Part Fifteen-
The men towered over me, leers and sickening grins plastered on their faces. Anger rushed in my veins, making my head pound. I pushed two out of the way and there was just enough time and space for me to escape. I jumped to me feet and started to run. I had no other choice. I was bloody, beaten, and losing my energy fast. I had to get out of there. My lungs felt tight and started to burn. I could hear the pounding footsteps of the men and I just wanted to cry.
What did they want with me? Why were they after me? I still could not tell exactly what they were. They didn't seem to be vampires, but I couldn't really rule out the option. I crossed the street and nearly got hit by a car. It honked loudly and I started violently, slipping, and falling to the ground. They quickly ambushed me. I screamed. It was a horrible sound, like an animal, knowing it had no chance. I was still numb from the electric shock. My legs were too unstable to hold me, I couldn't get back up.
"NO-ooo!" I screamed, trying to kick.
Hot tears of desperation burned my eyes, the men laughed. I felt another shock go through me. Then another. I was on the brink of unconsciousness, and teetering the thin edge. Red spots exploded in front of my eyes and I could hear the men arguing.
"Are you sure we should be roughing her up?" One asked.
"Quentin said ta bring 'er in, but he neva said in what condition." Another growled.
I took a deep, painful breath. My ribs felt as if they were caving in on me, my lungs feeling crushed. The men seeming to be preoccupied, I slowly moved out of the way. I whimpered and one attacked me again.
"Where ya think yer going, missy?" He demanded sinisterly.
"Let me go!" I yelled hoarsely.
"Sorry darlin, we gotta job ta do." He sneered. "But not b'fore we've had some fun…" He leered.
My eyes widened, "No!"
I tried to kick again, succeeding, but missing widely. He laughed, grabbed my blouse and ripping it. I dimly heard the buttons fly off and bounce away.
"No, no, no, no, no, NO!" My whimper turned into a loud scream.
He covered my mouth. I bit him. He slapped me with enough force for my head to hit the ground with a painful crack. I was dazed enough for my head to lull to the side, my sight blurry, and my eyes unseeing. I heard footfalls rushing towards me, I could see a long shadow. Angel… I thought dimly. I could hear a growl and the tear of skin and clothing. I kept breathing, each inhale more painful than the last.
Am I dying…?
I heard the dull thud of bodies hit the ground and felt someone lean over me.
"No…" I whimpered in a whisper.
"Damn it." I heard someone whisper, a voice not Angels'. "What did they do to you?"
An explanation rose in my throat, but died away when I started to cough.
"Son of a… Can you sit up?"
I turned my head slowly, agonizingly.
"Darla…?" I breathed down, my voice a rasp.
"Yeah." She said, putting her arm under my back to lift me. "It's me."
"What about the men?" I asked her, trying to look.
She held my head gently. "It's best if you don't look."
I swayed on my feet and everything spun into a sickening blur of colors. Darla steadied me, her grip gentle but surprisingly strong.
"Damn, they really did a number on you…" She hissed angrily.
"Why are you helping me?" I asked her.
She stopped and looked at me. "Contrary to popular belief, I'm not an evil person. I'm a bitch, but I've got a soul."
I chuckled then stopped when my chest constricted. "I want to go home."
"Let me call Angel."
She led my to a park bench and we both sat. I focused on each breath, trying not to pass out.
Darla took out her phone and dialed the hotel.
"Angel." Pause. "We've got a problem." Pause. "No, it's not Connor. It's Anne. She was attacked." Pause. "Human. Angel, she's in bad shape." There was another pause and then
Darla hung up.
*
I don't remember Angel coming. I don't remember being driven home. But, I do remember Angel carrying me into the hotel. Darla was ahead of us, holding a sleeping Connor in her arms.
I shifted slightly and breathed a hiss of pain.
"Don't move."
Angel's voice was angry and scared. His eyes flicked down to mine and I could see his thoughts in his eyes. He was scared for me. Angry that he hadn't been there for me, again. He wanted to kill whoever had done this to me. I was still bleeding. My blouse lay limp and half open on me. My breathing was shallow. I lay comfortable in Angel's arms. He strode through the lobby and I saw Willow stand up, a sardonic, triumphant smirk on her face.
"Dead." She whispered.
My heart thumped and I started to breathe hard.
"Anne, what is it?" Angel asked me as he set me down on one of the red couches. I couldn't
answer. I couldn't think, speak, or breathe. I shook my head slowly, very slowly. I thought I was going to pass out again.
"What the hell happened?!" A loud voice, that I knew to be Faith, boomed.
She rushed over here and her eyes were soft and concerned at the sight of me. She touched my cheek tentatively and looked around, her eyes locking on Darla.
"You did this?!" Faith yelled, pounding over there.
"No!" I rasped out loudly. "She saved me."
Faith looked fro me to Darla and back again. "Did you?" She demanded.
"I saw her getting the shit knocked out of her by a couple of military thugs and decided not to have her death riding my conscious." Darla snapped, holding Connor to her hip.
"Did you recognize them?" Faith asked me, kneeling to my side.
"No."
Giles came in, holding bandages, a cloth, and a bowl of warm water. Spike followed with
antiseptics. Faith narrowed her eyes at him, hurt and anger clouding them.
"Get out." She ordered.
"Give it a rest, pet." Spike sighed, his eyes cold and distant.
I thought she was going to scream, her face turned red and her eyes shone.
"Stop." Was all Giles said, his voice sharp.
He sat next to me and dabbed my face. His eyes were clear but troubled. He examined my
wounds carefully. Angel talked quietly with Darla. She was angry, her hands gesturing as she spoke. Connor now lay in Faith's arms. He was the only thing that kept her from running out that door or running to kill Spike. I stared at the light fixtures far above me. My mind was reeling. Quentin had really made his point this time. He was after me and nothing would stop him from getting me. This proved that I wasn't strong enough to do this myself, but I hated the thought of bringing everyone else into this. Quentin had friends in high and low places, both of which would do anything he wanted.
"Your wounds aren't really as bad as they seem." Giles mused softly "What worried me are these burn marks."
I lifted my head slowly and looked at where Giles was pointing. There were dark red and purple splotches covering my upper right side. I chuckled dryly, my eyes hard.
"The bastards used cattle prodders." I whispered.
Giles swore softly. He pressed my ribs gently. "Does that hurt?"
I sucked in slightly. "Yes."
"They're bruised."
He noted a few more wounds, his expression darkening more. He left for a moment and talked to Angel. Angel looked ready to kill somebody, his eyes coal black and very, very cold looking.
Angel looked at me briefly and shook his head, walking quickly out of the room.
"Where's he going?" I asked, sitting up.
"Anne, no." Giles said, rushing to my side.
I pushed him away and got to my feet. I knew Angel was so angry that he wasn't thinking clearly. I got as far as the receptionist desk before my legs gave away. I grabbed the counter edge, holding so very tightly. I could see Angel putting on his leather duster. He grabbed a weapon.
"Angel!" I yelled, determined to stop him from doing something he would be sure to regret. He turned to me and I swore his eyes had a yellow tint.
"Stay in the hotel!" He ordered harshly.
I didn't back down. "Angel, let it be!"
He ignored me. He walked out. I could hear his coat flapping behind him. I went out the door and tried to look for him, but he was gone. He was furious. He was going to get himself in trouble, trouble I didn't think any of us could afford. The wind blew, it was cold. The air seemed to swallow me, locking my in an invisible prison of frozen loneliness. My legs shook beneath me, but I felt as if I couldn't move. I stood on the stone steps, looking into the shadows, daring anything to show themselves. At the same time, I wished Angel would come back. I felt alone and unprotected without him.
My attachment to him was strong, maybe unbreakable. I needed him and on some level he needed me as well. Tears welled in my eyes, they burned like hot wax. I buried the pain, the tears, and the fear. I wouldn't let it show. It made me weak.
*
I think I passed out after that. I opened my eyes and saw Rupert sitting, asleep, in a chair beside me. There was a bowl and washcloth on the table. He had been looking after me. I smiled softly., an unknown feeling welling inside me. I felt at home in this moment. I couldn't explain it, but it spread a warmth through my body. I sat up slowly and I could hear my bones creak. My skin felt too tight, my bones old. I was hot, sweat making me clammy. I shivered.
Something was wrong with me.
I walked into the hallway and saw Spike, Angel, and Darla all sitting together talking in hushed voices. The lights were dimmed and a few candles were lit. The flickering flames made their faces pale and eerie. I couldn't hear what they said, but I knew it was of importance. I had no desire to bother them. I walked back and went up the service stairwell. The floorboards here were old and they creaked and moaned against my slight weight. To me, it all sounded as loud enough to wake the dead. I made it to my room and looked around in the dark. I was cold. I walked into my bathroom and ran the water. Everything seemed so loud to me. I plugged the tub and poured in fragrant bath salts. Glancing at my clock, it read 3:27. I shed my cloths and stepped into the tub, sinking into the water. The warmth of it took my breath away. I closed my eyes. I dozed off and dreamed evil images.
*"You are not the hunter. You are the lamb."*
The feeling of water filling my mouth and nose awoke me. I jumped up to my feet, only to slip and fall back down. Water splashed all over the place, soaking my rug and the floor. I had slipped underwater in my sleep. I coughed slightly, feeling water in my throat and in my lungs.
Shaking slightly, I wrapped a towel around me. I walked into my bedroom, my body sore and stiff. I turned on my light and looked in my floor-to-ceiling mirror. I looked horrible. My face was pale and purple, my left eye almost swollen shut. There were red abrasions all over my arms, scrapes, and road burns dotting my skin. My lips were deep red and split. I dropped the towel and swallowed at what I saw. My ribs were swollen, the bruises many different colors.
Reds, yellow, purples, and sickly greens covered almost every inch of my body. The worst were the burns makes, looking vein-y and painful. Cringing, I wrapped my robe around me and collapsed into the bed. I drifted right off to sleep, and I had no dreams. For that, I was thankful
for.
*
The rumble of thunder awoke me from a dreamless sleep. I opened my eyes to see my room bathed in a dark blue shade. I looked at my clock and saw it was a quarter after nine. I looked out my windows too see dark menacing clouds painting the landscape. Lightening flashed. Thunder roared. It wasn't rain, but the cloud looked like they were going to burst. I lay in bed for a little while, staring at the clouds. It was Saturday. That ,meant that I didn't have to go to school. I was glad, because I didn't feel very well, at all. My belly gurgled and my head ached. My skin, though, felt kind of tingly. I knew that meant that I was healing. I heard tiny footsteps in my room and looked toward the door. I saw Connor standing there, clutching a small toy.
"What's wrong, sweetie?" I asked him when I saw he looked terrified.
"Thunder." He whimpered, though he pronounced it 'fun-dew'.
"Come here." I said, holding out my arms.
He ran to me, burying his head in my shoulder as I covered him in my blanket. He cuddled to me, his shaking gradually stopping at my whispered words.
"It's alright, baby." I soothed. "You're safe."
He fell asleep soon enough and I just held him. I thought of last night's events. Quentin had sent his men after me. It wouldn't be long until Quentin himself came to finish what his lackeys couldn't. He would come after me, and he would catch me. I knew he would. He would take me back to that damn compound and I would be tortured again. But, it would be worse this time. Because I had run away, and because in Quentin's sick and twisted mind I was his property…he would make sure I would never defy him again.
Here and now, laying in my bed with Angel's son sleeping in my arms, I vowed that I wouldn't let him keep me. I would do whatever I had to do to remove myself from Quentin's grasp.
Whatever I had to do.
I silently slipped out of my bed, leaving Connor in the midst of sheets and warms covers. I put on a pain of pink sweats and white tank top. I combed my hair, leaving it flowing down my back. I didn't bother to cover up the shaded bruises or scrapes. They would be gone soon enough anyways…
I scooped up Connor and looked at the toy he clutched in his arms. It was a small plush pig.
How strange, I thought. It was cute, though. And, very familiar. I shifted Connor to my hip and he buried his head in my shoulder, still sound asleep. I padded down the stairs, smelling breakfast. I went into the kitchen and saw Giles was cooking.
"Hey." I greeted quietly as I sat down.
Giles looked warmly down at me. "Do you feel better?"
I shrugged. "I don't hurt."
He nodded and motioned to Connor. "Where did you find him?"
"He came into my room. The thunder scared him."
Giles nodded. "As it does most children."
Giles was cooking. It all looked delicious. Omelets, toast, coffee. It smelled as good as it looked. Giles passed me a steaming mug of coffee and I smiled in thanks. I could hear the thunder boom outside. The storm was getting closer, but it hadn't rained yet. I leaned back in the chair, sighing softly. Giles finished his eggs and split them with me, pushing half on another plate and sliding them to me
"Thanks."
We ate in silence, the thunder, and the creaking of the hotel the only sounds. Slowly, everyone started to wake up. Cordelia came in first, her hair rapped in a towel and her face covered with white cream. She took some coffee, sitting with us.
"You look nice, Cordelia." I told her, smirking. She rolled her eyes and sipped her coffee.
Everyone else was crowded into the kitchen soon enough. There was noise, commotion, and laughter. This was how a real family functioned. Nobody said anything about last night. Faith was complaining about Spike, Xander was telling lame jokes, and Anya was whining about how there was no milk. Angel had taken Connor and fed him, Spike was sulking in a corner, and
Connor was spitting his applesauce all over the place.
This was normal.
This was family.
This was safe.
For now.