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Part III The group descended upon Angel investigations at twilight, piling out of a pair of cars laden with heavy books, a plethora of spell ingredients, and enough weapons to annex a small middle eastern nation. Giles just hoped it would be enough to conquer the demon that had felled Angel. Cordelia unlocked the front door to the office, and escorted the five others to the elevator leading to Angels apartment. A witch, an ex-vengence demon, a pair of Watchers, the seer, and....Xander. Varied and sundry lot. Pretty much Angels only hope, besides the neutered vampire who was currently nowhere to be seen. As the elevator groaned its slow descent, the humans exchanged worried glances. The noises echoing from the vampires apartment were.... “Good lord”, Giles whispered, pulling open the chain door and stepping one foot out of the small cage which opened directly into Angels foyer.. He sprang back almost immediately, throwing his arms behind him to keep the rest of the group inside as well. “What is it Giles?” Wesley asked worriedly, his concern for his employer and friend growing by leaps and bounds as the unearthly sounds rose into the night air, followed by crashes and thuds which sounded mostly like.... “Some sort of tornado”, Cordelia stated, peering her head around Giles shoulder to stare into the apartment. Objects and furniture were being flung wildly about by an unseen hand, landing in shattered pieces on the floor, only to be picked up and careened about once more. Willow
cast her glance over the Watchers other shoulder. “No,” the red haired
witch asserted, “its the result of some kind of
“Indeed,” agreed the older watcher, adding, “Fascinating.” Xander spoke up with the pressing issue. “Yea, its got a great beat and you can dance to it, I give it a 9. But, *hello*? How are we going to get off this elevator without getting killed by an unidentified flying toaster oven?” “Willow, can you perform some sort of spell to stop... this?” Wesley queried, gesturing with his hand to indicate the bizarre spinning motion of the front room and all its contents. “I don't think so, “ replied the witch, “Id have to know the exact cause of it to stop it completely...but...I think I can do a temporary spell....so we can get in and get Angel out of there...flying wood no good for vamps and all...” “Not so good for humans either, Wills”, Xander commented dryly. But Willow was already chanting, softly and intently, her arms raised over her head in supplication. No one but Giles understood the words, but whatever they were, they were having an obvious effect on the state of affairs in the vampires lair. The howling noise increased, roared through the apartment like a living being, and sent a chilling wind into the elevator, directly into the face of the witch. Willows hair blew about wildly, her skirt billowed around her legs. Still she kept chanting, knowing that she was angering something with her words, and that to back down now would be to admit a defeat which equaled certain disaster. Her prayer grew louder, as if in battle with the cacophonous force. Then, silence. Everything was still. The mortals could hear only the sounds of their own breathing. Cautiously, deliberately, Giles stepped first off the elevator. Looking around, he saw that everything had frozen in place, including numerous objects which were suspended in mid-air. He carefully made his way around half broken pieces of furniture which dangled in front of his eyes, and searched for either vampire. Having no luck, he called for the others to join him. “Be careful”, he admonished them, needlessly. Cordelia was behind him in an instant. “Damn! My computer!” She moaned as she saw the smoking heap of twisted metal which had once been her beloved MAC. “ I had AOL set up with all my favorite places...every decent hairdresser and spa in LA!” Willow whispered fervently to the older Watcher,” We need to hurry, I don't know how long this calm will last. Something was working against me during the casting, its only a matter of time before it overcomes my spell.” Giles nodded. “Lets just find Angel and take him someplace safe, then we can work on undoing whatever has been done.” Xander quickly agreed. He had nearly been skewered at the entrance to the kitchen by a swinging axe, perched precariously at the level of his head .. “Couldn't Angel just collect stamps like normal people?” he muttered, noting unhappily the amount of weaponry which threatened, at any moment, to resume its crazy space dance. A shrill scream stopped his train of thought. Following the sound, the group staggered around the obstacle course created by broken and dangling furniture and sharp objects, and made their way into the bedroom. Willow brought a hand to her mouth, and Xander choked back the gag which threatened. The sight was disturbing, even for a group as experienced in mayhem as the six gathered here. Angels room was completely saturated in dried blood. It looked as if someone had literally painted the walls scarlet. Which wouldn't have explained the red caked on the coverlets, the floor, and similarly all the smashed furnishings. Everything in the room was smashed to unrecognizable, crimson tainted bits. The only thing which remained seemingly untouched, albeit also blood covered, was the four post bed. “Cordelia...step away...:, Wesley instructed, “this is no place for..:.. he trailed off as she shot him a hard look. There was also the fact that she didn't seem particularly upset about the new crimson decor. Rather, her eyes were focused firmly on the bed, and the shadowy figures upon it, barely visible in the dim light of the apartment. “What, you think I was screaming over a little blood?” At the others stares, she modified, “All right. A lot of blood. But no....its *that!*.” She pointed toward the bed to clarify. “That's Angel there...and...SPIKE! Spikes killed him!!” Giles was about to point out the obvious...that fleshy vampire bodies equal living vampire bodies, when it dawned on Cordelia as well. “Ok! Ok! Obviously he hasn't killed him yet, cause..cause everything's frozen! But he's about to! Look! I mean what else would ...they....be.......do--...” Five heads swiveled, ten eyebrows raised. Giles cleared his throat. The older Watcher was the first to approach the immobile pair, sidestepping the array of knives and swords which hovered dangerously above him. He reached out gingerly, and pulled back the soiled coverlet. “Ah, well, yes....not killing him, then.” He quickly replaced the quilt. “It does present us with a spot of a dilemma though”, mused the smaller Watcher. “What? That Deadboy swings both ways? Cause, yea. Color me surprised.” Xander stated with a sarcastic grin. “Er...quite...” , began Giles, “but, no...No the problem is that we cannot move them.” “Because you're afraid to touch a naked vampire? Ill do it!” Anya volunteered, speaking up for the first time since entering the apartment. Xander shot her a look that would have cowed...anyone but Anya. “No, “ Wesley explained. “We cannot move them because they are joined --” “EWW!!” a mutual battlecry. “Not *that* kind of joined. Their consciousness is linked. Apparently, when Spike began to feed off of Angel he linked with him. We have no idea what would happen if we attempted to break the circle...” “Circle!” shouted Willow. “Ok, that's it! We need to cast a circle! Now! Here! Before the cease and desist spell breaks!” With that cue, the room began to vibrate once more, and the ghastly howling began. Objects flew about first randomly, then began an orbit around the heads of the onlookers. Cordelia ducked an alarm clock, and a pair of hairbrushes narrowly missed Xander's skull. He was nonplused. “So, anyone else here thinking all we need now is a midget and Carol Anne?” He was grabbed by several pairs of hands and drawn into the formation of a circle. “Wait!” Wesley shouted above the growing din “We have to put them in the middle first! Once its cast, they can not get in.” Willow nodded; the Watcher was right. Once the sacred circle was cast, it would act as any religious object, and repel the vampires entrance. They needed to be safely inside of it before the spell could begin. “So I get to move the naked vampires?!” Anya clasped her hands together gleefully. Ignoring the last, the men hurriedly crossed the room to the bed, and moved it far enough away from the wall so that the circle could be formed around it. Giles glanced down at the floor, and spied the small green stone, laying untouched in the wreckage. He tossed it to Wesley, who quickly placed it in his pocket. Tasks completed, Giles and Willow led the casting of the circle around the vampires and all the mortals gathered. The job proved more difficult than any expected. As the young witch had ascertained earlier, some force was definitely working against the groups majik. It took all of her energy to draw on the protection of the entities she summoned, and to conjure the sacred space with their assistance. When the deed was at last done, she fell to her knees, panting. “Giles, that was too hard”, she huffed, clutching at her chest. “It shouldn't have been that hard.” The Watcher nodded, and looked around at the still careening room. Nothing breached the sacred space they had just created. “Indeed,” he agreed, “but it does look as though we are all safe here, for the time being anyway. “ “Still, we should work as quickly as possible to undo this Essence Demon. I don't like the...what shall I call it...something about the way this place *feels*?” Wesley asked. Xander finished for him. “Vibes, man. Its got really really creepy vibes. And surprisingly enough, its not just from the gay vampire orgy..” Anya placed a hand on his broad shoulder. “Xander, you know I've told you several times that an orgy is *more* than two --” Giles cut her off. “And now for something completely less nauseating. Lets begin hitting the books, shall we?” Soon, all were deeply immersed enough in their research that they were oblivious to the wail of the Essence Demon. None would admit it, but ignoring the naked pair of vampires took a wee bit longer. *** Angel hastily donned his trousers. “Dru....” he whispered again...eyeing her warily. He could feel his hackles rising. It was more than just the affirmation of his suspicions, that it was her workings indeed which had sent him here. No....there was something else...Something wasn't.....he couldn't put his finger on it. There was nothing overtly disturbing in her appearance. She was dressed in simple, timeless clothes. It was impossible to determine the century of origin for the floor length, ivory colored shift. She wore no makeup, and her scent was barely discernible. Angel was disturbed. Spike however, was apparently oblivious to any deeper meanings or incongruencies. He jumped like a puppy in a cage at the sight of her, and, still nude, grabbed her, spinning her round and round in the air. “Dru!!” he shouted, hearing his own voice skip back toward them over and over. He dropped her to her feet, suddenly, disgraced and disgusted at his own display. Angel clearly heard his thoughts, directed at his Sire. ((Too much time with the Poof. Got me soft. Was a time I'd be beating her bloody for leaving me.)) Drusilla may not have heard the words, but the intent was clear in his eyes, which had already shifted from cobalt to yellow. She wisely backed away a few inches. “Angel?” she whispered. “Not happy to see me?” Angel winced at the look of fury further emanating from Spike. This was a centuries old game, and he was bone weary of it. “Not as happy as Spike, I'm certain.” Spike growled at the effort to maintain peace. “I don't need your soddin' help, Angelus”, he spat, and donned his own clothes. Angel sent Drusilla a pleading look. Catching it, she walked over to the younger vampire. “I missed you, my Spike.” she purred, stroking his hair. The dark vampire watched his Childer, and again, was struck by the fact that *something* was amiss. She pulled the younger mans head back with a fistful of auburn hair, and slipped her tongue into his mouth, open to protest the invasion. Angel watched as Spikes tension and resolve began to melt under her deliberate attentions. After mere moments of her soft, pink tongue skittering over his canines and palate, Spike at last surrendered. He held Drusilla in a bone crushing embrace, and returned her kiss with a passion born of a hundred years of foreplay. Angel turned his head and finished dressing. Still, he could not shake the gnawing feeling. **Why weren't we able to communicate when we remembered the time with her, Spike? I was talking to you when we went back to our time alone together.** Angel left his mind open, made his thoughts available to his male Childe. Though he had no idea if Spike was paying enough attention now to hear them. Or care. Or, for that matter, if Drusilla could hear him too.... **And how did she get here...even if she is the Caster, why show up here...if she's... really here...and Ok, where the hell IS here!?** Spike resentfully tore his mouth away from that of his dark wench. His reply was also soundless, but Angel heard it...clearly. ((For Chrissake Angelus, you could ruin a wet dream, you know that? I told you, we're in your froofy head, you figure it out! But bloody well *wait* until I'm good and done before playing twenty questions with Dru!)) There were further mental grumblings at the end of the silent tirade, but Angel ignored them, standing uncomfortably, near the once more distracted lovers. Hearing a squeal and a moan, he turned around. “Ok, look, *later* you two. Im not gonna stand here while....” Angel stopped when he saw the look on Spikes face. It was painfully familiar, and it tore a hole in his chest the size of a mans fist. His erstwhile lover had spun to face him now, and was staring at him with something akin to loathing in his sapphire eyes. And he was trembling, fists clenched at his sides in a futile effort to control his fury. “Oh you don't want to wait around while Drusilla and I get *re-united* do you? Is that bleedin' right? Goddamn self centered ass. Let me count the times I stood --” Angel knew where this was leading, and as much as he knew Spike was completely accurate and justified in his analysis, and his rage, he still couldn't shake the sense that something was....** Oh. shit** He looked at Drusilla. She had cut her hair into a bob, and the curls framed her ivory face, giving her the appearance of innocence on wings.. Her face was flushed with Spikes kisses, her lips full, and parted. She was panting a bit. He looked into the green eyes he had seen every day for a lifetime, but never let himself get lost inside of. They were...clearer somehow. And suddenly, he knew. She gasped, and the back of her hand covered her small mouth. She shook her head wildy from side to side. Her thoughts slammed into his brain, unbidden. Another fist to his chest. =Don't tell him, Angel. Don't tell him= Angel let out a small breath, and shot back **Then you do it, Drusilla. Quickly.** In the fraction of the second this silent exchange took, the ex-blond vampire had grown silent, watching the two with eyes now tinted gold. “FUCK THIS!” He shouted, and began to stomp away; murderous gleam in those eyes, no one to take the hatred out on.... “Spike.” Her soft voice, small hand on his hunched shoulder. He brushed it away. “Leave me alone, Dru. Go fuck him.” “Will...” Angel started, only to be met once more by that lethal glare. It knocked the wind out of him more effectively than a two by four. “Spike, my Spike,” she cooed again, “look at me, love. Please...turn around and look at me.” As always, his face retained the last vestiges of its human guise when he turned to look at her. It was never anything but. He could never do anything but...love her. Even if she could never return the favor. She cupped his chin in her hands. “I need to tell you something.” she began. And suddenly it dawned on him that she was pretty damned coherent. That she was using full sentences and they were all actually topic related. That she hadn't once mentioned the moon or Miss Edith or any of the other nonsensical things she.... "Oh god, Dru...Oh no...”, he dropped to his knees before her and buried his face in her skirts. “Its ok, my love. Im all right now. Its all going to be all right. Its not so bad, really. Its not what I thought at all....not what any of us thought, now is it?” She smoothed back his long locks and petted him lovingly. “Hush now”. Angels voice, strained with emotion under heavy guard broke the trance, “So it's true then, Dru?” She nodded sadly, and Spike looked up at her. Angel was grateful, selfishly grateful, that he couldn't see William's face when she at last confessed it. “Yes, its true.”, she whispered, finally, “Im dead.” ** Los
Angeles
“Resolution!” Wesley shouted suddenly, bolting upright from what had been a sound slumber. “Its not New Years, Wes, “Cordelia mumbled, still in a dream state herself. “No! The stone! The stone is for resolution! That's its purpose. That's what it was sent for.” The Watcher asserted loudly, flipping wildly through an ancient tome to the page which would prove him correct. When he found it, he pointed the paragraph out to Giles. “Yes,” Giles began, replacing his glasses. “Yes, you're right, that does appear to be our stone .......and our demons purpose is to resolve deep seated issues...” Xander interrupted “Sorta like group therapy for vampires? Hello, my name is William the Bloody and Im a death-o-holic. Great! Love you Will!” Giles shook his head noncommittally. “Actually, rather like that, yes. Whoever comes in physical contact with the stone will need to...oh dear...” “I hate it when you do that. Don't you hate it when he does that?” Xander spoke up. “Well, we've come in contact with it,” Giles stated. “Which means we are going to be involved in Angels...resolution. And possibly Spikes.....” Cordelia sniffed. “Personally, I vote good. I think a little collective guilt is good for the conscience.” Xander looked annoyed at the implication, but Willow nodded. “She's right, Xand. Its not like we haven't had our...issues with Angel. And you know...Buffy would want us to resolve them” The group was silent. They had gone almost a whole twenty-four hours without mentioning the Slayer. Speaking her name now, the shock and pain of the loss was once more a physical presence among them. “Resolution indeed”, Giles thought silently. ************************************************************************ Elsewhere Drusilla sat in Spikes lap, his long arms about her waist, her dark head resting on his shoulder. Angel watched them; silent, from a distance. Spike was whispering something in her ear, and she was smiling. Then she turned her face toward him, and he grabbed her tiny face in his hands, and kissed her, long and deliberately, and a deep moan rose from the males chest...And it could have been a century ago. It never ceased to amaze the dark vampire. Every time he was certain there was no part left of his heart to break. Unlife was just full of these jovial little surprises. Blessed be those fucking gypsies. Angel walked slowly over to the couple, and knelt down. He was struck by the surreal sense of genuflecting before the Virgin, suddenly, and had to shake his head to clear the strange feeling of dejavu. “Excuse us a moment, Dru?” Angel gestured for Spike to follow him as he walked a few paces away. Spike scowled at him, but nonetheless did as he was bidden. “What the fuck is your-" began the smaller vampire, but Angels hand across his mouth effectively silenced him. The urge to bite down on the smooth palm was obvious in Spikes enraged expression. **In here. Silently. Don't speak it.** Angel sent him the soundless message, without removing the offending hand. ((She can hear us anyway, you know, and let go of my bloody face, idiot!)) Furious. But silent as requested. **No, she can only hear you. So just do as I say, and answer my questions with a yes or a no only.** ((Yea? You want me to lick your goddamn boots too, Master?)) Angel grimaced , and reflexively he tightened his grip around the smaller mans mouth. Spikes eyes went yellow with anger, and Angel felt the fangs begin to tease the skin of his hand. Angels gaze flashed gold in response. For a moment, they stood, tense and unmoving. The dark vampire blinked first; his grasp loosened. “Im sorry,” he said, aloud. For both vampires to hear. Then, he bent his head and covered Spikes lips with his own. The kiss was gentle, hesitant, and it made the younger mans toes curl inside his boots. Then the voice in his brain. **I know this makes you uncomfortable, the conflicting loyalties...Can you just trust me? Humor me?** Spike stiffened in Angels grasp. ((I'm not some soddin' wench, Angelus. You don't just kiss me and think you can do whatever the hell you want.)) The kiss deepened, Angels tongue dueling briefly with the other vampires, before straying over his teeth, licking the smooth, shiny surfaces. Angel sliced his own tongue on one sharp point, and thrust the blood covered tip deep into Spikes throat. The smaller vampire was undone by the blatantly submissive gesture. He tightened his hold around Angels waist, and sucked on his tongue until the dark man whimpered in pain. Satisfied, Spike sent him a mental grin. ((Good. Now. What?)) Angel growled half heartedly and broke the kiss. **Are you certain none of this is physically real?** ((Yes.)) A brief smile of gratitude at the obedient monosyllabic reply. Small sneer in return, but Angel thought that maybe it covered a reluctant grin. ((Fat chance.)) Ignoring the last, **Our physical selves are still inside my apartment?** ((Yes.)) **You joined me here....on purpose?** ((Yes.)) **You have more information to tell me about the stone?** ((Yes.)) **You know how to get back to our bodies?** ((No.)) **Shit.** ((Yes.)) A grin now. Matched. **Anything else I need to know now?** ((Yes.)) Then silence. Angel frowned. ((Well? You want to play charades with it or can I just tell you?!)) Another smirk from the taller man. **You play charades?** ((Yea, wanna see a gesture that means bugger off?)) **Just go ahead and tell me.** (( I rang up some old friends)) Angels eyes widened. **Nice call, Will** ((I'm brighter than you give me credit for. We done now?)) “No,” Angel whispered, and bent his head once more to touch Spikes mouth with his. He merely brushed his lips back and forth across the younger mans several times, until he felt Spike arch, pushing forward to deepen the connection. He obliged eagerly, plundering the willing mouth with a kiss that was more than enough message in itself. ** When Angel and Spike ended their kiss, both vampires were panting for unneeded air. Drusilla was staring at them, a half smile on her lips. “Just like the old days,” she whispered. **Not quite**, Angel thought. He wondered if that was truly regret he felt for a fleeting instant, or just the shadowy memory of it. He pushed it aside. “Dru,” Angel whispered, “tell me about the stone..the Demon. Why did you send it?” Spike walked over to his love, and wrapped himself about her waist in an old reflex of protection. Another jerk at the tall vampires heart. (That Spike had done it? Or that he thought he had to?) Drusilla's voice still held the sing song quality of a small child. “I sent it to free you, Angel. To bring you into the light, the way it brought me. It saved me, I wanted to save you...” ((All right, so Princess is still half a bubble off plumb. Maybe she was bit dozey before you even turned her, eh?)) Angel suppressed a smirk as Spikes thoughts drifted to him. “I hear you too, you know, Spike! And I'm not crazy! Anymore.” “Sorry, pet. Tell us then. About the stone. We'd very much like to hear it.” Dru cleared her throat with an air of self-importance. Then she gestured for Angel to take a seat beside her. “Let's go someplace more comfortable then.” And grabbing both male vampires hands in her own, she closed her eyes. Angel and Spike exchanged the knowing glances of parents who are aware their child is seeing way too much of an imaginary friend, but nonetheless agree to set an extra place for them at the table.... When suddenly..they were no longer in the white hallway. There had been no sense of movement, no feeling of lost time. One moment they were sitting together in Angelbrainland, as Spike had so aptly named it, and the next they were simply.. not. “Holy soddin' fuck.” muttered the smaller man. Angel couldn't have said it better or more succinctly himself. The two men looked around, mouths agape, while Drusilla preened. “You like?” Angel shut his mouth and swallowed. “Uh...Dru...how..where..why..?” He shut his mouth again, aware that not a single coherent thing was going to come out of it anytime soon. When he turned finally to look at his Childe, he saw her waist length, inky black locks had returned. Her garb was eighteenth century, full with crinolines and lace, a ruffle of velvet at her sleeve, her bodice cut low to reveal the pale twin globes of her breasts. The dress was a deep, wintery green; it had been Angelus' favorite. Spike stared at them both, for the first time in perhaps... ever... completely unable to make words form. Angel was clad in velvet and brocade finery as well, his hair now back in a shiny ribbon, the old Katana dagger at his side. And Spike.....William....looked never more the English gentleman in his dark breeches and loose fitting white shirt. The only trace of their prior excursion was the stubborn stripes remaining on the mens' cheeks. Warrior paint. The three vampires stood now on a black and white checkered marble floor, in the center of a grand foyer. Above them was the domed ceiling Angel recognized from the specter of dreams. And beside them the majestic mahogany staircase, complete with a dozen lit candelabras guiding the way up gilded walls. It was the entrance to what had been, once, their home. A stately mansion overlooking the sea, built upon the sheer cliffs in Scotland. It looked exactly as it had over one hundred and fifty years ago. Of course, it had been destroyed not long after Angelus was cursed.... But
it was utterly inconsequential that this could not possibly be real. The
perfection in detail was stunning. Every peculiarity, every unremembered
fragment of this place was *alive* with color and sound. A victrola hissed
out some ancient classical piece in the next room, and Angel knew without
a doubt, that if he walked into the study, he would find his cherished
box of costly cigars and a crystal decanter full of brandy on his cherry
wood desk. The garden would be in full bloom with night lilies
It was as if the house had been lost in time, patiently waiting for its Masters and Mistress to return to it, to once again animate it, .......to give it.... ((Essence)) Spike shot, and Angel caught it with a slight nod of his head. **But whose?** he mused. He turned to Dru, who continued to merely smile up at him, seeking favor in his dark eyes. The dejavu threatened again. It was making his stomach hurt. Too much, finally; and Angel sank down onto the wide bottom step of the winding staircase, and rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand. “You all right, mate?” Spike asked quickly, concern evident in his tone. This was just what he needed. For Dru's creepy flashback to force Angel one sandwich short of a picnic after all. “Yea, yea. I'm just ducky, Will.” Angel muttered. ((Ducky?!)) “Care to tell us the story of the stone now that were all someplace....more comfortable?” Angel pressed. Dru pouted a bit. “You don't like it, do you, Angel? What about you, Spike?” The men exchanged another conspiratorial glance. The only way Drusilla was going to explain anything was if she was placated. “Its lovely”, they said in unison. Her bottom lip quivered. Spike crossed the floor and grabbed her up, raining kisses on her eyelids and cheeks. He buried his face into her neck, and growled softly, inhaling the scent of her. The smell of Jasmine and blood. The smell of him, and of Angel. All of it, there, just under the delicate skin.. Time would never change that. She would carry the fragrance of them, and this place, forever. His eyes were shining as he reluctantly pulled back. “The demon, pet. Tell us.” “Oh, all right. But its a long story. Lets get cozy.” She demanded. Angel sighed, but indulgently led the others to the main drawing room, where he correctly surmised a fire would be blazing in the large hearth. Kicking off their shoes, the vampires settled in on the jacquard floor pillows in front of the roaring flames. Then, the men listened attentively, as Drusilla at last began her tale..... “I was in Prague at an outdoor market when I found the stone in one of the little stalls they have...you remember those, don't you, Spike? How we used to find ones full of pretty baubles...and eat the keeper? I got so many of my beautiful necklaces that way....” Spike was grinning. Angel cleared his throat. “The stone, Dru?” “Oh yes, it was just lovely! All smooth, and shiny and green...Daddys favorite color, you know. And it wanted me. I could hear it. It wanted to be with me. The old man didn't want to part with it...well, perhaps he didn't want to part with it for free... Or maybe, he just didn't want to die. Whichever. He tasted like hummus. I hate hummus....." ((And this is my Princess *not* crazy. Behold!)) “ When I took it home with me, it got louder and louder. Then the dreams began. And the visions. It became all consuming. It chased away Bealcho.” “Beal-who?” Angel asked. He realized his error too late, as Spike winced. The Fungus demon Dru had left him for. “At first I feared it. I fought the magic within it. But then, it taught me things. And I stopped being afraid.” Angels voice was soft. “Taught you what kinds of things, Dru?” “I learned everything about what I am. What we are. It gave me all the secrets of the Universe. “ Angel nodded sympathetically. Yup. Still nutty as a March hare. Spike broached the important question. “That's great, pet. How do you hold it all in that pretty little head of yours, hmm? Now, by chance, did it tell you how we get out of here?” Angel could tell the vampire was making an effort to restrain himself, but his voice had cracked lightly on the last words. “ I know you two think I'm still insane. But Im not. The Essence demon cleansed me. It showed me all of my sins and now I am whole again.” Angel cringed. Sin and redemption; Drusilla's Essence. The young girl he had casually and systematically destroyed in a Catholic church over a century ago. Come to haunt him even now. God's finest punishment for him, really. “It's not about that Angel!” She cried, jumping up and grabbing the dark mans face in both her small hands. “It's about creating what you want. It showed me all my hopes and dreams, all my plans and creations. And it showed me my offenses. It showed me and my soul shook.... “ “Uh..Dru, love of my black heart.” Spike commented. “ Were vampires, sweets. We don't have souls.” He thrust a thumb in Angels direction. “Cept o course for Nancyboy over there.” “But that's where you're wrong Spike!! We *do* have souls. Well, you and I do. Maybe some others. We have a part of our souls anyway, not complete like Angel. But it's because of Angel that we have any at all...” Spike made a faint noise of frustration. He did not like the turn this conversation was taking. He was willing to pander to his dark goddess on almost any count. Sin, redemption and soul-having were not among them. “Listen to me Spike! When he made us, he neglected to perform certain rituals. Some by choice, some by chance, but the end result was the same. We retained a larger part of our humanity than most vampires. Don't you remember what the Judge said about us? About our feelings for one another?” Spike snorted loudly now. “That big, stupid assembly required demon? What the hell did he know?” Angel answered quietly. “Apparently enough. I didn't bury either of you. You never rose. And... your families. Neither of you made them your first meal. Family blood is a pretty well accepted rite of passage.... I didn't realize it would effect the strength of your demons...” He choked back the familiar taste of guilt. Of course Drusilla hadn't killed her own family. Angelus had already done it for her. And Will never had one to kill, which made him all the more easy a target for predators. Such as Angel himself. “It didn't effect the strength of our demons, Angel. It did, though, effect the counterbalance. It allowed us to feel love, even if only for another demon.” Spike looked incredulous. He was desperate not to believe this. But it resounded inside of him with a strange and certain familiarity. Bonds between demons, even to the extent of claiming mates, were customary within understood limits. But his feelings for Drusilla had always gone way beyond the traditional model of dominance and sexuality. There were no other soulless demons he knew of who could ally with such a relationship. It had always set him apart. He wondered how much it had contributed to Drusilla's lunacy as well. “ When I realized that I had humanity... *within me*, all this time, I was....lost. I wandered for weeks unable to hunt, unable to feed...I was killed shortly afterward by a Slayer in Europe. I didn't even put up much of a fight, really. Hardly worth her effort.” The men were silent as she finished. Then she walked back over to Spike, and lay her dark head in his lap. “Im sorry, Drusilla.” Angel whispered. A pathetic offering in exchange for all she had lost. And an admission of further guilt... that after everything which had ever passed between them, he was still relieved she was ...... no longer able to hurt anyone else.... (dead) Spikes upper lip quivered in a silent growl. Angel knew he had heard the last sentiment, and he could not bring himself to meet the younger vampires gaze. “Its all right, boys. I promise you, its better now. Im whole again. Im clean.” Spikes growl was audible now. “Yea? That so? You're so effin whole n clean then why the hell are you here with us in this ridiculous mirage? And how the fuck do we get OUT OF HERE WITHOUT BEING DEAD?!” Drusilla
remained unmoved by the familiar loud display of frustration. She merely
shrugged. “Im here because I sent Angel the stone before I was killed.
I asked it to help him find peace too. And I could *feel* when it started
working on him, and you.... apparently our Essences are connected to one
another. Something unresolved with us all. I don't know what it is, and
I
She leaned forward and kissed the younger man again, running her fingers through his hair, and arching against his chest. Angel closed his eyes; his mind was spun with the fantastic tale she had just related. He wasn't sure he believed it. Wasn't sure what he believed. There was a crude sort of fair play in the fact that it had been Drusilla who caused his little exit from reality. Truly poetic justice if such ever existed. According to her tale, however, it had all been quite unintentional. Some grand cosmic accident. Looking back, his life was awash with such fantastic coincidences. Maybe all mortals lives were. Maybe it just seemed that those in his existence were grander somehow, because...they were his. And because he'd had more than three lifetimes in which to gather them. He
was beginning to feel like he'd lived through two of those lifetimes in
the span of the last twenty-four hours. He could not recall the last time
he felt so completely exhausted. The vampire entertained the idea of sleeping
right here and now by the fire, and curled up around one of the fluffy
pillows with a small sigh. So what if it wasn't real? It was warm and cozy
and his Childer
“Dru-pet? Where are the drapes?” Spike queried, noting for the first time that a key ingredient to vampire safety was notably absent from the otherwise flawless reproduction of their long ago home. Angel looked up now, startled. Suddenly it occurred to him; it wasn't so far fetched a notion that she had brought them here with the intent to kill them too, come sunrise. A kind of empyrean family reunion. It made a Drusilla kind of sense. (Poetic justice.) “We don't need curtains here! The sun never rises. Its one glorious, everlasting night!” She leaped to her feet, and swirled around as if to offer it all to them, the house, the memories, the comfort of the night. Her skirts whirled about her slim legs in a carousel of colour. She spun faster, and faster, tossed back her head, and laughed. The childlike sound danced along Angels skin. A shudder ran up him before he could squelch it. Rabbits running over your grave, his mother used to say. Despite the heat of the fire, he shivered again. *** Angel was sitting by the window in the mansions Master bedroom. He leaned back on the velvet pillows with one arm behind his head, the muscles of his naked chest tight, skin gleaming in the pale light of the half moon. He was looking out over the water, and the shadows of the night swallowed the half of him which faced the darkness. Spike froze in the doorway for a moment, crushed under the weight of the illusory falling away of two centuries. He could have so easily been Angelus reclining there, with the shoulder length chestnut hair, and the remote gaze. But no aura of malevolence surrounded the large form. And when the dark vampire turned to look at his Childe, there was only affection in the wide, cinnamon colored eyes. No. Also distress. “Its kind of creepy being here again, isn't it Will?” Voice so low Spike couldn't tell if it was whispered or *sent*. “Yea,” the smaller vampire agreed. His Sire hadn't called him by his twentieth century name once since this mansion had manifested. For some reason, that unnerved him... more than he cared to admit. He crossed the large room and sat across Angel on the bay seat, watching the waves dance under the waning moon, listening to the real voice now.. “I don't much like it. Its too....I dunno. I feel damned.” The dark vampire hadn't taken his eyes off the sea. Spike watched the shadows play across his face, creating monsters out of the sharp angles, demons out of the wide planes. Slight of hand. “He's not here, Sire.” Spike said quietly; typical, unadorned truth from the auburn haired vampire. “Maybe not. But *she* is. What are you doing here with me, Childe?” Spike took a breath, and Angel turned to look at him finally, so rare was it that he exercised that practice. “You know why Im here.” A bit of annoyance in the tone. He had come here resolute, and Angel had forced his hand. Bloody archetypal. “You want acceptance? A blessing? What? You don't need this from me. Not anymore”. The older vampire didn't sound particularly saddened by the admission. Resigned, maybe. Spike bristled. “So you're telling me if the Slayer walked through the front door you wouldn't do the same?!” Spikes voice grew louder, the pitch deeper. “Is that what you think this is about? Jealousy? Christ, Will.” Angel shook his head. “It has nothing to do with jealousy. Or anger...or .....Its about *me*. Its about the fact that when I look at you and Dru and I see what could have been, what SHOULD have been, what I completely and utterly destroyed..... I killed you. Both of you. And I damned you to this. And you're still so lost in it, that you're actually *waiting* for my permission to do what should come as naturally to you as....” he stopped, and a bitter laugh escaped his lips. “I was going to say breathing.” “Oh for pity's sake, Angelus. We've gone through this one already a dozen times. You think had you never come along, some bint and I would have had fat happy babies together? You have a very fucking selective memory, Ol' man. Like the fact that Id have been dead from syphilis before my twenty fifth birthday”. Angels shoulders fell. “Fine. You think you're better off this way, fine. Can you say the same about what I did to Dru? You love her, William. She told you why your love was possible. Can you look at me and tell me I did a good thing by her too?” Spike leaned forward, his face inches away from that of his Sires. His tone was clipped, and calm. “Yea, yea I can tell you that. I don't know what the hell would have happened to her if we hadn't come along. You know what else? I don't give a damn. Because no matter how much I fucking hated you for what you did to us both after you turned us, I can never, never hate you for bringing her to me in the first place”. Angel closed his eyes, and rested his head back against the window. “Then don't be a fool about it.” Again, so softly Spike wasn't sure he'd actually heard the words spoken. “About what?” he whispered back, all ire gone. He never ceased to be amazed at that bizarre ebb and flow. One moment he wanted to stab the poof with a fiery stick, the next.... “You got something here that mortals and demons alike would kill for. Don't let it go.” ((Oh bloody hell, waxin' poetic...hes gonna say *love* now and Im gonna --)) “No. The chance to say good-bye.” The small sob was torn from the younger mans throat before he could swallow it. He'd almost let himself forget. Dru wasn't really back. She was .....dead. This time together was stolen. And finite. He grabbed for Angels hand, and felt the long fingers encase his fist. Silence. He wanted to say it...wanted to...but he couldn't force the words past his tongue.... ((You could come with me... to her......)) Angel half smiled, without opening his eyes. **No, Will. No. I cant.** Spike leaned in closer to the dark haired man, and pressed his forehead against the broad chest. He dropped a kiss there. Then he stood, and turned to go. Angel released the smaller hand from his own, and watched as Spike left the room, closing the door softly behind him. ******************************** “CHICKEN!” Xander howled, looking up from the book his nose was buried in. Actually buried in, seeing as he'd fallen asleep on it. And he'd been having a damned fine dream too, involving semi naked women and a soup ladle. Then he'd heard the clucking. “CHICKEN!” he repeated. “Does anyone else see the chicken!?” Giles looked up from his own research, where soup ladles were conspicuously absent, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Ah...my. Well..thats --...” Giles, along with everyone else save Anya, who was still fast asleep and snoring, watched as twelve chickens breached the salt circle. They began to strut around the group, cackling loudly and pecking at the floor. Xander was struck by the notion that since they made it into the circle without exploding, at least he was assured these weren't evil chickens. Followed by the notion that he really needed more sleep. And quite possibly, a new hobby. Cordelia cut Giles off. “We know, we know, its *fascinating*. But what does it mean?” Willow yawned. “I think its just more manifestation of the Essence Demon. Somebody obviously had a thing for chickens.” At the groups look of unified horror, she amended, “You know, like a fear or something! Sheesh, your minds are all in the gutter!” Xander
swatted at the rooster by his feet and mused, “So, one of the vampires
is afraid of chickens. Well, I feel like a fool. I mean, to think if wed
only known that before..how much trouble we could have prevented! Thrown
a poultry or two at Spike..bye bye bleached boy..Or hey! Sent Angelus a
telegram from Colonel Sanders ..could've totally avoided that
Wesley stretched his long arms over his head, and mumbled something incoherent. “What?” Cordelia was annoyed. Which went pretty well without saying. “I was merely speculating ...We can assume it was the vampires human selves that had a fear of.....the chickens...correct?” “I don't know, Wesley. What is your point?” Giles snapped a bit. He was tired and uncomfortable and ....now suddenly hungry. “Well, if their human fears are manifesting....What if their demon fears do so next?” “Why? What's a vampire afraid of?” Anya asked, lifting her head from the crook of her arm for the first time, and looking puzzled. “Precisely.” Wesley stated. “Do we really want to know what Angelus deepest darkest fear is? Or more to the point...do we really want to be -” “Visited by it.” Giles finished the statement for the younger watcher, and felt his stomach growl. Xander grinned at the rumbling sound, echoing his own pangs of starvation. He would kill for a pizza. Then he shrugged. “Well, worse comes to worse, and were stuck here in this circle for another couple days....at least we have lunch.” Another chicken breached the circle and pecked at his sneaker. |