A/N: That was refreshing: nothing like giving your fingers and wrists a break for a day (not to mention my brain, damn it) and then finishing off that outrageous cliffhanger. But I also had some more time to plot out some plot, and I realized that if I'd continued the way that I was going, that chapter would be like thirty pages or more before I'd finished. I kind of like saving those chapters for when I need to suck up to you guys for something (I.E., posting chapter fifteen after an embarrassingly long hiatus). So breaking it up into two parts seemed rather logical.
AND SOME RANDOM MAJOR MUSIC PIMPAGE: Red Hot Chili Peppers are the shit, as everyone knows, but I've only recently got a chance to listen to the entire Stadium Arcadium album: it is a work of unparalleled genius and every music lover should buy it. Also, Liz Phair's seminal Exile in Guyville is getting a deluxe edition facelift: I'm getting it the day it comes out (I used to friggin' worship that album). Also, the two disc platinum edition of Pink's phenomenal comeback I'm Not Dead not only has some great bonus material but is not expensive (which is huge in the music world today) - buy it!
And speaking of music, I've got another Passion soundtrack that I'll be posting in the next few chapters. Sometime.
As always, thanks to my fantastic reviewers, and this chapter is as usual dedicated to you guys. And also, seeing as how my damn fingers can't stay away from the keyboard, I might just end up posting another chapter after this one. You never know (and frankly, neither do I), so keep your fingers crossed and hope for the best! Cheers and enjoy the show!
the Passion of Angels and Demons
Chapter XVII, Part II
Tears from the Moon
Tears from the Moon
Fall down like rain
I reach for you
I reach I vain
Stop
Stop haunting me
It should be easy
As easy as when you stopped wanting me…
"Tears from the Moon"
Conjure One (Featuring Sinéad O'Connor)
Even though she'd been expecting it, Jenny still jumped when the heavy knock sounded at her door. She put the wineglass down with trembling fingers and went to the water closet in the hallway next to the door to splash some water on her face. The water still stung on the cuts on her face, even though she'd already put hydrogen peroxide on them. She carefully scrubbed away excess scab and snot and tears from her face, standing back to survey herself in the mirror. Presentable, she decided.
Without further delay, she headed to the door and pulled back the chain. The Lady did not appreciate being kept waiting. Jenny concentrated outside the door, trying to feel for magic. She didn't feel anything, which could mean one of two things: the group had cloaked themselves to avoid detection, or there was someone else outside her door. She gripped a stake and a cross in case it was a vampire (this was Sunnydale, after all, and with Angelus on the loose a gypsy couldn't be too careful), and pulled open the door.
"Where is the creature?"
888
Giles paused from wiping Xander's wounds with the fresh gauze that he and Cordelia had picked up from the drug store on their way back to his flat, and turned to check on his other charges. Cordelia had slumped, beyond exhaustion, sitting straight up in a chair that she'd dragged next to his bed. She looked terribly fragile while sleeping - probably the only time she relaxed enough to let herself appear weak, he thought with some amusement.
He glanced over the stair balcony and saw Willow and Oz curled up, the picture of innocence, fully clothed on the couch. He allowed himself to smile gently as he saw the way that even in sleep the werewolf's hand gripped the petite redhead protectively. It had taken some convincing to get Willow to lay down (he'd argued that she needed to regain her magical energies, and could only do that by resting), but once her head had hit a pillow she'd not opened her eyes again. Oz had followed, finally giving in to his own exhaustion, and had curled up next to her.
His apartment felt silent and cramped, almost lifeless with the usually boisterous Scooby Gang asleep around him, and for a moment he was gripped with a pang of regret for the demise of his relationship with Jenny. She had been unexpected, spontaneous. Her beauty had stunned the gentleman within him, spurring him to an awkward courtship that she'd promptly tossed aside and then asked him out. He remembered their disastrous evening at the Monster Truck Rally with a sigh of longing. If only for those uncomplicated days, when Buffy would walk into the library complaining about school or some such, with Willow and Xander laughing and joking with her as they all prepared to fight the latest evil.
He had used to be excited about his work as a Watcher, used to revel in the feel of being able to contribute to the fight against the darkness. He'd enjoyed training Buffy; indeed, he'd even begun to feel a sort of exasperated pleasure at her determination to balance her impossible life as the Slayer with the normalcy that she craved. "This is the nineties," she said, exasperated. "The 1990's, in point of fact, and I can do both," he remembered her insisting irritably when she had first wanted to start dating in Sunnydale.
Now…now, her lover was perhaps the most evil, depraved, psychotic, and dangerous vampires in existence. A powerful dark force was taking over her best friend and perhaps killing him. Buffy had changed, changed into the Slayer he had first thought that she would be before he'd met her. She was no longer the bright, sunny California girl who seemed to epitomize the songs of the Beach Boys. This situation with Angelus had cast her into an eclipse…one that he was determined to get her out of.
He returned to Xander's bedside with a renewed sense of purpose. He would save Xander's life, because he refused to accept anything else as an option. And with the boy's life he would salvage the sunlight in Buffy's smile, because he couldn't think of her never smiling again as she once had.
888
"Where's Angelus?" Buffy growled, taking a menacing step toward a cowering vampiress who was on the floor next to her upended barstool. The Spanish-looking vampire had obviously thought she was tough; she was in a biker jacket and beat up jeans with a shirt that had bloodstains on it, though whether that was from a meal or from a fight was hard to tell. Now, however, Biker Bitch was shaking more than a box of Shake n' Bake and looked like she'd piss herself if her body could.
"I d-d-d-don't kn-know," she whined piteously, holding a warding hand up to Buffy. The Slayer rolled her eyes and kicked her hand out of the way.
"I'm gonna count to three, and then I'm taking out my friend Mr. Cross here and putting him in a real uncomfortable place for a while," Buffy threatened, brandishing the cross around her neck. The vamp squeaked and jerked back, her human face coming to the fore, the demon inside of her cowed for the moment.
"Alright!" she screamed, panicked. "I don't know for sure, I just know that he and Spike and that freaky chick they run with were trying to pick up minions after something bad went down at the Factory," she babbled. Buffy cut her off with a curse.
"Shit! Spike and Drusilla lived?" she demanded. The vampiress nodded vigorously, looking vaguely like an irritated chicken. Buffy sighed - there weren't a lot of things that could make this night much worse, but the thought that all three of the deranged Scourge of Europe were alive and building a retaliating army against her…that'd be enough to make Hitler a little nervous, Buffy decided.
"All I know is that they headed--"
Buffy had been so focused on the vamp in front of her that she didn't notice the smaller, leaner, more insane looking vampire sneaking up behind her until he grabbed her around the waist and slung her into the wall as hard as he possibly could. What she did notice was the pain in her ribs when she hit the wall with a smack of leather on wall that'd make a skinner wince. She fell to the ground, gasping in pain, her stake clattering away from her.
"You fool! Did you truly think you could make us betray our master Angelus?!" Psycho-Boy crowed victoriously. He followed this with a roundhouse kick to her face that did nothing to alleviate her pain or her mood. She gasped in pain as his boot connected with her cheek, slamming her down to the ground. Buffy cursed herself for not keeping a closer watch on her back; she'd thought she had the whole situation well-in-hand. This is what she got for insisting on going alone. Even as she thought this, at least seven vamps cautiously stepped behind the freak that'd jumped her. She saw the anger in their eyes, and knew that they were out for blood. Most demons don't like admitting that they were scared, and vampires were a cockier branch than most.
"I'll dance in your blood, Slayer!" the vamp was busy raving. "I'll bring your unconscious body to the master and let him play with you, and I'll be rewarded beyond your wildest dreams!"
Buffy noticed that one of the big boys gave the little nutcase an irritated glance. Sensing an opening, she seized it. "Oh, yeah, big boy? Why aren't you with your precious master now, if you love him so much?"
"SHUT UP!" he snarled, his face instantly transforming into its true demonic visage. "Shut the fuck up or I'll rip your throat out! No one is more loyal to him than me!" Spittle flew from his fangs as he glared at her.
"What's so great about Angelus?" Buffy goaded him, checking to make sure irritated guy was still irritated. "He's not even as scary as the Master," she said flatly, driving the final thorn into this guy's side.
"You shut your fucking mouth, Slayer!" It was just as she'd planned; his eyes lit up like a jack-o'-lantern on Halloween as he hissed at her. "Angelus is great and powerful, his cunning like a wolf's! He will break you, Slayer, and all vampires will rule under him--"
"Aw, shut the fuck up!" irritated boy snarled, grabbed the stake Buffy had dropped when she'd hit the wall, and slammed it into psycho's heart in one smooth move. Psycho had enough chance to scream in surprised pain before both he and the stake crumbled into dust. It was what Buffy had been waiting for; she used the wall as a springboard and launched herself into the midst of the vampires like a bowling ball with a vendetta against the pins.
The group of insurrectionists stumbled back into each other, two of them yelling as they fell down, hitting the floor hard. Buffy rolled into a handstand, landing on her feet next to the gore-splattered pool cue that she'd laid against the bar when she'd started questioning the first chick. Said vampiress hissed and leapt at her. Buffy stabbed the cue upwards, stabbing her through the heart and slamming her body on the floor. She felt the tip of the cue hit the floor and used it as a pole vault, launching herself up into the air. By the time her would-be informant had dusted, Buffy had landed by the two already on the ground. She strategically stabbed the cue twice: dust.
She straightened up as the rest of the vamps ran at her with yells, roars and battle cries. She bent backwards and brought the cue up, spinning it three hundred and sixty degrees around, slamming it into vamps around her, knocking them back and clearing a way toward the bar for her. She jumped up onto and over it, landing next to Willy. He had a key out and was trying to open a trapdoor under his bar. Typical, she thought, annoyed.
"Looks like you're the one who's going to be telling me some info again, Willy," she said cheerfully. He gasped in terror and tried to open the lock. She slammed the cue onto his head and he was out like a light. She reached down for a bottle of liquor and with her other hand snapped the key in the lock. She then grabbed a Willy's Bar book of matches and ripped some material out of Willy's shirt. She straightened up from behind the bar with her Molotov cocktail just as two vamps jumped onto the bar.
"Order up!" she yelled, and threw the bottle onto the bar, at the same time launching herself off to the side and out of the way of the miniature explosion. She looked up as she landed and saw the entire bar go up in flames, taking the two jumpers with it. They ashed on contact and she smirked as she grabbed another pool cue, which she snapped in half over her knee. This gave her two crude but effective sharp wooden swords. She spun them around, tested their weight, and launched herself back into the fray.
888
"How is he?" asked a small voice next to him, and Giles jumped. Cordelia had stirred from her nap, stretching her arms and working a few kinks out of her neck. She still looked small and terribly fragile, and he kept his voice gentle when he answered "About the same, I'm afraid." She nodded as she looked at Xander.
The boy…well, one could no longer call him a boy anymore. The transformation must be nearing completion, Giles was afraid to admit to himself. The…body's skin was as white as porcelain, with black veins running through it. The lips were red, the hair an incredible black. The effect was rather like a daemonic version of Snow White, really - save for the enormous black wings brutally bursting from his back and the horns that had erupted from his forehead. His nails were two inches long and fairly sharp, and whenever he opened his mouth an impressive set of wickedly sharp fangs had replaced his teeth.
And, even to the senses of a Watcher, he could feel the raw power radiating from him in waves. Giles wasn't quite sure that he wanted to know what was possessing the boy at this point; he could think of nothing save for a pure demon from below the Hellmouth itself that could possibly have this strong of an aura, perhaps not even one of them.
"He's going to die, isn't he?" Cordelia whispered, her eyes shining. Giles wanted to instantly refute her words, reassure her. But he was exhausted, and he knew that at this point the lie would show in his eyes if he tried. It was nearly five o'clock in the morning; the sun would be rising soon. Buffy hadn't even managed to call yet - he was beginning to truly worry about her safety as well. At this rate, even if Xander didn't die of his wounds whatever demonic force inside of him would assume complete control. And then what? Send Buffy to kill what was once her best friend? To be completely honest with himself, he wasn't sure that she even could - Angelus was still alive solely because Buffy had not yet truly managed to kill the hope inside herself that her beloved Angel would somehow manage to come back.
"I don't know," he said quietly, and Cordelia bowed her head. He sighed and sat down next to her, slowly putting an arm around her. She slumped into the half-hug, and a small sob escaped her. Ah, he thought. He'd been waiting for this, ever since Buffy and Willow had both broken down in the library. All of them were exhausted, physically, mentally, and psychologically. It was unfair, the weight that was being heaped on their shoulders. What made it even worse was that they'd chosen to help bear that weight; Buffy at least could blame her destiny. All of these children had chosen to help because it was the right thing.
Thinking of his own childhood, he felt even more proud of all of them. At their age he'd been fighting his destiny as hard as he possibly could. Both parents highly respected Watchers and occult researchers? His fate had been mapped for him as soon as he was born. So he'd lashed out, choosing rebellion and petty crime and eventually Eyghon, his worst mistake yet that had come back to haunt him in ways that his stupid teenage self would never ever imagine. And here was Cordelia Chase, rich princess and fashion extraordinaire, sobbing in his arms because she'd helped fight so hard to get Xander back only to finally lose him when she'd succeeded.
He let the back of his head hit the wall as he whispered a prayer for all things lost - especially the simple innocence of childhood.
888
Willy was just coming to when the last of the vampires fell. There was no one left in the bar but him and the Slayer…if you could even call it a bar anymore. Half of the bar itself had been blown to pieces, and the other half was a smoldering ruin anyway. ¾ of the glass in the place was shattered. Ten of twelve tables were in pieces. One of his pool tables was broken and slammed as a block against the front door, which was a gaping hole now, still smoking. Some of the walls were cracked, most of the seats were in pieces, the pictures on the walls were either damaged or crooked or just plain gone. There was enough vampire dust covering the floor to sweep up into a comfortable bed.
And crouching not ten feet away from him was Buffy, the Vampire Slayer, a blonde California teen who was covered in blood, most of it not her own, breathing hard, holding a splintered foot long piece of wood and a cross. She was staring at him as the dust from the last of the vamps settled around her. She slowly stood, stretching, and he watched, mesmerized, as she carelessly cracked her back and neck, stretching the kinks and bruises out of her abused body. She'd taken a beating, Buffy had, but none of that mattered now. She'd been pushed beyond what she'd thought she was capable of. She'd had everything taken away from her and then been pushed some more. And now the Slayer was pushing back, hard.
"How'd you sleep, Willy?" she questioned, pulling one of the few intact barstools up next to him and sitting down on it. She put the cross in her pocket and tapped the stake on her pants, waiting for an answer.
"Like I was hit in the head with a pool stick," he said irritably. This was worse than a hangover. "Look at my place! Look! Who the hell is gonna pay for this?!" he moaned. "I'm done!" Hopefully the dramatics would distract her.
"Yes, you are." Flatly. Obviously there was no dice, distraction-wise. "I should have run you out of her the moment I found out about this place. But I've let you be useful a couple of times. That's saved your hide. It's time for you to be useful again - cuz, after the year I've been having, I'm thinking the same makeover I just gave to your bar would look pretty good on your face." Buffy narrowed her eyes meaningfully in his direction.
Willy sighed and slumped back against the wall. Why me? he thought mournfully. Ever since his mom had kicked him out ("And don't come back till you've got yerself a job, freeloader!") he'd drifted, looking for a place to settle. Sunnydale had looked promising - nice place on the surface, still had some rough places for pot and anything else he was in the mood for. Plus, for some reason, the real estate here was to die for. Obviously.
When he'd done a vamp a favor and been scared into setting another vamp on fire, the first vamp had thanked him by killing the owner of a bar and chucking him in it. "You keep me and my buddies in blood and beers, you keep this place, Willy," he'd said. Willy, once he was done pissing himself at the thought that there were fucking vampires in the world, had easily agreed, thinking that at least it would pay.
Of course, the vamps all wanted free. But Willy was very, very good at making money. So when he'd come across a Sissero demon (there weren't a lot of demons that could freak him out at this point, but Sisseros were some of them: they were freaky little blue things that were good at getting into hard-to-reach places and killing the people hiding there, for a small fee) he'd paid it to take out his benefactor. After that, Willy's was the cheap place for demons, and he was even able to take in some human customers during the day.
When a vamp had walked into his bar and offered him 500 to tell him the gossip about a vamp named Darnell (somehow that name stuck in his greasy little head, even to this day), he'd fell into the snitching business. And he'd been raking in dough ever since. Sure, he got beat up a lot and threatened quite a bit, but at the end of the day, no one really messed with Willy because who else would they find in Sunnydale to take his place?
Then, of course, his life, which had been going so well, decided that it wanted to suck again. So Angel had come to town, and suddenly Willy was getting beat down every other week. Because Angel never paid, he just hit first and asked later. And whenever he gave Angel info it somehow made it to the Slayer, so whoever he'd snitched on came back and beat him up again. Then, to make matters worse, the Slayer had finally found his place. And suddenly he was getting beat up even more.
Then Angelus had showed up and bye-bye Angel, and Willy's Bar was back in full business. So of course he'd gotten stupid and let himself get lulled into feeling secure again. And that was when the Slayer, who'd suddenly gotten quite the 'tude and was very, very scary, walked into his bar about three hours ago and pretty much leveled it to the ground.
"What do you want to know?" he asked, defeated. Boca. He had some nice money saved up - maybe he could get to it and head down to Boca. Bora Bora. The Caribbean. Somewhere, anywhere, just get him the hell away from Sunnydale, vampires, and the Slayer.
"I want to know where Angel is. I need to know how many vamps he has with him, and if Spike and Drusilla are still with him or if they've gone out," Buffy said tiredly. She looked like he felt, and for a moment he almost felt sorry for her. He'd always thought the Slayer gig was a rough deal. But then, she had just practically fucking nuked his bar. His pity ran out. If she wanted to go on her little suicide mission against Angelus, that was her call.
"He's at the Weeping Willow Funeral Home, outside of the First Street cemetery. He's got his whole freaky little family with him. Word on the street is that he's getting a whole bunch of vamps together because you blew his place and snatched his fucktoy--"
"His what?!" Buffy yelped, suddenly fully awake and standing off her stool. She was staring at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. He wondered what he'd said that she didn't know.
"You know, the kid you took from him," he elaborated. "The whole vamp community's all freaked out because when Angel was evil he never fucked around with mortals unless he was gonna turn em or at least drive em nuts like he did with that Drusilla chick. But this one he's had up in his bedroom for this whole time, been sendin' minions down here to make sure that the kid's got like books and vitamins and shit. Kinda freaks me out, too, cuz accordin' to everyone, this Angelus is even crazier than the old Angelus."
"You mean…" she said, sounding very small. "…that Angelus…was…uh, sleeping with…him?"
Oh, that's why she's freaked, Willy thought. "Well, yeah. Vamps are sluts - most of em don't really care if it's a guy or a girl," he explained. Buffy was looking pretty sick about something. "Well, you were with the soul him, so it's not really like your boyfriend cheated on you," he said, trying to cheer her up. Unhappy Buffy meant exploded bar.
"Shut up," she whispered, her eyes squeezed shut tight. He shut up. There was some other kind of pain behind that one. He figured he better not tell her that in all likelihood, Angelus was fucking Spike and Drusilla and maybe some of his minions too. Or at least he had been, before the kid. That was just weird, too; when vamps got involved with humans, the rare times that that happened, it never ended well. Usually with lots of tragedy and blood and other stuff. Witness Buffy and Angel. He shook his head.
Buffy slowly opened her eyes, blinking away…tears? Willy gave her a double-take, but they were gone before he was sure they were there.
"Get outta here, Willy," she said quietly, a rough, bitter sort of anger in her voice. "Don't come back. Ever."
Not one to argue when it meant living, Willy sprang to his feet and scurried toward the door. But she stopped him with her voice. She sounded so small, like a fucking ten year old instead of the cold hard bitch that had blew up his bar and killed everyone in it. "Willy… Angelus… he… well…cares about the kid that he took?"
"He killed anyone who so much as looked at him," he answered her, and the pain that shot through her eyes at those words was enough to make him turn and squeeze past the pool table and shoot out into the darkness outside. He may be bent, but no one would want to stick around and see that girl crumple inside the way he just did.
888
Jenny stared out of her living-room window, seeing nothing in the darkness. She was fighting staring at the reflection of the figures filling her living room. There were five of them, a smaller envoy than she'd been expecting, considering the situation. But the raw power that she knew just their leader contained was…well, maybe five was enough for…she flinched at the thought and turned to regard them instead as they took their tea.
The leader was the Lady herself, which told in itself how serious this was. She had only left the Holy Isle one other time in the fifty years that she had ruled it, and Jenny had been with her at the time - about fifteen years ago, now. Her name was Marie-Claire Christiene, and she was a beautiful blonde Frenchwoman. Her accent had become less and less pronounced over the years - as, of course, had all the classic markers of her age. The Isle was removed from this world, by ancient magicks, and time moved differently there. The previous Lady that Marie-Claire had taken over from had been more than three hundred years old when she'd finally passed into the Summerland.
With the Lady was her partner, the Lord, who ruled the men of the Isle. He was one that Jenny had not seen since she was herself a child. He looked the same, and she remembered that on their only meeting she had disliked him. He seemed too angry, and far from the wise sage needed to be the Lord of the Isle. His name was Mathu, and he was descended from old Irish stock. His hair was still as red as she remembered, with sparkling green eyes. He would have been exceptionally handsome were it not for the slight sneer that always seemed to grace his features, and the habit he had of talking down to people. The Lady was the only one he seemed to respect. Even now he sat on her rocking chair, a barely-disguised tension running through his figure.
There were three others. Two she recognized as the Master and Mistress of the Royal Guard. They sat together, conferring in low voices. They wore leather pants and form-fitting tops. There were twin blades tucked into their belts. Sai, she realized. They were good weapons - highly versatile, the tri-pronged blades could fight at close range, be hurled long range, and could catch other blades within their tines and snap them if a skilled practitioner was behind the sai. The blades looked like they'd been etched with mystical symbols, and the blades no doubt had magical properties.
It was the last figure that Jenny did not know. She looked rather vague, and was dressed all in white. She wore white pants and no shoes, a breezy white shirt, and a white cloak. She stood out like a beacon with her pale blonde hair and complexion. Jenny realized the girl was blind, and yet she gave the impression with her cloudy blue eyes that she could see right through you. Probably a Seer, yet she was like no Seer Jenny had ever laid eyes on. The Master and Mistress kept her in their hindsight the whole time they were talking, and Jenny had an impression that the girl was important in some way.
"Oh, sit down and stop fretting so, Janna. Your part is largely done," Mathu said after a moment. Jenny turned and stared at him. He was sneering again. He looked so arrogant, sitting there in her chair deciding the fate of someone that he'd never met and likely didn't care about…he didn't deserve to be the Lord.
"Jenny."
"I beg your pardon?" he asked, almost mockingly.
"My. Name. Is. Jenny." She enunciated each word coldly, as if she were talking to a rather troublesome teenager in her computer class. He narrowed his eyes, and she met his glare head on. This night had been hard enough on her. There was no way that she was going to be talked down to by this arrogant son of a bitch just because she, unlike him, had feelings.
He opened his mouth to reply when Marie-Claire made a cutting gesture with her hand. "Enough, Mathu. This is hard for her; hold your peace." It had been so long since she'd heard Marie-Claire's soothing, calming contralto that for a moment she flashed back to when she was small and longing for her mother, so far away…
Janna sat, staring forlornly at the broken wooden doll. It had fallen on a sharp rock, and the arm had snapped off. It was one of the few things that she had been allowed to bring with her, and now it was broken. She fought down the urge to cry, as she had done for days. It was so unfair! She didn't want to be here, on this stupid woodsy, strange little island!
"What's wrong, child?" a voice asked from behind her. She turned to behold a beautiful woman, staring at her with such compassion that Janna felt she could trust her instantly.
"Ma dolle," she said, holding up the broken thing. The woman smiled gently.
"Ne pleur pas, ma petite belle," she answered gently. "Regarde." With that she hummed a little note, a sort of tune that put Janna in the frame of mind of someone dancing in the woods, deep in the heart, surrounded by wood, strong and true. She stared at the woman as the doll was suddenly whole again.
With a mysterious smile, the woman kissed Janna on the forehead and walked away. Janna stared after her in wonder for a long, long time.
Jenny bit her lip. She'd been so young, so innocent once. Once, Marie-Claire had been capable of calming her with just a word. Now, grown so far apart from the Lady, Jenny didn't know if anything, not even her rich voice, would make her feel as young and innocent as she had once been, so long ago.
"Hard? The creature is within our grasp, finally! The prophesied Door has been found! We should be happy that we had the foresight to place her here that she may warn us while we can still stop it, not moping for a half-demon!" Mathu exclaimed, apparently assuming that his reason would win over a woman's heart any day. The entire room went deathly still when Jenny stalked across it in two strides and slapped him across the face as hard as she possibly could.
She pulled back her stinging palm as Mathu stared up at her, too flabbergasted to respond. "How dare you?!" she demanded, enraged. "His name is Xander Harris, and he has just spent the last two years of his life fighting the forces of darkness on the Hellmouth because he chose to, because it was the right thing to do! He's saved my life before! So don't you dare stand there in judgment of an innocent soul that you've never met, because if we go through with this we are killing him as sure as the Stoírm will!"
"You dare to question us?!" he snarled, leaping to his feet. She refused to move, glaring up at him fiercely. Marie-Claire leapt to her feet, waving her hands. Instantly an invisible wall sprang up between Jenny and Mathu, separating them.
"Stop this at once!" she snapped, her voice no longer soothing, but icy with anger. "Mathu, you have been on the Isle too long!" she reprimanded her counterpart. As he opened his mouth to protest, she went on over him. "The boy is indeed an innocent entity, and as necessary as his death is, it is still a tragedy that all should feel sorry needs to occur!"
She glared at him, every inch the Lady of the Isle, until he dropped his gaze before her righteous fury.
"I am sorry, milady…but surely you see that this is also a blessing? A chance to rid ourselves of that fear which has plagued our Coven for so long?" he argued.
"I must see it that way, Mathu," she answered softly. "But that does not make this a happy occasion." She turned to Jenny. "And you forget yourself. Whether you agree with him or not, he is still Lord of the Isle which you paid your homage to long ago," she remanded. Jenny had the infuriating feeling of being again five years old and being forced to explain why what she did was wrong.
But she was no longer a child, and she was being put through a crucible she'd never really been prepared for. She shrugged to what had once been her High Priestess and turned away. She could feel the shocked stares of the Master and Mistress of the Guard at her rudeness, but she didn't care. They were in her house, forcing her to do their whim. They could deal with it.
Marie-Claire chose not to respond to Jenny's literal cold shoulder and instead turned to her Guards. "We must make haste to the thing's resting place. I can feel the creature's power growing. Soon, if we do not complete our mission, I fear it may break the mortal and be returned to this world…forever."
888
Buffy caught herself slowing down again and sped her pace up. She needed to get this thing done before the Sun came up, and it was looking like it was creeping toward pre-dawn already. She checked herself, again, for stakes, knowing already that she'd find three in her belt, two in her sleeves, and other one already in hand. She'd stocked up at Willy's, breaking the furniture to furnish herself.
She knew that she was really avoiding the issue that was making her slow her steps in the first place, but Denial Land was still a nice place to live right now.
She'd known, right from the start, that Xander had gone with Angelus at least semi-willingly. She'd known that Angelus had said something that had made Xander choose to go with him. Known that Angelus had probably been stalking Xander. She had thought she'd dealt with it a little after Xander's initial disappearance. But wondering why Xander had gone and having an inkling were two different things.
She'd known that Xander had been doing a lot of thinking about his life around the time Angel had…turned…but…well, had he been wondering if he was gay? Did he think that this was something that he couldn't tell her? or Willow? or even Giles? Did he think that they would freak out about it? What if he was gay and had been macking on Angel while she was with him? What would she think about it?
By all accounts, Angelus had been taking care of Xander while they'd been…she didn't even think the word. What if Angelus wasn't raping Xander? What if Xander had been…seduced? What if it wasn't that difficult for Angelus to do it in the first place? What if it had been difficult and Xander had allowed himself to…do…that with the ultimate evil vampire? Good God, she didn't think she could deal with this!
Okay. Stop. Prioritize. Could she deal with the fact that Xander might be gay? Sure. She wasn't interested in him that way, and, sure, it would be a little weird, considering how he'd freaked at Larry coming out and how he'd avidly chased girls, but, hey. He was Xander. The fact that he might end up with a nice husband instead of a wife? Not that big a deal. (Not to mention that every girl so far that had reciprocated his interest had been a demon - even for Sunnydale Xander had the weirdest luck…)
Following that line of logic, if Xander had a crush on her Angel, could she deal with that? That part she wasn't sure of. Because that way could lead to some serious bitterness what with the she had had Angel and he would end up with Angelus. Could she hate Xander for this, if indeed his choice had been based on that, which she wasn't even sure of? The petty part of her wanted to scream YES! with flashing signs, but the more adult part of her said no. Emotions were emotions, and they always fucked you up (witness her own experience with this truth).
The next theory: could she deal with it if Xander had been seduced by Angelus but had no interest in guys or Angel before that? Now, that was a big iffy. Because she wanted to say that she'd always love Xander. He was her Xander-puppy, her big guy friend who she could hug and trust to be stupid funny when she needed to be cheered up. And, sure, it had been kind of an ego boost to have someone you just knew was a little in love with you around, in a petty, mean sort of way. But if he had fallen for an evil demon that they'd been trying to kill for months? What then? Had Angelus used some sort of torture to twist Xander's thinking? Could they…cure Xander of wanting Angelus, if this were the case?
Or the most disturbing theory of all: Xander hadn't actually willingly gone with Angelus, and had been being tortured and raped by her ex-beau all this time. God, if Xander ever did come out of this…coma that he was in now, would he ever want to even talk to her again? If Angelus had been hurting him like…that for all of this time, would he forgive her for not being able to kill him? Could she forgive herself for not being able to kill Angelus?
She forced herself to realize that tonight, these thoughts were external and irrelevant. She could have plenty of time for teen angst later…after she found a way to make Xander live. Then she could either pummel/kill him or hug him and give him lots of chocolate, depending.
She realized with a start that she was at the Funeral Home, and she froze in her tracks. There were two vamps guarding the perimeter, and they hadn't seen her because she was currently behind a small, picturesque copse of trees. She quickly made sure she was completely hidden as she drew another stake from her belt, arming both hands as she checked the roof. They were in front of the main doors, and she was willing to bet the heavy metal side door was locked beyond her ability to get in. There was no way to get in undetected.
She also noticed that there was three stakes nailed to ground outside the Funeral Home, with what looked like the scattered, ashy outline of a vampire in it. She wondered what vampire had done something so bad to earn the ultimate vampiric ceremonial punishment, and realized that it was probably the vamp that had tipped Cordelia off as to where Angelus was located. Buffy shrugged and didn't pay it a second thought as she began to finalize her plan.
888
Angelus sat on the red chair minions had pulled into the crypt on his orders. He, Spike, and Drusilla were holding court there, because the best of the blood was hidden there. They'd used it to heal their wounds, and had been very reserved in their hunting in the day since the explosion. Early this night, Spike and Dru had followed his orders and gone to the different vampires who existed outside of the Court, getting them to agree to join. Most were strong loners who had been singled out because of their strength…and their eagerness to join Angelus' hunt against the Slayer.
The Slayer…that bitch, that fucking cunt, he thought viciously. When he got his hands on dear, sweet Buffy, he'd put her through the most horrendous torture, both mental and physical, that he could possibly devise. He'd make her live as she watched him torture and kill her friends, and then her mother, and then he'd hunt up in LA for her father. He'd make her crazier than Drusilla before he threw her on his bed and fucked her to death. He'd rip out her spine and drink his fill on her Slayer's blood before he took off her head and mounted it on his fucking wall. She'd taken away his boy.
Angelus felt the loss of Xander like a wound, a constant ache in his dead heart that no matter how hard he tried he could not ignore. Their shared Claim had gone deeper than anything Angelus had ever felt or heard of. He'd been so fucking aware of the boy…when they fucked, it had been the closest thing to heaven a demon could possibly get. The way he'd felt the boy feeling him, the way he'd sensed Xander's thought and Xander had sensed his. He'd felt close to Darla - she was his Sire and his lover, his mother and his wife. He'd thought he'd been bound to her…but his every thought had focused on Xander. The pain of his loss was like a knife had been lodged in his heart, constantly cutting into him, slicing, biting. Every time he thought it was easing a fresh cut would send waves of agony through him.
It was this pain that fed his anger, his rage. He would see Buffy burn for what she'd done to him! His Xander was gone…dead. He felt like sobbing. Him, the great Angelus, a master vampire, a powerful demon who'd once killed Eyghon while trapped inside this human body, and at the thought of being without his Xander, he just wanted to…cry. Like that souled pussy Angel, he just wanted to curl up in the dark, alone. Not even Spike and Drusilla could console him, though the thought of sending them away made him want to torch Sunnydale to the ground.
He knew that Xander was dead. At first, he'd nursed a hope that his boy had survived the explosion, but his senses had slowly returned to him. If Xander was alive, he'd feel it through their Claim. True, sometimes he felt faint twinges, as if Xander was in trouble and needed him desperately. This only fueled the sorrow, only made the pain so much more rich, so much worse. He knew that this was the greatest torture he could ever feel, would ever feel. Not even killing Darla had hurt this bad, and god how both demon and soul had sobbed that night.
The sound of a scuffle outside the crypt, and both he and Spike leapt to their feet. Drusilla, however, swayed off to the side, an odd smile playing about her lips. She was in the midst of a vision, Angelus knew, but he could spare her no attention. He looked to Spike, who nodded tersely and moved to flank the door. Angelus suddenly got a whiff of the fight, and jerked his head away from the door. Spike got the hint and leapt away, which was a good thing, because Buffy the Vampire Slayer was suddenly through the door, followed by ten minions and hurling one through the door in case there was someone waiting to take off her head (someone like Spike, for instance).
Angelus felt his hatred harden and solidify into molten magma at the sight of her. But he stood in slight…was it nervousness? For the Buffy that he'd known seemed completely gone in the Slayer before him; she was dressed all in leather and covered in blood and vampire dust. She looked dangerous, a hunter dressed for the kill. He stepped forward and roared a deep, lion's roar of rage. His minions cowered away from her, and even Buffy looked taken aback. As well she should, he thought furiously. She had taken him away from his boy, had led to Xander's death! She'd pay! He started forward furiously, but stopped, startled, when she held up her hands and threw her stakes down to the floor.
"I'm here to talk," she snapped.
"I'm not interested in listening, bitch," he snarled.
"Oh, I have a feeling you are," she responded. "Or I would have been dead as soon as those stakes hit the floor."
"Oh, god, you're not here to insist that I still want you, are you? Cuz, gotta tell ya, Buff, I've got better moves out of fourteen year olds before," he taunted. God, how could he have been fooled? She was just here because she wanted her precious Angel back. What a dumb bitch; no wonder she hadn't even tried to kill him till now.
"No, numb nuts," she snapped back angrily. "I'm here to talk about Xander."
Just hearing his precious name on that bitch's lips was enough to make him snarl and snap his fangs. "He's dead, you dumb fucking slut! YOU KILLED HIM!" he roared.
"He's not dead, you fucking IDIOT!" she screamed right back at him.
"Xander's alive?" Angelus leapt on this. She glared at him furiously.
"Yes - now let me finish talking," she bit off coldly. They both glared at each other, two powerful champions of opposing Powers. Once, they'd been lovers, comrades, friends. Now they were standing at opposite ends of crypt, glaring daggers at each other, each wondering if the other was going to snap and attempt to kill them.
"Continue, then, Slayer," he finally ordered imperiously. She gave him an annoyed glare, but she shook her head and stepped forward.
"We need to know what you guys did to him, because whatever mojo you worked on Xander? It's killing him. He's only got hours left. And you're my only chance to figure out what the hell you did to him and find some way to reverse it because if we don't he's going to be dead or worse - and I know that in some twisted demon way you don't want that to happen. Help me, Angelus. Help him," she pleaded. Passion twisted her voice as she stared at this man, this vampire who had once made her feel so safe. A haven. Now she was pleading with him to not kill her and to save her best friend, who was possibly his lover.
"What the hell do you mean, he's dying?" Angelus snapped, panicked. "How? Nothing we did should have hurt him - if anything it should have freed him from his bonds," he whispered, almost to himself. Inside, his demon was ranting Who fucking cares my boy is alive he lives I need him go to him help her help him take him back!
"I mean that either he's turning into a demon or a demon is taking over his body, but the transformation is killing him! Just help me fucking stop it!" she yelled, taking a furious step toward him. He stepped right up and they stood, nose to nose, each daring the other to back down, neither taking a step backwards.
"So, what? You prance down here and expect me to help your little friend? Why should I care? Maybe this was my plan all along," he sneered.
"It wasn't. I saw your face when I said that he wasn't dead. Now, I don't understand what's gone on between you two - hell, I don't want to understand right now," she said baldly. "But Xander's…he's our Xander," she said desperately. "I need him to not die, and I know that you do too, in some twisted way. I'm begging you," she whispered, defeated. "Help him. Please."
Angelus stared into her eyes, saw the tears lurking behind the Ice Queen exterior. And maybe his Xander was alive, because it was some twinge of the conscience he'd shared with the boy that made him want to take that pain away. He sighed, cursing himself for a damn fool, and fixed his thoughts on his boy. If Xander was alive, and his boy needed him, then damn it there wasn't a choice here. He had to help him.
"I'll help him. Him, not you, Slayer," he snarled softly. "This thing is not over between us."
"I wouldn't have it any other way," she snapped, the weakness he'd glimpsed in her eyes gone. "But can you stop hosing me down with testosterone? We need to go now." He sneered at her as he grabbed his duster. Spike was holding Drusilla, watching him.
"Keep her here, and find somewhere else to move the minions. I'll have to have a talk with Willy about who he gives information to," he ordered Spike as he got ready to leave.
"Not really, actually," Buffy said conversationally. "I blew up his bar and killed everything in it." Spike turned and stared at her like he hadn't really seen her before, and Buffy looked back at him. Angelus watched this interplay with shock. No. He refused to register it in his brain as he turned to regard the Slayer…who was suddenly on his left.
He jerked around in time to see her grab Drusilla and whip out a hidden stake. "And I'm taking her as an insurance policy," she said coldly. Angelus and Spike both made furious moves toward her, but she placed a stake quite calmly over Drusilla's heart. They both froze. "Angelus, you need me to take you to Xander, and Spike, if you move or send anyone after us so that you can attack us and Angelus can take Xander, your precious girlfriend's dust," Buffy said placidly, and Angelus cursed himself. Of course this new Buffy would think of something like this to cover her ass. Hunh. If there wasn't a Xander, he himself would be attracted to this new version of the Slayer. Interesting.
"Sire," Spike said desperately, staring at the wickedly sharp stake over Drusilla's heart.
Before Angelus could speak, Dru herself cut in. "Don't worry, Spike. Princess is going to see little brother and make him better again. He's all split in two and lost in his own head, and Daddy's got to help to bring him back," she sing-songed. Angelus and Spike regarded her, but she simply looked at them calmly.
"You heard the lady," Buffy said. "Let's move."
Angelus led the way out of his temporary base of operations as Spike stared after them. But of the three, he could not tell who he was really staring at more: his Sire, his princess, or the Slayer. Or maybe all three. He sighed heavily as the door swung shut behind them. He couldn't be in love with three people. It was too much, even for him: God, he might as well put a bloody collar on his neck with the tag "Love's Bitch" on it for all to see.
He sighed again, disgusted with himself and his thoughts, as he went to fulfill his Sire's orders and empty the Funeral Home of vampires. He'd have to find a way to get them all somewhere they could hide from the piercing rays of the cruel, cruel sun.
And he refused to think about how the Slayer's hair reminded him of the Sun of his youth. Nope. Wouldn't go there at all. Ever.
A/N: Dum dum dum! Hah! I told you guys that I was going to finish this before I left, and now I have! I can go on vacation guilt free! Meh! So - is Spike…noticing Buffy? What'll happen between Angelus and Buffy, and Angelus and Xander? What's going on with Xander, and Jenny? I have so many questions to answer that the next chapter might have to be another exhaustively long chapter. Guh.
And don't worry - Xander and Angelus are going to be speaking together again next chapter - but come on! All good Xangel stories have to have some angst in them, else they wouldn't be set in the Buffyverse.
Oh, and BTW: those of you who don't remember Marie-Claire, see second prologue.
That's all for now, so I'll leave you guys with the best line from the Harry Potter books ever.
"Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"
- Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Philosopher's/Sorcerer's Stone
Have a good one, and I'll see you next chapter!