Summary:
Angel and Wesley have arrived and presented the Scooby gang with the book. Buffy and Angel are 'not talking' and the latter has just been betrayed by Xander. When Buffy finds out she sets out to rescue Angel along with Wes.
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Chapter 4: To Cease Feeling
Warning: This chapter contains violence
Author's thanks at end.
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"In the face of pain there are no heroes, no heroes, he thought over and over as he writhed on the floor, clutching uselessly at his disabled left arm."
George Orwell, 1984
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The door hang loosely on its hinges, the golden figure of 'seven' hanging upside down and where the lock had been the door-frame's wooden structure had splintered and fractured inward. Buffy gave it a gentle push and it squealed in protest as it scraped along the floor.
The warehouse had been deserted and there was no way in which they could depend upon that site for information as to Angel's whereabouts. But that he had been there was unambiguous: in one corner she had found his old duster, shredded and torn. Though she knew he would never wear it again, she had still brought it with her back to the car, and the ride to the hotel had been undertaken in unbroken silence.
As her glance swept through the maltreated hotel room she felt the lump in her throat expand and she grew strangely cold. She could feel his essence there like a familiar, rising warmth in her midriff, almost smell he had been there. And this only made it so much worse to look at.
The sheets on the bed and the mattress had been slashed to shreds, a variety of Angel's shirts littered the floor, all unnecessarily shredded, a table was lying upside down with one of the legs broken off, lamps lay broken and shattered upon the floor and the doors of a large cupboard along the right wall had been wrought open and the wooden drawers had been scattered throughout the room.
It was almost as if the perpetrators had harmed Angel and not only his room.
'It's a good thing he didn't leave the book here,' Wes said from behind her and she shot him a disgusted look over her shoulder.
'He'll be all right.' Wes smiled reassuringly at her.
She bit her lip in uncertainty. 'Do you have any idea how large this town is? We could search every building from now till Christmas and Angel could be dead tomorrow!' And she would never know where and how he had met this death, for once not dealt him by her hand. She trembled. She was NOT going to let that happen, and all the vampires of Rome could bet their pathetic un-lives on that.
Buffy spun on her heel, unable to stand staring at the demolished room for another second.
'I'm going hunting until I find some snivelling demon that can tell me what I want to hear.'
Her former Watcher did not look at her as he spoke but walked to the remains of the bed and pulled an unharmed bag from underneath the spring- sprouting mattress. 'I will come with you...'
And this time she didn't bother to argue. He would probably be incapable of keeping up with her anyway and if she was lucky she would loose him in some dark and dank alleyway.
X
'What I don't understand is that in the ancient Egyptian scrolls, Sethek, or simply Seth, was always depicted with either, uh, the face of a mule or a pig...ce-certainly not a horse, by no means one with only three legs.' Giles turned a page in the mouldy book and looked up at Willow and Kennedy who was sitting opposite him; calmly working their way through their fourth bag of crisps while browsing through old volumes he could have sworn held information about Sethek.
'Willow, Kennedy, would you please fetch me a book from the study – uh... 'Ancient Tongues of the Third Circle'...?'
Kennedy jumped to her feet, grabbing Willow's hand and pulling her to her feet. 'On it!'
''Ancient Tongues'...' Kennedy said hesitantly, scanning the crowded room where every possible position seemed stacked with at least three books too many for the capacity of the available room. 'Would that be under 'A' for the title or 'L' for languages?'
'I'll take the 'A',' Willow said and slowly let go of her hand. There was a short moment of silence.
'So – that 'Angel' guy,' Kennedy began, her finger running along the back of the shelved books. '- he's a vampire right?'
'Yeah,' Willow's voice replied from the opposite end of the room, 'but he's okay, really. He's helped us loads of times in the past. He's got a soul,' she explained. 'He and Buffy were kinda involved for a couple of years.'
Kennedy nodded bitterly for herself. 'So he was the one who went all 'Crush, kill, destroy!' couple o' years back?'
'Yes...and no! I mean, it wasn't Angel, or I guess it technically was, but it really wasn't his fault since he lost his soul and all.'
'Any luck?' Xander came prancing into the room, happily munching on a doughnut. He had been effectively cleaned up and the only sign of his brush up with Buffy was a red nose and a right cheekbone that was slowly taking on a rather bluish complexion.
'No,' Willow said and made a noncommittal gesture. 'You can lend a hand by looking 'Ancients tongues of the third circle' up under 'hell' or demon tongues.'
Kennedy was not willing to let her chosen subject slip away that easily. 'How can we be sure he's all soulful now?'
'Angel?' Xander said hopefully through a mouthful of doughnut.
'The one and only.'
'Well,' Willow said reluctantly. 'I'm a witch, okay? I would've felt it if he had lost his soul.'
Kennedy placed a book back on the shelf. 'He attacked me.'
Xander dropped a book on the floor. 'What?'
'Who?' Willow exclaimed.
'Angel,' Kennedy replied flatly.
'When?'
'You were packing with Emily,' Kennedy turned to face the two others. Willow was staring at her with an oddly sorrowful expression on her face. Xander, on the other hand, looked triumphant. 'The radio mentioned some gang-trouble at the local hangout so I went to check it out. He was there – in vamp face, but I know it was him.'
Xander granted her an intense, inquiring stare. 'What happened?'
In response, Kennedy merely brushed aside her long hair to expose the still red markings around her throat.
Willow sucked in a shocked breath. 'No – it can't have been – Angel would never -'
'I might be the only one to join the chorus,' Xander said, 'but I still say once a psychotic, sadistic mass-murderer, always a psychotic, sadistic mass- murderer.'
Willow frowned at him. 'It wasn't him,' she said resolutely.
'Now's not a good time to retreat into denial land, Will,' Xander said, 'seeing that Buffy's ex has retuned to his old ways and is smothering her friends.'
Willow looked hopelessly at Kennedy. 'But Angelus, he – he would have killed you...'
'Would he?' Xander waved the remains of his doughnut at her. 'Or would that have made it too obvious?'
The red head whirled on him in fury. 'Stop it! You're just so bent on getting a fitting alibi for playing sneak on him that you'd jump on any fitting cue!'
Xander frowned at her. 'You're forgetting the itsy-bitsy detail that they would've killed Buffy if it wasn't for me!'
Willow turned to face him, hands on her hips. 'Oh, yeah, play the stropping hero! As if Buffy couldn't deal with a couple of vamps! She closed the Hellmouth, she killed the Master, she fought Glory! She can deal with one petty demon!'
Xander's face was taking on a crimson hue. 'So you're siding with the vampire, huh?'
'I'm not siding with anyone!' Willow screamed. 'This should not be about siding, anyway! It should be – used to be – about doing what is right, not selling your friends to the highest bidder!'
'Angel is not my friend!' Xander yelled back.
'It doesn't matter! It is not your job to decide who's fighting the good fight!'
'No, let's wait for him to go ballistic on us again before judging the good Angel,' Xander sneered sarcastically. 'He probably had a good reason for it all along.'
'Yeah, for all you know he might have had! And he trusted us enough to come to us, didn't he?'
'Oi, Will: pushing a great mess unto someone else just 'cause you can't cope with it, that's not trust, that's cowardice.'
'And pretending to be acting out of concern for others and not out of jealousy when signing his death warrant wasn't?'
Xander's face had now taken on the distinctive colour of a boiled lobster. 'I'm NOT jealous of Angel,' he snarled.
Willow took a deep breath as if to regain some self-control. 'Pretty soon it won't matter anyway.'
And without a glance at either of them, she snatched a random book from the shelf in passing and strode out of the room. Xander shot Kennedy a dark look and she returned it before they both followed Willow downstairs.
X
Angel felt quite certain that his head had been transformed into lead. It felt too heavy for him to possibly move it so he didn't even try. Sharp pain was pulsating at the back of his brain and behind his closed eyes, making his black world swirl and spin at the same time. He wondered dimly whether he had been drugged.
Conscience surged over him and brought back the full scale of the pain a little too abruptly for his taste.
He stood still for a moment, trying hard to shut out the whirlwind of pain in his ears and strained them to catch any physical noise around him. When no sounds came and no scent reached his nostrils, he slowly forced his eyelids open; the blackness around him seemed even deeper than that behind his closed eyes where an occasional patch of light, spurred by the pain in his head, would rise before slowly ebb away into nothingness once more.
As feeling slowly returned to his limbs, he realised his arms were shackled above his head in a truly uncomfortable position that did nothing to favour the broken ribs, he had brought with him as a wicked souvenir of his host's vigorous greeting. He knew he was no longer wearing his duster, because the cold surface of rough stone brushed against his bare arms whenever he moved.
He felt weird within. Normally an empty feeling would be followed by a heavy feeling which usually resulted in an intense brooding session. This, though, this was different.
He knew he had been betrayed. He knew it would probably result in some gruesome death at the hands of his enemy. And he didn't care.
He jerked at his chains in rage but they merely chimed chilly as they collided and then did nothing. He wanted to scream and shout and rage but somehow he couldn't gather the strength for it. Hell knew he would need his strength soon enough.
He didn't hate Buffy for doing it. It was all so very confusing but he did not hate her for betraying him again, just like he hadn't hated her then. And this time he even thought he knew why, that he understood.
And that was a turn-up from usual.
He closed his eyes tightly; revelling in the darkness he chose himself and allowed a wry half-smile to slip across his face. Being chained up in some cold, murky dungeon was hardly a new experience. Actually, he could probably be said to be rather experienced on the subject.
And his hosts' might be as sadistic, as talented in inflicting pain and as morbid as he had been, but unlike him they had not spent a century in hell. After such an experience there were quite high expectations for the earthly demons to measure up to.
So he stood calmly in his own personal darkness and waited for his tormentors to come.
X
Everybody could be broken.
Everybody.
Angel remembered himself saying those words to William during the first lecture he ever gave the young demon on the arts of torture. Everybody could be broken, it was only a question of time and means; the patience of the torturer. 'Where is the book?'
The sunlight was causing ethereal figures of smoke to dance across his pale skin in a sickening manner. He clenched his teeth, determined to remain silent while they burned him to ashes. He was no longer wearing his shirt and his back was raw with the lash wounds that had not yet healed.
Along the left wall, away from the bright, narrow ray of sunlight that spilled into the cold, stone-build room through a window partially obscured by rectangular black screens, sat Cerbero. He sounded incessantly bored.
'Let's try that one again.' One of the vamps that flanked his chair, face devoid of any emotion, stepped forward and delivered a forceful blow to Angel's jaw that made his head snap backwards. 'Where is the book?'
Angel stared at the blinding light before him and resolutely ignored the question; he could taste the metallic tinge of blood in his mouth. The sunbeams caressed his left shoulder and a flame sprung to life above the collar bone. A soft hiss escaped his lips at the sharp twinge of pain.
'Maybe that's too hard a question. Let's try another.' The older vampire spoke slowly, allowing the tiny flame to pick up strength. 'Why did you bring it here?'
For a moment Angel forgot the flame that was digging into his left shoulder as it struck him that Cerbero did not know about Buffy and Giles' involvement. That was good, right? 'Because the Italian postal service is so incompetent it would end up in White Russia if I sent it by the mail.'
The sunlight had been blocked out and while the flame died, a hand closed roughly around his jaw, shoving his head back while another forced drops of Holy Water down his throat. Immediately his insides began to burn terribly, his throat swelled against the scorching liquid and the muscles at his neck contracted in spasms against the blazing pain. Powerful coughs rocked his entire frame and the chains cried shrilly as they collided.
Cerbero did not speak before Angel had regained some control over his rapid breathing, the large gulps of cool air dulling the pain.
'The book was not in your room. We raided it before we brought you here. So, Angel, dear, if you won't mind: a little more honesty this time, per favore.'
Angel grinded his teeth stubbornly.
For a moment the small, dark room was submerged in complete silence; then Cerbero uttered a soft sigh and gestured vaguely with his right hand and one of the vampires stepped forward again.
X
Buffy was not just furious, she was tired, frustrated and afraid for Angel, which all in all resulted in her punching the vamp before her a tad harder than she had intended. As a result, the demon doubled over and its limp form fell to the ground at her feet.
She stared at it, breath following breath in surging through her body.
'Well,' came Wesley's voice from the dark shadows behind her. 'I'm sure he will tell us everything he knows now.'
Buffy turned her back to the unconscious vampire. As company, her ex- watcher had proven to be as enjoyable as a tarantula in the trousers. And she was pretty certain she would have gone for the spider any day. 'Could you cut it with the sarcasm? Instead of just playing smart-ass couldn't you call some of your smart-ass friends to make them find somewhere for me to search for my stupid, inconsiderate, smart-ass ex?'
He raised his eyebrows slightly at her and she sighed, not able to keep herself from rolling her eyes in frustration.
'Look, you might not have noticed, being new here and all, but this town is quite large, and as much as I hate to admit it, it is physically impossible for a person to search through it single-handedly in a single night, and if you haven't noticed, then our informants aren't telling.'
'Do they have hideout?'
Okaay, one-hundred-and-eighty degrees subject change: check. 'Huh?'
It was his turn to sigh.
'A meeting place. A place where they go to, to group up, meet up – it's a very common vampire pract-'
'Save me the lecture.' Only half on her mind concentrated upon a snappy remark, Buffy realised what Wesley was suggesting. It was probably some big organisation wanting their hands on Angel. Chances were they wouldn't be dallying about the streets of Rome the same night as the abduction. It was far more likely they would hang out somewhere with a good harvest. 'The dead end....'
She couldn't believe that this simple, simple move had eluded her completely.
Wesley studied her with that strange light in his eyes again. 'Far?' he asked.
'You can dig it,' she answered.
X
Along the narrow alley lay rubbish bins with the varying content scattered across the tarmac, lending the morning air a mouldy-sweet stench and Buffy frowned, attempting, unsuccessfully, to keep herself from breathing too deeply.
A sudden noise behind her made her spin on her feet, and, her heart racing, her arm shot upward instinctively so the wooden stake in her hand was poised. Wesley shot her a sheepish look and carefully sidestepped the bin before him. Buffy couldn't help but grimace at him to be quiet before she turned to find herself face to face with the entrance to the Bloodsucker Pub, the brightening light of dawn in her back.
And this was the part she liked the best.
Her kick sent the rusty door flying off its hinges to disappear in the darkness of the murky room and, stake still clutched firmly in hand, she followed. A stinging tingling feeling at the back of her neck warned her of the attack even before her eyes had adjusted to the gloom, and she thrust her arm outward, the feeling of the stake colliding with solid mass was followed by a hollow cry as the vampire crumbled to dust. Immediately a flurry of movement went off around her and she became aware of demons scrambling for cover, diving out of back windows, darting out of fire exits and disappearing through trap-doors in the wooden floor. Considering that sunrise had arrived, Buffy found the last option the most sensible seen from a vampire's kind of view.
'Hey!' Being ignored was not something she enjoyed particularly much. 'HEY!'
The activity stilled. A vampire gawked stupidly at her, the lower half of its body disappearing through the hatch; another had frozen with its hands on the window sill and the head of the third was slowly becoming visible behind the counter at her left.
'So, speak up: where's Angel?'
Her small audience stared at her in plain incomprehension.
''uh?' Trap-Door Guy managed.
'Yeah,' she said, waving the stake around in a blatant fashion. 'Word is that some of you guys jumped on him and I would like to know where, why and how.' The last part had left her mouth when she frowned despite herself. 'Well, maybe not the last bit.'
And the guy at the window was gone in a flail of his coat and the trap-door slammed shut against the wooden floor. Something rushed past her shoulder and it took her a second to realise it was Wesley, as the ex-Watcher bent down and jerked the hatch upward; a weird expression crept across his face, like he had found something really disgusting in his meal, and he lowered the shutter, placing it against the floor once more with a soft pad. He straightened his legs and looked back up at Buffy.
'Nothing there,' he announced.
'You don't say,' she sneered, offering him no more than a brief glance. The third vampire was still cowering behind the counter and it struck her that it was acting remarkably cowardly for a demon. The most vampires she had met, well, ran into, would have made a dash for an exit, oblivious to whatever harm might overcome them. But then again, the most vampires she had encountered were No More.
'D'you know...' she trailed off.
'Cerbero,' Wesley finished for her.
'No,' the vampire said but not before it eyes had darted nervously from her to the nearest way of escape. For creatures that were all about evil and deceit, vampires were really quite abysmal at lying.
'Look,' Buffy said, crossing her arms before her. 'I've already killed five vamps tonight. Six would just be overkill.'
The vampire blinked.
'So where is Angel?' she repeated.
The vampire straightened its legs until it stood tall against the back wall, towering at least a foot over the top of her head. Buffy cocked her head slightly and pretended not to notice the way it looked down on her.
'Don't know,' it huffed derisively.
Beside her, Wes sighed demonstratively before she felt him brush past her and the sharp crack of a gun being fired resounded through the small room, promptly succeeded by the shrill yelp of the vampire that clung desperately to the counter, its yellow eyes wide in fear and shock as it raised its head to stare at the rugged man before it.
'You shot me in the knee!' it screamed, raising its bloodied palm for them to see.
Buffy stared dumbfounded at the man before her. The Wesley Windham-Price she thought she knew would never have walked willingly into a vampire den, for not to mention the utter absence of any skill in handling a firearm, and she was pretty sure he would definitely never ever shoot anyone in cold blood. Not even a demon.
And yet this was exactly what she had just witnessed him do.
'Yes,' Wesley agreed slowly, as though this was only just dawning on him. 'But you see,' he added, placing a hand on either side of the vampire's cowering form so his face was mere inches from the demon's. 'If you tell us where they took him, you'll still have one knee.' He straightened slightly whilst nodding calmly for himself. 'But if you don't you won't need any.' And he raised the gun again as if to illustrate his point.
The vampire shivered.
'I – he'll kill me!' it shrieked desperately at them. 'If I don't tell you, you'll kill me, and if I do, he'll do you the favour. Either way I end up pretty dead!'
Buffy stepped forward. 'Don't worry about the Big Tough. I'm kicking his sorry ass to Hell.'
It turned its head, the yellow eyes seizing hers. 'Slayer?' it whispered weakly.
She felt a cruel smile slip across her face. 'No kidding.'
Wesley cleared his throat. The vampire's hand slid away from its battered knee and its gaze dropped to the floor in defeat. 'There's this house Cerbero owns. They always take their charges there.'
'Would they take someone there for interrogation?'
It looked at her. 'Possibly.'
'Address?' Wesley repeated and cocked the gun.
'36th, Via Collatina, Eastern region.' The words left the vampires mouth so swiftly Buffy felt her eyebrows arch upward in involuntary admiration.
'You'll show us the way,' Wesley said in a tone that encouraged no opposition.
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A/N: Thanks so much to all who reviewed. I'm so sorry it took me so long to post this chapter. My muse decided to take its summer holiday too, but I think he's back now and the next chapter should be up in a couple of days.
Well, I really hope you're still with me. Please review :-)
Angel and Wesley have arrived and presented the Scooby gang with the book. Buffy and Angel are 'not talking' and the latter has just been betrayed by Xander. When Buffy finds out she sets out to rescue Angel along with Wes.
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Chapter 4: To Cease Feeling
Warning: This chapter contains violence
Author's thanks at end.
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"In the face of pain there are no heroes, no heroes, he thought over and over as he writhed on the floor, clutching uselessly at his disabled left arm."
George Orwell, 1984
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The door hang loosely on its hinges, the golden figure of 'seven' hanging upside down and where the lock had been the door-frame's wooden structure had splintered and fractured inward. Buffy gave it a gentle push and it squealed in protest as it scraped along the floor.
The warehouse had been deserted and there was no way in which they could depend upon that site for information as to Angel's whereabouts. But that he had been there was unambiguous: in one corner she had found his old duster, shredded and torn. Though she knew he would never wear it again, she had still brought it with her back to the car, and the ride to the hotel had been undertaken in unbroken silence.
As her glance swept through the maltreated hotel room she felt the lump in her throat expand and she grew strangely cold. She could feel his essence there like a familiar, rising warmth in her midriff, almost smell he had been there. And this only made it so much worse to look at.
The sheets on the bed and the mattress had been slashed to shreds, a variety of Angel's shirts littered the floor, all unnecessarily shredded, a table was lying upside down with one of the legs broken off, lamps lay broken and shattered upon the floor and the doors of a large cupboard along the right wall had been wrought open and the wooden drawers had been scattered throughout the room.
It was almost as if the perpetrators had harmed Angel and not only his room.
'It's a good thing he didn't leave the book here,' Wes said from behind her and she shot him a disgusted look over her shoulder.
'He'll be all right.' Wes smiled reassuringly at her.
She bit her lip in uncertainty. 'Do you have any idea how large this town is? We could search every building from now till Christmas and Angel could be dead tomorrow!' And she would never know where and how he had met this death, for once not dealt him by her hand. She trembled. She was NOT going to let that happen, and all the vampires of Rome could bet their pathetic un-lives on that.
Buffy spun on her heel, unable to stand staring at the demolished room for another second.
'I'm going hunting until I find some snivelling demon that can tell me what I want to hear.'
Her former Watcher did not look at her as he spoke but walked to the remains of the bed and pulled an unharmed bag from underneath the spring- sprouting mattress. 'I will come with you...'
And this time she didn't bother to argue. He would probably be incapable of keeping up with her anyway and if she was lucky she would loose him in some dark and dank alleyway.
X
'What I don't understand is that in the ancient Egyptian scrolls, Sethek, or simply Seth, was always depicted with either, uh, the face of a mule or a pig...ce-certainly not a horse, by no means one with only three legs.' Giles turned a page in the mouldy book and looked up at Willow and Kennedy who was sitting opposite him; calmly working their way through their fourth bag of crisps while browsing through old volumes he could have sworn held information about Sethek.
'Willow, Kennedy, would you please fetch me a book from the study – uh... 'Ancient Tongues of the Third Circle'...?'
Kennedy jumped to her feet, grabbing Willow's hand and pulling her to her feet. 'On it!'
''Ancient Tongues'...' Kennedy said hesitantly, scanning the crowded room where every possible position seemed stacked with at least three books too many for the capacity of the available room. 'Would that be under 'A' for the title or 'L' for languages?'
'I'll take the 'A',' Willow said and slowly let go of her hand. There was a short moment of silence.
'So – that 'Angel' guy,' Kennedy began, her finger running along the back of the shelved books. '- he's a vampire right?'
'Yeah,' Willow's voice replied from the opposite end of the room, 'but he's okay, really. He's helped us loads of times in the past. He's got a soul,' she explained. 'He and Buffy were kinda involved for a couple of years.'
Kennedy nodded bitterly for herself. 'So he was the one who went all 'Crush, kill, destroy!' couple o' years back?'
'Yes...and no! I mean, it wasn't Angel, or I guess it technically was, but it really wasn't his fault since he lost his soul and all.'
'Any luck?' Xander came prancing into the room, happily munching on a doughnut. He had been effectively cleaned up and the only sign of his brush up with Buffy was a red nose and a right cheekbone that was slowly taking on a rather bluish complexion.
'No,' Willow said and made a noncommittal gesture. 'You can lend a hand by looking 'Ancients tongues of the third circle' up under 'hell' or demon tongues.'
Kennedy was not willing to let her chosen subject slip away that easily. 'How can we be sure he's all soulful now?'
'Angel?' Xander said hopefully through a mouthful of doughnut.
'The one and only.'
'Well,' Willow said reluctantly. 'I'm a witch, okay? I would've felt it if he had lost his soul.'
Kennedy placed a book back on the shelf. 'He attacked me.'
Xander dropped a book on the floor. 'What?'
'Who?' Willow exclaimed.
'Angel,' Kennedy replied flatly.
'When?'
'You were packing with Emily,' Kennedy turned to face the two others. Willow was staring at her with an oddly sorrowful expression on her face. Xander, on the other hand, looked triumphant. 'The radio mentioned some gang-trouble at the local hangout so I went to check it out. He was there – in vamp face, but I know it was him.'
Xander granted her an intense, inquiring stare. 'What happened?'
In response, Kennedy merely brushed aside her long hair to expose the still red markings around her throat.
Willow sucked in a shocked breath. 'No – it can't have been – Angel would never -'
'I might be the only one to join the chorus,' Xander said, 'but I still say once a psychotic, sadistic mass-murderer, always a psychotic, sadistic mass- murderer.'
Willow frowned at him. 'It wasn't him,' she said resolutely.
'Now's not a good time to retreat into denial land, Will,' Xander said, 'seeing that Buffy's ex has retuned to his old ways and is smothering her friends.'
Willow looked hopelessly at Kennedy. 'But Angelus, he – he would have killed you...'
'Would he?' Xander waved the remains of his doughnut at her. 'Or would that have made it too obvious?'
The red head whirled on him in fury. 'Stop it! You're just so bent on getting a fitting alibi for playing sneak on him that you'd jump on any fitting cue!'
Xander frowned at her. 'You're forgetting the itsy-bitsy detail that they would've killed Buffy if it wasn't for me!'
Willow turned to face him, hands on her hips. 'Oh, yeah, play the stropping hero! As if Buffy couldn't deal with a couple of vamps! She closed the Hellmouth, she killed the Master, she fought Glory! She can deal with one petty demon!'
Xander's face was taking on a crimson hue. 'So you're siding with the vampire, huh?'
'I'm not siding with anyone!' Willow screamed. 'This should not be about siding, anyway! It should be – used to be – about doing what is right, not selling your friends to the highest bidder!'
'Angel is not my friend!' Xander yelled back.
'It doesn't matter! It is not your job to decide who's fighting the good fight!'
'No, let's wait for him to go ballistic on us again before judging the good Angel,' Xander sneered sarcastically. 'He probably had a good reason for it all along.'
'Yeah, for all you know he might have had! And he trusted us enough to come to us, didn't he?'
'Oi, Will: pushing a great mess unto someone else just 'cause you can't cope with it, that's not trust, that's cowardice.'
'And pretending to be acting out of concern for others and not out of jealousy when signing his death warrant wasn't?'
Xander's face had now taken on the distinctive colour of a boiled lobster. 'I'm NOT jealous of Angel,' he snarled.
Willow took a deep breath as if to regain some self-control. 'Pretty soon it won't matter anyway.'
And without a glance at either of them, she snatched a random book from the shelf in passing and strode out of the room. Xander shot Kennedy a dark look and she returned it before they both followed Willow downstairs.
X
Angel felt quite certain that his head had been transformed into lead. It felt too heavy for him to possibly move it so he didn't even try. Sharp pain was pulsating at the back of his brain and behind his closed eyes, making his black world swirl and spin at the same time. He wondered dimly whether he had been drugged.
Conscience surged over him and brought back the full scale of the pain a little too abruptly for his taste.
He stood still for a moment, trying hard to shut out the whirlwind of pain in his ears and strained them to catch any physical noise around him. When no sounds came and no scent reached his nostrils, he slowly forced his eyelids open; the blackness around him seemed even deeper than that behind his closed eyes where an occasional patch of light, spurred by the pain in his head, would rise before slowly ebb away into nothingness once more.
As feeling slowly returned to his limbs, he realised his arms were shackled above his head in a truly uncomfortable position that did nothing to favour the broken ribs, he had brought with him as a wicked souvenir of his host's vigorous greeting. He knew he was no longer wearing his duster, because the cold surface of rough stone brushed against his bare arms whenever he moved.
He felt weird within. Normally an empty feeling would be followed by a heavy feeling which usually resulted in an intense brooding session. This, though, this was different.
He knew he had been betrayed. He knew it would probably result in some gruesome death at the hands of his enemy. And he didn't care.
He jerked at his chains in rage but they merely chimed chilly as they collided and then did nothing. He wanted to scream and shout and rage but somehow he couldn't gather the strength for it. Hell knew he would need his strength soon enough.
He didn't hate Buffy for doing it. It was all so very confusing but he did not hate her for betraying him again, just like he hadn't hated her then. And this time he even thought he knew why, that he understood.
And that was a turn-up from usual.
He closed his eyes tightly; revelling in the darkness he chose himself and allowed a wry half-smile to slip across his face. Being chained up in some cold, murky dungeon was hardly a new experience. Actually, he could probably be said to be rather experienced on the subject.
And his hosts' might be as sadistic, as talented in inflicting pain and as morbid as he had been, but unlike him they had not spent a century in hell. After such an experience there were quite high expectations for the earthly demons to measure up to.
So he stood calmly in his own personal darkness and waited for his tormentors to come.
X
Everybody could be broken.
Everybody.
Angel remembered himself saying those words to William during the first lecture he ever gave the young demon on the arts of torture. Everybody could be broken, it was only a question of time and means; the patience of the torturer. 'Where is the book?'
The sunlight was causing ethereal figures of smoke to dance across his pale skin in a sickening manner. He clenched his teeth, determined to remain silent while they burned him to ashes. He was no longer wearing his shirt and his back was raw with the lash wounds that had not yet healed.
Along the left wall, away from the bright, narrow ray of sunlight that spilled into the cold, stone-build room through a window partially obscured by rectangular black screens, sat Cerbero. He sounded incessantly bored.
'Let's try that one again.' One of the vamps that flanked his chair, face devoid of any emotion, stepped forward and delivered a forceful blow to Angel's jaw that made his head snap backwards. 'Where is the book?'
Angel stared at the blinding light before him and resolutely ignored the question; he could taste the metallic tinge of blood in his mouth. The sunbeams caressed his left shoulder and a flame sprung to life above the collar bone. A soft hiss escaped his lips at the sharp twinge of pain.
'Maybe that's too hard a question. Let's try another.' The older vampire spoke slowly, allowing the tiny flame to pick up strength. 'Why did you bring it here?'
For a moment Angel forgot the flame that was digging into his left shoulder as it struck him that Cerbero did not know about Buffy and Giles' involvement. That was good, right? 'Because the Italian postal service is so incompetent it would end up in White Russia if I sent it by the mail.'
The sunlight had been blocked out and while the flame died, a hand closed roughly around his jaw, shoving his head back while another forced drops of Holy Water down his throat. Immediately his insides began to burn terribly, his throat swelled against the scorching liquid and the muscles at his neck contracted in spasms against the blazing pain. Powerful coughs rocked his entire frame and the chains cried shrilly as they collided.
Cerbero did not speak before Angel had regained some control over his rapid breathing, the large gulps of cool air dulling the pain.
'The book was not in your room. We raided it before we brought you here. So, Angel, dear, if you won't mind: a little more honesty this time, per favore.'
Angel grinded his teeth stubbornly.
For a moment the small, dark room was submerged in complete silence; then Cerbero uttered a soft sigh and gestured vaguely with his right hand and one of the vampires stepped forward again.
X
Buffy was not just furious, she was tired, frustrated and afraid for Angel, which all in all resulted in her punching the vamp before her a tad harder than she had intended. As a result, the demon doubled over and its limp form fell to the ground at her feet.
She stared at it, breath following breath in surging through her body.
'Well,' came Wesley's voice from the dark shadows behind her. 'I'm sure he will tell us everything he knows now.'
Buffy turned her back to the unconscious vampire. As company, her ex- watcher had proven to be as enjoyable as a tarantula in the trousers. And she was pretty certain she would have gone for the spider any day. 'Could you cut it with the sarcasm? Instead of just playing smart-ass couldn't you call some of your smart-ass friends to make them find somewhere for me to search for my stupid, inconsiderate, smart-ass ex?'
He raised his eyebrows slightly at her and she sighed, not able to keep herself from rolling her eyes in frustration.
'Look, you might not have noticed, being new here and all, but this town is quite large, and as much as I hate to admit it, it is physically impossible for a person to search through it single-handedly in a single night, and if you haven't noticed, then our informants aren't telling.'
'Do they have hideout?'
Okaay, one-hundred-and-eighty degrees subject change: check. 'Huh?'
It was his turn to sigh.
'A meeting place. A place where they go to, to group up, meet up – it's a very common vampire pract-'
'Save me the lecture.' Only half on her mind concentrated upon a snappy remark, Buffy realised what Wesley was suggesting. It was probably some big organisation wanting their hands on Angel. Chances were they wouldn't be dallying about the streets of Rome the same night as the abduction. It was far more likely they would hang out somewhere with a good harvest. 'The dead end....'
She couldn't believe that this simple, simple move had eluded her completely.
Wesley studied her with that strange light in his eyes again. 'Far?' he asked.
'You can dig it,' she answered.
X
Along the narrow alley lay rubbish bins with the varying content scattered across the tarmac, lending the morning air a mouldy-sweet stench and Buffy frowned, attempting, unsuccessfully, to keep herself from breathing too deeply.
A sudden noise behind her made her spin on her feet, and, her heart racing, her arm shot upward instinctively so the wooden stake in her hand was poised. Wesley shot her a sheepish look and carefully sidestepped the bin before him. Buffy couldn't help but grimace at him to be quiet before she turned to find herself face to face with the entrance to the Bloodsucker Pub, the brightening light of dawn in her back.
And this was the part she liked the best.
Her kick sent the rusty door flying off its hinges to disappear in the darkness of the murky room and, stake still clutched firmly in hand, she followed. A stinging tingling feeling at the back of her neck warned her of the attack even before her eyes had adjusted to the gloom, and she thrust her arm outward, the feeling of the stake colliding with solid mass was followed by a hollow cry as the vampire crumbled to dust. Immediately a flurry of movement went off around her and she became aware of demons scrambling for cover, diving out of back windows, darting out of fire exits and disappearing through trap-doors in the wooden floor. Considering that sunrise had arrived, Buffy found the last option the most sensible seen from a vampire's kind of view.
'Hey!' Being ignored was not something she enjoyed particularly much. 'HEY!'
The activity stilled. A vampire gawked stupidly at her, the lower half of its body disappearing through the hatch; another had frozen with its hands on the window sill and the head of the third was slowly becoming visible behind the counter at her left.
'So, speak up: where's Angel?'
Her small audience stared at her in plain incomprehension.
''uh?' Trap-Door Guy managed.
'Yeah,' she said, waving the stake around in a blatant fashion. 'Word is that some of you guys jumped on him and I would like to know where, why and how.' The last part had left her mouth when she frowned despite herself. 'Well, maybe not the last bit.'
And the guy at the window was gone in a flail of his coat and the trap-door slammed shut against the wooden floor. Something rushed past her shoulder and it took her a second to realise it was Wesley, as the ex-Watcher bent down and jerked the hatch upward; a weird expression crept across his face, like he had found something really disgusting in his meal, and he lowered the shutter, placing it against the floor once more with a soft pad. He straightened his legs and looked back up at Buffy.
'Nothing there,' he announced.
'You don't say,' she sneered, offering him no more than a brief glance. The third vampire was still cowering behind the counter and it struck her that it was acting remarkably cowardly for a demon. The most vampires she had met, well, ran into, would have made a dash for an exit, oblivious to whatever harm might overcome them. But then again, the most vampires she had encountered were No More.
'D'you know...' she trailed off.
'Cerbero,' Wesley finished for her.
'No,' the vampire said but not before it eyes had darted nervously from her to the nearest way of escape. For creatures that were all about evil and deceit, vampires were really quite abysmal at lying.
'Look,' Buffy said, crossing her arms before her. 'I've already killed five vamps tonight. Six would just be overkill.'
The vampire blinked.
'So where is Angel?' she repeated.
The vampire straightened its legs until it stood tall against the back wall, towering at least a foot over the top of her head. Buffy cocked her head slightly and pretended not to notice the way it looked down on her.
'Don't know,' it huffed derisively.
Beside her, Wes sighed demonstratively before she felt him brush past her and the sharp crack of a gun being fired resounded through the small room, promptly succeeded by the shrill yelp of the vampire that clung desperately to the counter, its yellow eyes wide in fear and shock as it raised its head to stare at the rugged man before it.
'You shot me in the knee!' it screamed, raising its bloodied palm for them to see.
Buffy stared dumbfounded at the man before her. The Wesley Windham-Price she thought she knew would never have walked willingly into a vampire den, for not to mention the utter absence of any skill in handling a firearm, and she was pretty sure he would definitely never ever shoot anyone in cold blood. Not even a demon.
And yet this was exactly what she had just witnessed him do.
'Yes,' Wesley agreed slowly, as though this was only just dawning on him. 'But you see,' he added, placing a hand on either side of the vampire's cowering form so his face was mere inches from the demon's. 'If you tell us where they took him, you'll still have one knee.' He straightened slightly whilst nodding calmly for himself. 'But if you don't you won't need any.' And he raised the gun again as if to illustrate his point.
The vampire shivered.
'I – he'll kill me!' it shrieked desperately at them. 'If I don't tell you, you'll kill me, and if I do, he'll do you the favour. Either way I end up pretty dead!'
Buffy stepped forward. 'Don't worry about the Big Tough. I'm kicking his sorry ass to Hell.'
It turned its head, the yellow eyes seizing hers. 'Slayer?' it whispered weakly.
She felt a cruel smile slip across her face. 'No kidding.'
Wesley cleared his throat. The vampire's hand slid away from its battered knee and its gaze dropped to the floor in defeat. 'There's this house Cerbero owns. They always take their charges there.'
'Would they take someone there for interrogation?'
It looked at her. 'Possibly.'
'Address?' Wesley repeated and cocked the gun.
'36th, Via Collatina, Eastern region.' The words left the vampires mouth so swiftly Buffy felt her eyebrows arch upward in involuntary admiration.
'You'll show us the way,' Wesley said in a tone that encouraged no opposition.
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A/N: Thanks so much to all who reviewed. I'm so sorry it took me so long to post this chapter. My muse decided to take its summer holiday too, but I think he's back now and the next chapter should be up in a couple of days.
Well, I really hope you're still with me. Please review :-)