A Buffy the Vampire Slayer / Angel Crossover Event
Part 67
Empty Places, Part 8
Sunnydale, California - The Bronze
10:39 p.m.
Days Left Before the End of Days: 10
Rage in the cage
And piss upon the stage
There's only one sure way
To bring the giant down
Defunct the strings
Of cemetery things
With one flat foot
On the devil's wing
Faith was letting loose on the dance floor for what was probably the 13th song.
She was tireless. She was insatiable. She was all woman, dancing from guy to guy, her sultry hips swaying, firm ass shaking, long wild brown hair flowing, her eyes screaming 'I'm looking for a good damn time!' and proud of it.
On the outside, to anyone who didn't know her better, Faith would seem like the picture of being happy and free and alive as alive could get.
Except…
…except it was all a facade.
Faith moved not so much to entertain herself or her appreciative male audience…she moved because then she wouldn't have time to think.
Time to think about the horror she had gone through for what seemed like days upon days at the hands of The First Evil's minions.
Time to think about the cruel torture she had barely survived. The prison she had to claw her way out of by herself, left abandoned and alone by the ones she had trusted. People who were supposed to be her allies. People who she was starting to think were her…her friends.
By some people…who she was beginning to think she could be more than just friends with.
She shook hard and bobbed and danced even harder, as if she could shake the image of Spike from her mind by force.
A task she found was still harder than she thought it would be, and she didn't know why… part of her was too afraid to really figure it out.
So she kept on dancing. Like that Don Henley song said.
Maybe if she kept on dancing, she could pretend her own pain didn't exist.
Maybe if she kept on dancing…she wouldn't think about how she felt like she was dying inside…
Blood on her skin
Dripping with sin
Do it again
Living dead girl
Blood on her skin
Dripping with sin
Do it again
Living dead girl
She grew bored with the current guy she was dancing with, a big 6-foot-2 blonde and tanned guy, about 220 pounds of jock muscle. He wasn't the kind of guy she was normally into, anyway, she preferred her guys to have a little bit of a dangerous edge. Like Spi…like certain guys she had known before, she mentally corrected herself.
Besides, he was getting a little handsy-er than even Faith liked her guys. Like now, when he was trying to slip his hand into her jeans and down her underwear.
Swiftly, she grabbed his hand, halting it from any further unwanted exploring.
"Okay! Thanks for the dance, Slugger," she smirked, then began to move away from him to the next lucky guy.
Suddenly, his hand reached out and pulled her back to him by her wrist, none too gently.
"Hey, what's the rush, baby?" the drunken frat boy leered at her. "I was thinking maybe we could get outta here, maybe come back to my dorm room and you can give me a more private dance, if you know what I mean."
Faith narrowed her eyes. "Sorry, All State, but I'm not much for dorm rooms. You're gonna wanna let go of my arm now."
Faith knew she could easily flatten this creep. She could make him eat through a straw for a month, put him in traction for the next 7 months of his miserable life if she cut loose even just a little bit. She'd done worse to guys who had done far less to her.
Yet Faith was trying not to be that girl anymore. Trying not to be that dangerous loose cannon she was years ago the last time she was in this dump of a town, before Angel pulled her back from the edge of the abyss. So she sucked in a calming breath, and she tried to push him off again.
But the creep wouldn't take the hint, his grip on her wrist tightening.
"So what was that? You just being a cocktease?" Frat Guy growled, fueled on alcohol and hormones, always a dangerous combination. "You dress up like a slut and then you decide you don't want to put out? Huh? Well, maybe I don't like getting teased without working off that steam!"
Now Faith scowled at him, her temper dangerously close to snapping, and herself dangerously close to snapping this scumbag's spine in half. "I'm gonna tell you one last time, Ape Boy," she said, her voice a low, purring growl, like a female tigress about getting ready to pounce. "Get your sweaty, stinking hand off of me, or you'll never hold anything in that hand ever again."
But Frat Guy didn't back down, squeezing harder on Faith's soft wrist. "Oh, yeah? A little pixie like you's gonna hurt me?" He laughed at her. "What, you think you're hot stuff because you take some self-defense class at the Y? Come on, baby, wax on, wax off, wax—UURK!"
Suddenly, a steel-like grip clamped around his throat, making his eyes bulge as he loosened his grip on Faith.
Only the hand that clamped around his throat didn't belong to Faith.
A cold snarl of a voice rumbled in Frat Guy's ear. "Wax this, tosser."
And then with the other hand, a furious Spike promptly twisted the man-child's offending hand the other way until Frat Guy yelped and yowled in agony, the supernaturally strong, century-plus-old vampire bringing the overgrown jock down to his knees like he was nothing more than a child as some stunned dancing patrons looked on.
Despite herself, a startled Faith just watched, entranced as she saw Spike play the role of hero.
Spike was already in a bad mood.
He had been watching his…watching Faith dance with loser after loser in this stupid club, and he had been just chomping at the bit every time he saw some lowlife grind on her from behind, put their hands all over her delicious body, while there was nothing he could do about it except just watch like some cuck.
He had plenty of opportunity to do the same thing himself, it's not like he hadn't just turned down several girls offering him a drink or a dance or a quick detour out in the parking lot for some alone time. But he didn't, because he cared about Faith in a way that he couldn't describe. In a way that still kind of scared him, but he was too entranced by to run away from it altogether.
He thought he and Faith were finally getting somewhere, building something…and yet she carried on and paraded around with jerk-offs like this? In front of him?
Well, bollocks to that, Spike thought angrily, delighting in the pained whimpers of the dim-witted jock at his mercy.
"Ain'cha learn manners by now, Varsity?" Spike growled quietly in his ear, fighting every urge in his body to let his game face slip out and scare the living daylights out of this creep, or just to simply eat him and be done with it. "The lady said 'No, I'm not interested in your tiny little pecker.' And no means no, ya little wanker. Now you have two choices. Choice A, you apologize to the lovely lady for being a right bellend and then you're gonna piss off outta here, or Choice B, I rip this arm off, shove it right up your stinkin' arse and I make a meat muppet outta you. Pick wisely, Sunshine."
Frat Guy howled in pain. "OWW! Ahh-ahh-ahh-okay, okay! I'm sorry!"
Faith decided to have some fun with it. "I don't think I can hear you over this loud music, jackass, what was that?"
Spike twisted harder on the arm and the once-tough jock squealed like a pig. "AHHH! I SAID I'M SORRY!"
"Good," Spike said, satisfied, as he yanked up the guy to his feet…
KRA-POW!
…where Faith finished the job by sailing a kick square into his chest and sending him sailing so far that he landed only a few inches from the door.
"Get lost!" Faith called out as Frat Guy scrambled and staggered out the door.
The momentary violence admittedly juiced both warriors. They turned to each other, all panting and fired up, Spike's blue eyes connecting with Faith's doe brown orbs, a swirl of emotions playing between them…
After a few painfully long moments, a conflicted Faith, annoyed at him for fighting her battles for her yet still grateful that he cared, nodded at him. "So, um…thanks, I guess," she murmured, as she tried to walk off the floor.
Immediately, Spike blocked her path. "Faith, wait," he blurted out, not intending on letting her go.
Exasperated, Faith clenched her eyes shut. "Spike, please, not now," she said, a hint of a pleading tone in her voice.
"If not now, then when?" Spike pressed her, his face looking vulnerable for a moment in a way that made something inside her ache. "You think I don't see what you're doin', luv?"
"What? What am I doing? Huh?" Faith replied, defensive, hotly. "Drinking, dancing, having a good time, living my freakin' life?"
"Living life? Is that what you're bloody doing?" Spike said, nonplussed. "Looks to me like you're just trying to drown out the world. Hooking up with random losers like that tosser back there. Anything as long as you're running away from what's really been bothering you, 's that right, pet?"
Faith visibly bristled, not liking how that shot got her too close to home for her comfort. "Okay, get this straight, Sid Vicious," she snapped. "First off, I deal with my problems however the hell I want to deal with them. Second, I am not your Nancy Spungen, so I don't need you to fight my battles for me, and third, I don't run away from anything. I'm a goddamn Slayer, Spike, I'm the thing that needs to be run away from."
"Really? Then how come you've been avoiding me like the Plague, then?" Spike replied, annoyed, and more than a little hurt. "What is it, Tough Girl? What, do I make you a little uneasy all of a sudden?"
Faith scoffed, yet silently batted aside the way her heart jumped a little in her chest as how close he was, not sure and not really wanting to know right now if it was fear, attraction...or something else entirely. "Spare me the self-flattery, Rebel Yell. If I'm scared of anything on this earth, you'd be the last damn thing that would scare me. Hard to be threatened by a guy I know I have wrapped around my little pinky."
Irritated, pissed off, and his looming presence more than a little threatening, Spike felt the heat begin to rise in his ice cold body, closing the distance between them until he could see the mocha shade in Faith's beautiful brown eyes. "Yeah, is that right?"
Unafraid, Faith didn't back down an inch, stepping in closer to him until she could smell his aftershave, get a close-up look at Spike's piercing blue eyes. "Yeah, that's right. So save your lack of breath."
"All right," he coolly drawled…and then he threw down the gauntlet.
"Dance with me, then."
Faith's jaw dropped. "Wait, what?"
Spike repeated it calmly. "Dance. You. Me. Five songs, we spin on the floor, and if I can't get you to open up, I'll leave it alone for the night."
Blinking, Faith looked at Spike like he just admitted that Angel was superior to him in every way. "You're outta your mind, you know that?"
Spike flashed her a smirk. "What? Don't tell me that tough girl bit of 'I don't run away from anything' was just an act? Otherwise, what's a few dances? But if it's too scary for you, I understand, luv."
Faith gritted her teeth in frustration. Damn him, he had cast her in an unwinnable scenario. Either dance with him and face the things she was too afraid to talk about, or run away and prove him right about what he said to her.
So the lethal Boston beauty weighed her options…and then she sighed. "One song, and if I don't want to talk about it, you drop it forever."
Okay, baby, let's barter, then. "Four songs," he offered.
"Two," she countered.
He pressed his luck a little farther. "Three. And if you feel good enough afterwards, we go out for a quick walk before I have to head out on Giles's little mission. And we try to fix this. Deal?"
He held a needless breath as Faith mulled over his final offer.
Faith bit the inside of her lip to keep a smile down. "Okay...deal."
Now, he grinned, holding out his hand. A wordless offer, asking her to trust him as the dance floor beckoned.
The brunette Slayer told herself to stick to the plan. Dance with Spike for a few minutes, dodge all his questions, don't crack and then leave him in the dust as she went about the rest of the night loosening up the Potentials while drowning her sorrows in booze and boys.
Faith tried her hardest to ignore the butterflies flapping madly in her stomach as her eyes locked with Spike.
Tried to ignore the spark between their skin as she slowly reached out and put her hand in his.
Tried to ignore the humming, thrumming connection between them as they walked out to the dance floor, his arm wrapping around her waist, her hand around the back of his neck as they began to move back and forth, their bodies melding as one as they moved seamlessly to the music in perfect rhythm. Tried to ignore just how blue those piercing eyes of his were as they peered into her own eyes, into her soul itself.
Faith tried. She really did.
But her plan was not going well.
At all.
All the while, unbeknownst to the troubled Slayer and the charming blond souled vampire as they danced with their bodies while they wrestled with their hearts…a pair of jealous, sinister blue eyes watched them from the balcony once again.
Eyes that swirled with dark intentions for them…
Sunnydale, California - The Bronze
A few minutes later
Cordelia Chase hadn't had much to smile about lately.
Her life had been completely in shambles since the moment that metallic-coated bastard Skip had entered her life and filled her head with promises of higher beings and purpose and all those sweet lies.
Thousands of people were dead because of her. The First Evil, the unfathomably old and powerful entity hellbent on wiping out all life, had a body now, because of her. The Keystone that could allow it to see its plan to fruition was in possession of that same entity, because of her. Thanks to that horrid tryst and that twisted relationship that Jasmine and that other parasite had concocted to get her and Connor together, poor Connor had become more and more messed up because of her, the boy now having fled from home. And Xander was…he'd never be whole again. All because of her, she miserably decided.
The closer and closer that this new multiverse-ending apocalypse, The Awakening, had drawn, the more guilty she felt. The more blame she put on herself for all that was happening, was going to happen. The more afraid she had become that she would lose the ones she loved, and possibly even the world, all worlds, because she wasn't strong enough, smart enough to have stopped it from happening. And that feeling made her more and more sad, more depressed, more afraid with each passing day.
Yet as she walked back into The Bronze for the first time since her senior year of high school, a different kind of feeling overtook the former Queen of old Sunnydale High School.
Just six years ago, Cordelia Chase had ruled Sunnydale High from this place, clad in form-fitting tight dresses, lycra dresses, spandex dresses, ALL the dresses, really…armed with designer lip gloss, a blinding smile, stunning hazel eyes, a body to die for, legs that could kill, a sleek red Corvette and an unshakeable confidence. She had her vapid army of 'Cordettes' by her back, Harmony, Aphrodesia and Aura chief among them. She had an ever-revolving door of boyfriends and man-candy that she changed every week like they were just shades of lipstick, like that dimwit Mitch Fargo, the halfwit Dingoes singer Devon MacLeish and that douchey Guy Matthews. She'd sit, she'd judge the other girls and guys cruelly by their outfits, she'd snub or manipulate the geeks, and she'd laugh haughtily like the high school royalty she was. Yet through all of that…she was never happy.
Not really. Deep down, she knew that her so-called friends were only with her because of her money, her daddy's big house, her limitless credit cards, her status and the fear that she instilled in almost every girl in Sunnydale High (and quite a few guys, too). And she also realized the guys she was with had never truly cared for her, most of them being with her for her body, her beauty, her hot car or the prestige of being the great Cordelia Chase's boyfriend. None of them cared to try to know her, understand her, or in that moron Mitch's case, even get the color of her eyes right. They were all too busy agreeing with her and trying to court her favor to engage in any real conversation with her. She might have been surrounded by people, yet even in this place that served as the royal court for 'Queen C of Sunnydale, First of Her Name', she had always felt alone.
Now, here Cordelia was, years later, walking back into the same club where she was once the Queen Bee of. Her perfect body was the only thing she still had going for her. Everything else? Gone.
She had been stripped of her money and designer outfits and lip gloss, her beautiful red Corvette long re-possessed, her father in prison for tax evasion and her mother having left town a year ago, the once-rich 'It Girl' of Sunnydale High now with barely a penny to her name. Her carefree attitude was gone, now burdened by the weight of the responsibility of bearing the visions of The Powers That Be as a Seer to their Champion. Her once-boundless spirit was all but crushed by the weight of soul-crushing guilt and torment, her confidence waning and fading compared to the almost larger-than-life force of nature Cordelia was back then, her heart having grown three sizes larger but having broken again and again through the years.
Instead of the flock of followers and male bimbos trailing and fawning after her, Cordelia was now accompanied by only three people—a soft-spoken guitarist that turned into a werewolf three nights out of the month…
…a small redheaded witch she had bullied and ostracized through most of their school years together, and who had repaid her for that by stealing her boyfriend, the one guy Cordelia had ever thought she really loved at that time…
…and a guy, said boyfriend, a guy with only one eye left, that she would once have been embarrassed to be within 10 feet of, who she frequently traded cutting insults and jabs with for years…the one guy in that whole damned town who had the guts to challenge her, who never seemed to be afraid of her when he should have been. There was a time she wouldn't have been caught dead in the same room with any of them, let alone all three of them.
Yet as she walked back into the Bronze, with Willow and Oz, two of her first real friends, watching her back, and a patched-up Xander, a young man she had inexplicably fallen hard for—again—on her arm, Cordelia Chase had to admit…she hadn't been this happy in a long time.
The decor hadn't improved much, Cordelia noted, and almost all of the familiar faces she had come to know were long gone, but The Bronze was still The Bronze—a quick, fun way to get your drink on, get your dance on and maybe even get some smoochies in, if one was lucky.
"Place hasn't changed much," Cordelia said loudly over the music, her arm snaked around Xander's. "Although it has a little."
"Ah, don't worry about it, Cordy, you're still a Bronze legend," Xander reassured her, patting her hand reassuringly, which brought a warm smile to her face. "There hasn't been a girl hotter than you that's graced these hallowed halls since."
"Ahem," Willow teasingly cleared her throat.
"I'd have to second that 'ahem' and raise you one 'excuse me?'" Oz added with a ghost of a smile, throwing Willow an affectionate look that made her insides go jello-ey in a way they hadn't in a long time.
Xander smirked back at them as they continued to walk into the club, looking for a nearby table. "True, true. My apologies to the lovely Will and the radiant Buffster, even if Buffy isn't presently here."
Quickly, Cordelia's eagle club eye spotted a table being cleaned off, and the four members of Scooby Gang Version 1.0 were once again together at a table at the Bronze on a weekend night for the first time in four years.
"Well, talk about a trip down Memory Lane," Cordelia remarked, which brought a grin to the others.
Willow couldn't help but smile herself. "Yeah," she said with a semi-wistful sigh, her eyes getting a hundred memories of the old days flashing before them. "Seems just like yesterday that we were all sitting here planning how to spring for a limo for the Homecoming Dance."
"And I'd be watching you guys later on stage with the Dingoes up there," Oz smiled as he pointed to the stage, welcoming the familiar memory of fun. He hadn't had much to smile about in the last few years, either. Between losing Willow and Tibet and touring with the Dingoes from town to town trying to scrape by with any gig they could take, it had been a trying time for him. Being back here, amid the best friends he had ever had, for the werewolf, it was…familiar. Nice. It felt a little like…
…like home, Oz realized with a dull ache in his heart.
"Yeah," Cordelia said, smiling as she looked around at the old gang again. "Anybody ever get that ol' deja vu feeling?"
"Right now, it's heavy on the 'deja', and only halfsies on the 'vu', in my case," Xander quipped in his self-deprecating way. He chuckled, expecting everyone to laugh…
Yet his joke was met with some guilty, sad looks as the others either lowered their eyes or averted their gazes from his gauzed-up face.
And that only made him feel worse. He needed to at least pretend things were a little normal before he went back home and figured out how to face his new and uncertain future with this new handicap.
"Ahh, come on, guys, I'm the one with the disability, I'm allowed to make a joke about it," Xander said cajolingly, trying to get the spirit of fun back into the room after he accidentally opened the window and shoved it out.
Shoving her worry for her childhood friend to the back burner for Xander's sake, Willow hastily agreed. "Uh…y-yeah! Hahaha! Right, good one," she laughed nervously. "So, um, how long do we want to take this detour down Memory Lane?"
"I think an hour should be enough," Cordelia said, looking to Xander with a hopeful grin. "It'll give me enough time to get you on the dance floor, and you two," she turned to Willow and Oz with a knowing twinkle in her eyes, "a little time to cut through that growing sexual tension that's been budding between you two ever since Oz walked his cute little self through the doors of our hotel, may she rest in pieces."
At that, a becoming blush spread on a red-faced Willow's cheeks. She had not been prepared for that remark. At all.
Feeling a hint of a blush himself, Oz still tried his best to no-sell it. "Ah, the trademark Cordelia Chase Bluntness. Both refreshing and embarrassing simultaneously."
Willow avoided looking at her ex-boyfriend, not so pleased with Cordelia's remark. "Thanks, Cordy, awkward's a new color on me I've never been meaning to try."
But Cordelia wasn't having it. She had always liked Oz and Willow together as a couple. They just seemed like they…belonged together, somehow. And despite knowing that Willow had been gay for a couple of years and was still mourning Tara in some way, the lovely Seer didn't need a vision to see the spark of attraction still crackling between them. And besides, Oz is WAY better than that uptight little brat-bitch Kennedy. Willow could do SO much better, Cordelia mused to herself.
"Oh, come on, guys," she said with an encouraging smile. "We got a little time. Drink, shmooze, see where the music takes you. Or maybe where it takes you back to."
Xander laughed as he wrapped his arm around hers and steered her towards the dance floor. "Ookay, Cor, let's stop torturing our friends and let's go get our boogie on."
Willow gave him a grateful look as her one-eyed best friend and the Seer slipped out towards the dance floor. "Be careful with moving around too much, Xander!" she called out at the last minute, "The doctor said you…"
But they were well out of earshot now.
Oz gave her a brief chuckle. "Cordelia hasn't changed that much, huh? Still knows how to make a weird situation awkward."
Willow nervously laughed as she looked at Oz, trying to wave it off. "Yeah, Cordy's nuts. 'Sexual tension', blah-blah-blah," she chuckled, fidgeting as she said it. "That's crazy."
"Madness," Oz agreed, though his normally stoic features cracked slightly in his own nervousness.
"Insanity!" Willow added. "Hey, I'm thirsty, are you thirsty? Let's see that menu!"
As Willow reached for the menu at the end of the table, Oz also moved to get it. "No, I got it, Will—"
And then…their fingers touched.
Their hands somehow had clasped together.
Together…
As if on cue, their eyes met.
"...oh," Oz quietly finished. But his sharp blue eyes could not leave the soft green-eyed gaze that Willow had given him.
"...Huh," Willow uttered, just as softly. Yet she never moved her hand away, as if afraid to break the unintended spell that seemed to be cast on them both…
At that moment, even with WIllow's powers gone, the little redheaded Witch could have sworn she felt the familiar sparkle, the electric crackle of magic. But magic of a different kind.
The kind that she had only felt twice in her life. One was with her late beloved Tara. And the other was…
Oz had felt it, too. There were only two things that had ever made the ever-detached and always-collected guitarist and genius feel out of control. One was the wolf, the animal inside him. And the other was…
"Ready to order?" a waitress asked, suddenly appearing out of nowhere.
Brought back to their senses, Oz lowered his hand away, already missing the contact. Willow's own hand felt a little colder at the absence of Oz's hand in it, and part of her was scared of what that meant.
Looking to Willow, the small werewolf held a thoughtful gaze. "Still like the usual?"
Willow's lips quirked in a touched smile. "Yeah…I do."
Oz grinned. "The lady will have a hot chocolate latte. Heavy on the caramel drizzle stuff, and just a hint of chocolate sprinkles."
Willow smiled a bubbly smile. "And the gentleman will have a 7-Up. Plain glass, no ice, but one of those bendy straw things."
"Coming right up," The waitress said, then paused and smiled at them. "You guys probably get this a lot, but you make a really cute couple."
Normally, Willow would have protested. Would have corrected the waitress that they were not a couple, that she had a girlfriend and she shouldn't make assumptions. Except…
…except she couldn't stop looking into Oz's blue eyes.
Couldn't stop marveling at what shade they were.
And couldn't help but wondering how she allowed herself to forget…
Sunnydale, California – Kettner Boulevard
Same time
Buffy stewed angrily as she sat in the driver side of Gunn's truck. To say she was angry was an understatement.
She was pissed. She was really pissed.
Here she was, trying to keep everyone safe, having taken a beatdown from this mystery bad guy Caleb and getting strung up like a piñata for it in her own school, all of the responsibility of saving the world, saving the entire multiverse on her slender shoulders, and for what? For Faith to decide to take the others out clubbing?
Out into the open where it was dangerous? At night? In Sunnydale? With The First and its minions terrorizing the entire town and the Awakening days away?
"Unbelievable," the beautiful blonde Slayer muttered under her breath, practically steaming.
Fred and Gunn noticed her anger. They had insisted on driving Buffy instead of her going alone like she wanted to. Having just barely survived her last tussle with Caleb, they figured that a tired and beat-up Buffy was in no condition to wander the streets at night alone if trouble came up. Even if she had all the supernatural power and might of The Slayer in her veins, Buffy was still human, and the human body had limits.
"Um, maybe it wasn't such a bad thing for the others to go out and have a little fun, Buffy," a well-meaning Fred tried to convince her, the orange street lights briefly illuminating her face. "I mean, let's face it, things have been pretty tense around here lately. Maybe blowing off a little steam could help—"
"You think I don't want to blow off steam, too, Fred?" Buffy asked, pointedly. "Trust me, if there's anyone who needs to blow off steam right now, I'm your gal. But there's a difference between blowing off steam and being stupid enough to take those girls out into the open when The First, Caleb and all their buddies have basically put a bounty on all our heads and want us dead."
Gunn looked over to where she was and gave her a knowing look. "Yeah, look, I get that. But Fred might have a point, Buffy," the veteran street-fighting demon hunter replied. "Those girls are scared. I lived on the streets with about 20,30 of those kinds of kids even older than they were, and they'd go nuts if they couldn't find a way to let loose every now and then. You can only take so much demon-hunting and decapitating before you snap, y'know?"
Buffy sighed, unhappily. "Believe me, Gunn, I've been singing that song since the day my first Watcher showed up at my high school when I was fifteen years old and told me I'd won a no-expense paid trip to this suckfest he called my destiny," she said, but didn't back off from her anger. "But this is different. We're at war here. The First doesn't just want to end the Slayer line, my line, it wants to kill everything and everyone. Everywhere. All at once. We're literally the only thing standing between it and The End of Everything, this isn't the time to go out and do jello shots or whatever it is Faith has them doing, while I'm the one stuck being Caleb's punching bag by myself."
Buffy shook her head in frustration. "Story of my life. No matter how many people I have around me, the Slayer still walks alone, I guess."
Gunn gave her a slightly pitying look. He once knew the burden of being a leader, too. It wasn't easy having the lives of others depending on every decision and every step you made.
"Fifteen, huh?" Gunn mused, trying to change the subject and hopefully get Buffy's mind off her brewing anger towards Faith. "Damn, and I thought I started young. I was only a couple days past 16 when The Crew finally let me into the field for my first mano-a-mano with vamps." Gunn chuckled at the memory. "I was just a raw, skinny-ass, gangly kid all puffed up and full of myself. Next thing I knew, I was neck-deep in vamps in an alleyway. I was so damn clumsy that I kept dropping the stake."
Despite her anger, Buffy couldn't help but to smirk. "No worries. I missed the heart on my first vamp kill."
Gunn gave her a wide-eyed look of disbelief, letting out a laugh. "No way! You? The Slayer? You missed the heart? But I've seen you take out Bringers without breaking a sweat!"
"I was fifteen!" Buffy said in her defense, yet smiling in appreciation of Gunn's attention and understanding as a fellow warrior as they traded early war stories. "It wasn't exactly like I had time to go over the manual. One minute, my biggest worry was how much I was going to make Tyler Bateman beg me to take me to the Homecoming Dance at Hemery High, and the next minute, I'm getting a crash course in Slaying and Survival 101."
Gunn let out a laugh. "That's how it goes with the demon world, isn't it?"
Smiling, Buffy nodded in agreement. "Tell me about it."
Gunn had to admit, he had really started to like Buffy. On the surface, they looked like they didn't have much in common. She grew up a normal California white girl with upper middle class parents. He grew up in a fractured Black household in the Badlands of Los Angeles, a fearsome, vampire-infested ghetto that made South Central L.A. look like Beverly Hills. Buffy had finished high school, while Gunn had dropped out at 16. Yet they had both had to grow up very quickly. Both of them had to deal with the monsters in the dark at a very young age. Both of them had the burden of leadership thrust upon them without warning. And both of them knew what it was like to be willing to protect the ones they loved…even at the highest costs.
Feeling a bit left out at the bonding between the two, Fred chimed in, "Um, I was 24 when I slayed my first vampire! Although, technically that was kind of an…accident, and Angel kinda…had to finish the slaying for me."
The awkward silence in the car that followed made a flushed and self-conscious Fred wish for a moment that another portal would suddenly open up and suck her back into Pylea.
"Um…that's, erm…that's not bad, Fred," Buffy politely offered.
"Yeah, Fred, nothing to be embarrassed about," Gunn added awkwardly.
Annoyed at their pity, Fred grumbled under her breath.
Buffy gave them a sincere look. "But anyway…thanks again, guys. For…what you did for me tonight. With…with Caleb."
Fred and Gunn gave each other a knowing look. It hadn't been easy facing down the same man who had almost single-handedly dismantled most of the entire team days ago.
"No problem," Gunn nodded at the tiny Slayer.
"Buffy, if…if you don't mind…what happened at the school with Caleb?" Fred prodded gently. "Do you…do you want to talk about it?"
Not really, Buffy thought to herself. She preferred not to relive that humiliating and frightening encounter with that lunatic. But deciding that it was in the best interest of the others to know, she relented. "Kind of the same misogynistic, douchey, rambling Insano crap from the last time. He kept going on and on about me being 'just a little girl' and how 'great things were happening' at the school and the Seal of Danzalthar. Then things got…physical."
They all knew what Buffy meant by that.
"It's kinda weird, though," Fred thought aloud.
"What is?" Buffy asked.
"Caleb," Fred replied, the gears of her brilliant mind whirring as she processed that info. "So, he kept mentioning to you about the school and the seal. I mean, I'm no military mastermind or anything, but isn't it a little weird that he's telegraphing his punches like that? Telling us where The First's big master plan is going to take place? I mean, wouldn't he want to keep the details secret if we're looking to stop him?"
"Maybe he's just getting cocky," Gunn suggested. "I mean, if I was able to whip the other guys' asses without breaking a sweat, I'd be feeling myself a little bit, too. Maybe he's just flexing, showing off, getting inside our heads."
Buffy frowned. It was like a lightbulb went on in her head at their words. "Or he was misdirecting."
Gunn eyed Buffy from the rearview mirror with a puzzled look. "Huh?"
Buffy elaborated. "Fred's right. It is weird. If the school and the seal were so important, The First and Caleb would have an army of Bringers or Ubervamps guarding them, but when I was at the school, it was practically empty. Hell, I could have walked around there naked if I wanted to."
At that, Gunn paused for a moment, admittedly finding the image of the beautiful blonde Slayer frolicking about without her clothes pretty hot. Off a rather annoyed "ahem" by Fred, Gunn shook his head quickly. "Huh. Oh, oh yeah, crazy…right?" he amended quickly.
"Maybe they don't have the numbers to guard it?" Fred suggested.
Buffy remembered the vision that the Shadow Men showed her, of the vast army of Turok-Han vampires lying in wait beneath the Hellmouth, ready to devour her town, and the world soon after. "Trust me, that's definitely not it," Buffy replied grimly, before continuing. "If they were as important as he said they were, he'd have the place guarded like Fort Knox. But it wasn't."
Gunn started to realize it, too. "Yeah. It was pretty quiet in there when we were in there looking for you."
Fred also began to connect the dots. "That's right. When you think about it, the only place that they have guarded like that is…"
"...the vineyard," Buffy finished, her quiet, grim tone etched both in realization…and in fear.
They all fell silent.
The Shadow Valley Vineyard.
Where The First's army of ghouls and monsters were laying in wait in the dark like vipers. Where so many of their friends, allies and innocent Potentials died. Where Xander was blinded in one eye. Where Faith was captured and tortured mercilessly. Where they were lucky to have made it out alive.
It was a dark, awful place that none of them ever wanted to see again.
Yet from the look in Buffy's eyes, she realized that it was likely a place where they'd have to return.
Gunn caught that look and frowned. "Oh, no. No. Hell no, Buffy!" he protested sternly. "Tell me you aren't thinking about us going back in there. No way! Are you crazy?"
"Charles," Fred said imploringly, trying to get him to calm down.
"No, Fred," Gunn replied, not having it. He made a promise to Rondell that he wouldn't let his old crew back there blindly again. And this plan sounded blind, deaf and dumb to him. He looked at Buffy, trying to reason with her. "Buffy, we barely made it out alive last time. Going back in there is suicide! You can't be serious, c'mon!"
But in her mind, Buffy was starting to realize that they might not have a choice.
"Just drive, Gunn," Buffy said quietly, staring out the window. "We'll talk about this later."
Annoyed, Gunn clamped his mouth shut, his jaw flexing angrily as he kept driving the car to the Bronze.
The Bronze
Minutes later
Strain this chaos, turn it into light
I've got to see you one last night
Before the lions take their share
Leave us in pieces, scattered everywhere
As the sound of Snow Patrol's "You're All That I Have" echoed through the club, Xander couldn't help but feel all self-conscious as he and Cordelia got deeper into the crowd on the dance floor.
All of these teens and twenty-somethings were looking all hot and fit and full of vigor and life. And Cordy, man, she looked as lovely and sexy as she did back in high school, even with just her tight black tank top, black dress shoes and blue jeans so tight that she could read the date of the change in her backside pocket. She was more real than she was back then, more authentic, stronger…
…and him? He was a mess. His face was covered with gauze, his eye was destroyed and he felt like a schlep. He felt every bit the loser that his loudmouth drunk of a father had told him he was growing up. That a younger Cordelia herself, during her Queen C days, had accused him of being.
Yet he had to admit, as Cordelia pressed her lovely body against his and they danced lightly, Cordelia wrapping her arms around his neck and settling for the pair gently swaying to the music instead of shaking it like they used to back in the day, Xander could think of far worse ways to spend a night. And none of them would have involved the hormone-surging pleasure of feeling Cordelia Chase wrapped around him like a glove, smiling at him with that megawatt smile of hers that drove him absolutely mad with desire.
Still, his doubts persisted. He couldn't help but reflect on what The First Evil / Jesse taunted him with back in the hospital. About Cordelia only being with him because she felt sorry for him. That this wasn't real emotions between them, that it was only pity that brought her back into his life.
And at the odd looks that some of the dancing partygoers gave him while she and he danced, as if they were wondering what a stunning, beautiful girl like Cordelia was doing with some grungy-looking scrub with a messed-up face like him, his old deep-seeded insecurities were whispering loudly at him. Taunting him that he wasn't good enough for her, that he didn't deserve her, didn't deserve to be happy, and that deep down…he knew it.
You're cinematic razor sharp
Cordelia gave him a sad glance as she looked up at his face. "Still no smile?" she asked coaxingly.
Xander gave her a wane smile, trying his best to be happy for her sake. "Kinda hard to smile when I feel like everyone is looking at me like I'm Quasimodo or something."
The Seer bit her lip, gazing up at him with sad hazel eyes. "Xander, you look fine. The hell with what they think."
A welcome arrow through the heart
Yet an insecure, self-conscious Xander couldn't be convinced so easily. "Come on, Cordy…look at me," he muttered, miserably. "I look like I just got out of bed. And look at you. You can have any guy in this place that you want, you shouldn't have to lower yourself to—"
"Are you a guy?" she asked, frankly.
Xander blinked. "Huh?"
She repeated the question bluntly. "Are you a guy? Simple 'yes' or 'no' question."
Feeling his manhood slightly challenged, Xander puffed up a little. "Well, yeah…"
"And are you in this place?" the stunning Seer prodded.
"Well…yeah," Xander replied, starting to get it.
Cordelia smiled, wrinkled her nose in that adorable way that sent tingles down his toes. "Then I choose you. Simple."
Under your skin feels like home
Electric shocks on aching bones
Now Xander finally smiled, chuckling a little at her, his fears starting to ebb like a wave being pulled back from the shores into the sea. And then, Cordelia leaned up slightly, pulled the back of his head down and showed him with her lips just how much she wanted to be with him tonight.
The kiss was electric as it ever was, Xander losing his doubts and fears in the warmth, the taste, the pure glory of Cordelia Chase. And for a moment, he didn't give a damn what the price was for this. If losing an eye was the price he had to pay to have Cordelia in his arms again, he was starting to think he should take out a mortgage on his other body parts.
Give me a chance to hold on
Give me a chance to hold on
Give me a chance to hold on
Just give me something to hold onto
She pulled back, smiling at the dazed look in his eyes. "I'm thirsty," she said softly.
At that, Xander blushed, his eyes wide. "Really? Uh, w-w-well…yeah, me too, I have to admit," he started babbling. "I mean, you look like…a knockout and the way you've been pressing against me the whole time has been driving me crazy, Cor, God, I feel like my head's about to explode—"
At that, a blushing Cordelia laughed. "No! Oh, my God, Xander, I mean I want a drink!"
Red-faced, Xander nervously laughed as he walked it back. "Oh…Haha, yeah, me, too!"
Still, Cordelia didn't exactly mind his candid comments. Silently, she admitted, she felt the exact same way.
Hand in hand, the two weaved their way through the sea of people, Cordelia promptly ignoring the guys asking her to dance and eying her with lust. And then they arrived at the bar.
The bartender looked up and saw the pair, his eyes lighting up as they landed on the leggy Seer. "Cordelia! Oh, my God!"
Cordelia smiled warmly. "Hey, Davis."
The bartender, Davis, was a tall Asian guy, well built, good-looking. The kind of guy Cordelia would have eagerly gone after back in the day, Xander silently noted with some jealousy.
"Damn, girl, you look as good as you ever did with those long legs of yours!" Davis said as he reached over and gave her a hug. "I heard you went to LA after high school, how is that going?"
Cordelia laughed nervously, not really wanting to get into the complicated saga of her life as a struggling actress by day, demon-fighting, vision-seeing badass member of Angel Investigations by night. "Um, it's going. The nightlife is…killer."
Xander chuckled at that little inside joke, earning another smile from Cordelia. "Davis here used to hook me and the Cordettes up with drinks all the time before he left in our sophomore year for law school," she explained to Xander. "He serves the best Bahama Breeze drinks."
At that, Davis looked over to the end of the bar. "Yeah, well, the new guy over there might have me beat now."
Cordelia and Xander looked to the end of the bar…where they saw Lorne, in his enchanted human guise, a big smile on his face, drawing cheers as he mixed up a fancy drink blindfolded to the delight of the crowd.
The sight made Xander smile and Cordelia couldn't help but laugh. It was good to see Lorne back in his element, entertaining and bringing smiles to people's faces, like he did as The Host of the now-charred club Caritas. Just one more thing to 'thank' you for, Holtz, you psycho freak lunatic asswipe, Cordelia mentally chastised the memory of the now-dead, deranged vampire hunter who turned their lives upside down a year ago.
"Better start serving up drinks before he puts me out of a job," Davis laughed. "This is your new guy, huh, Cordelia? He looks…good," he offered politely, so as not to offend Xander for his obvious injury.
The wounded construction worker, who nodded politely, found himself both appreciating the sentiment, yet annoyed at the pity. He hated pity. He didn't like anyone looking at him like he was less-than. "Thanks," Xander replied, politely.
"So, what'll you guys be having?" Davis asked. "We're having a couple's special, by the way, half-off drinks for couples tonight!"
At that, Cordelia and Xander blushed as they gave each other an awkward look. While they were…trying again…they hadn't exactly labeled what it was they were with each other yet. Neither of them wanted to jinx it and both wanted to take it slow, even with the Mother of All Apocalypses looming over them.
Yet, at the slightly hopeful, yet slightly shy look in Xander's brown eyes, Cordelia found herself feeling a bit...bold. She smiled again at Xander, and looked at Davis calmly, almost nonchalantly.
"My…boyfriend…will have something non-alcoholic. Orange juice, if you have it, with ice. He likes the ice," she said.
Xander was blown away.
'Boyfriend'.
'My boyfriend.'
She means me. I'M the boyfriend, Xander realized with giddiness, feeling like his heart was doing several flips in his chest.
Davis smiled. "Cool. And for you, the usual, Cordelia? Bahama Breeze on the rocks?"
"You know it," Cordelia winked at him.
Letting out a hearty laugh, Davis said, "Coming right up." Then he turned to Xander. "Your girlfriend's a keeper, my man. Hold onto this one."
As he walked to the other end of the bar to get the drinks, Xander turned to Cordelia, smiling, taking his hand in hers. Feeling a wave of…something…something powerful…washing over him.
"Oh yeah…I intend to. This time," he grinned, drawing a huge smile from her.
It's so clear now that you are all that I have
I have no fear cos you are all that I have
It's so clear now that you are all that I have
I have no fear cos you are all that I have
It was like the lights and sounds had dimmed, and nobody else in the world existed at that moment…
…nothing except for the two of them…
"Cordelia?"
And then the moment was broken.
Cordelia turned and fought not to grimace at the loud, obnoxious voice of the grinning man opposite her.
Mitch Fargo.
Her ex-.
A guy who once also called Buffy, Willow and Xander 'losers' back in the day, Cordelia recalled. An obnoxious, vapid moron who had always tried to get in her pants when they were dating. He was handsy, horny and crude, which is why Cordelia promptly dumped him a week after the May Queen dance in sophomore year. And to his left, Guy Matthews, another ex- of hers. Two guys she had all but forgotten about and filed under 'All Things Past and Best Forgotten' in her mind.
Swallowing hard, Xander was even less thrilled to see them. Mitch was always a douche to him and Willow growing up, and worse, he was mean to Buffy when she moved here; and Guy Matthews used to stuff him in his gym locker in freshman year, getting his rocks off on being a bully. These guys wouldn't have bothered him weeks ago, when he was…whole…but now, in his condition, this was the last place he wanted to be and these were the last people he wanted to see.
"Damn, girl, you're looking good!" Mitch said, leering at her, reeking of booze.
Cordelia smiled tightly. "Mitch. Hi," she offered shortly. "And you…haven't changed. At all," she added, nonplussed.
"Yeah, still blowing people away with that impressive four-letter lexicon, I see," Xander quipped, not liking the way Mitch was looking at her.
At that, an obviously drunk and annoyed Mitch turned to look at Xander. "Harris?" he laughed. "Man, what happened to your face, dude? You look even uglier than you did in high school!"
"Wait a minute, isn't he that chump I used to stuff into gym lockers in fifth period?" Guy laughed, equally as bombed.
Xander's hands reflexively balled into fists. He could feel his ears redden with anger and embarrassment. Subtly, Cordelia's hand drifted to his, giving it a gentle squeeze of reassurance. He could read what she was trying to say with her gorgeous hazel all-seeing eyes. Don't worry about them. They're idiots. You're okay. We're okay.
Part of Xander was grateful for her comfort, her understanding…yet the other part, a darker part he locked away, absolutely hated the idea that he would need this kind of reassurance. He was supposed to be the one who stuck up for his friends, not the other way around.
"And…Guy," Cordelia replied coolly. "All brawn and still no neck. Glad to see you still haven't left high school. That humor must be killing it at your 9-to-5 at the Doublemeat Palace."
That Cordelia-esque barb served its purpose, the obnoxious smile falling from Guy's face.
"Man, whatever," Mitch waved it off, before he reached his hand roughly around Cordelia's slender waist. "Come on, Cordelia, let's dance, like we used to, baby."
Xander's anger rose up, moving to push him off of her. "Hey…!"
Cordelia beat him to the punch, twisting Mitch's hand and bending it back painfully in an Eastern martial arts move that Angel taught her when training her. Mitch cried out in pain.
"Keep your sweaty hands off my Chanel tank top, Cro-Mag, or it'll be the last time you ever use them," Cordelia gave him a sweet, yet deadly smile.
Mitch nodded painfully before The Seer shoved him back hard, leaving his hand hurting…and leaving Xander speechless. Cordelia was hardly a fighter, even after joining the Scoobies. Yet here she was, going all Xena, Warrior Princess on a guy that Xander would have had trouble taking one-on-one back in high school. If there was ever any proof that Cordelia was not the same girl he knew in high school, there it was, in living color. And honestly, it excited him a little.
Okay, a lot, he relented.
Mitch grabbed his hand, annoyed. "Geez, Cordelia, you used to be a lot more fun," he groused.
Cordelia gave him a frosty look. "No, I used to be shallow and self-absorbed, and in that muck of stupidity, I actually thought you two idiots were attractive once. I grew up. And sorry, but I don't date boys still in high school. I prefer real men these days."
With that, she took Xander by the hand and led him to the other side of the bar. Satisfied, Xander looked over to his stupefied old high school bullies and gave them a victorious smirk that would have made his 15-year-old self do a happy dance.
Cordelia huffed as she found two empty bar stools and sat down with Xander. "Don't worry about those jerks, Xander, you look fine," she hurriedly assured him.
"Cor, really, it's okay," he assured her, taking her hand in his. "It's just…nice to know you're watching my back. And High School Me really, really wants to thank you for giving my old bullies a verbal curb stomp."
Cordelia shrugged. "Don't mention it," she grinned. "Besides, my High School Me was pretty proud, too. That creep Mitch never knew how to keep his hands to himself when we were dating. He was always trying to slip his hand up my skirt or get me to take my shirt off. God, I have no idea what I ever saw in him."
"Yeah, take away the baby blue eyes, the rich parents and the muscles, and what's left?" Xander quipped, though some of that was self-deprecating. He was well aware of why girls in high school flocked to creeps like Mitch and not outcasts like him.
Cordelia gave him a reassuring smile. "First, I love brown eyes," she said sweetly, brushing his cheek with her palm and meeting his lone dark brown iris, "second, I found out the hard way that guys who come from money tend to be first class creeps, and third, I think you underestimated how hot you looked in Speedos back when you were on the swim team." She winked at him teasingly at the last line.
There's that blush again, Xander noted as his cheeks grew red again.
Cordelia laughed. "Tell you what," she said, reaching up and softly grabbing a fistful of his flannel shirt. "Let me go freshen up, and then we'll finish our drinks, we can head to the top floor for a few minutes, find a dark corner…and then you can let 15-year-old you show me your gratitude for trouncing your bullies."
Xander gave her a teasing grin as he leaned in closer. "Okay, but be gentle. It's the kid's first time," he said quietly, huskily.
Cordelia wickedly grinned back. "No promises."
She gave him a gentle kiss on the lips, a promise of things to come, before she got up and headed for the ladies room, giving him a lingering look that made a giddy Xander feel like he had won the Powerball lottery six times in a row.
He smiled like he was the King of the World, eagerly looking for those drinks. "Hey, Davis, let's get those ready quick, I've got my lady waiting for me!" he called to the bartender jokingly.
Davis winked at him knowingly. "Will do, Chief."
At that moment, Lorne, still in his human guise, slid over to where Xander was.
"Well, well, well, someone's back on his feet and in a good mood," Lorne smiled. "Welcome back, Mister Harris, you were missed."
Xander quizzically looked at Lorne. "I didn't know you could become a human."
"Oh, I can't," Lorne shook his head. "Willow hooked me up with a charm spell. Makes the humans a little more comfortable around me instead of my boyish greenish hue." He gave Xander a knowing smile. "And speaking of comfortable, was that you and Cordykins I spotted getting cozy on the dance floor?"
Xander smiled, pleased and happy. "Maybe," he said with a grin.
"Good! That's great, kid," Lorne smiled, before he got serious. "And…how are you doing otherwise? With, you know…"
"My vision not being all there anymore?" Xander finished. Off Lorne's nod, he sighed. "Well, honestly, I don't know if I'm ever going to get used to this. Being…like this."
Lorne gave him a pitying look. "Aww, don't get down on yourself, Slim. I know it looks bleak, but just give it time. Eventually, everything finds its place."
Xander wished he could be so sure…
His thoughts were interrupted by the approach of Mitch and Guy, smirking as they plopped down alongside him unwantedly.
"Well, who would've pictured it? Xander "King of the Losers" Harris scoring one of the hottest chicks in town," Mitch said in a sneer.
"Must be a sign of the apocalypse," Guy added cruelly.
Xander was so not in the mood for this. "Why don't you guys find a cave to go drag some girl you just clubbed into and get lost, okay? I'm busy here."
"Maybe trying to get busy with Cordelia," Guy sneered.
"Watch your mouth," Xander said warningly.
At that, Guy stood up, squaring off. Xander reflexively stood up, as well. He still felt like crap and he knew that getting into a fight was a bad idea, but he'd be damned if he was going to let these jerkoffs talk about Cordy that way.
"Or you'll do what? Get your eye blood all over me?" Guy taunted.
Xander felt his anger spike, wanting nothing more than to hit this creep so hard he'd be spitting his teeth out.
"Hey, guys? No fighting in here. Get a drink, or move it along," Lorne said, his tone friendly, yet stern. "In fact, you guys look loke you might have had one too many, so maybe you should move along. Unless I should talk to my friend Billy the Bouncer over there?" At that, Lorne motioned to the giant bouncer at the door, eying the scene with a mean mug.
Weighing their options, Mitch shook his head. "Forget this geek, Guy, let's bail."
As they turned to go, Xander glibly replied, "Yeah, great. Good to see you again. Have fun at your eventual parole hearings."
Mitch paused, turned around and then walked a little closer to Xander. "You know…you're only fooling yourself, Harris."
Xander felt his lips tighten. Squared up just a little. "Really? Enlighten me, Mitchie." His voice became patronizing. "That means teach me, FYI. I know you don't exactly have the best vocab considering the two times you were held back."
Mitch smirked. "Yeah, laugh it up, clown. But it's clear that the only reason a girl like Cordelia is with a scrub like you is one thing…pity. I mean, look at you. You look like you should be on a telethon as a poster boy for donating money for a charity."
He leaned in closer, his smirk so infuriating that it made Xander want to drill him right between the eyes. "I know Cordelia. She has a certain…type. Always did. Rich. Studly. Good looking. Hits the gym. You? You're the complete opposite of that, Harris. And that was when you had two eyes. You don't belong together with her. I mean, you lucked out by getting her in high school, and even then, you blew it by cheating on her with a computer geek. See, Cordelia has a soft spot for strays. She didn't talk about it a lot because it wasn't cool, but I could see it. And you? You might as well have come in from the pound off the streets, Scrappy Doo. When she's done feeling sorry for you…she'll dump you. Again. And when she does, who knows?" He leered at him. "Maybe I'll be around to pick up the pieces."
Xander was so angry he felt his fists trembling. "Cordelia wouldn't want a jackass like you, Mitch. And you don't know what you're talking about," he growled at Mitch.
At that, Mitch smirked, full of malice. "Don't I? Or are you just fooling yourself…Cyclops?"
Xander wanted to fire off a quip, a fist, anything to give this douchebag back as good as he got…
…but he didn't.
He couldn't.
For as much as he tried to block it out, he couldn't help but hear that damn voice in his head that sounded so much like his father, his doubts, his failings, his weaknesses, whisper to him silently…What if he's right?
Satisfied at the doubting look on Xander's face, Mitch laughed cruelly and he and Guy turned around and walked away, the two snickering in delight.
Xander felt himself slink down into the barstool, his happy buzz gone, his joy disappeared. All he was left with was that old nagging feeling of doubt. Self-loathing. Insecurity. And his father's voice in his head taunting him that it was all true. That he didn't deserve Cordelia. Or anything good.
You're a loser, Xander, and you always will be, that voice taunted him.
Lorne gave him a sad look. "Hey, kid, come on, don't let those creeps bother you. They're drunk, what do they know? You're…"
"Give me a drink, Lorne," Xander said abruptly, his lone eye hard and pained.
Lorne hesitated. "Uh, Xander, I'm no doctor, but that sounds like a bad idea—"
"Just give me a drink!" Xander snapped angrily. "Scotch. On the rocks." His father's drink, he bitterly realized. "If you don't get it for me, I'll just ask Davis. Or maybe he'd like to know that you don't actually work here."
Lorne sighed, put in an unwinnable situation. Cordy isn't going to be happy about this…
"Okay, Slim, coming right up," Lorne sighed, pouring him a drink.
For the longest time, Xander stared at the glass, as if asking himself if he was really going to do this.
"The hell with it," he muttered bitterly, then grabbed the glass and poured the burning liquor down his throat.
Xander never drank. He had stayed away from it, terrified of becoming the same kind of racist, abusive monster that his father was. He wanted to be better than that.
But after Mitch and Guy…after Caleb…after everything…God help him, he realized, but all he wanted to do for a little while was just…
…forget…
London, England
Smithfield Market - Meatpacking District
Same Time
SLAP!
Angel relished the sharp crack of his palm striking the swallowed chin of the still-unconscious Geoffrey Peterson as the immortal detective tried impatiently to rouse the lackey from his slumber.
"C'mon, rise and shine, Geoff. Sleep on your own time," Angel said harshly, scowling as Geoffrey managed to start stirring awake.
Startled, Geoffrey jerked awake, finding himself chained and seated against a concrete pillar outside the makeshift safehouse of Walter Kindel. Try as he might, the chains were not budging.
Despite his anger and impatience, Angel decided not to have his vampire face out…yet. He knew he could usually be pretty intimidating even without it, so he decided to save it as a last resort in case this scumbag needed a little more 'persuasion' to cooperate.
"C'mon, lad," Geoffrey stammered, his face all kinds of nervous, his flinty blue eyes wide in fear. "Ya don't wanna do this, yeah? Think of all the trouble you'll be getting into."
"You mean killing you?" Angel replied, his expression icy, his dark brown eyes glittering in the darkness in a frightening manner, like a predator eyeing its unsuspecting prey behind some shaded tree in a jungle at night.
"Believe me…wouldn't be the first time I've had that kind of trouble. Frankly…" he leaned in closer to the man as the vampire let his voice drop a few octaves until it was a rather sinister, hush-like sound. "It wouldn't be much trouble at all."
The obese man began to sweat, his hands beginning to tremble.
WHOOSH!
The sudden swirling sound behind them drew Angel's attention, and out from a swirling portal came former LAPD Detective Kate Lockley, and just behind her, former Wolfram and Hart star lawyer Lindsey McDonald.
A cop, a lawyer, a detective and a criminal all at the scene of the crime…Angel almost chuckled at how that sounded like one of those old noir detective stories he used to read back in the 1950s.
Except he couldn't chuckle, for he knew this trouble was quite real, and the stakes were higher than any of the plots in those books.
"Good," Angel nodded at the pair. "You're here."
A brown folder of papers tucked under her arm, Kate looked a bit dazed, shaking her head for a moment. "Yeah…not a big fan of portals, though. Your buddy Markus Fray should try springing for airfare next time instead of giving us a ride on the Vortex Express."
Angel gave her a look of understanding. "It takes a little while to get used to. For some people, using portals can get a little…"
A loud wrenching sound drew their attention to the side…where Lindsey was promptly emptying out the contents of his stomach near the corner of the building.
Off Kate's disgusted frown, Angel managed a smirk at his former adversary's plight. "...disorienting."
Using a napkin in his pocket to clean himself, Lindsey took in a few deep breaths before he slowly trudged over to his compatriots. Glaring at Angel, he said, "Next time? Buy us an American Airlines ticket like normal people."
Kate stifled a chuckle at that.
"Yeah, sure, Lindsey, I'll get right on that," Angel said with a none-too-subtle sarcastic tone in his voice.
Shaking her head at the tension between them, Kate decided to reel them all back to the task at hand.
"Okay, first things first," Kate said…right before she hugged Angel.
The simple gesture of affection surprised Angel and drew a rather stunned and not-so-subtle look of jealousy from Lindsey.
Kate pulled back, quickly ending the hug before she gave Angel a half-smile. "Glad you're okay. Did you find that magic sword thing?"
Giving her a faint smile, Angel pulled back his long black duster jacket to show Hope's Dagger clipped at his side, glittering magically like the first light of morning.
Impressed, Kate nodded. "Nice. Very Disney-esque with the glittering."
"I thought the same thing myself," Angel dryly replied, his eyes then growing concerned. "How's Buffy? Did they find her yet?"
"We don't know," Kate said, a look of understanding in her eyes. "Angel, don't worry. She's a Slayer. From what I've read about them, they're pretty tough girls. And Buffy's as tough as anyone I've ever seen. She'll be okay, I'm sure of it."
Frowning, Angel pursed his lips together tightly. He wished he could be as sure as Kate was.
Yes, it was Buffy. Yes, she was the strongest woman Angel had ever known. But that did little to ease his worrying about her. Especially if it involved anything connected to The First Evil. Like this Caleb guy. If he was really as powerful as his allies said, then that meant Buffy was in serious danger, and that Angel needed to be back home right now.
Helping her.
Protecting her.
Protecting the ones he loved. Something he couldn't do here when he was forced to go on a wild goose chase for a killer half a world away from home. Just the thought of being too far away to help the woman he loved was driving Angel insane.
Lindsey drew closer to the immortal detective, his eyes fixed on the legendary blade in awe. "Geez. I heard all the stories about this thing, but I didn't actually think it existed. Hope's Dagger…man, the boys at Wolfram & Hart would pay a king's ransom to have that locked away in their inventory."
Angel's eyes narrowed at the mention of the demonic law firm that had caused him so much grief. "Yeah, well, too bad for them. She's with me now."
Kate cocked an eyebrow at him, nonplussed. "'She'? God, Angel, tell me you didn't do that lame guy thing where you gave your new toy a gender."
"For your information, miss, I am no one's toy,'" the polished, crisp and rather annoyed voice of Cassandra Rayne reprimanded her.
At that, all three humans, even the chained Geoffrey Peterson, recoiled in shock.
"Who said that?" Geoffrey all but shouted, his eyes darting everywhere.
"Jesus!" Lindsey blurted out.
"Did-did-did that thing just talk?" a stunned Kate stammered.
Angel nodded, barely biting back a smile. "Kate, Lindsey…meet Cassandra Rayne. Longtime Champion of the Powers That Be. And apparently, the spirit safeguarding Hope's Dagger."
"For the last thousand years…unfortunately," Cassandra's voice said with a hint of ruefulness.
Kate shook her head in disbelief. She thought she had seen everything after meeting Angel and discovering the darker side of life in L.A. Yet here she was, still finding new things to be amazed at.
"A magic talking sword worthy of only a hero…yup, I've officially entered a Disney cartoon," the attractive ex-cop muttered aloud.
"Wait a minute, Angel, that's impossible," Lindsey said as he stared at the blade in marveled surprise. "I remember the files Wolfram & Hart had on this. Cassandra Rayne was a legendary warrior of light who died a thousand years ago in a battle against The First Evil. Her body was completely vaporized. That can't be her."
"That is…partially true. The First did destroy my body. But my soul endured. I've been tethered to Hope's Dagger ever since that fateful day," Cassandra explained.
"Look, I'll explain everything later," Angel interrupted, eager to get on with the reason why they were here. "Right now, we've got bigger problems to worry about. Did you get anything on Kindel?"
Kate nodded, pulling out the file she and Lindsey had cobbled together and handed it to Angel.
"It took a few favors from some old contacts I have with the L.A.P.D. and Lindsey's backdoor program into the Wolfram & Hart database, but we found this creep," Kate said as she began reciting what they found. "Walter Kindel, age 45, born to Mary and Joseph Kindel in a well-to-do suburb of St. Louis, Missouri. His psych profile from his early school years describes him as a loner, often picked on growing up by the other kids. His parents tried to get him psychiatric help after his teacher discovered some very disturbing writings and drawings in his locker. He was apparently prone to sudden violent fits of anger as a kid and it grew worse as he got older. He enrolled in UCLA where he took up an interest in history and archaeology, then suddenly he was kicked out of school before his junior year was over. He's bounced around several towns and cities ever since, got arrested a few times for burglary, petty larceny, assault and knocking off a few liquor stores. A real Prince Charming, this creep is."
Angel made note of everything Kate said as his keen eyes scanned the files, his photographic memory recording everything, his lips pursing together tightly as he came across a mugshot of Walter Kindel. His eyes were lifeless, dull, the kind that looked like whatever soul there was once in that man had died long ago, Angel realized.
"Wolfram & Hart made an interesting find," Lindsey added, pointing to one file in particular as Angel kept scanning the files. "One of the last classes that Kindel took? An archaeology internship headed up by a pretty renowned volcanologist and archaeologist. A guy named Dr. Lester Worth."
"Worth?" Angel's eyes lit up in recognition. He knew that name.
It was the name of the man who Faith had killed years ago in his office on the orders of Mayor Richard Wilkins before the Ascension, an attempt by the sociopathic mayor to conceal any evidence from Buffy and Angel of his vulnerability once he became the embodiment of the monstrous worm-like Old One known as Olvikan. To this day, his cold-blooded murder at her hands was something that Angel knew had still deeply haunted Faith.
Not picking up on that, Lindsey continued. "Yeah. Kindel had volunteered for an archaeologist expedition at the ruins of some Mesopotamic outskirt city in Turkey. Apparently, Worth came across something he couldn't quite understand. A few months in, he came across the remains of an old hut that Wolfram & Hart now believe belonged to an ancient demon cult. They called themselves the Sisters of Morg'orr, a cult that served a powerful Britzai archdemon known as…"
"Lemme guess…Morg'orr?" Kate glibly asked.
Lindsey smirked at her. "Got it in one, beautiful," he replied, drawing a blush from Kate and a surprised, quirked eyebrow from Angel before the former lawyer smoothly continued. "In his dig around the hut, Worth came across a pretty incredible find, something he was sure was going to put him in the history books and maybe net him a fortune."
At that, Lindsey reached over and pointed to a picture Angel was looking at of Worth and his team celebrating as Worth carefully handled a black obsidian, orb-shaped stone, runes carved into it in an odd demonic language. "The files aren't specific, but there's strong reason to believe that what Worth found was a very powerful ancient artifact called—"
"The Rune of Shadows," Angel finished, recalling the name of the stone that Markus Fray had mentioned to him.
Lindsey was surprised. "You heard of it?"
"I have intel," Angel replied, narrowing his pensive brown eyes as he thought of the old wizard that currently held his friends—and that snake Ethan Rayne—hostage.
What caught Angel's eyes in that photo was a young man in the corner, slouched over, slinking about with a look of greedy fascination in his eyes.
A young Walter Kindel.
"Shot in the dark here…Kindel stole it?" Angel asked. In his gut, he already knew the answer, however.
"Yup, seems so," Kate confirmed. "Within three days of finding the stone, Kindel suddenly disappeared without warning, and the stone was gone, as well. Worth filed police reports, but they never found the rune. The police reports subsequently led to Kindel's expulsion from UCLA. The thing is, whenever Kindel got arrested, he'd suddenly vanish while in police custody."
"Which means the stone must have given him powers that allowed him to escape," Angel concluded, his brow furrowing in thought. "That would explain how he's been able to get away with all those murders in the last few decades without a trace. The stone's power is helping him to evade capture."
"And who knows what else? Mor'gorr was a very powerful demon, worshiped as a god by some. If this rune came from something involved with him, there's no telling what kind of power Kindel has at his disposal," Lindsey said grimly.
"Lindsey's right, unfortunately," Kate sighed. "Kindel could be anywhere."
Yet Angel didn't look quite as worried, his eyes deep in thought. Powerful as he was with the rune in his possession, Walter Kindel was still, at heart, just another pathetic human serial killer. And that was Angel's wheelhouse. Nobody knew more about this particular field than him, though how he knew it brought him no pride, brought him nothing but eternal guilt, endless shame and silent torment.
Shaking those thoughts from his head, Angel replied, "No. He might have demonic power in his hands, but Walter Kindel is just like any other piece of crap serial killer. He needs places to get his fix for killing. Specific places. Like this one. Large, abandoned, out of the way…if we can break the pattern and figure out where he's stashing his next victim, we can find this slimeball and nail him before he can finish the job."
"But, Angel, that could be anywhere. Literally, anywhere," Kate said, confused and somewhat frustrated. "How can we figure that out with only a day or two when police in over 20 states and Interpol haven't been able to crack this case in decades?"
At that, Angel whirled around and eyed the petrified Geoffrey, still chained up on the ground. "That's where my new buddy Geoffrey comes in. Isn't that right, Geoff?" At that, Angel harshly reached down and shook the man hard by the scruff of his neck, making the ex-convict's eyes widen in fear as he yelped.
"Um, should I be worried about why you have some fat guy chained up out in the open?" Kate asked suspiciously.
"Kate, Lindsey, meet Geoffrey Peterson," Angel replied, motioning over to the pathetic man. "One of the known associates of Walter Kindel. Ex-con, low on cash, even lower on intelligence. Geoffrey here seems to be keeping the safehouses clean for The Home Wrecker Killer."
Kate's eyes narrowed. "You mean this guy's helping Kindel kill all those kids?"
"Sure is," Angel took a step closer to the man, towering above at his full height, casting an imposing shadow. "Which is why he's going to tell us the next house where the killer is. Aren't you, Geoffie?"
Trying to summon up some sense of bravado, Geoffrey sneered. "I ain't telling ya nothin', ya wank–AARGH!"
Angel stomped viciously hard on the man's ankle, a loud cracking sound of bone breaking being Angel's reward and Geoffrey's punishment.
"The next time I hear you use the word 'wanker' at me, Tubby, I'll make you eat the body part on you that word refers to," Angel smiled through gritted teeth in an almost sinister manner that would have drawn a nod of respect from Angelus himself.
Off Kate's shocked expression at Angel's unusually cruel methods, Lindsey couldn't help but lean in to her and whisper, "Geez, we sure this guy still has his soul?"
Angel heard that, yet he ignored it, focusing his intimidating, icy gaze at the fat man chained up in front of him as he knelt down in front of Geoffrey. He didn't have time for niceties. Not when his friends, the fate of the world and Buffy's fate hung in the balance. He only had time for results. "The Home Wrecker Killer. You've been keeping his safehouses for him, haven't you? Which means you know which one he's going to be using next to hold the girl. I want an address, and I want it now."
Breathing heavily, Geoffrey still stubbornly shook his head. "Forget it, mate. Whatever you do to me is nothin' compared to what that crazy bastard would do if he finds out I–YAAAAAAH!"
Angel squeezed hard on the man's broken ankle, breaking the bone further, drawing a cry of sheer agony from him.
Angel's eyes bore into him, briefly flashing the amber-like yellow of a vampire.
"I wouldn't be too sure of that, Geoff. Believe me, I've got a lot of experience with dishing out pain," the immortal detective said in almost a hiss, his tone promising all kinds of unnatural pain if Geoffrey didn't comply. "By the time I'm done with you, you won't just be begging for death…you'll be regretting you ever lived in the first place. The address. Now."
A panicked Geoffrey coughed, looking to Kate and Lindsey for help. "C'mon, you lot can't just let him do this!"
Yet he found no sympathy in Kate's eyes. Normally, the dyed-and-true ex-policewoman would have tried to call this barbaric interrogation off. Be yelling at Angel to stop it, tell him that this wasn't what they do, that this wasn't the right way to do this. But this was different. The world was at stake. A child's life was at stake. And after losing Matthew, she was done letting any more sickos think they could threaten kids on her watch. So if a little torture was what it took to shake this tree, Kate decided she could check her ethics at the door just this once.
"Do what?" Kate asked him in mock innocence. "As far as the world knows, I'm not even here, I'm back stateside. You see anything, Lindsey?"
"I don't have any idea what you're talking about, Kate, I'm supposed to be back in Sunnydale with you," Lindsey shrugged with a devilish smirk, turning his gaze back to Geoffrey. "No witnesses, no case, big fella. Sounds to me like you better tell the not-so-nice man in black what he wants to know. Trust me, you don't want to see him cranky. If he loses his cool, you might end up losing body parts." He traced the scar along his left hand that Angel once cut off years ago. "Believe me, I know…firsthand, so to speak."
Geoffrey hissed in pain. "I…ah, he'll kill me if I tell you…!"
"Worry about the present, Geoff, not the future. Especially when it's not so clear whether or not you'll have a future to worry about," Angel replied coldly, sharply, like the unrelenting crack of a whip. "Where's the girl? Where's the Home Wrecker Killer? The truth. Now!"
Another brutally hard squeeze of the broken ankle drew a louder cry from Geoffrey, who began cursing and tearing a bit.
His tears and show of pain did nothing to dissuade a scowling Angel. "You're starting to make me cranky, Geoff. And trust me, Lindsey's right…you really wouldn't like me when I'm cranky."
Kate grew impatient. Disgusted. And very, very angry. But her anger was not for Angel.
"What kind of sick bastard are you? How could you help that guy, Peterson?" The former policewoman gave the ex-con an icy, disgusted glare, like he was more cockroach than man in her eyes. "Walter Kindel is a psychopath. A serial killer. A murderer. He kills children, for God's sake! Innocent kids!" Matthew's happy, brave little face once again appeared in Kate's mind, breaking her heart. Fueling her rage for Kindel, for Caleb, for this worm who was helping this monster. "Every awful thing he's done, every family he's ripped apart, every child whose life he destroyed is on your head. And for what, money? How the hell do you live with yourself? How can you even sleep at night?"
For a moment, Lindsey had to look away. Her words brought unwanted memories of Caleb back into his mind. All the guilt, the shame he felt for years whenever he helped get Caleb off of a murder case whenever he finished conducting his assassinations on behalf of Wolfram & Hart. So he could kill again. Ruin more lives. Threaten the world.
All those people dead. My father…dead. Because of him…because of me. I helped him. I did this, Lindsey thought, his eyes growing haunted. Am I really any different than this scumbag here?
To their surprise, Geoffrey suddenly looked down, ashamed. "Believe me, miss…I haven't slept in a long, long time."
His gaze looked at the safehouse, the sight of many of Kindel's murders. "Times have been tough, and let's face it…nobody's gonna hire a bloke like me with a prison record on him, y'know? So this guy starts sending me envelopes one day…tells me he'll pay me good money, all's I have to do is find him some places that are nice and out of the way, not ask too many questions, keep' em stocked and clean, and the rest was easy."
He sighed, wracked with guilt. "I tried not to ask too many questions 'bout what he did in there. Wasn't any of my business, right? But…deep down…I knew. I always knew. Sometimes…whenever I cleaned up…after…it was almost like I could still those kids screaming. Crying out for their mums and dads. Wasn't any wonder why I needed a drink after every time I—"
"Tell it to your shrink," Angel coldly replied.
That dismissive reply drew startled glances from all of them.
Angel leaned in close, a hard stare in his dark eyes. "I've done my share of bad things, Geoffrey. Things that would make your nightmare have nightmares. But the difference between you and me? I didn't have a soul when I did them. I didn't have a choice. You knew what you were doing was wrong, but you chose to do it anyway. Innocent children are dead because of you helping that lunatic. Now you have to live with that. I've been to where you're going after you die, pal. And I'll probably be there again," His tone was as cold as death. "And believe me, where you're going…it's the least of what you deserve."
Geoffrey looked down, nothing to say. What could he say? He knew this vampire was right.
"I don't care one damn about your guilt. What I do care about is that sweet little girl your boss kidnapped," Angel said frankly. "And we're running on a schedule. So either you stop wasting my time with your sob stories and tell us where we can find them both, or…"
Angel let his face shift into its demonic vampire form, hardened ridges, sharp fangs and predator-like yellow eyes. Tried not to relish the fear washing all over the man's face.
"...Trust me. You really don't want to find out what the 'or' part is," Angel said menacingly.
"Alright, alright…no need for any more of the rough stuff, eh?" Geoffrey relented, panting and wheezing. "There's an old abandoned house at the edge of Hatfield, in Hertfordshire. I'm scheduled to go clean it up tomorrow morning. I cleaned it up more than most, so it's probably his favorite safehouse."
"How many of these safehouses does he have?" Lindsey asked.
"And which one is where he is?" Angel demanded.
"Six, by my count," Geoffrey replied. "He changes 'em up every couple of months. He told me to get this one place ready tomorrow mornin', an abandoned home, on the edge of Hatfield, a place by—"
SHUCK!
Without warning, a dark, black projectile suddenly embedded itself into his throat.
The man's eyes widened as his blood began seeping out of the new hole in his throat.
"Shit!" a shocked Kate cursed out loud.
Alert, Angel spun around, his hand on the hilt of his sword Hope's Dagger. Kate dropped the file, drawing her sidearm, Lindsey also ejecting his spring-coiled 9-mm handguns.
What they saw they didn't quite believe.
Not but 10 feet from them appeared to be the shadow of a man. Or what looked like a man.
No face.
No eyes.
No characteristics at all.
Just someone…or some thing…who looked like he, or it, literally jumped out from a wall attached to someone's shadow. Straight out of someone's nightmares.
"Hey!" Angel shouted. "Stop!"
But the figure, briefly admiring his handiwork, quickly turned the corner around and jumped into the shadows, Angel swiftly giving chase as he rounded the corner to find…
…nothing.
Still in vampire face, Angel's golden supernatural eyes scanned around the area for any signs of him, but finding nothing.
It was like he just vanished…without a trace.
Without a trace. Shadows. Rune of Shadows…Oh, God…
"Kindel," he realized grimly. There was no doubt in his mind who that mystery shadow man was.
Cursing as his face shifted back into his human form, Angel turned back and ran to where Kate was trying desperately to stop Geoffrey's bleeding, ripping off a piece of her sleeved shirt to serve as a tourniquet.
"Hey! Hey, Geoffrey, look at me, stay with me…" Kate said frantically, trying to stabilize him, yet realizing that he was running out of time. "Geoffrey, the address. Where's the girl? Where's Walter Kindel? Geoffrey!"
"Six…six…" Geoffrey wheezed out, his breaths labored, his skin growing colder by the second.
"Six what? Two sixes?" Lindsey urged him, trying to help Kate as she tried to keep the man alive, yet their efforts rapidly proving to be fruitless. He was dying. It was plain for all to see.
With one last bit of resolve, Geoffrey shook his head, willed himself to finish what he had to say. Tried to will himself to do the right thing for once in his life. For the first time in his life.
And the last time.
"Six…Coleman…Green…Lane…" Geoffrey said, his voice a dying hush. "Tomorrow…he'll…be there…"
Realizing the effort this man was trying to make with his final moments to give them the information they needed to stop a killer, Angel nodded, grateful. "Thank you."
Geoffrey tried to say "You're welcome", but his last breath escaped him.
He slumped down. Eyes wide. Bleeding out.
And that was the sad end of the tragic and treacherous life of Geoffrey Peterson.
Kate checked his pulse, but found nothing. She looked up at Angel and Lindsey, solemnly shaking her head. "He's dead."
Grim and full of anger, Angel nodded in acknowledgement. He could no longer hear the man's labored breathing or his clogged heart beating in his preternatural ears.
"I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess…that was Kindel?" a still tense Lindsey asked, turning to Angel with questioning eyes.
"That was Kindel," Angel tersely confirmed, the anger practically rippling off of him.
The souled vampire Champion then picked up a stray steel pipe and angrily flung it into a wall, the pipe embedding itself into the concrete.
He should have been more aware of his surroundings, Angel chided himself. He shouldn't have let Kindel sneak up on them like this. Now their best lead on finding this killer was dead, and they were running out of time.
"That shadow thing…that was Kindel?" Kate asked, shocked. "Angel, are you sure?"
"Positive," Angel replied, frowning. "Guess he didn't want to leave any loose ends."
Kate sighed, picking up her file on the serial killer. "Well, at least this loose end left us an address. Six Coleman Green Lane, Hatfield. Wherever that is, we need to be there by tomorrow night."
"Yeah, great. Except one little problem…the fact that this run-of-the-mill scumbag isn't so run-of-the-mill anymore," Lindsey grimly reminded them. "Kindel's a lot more dangerous than we thought. He can disappear without a trace into the shadows, hurl whatever the hell those things are like knives…"
The former lawyer gestured to the disappearing solid mass still embedded in Geoffrey's throat. "...and who knows what else. With that rune in his possession, he's got power we don't even fully understand, Angel. How the hell are any of us gonna stop someone like that?"
Angel bunched his fists together and stared out into the darkness of the empty street that Kindel had disappeared into.
He had enough of this.
Enough of these games. He had to get back to Buffy. Back home to his friends. Back to save the world. And save his allies and that little girl while at it.
And this psychopath was standing in his way.
That was something Angel was no longer willing to allow. He felt his cold body flush with a heated resolve.
A resolve to find this scumbag Walter Kindel and stop him…by any means necessary.
"Same way I always stop monsters, Lindsey," the angry souled vampire replied, his dark brown eyes steeled, his rumbly voice laced with anger and determination. "Without mercy."
To Be Continued…
Next: Dance Night at the Bronze reaches its conclusion. Fights! Kisses! Heartbreak! Mayhem!
All of which lead to stunning decisions that will shake up our heroes to their core with the Awakening looming…
More to Come Soon! Please read, review and follow! (And special thanks to whoever updates the TVTropes page for this story, it rocks!)
Best,
Jean-theGuardian
