Sang et Ivoire

By Holly

Chapter Thirty-Three

The past several years had schooled the Scoobies well into treading the shadows without fear come nightfall. Things that would ordinarily cause one to jump - the affects of what went bump in the night were lost. Not a cemetery in Sunnydale remained unmapped. The journey to Spike's old crypt was once made on a daily basis in the way back when, but covering the steps now, Giles felt the oddest rush of déjà vu. It was outside anything he had experienced before - grim and forewarning. Something dark spooled in the pit of his stomach, and shivers sprouted across his skin in response.

If he noticed, Angel did not make mention of it. He paced faithfully at the Watcher's right, safely away from the assortment of crucifixes and vials of holy water stashed in a knapsack slung over the opposite shoulder. They had not exchanged dialogue since leaving Revello Drive; the slightest crackle was liable to betray their position to any meddlesome ears that might be nearby.

However, after a while it became apparent that conversation was needed. There was no method to communicate the expression of shared confusion over obscure findings or the trade of thoughtful insights. In the end, it felt safe. The vampire's senses assured him that the Slayer was nowhere close.

How this conveyed to Giles, neither knew. A similar wave of understanding overcame them when it was clear whatever danger lingered had temporarily lifted its vale. "Do you hear anything?"

Angel paused thoughtfully in stride. "No," he reported several anticlimactic seconds later. "Though it's safe to say she was here earlier. She probably went out to hunt." It was discomfiting - talking about Buffy as if she was any mediocre vampire, but neither thought to mention it. Some things were best conveyed without words.

"Willow and Anya?" There was no panic behind the statement - only general concern.

"They're fine. For now. Anya has demon strength and Willow has proved more than once that she is capable of taking care of herself."

The Watcher nodded, though he was clearly not convinced. "And Will?" he asked. When the vampire tossed a wry glance in his direction, he flustered and shrugged, advancing several spaces. "I'm sorry, I don't fully understand how your connection works. Try as we might, the Council has never...breeched that level of comprehension. There is more to vampirehood than even we credit, and I know this. I don't know enough, granted...I could not, and Lord knows I'm willing to learn more. But that is not the reason. I ask because he is my friend..." A sigh rolled off his shoulders. "Is there any way...can you feel when he is near? Is your connection that potent?"

"Not exactly," Angel replied. "There's no way of telling how far away he is. But I do know he has been here."

"How-"

Discreetly, he pointed to his nose. "Spike was bleeding recently. I could smell it a mile away. Wherever Buffy was, she isn't anymore. If we're going to get him out, it has to be now. She'll be back."

Giles did not need to be told twice. "His crypt...his old crypt was this way," he directed. "I don't know why she would have taken him there now-"

"Well, where else would she go?" Angel countered logically. "Home? I don't think so. Whatever the Gate reduced her to, it obviously left enough...well...Buffy to recognize Spike as her...ummm..."

"Mate?" the Watcher offered unhelpfully.

A briefly pained look shadowed the vampire's features - one commanded by instinct rather than envy. "Oh," he said, attempting to sound casual. It was odd to hear a sporty tenor under conditions such as these. "He's claimed her?"

"Claimed? Oh, good heavens, no. I meant in the...ummm...right." Giles reddened. It was almost refreshing, experiencing an emotion that did not coincide with downright sorrow and general terror for all humankind. "I'm sorry. I studied the patterns of vampiric claiming, of course, but I never-"

"Made the connection?" Angel laughed, a tad uneasily. "Considering who you're talking about, I don't think I would have, either."

That initiated an uncomfortable, albeit short silence for collection.

"He loves her, you know," Giles said softly. "He loves her beyond the boundaries of conventional love. I know you...your relationship with her was one of the most torrid affairs I've ever witnessed, much less been a part of, however great or small. Without knowing, asking, or wanting. When he came here, he knew he could never have her. Not after...well, what happened. Whatever she's doing to him now...Buffy, or this thing in her place... Will, on some psychological level, will assume it is what's coming to him. Provoked, even deserved." A harsh breath of impatience hissed through the man's teeth, along with a fond sort of respect. "He never forgave himself."

"He never should," the vampire replied.

A rush of loyalty coursed Giles's veins, but before he could turn his annoyance into angry provocation, Angel held up a hand in ode for clarity. "I never forgave myself either," he continued. "For what I did...whether it was two hundred years ago, or what I did to you. You and the rest of the people I loved. I never forgave myself for that, and I never should. Just like Spike shouldn't for what he did to her."

"Good Lord," the Watcher replied hotly, revealing more annoyed aggravation than he cared. "I can't believe this. My Slayer has been turned, and rather than discuss the repercussions of her state, we're having the very same tête-à-tête that concluded many an argument with Will. I will say this, Angel, and then we'll leave the matter at rest. What Spike did to her was unforgivable only to one person. He has yet to give himself pardon for his crime. To forgive is an act of compassion. And even so, what happened in the past in no way accounts for the amends he's made these past few years. Even this past month since we've returned."

"You're singing his praises." A note of resentment swept through the vampire's voice. "But you never forgave me, did you? And I never expected you to."

"Yes, I did." The revolution came soft, and while he could tell it was granted with surprise, it did little to hinder their journey. "I told Will as much...well...sometime during our early acquaintance. There have been horrible wrongs committed in the past that were not overlooked. I hated you for a long time, yes. But I forgave you. I forgave you when I finally understood the difference between you and Angelus. They are both a part of you, granted, and forever will be. Just like a very real part of William will always be Spike, regardless of how he wishes it were not so. You don't...understand these things until you've lived them. For all my schooling and knowledge and training, it has taken me an ungodly amount of time to depart the monster from the man. The trouble then was we had all known you as Angel, and it wasn't as if you were a friend we had lost never to get back. We saw the face of what killed you do...atrocious things...never differentiating you from the demon. With Will...I, at least, had time to get used to him...I knew. I had traveled that pathway before. The same with Buffy." A sigh coursed through his body. "We have every reason to believe she is going to do some powerful damage before we have a chance to set things right. I just hope we're not too late."

There was nothing to say at first. Nothing to hear but the ground, soft beneath their feet as the old crypt came into view. Something that sounded vaguely like thanks rumbled out of Angel's throat, but Giles did not think to question him. Whatever answer was provided was and would always be enough.

The sepulcher door creaked its memorable drone as the Watcher pushed it open. A few things were immediately in sight, but very few. Discarded lamps, cards, and furniture that had not seen an owner in years were scattered in general disarray across the floor. Cobwebs housed every corner, sprinkled with age-old dust. Nothing of aching familiarity struck on first glance. There was nothing to see or hear.

Nothing that he could detect, at least. Angel took two steps inside, drew a deep breath inward, and concluded, "He's here. Is there a downstairs?"

Giles could not find his voice; he was so overwhelmed with relief. A slightly giddy chuckle escaped his throat, dry and eager as he bolted in the indicated direction without thinking of offering a reply.

The downstairs was dark but he knew it would be. At the time, it didn't matter if he slipped and broke his neck. Priorities first. He did not stop. Did not think. Did not even realize he had spoken until the echo of his beseeching, "Will?" resounded heavily in his ears.

A dry cough tittered in response. "Ripper?"

Angel was advancing from behind. "Spike? You down there?"

"An' Peaches! Praise Jehovah." Souled or not, it was beyond peculiar to hear that phrase in the rough and recognizable Cockney accent. "'S everyone all right? Everyone-"

"Will? I can't see you."

"'m over 'ere. Where the chains 're...'ey, I'm guessin' you din't come down 'ere often." It was true. Giles had avoided this place at all cost when he lived in Sunnydale. "She locked me up an' left. Went to go get herself a bite to eat." The same manifest reprieve coursing through the Watcher's system was evident in the platinum vampire's voice. "God, she gave me the biggest scare of my unlife. Makin' like she'd offed the lot of you."

"The orb, Will." By then, Giles was beside him, attempting and failing to undo the bindings that held him secure at each wrist. "What did she do with the orb?"

"Whaddya think? She destroyed it 's what she did. Oh, fer the love of...Ripper, you're gonna wear out your old mannish muscles. Get Peaches over 'ere."

Never had the Watcher been happier to receive a hearty dose of good-natured invective. Nodding, he stepped aside and made room for Angel. A few tugs to loosen wore the bindings raw, and he was able to pull the younger vampire free.

A long moan sounded through the lower level. William would have fallen had his grand-sire not been there to offer a shoulder of support. "Lord," he gasped. "'d forgotten how much that can 'urt."

Angel arched a skeptical brow. "It never hurt you before."

"I was never left chained up for hours at a time."

More silence. The peroxide vampire cracked and offered a grin of concession. "Well, all those times it was at leas' 'alf way enjoyable. Dru knew how to make any unpleasant situation...well...wackier than it was s'posed to be."

Giles helped him to the floor, reading the signs that demanded rest without having to see any. Even through the darkness, through the material that made up his shirt, the markings of physical abuse bled through with all their wondrous visibility. It looked to hurt like the dickens, but the most pain he had exhibited had sounded more like a sigh of relief rather than soreness. "What happened? What did she do?"

"Question is 'what din't she do,'" William retorted bitterly. "I couldn't remember a thing when I firs' woke up. Then I saw where I was...an' it hit me." A somber note struck his voice. "She's gone. That...thing is in 'er place." He looked to the Watcher desperately. "It was the Gate, wasn't it? The Gate of Abraxas that took 'er soul away? It couldn't 'ave been anythin' else."

"Then you don't really need confirmation, do you?"

He sighed and shook his head. "No. Bloody hell, it should've been me."

"Yes, it should have," Angel agreed stealthily. There was no venom behind his tone - rather blunt honesty that neither could help but appreciate. "I won't pretend to understand, but from all these accounts of you, it would have been better for everyone." A jest crept into his voice. "You humane vampire, you."

William tossed him a poignant smirk. "You're one to talk, you nancy-boy-hair-gelled-poof."

The elder vampire grinned. "Yeah, Giles. This one's going to be fine."

"I coulda told yeh that."

The Watcher took hold of the younger vampire's arm and pulled him to his feet. "As enjoyable as this is," he murmured, "we best be leaving."

"I hear that. Where's Red? An' the Nibblet? Are they-"

"Everyone's fine, Will."

Angel sucked in one side of his cheek to bite back a sigh. "I can't believe this is happening."

"You an' me both, Peaches." William glanced sharply to Giles. "Wha's bein' done? There 'as to be another Orb of...whatever 'round 'ere somewhere. At Demon-Girl's magic shop? We-"

"They're looking now," the Watcher assured him. "Willow and Anya left when we did."

"How'd you find me 'ere?"

"Lucky guess, really," Angel replied. "I figured she would have taken you someplace special to the two of you." The peroxide vampire domed a brow in silent reminder of their rugged surroundings, prompting his grand-sire to continue, somewhat annoyed. "Well, we ruled out pretty much everywhere else."

"Guess she din't share 'er lot of stories with the Scoobies while we were away." William gestured to Giles, grinning despondently. "Blimey, I can't even begin to think of all-"

"And we really don't want you to," the Watcher quickly intervened. "We have to go. Buffy will be back soon, and-"

A frog the size of Connecticut leapt into his throat. "Don' call 'er that. That...whatever that is...it isn't the Slayer. An' I don' mean in some poncy 'I'm not Spike an' 'e's not Angelus' thing," he continued, motioning to his elder. "That thing is not the Slayer. She's not my Buffy."

The look that shadowed Angel's face read the words she never was with such ardent fervor that it took even him by surprise. However, the notion passed, as most outdated instinctual tendencies do. A sigh of recognition hummed through his dormant form, and he nodded as he moved to assume the lead. "If she runs into one of us, it should be me," he decided. "Sp-Will, you're too...um..."

"'F you say weak I'll tear your-"

"He's just trying to help," Giles observed. "It's a good idea. Here, William. Come on."

The peroxide vampire tossed his arm over the Watcher's left shoulder and retracted instantaneously, a loud scream tearing out his throat. Familiar smoke began to sizzle through his shirt, and before he could collect his balance, William found himself on the ground, hand absently moving to caress his steaming side.

"Erm...yes..." Giles said sheepishly. "Wrong arm." He extended his right and earned an irritated scowl as he pulled his friend to his feet.

"Words of wisdom, Ripper," the younger vampire growled. "'F you're gonna associate with us sunlight-deprived citizens, watch what you carry 'round. Yeh oughta know that by now."

A bit of the proverbial spark was returning to the old man's eyes. It was needed, especially during these darkening hours. "I did that intentionally."

"Don' I know it," William snickered, though his tone betrayed nothing but fondness. "You've been lookin' for a way to off me for years."

"I heard a stake through the heart still does the trick," Angel volunteered. Then he froze.

Giles immediately recognized the lasting note in ode to the familiar tune of 'I Have A Bad Feeling About This.' At once, his insides flushed with cold. His grip on the peroxide vampire tightened with authority. The stronger jab of his resolve warned him not to speak, but he knew if the situation was grave, they were betrayed anyway. "An-"

It was the iciest voice ever to walk the free earth, the coldest tenor drawn within a cavity that felt no compassion. Terror was his preliminary reaction, but he pushed it aside in light of his own seething selfishness. Whatever stood on the other side of his companion was something he was not ready to see. The face of everything he had sacrificed himself for. Something arctic seized hold of his heart determinately, squeezing black drops of sorrow in the hope they would eventually turn to gold.

Without having to make a peep, he felt the same steadfast result shiver through his friend.

"Well, well, well," an unfamiliar voice drawled. It made his skin crawl and summoned the taste of bile to his mouth simply with the insinuation. "I always seem to show up at the most inopportune times. Let me guess...family reunion? Sire, childe...and the childe's...cousin, I think? Something equally lame." He could not see her for the darkness, and he was glad. "William Ripper II, or was it just Fitzwilliam? Time flies, doesn't it?" She was advancing now, and he could feel power radiating off her like bolts of magnetic energy.

The Buffy-creature stopped beside him, leaning supportively on William's aching shoulder. Proud as he was, not a moan escaped him. No reaction of any sort - not even when she bit him hard.

"Giles, Giles, Giles," she said, not looking at him. Her hands were lost in bleached locks. The artificial affection she tampered with was difficult to watch, much less to tolerate. "You sure know how to break a girl's heart. First you go and let me get all dead, then you take away my favorite toy. Shame on you."

Empty words as they were, they still cut deep.

"Leave them alone," Angel said resolutely. Challenge had buried itself in his voice - challenge the Watcher could not abide but he refrained from objection. "Come on, Buffy. Don't flake out on me. You know perfectly well you could take both of them with a flick of the wrist."

"'Ey, watch it, mate," William grumbled, immediately followed by a sharp elbowing that forewarned his mouth not to get carried away.

Buffy grinned and neared the platinum blond, licking a long line up his neck. "Yes, I know," she replied chirpily. "Of course I know. That's what makes this..." She reached down to grasp him, but his good hand caught her before she could obtain contact. "So much fuuuuuun..."

"Lay off, pet."

"Bet you would love to make me."

And all the while, Angel was still talking. A familiar air settled about him, one that made Giles shiver simply to consider. "They're good for amusement, sure. A good torture session or two. Fun time with chainsaws. I know the drill, Buff. I know the drill like I know you. You prefer a real fight in your man. Something that's worth defeating. Look at poor William...he's in no condition to play."

"I swear, Peaches, 'f-"

"Ah, ah," the Buffy-creature admonished, placing a finger to his lips. "Shhhh. That's a good boy. The big kids are talking now, Spikey. You're better just to sit there and wait your turn."

"No can do," William replied, retracting from Giles's support, limping struggling to full height. "You might wanna take out Peaches, sure...who 'asn't? But not while I'm 'ere. I-"

"Spike..." The elder vampire's voice. Low and agitated.

She laughed, a long, grueling laugh that stank of fierce insensitivity. "Oh, is that all? Angelus, I didn't realize you'd gone out and gotten yourself a bodyguard. Last time I checked, it wasn't you that needed one."

"You can pick fun with them all you want after we're through here," he replied. "Hell, I've already come close to killing Spike several times tonight. But you and me, Buff..." He flashed a patronizing smile.

She flashed it back, dripping with falsity. "You must think I'm really stupid. I lost my soul, not my mind, you arrogant jackass."

"You wanna play your cards, sweetheart? Fine. I just thought you'd prefer-"

"I know what you thought, Angelus. That's the trouble with you. All thinking and no acting."

"You have nothing to lose," he observed, taking a bold step forward. "Either way, the ball's in your court."

Her eyes narrowed menacingly. "I like it there. But, on an tremendously annoying note, you do have a point." With a growl, she suddenly lunged forward and grasped William's shirt collar. Giles fought to retract it, but her grip was far superior to any he could maintain. His efforts only amused her, and she hastened her hold, a long cackle rumbling through her body.

"Rushing to save the life of a vampire," she murmured. "Especially this one. I never thought I'd see the day." Her eyes flickered to her objective, and she offered a superlatively forged smile. "I'll admit...it's a nice set up you got here, Spike. I can see why you'd be so reluctant to-"

A flash coincided with a tremulous grunt as the platinum blond pounced. In an instant, they were both on the ground, and he had straddled her waist, delivering blows that weren't nearly as powerful as they looked, but substantial enough to keep her floored. The pure malevolence flooding his features was enough to frighten any heart-regardless of how black it was.

"You fucking bitch!" he screamed, empowerment striking his worn body. "You took 'er away from me, you worthless heap of compost! You killed 'er, but that wasn' enough...you had to take 'er away, too!"

"Will!" Giles grabbed him by the leg and hauling him upward. "Will, this is not the time. Come on...Dawn will be worried sick."

It was mention of the name that quenched the fire in his eyes, and while he struggled again against the Watcher's hold, his resolve weakened and he nodded in understanding. The Buffy-creature, battered and a little worse for the wear, wiped the dribbling blood from her chin and chuckled. "Oh come on, old man," she spat. "Things were just beginning to get interesting."

William growled and moved as though to lunge again, but thought the better of it. "Fuckin' bitch," he repeated bitterly. "Come near me an' mine-"

"Yours?" she echoed incredulously. "Why, Spike, I never knew you imagined yourself so valued. Go on. Run to your precious Dawn, you housebroken puppy." She laughed again and started to sit up, immediately deterred by Angel's assumed position. He kicked her back and set himself astride her as his childe had. No want of mercy creased his brow.

Then it was his turn for retribution. Each punch gashed a blemish that looked odd against ivory skin, wounds swelling with the release of polluted blood. However, despite reasoning, the Buffy-creature was all the more humored, cackling as the blows were delivered. Giles paused by the door, his grip on William substantial, and lost himself in a form of morbid fascination. It wasn't until the elder vampire barked at them to run that he dragged his besieged companion to safety.

"Oh, you're good," the fiend beneath him bantered, bruised but not hurt. Her eyes flashed maliciously and she flung him to the crypt wall with fluent ease. In honesty, he was surprised she had waited so long to retaliate, but given the circumstances, would not question his good fortune.

"Oh, don't look so glum," she said as she advanced. "What did you expect?"

"I'm not disappointed," he replied, fighting to his feet. "I always knew you'd make a hell of a vampire."

"So that's why you didn't turn me when you had the chance?" she countered, running her tongue over her teeth. "Not very convincing, Angelus."

"What can I say?" He offered a simple shrug before lashing out with the back of his fist. It was an easy block; she caught him by the arm and threw a punch to his face. "I've never liked competition."

The Buffy-creature arched her brows at him challengingly. "Horse shit."

"Well, it's not like the opportunity came knocking."

"Oh, but you felt it," she retorted. "You felt my want of the darkness. You had to. You say I never gave you the chance? Like hell, and you know it. Every time we fought you could have taken me. I would have let you." Her eyes traced him suggestively. "You were a decent lay, if memory serves."

Angel rolled his eyes and attacked again, swinging with glorious connection for her jaw. Skin touched skin, but he felt her iron grip enclose around his wrist, and she used her advantage to kick swiftly in the abdomen. "You, sure. You would have let me," he conceded with a grunt. "Buffy wasn't quite as whorish in her intentions."

"Ouch. That took balls." She charged, kicking him to the ground as he fought to sit up. "Glad to see you finally grew yourself a pair. Honestly, Angel, you act like this wasn't inevitable. What did you expect? Buffy the Vampiric Vampire Slayer? Sounds like a bad sitcom." When she swung her leg for him again, he surprised her - clutching her calf to his advantage. She had only time to shoot him an arched look before he yanked her to the ground, forcing her to her back.

Then he was over her, poised and snarling in reverence of his true demonic roots. She gasped in affect, and fleeting lust flashed across her eyes. A different lust altogether. Lust that he had never witnessed in all their years of acquaintance. Dark and welcoming. The look only a vampire could issue. "Oh," she drawled invitingly. "Now this feels familiar."

Something inside flinched, but he refused to take the bait. That would do little to vacillate the turf in his favor. "You will be stopped, you know," he sputtered informatively, hand going to her throat in empty threat. "Somehow. Even if one of us has to-"

"Oh, don't do that," the Buffy-creature berated. "Bad Angel. No biscuit. Lies will get you nowhere. You lack the stamina to do anything concrete. I've been there. I've seen it. You like this too much to let yourself waver under the influence of poor bleeding William's rambling. No, Angelus. This is what you want." The next move was well planned and caught him far off guard. In a flash, she spread her thighs and captured him between stalwartly muscled legs, arching herself against him. He could not help it; a moan seethed through his teeth. "This is what you want. Some grunt work. A nice good fuck. Oh, imagine the team we would make. You and me...like you've always wanted."

At that, he tried to sit up. Tried and failed. Odd that he was the one trapped when it was she who was pinned to the ground. "Oh no," she cooed. "It's useless lying to yourself. Come on, you miserable fuck. Come on. Prove to me you're half the man you claim to be." She flashed her fangs as she burst into game face, grounding her hips against his, immeasurably giving her the advantage.

It was impossible and daring. She knew what she was asking and what his answer would be. However, that didn't stop the shiver of temptation from shimmying up his spine. That didn't put halt to the one blessed second in which he wanted to. Such enticement was consuming - terrifying to a degree that made one doubt self-constructed willpower. Angel had spent the better of his years away from Sunnydale putting an end to feelings of animosity. That road was traveled and he had no material desire to venture its course again. Yes, he had taken Darla in the heartland of depression and objectivity, but he had not loved her. Cordelia, unlikely as it was, held his ardor and affection, and for that purpose alone, he knew they could never be together. But Buffy was his first, and in many ways, his only. In over two centuries, she was the first to claim that shadowland of warmth. That which he kept concealed from the world. It was because of her that he left. Because of her youth. Because of what she had to offer and what he could never consciously grasp. And here she was again. Buffy but not Buffy. A mate blacker than his demon could ever conjure. True havoc reeked in the layers of that falsified smile, and the proposition made with her eyes was too much to bear.

And yet he was tempted.

He saw what William had meant in his reasoning. It wasn't her. It truly wasn't her. In a manner that could never be compared to the Angelus in him or the Spike in his childe - it wasn't Buffy. This face did not belong to the Slayer.

The second passed, and all plausible persuasion dissolved.

"Let me up," Angel growled, and by the fall of her face, he knew he was understood. The creature frowned and released him, kicking him again to the wall as she climbed to her feet.

"Fucking Christ, every vampire in this town is whipped," she grumbled. "And somehow, it's all my fault."

"Charismatic charm," he retorted sharply. "Or so it used to be."

"You know I can't let you our of here, right? I mean, I do intend to do more... well... doing than you ever did." She smiled sourly. "I'll admit... Jenny Calendar. That was a good one. Little bitch had it coming. But what was your count other than that? Willow's fish? That from the big bad Angelus? What a shame."

"You're taking cheap shots now," he observed, circling. "And you wouldn't bother unless you felt threatened."

The thought made her rumble in mirth. "Threatened?"

"One way or another, Buff." Angel grinned, despite how weakened he was by lack of tenacity. "You have it all right now. Sure. The sky's the limit. You're the strongest thing in this town. No bothersome mortality to deal with, no conscience, no feel at all for humanity. But even then, the numbers are against you, sweetheart. In the end, there's us and there's you. I'd say the odds aren't in your favor."

"In the end, there's just me, honey. Mutual acquaintance told me that once. And fuck it all, I don't care." She advanced once more, drawing a piece of splint wood from the ground without leaving his eyes. "You ever wonder what dust tastes like?"

"'E 'asn't, but you're about to."

It happened too quickly for either to follow. The next second purchased the sound of a crossbow, fine and elegant in the air, flying swiftly through the air. It burst through the Buffy-creature's chest, breaking bone and skin in one tremendous blow. A gasp of surprised desperation sounded through the air, clutching her with firm authority as she toppled into a jumbled heap.

Behind her stood William, crossbow poised and ready in his gasp. "Let's get one thing straight, bitch," he growled. "Only one of us 'round 'ere gets to off Peaches, an' I called dibs years ago." He glanced to his sire, who could not help but regard him with surprise. "Wha's all that? Yeh comin'?"

No need to ask him twice.

He had never run so fast, or so reluctantly. Even still, his steps were outmatched by William's ardent strides. They were halfway back to Revello Drive before either thought of stopping, both heaving for unnecessary air, and trading looks of paralleled esteem.

"I can't believe you did that," the older vampire confessed, shaking his head when they again stepped into pace.

"Did what? Come after you?"

"No...with the crossbow...and Buffy-"

The younger shrugged simply, resting the weapon nonchalantly at his shoulder. "Wasn' nothin'. Jus' gave 'er a run for 'er money. Less you were really outta it an' missed the entire 'she din't go all poof' thing." A sigh coursed through his system. "If I'd wanted to kill 'er, I'd've aimed for the heart. An' I wouldn't 'ave missed."

Angel pursed his lips and nodded. There were some things mankind was simply not supposed to understand. "You came after me," he whispered.

"I did." William winced at the implication, though it was in good humor. "Don' go all poncy on me, Peaches. I did it why I said I did it. Killin' you's my job. Always 'as been. I'm not about to let some wacky vampire sod that up for me. 'Sides..." He trailed off thoughtfully, eyes growing distant for a long second. "'F she killed you, an' we get 'er back, she'd never forgive 'erself."

"Spike, she doesn't-"

"I know. Bloody hell, I wasn' meaning to sound like..." It was only when they shared a long look that Angel was convinced. Finally, after being told a thousand times over, his childe really did understand. "But that doesn' mean she's not your girl, too, as much as it pains me to admit. Anythin' were to 'appen that was 'er fault, she'd...hell, I dunno...but it wouldn't be pretty."

"What is, anymore?" he replied surreptitiously. "Did Willow find an Orb of Thesulah at the Magic Box?"

"No. Plum run out, they did." William stilled. "But somethin' did 'appen. Watcher Boy called."

"Wes?"

"Yeah. Said a one of 'em had had some wonky vision 'bout this an' the like. Got 'em all riled up. 'E's comin'...Wes or whoever. 'E was gettin' ready before I left."

Unbridled agitation rumbled through his system, Angel expelled a sigh. "God. I know he means well, but what can he possibly do that-"

"Well, those wankers in the Council contacted him," William continued. "Not five days ago. Said they got wind somethin' bad was brewin'. An' now 'e's comin'. There's more. I din't get far, but I heard enough. Help has come to town - Watcher Boy sent 'er straight away."

"Help?"

"Willow went to go get 'er at the bus station. 'S some renegade slayer bird who's hopefully rehabilitated enough to know what the hell to stake an' not to stake." He frowned. "You know...that sounds oddly familiar. Any idea who she is?"

Angel was no longer beside him. He stood several paces away, astonishment blowing him clear out of the water. "Faith."

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