Author's note: Dialogue taken from the original episode, the plot of which I have modified in order to include my alterations to canon. There is no reference to the Zeppo role which Xander explored in the original episode, as he and Cordelia are still together, and the group are not as lost as they were during the original season three. Also, more B/A scenes, as their relationship deepens. And apologies to Danielle Steel, whom I use as a culture reference here, I mean nothing but the deepest respect for the author whom I was named after. I only hope one day to become just as successful as her, though I don't know if I have that many novels in me. Enjoy.
Jhe.
Buffy could not remember a time when she had felt more content. Angel's arms encircled her from behind, underneath some sheepskin rugs, the only protection between them and the stone floor, as well as the only cover upon their skin, beside a roaring fire, in the double height living room of the Crawford Street Mansion. He rested against the arm of a sofa, his face beside the slender curve of her neck, while his hands caressed her beneath the rugs.
No other vampire was allowed so privileged
a position. Though he was not like the others, there was a danger in it, for he
was the first and the last of his kind that a slayer would let him drink from
her if he needed to. She kept such a trust to herself at present, knowing him
almost as intimately as he knew her, certain that he would be horrified that she
had prepared herself for such an event, one which he would doubtless recoil from.
They had been in this position almost from the moment she arrived at the mansion after school, desiring to spend the evening loving each other tenderly, thoroughly and leisurely. Even now Angel explored her beneath the rugs without urgency, just in a quest to become familiar with every facet of her. Buffy rested relaxed in his arms, though her hands were by no means idle, occupied in exploring him with the same vein. Since the deepening of their relationship, she had become more aware of the power she held over him, installing a confidence within her which she had never felt before.
She had always been conscious of the
women who had been there before her, before his soul, even before he became a
vampire, unsure if she would ever measure up to them, an insecurity strengthened
further during the time his demon stalked and hunted her after he lost his soul.
Now she realised there was no need for her to be concerned for she surpassed them
in every way. For none of them had seen the look she saw in his eyes when he told
her he loved her, nor his expression when they made love, or the smile which lit
his face when he caught sight of her.
There was just
such a picture of contentment on his face now, as he kissed and caressed her beside
the roaring fire. He was content because she was, intimately attuned to her as
a hunter to his prey, as a lover. This knowledge existed even before their loving,
even in the early days of knowing her, and their union now only deepened the depth
of it. From the night of her seventeenth birthday to the night when he took her
in celebration of his career, a tutelage began in where and how he could touch
her that would derive the most pleasure, while in return, she journeyed in the
same quest of discovery for him.
"Okay," she
uttered, breaking the peaceful solitude around them, "this is getting way
too Danielle Steel," she decided, turning round to face him.
Angel
pinched the lining of the sheep skin rugs to keep them covering her, before returning
his hands to caress her thighs once more. She arched into his touch, smiling at
him coyly, an expression which he returned readily, matching the gentle, contented
amusement within her. Then, surprising him, her eyes turned from his to study
the open drawing book lying beside them.
He had only recently
resumed the display of said talent, cautious and guarded, concerned above all
for her feelings for the skill. His demon had used the artist genes from the soul's
memories evilly to his dark, sadistic ends last year, tormenting his love and
her friends with drawings of them to show how easily he was granted admittance
to their houses. Since his soul's return, Angel had refused to taint paper with
his pencil, oils or watercolours, for fear of invoking the same hatred his demon
had. This vow however was reckoned without Buffy, whose curiosity caused her to
discover an old drawing of his, sketched prior to the night of her seventeenth
birthday, hidden in a drawer of the mansion. Her enthusiastic praise was the only
thing to convince him to take up such materials again, along with a sound argument
that he would need his talent for Art History, the subject which he lectured at
Sunnydale University.
Now she removed her hands from
exploring his body to pick up the sketch book and study the latest batch of drawings,
some of which he only began and finished this evening. Almost all were of herself,
the more recent ones in poses which made her blush even now, just as when he shyly
asked for her to sit for them. He had caught her so well, so accurately, she could
almost believe herself to be looking into a mirror. She remembered the drawings
his demon did to torment her watcher, her friends and herself last year, but the
ones she studied now bore no resemblance with which to identify that it was the
same hand which cast these brushstrokes. There was a tenderness wrapped within
these drawings, a sense of awe which she felt every time he looked at her, that
the demon never conveyed. And the comparison between displayed the missing link
of genius which Angelus always lacked, and Angel possessed in spades.
"How
do you draw me so well?" She wondered aloud, gazing at the last, finished
before they made love here by the fire. Her figure lay bare for him, nothing hidden,
everything displayed for his pencil to draw. He had even caught the slight embarrassment
within her eyes, self-conscious of such liberty before another being. "I'm
never that beautiful," she uttered softly.
She was
not fishing for compliments, but he gave them to her anyway. "I draw you
how I see you," he replied. "How the world sees you. How you are. Beautiful."
A hand left her thigh to caress her cheek, causing her to turn and face him. "I
draw you with all the love I have for you, and that you return just as powerfully."
Buffy laid the sketch book aside, and softly put her hand
on top of his. Her dark pupils met his own, and never left them, as she gently
guided the hand down her body, lingering through the valley of her breasts to
press upon the skin which covered her beating heart. "I need you here,"
she uttered, before leading his hand onward and southward, down to her sex, where
she confidently pressed it against herself. "And here."
Angel
bent his head and pressed a kiss to the skin covering her heart, then pushed her
backwards so he could deal the same blessing to her sex. She bent herself willingly,
unconsciously showing off her prowess, gained from genes and the slayer line which
ran within her. His mouth continued upwards from its' starting point, letting
his tongue out to caress her belly button, before moving once more, until she
could straighten her spine and meet his lips with her own. Despite having made
love countless times since arriving at the mansion, their energy nor their desires
were sated, and the passion showed within this kiss, and through the movements
of their bodies, as his erection stiffened in the space between them, and her
sex pressed itself insistently against his groin, requesting fulfilment.
His
hands left her hair where they had been massaging her head, to begin their own
journey of passion, one going to her breasts, while the other went to her sex
to try and restrain and torment her desire at the same time. Tenderly he dove
between them to probe and caress her, pausing briefly to grab at the wrist of
one of her own questing hands, to daringly guide it where his intended to go,
showing her what he intended to do. Emboldened, she let her other join his at
her breast, slipping under the palm for guidance, a small moan escaping her mouth
as she did so.
Angel broke from her mouth to growl into the curve of her throat while his hands continued to arouse the fire within her. The borrowed breath felt warm upon her throat and she leaned into the warmth, as the sheepskin rugs slipped from her back to fall to join the others covering the hard stone floor. He leaned back a little, to take in the sight of their hands joined in the same missions of pleasure, before meeting her passionate gaze. Bending his spine, he tended to her neglected breast, nipping and sucking at skin and nipple, while his hands continued to fondle the other with her, and probe fingers into her sex below. She bucked into the combination of his and her touch as he expertly brought her to the brink of a climax before entering her.
His hands left
hers and to clasp her butt from behind, pulling her tightly to him. Hers hands
went to his back where she traced the outlines of his tattoo, and her lips captured
his for a one more kiss. When he broke from them, he pressed another to the base
of her neck before leaning back against the sofa arm to watch her as she rode
him. The sight of her in all her glory, breasts proud with hardened nipples jutting
outward, golden hair and skin glistening from sweat, never ceased to attract or
amaze him. She was the slayer, a chosen warrior, an amazon among her kind, and
above all else, a girl when these battle glories were stripped away. She could
have had anyone, but she chose only him, and he felt humbled and honoured every
time he received the gift which was her heart.
She met his dark gaze with one just as powerful as the love within the both of them strove to become one. His hands moved to press against the small of her back, then slid upwards where they came to caress her breasts. She arched into his touch, tightened herself around him, smiling into the bliss which soon came to take them.
Tonight was her allotted night to patrol, causing Buffy and Angel to prise themselves reluctantly from each other in order to fulfil her sacred duty by walking the beat of Sunnydale during the witching hour. Despite there now being two slayers who stalked the hellmouth, there were still some vampires who had not received the memo, causing a small engagement in one of the twelve cemeteries not more than an hour after they exited Crawford Street.
Brief as the
encounter soon proved to be, it was nonetheless just as intense as a full scale
long waged fight, with Buffy and Angel defending their cause as fiercely as if
their losing held the potential to bring forth the next apocalypse. Summoning
energy reserves from somewhere, a resource which most humans would find incredible
and impossible; but then neither were completely just human; they battled their
opponents with strength and skill, and occasionally brute force until the vampires
were nothing but dust falling to grass.
Afterwards they
patrolled the rest of the graveyards, where word had reached before them of their
skill and prowess tonight, for they contained no life but the remains resting
in piece six feet below their marble or granite monuments. Even so, the warriors
chose not to relax their guard, and their foresight served them well, for the
encountered another pack of demons looking for a fight just as they completed
their tour of Restfield.
These demons were not vampires,
nor were they a race which slayer or souled vampire had encountered before. Red
eyed and bluish-grey skinned, with sharp teeth and long pointed ears, the former
glistening in the night. A series of horns beginning from just above their eyes
and ending on their forehead suggested another use for their heads other than
eating, smelling, seeing or hearing.
Buffy and Angel
took in the fierce sight of these creatures calmly, knowing even the slightest
show of fear would be like nectar to them. The pack growled as they caught sight
of the warriors and rose to meet them, welcoming battle as proudly as any war-hungry
breed of warriors would.
On any other night, the two
chosen warriors of the Powers That Be would have avoided such an encounter if
they could, retreating home to learn more about their new enemy and recruit more
fighters to their cause. But they had been seen now, making the fight unavoidable,
leaving them no choice but to engage. Cautiously they advanced into the field,
choosing an opponent from among the pack, seeking out the strongest in order to
make them think twice about rousing the slayer again.
The
demons let them dictate this wish of single combat, choosing to stalk in a circle
around them, outlining the limits of the arena. If their kindred lost, the victors
would not be allowed to survive the encounter for long.
Slayer
and souled vampire fought bravely, summoning energy from who knew where, as they
faced fierce and skilled opponents, as well trained in combat as themselves. It
did not take long into the fight to realise that these creatures were their match,
if not superior, causing them to doubt the wisdom in engaging such foes, even
if it appeared that they did not have much choice in the matter. Still they pushed
aside such doubts, knowing they could lead to mortal and violent ends, channelling
their skills into what vulnerabilities they could discern within each of their
opponents.
Buffy was the first to bring her combatant
to the brink of defeat, choosing to ram a steak through their heart just as she
would any vampire, having nothing else with her which counted as a slaying weapon.
Angel was not long behind her, breaking his enemy's neck, the snapping sound echoing
through the strangely silent night, before conquered by the crash as the demon
fell hard upon the asphalt.
Knowing the demons would not take kindly to two of their breed falling beneath the hands of a mere vampire and slayer, the couple took to the streets before the pack realised their quarry were gone, heading for security and sanctuary that was numbers and knowledge, in the form of Rupert Giles' apartment.
It was with a sigh born out of frustration that the watcher opened his door that
evening, his visitors having disturbed what was to be a quiet, romantic evening
for two. His love, Jenny Calendar, empathised but also at the same time understood
that he had duties which made sacrifices such as this a necessary evil. She leaned
back against the sofa, waiting patiently for the intrusion to reach its end.
When Giles caught sight of who was visiting him this night,
and the emotions which their facial expressions betrayed, he abandoned his frustration
to silently usher them inside, cautiously checking the courtyard behind them to
make sure they had not been followed, before closing the door.
Buffy
wasted no time in detailing their encounters that night, calmly disclosing everything
about the pack of demons she and Angel had just faced. Asking Giles for a piece
of paper and pencil, she put both in her soulmate's hand, and commanded him to
draw, in case the watcher might recognise them from image rather than description.
Either she had forgotten the last time Giles caught sight of a drawing from Angel's
hands, or perhaps she simply chose to outline the contrast between the demon and
the soul which resided in the same body, but it caused hesitation to both the
artist and the watcher before and after the command was obeyed.
Giles studied the picture as he listened to Buffy's description of the fight, casting his mind through the realm of information open to him as her watcher, searching for a clue which might reveal the demons' identities. He also noted the contrast in technique and style within the drawing, as his slayer had done only hours before; the stark comparison between the soul and demon that resided in the souled vampire who sat silent beside the latest in the generation of hunter and prey.
A part
of him could not help but feel proud of the slayer whom he mentored, a woman he
had come to love as a daughter, who risked her life recently to ensure he kept
his job as her watcher. She could have done as others had, by refusing this souled
vampire's help, casting him out of her world and her protection, scorning him
when his one moment of happiness let forth a demon feared by all. But instead
she loved the man, loved the soul within, and used that affection to inspire him;
unique among his kind, exiled and revolted, into confidence and acceptance, not
just of himself as he appeared to others in this world, but to his own character
and ideals aswell. Her generosity humbled others by mere display, and caused them
to wish themselves and attempt to make themselves as unprejudiced as she in order
that they might earn her respect by default.
"I cannot
immediately recall who they might be," Giles now replied to her and Angel.
"But I shall look them up and see if I can discover their identity before
nightfall tomorrow. If they have arrived in force as you say, their arrival could
hold a darker significance."
"We'll get home now," Angel remarked, having silently noticed throughout Buffy's tale the evidence of the quiet, romantic evening which they had unwittingly intruded upon. He took his beloved's hand and rose from the sofa, as they bid a farewell to Jenny and Giles before exiting the apartment.
Having brought the car on their patrol, Angel drove the 1967 Plymouth Belvedere
GTX convertible down through the streets until the automobile reached Revello
Drive, and number 1630; the Summers' homestead.
"Will
you come in for a while?" Buffy asked him when he turned off the ignition.
"Mom's pulling an all night at the gallery."
Angel
nodded and got out, rushing round the open the car door for her, making her smile
at his gentleman manners, an eighteenth century relic.
Despite
the emptiness of the house they still made for her bedroom, where they sat together
upon her bed, nursing a mug of nourishment in their hands, which they had paused
in the kitchen to make before coming upstairs. Hers was a product of cup a-soup,
his a heated pigs' blood from her supply which she kept for whenever he visited
her home.
Quietly they sipped the food, recovering from
the two fierce and disturbing encounters which had haunted their patrol. New demons
to the hellmouth were not unusual, but always unsettling nonetheless, causing
speculation and concern until their identities were established, and their end
assured.
When they finished their meals, it seemed appropriate
for Angel's visit to end, but the souled vampire was reluctant to leave his beloved
alone in the house after such a night like this, and the slayer was equally desirous
of having him stay. After securing the house and tidying away the mugs, they returned
to the bedroom, where she sought the comfort of his arms beneath the warmth of
her duvet.
The last time he had spent the night in her
room was nearly two years ago, beneath a spare duvet upon the floor beside her
bed. Tonight there was no need for such gentlemanly restraint, nor indeed did
either of them desire it, as they sought each other's lips in what was meant to
be a goodnight kiss. However, passion such as theirs was never satisfied with
such chaste beginnings, and the night witnessed them returning to what the afternoon
saw them begin, consummation of their love.
Buffy felt
the contrast between their acts conducted at the mansion to this first inside
her home. The last time she had pictured them inside her bedroom was the product
of a dream induced by the First, which ended in the demon savagely draining the
life out of her. Reality, as always differed here, for there was no chance of
his soul being lost now, securely fastened within his body by the rewriting
of the curse which had first wrought such enchantment. Passion, love, desire,
all these existed within the act, along with questing fingers, mouths and tongues,
but there was an added tenderness, a chasteness to the love making which had not
existed in the ones committed earlier. Angel took her as if it were her first
time again, peeling each article of clothing from her body slowly, as if he had
never been granted permission to see her nakedness before now.
When
their clothes were gone from them he pushed her gently down upon bed before pressing
his head between her legs, letting his mouth worship her sex. An awed silence
rose around them which both felt loathed to break, causing nothing but a gasp
from her as he brought forth her climax with his skilled tongue, drinking from
her as if he needed the added nourishment. Deftly he worked her to the brink again,
before journeying upwards to worship the rest of her body, pressing kisses to
her stomach, her breasts, the valley between and the middle of bone at the crux
of her neck, whereupon she took him up to her mouth, kissing him powerfully as
he entered her.
Exhaustion was the only excuse for the abandoning of his initial intent to go home before her mother returned. Instead he withdrew from his beloved just to take her into his arms before they drifted off to sleep.
Something was ringing. Not a long non-ending noise, but of short beeps, insistent
and continuous. The slayer opened one eye, identified the source, and relaxed,
allowing for no damage to the offending object which unknowingly disturbed their
peace.
Buffy reached across and switched off the alarm.
With a soft groan at the time, she rolled over to meet the dark eyes of her boyfriend,
who greeted her with a silent but revealing expression.
"It's
rare I see you embarrassed," she remarked, though not in rebuke.
"When
was the last time we spent the night in your room?" He countered.
Buffy
ingested this information, not really recognising its worth until her slayer senses
detected the sounds below the floor, drifting upwards, louder due to her advanced
abilities. Abruptly she sat up, the duvet covering them going with her, revealing
all too well exactly what had happened the night before.
"I'm eighteen,"
she uttered to herself, replenishing her courage. "I'm an adult, she can't
object." These two sentences seemed to do the trick, so Buffy rose from her
bed and walked over to the wardrobe.
Angel sat up, his
eyes drifting to her body, watching as slowly her bare skin was hidden from his
view. "Shall I climb out of the window?" He asked when she was dressed.
"I don't think that works so well in the daylight, honey,
even with your talisman," Buffy replied. "Mom will be fine. Come on."
Angel complied, sliding his feet to the floor, making Buffy
draw in breath at the sight of him. When he had put on his trousers, he came up
to her and caught her chin in his hand. Slowly, he kissed her thoroughly. "Good
morning," he replied when they drew apart for air.
"Mmm,"
Buffy murmured in appreciation. "Definitely good."
Ten
minutes later and they made their way downstairs.
"Morning
Mom," Buffy began as they entered the kitchen.
"Good
morning, Buffy," Joyce said, looking up from her breakfast. She did a double
take then, blinking in surprise at who was behind her daughter. She had thought
that Buffy would be alone, as she usually was whenever Joyce was lucky enough
to see her in the morning. Lately she had been spending more and more nights at
Crawford Street. Joyce was starting to fear that she would lose her daughter
before she was ready, even though she approved of the man who was taking her away,
she nonetheless wished the day she would lose her little girl to him to be years
into the future.
"Good morning Angel," she finally
managed to say.
"Good morning, Mrs Summers,"
Angel replied politely. He leaned close to Buffy, speaking softly into her ear.
"Have you any more..." he trailed off, still self-conscious about taking
his own meal in public.
"In the pastry tin in the
fridge drawer," Buffy replied, for she had made the meals the night before,
leaving him ignorant as to the whereabouts of her supply.
"Thank
you." Angel left her side to travel to the fridge. He retrieved his meal,
putting it in the microwave to warm. "Your usual, milady?" He asked
his beloved.
"Please," Buffy said. Joyce watched
in amazement as Angel prepared some pancakes expertly for her daughter. She was
only starting to realise that there was a lot she had yet to learn about Angel.
She continued to watch as he returned to the microwave and took out whatever it
was he had put in. Then his back was facing them for a few minutes and she could
hear the sound of pouring. Suddenly she realised what was in the mug. She wondered
what would happen as Angel turned round. She was surprised when nothing did.
"So," Joyce said in an effort to sound unaffected,
"do you want me to take you to school, honey?"
"No,
it's all right, Mom," Buffy answered, "I know you have that exhibition
today."
"I don't have a class till ten,"
Angel supplied.
"Giles wants us to meet this morning,
I imagine," Buffy added. "Angel and I ran into some new and tough demons
last night, which he promised to have identified by the time we have to face them
again." She ate the last of her pancakes and stood up to put the plate and
syrup away. Then she walked over to Joyce and hugged her farewell while Angel
drained the last of his pigs blood.
Joyce watched her
daughter leave the kitchen to fetch her bag, then turned to Angel, who regarded
her cautiously, and repentant.
"I'm sorry if my being
here upsets you," he uttered carefully. "But after last night's encounter
I didn't want to leave her alone."
"I can't
deny that I feel a little uncomfortable about it," Joyce confessed. "But
only because it's the first time it's happened. I know you Angel, and I trust
you with my daughter. You'll always be welcome in this house, I assure you."
He bowed his head in gratitude. "Thank you," he
uttered. "Not all parents would be so understanding."
"Buffy's
far more mature than I was at her age, and all the wiser in the ways of the world
for it," Joyce remarked. "I would be betraying my promise of acceptance
and understanding if I barred her from using her instincts now. She's grown into
a remarkable woman."
"You had a hand in that
too, you know," Angel said. "For which I thank you."
Joyce smiled at the compliment. "You're both welcome," she uttered, before Buffy walked back in to claim her boyfriend for escort to school.
"They call themselves the Sisterhood of Jhe," Giles began when the slayer
and the slayerettes had assembled in the library before their first classes. "They
are an apocalyptic cult, existing sorely to bring about the world's destruction
and I don't think you and Angel saw the last of them, Buffy. More will follow."
"How exactly do they wish to bring forth Armageddon?"
Buffy asked. "Fight everyone who stands in their way until they're the only
ones left on the earth?"
"No, based on the current
astral cycle, I suspect they'll settle for opening the hellmouth," Giles
replied.
"Sarcasm and seriousness," Xander commented.
"I don't think he's joking."
"This isn't
the time for jokes," Giles replied. "Unless we stop them, they will
open the hellmouth. That demon we faced the night of your sixteenth, Buffy, is
only the first of the creatures which harbour that doorway and he won't be the
worse, not by a long shot."
"So are you saying
batten down the hatches and run for the hills," Faith remarked, "or
a pre-emptive strike?"
"Both options might have
to used if what I've read about them is true," Giles replied. "For now
I suggest we gather weapons and ourselves to fight them tonight."
"Well,
I'll be there in spirit," Oz replied. "Night before the full moon requires
me to see nothing but the inside of that cage," he added.
"We'll
meet here at sundown, Giles," Buffy decided. "A battle plan which involves
the element of surprise would be useful too," she uttered as they rose in
time to the bell signalling the start of class.
"I think I know of something which could provide that," Willow remarked before they headed out of the library for class.
"Obscurate nos non diutius."
Hours later,
and nightfall found them in what was previously thought to be a vampire's nest
in the bad part of town. After finishing school they met up as planned, stocked
up weapons, and after seeing Oz safely and securely inside his cage, headed for
the location of the Sisterhood of Jhe headquarters.
Choosing
the classic rule of divide and conquer, the slayerettes and slayers waited until
a demon was alone before surrounding it and putting an end to its existence. Now
was just such a case as one of the Jhe stalked its nest, growling in rage at discovering
the amount of its kindred dead, threatening vengeance.
"Now!"
The slayer yelled out.
The demon turned in the direction
of her voice as planned, while Faith launched from her hiding place, to barrel
into her with the sword she was carrying, sending the forged metal straight through
the demon's heart.
Silence greeted the demise of the demon,
and there was a long pause before others emerged from their hiding places.
"I think that was the last," Giles judged.
"Willow,
you okay?" Buffy asked her best friend and spell caster of the night.
The redhead was breathing hard. "Yeah, I'm fine,"
she replied. "The shaking is a side effect of the fear."
"Well,
if it wasn't for that clouding spell..." Angel murmured admiringly, causing
Willow to smile proudly.
"Yeah, it went good!"
She agreed, glancing at her candle which was the sole ingredient needed for the
enchantment save words. "Nothing melted like last time."
"These
babes were wicked rowdy," Faith commented.
"Yeah,"
Cordelia agreed as she helped Doyle up from the floor. "Where's Xander?"
She asked, causing everyone to glance round, concerned.
He
emerged from behind a rock. "I'm good. I'm fine," he answered. "Just
a little bit dirty. Good show, everyone. Just great. I think we have a hit."
"Are you okay?" Cordelia asked him.
"Tiptop,
really," he replied, stumbling to join them. "If anyone sees my spine
lying around, just try not to step on it."
Buffy
looked on worriedly at her best friend. "Xander, one of these days, you're
gonna get yourself hurt."
"Or killed,"
Faith decided.
"Or both," Buffy agreed. "And,
you know, with the pain and the death, maybe you shouldn't be leaping into the
fray like that," she suggested cautiously, careful of hurting male pride.
"Maybe you should be... fray-adjacent."
"Excuse
me?!" He countered, miffed. "Who, at a crucial moment, distracted the
lead demon by allowing her to pummel him about the head?"
Faith
smirked at his interpretation of the battle with one of the demons. "Yeah.
That was real manly how you shrieked and all."
"I
think you'll find that was more of a bellow," Xander replied.
"Uh,
what do we do with this lot here?" Buffy asked, indicating the bodies of
Jhe. "Should we burn them?"
"I brought
marshmallows," Willow uttered with a smile, causing everyone to turn to her
in surprise. "Occasionally, I'm callous and strange."
"I
expect we can leave them," Giles replied. "It might give a message to
the others not to mess with the hellmouth this century."
"Couldn't
agree more," Faith added as they headed out into the night.
"I
say bring 'em on!" Xander cried.
"Uh, Xander,
I think in the future perhaps it would be best if you, uh, hung back to the rear
of the battle, you know, for your own sake," Giles commented delicately.
"But, gee, Mr. White, if Clark and Lois get all the good
stories, I'll never be a good reporter," Xander countered in a fake accent
and whine.
"Hmm?" Giles looked at him blankly.
"Jimmy Olsen joke," Cordelia explained.
"Ahh,"
Giles nodded in understanding. "Still," he added, "something to
think about."
"Giles could be right," Cordelia remarked to her boyfriend as she saw
him home just before midnight. "There's a limit to how much the human body
can take hits, and I think you reached it a couple of punches ago."
"N'ah,"
Xander shook his head as he climbed out of the car, staggering on to the driveway,
grateful none of his family were home to witness this. The last thing they would
think was that he had got in fight however. They would just think he was heading
down the same alcoholic road as his forefathers. "Anyone who can withstand
your driving is strong enough for anything."
"I'll
ignore that comment," Cordelia replied as she helped him inside. "Because
I know you use humour as a defence mechanism. Now, where is the first aid kit?"
"Right hand cabinet by the oven in the kitchen,"
Xander replied automatically before realising the essence behind her words. "You
mean you're going to play nurse?" He asked her with a grin.
"Not
play, be," Cordelia corrected as she returned with the box. "And if
you think this is something to joke about, this will be the last time you see
me tend your wounds."
"No joking here, ma'am,"
Xander replied as he presented the first of them for her to sanitise and bandage.
He shivered as the alcohol wipes stung his skin, before settling down to enjoy
the sensations her touch produced. Moments like this between them were rare, as
usually they were too busy making out or bickering to be gentle to each other.
Cordelia sat back when she finished. "Right, shirt
off," she commanded briskly.
"What?" Xander
cried as he looked at her.
"I know you have a bruise
or two underneath there," Cordelia replied. "So come on. This is no
time for embarrassment."
Xander grabbed the ends
of his shirt and tugged the garment off him. He blushed as she washed clean the
bruises on his chest. "You haven't got one of those little nurse outfits
hiding under that shirt?" He asked her.
"No,"
she replied, for like everyone else she had worn jeans and shirt for this battle.
She dabbed a few more places with Savlon then sat back to admire her work. "All
done," she replied.
"Really?" Xander queried
as he looked at her. "I could have sworn you missed one here," he added,
taking her hand and guiding it to the skin covering his heart.
"Oh
yeah," Cordelia remarked. "How could I forget about that one?"
She bent forward and kissed the skin, surprising herself and him with the motion.
"One here, too," Xander added, pointing to his lips.
"Of course," Cordelia replied. "Have to attend
to the ego."
"Hey," he replied, wrapping his arms around her as he gathered her close. "No more talking," he added, before they kissed.
Faith patrolled before going home, as it was her night to fulfil the shared duty between her and Buffy. Giles' verdict on the demons' desires to bring about the end of the world, concerned her only a little, as she did not have much in the world which she considered worth saving.
At least if such a fight occurred she would know where her motives lay, survival bound, as opposed to being mired between Mayor and B. She had chosen not to inform the former about the Sisterhood of Jhe, not wanting to see the evil in his expression as he contemplated what he could do with this latest pack of demons in order to come out top.
She still did not
know the full nature of his plans for herself and the town, but she dreaded what
they might be already. The amount of times she came close to telling Buffy or
someone else only to rethink the matter as the person looked at her were too many
to count. If she told someone her problems might be solved, but she had no evidence
save her new apartment, which she doubt would be convincing to any of the slayerettes,
or slayer.
The Jhe she ran into halfway to said apartment
gave her the distraction which she craved from her thoughts. The demon threw her
against the fence again and again until Faith managed to break free and deliver
a back swing to her head. She aimed a punch at the gut and attempted another to
the head, but the Jhe blocked the attempt, grabbing Faith by the arms and throwing
her to the ground.
Faith rolled as she hit the asphalt,
regaining her feet to continue the fight. She kicked the demon in the knee, then
raised her leg, spun high and kicked the beast about the head. She dealt another
kick, which the Jhe blocked this time, grabbing the leg to throw it down, before
grabbing her jacket and swinging her into the fence.
The
slayer grabbed the fence, using the wire within as leverage to lift herself up
so she could aim both legs at the demon's gut, forcing her back.
A
engine revving disturbed the battle, as a car barrelled into the demon, sending
the creature flying to the asphalt. Faith turned to see the driver, a college
boy deciding to be chivalrous.
"Get in," he
cried to her.
Common sense and safety would tell you to
decline, but Faith could take care of herself, and was pretty sure the boy could
see that when he arrived, as he had chosen his moment to provide assistance timely.
She dived into the back seat of the convertible as ahead of the demon rose to
her feet.
"Whoah!" Her driver commented. "What
the hell is that?"
"Don't ask," Faith replied.
"Just drive."
"Yes, ma'am," he said
before pushing the engine up a gear and urging the car forward. The demon tried
to catch up to them, but modern technology was far beyond her powers and she was
soon forced to admit defeat.
"Thanks," Faith
uttered to her escort as she climbed into the front seat.
"My
pleasure," her knight replied. "I'm Kent by the way."
"Faith,"
she returned, shaking his briefly proffered hand.
"May
I escort you home?" He asked her.
"You already are," she grinned at him. "Turn left here."
Kent pulled the car up outside her apartment and saw her to the door, where she
felt it was only his due to invite him for coffee. Faith never used the actual
words, instinctively testing him for vampire, which he passed with flying colours
as he walked inside after her.
"Do you think whatever
that was followed us?" He asked her.
"No, we're
cool," Faith replied. "Bitch dislocated my shoulder though," she
added as she tried to raise her arm and failed.
"Here,"
he offered, and she took his grip, using his strength to hold herself steady as
she righted the joints.
"That's better," Faith
murmured, as she tested the shoulder, moving her arm in gentle circles. "She
got me really round up."
"I can tell,"
Kent remarked as he surveyed her.
Faith caught the tone
in his voice and turned to face him. "A fight like that and no kill, I'm
about ready to pop," she remarked. "You up for that?"
He
closed the gap between them. "Oh I'm up," he returned. "Wouldn't
want to leave a damsel in distress for long, me."
"A
damsel, eh?" Faith grinned as she grabbed him. "I'll show you a whole
new meaning of the word."
"Looking forward to
your education," Kent replied before letting her kiss him.
It
was the last movement he controlled, but he did not seem to mind her taking charge
of the act. Faith led him to her bed as they practically ripped each others clothes
off, frantic to have skin touching skin. This wasn't love, it was lust, in its
purist, most animalistic form. The primitive within her was on overdrive, and
Faith was more than content to let it take control of her, as she slipped protection
between them before making the bed rock. He responded just as fiercely, but Faith
no longer saw him as anyone of importance to her, simply an end to her need. If
Kent understood this during their sex, he returned the sentiment, as he stove
to match her, touch for touch.
It was over quickly, as
fast as their libido would let them, and they lay together, panting only for a
moment before separating. Kent grabbed his clothes as she grabbed a sheet, and
they kissed casually at the door, promising to keep in touch, although neither
had seen the need to exchange phone numbers.
Faith locked
her door before seeking the comfort of a shower, where she washed the sex and
fight off her skin and hair, silently wondering if the water jets could work such
miracles as baptism, making her reborn, free of the Mayor's shackles.
She knew however, that such miracles were not meant to be.
Willow faced the sight before them ominously. "I've never seen him like this,"
she whispered, anxious not to disturb the beast which was her boyfriend.
The
next day brought report from Faith of her encounter with another Jhe, causing
Giles to decide to prepare for the hellmouth to open, which meant certain precautions
taking place after sundown.
Now the watcher handed Willow
the tranquilliser gun. "It's the Hellmouth. He can sense it's going to open.
Be ready just in case."
Willow nodded and clicked
the safety off the rifle.
Giles walked to the cage, where
the growling werewolf regarded them, waiting. "Now don't hesitate,"
he reminded her.
The redhead nodded, putting the weapon
to her shoulder, taking aim. "Do it."
Giles
unlocked the cage. "Now Oz..." he managed to get out before the werewolf
threw open the door, knocking him to the floor. He took a jump towards his girlfriend,
but she was prepared for him, and pulled the trigger. The dart hit him in the
side, causing him to yelp as he falls to the floor. It was not enough to keep
him down however, and he rose to all fours as Giles scrambled to his feet.
"Again!" He urged.
Willow
backed off a little as she reloaded the gun. Oz lunged forward, but Giles was
ready and grabbed him, restraining his arms so the second dart hit his chest.
The drug worked this time, sending Oz to the floor in a limp heap.
"We've
got to move him before he wakes up," Giles advised, as she came to join them.
Willow stroked his fur tenderly. "Sorry. I hope you're
not mad at me in the morning."
"Come on,"
Buffy added walking to join them, "I'll help you, Will."
Together
they moved Oz to more secure storage closet further down the hall, before returning
to the library, where Giles and Wesley were laying candles around the red pentagon
which surrounded the tiles above the hellmouth, chanting as they went.
"Terra,
vente, ignis et pluvia. Cuncta quattuor numina, vos obsecro." They intoned.
"Defendete nos a recente malo resoluto."
"Okay,"
Willow announced as she laid the gun aside. "Oz is moved. He could barely
walk after that mickey I gave him, but we made it. Is he gonna be alright there?"
"Anywhere is safer than here," Giles replied, before
tossing her and Buffy a lighter.
"We're doing the
binding spell from the Hebron's Almanac?" Willow asked as she and Buffy joined
the rest of the slayerettes in lighting candles.
"Yes,"
Giles confirmed, "but once it's ready, you're to stay back and let us finish
the recitation."
"But...." Buffy started,
causing him to hold up a hand.
"Don't argue. I want
you safe," he interrupted. "Who knows what's going to come up from beneath
us."
"Or around us," Wesley added as he
glanced upwards towards the half circle windows in the upper mezzanine, causing
everyone else to follow his gaze.
And groan as they realised the Sisterhood had arrived.
"Oh, my God," Giles could be heard to murmur not more than fifteen minutes
later. "It's grown."
The it in question was
the first beast which harboured the hellmouth. Green, huge, as many heads as a
hydra, with tentacles to match, it loomed over the slayerettes, as they battled
the Jhe on all fronts, split between defeating the demons and the ones which exited
the hellmouth. Fierce on both sides, there was no time to respond to Giles' comment
with anything but silent consensus as they exchanged blows with the Jhe, trying
to prevent them reaching the hellmouth before the watches finish their spell.
"Omnia... vasa... veritatis!" Wesley cried.
"Now, Buffy!" Giles shouted.
The
slayer stood above them on the mezzanine level, a large battle axe in hand, poised
to strike at the creature which leered out of the hellmouth. At her watcher's
signal she swung the weapon forward, decapitating one of the demon's heads, causing
it to retreat in pain.
"Terra, vente, ignis et
pluvia. Cuncta quattuor numina, vos obsecro." The watchers chanted once
more. "Defendete nos a recente malo resoluto."
Around
them the slayerettes fought the Jhe, who increased their aggression as the demon
from the hellmouth threaten to retreat, closing the gate to the hellmouth behind
him.
Angel was struck by one from behind, causing him to
fall to the floor.
"Angel!" Buffy cried before
leaping on the creature, picking up her boyfriend's sword and killing his opponent.
"It's working!" Someone could be heard crying aloud, but who it was lay lost in the melee, as the battle turned in a blur of frantic punches, kicks and clashes, as the slayerettes fought the save the world for another day.
"Even after the Hellmouth was closed, you could still hear it screaming,"
Jenny remarked.
It was the next morning. Sunnydale had
lived to fight another day, along with the township's chosen warriors, who congregated
at a wooden table and seating ledge on campus before first class of the day.
"But Angel's gonna be okay?" Oz asked, who had been
informed of the nights' activities as soon as the full moon was over.
Buffy
readjusted the sling on her arm. "He was only out for a few minutes,"
she replied, calmer now for seeing her beloved awake. "Longest of my life,"
she added, pushing away the nightmare of what might have happened to him.
"I will never forget that thing's face," Willow
remarked. "It's real face, I mean."
"Yes,"
Giles agreed.
"I don't know how you managed,"
Buffy said to her watcher. "It was the bravest thing I've ever seen."
Giles grinned, then immediately regretted the notion, as his
face bore several vicious scratches across his left cheek, ear and neck. "Stupidest,"
he replied. "But the world continues to turn."
"No
one will ever know how close it came to stopping," Wesley remarked solemnly.
"Never know what we did."
"I don't know
how I'm gonna get through class today," Cordelia said, supporting her head
with a bent arm resting on the table.
"I know the
feeling," Doyle agreed.
"We saved the world,
why shouldn't we get a break?" Xander argued.
"Because
no one knows, more's the pity," his girlfriend reminded him.
"And
that's the way it has to stay," Giles informed them, taking his glasses off
for a clean, a little slowly due to his aching arms and hands. "Mass panic
would ensue otherwise. No, 'we work in the dark. We do what we can. We give what
we have. Our doubt is our passion and our passion is our task. The rest is the
madness of art.'"
"What's that, watcher philosophy?"
Buffy asked tiredly.
"Henry James."
The bell rang for the first lesson of the day. By degrees the Scoobies split up, making their way to class, content to just have survived to die another day.
The
End.
To Be Continued In....
Bad
Girls.
© Danielle Harwood-Atkinson 2021. All rights reserved.
