Title: Penance
Author: Michael K. Donovan
Email: mike@vmp-canada.com
Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, the WB and Mutant Enemy, Inc.

Joshua marched steadily down the street, his face creased with worry. The undertaker's place was almost clear across the city and every step fueled a growing sense of foreboding within him. He had made this same trek not four days ago, on the morning when his father's body had been found. He'd hoped to never have to make it again.

Thunder rumbled ominously and Joshua eyed the darkening sky cautiously. The clouds had not cleared since yesterday's downpour but at least it had stopped raining. He hoped that the respite would hold out a while longer.

Bravely, he pressed on, but he was afraid. He had been that way ever since the morning of the mine disaster. The visions he'd had that day had been so powerful that it had sickened him, twisting his stomach into knots and afflicting him with a stabbing headache. He'd been having more frequent occurrences since then, as well.

Normally, when his Second Sight asserted itself, he could see things that were invisible to the average person. Not actual visions, but something akin to an extra dimension to what his normal sight showed him. On people, this extra dimension manifested as a visible aura, complete with color, shape, texture and an animated life all its own. Subtleties in this aura could reveal a great deal about a person if interpreted correctly. For the last four days, however, he had been afflicted with a perception that far outdistanced his normal extrasensory ability.

Auras had begun to blaze like miniature sunsets before his eyes and the information they conveyed was no longer limited to the past and present. Future events hung like specters in the air around the people he saw, showing him jumbled pictures of what was to be. Worse, he couldn't find a way to shut it off. The occurrences of his power had become more frequent lately until it seemed that the Sight had become a permanent part of his senses.

Yesterday, when he had looked at Anne, the sense of death he had received from her had been staggering. It had clung to her like a cloud of pure evil, polluting her normally bright innocence. Far more sinister than something as natural as a wolf, he was sure. Just a short time ago, he had seen a similarly disturbing energy surrounding his sister. The realization had sickened him with dread.

Every time he looked at his sister, he could see the indefinable tragedy that was destined to befall her.

But not if Joshua could help it. If his gift truly was showing him a picture of the future, no matter how difficult to interpret, then he would turn it to his advantage. No matter what the cost, he would rescue his sister from the impending darkness.

When he reached the undertaker's place, he hesitated uncertainly outside the door. He wasn't sure what he expected to see when he viewed Anne's body, but he had to find out. Inhaling a deep breath, he took hold of the knob and opened the door.

The undertaker, a surprisingly young looking man who was actually in his early forties, stood up from behind his desk and smiled a greeting.

"Joshua Abbott." He circled out from behind the desk, "What brings you here this afternoon? I hear that your father's service went well?"

Joshua fidgeted and stuffed his hands into his pockets. Mister Lowell was a good man, but he seemed far too casual about death and its trappings. Perhaps life as an undertaker made such things appear normal.

"It was fine, thank you." He answered uncomfortably, "But that's not why I'm here."

"Oh?" Mister Lowell slipped his wire-rimmed spectacles off and caught the earpiece between his teeth in interest, "Then what did bring you here?"

Joshua started to pace a wide, slow circle around the room, unable to meet Mister Lowell's eyes directly.

"It's about Anne." He revealed in a low voice, "Anne Guthrie."

The undertaker's hand shot to his mouth and his face became gray with genuine sadness.

"Oh, that dear, poor child." He shook his head sadly, "Never have I seen such tragedy. To die so young and in the way that she did . . ."

He turned and sighed, staring out the window at the gloomy afternoon sky with troubled eyes.

Joshua swallowed tensely, "It was a wolf then?"

Mister Lowell's gaze became more disturbed and he rubbed his chin, his lips tight.

"That's what they say." He responded shortly, a slight tell-tale tremble in his voice.

"What do you say it was?"

The older man sighed and shook his head slowly, pivoting away from the window and facing Joshua again.

"To be absolutely honest, I don't know what I think." He said tiredly, "All I know is that the body of a pretty young girl was brought into my shop this morning in a most atrocious condition. And I have to do my best to try and clean her up for the service."

Joshua bit his lip, his heart beating hollowly in his chest, and looked to Mister Lowell imploringly.

"Show me." He said.

"What?" Mister Lowell ducked behind his desk, putting it between himself and the dark-haired young man, "Y-You don't know what you're asking lad. I've become accustomed to dealing with the dead. This young lady is no sight for the squeamish."

"I need to see her." Joshua reiterated with conviction, "The fate of my family may depend on it."

Mister Lowell hesitated, worried and unsure, but relented and fished out a metal key from under his desk.

"You must understand, Joshua, that this is highly irregular." He mentioned as he turned the key in the lock of a sturdy wooden door in the back, "It wouldn't do for the young lady's kin to hear word of it."

"I won't say anything." Joshua followed him in through the door, close behind.

The room was strangely cold and there was a dark brown sheet covering something on a long wooden table. Mister Lowell went to one end of it and laid his hands on the edge of the sheet.

"Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?" he asked, begging the young man with his eyes to reconsider.

"I'm certain." Joshua folded his arms across his chest and braced himself as the undertaker lowered his eyes and removed the sheet.

Joshua gasped in horror and stepped back from the sight that had waited underneath. Although her body had been arranged in a peaceful pose, it was obvious that the girl had died consumed with terror. The stench of it still clung to her.

Her pale flesh was marked with dark, angry bruises and scored with dozens of long, thin cuts. Pockets of dark, hemorrhaged blood had gathered in areas, distorting the natural curves of her soft flesh. Parts of her were awkwardly set, misshapen by the broken bones underneath, and her spine looked like it had been twisted out of joint in a couple of places. A deep, bloody cross had been carved into her left cheek and, below that, along the side of her throat was a set of bruised teethmarks that looked to have been ripped instead of pierced.

Joshua shuddered and felt his stomach knot up in revulsion. Anne had been viciously brutalized before being killed. She hardly looked real to him now. No wolf had done this to her, he realized. A wolf would only attack out of fear or hunger, or to protect its family. This atrocity had been mmotivated by sheer cruelty.

Sadly, he stepped up to the table and reached out to touch her still face. Even in death, mutilated and disgraced, she still held a certain beautiful purity.

As regretful tears gathered in his eyes, the backs of his fingers caressed her cool cheek and the world exploded inside his mind. Screaming in pain, he clapped his hands to the sides of his head, digging his fingers into his scalp and falling to his knees.

He was running blindly, the pain in his lungs almost as much as the pain in his heart. Tears ran freely down his face and mingled with the blood gushing from the ragged-edged cut in the side of his neck. A dozen similar wounds scored the flawless skin of his chest, arms and shoulders, turning his dress into a crimson, blood-soaked mess.

Joshua continued to run, his small feet pounding against the uneven forest floor as he barreled carelessly into the thick brush. Sharp branches clawed at his face and stabbed painfully into his breasts, but he continued heedlessly. The danger that was closing on him from behind far outweighed the risk of running blind through the forest.

Strong, vise-like arms seized him from behind, squeezing him tightly enough to jolt the breath from his lungs. He tried to scream, the way his mother had told him to, but the only noise that escaped his bleeding throat was a weak airy gasp.

A cool cheek pressed itself against his from behind and soft lips brushed his ear. Only minutes ago, that mouth had been pressed passionately over his, but then he had felt the pain of sharp teeth and blood had flowed. And then the chase had begun.

Strong fingers rubbed roughly across his wounded body, splitting the many cuts in his flesh wider, and a chilling voice whispered loving promises of torment and despair into his ear.

A swift wrench and his spine twisted sharply sideways, the sheer agony stealing away his breath. The arms released him roughly and the forest floor rushed up and smashed into him. He lay struggling futilely on the bed of spongy pine needles, his crumpled body refusing to respond adequately to his wishes. He had thought for an instant when he first hit the ground that he was paralyzed, but paralysis equated with numbness and he had never felt such incredible pain before in his life.

His pursuer knelt down over him and stroked a chill metal talon across his cheek, slicing down and then across in the shape of the cross.

"It's time, my love." a sinister voice leered softly.

Joshua screamed, flailing wildly with his arms and clawing at the empty air in terror. Gasping for breath, he slowly cracked his eyes open and lowered his trembling arms to his sides. He was back in Mister Lowell's shop, in possession of his own body again. He climbed to his feet and straightened his clothing, his senses slowly reasserting themselves. The vision had been so powerful, so complete, that he was left reeling. Disturbing afterimages still swam before his clouded, crystal-blue eyes.

Mister Lowell stared at him with a wide, open mouth and a slack expression on his face.

"Are you all right?" he asked, offering a steadying arm and then retracting it uncertainly.

Joshua leaned heavily against the wall, using it as a guide and pulling himself along it toward the door.

"I-I have to leave." He kept his eyes shut, afraid of what he still might see if he opened them, "Thank you for your help, Mister Lowell."

Moving by touch alone, he found the door and pulled it open, stumbling outside into the cool evening air. He could hear Mister Lowell hovering in the doorway behind him.

"Joshua?" he called, "Are you sure you are alright?"

The young man ignored him, clutching his forehead and staggering into the street. He stopped and leaned against a thick tree to catch his breath. Tentatively, he eased his eyelids open and was relieved to find that the sickening remnants of the vision had passed. Biting the inside of his lip in troubled thought, he started on the road for home.

It frightened him to think of it. His particular vision was becoming stronger, unmanageable, confronting him with things he was not prepared to see. He had less control of it now than ever before and he feared that the growing stress on his psyche might break him. Even now, he could feel the tide waiting to engulf him.

The road forked, the right branch snaking up the hill, becoming more weather worn and dusty in the distance while the other circled around at a slightly downward angle. He had come up the lower branch on his way to Mister Lowell's, but the right branch followed a shorter route. Looking up into the dark sky, he opted for the right hand fork and pressed on, his lungs laboring somewhat as he mounted the steep, rocky slope.

He approached a wooden bridge spanning a deep, narrow gorge. It was a commonly used shortcut for those who often traveled from one end of the city to the other. Someone had lit the single oil-filled lamp that hung from the center support beam and it rocked back and forth slightly, giving off a weak yellowish glow.

As Joshua took his first step onto the bridge, a figure at the opposite end mirrored his movement. Joshua froze, staring at the dark-clad man, his foot braced against the sturdy old wood. A sick feeling crawled over the surface of his skin and cold fear settled like lead in his stomach.

The man strolled forward, the light from the lamp spilling over his features and throwing stark shadows into the hollows of his eyes. He was smiling, but the expression held no kindness or mirth. It was the greedy smile of a predator.

"Hello, Joshua." He greeted, using the name with familiarity, as if they had known each other for a long time.

"I know who you are." Joshua took an unsteady step backward, swallowing a lump in his throat. It was the Cold Man from his visions, the one who was going to hurt his sister.

"Oh?" the man cocked an interested eyebrow, continuing his slow, careless approach, "Do tell."

Joshua narrowed his eyes and set both feet firmly on the lip of the bridge, determined to stand his ground.

"You're the darkness that's been plaguing Drusilla and me family." He accused, reaching inside his shirt and withdrawing a pewter crucifix, "You-you murdered Anne Guthrie."

The Cold Man stopped less than three feet from him, his dark eyes studying the metal pendant with amusement.

"They say 'tis folly to place such faith in icons." In the blink of an eye, his hand swept across Joshua's throat, snatching away the pendant and tossing it over the side of the bridge, "I'm inclined to agree."

Joshua started at the swift movement, awed and frightened by its speed and ferocity. A slight, residual stink of burnt flesh wafted on the breeze. His eyes itched and he could see the evil surrounding the man clearly now, like a halo of pure blackness, shot through with veins of red hatred and yellow cruelty.

The Cold Man slipped a small metal object of his own out of his pocket and placed it over the end of his thumb.

Fear washed over Joshua, demanding that he turn and flee, but he refused. No matter what, he would stand up to the darkness. He would protect his sister.

As the dark-clad man's hand closed around his throat, Joshua closed his eyes and silently prayed to the Lord for mercy.

Drusilla wandered back into her room and sat down on the edge of her bed, pressing her hand to her forehead. She was so tired. She had been losing sleep for more than a week with the dream visions and the last few days had only made thing worse. The recent emotional drain had camouflaged her exhaustion with depression, but now it was becoming apparent.

Stretching out, she laid back on the mattress, releasing a long, tense breath and letting her eyes sag shut. She would only rest for a minute or two, just enough to restore some of her flagging energy. Only a minute.

As she drifted off, a terrible fear rose up inside her, drowning her like a massive flood. She struggled and kicked, striving desperately for the surface. Something was holding her down, keeping her from reaching the air. Crippling pain blossomed across her midsection and she screamed, releasing the last of her precious air. Weakened, she started to sink slowly into the abyss.

The pressing darkness thinned and her gradual descent became a hurtling fall. Wind whistled past her ears and terror rushed through her in sickening waves. She hit water again with lung-jarring force, plunging into the chill depths and touching the sandy bottom.

She opened her eyes and found herself laying on her back across a sandy, sunny lakeshore. A deep shadow fell over her, blocking out the bright sunshine overhead. She looked up, squinting into the stray beams that broke past the edges of the tall silhouette. Fearfully, she recoiled from it.

The black outline crouched down over her and placed a gentle hand against her cheek.

"Joshua." She smiled, recognizing her brother's kind features and delicate blue eyes.

Her terror quickly receded as he helped her to her feet and enfolded her in a comforting, brotherly hug. She rested her head on his shoulder and relaxed, feeling the warm tickle of sand under her bare feet.

"Run, Drusilla." He whispered harshly into her ear, "He's coming."

His body tensed suddenly, going taut and rigid with pain, and he was jerked away from her by an invisible hand.

"Run, Dru!" he cried, a long cut opening by itself across his left cheek, spilling vermilion blood down his chest, "RUN!"

She hesitated, paralyzed with fright as Joshua's face twisted in pain and a second cut opened perpendicular to the first, forming the shape of a cross on his cheek.

He fought desperately against his unseen attacker, choking and kicking his feet, "GO!!!"

Consumed with terror, Drusilla turned and fled blindly, running as hard as she could but she gained no ground. Her feet felt like they were mired in tar and the cold hands of Joshua's invisible tormentor closed around her from behind.

She jerked upright on her bed, panting in fear and her heart pounding wildly in her chest. She blinked away tears of fright and gaped in horror as the last moments of the dream burned into her memory. Joshua . . .

Lightning flashed and thunder ripped deafeningly through the night sky. Rain threatened and the clouds were dark and angry, filling the air with tense static. Propped from the bridge's center post, the guttering lamp jostled back and forth in the steady breeze, casting harsh, orange-tinged shadows across the faces of the two men standing on the bridge.

Joshua gritted his teeth in utter agony and gasped desperately for breath as he hung precariously close to the edge. Angelus held him by the collar of his shirt in a tireless, steely grip, the boy's feet dangling just inches above the wood. Below them, a deep ravine dropped away into a layer of thick, white mist.

"I'm not afraid of you, demon!" Joshua grunted over his shoulder, his soft blue eyes wide and straining against the pain. His breath was quick and short with terror, but he refused to feed his captor's sick need by letting it show.

A cross-shape had been gouged into his cheek, cut so deep as to almost have pushed through to the other side, and blood ran freely from it over his jaw and down his neck.

Angelus drew his thumb across the boy's stomach, slicing a deep rent with the sharpened metal spike that capped the digit like a silver talon. Lightning flashed again, followed by a rumbling peal of thunder that swallowed Joshua's screams as he spasmed, shuddering with the searing waves of torment that wracked his body. His muscles taut, he jerked straight, his voice cracking with strain. Then the first rush of agony passed and he was finally able to breathe again.

"You'll pay for your sins one day." he gasped weakly, "I can see it. Your destiny . . . clings to you . . . like a shroud."

Angelus leered and traced his fingers along the edges of the boy's belly wound, drawing them away covered in crimson gore. Joshua bit back another scream, his face twisted and pale, as his torturer touched the blood reverently to his lips and tasted it with a satisfied smile.

"And who will collect such a costly price, Joshua?" Angelus chuckled, sucking greedily at his fingertips, "You?"

Viciously, he jammed his hand into the open belly wound, twisting his fingers deep. Joshua cried out in blinding pain and kicked wildly, sour vomit surging up his throat and exploding from his lips to spill down over the front of his shirt and into the gorge below. Hot tears squeezed from between his tightly held eyelids as he hung defenseless, impaled on the vampire's cruel hand.

"Th-the . . .Lord." he groaned weakly, slumping forward into dull agony, exhausted and covered in sweat, "You . . . you will suffer His . . . His . . . divine vengeance."

"The Lord?" Angelus sneered, "I don't believe in things I can't see. Afraid I'm not much for penance either." He smirked, working his fingers into the boy's slick guts, "But don't wait for me. It might be a good plan for you to make your peace with the Almighty while you can."

Joshua grunted and coughed, his empty stomach clenching in the aftershocks of the crippling torture, his throat strained beyond sound.

"No more screams?" Angelus affected a disappointed pout, "Guess it's pointless if there's no one around to hear you."

Angelus looked down through the mists and made out the dim shapes of a gathering crowd of onlookers. They milled around below and squinted up into the gloom, unsure of what they were seeing.

"Then again." The vampire snickered evilly, "Maybe a good show would be worthwhile after all."

He closed his fist around Joshua's entrails, slicing through with his silver thumb-spike. A tormented shriek that could have come from the deepest pit of Hell ripped itself from the young man's throat amid a stream of bloody vomit, echoing through the night.

The small crowd below jumped as one and stared fearfully up at the bridge, startled by the ear-piercing sound. Some of them began to point, their mouths hanging wide with surprise. By the light of the single lamp, they couldn't see Angelus' dark-clad form, only Joshua as he appeared to hang by an invisible thread, screaming and throwing his limbs about.

"Look, it's young Joshua Abbott!"

"He's going to jump!"

Angelus leaned close pressed his cheek against the gaping wound in Joshua's face, smearing the blood across them both.

"Do you hear that?" he breathed into the young man's ear, "They think you're mad, that you're up here raving to the Devil. If only they knew, hm?"

Joshua's head lolled forward, half-conscious, his eyes rolled up white and the lids fluttering.

"Come on, don't leave on me now." Angelus smiled cheerfully, removing his hand from Joshua's midsection and slapping him lightly across the face, "Give me one more good scream before the big finish."

Joshua lifted his head weakly, his own blood staining his face and mixing with the drool and vomit on his chin. He cracked his eyes open, his crystal blue irises awash in a storm of pain.

"P-Penance, Angelus." He whispered with a short, bitter laugh, sick beyond fear, "Remember it . . ."

Angelus snarled, slamming a straight-fingered hand into the young man's stomach, twisting deeply into the bloody cavity. Joshua screamed and convulsed, his limbs flopping wildly, and tears cut through the blood on his cheeks.

"Good-bye, Joshua." Angelus grinned, throwing his arms sharply forward and releasing his grip.

Joshua shrieked piercingly as he hurtled headlong into the gorge. His body disappeared into the roiling mists and his scream continued for a moment before it was abruptly cut short.

Standing on the edge of the bridge, Angelus whistled low and long, wincing at the imagined impact. He turned his dark gaze to the gathered crowd below once more and smiled. Slipping his hands casually into his pockets, he slowly strolled away, humming a cheery tune.




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