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Chapter 15

MEANWHILE IN ANOTHER PLACE AND TIME

Willyria watched as another version of herself ripped Warren's skin away. She remembered with delight the joy she had taken in destroying the animal who had taken away her Tara. The dark-haired God-witch felt the desire to help her counterpart. She wanted control of every dimension, and this one would fall easily if she got rid of just one person.

With a smirk, Willyria set off to destroy the only person with the power to stop the other Willow. She knew her old friend Xander Harris wouldn't be that hard to find. After all, Sunnydale wasn't that big. There weren't that many bars.

When Willyria found Xander, she gave him no warning of her intentions. She simply willed him out of existence. She was quite pleased with herself when Xander disappeared.

"That wasn't very polite. Coming into a girl's dimension and destroying one of her friends."

Willyria turned to find Dark Willow standing close to her. She gave the other woman a cool smirk. "He would have ended your revenge against a world that killed your one true love."

"Him? Not Buffy?"

"The Slayer's pathetic," Willyria sneered. "She has been fucking Spike behind your back. She's only happy when she's sneaking around with the undead. Remember when Angel came back from Hell?"

"Oh, yes!" Dark Willow nodded, her eyes flashed angrily at the memory. "She sure does like the fangy type."

"They don't deserve to exist," Willyria said in a hypnotic voice. "You need to destroy them all, even the Key. If it wasn't for her Buffy wouldn't have died and neither would have Tara." She knew her argument was illogical, but she figured Dark Willow wouldn't notice. She herself certainly wouldn't have at that time in her life.

"You're right." Dark Willow disappeared from sight.

"Oh, that was too easy," Willyria muttered with a smirk. She turned to make her way towards a portal she had made prior to Dark Willow's little visit.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BACK IN LAS VEGAS, ALMOST WISHVERSE

Angel awoke abruptly from his drunken stupor. His throat, anus and a spot behind his balls hurt with a burning unlike anything he'd felt before.

"What did I do last night?" the vampire groaned. "What was in that drink?"

The burning feeling turned to actual pain. Angel moaned as he sat up, and his hand immediately went to his head. He swung his feet over the side of the bed. When he got to his feet, his knees almost buckled when a new pain was added to the others.

Two years worth of whipping pains manifested themselves across the vampire's back.

"That damned bartender! I bet whatever's going on is his fault," Angel muttered. He hobbled towards the chair where he had abandoned his clothes the night before. The vampire dragged the garments on, wincing as they caught on his now sensitive skin.

Angel was so intent on getting down to the bar that he didn't notice that his male private parts were untouched by pain. However the agony inside his pelvis intensified with every step along with the burning in his anus.

Angel's steps faltered a few times as he struggled down the hall. Those who met him along the way had the impression that he was quite drunk. In fact, everyone he met in the corridor gave him a wide berth. As more and more pain and anguish manifested itself upon the vampire, Angel didn't notice the people in the elevator that cringed at the sight of him.

Little did Angel realize that even thought it felt like he was hung over, what he was really feeling was the continued affects of Ripper's drug. His path to redemption had been forever changed by Darla's last wish before her death. The soul given to Angel by the gypsies so many decades before hid as the demon in control tainted it more every day. Angel's outward appearance was now being affected by the taint. No longer did he bear the face of his namesake. His features were as twisted and ugly as his black and cruel heart.

Angel burst out of the elevator as a new pain was added to the others. Now there was a gnawing hunger in his guts. It felt like he hadn't fed for months. Angel looked around, wishing he could stop for a snack. However, he wanted to get to the bar first.

Once inside the hotel bar, Angel staggered to one of the stools where he collapsed with a sigh. A bartender that the vampire didn't recognize sidled up to him.

"Drink, mister?"

"Where's the guy from last night?" Angel growled through his pain.

"That would be me." The bartender grinned cheerily.

"No, it wasn't you," Angel snarled. "It was someone else. The asshole wouldn't talk to me."

"Oh, I'm sure I would have remembered a hunk like you." The bartender winked at Angel.

Angel grunted in disgust. "How about a red-headed waitress about this high?" He held out his hand to indicate height. "She seemed able to grant wishes."

The bartender shook his head. "The only red-haired waitress we have is Tilda the Hun." He pointed down the bar to a statuesque woman with monstrous breasts.

"That's not her," Angel muttered. At least he was pretty sure that wasn't the same waitress. He had been awfully drunk the night before. "What the hell is going on here?"

"I don't know, but your hunkiness is rapidly going away," the bartender said in a bright voice.

Angel let out a small scream when a sharp pain pierced his head. He fell to the floor, and he curled into a tight ball.

"Hey, mister, you okay? Should I call someone for you?" The bartender leaned over the bar to stare at the man on the floor. He gave an exasperated sigh. "Not another one. Why do these people come if they can't handle Vegas. Hey, Tilda," he shouted out to the waitress, "Better call the wagon."

Tilda the Hun looked down the bar. She nodded when she saw the man huddled on the floor. This was the fifth one this week that had broke under the strain.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Buffy made her way downstairs at a snail's pace. All day she had been feeling odd. It was almost as if all the abuses of the past few years with Angel were fading away. She knew that her counterpart Anne was out, and her only company would be Spike. When she got to the first floor, Buffy realized the house was a near replica of the one her mother lived in. She eased her way towards the kitchen.

"Come on in, pet. It's just us vampires here." Spike smirked when the vamped Slayer slipped into the room.

"Hey, um, Spike," Buffy said in a very soft voice. She felt a little nervous around the male vampire. Being a prisoner hadn't been very easy on the Slayer's soul. Although, if she was honest with herself, that wasn't the only thing that made her nervous. Buffy thought Spike was quite handsome. "Is there anything to eat?"

"Anne went out early to the butcher's to stock up." Spike made a grimace. "Pig swill is disgusting."

Buffy shrugged. "It's got to be better than whatever that scumbag fed me."

Spike let out a snort. "That's one way to describe the poofter." He went to the fridge to get Buffy something to eat. "You're doin' remarkably well, considering."

"I know." Buffy took a seat. "I should be freaking out being alone with a guy after almost two years of abuse from one." Her eyebrows scrunched together as she concentrated. "Isn't that odd?"

"A lot of things have been odd lately," Spike answered as he heated up Buffy's blood.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BACK IN VEGAS

The paramedic stared at the man strapped to the gurney. "He's dead. There's no vital signs."

"And yet he walks and talks like he's alive," the ambulance driver said back over his shoulder.

"You mean whimpering and struggling like he's alive, don't you? Where on Earth should we take him?" The paramedic cleared his throat. "I'm pretty sure Las Vegas General won't take him."

"Of course not. We should drop him off at Rockpoint Sanitarium. They'll know what to do with him."

"Not the morgue?"

The ambulance driver gave the paramedic a pointed look in the mirror. "He isn't dead enough for Grissom's crew. It's Rockpoint, I'm telling you."

The paramedic raised his hands in surrender. "You're the driver."





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