The Last Day
Drusilla was bellowing.
Well, nothing new there.
“Good God,” Darla sneered proudly as she crossed the room to join Angelus on the settee, rolling her eyes. “I could’ve sworn we asked Lindsey to make a muzzle for her. Did we not, my dearest?”
There was a long, disinterested pause before he glanced up. “I can’t imagine why you’re surprised,” he retorted. “Asking Lindsey for anything nowadays seems to be too much for your favorite playtoy, the consequence of property notwithstanding. He slips up again, I guess we’re just gonna have to kill him.”
She snickered favorably. “That’s your solution to everything.”
“Works, doesn’t it? And I can’t think of why you would complain unless your name is suddenly synonymous with kettle.”
“Oh, lighten up. You’re just pissy because Lindsey grew a pair.”
“No. That I’d respect.” Angelus bounded to his feet the next instant, eyes blazing. “What makes me pissy, sweetheart, is the fact that we’re sitting back and letting them call the shots. I can’t remember when being evil became so goddamn technical.”
“He threatened to call the Senior Partners, didn’t he?”
“Subhuman lawyers. Sounds a bit redundant to me.”
Darla grinned, unable to keep the strands of inherent cynicism from touching her voice. “No, lover. Just means that there’s something else out there that you’d fail to kill.”
He rolled his eyes. “And we’re on this again.”
“I don’t see why it’s necessary to keep her. I never have, but I thought it better to entertain you. After all, you always were rather inventive with torture. But God, Angelus, she’s boring, and she’s used up the last of her batteries. She’s served all the purpose she possibly could.” She glowered at him. “Better to kill her and have it over with. At least it’ll keep us from dying of boredom for another half hour.”
The vampire shook his head. “You don’t get it. You never get it. You think it was bad for you, having that squirming, nasty little what’s-her-name locked inside you. Keeping you from being who you really are? You don’t know the half of it, honey. You were never in love with one of them.”
The blonde’s eyes narrowed and she planted her hands on her hips, demonstratively unimpressed. “I don’t see what this has to do with not killing her now.”
“I’m not finished with her, yet.”
“Honey, you get any more finished, and there’s not gonna be anything left.”
There was a snicker. “Don’t tell me you feel sorry for her.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Torture the bitch, see what I care. But she’s growing on my nerves.”
“By hanging there?”
“By distracting you.” Darla shook her head in disgust. “Same time different network. It doesn’t matter whose skin you’re wearing, does it? Little mousy Buffy still gets to you. Still manages to crawl through your insides and manipulate your better senses, assuming you have any left.”
Angelus glared at her. “What I do to her is between me and…well, me. I’m owed that fucking much after being subjected to such reeking humanity. All that do-gooder work, and I gotta take it out on someone. Besides, sweetheart, it’s fun. And it’s my business.”
“You kill her, and you can stop worrying about Spike.”
“I’m not worried about Spike. You think I don’t see what he’s doing?”
“I think that your head has been up your ass too long to see anything at all.” Darla cocked her head. “Maybe the big bad Angelus has gone soft over the years.”
“Soft?” he reiterated disbelievingly. “Because I won’t kill her? She’s begging for death. With every little whimper, little moan, little scream that crosses her lips, she submits further and further into what she knows is inescapable. To kill her now would be humane.”
“So, what, you’re just gonna let her live forever?”
His brows perked. “It’s not like she’s going anywhere anytime soon.”
“Well, no, she’s not. At least not at the rate you’re going. Who knows, Angelus? Maybe the Slayer will even outlive you.”
The moans from the neighboring room were becoming louder and more difficult to ignore, despite any degree of experience the vampires had with such regard. Darla paused heavily before the granted break into another series of criticisms with a dramatic roll of her eyes. “This entire deal has gone to hell,” she decided. “And not when it was supposed to. Wasn’t the entire reason we allowed Spike to join our fun was the assumption that he would keep your lunatic whore preoccupied?”
“Mmm…” Angelus murmured. “If one was looking for evidence, they’d search no further. Of course, I never searched. I just killed them. That boy has done nothing but rub me the wrong way since we let him back in.”
Darla’s eyes narrowed. “He’s still in love with her.”
“With Buffy? Well, yeah, Princess. Welcome to the conversation. He’s never stopped being in love with her, which would be really funny if it didn’t piss me off.” The dark one shook his head, emanating waves of dissatisfaction. “You’d think after a hundred plus years, he’d’ve learned something. Namely that it takes more than a few parlor tricks to make me look the other way.”
“Of course, Sweetpea,” she replied, curling into his side. “It takes the entire parlor.”
“It amazes me that he’s survived this long. Just goes to show what blind luck will do for you.”
“Just kill him,” Darla snickered. “Hell, we’d be doing the world a favor. And as you know, favors are not my strong suit.”
“No. You’re a greedy little consumer.” Angelus cocked his head thoughtfully. “And no. I’m not going to kill Spike. Not yet, anyway. He’s no danger to us. There’s no way he can get her out. Right now, he’s serving a cause. An annoying cause, but it is rather funny to watch.”
“What is it with you and not killing all of a sudden?”
“Darla,” he berated softly. “How could you forget after so many years? I’m wounded. Really. It stings.” He placed a hand over his nonbeating heart as if to testify to the claim, but earned little more than an arched brow in turn. “It’s not the kill. It’s never the kill. The kill is just the reward for the maze you take to get there. Keeping them alive inspires hope. And you know how funny hope can be.”
Finally, he managed to get her to smile. A truly malevolent smile that reeked of the purest intent—no regard of cynicism or incredulous undertones. That was the smile of a believer, and for many, it was the last thing they saw. “Oh yes,” she chided. “Tragically so.”
That could have been it, and likely would have been had Drusilla’s bellowing not extended the confines of her room. The next minute, the raven haired vampire burst into the private chamber of her Daddy and reborn grandmum, eyes wide and hands clutching reverently at her head.
“Oh look, sweetie,” Darla drawled sardonically. “We have a visitor.”
“Now, now,” he warned. “Play nice.”
A smirk crossed her face. “Never.”
Angelus entertained her with a mildly amused glance before returning his attention to his wailing childe. “Dru, honey?” he asked very slowly. “What is it?”
“Colors,” she moaned pitifully. “So much color.”
Darla flopped onto the bed, rolling her eyes. “Don’t tell me she’s been watching The Wizard of Oz again.”
The remark went untended. The younger vampire was shivering slightly, sinking to her knees to rock herself back and forth without reticence. “He’s swimming, Daddy. Swimming. But he won’t take his lollipop. He won’t even give it a good lick for us. All he thinks of is her.” Her hands went to her head. “Ohhhh…he’s angry. My boy. Naughty. So deliciously wicked. Vile. Shhh. Don’t tell or he won’t get any crumpets. It’s a secret, you see. A dark, dark secret.”
In his centuries of experience, Drusilla was perhaps the only being in creation that had ever merited more than a second of patience from Angelus. It wasn’t always so, of course. Often he became too irritated with her ambiguity and gave up, but more over he was fascinated. Always fascinated. The prospect of second sight had always served to pique his interest, and having a constant reminder of his own monstrosity in his midst most assuredly promoted the instance of fortitude where she was concerned. “It’s Spike,” he said, though there was never any doubt. “What’s happened? What do you see?”
“He’s coming,” she replied. “He and that filthy beast. He’s coming for her.” Her eyes fixed on the blonde that reclined luxuriously on the bed. “The other comes for grandmum. Wants to rip her heart out, he does.”
That earned an arched brow. “Someone’s coming for me?” Darla inquired.
“Dirty little demon hunter. Smells of daffodils. Oh, he is not happy with you.”
“Demon hunter?” There was a considerate pause before a long smile drew sadistically across her lips. “Could it be? Oh, this is delightful!” Whatever it was, it was enough to prompt her to her feet. She ignored the blank looks she was receiving, continuing merrily in her enthusiasm. When she reached for her lover’s arm with a devious wink, however, any lapse of hesitation vacated him. There was something so raw about Darla’s countenance when she fixed herself in these moods that was just…delicious. “Angelus,” she said. “There’s a friend I’d like you to meet. May I have the pleasure of introducing you two when he arrives?”
A cool brow arched, despite his curiosity. “A friend?”
She shrugged. “Friends, bitter enemies. Is there a difference?”
“Who is it?”
“Zachary Wright. Little trifling man who’s been hunting me since before you saw fit to kill me for your precious Slayer.” She grinned. “Do you remember the maid in Italy? The woman with her little whelp of a child? She thought she was going to be persecuted for having a baby out of wedlock.”
A slow, frighteningly malevolent smile crossed his lips. “Ah, yes,” he drawled sensually. “I nailed her to a wall and hung the bastard child by her entrails, if memory serves. The little girl was a treat. A little feisty, but a good fight always makes them tastier.”
“Mmmm…it was perfect,” Darla cooed. “Anyway, I did the same thing to dear Zack’s wife.”
“Did you, now?”
“Oh. Very much so. He angered me.”
“A crime to be sure. How so?”
“He refused the dark gift.” Darla shrugged, her eyes gleaming. “He would’ve been perfect, too. He had such raw potential. But he wouldn’t leave that female of his. That…human. So I had her taken care of, hoping he’d come around. He didn’t.”
Angelus tsked and shook his head. “Ain’t it always the way? Lemme guess…he pulled some foolhardy stunt and declared his undying vengeance.”
“Well, I wasn’t actually there for the declaring part, but I know he chased me as far as California. He and his little brat daughter. He might’ve even been in Sunnydale when you…stuck it to me.” A seductive grin crossed her face. “I tell you, he was a nasty bastard. Vengeance changes people. He was brutal. Killing demons as he went along. I was never there, of course, but oh, I heard. He would’ve made such a delightful addition to the family.” Her eyes narrowed as she appraised her favorite childe considerately. “Of course, you could never stand the competition.”
He grinned at her shamelessly. “Only where you’re concerned, baby.”
“He’s coming for you now,” Drusilla told her, rising to her feet slowly. “Coming for you alongside my William. They’re angry little wasps. Oh!” She held up a hand, was still a long minute, then fell into a desolate pout. “Humph. Bad dog.”
“What is it?” Angelus demanded.
“There’s someone coming,” she replied. “Someone who is not my dearest. Someone who seeks to disrupt our happy home. Mmmm…what a great big hammer he has. He’s going to break the Slayer free. Oh, Daddy, don’t let him break the Slayer free! Don’t let him—”
“Someone’s coming to free her?” The thought was ridiculous; the power was something he alone controlled. No one had access to her bindings besides him. Unless…
“Lindsey.”
Darla blinked, confused. “What about Lindsey?”
There was a distasteful snicker. “Your boy’s Christian conscience must be getting the better of him. Only he has the resources, or the motivation, to look into alternative means to get Buffy out. To help Spike get her out. He’s been acting way too…”
“Suspicious?”
“No. Oh no. He’s too clever to act suspicious when there’s reason to be so.” Angelus shook his heavily. “Guess this means I’ll have to kill him.”
The blonde vampire shrugged. “Guess so.”
“But first, to some untended business. As disastrously funny as Spike’s unrequited love might be…” He scowled deeply. “I’m going to make sure there’s nothing for him to find.”
“You’re gonna do it? Kill her?”
A chuckle sounded through his throat. “You make it sound so casual. ‘Kill’ doesn’t even begin to describe what I’m going to do to her. I’m going to make her bleed so much that he feels it through distance. I’m going to make sure he screams for her well before he finds whatever’s left.”
Darla frowned. “What prompted this change of heart? By all means, I don’t want to discourage you, but it does seem rather…sudden.”
“Arrogant presumption will do that to you. The boy forgets who he’s dealing with.” There was a dangerous flicker behind his eyes. “He needs a reminder. And I’m going to give it to him. Loud and clear.”
It was morning in Los Angeles.
Early morning.
“Ugh,” Cordelia groaned as she descended the stairs, rubbing her head as though to wan away an unladylike hangover. “I didn’t even know a 5AM existed. How is this possible?”
“You’re thinking about the 5AM at night,” Wright explained, guiding her to a sofa to ease her comfort. “It’s a difficult transition, I know. Had to make it myself before I started with the demon hunting gig.”
She smiled sleepily with an unsuccessful attempt to muffle a yawn. “Well, you gotta hand it to those visions,” she commended. “They sure are…timely. When did Spike say he was coming by?”
“He didn’t specify. Only that it’d be morning and early. Who knows? For a vampire, that might be three o’clock in the afternoon.”
A scowl befell her face. “Oh, it better not be. I didn’t just not go back to bed for no reason.” She yawned again, collapsing wearily against the sofa. “You think Nikki minded going with the guys to hunt out that Oeuf demon? Is that how you say it?”
He smiled. “No. Oeuf is French for egg. What you saw was definitely not an egg.”
“You know French?”
“I know oeuf, only because of something my cousin told me once. ‘Why do the French only have one egg for breakfast?’” He didn’t even bother to wait for her guess. “‘Because one is an oeuf.’” There was a long pause; her eyes narrowed at him skeptically until he fidgeted his discomfort under her scrutiny. “Anyway, what you saw was a Uvryri.”
“How did I mix that up with oeuf?”
Wright shrugged, an adoring grin on his face that he could do nothing about. “Because you’re Cordelia,” he answered simply, a small smile gracing his lips. For all the blood that spoiled his hands—demon or not—he looked every bit of angelic that moment. It stirred something within her that she did not want to consider, but knew was inevitable, any way she turned. “You’re special like that.”
Special. She was special to him.
Well, obviously. They were, for all accounts, strangers, and yet they had shared so much. And she wasn’t merely considering bodily fluids, though after her ill fated one-nighter the year before, that was a big deal. Cordelia had never given much thought to a serious relationship. Laughably, the only one she had had and maintained for any lengthy duration was with Xander Harris. She was Queen C; there was no doubt about that. But she was drastically undereducated in relationships. Serious relationships. She hadn’t had a boyfriend since high school, and while torrid, her time with Xander could hardly qualify as serious.
The feelings she was having for Zachary Wright, however, were serious. Very serious. And they had been there from the beginning. From harmless admiration at his physique to equally harmless flirting. Somehow it had become serious. And here she was. Here they were. Feeling all these…feelings. These feelings that went way beyond the physical.
And naturally, being an agent for the Powers That Be, said feelings were very off in their timing.
A very still beat grew between them; their eyes found each other with the same sort of understanding. Bad timing. Healing scars. Things that would never be right even if this turned out well. He was still mourning his wife, but he cared for her. She saw how deeply he cared for her, and it blew her away. Even her parents hadn’t looked at her with that much regard. Wes and Gunn loved her, Angel too—when he wasn’t evil—but there was something completely different in this. In this…being.
He felt it, too. They looked at each other and understood.
“Cordy,” he murmured, barely aware he was speaking until his mouth was well on the way to finding hers.
The entry doors swung open and they pulled away simultaneously, eyes wide.
“Mornin’ all,” Spike greeted, strolling inward. “I come bearin’ doughnuts.”
Cordelia and Zack looked at each other for a second longer, and away on the same. “Ohhh, what kind?” the brunette asked, leaning over the back of the couch.
The vampire flashed a grin. “What else, luv, but Krispy Kreme? I might be evil, but I’d conquer the fires of Hell before darin’ another brand after these li’l delights.” As if to demonstrate, he indulged in a hearty bite and rolled his eyes back dramatically. “Mmm, mmm. I tell you, ‘s an’ orgy in my mouth.”
Cordelia snickered and pulled a syrupy sample out for herself.
Wright arched a brow. “Can vamps taste?”
“Contrary to popular belief, damn straight. Everythin’ enhances when you become a vampire, mate, even your sense of taste.” He took another bite, eyes twinkling. There was definitely something about his air this morning that made whatever the oncoming hours had in store seem superfluous in context. He knew they were getting Buffy back. He knew he was rescuing the woman he loved. And on that note, he turned to the brunette in full anticipation of her question. “Angel never eats because ‘e’s a wanker who believes that humanly food is off limits. Believe me, back in the day, ‘e’d sample a li’l bit of everythin’. Only grew to be a such a bloody bad sport about it when he got himself all souled up.”
The demon hunter snorted appreciatively, managing to wheedle one of the doughnuts from Cordelia’s grasp. He smiled at her. She was like any woman with her sugar; deny she wants it, but hog it till the cows come home when at her disposal. He was blatantly amazed that there were still chocolate-laced delights waiting for an owner to claim them.
His eyes drifted back to the vampire. “You seem to be in a freakishly cheery mood this morning.”
Spike bounced a little on his heels. “What can I say, mate? ‘m wired an’ ready to go.”
Cordelia’s gaze narrowed suspiciously. “How much coffee have you had?”
“A pot when I woke up, a pot after I showered, an’ I’m pretty sure I downed another between gettin’ you ungrateful sods breakfast an’ managin’ to get here without burstin’ into flames.”
“Thanks,” they singsonged automatically.
The brunette was shaking her head. “I don’t suppose it’d do any good to tell you that that much coffee isn’t—”
“Good for me?” Spike quirked a brow of interest. “Luv, I live predominately on a liquid diet. ‘F I was gonna start remarkin’ on all the things that would be unhealthy for an average man, I’d look to the smokin’ first off.”
“Ah, but it is much easier to separate a man from his caffeine than from his nicotine.”
Wright looked at her as though she were insane. “Wanna bet?”
She wisely decided to ignore him. It was the most civil thing to do. “So,” she said instead to Spike, slapping his hand as he tried to snatch the last chocolate doughnut before she could stake her claim. “What’s the game plan?”
He scowled at her but continued anyway, supporting his weight against the back of a chair and crossing his arms. “I called Lindsey back last night,” he said. “After you two lovebirds scampered off. Everythin’ is set. All we gotta do is show up.” He turned strategically to Wright, as the bulk of this had nothing directly to do with the Seer. It was professional consideration on both their parts. “’E’ll meet us before we get into the dangerous rot. Then ‘s jus’ a matter of how quick you can pull all your fancy James Bond moves. Lindsey activates the backup, I get Buffy down, an’ we skeddadle.”
A long beat settled through the lobby.
“I don’t mean to put a damper on anything,” Cordelia said slowly. “But…the simple plans always have a catch. A dangerous catch.”
“I know.” There was no want of deception in his tone; he knew exactly what he was doing, what he was risking. But he was determined. He was brutally determined. “This is our best bet…her best bet. We’ve waited too long for anythin’ else. An’ I’m not gonna let another day go by without doin’…somethin’ other than what ‘ve been doin’.” His face crumpled pitifully; he did not weep, and for whatever reason, that shook her more than tears would have. As though he was beyond the pain of regular suffering. Lord knows he had suffered enough for the both of them. “I have to get her out, luv. I jus’…I have to.”
Cordelia pursed her lips sympathetically, covering his sugarcoated hand with her own. The false warmth there was moving in a sense she had never thought possible. For all the good in him, Angel had never been warm. He had never been anything but what he was.
“It’s all right,” she murmured. “By tonight, she’ll be snuggling with you. And by tomorrow, Zack and I’ll make you pay for making fun of us when we were…well, for being us.”
One part of an us. She liked that.
Wright smiled at her though his eyes remained on the vampire. The man had suffered such drastic change over a short amount of time, but she didn’t believe it bothered him. Not where it counted. “Listen to her, man,” he encouraged. “She’s a smart cookie, and a Seer to top all. We’ll get her out.”
Such acceptance. Such complacency. It was no wonder that it couldn’t last.
“No, you won’t.”
The intrusion of the voice was so sudden that everyone jumped, immediately on awares. It didn’t take long to deduce that they were still alone in the lobby—rather, the demon hunter was instinctively drawn to the overlook from the second floor, where Rosie stood with her small hands grasping the rails. She was as white as a sheet and more frightened than he had seen her since infancy. The sight of her brought everyone to a perfected, nearly horrified standstill.
“Sweetie,” her father said cautiously. “Rosalie, what is it?”
But she wasn’t looking at him; her small, eerily knowledgeable eyes were centered on Spike. What she had to say was for him alone.
“They know.” A whisper across eternity. Distantly, there was a shatter and a gasp—as though the world was cracking with such a simple revelation. Something foretold from the beginning.
The child looked at him, heavy and bothered, and he knew she spoke the truth. There was no doubt, no second-guessing. There were no lies; only knowledge.
“She is going to die.”
To be continued in Chapter Thirty-Two: Lasciatemi Moiré…