Chapter 13: Short Walk to Daylight

Author's thanks at end.

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'And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon that is dreaming,

And the lamplight o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;

And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor

Shall be lifted – nevermore!'

- 'The Raven', Edgar Allen Poe

X

The gunshot reverberated between the small kitchen's white walls which suddenly seemed to have clawed their way inward, the room closing in around them. The bullet struck Helhesten between the eyes and its head snapped backwards. Never lowering his arm, Wesley pulled the trigger again and a second and a third bullet became lodged in the demon's skull. The sheer force of the impact, the gun having been fired a mere five metres away, propelled its wiry form away from the door and out into the rain that lashed relentlessly against its bony back.

Through the thunder of the gun, which sent shrill bells chiming madly inside his skull, Angel spun on his feet to Giles, Willow and Xander, who at Wesley's order had retreated out of the kitchen and was now watching the show unfold from the relative safety of the living room. 'Don't look him in the eyes!' he yelled, his voice drowning in the crack of yet another gunshot. 'And don't be afraid. He will be able to smell your fear.'

Xander yelled something back but Angel ignored him, glancing back over his shoulder, as Wesley's gun gave a sharp dry 'click' and the Watcher frantically reached into his vest pocket and produced yet another handgun. He had taken aim to fire when Spike plucked the weapon from his hand.

'Reload,' the vampire ordered calmly, pointing the muzzle of the gun in a nonchalant fashion before casually pulling the trigger. Angel just had time to note that the aim was wrong before the gun went off and Helhesten crashed to its knee with a high-pitched scream before tilting sideways, the two hind legs sticking out like needles from a limp pincushion, kicking ferociously and striking the wall with an erratic drum, whilst the front leg remained limp, half-bent under the demon at a strange angle.

It did surprise Angel when it appeared as though Spike actually thought about something before doing it. Not that he was complaining as such. It was merely something he would have to get used to.

The demon was slowly working its way through Willow's spell and Angel knew they would not be able to hold it out for more than another five minutes at the most. Whilst it was writhing on the floor, slowly regaining its balance, he turned his back to it so he could face Giles.

'You three will have to get to the church -'

Giles glared at him. 'Which one?' he commented bluntly.

Angel ground his teeth. This was hardly the time for nit-picking and personal insults. 'The one you're most likely to find empty,' he answered, not able to restrain the snide tone that tinged his words. 'You will prepare the ritual and the spell. We will keep the demon off, distract it, so you can work in safety and undisturbed.'

'Goofy was gonna do it,' Xander said, pointing to Wesley.

'Get your stuff and go.' Angel tightened his grip on the sword as he turned on his heel. Spike was busy emptying the gun into the still-kneeling demon, the effectiveness of the bullets steadily declining with each shot.

'Do you like that, huh?'

Bang.

'I actually know how it feels to be on the soddin' receiving end, ya know.'

Bang.

'Though...it's a tad more fun this way.'

Click.

Spike stared at the gun in his hand with amusement. 'Oh,' he said softly, and swung his booted foot into Helhesten's face instead. Though the force of the kick would have sent a door flying off its hinges, the demon merely pulled back, its jaws opening to let out a long hissing screech and it was on its feet again in a wisp of black smoke.

The single foreleg and the shoulders had followed the neck and swinging head into the kitchen and underneath the ragged skin, sinewy muscles were strained taut against the binding spell that should have rendered it incapable of entering.

Angel really did not get the fuss about magic.

Helhesten's jaws closed with a sharp snap a mere inch from Angel's arm, as he brought the sword down upon its white face but it dodged the blow, its neck arching backwards with a snake-like agility. Spike's sword came whizzing past Angel's ear and he instinctively pulled back, and out of the corner of his eye he saw the blade scrape Helhesten's prominent withers. The demon screamed and lurched forward, its motion followed by a blinding white light erupting from the exposed doorway, a powerful ripple running through the building. The spell had been broken.

As quickly as the eruption of light had occurred the white flash died again to leave the kitchen seemingly darker than before. The remains of the light bulb that had previously cast its light around the room from the ceiling littered the floor in the shape of numerous tiny splinters of glass. Two flickers of light burned in the darkness as Helhesten stepped nearer. The glass crunched under its hoof and immediately Wesley's gun went off again, the impact of the bullet causing the demon to stumble. The former Watcher was firing blindly, having closed his eyes to avoid Helhesten's gaze, and Angel felt a short pang of awe at his friend's nerve, before the skull came whizzing through the air like a club, catching the side of his head. Through the darkness that swam fleetingly before his eyes, Angel felt himself fly through the open door into the living room, slamming into the wall directly beside the door that opened unto the hallway.

As he got to his feet, ignoring the throbbing pain that had re-erupted in his hip, he felt a strange sense of triumph: he had actually been right about something. Helhesten would become far more powerful as it regained physical form, it would have been dangerous to deliberately delay the moment they attacked the demon. Angel had only just reached the kitchen again when it occurred to him that that thought was hardly something he should find encouraging.

The light that fell through the doorway from the living room caught Spike's hair as the vampire swung his blade at the demon's head, neck and feet, though it by some supernatural force seemed able to avoid the blows. Moving through the shadows, it swept noiselessly around him, and Spike spun on his feet, losing his balance and crashing into the kitchen table behind him, the sword slipping from his hand. Gliding through the darkness Helhesten sped towards the defenceless vampire, who unflustered grabbed the frying pan that rested by the sink and slammed it across the demon's face.

Raising the sword over his shoulder as though it had been a javelin, Angel flung the weapon at it, watching the gleaming blade twinkle briefly in the shadowy lighting before it buried itself in the horse's shoulder. Its face lashed around to his, eye meeting eye socket, before it clenched its skeletal jaws apart and a hoarse, rasp hissing escaped it. Behind it, Spike picked up his sword and brought the blade down upon its neck like a practiced executioner. Until his hand froze midair and the sword clattered uselessly to the floor.

Angel stared as Spike staggered backwards, his fingers clawing at his own hair, his hands cradling his bowed head. His eyes were closed and his mouth moved wordlessly, as short, gasping sobs escaped him.

'NO!' he screamed, reeling sidelong into the wall and jerking back as though he had been burned. 'That never happened! It didn't – I never – no!'

'What the...' Wesley had walked up beside Angel, careful not to look at Helhesten, as the sword that had impaled the demon's shoulder burned and smouldered to the floor in blackened shards. There was shock and disbelief in his voice and Angel could hardly blame him. It was not as though the Watcher had been around the last time Spike had decided to play Who Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest.

'Watch him,' Angel ordered sharply and turned to the demon just as Spike screamed and fell to his knees, his face almost out-paling the bleached blonde hair.

'Well, doesn't this look fun?' Buffy was leaning against the doorframe, weighing a broadsword in her hands. She cocked an eyebrow at Angel. 'Can I play?'

Something gave a painful jolt in Angel's chest but she did not look as though she intended to ram the sword into his stomach. Not that he was too certain whether or not he would blame her if she did. He met her eyes and pondered the possibility of her turning and following Giles and the others to the graveyard if he told her to do so before answering. 'Rules are simple,' he finally said. 'No looking in the eyes –'

In a flurry of shadow and darkness, Helhesten flung itself at him and Angel swiftly pulled Wesley's sword from his hands to slam it across the demon's face, the force of the stroke sending it skittering sideways into the wall.

'- and no touching.'

Buffy's grip on her weapon tightened and she stepped across the threshold, biting her lower lip and casting a worried look at Spike.

Angel turned to Wesley, who stood leaning over Spike's form as the vampire lay writhing and screaming on the floor. 'Get him out of here,' he said quickly. 'We will delay the demon to give you the time to prepare the ritual – but you must be quick. And the trench – the trench must be a cross. You must get to the church – I don't think Giles' gonna do the ritual. You have more experience with advanced magic than he has – you must do this.'

Wesley met his eyes and extended his hand. Angel took the gun without looking at it, and spinning on his feet he pulled the trigger, sending the bullet crashing into the demon's gaunt chest, causing it to stagger away from the slayer.

Buffy was proficiently applying hit after hit at its neck and flanks, jumping and dashing out of the way whenever the skull came flying her way. Her eyes were closed, her body relying upon her slayer senses and instinct to dodge the demon's blows. Angel pushed the gun in his belt, uncomfortable with the feeling of the cold metal in his hand and instead grabbed a meat knife from the stand on the kitchen table.

They took turns to attack the demon, Buffy armed only with the heavy broadsword, Angel with a long, sleek blade that was well-balanced enough for him to swing it in his right hand whilst flashing the crude kitchen knife in the other. As the fight grew in intensity, they suddenly found themselves in the living room, whose brighter lighting slowed down the movements of the demon and gave Angel a chance to see it clearly for the first time.

Long, muscle-free legs with unnaturally large knees and hocks supported a body that was hardly anything but an assembly of poised bones, a ragged coat of long, coarse black hair having been pulled tautly over the bony frame. Where the second front-leg had once been, the skin only half-covered the rotten flesh, and the wiry hairs that made up the long mane and tail had in places been glued together by blood shed centuries before. The skull was fastened to the neck by a couple of strings of dead muscle and tendons that stood out like brownish ropes where the skin had disappeared.

It looked dead, it smelled dead, and yet it did not move as though it was. But then again, neither did he.

At first, Angel had ignored the voices that whispered and hissed in the back of his mind, drowned them with the rush of the fight and the power of the moment. Yet, now they were sneaking back into his brain, pulling a shield of glass between him and Helhesten and Buffy, separating him from reality. And just as he lost feeling of his body, Helhesten froze in the middle of a step and ever so slowly the white face was turned his way. The empty eye sockets no longer shone with the bright white light but carved inwards like boundless chasms, lightless, lifeless. And all of a sudden the voices no longer whispered, but screamed, high-pitched, wordless screams that filled his skull and blinded him, he could not see, not hear, not feel, and through the darkness came the hoarse whisper, the voice without a body.

'Why can't you see?'

And he could see, but the visions that flashed before his eyes were not of Giles living room.

It is cold and white around him, he is afraid but he can't remember why. Buffy raises her hand and touches his face but it is all wrong. He is all wrong. She should not touch him when he is like this. And suddenly it is no longer white and cold but dark, and he is no longer afraid. He feels light, rushed, and he grabs the dark head between his hands and twists her neck but as the body falls it is not the dark-haired girl but Buffy. He staggers back but the wall is closing in on him and he cannot get away from her glassy eyes that stare accusingly at him. He screams but she does not move.

He is kneeling. He can't remember why, but it does not matter because she is not dead. He is. He can see the hilt of the sword as it protrudes from his stomach. Coldness is spreading from the gleaming blade, growing inside him, and he cannot understand why. Darkness, darkness everywhere. He can't see, can't smell, and inconceivable pain burns all over his body, tearing him apart from within, and still they scream in his ears.

They are still screaming but the darkness is different. Buffy is looking at him but he turns his back and walks away and the pain is just as strong.

He feels different, heavier and lighter at the same time, and an unfamiliar beat thumps against his ribcage. Buffy places her warm palm against his skin and looks up at him. She smiles but something slams against the side of his face and the pain is different. He cannot save her. He cannot protect her. She is dying because he is not there.

'Angel!'

In Angel's mind, a small part of him was fighting Helhesten's hold at the sound of her voice. Buffy was not dead. The voices screamed inside him, pressing against the side of his skull until he thought the pain would make him pass out. Yet, he fought the darkness and slowly feeling returned to his body and with it pain erupted in his chest and he forced his eyes open.

The demon stood a few yards away from him, its body nailed to the wall by Buffy's sword. He was on his knees, gasping for breath when Buffy's hand closed around his arm and she yanked him on his feet. Half-running, half-stumbling he following her up the stairs, their climb accompanied by the thundering drum of Helhesten's hooves striking the floor in its ferocious attempt to free itself and follow.

The world still swam more than usual, as Angel slumped down beside Buffy, where she sat leaning against the wall in her room, having locked the door after her. She was very pale, her breaths coming quickly and shallowly.

'Are you okay?' he whispered in concern.

Buffy did not open her eyes. 'I could have done without you deciding to take a nap in the middle of a take, but 'part from that I'm peachy.'

He bit his lip and did not answer.

'So, what are we doing?' She turned her head and looked at him.

'Distracting it,' he said monotonously.

'Oh.' A small grin spread across her face. 'Looks a lot more like running and hiding from here.'

He frowned in thought. 'Picture that.'

They sat for a while in silence, listening to the erratic thunder of Helhesten's failed attempts at climbing the stairs, which mixed with the drum of the rain drops as they struck the window panes.

'Can we talk?' Buffy's voice was strained and tinged with unease. Angel shot her a fleeting glance and nodded. She got to her feet and he thought he better he do the same; apparently this was going to be one of those conversations.

'Listen, I – I'm sorry...for the things I said.'

Or maybe not. Angel opened his mouth to object but she held out her hand to cut him off.

'No, please – just...listen, okay? I really didn't have the right to freak out on you like that.'

He looked at her in confusion, the knot in his chest tightening strangely.

'I didn't – I didn't want to know, because I was so afraid that it would change everything. That you weren't the same – that you didn't...' She bit her lip and looked at the floor between her feet before pulling herself together and raising her eyes again. 'I never listen, do I?'

Not knowing whether or not he was supposed to answer, Angel remained silent.

'I get cranky and I don't think about stuff. I just start shouting – or hitting people.' Angel felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. 'Maybe it's a slayer thing. Maybe it's just me. Anyway, I think I understand why.'

Angel's head suddenly felt very light. 'I'm sorry.'

'Mantra?' She cocked an eyebrow at him. 'You know, you really ought to brush up on those conversational skills. They are beginning to run on replay.'

There was a slightly stinging tone to her words and Angel lowered his head.

Buffy sighed. 'God, I'm sorry...' she trailed off and grimaced. 'Did you get the irony of that?' There was a thoughtful ridge between her brows as she stared at him. 'I'm sorry I shouted at you and said the things I said. But I'm not sorry I hit you.'

Angel offered her a coy half-smile, seeing her point. 'No, I probably had that one coming.'

'You so did,' she said, but there was light-heartedness in her voice. 'Should we sit down again?'

Angel leant his back against the wall, and she manoeuvred herself down beside him, close but not quite touching.

'Were there others?'

Tilting his head, he caught the painful expression in her dark eyes though she desperately tried to hide it. Then again, the room was dark. He could be imagining things.

'Never like you.' Angel answered, his voice refusing to rise above a hoarse whisper. 'I tried and it didn't mean anything. I could be with them, Hell I could even bed them, and it didn't make a difference. Not inside.'

She nodded but the doubt in her eyes burned into him.

'You could make me forget what I am, Buffy.' She had to remember this, could not forget him now. Could not doubt him now. 'You could make feel warm inside, feel alive, and I loved you for it. Loved you for loving me and for making me love you back, for longing for you every moment that you weren't there. And I tried to move on, tried to walk in a world that was cold and lonely because you weren't there. I tried to walk between the light and the darkness but I lost my way, could no longer see the difference between the shades of grey. And I thought of you. It was never easy then either. But you were there and somehow everything would work out as long as you were here, there was a reason to keep fighting.' He trailed off and closed his eyes, the knot in his chest tightening painfully. 'And my world was falling around me and you were gone. I had nothing to hold onto, nothing to believe in, and I did not want the darkness but took it anyway for it was the easiest way. And why shouldn't I? It didn't matter anymore. I felt cold and the harder I tried to feel, the number I became until there was nothing left but frustration and despair. And I thought of you, but I could no longer take solace in that either, because I knew, you would not have recognised what I was becoming. I didn't even recognise myself anymore.' Falling silent, Angel opened his eyes as he felt Buffy's hand on his.

'Me too,' she said, relief and an odd sadness in her voice. 'I couldn't see anymore, either.' Angel followed her gaze to their hands, and he slowly allowed his fingers to entwine with hers. 'Do you think it matters?'

He looked at her.

'That time passes and the world changes? Do you think that some things can still be the same?'

Her eyes burned into his, pleading, searching his, and Angel felt that warming sensation that had used to be so familiar spring to life in his chest, as he returned her gaze.

'Yes,' he whispered.

Her eyes had gone glossy and Angel saw her bite her lower lip before she swiftly lowered her head. The few strands of blonde hair that were left untied from her ponytail swayed in front of her face, the shadows hiding her expression.

When she spoke there was a shadow of desperate exasperation in her voice. 'I don't want to keep thinking about you, Angel! Not if you're not coming back. I can't.'

The knot in his chest had suddenly been replaced by a block of ice. 'So you're going to start forgetting?'

She stared at him. 'I can't forget, that's the problem! Pretend to be listening.'

'I am.'

'What about that lawyer firm in LA? Are they ever going to let you go?'

Angel bit his lip in uncertainty. 'I don't know.'

'If they do, will you come back?' He could hear the doubt in her voice.

'Yes,' he answered without a moment's hesitation.

She held his eyes for a long moment before she answered, cuddling closer to him on the floor and before he had realized what he was doing, Angel found his arm around her shoulder.

'I'll wait for you, then.'

Angel closed his eyes and leant his cheek against her soft, silken hair when it struck him that not only was the room silent, the entire house was.

And it was at that moment the wall seemingly exploded a mere feet from them and Helhesten's piercing scream cut through the subdued noise of the ongoing rain, as its head became visible where the wall had been only a second before. Angel scrambled to his feet and Buffy followed, dragging him towards the door, which she sent flying with a well-aimed kick and they ran down the corridor towards the staircase. With a mere five yards remaining, Helhesten crashed through the wall to their left, sending dust, bricks and various other building material flying, before it with improbable speed spun upon its three legs and came charging down the shadowy passage.

Angel grabbed Buffy around the shoulder and ignoring her protests, he shoved her into the aligning bathroom, shutting the door after her. He tightened his grip around the hilt of the sword and only just managed to raise the weapon before the demon crashed into him.

His back slammed against the floor and as the horse skull came hurtling down towards him, Angel brought the sword up before his fallen body, slamming it across the demons face. The strike sent it off-balance and it took a wobbling step sideways, the single foreleg hammering into the wooden floor an inch from Angel's shoulder. Pushing off with his legs, he scrambled frantically away from his unfortunate position underneath the horse's scrawny body. He could not see anything but the ever-moving, confusing black mass of the demon as it stood above him and the occasional patch of silvery-white ceiling, which flashed at him whenever it moved. The voices were screaming inside him again but he drowned them out, focused on the situation at hand.

Without being able to see clearly, Angel swung the sword at the black whirlwind that still had him pinned to the floor whenever it came close enough. Around him the hooves were striking an erratic drum against the floor and he twisted and turned to avoid them. Bringing the sword against the creature's head with brutal force, Angel rolled away and onto his feet yet had no time to steady himself before it came at him again. He slashed after its head, but just had the time to realize that it was not aiming for his head but for his lower body, before the pearly white jaws clasped shut around his thigh and he was swept off his feet. With implausible strength, Helhesten swung its head from side to side, and Angel was flung across the room, crashing into the wall at the far end with such force he felt it crumble around him. His body met the floor heavily and skidded to a halt upon reaching the wall at the far end of the room – which turned out to be Giles' bedroom. And now it came with an extra entrance and window to the corridor in one. Somehow, Angel doubted the former Watcher would be exultant about this.

The sword had slipped from his hand when Helhesten had chucked him through the wall, and, completely weapon-less, Angel watched the demon step into the room. He tried to get on his feet but could not help staring blankly at his right leg when it refused to cooperate. It was not his hip that had grabbed a reason for being fussy; it was not even that it hurt. It was more the fact that it did absolutely nothing. A strange numbness was spreading around the area where Helhesten's jaws had been locked tight, and he could not feel his leg.

A forgotten memory played foggily somewhere in Angel's mind. He remembered how the stable buck had once told Kathy that a horse had flat teeth, it was no predator but was suited the conditions of the grasslands. Kathy had come too close to the stroppy old mare and the herbivore had gashed her arm to the bone. Flat teeth or not.

Helhesten's voice whispered in his brain and he was brutally yanked back to the present.

'An...ge...lus'

Pale moonlight fell through the window behind Angel and painted Helhesten's white face in shadowy hues of grey. Light and shadow danced across the deep ridged nose as the demon stumbled across the bricks and dumps of building material that littered the floor. Its body melted into the darkness and Angel could only glimpse the outline of a shoulder or a hip when the pale light fell across it, silhouetting it against the faint gleam of the corridor.

A couple of steps from him, the demon paused, cocking its head at him in a birdlike manner.

'Isn't it funny how you can close your eyes and after all these years still hear their screams?' The voice hissed inside him and a familiar freezing sensation began to grow around Angel's midriff. 'They never stopped, did they? Always screaming, never one voice rising above the others, just droplets in a never-ending ocean of despair.' Angel stared at the passive demon as it stood watching him, unmoving but for the eye sockets that slowly began to glow white. 'You screamed. For what? Why? For freedom, forgiveness? You still scream for it, inside. I know.'

Angel scrambled to his feet with difficulty and took a hurried step backward, feeling his finger brush against something cold and smooth in the umbrella stand. Helhesten stepped forward, maintaining the distance between them.

'Is that why you are so afraid of me?' The eyes gleamed with an intensity Angel had not seen before. He fought not to give in to voice and concentrated upon the feeling of the hilt of a sword underneath his fingers. Good old Giles.

'Because I can see those horrors, I know how to make you lose control.

'Control. You fear to lose it. You know the string is tightening, that I could make it snap and that you would welcome it. Welcome the release from the pain and the fear and the guilt. And that frightens you.

'Strange. A creature of darkness fearing the loss of light.' Helhesten took a limping step forward and Angel tightened his grip around the sword. 'Always doubting dreaming, fearing...' The head drew back, the smooth movement more reminiscent of a snake than a bird. 'Fight and live. The night will eventually end. It's a short walk to daylight, Angelus. But you will have to walk it – alone.'

The voice in his head fell silent and Angel threw himself to the side, drawing the sword and burying it in the demon's flank. It threw its head back and let out a penetrating scream, but spinning upon its feet it suddenly staggered backward as a bolt pierced its throat. Angel ran towards the hole in the wall without looking back, limping as his right leg still steadfastly refused to move, and Buffy smiled cruelly at him, as he joined her in the corridor.

'It's a whole lot easier to hit stuff with your eyes open.'

x

The car sprung to life with a roar as Buffy swiftly turned the keys and slamming the speeder to the floor, the vehicle dashed down the road. It was early evening but the storm was persevering and the streets were empty; lampposts cast their melancholy light across the tarmac that gleamed with water, and along the sidewalk, from shadow to shadow, Helhesten slipped forward. Never truly visible, never truly gone.

'Where would they have gone?'

Buffy jerked roughly at the steering wheel and the car skidded across an empty junction, the red light glaring accusingly after them as they took off again.

'The Regina Madre,' Buffy replied. 'It's been abandoned for a good thirty years and lies in an unpopulated area.'

Angel poked his leg tryingly, feeling nothing. 'Far?'

'Nah. Ten minutes.' She raced across another junction at red light. 'Or maybe five.'

Angel looked into his mirror and saw the shadowy form of the demon dash across the road. 'This has got to work.'

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Author's Thanks: legolasgal, Wesfan1234 (thank you so much! And it was even hard to write, so your review is even more appreciated. I hope I can keep it up :-), Tariq (Thank you so much for your review! It is great that someone who has been here from the beginning of part 1 still bothers to let me know what they think :-), DDuck (action to follow, which I think you realized, having read the chapter and all :-), shahid (This time I'm not lying – Wes using magic will feature prominently in the next chapter! Still, hope you liked the chapter :-), Omar Mahmood (Still, reviews are always great! So, thanks so much for the encouragement – especially since you're a BA too. There seems to be so few of us. Strange really.), AngelicDreams and nimwen.

Also to: a2zmom, Gwenyver, CF, spangelover, Edgechick, stephanierb, Uber Wicca, AlwaysHoldingOn and those I might have forgotten :-)

Support and encouragement is everything.

Author's notes: Okay, we're nearing the last couple of chapters which is why this chapter might have felt rushed or forced in places. Still, let me know what you think! Reviews are the things that keep a lazy writer going :-)