Okay. There's probably more bits and pieces that have loose ends or
something, but yeah. Point them out for me and we'll be a happy little
family.
...not really. [side glace]
Rite. Just start reading.
- - - - - - - - - -
Chapter 8
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!
Buffy woke up to the gracious sound of someone pounding on her door at 2:45 in the morning. God, she thought, throwing her legs over the edge of her bed, if that's Glory I'm going to kick her ass all the way down to hell if I have to. She looked around her room and realized Angel wasn't back yet. Her brow furrowed and she wondered where her roommate had gone. Buffy guessed she shouldn't be too worried; it was almost 3, Angel had three or so hours to get back. She sighed, Angel was a big boy, he knew when to come back.
Slowly making her way down the stairs, Buffy flattened out her messy hair. Bed-heads really sucked. She reached the doorknob and flung it open. Expecting to find some kind of minion of evil or whatever, but she instead saw a crying Willow on her doorstep, eyes red and puffy from obvious hours of crying. Buffy looked at her best friend, dumfounded for a couple seconds. "Willow..." she said, hugging her friend.
"Oh, Buffy..." the redhead cried, falling into Buffy's embrace. "I - I'm a bad, bad person!"
"No, no," Buffy said, holding Willow in her arms. "You're not, really," she leaned back and looked into Willow's swollen green eyes. "Come in."
Buffy lead her in, taking her into the living room where they both sat, Willow on the couch and Buffy on the coffee table. "You want something to drink? I can make tea," she offered but Willow shook her head and Buffy frowned. "No tea?"
"I'm so sorry, Buffy," Willow said, wiping away her tears. "I didn't mean to appear up on your doorstep like this, it's just that I think Tara might be in danger."
"What? Why?" Buffy asked, worried about Willow's lover. Tara had been an essential part of their team, their family and Buffy knew how much Tara meant to Willow and how devastated she would become if anything happened to Tara. Willow started to break down again and Buffy took Willow's hand and squeezed it reassuringly. "What happened?"
"Well we were sorta having a fight," Willow said, getting up and pacing in the space between the sofa and the coffee table. "I mean, yeah, I know couples usually do have fights, but me and Tara? We never had fights, it was like we fit... perfectly, you know? A - and then tonight, we did, have a fight. I said stuff that she misinterpreted and then we did the whole yelling thing and she left and I've been waiting for her to come back, but it's been like hours and, what with Glory out there, I can't stop thinking that she might be in serious danger, Buffy... maybe even dead."
"No," Buffy said forcefully. "No, Tara is not dead!" she put her hands on her friend's shoulders. "We're going to find her and bring her back, okay? We'll go right now."
"W - what about Dawn?" Willow asked.
Buffy sighed, mentally cursing. "You're right. I - uh, we'll get Spike. We'll stop by his crypt and tell him to keep an eye on Dawn until we get back." Dawn was about the only person she trusted with Spike. Spike had saved Dawn from being discovered and she was going to be forever grateful for it.
"Thanks, Buffy," Willow smiled, her eyes shining with new hope.
Buffy returned the gesture. "That's what I'm good at, isn't it?"
- - - - - - - - - -
Spike flipped through the channels of his brand new TV and sat straight up when he saw come to a channel showing a rerun of today's Passions. Looks like helping the Slayer and her little Scooby Gang had paid off after all. Damn, this thing even had a VCR recorder. Spike tucked his hands behind his head and listened to the soap opera blaring through his small crypt. Nothing like a nighttime episode of Passions.
Then of course, night was sometimes when Buffy threw down the door and told him she needed his undivided attention. And the irony never failed him because the blonde little Slayer started to pound on the door with her mighty little fists. Spike sighed, Buffy always did her best to interrupt a good night of telly time. Grumbling, he got off the chair and opening up the door to find not just Buffy, but her little witch friend, Willow.
"For God's sake, Slayer, I'm not deaf," he sneered, but his eyes wandered up and down her outfit. Tight red leather pants and a white tank top. The pants fit every curve and hugged her hips like it was her second skin. The tank top perfectly shaped her breasts and it dipped low down on her chest for Spike to get a tantalizing glance of her cleavage. If only he could feel her lips on his one last time...
"Spike, I need you to watch Dawn for me," she ordered, interrupting his fantasy, her stance rigid, Spike could see the outline of her toned muscles and it turned him on. "Just for a couple of hours."
"What's in it for me?" Spike asked, leaning against the doorway, smirking. "If it's money, I want 200 cash."
Buffy glared at Spike, venomously. Then she grabbed him by the shirt, throwing him across the room. He landed with a loud thud before she was on him again, punching him in the face three times. "It isn't a favor, it's an order. Tara's in trouble and I don't have time for your games."
"Since when did I become you fucking slave?" Spike said, wiping the blood from his nose.
"Tara's in danger," Buffy said. "We need to find her, but I also need someone to stay with Dawn," she sighed when Spike didn't look convinced. "Look, I'll try and pay you after we find her."
"What makes you think the witch's alive?" Spike said, propping himself up on his elbows.
"Shut up," Willow's voice came from outside. She had a murderous look on her face and suddenly Spike was more afraid of Tara's partner than Buffy. The determination in the witch was powerful and almost surreal.
"Well, not that I think that she kicked the bucket or anything - "
"Spike!" Buffy growled, shoving her boot onto his chest, she really didn't have time for his yammering. "Are you going to help or not?!"
"Yeah, whatever," he said, as Buffy took her foot off his chest. "I'll be at the house in two."
"Thanks," she bit out, turning on her heal to the door.
"Oh, hey, Buffy," Spike called after her. Buffy whirled around, blonde hair whipping everywhere. Her eyes pierced his skin with deadly intentions. "It's not good to kiss your ex when he's slept with his sire."
Buffy would have punched him until he resembled nothing of his former self, but more pressing issues were at stake, no pun intended. She glared at him, turning back around and slamming his door. He could almost feel the heated rage radiating off the small Slayer.
Spike smiled to himself. He could smell the pounce on her since she came in, that two timing asshole who banged Darla. Word traveled fast on the demonic gossip grapevine. He laughed. And telling by the expression on her face, it looked like she had already known. The stupid Poof was probably sulking somewhere around Sunnydale right now. Oh well, he'd just watch the destruction fold itself out and then swoop Buffy off her feet. Haha, Angelus was going down.
- - - - - - - - - -
"Tara!"
Both Willow and Buffy ran wildly through one of the graveyards that plagued Sunnydale. They had just done a location spell and had seen something turn up, but it was clouded by a... unnatural force. But they still ran toward whatever it was. Willow prayed and prayed that it was Tara and nothing was wrong with her. Tara was her everything, if anything happened to her, Willow didn't know if she could forgive herself. Shaking her head, she blocked the scary thoughts out of her mind and concentrated on finding her girlfriend.
"Tara, baby! Where are you?!" she yelled out into the cold darkness. She looked toward Buffy and felt herself grow concerned. Spike has said something about Angel sleeping with his sire. Darla, she vaguely remembered, but Angel had killed her, dusted her. And he would never...
Buffy abruptly stopped and Willow stopped alongside her. "What is it?" Willow asked.
"Don't you hear it..." she thought she could her something. Struggling. Yeah, that was it. Someone was it trouble. "Tara!" she yelled and started running toward the noise, Willow close behind her. "Tara!"
Buffy jumped over a gravestone and stopped immediately at what she saw, Willow came up behind her and gasped. It was Tara and Angel. Tara looked evidently alright, but it was Angel who looked like he was in more trouble. He was twisting and turning in Tara's grasp, who tried to sooth the vampire. She gave him soft words and tried to hold him stable.
"Angel!" Buffy yelled as the both of them ran towards the other two. "Angel, oh my God, what happened?!"
"Glory," Tara cried. "Glory, she was here. Angel... he tried to protect me. Oh God, I tried to get her off him, b - but it was too late. She got him, Buffy. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..."
"No, it's too cold, too cold," he whimpered into Buffy as she took a hold of him. She watched with wide eyes as Angel shivered under her touch, his beautiful face contorted in pain. He moaned and shoved himself deeper into Buffy's arms. "Cold..."
Willow took Tara in an air tight hug, both of them crying into each other's shoulders. Willow kept whispering apologies and Tara just shook her head and said it was okay. "Oh, Tara, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have made you leave," her voice hitched. "I'm so glad you're alright."
Tara cried into Willow's embrace. "I - I couldn't stop her. Glory's too strong," she sobbed. "It's all my fault, Willow."
Angel squeezed his eyes shut as he murmured incomparable words that made no sense to anyone's ears. Sometimes he'd mumble words in different languages, Buffy couldn't identify which ones. All she felt was guilt, like her whole conscious was soaked in it. She should have stopped him; she should have at least reminded him about Glory. She had been selfish again, giving into her emotions and feelings. Closing her eyes, Buffy breathed out and swallowed back the tears. But wasn't she the Slayer who relied on emotions? Who fought using the fuel that her mind and heart gave her. She was supposed to be the damn Slayer for crying out loud, she was supposed to be the girl who rid the world of evil. God, she was supposed to be strong.
You feel it, right? How the anger gives you fire? A Slayer needs that.
But lately she had shut it off, turned down the passion that her feelings gave her and instead used techniques and delicately planned out strategies. She so desperately wanted to see the world in black and white. Fire bad, tree pretty. Then again, she should be the last person on earth to say things should be plainly right or wrong. The one person she had loved so dearly was a vampire with a soul who could go evil in a blind instant.
"Angel," she said, holding his head in her lap. "Angel, can you hear me?"
He just kept mumbling as he shivered and trembled. "Can't... can't. Dirty... it's all dirty."
Tara crawled over to where Buffy sat with Angel. She watched as the vampire's eyes just stared at nothing in particular. Tara bit her tongue when she saw the emptiness that reflected itself in Angel. He was trapped in a box of darkness and ice with no hope or light to cling to, incapable to communicate to the outer world. "B - Buffy... I'm sorry - "
"No," Buffy stopped Tara, "it's not your fault. It's not anyone's except Glory's. Glory is responsible for this," Buffy said, her voice filled only by rage and vengeance. "She's going to pay for what she did."
Willow gave Buffy a sorrowful look. "We could try curing him. I mean, we could find a spell to undo all... this."
Buffy nodded, looking down at the fallen angel. He still shook beneath her touch. She blinked away more threatening tears. "Shhh, you're going to be okay," she soothed, although not really sure if she trusted her own words.
"We should get him inside," Tara said, remembering it was only a couple hours before dawn and getting Angel to Buffy's house was going to take a little longer.
Buffy nodded, wiping her face of the cold. "Yeah," she agreed. She gently lifted Angel off of her, telling him to stand up like she was talking to a toddler. "Angel, come on, we have to get inside."
Angel stood up on his own, but looked around with glazed eyes. He looked as if he was lost and couldn't find anyone to bring him back. "Cold..." he kept saying, which was a little odd since Angel had no real body temperature. Buffy gently took a hold on his hand and started to lead him back the way they came. Her house was maybe a fifteen minute walk from the graveyard if you were going at a brisk pace; it'd take the four of them twenty, maybe thirty, minutes to get home.
Angel's grip on her hand was like steel as if he were holding on for dear life, but he didn't look afraid or frightened when Buffy turned her head towards him. She really didn't see anything remotely resembling an emotion of fear, just blank glances and stares. She decided to take it as a good sign; at least he wasn't totally unresponsive.
Buffy took a quick glance towards the two wiccans, they were both huddled together, hands and fingers entwined, watching out for any signs of danger that might be sighted as evil. Willow gently kissed Tara's head and Buffy quickly turned her attention back to the front and started to walk faster, Angel keeping up with her pace. "We're almost there," she whispered.
- - - - - - - - - -
Twenty minutes later they arrived up on Revello Drive and inside the Summers' house. Buffy quickly pounded on the door, hoping Spike wasn't a sleep on the couch although she knew chances were he was. "Spike!" she called, once again slamming her fist against the door frame. "Spike you son of a bitch, open the goddamn door!" Angel shied away from Buffy as she yelled and pounded on the door; Willow took his hand and held it reassuringly, rubbing his knuckles with her thumb.
Spike suddenly threw the door open, glaring angrily at the small Slayer, his hair disheveled in every which way. His ice blue eyes met her daring green ones. "Don't you people carry around keys or something?" he asked, as Buffy, Willow, Tara and Angel pushed pass him. He sighed and closed the door behind him, scratching the back of his head. "So, seeing as how you're all here, I'm guess the little witch didn't get eaten after all."
Willow glared at him and Spike just smiled, also taking not of the fact that his big, broody sire had muttered a word to him yet - in fact, the lunk head hadn't seemed to say anything at all, he just sat there on the couch like a stupid rock. Spike quirked an eyebrow to the brown haired vampire, but decided to keep his tongue quiet. There was something... wrong about his grandsire that was starting to affect him, sending weird vibes up and down his spine.
"The little Nibbit was sleeping like a baby when I got here," he informed as Buffy as she rushed into the bathroom to get medical supplies for Tara and Angel who were both a little banged up from the looks of it. "No trouble at all, really."
Buffy ignored his chattering as she swept by him, holding the first aid kit. Her hair left a sweet scent of her shampoo in the air and Spike inhaled, taking it all in. He felt the anger and fury that was flourishing inside her and all he wanted to do was fuck it out of her tiny body. Just to run his hands in her golden locks and down her luscious curves. Of course, with what's-his-face over there, Spike wasn't going to check that one off his to-do list. He wasn't on her mortal plane, figuratively and literally, she had some higher substance that he just couldn't touch; but obviously Angel and his stupid soul could, the bloody bastard was supposed to be tormented by the damn thing, not gifted by it. Although, soul or no, Angel could always touch what Spike couldn't. Angel was always one step higher, one pace farther. It made Spike sick with disgust and, frankly, envy. Like there was a stone lodged in his throat and all he could taste was gravel and dirt while Angel sat there drinking the finest wines in the world.
Shaking his head, Spike cleared his head of jealous thoughts. Focusing on the band of people who just marched their way into the living room. He crossed his arms and walked over to where Buffy was sitting across Angel on the coffee table. She mended his scratches and bruises like a bloody nurse, which were all going to go away by the time dawn broke the sky. He watched her tenderly dab the blood off Angel's face as he looked at her with blank emotion. Spike looked harder at his grandsire; Angel looked odd - or at least more odd than he usually did. The emotions that stirred beneath his eyes was gone, all that was left was a shell of Spike's nancy of a sire.
He shifted a glance toward Buffy who disregarded him and kept on cleaning her little puppy with fangs. Spike looked for the two wiccans and saw them huddled together a couple paces away from him. They held onto each other as they too watched Buffy and Angel. Both of their eyes were swollen and glazed, noses red and rosy. Spike quirked an eyebrow at all of this and decided to ask what the hell was going on, "Um, so... what's up with tall, dark and ugly over here?"
"Spike, shut up," Buffy growled, turning Angel's head to wipe away the dry blood that collected itself on his temples. "Go home. I'll give you the money tomorrow."
"Like hell you will! I'm not leaving here without my babysitting money!" Spike gave her an angry glare, but she didn't even bother to look back at him. "I came here on an emergency call, Slayer. It wasn't something planned ahead."
She turned her head to him, her lips in a firm line. "I don't have time for your whining, Spike. Angel's in trouble," she said. Angel's eyes still staring ahead.
"Oh, it's Angel. I'm so sorry," Spike retorted, "but I don't give a rat's ass about him. He's got like two scratches on his head and you're acting like he's got a bloody stake shoved in his chest or something - "
"Angel got attacked by Glory!" Buff bit out, her eyes glistened with threatening tears. Her lip quivered a bit, but she stopped it from going too far. Yet she could feel the lump in her throat start to swell and her vision blurred to where she couldn't see anything but watery images. A tear slipped down her face and she finally started to sob, she finally started to let it all out. The bottle that held all her emotions in finally popped and burst from the very bottom of her heart. "She killed him, she killed my Angel..."
Spike gave her a sympathetic look and put a reassuring hand on her back as she sobbed into her hands. Willow and Tara came up from behind her, Willow hugging her best friend as she cried. Tara whispered comforting words into Buffy's ear as she smoothed out the golden blonde hair that ran down the Slayer's shoulders. Angel just stared at them, shifting uncomfortably.
Buffy stole a glance toward Angel and started to cry harder, the tears never seeming to end. The look on his face was so alone and forgotten, like he was the only one left on the world and no one would come back for him. She wanted to hold him forever and tell him he she would always come back for him. He was the only one who broke the ice that formed around her heart, but when he left the ice froze her heart all over again. Riley and Parker hadn't shown her true love; Riley tried his hardest, she had to admit, and Parker was just a one night fling. No one ever came close to remaking what she and Angel had.
"What happened?" Spike asked, looking to Willow for answers, but Tara answered instead.
"G - glory, sh - she... c - came and attacked m - me," Tara stuttered, not really comfortable talking to the vampire. "Angel tried to save me, there was a big battle and a - all. B - but Glory won, sh - she took his m - mind, a -ate it. I - I managed to s - send her away... but..." she gave Spike a small glance before looking away. "Angel's insane."
Spike looked at the two, bewildered at what happened to his grandsire. A part of him was laughing at Angel, dancing in his ashes and skipping on his grave. He had always wanted to see Angel fall and break, laugh at the fucking bastard. Then a part of him was enraged, furious that a creature could do this to Angelus, his sire. He hated the fact that he saw Angel like this, bruised and torn up. He looked up to the damn guy, seeing him like this tore Spike up inside. Angelus never broke, never. He looked toward Angel, saw the insanity that plagued his mind and cringed. Glory would pay.
"So, you're saying our buddy Angel over here isn't up to par anymore?" Spike asked, inwardly fuming.
Willow nodded, grimly. "Well, until Tara and I find a spell that might reverse what ever happened to him," she looked to her girlfriend. "We will, won't we, baby?"
Tara nodded. "We will," but the look in her sad eyes told them otherwise.
...not really. [side glace]
Rite. Just start reading.
- - - - - - - - - -
Chapter 8
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!
Buffy woke up to the gracious sound of someone pounding on her door at 2:45 in the morning. God, she thought, throwing her legs over the edge of her bed, if that's Glory I'm going to kick her ass all the way down to hell if I have to. She looked around her room and realized Angel wasn't back yet. Her brow furrowed and she wondered where her roommate had gone. Buffy guessed she shouldn't be too worried; it was almost 3, Angel had three or so hours to get back. She sighed, Angel was a big boy, he knew when to come back.
Slowly making her way down the stairs, Buffy flattened out her messy hair. Bed-heads really sucked. She reached the doorknob and flung it open. Expecting to find some kind of minion of evil or whatever, but she instead saw a crying Willow on her doorstep, eyes red and puffy from obvious hours of crying. Buffy looked at her best friend, dumfounded for a couple seconds. "Willow..." she said, hugging her friend.
"Oh, Buffy..." the redhead cried, falling into Buffy's embrace. "I - I'm a bad, bad person!"
"No, no," Buffy said, holding Willow in her arms. "You're not, really," she leaned back and looked into Willow's swollen green eyes. "Come in."
Buffy lead her in, taking her into the living room where they both sat, Willow on the couch and Buffy on the coffee table. "You want something to drink? I can make tea," she offered but Willow shook her head and Buffy frowned. "No tea?"
"I'm so sorry, Buffy," Willow said, wiping away her tears. "I didn't mean to appear up on your doorstep like this, it's just that I think Tara might be in danger."
"What? Why?" Buffy asked, worried about Willow's lover. Tara had been an essential part of their team, their family and Buffy knew how much Tara meant to Willow and how devastated she would become if anything happened to Tara. Willow started to break down again and Buffy took Willow's hand and squeezed it reassuringly. "What happened?"
"Well we were sorta having a fight," Willow said, getting up and pacing in the space between the sofa and the coffee table. "I mean, yeah, I know couples usually do have fights, but me and Tara? We never had fights, it was like we fit... perfectly, you know? A - and then tonight, we did, have a fight. I said stuff that she misinterpreted and then we did the whole yelling thing and she left and I've been waiting for her to come back, but it's been like hours and, what with Glory out there, I can't stop thinking that she might be in serious danger, Buffy... maybe even dead."
"No," Buffy said forcefully. "No, Tara is not dead!" she put her hands on her friend's shoulders. "We're going to find her and bring her back, okay? We'll go right now."
"W - what about Dawn?" Willow asked.
Buffy sighed, mentally cursing. "You're right. I - uh, we'll get Spike. We'll stop by his crypt and tell him to keep an eye on Dawn until we get back." Dawn was about the only person she trusted with Spike. Spike had saved Dawn from being discovered and she was going to be forever grateful for it.
"Thanks, Buffy," Willow smiled, her eyes shining with new hope.
Buffy returned the gesture. "That's what I'm good at, isn't it?"
- - - - - - - - - -
Spike flipped through the channels of his brand new TV and sat straight up when he saw come to a channel showing a rerun of today's Passions. Looks like helping the Slayer and her little Scooby Gang had paid off after all. Damn, this thing even had a VCR recorder. Spike tucked his hands behind his head and listened to the soap opera blaring through his small crypt. Nothing like a nighttime episode of Passions.
Then of course, night was sometimes when Buffy threw down the door and told him she needed his undivided attention. And the irony never failed him because the blonde little Slayer started to pound on the door with her mighty little fists. Spike sighed, Buffy always did her best to interrupt a good night of telly time. Grumbling, he got off the chair and opening up the door to find not just Buffy, but her little witch friend, Willow.
"For God's sake, Slayer, I'm not deaf," he sneered, but his eyes wandered up and down her outfit. Tight red leather pants and a white tank top. The pants fit every curve and hugged her hips like it was her second skin. The tank top perfectly shaped her breasts and it dipped low down on her chest for Spike to get a tantalizing glance of her cleavage. If only he could feel her lips on his one last time...
"Spike, I need you to watch Dawn for me," she ordered, interrupting his fantasy, her stance rigid, Spike could see the outline of her toned muscles and it turned him on. "Just for a couple of hours."
"What's in it for me?" Spike asked, leaning against the doorway, smirking. "If it's money, I want 200 cash."
Buffy glared at Spike, venomously. Then she grabbed him by the shirt, throwing him across the room. He landed with a loud thud before she was on him again, punching him in the face three times. "It isn't a favor, it's an order. Tara's in trouble and I don't have time for your games."
"Since when did I become you fucking slave?" Spike said, wiping the blood from his nose.
"Tara's in danger," Buffy said. "We need to find her, but I also need someone to stay with Dawn," she sighed when Spike didn't look convinced. "Look, I'll try and pay you after we find her."
"What makes you think the witch's alive?" Spike said, propping himself up on his elbows.
"Shut up," Willow's voice came from outside. She had a murderous look on her face and suddenly Spike was more afraid of Tara's partner than Buffy. The determination in the witch was powerful and almost surreal.
"Well, not that I think that she kicked the bucket or anything - "
"Spike!" Buffy growled, shoving her boot onto his chest, she really didn't have time for his yammering. "Are you going to help or not?!"
"Yeah, whatever," he said, as Buffy took her foot off his chest. "I'll be at the house in two."
"Thanks," she bit out, turning on her heal to the door.
"Oh, hey, Buffy," Spike called after her. Buffy whirled around, blonde hair whipping everywhere. Her eyes pierced his skin with deadly intentions. "It's not good to kiss your ex when he's slept with his sire."
Buffy would have punched him until he resembled nothing of his former self, but more pressing issues were at stake, no pun intended. She glared at him, turning back around and slamming his door. He could almost feel the heated rage radiating off the small Slayer.
Spike smiled to himself. He could smell the pounce on her since she came in, that two timing asshole who banged Darla. Word traveled fast on the demonic gossip grapevine. He laughed. And telling by the expression on her face, it looked like she had already known. The stupid Poof was probably sulking somewhere around Sunnydale right now. Oh well, he'd just watch the destruction fold itself out and then swoop Buffy off her feet. Haha, Angelus was going down.
- - - - - - - - - -
"Tara!"
Both Willow and Buffy ran wildly through one of the graveyards that plagued Sunnydale. They had just done a location spell and had seen something turn up, but it was clouded by a... unnatural force. But they still ran toward whatever it was. Willow prayed and prayed that it was Tara and nothing was wrong with her. Tara was her everything, if anything happened to her, Willow didn't know if she could forgive herself. Shaking her head, she blocked the scary thoughts out of her mind and concentrated on finding her girlfriend.
"Tara, baby! Where are you?!" she yelled out into the cold darkness. She looked toward Buffy and felt herself grow concerned. Spike has said something about Angel sleeping with his sire. Darla, she vaguely remembered, but Angel had killed her, dusted her. And he would never...
Buffy abruptly stopped and Willow stopped alongside her. "What is it?" Willow asked.
"Don't you hear it..." she thought she could her something. Struggling. Yeah, that was it. Someone was it trouble. "Tara!" she yelled and started running toward the noise, Willow close behind her. "Tara!"
Buffy jumped over a gravestone and stopped immediately at what she saw, Willow came up behind her and gasped. It was Tara and Angel. Tara looked evidently alright, but it was Angel who looked like he was in more trouble. He was twisting and turning in Tara's grasp, who tried to sooth the vampire. She gave him soft words and tried to hold him stable.
"Angel!" Buffy yelled as the both of them ran towards the other two. "Angel, oh my God, what happened?!"
"Glory," Tara cried. "Glory, she was here. Angel... he tried to protect me. Oh God, I tried to get her off him, b - but it was too late. She got him, Buffy. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..."
"No, it's too cold, too cold," he whimpered into Buffy as she took a hold of him. She watched with wide eyes as Angel shivered under her touch, his beautiful face contorted in pain. He moaned and shoved himself deeper into Buffy's arms. "Cold..."
Willow took Tara in an air tight hug, both of them crying into each other's shoulders. Willow kept whispering apologies and Tara just shook her head and said it was okay. "Oh, Tara, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have made you leave," her voice hitched. "I'm so glad you're alright."
Tara cried into Willow's embrace. "I - I couldn't stop her. Glory's too strong," she sobbed. "It's all my fault, Willow."
Angel squeezed his eyes shut as he murmured incomparable words that made no sense to anyone's ears. Sometimes he'd mumble words in different languages, Buffy couldn't identify which ones. All she felt was guilt, like her whole conscious was soaked in it. She should have stopped him; she should have at least reminded him about Glory. She had been selfish again, giving into her emotions and feelings. Closing her eyes, Buffy breathed out and swallowed back the tears. But wasn't she the Slayer who relied on emotions? Who fought using the fuel that her mind and heart gave her. She was supposed to be the damn Slayer for crying out loud, she was supposed to be the girl who rid the world of evil. God, she was supposed to be strong.
You feel it, right? How the anger gives you fire? A Slayer needs that.
But lately she had shut it off, turned down the passion that her feelings gave her and instead used techniques and delicately planned out strategies. She so desperately wanted to see the world in black and white. Fire bad, tree pretty. Then again, she should be the last person on earth to say things should be plainly right or wrong. The one person she had loved so dearly was a vampire with a soul who could go evil in a blind instant.
"Angel," she said, holding his head in her lap. "Angel, can you hear me?"
He just kept mumbling as he shivered and trembled. "Can't... can't. Dirty... it's all dirty."
Tara crawled over to where Buffy sat with Angel. She watched as the vampire's eyes just stared at nothing in particular. Tara bit her tongue when she saw the emptiness that reflected itself in Angel. He was trapped in a box of darkness and ice with no hope or light to cling to, incapable to communicate to the outer world. "B - Buffy... I'm sorry - "
"No," Buffy stopped Tara, "it's not your fault. It's not anyone's except Glory's. Glory is responsible for this," Buffy said, her voice filled only by rage and vengeance. "She's going to pay for what she did."
Willow gave Buffy a sorrowful look. "We could try curing him. I mean, we could find a spell to undo all... this."
Buffy nodded, looking down at the fallen angel. He still shook beneath her touch. She blinked away more threatening tears. "Shhh, you're going to be okay," she soothed, although not really sure if she trusted her own words.
"We should get him inside," Tara said, remembering it was only a couple hours before dawn and getting Angel to Buffy's house was going to take a little longer.
Buffy nodded, wiping her face of the cold. "Yeah," she agreed. She gently lifted Angel off of her, telling him to stand up like she was talking to a toddler. "Angel, come on, we have to get inside."
Angel stood up on his own, but looked around with glazed eyes. He looked as if he was lost and couldn't find anyone to bring him back. "Cold..." he kept saying, which was a little odd since Angel had no real body temperature. Buffy gently took a hold on his hand and started to lead him back the way they came. Her house was maybe a fifteen minute walk from the graveyard if you were going at a brisk pace; it'd take the four of them twenty, maybe thirty, minutes to get home.
Angel's grip on her hand was like steel as if he were holding on for dear life, but he didn't look afraid or frightened when Buffy turned her head towards him. She really didn't see anything remotely resembling an emotion of fear, just blank glances and stares. She decided to take it as a good sign; at least he wasn't totally unresponsive.
Buffy took a quick glance towards the two wiccans, they were both huddled together, hands and fingers entwined, watching out for any signs of danger that might be sighted as evil. Willow gently kissed Tara's head and Buffy quickly turned her attention back to the front and started to walk faster, Angel keeping up with her pace. "We're almost there," she whispered.
- - - - - - - - - -
Twenty minutes later they arrived up on Revello Drive and inside the Summers' house. Buffy quickly pounded on the door, hoping Spike wasn't a sleep on the couch although she knew chances were he was. "Spike!" she called, once again slamming her fist against the door frame. "Spike you son of a bitch, open the goddamn door!" Angel shied away from Buffy as she yelled and pounded on the door; Willow took his hand and held it reassuringly, rubbing his knuckles with her thumb.
Spike suddenly threw the door open, glaring angrily at the small Slayer, his hair disheveled in every which way. His ice blue eyes met her daring green ones. "Don't you people carry around keys or something?" he asked, as Buffy, Willow, Tara and Angel pushed pass him. He sighed and closed the door behind him, scratching the back of his head. "So, seeing as how you're all here, I'm guess the little witch didn't get eaten after all."
Willow glared at him and Spike just smiled, also taking not of the fact that his big, broody sire had muttered a word to him yet - in fact, the lunk head hadn't seemed to say anything at all, he just sat there on the couch like a stupid rock. Spike quirked an eyebrow to the brown haired vampire, but decided to keep his tongue quiet. There was something... wrong about his grandsire that was starting to affect him, sending weird vibes up and down his spine.
"The little Nibbit was sleeping like a baby when I got here," he informed as Buffy as she rushed into the bathroom to get medical supplies for Tara and Angel who were both a little banged up from the looks of it. "No trouble at all, really."
Buffy ignored his chattering as she swept by him, holding the first aid kit. Her hair left a sweet scent of her shampoo in the air and Spike inhaled, taking it all in. He felt the anger and fury that was flourishing inside her and all he wanted to do was fuck it out of her tiny body. Just to run his hands in her golden locks and down her luscious curves. Of course, with what's-his-face over there, Spike wasn't going to check that one off his to-do list. He wasn't on her mortal plane, figuratively and literally, she had some higher substance that he just couldn't touch; but obviously Angel and his stupid soul could, the bloody bastard was supposed to be tormented by the damn thing, not gifted by it. Although, soul or no, Angel could always touch what Spike couldn't. Angel was always one step higher, one pace farther. It made Spike sick with disgust and, frankly, envy. Like there was a stone lodged in his throat and all he could taste was gravel and dirt while Angel sat there drinking the finest wines in the world.
Shaking his head, Spike cleared his head of jealous thoughts. Focusing on the band of people who just marched their way into the living room. He crossed his arms and walked over to where Buffy was sitting across Angel on the coffee table. She mended his scratches and bruises like a bloody nurse, which were all going to go away by the time dawn broke the sky. He watched her tenderly dab the blood off Angel's face as he looked at her with blank emotion. Spike looked harder at his grandsire; Angel looked odd - or at least more odd than he usually did. The emotions that stirred beneath his eyes was gone, all that was left was a shell of Spike's nancy of a sire.
He shifted a glance toward Buffy who disregarded him and kept on cleaning her little puppy with fangs. Spike looked for the two wiccans and saw them huddled together a couple paces away from him. They held onto each other as they too watched Buffy and Angel. Both of their eyes were swollen and glazed, noses red and rosy. Spike quirked an eyebrow at all of this and decided to ask what the hell was going on, "Um, so... what's up with tall, dark and ugly over here?"
"Spike, shut up," Buffy growled, turning Angel's head to wipe away the dry blood that collected itself on his temples. "Go home. I'll give you the money tomorrow."
"Like hell you will! I'm not leaving here without my babysitting money!" Spike gave her an angry glare, but she didn't even bother to look back at him. "I came here on an emergency call, Slayer. It wasn't something planned ahead."
She turned her head to him, her lips in a firm line. "I don't have time for your whining, Spike. Angel's in trouble," she said. Angel's eyes still staring ahead.
"Oh, it's Angel. I'm so sorry," Spike retorted, "but I don't give a rat's ass about him. He's got like two scratches on his head and you're acting like he's got a bloody stake shoved in his chest or something - "
"Angel got attacked by Glory!" Buff bit out, her eyes glistened with threatening tears. Her lip quivered a bit, but she stopped it from going too far. Yet she could feel the lump in her throat start to swell and her vision blurred to where she couldn't see anything but watery images. A tear slipped down her face and she finally started to sob, she finally started to let it all out. The bottle that held all her emotions in finally popped and burst from the very bottom of her heart. "She killed him, she killed my Angel..."
Spike gave her a sympathetic look and put a reassuring hand on her back as she sobbed into her hands. Willow and Tara came up from behind her, Willow hugging her best friend as she cried. Tara whispered comforting words into Buffy's ear as she smoothed out the golden blonde hair that ran down the Slayer's shoulders. Angel just stared at them, shifting uncomfortably.
Buffy stole a glance toward Angel and started to cry harder, the tears never seeming to end. The look on his face was so alone and forgotten, like he was the only one left on the world and no one would come back for him. She wanted to hold him forever and tell him he she would always come back for him. He was the only one who broke the ice that formed around her heart, but when he left the ice froze her heart all over again. Riley and Parker hadn't shown her true love; Riley tried his hardest, she had to admit, and Parker was just a one night fling. No one ever came close to remaking what she and Angel had.
"What happened?" Spike asked, looking to Willow for answers, but Tara answered instead.
"G - glory, sh - she... c - came and attacked m - me," Tara stuttered, not really comfortable talking to the vampire. "Angel tried to save me, there was a big battle and a - all. B - but Glory won, sh - she took his m - mind, a -ate it. I - I managed to s - send her away... but..." she gave Spike a small glance before looking away. "Angel's insane."
Spike looked at the two, bewildered at what happened to his grandsire. A part of him was laughing at Angel, dancing in his ashes and skipping on his grave. He had always wanted to see Angel fall and break, laugh at the fucking bastard. Then a part of him was enraged, furious that a creature could do this to Angelus, his sire. He hated the fact that he saw Angel like this, bruised and torn up. He looked up to the damn guy, seeing him like this tore Spike up inside. Angelus never broke, never. He looked toward Angel, saw the insanity that plagued his mind and cringed. Glory would pay.
"So, you're saying our buddy Angel over here isn't up to par anymore?" Spike asked, inwardly fuming.
Willow nodded, grimly. "Well, until Tara and I find a spell that might reverse what ever happened to him," she looked to her girlfriend. "We will, won't we, baby?"
Tara nodded. "We will," but the look in her sad eyes told them otherwise.