Chapter Fifteen: Darkening Days

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Angel had watched Buffy fall with a sinking stone in his stomach. Later he would think how it was good that he didn't need to breathe, as he hadn't even considered taking a breath while fighting the two vampires who had attacked him from behind. And, much later, he would worry about his attachment to the Slayer. He would worry because he valued her happiness, her safety above anything else. He would worry because he knew that he no longer had any control, had he ever? And he would worry because if Buffy asked him to stay, he knew he would, screw being noble.

But that wasn't what he thought about now. Right at the moment when she fell, the only thing on his mind was the thought that he had to reach her as quickly as possible. The two vampires who got in his way were nothing more that wasted seconds, he dusted them without any emotional connection. The flash of fire from the vampire Harry had been fighting, was nothing more than a light with which to slay by.

"Buffy," the words left his lips before the dusted vampires settled. He hastened toward the stone trap door and pulled with all his might. Yet, the ordinary looking door somehow managed to remain unmoved. He felt like he was tugging on a mountain. Pushing aside his pride he called out to Harry. He didn't like asking the wizard for help, but he'd do worse for Buffy.

"Give me a hand," he finally asked. Harry made no move other than to wave his hand, and Angel was feeling slightly upset when to his surprise the door lifted on it's own. He stilled the urge to jump down instantly and instead scanned the floor directly below hoping for good news. What he wouldn't give to see a dirty Buffy, whining about how her pants were ruined by the grim in the cellar. But there was nothing. The soft light that had filtered through earlier had been snuffed.

"I can't see her," his whispered voice carried through the stillness of the tomb. Shouldn't there be some noise? The sound of Buffy kicking ass right now would be welcome indeed. But this nothing? It was a quiet as death. Angel shivered, there was no time to waste. He looked over his shoulder at the young wizard, the boy whom Buffy seemed so...comfortable with and felt a pang of frustration. Shouldn't this boy be wringing his hands as well? Instead the young wizard stood calmly, looking around the tomb as if admiring the decoration.

"Aren't you coming," hissed Angel in what was a poor attempt at calm. He waved toward the cellar in an attempt to stress the importance of hurrying. But the boy didn't react.

"I'll be down in a bit," replied the wizard. His tone was absent of emotion and Angel felt a thrill of anger at the boy's complacency. Or that is until the wizard jerked his head toward the ceiling. Reflexively Angel followed the gesture, his eyes widening at what he saw. Surrounding them was a large group of vampires, over twenty by his best guess. Although most of the vampires seemed young, there were a few older ones in the midst. Angel tensed when he noticed one vampire, whose age, Angel would guess, was over two hundred. He was resting casually against the railing. Harry's voice interrupted Angel's observation.

"You go ahead," urged the wizard. "Make sure she's okay, and shut the door when you leave."

Angel cast a quick glance at the young man. But, found he couldn't look at the boy. Instead he focused on the ground the young wizard was standing on. He knew that Harry could take care of himself, but twenty or more vampires? That was suicide. Yet the boy showed no signs of panic. Maybe Angel was wrong, maybe it wasn't suicide for someone like Harry. But with a slight wriggle of guilt Angel realized he didn't really care if it was.

He should care.

No one good sent children to their deaths. He should stay. But, he didn't want to. He wanted to find Buffy. And, Angel knew that if Harry died he wouldn't be terribly upset. Indeed, if he were honest with himself, the only thing that made him pause was wondering whether Buffy would be mad at him for leaving the wizard. He'd risk it.

Maybe later he'd feel guilty about it. But hell, by now, guilt was like an old friend.

Leaping into darkness that contained who knows what sort of monster wasn't as scary for Angel as it might have been for others. He'd been dead for over a century now. He was used to darkness. He quickly adjusted to the light...wait light? A faint glow, to faint to be seen from above crisscrossed the room. It allowed him to see where he was. A meeting room maybe? A few chairs scattered the room, but much of the scene was in shambles. A fight had occurred here recently. And, due to the absence of blood in the air, and the abundance of dust Angel assumed Buffy had won. But where had she gone? What could have caught her interest enough to leave? Angel noticed the shadows sway as the distant candlelight flickered.

Like a moth to the flame.

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When Buffy had fallen, she had landed in an un-slayer like heap at the base of the trapdoor. She reacted better and without much hesitation was on her feet, a stake in hand ready for action. Her other hand clutched the shield Harry had given her. He had said Macnair wasn't here...but better safe than sorry. No more cactus curse for her. Her senses were taunt, and in many ways the tension of earlier was more than enough to have her primed for a fight. Thus when she looked up and spotted only two surprised vampires she found herself rather disappointed.

"Well, look what we have-" began one vampire, a poor attempt at intimidation. Buffy didn't feel in the mood for paltry banter. With a flick of her wrist, a stake flew from her hand like a knife and struck the vampire's heart with a satisfying thunk. He was dust. The female vampire at his side looked around and made a dash, grabbing at chairs and knocking them in Buffy's direction. She seemed to be heading toward a far door, which Buffy could only assume lead to the sewers.

"Not today," replied Buffy with a shrug. With another well aimed shot, the vampire was impaled through the heart. Just as the vampire turned to dust, the room was plunged into darkness. Buffy rolled her eyes. She would have had to knock over the only light in the room. Now she was stuck in the dark. Or was she? A sliver of light seemed to creep across the room. Buffy debated for a moment whether she should stay where she was, but curiosity got the better of her and she couldn't reach the trapdoor anyway. Walking slowly to avoid any debris, Buffy crossed the room toward the light.

It turned out the light was coming from under an old wooden door. She pressed against the wood cautiously but she didn't hear any voices inside. She ducked her head in first and looked around. The room was empty. She opened the door all the way. She was in some sort of bedroom. And a rather plain one at that. A small bed, and a chair were all that were there. Was this where Macnair had slept. It definitely had a creepy vibe. Buffy shivered. She didn't want to be here, she'd rather wait in the dark. She had turned and was about to go when she noticed something else in the room. A small shelf was recessed in the stone wall next to the door. She could see sheets of paper still there. Buffy approached the shelf. As she neared, she could have sworn she saw motion, but nothing had moved. It wasn't until she stood directly over the papers that she realized what the motion had been. The items left on the shelf weren't paper, they were photographs. But the photographs were moving. Magic? Buffy wondered.

Buffy raised one of the pictures from the dark shelf and moved it closer to the light. Her mouth opened as she felt her stomach drop. Her fingertips grew numb and the photo slipped to the floor. She paused only for a moment before quickly ducking down and grabbing the image with both hands. She was gripping the picture so hard her hands were shaking, she was surprised she hadn't already ripped the image to pieces.

For, the woman in the picture was her. Yet, it had taken her a moment to identify the image with herself, the slayer. Her head was tilted back, arched at an usual angle, her eyes bulged and twitched, her mouth was a gaping wound. She could almost hear the scream that must have come from her lips.

Where? Where had he gotten this? She remembered this, she doubted she'd ever forget it. But, how had he gotten a photo of it. There hadn't been any cameras there, unless there were invisible magical cameras...which there very well could be.

Buffy crushed the picture in her fist. She let the bundle of paper drop to the ground before hastily snatching the others photos off the shelf. She flipped through them hurriedly. She'd never taken a worse picture in her life, that she was sure of. It was sickening to see herself like this. To imagine that terrible man having these- Buffy wanted to...do something, puke, burn the place down, scream, smash her fist into the wall, they all seemed like good ideas. She tasted blood in her mouth and realized she'd been biting her tongue. Her hands continued to flip through the images. Why was she doing this? She should trash the lot of them. But for some reason she couldn't stop herself from looking. It was like a terrible accident, you slow your car down to look at the carnage.

Buffy had reached mid-way through the images when she stopped the frantic motion.

This wasn't her.

"Harry?" Her voice seemed to shatter as it left her lips. She really might be sick now. The boy in the picture wasn't the boy she knew. His face was pale and sweaty. His mouth clenched shut. Blood, made more red by his pallid skin, soaked his left arm and dripped onto the floor. And his eyes, those gorgeous green eyes, they glowed with such pain. Those eyes were both alive and dead. It was somehow not right seeing Harry like this. Harry was teasing. Harry was quiet awkwardness. Harry was a deep, quiet laughter that made you feel comforted. Harry was calmness and confidence in the face of danger. He could smile and those beautiful green eyes made you want to smile too.

Seeing him like this was wrong. Very wrong.

Buffy closed her eyes and greeted the darkness. How long she stood there she didn't know. It wasn't important. She wished she could erase the last few minutes. She didn't want to see herself this way, she didn't want to see Harry this way. Yet a rational part of her wondered, how much alike were Harry and herself? She had always been separate from everyone, even her best friends. There was a part of her they couldn't reach. She'd excepted that, sort of. That distance was the reason she didn't tell them things. When she'd gone to meet the Master two years ago, she'd known it would mean her death...yet even given the perfect opportunity she hadn't told Willow. And the years hadn't changed that. Facing the same situation, she still wouldn't tell them. But with Harry...

"Buffy?" a voice interrupted her thoughts. Buffy looked up, the photos were still clenched in her hand. Her neck swung around bringing a twinge of pain.

"Angel." her voice echoed hollowly in the air.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his eyes scanning her.

"I'm..." she had been about the say she was 'fine'. But 'fine' didn't seem to express the feelings she was experiencing. "Let's get out of here," she whispered. Angel frowned and tilted his head, he bit his lip as he watched her.

"What is that you found?" He reached forward in an attempt to look at the pictures in her hand. Buffy pulled away.

"Nothing." She normally would have pulled the images to her chest, out of reach. But, the thought of those moving, lifelike pictures touching her skin would be enough to really make her sick. Angel seemed to play on this moment of hesitation and with a hand bent the corner of the photograph enough for him to see it. He swallowed slightly at the view he received. He felt the twitches of guilt in his stomach. He'd seen images like this before, he'd caused images like this.

"Buffy–"

"He has pictures of me to," interrupted the blonde. Angel paused. He watched the girl before him, she really did look like a little girl. He'd rip the bastard's head off.

Buffy closed her eyes and shook her hair. The strength of the Slayer folded around her like a cloak. Her eyes became harder.

"Where's Harry?" she inquired.

"He's up there fighting some vampires,"remarked Angel casually.

"You didn't stay with him?" Buffy raised an eyebrow.

"I was worried about you," offered Angel by way of an explanation.

"I can take care of myself." The words sounded as if they had been carved in stone. Angel nodded. Buffy left the bedroom behind, Angel trailing after her. They emerged back into the meeting room, and with a small boost from Angel, Buffy emerged from the cellar to find Harry staring blankly into a wall. She'd half expected to find Harry still fighting, but he didn't look as if he'd exerted himself at all. No doubt that explained why Angel had left him, there must not have been many vampires.

Angel leaped through the trapdoor and found Harry in the same condition as Buffy had, but he was slightly concerned by the boy's condition. How? Angel wasn't exactly certain what he wanted to ask, and so remained silent. But, he couldn't help but add another reason to his list of things that bothered him about the young wizard. What kind of teenager can fight twenty vampires and not be tired?

"Harry?" Buffy addressed the young wizard.

"Hey, Macnair moved," commented Harry.

"Yeah, I kinda gathered that when I found his empty room down there," stated the slayer with a slight cringe in her voice.

"Uh, Macnair's room, I hope you haven't been scarred for life," teased Harry. Buffy bit her lip at the attempt at humor. It really wasn't funny.

"Well, I found these." Buffy held out the photos that she had compulsively clutched in her hand since leaving the cellar. Harry bent down and looked at what she held in her hand. His face became a mask, expressionless.

"Oh," he stated. "I spoke with a vampire up here, he said–"

"Harry," Buffy interrupted. "Oh? Is that all you're going to say," demanded Buffy. Harry shrugged.

"What do you expect me to say?" Harry gazed at the young woman.

"I don't know, something." The blonde waved the images. "Were you going to say anything about this?"

"I told you I've felt the curse before." Harry was rather blank.

"This is the catus curse? Why are you bleeding?" she prodded. Honestly she didn't know why she was pushing this. Maybe it was because she thought she'd understood Harry's past. Did she even had a clue?

"The blood was from before,"remarked Harry casually. "Now, as I was saying, I think we need to talk to Giles–"

"Before? What did he do before?" Buffy interrupted again. Angel reached out a hand as if to pull Buffy back. Harry's shoulders tensed. He didn't like being bullied about his past. What did the past matter anyway?

"Do you really want to know?" asked Harry, hie eyes glinting cruelly. "Do you want to know that he used a hacksaw on my left arm, he kept sawing until he got down to the bone. Then, he pulled the saw away and I was so happy that I'd made it through without screaming. That was when he started sawing again. He wanted to make an X you see. Is that what you wanted to know Buffy? Does that satisfy your curiosity?" Buffy pulled away, a grimace marring her face. Harry sighed and took a step back. Angel had watched the exchange with hesitation. Although Buffy hadn't noticed, the vampire hadn't been able to avoid seeing the disturbing red color that flickered in Harry's eyes.

"Look, I'm sorry," apologized the young wizard.

"I...I just want to know more about you Harry," Buffy said softly. "I wonder if I know you at all."

"You do know me," sighed Harry with a slight note of exasperation. "That happened to me, it isn't a part of me." Harry shook his head. "But we have bigger problems, I spoke with a vampire here, Macnair has moved to the hellmouth, a former school?" Harry shook his head wondering what idiot would build a school on the entrance to hell. It sure brought a whole knew meaning to the notion of highschool being hell on earth.

Buffy raised her eyes. Her previous worry over Harry temporarily forgotten. She didn't like the idea of returning to Sunnydale High. She'd left the place a little over a month ago, or at least she left the burned out hulk which was all that remained of her previous place of learning. Blowing up the highschool, while practical at the time, had also a rather symbolic quality. She thought she'd left that place behind for good. Ain't life tricky? She heaved a sigh, she should have known it wouldn't be that easy.

"I think we should go back to Giles and see if he had any more info," suggested Buffy. Harry nodded in agreement, considering that had been what he'd tried to say earlier.

The trio trooped back to Giles's house, keeping a wary eye for vampires and demons. They had just left the cemetery when Buffy gave Harry an apprising look.

"You know sometime you'll have to deal with it, you know that right?" she reached out a hand and grasped his forearm softly. Harry bowed his head and didn't say anything.

"How," Buffy asked, "How did he even get them?" Harry rolled his shoulders, he didn't have to ask what she was asking about. The photographs.

"They have silvered edges, did you notice? These are pensive photographs. A pensieve is an object that allows you to review memories. A special camera can capture moments inside a pensieve. I don't know how Macnair got a hold of this equipment...these kind of photographs are usually only used in court trials." Harry shook his head.

"He'd want these images around him though...wouldn't he," observed Angel.

"Yes, I have no doubt he'd find a way to keep some of his favorite moments close at hand," stated Harry, his voice cold and brittle. Harry paused and looked at Buffy. He took her hand for a moment and looked deep into her eyes.

"They are nothing more than something Macnair left to distract us. He's trying to mess with us, he wanted us to find them." Harry voice was firm but soft. Buffy took a deep breath and nodded her head. Her eyes had regained some of her sparkle, her fire.

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There was no activity on the way to Giles's flat, whatever Macnair was doing seemed to be keeping them all the creatures of the night busy. When the they reached the Fidelius protected apartment they went inside to find four heads bent over books, and one rather confused Mrs. Summers.

"Buffy," the older woman greeted. "What's going on? They say there is some madman on the loose, and Giles's house appeared out of nowhere."

"It's a little complicated mom," placated Buffy. She reached out a hand and patted her mother's shoulder.

"A mad wizard from back home is here and I used magic to protect the house," stated Harry.

"Okay, so maybe it isn't that complicated," Buffy smiled slightly as her mother shook her head at their current situation.

"Any luck?" asked Harry, approaching his Uncle who was once again submerged in the books.

"No, I'm afraid not, every time I think I've got something a factor doesn't line up. It's quite tedious work. Surprisingly, I'm better at translating ancient Summarian than I am French." Giles glared down at the particular text he was holding. Across form the table Xander groaned.

"Like this mess is any better. Listen to this, 'But salomon seith -- every thyng hath tyme. --

For goddes sake, as beth of bettre cheere! It is no tyme for to studien heere. '...That doesn't even make sense what language is that?"

"It's middle English Xander and that isn't even a book of prophecy, that's the Miller's tale from Chaucer's Canterbury Tales. Where did you find that book?" Giles shook his head.

"Well...it was with all the other leather bound books, how was I supposed to know? What's this story about anyway?"Xander flipped through the pages.

"Well, the Miller's tale is the real racy one if I recall, all about this young woman who... Never mind, find a real book," instructed Giles with a slightly ruffled expression.

"Hmm," Xander carefully tucked Chaucer's novel into his lap and pulled a large book before him. Harry watched as the young man stealthily pulled Chaucer from his lap and re-located the Miller's Tale. Across the table Giles rolled his eyes.

"I know very well what you're reading," sighed Giles. Xander shot the watcher a raised eyebrow.

"How do you know I'm not reading this," asked the young man gesturing to the large book of prophecy.

"Well, first of all that book is written in cuneiform– "

"So, I could have learned cuneiform...you never know," argued Xander with a frown.

"And secondly that book is upside down," finished Giles.

"Oh..."

"You're going to keep pretending, aren't you." Xander made no move to change his position. Giles and Oz nodded while Willow giggled, all deciding to leave Xander to his raunchy medieval literature. Harry smiled at the comfortable group scene. He glanced across the room to see Buffy sitting on the couch, resting her head on her mother's arm. Joyce, stroked her daughter's arm comfortingly. Angel stood in the background like some protective dark angel.

"We did learn something," Harry said, interrupting the stillness. "It seems Macnair has moved from his previous residence in the graveyard and has taken up new lodgings. The hellmouth."

"He's at the school?" asked Willow with raised eyebrows.

"It seems so." Harry nodded. Buffy rose from the couch and approached the others.

"If this wizard has the kinda mojo Harry has, do you think he can open the hellmouth?" questioned Buffy. Giles paused and removed his glasses, thinking for a moment.

"Well, the typical wizard magic might not...but dark magic is often more ritualistic in nature, often it calls upon some of the same elements that are used in nature based magic. I'm afraid Macnair might very well have the power to accomplish that. And, if he is using demons and vampires as bodyguards..." Giles's voice trailed away. Everyone grew silent considering the frightening possibilities. Buffy had thwarted other attempts to open the hellmouth. But, those attempts had always been the work of one band of vampires. How would they manage combat such a large group led by a maniacal monster?

"Haa haa," Xander laughed. He looked up at the serious faces. "Okay, I'm guess that wasn't the right moment to reach the funny part of that story...huh? But seriously, you guys gotta read this. These medieval folks were nasty!"

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A/N: Hello dear readers, you can blame midterms for the later update, but never fear I'd never abandon my fic. How do you like, and please review. Reviews protect me from the drudgery of daily study. (Comtemptus Mundi anyone?)

Della