Chapter Seven.
Angel's POV.
We stare at each other in the dark hallway.
A soft plip, plip noise reaches my ears, and I realize it's the red rain dripping from Buffy's hair and hitting her tile floor. I reach out, and touch the ends of her sodden mane.
My hand comes away smeared with red; I bring the fingers to my nose, and instantly my demon is awake.
He comes roaring up from his cage and lusts after the blood on my hand through my eyes, now a glowing yellow.
I taste it; and break quickly for the kitchen and the sink there.
"Angel? Where are you going?" I hear her ask, but my only thoughts are to get the blood off me now.
I frantically shed my bandana and shirt in one movement, and toe my boots off. I hit the edge of the sink with my hand, and leave a smear of crimson on the white wood surrounding it.
I turn the water on as hot as it will go, and plunge my hands into it.
Splashing my face and chest frantically, I begin to feel light headed, and recognize I am hyperventilating. Weird for someone who doesn't need to breathe in order to live.
"Angel!" Buffy practically shouts in my ear, and I turn to face her, eyes feral and blood running from my hair down my face.
Ah, there he is. Hello, alter ego.
"Angel," she whispers, and backs away from me unconsciously.
"Buffy," I say, "I'm s-sorry, I had to get it off. It's human."
"Oh my god," she says, and raises a hand to her lips. She looks down at herself at that moment, and kicks her own shoes off, and yanks her once pretty dress over her head.
She throws it in the corner, where it makes a wet plop next to my pile of clothing.
"Shower," she says, and I nod. "Good idea."
I follow her up the stairs, and she directs me to the bathroom in the hall, and says, "Use this one. There's clean towels under the sink."
I nod again wordlessly, say something idiot she's in shock, and as she walks zombie like toward her mother'r room, I grab her arm.
"Buffy, we need to call Giles. Now."
She pulls her arm out of my grasp, and it slides easily due to a slimy coating of red. Blood gets sticky fast.
"Got to get this off first. Then call," she says through suddenly chattering teeth.
I drop my head, horrified and confused.
And incredibly aroused.
Yeah, she's covered in mystical blood. But she's half naked and covered in mystical blood.
He's in there; grinning like an idiot and whispering ideas in my head.
She's so beautiful. And it destroys me that I can think so with her body coated in gore. Her hair hangs limply about her face; her white cotton bra and panties are pink now; and her strong, shapely legs are a mass of sticky dots.
I shudder, and back away.
"Buffy, you better get cleaned up."
She continues to chatter, but agrees.
As soon as the door to her mother's room shuts, I slam the smaller bathroom's door, and sit precariously on the edge of the the tub, turning on the hot water.
Steam fills the air, and I stand, shedding my leather pants, and wrap them in an old towel I find in the linen closet.
I jump into the shower, and let the hot water hit me full force, closing my eyes.
What in God's name just happened?
Her dream. Our dream.
Blood raining from the sky.
The only things missing were the portal and the castle.
But it was dark, and the portal could have been there; maybe we just didn't see it through the clouds and lightning.
I think of the movie Psycho as I watch the blood run off my body into the tub's drain, and don't know what to do.
I knock tentatively on her mother's door, and am rewarded with a soft "Come in."
I do so, and she's standing at the mirror, wrapped in a terry cloth robe with stars on the back. Sometimes I forget how young she is; it's times like this that won't let me.
"You okay?" I ask her, and she turns to me, and gasps slightly. If I could blush, I would.
"Uh, Angel, let me see if I can find some of my dad's old sweats laying around. I'm sorry.I completely forgot to offer," she ducks her head and quickly walks to her mom's closet, as I stand, slightly ashamed to have on only a towel around my waist.
I did not want to put those leather pants back on.
"Here you go," she says, not looking at me as she hands me a worn pair of black pants and a soft gray tshirt. "Sorry, that's all I could find."
"It's no problem, Buffy, thanks," I say, and wait for her to turn around so I change.
She blushes, and turns around.
I shed the towel quickly and pull on the sweat pants and tee; they smell vaguely like moth balls and Tide.
"Thanks," I say again. She faces me again, and tears dance in her eyes.
I groan, and go to her.
She sobs against my chest, and I lay my cheek on her head, whispering, "It's okay," over and over.
The problem is, I don't know if it's gonna be.
"Buffy, love, we need to call Giles," I say finally, and she nods, not looking up at me. "Okay," comes the muffled answer.
I find the phone, a strange pink princess number that I'm truly surprised Joyce would have in her room. To each their own, I guess.
"I have to change," Buffy says, and I nod over the ringing on the line. As she enters her own room, Giles answers the phone.
"Buffy?" he says, and I know he knows what's happened.
"Giles, It's Angel. I'm with Buffy; she's okay," I tell him, and he sighs audibly with relief.
"Where are you?" he asks, and I tell him.
"You should come to the library as soon as possible; I'm on my way there now," he says, and I nod even though he can't see me.
"What about." I can't finish my thought.
"It's stopped," he says, and I slump against the bedpost, thanking the powers for small favors. I wouldn't want her to have to go out in the deluge again, and I don't know if I could make it through it again either.
My demon laughs mirthlessly, and I mentally backhand him, sending him grinning through a mask of bloody teeth back to his hole in my mind.
"We'll be there. She's getting into new clothes right now."
"Good. And Angel?" he says, which I hear right before I put down the phone.
"Yes?" I say, bringing the receiver back up to my ear.
"Hurry."
Buffy doesn't say a word on the walk to the school.
I took care of our blood soaked clothes while she had been changing; they were now spinning in a cold rinse cycle in the washing machine in her home, all traces of gore wiped out by the industrial strength detergent I had found in the utility room.
Except for the leather pants. Those I pitched into the trash. Blood doesn't really ever come out of leather. I've been through several pair in the last 100 years.
We open the doors to the library, and meet the three pairs of eyes already gathered there.
Willow rushes out of her chair, and envelopes Buffy in a huge hug, and I'm grateful for the presence of the little red head. Buffy hugs her back, but stiffly, and I frown.
She's got be in tip top slayer shape in order for us to figure out what's going on.
"Buffy, Angel," says Giles, and we approach the table, taking the two end seats.
I grasp her hand under the table, and try to give it a reassuring squeeze. She doesn't squeeze back.
"Giles- what's the sitch? Any ideas? Any portends? Any clues? Anything?" she says in a toneless voice.
"I've had Willow on the net, Buffy, and she's found something quite interesting," he says, and we swivel our heads to face Willow. She grins, but hollowly, and speaks.
"Well, I started my search with the interesting rain we just had, and any other occurances like it in Sunnydale history. So far I've only been able to find one other occurrence like it."
We stare at her expectantly.
".And?" Buffy asks finally.
"Back at the turn of the century, when that old hotel got buried in the last huge quake we had. The one the Master was living in? This type of rain preceded that quake."
Buffy blanches, and I grab her hand again, not caring this time what her reaction will be. I am happy this time that she grabs back.
"There's something else," Willow adds, and I cringe inwardly, not wanting to hear this.
"What is it Wills, a giant castle suddenly appeared out of thin air? Toads fell from the sky? Great portals opened up everywhere?" Buffy asks, trying to hide her fear.
"Well, it's funny you should mention portals." Willow starts, and Buffy shakes her head.
"That is so not the answer I wanted to hear."
TBC.
