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A.M.L, Annie.
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Disaster
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He poured himself a cup of blood, squeezing the last out of the bag and throwing it unceremoniously aside before bringing the cup to his lips. Drinking he reflected over what he had said to Buffy, and what she had said to him. He wondered why it was suddenly so important to him what she thought of him. Why it scratched him when she said that she wanted it to be over. And why it stroked him too gently when she stated that she did think of him...
"Stealthy exit," her voice sounded and moments later she stepped into view.
He swallowed the last mouthful of blood, taken aback by the sight of her.
Lately she seemed to be seeking him out. Why was that?
"Didn't do much good, me being there; thought I'd just go," he murmured, putting the cup down without taking his eyes off her.
"You're right – it didn't do much good, you being around never does, so why'd you come in the first place?"
His gaze turned into a glare and he moved it out of hers, beginning to potter with the cup. She watched him patiently for a minute, then she sighed loudly and he faced her again.
"I've spent a lifetime killing, and you came in here obviously thinking it'd be simple for me to turn my back on all of it! God, why couldn't you just have shut up about it!"
"What are you talking about?" she asked.
"I don't have to prove myself to you," he stated. "To anyone. Least of all myself. I know who I am. I'm comfortable with what I am. As long as I get the sodding chip out, I'm happy. I won't trade that for..."
He trailed off, still glaring at her. She could see how upset he was, but she still had no idea what his point was.
"Neither of us want this," she finally said; the objection within her being silenced effectively. "Can't we forget it? Go on like it never happened? If we agree on this one thing... maybe it'll make it possible."
He looked at her then, in such a way that she felt she could do anything for him if he'd only tell her that he could never do that, he could never forget. Not her, not what had happened... But then the Slayer in her stood towering over those emotions, made them fade to give way to a conviction so deep it wouldn't crumble.
He was a vampire; a vampire was a demon incapable of goodness, tenderness... and love.
"I don't know about your head, pet," he now said, "but mine doesn't work like that. I can't just forget."
She felt the corners of her mouth begin to curl into a smile and damned them both before holding the expression back. Then she said:
"You could try."
"You think I haven't?"
"So try harder!"
"You know you can't either. What happened; happened. We'll have to learn to live with it."
She felt tears stinging her eyes, rising out of frustration.
"I can't," she said. "I can't do this again. I refuse to do this again. Whatever made this happen can take it back. If a god was playing with us, he should be able to start over again. Reset everything to nil and have us..."
"Buffy," Spike interrupted her, "that's not gonna happen."
"How do you know? We'll say a prayer, make another wish, go to bed and wake up tomorrow..."
"It doesn't work like that."
"Don't tell me how it works; you don't know any better than me how it works! I guess you're just fine with it, aren't you? You can sleep, you can eat, you can go on without feeling anything while I have to..."
"I've just about had it with you!" he interrupted, voice raised. "For someone who's so clear on some points, you don't have a clue about other ones, do you? Demons aren't one-sided creatures, Buffy. Perhaps that's what your poof of a Watcher has drilled into you to make the slay easier, but it's not the truth. We can feel and we can long and want and we can love just as well as you can! You think the definition of me is the demon and not the soul – that's how you keep Angel on a pedestal, yeah? What is a soul made of, then? What makes a human a human? I remember everything about my life. I remember every nuance of my mother's eyes and the sound of my father's laugh. I remember the room I stayed in at nan's. The first girl I cared for. I feel all those things I felt when I created those memories, Buffy. The demon in me is blood-thirsty, vicious, raw... it hungers for murder and I've let it lead me willingly wherever it wanted to go for the past hundred-and-twenty-years. But it's not all there is to me, Slayer. ...It's not."
"I don't believe you," she said. "Angel..."
"Angel," Spike again cut in, "had a demon in him so bleeding strong it made the Powers quake in their boots. The soul makes it easier to tap into your sappy, sorry, soft human side. It makes the demon easy to control, because your conscience is clearer in your head... I'm surprised you haven't turned this over and over yourself, after what Angelus did to you."
"I have," she murmured.
"When a soul claims a demon... a vampire... most of them take their own life within a month. The guilt is too much. Angel... I don't know what he did to stay alive for so long without an anchor, but I guess there were reasons for it."
"Acathla," Buffy mumbled, feeling like she needed to sit down and taking a few trying steps backward until she reached the back of the loveseat, resting against it as Spike approached. "He was supposed to open Acathla. It was part of a prophecy..."
"Buffy..."
"I loved him," she said and Spike felt a dagger twist itself into him as he could see on her where this was going. "So much. But he had to go and I had to let him. And I have Riley now, Spike. I love him, I do. And he loves me. If I ask him, I know there's nothing he wouldn't do for me. If he agrees, will you leave?"
He stared at her.
Not where he had thought this was going.
"Am I supposed to believe I'm safe on the operating table under your boyfriend's scalpel?"
"He won't be holding it," she said with a weak smile. "And I'll be there the whole time. You have my word."
He contemplated it.
"The chip comes out," he finally murmured, "and I promise you, I'll leave."
No, a voice said inside her. No, don't do this!
But she knew she had no choice.
She gave a nod, her tears having dried. Rising to her feet she walked passed him and up to the door, not looking back as she exited.
¤
"This is a disaster!" Grei exclaimed. "Tell Bortha at once."
"I have already heard," the large god stated, coming into the room. "Ask Calor to meet me in the parlor. I wish a word with him."
Grei wanted to say something to that, but held his tongue and scurried off to find Bortha's youngest son.
"Ath," Bortha said with a smile at his daughter, who was seated at a table playing Dwindle. "Won't you join me?"
Ath stopped blowing air on the small figures before her, smiling and rising.
"Certainly, father," she said, following him into the large room posing as a parlor.
It wasn't really; it was a large rectangle shaped room. In the ceiling were painted all the constellations, the dots glimmering against the darkness of their backdrop. The floor was made of white marble and the walls were made of crystallized air – which made it possible to walk through them if you were born on that plane of consciousness. Soon Calor entered through the south wall, looking as controlled as always.
"Have you heard?" Bortha boomed, the might of his voice filling the space.
"I have," Calor nodded, stopping by his parent and sibling.
"And what to you find befitting an occurrence such as this? You realize what very well may happen if he leaves that town, do you not?"
"He will not leave," Calor replied simply.
"How can you be so certain of that?" Ath asked and Calor smiled gently.
"It is quite obvious."
"You are overstepping boundaries that are older than the sun," Bortha stated. "I am glad to see you have faith in the objects with which you wish to play this dangerous game – but I do not have as much faith in your abilities anymore. This is why I am sending you there."
Calor paled rather rapidly.
"I'm sorry, what?" he asked.
"You will become human, Cale, for no more than fifteen days – I like that number, it has a nice ring to it – and you will make absolutely sure that what has been foretold is not damaged in any way."
"Father, Fate would not let herself be tampered with..."
"Fate is a fickle thing. A few wrong choices and you have evil inconceivable taking over the entire planet. I cannot stress enough how important this is, my son."
At that he touched Calor's head and the young man disappeared in a twirl of blue light.
"Very good, father," Ath couldn't help but smile.
"You enjoyed that, did you?"
"I must say I did. I tried to warn him, but he wouldn't listen."
"And did you come to me the moment you realized what your brother was up to?"
Ath paused.
"Well, no... but..."
"Exactly," Bortha said, and before Ath could react he had placed her in a blue-light-twirl as well.
¤
"I'm sorry, I just have to bring this up. Was that really necessary?" a boy asked his date as they walked home.
"Was what necessary?" she wondered, at once annoyed.
"I was only talking to her," he said, on the offensive.
"I'm sorry if I can't be more supportive of your interest in your ex."
"Hey. She's not my ex, alright. And there is no interest, except for what she's been up to. She hasn't been back here for a while..."
"Please. I saw your eyes undressing her as soon as she entered the room!"
"I did not do that! What do I have to do to convince you! Really. The only circumstance that'd make me see another woman without her clothes on would be if she dropped from the sky and just happened to land at my feet!"
There was a swooshing sound and then a thud as a naked female form landed a yard away. She was shivering.
The boy stared, mouth agape, and so did the girl until she realized that he was doing the same.
"Nice prank, jerk! If you didn't want a second date all you had to do was tell me!" she exclaimed, turning abruptly and beginning to march down the street.
"Jess!" he called after her. "Jess, we can't just leave her there."
"If you're such a gentleman, why don't you take care of her! Asshole," Jess called back, disappearing into the shadows.
The boy stared at the body, then glanced around insecurely.
"Oh, wow..." he mumbled. "Miss? Are you alright?"
¤
Buffy dragged herself out of bed as the doorbell rang for the second time. She nearly fell down the stairs, regaining her balance and yawning as she reached for the door handle.
"This'd better be good," she muttered, opening the door and having a frown on her brow as she stared at the young man supporting an unconscious woman wearing an ill-fitting knee-length cardigan. "Jonathan?" she then said and he smiled a strained smile.
"I'm sorry, I didn't know where else to go... This... person sorta... fell."
"Is she hurt?" Buffy asked, opening the door wider and stepping forward to help Jonathan with his cargo.
"She doesn't seem hurt. At all, actually. You should see the spot where she landed though," Jonathan replied.
Buffy carried the girl to the couch of the living room, putting her down and checking her for any sign of obvious injury. Being satisfied she straightened up, crossing her arms over her chest.
"She seems fine," she said. "How far did she fall?"
"I didn't see. We were kinda close to a house, but... I don't know, she seemed to come out of nowhere."
"You did the right thing, bringing her here. Was she wearing that?"
"No... that's another thing. She was... in her birthday suit."
"Naked?"
"Very. All over."
Buffy smiled a little.
"If you come back tomorrow... or, later today, I guess... I'll give you your sweater back. She can stay here tonight. When she wakes up she'll hopefully tell us what's going on. I'll let you know, of course."
Jonathan smiled back, then nodded and they walked back up to the door.
"It's been a while," Buffy said and he nodded again.
"Been working," he shrugged.
"Where?"
"Here and there... Mostly here," he said.
"Really?"
"Yeah. I mean, it's alright."
"Yeah," she agreed. "Well... I'll see you later?"
"Sure," he said, heading out the door.
She closed it behind him and walked back into the living room. Finding a blanket she brought it over the sleeping girl, sitting down on the table and eyeing the beautiful face. She felt like she'd seen it before somewhere. And still she knew she couldn't have. It was finely shaped, but the Slayer wasn't sure what nationality it held. The girl's hair was raven black, and she had traces of Chinese around her eyes, but... it didn't add up.
"Weird," she said. "Fits with everything else that's going on."
Thoughts of Spike ached too much at the moment and she rose, clearing her head decisively and walking back upstairs.
¤
Five hours later the Slayer woke. She threw the covers off and rose, stretching as she made her way downstairs. It was nearly eight o'clock on Sunday morning, and she felt surprisingly alert. She knew she had to go see Riley; perhaps that had something to do with it. She headed into the living room, leaning over the still sleeping stranger. She seemed fine. There were no bruises whatsoever. Buffy moved into the kitchen, fixing some breakfast and getting the paper. Nothing special. A few attacks, nothing fatal. Nothing about the party the night prior. Late-night shooting stars sighted. Nothing out of the ordinary.
She finished her pancakes, drank her juice and headed upstairs to get dressed; meeting Joyce on the top step.
"Mom," she said.
"Buffy!" Joyce smiled, hugging her daughter. "What a delightful surprise. I didn't expect you to be home."
"No," she mumbled; then added: "I felt like sleeping in my old bed."
"Is everything okay?"
"I'm... getting there, I think. But, there's something else."
Buffy told her mother what had brought the unknown girl to their doorstep and Joyce's eyes grew rounder and rounder.
"My goodness," she said. "Well, of course she can stay as long as she needs."
"There might be a perfectly good explanation," Buffy said. "But given where we live..."
"Of course," Joyce smiled. "Should I make us breakfast?"
"I already ate."
"But it's only eight-thirty."
"I know. I thought I'd go see Riley, need to talk to him about something, but I'd better wait 'til Miss No-Name wakes up. Since we don't know who... or what she is."
"Do you think she's a what?" Joyce asked, a little worriedly.
"No," Buffy replied. "She seems human straight through. But... that doesn't say a lot."
She muttered the last, stepping passed her mother and continuing down the hallway.
"If she fell she may have a concussion," Joyce said. "If she has one she shouldn't be sleeping."
"Try and wake her then," Buffy called to her as she entered her room. "Something tells me there'd take a lot more to give that girl a concussion," she added to herself, walking up to her closet and opening it.
Sighing she remembered that all the good clothes were at the dorm. Choosing a brown sweater and blue jeans she put her hair up in a ponytail and walked back downstairs.
The couch was empty and as she entered the kitchen the girl was sitting on one of the stools, staring at the toast in her hand as though it was about to attack her. Buffy stopped in the doorway.
"I know it doesn't look it," she said, the girl jerking her head her way and her bright, blue eyes growing wide, "but my mom's actually a pretty good cook."
"I don't know if that was a compliment or an insult," Joyce smiled, Buffy returning it.
"I wouldn't insult you!" she said, coming into the room and meeting the girl's still shocked gaze again. "Hi," the Slayer added. "I'm Buffy."
The girl swallowed, putting her untouched toast down.
"You're Buffy," she then said, voice cracking and she coughed dryly.
"Here, honey," Joyce said; thrusting a glass of juice in the girl's hand and helping her put it to her mouth.
She swallowed in gulps that seemed almost unused to the taste, and then she brought the glass down, licking her lips and looking at the orange liquid, fascinated. Buffy furrowed her brow, exchanging a look with her mother.
"How do you feel?" Buffy asked, the girl suddenly smiling so brightly it lit up her whole face, her blue eyes sparkling to life.
"Wonderful," the girl said. "This is orange juice."
Buffy smiled hesitantly.
"It is," she nodded. "Goes well with that toast."
"I'm sure it does," the girl nodded. "It's just I shouldn't eat solid foods for at least another few..."
She trailed off at the questioning looks on the two women before her; then she smiled again, putting the glass down carefully before gently sliding a hand over the surface of the island she was seated at.
"Do you have a name?" Joyce asked.
"Ath," the girl said.
"How pretty," Joyce commented.
"Thank you."
"So, Ath..." Buffy said, "do you know where you're from? What you're doing here? Why you were jumping off a building last night? Naked."
"Buffy," Joyce protested, but Ath smiled again.
"It is quite alright," she stated. "I didn't jump, I fell. And the clothes... I was streaking," she said. "It was a silly dare."
"So you were with friends?"
"Not really," Ath replied, growing unsure of where she should take this. "I was trying out for a sorority... I'm hoping to transfer to UC Sunnydale and needed somewhere to live, so I... Oh, I feel so stupid now."
"They made you streak?" Buffy asked.
"Well, you don't have to worry about where you're going to live for right now. I know we're not close to campus, but..."
"No, I couldn't accept more help after all you've already done for me. Please."
"Please schmease," Buffy smirked. "And the sorority is a part of UCS?" she added. Ath nodded tentatively. "Hmh. Didn't know we had sororities."
"There's just the one, I believe," Ath said. "And it's... almost a secret society. Well-hidden."
"Oh. Okay, I'm sorry, but I have to go out for a few hours. I'll be back this afternoon, though. Maybe, if you don't have to be anywhere, we can hang. Do the girl thing. Eat ice cream and put cucumbers on our eyes and all that. Might be just what I need."
Ath smiled a little again, watching the Slayer walk out the door.
"Your daughter," Ath said, turning to Joyce, "she has an old soul."
Joyce smiled her agreement.
¤
Calor woke from an itch on his inner thigh. He scratched it and at the sensation he sat up, looking around and realizing where he was. What he was. An earthling. He grumbled, noting that he was stark naked and located in some sort of high shrubbery. How lovely.
The sun was up, filing through the trees standing spread out around wherever he was. He tried to ignore the silent beauty of it, but couldn't. The scent of the wind, the air, the grass and earth. He closed his eyes.
"Oh, my God! Dude!" a male voice exclaimed, making the god's eyes snap open again. "You alright?"
"Absolutely," Calor replied with a smile. "Might you tell me where I could find clothing?"
"I might," the guy said hesitantly, frowning. "You need, like, the whole deal?"
Calor looked down at himself again, then nodded.
"Sure thing, dude... Just stay down."
¤
Buffy straightened her posture as she entered the fraternity house. People were cleaning up the mess left from last night, putting furniture straight and picking up trash. She looked around for Riley and when she didn't see him she headed upstairs for his room, receiving a few odd looks from some of his colleagues.
She stopped outside his door; diffident.
You can't go back, if you do this. You'll start the wheels churning and they'll crush all those unwanted things and it'll go away.
"He'll go away," she mumbled.
Blinking she cleared her throat and raised one arm, knocking on the door. It didn't take long before it opened.
"Buffy."
"Riley," she smiled. "Can I come in?"
He nodded, closing the door as she stepped inside.
"I need to ask a favor," she said as he turned to her.
¤
Buffy walked down the steps of the fraternity half an hour later. She decided she was going to feel light as a feather thanks to Riley's immediate concurrence to her suggestion. That heaviness inside would have to float with it. She walked down the path to the sidewalk and bumped into the shoulder of a student. His dark hair was a mess, his clothes were even worse, but his face was extraordinary. It looked sculpted by a master, and for a second she thought she was suffering déjà vu. Then it passed and she said:
"Oops, sorry."
"No need," he smiled, perfect white teeth in two neat rows. "I'm sorry, is this the way to the dorms?"
"Yeah, you go straight and then you take a left and follow the road until the trees part and you're there."
"Thank you."
She smiled and nodded, heading the other way.
Calor observed her casually. All he had to do was find out where she lived and then he was sure he'd be able to come up with a plan to get closer to her.
First thing's first, he thought, heading for the dorms.