Bring Me To Life – A Buffy the Vampire Slayer / Angel Crossover Event
Part 40
Dirty Girls, Part 2
Sunnydale, California—10 miles outside town limits
Nightfall - 10:47 p.m.
Days Left Before End of Days: 17
At the edge of a forest, in the deep dark of a peaceful night…a young woman was running for her life.
A Potential Slayer, at that.
So close, she thought desperately. I'm so close! Please…!
Running through the dead leaves on the ground, the rustling bushes, the earth cold and damp under her feet from the last rainfall, Shannon Jones, age 17, pushed her legs as hard as she could, the breath in her lungs pumping like an engine.
Behind her, five murderous, eyeless men (if they were even men) in black robes wielding knives—the same knives that she watched them plunge into her beloved Watcher's chest again and again four nights ago at their home while she hid in the closet trembling in fear—were hot on her heels, murder on their minds.
She wove and dodged, through branches, bushes and around trees, but they still kept coming her, lunging for her, swiping their soulless steel blades at her. She tried to block it out even as she heard their footsteps closing in, tried to keep focused on a single goal, the last instructions her Watcher whispered to her as she held his dying body in her arms with tears streaming down her face: Buffy Summers. Get to the Slayer. Safety.
Eyes wide, breathing hard and heavy, blinking back the tears forming in her eyes, more afraid than she had ever been in her young life, even when she lost her parents or faced her first vampire, she ran.
Ran with all her might.
Ran like her life depended on…well, actually, it did depend on it.
But even with adrenaline pumping through her system, even though her Watcher had trained her to run several miles a day, she knew she couldn't keep this up for long. She was tired, so tired after running these last few nights. And she knew the moment she stopped…she was dead. She knew she needed to put some serious distance between her and these freaks in the next few moments or else she would be joining her Watcher.
She could see the ground drop off in the distance, and knew there was a hill or plateau or something. Just beyond that…a road. And on the road not too far from her…a pickup truck. Freedom! she thought desperately.
She lunged herself off the cliff and felt herself tumbling down the hill, the ground hard and unforgiving, her back and chest pelted with a few stones, her body crying out in pain with every swivel and bump. Still, she thought in between the rotations of her body, it was better than getting cut to ribbons and dying in a forest.
At last she felt her body come to a halt at the foot of the hill. Dazed and battered, but her survival instincts in high gear, she grunted and cried out in pain as she pushed herself frantically off the ground, staggering, then shaking her sore right leg quickly and running, sprinting towards the middle of the road.
A pair of headlights began getting closer, like beacons in the dark. Waving her arms, she planted her feet, screaming, "Help! Stop, please! PLEASE!"
The vehicle swerved and screeched to a halt. It was a battered old truck and a young man was driving it. She ran to the passenger side door.
"What's going on?" he asked, clearly startled.
"Please!" she begged him. "Get me out of here!"
"Is someone hurt?" he asked anxiously.
Knowing her attackers could be there at any moment, she yanked the door open and threw herself inside. "Drive!" she yelled.
Just as she saw the black-robed creatures round their way to the edge of the road and start sprinting towards them, the young man slammed his foot on the accelerator, the car jerking forward and speeding off into the night, leaving her would-be murderers behind them in the dust.
Thanking whoever was listening to her prayers, she allowed herself a moment to let her guard down, panting as she tried to catch her breath as the truck traveled down the road.
She turned for a moment to look at the man who had helped save her life just now. He was a young man, probably in his late 20's or early 30s. Dark eyes, dimples and dark hair with just a hint of reddishness…handsome, too, part of Shannon noted. Not that she was going to entertain such thoughts. She never had a boyfriend, and she didn't feel she needed one now. Right now, she had a mission. Get to her destination. Get to the Slayer, like her Watcher told her. Get to safety.
He looked mildly startled. "Well, that was, uh... Are you all right?"
She nodded, still panting a little. "Thank you. Thank God you were there."
"Well, let's not give him credit for everything." Then he smiled. "Nah, I'm just funning you, girl. I don't believe it was a coincidence." He looked back at the road, then to his passenger. "I also don't believe young girls should be out in the woods late at night—should be tucked in bed."
"Wish I was," the girl murmured, the long nights of running and hiding since her Watcher was murdered flashing through her eyes.
"Mmhmm…I expect you do at that," he said. "Look, I don't mean to pry, but those boys... they looked kinda like, well…" He took a look at the girl suspiciously. "You didn't happen to fall in with devil worshipers, did you?"
Shannon said nothing, simply staring out the window, her hard history washing over her face.
"Na, I'm—I'm sorry," he said apologetically. "You, uh, you look like you've been traveling a while." He blinked. "I didn't think that— Is there some place you'd like me to drop you? You heading some place?"
Her reply was guarded. "Sunnydale."
He smiled, appearing to be bemused by her answer. "Shoot, girl, I'm going there mah-self. I ain't never been, but I expect we could find a police station or a—"
"I just need to get to Revello Drive," the young Potential replied firmly, almost snappishly, trying to stay the course. Seeing his smile fade as he nodded politely, turning his eyes back to the road, she began to feel bad. After all, he had just saved her life
"But um, thanks, uh…" She took another look at him and her eyes fixed on what he was wearing—a clerical collar. "Father...?"
"Call me Caleb," he replied, his friendly smile returning as he spared her a glance. "Never was nobody's daddy."
"I'm…Shannon." She was reluctant to reveal even that. Her dying Watcher warned her to be as incognito as possible. But again, he had just saved her life. Besides, he was a religious person. She didn't see any harm in sharing with a man of faith.
"Nice to meet you, Shannon," he smiled pleasantly. "Got any family? Brothers, sisters?"
She swallowed down a swell of emotion as she thought of the only person in the world who was her family amid the foster homes she bounced around in for years after her parents died—her Watcher. May he rest in peace.
"No," she said softly, turning back a lonely stare out the window.
"Hmm, well, better off I suppose," he said, his eyes narrowing for a moment as he thought back to some private memory. "Brothers ain't nuthin' but trouble. And I know I sure as sugar don't need to be someone's keeper…or be kept after."
She frowned at the way he said that, but said nothing further. She just wanted this part of her life to be over already.
"Well, Shannon, you feel like telling me why those Freaky Joe's were after you?" he asked.
Because the entire Slayer line is being attacked…because Bringers are hunting down and murdering dozens of girls like me all over the world, the thoughts echoed in her head miserably. Because they came to finish what they started when they broke into my home and hacked apart my Watcher, the only person who's been like a father to me…because I drew the short straw in the Game of Life…
"I'm…not sure," she lied.
"Well, girl, do you ever think that, uh, maybe…they were chasing you because you're a whore?" he asked out of the blue.
Her head whipped around and she stared at him in shock, asking softly, "W-What?"
"Now, I know what you're thinking," he smiled again, but something in the way he did it made her hairs stand up and her heart start to pick up its pace again. "Crazy preacher man spoutin' off at the mouth about the whore of Babylon or some-such. That ain't me. I'm not here to lecture you. I mean, what's the point?" He kept talking even as he pressed in his dashboard cigarette lighter. "My words just curdle in your ears. Wouldn't take in a thing."
Shannon began to look around nervously, all feelings of safety suddenly evaporating as she started looking at the door handle next to her. She didn't have the strength to run much farther, but something about this guy now had her senses screaming "Danger!" She prayed that it was just her jumping to conclusions. And yet his next words, delivered with a serene smile, offered her no such comfort.
"Head's filled with so much filth that ain't no room for words of truth. Well, you know what you are, Shannon?"
Off her stunned silence, he turned to look at her. Something about that smile was…dark. "Dirty."
Oh, God, he's crazy! "What?" she sputtered, becoming more uneasy. "I-I'm not! I don't want…What're you—?"
"Now, now, now. There's no blame here," he said soothingly, almost like a parent would to a crying child. "You were born dirty, born without a soul. Born with that gaping maw wants to open up, suck out a man's marrow." His eyes narrowed for a moment, his left eye twitching in anger as he thought back to a distant past…a distant life he left behind long ago. "Makes me puke to think too hard on it."
She had heard enough. Whoever this nut job was, Shannon knew she had to get out of here. Now.
Shannon quickly, frantically tried to the passenger side door, trying to open it, only to realize with a sickening rush of fear that there was no handle on the door. She was trapped.
"Yeah, that there door's problematical," he drawled. "I don't know as I could recommend steppin' out at this speed anyway. You're like as not to tumble some. But, of course, there's my boys back there—Ooh, they hate to miss a mark."
An icy chill spread through her heart as she realized the implication of his words. Oh, God, oh, my God, oh, my God…this can't be happening! It can't be…!
"Your…boys?" the shocked words managed to fumble out of her mouth.
He chuckled, as if he knew a private joke she wasn't in on. "Well, they ain't exactly my 'blue eyed boys', but they're hard workers. And they don't truck with Satan—that was just me having fun," he confessed before he turned to Shannon.
His eyes were as dark as his awful smile. "Satan is a little man."
Seeing no other way out, Shannon instinctively made a grab for the steering wheel. But instead of veering the car, she found herself veered away as the man gave her one hard shove, pinning her against the seat with unreal strength. Eyes wide and afraid, she stared at the man—Caleb, she think he called himself— as he shook his finger at her, as if he was a teacher admonishing a rowdy school child.
His eyes kept to the road, but his voice, though through a chuckle, had a chill to it that froze the very marrow of her bones. "I don't like back-seat drivers."
Sensing he was in control, as he liked to be, Caleb then reached to the dashboard and grabbed the cigarette lighter. Driving with one knee, he placed the heated coil of the lighter on a ring he was wearing on the middle finger of his right hand, taking good care to heat up the metal.
As she saw what he was doing, realizing how helpless she was at this deranged man's mercy, Shannon felt tears start forming in her eyes, whimpering, "Please...don't hurt me…"
"Well, now, is this the part where you offer to do anything?" he sneered at her, no mercy to be found in his eyes as he calmly continued as he pulled the lighter away from his ring, the symbol on it glowing white hot as he marveled at it. "'Cause I done tried to make it clear to you, girl—you ain't got nothin'…I want to explore."
Before Shannon could think of a way to stop him, Caleb suddenly plunged his heated ring into the side of Shannon's neck, the young, untouched flesh underneath the ring sizzling as the hot metal burned her, branded her…like cattle. Blinding pain surging through her, Shannon shrieked and screamed in agony.
Her screams were like the voices of angels to his ears. "Oh yeah. That's it! That's a cleansing fire. Hallelujah!" he howled wildly, filled with a perverse joy as he relished the feeling of power, the feeling of another weak woman whimpering under his thumb. Then after a few moments, he released her, his hands back on the wheel again.
Shannon fell cowering against the door, sobbing and humiliated and terrified as she found herself lost in a nightmare from which there was no escape. Please…Please, no…I was so close…I can't die like this…Not like this…
Ever so calmly, Caleb smoothed back his hair, glancing back into his rear view mirror. He kept talking to Shannon, almost as if giving a lost stranger polite directions. "Now, if I'm not mistaken, there's a motorcycle a little ways behind us, and I do believe there's some folk in it goin' the same place you are. Now, I want you to deliver a message for me, but it's not for them. It's for the other one—the one and only, the original, accept-no-substitutes Slayer. Would you tell her something for me?"
Confused and terrified, Shannon gave him a weak nod, hoping there was still a way out of this. "Y-Y-Yes," she stammered.
"Why, thank you, Shannon." With a fluid, sudden movement, he reached into the other side of his seat, whipped out an enormous Bowie knife, the tip tinted in a purple foul substance…
…and jammed it all the way into the young Potential's stomach, drawing a sharp, surprised gasp from her.
A fiery, unbelievable pain shattered Shannon's world, her vision, her body. The agony wrenched out of her any ability to speak, to say or do anything. The life pouring out of her open stomach wound ran down her pants, felt hot and sticky. Her breathing became ragged. Tired…so tired…
He leaned into her ear and whispered something ever so sweetly in her ear, right before he pulled out the knife like a period to the end of his sentence.
"Any questions?" he asked the bleeding, rapidly fading girl. "No. Good! Now, let's see what we can't do about that door."
With another smooth motion, he swung a leg around and brutally kicked her against the door, which swung wide open from her momentum as she tumbled out. Her body was like a blood-mottled rag doll as she spun head over heels across the pavement of the lonely dark highway, the world rotating violently around and around before she came to a stop, her body skidding to a halt in the middle of the road.
As her vision began to fade and her blood continued to pour out of her, Shannon's rattled brain could only think one thing. Preacher…he said he was a…Buffy…have to…warn…message…
And then her world went black…
…just as a motorcycle came screaming up to her body, the tires squealing as it came to a halt on the side of the road.
"The bloody hell?"
The two passengers, helmets covering their faces stared at the bleeding, broken body of the girl in front of them for a brief moment…right before the one wearing the black duster yanked off his matching black helmet.
Spike.
Who then sprang immediately into crisis mode as he ran quickly to the body of the girl lying motionless in the middle of the road. His eyes were hard as he scanned her for injuries, though the smell of blood hit his vampire's nose as soon as he stopped the bike.
Despite knowing better, he turned her over to get a good look at the victim. As Spike saw the scrapes of blood on her face from her tumble…and what looked like a very mortal-looking knife wound in her stomach as the blood splotched and soaked the entire lower front of Shannon's yellow shirt…he cursed out loud, knowing they had to act quickly, or else this chit was a goner. He knew a mortal wound when he saw one…
Hell, you've inflicted more than your fair share of them yerself in your day, haven't ya, mate? Spike's taunting conscience whispered cruelly to him before he silently elbowed it in the face and told it to shut its gob while returning to the crisis at hand.
"Oy! Hey…can you hear me? Can you talk?" he asked frantically.
But the girl was beyond any of that, lying in a glaze of unconsciousness. "Bollocks…" Spike cursed, turning to his passenger. "We gotta move fast, luv. This girl's about to bleed out."
Behind him, his female passenger, wearing a metallic red helmet, slowly pulled off her protective head gear…revealing a surprised Faith, wild hair mussed and spilling down her shoulders, a few strands lazily strewn across her pretty face.
In a flash, she was dialing 911 on her cell phone, tossing it to Spike as he hurriedly began talking to the operator to relay their location for an ambulance pickup.
Shaking her head as she stared morosely at the sight of the bloody, unconscious teenage girl, Faith looked out over the horizon, suddenly feeling unbelievably tired. Just her luck…another date that ended like crap. But this felt different…somehow, as Faith stared down at the broken, bloodied girl in the road, part of her couldn't shake this sinking feeling in her gut that this was somehow a prelude to something worse…like she was standing on the edge of a storm.
"Huh," Faith muttered tiredly. "Guess I really am back in Sunnydale."
Sunnydale—1630 Revello Drive, The Summers Home, Second Floor
2:57 p.m.
Earlier That Day
Despite Cordelia's protests, Buffy had made her way out of bed. The tea had helped her recover much of her strength and combined with the last nap she had gotten and her healing abilities, she felt strong enough to start getting out of bed.
Besides, she had to talk to Robin. Losing him had been a blow to their cause, and while it wasn't as major of a blow if they had lost one of their star players like Angel, Willow, Spike or Faith, it was still a blow to lose a good fighter with resources. She knew they had to get him back. And she had a feeling the only way to do that was to meet him herself.
Cordelia was hovering around her as she made her way slowly down the hall, when a familiar tingle lit up the base of her spine and the bottom of her gut as she rounded the corner. To her surprise, she saw Angel and Whistler locked in a hushed, yet heated conversation. Whatever it was that Whistler was saying, Angel didn't look crazy about, judging from his scowl and quiet snapping at the Balance Demon, who himself looked like he was losing his patience. She couldn't make out what they were saying from this distance. Under normal circumstances, she would have tried to sneak in a little closer, but with Cordelia still hovering near her and her body still sore, Buffy knew that stealth wasn't an option.
So she opted to clear her throat to make her presence known. It must have worked, as Angel's head suddenly popped up, staring at Buffy in that surprised, yet somehow tender way that made her insides all gooey.
"Buffy," Angel's voice rasped out, thick and low and rumble-y, yet somehow still the softest and most tender sound Buffy had ever heard.
Gingerly, Buffy slowly walked over to the pair, Cordelia flanking her as the Seer had one hand supporting Buffy by the small of the blonde's back.
Off the sight of the still-healing heroine, Whistler raised his eyebrows, impressed. "Hey, check it out. Near-Dead Girl Walking. Gotta love that Slayer healing factor, eh, Blondie?"
Buffy gave him a deadpanned stare. "Whistler. Nice to see you, too," she replied in some annoyance. "I think."
Cordelia gave apologetic glances to the heroic vampire and the diminutive Balance Demon. "I tried to convince her to stay in bed." She turned an admonishing glance to Buffy. "But Little Miss Too-Stubborn-To-Give-A-Crap-About-Bed-Rest wasn't having any of it."
Buffy returned the annoyed glance her former high school rival and tentative new buddy Cordelia was giving her with one of her own.
"Firstly, that's Big Miss Too-Stubborn-To-Give-A-Crap-About-Bed-Rest to you," Buffy flippantly replied, but with a teasing air to her voice. "Second, after three days of lying in a near-coma, I think I've had all the bed rest a girl can stand."
Despite her annoyance, Cordelia managed a smile at the smaller blonde woman. So far, this newfound real friendship with Buffy wasn't getting off to a bad start, the Seer silently admitted.
After returning the grin, Buffy turned to Angel, her eyes softening as she gave him a small smile. "Hey."
"Hey," Angel said softly, his eyes wide in amazement and concern.
Angel thought she would have been in bed for at least another day or two. In fact, he preferred it, to make sure all of her wounds were fully healed. But part of him knew Buffy well enough to realize that if she knew there was real trouble, she was not one to sit around and wait to fully convalesce while those she loved fought alone. "Are you sure you're…? Maybe you should be back in bed, I can have the others bring you something to eat if you're hungry—"
"I'm fine," Buffy answered, quickly and somewhat annoyed, before she decided to soften the edge in her voice. She knew that Angel's concern was founded out of love and care and she couldn't fault him for being all protective-y around her…even if it did wear on her a little.
"Really…I just need to get up and stretch the old Slayer muscles. I'll be okay," she assured him softly with a smile.
Angel let out a breathless sigh, but gave her a rueful smile. He wasn't about to press her on her health…yet. After all, he knew her healing abilities were just as fast, if not faster, than his own.
At that moment, Wesley, Xander, Lorne and Anya made their way up the hallway, Lorne holding a tray of food and more of that odd-smelling tea that seemed to do wonders in healing Buffy's injuries.
"Angel, we need a word about—" Wesley began, only to break off his sentence at the sight of Buffy standing there. "Buffy," he said in astonishment.
"A word about me? Geez, Wes, don'cha know it's not nice to talk about people behind their backs?" Buffy quipped with a small teasing smile.
All four of them stared at Buffy as if they had seen a ghost. And honestly, it was starting to annoy her a little. She didn't like being stared at, especially under these circumstances.
"Buff," Xander said in amazement. "You're up. This is…this is great! The Buffster's back, Jack, and on the attack," he quipped in typical Xander-esque fashion.
Buffy offered her old friend a quick half-smile. "Not so ready with the attacking, Xander, but the first part is right, at least."
His eyes then ticked to Cordelia.
"Hey, Cor," Xander softly greeted with a small grin. His old flame had been somewhat reclusive since their return to Sunnydale, and he blamed part of that on himself, knowing she blamed herself for the injuries he had sustained while attempting to protect her from The Beast.
Her eyes softened as she saw her old boyfriend, silently relieved that he seemed to be healthier now. "Hey, you," she shyly replied with a ghost of a smile.
Annoyed, Anya cleared her throat. She was getting more and more peeved by this growing attraction that she was seeing develop before her eyes between her former fiancée and his ex- and it was just about all that she could stand to see it.
"Great, we're all up. Everybody's happy," Anya huffed. "If Buffy's up and about, can we just leave the tray and go already? I'm sure there's a million things to do around here more important than playing 'Meals on Wheels' to the walking wounded."
"Nice to see you, too, Anya," Buffy dryly replied.
Still, part of Buffy knew that she had to excuse Anya. It couldn't have been easy to see her ex- start getting warm and fuzzies for his ex- in front of her. Cordelia had confided to Buffy earlier during their talk her unexpected returning feelings for Xander, and how he was seemingly reciprocating those feelings. It had honestly surprised Buffy, as she figured the "Cordelia and Xander" days had been buried with the rest of the old Sunnydale High School and part of her always expected that he and Anya would eventually get back together. But as long as her friend Xander knew what he was doing, Buffy was more than content to leave his love life decisions up to him. She had too much on her plate to play matchmaker with others' love lives, anyway.
"Well, it's certainly good to see you up on your feet, Vanilla Drop," Lorne offered in his friendly, sincere manner. "You had us worried when you were pulling a Sleeping Beauty on us the last few days."
Buffy offered the green-skinned demon a warm smile. She had come to like Lorne very much in the short time she had been around Angel's crew. "Thanks, Lorne," she replied sincerely. "I'm good…or at least, good enough to get around a little bit."
Deciding everyone was done catching up, Angel met Buffy's gaze despite addressing the group. "I guess this is good timing. Some of you hear haven't heard this yet, but…Whistler thinks he's found something that can help us fight The First."
Buffy's eyes widened at that. "What? Really?"
"It's a sword. They call it 'Hope's Dagger.' Made from the first blade of light ever to shine on the Earth, or something like that," Angel replied.
At that reference, Anya's eyes lit up in amazement and recognition.
"Hope's Dagger? I heard of that blade!" she exclaimed. "There was a legend in my time…back before my first go-round as a Vengeance Demon. It was about 'a blade borne of light made to stab at the heart of darkness.' There was a poem about it some of the villagers used to say around a campfire." Her brow furrowed in concentration while her mind drifted back into a distant time only she could see as she recalled the words. "'Forged by Day…Honed by Night…in Darkest Hour, Hope's Dagger Burns Bright.'"
Xander frowned as he heard that somewhat familiar line. "Wow. Geez, Ahn, you sure these guys weren't just ripping off 'Ye Ol' Green Lantern Comics'?"
Scowling at Xander for a moment, Anya returned to her story. "I think the legend said that it was wielded by Cassandra Rayne, a Champion for the Powers That Be...or at least, assuming it wasn't just some story told by a bunch of smelly poor men who had too much mead."
"Rayne?" Buffy looked surprised at that name. "That…that couldn't be…?"
"Yup. It is," Whistler nodded. "Ethan Rayne's ancestor. Small world, isn't it, Blondie?"
That drew surprise from most of the heroes in that hallway. By now, everyone had been briefed about Ethan joining in and all of The First's new minions.
"Wow. So Evil Sconehead Guy's got a White Hat in the family. Who knew?" an astonished Xander mused aloud.
"I guess that makes Ethan the rotten apple that fell far from the tree," Cordelia muttered. To Angel. "Do you think that's why The First recruited that sleaz-o?"
"Hard to say, Cordy," Angel replied, his brow scrunched in thought. "All I know is that if there's even a chance that this thing can help us beat The First, we have to get our hands on it first. I don't think The First going to sit on its hands once it knows there's a weapon out there that could hurt it."
"Phew, that's a relief," Lorne said with a weary smile. "After The First did its best Ivan Drago impression on us a few nights ago, I wouldn't mind us responding with a little Rocky Balboa with this magic letter opener, right?"
Still processing this incredible breakthrough, Buffy couldn't have agreed more. Only a handful of days were left before The Awakening. If there was even a chance of them turning the tide in this battle with all of reality at stake, they had to take it now.
"You're right, Lorne," Buffy said, then turning to look at Angel. "Give me a few hours and we'll go after it together."
"No can do, Sweet Thang," Whistler shook his head at the pretty little blonde. "Sorry, but you're gonna have to sit this one out."
One look in Buffy's suddenly hardened hazel-green eyes told Whistler that she didn't like that reply. At all.
"Says who?" Buffy replied tersely, bristling at the idea of taking orders from Whistler, of all people, in her own house.
"Says this, I'm afraid," Wesley piped up. Giving Buffy a slightly apologetic look, he showed her the engraved stone disk Whistler had retrieved. "The inscription here is very specific. The quest to retrieve the dagger is only meant for one person—a champion, The Champion…of the Powers That Be."
She knew immediately what that meant. Her eyes, now filled with wonder and surprise, looked to Angel as she softly spoke. "Angel, that's…you."
He nodded with a somewhat sheepish half-smile. "Looks like."
Despite her disappointment that she would not be able to retrieve this dagger, part of Buffy was happy for Angel. She had known all along that he was capable of doing real good in the world, and now, this proved it. A weapon worthy of only a hero, a Champion…and Angel was the only one who could lay claim to it. Buffy had to admit, it was almost…fitting…that after everything he had gone through, that Angel would now be worthy of such an awesome responsibility. Worthy of showing everyone how good he truly was.
"That's…that's great," Buffy said with a small smile. "Okay, so where is this all-powerful sun sword thing-a-ma-jiggie?"
"England. The Cotswolds," Angel replied, to the surprise of everyone but Wesley and Whistler.
"Wow. Uh, Ange-babe, not to be the rain cloud on this silver lining, but do you really think a Eurotrip is the best idea right now?" Lorne asked, trying hard not to sound too anxious at the thought of their fearless leader being on another continent while the one they inhabited featured a reality-threatening apocalypse. "We kinda have our hands full here."
"We don't have a choice, Lorne," Angel replied frankly. "The First might not have any idea that we know about the dagger. We need to move quickly and get it back in play before The First gets smart to us. Or before it sends an army after the dagger itself."
"I gotta side with Green Bean on this one. England…that's kinda far for a quest, all things considered, especially with no mojo in the cupboards to spare, don'cha think, Dead Boy?" Xander asked. As much as he didn't like to admit it, Angel was one of the most important players on their side, and with Doomsday ticking ever closer, he'd feel a lot better with the big lug nearby.
Rolling his eyes briefly as he ignored Xander, Angel kept his eyes on Buffy. "Giles has a contact that's coming in a couple of hours who can teleport us there," Angel said. "An Archmage named Alasdair Coames."
"Coames?" Anya's eyes widened at that name. "Holy crap!"
Off her surprise, Wesley eyed her curiously. "I take it you know him?"
"Only by reputation, thank Yekk," Anya replied, somewhat unsettled. "In terms of magick, he's a first-rate badass. Aside from being one of the most powerful magic users on the planet, he's also a demon hunter, a veteran of the Ley Line War of '78. He's bad news around the demon world."
"And being an emasculating man-hating now-ex-demon who granted wishes making guys' heads explode for dumpy whiny chicks, I'd guess that'd put you right in his crosshairs back in the day, huh?" Cordelia ventured in a snarky tone as she cocked an eyebrow at Anya. She hadn't warmed up to the blunt former Vengeance Demon at all in the last few days, and frankly, the longer she was around the woman Xander nearly married, the more she disliked her. And Cordelia knew the feeling was more than mutual from Anya's side.
That comment drew a scowl from Anya. The former Vengeance Demon's retort to the leggy brunette beauty was frosty. "Well, when you put it that way, I wonder how he'd feel about…oh, I don't know…hopeless C-movie actresses who jumpstart apocalypses after getting knocked up by evil demons?"
Briefly surprised—and hurt—by Anya's crass comment, Cordelia quietly shook off the sting to her pride and psyche and mustered an evil glare at the ex-shopkeeper, the Seer feeling her inner hellcat's claws come popping out and longing to drive them into the other woman's eyes. That bitch!
The two spitfires traded icy stares from across the room in a showdown that made everyone uncomfortable.
"Heh…uh, come on, ladies," Xander laughed nervously, trying to diffuse the tension between his ex-girlfriend and former fiancé. "We're all frie…well, allies here, right?"
"Shut up, Xander," both women snapped as they continued their stare-down.
As Buffy did her best to ignore the love triangle drama unfolding in front of her, Anya's comments on this mysterious Archmage were still enough to concern the Slayer. Warily, she looked at Angel. "This Coames guy…can we trust him?"
"Giles seems to think we can," Angel said. "And with time running out and us short in supply on magick thanks to Willow's power outage, we're not exactly in the position to turn him down if he can help."
Buffy was willing to concede that point. Time really was of the essence. Looking at Angel, she asked, "When are you leaving?"
Angel paused for a beat, almost hesitating before he spoke. "Tomorrow. Probably by the afternoon, so we're in sync with the time difference to nighttime in England."
"Oh," Buffy said in a soft, disappointed tone, her eyes dimming at the news. So soon? And so far?
She didn't like the idea of Angel heading away so far, especially at a time like this when all hands were needed on deck. Especially when things were going so well between them…but if this weapon could really beat The First, Buffy knew he had to go. "And…when will you be back?"
"Hopefully soon, but…it's hard to say," Angel said softly.
With a reluctant sigh, Buffy nodded. "Okay…I guess I'll deal with that when the time comes," she said as she broke off from Cordelia to adjust her light blue jean jacket. "In the meantime, I've got some things to do of my own."
"Where are you going?" Wesley asked.
"School," Buffy replied. "I have to talk to Principal Wood. See if I can convince him to come back."
"Whoa, Buff," Xander said cautiously. "Sure that's a good idea? I mean, last time you and he were in the same room together, you were about to chokeslam him through the hotel floor and he fired you and threatened to kill you if he ever saw you again. Somehow thinking that he's not exactly putting up streamers at the thought of you visiting him at the workplace."
"As much as I hate to say it, Xander's right," Angel said, his concerned eyes fixed on Buffy. "You're still not 100 percent. And that man has a reason to hate you—and me. I don't think it's a good idea, Buffy."
"I know," Buffy said, tiredly. "But aside from what he can do to teach the Potentials, he's a really good fighter, and we need as many of those as we can get right now. Besides…I do owe him something of an apology for what happened. I did lie to him about Spike…" she looked pointedly at Angel. "And you."
"You had no choice, though," Cordelia protested. "You were trying to protect Angel. I mean, if Spike whacked this Wood guy's mom and Angel was the guy who Yoda'ed Spike, did anyone really think this guy was going to make with the warm and fuzzies and sing 'Kumbaya, my Lord' fighting on the same side as them?"
"We still need him, Cordy. And his mother was a Slayer. He could be a big help. That's not something we can just turn away right now with Big Daddy Evil looking to 'White Out' all of reality," Buffy replied.
Anya frowned. "You sure this has nothing to do with you just wanting your job back so you can keep paying the bills?"
"What? No!" Buffy blurted out with a frown, as if offended by the notion. Then she paused for a moment, considering it. "Though it'd be a plus," she silently murmured.
To Angel, with a small smile, Buffy said, "I'll be careful. I promise."
Despite his reservations, Angel relented. "Just…make sure you text us after you're done. So we know you're okay."
"No worries. I'll be back by curfew and everything. Won't even talk to strangers," Buffy smiled teasingly. Tipping upwards on her toes, she planted a small kiss on Angel's cheek. "I'll be back soon."
Angel was thankful his lack of circulation made it hard for him to blush as he watched Buffy leave down the stairs, or his cheeks would have surely been on fire with the stares from a puzzled Wesley and Anya, a knowingly smiling Cordelia and Lorne, a startled and somewhat disapproving Xander, and an almost admonishing glance from Whistler.
Angel grimaced inwardly, realizing he still had to talk with Buffy about…well, where they stood. This isn't getting any easier. Oh, Hellmouth, swallow me now…
Sunnydale High School – Principal Robin Wood's Office
40 Minutes Later
Still banged up from his skirmish with Buffy, Robin Wood sat at his desk, pouring over paperwork and school business. It was all he could do to distract him from the recent events from the night he left L.A. The more he could focus on his day job, the less he could think about how badly things had ended.
All his life, his need for revenge against his mother's killer had driven him, driven every single action he had taken. And it had nearly driven him to take out one of the heroes in what was becoming a very large battle between light and dark.
He had been surfing the dark web for anything he could find on this…Angel. Much to his chagrin, everything he was finding was turning up a different story than the dark legends of the infamous Scourge of Europe he had previously read. There were chat rooms filled with Angel's exploits, sightings of a mysterious man in black leaping out of alleys to dispatch vampires and saving innocent people. Blurred photos that Robin had made out to be Angel in action, shielding helpless women behind him while he slashed at deadly demons menacing them. Wood couldn't explain it, much less understand why a creature as murderous and vile as Angelus The Terrible could suddenly turn from a butcher of the worst order into a hero, a defender of innocents, but the evidence mounting up was too great for him to ignore.
And it threw everything Wood had known into question.
He didn't like that. He preferred things black and white. Good and evil. Human and vampire. But there was nothing black and white about this creature. It was all one big shade of gray. And if there was one thing Robin didn't like, it was complications. It made things…different. Confusing. And he wasn't sure how to deal with that.
He was musing on those things when he heard a knock on his open door.
Buffy.
Standing in the doorway, her pretty face bruised, but mostly healed and her right hand bandaged lightly. He could tell she was in one heck of a fight recently. It was clear from the hesitant look on her face that she looked as uneasy as he felt.
"I heard about...the First," Robin said tentatively. "You okay?"
"I'll live. Thanks" Buffy shrugged, before giving him the once-over.
"You look better," Buffy quietly offered with a slight smile.
Without looking up, he replied simply, "No, I don't."
Buffy smiled weakly. "No, you don't."
"But I'll be OK," Wood added, before pointedly looking at her. "Unless, of course, you start beating up on me again now."
"I won't," she promised him with a shrug. "Well, I thought about it. I made some doodles."
Realizing her weak joke was not going to garner chuckles from her alienated ally, Buffy gave him a sincere, if not small, smile. "As far as I'm concerned, we're on even ground. But…I meant what I said. I feel for what you went through with your mother, Robin, I really do…but I don't have time for your vendetta. Especially not when it comes to Angel. I mean, if you thought that Spike was off limits, then Angel pretty much has a no-fly zone around him, as far as I'm concerned."
"You still should have told me about your boyfriend, Buffy," Robin said quietly. "Especially with you having lost your mother, I would have thought you—you—would have understood."
"I do understand," Buffy said earnestly. "I understand you better than most other people would, Robin. But it doesn't mean that I'd allow for you to shove a stake through the chest of one of the real honest-to-goodness good guys in the world...even if he wasn't the love of my life," she added afterwards. "Angel's done a lot of bad in the past, Robin, it's true, but…he's also done a lot of good. He's doing a lot of good now."
"I know," Robin relented with a sigh. "I read the chat room logs."
"Chat room…? Never mind," a briefly confused Buffy shook off that chain of thought before returning her patient gaze to her former boss. "But the point is…I need your help. Something really bad is going down, and those girls are going to need all the help and training they can get. And I know that you could help. Look, I know that I haven't been all that honest with you about things, Robin, and I'm sorry about that. But this is the truth—I need you in this fight. I want you on my side."
Robin mulled it over. Honestly, he knew Buffy was right. He'd known it for days now. He couldn't turn his back on those young Potentials…girls as young as his mother once was when she was called…when they needed him most. He was a warrior, after all, and he knew a warrior's place was on the battlefield, not shuffling papers on the sidelines. He was a fighter, like his mother before him. And he would honor her memory by fighting her fight.
"Thank you," he said sincerely as he looked at Buffy. "That means a lot."
"So, we're good?" she asked cautiously, a slight tone of hope in her voice. "You'll come back?"
"Absolutely," Wood said with a wane smile. Then he looked down at his papers. "You're still fired."
She smiled as she breathed a sigh of relief. "That makes me feel so much…wait, what?"
Robin looked straight at her. "Effective last week. We already put out an ad for your replacement."
Shocked and more than a bit angry, Buffy briefly forgot about any physical pain as she walked right into his office, standing right in front of his desk as she folded her arms in a cross huff. "You're still firing me? I can't believe this…I just refrained from kicking your ass!"
He gestured out into the mostly empty hallway, his reply almost apologetic. "Buffy…there's nothing here for you. I mean, people are leaving town, half the kids don't even bother showing up anymore. I'm pretty close to asking the state to shut the school down myself. You've got things to deal with that are much worse than anything here. Look at the big picture."
Sighing, Buffy sat down as she processed that news. Despite her dismay at the news, as part of her was hoping that she would have gotten her job back, part of her knew Robin was right. Her problems right now—big apocalypse-sized ones—were a heck of a lot bigger than holding down a day job. "Right. The big picture. The one with the big war and all the dead little girls.
"Not dead," he argued. "Not if you…if we…get them ready."
Despite being pleased at Robin's use of the word "we," Buffy was no less troubled. "I don't want to lead them into war," she murmured more to herself than to Robin. "Those girls are so young…some of them are going no older than Dawn. And they're going to die in this fight. It can't be the right thing."
"Most wars aren't, you know," Robin said sympathetically, but with a tone of frankness in his voice. "They aren't right and they aren't necessary, and humans kill one another. This…this isn't that war."
Robin looked at Buffy, and part of him felt sorry for her. She was so young, yet she had so much of the weight of the world on her shoulders. It was unfair, he knew that, but he also learned long ago that life wasn't fair. If it was, his mother would have seen him graduate from college instead of him visiting her grave every year on her birthday.
"The only question about this war is," he told her simply, "are you going to be ready for it?"
"I don't know," Buffy admitted honestly. She was afraid to even think about it, much less talk about it. Especially after…after The First attacked them in the hotel. "These girls…some of these girl shaven't even been tested in battle."
"Then, I guess, maybe you should test them," Robin suggested.
Buffy sat there, letting that suggestion wash over her, slowly thinking it over. Maybe that was her problem. All this time, she had been trying to protect the last remnants of the Slayer line in these girls…when all the while, perhaps she should have been putting them to the test. Training meant nothing without the real-life experience, she knew that better than anyone. She had no idea how good these Potentials ultimately were…she realized that it was about high time that she found out.
Suddenly chipper, Buffy brightened as she looked at Robin. "Couldn't I just come to work part-time?" she asked, pretending it was a real question. "I could make flyers for encounter groups and post them up all over school. Kids could bring snacks—"
"Aaaand you're fired again," he replied dryly. Off her pout, Robin smiled for a moment before he looked down, a sober look on his handsome face. "Remember, Buffy…" His voice took on a note of bitterness. "The mission's what matters. Right?"
As he looked back up at her gravely, she looked down as she weighed the massive challenge ahead of her. There was no use arguing. In the end, Buffy knew that he was right.
War was coming. And if all that she held dear was to survive, it was all up to her to be ready for it. All up to the Slayer.
The One Girl in All the World…
How did that song go? Buffy solemnly mused. Right. One is the loneliest number…
To Be Continued...
Next: Angel has a heart-to-heart talk with Buffy…one that might end up breaking both of their hearts. Willow attempts to reconnect with a reclusive Oz, but will the shaken werewolf trust himself around her? And a vicious, violent attack on Potential Slayer Shannon serves as an invitation to Buffy—an invitation from a man known only as…Caleb…
More on the way.
I sort of postponed the Buffy-Angel talk to add more scenes. There's a few developments between lovers, friends, rivals and enemies that will be happening as we head towards Buffy first meeting Caleb. It's a meeting that will shake our heroes to the core.
By the way, I commissioned art for the story based on the last chapter in the thumbnail, all credits to Cuttlesquid on DeviantArt. Please read, follow and review! Almost 700 reviews, hoping to reach that milestone with all of your help. And let me know who you want to see more of. See you soon!
Best,
Jean-The Guardian
