Title: Even Death 15
Author: Goldy
Email: thegoldoneb_a@hotmail.com
Disclaimer: Blah, blah, blah. All belongs to Mutant Enemies. Blah, blah, blah. Don't sue.
A/N: I ran out of title ideas. So just going with the proverbial title of the series, plus the number.
Dedication: To Laura for being such a wonderful beta reader. I can't do it without you, hon! *HUGS*
The night seemed to get darker around her. Buffy sometimes thought that wherever she walked, the air would get thicker and blacker. Almost like it formed a perpetual blanket against her, a blanket that eventually would choke and squeeze her in its painful wrath.
She shivered because she knew she was getting closer. She could feel him, feel *his* darkness. At the best of times, Angel's soul barely managed to outshine the evil that lived inside him. But that soul was gone and a pure monster was left in its place.
A monster that knew Buffy better than she knew her own self. A monster that she could sense, one that she could feel as intimately as if it were her own.
Love truly was a funny thing.
She kept walking through the dark haze that turned blacker around her. The slayer reveled in it, the warrior that was thousands of years old belonged to the darkness. Like Angel, Buffy had something dark and strong living inside her own skin that she sometimes didn't know how to control.
But this time it led her towards her enemy. Towards her doom and her salvation. Towards the end and the beginning.
It led and Buffy followed.
***
The AI team stared at the newly freed Ethan Rayne in shock. "Wha… what?" Cordelia stuttered.
Dawn stuck out a shaky finger. "I think he just broke free of the chains."
"Well, obviously!" Cordelia said, "But HOW?"
Ethan looked rather smug. "I can't believe this is the crew that continues to save the world from unspeakable demons."
"You… you were playing us the whole time…" Wesley murmured, beginning to catch on.
"Well, actually…" Ethan paused and gave the others a moment to look hopeful. "Quite right, had you fooled all along. You're the most *gullible* bunch I have ever met."
Gunn scowled darkly. "What the hell are you playing at here?"
Ethan Rayne smirked. "I was called by the Powers, if you can believe that."
"Forgive me if I don't," Cordelia said dryly.
"Apparently, a dark power, Angel, was about to rise and someone with enough power had to come and stop it." Ethan grinned, "That would be me."
"You put that spell on Buffy!" Dawn spat accusingly.
"One does have to have a bit of fun, doesn't he?"
"I hate you!" Cordelia complained.
"Believe me, feeling is quite mutual."
Wesley shook himself as if trying to get out of the shocked stupor he'd fallen into. "So you can return Angel's soul to his body?"
"Yes."
"Permanently?"
"Yes."
"What's the catch?"
"Blood."
Frustrated, Wesley grabbed hold of one of the chairs and threw it against the wall. The noise seemed to echo through the hotel and bang off the walls of the kitchen, leaving a shocked impenetrable silence in its wake.
"Someone needs to relax," Ethan taunted, breaking the precarious silence.
Wesley let out a deep breath. "What do you mean by blood?" he asked harshly.
"In order for the spell to work completely, Angel most (must) drink the blood of a human. One that he'll be bound to for all eternity, so that his soul cannot pass through his body."
"Buffy…" Dawn whispered.
Ethan Rayne nodded. "She's the only one strong enough."
"The only one that loves him enough," Wesley finished.
***
Buffy cocked her head, standing still and straight. She was poised as the perfect warrior, her body tightly strung to be the ultimate instrument of death. Her heart began to pound, her blood rushed, and the sweet taste of victory and death tinged her tongue.
She'd found him.
She examined the building. Abandoned(,) she noted, but large. Angelus liked to live in style. He could never stay underground in the sewers. Angelus was cocky, he wanted to be somewhere where he knew she would find him.
He knew she was there. Buffy was sure of it. He was as much, if not more, attuned to her as she was to him. He knew she was there. He could feel the pumping of her heart and the adrenaline of the kill. He could feel her fear… and her excitement.
She paced in front of the building, feeling her old doubts come surging up. It was crazy. She couldn't just go in there and kill him. She should go back to the others and they would come up with a reasonable plan.
An image of Angel's eyes flashed before her eyes. His deep brown orbs looked deep in her eyes, but they were those of her dream and she remembered with clarity the peace she'd seen in them. It was ironic, she thought. She couldn't live without him and, yet, she couldn't bring him back from the only peace that he'd ever known.
"Buff, I was wondering when you'd come."
Buffy spun around, her eyes falling on her lover and her nemesis, standing in the doorway. His large frame seemed to envelope the whole entrance, and his stance was relaxed as he leaned against the doorjamb.
"Well, I'd hate to disappoint," Buffy quipped, feeling her legs go weak. Could she really go through with this? Really kill the only person she'd ever loved for the second time?
He smiled. "Smell that night air," he said conversationally, "so sweet, like perfume almost."
"Really? I've heard it referred to as smog, myself."
Angelus chuckled. "Still pretending to be strong when put up against impossible odds. I like that in a woman."
Buffy's head spun and she brought up the stake. "Nothing you say matters, you're not Angel."
"Aren't I?" Angel moved from the doorway, mentioned for her to come in. "I'm part of what makes him. As much as it pains you to admit it, love, I'm part of your boyfriend. The part that you cringe from, yet attracts you."
Buffy shivered, walking up the abandoned building's steps and entering it behind Angel. She could do it now, stick a stake into his back while he was turned. But she didn't. He knew she couldn't, and he used it, exploited it. "And you know so much about love," Buffy snapped uneasily.
Angel merely smiled, stepping gingerly over the corpse of a police officer. "I really hate cops, don't you?"
"I don't kill them," Buffy whispered, glancing around.
Angelus followed her gaze. "It isn't much, I know. But one must make due. Adequate protection from the sun, plenty of dead bodies around, and a nice floor to sleep on."
Buffy looked at the floor and muffled a gasp when she saw Fred lying there. Naked. "Oh no…"
Angel shook his head. "Dead and yet..."
"You turned her," Buffy whispered, cursing herself for not realizing it earlier. For not checking when she had the chance. For letting Angelus get the best of her.
"You're slipping a little in your old age, lover."
She stalked around the two vampires, noticing that Angel was in front of her escape. She felt her throat squeeze and was suddenly sure that she was going to die. She almost welcomed it. Almost wanted to take death into her arms, embrace it, hide in it forever.
But her will to live… it still beat in her chest, reminding her of who she was and what her duty to the world was.
She hefted her chin, brought up her stake. "Don't get cocky, Angel."
He licked his lips, glanced down at the naked vampire on the floor. "I think I have more than enough reason to, love."
Fred grinned happily, running a fingernail between the slope of her breasts and letting out a low croon. "According to the laws of math, you're outnumbered two to one."
Buffy rolled her eyes. "Would you put some clothes on?"
Fred stood, letting her vampire ridges protrude on her forehead. "But I feel so free…"
Angel put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I think we're making her feel uncomfortable."
Buffy quirked an eyebrow. "Way past that, hun. Besides, we both know you're capable of way more kinkier things. I was just thinking it'd be more pleasant when we all fight," Buffy glanced at Fred, "some fabric may help stop a stake that I'll inevitably shove through your heart."
Fred scowled, letting out a low growl. "You're so mean, Slayer. Don't you remember all the times we spent together? All the times that we laughed together?"
Buffy thought for a moment. "Mostly, I'm just remembering how much nicer human you was."
Angelus clucked his tongue. "Buff, you'll offend her."
"Yes, because it would be so rude to offend the vampire that wants me dead." She chuckled to herself, "Besides, we all know the *real* reason that Fred has it out for me so bad." Buffy circled the two wearily, busily trying to come up with some sort of a plan in her head. "Angelus tends to be rather dismissive of brunettes." She cocked her head, looked him dead in the eye, "Sometimes obsesses over the blonde ones."
Fred gave Angel a quick glance. He shrugged. "What can I say?"
Fred's momentary distraction was all Buffy needed, with a fierce battle cry she flipped her stake towards the brunette's unbeating heart. She hit a bull's eye. Her former friend exploded into a cloud of dust, shooting Angel one last betrayed look before crumpling down to the earth. Buffy felt guilt tear its way into her throat. She knew she would never tell the others—she would have to bear the pain of killing Fred on her own.
She raised a single eyebrow in Angel's direction, "These are more my odds."
Angelus looked vaguely amused. "Interesting, I must admit. I really thought that losing me to the dark side would cripple that shining will to live once and for all."
"What can I say? I'm a fighter."
"You wouldn't be my girl if you weren't."
The intimate phrase caught her off guard and she felt her resolve weakening. "I'm not your girl," she tried declaring mightily, but the words sounded forced. It was a lie, Angel… Angelus… she would always be his. He would always know her better than she knew herself.
"How do you feel about eternal life?" he asked conversationally.
She frowned, pretending to mull it over. "In a word? No."
"Don't tell me you've never thought about it," he regarded her seriously. "Don't lie. I can tell."
She winced. Jerk. Stupid, manipulating, bastard that knew her so well. "I have thought about it. Romantic dreams, our souls finding each other in the ethereal, our demons hunting together." She folded her arms over her chest, "But you know as well as I do that the slayer in me could never let that happen. I could never allow myself to willingly be turned. And, you should also know, that trying to change my mind is useless."
He blinked. "Well then… there's only one thing left to do."
"Fight to the death?" she questioned cheerfully.
Angel smiled. "You always knew me so well." And he lunged at her.
***
"What the hell are you doing?" Gunn demanded, watching uneasily as Rayne set things up in a corner of the Hyperion. He could smell the skink of herbs, see bright circle things being placed about, and funny chalk symbols on the floor. All of it was succeeding in making him feel *very* nervous. The spellcaster ignored him. Gunn narrowed his eyes and looked at Wesley, "What the hell is he doing?"
"Setting up a spell to return Angel's soul, I believe," the ex-watcher answered slowly after thinking it over a minute.
"I got that far, British," Gunn said, "I want to know what the hell he's doing!"
"Actually," Ethan responded, amusement in his voice, "I'm not returning Angel's soul to him."
Cordelia's mouth dropped. "I knew it!" she hissed, "I knew this was a mistake. It's all Buffy's fault."
Ethan Rayne stopped his furious motions and glared at the ex-May Queen. "Do you ever think of anyone but yourself?"
Cordelia thought for a minute and shrugged. "Not really, no."
Rayne nodded and went back to work, the others watched him curiously in silence. "Then what are you doing?" Cordelia asked.
"I'm going to bind his soul to Buffy's."
"Original," she commented.
Ethan muttered something under his breath in another language. "Not in the strictest sense. Idea has been used many times before, but it works."
"Fascinating," Wesley observed. "Binding Angel's soul to Buffy's… that will keep it firmly in place, no?"
"As long as Buffy has hers," Ethan responded, slightly annoyed this time. "Would you all please stop standing around like a bunch of gibbering idiots?" Ethan handed a piece of chalk to Gunn.
"What am I s'possed to do with this?" the black man questioned skeptically.
"I was hoping you'd paint me a pretty, little picture," Ethan sneered. "Figure it out!"
Wesley took the chalk from him and started drawing a wide circle on the floor as Gunn watched on with wide eyes. "Hey… how do you know all this?"
"I was getting close to a solution," Wesley muttered, miffed.
Gunn raised his eyebrows, shrugging. "Whatever."
Ethan Rayne snorted. "You were nowhere near a solution. Couldn't even figure out the blood part without my help."
Cordelia, who had been watching the thing with fairly bored eyes, suddenly perked up, "Ewww… why does that have to be a part of this ritual?"
"Buffy's blood," Dawn whispered, appearing behind her. Cordelia jumped and whirled around.
"Don't do that!"
Dawn barely looked at her. "Buffy's blood, right?"
Wesley stopped his drawing, and lay sad eyes on the slayer's younger sister. "Yes."
The key frowned. "But Buffy doesn't know… how… how will this work?"
"We complete the spell before Angel kills her," Ethan answered.
Dawn's eyes widened. "Angelus will drink from her…"
"And his soul will be returned," Gunn finished.
Ethan Rayne clapped his hands. "You're a sorry bunch… but give or take a few anvils you figure things out."
Wesley glared at him. "We don't have a lot of time. I'm warning you Rayne, if either of them die… you'll follow."
The spellcaster nodded. "Yes, well, we should get started then, eh?"
"What… what exactly do you want me to do?" Wesley couldn't believe that he was taking orders from this… amateur. Couldn't believe that he was actually entrusting him to return Angel's soul, actually.
Rayne handed a stinky herb to Wesley and another to Cordelia. The May Queen perked up. "Hey! I remember this! We just wave these around you while you sit in this circle and do that little incantation thing in that strange language."
"How are you still alive?" Gunn demanded.
Rayne glared at him. "I'll have to ask those of you who aren't taking part in the ritual to leave the room." He gave a more sympathetic gaze over to Dawn, "Please."
Dawn nodded, gripping Gunn's elbow and hauling him out of the way.
"I'm not leaving them alone with that… deceptionist!" he protested pathetically to the slayer's younger sister.
"It'll be okay," she whispered soothingly, even as she continued to haul him out of the way.
"You don't know…." The rest of his words cut off as he disappeared from the lobby.
Cordelia looked after him, chewing her bottom lip thoughtfully. "How do we know that this isn't some scheme to kill us?"
"You don't," Rayne answered, settling down on the floor. He yawned, stretching his muscles and cracking his knuckles rather loudly. "Ready to begin?"
Wesley looked at him in distrust. "If I hadn't exhausted all other means to do this…"
Rayne snorted. "Right then, shall I get on with it?"
Sighing, Wesley grabbed one of the herbs and began circling Ethan with it. Cordelia gave him an uneasy look but followed his lead, waving the bundle around as it began to smoke lightly at the tip.
Rayne closed his eyes, small beads of sweat forming on his forehead. His hands shook slightly with his effort, his eyes scrunched tightly together. He started chanting, softly at first, then louder as he concentrated more deeply, "That which was taken, returned now and forever be, bound to the one he loves, heart, mind, body and soul… return now what was taken, bound to the one he loves, heart, mind, body, and soul, return now…"
The light was sucked out of the room, loud booms cracked the air, like lightning being let off in the hotel. The sky seemed to change, the clouds moving at hundreds of miles an hour. Ethan Rayne let out a large hiss of air and his voice rose in volume, "Return now forever, bound to mind, body, heart, and soul… return forever… RETURN FOREVER HEART, MIND, BODY, AND SOUL!"
The ground shook beneath them, Cordelia and Wesley were momentarily thrown off balance. The light flickered, on, and off, on and off, creating grotesque shadows upon the walls. Rayne shook harder with the effort, sweat streaming down his face, soaking the light t-shirt on his back.
"Return the soul that was taken from him. Bind it to whom he loves best, mind, heart, body and soul… FOREVER"
As abruptly as it started, the scene changed. The electricity snapped back on, the sky moved back into its place, and the world returned to normal. Ethan Rayne stood jerkily up, looking at Cordy and Wes with a weary expression.
"Let's see if the slayer's all she's cracked up to be," he muttered, collapsing at their feet.
***
Buffy heard the sharp, distinct crack of thunder off in the distance. The ground rumbled in agreement, throwing the two foes momentarily off balance. Angel fell to the ground, clutching his head and letting out a sharp moan.
Buffy sucked in a breath, feeling the first tingles of hope shoot through her fingertips. She bent down, stake held as a shield in front of her. "Angel?" she whispered. Her mind tantalized her with the prospect that the others may have done something…
She got no answer.
Was he unconscious? She blinked back tears, tried to keep her hands from shaking. "Angel… are you…" she gulped, let out a tiny, shrill laugh, "evil?"
He stirred, letting out a painful gasp, clutching where his chest over his dead heart. He let out a soft, slow chuckle. "They failed…." Sputtering, he stood up, glaring at Buffy who was staring at him with wide eyes. "I can feel soul all over me," he spat in disgust, "trying to claw its way in." His faced morphed, vampire eyes piercing her frightened gaze. He advanced. "Filthy goodness of *its* light… begging me not to hurt you."
Buffy stumbled backwards. He'd changed. Even for Angelus, he was different. Less sane, somehow, like the idea of his soul surrounding him had driven him to the brink of madness. "They tried returning your soul…"
Angel let out a howl, slamming his fist into the wall. He pulled it out broken and bleeding. His lips curled up into a feral snarl as he continued to advance on her with a predator's gaze. "It FAILED, lover. And you're going to pay." He sneered, bringing his bleeding hand to his mouth and licking tenderly at the wound with his fangs. "Your boy never bothered to tell you how fond I am of torture… how I know just how much a person can endure while still conscious."
Buffy banged against a wall, and leaned back, panting heavily. "You'll have to kill me first."
He placed his palms against the wall on either side of her, pressing his hard body against her. He lowered his head, almost tenderly, nuzzling the side of her neck. "You smell good," he sighed. He focused on her scar, lapping at her skin softly with his tongue.
She closed her eyes, willed her body to stop trembling. "Get off me," she commanded hoarsely. He ignored her, scraping his fang along the side of her neck. She let out an involuntary moan at the sensation. She could let him do it, kill her. It would all be over. He smelled like Angel, he felt like Angel, all she would have to do… keep her eyes closed… let him drink her blood.
Then it would be over.
She heard him in her head at that thought, her real Angel, he reminded her savagely that she promised to hold on to life. With a fierce battle cry, Buffy used both her strong, slayer arms to propel Angelus backwards.
He flew across the room, banging his elbow on the stone floor as he came down, crashing into the far wall and creating a sharp, jagged crack in the wooden wall. Buffy used his momentary immobilization to look around for a weapon. Her quick instincts took stock of the dead police officer lying on the floor.
Angel was back up, rushing at her. "Why won't you give up???" he roared.
She dove towards the dead officer, tearing off his belt and grabbing the gun. Her first two shots missed her mark, but the next on hit him straight in the stomach. Angel fell back, clutching his gut in pain.
"Bullets don't kill vampires," he rasped, holding a hand over his bleeding abdomen.
Buffy stood up, holding the revolver mightily in her hand. She fired another shot, aimed to the middle of his chest. She heard a crunch, knew that she'd broken something. "Yeah?" she asked with a cock of her head, "I've heard they can hurt like hell, though."
She came towards him and fired another in his thigh. Angel stumbled, his left leg not being able to support him. She squeezed the trigger again, aimed at his heart…
The gun clicked, but the bullet didn't come. Hissing she threw it to the ground, reaching into her back pocket for a stake. Before she got there, Angel appeared, he grabbed her wrist, spun it around. Buffy heard a quick snap in the air followed by a shooting pain all the way down to her elbow.
She spun out of his grip, her arm hanging uselessly at her side. They stared at each other for a beat. He was bleeding heavily, she noticed, but he was so angry that the bullet wounds seemed to slow him down less with each passing second. Meanwhile… her head began to pound in tune with the throb in her right arm.
She took in a deep breath. And they lunged at each other. The fight began, for real this time. Exchanging blows, kicks, dodges, they danced around each other so fast that they were a blur. They knew the other's every move, every block, every punch. They'd fought together, with each other, more times than they could ever count. They'd lived together, slept in the same bed together, been together for more than a year.
It didn't matter that Angel was gone, that the monster wearing his face was the very epitome of all that Buffy hated and despised. It didn't matter that they were both injured. Their fight was vicious, two foes that knew each other better than anything. To an onlooker it would look like a bitter stalemate where neither could win. It looked like they were going to kill each other, that as soon as one was down the other would follow. It looked like an impossible feat.
It came down to the fact that she could never really give it her all… and the only thing that he could hear through his red haze of anger was the pumping of her blood.
Angel backhanded her across the face. Her lip split, blood flying out of the corner of her mouth and landing in his face. He roared when he sniffed it, following his punch through with a quick kick. Gasping, Buffy lay on her back, and watched as he dove at her. She struggled to get out of the way, but he grabbed her wrist and twisted, immobilizing her in a fit of pain. Buffy hissed, eyes filling with tears, but she refused to scream, refused to give him that pleasure.
He licked his lips, keeping one hand on her broken wrist and used only two fingers of the other to turn her neck. She stopped struggling, feeling her body give up her weak fight. She felt anger course through her veins, she'd worked this hard, given everything up to fight him…only to meet her end in this way.
His pressure on her wrist tightened and Buffy saw black spots in front of her eyes. Angel saw and loosened his grip. "Now don't pass out on me now," he murmured. "It'll all be over in a moment."
Her mouth opened into a silent scream as his fangs broke into her skin. She groaned in pain and felt him sink into her flesh, right over the scar he had given her three years ago. He began to drink… big mouthfuls of her blood… like it was the elixir of life.
It was then the real pain started. It seemed to consume her all at once, every fiber of her cells on fire, like everything inside her was bursting and wanted to break free. She let out a hoarse scream, feeling her body start to convulse. Through her pained haze she didn't hear Angel's own screams, didn't seem him fall to the floor next to her with his arms wrapped tightly across his chest.
Then it stopped. She lay on the floor, sweating, gasping for air. Her hand flew to her throat, she felt the wound, brought her fingers to the front of her face. She saw deep red blood on them… but she was still alive. Something else had caused the pain… something more… she turned her head. She let out a tiny gasp of surprise, there was Angel laying next to her, face bathed in the same hard sweat as her own.
"What… what happened?" he looked her over in concern, "What's going on?" his voice began to tremble, like he knew the answer but didn't want to face it. "Why are you bleeding?" Angel struggled to raise himself up on one arm and touched the broken skin on her neck gently, drew a ragged breath. "Oh… god… Buffy… what did I do?"
She could do nothing but stare at him with wide eyes, her mind too numb with shock to make a reply. "Angel… Angel…" she trailed off, throat clogging painfully. She gave him one last look… and burst into tears.
She heard him moan softly, knew that the memories were beginning to come back to him. Through her hazy vision she saw him begin to tremble, fists clenching and unclenching as the horrible memories of the past 48 hours caught up to him. His head hit the stone floor with a dull, his hands presses themselves to his ears. "No… no… no…" he mumbled incessantly.
She sniffled, moving closer to him. "Angel…" she whispered brokenly, reaching out to touch his arm lightly.
He flinched moving away from her, he raised his head and stood up, looking out at the room with bloodshot eyes. He saw her weak and trembling on the floor… turned his head and saw her stake lying abandoned a few feet away. Her gaze flew to it the same time his did, but he lunged and she was too weak to stop him. He grabbed it, aiming for his heart, when she screamed. Scrambling she dove for his leg, wrapping her good arm around it with all her might.
"Don't leave me!" Buffy screamed. "You have no right to do this to me and leave me!"
He paused, looked down at her, blinked back tears. "Buffy… what I just did to you… to Fred…" he glanced at the stake. "I can't take it… I can't do it."
"I don't CARE!" she yelped, feeling her arm weaken around his lower leg. "You can't leave me! You promised! I just got you back!" The tears flew freely down her face, "Angel, please, don't do this to me… don't kill me again…"
She heard him drop the stake, saw his legs give way. Her breath came out in hard, relieved gasps, when she saw him stumble to the ground. They stared at each other, trembling, hurting, and waiting. With a pained cry she reached for him, feeling his arms come around her. She crushed herself against him and they toppled over, holding on for dear life.
And they cried.
End of Part 15
