CHAPTER 33: THAT COMMUNICATION THING


"You already know what I want."

He had said it, he had definitely said it. It had been the perfect opportunity for her to continue the conversation, maybe even flip the advantage to her. All the years they had known each other, he had always been the one to make the big decisions, act as the one who should have the final say – maybe because he was older, maybe because he was a brooding vampire guy, or maybe because he simply was so hardheaded that he couldn't allow her to have the upper hand. Now he had given her a chance.

And she hadn't taken it.

It was almost seven hours later, and since they had been able to drive at a good pace, they were only minutes from reaching the Motel outside Salt Lake City. Both of them had been completely silent the whole trip. Well, since he had said those words, anyway.

Why had she panicked? It was like, when she finally heard him say what she had always wished for him to say, she couldn't deal with it. Was she having second thoughts? Didn't she want to be with Angel after all? Yes, she really did. Only the thought of him leaving her again, driving off to his own town made her feel… empty. Like it would take away everything she had to live for.

She side glanced at him. He stared at the road ahead, making no move to look back at her. Was he angry? He didn't look angry. He didn't look happy either. Then again, how often did that happen…

Maybe he had known that she would get tongue-tied – maybe that was even why he had said it. Or maybe he had finally taken the big step towards a relationship where he viewed both of them as equals instead of seeing himself as the older, visor party that should make every big decision. And if that was it, she had blown her chance.

"Here we are," Angel said, nodding slightly ahead. He must have seen the jump she made in her seat from the sudden sound. Quickly regaining her cool she looked in the direction he indicated. There it was – the Motel. In the dark predawn hours she couldn't see much even with her enhanced night vision. It was a building – plain, dark, quiet. And sitting completely lonely out here in the desert. No wonder business hadn't been doing so well.

"Um… yeah." She looked at him. He gave her a quick side glance without even turning his head. Was it a silent question? Was he wondering why she had replied his attempt at being open and talkative with… absolutely nothing? Should she say something?

"Uh. Angel?" He gave her another look.

"What?"

"I… I, um. Nothing." She sighed and shook her head. "So this is the place, huh?"

"Apparently."

"It looks… um, it looks… so, hey, how do we get in?"

"Hidden key. The place has almost been emptied, there's only a little furniture left in the basement. The place doesn't exactly need top security to avoid getting raided."

"Guess not."

Angel parked the car under roof in case they would need to leave the motel while the sun was still up. Buffy got out of the car to stretch her legs. It felt good to get out.

Buffy gazed out over the open landscape. It was beautiful – at least she was pretty sure it was. It wasn't always easy to tell at night… without any light. But bathing in sunlight… she was sure the view was magnificent. She could se the horizon slowly turning colors, being just a little lighter than the rest of the sky. In an hour the sun would be up. In two it's warming… deadly beams would lick every part of the motel and the large fields surrounding it. Forcing her inside. She swallowed and turned around. There was no time to think about that now. After all, they were here to change that. It was the idea, anyway.

Inside the motel they found sixteen empty rooms, a huge dining hall, a kitchen and a large room for social activities. Upstairs, that was – and every room had large windows which would make it pretty dangerous for them to stay there. Instead they found their way into the basement, which was still filled with furniture. Buffy put her bag down and sat down on a bed, feeling safe at last now that she was in a confined, small and dark space.

"So this friend of Gunn's… Does he know that we're… um, that we're…"

"He knows," Angel took over. "He wasn't too happy about it at first, apparently. He knew Gunn and his gang, helped them out back in L.A. I guess before he moved here."

"But he… he's okay with it, right? He's not gonna come here in the middle of the… well, day, to shower us with holy water or anything?" Angel smiled faintly.

"No. We're okay."

Buffy had to physically stop herself from snorting. Okay? In what way were they okay? They were out here, in the middle of nowhere, preparing to fight demons that were very likely to kill them when they found out what the intruders were there for… and it all was because of some crazy goose chase to get her humanity back. She had failed, she had let herself get killed and turned, just like hundreds of thousands of people through all times. Why should she get something that no one else ever had, a second chance? No one had helped Angel, 250 years or so ago... no one had helped that girl Teresa that Angelus turned... or Xander's friend Jesse... or that guy Eddie she had met on UC Sunnydale campus last year... or her Mom. Why she and no one else?

"So when do we strike?" she asked, not looking at him.

"Not until tonight. The Mohra's nest is in the woods somewhere, but we can't be sure that the trees will give us shelter from the sunlight."

"Right." She got up from the bed. "So. What do we do until then? What do you do in Salt Lake City for fun?" She realized the bitter irony of her words. After all, they couldn't really leave the motel as long as the sun was up.

"I haven't actually been here before," Angel said.

"No?" she asked, hoping for more information. Anything to get her mind off her own thoughts right now.

"Yeah. I lived in America for… 94 years before I came to Sunnydale. Visited a lot of places, a lot of towns. But never Salt Lake City."

"Huh. So you're not a Utah-fan?" He smiled faintly.

"I just never got around to it. The only thing I know is that the city was founded by Mormons. We could always visit their big temple and see how long we last before they figure out what we are," Angel said with a slight grin, obviously hoping to cheer Buffy up – even if it meant using bad ironic comedy. Still, thankful for his attempt, Buffy returned the smile.

"No matter how exciting that sounds, we are here to fight demons after all."

"You're right. I guess we should study the maps, try to come up with some sort of plan to make this work. Quickly, cunningly, and with… only green bloodshed." Angel grimaced. This cheerful positive thinking really didn't suit him.

"Angel…" Buffy began. He turned to look at her. Was it imagination, or was there something hopeful in his gaze?

"Yeah?"

"Um… nothing. Let's just… Do you have the maps in your bag?"


Ten hours later, late in the afternoon, only an hour or so before dusk, Buffy woke up. Panicked for a second when her peeked senses didn't register where she was, she rolled over and saw Angel.

Right. Basement. Motel. Great Salt Lake…

Slowly, carefully she raised her body and propped herself on her hands. Angel had gone to sleep much later than her, he had been planning, studying the maps and gathered weapons. Of course he was tired. Not to mention the fact that he had been driving the whole night, while she only had stared into the passing landscape. There was no point in waking him yet.

Ever so quietly she slid down from the bed, watching Angel's sleeping form as she backed away against the stairs. He didn't wake up. At least, she was pretty sure he didn't, it wasn't always easy to tell.

Her steps were heavy when her feet made their way through the hallway, heading to the kitchen. She needed blood, and Angel had put the containers in the fridge.

She needed blood. That statement alone was enough to depress her. She was walking here, carefully avoiding all streams of sunlight coming from the windows, heading to the kitchen to drink thick, dark, greasy blood from a pig.

And now, in an attempt to end the blood drinking parts of her life, she was here in some desert she didn't know – didn't care to know – with Angel, risking his and her lives… no, not lives. Not really. Existences.

She wasn't alive. Her body didn't need light, in fact, it would crumble and dissolve to dust in daylight. She didn't need to breathe, and her heart didn't pump blood around her system. She didn't need food, or water… she was a walking corpse, regenerated by a demon. It was funny really – she didn't view Angel as a dead body like that, only herself.

She stopped at the fridge, opened it and pulled the container out. She could see Angel's point. It did smell greasy. Like someone had put a bowel with frying fat or something in it in the sunlight and left it there for a few hours. It smelled like that.

Plus the blood-ish smell, of course, kind of metallic. She had smelled her share of blood over the years, but never like this. Nowadays the thick smell shot up in front of her like a wall, invading her senses, awakening her demon with a start. She had to seize her breathing to avoid inhaling the scent too deeply, which would make the demon even angrier. So she had learned.

The sight of the blood disgusted her, but not her demon – it thrashed and screamed inside her, just as usual. The delicious choice she had to make every time she held a cup of blood in her hand was whether to ignore the repulsion and drink it – thus quieting the demon, or let it go down the drain, and spend the next few hours in fetal position in a dark room somewhere, rocking herself back and forth while she tried to get the demon under control again. She had done it a few times, especially the first days. The visions… the horrifyingly graphic visions of murdering her friends… she would never get them out of her mind. Not even if she ever became human again.

IF. That was the featured word here. If she ever became human again. Only one of those demons had been close to killing Angel a year ago. Now they would face dozes, possibly hundreds – that part wasn't exactly clear. What was to say that they wouldn't be dust within two seconds?

Sure, they could get a lucky break. Maybe they would find a sick or weak demon… if they ever were sick or weak, after all, they could regenerate themselves even if they got cut to little pieces… or maybe they would find only one and be able to overpower it. But what were the odds of that, really? If Mohra blood was such an easy thing to acquire, it would have been done more often.

More often than never.

Buffy put the dirty cup in the sink. There was no microwave here, so she had drunk the blood cold. She could feel the vicious fluid stick to her throat, slowly going down into her stomach. Her demon would be soothed; everything was fine for the moment.

So why did she feel like falling down and dying on the spot?

Slowly she walked back towards the basement. The steps were as heavy in this direction. She couldn't even explain the sudden lash of depression. Of course she was feeling a little down, she had a lot on her mind after all. But why like this? They were getting closer to the goal, she should be upbeat and fit for fight. But she wasn't.

She had realized that facing the Mohra's came with a risk, a big risk of not walking away from it – human or vampire. Not only her. Herself… she felt comfortable with the notion of death. But what if she lost Angel? He would do everything to protect her, sacrifice his own life in a second. He might even sacrifice himself just to get the blood for her. But if going on living came with the price of loosing Angel… she wasn't at all sure that it was worth it. Maybe it was better if they just went back home. At least both of them would still be in one piece. In one piece… and safe.

Well. At least until the Council struck the next time. And they had no idea when that would be, or what they were prepared to do to take them out. Who knew what their next move might be? Poisoned arrows, explosions, ruthless assassins… They had already been through a lot over the years.

It was just too much. Buffy stopped at the entrance to the basement. She didn't feel like going down there. Going down there would probably wake Angel, which meant that he would see how depressed she was, and she didn't want that. Instead she opened the door to another room, entering as soon as she had made sure that no sunlight was currently streaming into it.

The room was big – empty and unfurnished. So very fitting.

She closed the door behind her, walking a few steps into the room. What was she supposed to do in here? She had no idea. Then again, that was pretty much the regular theme with her these days – the having no idea part, that was.

She sank to her knees. And she cried. When the former Slayer couldn't bear her dark thoughts anymore, when they threatened to consume her completely, she could only choose between try – and fail – to swallow them and go on, and to let the tensions out. She did, and it felt good. It felt good not trying to be strong for a few minutes.

Sobbing and whimpering quietly Buffy cried for everything that had been destroyed, just shattered and swept away during the last month. She cried for the fact that she would never hear her mothers soothing voice again, for never getting to bicker with her sister again… she cried for not being able to do her duty and protect Tara and Riley… and for giving up, letting herself become… whatever she was now.

She cried for the fact that her friends didn't seem to want much to do with her anymore, and that the same person… the same being that had made all this mess was willing to risk his existence to try to make things right. He loved her so much, and despite everything… despite the conflicting feeling she had and everything that had happened, she loved him too, so much that she hurt inside.

She cried for not having the slightest idea what tomorrow would hold, and for blowing her chance and treating Angel with the warmth of a cold fish when he finally gave her a say in the future of their relationship. To avoid screaming out loud she bit her lip until she could taste blood, clenched her fists and tried to focus on keeping herself upright.

She cried for minutes without stopping. If she had been human the lack of air would have given her a headache. IF she had been human.

The only thing that kept the minutes from turning to hours was the knowledge that Angel could wake up at any moment, that he could come through that door at any time, and she didn't want him to see her like this. She wiped the blood away from her lip and dried her tears off on the sleeve of her shirt. On shaking legs she got up and stalked quietly into the bathroom that belonged to the empty room and washed herself off before she returned to the basement.

Be brave, she thought to herself. You have to be strong. Just like always.


Two hours later Buffy and Angel headed out into the woods. They had no desire to drag this out, and for all they knew, they could have the Council hot on their heels, which would without any doubt make it harder to fight the Mohra's. Even harder.

Angel had driven as far as he could with the car, but they still had to walk when the small and dark paths in the woods became too narrow for the Plymouth. They were both heavily armed and carried both swords and different kinds of throwing weapons, meant to smash the Mohra's foreheads in case they became too many. If they encountered a group they wanted to kill all but one – more demons meant more chances at getting a little blood, but the risk of getting beheaded or staked was also considerably larger.

Angel glanced at Buffy. He was worried about her. She might keep a brave face and tell him that everything was fine, that she looked forward to… "kicking ninja turtle ass", but he knew her better than that. When he had woken up, she hadn't been at his side, and when she had gotten back, he could smell the tears as soon as she entered the basement. Still she denied it, denied that she was feeling painfully low and depressed.

He just wanted to make things right. Most things he had done… most of the destruction that he had caused in his time he couldn't do anything about, couldn't ever redeem. This time, he had a shot, and he wanted so badly to succeed, even if it meant dying himself. If he could give Buffy her life back, as a living, happy human, it was worth it.

But that was just it. Even if she became human again… would she be happy? Everything that had happened to her… everything that he had done to her was bound to leave scares even if they could reverse the vampire part of it. She would never forget. Her friends would never forget. He would never forget.

He shook his head, trying to get rid of the unpleasant feeling. First thing's first. There would be no humanity at all unless they came through the Mohra meeting successfully.

"Okay, so remember, we're not here to do as much damage as we can, just to collect some blood," Angel said in a quiet voice. Buffy nodded. She froze, stopping dead in her tracks as she heard a sound. Angel heard it too. Just 20 feet or so ahead a large, green ninja like demon passed before them. Luckily they were well hidden behind some bushes and the demon simply walked passed them.

"Is that…?" Buffy whispered.

"Yeah."

They followed the demon quietly. Just when they were pretty sure it was alone three more stepped out of the shadows and Buffy and Angel quickly rethought attacking it right there. Instead they followed the demons back to a cave – presumably their nest. The Mohra's went inside.

Buffy and Angel waited for a few moments before they peeked inside the cave. They could see roughly 50 or so Mohra's – and quickly forgot the idea of storming the cave.

"What do you think?" Buffy asked.

"They're too many to take on at once." As he heard a sound behind him he turned. "But that won't really be a problem since a few of them seems to be out on a nice evening stroll." Buffy turned around and realized that they stood face to face with another five Mohra's, all very angry looking and with their weapons raised.

"Okay fellas," Angel said with a smirk. "We're not here to slaughter your entire race, we just want to get a small blood sample. So you could either give it up willingly…" he raised his large battle axe. "Or we do it the hard way."

The demons didn't bother to answer before they attacked.

"It's always the hard way," Angel muttered before he had to dodge out of the way. Buffy jumped and kicked two of the demons and they were taken aback, but they didn't even fall down. Angel quickly decided it was a good idea to reduce their numbers and swinging his mace, he managed to kill one of the Mohra's by smashing its jewel. It screamed and disappeared in a beaconing light.

Now Angel and Buffy were fighting two demons each. They both held on, barely, but they could feel that just a split second off focus would give the demons the upper hand. And that would mean instant death.

Buffy cut one badly, but it was very keen to keep its wound from her and held a protective hand over it. The creatures obviously weren't so keen to share their blood. One of the demons fighting Angel grabbed him and threw him into a tree. He was stunned for a second but quickly got back to his feet. Buffy was about to smash one of her demons when it swept away her feet, and she fell to the ground.

Angel was distracted when the demon raised its weapon to drive through her and it was enough for one of the Mohra's to get an opening. It lunged forward and drove its sword into Angel's side. He roared in pain and was pretty dazed for a few seconds. Not that a metal sword through the torso would kill him, of course.

It just hurt like hell.

"I hate being impaled!" he yelled furiously as he pulled the sword out. The now unarmed Mohra didn't even have time to move before Angel smacked it and it died. Buffy was on her feet again, but she was bleeding badly from her right leg and she couldn't move very quickly sideways because of it. Just when Angel thought they were winning the fight, he was hit in the back of the head very hard and could feel the taste of blood in his mouth. He turned around and saw another ten demons – reinforcement from the cave that had heard the sounds from the fight.

Uh-oh.

"Buffy, they're too many, we better… Ahh!" Three of the demons fired crossbows at him and he staggered backwards when they hit their mark. He held his breath for a moment, prepared to realize that it was over – but he didn't have to. One of the arrows was dangerously close to the heart – maybe the tip had even grazed it, but he wouldn't die. From that, anyway.

He looked in Buffy's direction and saw that she had a gash above her eye – obviously she had been hit in the head too. She was fighting three demons now and didn't have the time to see a fourth one that was coming at her from behind. It raised its sword and Angel realized that he wouldn't make it over there in time to help her.

All he could do was watch from a distance as the demon stabbed Buffy in the back. She screamed for him, but she wasn't just yelling out of pain. She screamed because another few demons were attacking him and she wanted to get his attention of her and onto them.

"Angel, look out!" He turned around in the last second and moved away from the demon that was aiming to behead him. This was of no use. They were too many, too strong, and too well armed. And they were both badly hurt. If the arrow close to his heart was moved just a few millimeters to the left, he would be dead.

He used his inhuman speed that these creatures luckily didn't have and moved towards Buffy, who was bleeding badly and barely holding up, the sword still stuck in her back, dangerously close to her spine. He helped her to her feet and they ran through the forest as quickly as they could manage, only hoping that the Mohra's wouldn't follow them.