A/N: We're closing in on the end. Chapter 35 will probably be the last one... of this part, anyway. Remember that there's more to it. Much more to it, actually. Just keep reading...
CHAPTER 34: WHEN ALL IS SAID, AND DONE, AND DEAD
Angel hurried inside the motel with Buffy's small body in his arms, taking her down into the basement.
After they had pulled the sword out of her back, she had collapsed in the car on the way back. It wasn't hard to figure out why – she had lost a lot of blood and she had two major things working against her healing; she was a very newly sired vampire and she hadn't ever fed on human blood. Angel on the other hand had, and was much older which was in his favor. His wounds had already closed up nicely.
Angel put Buffy down on the bed and examined her wounds. She was loosing blood from three major wounds, one in her thigh, one on the throat and the one in the back, where the Mohra had stabbed her. It wouldn't kill her… but she might take a very long time to recover. She would need blood to recover, and not pig's blood. Real blood. There was really only one thing he could do… if he wanted her to get better. He thought about it for a few seconds while he broke the arrows in his chest and pulled them out, wincing from the pain. Wounds caused by wooden weapons were always more painful.
Angel made a quick decision. It was a dark one… a serious one, one that should be considered, thought through and dismissed as unethical, insane and straight up evil. Buffy wouldn't like it if she knew, but she didn't, and there was no telling how she would do if he didn't help her. With a last look at her still form – she had even seized her breathing by now – he hurried to his car and drove into the city.
He parked the car in a dark corner in a park. Immediately slipping into stealthy stalker mode, Angel repressed his feelings for the unlucky person that would be in the wrong place at the wrong time tonight. He had done this hundreds of times. Thousands of times. It was as common and well known to him as tying a shoe, or writing his name. He couldn't let anything stand in the way for what he had to do now, not even his soul.
He surveyed the park. He saw a young man with a dog. He couldn't afford the risk of the dog barking and drawing attention to them. An old man was asleep on a park bench. Angel could smell the stench of old alcohol on him and moved on.
He stopped when he saw a tall, well built man in jogging dress walk through the park. Judging by the man's calm pulse and lack of bodily odour, he was on his way to the jogging trails that went into a small forest. Angel followed. The man was young, well trained and probably healthy. And probably strong, for a human, but it wouldn't help him tonight. As the man started jogging, Angel quickly moved to cut his way off.
The man held a steady pace as he jogged through the woods. He didn't even know anyone was following him - he had headphones on, Angel could hear the cheerful, loud disco music playing even from a long distance. He decided to strike before he could get out into the open once more. He waited for the right second and leaped onto the small path. The man stopped dead in his tracks and stared at Angel, but he didn't look afraid, more like annoyed that someone has ruined the rhythm in his jogging round.
"Get out of the way you idiot," he said and made a move to go around Angel. Angel swallowed. There was no time to drag this out. He blocked his way and morphed into his gameface. Now the man looked terrified. He threw up his fists in front of him and obviously tried to look intimidating. Angel punched him resolutely in the face, knocking him out. He slumped to the ground in an unconscious heap. Inside Angel, the demon rejoiced, almost blinding him with its feral fury and bloodlust. And Angel knew that giving it exactly what it wanted might calm it for the moment... but not in the long run.
Angel kneeled beside the man and bit in to his throat. The demon continued to cheer him on. He drank as much as he knew that he could before endangering the man's recovery. He was young and in good shape – he should do fine.
Fighting hard to suppress the demon from draining the man completely, Angel shook himself and hurried back to his car without looking back. Even with his soul safely intact, his demon took great pleasure in hurting humans. And the bad thing was... he did too. It was in him, in his nature. The soul might make him feel guilty about his thoughts and actions, but that was it. It didn't change who and what he was.
And besides, he didn't allow himself to feel any guilt about this particular human. Buffy was more important, and after all, he would be alright.
Buffy was still in the position that he left her when he got back. She hadn't moved at all, but she was still bleeding profusely. The sheets were soaked with dark blood and Buffy herself, she was paler than he had ever seen her. Pale and so light, looking so helpless. He sat down on the bed and pulled her into his embrace. He bit his wrist and put her mouth to the wound. Even if she was wounded and weak, the demon was woken up by the smell of blood and she began to drink. Soon she was feeding strongly and Angel could see that the gash on her forehead was closing up. She would be alright. Buffy opened her eyes.
"Angel?" she groaned painfully.
"Yeah. How do you feel?"
"Like I've been beaten and stabbed…" she said in a raspy voice. "Which might have something to do with the fact that I have been beaten and stabbed," she continued with a grimace. She sat up beside him. Angel was relieved. She'd pulled through and would probably be totally healed up in the morning.
"How did you… How long was I out?"
"For a while. When you got a little fresh blood in your system you came to quick though." Yeah. Fresh blood from an innocent person that I almost killed for you.
"Mm. How about you?"
"I'm fine. Older vampire constitution," he offered as an explanation. He was actually completely healed up by now, both thanks to his age and strength and the young man's blood. Buffy nodded.
"Guess it didn't go too well, huh?" Angel didn't answer her. "What do you think we should do now?"
"Rest," he said quietly, putting his arm around her as she leaned against him. "Until you're healed up again. Then we'll… we'll try one more time." Buffy didn't say anything, but she nodded. Her small hand caressed his larger, gripping it, begging for comfort so badly. She turned her head and looked at him, her green eyes filled with so much pain and confusion.
Their lips met in a soft kiss, a kiss begging for mutual forgiveness, hoping for comfort and relieve of pain in a dark, difficult world. It must have been minutes before they broke it off.
"You almost left me today," Buffy whispered.
"Not just me," he said. "But we're here, and we're okay." Buffy felt tears burn behind her eyelids, burn and threatening to well over at any moment. She wanted to fight them back, to stay strong. But she couldn't.
"Angel, I felt like… I lost you. Again. When he stabbed me and the other two attacked you, I thought…" she sobbed quietly, not caring if he saw her cry. He had already witnessed her ultimate surrender first hand. She didn't need to keep her stiff upper-lip in front of him. He caressed her face softly, wiping her tears away, understanding her feelings.
"Shh… We're fine. We pulled through."
"We can't ever be sure of anything. Not ever." Buffy touched Angel's face with one hand. She kissed him again, and if felt so familiar, so comforting. They were both room temperature – and still he seemed to warm every part of her that he touched. He was her home. Her other hand slowly made its way to unbutton his shirt, and immediately, he tensed.
"Buffy, we shouldn't…" Angel said weakly. The situation and his own words sent a cold chill down his spine. This scene had played out before, almost three years ago. Him hesitating, Buffy for it – the "it" that could possibly lead to much needed comfort and beautiful memories – or horrifying destruction.
"Shh. You said it was up to me… You said that I could choose. Guess what? I'm choosing."
A part of his mind screamed out to him to walk away, always stay on the safe side, never take risks… Yet something told him that maybe they needed this. Comfort, solace in a world that had done nothing but toying with them for the last few months. Hell, the world, the mighty Powers That Be had NEVER done anything else than screwing with them, had they? His head filled with conflicting thoughts, he felt himself give in.
The next morning, Angel awoke early from the sun shining in through one of the small basement windows. He turned his head and looked at Buffy, who was still asleep peacefully in his arms.
Angel felt sad and happy at the same time. This was the first morning after with Buffy that hadn't been a disaster, and the only reason to why it wouldn't be a disaster this time was because through the whole night he'd been telling himself that the small, perfect figure that was with him should have been alive and warm with a steady strong pulse. Just thinking about that… thinking about why she wasn't alive made it easy to keep the happiness well within the "perfect" marginal.
He didn't know what the future would hold. He rarely did, but even less so now. Either Buffy would become human again… and if she did, he didn't know how he would put a stop to the happiness. The other alternative was that she would stay as a vampire and then there was her curse to consider as well. Would they ever going to be able to be together without worrying about one of them, or both, turning evil? He sighed. It was too early for brooding.
Suddenly his head snapped up as he heard something upstairs. A little early for visitors, he thought as he gently released himself from Buffy's grip. She didn't even stir in her sleep. It had been a long night and her body was still busy with healing its wounds. He put his pants on and headed upstairs soundlessly.
He stopped as soon as he came up the stairs. He could see a man, more precisely one of the Council's assassins, searching through the cabinets and bags in the kitchen. The kitchen door was open, the guy must have broke in. Moving ever so quietly Angel moved inside the kitchen, carefully avoiding the blistering sunlight coming from the open door..
"Looking for something?" he said. The assassin flinched visibly, gripped his weapon and spun around.
"Don't move!" he said commandingly, holding up a crossbow, as if thinking that Angel would actually follow his orders. "I will fire." Not even giving Angel the chance to answer he did just that, but the vampire was ready. He caught the arrow dangerously close to his chest and smelled the tip.
"Poison. Killer of the dead. Humming an old tune, are we?" Angel shook his head and threw the arrow to the side. "Been there, done that. Or didn't you get the memo?" The guy grinned.
"Perhaps so, but this time you don't have any perverted Slayers around that can cure you. You killed one and the other is safely locked away in prison where she belongs." Angel sighed.
"So. Why are you here? 'Cause you know, feels like I have the right to know since you were rummaging through my things."
"Why should I establish a conversation with a vampire? It's sick," the guy said and pursed his lips. "The reason I'm here…" the guy inched closer to the window. Angel didn't fail to notice it. "…is to kill two vampires!" The man yanked the rope, pulling away the blinds, letting the warm morning sun stream through the window. The kitchen was bathing in sunlight and Angel was in the middle of it.
The guy probably expected Angel to burst into flames immediately like the common fledgling vampire that probably constituted his entire experience with actual vampires, but being 250 years old – he didn't. Instead Angel lunged at the guy with a growl and pinned him against the wall, practically shivering with predatory rage, his demon cheering and trying to push itself to the surface even further. The pain from his sizzling bare back only spurred his anger.
"Maybe you think you're dealing with Angelus here," Angel snarled between clenched teeth. "Would make things nice and clear, wouldn't it, hm? Well, you're not. But if you do anything to Buffy… I will give each – and – every – member – of the Watcher's Council a private tour through every file they have on me, complete with demonstration. That's a promise. And trust me. If it comes to that, you'll wish that you were dealing with Angelus."
Angel wanted to end it, his demon longed for it, and that was exactly why he couldn't do it. If he killed the guy here, the demon would become even more infuriated and frustrated, and he wasn't sure that he could control it. Not now, when fresh human blood was still coursing through his veins. It might become too much.
Instead Angel pushed the guy out the kitchen door roughly, rejoicing inwardly as he fell and slammed into the concrete outside. He caught a glimpse of his terrified face before he slammed it shut. Angel took his black overcoat that he'd left in the kitchen and put it on to be able to move through the sunlight again without putting his body through any more scorching heat.
It was the loud thumping upstairs that woke Buffy up. She stretched out and smiled to herself. As soon as she awoke she felt the claw of her demon from inside, felt its anger and its hunger, but not even that could spoil her surprisingly good mood. Last night had been… well, special to say in the least. Not perfect. How could things ever be perfect now? Or at all? But it had been nice, and she had felt… safe. It was funny, really. The same thing that had caused the return of Angelus – twice, in a way, had made her feel safe tonight. She wondered if Angel had felt safe too. She rolled over, expecting to see him.
Only he wasn't there.
She didn't even notice that her hands started trembling. It spread to her arms, and her leg… she clenched her teeth and almost felt as if the room had started spinning. Hysteria and panic was threatening to overwhelm her. It couldn't have… He couldn't have. He just couldn't. She couldn't handle it again. Not ever.
In her dazed state of mind she could see herself call Giles to get her friends to safety… she imagined that she would have to steal a car that she couldn't actually even drive… then the wild hunt to catch up with him before he reached Sunnydale would follow. She could even feel the shame it would cause her to make that call to Giles… What would he say? She got up from the bed and started dressing herself, her hands still shaking.
What would he think of her?
Her thoughts were stopped abruptly when Angel came striding down the stairs. She froze and stared at him. As soulful as ever. She blinked once. Twice. Was her really there? He really was. Her body was still shaking, but now because the tension was relieved, the shock lifted from her shoulders. She couldn't hide her relief when she hurried towards him, meeting him halfway from the stairs and embracing him in a tight hug.
"Thank god you're here." Her words were choked and so silent that he wasn't sure that he had heard right.
"Hey." He let his hand run over her face, giving her a worried look. "Are you alright?" She swatted him in the arm. He flinched, not because of the pain, but because it wasn't quite the reaction he had expected.
"No, you idiot!" She exploded, throwing her hands up. "Do you have any idea what I thought when you weren't here?" His expression was confused for a second, before realization dawned on him and it turned to shame.
"Oh. Buffy, no… You thought… No. I'm so sorry."
"You better be," Buffy murmured, not really angry at him. She was just so thankful that he was alright and… intact.
"I didn't mean to frighten you," he said softly. "But I heard something upstairs… it was one of the Council guys." Immediately Buffy turned serious, fear clawing at her again.
"Oh no."
"It's okay, I scared him off for now. I guess it's likely to say that we haven't seen the last of them…" Buffy gave him a worried look and he tried to keep the calm in his voice. "Don't worry. We can handle them."
"Yeah." Buffy started pacing around the room. "Yeah, I know we can handle them in a fair fight, but these guys aren't very honorable, remember. If they are out to kill us they will do whatever it takes to get the job done. I mean, we are talking about guys that were totally fine with murdering Faith in cold blood, and she was human." And we're not, she added bitterly in thought. She stopped and looked at him.
"You're right. We'll have to be careful." Angel agreed. Buffy nodded, crossing her arms over her chest, standing somewhat uncomfortably.
"Are you really okay?" Angel asked, kicking himself mentally for asking such a stupid question. Of course she wasn't okay, he could see it from a mile away. Spike would be sensitive enough to see that she wasn't okay. Their first encounter with the Mohra's had failed, they had nearly been killed… and to top that off, he had started this day by scaring her half to death. Well, more to death…
"I'm… I mean, I feel…" She looked at him. "I'm okay. Really."
"Really."
"Really. I'm tired. Pissed at the turtle-thingies. But I'm okay." Angel nodded. "Tonight was… well, it was… intense. Um… nice." She glanced warily at him and he smiled faintly.
"Don't… don't you think so?" Her voice was uncertain, wary… scared, even. He looked sadly at her. Oh, how much of her he had destroyed. She was insecure, unsure of herself, completely lacking the self esteem she should have. She looked like the morning after their first time together, the first time she had gotten smacked back by his words. And the second time, the last time… things hadn't been a whole lot nicer, when he had been slowly loosing his soul piece by piece.
"Of course," he said quickly. "It was amazing. Uh… a new experience." She frowned slightly. "You know, with the… waking up and lacking a headache." She nodded knowingly, looking down.
"So you're okay too?" she asked, hiding a small, satisfied smile.
"I am." She looked up at him.
"So if you're fine, and sure that we can take the Council, what's with the pensive face? You have pensive face." Angel shrugged.
"I always have pensive face," he murmured.
"Yeah, well, pensive-er face."
"There's just so much going on," he sighed. "Not just the Council." No, he added in thought. Also the fact that I have no idea what we're going to do about the Mohra's… that I don't know how to make things better for you… not to mention that I can barely control my bloodlust after feeding off an innocent man for you yesterday. Some things were just better left unspoken.
"It's a mess. Don't I know it," Buffy muttered. "Um… maybe I could call Giles… before we try again." She looked at him. "We are trying again, right?"
"Of course."
"Maybe he's found some new weaknesses. You never know."
"No… I guess you never do."
A few hours later, as soon as it was late enough to contact Sunnydale, Buffy called Giles to give him an update and quiz him about the Mohra's weaknesses. Unfortunately he didn't have any good news. They were known to be very hard to kill, it was a certain fact. It was pretty logical – if they weren't, their race would be extinct. They would be constantly followed by bounty hunters and their blood would be priceless on the black market.
However, according to Giles they were as sensitive to fire as many other demon species…
"We blow them up," Angel suggested.
"What?" Buffy stared at him as if he had grown a third eye. Blow them up?
"We blow them up. A bomb, or several of them if need be, of suitable size – light it, throw it into the cave and watch the Mohra's become tiny pieces."
"Are you… serious?" She frowned. "Or did someone put whiskey in your blood?"
"No, no, think about it. It could work. We don't need them alive, we only need their blood. Blowing them up won't extinguish them since they will be blown to pieces, leaving their jewels unharmed, so we can still collect the blood."
"Won't they regenerate themselves, in a new very pissed of variety?" Buffy asked.
"Probably, but we have some time. Last time it took the demon several hours to regenerate itself and I only stabbed it that time. We could kill them all before they have time to get back from little pieces. Or just take a little blood and run like hell." Buffy thought about it for a second. As crazy as it sounded, it might actually work.
"Let's do it," she said, looking at him. "Nothing ventured, nothing won, right?" He smiled at her.
"That's right. As soon as we have all supplies, we'll go blast ourselves some Mohra's."
Outside the motel in she shadows, a green creature listened to the two vampires talking inside. Together they might be powerful, those bloodsuckers, but there was one pivotal thing they didn't have – the ability to be outside at daytime, in the sunlight.
Not that it mattered, not that any of it mattered really. The end of days had begun, and not even the righteous vampire couple would be able to stop it. Not like this, and not now. And there was a way to make sure that they never would.
With the great darkness coming…
For anyone of us that falls, ten shall rise.
