Thank you to all my reviewers and everyone who has alerted so far :) Also, thanks to Aspiring Mythmaker and huge special mention to Dark Winter for all their awesome beta help.
Without further ado, hope you enjoy!
Chapter Nineteen
Buffy scowled up at the dark coated figure that stood over her, making it very clear his timely intervention was not appreciated. Roughly knocking aside the offered hand, she arched her body and jumped back to her feet. "What are you doing here?" she snapped, brushing the fresh dust from her clothes with irritable swipes.
"I'm worried about you."
With a glare she turned on her heel to stride away along the darkened street. It wasn't long before she felt his presence at her shoulder again as he kept pace easily beside her; much to her annoyance.
"The last thing I need is an overbearing bodyguard. Bit of a waste of your time I'd say. I can take care of myself."
"Except you're not."
She didn't reply. He sighed wearily, all too used to this response by now. "What are you doing, Buffy?"
She almost chuckled, but the slight smile was mocking and without any of the warmth she so usually embodied. "My job," she said curtly. "One girl, sacred duty -- did you skip the prologue?"
He glanced over at her tense profile; features locked in an empty expression that refused to give an inch for anyone, even him. "I'll cover patrol, you know that. For as long as you need it."
She shook her head sharply. "I can do this."
"Buffy—"
"Angel," she cut him off, finally turning to face him. "I have to do this."
The tremor of desperation in her voice was enough to stop his gentle argument. She broke contact after a long second and he followed her lead, ending the battle of wills for now. Buffy could be particularly stubborn at the worst of times and he'd learnt a long time ago - it was about picking your moments.
Falling into a mutual quiet, they continued on through the labyrinth of empty alleys that would eventually bring them out at the shipping docks, a favourite haunt for the local blood-thirsty population. The night time isolation suited the demons that generally hung around along the deserted waterfront, crashing in the convenient storage sheds where light couldn't easily penetrate; where no-one could hear the cries.
The exception to this rule cast a side glance at the stony faced girl walking quickly next to him. She was silent, her eyes slightly glazed as she stared ahead, her movements on autopilot. It had been weeks, and she was getting worse. He knew - they all knew - that she was pushing herself dangerously hard.
Her increasing distance had caused concern in more than one sector. Angel already knew that Buffy was not dealing well, or at all, with the devastating turn of events, but when her mother actually turns to him for help--well, it was definitely not a good sign. He knew there was going to be a pretty damn important reason, and one he probably wasn't going to like. He was not exactly her favourite choice of person. Quite understandably, considering the last impression he'd made was as sadistic demon that was terrorizing her daughter. He was surprised she could stand to look him in the eye, he thought darkly. If she knew the full extent of what he'd done to Buffy…
Of course, Joyce didn't really understand what had happened - none of them were prepared to talk about it - but it was painfully clear whose absence was at the root of it all.
No-one knew what had happened to the missing, bright Sunnydale student in the rest of the town. Hell, they weren't even sure themselves. They had no constructive ideas about what she had delved into and, as much as it pained him to admit it, he knew there was only a slim chance she was still alive from what Giles had told them. Throughout his entire soulless history of immortal death, hedonistic pleasures and twisted cruelty, in which he had crossed paths with many beings of magic and sorcery, Angel had never heard of anyone pulling off this kind of bargaining magic successfully. The line deepened in his forehead as the memory drifted back. It had been the very first question from her lips that desolate morning. Her posture stiff and words blunt, even as her face betrayed the simmering panic she struggled to hide from them. She wasn't asking for sympathy or looking to share mutual sadness; she was demanding help. She was prepared to do whatever it took but she needed to know more about what she was dealing with. That was how Buffy worked. She needed only to set a foot in the right direction, and then she would proceed to rip down every obstacle that stood between them and getting Willow back.
And every day since -- the vampire had wished he'd lied. That he'd said something, anything, to have kept that fragile spark alive in her determined eyes. Which was crueller? He honestly couldn't say. Of course, it was also true that those few souls who'd had the power and desire to attempt such rare spells, were consumed by less than noble intentions in his experience. How the so-called powers of fate would react to a pure heart and sacrifice, Angel wasn't so sure. If there was a shadow of a hope for anyone in this impossible situation, it would surely be for their loving and absurdly smart witch.
As far as anyone else knew, Willow Rosenberg had simply vanished. The speculation was rampant. His mouth curled in distaste. A troubled runaway, many said. Break up gone bad or even a secret elopement. And in the thick of the insatiable gossip vines, crawled rumours of betrayal and heartbroken suicide. He knew how she blocked it all out. Nothing seemed to really reach any of them, he reflected sadly. It was like they were too far gone to acknowledge the world outside their own personal grief. He suspected it was the lack of answers, the not knowing, that was torturing them all the worst. With no real certainty to grieve or fight for, they remained locked in limbo.
She barely slept or ate anymore. Instead throwing herself into patrolling with a frenzied obsession that never left her satisfied; the consuming focus spurring her on where her energy should have failed. Angel could only watch as the spunky girl he loved had slowly turned into a stranger from him. Her skin looked unhealthy and pale compared to the deep shadows under her eyes; black bruises that only kept darkening as they steadily drained her once glowing face of all its lustre. He had been shouldering more of the Hellmouth responsibilities in an effort to give her space to breath, time to deal; but she only seemed to resent the effort, scorning every good intention like it were a personal insult.
She had avoided him even more than the others. Never seeking him out and quick to leave whenever they did meet, preferring only the company of the demons she continued to drive mercilessly into oblivion. She didn't want to talk, to hear what he had to say. She refused to listen to devastating reason and logic, to empty reassurances and promises. She wouldn't let herself accept his comfort, his wise but defeated words.
That meant finally admitting it was all real.
Buffy was ruthlessly practical and realistic when it came to fighting evil and saving the earth from Hell's greedy fingers; but the complete disintegration of her personal world was something even the Slayer wasn't strong enough to handle. And it wasn't the first time either. Angel winced as familiar guilt riled his thoughts. Now another integral part of her life was lost and she had managed to find a way to blame herself – again.
This was somewhat unfamiliar territory for them. It sounded odd, given all they had done, but this was very different. For once, there was no course of action to take, no way to undo what had been done. This was a problem they couldn't seem to fix and it was yet unclear whether they could learn to live with the consequences. The frustration was almost tangible. They'd had no warning, no chance to make things right. One clean slice had cut Willow from their lives – perhaps forever. And there was nothing they could do. No physical evil to blame and fight; no mystical redo button; no hopeful, happy ending to cling to. Only a critical choice made by someone they loved. One that had damaged all their souls just that bit more.
And it broke his dead heart to watch the girl he loved, determinedly and stubbornly suffer alone. For one of the rare times in their relationship, he could see how truly young she still was. Behind her sharp mind, under all the humour and sarcasm, graceful strength and selfless courage, crushing duty and responsibility -- Buffy was still a teenage girl. Someone with deep and dependent ties to the people in her life. A young woman teetering on the brink of an uncertain adulthood and fighting to come to terms with her own identity. She was still very human. And just as breakable.
He sighed. Of course there was no use confronting her about any of this. No-one was harder on Buffy than herself and she would do things her way as she always did, in her own sweet time and not a minute sooner. Yet he would wait. He would be there when she needed him, whatever it took. He was a patient immortal.
So he kept a respectful distance, silently watching out for her even though she wouldn't let him. And it looked like he was right to. Angel frowned lightly in his thoughts. An inexperienced vamp like that should never have been able to get the jump on Buffy. She was unfocused. Barely there. And that was mortally dangerous for a Slayer.
Shaking himself out of his reverie, Angel cleared his throat carefully. "How's Xander?"
Buffy faltered in her steps before regaining her perfect balance. Distracted eyes turned to him with a dull gaze. For a moment, he didn't think she would even answer him.
"He's..."
She trailed off, no words left to describe her shattered friend. The only one who felt her absence even more than Buffy. Gritting her teeth she turned away and walked on. It hurt too much to think of Xander. It hurt to think full stop.
So Buffy clung to her calling with a tenacious death grip; the simple single purpose the only thing keeping her sane in the chaotic free-fall that was her personal life. She couldn't break down, she couldn't afford to. She still had a 'sacred duty' to fulfil and that would never change. Could Slayers even take personal days? Have compassionate leave? Disturbing mental episodes? She smirked darkly to herself. On the other hand, smashing demons' heads to gore was doing more to keep her sanity together these days than any amount of therapy or health retreats ever could. Did it really matter if her heart wasn't really in it? After all, Hell's armies wouldn't wait for her to grieve and she had people to protect…people she was supposed to protect…
Her whole body tensed sharply, hands clenching at her sides to prevent her from punching a sizable hole in the parked car they were passing. She couldn't think of that. She forced her mind to go blank.
Yet it was more than hopeless resolution that kept her on this lonely path. It was fear. Mind numbing, heart cracking fear. If she stopped to let it in, Buffy was terrified she would never come back out.
It seemed strange that the world carried on - Willowless - when theirs had been thrown so terribly off-kilter. But there was something more. Buffy couldn't shake a tricky sense that this was all wrong; that things weren't intended to happen this way. That somehow the state of play had changed in a game they weren't even aware they were a part of.
The silence was dense and awkward but neither was prepared to back down, so the couple came to an impasse; side by side but not together. The smell of salty water drifted in on the air as they came to a chain link fence at the side of a grubby, boarded up building that looked like it might have once housed the Customs Office. Barely breaking stride Buffy quickly scaled up the metal barricade, fingers and toes finding easy purchase with an eerie grace, and jumped down on the other side. Angel watched her for a second before following suit. She hesitated beyond the wire for the briefest of moments. Not until he was preparing to drop to the ground, did she turn to carry on. He allowed himself a tired, hidden smile. Could that be viewed as progress?
Her steps slowed a fraction as he caught up to her but she made no other sign of acknowledgment. Angel had never felt the cold once in well over two hundred years -- but he felt it now. It burned him in the absence of Buffy's warmth, which he had grown to crave almost as much as blood.
The night swallowed them up again simultaneously. Angel's face etched with concern as he debated over fresh approaches to break her out of this destructive pattern; Buffy itching for a fight.
Buffy got her wish answered first.
o0o
"I'm still hungry."
"You're always hungry."
"Yeah well, I think that dumbass jock was popping steroids or something," the jerky vampire complained, spitting out the unpleasant aftertaste.
"Jeez Ed, you really need to get over your high school rejection issues before you single-handedly ruin any chance this town has of winning a championship."
Ed rubbed the back of his hand across his mouth and paused in his pacing long enough to scowl at the young man who had spoken. But the lounging vampire only ran a vain hand through his sleek ebony hair, smirking.
"Yeah," piped up an impatient voice from behind him as another dark form strolled back over from the waterfront. "Why don't you go after the Cheerleaders or something for a change? Variety, man."
"For once, I'd have to agree with Jake," a smooth tone cut in as the final prowling figure jumped down next to them. "Sugar and spice and all things nice," he mused dreamily, eyes glinting in pleasurable memories. "Of course, I'm biased. But still, think about it. All that firm, nubile flesh and peppy blood…" Kyle's mouth lifted in a grin. "Besides, I'm sure they gave you plenty of rejection back in the day too. Share the joy."
If looks could kill, the tall and smug vampire would have been impaled on the one Ed sent his way. "Were you always this obnoxious?" he grumbled, slumping down onto a cargo crate and crossing his arms.
There was a low chuckle to his left, where the young vampire's sire had straightened up from his reclined position and was twirling a silver lighter between his fingers. He cast an amused look in his friend's direction. "Yeah, pretty much." There was a lazy click and a tall flame shot up from the gadget he was forever playing with.
Jake grimaced, edging away from the jumping flame that was sparking a little too close to his skin for comfort. "Hey, wanna be careful where you wave that thing?"
"Aw, afraid of a little, ikle fire are we?" Dean scoffed with a cruel grin, making Jake hiss as he flicked the flaming lighter in his direction playfully.
"Yeah, well, you haven't ever escaped incineration by the skin of your teeth!"
The handsome vampire rolled his eyes, lighting up the cigarette in the corner of his mouth. "Even if I did, at least I'd have the balls not to whine about it all the time."
Jake narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth in what was likely to be cutting retort. But unfortunately they never got to appreciate it, as in the next second his eyes shot wide and he hunched over with a surprised grunt. His immortal body exploded into harmless dust before they even registered the blow.
"Shit!" Ed jumped, limbs flailing, and promptly fell backwards off the crate.
A small hand jerked back from the empty air that had once been Jake's body; shadows scattered and a stake flashed in the dark as the remaining vamps attempted to regroup. A roundhouse kick suddenly smashed across Dean's face, knocking the still burning cigarette from his mouth and painfully flooring him. Ed lunged blindly at their attacker, but he wasn't fast enough for this particular foe.
"See, I'm having a really crappy night…" a sweet voice remarked as she smacked Ed's head into a shed door. Straightening up, she smiled playfully at the recovering vampires. "Wanna make it better?"
Dean glared at the girl's casual stance as she eyed them all dismissively. "Slayer," he spat, pulling himself to his feet and wiping the blood from his mouth where her foot had connected with his jaw.
"The one, the only, blah-blah-blah. Well, not anymore I suppose but why split hairs?" She shrugged. "And you are? Oh wait -- I don't care." She spun the stake lazily in her palm, a dark grin playing on her lips. "But hey, pleased to stake your acquaintance."
Kyle grimaced. "Oh please, that was lame even for you."
"Hey, give me a break! I haven't been up to full punning powers recently!"
A gleam cut through Dean's eyes that made Buffy's cool smile falter for a second. "Oh yeah?" He tilted his head in a mocking gesture of sympathy. "Rough few weeks, huh?"
The atmosphere shifted subtlety, but they all felt it. Angel glanced over to Buffy and saw the faint frown on her brow, the hesitation in her body. She was trying to mask it but the sudden imbalance had unnerved her.
"News travels fast, Slayer."
That was a toe too far over the thin line of Buffy's patience. To have her life - her friends' lives - the subject of mindless gossip in the town was one thing, but she wouldn't stand here and let scum like this draw pleasure from their tragic fate. They couldn't play with Willow's memory.
Her eyes flashed in anger, knuckles white as she jerked the stake up to her shoulder in preparation to strike.
The arrogant grin didn't waver. No flicker of apprehension or worry clouded his face at the petite girl's battle stance; only a twisted pride that snaked along his lips, demonic eyes almost glowing with gleeful anticipation.
"We've been curious. Tell me…" His gaze locked into Buffy's like they were the only two beings of consequence in the world. He smiled slowly. "How'd your little witch like her present?"
~o~
Buffy couldn't feel anything. Arms, legs…anything.
It was as if all the stuff that made up her essence had been knocked cold out of her. Only an empty vessel remained, staring wide eyed at the grinning, soulless demon that had just smashed her world so carelessly. Her arm lowered slowly to her side, poised stake apparently forgotten.
"You killed Oz."
It wasn't a question and it wasn't an accusation. It was simply a fact. Angel's eyes were narrowed dangerously, a barely audible snarl rumbling through the controlled words.
"Was that his name?" Kyle raised his eyebrows in vindictive curiosity. "We didn't exchange a lot of pleasantries."
Angel wanted to move. His fingers itched with the desire to wipe that sick enjoyment from their faces. He could feel the demon shifting under his skin, thirsty for action, but he didn't twitch a muscle. Buffy was too vulnerable right now.
"I've had easier kills that's for sure." Dean's face twisted in revulsion. "Wolf blood." He shuddered and spat at the ground before turning his sneering eyes back to Buffy. "Still, we wanted to do something special for you."
Killed. Killed…Buffy blinked slowly as the word forced its way through the numb fog and rattled into recognition. Her eyes sharpened as she met his gaze; the revelation rushing at her like a raging bull. She finally had an answer. Not the one she wanted; not the most important one -- but it was still an answer. It was flash of clarity; a glimpse of solid land in the sea of uncertainty she had been adrift in, for what felt like months.
These monsters had killed Oz. They had broken Willow. They were the reason Xander would barely speak to her. Why Giles was crippled by guilt. Why a savage hole had been ripped through their lives, which could never be filled again. They had robbed Buffy of her best friend, her wise and brave confident; stripped her life of those bright giggles and loving babbling. They were why she felt so lost and alone.
In one swipe they had torn away two of her closest friends, and in the worst of ways. They were why she was gone!
And all in a sick, perverse game to get to her. Because of who she was. Because of a duty she'd never wanted or asked for. Because of Buffy, her friends had to suffer through death, pain and loss, over and over again. She brought it down on their lives. Oz…Willow…Xander…god, even Giles. They were forced to pay for her sins. They would always be the first to be punished; hurt the most…all because of her. Their loyalty and friendship had cost them everything. In what twisted sense of karmic justice was that fair?!
Was she cursed to forever lose the ones closest to her? A bitter scream built in her throat. Then take it back! Buffy felt like falling to her knees in a furious, wretched plead to whatever force had seen fit to choose her. Demand them to undo her destiny -- make it someone else's burden. She couldn't do this anymore. She couldn't keep destroying the people she loved.
No-one would ever be safe as long as she was around. No-one could be happy. The silent, anguished tears burned inside her chest like acid knives. She was poison to everyone she touched.
She would always be alone. Until there was no-one left but her and the vampires. The way it was meant to be, right?
In the end you're always by yourself. You're all you've got.
Well fine.
Buffy's eyes hardened into glittering blue ice. If they wanted a pissed off Slayer so badly -- she would give them one.
~o~
The violence erupted so quickly that Angel almost didn't react fast enough. He blocked an attack from the first pouncing vampire and fell back several feet to give himself room, familiar adrenaline quickly taking over.
With an echo of jeering snarls, the other two descended upon Buffy's immobile figure; impatient of gloating and confident in her scattered focus. Blinded by eager hunger and the urge to claim the ultimate glory, no one noticed the dangerous smile at the corner of her lips.
They were just inches from her when she exploded into action.
With a sharp flick of her foot, she kicked up a crowbar from the ground. Snatching it out of mid-air, she pivoted and brought it crashing into the closest vamp's shoulder with blinding force. Just as fast, she twisted and caught the second one with a direct kick to his chest. He staggered back a few steps -- right into Angel's waiting clutches.
In one motion, she flipped the tool over in her palm as the third vampire lunged at her from the left. With a sharp stab, she jammed the savage hook deep into his gut. His body crumpled. A gurgle of pain escaped Ed's shocked lips. Slick gouts of red oozed through Buffy's world, choking her vision.
Her hands flexed yet her face remained impassive as she ruthlessly twisted the weapon in her grip, grinding it into the undead organs with devastating effect. She yanked the hook up through his stomach for good measure before jerking it back out of his body, entrails and all.
By the time she turned away, the next was almost upon her. With a rumbling growl, he reached her before she could bring the blow home. Locking on with his strong hands, he forced the bar back into her chest painfully. Her fingers were slippery on the blood-coated metal and she felt the weapon sliding as they fought. Fiercely determined to regain the upper hand, she whirled around and yanked the crowbar over her head, dragging the cocky vampire after it. He crashed hard into the ground, the wind knocked out of him. Buffy spared him an expressionless glance; a calm phantom navigating a war zone.
Dean's eyes widened and he barely managed to roll out of reach as the gory bar came hurtling down towards his face. Swearing loudly, he sprang to his feet again, quickly putting a safe distance between them. Amber eyes stared into jagged blue. He could see nothing in those icy depths but hate. Cool, perfectly controlled and utterly deadly hate. His Adam's apple bobbed in a nervous swallow. For the first time, he doubted the wisdom of his perfect plan. Goading the Slayer to her breaking point had not had quite the effect he had intended.
A sudden scuffing from behind shifted her focus off Dean, splitting her concentration for only a second, but it was enough. He used the distraction to dodge back into the shadows and form a new plan. A better one.
Turning, a heavy blow landed across Buffy's face, forcing her to the ground. A painful spasm ran along her spine as she twisted onto her back. With a low snarl and fangs bared, a fuming demon lunged in for the kill. Buffy gritted her teeth, swallowed the pain, and kicked up with both feet, catching him square in the chest. Bracing her hands on either side of her head, she smoothly kicked her heels over her head, landing nimbly on her feet.
Metal scraped and she whirled around. A dark object came rushing out of the darkness at her face. Raising her leg in a graceful arch, she managed to deflect the flying crane hook only just in time. Her foot had hardly touched the ground again when a heavily bloodied hand snaked around her neck, jerking her backwards into a sticky, wet torso.
Ed felt the little Slayer writhe in his grip and a smirk flashed through the heavy grimace. Angelus was too busy with Kyle, and Ed's firm hold on his victim's throat kept her quiet. The gaping wound in his stomach was agony and every fresh wave of pain tightened his fingers around her slender throat. But it would heal. She wouldn't.
She wasn't much smaller than him but with a rippling growl, he lifted her off her feet. Her human hands clawed weakly against his vampire arms, her breath coming in harsh gasps as it was slowly choked out of her.
Wriggling just enough to slam her knuckles back into his face, Buffy finally wrenched free. She quickly stumbled to her knees, coughing. She pressed a hand to her crushed windpipe, trying to alleviate the pain -- or at least improve its function. It briefly occurred to her how close that had been. Yet rather than terrifying her, it only stoked the fires of her reckless anger. The scene around her fell away, replaced by positive and negative space. Her targets became grey hazes of activity in her eyes, nameless and faceless. A blur of motion came at her, but her unparalleled reflexes kicked in and she rolled sideways. Leaping to her feet, she heard a familiar snarl thunder close by and knew Angel was deep in the fray with her. She nearly growled at him to keep out. This wasn't his fight!
~o~
Angel blinked hard and refocused, catching the second blow with a sharp twist that threw his opponent off balance. Panting slightly, he managed not to raise his eyebrows. Just. For relatively young vampires, they were proving more of an opposition than he would have liked to admit.
The tall, wiry vampire shrank back, his breath laboured and eyes narrowed. He regarded Angel with something akin to disgusted curiosity. "Pathetic. You fight this hard on behalf of one mangy, flea-bitten dog?" His lips curled back. "You've sunk even lower than I'd thought."
Angel didn't bother to respond. His muscles tensed in thick cords; dark eyes carefully assessing every twitch in the younger man's body.
"What's the wolf to you anyway?"
Angel held his gaze unwaveringly. When he did speak, his voice was low and even. "He was a friend."
A jeering smirk slid over the young man's face. However it was violently cut short as a swift fist cracked across his jaw. Angel watched the smile vanish into pain with no small amount of pleasure.
~o~
Raising her arm, she blocked an incoming right hook. With a fluid motion, she dodged inside his guard and caught him in the chest with an open palm. The blow sent Dean hurtling back against a towering shed.
Her chest heaved in shaking breaths. Sensation surrounded her. People were yelling. Things were breaking. Falling. Being hit. The sounds thundered in her ears but made no discernable impact. Meaning was lost to her. Voices and sounds, faces and objects all blurred together into an indistinguishable miasma that fogged her reality. Her vision cleared and her reality narrowed just as she watched the creature before her hiss through gleaming fangs and lunge back at her. All Buffy knew was the fury-soaked power that surged through her muscles, driving her fists forward into the enemy. The crushing impact of bone against bone, fist against flesh. This was what she was. All she would ever be. Black rage poured into the empty vessel her soul had vacated, gushing into the void, filling every part of her. Anger, such as she had never experienced, crashed and boiled inside her hollow heart.
Her opponent charged her again but she caught him by the back of his jacket and threw him head first into the centre of a long shipping crate. Wood splintered everywhere but she didn't release him. With a vicious jerk, she hauled him up through the lid. Wooden shards showered them as the dazed vampire staggered to the ground.
Ducking another blow, she swung her leg around and knocked the vampire off his feet. Turning her head, she saw one of the murdering monsters break out of Angel's headlock and make a grab for one of the larger splinters from the debris field she had just created. Angel quickly closed in on him from behind. Too quickly.
~o~
Kyle spared a smile of relish through his ragged breaths. This was the best scrap he'd had in ages. The little girl wasn't pulling any punches and her pathetic 'boyfriend' did pretty well for bearing the handicap of a human soul. Shame really. He almost pitied the cursed vampire. A legend of his standing shouldn't have to live a neutered existence. The sharp wood rasped against his palm. He flashed a grin. Still, that didn't mean he wasn't going to enjoy the hell out of this. He felt his opponent bearing down on his back. Grasping their mutual kryptonite, he spun around in a dark blur.
His bull's-eye blow was interrupted faster than his eyes could catch. He grunted in pain as a delicate fist shot out and latched onto his arm, wrenching it aside.
Buffy had interposed herself between Angel and his death so fast she felt as if she had flown to him. Frozen eyes drilled into the ridged face before her, his expression twisted in pain and brief surprise, her fingers biting so hard into his skin that fresh blood seeped through his sleeve. Her heart was screaming in her constricted chest, the emotional torrent hidden beneath the hard veneer of her blank features.
You won't take him too! She would die before she lost anyone else to these bastards. She would kill every last one on Earth to protect them. To avenge them.
She distantly acknowledged the shocked fear that flickered across his face, before she slammed her palm up into his chin with a sickening crack. His head snapped back and he staggered away from her. Buffy darted after him, easily parrying the clumsy blow he threw her way. Every fibre in her body seethed and crackled, yet no energy was wasted. Every movement was seamless and disciplined; carefully calculated for maximum damage. Slayers had always understood and calmly executed where others would hesitate and recoil. And for once, Buffy didn't shy away from that darkness within her. She welcomed the insanity. She would make them regret every second they had stolen from her friends.
"Buffy, watch-!"
The warning was lost on her. A heavy blow landed across the back of her head, knocking her to her knees. Blinking aside the dizziness, she twisted and caught the metal pole as it came swinging back at her. With a sharp jerk, she yanked it out of Ed's grip and brought it cracking against the side of his head, knocking him sideways. Angel tackled the injured and snarling vampire, pulling him away from her roughly.
Jumping back to her feet, she pulled the pole more firmly into her grip and tried to catch her breath. Rounding it on her foe, she swung it at his head but just missed as he lithely bent back, letting it power through empty air. Turning flawlessly on her heel she attacked again but he caught it, unexpectedly arresting her movement. She kicked out and hit him hard in the gut and pulled the newly freed weapon back into her control.
Kyle reeled then growled menacingly, charging back towards the cool Slayer. Without a flicker on her stoic features, she ducked under the blow and jabbed forward, driving the rusty bar clean through Kyle's exposed chest. The vamp doubled over with an agonised howl as Buffy forced the metal through splintered ribs and ripped sinews of muscles. Plunging forward with the momentum, she ruthlessly rammed him into the shed wall, pinning him.
Buffy pulled back, smiling coldly through tight lips. She purposely missed the heart. They didn't deserve that kind of mercy. She watched him struggle vainly with a detached satisfaction and overpowering sense of venomous pride. They had no idea what they had done. Destroy the girl and all you're left with is a Slayer. They were going to feel every ounce of pain they had inflicted. She'd make sure of that.
Angel threw Ed off him and took a short, hard breath, glancing around. He quickly found Buffy -- only to watch in horror as she brutally impaled one of their attackers. He winced in reluctant empathy for what was still essentially his kin. A harsh reminder of the calling she had in life. An enemy to his kind. He looked over to her face and was shocked by the jarring coldness etched there. There was no sign of empathy, of hesitation, of conflict. Her whole form seemed detached, devoid of emotion, entirely focused on her victim -- and it chilled him to the depths of his dark soul. Only her actions were animated; infused with a hate, fury and rage that he had never before believed she was capable of. This was torture. This wasn't the Buffy he knew. For a hopeless beat of his unbeating heart, Angel feared he had truly lost her.
Buffy stepped away, gaze still fixed on the squirming body. A distant yell caught her ears and she frowned for split second. There was a rush of air from above. Without even a glance up, she instantly back flipped. Her body arched in a perfect smooth movement, flinging her out of the path of the crate that crashed into the ground where she had just been standing. It spilled its contents everywhere like an open sore as she landed in a half-crouch that was almost feline.
Her eyes darted up the stacks of crates and narrowed on the figure at the top. With an unnerving agility, she sprinted forward and leapt up. Her speed mimicked a mountain lion chasing down its prey, as she sprang from surface to surface, climbing to her target.
~o~
Dean scowled darkly as the small girl spun gracefully out of reach of the carefully toppled crate. This Slayer was proving to be a bloody Road Runner. He spared a brief glance at the pitiful states she had made of his fellows, and felt his own stomach turn violently as he saw her scrambling up to his shadowy ledge. Clenching his jaw and assuming a smug arrogance upon his face, he forced himself to stand his ground. She was still only human after all.
The glint had returned to his eyes when Buffy landed upon the metal surface to find him waiting for her. Silence expanded between them as the two enemies took a moment to assess each other. Buffy straightened up into a deceptively casual stance.
Dean arched a cocky eyebrow. "Having fun yet?"
"Practically giddy."
He chuckled and waved a hand over her body, standing at just the other side of the invisible circle they had marked out. There was an unspoken understanding that once they stepped inside, they would make sure only one came out. A warm breeze flitted through the divide, ruffling the edge of Dean's black jacket; whipping up the blonde tendrils that had escaped Buffy's ponytail.
"Loving this ice bitch routine by the way." The line of her mouth hardened faintly, even as she raised a defiant eyebrow. The arrogant smile widened on his face. "I haven't made you angry have I?"
Buffy ignored the question. "You know, if you hadn't pulled this little stunt, you could have stayed under the radar for a long time. Maybe notched up a few more decades before you finally ticked off the wrong person." She held his stare evenly. "Was it worth it?"
"Hey, the story ain't over, princess."
"No," she agreed quietly. Her chin tilted down, the metallic tint of her eyes flashing in the shadows. "But yours is."
The calm words had barely left her lips, before she launched her tiny, lethal figure at him. A blow cracked across his cheekbone that sent him spinning to the floor of the wide container lid. With a snarl, Dean let his face revert to its true form as he lashed out with his foot at the Slayer's legs.
Buffy jumped, avoiding the sharp kick just in time, but she wasn't quick enough to stop him finding his feet again. She quickly turned and brought her leg curling into his side, but he was ready for her. Snatching her ankle, he twisted and slammed her down. Buffy sucked in a painful breath before she rolled sideways and rose to a crouch. Dodging swiftly, she collided into his chest. She could feel several ribs crunch under her shoulder as she knocked him back to the floor. Wasting no time, she lashed down at his stunned body, but he scrambled backwards and she missed him by an inch. Her fist plunged through the metal with a grating split.
Dean staggered to his feet and hastily backed up, wide eyes flashing, the fear unmistakable even on his demonic features. Buffy smirked, though for once there was no flippant humour in her tone. "What? Finally bitten off more than you could chew?"
He snorted. "Don't flatter yourself."
She clenched her fists, the clarity of rage surging through her body as she hurled them both back into combat.
It wasn't long before she'd forced them to the teetering edge. Locked as they were, at this rate they would both go over the side. Buffy's eyes were hollow. Dark pits that fell away into an empty soul. Dean felt panic claw into his stomach. He would never admit it out loud, but this girl was freaking the shit out of him. His lips stretched in a sharp hiss. "Crazy bitch."
In eerie contrast, her slight smile was light and airy; like she was truly amused. It was short lived. "You have no idea."
She stepped back and broke their locked limbs. In a flash, she ducked under a powerful strike before pulling upright and landing a kick in the dead centre of his rib cage. The strength sent him flying backwards off the crates. The heavy thud of his landing was lost in the roar of air, as she leaped off after him.
Buffy landed on the ground in a smooth roll. She was on top of him again before he could regain his feet. She grabbed his jacket at his shoulders and brought her knee crunching into his gut. Unnecessary air spewed from his lungs with the impact. From his doubled over position, he seized her around the waist and rammed his head into her stomach. The force sent them both crashing backwards into more dock debris.
Buffy gasped, pinned between his body and a massive metal crane base. Stretching up, her hands grasped at the rusty metal behind her head and with a grimace, she yanked herself up and out of his grip. Her muscles trembled in exertion but she kicked out and cracked her foot into his skull. Dropping quickly back to the ground, she staggered slightly before advancing once more, dark eyes wild as she slammed her fist into his chin. A meticulous roundhouse kick sent him sprawling to the ground.
She barely registered the blows upon her body, the taste of blood in her mouth, the ache in her head. It seemed dulled somehow. As if were happening to another body. One she was vaguely connected to but almost unaware of. She only felt faint echoes of the pain, which came and went like rippling waves through her limbs. The writhing body under her vicious attacks was all she knew. The only solid thing in her world. The only thing that mattered now.
Angel glimpsed her out the corner of his eye. She had dragged the vampire down amongst the broken wreckage that had spilled across the waterfront. He barely had time to yell as a white hand lashed out, punching into her breastbone, throwing her back into a forklift truck.
Buffy groaned and stilled from the hard impact. Her eyes fluttered before she desperately shook off the painful cloud of disorientation. With a backwards somersault, she sprang back to her feet only to find her attacker bearing down on her. Whipping a stake from her sleeve, she spun and struck out -- slashing the lunging vampire across his chest. Sprays of blood painted her clothes in morbid splashes.
Angel inhaled harshly. Gritting his teeth, he backed away from his own fight before twisting down. Grasping the metal shard he had landed upon, he grunted and pulled it out of his thigh.
A body smashed through something, and he spun around. Buffy had floored the demon with a devastating blow. As Angel watched, she moved in quickly before the sonovabitch could even fully turn around. Her hands darted out, wrenching his arm behind him. She slammed her foot into the back of his calf, forcing him to his knees. There was no hint of recognition from her, no glimmer of the girl he loved. It was as if she had surrendered all her humanity in favour of unhindered Slayer strength. There was an edge of sadistic cruelty simmering through her, which he could sense from even his short distance away. Something he'd never felt before. Something that was wrong. Something he was all too familiar with, but something that had never belonged to Buffy. Like she had nothing left to lose. Angel felt his heart twist inside his chest, refusing to believe.
Her face tightened in a flash of cold fury. She didn't even wince as she pulled the vampire's arm to a horrible angle, her eyes burning into his back. A curdling scream filled the night, as with one clean jerk she snapped the twisted joint at the elbow -- the bone splitting with a juddering crack.
Angel shouted in panic, but Buffy was beyond hearing him. She launched her petite body at the convulsing form on the ground before her; curled up hands clawing at every bit of flesh she could find. Before Angel could move to her, he was sideswiped by an unseen fist.
Ed was barely holding himself up, only sheer loathing and the swamping high of combat and wounded pride, keeping him from crumpling to the ground in agony. His insides felt on fire. That whore. Concentrating every last bit of strength to get his limbs to respond, he flung himself at the blood traitor. He wouldn't get to help her. There was no saving her.
He grimaced in satisfaction as the pathetic excuse for their race shrunk back ever so slightly from him. He moved in, but an arm suddenly shot out and blocked his incoming fist. In the same second, a different pain stabbed through his chest; more acute than even his mangled organs. Oh...
Angel jerked himself free of the fading hold, as with a look of dawning realisation, the smaller vampire crumbled into bone and then nothing more than dust that blew to the ground. Angel stumbled slightly as he backed up and turned away. His eyes widened.
"Buffy!" He ran; gaze locked on the feral vampire that lurched unsteadily towards her distracted form.
Kyle had finally pulled himself free from the iron spear and was nearly crazed with vengeance; intense pain breaking upon the banks of his sanity. Fangs bared in a monstrous growl, he was almost upon her back when he was violently tackled by a colliding body. They skidded across the ground, in a flurry of lashing muscles and ripping snarls.
Buffy was unaware of how close she had just come to losing her life; lost too deeply in her frantic fight with the fiend that had murdered her friends. She had never before embraced her Slayer instincts to such dangerous extents; let them so wholly possess her. She'd fallen into the powerful refuge, willed it to block out everything else. And it had felt frighteningly easy. But that protection was slowly waning.
Breathing hard, she pinned his bloodied and twisted body to the ground, pounding his fractured skull mercilessly. She couldn't control her own body. The fury was fevered. Uncoordinated limbs made weak attempts to kick her off, to stem her relentless and frenzied attacks, but she hardly noticed. Her movements had broken; becoming desperate and jerky, enraged and trembling. She felt the sticky, grimy blood wet on her clothes, warm against her skin; like some kind of war paint for her brutal crimes.
Bruised knuckles smashed across his cheek, slamming his head back against the ground. Deadly fangs cut into her fist as she drove it into his jaw over and over again, but Buffy didn't even flinch. Those same teeth that ripped their lives to shreds...
The strangled cry felt foreign on her lips. Was it even hers?
"Buffy -- finish it!"
The distant yell passed through her like an empty whisper. The voice sounded angry. Upset. Why?
Her heart was ripping apart along with the flesh under her hands. The body groaned and snarled, but she wouldn't relinquish. She couldn't end it.
She had to end it.
Snatching out, she grabbed up a snapped sheet of metal. In one furious swipe, she sliced the searing blade clean through his neck. She slumped as the mangled body finally dissolved to ash beneath her, falling away with almost a soft sigh of relief.
~o~
Angel drew back from the slowly scattering ashes of his opponent. With a pained sigh, he shifted back into his human face. Rubbing a distracted hand over his features, he winced at the forming bruises and let his shoulders sag slightly. The air was quiet. The night was calm and still once more. The storm was over.
He looked over silently. Buffy had risen to her feet. The jagged metal slipped from her fingers, which hung loosely at her sides. She stared at the bloody ground where her victim had disappeared from, finally escaping her savage wrath.
Her shoulders were heaving; her back shaking in the rolling trembles that shook through her body. Angel kept back warily, conscious of the raging adrenaline she was still experiencing. He watched her closely, waiting.
Then she turned slightly, and the vampire was shocked to see the lost tears that soaked her eyes. Great salty swells; drowning out the murderous fire in rising tides of realisation, of grief, of utter helplessness. Her gaze lifted to his and he felt his long-dead heart break all over again. The damns broke.
"Angel…"
He was there to catch her. Always.
In one movement he drew her close, holding her up as Buffy crumpled into herself and collapsed against him. Pulled under by the crashing wall of grief, guilt and sheer devastating sadness that she'd held back for so long.
Tears of frustration, unfairness, anger and loss all swept over her; threatening to drag her down forever. They folded to the ground as the last of her willpower betrayed her. Buffy clung and wept with all the pent up distress of a child who didn't understand what had happened; why the world was suddenly so cold. Why life could be so unrelentingly cruel. Why this had to happen to them. What was she meant to have done differently? How could she have failed so badly to protect her own friends?! She could help endless strangers, but never the ones who really mattered to her. It was the curse of her existence.
She should have saved Oz. She should have stopped Willow - brought her friend back from the brink of that precarious drop she had jumped off into. Her world was broken and Buffy didn't understand why. She didn't understand any of it.
And Angel couldn't explain it to her.
There was no rhyme or reason to this that any of them could see, blinded in loss as they were. Senseless destruction was all they could see of tomorrow. Maybe one day that would change, but for now Angel just pulled the shivering girl tighter into his embrace, as if he willed to protect her from her own assaulting emotions. It tore him up as he heard her draw in gulping sobs, her face pressed into his chest, hands fisted in his jacket. He felt the desperation with which she gave in to the despair, and relief soothed the edges of his painful empathy. Yes, she may not resurface for a while; but she would eventually. He wouldn't let her drown.
The Slayer cried the tears of a confused child. An overwhelmed girl. An abandoned friend.
She missed Willow.
Cool fingers stroked the back of her head, his cheek pressed against tangled blonde hair, his body a safe harbour that enclosed around her. The words were no more than a watery whisper. "Where is she, Angel?"
"I wish I knew," he murmured, too quietly for her to hear.
There in the middle of the night, on a damp and pungent dock strewn with blood soaked ash, in the arms of her love -- Buffy finally fell apart. Shattered pieces held together only by the strong arms that encircled her.
o0o
AN: Again, sorry this took so long to get out, but this was an important fight and I wanted to do it justice. Little notes about this chapter: So, in Angel's reflections at the start we have a little foreshadowing of Joyce's talk with him in "The Prom". It seemed fitting that she would turn to him again with such grave concerns about her daughter, since Giles and Xander are pretty much no-go's. And we will be seeing more of them too. I had fun writing these vampires - despicable, cocky, evil and bigoted as they were! Still, I owe them for giving me the unique Wishverse I'm currently playing in. Interesting to see how one senseless act of cruelty can change everything. Life turns on a dime.
Quite a dark chapter I guess, especially seeing that side of Buffy and her Slayer identity. That was really interesting to explore, from a writer's perspective. The world on the other side of the mirror is not a happy place at the moment. Though, the idea of vamps still having a strange, competitive pride in their local sporting teams was amusing to me at least ;)
What did you think? Tell me in a review :) 'Til next time...