Mastery
by ComedyofErrors
Chapter 9
Angelus paused in his pacing around the bedroom, sensing for the sun. It was still at least ninety minutes away, damn it. It must have been three hours ago that he'd finally tossed away Buffy in front of the minions. It was a moment that he would treasure for the rest of his existence, on earth or in hell. The look on her face was a supreme joy. Pure despair. Now he was waiting for word that she had ended herself.
Much as he would have loved to witness it in person, it could not be. She had to believe that he had given her up entirely in order to kill herself. Between her slayer sense and her vampiric nose, she would know he was watching. As long as there was a way out, she would be willing to take it. Vampires have an inordinately strong sense of survival. Nothing but a direct order from a superior in the bloodline will cause them to risk their second life. Suicide is common among the disillusioned and heartbroken, but it is necessary for there to be no hope in sight.
Besides, his video camera man would be back before dawn, and would be more than able to record it. And thinking of the errand the boy was running just made him even more impatient to reach the end of the night's giddy festivities. Maybe if he was very cautious, he could sneak a look at her. He pulled on fresh clothing, his own having been put in the garbage after the party. Maybe he should have saved them. They weren't fit to where, but ah, the memories.
A glance at Dru showed that she was asleep on the bed, naked. They had had their own little bash once they got back to the room. It had included a fair amount of Irish whiskey, and he grabbed a bottle on his way out, ready to toast again to his success. He walked stealthily out into the corridor and down toward the front entrance. Not wanting to be dusted, Angelus kept careful watch for the guard he had placed on Buffy, in case of her attempted escape or reentrance into the Mansion proper.
He was in the hall that intersected with the foyer before he realized that something was wrong. The guard was not where he'd been stationed. Approaching the position, Angelus observed a small mound on the ground where the minion should have been. Dust. Forgetting caution, he darted around the corner to where Buffy should have been. She was gone. It wasn't that there was dust in her place. There was blood, and a few scraps of fabric that had once been her clothing, but no dust. She had escaped.
The whiskey bottle collided with the front door. Fucking little cunt was not supposed have the will! How could she do this to him? She would have been his masterpiece. She couldn't have done it alone. No. He'd seen to her debasement too thoroughly. Who would dare defy him here, in his own house?
The Watcher? The man wouldn't have stopped at the front door. He would have found Angelus and tried to kill him. He would have failed, of course, as he had the first time. Too much ground to cover without the minions hearing the scrape of hurried shoes. And not her little friends, either. They lacked the stones.
He sniffed the air, asking for a hint. Just the familiar smells of the Mansion. Minions, blood, himself, Dru, Spike. Spike? He barely left his room except to go to the gardens or the banquet room. There was only one reason for his scent to be here.
Angelus charged out of the entryway to the crippled vampire's room and through the door open wide. The bed hadn't been slept in. The bedside lamp was in pieces on the floor, as was the table that had been there. The wheelchair was gone. He tore open the closet, and ripped out the bureau drawers. All empty.
No words. Nothing to describe how his bastard grandchilde would suffer when he was found. It was beyond even the description of Angelus's imagination; Europe knew just how vivid his mind was, too.
Angelus streaked back to his room and jumped on Dru. She woke slightly and stared dazedly at him. "Dru. Dru wake up! Where have they gone? Where has Spike taken Buffy?"
Dru stared at him a moment and then released a tormented wail. "My boy has left us! Gone, gone forever and I'm never to see him again." Tears slid down her cheeks.
Angelus grasped her arms and shook her. She kept crying. "Where have they gone Dru? Answer me!" He slapped her hard. She continued to weep, and refused to speak again. After a moment she was asleep again, too drunk to stay conscious for long.
Angelus roared in fury, and went to rouse his choice minions. He chose twenty-five for the task. If Spike's clothes were gone, it meant he'd had transportation, probably the old DeSoto. They were to search for it, or word of it. Check all the demon bars and his known associates. Check butchers shops and spy on Buffy's family. Someone must know.
He needed something to amuse himself before Dru woke fully. He felt a conversation with that spineless snitch Willy was just what he needed about now. He ducked into the garden, and leaped the wall. Once on the other side, he went at a dead run.
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Oz had transported drunken band members from concerts to their houses, while also carrying their equipment, and several six packs. The van was packed. But it had never seemed as full as it did right now. There were five guys in the band, plus a drum set, guitars, bass, etc.; so it wasn't that two adults, four teenagers and a truckload of weapons took up more room. Maybe it was the atmosphere of anticipation that filled in the silence that made the load seem heavier.
They were sitting on a side street just over a block from the Mansion. They were waiting for Giles to give the word. He was staring at his watch, waiting for ten o'clock to come. Oz looked at Willow to see how she was fairing. Of all the people here, she was the most-tender hearted. What they were about to do would hit her hardest, and he would be there for her. She didn't need him right now, though. She was wearing her resolve face.
She was the most lightly armed in appearance, but that was an illusion. Her magic had grown in a scary way the last few days. Every time she went to bed having exhausted all of her reserves, she showed up the next day with even more power. He had no doubt that she was poised to become an extremely powerful wicca during the next few years. She was stake girl, their stealth fighter. She could levitate the wood in to take out the guards they'd be facing.
Xander had already strapped on the secret weapon, and was waiting, stone faced. When asked how he'd manged to get a flame thrower, he just smiled and shook his head. Beside him was Cordelia, who had invented an easy access belt for her crossbow darts, kind of like a bandolier. She claimed it was faster than using a quiver. Joyce, as she insisted she be called in place of Mrs. Summers, was similarly attired. Giles and Oz had gone with the more traditional quiver approach, though Oz had an actual bow. His cousin had taught him how to shoot years ago. Of course, his cousin had also turned him into a werewolf.
He'd love to meet Angelus on the full-moon again, and have the memory of it the next day.
Last night, he and Xander had come for final recon at sunset, ready to dust a few more minions to keep up appearances. But even though they waited for two hours, not a single minion left the house. They heard some noise coming from inside of the Mansion, and went to the windows to investigate. A boost from Xander had gotten Oz high enough to see into some kind of a giant dining room. The scene was best described as 'orgy'.
He hadn't been able to see the near wall, but he could see Angelus and a crowd of humans. Clearly, the secondary objective of the mission was going to be a mute point tomorrow. He'd watched Dru dig her claw-like fingernails around the eye sockets of one man and pull out the eyeballs. He was then tossed to the crowd. Mob mentality. Yuck. Even by demon hunter standards, yuck.
They'd retreated to Buf- Joyce's house, and told Giles. He'd been thrilled. Angelus was at home, and wouldn't be leaving. It meant more rest for the team, not having to worry about the ceremonial minion dusting. And all the vampires would be tired this morning. Too bad about the humans, but they would have been dead anyway. Oz knew that being a werewolf he had a tendency to overlook bloodshed; it was part of his life, unfortunately. He wondered what Giles's excuse was.
"It's time," Ripper decreed.
Oz hit the gas, and pulled away from the curb. They stopped out of sight of the Mansion. No one was staying to mind the car, since, well it was daytime, and they were fighting vampires. In a moment they were all on the pavement.
Giles prepared to give a last briefing to his troops. They were as ready as they could be; it was for him to be the drummer, and set the rhythm. "Remember. If something goes wrong, head to the outside. Dive out a window if you must to escape. They won't be able to follow unless they are wearing cloaks or blankets, and then they'll be easy targets. Do not, for any reason, stray from the group. Let's go."
They walked out of step and quietly to the kitchen entrance. It had been decided that it would be the least traveled area of the Mansion. Giles and Joyce went first, flanked by Willow and Cordelia on the sides. Xander and Oz watched the rear. Giles eased opened the unlocked door, and looked inside. The idiot minion on guard had his back to them, watching the telly. He widened the gap and entered, sneaking up on the back that was toward him. The minion must have been young, not to hear his heartbeat, or smell him. Were they so short of people that a fool was on guard?
The vampire sensed him at the last moment and turned, but Giles had him round the neck and Willow had levitated a stake to his heart before he could respond. She pressed it in slightly as Giles spoke. "Answer or have your tongue cut out. Tell me where your Master's room is."
The minion squeaked an answer through the crushing pressure on his throat. He was no martyr, not when the room was filled with armed people. "The end of this hall, last on the right." Willow plunged the stake in, and tried not to breathe the dust.
They moved in formation down to the specified room. Another guard had been just beyond the kitchen. Apparently the vampires had some sort of relay system. It was good for them, Ripper thought, that today the morons of the Order were manning it. They reached the end of the hall, and he tested the door knob. It was unlocked, as well. He through open the door and the entire group rushed in. Oz and Xander did as they had been told, and kept watch on the door.
If they had turned around, they would have seen Drusilla on the bed, crying softly, and clutching a little doll. Miss Edith no doubt. Giles approached, never for a moment lowering his weapon. At six feet, he spoke to her. "Drusilla. Where is Angelus?"
She looked at him as though unsurprised by his presence. "Gone to find my Sweet William who has stolen away my Little Sister. They've left me, gone to the white house and the trees. All alone, even Daddy gone. Spike and Sister and the five little soldiers gone to make home. All gone. Never see them again. Miss Edith is sad, so sad." She stared at the doll again for a moment. "Miss Edith is angry too. Mustn't let Daddy be hurt. No. NO!" She shrieked and threw herself at Giles. He braced for the impact, trying to raise his crossbow, but she was already dust.
Joyce inserted another bolt in her weapon, and reset the string. "For Buffy." The others nodded.
Suddenly, they heard a rush of feet. Minions, alerted by Dru's scream. Giles yelled to run and they leaped out the door. He shoved Cordelia and Willow to the forefront as he watched the minions pour into the hall behind them. Their exit cutoff, they ran toward the front of the Mansion. They took twists and turns until they dodged through a door into the dining room.
Bodies. Bodies everywhere. Congealed blood on the floors and walls. They paused for an instant then continued in their flight. Xander stopped and braced himself halfway across the open space. He waited until the others were several feet behind and minions were flowing in through the door they'd come through. The rest of the team saw his plan and stopped. They aimed. On an unspoken cue they all fired.
In an instant the room was filled with fire and flying arrows. The minions dusted left and right, coating the air with powder. Somehow they recognized Xander through the mayhem as the one causing the most destruction. Several of them had crossbows, and attempted to disable him directly. No shaft could reach his body through the wall of flame he kept before them. One had an idea, a memory from a history class from long ago. He moved to the wall, to a point at which he was almost abreast of the human. He aimed for the tank the boy was wearing.
Willow saw the explosion. Saw Xander catch fire. Heard him yell. And it was as though she wasn't Willow. She was more.
Oz was spun around by catching an unlucky bolt to the arm, when he saw her. Her eyes were black, almost as though they sucked the light from the room. In a deep voice she called out "Extinguish!" and gestured to Xander. Water appeared suddenly in the room, directly over the burning boy, washed over him until the fire was quenched, and disappeared before it touched the ground. Giles ran forward and grabbed the charred form. He hoisted it over his shoulders and yelled retreat.
Oz, Cordelia, and Joyce ran full speed after him. Willow followed, walking backwards, and chanting over and over, "Insinerae, Insinerae, INSINERAE!" At each word another vampire exploded in flames.
Once outside in the hallway, Willow's eyes reverted to green, and she wavered as though about to collapse. Oz caught her and half dragged her out toward the front doors. They ran outside, and made the van in a few moments. Once he was sure that Willow was safely inside, he made for the driver's seat. He headed immediately for the hospital. It was kind of hard to drive with an arrow in your arm.
Giles sat in the back frustrated beyond description. Xander groaned, his wounds oozing a clear fluid. His skin flaked onto the floor in places. Another instant aflame and he would have been lost. Angelus was gone. Spike had Buffy, still alive. They'd failed.
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Buffy woke feeling warm and content. She wondered why. Did she die? Maybe this was heaven. Could vampires go to heaven? Heaven smelled nice. She sniffed. Heaven smelled really nice. And had strong arms. And soft skin. She opened her eyes and realized that she was staring at someone's neck. She pulled her head back slightly, and her eyes met deep blue orbs. Spike.
She smiled, and he smiled back. He ran a hand through her hair, stroking gently. "Good morning Buffy. How do you feel?"
*****
Thanks to everyone who kindly reviewed last chapter! I'm grateful for the support.
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