Title: Good Intentions
Author: Ash
E-Mail: aka_jay66@hotmail.com
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, no matter how much I might want to, and someday I'll learn to accept that.
Feedback: Would be appreciated.

Summary: Set in the time when Angelus roamed free and Willow still babbled. When Willow tries to help Buffy feel safe, she has the best of intentions. That should have been a warning sign right there.

Part Two

Buffy blinked as a cold wave of something washed over her. The feeling only lasted for a second, but for that moment her skin felt like a patchwork of snowflakes stitched together. And then the air was once again warm and dry, and she shrugged off the strange sensation with a shudder.

Giles looked up from the book he was reading.

"Slayer intuition?" He asked, managed to put both sympathy and hope into his voice.

Poor Giles, Buffy thought. Always waiting for me to turn into some kind of supernatural bloodhound. She wrinkled her nose and said, "Sorry, I don't think my Slayer senses are up to that kind of tingling yet. Someone must have walked over my grave." She looked around at the cemetery. "No pun intended."

"What? Oh. Yes."

The guest of honor chose that moment to appear, as the dark earth of the grave suddenly sprouted a pair of white hands. Buffy and Giles watched as the hands scrabbled and clawed for purchase until the new vampire finally disinterred itself with one mighty heave. Clods of loose dirt fell away as he pulled himself to his feet, staggering a little.

Buffy was glad that he was already wearing his game face; it was harder to stake the new ones when they stared at her with confused human eyes. She shifted her grip on the stake and waited for him to rush her.

Instead, the vampire just stared at her. He took a step backwards, nearly tripping over his own headstone. He was frowning.

"You're not going all shy on me, are you?" Buffy said, moving towards him. "Don't I look like a cure for the midnight munchies?" She took another step closer.

The vampire's eyes widened, and he turned to flee. He made it to the edge of the cemetery at approximately the same time as the flying stake and most of him abruptly stopped moving, although a few particles were blown all the way across the street.

Buffy shifted out of her fighting stance and turned to face Giles. "Well, that was strange."

Giles looked up from his book again. "Hmmm?"

"I..." Buffy started, and then realised that if she told him what happened it would inevitably lead to research. If she kept quiet, it'd be Bronze-ward ho!

"It's nothing," Buffy said quickly. "Just my usual banter. Talk, talk, talk, that's all I do. Giles? That was the last of the ones on the list, and I've patrolled the rest of the graveyard."

"Very good." Giles said absently, turning a page.

"Can I go now?" Buffy asked hopefully.

"Mmm? Oh, of course." Giles said, motioning her to leave without looking up from the book.

Buffy walked to the edge of the cemetery and then turned back to check...He was still sitting there. "Giles!" She called loudly.

"What?"

"Find someplace safe to read?"

*****

The next morning seemed to last forever. For the first time, Willow understood why other people were always complaining about school. The teachers were boring, the material was useless, and the rules against talking in class were purely sadistic. She couldn't wait until lunchtime.

Even when the lunch bell rang, she still had to wait. She stoically endured food selection, food purchasing and the choosing of seats. Once she, Buffy and Xander were settled at their usual table, she couldn't take it anymore. She had to know if anything had happened last night to make her two-hour clean up session and ten hour migraine worth it. But, she cautioned herself, I have to be cool about it this time. Don't want a repeat of the tweed thing.

"So Buffy," Willow said innocently. "Did anything happen while you were slaying last night?" Both Buffy and Xander stared at her. Uh oh, Willow thought. What did I say- oh! "I mean, when you were...out?"

Xander raised his hands in victory. "Hah!" He whooped "Somebody else said it! I'm not the only idiot around here!" The cafeteria fell silent. Everybody looked at Xander.

As the talking resumed, Buffy patted Xander's hand and said, "No, but you're definitely in the top ten."

Xander slumped forward and put his head on the table.

"Xand-" Buffy started to say, but Xander put up his hand to stop her.

"No. Nobody comfort me. I don't deserve to be comforted. There's nothing anyone could possibly say that would make me feel less stupid right now."

Buffy exchanged a look with Willow. "Xander, your hair is in my fries." Buffy said.

Xander raised his head. "Oh. Well, I was right. I feel no less stupid."

Willow smiled. Xander was so cute when he was embarrassed. Wait! Back on topic! "So... Anything interesting happen last night?"

Buffy shrugged and took another sip of her milkshake. "Nope."

Darn it, Willow thought.

"Oh wait, there was one thing..."

Hope lives!

"Yeah, the new growly I was waiting for didn't even try to fight. He just... sniffed, and ran away." Buffy shook her head. "Weird. So, why'd you ask?"

Inside Willow's mind, she was dancing a jig. It worked! She'd done it! Then, thinking a little more clearly, she said, "Oh, I was just curious. You know, life's been sort of normal lately." It would probably better to not tell Buffy until she was sure. It could have been a fluke. But she didn't think so!

Buffy put her head to one side and raised her eyebrows, "If you're tired of normal," she said. "Why don't you come out on patrol with me tonight? No ancient prophecies, so it's going to be practically doom-free!"

"Sure." Willow said eagerly. "Sounds like fun!" Fun? "I mean, in that demon killing is a good thing, so therefore... fun?"

"Okay, Wills. I'll meet you at seven. Bring your own stake if you can or, failing that, chocolate." That settled, the group spent the remainder of the lunch hour talking about more plebeian horrors like tests, curfews and the ever-looming spectre of midterms.

*********

Angelus walked the streets of Sunnydale. This is much the same as saying that the plague walked the streets of Sunnydale, if the plague only killed the attractive and well dressed.

He'd taken the edge off his first hunger with a randomly chosen waitress and was now prepared to be a little more discriminating. Maybe he'd be lucky enough to find one of the Slayer's friends walking around alone. Maybe he could make his own luck.

The only thing he was sure about was that he couldn't stand to do another round of "Buffy, I've got my soul back! Come here, darling!"

He was famous for having a strong stomach - or rather, he was famous for certain other aspects of his personality which necessitated having a strong stomach as well as a soundproofed basement, but this was getting ridiculous.

Baiting Buffy was like hitting one of those inflatable clown dolls. No matter how many times he hit her, up she popped. Buffy, by herself, wasn't this strong. He knew Buffy down to the bone. He knew to an inch how much pain she could stand before she broke, before her mind tore itself down like a paper house. She'd already passed that point.

But still, up she popped. That was the Slayer in her, always kicking in just before he could finish her off. Strong. Powerful. Frustrating as hell.

And then there was Drusilla. Angelus closed his eyes in pain, remembering the events of the day. He'd driven her so far off the edge that even he could hardly stand her. If he didn't so enjoy seeing Spike quietly miserable Angelus would have staked Dru out for the sun long ago. With Miss Edith right beside her. He smirked at the thought.

What the hell had made Dru think you could build a maypole out of skulls?

Angelus was starting to think that what he really needed was a happy medium somewhere between unbreakable and look-the-skulls-are-falling-down-like-comets-crashing.

Caught up in his thoughts, Angelus was taken off guard by the scent of blood coming from somewhere nearby.

Angelus stopped in his tracks and sniffed the air, ignoring the strange looks of the humans around him. He wanted to... he wanted to...

He didn't know what he wanted to do. The scent was confusing, dualistic, disturbing. If it had come in air freshener form, there would have been a yin-yang symbol on the box.

On the one hand, it smelled like the blood of a thousand virgins, purity distilled, innocence begging for corruption. There was darkness there that called to his demon, hints of the multi-textured tastes of despair and conquest and death. It invaded his body via his nose and coiled around his brain like a slick black snake.

On the other hand... Angelus wrinkled his nose. The other half of the smell wasn't bad. There are very few bad smells that can disgust a demon, especially one who lived in the times when saying 'personal hygiene' was like saying 'personal hovercraft'.

This smell wasn't bad, it was boring. It was more than that, it was indifference; the disinterest in death and life alike that stole the pleasure from pain and made eternal life something to be endured rather than enjoyed. If the other was a snake, this was a wall of grey fog, entrance to pale oblivion.

The one pulled him, the other repelled him.

Curiosity broke the tie.

Angelus followed the scent. As he went it grew stronger until it was almost a tangible presence in the air. By the time he reached the cemetery his mind was full of it, innocence and apathy tangling together around his thoughts. Tangling together but becoming separate, and that didn't confuse him, because nothing mattered except finding out what it was. What they were.

People were talking up ahead.

"..so I said, well, I got the right continent, shouldn't I get part marks?"

Buffy. Of course. Slayer blood always was heady stuff. He began to move more slowly, trying to fix her exact position.

"Actually Buffy, Australia is a... right, the unfairness of it! How... how dare she?!"

And Willow, too. Well, well. He was hoping to run into her soon. Alone. But with Buffy suddenly smelling so sweet he might have to kill her sooner than he'd planned and that would make torturing and killing her friends pointless, gratuitous violence of the worst kind. His favourite kind. Things were looking up.

"Thank you for your sympathy." Buffy said, trying to sound upset.

Angelus was close enough now to see the two girls sitting on a blanket in front of a fresh grave. It resembled nothing so much as a morbid kind of picnic, but the humour of the situation was completely lost on Angelus. He moved forward, letting the leaves rustle under his feet.

Buffy looked over her shoulder, her face open and laughing. When she saw Angelus, the smile faded from her mouth and from her eyes. "Angel..." she said, getting to her feet.

Angelus smiled as he walked towards her, feeling his features shift as he got closer to the scent of her. "Close."

"Willow, get out of here." Buffy said quietly. Behind her, Willow took a step backwards, her eyes fixed on Angelus.

"Willow?" Buffy repeated. "Go home. Now."

Willow took a few more stumbling steps backward and then turned and ran, disappearing around the headstones with her hair rising and falling like the red snap of a fox's tail.

There was a shift in the concentrated scents that were doing to Angelus' brain what taffy does to the gears of a well-oiled clock. Blood lust faded, and disgust came boiling in to fill the space it left behind. The change distracted him long enough to let Buffy get in a high kick to the side of his head.

He recovered quickly, grabbing her arms when she came in for the kill. That close to her, the taste was unbearable and he pushed her away hard.

Buffy landed on her feet, but Angelus was already backing away.

"Some other time," He called back to her as he jumped the fence, his head clearing as she got farther away. By the time he reached the road it was clear enough for him to know that Willow had been there when he'd scented ambrosia, and when Willow had gone the scent had gone too and therefore it was Willow that he was mindlessly following now, moving quickly after the scent like a wolf following a trail.

He grinned into the darkness as he went.

________________

End Part Two

Heh. After the last part, I got a few letters saying that they were one step away from sending me a reproachful letter for plagiarism... right up until they saw the note at the end. For some reason, I find that both amusing and reassuring. It's great to know that there are literary watchdogs out there, waiting to pounce on people (possibly drunk, possibly crazy) who want to take over my fics and rewrite them. *g*

I spent a fun hour today trying to explain to a friend who has only seen "Angel: The Television Series" why she should immediately come over and let me show her all the Buffy episodes featuring "Angelus: The Magnificent Bastard." She had trouble picturing Angel as evil, and when I mentioned the sense of humor she said, "But Angel has a sense of humor!" It's really hard to explain the keenness of Angelus to anyone who hasn't seen Angel in season one brooding all around the place and never once showing any signs of wanting to go to a karaoke bar.

Thank god for the leather pants. That got her.

Ahem. Yes. Glad so many people remembered this story, and I have responded to all the reviews in the review section because I can't help it. I'm awful that way. Ten-step programs, self-hypnosis tapes, all have been powerless to stop me from mindlessly replying to my reviews in the review section. I'm not giving up hope, though. I've heard some good things about this new technique where they submerge you in a pool of water the exact temperature of your body and then throw your computer in there with you. *g*

Comments are always appreciated, of course.

Ash