Here we go with the second part. Hope you enjoy. Reviews and feedback are always appreciated :)
Chapter Eighteen
Part Two
"Oh my god!"
Jenny abandoned her place at the messy desk and rushed over to help the exhausted kids who were struggling through Giles's doorway.
"Yeah, sorry for the crash visit," Oz said with a heavy breath as he and Willow half-dragged Mike into the apartment with them. Giles, whose face had been a priceless expression of surprise when he had answered the door to the dramatic scene, quickly gathered himself and relieved them of their friend's weight as Jenny ushered the stumbling group inside and bolted the door securely shut again behind them.
Giles helped Mike hobble across the room to the worn sofa, where he gratefully collapsed.
"Are you alright? What happened?" Jenny scanned the remaining three intently, anxiously touching their faces and arms to help assure herself they were more or less okay. Oz and Annie exchanged a sombre glance.
"Ran into trouble," Oz finally answered in his usual succinctness. Annie flinched almost unnoticeably, and quickly walked over to join Mike and Giles.
"They came out of nowhere," Willow was mumbling, still slightly in shock with everything that had happened.
"Jenny?"
Giles stood up from examining Mike, a grim expression on his tired features. Jenny immediately went over to them, Oz and Willow close at her heels. Mike looked distinctly uncomfortable with all the attention he was receiving but agreed to let Jenny look at him. It wasn't the first time the magically gifted teacher had tended to their injuries after all, though he was very aware of Willow, Annie and Oz who hovered around the sofa, watching him with concern.
"What happened exactly?" she questioned again, not raising her eyes from her hands that were pressing experimentally against Mike's chest.
"Some dumb vamp got the better of me for a moment. It's no big deal. I'll be fine, really. I –- Ow!" His casual attempt to shrug off the attack was hindered a little with Mike's undignified yelp as Jenny managed to find a particularly sore muscle.
"Glad to see at least your ego isn't bruised," she said with an innocent smirk. Willow tried to hide a grin and Oz's lips twitched as Mike shot them a scowl.
"Well, I don't think anything is broken," she announced, sitting back on the sofa and giving him an appraising look. "You've been lucky, considering. But you do have some bruised ribs and pulled muscles. Hmm, I might have something for that," she continued thoughtfully.
Willow zoned out of the rest of the conversation and slumped against the wall, closing her eyes in relief. It felt like everything had been racing in fast speed ever since that first moment of attack and she knew she hadn't given herself a second to process anything. She could feel it all there, swirling at the edge of her mind dauntingly, but she willed it back for a few moments longer.
After another minute, Jenny stood up and moved through to the kitchen where she began rummaging through the cupboards, silently followed by Oz. Giles was standing at the end of the sofa, looking thoroughly worn out. "I'm sorry," he uttered quietly.
Mike looked up at him with a frown. "Thanks…but it's not your fault. You didn't kick the crap out of us in that alleyway"
Giles gave a humourless chuckle. They were wrong; it was his fault. He'd been damn near obsessed recently, and the ones he cared about were paying the price.
Willow lifted her head off the wall. "Yeah," she agreed. "And besides, we did manage to check out that warehouse after all," she went on encouragingly, trying to give the dejected Watcher some sense of a silver lining.
Giles looked up with cautious interest. "You did?"
"Well," she quickly amended, "Oz and Annie did." She went quiet again, remembering the dulled horror that had tinged his eyes when she'd asked what had happened there. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bright side after all, she thought sadly.
The kettle began whistling from the kitchen before it was quickly removed from the stove. Willow glanced over, trying to spy what the gypsy was brewing up, but she was soon distracted as Oz re-emerged into the living room. She looked down at the folded cloth in his hand and raised her eyebrows at him. With a patient expression, he reached out to let his fingers skim the fragile bone at her wrist in silent answer. A fiery jolt tingled through her arm that had nothing to do with the injured joint.
"Oh," she breathed, feeling dimly foolish but unable to really focus on the emotion in the heat that had suddenly spread to her face. Quickly breaking away from his gaze in a desperate effort to control the blush that she could feel lurking just behind her cheeks, she moved to take the wrapped ice cubes from him. She was confused however when he stepped away and motioned for her to follow.
They sat down at the kitchen counter stools and she obligingly laid her arm across the surface to let him carefully press the sharp, cooling ice against her throbbing wrist. Willow made a face at the biting contrast of the frozen pack on her warm skin but she breathed through it. Oz glanced up apologetically, but she smiled at him.
"I know you don't handle thanks that great but – well, you know," she teased softly.
He gave her a curious look and she quickly glanced off towards the kitchen. She busied herself with watching Jenny's methodical actions as she laid aside the pestle and added the crushed herbs to the simmering liquid on the stove. A fragrant smell tickled Willow's senses as the pagan carefully poured the hot drink into a mug on the side. "Oh! Comfrey Leaf!" she exclaimed excitedly as the name of the familiar smell came back to her. "I'd have never thought of that," she commented quietly in admiration.
Jenny smiled as she finished the final touches to the medicinal potion. She'd become quite adept at this kind of magic since she'd been in Sunnydale. There had been more than enough reasons to practice, unfortunately. Of course, it helped that it was in her blood to begin with. Giving a last stir, she eyed the finished product critically before nodding to herself.
"Yes, the healing properties are quite potent if you-" Her conversational tone dropped when she turned and saw them at the counter. "Willow," she frowned; every note in her voice a reprimand. "Why didn't you say something?"
The girl lowered her gaze and shifted guiltily. She tried to pull her arm back but Oz closed his fingers around her hand and kept the ice firmly in place. "It doesn't hurt that badly. I more or less forgot about it really"
Well that was a big fat lie. The twisting ache had been getting steadily worse for a while and although she had forced herself to ignore it up until now, once the adrenaline of danger had begun to subside, the pain had started coming back with a vengeance. She shot the teacher a sheepish look and judging from the look on her face, she clearly wasn't buying her oh-so-brilliant lies.
With a disapproving sigh, Jenny shook her head and headed out the kitchen. "Here." She handed the mug over to Mike, who was curled up in the corner of the couch.
Grasping the offered cup tentatively, he gave the still smoking potion a dubious look. "Um, it's not that I don't trust you Miss Calendar…"
Jenny rolled her eyes at the boy, who was holding the pungent drink as far as possible from his face and eyeing it with suspicion. "Then drink up," she commanded gently. "It will do you more good than a night in the hospital, I assure you."
With an apprehensive expression, Mike sighed in resignation. "Bottoms up," he toasted weakly and took a large gulp. He resisted the urge to pinch his nose as he drank; it may have been magical but it was no treat for the taste buds, that was for sure.
"You know, if you add cinnamon or camomile, it might take the edge off it" Willow mused quietly from the corner. The quest to make magic more pleasing on the senses had always intrigued her; it was just a matter of being a bit creative. She was sure she could spice up Jenny's potions with nice flavours if she thought about it; however, her attention didn't stray for very long.
The ice was serving its purpose dutifully, bringing down the slight swelling around the joint, and she was very thankful. The 'getting looked after' part made the 'getting hurt' part almost worth it. Oz gently turned her hand, his fingertips grazing her palm, as he readjusted the pack. Willow chewed her lip to keep from grinning like an idiot. Warmth sparkled through her skin; a bright contrast to the numbing ice. His tender concentration on her was so reminiscent of their old relationship, that it was almost disconcerting. Willow felt trapped in a déjà vu. Yet as much as she longed to indulge in the memories, she reluctantly forced herself to refocus on the reality, knowing it would only hurt all the more when he looked up to meet her eyes; sweet concern and care in his gaze, but no recognition or love that would have once been there.
"Ahem." Giles cleared his throat from the other side of the room, causing heads to look up in his direction expectantly. "Uh, Willow mentioned you were able to explore the area," he looked to Oz and Annie in turn and was not heartened by their expressions. Still he pressed on resolutely. "What did you find?"
It was a gently demanding question and Oz knew he deserved an answer. They all did. He let his hand slip from Willow's and stood up to face them. He glanced over to see Annie look up briefly from where she had slumped on the staircase, but she quickly dropped her head over her knees again and shuddered. Guess he would be fielding this one. He could feel Willow's curious gaze from next to him and the waiting stares of the others. He met Giles's eye solemnly though he spoke to the room at large. "It was an awakening nest"
There was a pregnant pause as his quiet words sunk in. Annie huddled further into the step, as if the announcement was a physical blow she tried to recoil away from.
"Dear Lord," Giles breathed; not so much shock as sheer weariness coating his voice.
"How many?" It was Jenny who broke the silence next, eyes sad and tired as she looked to Oz.
"About three or four I'd say," he said, mind flickering over the scene again in fresh analysis.
Her eyes widened briefly, before she gave a small nod in grim acceptance. Her gaze was torn between him and Annie; face full of pained sympathy.
Oz leant back against the wall, addressing no-one in particular. "I think it was the clean up crew that we intercepted"
"What?!" Mike stumbled and swayed as he pushed himself off the sofa, his voice incredulous. His face was flushing with fresh anger and he looked very much like he wanted to go another round with the vampires that had nearly broken his bones.
Jenny rushed forward as his legs buckled and firmly eased him back down, against his protests. "Michael!" she scolded, exasperated. "I said the potion would help with the healing but it's no substitute for rest – which is what you need."
Mike grumbled but quietened at a sharp glare from the teacher. A hesitating voice spoke up quietly.
"Um, not to sound too much like the clueless new kid, but I kinda think I missed the - explanation - part here?"
Oz looked back to see Willow eying them all with nervous curiosity, a faint frown between her brows as she tried to follow the conversation. She didn't know. Of course, why would she? She had never been here to see the town disintegrate into a living nightmare like the rest of them. For a moment, he deeply envied her and the better world she claimed to have come from. What were things like for them there? What would it be like to live in a reality without all this? He couldn't bear to see the innocent confusion in her eyes; the innocence they were stealing from her every second she stayed in this world. Why would she ever wish to remain here?
He dropped his gaze in avoidance; he really didn't want to elaborate on the depressing topic, however obligated he felt. Thankfully Jenny, ever the composed co-ordinator, took up the task a few moments later.
"It's...We've been seeing this pattern spring up over the last few months," she explained slowly, voice gentle and calm, just as a doctor would break bad news to a patient. "They target small groups and snatch them together – friends, family – and imprison them all in a secure place. They don't kill them; not right away. We believe what they do is pick out a select few -- to turn" Jenny paused to take a breath, but the wide-eyed horror on Willow's face told her she had already filled in the blanks for herself. The teacher shook her head, her expression one of mingled apology and disgust. "It's a particularly cruel practice in barbarity."
"It's sick," Mike interrupted in a cold voice. "Twisted. They lock them up, helpless and terrified – waiting for the inevitable; but that's not enough. They drag one friend away, one daughter or brother, and make them like them." His eyes were staring straight ahead, as if he could see the whole perverse performance playing out in front of him with each word. "Throw their dead bodies back in with their families and then just wait." He finally looked over and caught Willow's eyes. He swallowed hard, but she had to know. "Wait for them -- to wake up"
Willow trembled and turned her head away. She could feel the shocked tears building behind her eyes and she quickly shut them. Mike was right. It was sick. It was carefully devised torture of the worst kind. Her mind jumped backwards into dark memories and she realised just how worthy this tactic was of the Angelus who had tortured them last year. Of the plans he'd had for all of them; for Buffy…Willow quickly opened her eyes and remembered where she was.
And they…they had seen it. Her gaze slid to Oz but he wasn't meeting anyone's eye. His whole body perfectly still and face carefully blank; a beautiful but cold statue. Every natural instinct in her was shouting and begging to go to him; to reach through his façade in the way only she had ever been able to, let him grieve in her arms and make the world shine again for him. But she couldn't. It wasn't her place, not anymore. She didn't know him like she once did; she didn't know how he would react. This reality had changed things, changed everyone; there was a darkness and anger there now. She feared making it worse. The tears crawled up her throat and she drew her eyes back to the icepack she still held to her skin, clutched under numb fingers.
"But -- why?" She wasn't even aware the whisper had left her lips until she heard Mike give a humourless bark of laughter from the sofa. He quickly winced as he strained all the wrong muscles and spoke through clenched teeth.
"Because they can. Because they want to prove there's nothing they can't do and there's nothing we can do to stop them."
Jenny frowned sadly at the kids, hating to hear the bitter and bleak cynicism that had taken over their lives. "Well, judging from what we know about the Master, I would say that these nests must also provide some practical benefit to him. I imagine he sees it as an –- initiation of some kind; baptisms by fire, so to speak. When vampires first wake, they can be disorientated and vulnerable to attack. By enclosing them with - easy prey…" There was a shaky sigh from the steps and Jenny looked over in concern, before quickly moving on. "They ensure they learn to fight and feed right away, driving away the last traces and memory of their human lives in the same swipe. The Master is moulding the nature of his followers, making them into soldiers. By capturing their savagery from the moment of birth, turning them against those once closest to them and making sure they have the strength to survive, he succeeds in cementing their loyalty to him. It's to prove their mettle; wipe away any lingering weakness."
Oz was barely listening. It was nothing he didn't know already. He'd known it from the moment he saw the destruction in that room; only newborn vampires tended to be that messy and careless. It was a horrific way to die; torn apart by one who had been by your side a few hours ago, someone you were powerless to save and helpless to stop. He didn't want to imagine what they went through; ripped away from the ones they loved, leaving them defenceless and distraught until they were returned. Killed and changed only to be let loose back into their midst to slaughter the weaker creatures at will. Like a cat amongst the pigeons. Like a wolf amongst the lambs. Oz mentally grimaced at the unwanted voice that slipped through his thoughts.
"There has to be something we can do. We have to stop them." Willow was trying hard to shake off her shock; familiar determination settling over her features. The kind that came from love of a life as a Slayerette and some that was just pure, stubborn Willow.
"Hey, if you have any genius, bright ideas -- be our guest" Mike muttered sarcastically, slumping back on the sofa. Oz cast a low frown in his friend's direction as Willow retreated into subdued and thoughtful silence.
"I think I'll make us all something to drink," a weary Jenny announced quietly, heading back into the kitchen. "It's been quite a night."
"I need to get out of here." Annie stood up stiffly and came down off the staircase, aiming for the front door. Eyes flickered in her direction but no-one attempted to stop the young woman as she let herself out of the house.
Giles leaned against the mantle over the fire, suddenly tired. More than tired, he felt exhausted. Done in; beaten. He'd had barely five hours sleep the night before and less than four the night before that. He knew he was running on an empty tank but there was too much to be done; yet no matter how much he did, they never seemed to get any further. The bad news kept on coming, wave upon wave, and he suddenly felt flattened by it all. "I should never have sent you there," he muttered abruptly.
Willow looked up, shocked at the bitter guilt in his voice. "Giles, you weren't to know. Besides, we all got out. We're fine – see?"
"Yeah, well I mean -- I've had worse," Mike said ruefully as he eyed the Watcher with light scrutiny. "We were bound to stumble across one of those places again sooner or later anyway. It wouldn't have made much of a difference, and it was better we found out now, really."
But Giles shook his head, deaf to their assurances. He rubbed his fingers against his temple, warding off the headache that was beginning to thump behind his eyes. His worn face was creased with tight lines of the same blame and regret which lay so heavy across his heart. "How can you say that? You could've been killed tonight on that stupid assignment!"
"We could be killed every night!" Mike retorted loudly. "Whether we go or not! And personally, I'd rather go down at least trying to fight back!"
Willow stared at Giles. She'd never heard the Watcher sound so defeated; like he was on the verge of giving up, surrendering to the inevitable. He couldn't give up! That was so – so un-Giles! Giles didn't give in, didn't let them stop fighting to make the world a better place. He had dedicated his whole life to stopping the spread of evil, to helping people, he was their guardian and teacher – he kept them right. He was supposed to be steady and sure -- to be the adult, to make the calls no-one else could and have the knowledge that would always let them save the day. He always helped them, always knew what to do. He worried and he fussed and he sighed in exasperation – but he didn't quit! They needed him to be there. She needed him! She needed him to still be the Giles she knew so well. Willow felt the panic burn and choke in her chest. She couldn't do this alone!
"We're fools. I'm so sorry," he murmured tiredly. Anger that rarely broke the surface, rose up through him suddenly. All the anger and frustration he felt over his own reckless failures that continually back-lashed against these young kids. Against those who put themselves out there on the front lines of a nightly war, all for the misplaced trust they had in his dubious leadership and supposed wisdom. How could he allow them to take all the risk and danger while he sat at home? And doing what? Reading! Futile research? Huddled away with his books - hiding!
Turning his back on their incredulous stares, he plucked off his glasses and rubbed his eyes harshly. He was disgusted with himself. What good was he in this war? He was a crumbling old man, a faded shadow of a Watcher without a Slayer, sending children out to risk their lives! Stuck in his comforting mounds of musty books, thinking he would find the answer to saving the world in the encrypted pages of a thousand year old tome, while people continued to suffer and die every day for his incompetence. He reluctantly pushed his glasses back on and blinked at the messy towers of literature which lay stacked across his floor, that he and Jenny had been working through not an hour before. He had never felt such a strong desire to kick the cowardly, safe books over and send them crashing to the ground. He felt so helpless.
"Giles don't talk like that!" Willow ordered desperately, getting to her feet. "It's not your fault – none of it is! We fight because we want to help! Yeah, we get hurt but it's the right thing to do -- and you know that!" Frustrated when she got no response, she looked around for more back up and suddenly noticed that Oz had disappeared.
Jenny returned to the room just then and Willow immediately made a bee-line for her.
"What's going on?"
"Giles is having a crisis of faith," Mike answered without much humour.
Willow clutched her arm in a silent plead, already knowing that the young teacher would get through to the depressed Watcher better than any of them. Jenny's gaze softly probed his stiff form by the window, the corners of her mouth turned down slightly in concern.
"Rupert?"
Giles's shoulders seemed to relax a little at her soothing voice, and he finally looked up as she crossed to his side. She stroked her hand lightly down his arm, a small frown on her face as she studied his eyes. "Tell me," she whispered softly.
Giles held her knowing gaze for a moment before he ducked his head with a deep sigh, bringing their faces closer together. He closed his eyes, lips moving quietly in hushed tones as Jenny listened. She nodded slowly, raising her hand to brush at his untidy hair in such a tender gesture that Willow suddenly felt uncomfortable being so close. Picking up Mike's empty mug, she hastily removed herself to the kitchen, where she began the awkward task of doing the washing up, one-handed. Poor Mike, being confined to the sofa, became very interested in Giles's tattered throw that covered the back of the couch. Fortunately, it was only a few moments before both adults moved through to Giles's study to talk more privately.
"Way to run and hide, Willow!" Mike complained indignantly, throwing a small cushion towards the kitchen counter behind him. "So much for no man left behind!"
A giggle was all he got in reply, quickly followed by a handful of soapsuds thrown in his general direction.
o0o
The night air was warm and sultry on her face as Annie stepped outside into the small courtyard. The light rainfall earlier hadn't done enough to break the weather and the so-called experts on TV were still predicting a thunderstorm was heading their way. She stuck her hands into the pockets of her old leather jacket and closed her eyes, hanging onto the quiet stillness like it held the key to her sanity.
Her fingers brushed a lumpy shape through the lining. Pulling open her jacket, Annie felt around in the inner pocket and pulled out a crushed packet of Marlboros. She smirked wryly. It must have been quite some time since she had last worn this jacket. Her fingers played with the half open, crumpled packet out of ingrained habit as she debated. The debate lasted about ten seconds. Screw it, she decided vehemently. Hell knew the calming night and fresh air weren't doing jack shit for her nerves, may as well try some good old soothing poison. Further digging uncovered a fluorescent green lighter with a few drops of fuel left, and seconds later the old cigarette flared into life under her practiced fingers. Annie breathed in deeply and nearly coughed as the familiar acrid smoke rushed into her lungs. It had been a while. She watched the subsequent tainted gray cloud escape her lips and swirl into the black air with detached interest. If only it were as easy to expel all the thoughts and memories from her body.
"Thought you'd quit."
Annie's mouth lifted in a bitter smile. "Hey, if these things are what kill me, I'll count myself one of the lucky ones."
There was no answer to that so she figured he was doing his silent waiting thing. Well tough, she didn't feel like talking and she didn't ask him to follow her out here. She rolled her eyes and brought the cigarette to her lips for another pull, holding the smoke inside till it almost hurt. Couldn't she even enjoy her petty vices in peace?
After another minute of silence, she finally cracked. "Oh, why don't you just give me the little lecture already?!" She turned around and found his acute gaze firmly fixed on her, brows slightly knitted on his otherwise stoic face. He had shed his jacket and stood with his arms crossed over his chest and back pressed against the shadowy wall, eyes sharp and unwavering. She hadn't even heard him join her.
He lifted his shoulders in an almost shrug. "You already know it. What's the point?"
Annie grit her teeth; she didn't appreciate being spoken to like a disobedient child. "This is just because I didn't listen to you isn't it?" An edge of mockery crept into her voice, anything to goad him into a reaction. His eyes hardened but he didn't rise to the bait. She was trying to push him, lashing out, and they both knew it. With a scowl, Annie flicked ash to the ground with a little too much force.
"No," he answered calmly. "This is about you charging off, Lone Ranger style, and putting us all in danger."
"You didn't have to follow me, Oz!"
He met her fiery glare with a cool gaze, but didn't interrupt.
"And excuse me for remembering the big picture! What we are trying to do. For actually having the guts to go in and find out! For wanting to stop them! Someone has to!"
Oz shook his head. "That's not fair."
Ignoring the low reprimand, she turned her back on him and strode across the courtyard. She dropped down into a metal, patio chair and tilted her head up, exhaling slowly into the night sky. The sky that was a vast, blank darkness yet all she could see was red; only lifeless red -- everywhere. She closed her eyes tightly and shivered in the warm air. "Besides, what did it matter anyway? We were too late." She fingered the small crucifix at her neck, her jaw tight, staring at nothing. "I'm always too fucking late," she muttered harshly.
"Annie…" Oz levered off the wall and crossed over to her. He didn't push any further; only sat down on the fountain wall, leaned forward on his elbows and waited patiently.
After a moment, she straightened up and slouched back in the seat. "Other than that pretty little surprise, there was nothing of threat in that dump. So if you want me to apologise for taking the initiative that was needed - don't hold your breath."
Oz frowned at the defiant woman in front of him. "Mike and Willow were hurt," he reminded her slowly; somehow managing to make the simple statement more poignant than any length of articulated speech. Annie dropped her gaze, a grimace of guilt crossing her face before she stood up and stepped away.
"I suppose you're going to make that my fault too?" She accused irritably, closing her arms tight around her chest as if she were trying to keep warm in the humid night.
"I'm not, but you have to stop being so reckless. This isn't just about you."
Annie glanced over sharply at the tone of his voice. His eyes were cool and piecing, like cut green glass; the line of his jaw was tense and every feature of his striking face was hardened in a way she rarely saw from him. He was angry. It was subtle but it was definitely there.
"If anything had happened to them--"
Annie laughed in a short, low chuckle, as if she had just got the punch line to a private joke. "Of course. How could I be so thoughtless? How could I forget about your precious Willow." She fixed her eyes on his impassive expression stubbornly. "That's what this is really about."
Tense silence flickered between them for a heartbeat before Oz lowered his head in small, tired shake. "Don't do that. You know damn well we shouldn't have left them there. That's all I'm saying."
"Like hell!" she scoffed. She turned her shoulder and brought the burning cigarette to her lips jerkily, inhaling quickly before hissing it out through her teeth, but she found the familiar kick was distinctly lacking.
She sighed quietly, her voice dropping. "I don't get it." Oz looked up as she turned back around, confused distress joining the accusation on her face. "Why do you trust her? You, Mike -- all of you!" She shot a glare at the closed front door across the courtyard. "Why is everyone so willing to accept her at her word without any explanations? Why is that? Where is all this blind faith coming from? How can you think you know anything about who she really is?"
Annie watched him frown lightly, though she was unsure whether it was directed at her or his own thoughts. "She hasn't given us any reason not to trust her," he reasoned.
"No, she only just mysteriously shows up on our doorstep, somehow after her evil bitch of a doppelganger here bites the dust, and conveniently worms her way into our lives. Doesn't it strike you as a little off? Don't you have doubts?" Annie pushed on firmly, stepping closer, trying to get him to meet her eye. Surely he had to see why she was so concerned? Why this was so dangerous. She wouldn't let this strange and secretive girl break the only people she had left in her life.
"It isn't right." Her gaze was almost apologetic but her words remained hard. "She doesn't belong here, Oz."
The boy gave an unnoticeable wince and leaned over his knees, his back stiff and eyes unseeing as they stared out across the tiled yard. There was long pause before he admitted softly, "I know."
Sirens wailed somewhere in the distance, no doubt heading for fresh bloodshed. Annie looked up, a humourless smile on her lips. "And the fun goes on," she murmured.
Oz rose smoothly from the low wall. He looked to her. "You going or staying?"
Annie glanced back at Giles's door, a sour expression on her face. "No thanks."
Oz caught the underlying distrust in her tone and frustration edged into his voice. "We can't condemn her for things we don't even know. Even you have to admit that all she's done so far is try to help us."
Annie pulled the cigarette from her lips with mild distaste. It didn't feel as good as she had remembered. Her fingers trembled slightly as she rolled the stub between her knuckles. "Yeah well, you can't always trust the people you want to." Without raising her eyes, she flicked the glowing stick to the ground roughly and crushed it out under her boot. Apparently she'd lost her appetite for the old habit. She flashed a grim smile. She didn't have much of an appetite for anything nowadays.
"I'm out of here." Without any more of a farewell, she turned away and disappeared up the steps, leaving Oz to sigh to himself before heading back into the apartment alone.
o0o
The Bronze was in full swing, the party spilling out the doors and onto the street. Laughter and drunken boasts added to the ruckus that filled the night, along with the luscious scent of fresh blood and terrified screams, but she was in no mood to take part in the festivities right now. Shoving her way past a staggering group of intoxicated young vamps, she carved a path through the heaving dance floor and hanging cages. One brash boy lifted his head from a half drained student as she approached; his glowing eyes raking up and down her appealing body in leering approval. She snapped her head towards her unwanted admirer to see him smile suggestively, and an impatient snarl ripped past her lips. Her eyes flashed warningly and the vamp quickly lowered his head in submission. Tossing her hair and suppressing another grimace, she strode on towards the private back rooms.
"What the hell happened to you?"
The amused question reached her ears as soon as she entered and she cut her eyes to the familiar boy who had spoken. He had heavily black lined eyes, carefully applied for maximum effect on his unearthly pale face, and a permanent smirk painted on his lips that bore an uncanny and unnerving resemblance to the Cheshire Cat. He was stretched out languidly along the purple couch, feet propped up and ankles crossed on the coffee table, and a dart twirling between his fingers, no doubt originally aimed for the board that was stuck up on the wall opposite. She threw him a disdainful look but he only tilted his head to the side, messy dark hair falling into his eyes teasingly, the grin widening.
She drew herself up and limped with as much dignity as she could to a deep velvet chair in the corner of the lamp lit room. The heavy club music thumped through the walls in a throbbing beat. She let out a hiss as she pulled her heeled boot off and dropped it to the ground. Across the floor, her companion's eyes darkened, slouched posture stiffening, as the scent of blood hit the air. "Take it tonight didn't go as we'd anticipated?" he inquired curiously.
"You could say that," she replied coolly, pulling open the drawer of the cabinet beside her to retrieve something to wrap her foot in.
"Ran into our moody little friends did we?" The smirk was back as she glowered in response. "My, my," he mused with mock thoughtfulness. "You gotta give them points for persistence I suppose. They make life interesting."
"They're a pathetic nuisance. We should have finished them off a long time ago."
He smiled slyly. "Bitter much?"
With a cocky grin, he glanced back to the board to the side of her head and flicked his wrist, sending the remaining dart sailing through the air. But before it could reach its target, a sharp hand snatched out and plucked the arrow from its flight in the blink of an eye. He raised his eyebrows lazily at her fuming face.
"I swear, Damien—"
The threat was interrupted however by a deep, warning voice.
"Temper temper, children."
With a final glare at his taunting face, she dropped her hand and tossed the dart into her empty seat. She inclined her head slightly at the man that had joined them, who nodded once in reply as he readjusted his tie and rolled back down his shirt sleeves, which had stayed spotless throughout his evening meal.
"You're back." He glanced around the room, confirming that she had returned alone. "The boys?" he inquired in vaguely curious voice.
The young woman snorted and rolled her eyes. "Useless."
"I see," he said with disinterest.
"Don't mind Becca," Damien drawled as he picked himself off the sofa, a teasing gleam in his eyes. "She's just sore that for once, she got her ass kicked."
She felt her eye twitch in annoyance. "Bite me," she snarled.
Damien gave a wicked grin and paused to let his mouth brush close against the back of her neck as he slipped past her. "With pleasure."
Clenching her fists to stop herself spinning around and clawing his eyes out, it took several deep breaths before she could carry on and say what she wanted. Snapping her attention back to the man who was currently ignoring the two younger vampires with complete disregard, she stepped forward.
"I need to see him"
That caught his attention again. "Why?"
She let herself indulge in a wry smile. "I found out something I think he'll be very interested in."
He looked at her for a long moment but didn't question any further. With a jerk of his head, he indicated to the corridor behind him.
o0o
Becca had been in his presence many times; indeed she might almost think that he was somewhat fond of her. But that didn't stop the shiver of nervous excitement that came when she stood before him. His imposing form was turned towards the wall, head bent over something in his hands, when she stepped inside the dark and intimidating room that served as his lair ever since he had returned to the surface, in the greatest victory for their kind in centuries. She waited respectfully until he acknowledged her presence, knowing that it was more than her life was worth to interrupt -- as many others had discovered to their cost. The Master was not indulgent of mistakes.
"Rebecca."
She almost jumped when he announced her name in a low, silky voice. With a slow movement, he closed the book in his hands and turned to face her. Red, soulless eyes locked onto her face and she quickly bowed her head. "Master."
"I did not expect you back so soon."
"No, we -- had an unforeseen interruption," she grimaced apologetically. There was silence and she didn't dare raise her head until she heard a quiet sigh. When she chanced a look up, the aged and revered vampire lord had seated himself in the great chair in the corner of the room and was running spidery fingers over the book cover that rested on the arm.
"Those troublemakers are so tiresome."
"Yes," she agreed as she took a cautious step forward. "But -- it seems that they have managed to produce quite a surprising twist."
His head turned in her direction and she swallowed dryly. If her heart were beating it would be thundering in her chest. He steepled his long fingers together and leaned forward as he regarded her with cool curiosity. "Explain."
A small smile crept across her face, encouraged by the genuine interest in his stare. As far as revelations went, she had a hell of an ace to play here. Even for Sunnydale, this was pretty damn weird.
She shook her head slightly as if she still couldn't quite believe what she was about to tell him. The smirk crept up her lips.
"You're gonna love this."
o0o
AN I worked non-stop to get this chapter out - so please review! Feedback is the only way I have of knowing if people are genuinely still interested in this story. Everything I receive from readers is appreciated so much :) Thanks!