I've come to one conclusion - landlords suck. Particularly when they are absent-minded douchebags that screw you out of a lot of money and have the balls to ask you to keep paying on time. But whatever, enough about my rantings...
Happy New Year, everybody! Thanks to RebeccaAnne, Megagalvatron12, Na'ir al Saif, BA-All the Way, wingster55, teamtiva, angelplusbuffyequals4ever, philly cheese dude, Lily Emerald, my girl Imzadi, sugarless5, EmeraldWings90, MacKenzie Creations, jnd25, ashes at midnight, Dark Vizard447 and David Fishwick and the many who contacted me via private message and e-mail. You are all my inspiration!
This chapter was originally supposed to be much longer, but I realized that I might lose some people if it was too long ( I was going on 60 pages). So, I'm breaking this chapter up into two parts, with part two coming later.
How much later? Not sure, but I'll try to make it fast. I got a new job and get to go back home next week, so things are going to be a little hectic. But worry not! I will finish this story, someway, somehow. As always, any suggestions or comments are more than welcome.
Now, sit back and enjoy the latest chapter of…
Bring Me to Life - a Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Angel Crossover Event
Part 17
Head Trippin'- Part I
Hyperion Hotel - Lobby
5 minutes ago
"Tibet? Really?" Xander blurted, surprised.
Oz nodded. "For nearly two years."
"Wow…Tibet," Anya mused. "Haven't been there since the 18th century. It was 1791, in fact, during the The Nepalese Invasion, which is a funny story, because it just so happened that a wish I made to a peasant girl actually turned the tide of the…" Off the startled looks everyone gave her, Anya laughed nervously. "Um, that's not important right now. So, Oz! Tibetan cuisine still as weird as I remember it to be?"
"Pretty good, actually," Oz replied. "Though I still don't get the sheep's tail thing…"
The Dingoes' axe-man was regaling the others in the hallway with the tales of some of his more memorable escapades during the last three years - a journey that took him all over the world in his quest to find the answer to the question of the raging animal within.
"Must've put some heavy mileage on that thing," Gunn mused, referring to Oz's van.
Oz gave a knowing smile to the tall vampire hunter, who was not aware of all the uncanny capabilities of Oz's van. "Oh, she can handle alright."
Fred stared in wonder at the lycanthrope after hearing his stories. "Wow. That sounds kind of exotic. Traveling the whole world in search of a cure, fighting vampires, demons and werewolf hunters while righting wrongs along the way…."
"It's like An American Werewolf in London meets Kung Fu meets Outbreak," Andrew enthusiastically added, "which I personally think was one of Kevin Spacey's finer performances, even though everyone still goes off about American Beauty, but — "
"Andrew. You dropped your life, go get a new one," an already annoyed Xander snapped at the comic book nerd, before turning back to Oz. "So, did you find what you were looking for? Are you, y'know…cured?"
Oz sheepishly rubbed his head. "Well…no and yes."
That threw the construction foreman for a loop. "W-wait a second. No and yes? Oz, it's not a trick question here. Either, yes, you're not going to turn into berserk furry nasty three nights out of the month, or, no, we might want to keep those nights open. Which is it?"
All the while they were talking, Spike's keen blue eyes never left the werewolf. Oh, he could smell the wolf in him, alright. The musky, wet canine-like odor underneath the surface of the boy's skin had been assaulting his senses since just before they crossed the Hyperion's threshold – built-in defense which vampires could recognize werewolves, their natural enemies, with.
But it had never been that strong in the boy, to Spike's recollection. Before, Spike had to stretch his senses out to sense that there was more to Oz than met the eye. Yet, now, Spike could sense the wolf aspect coming off Oz in waves. Which could mean that either the beast inside had become more powerful…or the blonde werewolf had managed to do something Spike had only heard tales of, but never actually believed…
"Um, it's…complicated," was Oz's reply to Xander.
At that moment, Willow had emerged from Angel's study, stopping short in front of the group, but having eyes only for Oz. And the same could be said of him…
"Wills!" Xander greeted. "What's the good word? Any news on how we can get Cordy back to normal?"
"Huh?" Willow answered, as if in a fog. "OH! Uh, it'll take an hour, but, um, I think Buffy and Angel can fill you in."
Neither Oz nor Willow acted as if they heard a word that Xander was speaking as they slowly moved towards each other. "Why would we wait until they come out when you can just tell us what you…"
Willow motioned with her neck towards the staircase. "So…talk now?"
Oz gave a simple nod, his eyes the only indication of his nervous anticipation. "Now's good."
As they walked past everyone up the stairs to Willow's room, Xander protest slowly died. "Hey, Willow, are you even listening to me and…of course not, because she's walking upstairs pretending to ignore every word I have to say."
"Thought you'd be used to it, by now," Faith smirked, to which an annoyed Xander glared at. Nearby, Spike could help but to grin at the dark-haired Slayer's snark.
"Uh, better let 'em be, guys," Lorne said. "I've got a hunch those two have a lot to work out."
With nearly perfect timing, at that very moment, Angel walked out of the study, trailed by Buffy.
"Speaking of which…" Lorne knowingly concluded, while Spike's sharp gaze beheld
Gunn was the first to speak to the pair. "So, got any answers yet?"
Angel nodded. "We did. It looks like there may be a shot."
"It's a risky one, but it's the only option we've got that doesn't involve chopping off Cordy's head," Buffy added. "But we're going to have to wait another hour before we can start. Part of some mystical mojo thingamajig Darla and I just did."
"You and Darla?" a confused Xander blurted.
"But will it work?" Fred asked, nervously.
"Don't know, Fred," Angel answered, honestly. "But we'll try."
Buffy cut in at this point. "Giles and Wes will fill you guys in. Me and the big guy need a moment."
Spike turned his eyes to her, the hint of jealousy not too subtle there. "Off for a little heart-to-unbeating-heart between ex-lovebirds, eh?"
The blonde Slayer threw her recently former undead paramour a pleading glance. "Spike, please, not now," Buffy implored quietly.
Angel, however, was ever too quick to rise to the bait. "You know what, Spike? I really don't see how that's any of your business."
"Isn't it, now?" Spike retorted as he stepped lithely down the staircase until he was in close proximity to the original Slayer and Vampire-with-a-Soul. "Last I checked, it was my apocalypse, too, Windshield Head. Last I checked, sorting out failed romance issues wasn't on the check list of things necessary to save the world."
"And last I checked, the name on the card read Angel Investigations, not Spike's Stupid Inquiries," Angel fired back, his dark brown eyes hardened like coals as he glared at his old protégée/nemesis. "You don't tell me what to do in my home, got that, Bleach Wad?"
"Guys, come on…" Faith sighed, exasperated.
Spike's already volatile temper was flaring as he glowered at Angel, the old, raw wounds of rivalry and fresh jealousy over one small California blonde mixing to create a deadly recipe for violence. "You know what, you big lummox? Piss on your card, piss on your home, and piss on you, to even it all out."
"It's only even if you used an even number of things for insults, idiot. If you've got a problem with me talking to Buffy, then you can take it up with me later," Angel bit out, his large fists clenching as his mind, telling him to calm down while Buffy was here, warred with his instincts, which told him to knock Spike into next Tuesday…about 3 centuries from now.
The mention of Buffy's name coming off his lips was more than enough to propel a simmering Spike forward as he came face-to-face with his former mentor and present thorn-in-his-backside, his every impulse yearning to detach that his pompous Sire's overly large head off those obviously padded shoulders. "How 'bout screw later, and let's take it up right now, mate?"
"Uh-oh," Fred nervously gulped.
Angel regarded his Grandchilde coolly, his voice dropping an octave into a more sinister tone - one that would do his twisted alter ego proud. "Fine. Your funeral."
But before the two vampires could get ready to rumble, Buffy harshly shoved them apart.
"How about both of your funerals?" she angrily asked, eyeing each undead man with similar contempt. "Because that's going to be the end result if I have to put up with any more of this undead macho madness crap. So I suggest you two get the hell over it. Now."
Never taking his eyes off Angel, Spike addressed Buffy, his trademark smirk making its return. "No problem, luv. I'm a big vampire, after all."
Angel rolled his eyes, trying his best to rein in his composure.
Andrew watched the two vampires' tense confrontation with unusual intrigue. "This is better than cable," he whispered excitedly to Anya.
"I'll say. My money's on the big one, though. He's sexy," Anya replied to the boy in hushed tones as she regarded the taller, broad-shouldered Angel with lascivious approval.
Xander, hearing her not-too-muted comments about Angel, scowled. Buffy, Cordy, now Anya…it was like the guy was undead catnip for chicks. Sure, he had the height, and muscled physique and the whole tortured-selfless-hero gig working for him, but honestly, what did girls see in him, anyway?
Fred exhaled, relieved. "Whew. That was a close one."
"No kidding, Cinnamon Stick," Lorne agreed, using his red silk handkerchief to wipe the sweat off his green brow. "Thought we were in for a Smackdown in Tinseltown."
"Too bad," a disappointed Gunn groused. "I was kinda lookin' forward to Angel smacking Little Boy Blond around the lobby."
The doe-eyed inventor gave her ex-boyfriend an admonishing glance. "Charles…"
The street-raised vampire killer shrugged dispassionately. "Hey, just saying. Billy Jr. over there's been doing nothing but piss people off since he got here. Maybe Angel's the guy to put him in his place."
Spike, his sensitive vampire hearing overhearing Gunn's comment, threw a glare towards the young man, but said nothing. If he could withstand Harris's crap for four years, he could weather some punk street kid's snarks. Besides, he just gave his word to Buffy that he'd be a good little vampire in front of all the kiddies. The last thing he wanted was to make himself look worse - especially in front of his bloody bore of a Grandsire.
Annoyed, Faith decided to move things along. Seeing Buffy's sordid love life might have given her a kick back when she was taking a walk on the wild side, but now that she had taken a higher road - and the whole inclusion of Spike giving her an unusually jealous vibe - she preferred for the older Slayer to take the show behind closed doors.
"Uh, B? Tick-tock. Don't you think you and the Big Guy should get going, already?"
Buffy raised a quizzical eyebrow at her former arch-rival. "Somebody's in a rush."
Faith shrugged. "Time is money around the apocalypse. Just sayin.'"
"She's right, you know," Angel chimed in, which earned him a glare from Buffy.
Still, the chagrined blonde acknowledged, Faith was right. It was time to get some questions answered, and only Angel could do that for her.
"Fine," Buffy sighed. "We'll be in Angel's room. Knock if you need us."
Without another word, the two heroes ascended the long staircase upstairs. And all the while, Spike's narrowed eyes never left the pair…to which an observant Faith, who caught the blond vampire's actions, lowered her eyes, feeling something almost akin to disappointment.
"Well, that was nice and nerve-wracking," Lorne chuckled nervously.
"With those two? You get used to it," Xander sighed.
The door to the study opened again at that moment, and out walked Whistler, followed by Wesley and Giles, a pair of grave expressions on the British graduates of the Watchers Academy.
"You guys aren't planning on going 'Love Boat' or 'Showdown at the OK Corral' on us, are ya?" Fred timidly smiled.
At that, Wesley and Giles exchanged confused stares. "Showdown at - did we miss something?" a puzzled Giles asked.
"Nothing you can't catch on tomorrow's 'Passions,'" Spike waved it off. "So, did our three new guests bring any treats in their bag of tricks?"
"Um, yes, actually, Whistler and Lindsey have proven to be most useful," Giles replied, his shrewd green eyes noting how Wesley, to the right of him, flexed the muscle in his jaw at the mention of the former lawyer's name.
Gunn's eyes narrowed as he noticed the absence of two key figures. "Speaking of which, where is Evil Matlock and Darla?"
Whistler pointed back to the study. "They're, uh, working some things out."
At this, Xander groaned. "Geez, at this point, you could start a drinking game from all the mushy stuff that's going around here."
You should talk, Anya inwardly groused as she eyed the still-unconscious 'Cordelia' bound on the tilt table in the center of the lobby. He'd seen Xander take several concerned glances in that direction while Oz was talking to them earlier.
"So, you guys got the 411 on the First or Big Bad Anonymous?" Faith asked. "If we're going to be fighting that thing, it'd sure as hell come in handy to know who or what we're dealing with."
Both British men exchanged wary glances before turning back to Faith. "Yes, we have," Wesley replied. "Unfortunately, the situation is much worse than we realized."
"Aww, man," Xander sighed. "Why can't the situation ever be not so serious, or a tad bordering on whimsical, maybe even comical?"
"Because we're talking about evil, Hard Hat Brain, not your fighting or sexual prowess," Spike sneered, having all he could take of Xander's ill-timed comedy. "Now, shut up and let the man brief us."
Xander scowled. "Oh, look, Spike made a funny. Well, at least he's not completely useless."
"Couldn't be taking your schtick now, could we, Harris?" the platinum-haired vampire smirked.
Xander was about to fire back when Faith - who had just about enough of the male temper tantrums for one apocalypse - reached to her waistband for her stake, grabbed it and promptly shattered a nearby vase at the base of the stairs, startling everyone.
"Okay, here's the deal - no more fights, no more tantrums and no more pissing contests between anyone. Because the next one that opens his or her mouth with anything that even smells like a snark is gonna get an ass-whuppin' Slayer style. Capishe?"
The tone in the sultry South Boston beauty's voice left no doubt that she meant business.
Xander, not wanting to test her, merely turned his mouth and looked away.
"Yes, m'aam," replied Spike, whose eyebrow rose in intrigue at Faith's display of power. Damn, what was it about Slayers that got his batteries so charged up?
Apparently, he wasn't the only one as Whistler began leering at Faith. "Is anyone else a little turned on, here?"
Off Faith's glare, Whistler - suddenly apprehensive - mouthed 'Sorry' to her, his hands raised defensively.
Giles cleared his throat. "Um, yes, thank you, Faith, for that…strong sense of initiative. Listen, closely, everyone, and we'll tell you what we've just discovered, and why it changes things considerably."
The group realized that the elder Watcher was not kidding when he told them of the First's grand plan, and the shocking involvement of one of the Powers that Be themselves.
"Oh, this is bad," Xander muttered.
"Bad? No, expired milk is bad, Rob Schneider in a thong is bad…right now, we're boned," Anya shook her head. "And not in the nice, sweaty, fatigue-inducing way."
"Wow. I was right, all along. They really are The Powers-That-Screw-You," a disillusioned Fred sighed.
Gunn was warring between outrage and disbelief. "Hold up, you're telling me that the guys we've been going to bat for the last three and a half years are the ones going Godzilla all over us?"
Andrew was about to speak up, undoubtedly over the Godzilla reference, when Xander pointed warningly at him, his eyes saying 'Don't even think about it."
"Only one of them is," Wesley answered. "It's a rogue Power that wishes to impose world peace by force. Apparently, it has no idea that it's being manipulated by the First." He turned to Skip, eyes narrowed. "Does it?"
Damn! The jig is up, was Skip's panicked thought, before he put on his mask of bravado. "So, you finally figured it out. Took you retards long enough. Have a cookie, folks, 'cause everyone's a winner!"
Giles eyed the trapped minion in curiosity. "I don't wager that trapped Power would appreciate being made a fool out of if it found out what you and your parasitic friend really have planned for it."
"Well, gee, Mr. Belvedere, it's a good thing that it's buried so far deep inside that it doesn't have a clue," Skip sneered. "Like a cocoon, waiting to sprout wings."
"It won't get a chance," Wesley icily replied.
"The night's still young," Skip retorted.
Spike grew bored with Skip's ramblings. "Alright, we got the info. All in favor of me chopping Tin Grin's head off and playing 'Kick the can' with it, say 'aye.'"
"Aye," the group raised their hands nearly unanimously, causing Skip's eyes to bulge in fear.
"It's not that simple, Spike," Giles stepped in front of the grinning vampire, who was on his feet and cracking his knuckles while starting towards the imprisoned demon. "He might know something else that hasn't been factored in."
"He'll be more useful alive," Wesley added. "More annoying, but useful."
Spike rolled his eyes at Wesley. "Oh, please, who're you kidding, Percy? Shiny Tim over there probably spilled everything he's got. I used to be evil, you know. If I was the boss, you really think I'd just spill all the beans to a blabbermouth like that?"
At that moment, Dawn's light footsteps heralded her bounding quickly down the staircase, a frantic look on her face.
"Hey, Nibblet, you feeling better?" Spike gently asked, genuine concern on his face.
"Getting there," Dawn nodded, before looking to the rest of the group. "Um…have any of you guys seen Connor?"
Gunn frowned. "Junior took off when Lindsey, the porkpie guy and that Oz cat showed up. Figured he was with you."
Dawn was surprised. "Oz? He's here?"
"Sure is," Xander replied. "Back and conversational as ever."
Wesley interjected. "Dawn…why are you looking for Connor when he should be upstairs with you and the others?"
At that, Dawn lowered her eyes in guilt, her hands wringing themselves nervously. "We kinda…had a fight. I tried to explain, but he got so mad, and he just…left."
"Left? As in…left?" Fred asked.
"Well, it's probably not as in 'right,'" Xander reflexively quipped.
Ignoring Xander, Dawn continued, "I-I don't know. I was hoping he was down here with you guys, but he mentioned something about…going out?"
At that, the Angel Investigations team threw up their hands or shook their heads in dismay.
"Not again," Fred groaned.
"I swear, we've got to put one of those ankle bracelet things the cops use on that boy," Lorne added in consternation.
"This is bad. Really bad," Faith added in concern. "That kid could be anywhere by now, with his speed."
"And with the spell about to be performed in an hour, we can't spare the manpower to search for him," Wesley added. "And if we tell Angel…"
"He'll flip his lid," Gunn finished. "But maybe we ought to grab him now, let him find the kid."
"Don't bother," Faith replied, drawing looks from the others. "I'm not doing much right now. I'll go get him."
"By yourself?" Giles asked.
Faith shrugged. "Why not? That's not exactly a new theme for me, Giles."
"Faith, the city is still lousy with vampire cliques left over from the Permanent Midnight. You'll need backup," Wesley cautioned.
"Wes. I'm a Slayer," Faith deadpanned. "I'm thinking they're the ones that'll need the backup."
"Still, wouldn't hurt to have someone watch your back, luv," Spike added. "Sounds like that's me."
Although surprised, and flattered, Faith also felt the loner inside her bristle. She'd been taking care of herself since she was 15 years old with a dead mom and an imprisoned-for-life dad. She didn't need anyone to take care of her…no matter how hot he is.
"Thanks, Simon Phoenix, but I've got this," Faith waved him off. "Besides, we might need you here if Mace Face over there," she pointed at Skip, "gets unruly."
"Come on, pet, think about it," Spike gently pressed on. "I've got the kid's scent. And I happen to be the most feared vampire this side of the Western Hemisphere."
"Second most feared," Giles softly corrected.
"Shut up, old man," Spike bit out, before returning to Faith. "What do ya say? You and me, we could haul Broody Junior back home for his spanking and still have time to see the show."
Spike could see Faith mull it over, watched the thoughts stir in those seductive brown orbs as she considering his proposition.
"Well, Connor is a sneaky little scamp," Lorne said. "Might not hurt to have some vamp senses along."
"Sneaky, huh? Well, that's right up your alley, isn't it, Spike?" Xander baited him.
"Go sit on a welder, you second-rate Bob Villa wannabe," Spike shot back.
Faith sighed as she realized what she had to do to keep the peace. "Alright, alright, you can tag along. A little distance is probably the only way we can get you to not rip Xander a new throat hole."
"Gonna need a little more distance for that, pet," Spike chuckled, pleased that she had agreed to take him…er, with her, that is.
"Try Timbuktu, then, Spike," Xander snarked. "I hear it's great this time of year."
"You armed?" Faith asked her new traveling partner, paying no mind to Xander.
"And dangerous," Spike grinned, opening his trademark black trenchcoat to reveal three stakes looped on the right side.
"Then let's boogie, handsome," Faith smirked, as they headed towards the door -
"Wait!"
Both vampire and Slayer paused before turning back at Dawn's voice.
"Guys, I should go, too," Dawn said.
Faith shook her head. "Sorry, kiddo. This ain't no babysitting gig."
"I don't need babysitting," Dawn replied defensively.
"All the same, we can't take you with us, Bite-Size," Spike replied, his tone apologetic. "Too many uglies out there."
"It's not safe, Dawn," Giles added.
Xander crossed his arms. "And I don't think Buffy would be too keen on it, especially with you sneaking out of here, oh, what, 15 minutes ago?"
"I-I know," Dawn sighed. "But it's just…I'm the one who got Connor upset. Maybe if I can come along, apologize, m-maybe I can convince him to come back. He'd be less likely to put up a fight if it came from me."
Anya dryly chuckled at Dawn's perceived inexperience. "Dawnie, you've got a lot to learn about men."
Dawn threw her a dirty look before returning pleading blue eyes to Faith and Spike. "Pleeease? He needs me. You won't even know I'm there, I'll be extra quiet, I promise."
She was racking her brain to come up with something more convincing…
"Plus, if you don't take me, I-I-I'll just sneak out, anyway," Dawn added triumphantly.
Giles eyed the girl, sternly. "Dawn, for future reference, perhaps you shouldn't announce your intentions to sneak out beforehand."
Realizing her gaffe, Dawn blushed, embarrassed.
Faith threw up her hands. "You know what? Fine. B's probably gonna have my head on a stick for this, but fine. Grab a stake and hurry up."
An elated Dawn beamed at them. "Got one in my pocket! Let's go."
An apprehensive Giles said, "Faith, I have to advise against this."
Faith shrugged. "Hey, you heard the kid. If she snuck out once, she's probably going to do it again. At least this way, we can keep an eye on her, make sure she doesn't do anything stupid."
"Besides, maybe Little Bit's right," Spike sighed. "If she can turn up those baby blues at the boy, it might lure the little sneak back here for his spanking."
Giles was unconvinced, folding his arms across his chest. "And what do I tell Buffy when she asks why her sister is no longer in the safety of the hotel, but rather again roaming about LA on another chase?"
Again, the dark-haired Slayer shrugged. "Not sure. But make it something good. I'm in enough hot water with her, as it is. See ya."
With that, Faith Spike and Dawn quickly filed out the entrance, closing the door behind them, leaving the group speechless - and leaving Giles flustered.
"Something good," the former Sunnydale High librarian muttered. "Oh, yes, that should be bloody priceless."
Hyperion Hotel - Angel's Study
Now
In the 29 years that Lindsey had been alive, he could never recall an instance where he was uncomfortable being alone with a beautiful woman.
Yet, as Darla bored those intense blue eyes into his own, he couldn't help but to have second thoughts about being alone with her.
It was to be expected, he supposed. He knew he was likely to have this coming when he hopped in that white van and turbo-boosted his way down the western US coast line for LA. Hell, if he hadn't forgiven himself for the Drusilla thing, how could he expect Darla to?
But he had to try.
"Um, heh, I don't suppose it'd help my case if I told you that you looked pretty damn good for a not-so-dead girl, would it?" he chuckled.
The blonde woman's cold glare did not melt in the slightest. "One, you're not charming or funny, and two, you're wasting that one minute of time I gave you to explain yourself."
Lindsey wasn't expecting that. "One min-? Darla, I thought that was just a figure of speech. You don't really want to just give me one minute of time to say what I wanted to…?"
Unmoved, Darla replied, "57 seconds. 56, 55, 54-"
"Okay, okay!" Lindsey held his hands up, gesturing for her to stop. This was not going to be easy. But hell, he was a lawyer once, so he figured he would do what most lawyers do - talk their way out of it. "Look, I don't expect you to be happy to see me-"
"I'm not," she bluntly replied.
"You said you'd give me one minute," Lindsey patiently said, although he was careful to temper his voice, lest she decide to walk out on him and end his audience with her.
Frowning, Darla folded her arms across her chest, sighing in resignation. "Fine. Go on."
Nodding gratefully, Lindsey resumed his speech. "I don't expect you to be happy to see me. I know I probably wouldn't be, if I was in your shoes. After all, what I did to you was…it was wrong-"
"Wrong?" Darla gave him an incredulous look. "Is that the word for what you did in that hotel room that night? Wrong?"
She stepped towards him, the frigidness of her stare pinning Lindsey in place. "Lindsey, when you steal out of the box for charity, that's wrong. When you jaywalk, that's wrong. When you lie at confession to your priest, that is wrong."
Her fists balled up at her sides, and for a moment, Lindsey felt as if he should have braced himself for another punch to the face. "You fed me…like fish food…to a lunatic demon who turned me back into a soulless monster that killed hundreds of people shortly afterwards and slaughtered countless others before that. There's a word for what you did to me, Lindsey, and it sure as hell isn't 'wrong'. It's more along the lines of…" she broke off for a moment, as if searching for the right word. "Unforgivable."
He could feel his heart sink at the word. "I…I thought it was what you wanted. To live…"
"Being a vampire isn't living. It's a demon walking around in your body, while the real you is gone," she heatedly cut him off. "It's a violation, a perversion, of a person's life."
"I know that," he hastily amended. "But Darla, I…I saw the look in your eyes when Holland handed you back the test results. And how you were acting when you were dealing with your soul. You were at the razor's edge, Darla. I didn't know what else to do. I didn't know how else to help you. I…I just wanted to make it all go away for you."
"By taking my life?" she angrily exclaimed, causing him to flinch. Darla shook her head. "Okay, I admit it, I was panicking when I found out I was dying. I didn't like it the first time when I was bedridden while the syphilis was eating away my heart in 1600, and I didn't care for it the second time. But at the heart of it, I never wanted to be what I was ever again."
Her eyes watered for a moment. "You have no idea what I've done, and you have no clue to what it's like carrying that around…and caring. Feeling utter remorse for hurting and killing good people, children, and knowing that no matter how sorry you are, you can never take it back…you can't ever make it right."
"That's where you're wrong, Darla," Lindsey spoke earnestly. "There isn't a moment of the day in the last two years that I haven't regretted everything I've done at Wolfram & Hart. You know who they are, you know the kinds of things they do. And, unfortunately, I had a big hand in making some of those things happen. I never killed anybody, but there were a lot of times where I facilitated things for their funerals to come sooner than expected."
The reminder of his past deeds made Darla wary again as she guardedly eyed the ex-lawyer. "And with that in mind, we're supposed to trust you why?"
Deciding he had no real proof other than his own convictions, Lindsey went with the truth.
"Because things change. I've changed, Darla. From the looks of things, you know a little something about that yourself, don't you?"
Always the observant one, Darla regarded him from head to toe, trying to find anything in his body language as a tell-tale sign of lies or deceit. The former vampire was very good at reading people - it tended to happen with 400 years worth of practice. But try as she might, she could not find anything. For a brief moment, she missed her old otherworldly abilities of being able to hear the pace of his heartbeat, or to smell the salty stink of fear indicative of a lying human.
Without her vampiric powers, all she could go on was her gut - and when it came to Lindsey, even she could never be sure.
She let out a breathy, weary sigh. "Why are you here, Lindsey?"
The Midwest native shrugged. "You're here. That's enough for me."
Off this, the blonde beauty gave him an incredulous, brief and very wry chuckle. "You can't honestly expect that after…everything…that you could come in and, what, sweep me off my feet with a few magical baubles and a pair of sad puppy dog blue eyes?"
He couldn't help but to smirk at that last line, sensing that perhaps there was a little bit of the old attraction there that Darla was trying to mask behind this wall of resistance.
"So, you like my eyes, do ya?" he drawled with a wolfish grin.
Off her glare, he wisely switched gears, dropping the grin and going back to honesty - a hard tactic to master for a former lawyer. "I'm not expecting you to swoon at the sight of me, Darla, nor am I expecting your forgiveness. But, as it happens, I'm willing to earn either one while I'm here."
What scared her most was wondering if she was more upset that he could be lying…or that he was telling the truth.
"Thank you for the help, Lindsey. Really."
He began to smile, until Darla brought it to a halt with her next words. "But I think it's best that you leave. Even if I did trust you - which I don't - there's nothing for you here."
Shaking off the sting of that request, Lindsey shook his head. He was never one to just give up easily on anything, and he'd be damned if he was about to start now.
"I think I'll be the judge of what's here for me and what isn't," he answered.
Exasperated, Darla tried again. "Lindsey-"
He stopped her with an upheld hand. "No, Darla. While it'd mean everything to me if I knew - for a second - that you felt even inkling for me what I feel for you…the fact is, there's an apocalypse comin' soon. Lot of people are going to get hurt without the right help. Might as well help 'em, if I can. It's my planet, too, and all."
Darla felt herself becoming more frustrated by the minute. She didn't trust Lindsey for a second, especially not so close to her son. And Darla was never a forgiving soul, to begin with.
And yet, he looked so convincing that a traitorous piece of her heart wanted to believe in his words of contrition and remorse.
"This is a really bad idea," she warned him.
He smiled sadly. "Wouldn't be the first I had."
"You could end up getting yourself killed."
Off those words, Lindsey studied her carefully, peering closely through the flawless beauty, catching something in her crystal blue eyes that ignited hope in his heart…a flicker, an ember, of concern.
"Would you care?" he asked softly.
Despite a sudden and brief tremor in her heart, Darla slipped on her mask of indifference, as she shook her head. "Why should I?"
His eyes gave her a measuring gaze as he smirked in bemusement. "You tell me."
"Don't," she warned him.
"Don't what?"
"Don't try to use that charm on me, because it's not going to work," she clarified, her eyes turning diamond hard again. "I've seen your kind before, Lindsey. For four centuries, to be exact. You hurt whoever you want, take what you can, and when your victim wises up to your act, you make with the 'But, sweetheart, I'm different now!' speech and all is forgiven to someone with the IQ of a raisin. But I don't charm so easily. I'm not some barmaid floozy or moony-eyed teenager you can flirt out of her dress, and I'm sure as hell not ready to forget about what you did to me."
Remembering something he had seen earlier that made his blood boil, he took several slow steps in Darla's direction, trying hard to keep his jealousy in check as he willed his voice to go smoothly quiet.
"I guess you'd prefer the strong, silent broody type, then? Guess your tastes in men haven't changed much, have they?"
Darla felt her own temper begin to rise at his audacity. "You don't have any clue what you're talking about. Between Angel and I, there is nothing but-"
"I wasn't talking about Angel." He cut her off. "I see the way you were looking at Stubbles the whole time we were discussing the big plot."
Heat flushed her cheeks as she was blindsided by his crack, feeling anger as she stared at Lindsey's handsome, yet accusing face and confusion as she suddenly pictured Wesley's sullen, rugged and, oddly, caring features. "That's none of your business."
The hell it isn't!, he wanted to shout out, but bit his tongue even as his fears were confirmed about her feelings for that limey ex-Watcher bastard.
"Okay, maybe not," he sighed. "But come on, Darla, of all people, Wesley? Whistler filled me in on the details about Angel Investigations since I left. The guy's about one bad turn away from snapping. He couldn't hold a job, a girlfriend or his own friends if it meant saving his own life. Hell, he was the one who helped that crazy vampire hunter kidnap your son into a hell dimension. He's a loser, Darla, and if you ask me-"
"Shut up!" she snapped angrily, effectively silencing him. "Just. Shut. Up. I don't give a damn what some Joe Pesci wannabe told you about Wesley, I know what I've seen. And if you think I'm just going to stand here and let you - you, of all people - insult him like that-"
"Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't feel a little something when you see me."
The words surprised her as Lindsey's clear blue eyes, smoldering with such intensity that she forced herself not to flinch, bore into her. He closed the gap between them, until there was barely a foot of distance from their bodies, the dizzying allure of that Jasmine scent shouting at his every hormone to take her into his arms.
For all her grudges and righteous anger, Darla was a woman, after all. And she would be lying if she didn't find him attractive, the piercing eyes, the clean, yet inviting smell of his aftershave…so damn attractive it was almost unfair.
Yet, she still managed to steel herself and dim her own attraction when she calmly met his eyes. "I feel nothing for you."
However, Lindsey was no stranger to reading body language himself. He had to know it, given his former employers. And as he peered through the icy walls of her azure eyes to see something more than anger, he was pleased to find a flicker, a spark of something softer…
He couldn't help but to flash another of his so-damn-sure-of-himself smiles as he narrowed the distance between them even more, close enough to feel the heat rising from her chest. "Really? 'Cause your eyes are tellin' me something different, darlin'."
His hand slowly reached upwards and finally found her face. Lindsey felt a shiver of pleasure as his rough fingertips registered the smooth velvet softness of Darla's flesh as he gently cupped her right cheek.
The blonde felt her pulse begin to quicken at Lindsey's touch, feeling his daft fingers brush into her golden hair, frozen in confusion as her brain, which told her to slap him away, warred with her heart, which involuntarily hammered against her chest in an unwanted, but undeniable excitement.
She hated how shaky, how insecure her voice sounded when she asked, "What are you doing?"
He smiled again, his voice growing husky. "Getting another bad idea."
And then he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, and for a moment, both flashed back to another time their lips met, years ago, in an office at Wolfram & Hart, when for a fleeting moment, a tortured soul and a lonely heart thought they could find peace in one another…
As they broke the kiss, Darla's words were spoken softly, a whisper in the wind that sent waves of warmth all the way down to his toes. "You were right."
Her knee, however, was solid as a rock as it connected with his groin, the sharp and sudden explosion of pain causing Lindsey to groan as he sunk to his knees.
Her next words were cold and hard as that blow to his private region. "That was a very bad idea."
With that, she turned on her heels and left the study, slamming the door as she went.
And yet, through the pain as he hissed, clutching his wounded manhood, he couldn't help but to smile. Yup, worth every bit of it.
Hyperion Hotel- Willow's Suite
Now
Three years, seven months, 16 days and way too many minutes and seconds.
That's how long it was since Oz and Willow had last talked. Face to face. Alone.
And now, the only thing in Willow's suite that separated the two former lovers was a few feet of air.
Air…and hesitation.
Willow wringed her hands, unsure of what to say, yet wanting to say and ask so much.
"So…you're back," she started, cringing inwardly at how lame that sounded.
Oz nodded, a calm gesture in comparison to the storm of emotions inside of the werewolf. "Looks like."
"Um, so, uh…why?
The Dingoes' ax-man shrugged. "Whistler paid me a little visit in Seattle. Said some wicked stuff was going down. Figured my place was here."
Willow's green eyes lowered in disappointment. "Oh. So, that's the only reason you came…"
He immediately read her gesture, and his eyes softened at her wounded look. Gently, he reached over and cupped her chin, raising her head to meet his eyes.
"Not the only reason. Not even the main one."
His soft words brought a warming sensation through the redhead, who felt a smile begin to tug at her lips, before she froze it. While it was wonderful seeing Oz here, having him here complicated things.
Before she could voice her fears, Oz's eyes gazed at her sympathetically as he added soft condolences. "I heard about Tara…I'm sorry."
Willow closed her eyes as the pain of loss and heartbreak knifed at her heart. "It's okay…I dealt with it. Well, in a way, I still sort of am, but…"
"You're healing," Oz nodded in understanding. "I get that."
Of course he would, Willow mused. Oz was among the most understanding, the most patient of souls that she had ever met. It's part of what she loved about him. At that moment, a new feeling - guilt - crept over the Wicca powerhouse, who suddenly remembered that there was someone else in her life, a certain headstrong, pretty Potential, who warranted consideration.
Oz began summarizing his travels abroad in the last several years, travels that led from one amazing adventure to the next in search of an answer to his unique situation. Willow was surprised at all he had been through in the last three years. The quiet musician had never been the adventurous type, even though he was a key member of the Scoobies. And now, he had gone all Indiana Jones on her.
"Wow. Looks like someone's been a busy beaver," she gave a small smile, which he returned.
"I guess I have," he said.
"But did you…you know, find what you were looking for?" she asked, curious. "Are you…cured?"
"You mean if the wolf is gone?" Off her nod, Oz shook his head. "No."
Willow sighed in disappointment, knowing how important it was for Oz to rid himself of the werewolf, although she had never cared as she knew that the wolf was only a small part of the real Oz. "Oh…I-I'm sorry, Oz."
"No, it's okay," he assured her, which caused the redhead to raise her eyebrows in surprise. "I learned something new. Something better."
"Better?" she repeated, confused.
"It wasn't for lack of trying to get rid of it," he sighed, recalling his journey. "I've been so scared of the wolf getting loose and hurting anyone, hurting people I love, that for a while I didn't want to be around anyone. I went as far away as I could to get some distance. That took for about a month before I realized that the only way to avoid being alone all the time was to get rid of it."
Her heart hurt for Oz as she pictured how lonely that must have been, all because of something he had inside of him that he feared could hurt those closest to him. A feeling that she, herself, was now more than a little familiar with.
"I tried everything," he continued. "Visited all sorts of temples. Tried all kinds of magic. Buddhist herbs, chants, meditation…none of it worked. I was tempted to just…give in, let the wolf side take over and lose myself in it. It would have been so easy…"
"So, why didn't you?" Willow asked.
"I couldn't let you guys down," he said, sincerely. "I knew if I didn't control it, I'd end up hurting people again. I wouldn't let that happen. I kept searching, hoping for something, anything to give me a break…and then I found it. In Tibet."
Willow frowned. "But you tried it there once. I thought it didn't take."
"There was another way I found," he explained. "The original Tibetan religion. It's called Bon."
"Bon…" Willow tried the words on her lips, before she remembered something. "Wait, that religion trying to find a body-mind nirvana, or, or something?"
Oz nodded. "I studied the original scriptures. Learned from them. In Bon, the spiritual life in all things in the world is connected. We are part of it all. And that's where I found the answer. I've been trying so long to contain the wolf, or cage it. But the wolf doesn't like to be caged, that makes it angry. The more I realized the wolf was a part of me, the sooner I realized that it was also a part of the energy around us…a part of the earth. The secret is not to bottle the wolf, but letting its energy flow through me, out of me without taking me, letting it pass into the world around us, and pull the wolf into the earth."
Willow frowned. "Okay, so you're saying you turned the wolf into energy and just…let it go?"
Oz shook his head. "No, Willow. The wolf was already energy. Like you, like me. It's like…you know how when lightning hits a lightning rod, how it doesn't blow up a house, but it just lets it pass into the ground?"
Off her nod, he continued. "Well, it's sort of like that. The difference is…I can hold a part of it back." He smiled mischievously. "Watch this."
Suddenly, his right hand grew several inches longer, normal fingers turning into brown, elongated tendrils with razor sharp claws. Willow gasped, instinctively recoiling as she knew what that meant - exit Oz, stage right, enter killer werewolf, stage left.
To her surprise, however, Oz's hand suddenly turned back to normal, no traces of the wolf left.
Willow was stunned. "How did you - "
She barely had time to utter the words as Oz, in a dazzling display of speed, moved in a blur around the room until he came up just behind Willow, finishing her sentence. "…do that?"
The powerful witch jumped, startled at his inhuman display of speed, reeling as her brilliant mind tried to process what was happening. He was Oz, just guitar-playing, understanding, taciturn, wolfy Oz. How was he doing this?
He smiled at her confusion. "I had a chance to get rid of the wolf for good. But the more I thought of it, the more I mastered the technique, I started thinking. What if I could use the wolf to help others?"
To say Willow was surprised was an understatement. "So, you kept it?"
Oz simply nodded. "Part of it."
"B-but I thought you wanted to get rid of the wolf," she asked, dumbfounded by his revelation. That was all he had ever wanted, she had believed. To be normal.
"I thought so, too," he said. "But I started thinking about us, and the others. Being a Scooby for north of two years…it changes you. Makes you remember that there are other people out there that could use a hand. Other people that don't know the kinds of things that we know…the kinds of things that are out there. Maybe…I thought if I could understand the wolf, maybe I could use it." He stopped, as if considering his next move. "And I did. I can."
With that, he closed his eyes. And when he opened them again, they were no longer their normal sharp blue…but an dark, onyx black.
Willow gasped. "Oz, your eyes-"
Her warning was too late as she could see his muscles begin to grow, hair begin to sprout uncontrollably from every inch of him, his face shifting into something more feral, more primal…and at last, he was the wolf again, snarling in primal fury.
Willow gaped in horror, her brain screaming at her to run, to cast a spell, to do…anything, but her body unable to comply as she instinctively began to back away from the raging beast in front of her.
Without warning, the wolf suddenly began to move towards her, sending the witch stumbling to the floor against her dresser, whimpering in fear as she held up her hands protectively…
…only to be surprised when the wolf let out a whining sound, and sat in front of her, once ferocious eyes now suddenly turning into large, sad saucers, not unlike puppy dog eyes.
Willow stared in confusion at the enormous lupine creature in front of her, watching its mouth pant quickly as it slowly leaned forward to her, stunned green eyes meeting glowing yellow eyes of the wolf as Willow searched for something she once thought impossible to find in the wolf…
"Oz?" she breathed.
At that, the wolf bobbed its enormous head up and down, its version of a nod, as it playfully licked a surprised Willow's face, sitting up almost obediently in front of her, its tongue wagging like a domesticated pup.
Against her brain's warnings, Willow tentatively reached up and placed each hand on the wolf's face, marvelling at the softness of the animal's fur. She had never been up close with Oz's other side before. At her touch, the beast gave another whimpering sound, its tongue still lolling from its mouth.
Willow's heart melted at the tenderness of the beast. "Oh, puppy!" she breathed in girlish enthusiasm.
The werewolf immediately rolled over on its back, as if playing dead, yet panting excitedly.
Willow smirked. "Okay, now you're just showing off." And yet, she couldn't resist giving the werewolf's belly a good, sound rubbing as it grunted in appreciation.
"Willow, look out!"
The moment was broken emphatically when a knife suddenly whistled through the air, aiming for werewolf Oz's throat. Only its supernatural instincts managed to save him from an untimely end as it quickly rose to its feet shielding Willow behind him, growling in anger at the intruder…
…a well-armed Kennedy, crossbow in hand as she loaded an arrow, ready to strike.
"Kennedy, stop!" Willow cried out, holding her hands up in front of the wolf.
"What are you doing?" a confused Kennedy demanded. "Get out of the way before that thing hurts you!"
"Expellere!" Willow shouted, thrusting her hand forward and sending a jet of red energy that knocked Kennedy's crossbow from her hand, clattering to the floor.
The now-disarmed Kennedy stared at Willow in shock, while the snarling werewolf set its legs ready to pounce on the young Potential.
"Oz! Down, boy! It's okay, she's a friend, it's okay!" Willow placated the werewolf, stroking its head to let it know that the danger had passed.
"Oz?" the bewildered Kennedy wondered aloud, before the werewolf suddenly began changing, its feral features morphing back into the still-clothed Oz.
After keeping a close eye on the wide-eyed girl who attacked him, Oz brushed her off, turning concerned eyes to Willow. "You okay?" he asked softly.
"Me? You're the one who nearly got Pezed Dispensered," Willow reminded him.
Oz shrugged nonchalantly, his response making Willow roll her eyes. "It happens."
"Excuse me, what the hell is going on here?" Kennedy snapped, caught between furious and confusion…and more than a little jealous of the blond boy standing so close to her Willow.
Willow sighed. "Easy, Kennedy. He's a friend."
"You have a lot of friends who turn into monsters, do you?" Kennedy reconsidered her last sentence. "Well, okay, I guess you do, but -"
"This is Oz, Ken," Willow interjected. "You remember I told you about him, right?"
Off this knowledge, Kennedy stared in shock at the boy, who gave her a small wave and a 'Hi,' before she narrowed her eyes, jealousy and insecurity sweeping through her.
"New friend?" Oz asked Willow.
Willow hesitated. "New, um…girl-friend, actually."
A flash of hurt and surprise flickered in Oz's eyes, clearly unexpecting of that news. "Oh."
"Yeah," Willow nodded apologetically, unwilling to turn and see Kennedy, who suddenly looked quite smug at the revelation.
Forcing a smile, Oz nodded. "I'm…congrats, I guess."
But Willow wasn't fooled for a second. She knew Oz too well to buy the Joe Stoic act. "Oz…"
"Willow," Kennedy interrupted. "I just came from downstairs. They need you to start with the mojo."
Willow cursed under her breath as she remembered the excorcism spell that still needed to be conducted. Sadly, sorting things out with Oz would have to wait…saving Cordelia's life couldn't.
"You coming?" she asked him, tentatively.
The werewolf nodded. "Yeah, I'll be right down."
Apprehensively, Willow walked past Kennedy out of the room, the latter noticing, with hurt, how the redhead brushed past her without so much as a word.
Shaking off the wounds to his heart, Oz moved towards the door, when Kennedy shot out a hand, grabbing his arm with no gentle show of strength.
"So, you're the famous Oz I've heard so much about," Kennedy glanced at him, unimpresed. "Huh, with all the talk, I'd figure you'd be about seven feet tall."
"And shoot fire bolts from my eyes and lightning from my ass," Oz quipped, smiling. Off Kennedy's stony glare, his smile faltered. "I guess someone isn't a fan of Braveheart."
"Whatever," Kennedy brushed off his joke as she brusquely continued. "Look, Cujo, I don't know what the hell you think you're doing here, but I know what you're thinking. And you can forget it. Willow is taken. As in, by me. If I catch you so much as looking at her as anything outside the 'just-a-friend' status you've niched for yourself, this place is going to have a new throwrug made out of your ass - wolf or not. We clear?"
Oz regarded the rude girl that just threatened him, that tried to slit his throat in wolf form, that had taken his place in Willow's life…and calmly shrugged. "We're clear. Um, Kennedy, was it?"
"That's right, mutt, and you'd better damn well remember it," she sneered. "I had to go through a lot to get that girl to drop her guard after that Tara chick bit the big one, plus all the crap about her dark side. And now that I've got her, no chance in hell am I about to lose her to some rocker reject for a townie band that sprouts fur out of his face three nights out of the month. I'm what she needs. She barely gives you a second thought."
The fact that he could have easily summoned enough strength to knock this girl for a loop, or enough wolf to make one hell of an after-dinner snack, was not lost on Oz. Lesser men would have succumbed to that urge at the rude demeanor of the pushy Potential.
Yet Oz was not a lesser man. With a level gaze, he eyed her tight grip on his arm. "Right. So, we gonna help our friends or continue this awkward scene? 'Cause I'm thinking the apocalypse is kinda up there on the list of priorities."
Scowling, Kennedy shoved his arm away. Before she could say another word, he was already on his way out the door, leaving the pampered daughter from a rich New York family frustrated, furious and feeling completely insecure about her newfound relationship with the redhead.
This Oz was looking to be a problem that she would have to deal with in her own way. And speaking of problems in need of dealing with, there was the matter of Angel. She vowed to give Robin the time he needed to figure out the truth about this so-called hero, and she would. But if he didn't take action soon, well, she might have to take matters into her own hands.
Besides, she smirked in satisfaction as she picked up her crossbow and admired the sharpness of the arrows, what better way to gain some cred as a fledgling future Slayer than to have dusting the infamous 'Scourge of Europe' as a notch on her belt?
To Be Continued
A/N : (Ducks head while dodging thrown objects from angry readers) Yeah, I know, I know: I promised "The Talk" and it's not here. But it will be happening in the next chapter, I promise! I've already got a big chunk of it finished, so I just need a little more (free) time to tighten it up. Keep in mind, guys, it's Buffy and Angel. That talk has to be really good. Until next time, please read and review. Especially all you newbies out there! It will definitely inspire me to speed things up, no matter how busy I become. See ya!
Next: Connor finds himself in a jam while he's out. As Spike, Faith and Dawn search for Connor in a vamp-infested LA, where will they find the boy? And can they get to him in time?
Darla and Buffy enter Cordelia's mind. What kinds of pitfalls await there? Can they save her? And can they defeat this mysterious Power and parasite? Or have they just sealed their fates?
AND finally…
Buffy. Angel. THE TALK (For realsies, this time, I swear!)
Until next time,
Jean-theGuardian
