Chapter 14
Joyce Summers jumped up as the phone in her office at the gallery rang. Please let it be Buffy, she prayed. Oh, God, please let it be her.
"Hello, Sunnydale Art Gallery, how can I help?"
"Mrs Summers, it's Willow. I just called to let you know Buffy's gone home. We still haven't found Angel, but he won't be able to stay away long. He loves Buffy. He'll be back."
"Thanks, Willow. Is she okay?"
"She's as well as anyone expected. We're working on a cure, but we need Angel for it."
"If I see him, I'll tell him to call you."
"Thanks, Mrs Summers. 'Bye." With that, Willow hung up.
* * * * * * Buffy groaned and struggled to sit up.
"I'll go," Angel murmured. He stood regretfully and went downstairs to investigate the crashing he and Buffy had heard
Upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, he paused, unsure which room to check first. As he stood pondering the options, a cold draft hit him, rustling his coat on the banister.
* * * * * *
"This just gets simpler and simpler, doesn't it?" Xander commented sarcastically.
"If we can keep them from knowing, and find this Angel, there should be no problem. One can never guarantee, of course, but there are no other written complications," Crystal promised.
"When does the counter spell have to be performed by to ensure the proper results? We want to help Buffy, not kill her," Giles reminded the group.
"Preferably by the end of the day, but the next full moon should be acceptable."
"That's tomorrow, though," Willow noted anxiously. This provoked yet another worried jab from Xander.
"No other complications, huh?"
* * * * * * Kevin shied away from Drusilla. She endeavoured to coax him nearer to her, telling him she'd starve him before poking his eyes out and slitting his throat and draining his blood.
Kevin gulped, redoubling his efforts to escape.
"Leave 'im, pet. The Slayer might want proof he's alive."
Drusilla let out a long whine at Spike words.
"We could cut off a lock of his hair. Feed it to the Slayer in her dreams. Then he wouldn't have to be alive."
"Later, pet. Later."
* * * * * * Angel walked into the living room and found the cause of the cold draft.
There was a gaping, jagged-edged hole in the central point of Buffy's front window. A modern red brick lay on the cream carpet; a piece of paper was tied to it with a length of shabby rope.
Angel started walking towards the brick, guessing there was a note on the piece of paper tied to it.
But he'd forgotten about the sunlight.
* * * * * * Giles put his car in gear and fastened his seat belt. Beside him, Willow prepared a list of everything Crystal would need for the spell. Giles was dropping the red-haired girl off at the magic shop, before going to Buffy's house to explain the situation and ask for her help in locating Angel. He knew it would be hard on her, but he saw no other option.
"This is a very rare form of seaweed, Giles. They might not have it in a magic shop as small as Sunnydale's."
"Let's just hope they have. We'll be in a lot of trouble if they don't."
* * * * * *
Hissing, Angel drew back, his vampire visage revealed. His bare skin was smoking from its short exposure to the sun, especially his hands - his dark clothing protected most of his skin.
A quick check showed up the candle-flame that had caught on his upper arm. Grimacing at the burning sensation, he dropped to the ground. The flame died just before it caught his top.
Angel shakily pushed himself upright. Knowing he could not reach the note until sunset, he turned and climbed wearily back up the stairs to Buffy's room.
* * * * * *
Giles pulled up outside Buffy's house. As he crossed the lawn, he noted the smashed window and increased his speed.
He was surprised at how quickly the door opened when he knocked. He'd expected Buffy to have trouble getting to it, even supposing she was still conscious.
When the figure that opened the door stood shrouded in shadows, as if reluctant to leave them, Giles became panicky. He withdrew a stake from the pocket of his tweed jacket and swiftly stepped inside.
"What've you done to Buffy?" he growled as the vampire shut the door.
"Relax, Giles, it's only me."
"Angel? But. Oh, thank the Lord!"
Angel frowned. Catching the confused look, Giles explained,
"This whole thing with Buffy? It appears the counter spell requires a few. unusual ingredients, to say the least. Willow's getting those now, with any luck. But there are two other. requirements."
"And at least one of them has to do with me," Angel finished for him.
Nodding, Giles elaborated,
"For the spell to stand any chance of working, the loving kiss of a vampire is rather essential. I'm not sure what it does, exactly, but apparently without it, we'll just be speeding up the process that will eventually lead to Buffy's torturous death."
Had there been any blood flowing through the veins and arteries in Angel's face, he would have paled noticeably. As it was, a fresh bout of fear for Buffy welled up inside him, and an urge to protect her simmered to the surface.
"We have to help her," he snarled, his vampire visage overpowering his handsome human features. A lone tear trickled down his cheeks. Turning away, he forced the tears back, so as not to upset Buffy, and led Giles up to her room.
* * * * * * Buffy hated herself for being so useless. She was the Slayer. She should be out fighting demons, not cooped up in bed with a dangerous longing to release some of her large stores of pent up energy.
Mind over matter, she thought. It doesn't hurt that much, and if Angel comes back I can always say I need to use the bathroom.
She struggled to sit up in her bed, hating herself all the more when it proved too painful and she collapsed, her head thwacking softly against the pillow.
Joyce Summers jumped up as the phone in her office at the gallery rang. Please let it be Buffy, she prayed. Oh, God, please let it be her.
"Hello, Sunnydale Art Gallery, how can I help?"
"Mrs Summers, it's Willow. I just called to let you know Buffy's gone home. We still haven't found Angel, but he won't be able to stay away long. He loves Buffy. He'll be back."
"Thanks, Willow. Is she okay?"
"She's as well as anyone expected. We're working on a cure, but we need Angel for it."
"If I see him, I'll tell him to call you."
"Thanks, Mrs Summers. 'Bye." With that, Willow hung up.
* * * * * * Buffy groaned and struggled to sit up.
"I'll go," Angel murmured. He stood regretfully and went downstairs to investigate the crashing he and Buffy had heard
Upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, he paused, unsure which room to check first. As he stood pondering the options, a cold draft hit him, rustling his coat on the banister.
* * * * * *
"This just gets simpler and simpler, doesn't it?" Xander commented sarcastically.
"If we can keep them from knowing, and find this Angel, there should be no problem. One can never guarantee, of course, but there are no other written complications," Crystal promised.
"When does the counter spell have to be performed by to ensure the proper results? We want to help Buffy, not kill her," Giles reminded the group.
"Preferably by the end of the day, but the next full moon should be acceptable."
"That's tomorrow, though," Willow noted anxiously. This provoked yet another worried jab from Xander.
"No other complications, huh?"
* * * * * * Kevin shied away from Drusilla. She endeavoured to coax him nearer to her, telling him she'd starve him before poking his eyes out and slitting his throat and draining his blood.
Kevin gulped, redoubling his efforts to escape.
"Leave 'im, pet. The Slayer might want proof he's alive."
Drusilla let out a long whine at Spike words.
"We could cut off a lock of his hair. Feed it to the Slayer in her dreams. Then he wouldn't have to be alive."
"Later, pet. Later."
* * * * * * Angel walked into the living room and found the cause of the cold draft.
There was a gaping, jagged-edged hole in the central point of Buffy's front window. A modern red brick lay on the cream carpet; a piece of paper was tied to it with a length of shabby rope.
Angel started walking towards the brick, guessing there was a note on the piece of paper tied to it.
But he'd forgotten about the sunlight.
* * * * * * Giles put his car in gear and fastened his seat belt. Beside him, Willow prepared a list of everything Crystal would need for the spell. Giles was dropping the red-haired girl off at the magic shop, before going to Buffy's house to explain the situation and ask for her help in locating Angel. He knew it would be hard on her, but he saw no other option.
"This is a very rare form of seaweed, Giles. They might not have it in a magic shop as small as Sunnydale's."
"Let's just hope they have. We'll be in a lot of trouble if they don't."
* * * * * *
Hissing, Angel drew back, his vampire visage revealed. His bare skin was smoking from its short exposure to the sun, especially his hands - his dark clothing protected most of his skin.
A quick check showed up the candle-flame that had caught on his upper arm. Grimacing at the burning sensation, he dropped to the ground. The flame died just before it caught his top.
Angel shakily pushed himself upright. Knowing he could not reach the note until sunset, he turned and climbed wearily back up the stairs to Buffy's room.
* * * * * *
Giles pulled up outside Buffy's house. As he crossed the lawn, he noted the smashed window and increased his speed.
He was surprised at how quickly the door opened when he knocked. He'd expected Buffy to have trouble getting to it, even supposing she was still conscious.
When the figure that opened the door stood shrouded in shadows, as if reluctant to leave them, Giles became panicky. He withdrew a stake from the pocket of his tweed jacket and swiftly stepped inside.
"What've you done to Buffy?" he growled as the vampire shut the door.
"Relax, Giles, it's only me."
"Angel? But. Oh, thank the Lord!"
Angel frowned. Catching the confused look, Giles explained,
"This whole thing with Buffy? It appears the counter spell requires a few. unusual ingredients, to say the least. Willow's getting those now, with any luck. But there are two other. requirements."
"And at least one of them has to do with me," Angel finished for him.
Nodding, Giles elaborated,
"For the spell to stand any chance of working, the loving kiss of a vampire is rather essential. I'm not sure what it does, exactly, but apparently without it, we'll just be speeding up the process that will eventually lead to Buffy's torturous death."
Had there been any blood flowing through the veins and arteries in Angel's face, he would have paled noticeably. As it was, a fresh bout of fear for Buffy welled up inside him, and an urge to protect her simmered to the surface.
"We have to help her," he snarled, his vampire visage overpowering his handsome human features. A lone tear trickled down his cheeks. Turning away, he forced the tears back, so as not to upset Buffy, and led Giles up to her room.
* * * * * * Buffy hated herself for being so useless. She was the Slayer. She should be out fighting demons, not cooped up in bed with a dangerous longing to release some of her large stores of pent up energy.
Mind over matter, she thought. It doesn't hurt that much, and if Angel comes back I can always say I need to use the bathroom.
She struggled to sit up in her bed, hating herself all the more when it proved too painful and she collapsed, her head thwacking softly against the pillow.