Chapter 7
Messina, Sicily, Italy
"Ah…Sicilia! Home, sweet home," Lorne commented dreamily, as they got off the private jet.
"Spike! Help me out here, fratello!" Angel demanded, as he struggled to climb down the steps of the plane, his stomach in pain from the gunshot wound.
"Angel, I just got off the phone with Cordelia. She said that she, Cathy, your mamma, and everyone else have already arrived at the house," Doyle informed. "Already? How'd they get there so soon?" Angel wondered out loud. Doyle shrugged in response.
The limo finally pulled up at their house. Angel looked out the window of the car in awe. After all these years, this huge house never ceased to amaze him. It was an old villa built in the seventeenth century, but extremely well maintained. His ancestor, Ambrogio Vitale, a wealthy and well-respected lord built this house in 1613, three hundred years ago, back when the family was still legit. A few years later, Ambrogio wanted more power than what he already had, so he turned to less legitimate ways. And so the Mafiosi family was born, though back in the day, it wouldn't be called the Mafia until the early nineteenth century period. Don Angelo Vitale much respected his forefather. Not because of his crimes, but because of his strength and determination.
"God I love it here!" Angel said with pride as he made his way (with difficulty) to the doorstep.
Wes knocked loudly on one of the huge wooden doors. The moment it opened, Isabella Vitale's face broke into a big smile. "Ovest! You're finally here, my young nephew!" she greeted. "Took us long enough," he mumbled, entering the villa. "Alonzo! Freda! Carlo! Lorenzo!" the older woman continued. "Zia! I always love your enthusiasm," Lorne praised. "Buon giorno, Bella!" Doyle said to her. "Now. Where are my boys?" she asked. Just then Spike came out of from behind slinging a wounded Angel around his neck.
"And just what happened to you this time young man?" Isabella questioned disapprovingly.
"The bloody wanker got himself shot, again," Spike told his mother. "Don't know how you managed to train with that hot piece of ass yesterday without that wound healed. Guess the Don's strength runs through the family," he whispered to his brother.
"Angelo?" she glared at her son. "Yes, mamma?" Angel asked sweetly, in an attempt to lessen the nagging he knew he would get.
"How many times have I told you not to do anything stupid? How many times have I told you to stay away from bad people like that who are capable of hurting you?" she scolded.
"Look mamma, I'm a big boy, I can take care of myself! It wasn't my fault! I was caught off guard! And anyway I jumped when he was shooting for my head, so it could have been worse," he responded, still hanging off of Spike's neck.
"Well don't just stand there! Go inside already! Cordelia and Cathy are in the kitchen. They'll patch you up, and later on I'll take a look at that wound."
"Mom it's already patched up! And I heal fast! Bu –" he started, then realized his mother didn't know about his stay at the Marciano estate. "Uh...I already got someone to patch it up, two days ago," he quickly covered up, before going inside the house.
"Buffy! Dawn! Why did you all arrive so late?" Joyce asked, as Buffy, Faith, Willow, Xander, and Giles got to the Marciano villa.
"Sorry, ma, we had to make a stop in Amsterdam, which is completely out of the way, because Xander -," she looked pointedly at her foolish cousin, then continued with an annoyed expression, " –insisted that he just had to eat at a subway at three a.m. in the morning!" Joyce chuckled softly, then her expression turned serious.
"So tell me, Dona, my dear daughter, why all the rush to flee L.A. and come here?" she asked.
"How 'bout we go inside first and get some sleep, and I'll explain everything later," she answered.
The next morning, Angel woke up in his lavish bedroom buried under plush pillows and silk bed sheets. There was a loud banging sound nearby. It took him a few seconds to realize someone was knocking on his door. "What?" he grunted in an irritated tone, not wanting to be disturbed.
"It's me," he heard his uncle Tony's muffled voice from the other side of the door.
"What do you want Zio?" he mumbled into a pillow.
"Your mother wants you downstairs to eat breakfast and so she can check your wound," he informed, inviting himself into the room, then laughed a little. "So how'd you get shot again?"
Angel groaned. "You know it's really not a big deal. My mother is just a hypochondriac. She worries about everything." He sighed. "But I guess since you're my trusted uncle, I guess it's only fair that I confide in you, but only if you don't tell anyone without my permission." Tony nodded.
"Virgilio Fasola came out of nowhere and demanded I hand over my empire or he'd kill me and my family. So he tried killing me, and he's obviously dead since I'm still alive." Angel explained.
"Hmm," his uncle responded, his expression as though he hadn't heard a thing his nephew told him.
"'Hmm'? That's all you have to say? The Fasola boss is dead after almost killing me, and all you have to say is 'hmm'?" Angel said, shocked.
"Wait… so the guy's dead?" Tony confirmed.
"Yes he's dead! That's what I just said! Weren't you listening?" Angel burst out, still a little moody from his sleep having been interrupted. While letting the words roll off his tongue in pure irritation, he didn't notice his uncle deep in thought.
"How can you be so emotionless after I just told you this little piece of information? I still can't believe that that's all you have to say!" he continued.
"Angel, my boy, why don't you just go make your mother happy by letting her feed you and tend to your wound, eh?" Tony dismissed, all too quickly. Those were the words that caught Angel's attention. 'My boy', he thought.
He rapidly got out of bed, despite his sore stomach. "You know what, uncle Tony? I think you're right. I'll just go down and grab a bite. I just realized I'm starving." And he sprinted down the hallway and down the stairs, using the walls and the handrails as support, leaving his uncle in a confused state.
As he fled from his room, he was trying to figure out why his uncle's words sent a chill down his back. Those two simple words seemed so familiar. 'My boy', he repeated in his head like a mantra.
"Morning Buffy!" everyone greeted as she came into the kitchen. She looked around and saw the whole household having breakfast. "Morning," she returned flatly.
"Gee someone seems to have woken up on the wrong side of the bed today," Xander commented, noting his Dona's monotone voice, blank expression, and dark circles under her eyes.
"Maybe some people seem to have just woken up on the absolute right side of the bed today," she snapped.
"God! You're in a mood," Dawn said.
"And you're just being plain annoying like the annoying little sister that you are! You know it's not my fault that I can't sleep because I keep having these bad dreams about this one person that bugs the fucking shit out of me because he thinks that he's such a cool good looking guy who gets whatever he wants! And he is by the way a good looking guy who gets whatever he wants, but he is so NOT cool because he thinks he knows what's best for me and then later on he tells me he's sorry but he does nothing to fix it! I mean what kind of stupid annoying son of a bitch person does that!" Buffy concluded, taking a deep breath after rambling on and on about something that only Willow understands. And everyone stared at her as if she grew ten eyes.
"What?" she asked innocently.
"Are you okay? You seem kinda'…" Faith started.
"Say it and I will bite your fucking head off! And I don't give a shit that you're my Underboss because I'm not in the mood to forgive. Especially that fucking bastard that keeps putting me through his obnoxious little torture with his infuriating ways and his freakin' twisted mind! God! Do I ever want to hit that prick!" Buffy rambled on again. Just then, the doorbell rang.
"Uh…I'll go get it," said Willow awkwardly. Just outside the house stood Angel, Spike, Wes, Cordy, Fred, Doyle, and Gunn.
"Hey guys!" she voiced. Angel and his gang followed him as he entered the house. "Wait! Angel!" she stopped him.
"Yeah?" he replied.
"Well you see, Buffy's kinda' in a bit of a state," she explained. Then, she leaned closer to him, so everyone else would be out of earshot when she whispered, "I think it's because of you." He looked confused.
"You'll see."
Angel walked in the kitchen. "Mornin' beloved Marcianos!"
"Oh! So now you think you can insult my family too, eh?" Buffy sent him a death glare.
"I didn't insult anyone, well not directly at least," he stated. Noting her expression, he suddenly felt like he shouldn't have added the last bit.
She slowly approached him and stared deep into his eyes with pure anger. She took his face in her hands and kissed his forehead before slapping his cheek so hard that he was sure her print would last forever.
"Fuck! Shit! What the fucking shit was that for? Are you trying to kill me here? Maybe it was you that sent Fasola to kill me after all! And have you not noticed that I already got shot? I mean a gunshot wound and a slap from this bambino in less than three days! There's only so much a guy can take!" he complained.
"Oh! And this suddenly became my fault? Can you believe this guy? He thinks the world revolves around him! Have you ever considered my feelings? No, obviously not because -" 'My boy' 'My boy' 'My boy'
"That's it! No. He's my uncle, for god's sake, why would he do such a thing?" Angel pondered.
"Don't you go blaming this on your poor uncle! How could you even think I was talking about him in the first place?" she chastised.
"Shut up for a second Buff!" He tried to concentrate on a thought in his head. It was the letter! he thought.
It's your choice. I know you're smart, my boy.
"What? Now you're telling me to shut up? The nerve!" Buffy screamed at Angel, snapping him out of his thoughts.
"Are you even listening to me?" she asked, venom dripping from her words. And she went on and on. At that point, all Angel could think of to do was to kiss her lips shut.
And he did.
And she did.
And they were completely oblivious to the shocked crowd around them.
A few moments later, she pushed him away with disgust. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"
He kissed her again. The kiss was harsh and rough, but filled with passion. Finally they both pulled away.
"Mother fucker!" she cursed him angrily as he smirked.