Chapter 11
"Buffy?" Angel gently shook the Slayer. Her limp figure didn't respond. Despondent, he looked sadly at the unconscious girl, and decided he should go now, while she couldn't attempt to stop him. So he left the bedside and, gathering a few packets of blood from the refrigerator for sustenance, lowered himself into the manhole just outside the mansion. He began wading through the miles of sewage and stench that was Sunnydale's sprawling sewer system.
* * * * * * "So, basically, you're telling me that you'd happily kill the Slayer, but no one else?"
"Uh huh. And I think the vampires I was working for are planning something else, something bigger." Crystal had introduced herself to the Slayer's Watcher, Rupert Giles, and was explaining the situation as she saw it.
"Would you agree to cast a counter-spell for the spell you placed on Buffy - the Slayer - if we help you get to the bottom of this?" the Watcher requested.
"Perhaps. She is stronger than most - even Slayers, Mr Giles - if she is still alive. But if the spell is too developed. I'm afraid even a counter- spell might not be able to save her. And if that can't, nothing will."
* * * * * * Buffy groaned. Her eyelids blinked rapidly and her head twisted from side to side. Her eyes flew open.
"Angel?" Buffy looked around. Seeing nobody, she hoisted herself, grimacing, into a sitting position. She called again;
"Anyone?" Immense fear filled her as memories of her last birthday invaded her mind, seeming to dull the pain. She pulled her legs across the bed, then swung them over the edge. Placing both feet flat on the floor, she used her hands to lever herself up. Unsteadily, she made her way to the next dark, shadowed room. Seeing the shaft of sunlight that shone lazily where the open back door should have cast a shadow, she figured either Angel was ash of he'd gone out while it was still dark and not been able to get back in time to avoid the sun. Then she spotted the open manhole.
Buffy collapsed to the ground, tears already streaming down her face. How could he do this to her? How could he leave her?
How could he leave her to die?
* * * * * * Giles knocked on the right-hand door at the front of the mansion. He waited, but there was no response. Behind him, Crystal prayed it was not too late.
Giles knocked again. Nothing.
"Damn it!" he cursed beneath his breath. He backed away from the door, telling Crystal to stay out of the way. He ran towards the double doors and burst through, falling over as they opened with no resistance. They hadn't been locked!
Giles picked himself up, straightened his tie, and walked slowly through the rooms of the mansion, listening to the slight echoes of his every footfall.
"Buffy?" Giles was alarmed to find his Slayer kneeling on the stone floor in floods of tears.
"Buffy?" he repeated, crouching down and putting his arm around her. She rested her head on the tweed shoulder of his jacket as choking sobs shook her body. Giles slid his other arm around her and slowly, gingerly, pulled her into a standing position.
"Shh," he whispered.
"He's gone," she sobbed, the words bringing fresh tears to her eyes. "He's gone, an' I don't know where, but he's gone through the sewers an' he might not come back an' he might be hurt an-"
"Shh. He'll be fine," Giles murmured soothingly, trying to sound positive for her in the midst of his rage at the vampire. How could Angel just up and leave at a time like this? "Calm down and tell us what happened. You're not making any sense, just talking about things as you think them. We just get a lot of disordered nonsense and can't help."
"Angel." She pulled her head away from Giles' shoulder and sat on Angel's bed. "He's gone. I don't know when, or why, or where, or if he'll come back. He went into the sewers, so it was probably day, or close to it." She left out the words she was thinking above all the others: i What if he's hurt? Or dead? /i
"What's that? Your precious little lover-vamp run off? Can't say I'm surprised really. Probably wants someone with a bit more experience, if you catch my drift."
The trio spun around in near-perfect unison. Faith stood in the room's wide stone doorway, her hair gleaming from a recent wash.
"What did you say?" Giles had never heard Buffy so angry as when she posed what was really more a statement than a question.
"You heard," Faith shot back, before spinning on her heel and marching away. Apparently she didn't like long confrontations.
Buffy stood frozen, tense, her fists clenched.
"Was it just me, or did this room just get real hot?" Xander asked, walking in with Willow as Faith marched off.
"Oh, it got hot. Buffy fumed. Now we have to lower the temperature," Willow hinted.
"Sorry, guys. It's just. You know," Buffy apologised.
Willow simply nodded, gazing at her friend sympathetically. Buffy could have cried.
* * * * * * "I need to know why I'm here. On the planet. I was told you were the best person to speak to." The dark-skinned, white-haired old woman Angel had addressed grinned a toothless grin.
"You may be right there," she said in a cracked voice. "Take a seat."
Angel sat down on the straight-backed wooden chair across the desk from Madame Tullulah. The elderly woman folded her hands together on the mahogany desktop and leaned towards the vampire, her bottom rising slightly off the plastic chair she sat on. She had inherited the desk from her grandmother, and it sparkled with furniture polish, but otherwise the room was sparse and bare.
"You are supposed to be elsewhere," she started, closing her chestnut eyes. "A close friend of yours, Burfy or something, needs you, now more than ever."
"Buffy. Her name's Buffy."
"Whatever. She needs you."
"Buffy?" Angel gently shook the Slayer. Her limp figure didn't respond. Despondent, he looked sadly at the unconscious girl, and decided he should go now, while she couldn't attempt to stop him. So he left the bedside and, gathering a few packets of blood from the refrigerator for sustenance, lowered himself into the manhole just outside the mansion. He began wading through the miles of sewage and stench that was Sunnydale's sprawling sewer system.
* * * * * * "So, basically, you're telling me that you'd happily kill the Slayer, but no one else?"
"Uh huh. And I think the vampires I was working for are planning something else, something bigger." Crystal had introduced herself to the Slayer's Watcher, Rupert Giles, and was explaining the situation as she saw it.
"Would you agree to cast a counter-spell for the spell you placed on Buffy - the Slayer - if we help you get to the bottom of this?" the Watcher requested.
"Perhaps. She is stronger than most - even Slayers, Mr Giles - if she is still alive. But if the spell is too developed. I'm afraid even a counter- spell might not be able to save her. And if that can't, nothing will."
* * * * * * Buffy groaned. Her eyelids blinked rapidly and her head twisted from side to side. Her eyes flew open.
"Angel?" Buffy looked around. Seeing nobody, she hoisted herself, grimacing, into a sitting position. She called again;
"Anyone?" Immense fear filled her as memories of her last birthday invaded her mind, seeming to dull the pain. She pulled her legs across the bed, then swung them over the edge. Placing both feet flat on the floor, she used her hands to lever herself up. Unsteadily, she made her way to the next dark, shadowed room. Seeing the shaft of sunlight that shone lazily where the open back door should have cast a shadow, she figured either Angel was ash of he'd gone out while it was still dark and not been able to get back in time to avoid the sun. Then she spotted the open manhole.
Buffy collapsed to the ground, tears already streaming down her face. How could he do this to her? How could he leave her?
How could he leave her to die?
* * * * * * Giles knocked on the right-hand door at the front of the mansion. He waited, but there was no response. Behind him, Crystal prayed it was not too late.
Giles knocked again. Nothing.
"Damn it!" he cursed beneath his breath. He backed away from the door, telling Crystal to stay out of the way. He ran towards the double doors and burst through, falling over as they opened with no resistance. They hadn't been locked!
Giles picked himself up, straightened his tie, and walked slowly through the rooms of the mansion, listening to the slight echoes of his every footfall.
"Buffy?" Giles was alarmed to find his Slayer kneeling on the stone floor in floods of tears.
"Buffy?" he repeated, crouching down and putting his arm around her. She rested her head on the tweed shoulder of his jacket as choking sobs shook her body. Giles slid his other arm around her and slowly, gingerly, pulled her into a standing position.
"Shh," he whispered.
"He's gone," she sobbed, the words bringing fresh tears to her eyes. "He's gone, an' I don't know where, but he's gone through the sewers an' he might not come back an' he might be hurt an-"
"Shh. He'll be fine," Giles murmured soothingly, trying to sound positive for her in the midst of his rage at the vampire. How could Angel just up and leave at a time like this? "Calm down and tell us what happened. You're not making any sense, just talking about things as you think them. We just get a lot of disordered nonsense and can't help."
"Angel." She pulled her head away from Giles' shoulder and sat on Angel's bed. "He's gone. I don't know when, or why, or where, or if he'll come back. He went into the sewers, so it was probably day, or close to it." She left out the words she was thinking above all the others: i What if he's hurt? Or dead? /i
"What's that? Your precious little lover-vamp run off? Can't say I'm surprised really. Probably wants someone with a bit more experience, if you catch my drift."
The trio spun around in near-perfect unison. Faith stood in the room's wide stone doorway, her hair gleaming from a recent wash.
"What did you say?" Giles had never heard Buffy so angry as when she posed what was really more a statement than a question.
"You heard," Faith shot back, before spinning on her heel and marching away. Apparently she didn't like long confrontations.
Buffy stood frozen, tense, her fists clenched.
"Was it just me, or did this room just get real hot?" Xander asked, walking in with Willow as Faith marched off.
"Oh, it got hot. Buffy fumed. Now we have to lower the temperature," Willow hinted.
"Sorry, guys. It's just. You know," Buffy apologised.
Willow simply nodded, gazing at her friend sympathetically. Buffy could have cried.
* * * * * * "I need to know why I'm here. On the planet. I was told you were the best person to speak to." The dark-skinned, white-haired old woman Angel had addressed grinned a toothless grin.
"You may be right there," she said in a cracked voice. "Take a seat."
Angel sat down on the straight-backed wooden chair across the desk from Madame Tullulah. The elderly woman folded her hands together on the mahogany desktop and leaned towards the vampire, her bottom rising slightly off the plastic chair she sat on. She had inherited the desk from her grandmother, and it sparkled with furniture polish, but otherwise the room was sparse and bare.
"You are supposed to be elsewhere," she started, closing her chestnut eyes. "A close friend of yours, Burfy or something, needs you, now more than ever."
"Buffy. Her name's Buffy."
"Whatever. She needs you."