Spoilers: Really covers all of the Buffy series and the basics of the Angel series. Specific episodes include: Buffy Two-Part Season Finale, Season 1 ep. ”Becoming” Parts 1 & 2, Buffy Series Finale, Season 7 ep. “Chosen”, and Angel, Season 1 ep. “To Shanshu in L.A.”
Dedicated: To Candice (lilacdream7) for your support, friendship, and undying devotion to your one true obsession….James! ^_^
A/N: This story was started before the last few episodes of Angel, Season 5 aired so the whole battle against Wolfram & Hart battle is ignored and wouldn’t occur for awhile longer – basically it takes place a little over one year after Illyria has lost her time-jumping powers in “Timebomb”.
London, 1881
He had been his mentor, his guide in this new world. She had been his destiny, his angel. Together they had spent his first year traveling the world, opening his eyes to the new life or death he was now eternally a part of. He had taught him to hunt, to kill, and to enjoy it. She had taught him how it felt to be desired, consumed, loved. But even in this new world where passions both dark and carnal ruled, he could not escape what he was at his core: a dreamer, an idealist, a threat to his mentor’s ways. And so early on, Angelus had sought to break his young student, to teach him that no amount of love could keep Angelus from Drusilla.
It was a lesson he learned early in his young life, returning late from his night out alone in his new form only to find Darla gone, and both Angelus and his Dru re-dressing. Despite what his eyes saw and his mouth spoke, his heart never fully believed it. Dru had saved him from the worthless life he had been. She had chosen him. She loved him, and eventually even Angelus would see that some things could be possessed. Dru was his love.
Yet now all those thoughts, those dreams, those hopes born in a dead heart still green to the Earth fell about him in broken tatters. He had been deceived by his own heart, and the illusions he had created, the delusions he had believed fell from his eyes onto the entwined limbs that rocked back and forth before him.
They had not seen him yet, so lost in their passions, and he had been to afraid to move, frozen among the shadows unable to tear his eyes from their lovemaking. Her moaning, his deep throaty growls, her nails on his bare back, his face buried in her shirt as they writhed together in unison, it was like a bad dream, a nightmare he could not awaken from. His fists slowly began to clench at his sides, his face changing to reveal the demon within. He felt rage boiling up inside him as he reached for the wooden broomstick in the closet beside him. He would end this now.
A soft whimper behind him pulled him momentarily from his rage, and turning his eyes fell on the small street urchin behind him. The child, though dirty and ragged, had a delicate angelic face and piercing green eyes now filled with terror. Her mouth was gagged and her hands, bound against her chest still gripped the small china doll she carried. It was the doll that had originally caught his attention on the streets earlier. He knew Dru’s love of dolls well. The girl had been an added bonus; his Valentine’s Day presents to his one true love.
But now standing there, looking down at the frightened child, the creaking of the bed behind him, he found himself overcome with a new sense of anger, a deceitful, spiteful anger. Pressing a finger to his lips, he untied the child and pushed the door open a crack so she could slip out. He kept the doll however. Once the girl was out of sight down the hall, he took a deep breath and slammed the door shut, alerting them to his presence. But the scurry he expected to hear behind him never came. Instead it was Angelus’s voice that greeted him.
“I was starting to wonder how long you’d be standing there watching us.” He lay on his back, his arms folded behind his head. “Just giving Dru her rightful Valentine’s Day present.”
He ignored Angelus and moved towards Dru, who now sat on the bottom of the bed, a gossamer nightgown hanging loosely about her body, her neck and face speckled with beads of sweat. Despite the over-powering smell of Angelus that hung all around her, he leaned down and kissed her hard and long as Angelus watched.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, luv,” he whispered, handing her the doll.
“Why my sweet William has brought me a darling dolly. Miss Tabitha will be much pleased to have a caller.” Dru swayed slightly on the bed. “William is our darling boy indeed.” She nipped at his neck and then, rising, carried the doll like an infant over to three other dolls sitting neatly on the windowsill.
“That he is indeed, our young little Willie. Oh and Dru, thanks for the gift,” Angelus winked at Dru as he pulled on his pants. “Now I must find a gift for Darla before she gets back from visiting that foolhardy Master of hers.”
“Grandmother will not be pleased with our fun and games Angelus, no, no, no,” Dru pouted and shook her whole body back and forth.
“What Grandmother does not know will not hurt her, right Willie?” Angelus laughed as he headed out the door.
“It’s William!” He shouted after the older vampire.
There was a sharp cry and then Angelus’s voice again called out from the hallway. “Well then William, I thank you for your gift as well. The innocent always taste best.”
“Spike!”
The sound of Xander’s voice brought Spike back from his memories. “What are you hollering for? You’re standing right next to me, you git!” Spike snapped back, slightly embarrassed.
“Well if you’d answered me the first 3 times I called your name,” Xander mumbled half under his breath.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing, nothing. Now do you mind helping us out here? We need to locate early maps of the area. Try those file cabinets over there,” Xander pointed to a large panel of silver drawers along the far wall.
“Bollocks!” Spike muttered as he pulled out the first drawer and began rummaging through it. The central office of the Los Angeles Historical Society was a junkyard of papers, files, and miscellaneous antique knick-knacks. It was nearly impossible to find the room’s furniture among the mess, let alone locate a particular sort of map. Spike slammed the first drawer shut with a crash, sending a pile of folders and notebooks down upon his head. “Bloody hell!” he cursed. The night was indeed going to hell. First he was forced to follow Angel around like some puppy and now he was taking orders from Wonder Boy and being buried alive by useless piles of rubbish. “This bloody apocalypse better hurry up and get here already,” he growled.
“I think I found something,” Angel’s disembodied voice called out from behind a tower of assorted papers and files. After a few minutes he came into view from behind a bookcase, carrying something wrapped in some animal fur.
“Well that’s definitely old,” Xander nodded as he took the parcel from Angel and began rolling its contents out on top of a nearby table already covered in papers. “Spike, angle the flashlight a little to the left.” He tossed the flashlight to Spike who begrudgingly obeyed.
Xander moved quickly through page after page of maps, all of which seemed to be drawn out on one type of animal flesh or another. Finally after a good 10 minutes of searching he reached the last one in the stack.
“This is it,” he smiled triumphantly.
“How can you be so sure?” Angel frowned looking at the sparsely labeled map, written in some language unlike any he’d seen before.
“There’s a pentagram,” Xander pointed. His finger running between 5 unlabeled structures that looked eerily like temples. “And where all 5 converge,” he tapped his finger at the very center of the pentagram, on top of a smaller looking temple structure, “there’s your battlefield.”
Angel frowned.
“Trust me, that’s the place. If there is one thing I learned from Willow magic is always strongest at the center of a pentagram.” With a triumphant smile, he rolled the maps back up and followed his vampire companions back out onto the street.
Opening the door to his car, Angel turned back to Xander. “We should check the place out.”
“Don’t you think Buffy will want to see it too?” Xander frowned.
“Probably, but if we go now we can save some time. There’s still at least an hour before sunrise.”
Angel’s words rung home: the more they knew right away, the faster they could get to Willow.
“Let’s do it,” Xander nodded, hopping over the passenger door of Angel’s convertible and into his seat. Spike remained on the curb lighting another cigarette.
“Spike?” Angel glanced over his shoulder at the younger vampire as he started up the car.
“Go ahead. Get the info to Buffy. There’s something I got to look into first. I’ll meet you back at the office.”
Without another word Angel drove off, leaving Spike alone on the sidewalk. He stood in silence for a few moments, taking in a few drags and watching the smoke slowly fade away as he breathed it out. Finally after he spoke, “Been following us all night, haven’t you?”
From the shadows a few feet ahead of him, Illyria’s delicate form moved into the light. “Something is happening.” It was more of a statement than a question, but Spike could tell she was uncertain.
“That it is, little sheila,” Spike lifted his fingers to his lips, took a long drag, and flicked a few burning embers to the sidewalk beside him.
“There is a battle coming? You will fight?” Illyria moved closer towards Spike, her unworldly blue eyes, unblinking, boring into him.
He nodded.
“You will die?”
“If it’s my time, I suppose so.” He dropped the smoldering remains of the cigarette to the sidewalk, snuffing it out with his shoe as if to emphasize her words.
“Why?” She stared at him, her head cocked to the left. As much as she despised humanity and the races she deemed as lesser demons their actions fascinated her and she had an almost android-like obsession with discovering the logic in them, even when there was none. “Do you follow Angel into battle because he is your master?”
“Angel is not my master!” Spike glared at her. He had told her that many times before but she never seemed satisfied with his answers. “I’m my own master; always have been, always will. I take no order from any man living or dead, especially not from that holier-than-thou git!”
“Then why will you fight?” He was confusing her yet intriguing her all at the same time.
“That, Blue, is the million dollar question. I don’t know exactly. I guess I fight because this world needs saving.” No, that wasn’t the real reason and he could tell that Illyria didn’t buy it. Spike shook his head with a sigh, “I fight because she will fight, because it is who I have become.” Raising his head he met her gaze, staring back into her blue dead eyes.
“I do not understand. You live by human rules but you are not human. You were a great warrior once? You killed many humans, with Angel.”
Again he nodded.
“But now you both protect humans, but you are demons. Why?”
“It’s a bit complicated, luv,” Spike smirked.
“What is a Buffy?”
Her question took Spike by surprise. He never could get use to the way in which Illyria would jump from one topic to the next. “She is the slayer,” he replied.
“Slayer? I am unfamiliar with this term. What is the slayer?” Illyria frowned.
“A girl who kills vampires,” Spike’s eyes stared through Illyria now, his thoughts moving between memories of his past and the present.
“So she is a mortal whose purpose is to kill your kind, but she is your friend?”
Spike nodded.
“Won’t she kill you?” Illyria pressed determined to understand.
“No, she won’t,” Spike’s voice was somewhat sad. “I fight with her now.” The confusion on Illyria’s face only deepened so Spike continued, “I used to kill slayers, got two of them actually, hardest bloody fights of my life. Made it my life’s work, but no more, now I protect her. I’d protect her with my life.”
“Why?” Illyria moved towards Spike again until she was standing inches from his face. Still staring into his eyes, her left hand came up and began to gently touch his face as if trying to draw the truth out of him. Suddenly she blinked and stepped back. “It is human love, isn’t it? Yes, I can smell it all over you. I can see it in your eyes. It is the same look Wesley gets when he looks at this body. I do not understand it.”
“Neither do I,” Spike turned from her. She moved to follow him, but he turned before she could move forward. “This battle that is coming, we could use a warrior, uh, superior to ourselves.” He chose his words carefully, well aware of just how much they might need Illyria’s help.
“I will come if you ask.”
The first genuine smile of the night began to tug at the edges of Spike’s lips, as he turned and moved off into the shadows. “Thanks, Blue.”
“Find anything?” Buffy was on her feet as Xander and Angel entered the office.
“We found Will,” Xander replied with a weak smile, his eyes drifting to Kennedy who lay sleeping on the couch in the far corner.
“In here,” Buffy nodded towards the adjoining conference room, a finger pressed to her lips. Closing the door quietly behind her she gave a parting glance at Kennedy, “Gunn gave her something to help her relax. She needs some rest if she’s going to be involved in the fight.”
Xander and Angel nodded.
Grabbing a nearby chair she dropped heavily into it, “Ok, so what do we know?”
“We found the building where Will is being held,” Xander replied, leaning forward, his arms outstretched on the table in front of him, his hands spread wide. As he spoke, Angel handed the sheets of parchment wrapped in animal hides that they had taken from the records office to Buffy. She rolled them open carefully, her eyes running over the ancient markings.
“Wesley will want to see these,” she nodded to herself, and then rolling them up turned back to Xander.
“It’s definitely the building Buff,” Xander continued. “Angel and I checked it out. It’s a large abandoned warehouse about 20 minutes from here, pretty run down. But there’s a lot of activity there right now; quite a few vamps and humans going in and out.”
“Did you see Willow, though?” Buffy pressed, leaning towards Xander, hope shimmering in her eyes.
But Xander did not reply, his gaze dropping down to his hands, his fists rolled up into tight balls on the gleaming wooden surface of the table.
“No,” Angel replied. “No sign of her or the Avatar. But it’s definitely the place.”
“Good,” Buffy sighed rubbing at her temples, exhaustion hanging heavy on her face. “At least that’s a start. Good work guys.”
“Any news?” Wesley’s soft voice interrupted as he entered the conference room from the main doorway, Giles close on his heels.
“When did…?” Xander started, relief washing across his face at the sight of Giles.
“About a half hour ago, just after you guys left,” Buffy interrupted as she stood to face the two watchers. “Angel and Xander found the building where Willow is being held.” She handed over the parchments to Giles. Pulling on his glasses, the older watcher unrolled the sheets and spread them out across the table. Wesley joined him, the two scouring over the faded runes. “They checked the place out too,” Buffy continued. “Looks like it’s our place alright.”
“These maps are ancient,” Wes breathed, more to himself than the others. “These will be very helpful.” He glanced up at Xander and Angel with a nod.
“Have you guys found anything else,” Buffy interjected, her arms crossed as she moved to stand behind them, glancing down at the maps herself.
“Nothing yet,” Giles replied, removing his glasses and massaging at him temples. “The Coven is doing some research and Gunn was going to try the Senior Partners again. All we know is that the ritual will happen most likely around midnight tonight, so we still have several hours to prepare.” He smiled reassuringly down at Buffy, a hand resting protectively on her shoulder. “We still have plenty of time.”
She smiled back up at him before breaking out in an involuntary yawn.
Giles glanced towards the tinted windows. “The sun will be up soon. Why don’t you all try to get some rest in the mean time.” With a parting smile, he scooped up the parchments and headed for the door, whispering in hushed tones with Wesley.
“I don’t know how much rest I’ll get,” Xander yawned, rising to his feet and stretching. “But some down time sounds like a good idea.” He glanced through the large windows that separated the conference room and Angel’s office, his eyes falling on Kennedy’s slumbering form.
“There are several bedrooms on this floor,” Angel added, also rising to his feet. “You are welcome to help yourself to any you want.”
“Thanks. I think I’ll move Kennedy,” Xander yawned again. “Keep an eye on her, just incase.” He moved towards the ajoining door.
Buffy moved towards him, her hand snaking out and grabbing his wrist. He turned to face her, his hand on the doorknob. “Thanks,” she whispered, her eyes staring deeply into his. He released the doorknob, his arms wrapping around her, pulling her against him. She closed her eyes and hugged him back tightly. “She’s going to be ok, Xand,” she whispered against his hair.
“I know,” he breathed back. He pulled back so he could look her in the eyes, his hand coming up and tipping her chin so she was looking back at him. “You’ll do it. We’ll do it. We always do.” She couldn’t help but smile and leaned in again, hugging him tightly. “Get some rest,” he added, finally releasing her and opening the door. She nodded as she watched him leave in silence.
“Buffy,” the sound of Angel’s voice so close to her startled her from her thoughts and she turned to find him right beside her. “I know you’re tired but can we talk?”
“So you find, Red?” Spike’s voice startled Xander as he carefully lifted Kennedy into his arms up off the couch. He nodded back at Spike. “Where’s Buffy?” Spike mouthed, not wanting to wake Kennedy. Xander nodded towards the conference room where they could see Angel standing beside her, talking quietly.
Spike’s eyes narrowed slightly at the sight, and absentmindedly he reached into the pocket of his coat, pulling out his box of cigarettes. Xander glanced between Buffy and Angel and Spike, before shaking his head and carrying Kennedy out of the office.
Spike fumbled with the battered carton, his eyes never leaving Angel and Buffy. Quietly he moved towards the far wall, towards the windows, his fingers still struggling with the box lid.
“Bollocks!” he hissed, still unable to get the lid open, and finally throwing the carton across the room.
“I suppose that’s one way to get a light from a guy,” Faith’s coy voice danced across Angel’s office. Spike whirled from the window to find Faith standing in the middle of the room, his cigarette box in hand. Carefully she slid open the lid and pulled out two cigarettes. “Still want one?”
He shook his head, moving towards the wet bar instead and pouring himself a glass of Jack. He downed two glasses in a row before topping off a third.
“A man after my own heart,” Faith grinned, lighting her own cigarette and taking in a long drag. “One might think there’s something bothering you, Spike.”
He stared her down pointedly. “It’s nothing,” he replied, taking another swig.
Movement in the conference room next to her caught her eye and she turned watching Angel and Buffy talking. “Not the reunion you boys were hoping for?” Faith arched an eyebrow at Spike as she dropped down onto Angel’s couch. “Those two are looking might cozy.”
He let out a snort, staring down into his glass. Taking another sip he dropped down beside Faith on the couch. “Been awhile, luv. How’s the slaying?”
Faith smiled coyly again, taking in another deep drag and blowing it out at the ceiling. “You know the drill; still gives me the rush I love.”
“That I don’t doubt,” he grinned. “The old principal still sticking around?”
“Robin, hey what can I say, the boy’s got more stamina then any man I’ve met. Keeps surprising me by how creative he can be,” she arched her eyebrow again at him.
“Impressive,” Spike smiled. “Never saw you for much of a one man girl. More of an anyone’s girl.”
Faith shrugged turning back towards Buffy and Angel. “Time changes you sometimes.” She let out another curl of smoke. “Then again, sometimes it doesn’t. I thought B was your girl now.”
Spike just stared at the conference room windows. “So did I, luv. So did I.”