Chapter 7: Purgatorial Shadows

Warning: Violence

Author's thanks at end.

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'Who are these? Why sit they here in twilight?

Wherefore rock they, purgatorial shadows,

Drooping tongues from jaws that slob their relish,

Baring teeth that leer like skulls' teeth wicked?

Stroke on stroke of pain – but what slow panic,

Gouged these chasms round their fretted sockets?

Ever from their hair and through their hands' palms

Misery swelters. Surely we have perished

Sleeping, and walk hell; but who these hellish?'

- Wilfred Owen, 'Mental Cases'

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It was after midnight and the roads, streets and alleys of the capital had at last been deserted but for the odd plastic bag that rushed across the cobblestones and the tarmac when the night wind tugged at it.

The vampires seemed to have followed the livings example and not a single demon did they meet as they patrolled the cemeteries, searching for the stupid demon that had proved to have quite some talent for getting lost. Angel had taken the sword and the knives, so she only had to carry stakes and a crossbow. He walked silently beside her, never a whole stride away but not touching either. Buffy pretended not to notice as she filled him in on the favourite haunts of the Italian un-life, and he listened but never spoke, and she began to wonder whether the whole honest-and-touching-reunion moment was something she had dreamt.

'- and then they decided to take on the restaurant down that street, and there were a dozen or so vamps and Kennedy was late as usual, so of cause I had to clean up the mess and keep the stupid tourists out of the way. The police had a tough time covering it all up...' she trailed off. Sauntering around graveyards with a silent Angel at her heels was stirring old and repressed memories, which she really did not need in that moment. She whirled on him, and he stopped so swiftly he almost fell over to prevent himself from running into her.

'So?' she said and stared expectantly at him.

Angel blinked. ''So' what?'

She threw out her arms. 'Do you see anything?'

Angel's eyes darted from her face to the dark church and back. 'No.'

Buffy pushed past him. 'Well, good, I say we check out another one then.'

Angel called after her. 'Buffy, wait.'

And her legs stopped and though her head was screaming at them to move, they did not listen. She turned around. Angel was not looking at her, but turning his head slowly from side to side like a hound scenting a fox.

'He's dead,' he said quietly.

Buffy stepped closer, the perplexity she felt sneaking into her voice. 'Who?'

Angel blinked and looked up as though he saw her for the first time. 'I - I don't know.'

She looked at him.

'Okaay, you're weirding me out.'

Angel turned and drew nearer to the church and she tailed him, unsure what to make of this new turn of events. Then suddenly Angel was no longer walking but staring down at something in the entrance to the church, and she peeked past him.

For only to wish she never had.

'Eeew! Is that another one of our nice little demon-thingy's victims?'

Something twitched in Angel's face. 'Some of him,' he said.

The corpse was half-burned, the black fingers curling stiffly inward towards the palms and the skin had been ripped clean of the head to leave a bloodied skull behind. For a second Buffy was thankful that the eyeballs were gone before feeling extremely nauseous that she was capable of thinking like that.

'Ew, why are demons always so yucky?'

Angel did not answer but bent his knees into a crouch to survey the corpse at a closer distance. Well, he was welcome. Buffy saw perfectly well standing.

'It's fresh.' Angel stood up again; completely oblivious to the appalled look Buffy shot him. 'Which means the demon can't have gone far.'

Buffy looked up at him. 'Ew,' she repeated dryly.

It was a cloudy night and the warm autumn air was heavy in her lungs. They would probably have rain later, Buffy thought as she laid her head back to stare at the dark, starless sky above her. Angel's eyes were darting alertly from shadow to shadow, as they left the larger street to turn down an alley that wound its way past small shops whose neon signs spat synthetic lighting across the tarmac.

He was following the demon's trail and Buffy wondered whether he could smell the demon itself or the rotting stench of its victims. Though maybe there was no distinction between the two points...

They found themselves in open ground as the narrow road opened onto the parking lot of a blacked out and gloomy office block. A rusty lock hang before the closed doors, windows had been destroyed and where the paint did not peel of the walls they were covered in graffiti. The tarmac was fractured and yellow grass had spread across it from the cracks.

Buffy whistled. 'I think I'm gonna come back here for my holiday. Must be a notch up from the Bates Motel, don't ya think?'

Angel turned to her, deep shadows covering his face. 'Take this,' he said, and shoved something cold and smooth into her hand. A bottle.

She glanced at his back as he stepped away from her. 'And what exactly am I supposed to do with it?'

He did not turn around. 'Empty it in its ugly face, if you get the chance.'

Buffy looked down at the bottle in her hand. Holy water.

Angel's boot connected with the lock, and it gave of a sharp crack before sliding to the ground with a rattle, as the doors fell inward. He stepped aside and Buffy peered into the darkness before her. Stepping over the threshold, thick, dry air slammed against her face; the smell of dust and abandonment. No light came through the tape-covered windows, and only a slim spectre of moonlight fell along the floor through the hole in the wall that had been a door only moments earlier.

Angel would probably have no problem whatsoever in seeing where he placed his feet, but since Buffy did not have vampire-eyes or -vision, she was finding it slightly more tricky.

'I can't see very well.' Though her voice was a mere whisper, it rose like a shout in the silence of the room. The floor creaked and she felt Angel behind her.

'There is a door three steps to your right,' his voice whispered. 'I think there is a staircase behind it.'

Hesitantly she turned and had forced her legs into a walk, when her leg slammed against something hard and flat, probably an overturned filing cabinet and she stumbled. Immediately, Angel's hand closed around her shoulder and steadied her, though it was surprisingly hard to regain balance, when she could neither see the floor nor the hand, she had flung out before her to soften her fall. Buffy felt his fingers loosen their grip and before she knew it, she felt her own hand cover Angel's, and as he lowered his hand she followed, their fingers slowly, uncertainly, entwining.

She sidestepped whatever she had run into and, her arm outstretched, she stepped forward, feeling a smooth surface brush against her fingertips. The door.

Not bothering with fumbling for the handle in the darkness, Buffy simply kicked it in.

'Has it been through here?' Buffy asked into the darkness.

'I think so,' came the hushed answer.

'How do you know?' She was still holding his hand, and she could not agree with herself on whether that made climbing a flight of stairs you could not see harder or easier.

'The door was half-burned.'

So that was why it had been so easy to mow down.

'Why would it come this way?'

'I don't know.'

'OK, I'm taking this one on faith.' She hoped he could hear the smile in her voice. And then she ran her toe into the edge of a step and was for a moment quite willing to believe its squeamish insistence that it was broken. 'Ouch!'

'Are you all right?' Judging by the sound of his voice, she had done a pretty good imitation of being murdered.

'Yeah,' she mumbled, slightly ashamed, 'someone had just planted a step where my toe obviously shouldn't have been.'

There came a weird sound from him and she realised with a tingle he was chuckling.

'Hey! It's not funny!' And she was smiling herself, not that he could see it.

'I'm sorry,' he said, no longer laughing quietly.

'Ah-ah, you promised.'

Angel was quiet for a short moment. 'Yes, I suppose I did,' he said pensively. 'No, more apologising tonight.'

'Unless I start being really stroppy and unreasonable, then you can try with an apology and see if it makes it any better.'

'Don't tell me you're ever stroppy and unreasonable!' Angel's finger jabbed her in the back in jest.

'Rarely, and then it is usually because I have been pulled out of my bed to go demon hunting around dark and dank abandoned buildings.' Buffy was beginning to believe this stairway was Rome's answer to Babylon's tower. God knew it went on long enough.

'It could have been dankier,' Angel argued.

'Dankier...' Buffy repeated, tasting the word. 'Is that even a word?'

'What?'

'Never mind.'

x

The stairs did not go all the way to the sky but it was a damn good call.

Buffy stood beside Angel, staring out of the shattered window of the abandoned loft; the nearest buildings were all shrouded in a cloak of darkness that seemed to swallow all light from the surroundings areas of the city. Diffusing rainbows of neon signs shone through the darkness and yellow lights were flashing through the gloom as vehicles swung around a corner in the streets below.

Their mountain-climbing had been slowed by Angel's insistence upon running his hand along the wall to feel for any marring in the surface or for possible doors. Finding neither, they soon found themselves a good sixteen floors above street level, in a messy loft where such a large variety of mess could be found it could easily compete with most dumps.

Buffy cast an unimpressed glance around her. 'Please enlighten me: how wasn't this a good royal waste of time?' Her eyes were slowly adjusting to the darkness and she could now see the wooden boards she placed her feet upon. Considering the condition of said planks, she wondered whether that was an asset at all. 'Are you sure this can actually support our weight? I mean,' she put slight pressure on her right leg and the floor groaned. 'It doesn't sound too healthy, does it?'

She saw Angel bow his head.

'Wood,' he said in a flat voice.

'Yeah, I know.'

And suddenly he jerked at her hand with such force she almost keeled over.

'We're leaving!'

Buffy saw Angel freeze, his outstretched fingers a mere inch from the door that had slipped shut behind them. And as she lowered her gaze, she saw why.

Between the door and the floor, thick black smoke was sweltering into the room, rising before them and Angel staggered backwards, pulling her with him. She felt his grip on her hand tighten painfully, as his eyes swept through the room searching for another exit but finding none. Before she could find her voice, he stepped in front of her, blocking the rapidly rising fog from her view.

'Buffy, whatever happens, don't let him touch you. Don't let him get close enough for you to feel him, do you hear me?' And he shook her as though she was four years old again, but she was too shocked with seeing his fear to notice. 'And don't look him in the eyes,' Angel added as though some forgotten memory had sprung to life behind his eyes.

Then he whirled away from her, sword in one hand and bottle with Holy water in the other, and she saw. The blackness was twisting and turning, whirling about the three legs that rose from the opaque smoke to a skeletal body, and a long, thin neck, too frail-looking against the white skull that swayed softly from side to side at the end of it. Buffy remembered Angel's words and looked away from its grotesque face, instead fixing her eyes on the three legs as Helhesten took a wobbling step towards her.

I have to tell Giles this. I think we've finally found something that moves slower than his car.

Positioning the crossbow upon her shoulder, she released the bolt, and the arrow sped through the darkness, through the demon's solid form and struck the wall behind it. So crossbows were a big no-no with things like this and, she quickly found, as were wooden stakes. It took yet another hobbling step forward and the floor caught fire where it passed, the red tongues of the flames hungrily licking at the rotting wooden beams that whimpered underneath its weight.

In a flurry of dark clothing, Angel flung himself at it from the shadows and a hoarse, wheezing screech escaped the creature's pallid jaws as it recoiled, steam rising slowly from the spot where the bottle had shattered, all too quickly engulfed by the smoke that flailed at Helhesten's feet like a shawl of darkness. Before it had a chance to turn its ugly face her way again, Buffy hurled her flask at it and a second suffocated scream cut through the air, though it was more likely to be of anger than anything else.

It lurched at her, suddenly moving with a speed and agility she had believed it depraved of, and she scrambled backwards.

'Buffy!'

Jumping a pile of wooden boxes and darting around a pillar that materialized out of the darkness in front of her, Angel's roar reached her and she spun on her feet in time to see the blade reflect the faint moonlight as it sailed through the air, spinning, and she caught it adeptly. Not turning to see how close the demon was, she merely swung the sword and it hissed through the air in a graceless curve that still succeeded in blocking Helhesten's course and it withdrew from the blade's swinging path with an angry hiss.

Buffy lunged at it again but it dodged her blow; she saw the head swerve towards hers like an expertly swung club, but her arms responded to her brain's order too late and sharp pain exploded in her head before she lost consciousness.

Angel saw Buffy's body fly through the air and crash into a pile of wooden boxes and he did not hear himself scream. Something was pumping in his ears, drowning out all other sounds, as he took the last running steps that would bring him between the demon and her.

The white face was swaying at the end of the skeletal neck like a cobra before it strikes, and the white eyes searched the darkness blindly. Black smoke whirled at its feet; the single foreleg taking short jumpy steps forward though the demon never looked like as if it was out of balance.

Not pausing in his furious attack, Angel bent down to retrieve the sword from the floor at the demon's feet. Heat rose within his chest and he felt his face morph as an uncontrollable rage surged through his body. Helhesten's jaws clenched apart but before a sound could escape it, Angel smacked the metal blade across the skull and Helhesten's face snapped backwards with a satisfying crack of broken bones. Angel brought the sword down upon the side of its face again and again and the demon struggled to regain its footing, staggering backwards until its body was pressed against one of the pillars that cut through the room from the floor to the ceiling. Not pausing in his movement, Angel brought the blade horizontal and stabbed it clean through the demon's neck, feeling the point impale itself in the wooden beam. A shiver ran through it and along the blade, before the body stiffened and grew still.

The black fog whirled angrily at his feet and Angel hastily staggered backward. The front leg was submerged in the smoke that seemed to be climbing upwards along its still limbs and a single white eye stared emptily and accusingly at Angel. A strange sensation growing around his midriff, Angel spun on his feet and ran towards Buffy's still form, when a hollow thump seemed to echo within his head and he froze. Turning slowly, Angel saw the sword blade glow white-hot before it crumbled and shattered to the floor in a rain of blackened shards. Ever so slowly, Helhesten's face turned to him and it took a hesitant step nearer.

Angel scattered backwards and he heard the demon go into a hobbling canter behind him. He seized Buffy's body in a rough grasp and without glancing back, he ran for the door.

Helhesten was following in its shadow form, slipping from one patch of darkness to another and the irregular beat of its hooves clattering against the floor grew strangely light and distant, though Angel knew it was near. When he was a mere yard from the door it caught fire.

Red and orange fingers clawed at the wood and the sharp glow fell across Buffy's pale face. Angel pressed her face into his jacket to protect her from the flames, preparing to jump through, when Helhesten stepped through the burning door, slowly raising its head and Angel swore it was leering at him; the fire surged left and right along the walls, jumping to the heaps of wooden and cardboard boxes, to enclose them in a semi-circular inferno.

And despite the heat from the spreading fire that was mercilessly eating its way along the groaning floor, Angel felt cold as he realized there was only one way of escaping now. As Helhesten lunged for him, he spun on his feet without thinking and hugging Buffy's unconscious form tight against his chest, he leapt through the window, shards of the broken glass falling with him through the darkness.

The crackling noise of the flames died, replaced by the rushing of air flying past his ears as they fell. Angel had been chucked off enough buildings to know how to manipulate his weight in a fall and he tipped his shoulder slightly so Buffy was lying on top of him; he closed his arms around her, feeling the warmth of her body against his chest. He looked into the sky as they fell; the half-moon tilted its face to peek out from its spot behind one of the long streaks of light grey cloud, which hurried across the dark-blue orb. Beside him the dark wall of the tall building darted upwards, scuttling towards the starlit heaven above it.

And they fell.

Until his body suddenly went numb with the pain that exploded everywhere at once. He was not falling anymore but the world was swimming and someone was slamming a hammer against the back of his skull. He could still feel Buffy's body against his and her heart beat reassuringly against his passive chest. He tried to raise his head to see her but his body refused to move and bright fireworks exploded in the back of his head. His back, his hips, his chest, legs and arms and head, all seemed to be throbbing so violently he could not take his mind of the pain. Every joint was screaming at him that is has been dislocated, every bone that it was shattered. He grinded his teeth and told his body to stop being so squeamish. It did not work.

Through the darkness that swam before his open eyes, he heard her voice and he struggled back to the parking lot. His chest felt lighter and he realized that Buffy had slipped off him. He turns his head and the world swims before his eyes at the movement.

'Are you ok?' he croaked hoarsely. She was sitting beside him on the wet tarmac.

Wet.

It was raining. Funny, that. He had not even realized.

She was pale and her blonde locks were dark with water, strands of hair sticking to her cheek like a delicate cobweb, and a thin trail of blood was streaming from her split eyebrow. She nodded and although it was dark he could see her wince.

'I'll be fine.' He looked searchingly at her face, not believing, but she avoided his eyes. 'What about you?'

Air was hissing in and out of his passive lungs in his attempt to dull the flaring pain. 'I don't know,' he replied honestly, forcing his protesting body into a sitting position. With every word something pounded within his ribcage and he placed his hand upon his chest. 'Some broken ribs, I think.' He moved his shoulder slightly and sharp pain shot through his brain. 'And the shoulder's a bit prickly, but it's always been a hypochondriac, so don't worry.'

Buffy bit down on her lower lip and raised her face. The fire at the top floor was merely an orange glimmer against the dark night sky. She flinched slightly as the rain fell into her eyes. 'Did you jump out?'

He nodded, wincing at the movement. She looked down at her soaking trousers and then back up again.

'You know, girls are real easy to impress these days. You don't have to get yourself pummelled to ash-tray fodder to do it.' There was a cheeky twinkle in her eyes. 'I guess it was a good thing I was out cold because I'm not that good with heights. The demon?'

Angel struggled into a sitting position, careful not to place too much weight on his right hip. 'Can you say 'got away' if I was the one who ran from the fight?'

'I don't know. Let's ask Giles to consult his books about that one when we get back.' Buffy's brown eyes shone with concern. 'Can you walk?'

He offered her a coy half-smile. 'I could fly, couldn't I?'

She smiled back. 'At least until there was a parking lot in the way of further downward mobility, yes.'

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A/N: Thanks to my reviewers, AngelicDreams, nimwen, legolasgal, spangelover, Wesfan1234, CF, Gwenyer, a2zmom, DDuck and Tariq. Without your support this would never have seen the light of day but would have been forever stuck in that dark and scary place that is my mind1

Please review, next chapter will be up in a day or two :-)