If Wishes Were Horses…

Disclaimer: Most of these characters aren't mine, I'm just using them for my own amusement. Please take a minute to review - thanks :o)

Chapter Nine

Angel woke to a world of pain. His head hurt and a dull, energy-sapping ache radiated in waves from high up on his chest.

'Angel?' said a calm clear voice beside him. 'Can you hear me?'

'Martin?' Angel panted. 'What happened?'

'How much do you remember?'

'The Watcher,' Angel gasped out urgently, barely able to move for the pain wracking his body. 'He's not who he says he is…'

'I know,' Martin assured him. 'I followed you when you went outside, in case you needed back-up. I heard what he said to you, and when he attacked you I clocked him with a two-by-four. He's sleeping it off in a locked shipping container until we figure out what to do with him.'

'Thank you,' Angel rasped. 'I feel…I've been poisoned, haven't I?'

'I don't know,' Martin said frankly. 'Vampire physiology isn't something I'm an expert in, but I can't understand why it should be affecting you so badly. Mary, the wicca, took a blood sample while you were unconscious. She's going to run a trace analysis, see if it's a mystical poison. I called Giles too, he's going to speak to the Council.'

'What about Buffy?'

'I don't know anyone named Buffy.'

'You have to tell Giles,' Angel gasped, darkness creeping in once more. 'Buffy…she's alone with him…he'll hurt her, I know him…'

'Angel?' Martin's voice came down a long, echoing corridor; Angel sank kicking and screaming into blackness.

Cordelia glanced up at the clock for what felt like the hundredth time. 'What's taking them so long?'

'Will you relax and stick to the research?' Nancy said from the sofa, looking up from her book. 'It takes a while to get into town from here, and they had to find all the ingredients – they'll be back any time now. Besides, it's daytime, they'll be safe.'

'From vampires, sure,' Cordelia said, 'but what about the lousy demons that hang around waiting to sucker people in with their fashion smarts and smooth talking?'

'Don't worry, they're not that dumb,' Nancy said. 'Oh – sorry.' She reconsidered. 'No, actually, not sorry.'

'I'm so glad our paths never cross in the real world,' Cordelia huffed, turning back to her book.

'Likewise,' Nancy muttered. 'And this is the real world.'

'Not for long,' Cordelia shot back. 'Wait, is that…?' She leapt up and flung the door open. 'Giles, Oz! Thank God, you were gone for so long!'

'It did take a little longer than anticipated,' Giles said, dumping two brown paper bags on the kitchen counter. 'Just put those down anywhere, Oz. Is Buffy not back yet?'

'No,' Cordelia sighed. 'We still can't find any clues about what's wrong with Angel, either.'

'Well sure, you'd have to have been actually researching for that to happen,' Nancy said acidly.

'I'm sure he'll be fine,' Oz interjected, looking meaningfully at Nancy. 'The Watchers' Council are looking into it.'

'Actually, they're not,' Nancy said. 'They called while you were out, said it wasn't their policy to cure vampires. Sorry, Giles.'

'Well, we can't afford to spend any more time on Angel, I'm afraid,' Giles said. 'We don't know whether Buffy's absence indicates success or failure against the Master, but either way we need to get on with this ritual and return the world to its rightful state.'

'Yeah, and send Malibu Barbie back where she came from,' Nancy said, standing.

'Will you stop?' Oz said to her, something steely in his voice. 'Cordelia didn't know this would happen, and she's doing everything she can to help.'

Nancy began to protest, then stopped, shoulders dropping. 'I know that,' she said quietly. 'I just can't stand this – pretty much everyone I ever cared about is dead, and now I know there's some better world somewhere that I can't even begin to imagine…it's just a lot.'

'It is,' Oz said gently. 'I know.'

'Sorry,' Nancy said, almost meeting Cordelia's eyes.

'Me too,' Cordelia said softly. 'For everything.'

'Well, yes, good…um, shall we get on?' Giles said, gesturing for help unpacking the paper bags. 'I have everything we need for the ritual, so I suggest we crack on with it and hope Buffy finds her way back here in time, should we need her.' He paused, a bundle of sage in one hand. 'I wonder what she's doing all this time – I do hope nothing evil has got a hold of her.'

'Get off me,' Buffy said, half-stern. 'How'm I supposed to get dressed if you keep' – she swatted his hand away – 'grabbing me?'

'Sussed out my cunning plan, then?' Spike grinned, enjoying the sight of a topless Slayer trying to extract her bra from a ceiling fan.

'You could help, y'know,' she said, clambering onto a chair.

'Yup. I'm enjoying all the jiggling for the moment, though.'

Buffy's glare was fierce. 'I can't believe we did that,' she said, finally getting her bra on and grabbing her top from the floor. 'What was I thinking?'

'You weren't, that's what was so great about it – it was all instinct and heat, teeth and claws…' Spike's pants stirred again as he recalled the image of her golden body arching above him, the tip of her stake pressed against his chest, his hand slipping between them to touch her most sensitive spot…

'Yeah,' Buffy said breathily. 'I mean, no! God, the Master could've walked in on us and I wouldn't have even noticed!'

'Cheers, luv,' Spike said, pleased.

'That's of the bad,' Buffy clarified slowly. 'And I'm not your 'luv'.'

'S'pose not,' Spike agreed, with a pang of guilt as he suddenly recalled Drusilla's words; Don't leave me…don't go to that nasty little girl...

'I have to get back to Giles,' Buffy said, slipping her boots on.

'Don't you wanna stay and play some more?' Spike hazarded, reaching out for her.

'Not now, not ever,' Buffy said, stomping past him. She paused, turned her head to glare at him over her shoulder. 'The next time I see you, I stake you. Got it?'

'Suit yourself,' Spike called after her, yanking on his t-shirt, 'but you can bet Angel wouldn't go down on you like that!'

Silence greeted him.

Spike shrugged on his duster, took his smokes out of the pocket and lit one with a mighty inhale. 'Well I never,' he mused aloud. 'Who'da thought shaggin' a Slayer'd be even better than killing one?'

Martin looked on helplessly as Angel writhed and contorted in agony. Beside him stood Sheila, calm and impassive.

'I can't watch this,' he said finally, turning away. His eye caught movement in the doorway, and Mary appeared from the shadows.

'Did you find anything?' Martin asked eagerly.

'Yeah, I think I know what's wrong with him,' Mary said slowly, eyes fixed on Angel. 'From what I can tell, it's a mystical poison that's literally called 'Killer of the Dead'. It's specifically meant to kill vampires.'

'So what's the cure?' Martin asked.

'I could only find one reference,' Mary said softly. 'He'd have to drain the blood of a vampire slayer.'

'But that's impossible,' Martin said. 'There's no way he can do that.'

'Oh well, what a pity,' Sheila said arms folded, face stony. 'One less vampire in the world.'

'Not now,' Mary said warningly, but it was too late.

'This man saved all these people,' Martin exploded, gesturing towards the factory survivors, 'not once, but twice! He saved me, and you, and Giles, and who knows how many others! I know he's a vampire, but he's also a good man, and I didn't become a doctor to stand around watching good people die!'

'Good man!' Sheila snorted. 'I still don't buy that a vampire can even have a soul, let alone become anything other than a killer. Whatever he was doing here, I'd be willing to bet he had an ulterior motive.'

'Well, if he did, he's paying for it with his life,' Martin said darkly.

Angel moaned, loud enough to attract attention from everyone in the room. His face was drawn into a rictus of pain, the muscles in his arms spasming uncontrollably.

A petite redhead with a large piece of gauze taped to her throat hesitantly approached. 'Is he…what's happening to him?' she asked Martin.

'He's dying, Emma,' Martin said softly.

'But…there must be something you can do,' Emma insisted, eyes welling up with tears. 'He saved us all…he just waded in there to fight them, he almost got himself killed but he still defended us…we can't just let him die!'

'He's already dead,' Sheila said meaningfully, glaring at Martin before stalking away.

Angel groaned again, the sound rising to a roar of pure agony. His eyes fluttered open, wild with pain, and he hissed through gritted teeth, 'Help me…please…'

Emma began to sob and Martin clenched his teeth so hard his jaw ached. They watched, hearts like stones, as Angel slowly, gently, dissolved into dust.

'Stupid, arrogant, irritating jerk,' Buffy muttered to herself as she stormed toward the exit. Also – sexy, eager, talented…oh God, his mouth…the things he can do with his tongue…

A cold, wrinkled hand clamped over her mouth, powerful arms enfolding her. Buffy struggled, driving her elbow backwards, but it barely made an impact.

'Hello Buffy,' said a voice in her ear, laden with ancient menace. 'Care for a bite?'

A chill mouth closed on her neck and Buffy felt herself falling, hitting the concrete. A heavy weight pressed on her back and her struggles got weaker as her life rushed out through two small points in her neck. Fireworks went off behind her eyes; a dark curtain began to fall.

The weight lifted suddenly and Buffy flopped onto her back, gasping. The Master's hideous face appeared above her; the look he gave her was dismissive, almost pitying.

'As it is written,' he said triumphantly, 'so shall it be. Pity, really, I was hoping for a little more of a fight.'

'I'm not done yet,' Buffy gasped, drawing her last stake. To her horror, she couldn't seem to sit upright. Her head was swimming, her body heavy and sluggish.

The Master laughed a dry, mocking laugh. 'Perhaps not, but you soon will be. Idiot humans, always letting your lusts and desires get the best of you.'

'What?' Buffy whispered.

'Oh, I heard you,' the Master smiled nastily. 'You and Spike, all night long. Funny thing, I would never have pegged you for the passive kind – "Spike, harder!"' he falsettoed. '"Hurt me, Spike, more!"'

'Shut up,' Buffy hissed, eyes filling with tears of pain, shame, frustration. Her fingers felt numb and she almost lost her grip on the stake.

'What really makes me laugh,' the Master went on, bending to glare down at her, 'is your choice of partner - William the Bloody? Even you could do better.'

'I said SHUT UP!' Buffy yelled, suddenly standing upright, anger giving her strength. The Master's beady eyes widened in shock as her stake drove through him, the tip emerging from his back.

'Wow,' Buffy mumbled, watching the Master's skeleton collapse as the stake fell from her nerveless fingers. 'Go me.'

With that, she slumped to the floor.

'Stubborn, smart-mouthed little prick-tease,' Spike muttered to himself as he stormed towards the basement steps. Also – hot, tight, ball-achingly beautiful…and adventurous, God, the things she let me do…

Spike paused, scenting fresh human blood. 'Hmm, what's this – did Saint Angel miss one?' he wondered out loud. He turned his head, trying to find the source; it was somewhere near the door he'd snuck in by last night. Excellent – spot of breakfast, then find a way home through the sewers.

Spike turned a corner and saw Buffy lying beside the scattered parts of an ancient-looking skeleton. She was breathing, barely, but her eyes were closed and she was pale as death.

'Bloody hell,' Spike exclaimed, hurrying to her side. 'What's all this, luv - is that the Master? I'm impressed.'

Buffy's eyelids fluttered open. 'Spike,' she whispered through bloody lips. 'Help me.'

'Can't do that, pet - we're ancient enemies, you and me,' he said regretfully, smoothing her hair from her brow. 'Besides which, you keep forgetting that I'm evil; murder, destruction, death of the innocent…s'what I do.'

'So you're gonna just leave me here?' she asked, huge eyes full of tears.

Don't leave me…

If she doesn't come back alive, you don't get the key…

Spike shrugged, stood, turned away.

'I knew I should've staked you,' Buffy mumbled, eyes falling closed. The last thing she was aware of was the smell of cigarette smoke.