disclaimer in
part 1
Now Juliet ain't nothing new
Three Doors
Part Eight
Angel studied the tousle of blonde hair resting against his shoulder blade.
His heart ached, not from the pain of his body or from any sadness, but because
he felt too much joy. His emotions too powerful to be contained, they pressed
against his body, against his brain, against his heart, straining within
him until he hurt from the excess. He was holding what he loved most in the
world. The impossible had happened, and he had been granted this, been granted
everything. He moved slightly, snuggling against her warmth and tried to
swallow past the lump in his throat.
Her beauty was stunning, but her trust, her love was what filled him to
overflowing, filled him until he stretched and bruised, his heart matching
his battered form and grateful for the honor. The silence folded around him,
a strange contrast to the heat and rough movement of their joining. Then
there had been no room for thought, now there was too much. She shifted against
him, traced her fingers across his abdomen, and he suppressed a whimper.
It was too much, almost too much, not enough, he placed his hand over hers
and her fingers entwined with his. Too much. He groaned, sitting up slowly.
"What is it?" she asked.
"We can't stay this way forever," he said.
"Why not?" She stretched against the sheets, shifting them with the golden
curves of her body.
"For one thing, I'm starving," he said, smiling down at her.
"I haven't eaten in a long time either," she agreed. "I'd forgotten." She
sat up slowly, unwillingly, and put her chin on his shoulder. "I love you,"
she said, tucking her arm around his waist.
"And I love you," he answered, pressing a kiss to her head. He smoothed her
hair with his fingers, then pulled away from her embrace and stood up, his
abused body creaking with the movement.
*~*~*~*
Angel edged down the stairs dressed in a pair of Giles' sweat pants, pain
jolting him with each step. His bare chest had grown more discolored as the
bruises had begun to come into full bloom, but most of the cuts were looking
healthier, though still a bit raw. Muscles burned and ached with each movement,
but he gritted his teeth and continued until his bare feet landed on the
cool tiles of Giles' living room. Sighing softly to himself, he shambled
the rest of the distance to the kitchen. Giles looked up as he passed by
the sofa.
"Are you all right?" the librarian asked, watching Angel's stiff-legged gait.
"Yeah. I'm just sore and bruised and a couple of these scrapes started bleeding
again in the shower. Other than that..." Angel trailed off, opening the
refrigerator. "I'm also starving."
"You won't find too much in there," Giles said, returning his gaze to the
book in front of him. "I've been meaning to stop by the grocery store." Angel
nodded, pulling a plastic container of leftover Chinese food and a loaf of
bread from the fridge. He shivered in the cold air, but reached in again
to pull out a carton of orange juice and a jar of peanut butter.
"I think I can manage."
"Is Buffy asleep?"
"No, she's in the shower. She'll be down in a moment."
"I'm a bit worried," Giles admitted. "Faith should have been back by now.
Or at least checked in."
"You think the other version of me was at the mansion?" Angel asked through
a mouthful of cold pepper steak and rice. He stuffed another bite into his
mouth, his cheeks swelling with the food.
"The thought had crossed my mind. But knowing Faith, she probably decided
to go somewhere after she checked the mansion and didn't bother to inform
us."
"Maybe. But knowing Faith, if he was there she might have decided not to
stick to the plan and wait for us."
"I don't believe she truly understands how dangerous he can be," Giles agreed,
his eyes narrowed with concern.
"Buffy and I should go by the mansion," Angel decided.
"Are you sure you're up to that?" Giles asked skeptically, his brow furrowing.
"Of course," Angel said straightening his stance. "I can do it," he reaffirmed
with a wince as his muscles protested the movement.
"You should be taking a few days to heal," Giles argued.
"We don't have a few days," Angel answered. "I know him better than anyone.
I was him. I can help."
"I know you can," Giles said. "But perhaps in a less active capacity?"
"I can't just sit by and let him rampage. I can't let Buffy-"
"Can't let Buffy what?" Buffy asked as she came down the stairs. She wore
a gauzy grey shirt and a matching ankle length skirt embroidered with small
black flowers. Giles felt a small gasp of air hiss from his lungs as he took
in the sight of her in those clothes and was reminded of the past. Her wet
hair was plastered to her head, and she seemed confident, rejuvenated, herself
again though the clothes were purely Jenny. She shot a small, uncertain glance
at Giles, and he smiled, the expression coming easier than expected to his
lips.
"Go to the mansion by yourself," Angel told her. She entered the kitchen
and poured herself a glass of orange juice, watching in amazement as Angel
finished the Chinese food and started on a stack of three peanut butter
sandwiches. She smiled, giving him a gentle hug.
"Has anyone ever told you that you look like a chipmunk?" Angel laughed,
touched his swollen cheek, and wrapped his arm around her waist.
"I can't get over the whole solid food thing," he said, shrugging his shoulders
sheepishly. "When I was a vampire I couldn't really taste it. I'd forgotten."
Buffy grinned, and kissed his shoulder.
"Welcome to the wonderful world of leftovers." Giles shook his head, and
smiled slightly to himself at their teasing. "What's the deal with the mansion?"
Buffy asked, stealing one of Angel's sandwiches. Angel made a face at her,
and she stuck out her tongue.
"Faith hasn't returned, or contacted us," Giles said. Buffy's amusement faded,
and she turned her attention away from Angel, nodding.
"Not a good sign."
"But maybe nothing," Angel pointed out. Buffy shook her head, leaving the
kitchen and half her sandwich to sit beside Giles.
"Maybe. But I have a bad feeling." She met Giles' eyes, seeing her own worry
reflected in his. "True, Angelus equals extra edgy Buffy. But then again,
this is Angelus. She could be in serious trouble." She hesitated. "Or worse,"
she muttered under her breath. "I'll go right away."
"Good," Angel said. "I'm going with you." Buffy looked at his battered body
with raised eyebrows.
"You couldn't even put on a shirt because it hurt too much," she said gently.
"And I can't be distracted if he's there."
"I don't have illusions about my strength, or lack thereof," Angel said.
"I know my limits. But I still think you need someone to back you up. I can
take a crossbow, and I'll stay back. It'll be strictly fighting at a distance."
Buffy bit her upper lip, wavering.
"Okay, I would like some back-up," she relented. "But you have to be careful
and stay out of it. Promise." Angel held up his hand.
"I swear."
"I know you. You say that now, but if we get in trouble you'll go charging
in..."
"I won't get in your way," Angel said, his half-smile not quite covering
his discomfort with the situation. He wasn't used to his capability being
questioned. He understood the need, and the aching of his body reminded him
exactly why the doubts of the others were rational. But it was a bitter pill
to swallow. Although he wouldn't have admitted it, his ability to fight,
to hold his own next to Buffy was something of a point of pride. Buffy closed
her eyes, her brow wrinkling.
"That's not what I meant..." she began.
"I know," he said, shaking it away with his hand. "It's just going to take
some getting used to." She nodded, bending over to gather her shoes from
their place beside the coffee table.
"I'll get the weapons," she said. "And you finish getting dressed." Angel
nodded, finishing his glass of orange juice and heading for the stairs. Buffy
pulled on her shoes and crossed to Giles' weapons chest. She pulled out a
crossbow and an ax. The front door opened with a creak, and she tensed
involuntarily, her head whipping toward the entrance to the apartment. Willow
and Xander passed through the doorway, and she forced her muscles to relax.
"A fully successful outing," Xander said. "Willow kicked some butt, wicca
style."
"I must admit I did," Willow said. "And we dropped by the school to talk
to Cordy and Oz about why they can't go out tonight or invite Angel into
their homes."
"Needless to say, they were thrilled," Xander said. "And by thrilled, I mean
confused. Also mad. And scared."
"And we managed to avoid Snyder long enough to stop by the library and see
if Wesley had anything new," Willow added.
"He didn't," Xander finished. "Big British loser." Giles raised an eyebrow.
Xander shrugged. "What? I'm not talking about you." Angel walked slowly down
the stairs, wearing a loose white t-shirt and his own shoes. "Oh, and since
I found some of these in Giles' office, I brought you a present," Xander
said. He reached into his pocket and retrieved a name tag, peeled it from
its backing, and clapped it to Angel's chest. Angel winced, craning his head
downwards to read the tag.
"Hello my name is...HumAngel," Angel read slowly. He looked into Xander's
expectant face.
"Get it? Human Angel? So we can tell you apart," the boy explained.
"Clever," Angel said dryly.
"I'd really prefer you didn't poke about in my office," Giles said.
"Oh, yeah like you've got some big secret thing in there..." Xander began.
"Whatever," Buffy interrupted. "We can't stay. We're going to the mansion
to check up on Faith. She's AWOL."
"We can come with," Willow offered.
"No," Buffy said. "I want you guys as safe as possible. That means no throwing
yourself in the line of fire."
"But he's going?" Xander said, pointing his thumb at Angel, who was peeling
off the name tag. "He's even more useless than us now." Angel's jaw jumped
in annoyance.
"Xander, shut up," Buffy said, pulling lightly on the hem of Angel's borrowed
shirt to steer him past the others to the door. She handed him the crossbow
and shouldered the ax herself. "At least he can aim a crossbow."
"Ouch," Xander said, clutching his chest in mock pain. Buffy rolled her eyes
to Angel, and he broke into a grin as they passed out the door.
*~*~*~*~*
Buffy pushed open the front door of the Crawford Mansion, with Angel behind
her. The door had been unlocked, and she wasn't sure whether that was a good
sign or a bad one. She peered inside as the door swung wide. She scanned
the room for movement, straining her senses for a presence in the house.
Seeing nothing, she motioned for Angel to stay and took a step inside. Her
heels echoed against the stone floors, bouncing off the walls of empty rooms.
Her back was tight with anticipation, her fists clenched. Her gaze darted
from one corner of the living room to the other, and caught on a huddled
body on the floor. Dread shot through her stomach, and she heard the hiss
of breath as she gasped.
Forgetting caution, she ran, feeling as if a year had simply disappeared.
She was running down the halls of Sunnydale High, her heart racing though
her feet seemed slow, much too slow. She was kneeling, skidding on her knees,
beside Kendra's body. She was right back where she had been that night, the
night she'd sent him to hell. She touched the other Slayer's hand, cradling
it in her own, and the past retreated slightly. It was Faith. She lay like
Kendra had, still and small, fragile. Her eyes were closed, her neck stained
by blood and the mark of teeth. The strength she'd had, the strength only
another Slayer could have, was gone. She was dead, and Buffy had failed her.
She felt Angel run up behind her, the crossbow hanging slack from one hand.
He bent, putting his hand on her shoulder, and time slipped back into its
proper place. Now was not a year ago. Angel was here with her, to help her,
to comfort her. It was Faith, not Kendra whose dark hair spread out beneath
her head like a swirl of brown. Faith's brash mouth that was closed, quiet.
Faith whose shirt was torn, and whose jeans were still unfastened. Buffy
shuddered, the shock that excluded everything but the fact of Faith's death
turning to horror as she took in the girl's body, as her mind reeled with
the possibilities. What had Angelus done to her? How badly had he hurt her?
How terrified had she been? Had he turned her? She reached up desperately
to grasp Angel's hand, and it was gone. She tore herself from Faith's body,
turning to Angel, and saw him back away with panic on his face. He gagged,
and spun on his heel, rushing back out of the house into the sunlight.
She turned back to Faith, squeezing her eyes shut against the shame, the
defilement, the emptiness. Then she forced herself to look again, to imprint
the image in her mind. Faith was dead, she'd been the one to experience the
pain, the shame. The least Buffy could do was look. The least she could do
was remember. She took it in until she knew the image would be in her memory
forever, haunting her, waiting behind her eyelids. Then she hurried after
Angel, catching up to him on the walkway to the door. She grabbed his arm,
stopping him from continuing his flight away from her, from Faith's body.
"What's going on?" she asked.
"I..." He shuddered, tears in his eyes, his throat convulsing. "I couldn't
stand it. I couldn't look at her."
"But you've seen worse," Buffy said, leaving it unspoken that he'd done worse.
"I can't explain," Angel said, his eyes fixed on the treetops as he tried
to make sense of it. "It was...the blood. And seeing her lying there." He
stopped, turning his gaze reluctantly to Buffy. "I'd only seen one dead person
in my life before I was turned, and it was my grandmother who died of disease.
This is the first murdered person I've seen without the demon in me." Buffy
nodded, encouraging him to continue. "It's...Before it didn't seem to affect
me. Except maybe that a part of me liked it. But now, I just feel horror.
This horror filling me with ugliness, like a stain."
"I'm sorry," Buffy said. She put her arms around him, and he stroked her
hair, the rhythmic motion calming him. "I'm sorry you had to be a part of
this, and see what you did. I'm sorry you didn't get to be human for a day,
even one day, without being dragged into the things I deal with. The death."
"No, it's not your fault," he said, pulling back to look down at her.
"It is," she said, her hands trembling. "Faith. Oh God, Faith. He did this
to her, but it's my fault. We have to find him. He'll keep doing this, keep
killing, hurting."
"We will stop him," Angel said.
"No," Buffy answered. "It should be just me. Look what happened to you here.
You shouldn't have to deal with it. You won't be able to handle it." She
looked up at him, meeting his eyes, wanting with all her heart to beg him
to be there for her. To help her be strong. Realizing that for the first
time he might not be strong enough to do that. And she couldn't ask him to
be part of her world, not now that he had the chance to be normal, to live
outside the nightmare.
"I'm not letting you face this alone," he said, his tone unflinching, adamant.
She nodded helplessly, knowing she should force him to stay out of it, but
not strong enough to keep from clinging to him.
"I need you," she admitted. "I need you to support me."
"I'll be there for you," he said. She leaned her forehead against his chest,
and one sob jerked through her body, then she took a deep breath and looked
at the mansion dry eyed.
"I have to go back in," she said. "I'll check to see if he's still there,"
she said. "But I doubt he is."
"There's sewer access in back of the house," Angel pointed out. "He could
get to it during the day if he covered himself with something sturdy." Buffy
nodded, her jaw set. She turned back to the house.
"We'll hit Willy's next. Then anywhere else you can think of where he might
have gone. We can contact the others from Willy's."
"What about..." Angel's eyes darted to the door, and he swallowed again.
"There's nothing we can do for her besides make sure she won't rise a vampire,"
Buffy said. Surprise widened Angel's eyes, then he nodded, understanding.
"Do you want me there when you do it?" he asked.
Though Buffy's heart screamed yes, please God, yes. She shook her head, no.
"You stay here," she said, squaring her shoulders. She took a deep breath
and ducked back inside the house, pulling a stake from her pocket. She approached
Faith's body with dread, her sweaty palm clenched around the hard length
of the stake. She knelt again beside the body and muttered an apology, focusing
on Faith's chest, trying to disassociate the other Slayer from the dead girl
before her. She exhaled sharply and drove the stake through the Slayer's
heart. She clenched her jaw and stood up, turning away. She would make Angelus
pay for this. Every ounce of pain, every drop of humiliation he'd inflicted
on Faith she'd bring to him and more.
*~*~*~*~*~*
Angelus climbed the ladder up the side of the sewer tunnel beneath the Willy's
bar. A firm push moved the metal cover aside, and he climbed up into the
storeroom he remembered being dragged through on the way to being sold to
Spike. He bared his teeth. He'd never paid Willy back for that. One day he
would. But right now he needed the bartender to provide a bit of information.
He took a quick look at his surroundings, the liquor packed onto the shelves,
the small windows near the ceiling and the patches of light shining through
them, the locked cage where Kendra had trapped him.
The door to the storeroom opened and Willy entered, weighed down by a case
of Tamalian Ale. He stopped when he saw the vampire before him, and juggled
the case to keep from dropping it on the concrete.
"Angel," he said warily. He eased the case to the floor, taking a step backward.
"The Slayer send you? Or maybe you want some pig's blood?" Angelus laughed,
allowing his vampiric face to emerge. He took a step forward, flicking his
tongue against his fangs.
"Guess again."
"Hey," Willy said, holding up his hands and taking another step backward.
"Hey, no need to get scary on me. You just..." He stopped as Angelus abruptly
launched himself through the stream of sunlight coming in the window, and
pinned Willy to the wall in the shadow. His skin smoking slightly, he sniffed
at Willy's neck, enjoying the scent of the man's fear, the pounding of the
blood beneath the skin. "Please..." Willy said.
"I need a bit of information," Angelus purred. Willy nodded uneasily. Angelus
placed his hand tightly against Willy's throat, and held him to the wall
with the pressure. The man's gasping breaths vibrated pleasantly against
his palm. "I'm looking for a nest."
"I don't know stuff like that," Willy said. "They don't tell..." Angel increased
the pressure against his trachea, and he stopped, struggling to breathe.
"I think you know," Angelus sing-songed quietly into Willy's ear. "You may
be thinking to yourself that you know me, that I'm not going to kill you,
that I'm the Slayer's lapdog..." He kneed Willy hard in the groin, and the
man screamed silently in agony, unable to gain the air to give voice to the
pain. "Let me assure you that continuing to think that way will be the last
mistake you'll make." He released the pressure on Willy's throat slightly,
and again the flow of air rattled against his palm.
"There's no nests," Willy said weakly. "The Slayers took out one a couple
weeks ago. That's the only one I knew..." His eyes rolled in fear as the
hand began to close. Angelus laughed. With a casual movement he drove his
fist deep into Willy's belly. The air whooshed from Willy's lungs, but he
was kept from doubling over in pain by the vise grip on his neck.
"Have to do better than that, Willy my boy." Angelus removed his hand without
warning, and stepped back. Willy fell to the concrete, curled in on his stomach,
gasping to breathe.
"What the hell happened to you, Angel?" he asked.
"Just tell me what I want to know," Angelus answered. He placed his foot
on the side of Willy's head, pinning it to the floor. "And don't ever," he
increased the pressure against Willy's skull, "ever call me Angel."
"Whatever you want," Willy said. Angelus eased off and knelt down beside
the prone bartender, trailing his fingers down the side of Willy's face hard
enough to leave a path of bleeding scratches. "What size nest you looking
for?" Willy whimpered.
So I'll play Romeo for you
I'm climbing out your window tonight
cause your daddy don't like those Montagues
Remember how that story ends?
Yes I do so I pretend
that we wind up another way
Wake up and kiss my mouth and save the day.
Pleasing You
-Soul Miner's Daughter
by: Rebecca Carefoot