AUTHOR: Tisienne Blue
E-MAIL: tisatko@msn.com
DISCLAIMER: I only own Serena... all others belong to their respective studios/ producers/ creators...
NOTES: This is a Buffy/ Angel/ Highlander/ Pretender X-over, for Natty's b-day... *****= change of scene/ location, and ~~~~~~ indicates passage of time within a segment.
RATING: R-ish, I suppose.
PAIRINGS: W/A; Serena/Jarod
DISTRIBUTION: Charity can have it of course, as can anyone I've said yes to for anything in the past... also list archives. Otherwise, just ask.
FEEDBACK: you know the drill...
DEDICATIONS: for Nat, of course... also: Anna, Noreen, Mystra, Ali, Gem, Mitch, Wiccan42, and Lena... thanks for the feedback, luvs...*G*
MORE NOTES: OK, I tried to make there be some W/Methos action here, but it just didn't happen, so... sorry. She just really wants to be with Angel for this one...*happy sigh*
&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*
Ultimately, Willow thought, as she listened to
Adam... Methos, she reminded herself, slightly pissed that the immortal
had lied to her about something as paltry as his name...
ultimately, everything that had happened since
she and Angel had arrived in Paris could be directly linked to him and
his thrice-damned legend.
If he hadn't had someone watching her... she suppressed
a small shiver at the thought of anybody observing her actions for the
past few years; if he hadn't, then... he wouldn't have
shown up at the airport, she wouldn't have spent
time with him, neither she nor Angel would ever have ended up at the China
Club, and... Angel wouldn't be laying, at that very
moment, wounded and bleeding onto his own bed!
Of course, a part of her knew that she was being petty and mean, but...
she couldn't help it. If Methos had just left them alone, if
they'd never met the man, if she'd only refused
his invitation to see the city... She sighed then, as the blame for their
situation went full circle and landed firmly upon her own
shoulders. Hell, she realized, she might as well
blame Angel's Powers That Be for making her the one that that demon could
use to open the Hellmouth... after all, if she hadn't
needed to leave Sunnydale, none of this would
ever have happened! She shook her head slowly then, and cleared her throat.
"So..." she finally said, glancing at the five people
assembled in her living room, "All of you knew
about this legend thing, but none of you thought to tell me before now...
That's nice, guys... Thanks."
Methos sighed, hurt more than he'd thought possible
by the look of betrayal in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Willow," he tried to apologize,
"I just... I didn't know how you'd react. I mean, it's not
every day you hear that you figure prominently
in an 'end of everything' kind of legend..."
Willow laughed, a trifle bitterly. "Actually, it's
much more common than you might think, Ada... Methos! I mean, why do you
think I'm in Paris to begin with? For the air?" She shook her
head again, angrily this time. "Why is it always
ME?" she muttered, mostly to herself. "First D'Hofferyn wants to make me
a demon, and didn't I find out why... then some big baddie's
gonna use me to open the Hellmouth... THEN I come
to Paris, and fall right into the middle of a gods-be-damned LEGEND! It's
not right! I'm not the Slayer; not even a terribly unusual
sort, by Sunnydale standards, so... why me?" She
frowned slightly and took a sip of her stone-cold coffee, lost for a moment
in her thoughts.
Duncan MacLeod stared at the small redheaded girl,
shocked by what she'd just said. She didn't look to be more than twenty
at most, and he knew she wasn't one of his kind, so... and
what was the story with this Sunnydale she kept
referring to? He knew it was her hometown, but... a Hellmouth? Well, it
would certainly explain how she knew about vampires and
demons, not to mention D'Hofferyn... He shuddered
at the thought of the girl ever being on the opposing side of the battle
to come. She might not think that she was anything special,
but D'Hofferyn would never have wanted her on
his team if she didn't have enormous potential. He couldn't quite process
everything he'd just heard, and when he heard the pained
moan coming from behind the closed door to her
friend's bedroom, he stood, relieved. He needed to think about all of this,
and he'd do that better in another room. "I'll go," he said
boldly, not at all fazed at the thought of entering
a vampire's room.
Willow smiled slightly and stood, herself. "Wait,"
she ordered, going quickly into the kitchen. She returned barely a minute
later, mug in hand. "Here," she said, handing it to Amanda's
oh-so-attractive beau, "He'll need to eat something.
Tell him I'll be in soon, OK?"
Duncan stared down into the mug of blood as the
girl reassumed her seat. He was a little surprised by the girl's easy manner
with blood for her friend, but then again, everything he'd
seen about her so far had surprised him. "I'll
do that..." he replied, and turned away as the talk of legends resumed.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Angel was in pain. Not the kind of pain he'd been
in when Serena'd forced her sword through his chest, but... the kind of
pain that he should have been used to. It was the sore, deep
twinges that usually accompanied any major healing
for him, although this time, it was worse than usual, mostly because he
was hurt worse than he usually was. He hadn't really
thought about it before, but he supposed it made
sense... after all, three feet of steel would be harder to heal from than
a little bitty bullet or six. He rolled onto his side, groaning
loudly as the twisting tore slightly at the edges
of his wound.
Duncan stepped into the bedroom, closing the door
behind him. If the vampire was recuperating, he didn't think he needed
to be distracted by the conversation going on in the living
room. His eyes fastened on the still seeping slit
in the dark haired vampire's back. "Well, that had to hurt," he said, not
unkindly. For some reason, the vampire seemed familiar...
maybe it was the way he was holding himself, or
just his attitude, he wasn't sure.
Angel's eyes flew wide as he heard the voice of
the person who'd just entered, and he took a deep breath, filtering the
flavours in the air through his nose. He almost laughed then, but
the pain in his chest warned him against it, so
he smiled instead. "You could say that..." he said gruffly, "Highlander."
The immortal's breath caught in his throat for
a moment. This vampire sounded just like... He shook his head and strode
around to the other side of the bed, the corners of his eyes
crinkling in happy shock when he finally saw the
face of the girl's 'friend'. "Damn!" he almost shouted, "Carter! Carter
Angelian! What the hell?" He set the mug down on the table near
the vampire's head and sat in the nearby chair,
still staring, amazed, at the man on the bed.
The vampire sighed and gingerly shook his head.
"It's Angel now... just Angel. And before you say anything, Yes, I know
about the pop-stars and Popes thing... It's still just Angel."
Duncan gazed at his old friend, confused. "What?"
Angel did laugh then, regardless of the pain. "Sorry.
It's something a cop friend of mine once said... 'Pop-stars and Popes,
they're the ones with one name...'" He smiled, remembering
Kate the way she'd been then, before she'd turned
into a bitter, self-righteous hag. "So..." he continued, staring at the
older man, "I'm guessing you met Willow..."
Duncan laughed himself, amused by the way the vampire's
voice softened when speaking the girl's name. "Yeah, I did... quite the
looker, isn't she?" He grinned to himself when he
heard the barely audible growl coming from the
bed. "I understand why Methos is so interested in her." He shook his head
slightly at the confusion he saw in Carter... Angel's eyes. "I
mean Adam. His name is Methos; has been for over
five thousand years now... He's a good sort." He was surprised by the sudden
dislike he saw in the vampire's eyes, and rushed on.
"He reminds me a bit of you, actually. You both
did some terrible things when you were younger... spent a lot of time educating
yourselves, trying to find some form of peace, and
maybe forgiveness. It can't be easy... and now,
well, Now you both want the same girl." He shook his head again, glancing
quickly at the untouched mug on the bedside table. "And
speaking of Willow, if you don't drink that,"
he pointed, "She might just come after ME, and believe me, ANGEL," he emphasized,
grinning, "The last thing I need is to have a witch--
especially one D'Hofferyn tried to recruit-- after
my ass for not taking proper care of her... whatever it is that you are
to her..."
Angel sighed at the question in his old friend's
voice, but he picked up the mug and drank anyway. He stared into its empty
depths for a moment before setting it back down on the
table and returning his eyes to MacLeod's face.
"I'm her friend," he said flatly, his misery at the statement clearly visible
to the other man, "And that's all I can ever be, so... just drop it,
Mac."
"What?" MacLeod said, almost angry at the defeated tone of voice the vampire had used, "What are you talking about? Why? I mean, if you care for the girl..."
Angel sighed again. "I love her, Mac... More than
I ever thought I could love anyone, but... it's hopeless." He closed his
eyes then, and began to recite the terms and conditions of
retaining his souled status... and the intimate
details of exactly how he'd found out. Finally, when he was finished, he
looked again at his friend and knew, from the look of sad horror
on the Scotsman's face, that he understood. "We
can never be anything more than what we are," he reiterated flatly, "And
as much as I hate it, I have to live with it, so... just leave it
alone, Mac, OK?"
Duncan nodded slowly, more depressed than he'd
been in a very long time. If there was anyone in the world who deserved
a bit of love and happiness more than Angel, he didn't know
who it might be... The vampire had been so alone,
for so long... He sighed and nodded. He wouldn't bring it up again... not
until he'd found some way to help, anyway.
The vampire sighed then, relieved. As much as the
wound in his torso hurt, thinking about his situation with Willow hurt
more. "So," he said lightly, changing the subject, "If you're in
Paris, then is Fitz here, too? I'd love to see
him..." He cut himself off at the look of sorrow in the immortal's eyes,
and sighed deeply. "So who got him?" he asked sadly, and listened
quietly as Mac told him about what had happened
a few years earlier with some bastard named Callas. He smiled when the
immortal got to the part about the Eiffel Tower being 'the
world's biggest lightning rod', and grinned when
MacLeod skimmed over his 'reunion' with Amanda, glad that at least one
of them had found some solace.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Willow looked up, breaking off what she'd been saying, when Duncan finally emerged from Angel's room. "He drank?" she asked, her concern etched on her face.
"Yes, of course he did," MacLeod replied with a
smile, "Or at least he did once I told him you said he should..." He watched
the girl's expression flit quickly through a variety of
emotions... He recognized fear, and relief, and
sadness, but most of all he recognized the emotion that was underlying
all of it... love. His gaze flew to Methos, and he was pleasantly
surprised by the acceptance he saw in the oldest
immortal's eyes. "I'm not sure of how you did that, though," he continued
as he took his earlier seat by Amanda again. "Getting him to
just... do what you say. He never USED to be so
easy to convince..."
"Oh, well," Willow answered, not really paying
attention, "He's decided that I'm almost always right, so... Used to be?"
Her brow wrinkled slightly as the immortal's words registered on
her mind. "What do you mean, 'used to be'?"
Duncan laughed and turned to Amanda. "Remember me telling you about my friend Carter? Well, guess what?"
Amanda stared at him for a moment, not getting quite what he was saying. "Oh... oh, no, MacLeod, don't tell me..."
The immortal laughed at the look on his on-again
girlfriend's face before responding. "Yeah. It seems that our kind of immortal
isn't the ONLY kind to make use of alternate identities...
Willow's Angel is my old friend Carter Angelian."
He chuckled again, taking the blonde's hand in his. "You should have seen
his face, Amanda! It was priceless!"
Methos rolled his eyes and turned his attention
back to the little witch, ignoring, for the moment, Serena's quiet conversation
with Jarod at the desk on the side of the room. "So," he
said, meeting the girl's green eyes, "You're sure
that you understand... about the legend, I mean..."
Willow almost groaned out loud. If the 'oldest
immortal' didn't stop asking her that... "Yes, Methos!" she finally said,
almost angrily, "I get it! I got it the first time you told me, and the
second, and Gods, even the THIRD! It's not that
difficult! Some nasty baddie's gonna show up somewhere, and then: 'A girl
shall come who is born of equal parts darkness and light.
She shall change the world and be the doorway
between heaven and hell. The one to whom she gives her love shall, in the
end, prevail, and his shall be the choice for the future of
this plane.' Blah, blah, blah... 'And in the end,
if they prevail, she and her companions shall right things long forgotten,
and pass into history as its greatest works.' Whatever THAT
means." She glared at the man who'd passed himself
off as a cab driver, baring her teeth as she did. "What I DON'T get is
how this all involves YOU, unless..." Her eyes grew wide then,
as she thought fast and furious about the words
she'd just recited. "That's why you've been taking me out, isn't it? You
think this legend means... Oh! You... MAN! Here I was, feeling all
guilty for spending time with you instead of Angel,
and the whole time... It wasn't about ME, at all! It was about me being
your little 'legend-girl'! You wanted me to fall in love with
you, because you want to WIN! You... you BASTARD!"
She growled then, amazed at herself for somehow acquiring the ability.
"Get AWAY from me!" she yelled when he would have
approached, unaware of the fact that her eyes
had started to glow with a cold green fire.
Serena had been watching, amused, from the corner
of her eye while the little redhead figured out Adam's initial interest
in her. She'd figured that it might be fun to watch the older
immortal taken down a peg by the mere slip of
a mortal girl, but when that same mortal girl's eyes started... shooting
tendrils of cold fire, she realized that the tension of the last few
hours was about to slam down hard on the man.
"Wait." she demanded, stepping quickly between the two. She wasn't completely
sure of how she'd gotten there so quickly, but she'd
ask J later. "OK, Willow," she said calmly, wincing
slightly as she met the girl's glowing gaze, "What Adam tried to do was
just... stupid, but he really DOES like you, and not because of
the whole 'legend' thing, either." She held in
a sigh of relief as the other redhead's eyes slowly began to dim. "He's
been all... googly-eyed since he actually met you, and that's just
because you're you, so please... don't incinerate
him where he stands?"
Willow allowed a slight smile to cross her lips
at the older woman's words. She'd been hurt, she knew, when she'd thought
that Adam... Methos... whatever, had only liked her for her
status within the legend, but... Serena had a
habit of being bluntly honest; even Amanda had said so, and... she didn't
think the redheaded immortal would lie to her about this,
anyway. She gazed past the woman at the man who'd
just angered her so. "Fine," she said to Serena, her eyes still locked
on Methos' brown ones, "As long as he knows that he has,
like... zero chance with me now."
Methos grimaced slightly and answered to the determination
in her glance. "Yeah, like I had any better chance before." His eyes traveled
slowly to the closed door of Angel's room as
he continued. "Maybe if I'd gone to Sunnydale
when I first figured out who you were... but no, it was probably too late
even then..." He sighed deeply before meeting her eyes yet
again. "It wasn't all about the legend, you know...
Hell, not even MOST of it was."
The little redhead nodded shortly. "Maybe not,"
she said softly, her eyes apologizing gently, "But it doesn't matter now..."
She sighed, moving her gaze to the door Adam'd been
looking at just a moment earlier. She sighed again.
"OK," she said strongly, returning to the couch, "What do we know about
these 'companions' of mine? Who are they supposed to
be, and how do they figure into things?"
"Well," Methos began, relieved that their talk
of his 'feelings' was apparently over, "I had initially thought that it
was US, but..." He shook his head slightly. "We just don't fit the
parameters. Plus, there are only two of them.
One is supposed to be 'lost and abandoned, wanting to be found', and the
other... let me see if I can remember this right..." He sat down
in the chair he'd taken as his own and closed
his eyes for a moment. "The other is... I'm sorry, I'm having to translate
from memory, so... The other is made of... masks? No, that's not
quite it... More like... facades and charades,
something like that. Basically, it's someone who... changes constantly,
but not in a logical fashion, I suppose." He shook his head again,
missing the look being exchanged by Serena and
Jarod. "Bloody Sumerian," he muttered, "No wonder it's a dead language."
Willow sighed, glancing at the clock, and her eyes
flew to the window. The sun was down, and it was already eight o'clock?
How had that happened? She glanced quickly at Angel's
door, knowing that he'd have to have some human
blood, and soon, if she wanted him to heal. "All right, guys," she announced,
still staring at the closed door, "It's getting late, and I
have things to do, so... can we pick this up tomorrow?"
She held in her sigh of relief when they finally stood and began making
their way towards the door. "Oh, and Adam," she asked,
as he stepped into the hallway, "This big badness
that's supposed to be coming... do you happen to know what it's called?"
"Sauverna," he said softly, almost cringing at naming it. "Its name is Sauverna. Why?"
She chose to ignore the way he recoiled at uttering the name. "I thought I'd get my people working on some research. They're good at that, you know. So, it's a Sauverna then..."
"No," Methos stated flatly, "It's not A Sauverna,
it IS Sauverna. A rather minor deity from before even MY time... Powerful,
and generally pissed off, but that's all I really know about it...
And I don't think your 'people' are going to have
much luck, but... You never know, I could be wrong." He smiled slightly,
saying "Good night, Willow," before he turned and followed
his friends down the hallway.
Willow watched as they got on the elevator, sighing
as she closed the apartment door. She needed to call Giles, and see what
he knew or could find out, and she'd do some checking,
herself, on the net... but first, she smiled,
she had a vampire to feed.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Angel smiled slightly when his door opened, and
he could tell from the sounds, or lack thereof, in the apartment that they
were alone. His eyes were drawn to the little redhead as she
stepped into the room, and his smile became softer,
more adoring, as she moved to the bed and sat down. "Hey," he finally said,
stretching a hand out towards her.
"Hey, yourself," Willow said softly, her eyes tracing the smooth muscles of his chest before coming to a stop at the still open wound. "It's not much better, is it?"
The vampire shook his head slightly. "But it will be, sweetheart... it's just going to take some time..."
The redhead sighed and laid down next to him on
her side. "And it'll take even longer if you don't drink anything but animal,
Angel," she said into his eyes. She could see the need
written plainly across his face, and knew that
he was fighting his instinct to take what she was so clearly offering.
Angel sighed, knowing she was right, but still... "I don't think..." he started, stopping when she flashed him her patented 'annoyed' glance.
"And I'm not asking you to. Think, that is." She
smiled slightly at the quizzical look on his face, and wound one hand around
the back of his head, her fingers threading through his
short dark hair. "You have to feed, Angel," she
said clearly, hiding her shiver of anticipation at the thought, "So FEED..."
She stared deep into his eyes, knowing that she shouldn't be
doing this, that she should have brought the knife
she'd used before, but... she wanted this. Wanted to feel his fangs break
her skin, feel him pressed against her as he took nourishment
from her hot, thick blood. She knew it was wrong
to tempt him this way, knew that a part of her was screaming deep inside,
trying to tell her to stop, but... she didn't care. She couldn't
have all of him, but she was for damned sure going
to have what she could. She pulled his mouth towards her arched neck, moaning
out a soft "Please!" when he tried to resist.
His head was swimming with the nearness of her,
and he knew that if he held it out, his hand would shake. He wasn't sure
if it was from desire or fear, but he decided that it was
probably both. They shouldn't be doing this, he
kept telling himself, even as he let her pull him closer. It was dangerous,
and could quite easily become deadly if things went too far,
but... She was there, right in front of him, and
she wanted this! Wanted it enough to ignore what she knew could happen,
and... he didn't have the strength to refuse her, not when it
was something that he wanted so badly himself.
Still, a part of him was trying to argue, but... it quieted completely
as his lips came to rest against her hot skin. "Willow..." he
murmured, breathing in the scent of her, "You
smell... amazing..." He allowed himself the luxury of one long, slow sweep
of the tongue against her silky neck, his eyes closing as he
catalogued her taste, and his face shifted swiftly
to true.
She almost moaned when he whispered her name, and
she actually did when she felt his cool wet tongue against her suddenly
too-hot skin. She took one swiftly indrawn breath as his
face shifted against her, and his arms wound tightly
around her body. She was drowning in him, it felt like, and... she wanted
it to go on forever. She sighed happily as his teeth finally
pierced her flesh. For some reason, she'd been
expecting it to hurt, but this was just... divine...
His eyes slid closed as he slipped his fangs into
the skin at the juncture of her neck and collarbone, and he knew that he
was purring against her. It didn't matter, though... He had his
arms full of Willow, HIS Willow, and that sensation
alone would have been enough for him. Add in the fact that she was feeding
him, willingly, and was finding it... pleasurable,
judging from the smell of her, and... he'd never
known anything like it. It wasn't the 'true happiness', the 'pure bliss',
that could strip him of his soul, but... it was pretty damned close. He
purred a bit louder as he applied a gentle suction
to the bite he'd just given her, and felt himself growing hard against
her as her sweet blood flooded his mouth. He tried to pull back
slightly, to spare her the embarrassment of feeling
just what she did to him, and sighed happily when she just pressed herself
more tightly to him, moaning his name, and he wished,
more than anything, that he could let this experience
end the way he wanted it to... with him buried deep inside the woman he
loved.
Willow moaned again as he pulled his mouth away
from her neck, and wriggled even closer to him, smiling slightly at his
barely heard groan. She pulled her head back, intending to
say something witty and cute, only to find the
words frozen in her throat by the look of need in his golden eyes. "Shhh..."
she finally forced out, running the fingers of one hand lightly
over the ridges of his forehead. Her breath caught
when his eyes closed and he, seemingly unknowingly, rubbed against her
fingertips like nothing more than a big cat. Her eyes
widened slightly as his human face re-emerged,
and she pulled him gently to her, her lips finding his in a searching kiss.
Angel couldn't help but respond to her soft, warm
kisses. Even if he hadn't been pleasantly buzzed from the taste of her,
he would have had trouble refusing her touch. As it was, he
didn't even want to think about turning her down,
and when he felt the tip of her hot little tongue tickling his lips, he
didn't even consider doing anything but responding in kind. She
tasted of coffee and cream over her usual raspberries
and vanilla, and he loved it, almost as much as he loved her. His tongue
searched out every part of her mouth, and he moaned
into her lips as she explored his... this was
right; this was perfect... this was the way it SHOULD be... He groaned,
feeling her hands sliding over his naked back, and as much as he tried
not to, he still rocked his hips against her,
wanting nothing more than to press her back into the mattress and make
her his in the oldest way there was.
She moaned against him, thrusting her softness
against the evidence of his arousal, and slowly slid her lips down his
chin, and to the side of his neck. She could feel him trying not to
growl, and reveled in the power she felt. Her
tongue slipped over his skin, and she found herself delighted with the
cinnamon and cloves taste of him... He was perfect; she'd decided
that years earlier, although she hadn't known
at the time that she'd meant he was perfect for her. But he was, and she
knew it now. She moaned again, her lips continuing their
movement until she found herself, quite unwittingly,
nibbling softly at the nipple on the un-injured side of his chest. It was
amazing how responsive he was to her mouth, and she
would have liked to have stayed there for a while,
committing to memory each sound he made, but... that wasn't to be, she
realized, when he pulled her back up to him, his lips
crushing hers in a searing kiss.
There was something he should be thinking, he knew,
but his mind, and heart, were too full of the redhead in his arms... he
couldn't think, and didn't really want to, if he was going to
be honest with himself. Her lips on his skin,
her tongue and teeth playing at his chest the way they had been... none
of it was designed to make him think of anything other than the
moment, and so... he didn't even try. He dragged
her back up his aching body, and pulled her over him as his lips took hers
hungrily. He was thrilled with the way she responded to his
kisses, thrilled with the feel of her on top of
him, and thrilled, a moment later, when she made no move to stop his needy
hands from pulling the shirt over her head. He stared up at
her for a minute then, speechless, before his
fingers began a slow, shiver-inducing path up from her waist.
She couldn't believe this was happening... she
was on top of Angel, her shirt was gone, and... he was touching her in
ways she'd only dreamed of having him touch her before. His
cool, calloused fingertips on her skin had her
trying desperately to hold in her moans, but... it was a lost cause, she
realized, as his palms covered her wanton breasts, and she leaned
into his touch. "Angel..." she moaned loudly,
her heart racing. She knew now why she'd never been all gung-ho about sex...
it had always been good, but... this was so much better...
She moaned again, "Angel..." as his hands slid
around her back, and she laid her chest across his, her lips attaching
themselves to the side of his neck again. She could feel his tongue
sweeping passionately against the still-seeping
mark he'd given her, and she shuddered slightly in pure pleasure before
fastening her teeth on the fold of skin where his neck ended.
His eyes grew wide as she bit down on his flesh,
and he felt his cock pulsing wildly as he growled his enjoyment. The sensation
was almost too much, and only the strong stab of pain
from the wound in his chest as he rolled them
over stopped him from doing something they both would have regretted, come
morning. He pulled away from her so fast then, he almost
fell off the other side of the bed. "W...Willow..."
he stammered, fear rushing through him, as she stared at him, her eyes
glassy with unspent passion. "Willow, we... we CAN'T!"
Her face fell as she realized what they had almost
done... what they WOULD have done, if Serena hadn't wounded him, and she
blushed hotly as she scrambled off the bed, grabbing
her discarded shirt from the floor and holding
it to her naked breasts. "I... Oh, Gods, Angel, I..." She shook her head
quickly, feeling the tears gathering in her eyes. "I'm sorry!" she
blurted out before running from the room.
Angel sighed out loud as he heard the door to her
bedroom slam shut. He knew that she'd be laying on the bed crying her eyes
out, and while he wished that he could go and comfort
her, he knew he couldn't... it wasn't safe. Nothing
was safe. How could it be, when every single part of him, even the demon,
was crying out for her? He didn't know what they were
going to do, but one thing was for sure... he
wouldn't be drinking from her ever again... because the more he healed,
the less likely his body was to remind him of the chances he was
taking, and... he wouldn't be able to live with
the consequences... of course, HE wouldn't really be there, but still...
He slowly got up and closed his door before laying back down and
letting his pillow absorb his own tears. Damn
the Rom, anyway.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
<< Unclaimed Parcels area, Paris airport >>
He listened closely to the space around him, smiling
wickedly when he heard nothing... no heartbeats, other than those of the
rats who made the airport home; no voices; no nothing!
He spent a moment longer, just making sure, before
he finished twisting the last of the butterfly bolts and pushed the facing
of the crate he'd traveled in away from him. He crawled
uncomfortably from the box, groaning when he tried
to stand the first time. Finally he was upright, though, and he glanced
about him for the exit sign.
He listened again, at the door this time, until
he heard a lull in the traffic outside the small room he'd arrived in,
and pushed the door open, squinting a bit in the harsh fluorescent
lighting. After a moment, though, his eyes adjusted
to the comparative glare, and he strode off down the corridor whistling
happily. He didn't know exactly where he was going, but he
knew that the poof had once had an apartment in
the city; he'd bought it back in his 'Angelus' days, and with any luck,
that's where he'd find him... and Red. He'd missed the girl, and
without her, Sunnyhell had been one big headache.
But it was all right, because he'd managed to scam the Watcher, and the
rest of the pathetic little Scooby gang, into shipping him
off to find her.
He growled slightly. As if Red couldn't take care
of herself! It never ceased to amaze him that they all thought the redhead
was helpless. SHE was the one with the-- sometimes
frightening-- witchy-powers, AND the one who usually
had the answers; he didn't understand why none of her so-called 'friends'
could see it! And her leaving town the way she had? HE
knew why she'd done it, but even though she'd
spelled it out, plain as day, in her e-mail to the Watcher, they all still
thought that she was being foolish, and gullible... And
over-reacting! He snorted softly at their stupidity.
Well, if Slutty and crew really thought that he
was going to bring her back, they had another think coming! Oh, he'd find
the girl, all right, but for himself, not them! She was the closest
thing he'd had to a friend since he'd been turned,
and he'd be damned again before he gave that up! Besides, he wanted her
to know what her little group of 'best-buds', as the moron
called them, were saying about her. Of course,
that would mean willingly spending time with his ponce of a Sire, but...
couldn't be helped. He stepped out of the airport and flagged
down a taxi, ignoring the little voice in the
back of his head that was telling him he'd missed the big old poof... after
all, nothing could be further from the truth... could it?
End-- Pt 13