*What the _hell_ was that?!*
* * *
"Bloody f***ing hell!" Spike swore as he ducked the massive axe and sent one-two-three punches into the demon's gut.
Dancing back again, he shot a look at Gunn and demanded incredulously, "Is there _anybody_ in this town dear old Daddy _hasn't_ pissed off?!"
"You've known him longer. What do _you_ think?"
Spike snarled and vamped out, launching himself into a more aggressive attack.
*This is all _your_ fault, Angelus!* he thought angrily.
It was getting to be a regular mantra for him lately.
* * *
"Hey."
Tara looked up and smiled, "Xander, hey."
He glanced around her room nervously, "Look, uh, this is gonna sound strange, but, uh, have you had any... weird dreams lately?"
She blinked in surprise for a moment, then shook her head, "N-no. Wh-why?"
He shrugged, "Ah, well, it's just... I been having some dreams lately. You were in them, and they felt so... _real_ -- I mean, scary real -- and I just... got worried."
She smiled and rose off the bed. Kissing him lightly, she said, "That's sweet of you, Xander, but I'm not having any nightmares."
"Good to know," he said, relieved. He turned and left, closing the door behind him.
Had he lingered by her door a moment longer, he might have heard her sob quietly, "I lied to him. I lied to Xander."
A figure detached from the shadows in the corner and sat on the bed next to her, saying soothingly, "It's all right, honey. You know it's for the best."
"Yes, Mother."
* * *
Spike splashed water on his face and glared at the empty mirror. Bloody hell, this was starting to annoy him. He shook his head and hesitantly reached down to the item on the counter.
It was a nightly ritual for him, a way to punish himself for what he'd done. He began each night with this ordeal, an ordeal that would last all night and remind him of the people he'd tortured... raped... killed.
Steeling his nerves, he picked up the small crucifix and quickly looped the chain around his neck. He bit back a cry of pain as the holy symbol burned into his chest, letting out a low hiss instead, but he couldn't stop the tears from welling up.
Blinking them back, he put on his shirt and donned his jacket, concealing his penance, ready for another night in search of his sire.
* * *
"Amy? Jonathan?" Willow raised a curious eyebrow at the two as she entered the Magic Box. "What are you two doing here?"
Amy looked down from where she was arranging some books on the top shelf behind the counter. "Oh, um, Xander kinda inherited the place after... and we figured..." she shrugged.
Jonathan nodded as he put down the box he was carrying, "Yeah, we figured someone ought to keep the place open, get some money flowing in, so... here we are. It'll let us keep track of who's buying what, too, in case we need to head off another apocalypse."
The redhead smiled, "Good idea." She frowned, "Hey, are those dark magic books?"
Amy nodded, "Yeah. I figured it'd be safer sticking them up here. If we put them into storage, someone might steal one, and we wouldn't even know it until it was too late."
* * *
Spike slammed Marissa up against the wall. "No more games, pet. Did you see anything?"
She spat in his face, but he didn't flinch. Instead, he slowly -- not by choice, but by necessity, as every instinct screamed for him to hurl the burning thing away -- drew the cross from beneath his shirt and held it up to her cheek.
Marissa howled in pain and outrage as the holy symbol burned into her face. He pulled the cross back and said evenly, "I'll ask you one more time, then I start getting creative. Where. Is. Angelus?"
* * *
Author's Note:
There's part five, and things are about to hit the fan. ^_^