disclaimer in
part 1
I was on the outside when you said,
Three Doors
Part Nine
Buffy strode along the edge of the sidewalk, Angel trailing slightly behind.
She took long steps, her face set along hard lines. She frowned suddenly.
Angel quickened his feet, attempting to catch up to her and not quite able
to, his usually long stride hampered by the stiffness of his muscles. He
wondered what she was thinking, about Willy, about Faith, about Angelus.
He echoed her frown, feeling as if a door had been slammed in his face when
he realized he had no idea. He struggled harder to catch up, squinting into
the brightness of the day, pointedly ignoring his protesting legs and overtaxed
lungs and heart. His steps stayed just slightly behind hers, and he felt
a wave of frustration overtake him.
She slowed when they were a block away from Willy's, her steps falling more
lightly. He walked beside her, his head cocked slightly to the side as if
he knew she would break the silence.
"Let me do the talking," she said as they drew closer.
"You were always better at it," he agreed. Her lips stretched slightly into
a smile. He squared his shoulders and followed her into the dim lighting
of the bar. Because it was the middle of the day, the bar was occupied only
by a pair of unconscious patrons asleep with their heads on a table. They
looked human, but knowing Willy's they were probably vampire. Either way,
Buffy didn't give them a second glance. She headed unwavering for the storeroom
and opened the door with a splintering kick. Angel winced as it banged open
with an explosive crack against the wall, waking the sleepers behind them.
Buffy stopped it from swinging shut again with her foot and entered the room,
her sweeping gaze landing on a huddled figure lying next to an abandoned
case of drinks. Her face twisted briefly with fear, then returned to the
emotionless mask she'd worn since leaving the mansion. She hurried to Willy's
side and rolled him over, noting the rise and fall of his chest with relief.
"He's alive," she said. Angel knelt on Willy's other side, and watched her
lightly tap her hand against the man's cheeks. Willy remained unconscious,
blood trickling slightly from the corner of his mouth. Buffy looked at Angel,
and he shrugged his shoulders. She jerked her head from right to left, searching
for help, and grabbed a bottle from the case next to her. She poured some
of the liquor onto Willy's face and his eyes popped open. He blinked and
sputtered.
"Slayer," he said as he oriented himself. He tried to sit up, but dropped
back, reminded by the pain in his abdomen of how he'd ended up on the storeroom
floor in the first place.
"Do you want me to call an ambulance?" Buffy said.
"I've survived worse," he said, his voice strained, horse. "Barely. Just
try to help me up here." Angel took one of his arms as Buffy took the other,
and the two of them heaved the bartender up onto his feet. Willy looked to
his right, seeing Angel for the first time and a tremor ran through his body.
Angel's brow wrinkled as Willy pulled away from his touch, stumbling into
Buffy. He was sweating and shaking, fear locking his muscles in place. Angel
looked at Buffy, questioning. She shook her head.
"What's going on, Willy?" she said. "Who did this to you?" Willy's eyes darted
helplessly to Angel, then away, then back again as if looking for some hint
the other man wasn't giving. He sagged slightly in Buffy's grasp, and she
tightened her grip to keep him on his feet.
"I-I don't know," he stuttered, his eyes jerking nervously to Angel again.
"It was Angelus," she said. Willy looked at Angel, not answering. Buffy's
fists curled as she resisted the urge to shake the man as hard as she could.
Hurting him wasn't necessary, yet. "What did he want?"
Willy whimpered, unable to take his eyes from Angel, sweat trickling slowly
down the side of his face. "I can't say," he muttered. "I can't say nothing."
"Tell her," Angel said. 'I'm not going to hurt you." The bartender continued
to shake, doubt darkening his eyes. Angel reached a gentle hand to wipe away
the blood at the corner of Willy's mouth. "I'm not the one who did this to
you." Willy shook his head slightly, sagging against Buffy again.
"Damn it," she said, impatience creeping into her voice. She pushed him into
Angel's hands and crossed her arms over her chest. "We don't have time to
deal with this." Angel grabbed Willy and helped him balance.
"I don't want to say nothing wrong," he muttered again. He looked up at Angel.
"Just tell me what to say."
"Tell her what the person who did this to you wanted," Angel said carefully.
Willy searched his face and saw no threat in his eyes, no hidden warning.
"He came in to find out where there's a nest close by," Willy said, his words
tumbling fast from his mouth. "I told him about the one in the abandoned
photoshop. It's down by the docks."
"And that's where he went?" Buffy asked.
"I don't know where he went, Slayer," Willy said. "He left here, that's all
I know."
"If you're lying to me," Buffy said quietly, "I'll prove I can hurt you worse
than Angelus can."
"Who said it was even Angelus that came by here?" Willy asked. Buffy snorted
in disgust, and motioned for Angel to come with her. She left the storeroom,
and Angel propped Willy up against the wall in a sitting position before
following her.
"Angel," Willy said, belatedly adding, "-us." Angel stopped at the doorway.
"I did good, right? I did what you wanted?" Angel looked back at the pitiful
shape slumped against the wall.
"I'm telling you it wasn't me that did this to you," he said. "There's another-"
He cut himself off, sighing at the incomprehension in Willy's eyes. Buffy
was right; they didn't have time to explain. "You did right. I want you to
tell Buffy everything you know. Anything you see me do or ask you, you tell
her." Willy nodded, confusion and pain mingling in the tight set of his shoulders
and the wrinkle of his brow. Angel nodded at him. "You did right."
*~*~*~*~*~*
Angelus lifted the sewer access door built into the floor of the abandoned
photoshop darkroom. He pulled himself up through the opening, taking in the
objects in the room, remnants of furniture and piles of bedding, as well
as about fifteen vampires sprawled out on the piles of rags and pillows,
and in the corner a dead body slowly beginning to rot. He snorted in distaste.
He could never understand why vampires felt the need to live in squalor,
like rats in a cage, nesting in their own filth and the scraps stolen from
humans. They could take whatever they wanted, have anything, do anything,
yet they hid and groveled in the dirt. Their stupidity annoyed him. He stood
near the middle of the room, and kicked the vampire closest to him.
"Wake up!" he roared, his vampiric face sliding into place. He snarled as
the vampires around him scrambled to their feet and formed a threatening
circle around him.
"It's the Slayer's boyfriend," one of the vampires said, shaking his shaggy
black hair from his eyes. He motioned slightly with his head, and a few of
the vampires changed their positions slightly, their eyes flicking to him.
Several of the others looked around the room nervously as if expecting to
see Buffy's blonde head pop through the door at any moment.
"If the Slayer's here..." one of them started.
"She's not," Angelus growled. "If she were, I would rip her throat out."
"Right, we should believe her boy-toy is going to kill her?" a dark haired
woman asked snidely. The man next to her hissed through bared fangs, and
Angelus fought the urge to roll his eyes.
"Who is master here?" he asked, ignoring the comment.
"Why should we tell you anything?" a blond man asked. "You will be dead in
two seconds. We'll send your dust to the Slayer as a birthday gift." He laughed
and started toward Angelus, many of the other vampires stepping forward as
well, muttering venomous words toward the Slayer. Angelus did not wait for
him to finish making his move. Instead he threw himself forward, his fists
impacting the other vampire's chest with enough force to send him flying
backward with a sharp crack of bone.
"Don't make me ask again," Angelus said, his voice a menacing rumble. He
faked a movement toward another of the vampires who surrounded him, and the
man jerked back violently. Angelus laughed. Enraged, the black haired vampire
nodded, and the others closed in on Angelus, attacking as a group. Angelus
became a whirlwind of motion, shaking off the blows that landed against his
torso and face. Inwardly he sighed. They were inexperienced, very young,
which meant they were probably too stupid to be much help. But on the up
side they would be easy to control. He grimaced as a fist grazed his temple.
His own fists and feet seemed to be everywhere at once, leaving some of the
vampires lying stunned outside the frenzy of battle, and others on the defensive.
He pulled a stake from inside his jacket, and ignored a foot that smashed
into his back, driving the stake into the heart of the black haired vampire
he believed was the leader. The other vampires hesitated.
"You killed Samuel!" The black-haried woman exclaimed in shock.
"Will I have to kill any others?" Angel asked, adjusting his grip on the
stake. The vampires around him exchanged glances, fear creeping into their
eyes. All but two or three backed a step or two away, falling out of their
fighting stances. Angelus turned his gaze on the black-haired woman and the
two others who still seemed ready to fight. "You were his lover?" he said
to the woman; it was not really a question. She nodded reluctantly. "Then
you have a choice," he said coldly. "You can die with him, or you can follow
me."
"Why would the Slayer's pet vampire want to control our gang?" one of the
men asked. Angel lashed out casually with a fist, slamming it deep into the
vampire's gut.
"Never call me that," he said. "The Slayer is nothing to me but a target."
"Look, just because you had a fight with your girlfriend..." the woman began.
Angel slammed his fist into her face, sending her reeling back. She stumbled,
snarling, licking blood from her split lip, hatred in her eyes.
"I am Angelus," he said, his voice a bare whispered hiss that sent chills
up every spine.
"Shit," the blonde man said, understanding slowly dawning in his eyes. "My
sire was one of Spike's boys. He told me about how you turned on the Slayer.
But you've been all cozy with her..." Angelus gritted his teeth.
"I wasn't myself. I am now. Completely," he said. "I will not explain myself
to you. I am your master now. That's all you need to know." A few of the
vampires shifted uneasily. "I've killed one Slayer today. And I'm going to
kill the other. I can kill you all as easily. Or you can help me kill the
Slayer."
"Faith was on our side," the blonde vampire said.
"She was a Slayer, sooner or later she would have remembered that," Angelus
answered.
"They mayor's going to be pissed," another added.
"I don't like all this ordering us around," one of the vampires began. Angelus
grabbed him by the hair and jerked his head to the side. The vampire stood
still, frozen.
"I can teach you, teach you things you've never dreamed of," Angelus said,
sweeping his gaze over the ragtag group before him, their minds filled with
nothing but today, nothing but their own petty desires. "If you do as I say,
you will survive, and more...but no one will question me." He trailed his
fingernail down the vampire he held's cheek, drawing blood. "NO ONE!" he
screamed. A chorus of nods and vague assents rose from the throats of the
other vampires.
"You," he said, tossing the vampire in his hands to the side as his attention
turned to the dark haired woman.
"Janet," she said.
"We're leaving." He turned his gaze on the vampires in general. "All of us."
"But-" Janet started, then stopped abruptly, her lip twisting with anger
as Angelus skewered her with a look. "Lead the way," she said, hostility
underlying every syllable. Angelus turned on his heel and headed back toward
the sewer access. After a moment of hesitation, and many exchanged looks,
the rest of the vampires followed. Angelus smiled sardonically. They were
idiots. He turned with easy grace as the vampire he'd marked charged at him,
his teeth bared. Angel backhanded him, and the vampire reeled. He shook off
the effects of the blow and attacked again. Angel blocked the other vampire's
swinging fist with his arm, swept the man's feet from under him, and grabbed
the sides of his head while he was off balance. With a quick twist, he broke
the vampire's neck, then staked the body as it fell from his hands to the
ground.
Without speaking he walked the rest of the way to the tunnel, knowing the
other vampires would follow. That's what they were, followers. They were
drawn to power because they were too stupid to lead themselves. They would
hate him. Occasionally they would try to kill him. But in the end, they would
obey him because they needed him or someone like him to tell them what to
do. He lifted the sewer access door and dropped back down into the tunnels.
They wouldn't ask him where they where going, or why. They were too afraid
to. That was as it should be. And Angel felt no need to explain. It was enough
that he knew where and why. The why was obvious. Buffy would come to the
photoshop. He hadn't killed Willy, which meant she would find out from him
exactly where the nest was. It was one thing he respected in her, one thing
they had in common, the capacity to torture, to get information from reluctant
sources. And Willy was a snitch by nature. The only way to shut him up was
to kill him. So why hadn't he? Easy enough. It was all part of the game.
He would lead. She would follow. For her to play the part, he had to leave
her a trail.
But not too clear a trail. He had no desire for her to barge in on him during
the day and drag him out into the light. He had no desire to fight her except
on his own terms. He wasn't throwing the match, leaving her hints and clues
for the sake of letting her win. No, not at all. It was a matter of finesse.
Just enough to keep her on the scent, not enough for her to reach him. Not
until he decided it was time.
He splashed through a puddle of dripping sewer water. The best hiding place
of course was the sewers. There were just too many of them for Buffy to search.
But he had to admit he hated them, the smell, the damp, the slime. So he
and his new playthings were headed elsewhere, an abandoned warehouse on the
docks first, and once night fell they'd kill the owner of a lovely suburban
house and fill the sudden vacancy. After all, the little witch wouldn't feel
at home in the sewer, would she?
*~*~*~*~*
Buffy scuffed her boot against the dusty floor of the abandoned photo shop.
Frustrated, she kicked apart a pile of bedding, her mouth a tight grimace.
Her glance fell on the dead body sprawled in the corner, and she glared at
it dully as if her mind were too tired to comprehend it. She stalked the
length of the room, noting the sewer access door with narrowed eyes. He'd
taken them to ground, and it'd take weeks, even months to find them in the
tangle of underground tunnels. She'd have to hope they were headed elsewhere,
an elsewhere she could track them to. She rubbed at her temples, and the
headache that was beginning to pound behind her eyes. The longer she took
to find him, the more bodies would pile up. The more Faith...
She lifted the sewer access door and dropped down into the tunnels. She walked
a few feet in each direction, but there were no tracks in the shallow water.
Shaking her head, she returned to the ladder and climbed back into the photoshop.
She exited through the front door where Angel was waiting with his crossbow
for her signal.
"He's gone," she said shortly. "Any ideas where?"
"He must have a new place in mind," Angel said with a shake of his head.
"We've already been to the mansion and you burned Spike's warehouse. My old
apartment is way too small." Buffy clenched her fists, and nodded.
"Maybe Giles or Willow will have some ideas," she said, motioning with her
head for him to follow her. Angel shouldered the crossbow and fell in step
behind her. "It's only a few hours to sunset now," she continued as they
began to walk. "We should get everyone home, or locked in at Giles' for the
night."
Angel nodded. "We'll find him,"
"I know," Buffy replied, her heels punishing the pavement beneath her. But
would they find him soon enough, before he killed again? She clenched her
fists, and pushed the thought away. They'd find him.
You said you needed me.
I was looking at myself, I was blind
I could not see.
If you walkaway, walkaway
I walkaway, walkaway-I will follow
I Will Follow
-U2
by: Rebecca Carefoot