The vampire tossed restlessly in his sleep, his eyes darting back and forth beneath his lids.
He was being dragged inexorably through the tangled forest and Angelus growled in fury. He simultaneously tried to dig in his heels and stumble forward to avoid being dragged as the unwavering force yanked him forward. One moment he'd been about to bed down with Darla. The next, an inexplicable compulsion to leave her had surged up in him, sending him plunging into night.
Some bastard had cast a spell on him. Someone was pulling him against his will and the demon howled, raging at his helplessness and vowing to rend to shreds the guilty party once he got where he was going. Nobody summoned Angelus like a tame lapdog. Whoever was responsible for this insult, he would make them pay in blood.
At last he burst forth from the trees, collapsing to his knees as the mysterious hold on him vanished as suddenly as it had appeared. Before he could get up and flee, a burning sensation seized his undead heart and twisted. The fiery pain was like nothing he'd ever experienced and, for the first time since he was turned, Angelus was afraid.
The pain ebbed away and Liam blinked, looking up. A man in antique clothing—a gypsy, his distracted mind told him, although he wasn't certain how he knew—stepped forward to stare intently into his eyes. "It hurts, yes? Good. It will hurt more." His calm words did nothing to offset the grief and greedy malice that lay upon his face.
Liam looked around him in confusion. This place was unfamiliar and something deep in his gut told him this wasn't Galway. And yet where else could he be? He'd never been away from his home in his entire life. Where was he and who was this stranger looking at him with such unbridled hatred? "Where am I?"
The man looked almost pitying before the malevolence returned. "You don't remember? Everything you've done for a hundred years? In a moment, you will. The face of everyone you killed… our daughter's face… they will haunt you, and you will know what true suffering is."
He was panting hard but the air was doing him no good. There was that odd burning in his chest that had nothing to do with his lungs and Liam was struggling to breathe as if the action were unnatural and uncomfortable. "Killed? I, I don't…"
The memories came rushing back: that elegantly dressed blonde woman in the alley; hard, crushing pain in his throat stealing his breath and life at once; clawing his way up through the dirt of his own grave; his first victim, the unfortunate gravedigger who'd come to investigate the unusual noise in his own cemetery…
"No…no, please." Liam began to shake as the memories gathered force and tumbled over him in violent, unstoppable waves, each one a tapestry of screams, terror and gore. He grabbed his head in anguish and staggered away, trying to shake off the blood-soaked visions. But they continued, relentless and merciless, ripping at his mind until they threatened to drive him insane.
Stumbling around the fire, he halted in shock at the sight of the mumbling woman and the girl who lay stretched out dressed in her wedding clothes on the miniature bier. His eyes drifted over the still figure, the tiny, blonde body seeming even more shrunken by death. Buffy Summers looked peaceful as if she'd just drifted off to sleep. But he could tell by the ashen cast of her features that she would never wake again.
Joyce Summers stopped chanting and lifted her head, her features twisting. "You bastard. You killed her. Are you happy now? ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?!?"
"NO!" Angel jerked awake, spastic tremors wracking every inch of his frame. God, Buffy. He swung his legs out of bed, casting his eyes wildly about his apartment as if expecting to see his beloved's lifeless body stretched on the floor.
He was alone. It was a familiar state for him, even more so lately. Ever since he'd learned of the addition to his curse, he'd scrupulously avoided Buffy. She'd taken to showing up at his apartment at odd hours, attempting to snare him into a conversation. But he wasn't willing to talk to her or get close to her at all. He could sense her, far more easily than she could sense him, and avoiding her was easily done. Because of her constant attempts to catch him, though, he'd had to avoid his home on certain days. However, he knew many places in Sunnydale to hide during the day. That wasn't the problem.
His soul and his demon were crying out to be reunited with her. Since he'd seen her on the steps of Hemery, he'd felt joined to her in a way he couldn't explain. The only way he could define it was love and it was ripping him apart to be away from her.
Yet his own fears and the nightmares continued unabated. This last one had been the worst. He had to stay away from Buffy. But he was meant to fight by her side, to aid her in her fight as Slayer.
[Bull. She's a Slayer. There have always been Slayers. They've always fought and without help from you, I might add.]
[But I was brought into this by Whistler, by the higher powers, to help Buffy. I'm supposed to be with her!]
[Uh, wrong! Whistler asked you if you wanted to become someone, to help fight on the good side. Nowhere in the contract is it mentioned that you get the right to Buffy's body.]
[Fuck that! Buffy's mine, you little pantywaist! God, I just wish you'd lose your soul. There'd be none of this stupid mea culpa shit. I'd show that Slayer what I'm really capable of.]
Angel sighed wearily. There was Angelus, right on cue. It had been a shock upon regaining his soul to know that his inner demon was still in residence. It had been sheer torture in those early days, hearing the demon growl, sneer and whine in razor tones in his head whenever he passed up the chance to sink his fangs into a juicy, palpitating artery. Over the decades he'd managed to gain some semblance of control over his violent, monstrous id. But that mocking, hateful voice never disappeared. It lapsed into silent slumber for hours at a time but the slightest thing could rouse it. Like now.
[I'm sick of this crap, Soul Boy. The nightmares ain't going away and neither is that hard-on. We need to get back to Buffy and get a piece of that tender Slayer meat. Bet she's hungry to be with us, too, you've kept away from her for so long. Mmmm. Think she'll beg for it like that gypsy girl did? She was a screamer, that one…]
Angel ruthlessly shut out the voice before it could go any further. Angelus had slipped up. If there was anything that would strengthen his resolve to keep away from Buffy, it would be the memory of that hapless, foolish Romany girl—that and the dream that still haunted him. He seized onto the nightmare grimly. The more he feared for Buffy, the less chance he had of experiencing happiness. No happiness, no return of Angelus.
The demon snarled in his skull and he smiled in grim satisfaction. [That's right. You're staying put.]
[We'll see about that, Soul Boy. I'm not going anywhere and, now I know that there's a way to slip the leash, I'm going to be watching and waiting for my chance.]
Angel shuddered and looked longingly at his bed. It was broad daylight outside and now was his time to sleep. Yet he was terrified of going back to sleep. He could have grabbed a blanket and made a run for the nearest manhole cover. But he had nowhere to go, really. None of the others would want to see him, now that they knew what a threat he posed to Buffy's life, and what else was there for him in the daylight?
Angel stretched out on the bed that had become hateful to him like almost everything else in his existence and pulled the covers over his head. He shut his eyes and prayed for no more dreams.
__________
"Ms.. Summers!"
"Huh?" Buffy's head jerked upright. Mr. Enright was glaring at her and tapping his finger at the board. By the irritated look on his face, he'd been speaking to her for a bit without getting her attention.
"Glad to have you back with us. Do you know the answer?"
"Um…" Shoot, she didn't even know the question. "Could you repeat the question?"
He heaved a dramatic sigh as if to complain about being beset with foolish students. "What was the main drawback with the child labor laws drawn up to keep children from working in factories?"
"Uh…they discriminated against children who didn't want to take paper routes?"
His eyes narrowed and then he sighed again as the class tittered. "Well, that's close to the truth. The fact is, the laws were meant to prevent underage employees from factory-related accidents. Now their families lacked the income their children previously brought in. What was the main consequence of losing that income? Mr. Johnson?"
The dark-haired boy rattled off his answer. "The kids became liabilities to their parents. A kid working in the country was an asset to the family. But a child in the city was just an extra mouth to feed. A lot of those kids wound up being abandoned as babies and left to die. So the law hurt the very people it was supposed to protect."
"Correct, Mr. Johnson." His attention had wandered off her and Buffy drew a breath in relief. She'd been slacking off in her classes lately. Not that it was intentional. She was just packing in the slaying and going light on the sleeping. Something had to give and it looked like it was the studying.
She glanced out the window, not really noting the sunshine that lay beyond it. Where was Angel? That was the million-dollar question, wasn't it? She couldn't feel him around her when she patrolled and she could never find him at home. All that meant he was avoiding her—like he'd been doing all week. Her concentration was getting all shot to hell and that wasn't good for the homework or the slayage.
Worry over Angel and anger at his continued avoidance made her hell against the demons. But she was letting her concentration slip and occasionally a demon got under her guard. When that happened, she went to Giles to get patched up. She didn't want to worry her mom. Good thing she healed up so quickly otherwise her mother would be a hell of a lot more upset.
True to her word, Mrs. Summers had demanded to know the truth about Ms. Calendar. Buffy had told her about how the woman was following Angel but not why. She just made it sound like some kind of sacred duty that had been passed on to Jenny. Her mom had seemed accepting but there was no telling whether she'd go running around to the others with questions.
Now Buffy was actually glad her mother didn't like Angel so much. That meant she didn't question his absence from Buffy's life. But Buffy desperately wanted to talk to Angel if only to know that he was all right. Did he miss her as much as she missed him? Was he hurting like she was?
There had to be a way around this problem. Without actually being a nag she asked Willow every day about progress on the soul-spell front. So far the budding witch hadn't turned up anything.
Finally the bell rang and she scooped up her books and headed for the door. Just as she reached it, Mr. Enright called out to her, "Ms. Summers? May I have a word?"
She turned as her stomach twisted into knots. [Oh, great. Here comes the lecture.] She forced a smile onto her face. "Yeah, Mr. Enright. Look, if it's about the lesson…"
"That it is, Ms. Summers." He gestured her closer as he began cleaning off the blackboard for the next class. "Your work has been slipping lately. That's a shame. You're very bright in class usually." He finished and began writing the new lesson. Then he shot her a shrewd glance. "Is everything all right at home?"
"Sure. Everything's hunky dory. I've really got to get going."
He ignored her blatant attempt to duck the conversation. "When I see one of my better students slipping, I have to think something else is wrong. I know you can apply yourself to your studies better than this. You've been doing so well. I'd hate to see that change. Do you want to talk to the school counselor?"
"No! I mean, I just haven't been sleeping all that well. I get to worrying about the sl—studying, homework and sometimes the tests so I get nightmares and then the sleeping gets dicey which leads to classroom sleeping. Not that I sleep during your class, Mr. Enright," she added hastily. "It's so fascinating studying the, the…" She faltered as she tried to recollect the name of this history lesson.
"The Industrial Revolution," he added dryly.
"Right! See, I knew that," she said with an artificial smile.
"Ms. Summers, I'll make this simple. If I don't see any improvement in your work, I'll talk to the principal."
She resisted the urge to shudder. Oh god, not Snyder. The man lived to make her life hell. Well, that's what the demons did. Some days it just seemed as if Snyder the Spider was on their side, too. "No, Mr. Enright. There's no need to drag Snyder into this. I'll do better. I promise."
"See to it." The lecture over, Buffy escaped into the hallway. She was shortly joined by Willow.
"Hey, Buff. How ya doing?" She shuffled closer. "Any sign of Angel?"
"Nada. He did his Harry Houdini and I can't catch him. Any luck on your end with the soul bindage?"
"N-no. We haven't lost hope yet 'cause there's still tons of books to look through. There's lot of useful stuff in the books like how to make artificial sunlight in the middle of the night and levitation and, oh, a truth saying spell. You chant these words and burn stinky herbs and, after that, a person can't lie to you. The effects are only temporary but it's really a neat form of interrogating somebody without using torture." Willow's sympathetic feelings about Angel almost disappeared under her enthusiasm for spell casting.
Buffy was irked there wasn't anything to help Angel but she couldn't help but be drawn in by the redhead's excitement. "Wow. You've turned up a lot, Wills. That truth spell sounds good. Can you use it on someone without their knowing?"
The red-haired girl shook her head. "Naw. You have to put them in this circle when you cast the spell. That makes it kinda of the hard to not having them in the know." She brightened and then tried to sound casual. "Hey, maybe I can use some of this magical know-how when we go out on slay duty tonight."
The Slayer gnawed her under lip. "I don't know, Willow. I've been trying to get hold of Angel so him and me can do the talking thing and I haven't been able to. If I have someone around, I think it's gonna be impossible to get him to talk."
"Yeah, 'cause Angel's so chatty most of the time," Willow replied, a laugh bubbling under her words.
Xander bounded up. "And how's my two favorite ladies today?"
"We're doing Angel comparison," Willow answered before Buffy could signal her to keep quiet.
"Dead Boy still a no-show? Watch me not care," Xander shrugged. "Want to see my side project for shop class?"
"Side project? I thought you were building shelves?" Willow answered.
"Yes and I am an official shelf-builder extraordinaire. The teacher thinks I've got real talent. But this is what I made with the pieces that were left over." He opened his book bag so the two girls with him could see what was inside. Alongside elegantly simple crosses were some solid stakes. "Tada! Look at me making with the craftsmanship."
Buffy wrinkled her nose. "The crosses are okay, Xander. But, honestly, I can get my own stakes. I still have Mr. Pointy."
"Well, these are for us. Not all of us have our own personal arsenal," Xander huffed, obviously annoyed that she was unimpressed.
Willow hurried to show more support. "I think the stakes are nifty, Xander. Not the crosses so much because, hey, Jewish. But otherwise, good work."
Xander smiled at her. "Nice to know there's somebody who appreciates the Xandman. Maybe when I get really advanced, I can make my own crossbows."
Unnoticed by any of them Cordelia Chase fell in step behind the three friends. "You know, Xander, only losers and slackers take pride in doing well in shop class," she said tartly.
"Or people who use their hands for more than getting their next manicure," Xander said without missing a beat.
"What's wrong with a good manicure? Buffy certainly could use one. I guess all that late night activity is hard on the nails—and everything else," she added peering at the blonde girl's face. "Bags under the eyes are not an acceptable accessory, Buffy."
"You're so lucky, Cordelia," Xander replied. "The only thing you've ever had to wear twice was a nasty expression."
"Says the perennial fashion victim. You could try wearing clothes that don't stop traffic, Harris."
"So could you, Cordelia. But that would tarnish your reputation as the school's bike, wouldn't it?"
Willow and Buffy grimaced and turned away from the two squabblers. Cordelia reminded Willow a little of Jesse in her determination to fling insults at Xander. She remembered when the two boys would trade insults and quips just like this although their conversation was done in a spirit of friendship. Willow felt an unaccustomed sadness well up inside her as she got books for her next class out of her locker. She didn't think of Jesse often these days. But when she did it was invariably with a pang of grief. She wondered whether Xander ever thought about him. The brunette boy didn't say much about Jesse any more than she did but she knew he must miss his favorite guy friend.
Finally the sparring between Xander and everybody's favorite drama queen came to an end and Cordelia drifted off to find another victim. "Tell me again why you saved her from an invisible girl, Buffy," Xander asked as he reached into his locker for his math book.
"Because even Cordelia didn't deserve to die. Although I'm not sure Marcy meant to kill her. Maybe she was just going to cut up her face a little," Buffy mused as she remembered her battle with Marcy the unseen psycho. She wondered what the government had done with her…
"Someone was going to scar that stuck-up beauty queen's face for good and you stopped them?" Xander tsk tsked over Buffy's goof-up. "There went the opportunity for the ultimate revenge on She-Who-Runs-in-Do-Me-Heels." He shouldered his bag and asked, "So who's up for some Bronzing tonight? I warn you, I'm not taking no for an answer."
Buffy sighed. "Sorry, Xand. Mr. Enright just chewed me out for doing the doze in his class. I really have to work, study and do the slay thing or else he's blowing the whistle to Snyder."
"Ouch. That's the last thing we want," Xander shuddered. "But you haven't been out with us in awhile. In fact, I think it's been a week since we had the library—"
"I'll go, Xander," Willow interjected hurriedly. She knew Xander didn't care about Angel. But he could show a little compassion for Buffy's feelings. "Dingoes Ate My Baby is playing. I wanna see Oz's set. I could introduce you to him."
Xander's nose wrinkled as he considered. "Yeah, I want to meet this guy. You've been talking about him ever since you went out and you say he goes to school here but I haven't so much as gotten a look at him. Does he even take the same classes as us?"
"Naw. But you'll like him. He's quiet and cool and he asks these really deep questions like why the monkey in the animal crackers is the only one with clothes."
"Oh yeah. That's always been a big mystery to me. What're his thoughts?"
Buffy listened to her friends' happy chatter. [Man, it's so easy for people to be happy. Willow's got a new love interest; Xander's got a new hobby as Shop Guy. Why can't I get a break?]
[Slayer, remember?]
[Right. How could I have forgotten that?] She glanced longingly towards the library. She didn't have any time now to pop in and see Giles. Maybe she could put in a quick appearance after school. Maybe he'd turned up something that Willow didn't know about. He did have spell books he wouldn't let any of them look into…
__________
Giles didn't have anything. He'd sounded regretful but not particularly so. Guess binding a vampire's soul wouldn't be high up on a Watcher's list of priorities. He'd been kinda sad, too. The business with Ms. Calendar must have hit him hard.
Buffy didn't know what to think about Ms. Calendar. Part of her got the sacred duty thing. That was her shtick, too, after all. But Jenny's traitor act had hurt people—her, Angel and Giles. That woman had a lot of making up to do.
But Buffy couldn't think about that now. She had spotted a vampire carrying a bulky wooden package under his arm and run after him. The guy was weedy and small; he didn't look as if he'd be much of a challenge. Unfortunately, he'd had a friend running interference—a large and heavy vampire who looked as if he'd played major league football when he'd been alive. Buffy was currently trying to take him down and having no success.
This one had some fancy footwork that had allowed him to dodge her stake and he'd managed to get in three or four swift jabs that left her jaw aching. Scratch the linebacker theory, then; this guy must have been a boxer. She was starting to gain a new respect for the sport of organized pummeling when she saw a chance to strike again. However, he gave a sharp feint to the right and grabbed her stake hand. Twisting it downwards sharply, the stake landed in her stomach.
As if in a dream, Buffy felt all the strength go out of her legs. She struggled to stay upright but the agony was too great. The vampire saw her sink to her knees and grinned malevolently. "Ooh, what's the matter, little girl? Feeling a bit weak in the knees? Looks like I get to bring the Anointed One the Slayer's head on a plate."
"Slayer's head on a plate. Sounds tasty. You want fries with that?" The vamp jerked his head up and Angel's blade snaked out from under his coat. The shiny steel zipped through the air with a deceptive laziness and the vampire was neatly decapitated. Angel stepped over the ashes and crouched next to the Slayer where she half-reclined on the cemetery grass. "Buffy?"
"A-Angel?" She'd missed this, hearing his voice speak her name as if it were the most special one in the world. Buffy would never have dignity or grace in her mind. But somehow he said it as if the sound possessed both. She wanted to throw her arms around him. She wanted to yell at him for his absence. But the draining wound in her middle made it impossible.
Angle growled in anguish and fury as the smell of Slayer blood hung thickly in the air. Without realizing that he'd vamped out, he reached for her and lifted her up. "Hang on, Buffy. I'll get you to the hospital."
Her eyes widened and she began to struggle, albeit feebly. "N-no. No hospital. Hate…them, Angel."
"Buffy, there's no choice. You're bleeding…"
"No hospital!" She got loud in her determination and he inwardly cringed. If the scent of her blood didn't bring otherworldly predators running, her outcries would. She sagged back into his arms and mumbled, "C-can't we go to your place?"
His place? With her bleeding as copiously as she was and the prospect of spending the night with her all vulnerable next to him, he knew that was a bad idea. "I'll take you to your house, Buffy. It's closer." Suiting action to word, he jogged slightly, heading towards his car.
"Spoilsport," she whispered. She hissed a little as he placed her inside the vehicle. She peered at him as he started the car. "H-how did you find me anyway?"
He smiled faintly. "I-I was worried about you. I decided to take a chance and follow you."
"Good thing. Timing…is everything." She was drawing short, jerky breaths, trying to breathe past the pain. When her hands inched towards the stake embedded in her belly, he threw out a hand in alarm.
"Don't, Buffy."
"Angel…hurts," she whimpered.
"I know, beloved. But you mustn't pull it out before we get real aid. You could bleed to death."
"You're just…worried…get blood…in…your…car." Her voice was teasing but the strain and physical pain were very audible under it.
"Just rest, Buffy. We're almost there." She didn't answer and he snuck a glance at her face. She'd fallen unconscious, her head slumped sideways and rolling slightly with the movement of the car. He would have loved to take her to Giles's place but her own house was closer.
Buffy was awakened slightly when the car stopped. With great effort she opened her eyes and gazed at the door in front of her. "An-gel?" She saw her front door and wriggled in his grip. Thanks to the short nap in the car, she was actually feeling a little stronger. "Put me down."
He scowled down at her. "Buffy Summers, this is no time to be stubborn. You need to relax and let me take care of this."
"It's not so bad, Angel. Really. Besides, what if my mom's still up? She's gonna be freaked enough seeing you without your carrying me in all invalid-y. Just put me down." When he reluctantly complied, she added, "You might want to take off your vamp face, too."
"Oh. Right." With an effort, he forced his brows to resume its normal human appearance. Joyce hadn't yet seen his game face and he wanted to postpone that moment as long as possible.
Buffy leaned heavily on Angel as she fumbled for the keys. Silently praying that her mother had gone to sleep and that they might get in without waking her, she inserted the key in the lock. She held her breath but Angel smelled the telltale traces of oranges and jasmine that signaled Joyce Summers's presence moments before the lights came on.
"Buffy, where have you been? I thought we discussed your hou—oh, Angel. It's you." Joyce was distinctly surprised to see the vampire; Buffy hadn't been talking about him and he'd been conspicuous by his absence. She'd had no complaints about that, however. Having him on the scene again was a definite shock. Then her attention re-focused on Buffy's arms wrapped around her middle and she stiffened in shock. "Buffy? Is-is that blood?"
"Give us some room, Mrs. Summers. Buffy's been hurt." Angel tried to pull Buffy towards the couch but she shook her head.
"Upstairs, Angel. My room. I'll be more comfy there."
He frowned down at her bent head. "But your bed sheets…the bloodstains…"
She sighed, the blood loss catching up to her as she swayed dizzily. "Bloodstains are the least of my worries right now. Get me upstairs."
Without another word to her or her distraught parent, Angel scooped her off her feet and carried her swiftly up the stairs, her worried mother following behind.
"Angel, talk to me. How bad is it? Shouldn't she be in a hospital? Let me see what's wrong!" Ignoring the persistent questions, Angel laid Buffy on the bed with infinite care and rushed to open up Buffy's weapons' chest. He brought gauze, bandage strips, disinfectant, a metal wash bowl and a small shears and laid them within easy reach of his hands beside the reclining blond. It didn't escape Joyce's notice how quickly and easily he found everything he needed. It suggested an in-depth knowledge of her daughter's room that she didn't like.
However, all concerns about Angel's possible familiarity with Buffy's sleeping quarters vanished when he tenderly pulled away her daughter's arms from their protective clutch over her abdomen. As she witnessed the stake buried in her stomach, Joyce paled and thought she might faint. "Oh god! Buffy!"
"It looks worse than it is, Mrs. Summers. Trust me. I'd had my share of experiences with puncture wounds." He recalled his encounter with a certain demon hunter in Italy. Those wounds had been deep and plentiful but a few hours—and a couple of human victims later—and he'd been raring and fit to go. Buffy was stronger than he. Now that he'd actually seen the wound, he was confident she would survive.
Mrs. Summers wasn't so convinced. She crouched by her daughter's side, her hands reaching helplessly towards the piece of wood before she pulled back. "There's so much blood…Angel, are you sure she doesn't need a doctor?"
"Positive. But you can help. First take the basin and fill it with warm water." The other woman nodded numbly and then stumbled off to comply with his request.
Angel took the opportunity to brush Buffy's hair back from her sweaty brow. "How're you holding up?" he whispered.
Her answering smile was weak but genuine. "Hey, give me a few hours and a glass of OJ and I'll be back to my Slayer self in now time." She peered towards the door where her mother had disappeared and lowered her voice to match Angel's. "Mom's so gonna combust when this is over."
He raised his eyebrows. "Really? I thought she was taking this rather well, considering. Hasn't she seen you injured before?"
Buffy shook her head. "Naw. She's been cleaning blood out of my clothes for over a year but she's never seen what caused them. And I've never been hurt this bad before…that she knows of."
Joyce came back in with the bowl, treading carefully to keep the water from sloshing over. "I've got the water. What should I do now?"
Angel took the basin from her and set it down by the floor. He didn't want to risk it spilling from Buffy's movements. "Just hold down her shoulders. I'm going to pull this out and I need you to hold her still."
"All right." Mrs. Summers placed trembling hands on Buffy's shoulders. Buffy could tell by the unsteady grip her mother really wasn't going to be much good. But the woman wanted to help and Angel was doing his best to keep her from panicking. So the Slayer braced herself against the incipient pain and nodded minutely at her vampire boyfriend.
Angel grasped the bit of stake that protruded and pulled it out with one swift tug. Buffy's jaw clenched with the effort not to scream from the raw agony. Her body tensed and her fingers clawed at the sheets, producing a jagged ripping sound. Then her entire form went limp. Sweat dripped from her brow and she panted hard, her breath almost like sobs, as she battled to remain conscious.
"I'm sorry, beloved," he answered softly, for the moment forgetful of her watchful mother. He quickly began ripping off her blouse, revealing her tanned skin and the purple lacy bra underneath. The blood had ruined the top and the flimsy bit of lace that lay under it and he was certain she wouldn't want to sleep in her gore-stained clothing. A clearing of the throat from Mrs. Summers reminded him the older woman was still present. "Mrs. Summers, I'm going to dress Buffy's wound. But she needs to have her clothing removed so she can rest comfortably. I trust you'll be able to handle that?"
"Oh yes. Nothing there I haven't seen." The statement was followed by a nervous titter and Angel wondered whether the woman was on the verge of hysteria. However, she managed to remain silent as Angel cleaned and bandaged Buffy's stomach. He kissed her forehead when he was done and got up to leave. Buffy grabbed at his hand in a panic.
"Angel! Y-you're not going?"
"I'll be just outside, beloved."
"O-okay. Don't forget we've still got things to discuss, mister." Unwilling to say more with her mother hovering, Buffy let him go and sat up so her mother could get to her bra straps.
Angel stood just beyond the closed door, his preternaturally soft hearing picking up every groan and sigh as Joyce removed Buffy's torn and useless clothes. He couldn't help but imagine Buffy's skin bared to his touch and his glance. What would it be like to clean the blood off her body with his tongue while she writhed beneath him?
[If your damned soul weren't around, we wouldn't have to imagine. We could have had Buffy at the apartment and be getting some Slayer tail and blood while we're at it. This sucks, buddy, and not in a good way.]
He grunted and stalked downstairs as if to outrun that insistent voice. [Buffy's injured, jackass. How much fun do you think we could have with her while she's in pain?]
[I hear that Slayers heal really fast. If we stick around, maybe we can test just how fast. Whaddaya say? We kill Joyce, stick her body in a closet—]
[And fight off Buffy when she tries to kill us? Remember last year with Darla?]
[Oh yeah. Lousy cow thought she was being clever, trying to frame me like that. Should have dusted the clingy bitch years ago. She was a good piece of ass but she just couldn't take no for an answer.]
[Something you've got in common.] Angel smirked and walked around the living room, tilting his head up to catch any hint of activity from above.
[You don't get to be a Master vampire by backing down from obstacles, shithead.] Then he ghosted to the stairs as Joyce Summers came trudging down the steps. The woman looked as if she had aged ten years in the previous hour.
"She wants to talk to you. I-I kept telling her she needs to rest but she refuses to sleep unless y-you're with her." Her look was probing in spite of her weariness. "Can I take it from tonight's events this isn't the first time you've been in my daughter's room?"
If he'd still been human he would have been flushing unpleasantly. "Mrs. Summers, I promise you, nothing's gone on between Buffy and me that you need worry about."
[Define "nothing," Soul Boy.] A mental cackle and a rapid flickering of pornographic images as Angelus replayed the naughty gropings and heavy pettings of his and Buffy's recent escapades rolled beyond Angel's eyes. Thankfully, his impassive expression revealed nothing of his thoughts.
"I doubt that either you or she would tell me if there were something going on, Angel," she replied, her maternal defenses undiminished by his denial.
He said nothing, merely waiting for permission from her to proceed. Recognizing his deference to her wishes, she waved her hand towards the upstairs bedroom. "Go. She's waiting for you. She threatened to come downstairs if you weren't up in two minutes."
"Angel?" The voice was faint but he heard her. He was certain Mrs. Summers heard as well since her features darkened imperceptibly.
"Coming, Buffy." He loped upstairs with Buffy's mother close on his heels. Buffy was propped up against her pillows, properly clothed in outrageous cow print pajamas. She looked suddenly very young and delicate and his undead heart clenched at the thought of just how fragile she was and how soon she might leave this world. She could have died tonight if he hadn't been there and he didn't need Angelus' sarcastic attacks to chastise him about leaving her side. He lifted one small hand and raised it to his lips. He wanted nothing more than to stretch out beside her. Mindful of Mrs. Summers, he removed the pillow Buffy wasn't sleeping on and placed it on the floor. He then stretched out beside Buffy even as Joyce watched them both.
"Mom, I know this is strange…"
"No, I passed strange several weeks ago. This is now Fantasy Island territory."
"Uh yeah. I guess." There was an awkward silence while Joyce gnawed her lip. She really wasn't okay with Angel staying in her daughter's room. But Buffy was stubbornly determined to keep him close. She was also badly hurt. What could Angel do given her condition?
She edged out of the room, pointedly making sure the door was left open. "Angel, if anything happens—"
"Don't worry, Mrs. Summers. I'll call you right away."
"No, I was going to say that if anything happened, I'd stake you myself." And on that note, she swept from the room leaving behind two rather startled warriors.
The minutes seemed to tick by as both of them waited for the other to speak. Finally her patience ran out and Buffy muttered, "So we gonna talk about this or what?"
"Buffy, I really think this should wait until you're rested and healed."
"No. No waiting. I-I don't much feel like sleeping anyway."
"You should. You really need your rest."
"Not likely to get it if the nightmares come back."
That got his interest. "Nightmares? You're been having nightmares?"
"Yeah. T-they're major scary. They—I see you in these different foreign places. You're speaking French, Italian and a weird language that sounds like Russian, I think. You're running around with Spike, Darla and this other girl with dark hair. She looks like Spike's main squeeze and he calls her Drusilla." The quality of the silence changed and she peered down over the bed at him. "They're not just dreams, are they?"
"No. No, I-I guess they're not. Drusilla was—Spike's Sire. They loved each other. Or had what passes for love." She was experiencing dreams about his past. How else could she know about Drusilla? Angel was pretty sure Buffy had never met her nor had he mentioned anything about his crazed creation. He'd heard how Mrs. Summers had killed Spike but nowhere in Buffy's account of that attack on the school had she mentioned seeing the brunette seeress.
He had lost track of his mad Childe and asshole Grandchilde over a century ago when he'd regained his soul. He had heard the occasional rumor about them as they swept back and forth across Europe but that had been it. If Spike had remained as infatuated with Drusilla as he had been when all four had hung out together, then she would have been in Sunnydale with him. But his mystical ties to his offspring and Sire let him know that all three of them were truly dead. He simply didn't know how Drusilla met her end.
[Yeah, Drusilla was fun. A bit skinny for my tastes but, man, that crazy broad was full of surprises. Think we could show some of her games to Buffy?]
[You know how rough Drusilla liked it. Buffy wouldn't stand for that sort of thing.]
[Don't be too sure. Slayers are strong little girls. She might not mind a bit of the rough stuff. Wonder if she ever has those kind of dreams?]
His beloved's musing voice broke into his thoughts. "Drusilla, huh? Wonder why I never met her when her Billy Idol wanna-be boyfriend crawled into town."
"She's dead," he replied flatly.
"Oh. Really?" She looked down at him again trying to see his face in the darkness. "How'd ya know?"
"S-she was one of my childer. She carried my blood. That means that I can sense her as long as she's in this world. That connection mysteriously vanished weeks ago and that can mean only one thing. The only thing I don't know is how it happened."
"Maybe my mom dusted her and forgot to mention it." She giggled and then her breath hitched as the action pulled at her wound.
"Buffy, please. Just go to sleep."
"I can't, Angel. I've been spending this past whole week thinking and worrying about you."
"I'm here now, aren't I?"
[We're both here. Don't forget about me, oh souled one.]
[Give it a break. She's talking.]
[I can think of other things she could be doing with her mouth.]
Oblivious to Angelus, Buffy whined, "For how long? Are you gonna take off again and leave me? Angel, we need to discuss this!"
He shushed her, reminding her that her mother was probably still wakeful and listening for any untoward noises. "Buffy, I know how you feel. I-I've missed you, too."
[You've missed her. I just want to pork her brains out.]
"This isn't just a case of missing, Angel. It's like part of me was lost. I kept searching around for you like somebody probing the space where a missing tooth used to be. It ached. I ached. I couldn't stop aching. I just went through my normal routine but it was like I was feeling and experiencing everything through cotton. I couldn't care about anything or get close to anyone but I had to keep going through the motions to please my mom, my Watcher, my friends, my teachers and that hurt almost as much as missing you…" Her voice wobbled and he heard a sound like tears as she swallowed. Then she whispered, "I need to have you in my life, Angel. I love you."
What would it be like to have a heartbeat right now, he wondered. Would it fly out of his chest or thunder so loud even her human ears could hear it? He saw one small hand edge over the bed and hang as if silently waiting for his touch. Unable to resist, he clasped her hand in his large one and whispered back, "I love you, too, Buffy."
[Oh, give me a break! You love her; she loves you. Could we move on to the important stuff, now? How much longer do I have to put up with this lovey dovey crap?! You could at least cop a feel!]
Angel focused on Buffy's voice to drown out his inner demon's sniping. She sniffled again and continued in a voice like sighing rain. "Willow's working on a plan to bind your soul, you know. All the time you've been gone we've been looking for answers."
He heard the hesitation in her voice. "Has she found anything?"
"Um, no. But she's not gonna quit until she comes up with a solution. Once Willow Rosenburg sets her mind to something, it's hard to stop her."
"Right. Resolve Face."
"Oh, you've seen that, too?"
"Yeah. I thought it was kinda adorable."
"Adorable? You think Willow is adorable?"
Uh oh. There was surprise and a bit of jealousy in that. He wasn't afraid Buffy would hurt him; he just didn't want her to hurt herself if she decided to take a swing at him. "Not like you. You're the only one I think about in that way, Buffy."
"And what way is that?" Her voice had turned cajoling, teasing in the mock-serious way of all women fishing for compliments.
"I think about your little laugh when you're telling one of Xander's jokes. I love how your voice gets thoughtful when you're thinking through a problem or considering your life. I think about how your soul shines through your eyes."
She sounded breathless when she spoke again. "Really?"
"I also wonder how you can fight in those tight pants of yours like those gray jeans with the button fly snaps. It really emphasizes your cute little butt…"
"Hey!"
__________
Willow giggled in math class. "He really said that?"
After waking up this morning, her wound had been completely healed. However, her mother had refused to believe she was ready to go back to school. Buffy had had to pull up her pj top and show the sealed wound before Joyce Summers could be convinced. Now as usual she was discussing everything that had happened to her with Willow. "Yep. I didn't think Angel noticed what I wore."
"Me neither. He's always so serious not into the whole drooling, slobbering bit like other boys." She snuck a quick glance at the blackboard and wrote something in her notebook. "And he really said I'm adorable?"
"He said your Resolve Face was adorable," Buffy corrected.
"Huh," Willow mused. Then she frowned. "It's not supposed to be adorable. It's meant to be intimidating."
"But cutely intimidating. Like kittens when they get all pissy-upset and swell up to twice their size."
The redhead smiled again. "Oh. Well, that's okay then. So he spent the whole night with you?"
"Not really. When I woke up the next morning he was gone. I was pretty upset about that. I really wanted to talk about this whole curse dealie. We didn't manage to solve anything. I don't know if he's sticking around or if he's gonna do the shadow-Buffy bit or if I can expect him only on patrols or when there's some disaster on the horizon." She remembered those two vamps she'd seen. One had mentioned the Anointed One and the other he'd been with had been carrying a huge package. In all the excitement of getting hurt and spending time with Angel, she'd forgotten all about them.
Willow noticed her sudden silence. "Buffy? What is it? Did something else happen last night?"
"You could say that. I think we should do a confab with Giles about it, though. See ya at lunch, Wills."
__________
Giles adjusted his glasses. "You say there were two vampires? One small and toting a box?"
"Uh huh. It didn't look like it came from Federal Express either. It was kinda long and bent in the middle almost like an L shape."
"But you didn't get him because the larger vampire attacked you, presumably to keep you from stopping his comrade." Giles sighed. "It looks like the Anointed One is making his presence felt in the vampiric community again."
"And how. The little guy may have been a scrawny loser but the big one must have been taking lessons from Iron Mike when he was still a breather."
Giles's expression was almost comically bewildered. "Iron who?"
"Mike Tyson. Geez, don't you know anything about pop culture, Giles? I heard about him and I don't even follow boxing." Buffy sat on the table and swung her legs idly. Because she wanted to avoid pressure to her tender stomach she'd opted for a loose, low-cut blouse of tawny orange. Privately he wondered why Principal Snyder didn't make more of a fuss about her clothing; it would be just the sort of thing to bother that prudish little prat. Thinking of her injuries he recalled a communication he'd received. "By the way, your mother called me earlier."
She glanced at him, startled at the mention of her mom. "She did? Why?"
"Evidently last night's brush with the demon community left her severely shaken. She asked me to check on you and see that you were all right. I did my best to reassure her of the rapidity of Slayer healing and that if you'd collapsed in the school hallways I would have heard about it."
Buffy relaxed minutely. "Oh. I-is that it? She didn't mention anything else?"
"Other than Angel spending the night? No, not that I recall." Giles watched in amusement as Buffy flushed up to her eyebrows.
"It's not what you're thinking, Giles."
"It isn't?"
"No! There was definitely no hanky or panky involved. I was on the injured list, remember?"
"Ah. Then it was exactly what I was thinking."
Buffy blinked and then squinted hard at Giles's face. He had a bland look as if he were discussing the weather yet she had the feeling he was making fun of her. "What you were—?"
"I was thinking that you were injured and that Angel stayed by to offer you the—comfort of his presence."
"Yeah. Yeah, that was exactly it! It was only about being in a comfort zone and Angel was like my pjs and Mr. Gordo only without the pink fluffy goodness." [And he smells better than Mr. Gordo, too.]
"Well, the important thing is that you've fully recovered. I-I'm glad Angel was there."
"Yeah, me too." Her voice softened and then she asked, "I've been thinking about what happened last week."
Giles thought she meant to needle him again for his lack of progress. "Willow and I have been working on the problem, Buffy. As yet we've come up with no solution. I would have informed you if we had."
Buffy shook her head. "I'm not talking about that. Well, yeah, I guess I am. But I was thinking about Ms. Calendar. Maybe she can help us."
If the mention of the computer teacher bothered Giles, there was no sign of it on his face. "I hardly think so, Buffy. You heard what she said. Her people have tried over the centuries to change the curse so they would no longer be connected to Angel. They have had no success."
"But have any of them taken a whack at it lately?" she persisted. "And Ms. Calendar's a technopagan and you're not a bad Merlin yourself. Maybe if we put our heads together on this, we might find something."
Giles was ready to concede the point. "You might be right. However, even if she could, why would she help us? Her sworn duty is to watch Angelus not help Angel. She has no reason to aid us."
"Except, oh, I don't know, it would get her a normal life. She said it herself, Giles. She's tired of playing follow-the-vamp and she wants out! I can so relate," Buffy finished with a mutter.
Giles recalled his conversation with the woman after the others had departed. He could hear it clearly in her voice, the fierce longing to be freed from her onerous, crippling burden of trailing after Angel like a tired dog on a leash. She craved an ordinary existence although her chances of finding it on the Hellmouth were slim. [If she were relieved of her duties, would she and I have a chance? Could we possibly heal this breach that's opened up between us?]
Again he said nothing of this to his youthful charge. Seeing Buffy's hopeful and stubborn gaze on him, he heaved a mental sigh. Even if binding Angel's soul solved Jenny's problems, he would still have a Slayer under his care and tutelage. That wouldn't change and would mean Jenny would be in constant danger as long as she stayed around him. But she might change her mind about maintaining her relationship with him and then she could be truly free. Did he really want to deny her the opportunity for normalcy?
Buffy was getting impatient with her Watcher's silence. Honestly, he could be as bad as Angel sometimes in terms of lack of talkyness. "So how about it, Watcher mine? We bring in Ms. Calendar with you and Willow for a little three-way?" She flushed and hopped down from the tabletop. "Uh, so not what I meant. Just rewind that and pretend I didn't give way to my inner fifth grader."
For the first time, a hint of a smile twinkled on his countenance. "Duly noted. As for your suggestion, I'll take it under consideration, Buffy. Of course, the final decision must be Ms. Calendar's."
"Right. Then I'm Audi, Giles." She ran out the door with remarkable alacrity for a girl who'd been stabbed through the stomach only a few hours previous and Giles breathed a sigh of relief. He'd been startled and fearful when Joyce Summers had made her call. He was grateful the woman had thought to call him. He knew Buffy would have informed him eventually. In fact she did mention it when she gave her report on the two suspicious vampires she'd encountered. However, she had spoken of it slightingly as if the wound had been minor. If not for Joyce, he might not have known how serious it had really been.
Had Buffy dismissed it because she was truly blasé about how close the brush with death had been or because she hadn't wanted him to know the extent of Angel's involvement? He was aware that Buffy hid many things about Angel from him. She probably felt he would be unsympathetic about her relationship with the vampire. She was probably right. But if Jenny had a chance to make things better then he would ask her. That, in the end, was all he could do.
He grimaced and went back to his books. The Watchers Council never prepared him for anything like this.
__________
The Anointed One was beyond thrilled. It had taken time to set up a new base. Fortunately as a vampire he had time to spare. But that didn't make him any less impatient. He was still a kid in some ways and he hated to wait for things.
But Dalton had needed to get his books back. Doing that while dodging the Slayer had been iffy. Finding a place suitable for the storage of musty old books had been problematic with the little sniveler turning down one place after another as being too damp or too sunny. The Anointed One had been driven wild by his fussiness but Dalton had assured him that, with the proper knowledge of portents, signs and the risings of certain mystical beasts, ruling humanity would be easy. And he'd been proven right.
The thing that had once been a human boy looked over the packages neatly stacked on the table. After scouring the books, it had taken even more time, more manpower (or vamp power) to track down and retrieve these valuable pieces. Gus had been one of his strongest, most agile and capable fighters; he'd been right to send him out with Dalton the previous night. Otherwise, Dalton would have lost the arm to the Slayer. That would have been a crying shame.
The little boy stroked one box and smiled. "You're sure she didn't see where you went?"
Dalton nodded. "Absolutely sure. She was too busy tangling with Gus to come after me." He ducked his head and smiled gratefully. "Thanks for allowing me his protection, by the way."
"You're welcome," the boy replied automatically. Then he scowled. Demons weren't supposed to display things like courtesy, gratitude or manners. But he'd been taken away from his mother so young; sometimes the old ways just slipped out without his thinking. Dalton was so subservient, too; he was always saying things like "thank you" and "excuse me" and "please." It was rather useful to have such a cringing little toad as a minion but occasionally the fawning got on his nerves.
He stroked the box again and couldn't resist a smile that he quickly tried to stifle. Once the occupant of the box was resurrected, the last thing he could afford were emotions. As a vampire, he wasn't supposed to have them anyway. However, he recalled the Master's grief over Darla and he frowned worriedly. "Dalton?"
"Yes, Master?"
"What's that word for when you're feeling really pleased with yourself? It's not happiness exactly but a sense that things are going real well for you and nothing can get screwed up."
"I believe it's called satisfaction."
The boy grinned again and this time it held a touch of true demonic malice. "That's it. Satisfaction. That's not the same as human emotion, is it, Dalton?"
"Oh no, sir. It's just the knowledge that comes from knowing a job's well done and you can take pride in the fact that you did your best and no one can take it away from you. It's a combination of smugness and conceit, really."
"Good. Excellent demonic emotions, wouldn't you agree, Dalton?"
Dalton hadn't survived as long as he had by pissing off the vamps he worked for. He was a good little sycophant. "Absolutely, sir."
The boy ran his small hand over the wooden crate again and smiled contentedly. When the big guy was up and running, all the humans would burn and that Slayer would be history. Satisfactory.
__________
Giles had considered this problem over and over again. He wanted to approach Ms. Calendar but their recent estrangement made that problematic. Calling her into the library was out of the question given the recent attack on her there. He didn't feel comfortable enough to ask for an invitation to her home and asking her to come into his was not an option. It was far too forward.
[Oh, stop being such a stick-in-the-mud. This isn't a romantic assignation you're looking for. This is a matter of vital importance.] Still there weren't too many options for getting in touch with her. He decided against approaching her in class; too much of that behavior and the students would start talking. Then again, perhaps they wouldn't. He'd noticed the tendency of young folks to consider people his age beyond the urge for sex. He could probably strip and shag Ms. Calendar right in front of them and they still wouldn't believe it was a natural desire on his part.
The image of involving Jenny in such an intimate act made him flush. He decided to banish the thought from his mind as he confronted her. "Ms. Calendar?"
Her look was startled and hopeful as if she hadn't expected to see him and nevertheless was pleased to do so. Then her eyes became shuttered and wary. "Rupert?"
He cleared his throat. "I-it's about that conversation we had a week ago."
She began wiping off the chalkboard. "Yes, I remember."
"We—that is to say, Willow and I—have been working all week on a solution to th-this unique dilemma."
"Dilemma? What do you mean by that exactly?" The last student left and Giles shut the door behind him, glad at last to be able to speak freely.
"The problem of Angel's soul." She shot him a glance and before she turned away he thought he saw something like disappointment in her eyes. "Willow and I have been sifting through our books trying to come up with a solution. So far, we've had no success."
She finished the last sentence and slapped down the chalk a little harder than necessary. "I see. What do you want from me? I told you my people don't know how to break the curse."
"Your people don't, perhaps. But you told me you were a t-technopagan. When you helped us against Moloch, you sent messages out over your computer." He gestured vaguely at the contraption on her desk. "Perhaps you might try that resource again. You did say there were more of you than I thought. It may be one of them might come up with an answer where the Kalderash failed."
Jenny gazed at him, her mouth open. Then she slapped her forehead. "God! I am such an idiot!"
Giles smiled at her exasperation. "I wouldn't say that."
"No, really! I should have thought of that before. And the idea that a technophobe like you came up with it before me is really a kick in the pants."
Technophobe? Now it was his turn to become annoyed. "I think that's going a bit far. I've explained my aversion to the darned things. That doesn't mean I live in a cave and bang rocks together to make a fire."
She waved her hands to placate him. "Easy there, snobby. I didn't mean to be insulting."
"And yet you manage to pull it off brilliantly. Cordelia Chase would be so proud."
She raised her eyebrows. "Who?"
He graced her with a measuring look. She was absolutely serious. She had no idea whom he meant. "You know, if she heard you say that, she'd be very hurt."
She shrugged. "Whatever." She sat down and her fingers began to fly over the keys.
"Um, don't you have another class of students due?"
"Sure. But I can put the word out, like you said. It should only take a minute. Then all I have to do is check my mail later for the answers."
He glanced at her in alarm. "Wait. You won't be too explicit, will you? I understand these things aren't entirely—secure."
She rolled her eyes at him. "Goodness, you technophobes are so paranoid. The government probably has plenty on you just from the car you drive and the credit card purchases you've made in the real world. If you're worried I'll put in names like Angel and Angelus, you can set your mind at rest. I'll just outline the parameters of the problem without getting too specific." She tapped out a few more keys and shut down the website. "There. All done."
Really? He hadn't thought it would be that easy. "We're done then?"
She smirked at his surprise. "All over except for the shouting."
He was a bit piqued that it should be such a breeze for her considering the work that he and Willow had put into the endeavor but he strove to hide his irritation. "W-well, that's all sorted. You'll let me know what you turn up?"
"Absolutely." Now her smile held a hint of gratitude as she added, "Thanks for coming to me with this, Rupert. I-it means a lot that you'd trust me like this."
He wanted to tell her that it was Buffy's idea not his. But students for the next class began filing in and he was forced to retreat.
TBC