CHAPTER 31: SO LONG HOUSE OF DEATH


A few hours later when everyone had scheduled to meet up and discuss the current situation, Buffy had decided that she wanted to participate. Strengthened by several mugs of hot pig's blood and the realization that things just might go quicker if she, and therefore also Angel, took part in the research party she had decided to take the big step towards being part of the gang again. She could handle it. At least she hoped so...

She sat down in the couch in the living room. She and Angel were there first. The room was blacked out but still warmed by the sunlight outside. Buffy felt at least remotely safe – then again, she and Angel were the only ones there at the moment. When she heard footsteps outside and someone turned the doorknob she grabbed a random book from the pile on the table and opened it, pretending to read, almost hiding behind it.

Willow came into the room, glancing first at Angel, then quickly at Buffy. The tension in the room was palpable.

"Hi," she said to neither of them in particular. Angel nodded. Buffy almost covered her face with the book.

"The others should be here any moment," Willow said, studying her friend. Well, whatever it was that her friend had been reduced to. It was so hard to see her as Buffy, even though she looked the same. She just acted so differently.

Of course, Willow didn't consider the fact that Buffy might act differently because everyone else acted differently around her.

The awkward situation was interrupted when the door opened again, revealing Xander and Anya in the middle of a rather lively conversation.

"And then he said; 'the conjuring powder can't possibly be that much. With this price I'll have to buy a little to use for conjuring more conjuring powder'," Anya said. Xander stared at her.

"That's ridiculous. And hi. Everyone." Willow nodded, sitting down on the edge of a chair. It made Angel angry that everyone acted so tensely around Buffy, but he didn't say anything. What was he supposed to say?

"But he's right. And I told him so." Giles entered the room, giving Anya a quick look before he put down a few books on the table in front of Buffy.

"Did you hear?" Anya said. "You conjuring powder is grotesquely over-priced." Giles blinked, frowning and crossing his arms over his chest.

"And you… told this opinion to the customers?"

"Just the one. But don't worry, I charged him your stomach-turning and avaricious price."

"Well, that stuff doesn't come cheap," Giles argued, for the first time realizing that Buffy was in the room, looking deeply uncomfortable.

"Then you're getting ripped off," Anya continued. "I could hook you up with the troll that sheds it."

"Good, good," Giles said absently, his thoughts already off the conversation.

"Buffy, I'm truly glad to see that you've decided to join us," he said softly. She put down the book slowly, looking at the people in the room. She looked down.

"Right. Guess you gotta start sometime, right," she muttered.

"How are you, Buff?" Xander said, for the first time speaking directly to her and sitting down in a chair close to the couch. She looked at him almost shyly, which confused Xander. He wasn't sure how to be around her, now that she was so different around all of them. He had never seen Buffy shy. Withdrawn and sad and lost in deep serious thoughts, sure, but never shy.

Things were very awkward.

"Well. I'm…"

Before she had the chance to answer Cordelia, Wesley and Gunn entered the room, and she looked away again. Glaring accusingly at them, Angel sat down next to Buffy.

"Buffy,"' Wesley noted. "It's good to see you." He gave Angel a look. "Both of you." Angel shrugged, knowing that Wesley was commenting the fact that Angel hadn't helped them at all during the last few days.

"How are you?" he continued, turned to Buffy.

"Not any more certain how to answer that no matter how many people ask me," she said. Wesley nodded, accepting her answer, more accurately her lack of answer.

"Yes, well. Shall we cut straight to business?" Buffy looked at him while he sat down, spreading out research material over the table. Apart from Giles and her friends, even Angel, he didn't make such a big deal out of her, and that might just be what she needed. If she wanted to get back into the gang they had to treat her like a part of it, not like some intruding alien.

"We have a few matters to discuss," Wesley said. "First of all, as far as I can see, what we need to do is find someone that can tell us where Mohra demons usually reside. We already know that they prefer locations near salt water, but we have to narrow it down further. Pinpoint exact locations if possible.

"And how do we do that?" Angel asked.

"I have actually already located a source. While I'm not sure it will prove to pay off, it might just give us what we want."

"We're meeting him later," Cordelia cut in. Angel nodded.

"Good."

"There is, however, something else we need to bring up," Wesley continued. "Giles and I have been discussing it, and we have come to the conclusion that it is of greatest value that we try to find out whether the Council has learned about Buffy's… current condition yet."

"What do you mean the Council?" Xander said. "Didn't she quit them a long time ago?"

"Certainly, however I'm not so sure they care about that. A… a turned Slayer, working for the Council or not, could stir up some trouble, I'm afraid." He looked at Buffy. "If we're unlucky, they have already learned what has happened."

"What does that mean?" she asked. On some level she already knew it.

"I'm afraid… it might mean that they would want to – eliminate you."

Buffy looked away. "Oh." Of course it made perfect sense. The Council was ruthless when it came to projects or tools – which were what they considered the Slayers to be – that went awry. None the less, it was just another thing she didn't need right now.

"Wesley, tell me what you think," Angel said. "Is it likely that they know?" Wesley looked at him for a moment before he nodded sadly.

"Yes."

Angel looked away, anger clawing at him. He didn't want to deal with this. Not at all. And he definitely didn't feel like facing the Council's special ops team again. Those guys didn't play fair and might very well come at them from behind, attacking when they least expected it. They would have to watch their backs at all time.

"In other words," Wesley continued after a few moments silence, "there are chores for everyone. As I said, Cordelia and I will go and meet with the source, and hopefully he can provide us with some useful information."

"I'm going go get a few books that should be delivered by mail today," Giles cut in.

"Yes. Xander, I was hoping you and Anya could use any contacts you have in town to see if there is any talk concerning Buffy, and… the Council," Wesley said."

"We're on it," Xander nodded.

"You could, um." Buffy stopped when everyone's heads turned to her, but she regained her speech pretty quickly. "Try Willy's place," she suggested. Xander nodded.

"Good thinking."

"Good," Wesley said. "That leaves Gunn, Buffy and Angel." He looked at them. "Any idea how you can contribute?" Buffy was actually glad that Wesley didn't even stop to ask her whether she wanted to participate. The fact that he simply assumed it, acting as if it was the most natural thing in the world, made her feel a little less like the sideshow freak.

"Actually, there is one thing," Buffy said warily. Wesley nodded and waited for her to continue. "I don't want to stay here. I mean… in the house." She swallowed. There it was. She had said it. The house was filled with so many painful memories, and she had no desire to stick around.

"Have you considered selling it?" Giles asked. Buffy looked at him. Yeah, somewhere between the blood drinking and the trying to cope with being a vampire, I thought about selling the house, she thought, but she refrained from saying it out loud.

"I, um, I guess. Later. But right now…" she shrugged, looking down at her hands. "I just don't want to be here."

"Perhaps we could deal with it later? With everything going on…"

"Actually I agree," Angel came to her aid. "Especially if the Council is out for us, it's not safe here. Too many windows, and they know that this is her house. The mansion's safer against any form of attacks, and it's located further away from the road."

"Well, it doesn't have to be," Willow said. "I mean, there are spells. I could always make a shield around the house, or…"

"I think it seems simpler just to move to a location that is safer in the first place," Angel argued. Willow shrugged.

"Very well then," Giles said stiffly, even though they could all see that he wasn't comfortable with it.

"I guess there are some things that need to be moved," Angel said. "Which fits perfectly since Gunn…"

"…have a truck," Gunn finished for him. "Fine, fine. But it's only because you two become crispy fries if you step outside before dark."

"Thank you," Buffy said, not realizing until a few seconds later that this might be the first time when she didn't physically flinch when someone mentioned the vampire-thing. She swallowed, feeling sadness wash over her again. Was she just too wrapped up in thoughts to react?

Or was she starting to adjust?


Two hours later Angel carried the last box down the stairs and put it next to the door.

"Who would have thought that your wardrobes up there would contain this much?" he muttered, taking a seat in the stairs, waiting for Gunn to come and pick up the last two boxes.

"I don't have that much clothes," Buffy said defensively. He gave her a look. "Okay, maybe I do. Well, that's just it. Not everyone can get around with a few pairs of identical jeans and shirts." Angel shrugged.

"I'll have you know, I do have other clothes at home," he murmured.

"Oh yeah? I've never seen that. I can't even remember seeing wardrobes in the mansion."

"I meant… in LA."

"Oh."

Buffy fell silent. It didn't always occur to her that Angel considered LA his home nowadays. It was silly of her, really. Of course he did. He had built himself an entire life there during the 18 months since he left Sunnydale. So why would he want to stay here now, no matter how things turned out?

Before neither of them could say anything else, Gunn came through the door, panting and leaning against the doorframe. "Do you have any… idea how heavy that cupboard was?"

"We carried it down the stairs, so yeah," she answered, surprised how easy it was talking to Gunn. It wasn't so strange, really. Unlike her friends, he didn't act strangely around her. She couldn't smell the resentment coming off him; he didn't sweat and act nervously when he was close to her.

"You too tired to take the last things?" Angel said, his voice slightly mocking. Gunn glared at him.

"You know, it's my manhood you're steppin' on here." he said and grabbed the box closest to him.

Buffy and Angel moved into the living room and watcher from a patch of shadow how Gunn loaded everything onto his truck and drove off.

"So. What do we do now?" Buffy asked, sitting down in the couch, hoping that Angel would come and sit next to her. He didn't, instead he paced slowly back and forth, something of a worried frown on his face.

"We can't do much right now. It's still about two hours until sundown."

"I don't know why I feel so restless," Buffy continued. "Shouldn't this be naptime for creatures of the night?"

"Well, it doesn't really work that way."

"Hmm."

Buffy fiddled uncomfortably with a ballpoint pen that someone had left on the table.

Ballpoint pens were so tricky. As long as everything was working the way it was supposed to inside it, the point could be extracted and pulled back in so simply by pressing the button on top… Kind of like a little fang. But if the pen was disrupted inside somehow, if the spring was wound wrong or if the pieces weren't put together like they were supposed to, that same push could make the pen explode into dozens of little plastic pieces.

Buffy snapped the point back and forth a few times, accomplishing nothing further than pushing the point back and forth. Then she screwed the pen a few times and did the same thing again, causing the two halves to shoot in opposite directions, leaving her with only the inside of the pen and the spring that fell into her lap. That was how easy it was for the pen to go all awry, she thought. That was kind of how she felt, too. If someone pushed her too hard, she wasn't sure whether she would just snap back and forth, or loose control and explode. And if she did… if she let her demon loose, bigger things than pens would be destroyed.

Angel gave her a look, eyeing the parts of the pen on the floor.

"Oops," Buffy muttered, putting the pen back on the table. Angel didn't comment the destruction, even though he was pretty sure that was Wesley's favorite pen that had just been reduced to countless pieces of plastic scattered over the carpet. He was silent for a few minutes, but suddenly he snapped his head up, listening to something. Or someone.

"Do you hear that?" he whispered to Buffy, trying to discern from where the sounds came. Footsteps, some sort of scraping sound.

At first Buffy couldn't hear anything – well, she could hear the car that drove by in the street outside, the chirping of a little bird in a tree outside the window, even the loud noise of the neighbor playing painfully cheerful music. But not what Angel was hearing. It wasn't until she really honed her senses, put her mind to it, to putting out all the unnecessary sounds, that she heard it. Footsteps from one… two… three people.

People that were trying to sneak around he house.

"I hear it," she whispered. Angel motioned for her to follow and stalked into the kitchen without a sound. Luckily someone had been sensible enough to close the shutters in there as well.

"They're outside," Angel said. Buffy nodded. She could hear it clearly. There was a scraping on the kitchen door – someone was out there.

Listening hard, she could hear heartbeats, three of them, like thunder in her ears. The scene reminded her of something that would fit into a horror movie. But this wasn't a movie. Someone was really out there – in the blistering sunlight – trying to get into the house.

"Shouldn't we do something?" she said, but neither of them had the time to consider their next action.

The door swung open and two arrows came cutting through the air, aiming right at them.


Reacting on instinct Angel backpedaled from the scorching sunlight, swooping the arrow aiming at Buffy out of the way, and catching the one aiming at his own heart.

"Angel," Buffy gasped out to him and he turned to her, realizing that she had been hit. But not by an arrow.

By two tranquilizer darts. It wasn't until then he noticed that a window had been broken and someone, carrying a rifle, had shot Buffy from over there while their focus had been on the kitchen door. Angel caught Buffy as she sank to the floor, unconscious. There was nothing he could do for her now – no matter what, she would be out of commission for a while.

Looking up from his position crouching next to Buffy, he saw his attackers. One of them was loading his tranquilizer gun and one was on his knees preparing something – probably a weapon of some kind.

Angel recognized two of them as the men that had been in Los Angeles earlier that year. The Council's assassins who tried to kill Faith. Really a "stake now, ask questions later" kind of bunch.

Before the men could fire at him again he lunged forward, into the sunlight, and slammed the door, buying himself a few seconds to get back to Buffy. He lifted her and considered the safest location for her – coming to the conclusion that there really was no safe spot in the house.

Of course he could take her upstairs or into the basement, but then again, they might have to make a quick exit. He put her on the living room couch where she wouldn't be visible from the front door, grabbing a blanket in case he would have to go into the sunlight again to defend himself and Buffy.

He could smell fire but didn't have any chance to locate where it came from before the kitchen window shattered and two bottles with burning rags stuck in them came flying inside. When the bottles shattered against the kitchen floor and furniture the fire made contact with the alcohol inside the bottles and huge, roaring flames shot up, quickly destroying most of the kitchen's interior.

The men couldn't know for certain that only he and Buffy were left in the house. They were prepared to kill anyone that stood in their way just to get to them, he realized.

Angel could hear Gunn's angry voice outside, but when the front door opened, it wasn't his friend that entered.

The assassin, carrying a heavy crossbow, grinned when he saw Angel. Of course he did – he enjoyed his work. He fired at Angel who threw himself out of the way, striking back when the man reloaded his weapon. Angel kicked the crossbow out of his hands and sent the assassin crashing into the wall, leaving him stunned for the minute.

Turning around, he saw Gunn who came rushing inside. His face was bloody and he looked more than a little pissed off. Judging by the amount of blood coming from his nose – he had gotten smacked pretty good when trying to stop the assassin from getting inside.

"Okay!" he yelled. "Where is he, and how hard can I kill him?"

"Don't worry about him," Angel said loudly be heard over the roaring flames that were spreading quickly and currently making their way through the dining room. The large amounts of wooden furniture in there was aiding the ravages of the flames.

"I'll take care of them, you get Buffy to safety! Take her to the mansion, I'll get there later." Angel handed Gunn the blanket and quickly turned as another one of the assassins attacked him from behind, punching him squarely in the face. Gunn hesitated for a moment, not happy about the thought of leaving Angel alone with three assassins out to – downsize him, a house that was on fire, with no good escape route since the sun was still shining outside.

"Just go, I'll be fine!" With a light shrug Gunn did as he was told, wrapping Buffy in the blanked and quickly carrying her to his truck outside.

Maybe it was a bad idea to stay behind, Angel thought as he heard the third assassin break in through a window upstairs. The fire would soon force him to move, but still, he couldn't risk them coming after to the mansion. No, this had to end here.

Staying really quiet and close to the stairway – where he knew he couldn't be seen from upstairs, Angel waited, listening carefully for the approach of the third assassin. The other two had retreated outside where they knew he couldn't follow him for the time being, probably stacking up on weapon they thought to be more effective than simple crossbows.

Angel could hear his footsteps on in the top of the stairs, and the flicking of a lighter. He was preparing another bottle. It was a good move, really. If he threw it in the right direction he might cut off all of Angel's escape routes, locking him in the living room. The only way out would be through the living room windows, and with the other two men outside, there was no way that was going to end well.

Thinking quickly Angel sprung forth, jumped over the banister and caught the assassin mid-stairs. He grabbed his arm and after just a second's struggle he forced the Englishman to throw it back against the dining room, which was already on fire. The assassin produced a stake from his pocket, thinking in vain that maybe he could take Angel the old fashioned way.

The man and the vampire struggled for a few moments, and somewhere behind him Angel heard the other two opening the front door, trying to enter without touching the flames that were finding their way out into the hallway. Realizing that he would be forced to reduce their numbers if he wanted to get away alive Angel sank to his knees, using his position to flip his opponent over his shoulder and sending him into his own fire just below the stairs.

It wasn't pretty. Having some alcohol on his own clothes the man caught on fire instantly and caught between the stairway and the front door he didn't have enough room to roll and smother the flames. Angel watched, just as the dying man's two colleagues watched as he fought desperately for his life. His partners didn't let go of their weapons or even make a move to help him. Of course they didn't – to them the mission was more important than all of them getting out alive.

It didn't take long before the burning man stopped wriggling and screaming. He was unconscious, his body sent into shock from the extensive damages. He would be dead soon, Angel thought, probably even if someone tried to help him now.

He turned his focus back to the remaining opponents. They were standing in the living room just inside the door, effectively blocking the way. Angel's only way, except for upstairs, was through the room between the living room and the kitchen and into the kitchen. He could only hope that the fire didn't cover the basement access – his best chance of getting away.

Both of the remaining assassins fired their weapons – one had a crossbow, the other was still carrying the tranquilizer gun. He dodged the darts and caught the arrows. No, there was no way they were going to get him like that, not when he was on high alert like this. They seemed to realize it too.

"This is of no use," Angel could hear one of the men say. "Pull the trigger and fall back."

The trigger? What trigger? Angel feared that whatever they were going to do, he wouldn't like it. He could only watch as they exited the house, and as soon as they had closed the door he moved from his position in the stair, jumping over the banister again. He heard the living room window shatter as something was thrown inside. Angel could hear a faint beeping over the sound of the flames. He didn't even need to approach it – it was pretty clear what it was.

A bomb.

Not that Angel was much for running away, but still – he would rather let up than blow up. Having no plans to stick around and explore up close how powerful the impact would be, Angel made his way to the basement. The door was scorched pretty badly, but still he could enter the basement without much trouble.

It didn't take more than a few seconds until he heard, and felt, the bomb detonate upstairs. Even from down in the basement he could feel the heat. Smoke and flames was coming through the basement door and by the sound of it, the whole stairway was collapsing. Dust and debris came pouring over him – maybe the whole house would go. Angel quickly decided not to stay and find out.

He couldn't spot any suitable blankets in the basement – he would have to run with only his coat over his head to the manhole further down the street. How big of him to lend Cordelia and Wesley his car right now. Well, it shouldn't hurt as much as staying where he was, waiting to be fried by the fires that were completely consuming the house by now.

Hopefully.