AN: CHAPTER ELEVEN HERE. DON'T KNOW WHAT IT IS AT THE MOMENT, BUT I'M HAVING SO MUCH STORY INSPIRATION THAT I CAN'T HELP BUT WRITE. I DON'T KNOW HOW MANY UPDATES THERE ARE GOING TO BE BEFORE THE WEEKEND, BUT I'LL TRY TO DO AS MANY AS POSSIBLE.
DISCLAIMER: DON'T OWN ANYTHING
RATING: PG-13, MAYBE R LATER ON
Chapter Eleven
Angel managed to get away from the crowd once they had left the large room his lover was using to teach. She was in her element now, talking to others about something she truly knew about. It was truly her area of expertise. She knew more than anyone about fighting against the evil in this world did. And yet she was mostly untouched by the darkness that surrounded her constantly.
He ducked into the first secret tunnel he saw and stood behind its concealed door for a moment. No matter what he told Buffy, he was still wounded from his sojourn in Acathla's hell dimension. And he was so hungry. All those people around him again. He could hear their blood as it pumped through their veins. Angelus was just below the surface, urging him to drink deep, to become the demon his nature said he should be. To glut himself on all those who used to be his friends. And then to take Buffy. To make her a vampire and his eternal slave and consort. To make her his as he should have done months ago and then the two of them could spread a trail of blood and destruction across Britain as he had done all those years ago.
The demon was so close now, urging against the walls of the cage he had built for it in the darkest recesses of his mind. He could almost see it. He could see the thick crimson of the blood, the fires he could spread behind him, the beauty of what Buffy would become as a vampire. He could almost taste the blood, the powerful blood of the witches and wizards, the blood of that irritating Harris brat. He could hear the screams, the begging, the whimpering and the wonderful music of tolling funeral bells. And he could smell it. The gushing blood flooding in pools from broken bodies. The peerless cocktail of fear and despair. And in his mind he could imagine dancing with Buffy in the flames of burning cities.
He could imagine the life they would lead if he turned her as his queen. His power would be unrivalled and hers infinite. They would rule this pitiful dimension; nothing could stand against them. And Buffy would be his forever, his consort and willing-slave. The two of them would dance in the ashes of the destruction they would wreak. And then they would fulfil that ancient and primitive ritual.
He would teach her. Teach her all the parts of that act that he had not had time to show her. He would teach her how the pain could make the pleasure so much greater. And they would have eternity. He would make it that she only had the finest. She would never dress in cotton or wool again. She would be clothed only in the finest silks, leather and velvet. She would drink only the finest blood. And she would be his and his alone. Perhaps he could chain her to his bed. Or he could arrange for her to have an enchanted lead and collar around her neck. He could have her curled naked by his feet, her flesh scatted with his marks of possession. And he would be the only one for her. She would crave no other. She would take no satisfaction from the touch of any other. She would belong to him and him alone.
He leant against the wall of the passage, panting even though he didn't need to breathe. The images were so vivid, so enticing. And all he had to do was reach out and take it. It could all be his. He took a deep, calming and unnecessary breath. He shoved Angelus to the back of his mind, as he deserved to be. He remembered everything he had to fight for; Buffy smiling and laughing while sunlight sparkled gold in her hair, his few painful memories of his parents. He regained his equilibrium. He stood again and made his way through the passage down towards where he knew Snape's potions dungeon to be.
To his luck, he found that Snape had yet to arrive. The class was gathered outside the classroom, all in deep discussion about the previous class. His old friends from Gryffindor stood together, chatting animatedly and so innocently, so unaware of the horrors of the real world. The group from Sunnydale stood slightly separated, not shielded in any way from the truth of the real world, older than they should ever have to be, their shoulders slightly weighed down by the burden of the knowledge of evil that they possessed.
He didn't know where he belonged. He couldn't return to the 'Scooby gang', not after what he had done to them all. He didn't deserve their acceptance. But he didn't think he could bring himself to return to what he used to be. He could barely remember who Harry Potter had been. He could bring names to very few of the faces that had once belonged to his friends. He couldn't be with them and know all the evil in the world. He could not listen to their naivete.
Willow made the decision for him. She waved at him shyly and smiled. The others beckoned for him to join them, though Xander and Cordelia didn't exactly seem enthusiastic. He crossed over to them. Willow spoke when he arrived,
"So Angel, you took a long time to get down here. Are you all right? Not that you don't look all right. You look fine. Not like that. I mean… You look well. You are well aren't you? Buffy said you were hurt. She was worried about you. Not that we're not worried about you, but… Oz, you're supposed to stop me when I do that."
The young werewolf shrugged slightly and smiled at his girlfriend. Angel smiled slightly and answered her honestly concerned enquiries.
"I'm fine now. Just a bit of Cabin fever kicking in. Also, there are lots of people here. I've not exactly been around many humans recently except for you and Buffy."
Oz nodded understandingly. From what Angel knew of werewolves, he knew that the beast was a lot more a part of the man in the time around the full moon. Oz had the advanced senses of all werewolves and also was so close to the moon as to feel the urges of the hunt upon him, the urges of the kill. The others didn't seem to truly understand, but accepted his answer anyway. Then Xander asked,
"Hey, dead-boy, how do you know what cabin fever is?"
Angel scowled,
"I don't know how many times I've told you not to call me that."
The boy smirked in a truly aggravating manner,
"Hey, it's the truth, you're dead."
Angel scowled,
"Yes and that's not exactly something I enjoy. Anyway, if you keep calling me that, then the secret will be out too soon. Also, just because I'm old doesn't mean I don't know some of your terms. I knew when they first used that particular one."
Xander shrugged,
"Whatever, I won't call you dead boy when people can hear."
Angel nodded. Just then, any further conversations were ended as Professor Snape swept down the corridor, his robes billowing out behind him. All noise disappeared as he swept through the ranks of students. He swung open the door to the dank potions lab and walked strode inside with a sneer fixed firmly upon his face. The Gryffindors and Slytherins shrugged, used to this display from the potions teacher every time a New Year came and he didn't get the defence post, and followed him inside.
As was customary, the Gryffindors and Slytherins sat in two different parts of the large room. The group from Sunnydale sat slightly separate, at the back of the dungeon. Snape glowered around the room and then his eyes came to rest on the five at the back. He snorted slightly and asked in a silky tone,
"Mr Potter, I am wondering whether you have learnt anything whatsoever during your absence, other than how to make even more of a nuisance of yourself?"
Oz, Xander, Cordelia and Willow all stared at the greasy haired git in amazement. They couldn't even imagine someone talking to Angel like this. Even when he wasn't Angelus he was still a terrifying person when he chose to be. But Angel was not slightly perturbed, instead he answered in a silky and dangerous voice the four had come to associate more with Angelus than with his soul having counterpart,
"Powdered root of asphodel added to an infusion of wormwood makes a sleeping potion known as the draught of living death. If it is too strong or given in too high an amount it acts like an overdose of a muggle drug and can be used as a poison. Wolfsbane and monkshood are also known as aconite and have no effect on werewolves, despite their title. A bezoar is a stone found in the stomach of a goat that can save you from most poisons, however, its affects are rather like taking the muggle drug ecstasy and it is highly addictive as well as dangerous for the health in the long term."
The entire classroom stared at him in amazement, then Xander said,
"Aren't bezoars those ugly things that hatch in eggs laid by the mother bezoar and act as a mind control thing?"
Willow nodded,
"Yeah, there was a mother bezoar in the basement and we all got infected except for you and Buffy. Buffy fed one of the Gorch brothers to the mamma bezoar, killed the mom and then staked the other brother."
Angel raised an eyebrow,
"I never knew about that."
Willow smiled,
"But I thought you lurked and knew everything?"
Angel shook his head,
"Yes to the lurking, no the knowing everything. This was after that thing with Spike and Dru and that curse wasn't it?"
Willow nodded,
"Oh, then I wasn't lurking then. I spent most of my time back at my apartment or hunting with Buffy."
Xander snorted,
"Oh, hunting, that's what they called it in your day, or is it an English thing?"
Cordelia and Willow both hit him on the head, Angel smirked,
"I hadn't heard about the bezoars."
Willow shrugged,
"Well, there was the thing with the Judge and then you weren't exactly yourself afterwards."
Angel winced. Professor Snape was not pleased with the way the class was going. The five at the back were talking about things that he had only read about and then only as myths. But they were talking as if they were everyday things, things that they were used to fighting. He decided to end the conversation now,
"Potter, five points from Gryffindor for disrupting the class."
The Harris boy snorted,
"One might think he almost didn't like you."
Potter scowled and elbowed the boy,
"He doesn't, shut up."
The boy massaged his stomach,
"Ow, you're not going all evil again are you?"
Potter shook his head,
"No, however much I might enjoy elbowing you in the gut, it doesn't equal perfect happiness."
The boy scowled,
"Somehow that just doesn't make me feel any better. I would like to get in all rights for saying I told you so, when he goes all psycho again."
Potter scowled even deeper,
"I'm not going to go all psycho again, unless you drive me to killing you. At that point your silence will probably cause perfect happiness for me and most of the rest of the planet."
The other three snorted and the boy affected an expression of mock hurt,
"I'm cut to the quick, really. You wound me with your harsh words."
The two girls rolled their eyes and reached out and whacked the top of the boy's head with their fists. The boy yelped,
"Hey, don't do that, you might cause brain damage."
Potter smirked,
"To suffer brain damage, you have to have a brain to damage."
As the boy began to think up a witty comeback to this, Professor Snape spoke again,
"Potter, that'll be another five points from Gryffindor for disrespecting your elders."
He only realised the stupidity of these words when the two girls and the Harris boy cracked up laughing. The red-haired werewolf even cracked a smile. After a moment, the girl, Cordelia, spoke,
"Professor, you're not showing your years much. I have to wonder, where do you get your moisturiser? They're very good. You might ask them if they do shampoo."
Some of the other Gryffindors began to laugh now and Snape snapped at them,
"That is quite enough. Another ten points from Gryffindor. Turn to page 84 of your textbooks and begin to make the potion you will find there. Anyone whose potion does not meet my approval will be in detention every night for the next week."
With much groaning and rustling of paper, the class settled down to the making of the potion. The four visitors started off fairly slowly, but it seemed that Cordy had a bit of a talent for making potions and a good hand and eye for measuring and cutting the ingredients.
Buffy slouched into the dining hall at the end of morning classes and fell into her chair at the head table with a groan. Professor Vector was sitting at the table nearby and turned kindly to her,
"Bad morning?"
Buffy groaned in agreement,
"The worst. I had fifth year Gryffindor and Slytherin first. Then I had first year Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Then it was third year Gryffindor and Slytherin. Then I finished off my morning with seventh year Gryffindor and Slytherin."
The other teacher winced in sympathy.
"That's bad. And I take it you've met the Weasley twins this morning?"
Buffy nodded,
"Yeah, they tried to turn my hair pink, I accidentally sent them to the hospital wing. I thought they'd know better. When I came with Angel, that's Harry, Ron insulted Angel and I beat him into the floor."
The other teacher smiled softly,
"You care about Mr Potter a lot, do you not?"
Buffy sighed,
"It's complicated. He was always there. And I fell in love with him. I didn't know about all this until recently. It's a bit of a shock if you slept with someone who you thought epitomised the older man, then you discover he was actually only born fourteen years previously when you made love. We're complicated. My watcher doesn't want us to be together. My friends don't want us to be together. It's hard. I love him so much, but sometimes it's difficult. I mean. I just wish they could accept my choice."
Professor Vector smiled,
"You know what they say, 'to err is human, to forgive, divine'. What Mr Potter did as Angelus is not an easy thing to forgive."
The slayer was instantly on her guard.
"You know that Harry is Angelus?"
The runes teacher nodded,
"Yes. Do not worry. I am the only one. I know a vampire when I see one and he is a rather famous one."
Buffy smiled, now worried that someone else would make the connection, the other professor soothed her fears,
"Do not be concerned. Others will not make the connection. I did not truly believe it until you just confirmed it for me."
Buffy nodded, and then Angel walked into the hall. He walked in with Buffy's other four friends. He walked straight into the sunlight shining down from the ceiling.
Buffy rose from her seat with a gasp of dismay. But, Angel didn't start to smoke. He merely stood in the entrance to the hall, staring in amazement at the sunlight dancing on his skin. He then stared up at the ceiling, glutting his senses on the sight of a shining blue sky for the first time in a hundred and fifty years. Buffy ran down the hall and wrapped her arms around him, afraid that he might suddenly combust. Willow spoke then,
"It must be because it's just a spell. You said earlier that vampires are immune to most magic, therefor magically produced sunlight would not affect you."
Angel nodded dumbly, now staring at the sunshine glinting in Buffy's hair. She smiled and looked up at him,
"Angel, you look beautiful in the sunlight."
Buffy tilted her head up towards him and reached her lips up to meet his. They were just about to kiss when Cordelia interrupted them,
"As romantic as the whole sunlight thing is, I'd prefer it if the two of you didn't do the whole happy thing in the middle of the hall."
Buffy and Angel sprung apart then and quickly walked back to their seats at the staff table. Angel and Buffy kept stealing looks at each other, though, desperately drinking in the image of what the other looked liked in sunlight.
TBC