Chapter Seventeen
Angel
Angel groaned and rolled over on the ground. He put his hand to his head and felt sticky blood on the back of it. He licked it from his fingers, features changing to his vampiric ones as he did. They faded back as he tried to sit up. A wave of nausea hit him, and he lay down again for a moment, waiting for it to pass. He glanced around, bewildered as to how he came to be out of his comfortable bed. He tried to sit up again and this time managed to do it.
“What the hell happened?” he muttered as he struggled to stand.
Once upright, he had to set his feet wide apart to balance as he swayed a little. He cracked his neck and took a better look at where he was. He realised that he was about half a mile from the manor house where he’d been sleeping. He sniffed the air and was pleased to learn that dawn was still some way off. So he set off to walk home as he wondered what magics had been involved and for what reason. He rubbed the back of his head. He’d taken quite a bang and perhaps that was why every thing seemed to smell a bit odd - either that or the left over residue of the magics.
He hoped that Buffy was okay. They weren’t seeing each other that day as she wanted to spend some quality time with Dawn, who was visiting for a week. He smiled as he thought of Dawn. Buffy was so proud of her and so was he. Amazingly, for a girl brought up on the Hellmouth, she’d managed to live a fairly normal life these past few years. Mind you, going to a university in New York probably helped. Buffy had despaired of her for a time after they’d lost their mom, but the kid had more than made up for it since.
Angel was lost in his thoughts and it wasn’t until he was about to open the door to the manor that he realised that something was most definitely wrong.
“What the hell…?”
He stared at his home. It was wrecked. It had always been pretty dilapidated but now it was little more than a ruin. Most of the roof was missing and the door was now just a few planks of wood nailed to the frame.
“Drusilla!”
He ripped the wood off and ran through the rooms, almost tripping over the debris. He skidded to a halt at the room that contained Dru. Or rather, he skidded to a halt where the room containing Dru should have been. This part of the house was in even worse shape. He sniffed the air to see if she was buried beneath the rubble.
He spun around, eyes darting everywhere. He couldn’t understand it. There was no trace of Dru’s scent. Or even of his.
“Buffy!”
If magics as powerful as this had been used against him, there was no way that Buffy wouldn’t be at risk too. Their relationship was well known. They’d been together since she was just sixteen; ten of the best years of his existence. He’d come to help the newest Slayer to defend the Hellmouth from the likes of his own kind, and they had fallen in love. He’d left for a time to rescue Drusilla from Europe after the death of his grandchilde, Spike. In the six months that he was away, Buffy had discovered a problem with the gypsy curse that had returned his soul. A moment’s pure happiness would banish it once more. Fortunately, she was contacted by a descendent of the gypsies, and by the time that he’d returned, a counter spell had been devised, anchoring his soul to him forever. He’d always be grateful to Jenny Calendar for defying her elders to give him the solution that enabled him to be with Buffy. She was convinced that the good he could do was worth the wrath of her uncle.
He ran across the town at a steady lope. Buffy’s house was in darkness as he approached it, which was not surprising considering how late it was. He went to the back door and dug the key out from his pocket. They had never moved in with each other - Dru being the problem. Buffy understandably refused to have her in the house, and Angel couldn’t abandon her to her own devices. Not for the first time did he silently curse the fact that Spike had been killed. His devotion to Drusilla was unswerving, and he would have looked after her forever. He put the key in the lock and pushed the door inwards. It wouldn’t budge. He kicked at it in frustration. The door flew open but his foot felt like it had hit a solid wall. He tried to go in. Again, the invisible barrier prevented him from doing so.
“No way,” he muttered. He couldn’t believe that Buffy would do a dis-invite spell on the house that he considered home. Something decidedly weird was going on.
“Buffy!” he yelled. “Dawn!”
He walked to the kitchen window and banged on the glass.
“Buffy!”
His features vamped out, and he hit the window hard enough to crack the glass. Where the hell were they? He went to the open door and inhaled deeply. Buffy’s scent was there but it was faint. He was getting really worried now. He glared at the door, trying to decide what to do. He heard the wailing of a police siren. He froze as he heard it getting closer. Snarling in frustration, he ran out of the back yard and hid a few doors away to watch.
The patrol car pulled into the driveway of Buffy’s house. Two officers got cautiously out of the car. They had their hands on their holstered guns, ready to draw them if necessary. Flashlights showing the way, the officers walked around to the back yard and into Angel’s view.
“It was the back door that was breached,” said the taller of the two.
“Doesn’t look like whoever it was is still here though,” replied the second, walking boldly towards the door.
“Jesus, Reece, take it easy. No point in being careless.”
Reece grinned back at his partner. “It’s only a freaking alarm call. You need to relax a bit.”
“Yeah, well, maybe the reason I’m only two years off retirement and have never been shot or stabbed is because I don’t relax on the job.”
“Okay, Ted, point taken,” admitted Reece. “Well, they’re right about the back door.” He pointed his flashlight at it. “But look, there’s a key in it. It hasn’t been forced.”
“That’s odd,” replied Ted.
The two officers stepped cautiously across the threshold that had denied Angel access. Angel heard them calling out and going through the rooms, checking for the possibility of an intruder. His mind was reeling. Alarm? Since when does Buffy have the house alarmed? It’s all a bit pointless when you’re dealing with demonic invaders, not humans.
He waited until the police had left, cursing as they took his key with them. He didn’t know what to do. He had to get under cover soon, otherwise he’d be dust. Angel decided to return to the manor and try to find a bolt hole there. He was sure the cellar would still be intact. His head still hurt and he needed some blood. Hopefully whatever had damaged the manor wouldn’t have damaged his stash of blood. The huge old fashioned refrigerator was pretty sturdy, and its place beneath the staircase should have offered it some protection.
Angel made his way back to the manor. He scrabbled over rubble to get to the staircase. By the time he got there, he wasn’t surprised to find no sign of the refrigerator. He didn’t know what had happened, but it most definitely wasn’t anything good. His head was aching from the concussion, and he decided to rest and hope he could find Buffy when the sun went down once more. The magics still swirling around the ruins of the manor took hold of him as he lay there and his sleep deepened. He wouldn’t awaken for several days.
tbc
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Banner by dawnofmeAuthor's Chapter Notes:
Thanks as ever to Carol and dawnofme for their beta work :)
Chapter End Notes:
Thanks for all the reviews so far - please take a moment to review again! My plot bunnies are hungry little things and reviews fill their tummies! LOL!