Spike’s animalistic roar drew everyone’s gaze, including Angel’s, who was momentarily stunned as he charged forward. Once Spike was within striking distance, he threw a brutal left hook, landing squarely on Angel’s jaw. The force caused Angel’s head to whip violently to the right, sprays of blood escaping from his split lip. On the heels of Spike’s first punch, he threw and landed an uppercut to Angel’s chin, causing him to stagger backwards.
Snarling, Spike stalked forward following Angel, who had quickly recovered from the first two blows he received. Retaliating, Angel threw a solid punch, connecting with Spike’s face that caused him to stumble to the left, and the skin over his sculptured cheekbone split and bled.
While Spike was briefly unsteady on his feet, Angel skillfully swept Spike’s legs from under him, causing him to land heavily on the ground with a thud. Angel stalked toward Spike’s sprawled form with a murderous rage storming in his golden eyes.
Before Angel could attack once more, Spike sprang to his feet and quickly grabbed Angel by the front of his shirt. Using leverage and Angel’s forward momentum against him, Spike fell backward, and with his feet planted firmly against Angel’s chest, launched him over his body, throwing Angel to the other side of the ring. He landed in a graceless heap against the wall. Instantly, Spike righted himself and stormed toward his fallen grandsire. After several moments, he righted himself and charged Spike.
In an endless flurry of fists and fangs, each master vampire traded brutal blows, neither weakening the other nor getting the upper hand. This held true until Spike swung his fist, intending to strike Angel’s face. The moment before it landed, Angel ducked and grabbed Spike’s arm, twisting it behind his back.
In a blatant display of dominance, Angel roared and sank his fangs deep within Spike’s throat. Angel pulled two steady draws from his grandchild’s neck, before suddenly wrenching his fangs from his throat and shoving Spike away violently.
From the ground, Spike watched Angel running his tongue hungrily over his lips and fangs, attempting to catch any drops of blood that remained. Several tense, silent moments passed between them before Angel’s seething, yet baffled words filled the air.
“Buffy…how…when…?”
Spike raised his hand to his ravaged throat, gathering some blood onto his fingers. Placing them into his mouth, he slowly sucked on the bloodied digits. After Spike thoroughly cleaned his fingers, he lowered his hand and began mirroring Angel’s earlier actions. Spike’s lips raised in a knowing and boastful smile, after he’d cleared away every stray droplet.
“Sweet isn’t she, and she was all mine for the taking. And oh, how she moaned when I buried my fangs in her throat. Her hot little body wound tighter than a snare drum. She was just itchin’ to have another long white part of me penetrating her.”
Despite Spike’s blood only holding the slightest hint of the sweet ambrosia that was Buffy’s blood, Angel knew her taste anywhere. To confirm the thoughts screaming in his mind, Angel’s nostrils flared. Inhaling deeply, Angel attempted to pick up the scent that he must have missed before, of Buffy and Spike being together.
“Ah…imitating a bloodhound are we? If you want a stronger scent, take a whiff of these.” Spike raised his hand toward Angel, wiggling his fingers in the air. After a few waves, he brought them back and placed them under his own nose. Following a deep inhalation, Spike’s taunting words continued. “Bloody delicious she was. Actually, if you want the strongest scent of her, you would have to smell…” Spike’s gaze left Angel’s temporarily while his eyes motioned toward below his waist. “Guess you’ll have to take my word on it, since we’re here to fight, not for a strip show. Not that I or these bleedin’ gawkers would mind, but I don’t have the time to show off all your inadequacies—“
With an infuriated roar Angel stormed forward, resembling a charging bull. Before Angel reached him, Spike skillfully sidestepped his advance. With anger blinding him, Angel was unable to stop before crashing into the side of the ring, the sickening crunch of his bones announcing his impact.
Spike didn't allow a moment to pass for Angel to recover, before he immediately grabbed one of Angel’s legs by the ankle and dragged him to the center of the arena. Along the way, Spike had noticed and picked up a stake that lay on the floor and tucked it into the waist of his jeans.
Once they reached the center, Spike flipped his grandsire over and instantly straddled Angel’s chest. Spike, using his powerful legs, trapped Angel’s arms down by his sides, immobilizing him. Spike proceeded to land several successions of punches to Angel’s face. While Angel was trying to recover, Spike pulled the stake from the waist of his jeans and pressed it against his grandsire’s chest, directly over his unbeating heart.
The arena’s commingling sounds of cheering and yelling changed instantly into a single chant—“Kill…Kill…Kill!”
With a snarl, Spike pressed the tip of the wood further into Angel’s chest. The skin underneath gave from the force Spike placed on the weapon and welled with blood. Even though Angel could feel the stake pressing closer to his unbeating heart, he snarled hate-filled words to his grandchilde.
“Go ‘head, boy! Like father like son, I’ve always said. I killed my da when I had finally grown a pair, and now yer killin’ yers.”
Hearing Angel’s words, Spike twisted the stake pressed into Angel’s chest, growling his response,
“I’m nothin’ like you! You were a monster long before that whore drained you, Liam. With you, it was always been about the torture and playin’ those bloody mind-games. The only difference now, is with that shiny soul stuffed in you, you feel remorse for all the pain you caused. But the kicker is, you still get off on it all the same!”
“That may be, but you’ve always been and will always be second best, Willy, feasting on my leftovers. Even once ya dust me, I’ll still be everywhere. I'll never go away!”
Spike pondered Angel’s words for a moment, and with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders, he taunted,
“That may be true, but memories fade. Especially when dear ol’ Spike can replace them with much better ones! Goodbye, Liam, see you in hell!”
Spike raised the stake above his head, but before he could plunge it into Angel’s chest, the double doors that separated the holding area and the arena burst open, giving way to numerous demons spilling into the ring. The demons, sans bracelets, began to brutally kill all the guards standing in their way. Once they killed the guards, several demons scaled the wall and launched themselves at the crowd. The arena filled with the deafening screams of those attacked and those fleeing from the now unrestrained demons.
Angel, using Spike’s brief distraction from their unexpected interruption, wrenched his arms free and grabbed Spike’s wrists before he could continue lowering the stake downward.
Above the arena, Cordelia witnessed the struggle between Angel and Spike below, while Wesley warded off several demons with a gun he brandished.
“Wesley, we need to get down there and help Angel! I don’t think he’s going to be able to fight off Spike much longer!”
Looking briefly into the ring, Wesley grabbed Cordelia’s hand and pulled her through the crowd of fleeing humans and attacking demons. Safely, they made their way to the stairwell. Once they descended the stairs and reached the hallway leading toward the demon holding area, they came across Mr. Frog Demon.
“Hey, the key actually worked. I’m impressed human. Here ya go, we don’t need it anymore.” Following his words, he tossed the key to Wesley, who snatched it from the air. Following the brief exchange, Wesley and Cordelia headed toward the holding area, while Mr. Frog Demon headed up the stairs from where they just come.
The pair cautiously entered into the holding area, Wesley leading, with his gun at the ready. The area was empty as they continued toward the opened doors. Slowly walking through them but remaining on the threshold, they noticed Angel and Spike still struggling with one another in the center.
Scanning the area for any remaining demons, they noticed on the balcony two demons bringing forward a struggling Darin McNamara. Once they reached the banister, the demons easily grabbed Darin by the arms and roughly tossed him into the ring. When Darin landed on the ground, two more demons picked him up and dragged him toward another waiting demon.
Darin started begging and pleading with the demons, offering them money and untold wealth. Despite Darin’s appeals, the demons ignored him and placed a discarded metal bracelet around his wrist. Following several sadistic chuckles from the demons surrounding him, a massive blue-skinned demon forcefully grabbed Darin and easily hoisted him over his head, launching him toward the red line surrounding the ring. Once Darin passed over the line, his agonizing scream echoing through the ring was all that remained.
Without a single word, each demon left the arena, leaving the still struggling master vampires and two wide-eyed humans standing against the wall behind. Wesley trained his gun on Spike, and before he could say a word, Spike growled,
“Bloody wankers! You think I don’t know you two are back there? With your bleedin’ hearts banging around in your chests, and let’s not even mention your smell. I knew you were here before Peaches and I even started this fight!”
Even though Wesley’s hand slightly shook, his commanding words rang out.
“Spike, get off Angel immediately, or I’ll shoot you without further hesitation!”
Spike responded to Wesley’s threat with a deep baritone snicker. He then spoke, his mocking words directed toward his still struggling grandsire.
“Doesn’t your little brood bunch know that bullets don’t kill vampires or are they that bloody stupid?”
Before Angel could respond, Cordelia snapped, “Course I know that, blood breath! That’s why I have this crossbow pointed at you!”
“Oooh…busty Barbie, you’re getting pretty gutsy there. I’m getting a sense of déjà vu, aren’t you? I seem to recall another time when your brood squad was demanding things, despite my having the upper hand. ‘Cept last time, there was a Mick, not a washed up Watcher. Anyways, just to let you know, sweetheart, I’ve been only toying with your fearless leader here—“ To punctuate his words, Spike pushed the stake closer to Angel’s chest, with barely any effort. “—and I could dust him and snap Percy’s neck before you can even get the arrow to leave the bow. Even though I should know better, I’m feeling strangely reasonable at this moment. I suggest a compromise: you find a way to release me from Liz Taylor’s accessory and I’ll let Peaches go, so he can brood another day.”
Cordelia swallowed back her tears from Spike’s reference to Doyle, as Angel snarled his response, “No deal Spike! Any way this plays out, you’ll never leave this building, except in a dustpan!”
Even with Angel’s threat still hanging in the air, Spike pushed the stake further down toward his chest. Now it was only mere inches away. Cordelia, noticing this, screamed toward the battling vamps.
“Angel, don’t you dare let your pride get you dusted! Fine, fine, Spike, we’ll get that bracelet off of you. Don’t do anything rash!”
“Gah…Cordelia! Don’t you dare!” Angel growled, as the tip of the stake pressed into the previously made gaping wound in his chest.
“Shut up, Angel! We’re getting you out of here! We made a key!”
“See, Peaches, they made a key!” Spike mocked, attempting to imitate Cordelia by using a high-pitched falsetto voice, as he grinned down at his grandsire. Angel, still attempting to dislodge the stake pressed into his chest to no avail, noticed Spike’s eyes flashing with victory before he growled directions at Cordelia.
“Thought you’d see it my way. Your back to the wall, Barbie, and any sudden moves, I’m dusting Mr. tall, dark, and forehead. Then, I’ll make the two of you my celebratory dinner!”
Cordelia took the key from Wesley, before she cautiously approached Spike following his instructions exactly. Noticing Cordelia in his peripheral vision, Spike continued his instructions.
“Now, come forward slowly. Use that trusty key to unlock this blasted thing, then back away. Once you do, I’ll stop trying to shish kabob Peaches. Deal?”
“How do I know you won’t still stake him after I release you?” Cordelia asked, attempting to sound confident, but failing miserably as her voice trembled.
“You don’t, but my word is the only thing that is keeping him solid, yeah? Now, if you please.”
Cordelia looked toward Wesley, who nodded regretfully for her to listen to Spike. Following his directions once more to the letter, Cordelia approached them. Even though Spike’s gaze remained trained on Angel, she knew he was watching her, sensing her every move. Following several tentative steps, she now stood beside them. With Spike’s eyes remaining down, he nodded to Cordelia to proceed and release him. Cautiously, Cordelia reached down, placing the key to his bracelet.
Instantly, the mechanism released, and the bracelet fell to the floor. Wearing a triumphant grin, Spike eyed Cordelia silently, instructing her to back up. Without a word, she did. Once she reached the wall, Spike easily pulled his wrists out of Angel’s grasp and effortlessly rolled to the side, away from him.
Gracefully getting to his feet, Spike looked briefly toward Cordelia and Wesley, who remained motionless, before he jumped up toward the balcony. Quickly, he cleared the banister. Once over it, Spike tossed the stake over his shoulder, and with a sneer and a British two-fingered salute, he ran from the arena.
When Cordelia couldn’t hear the blond vamp anymore, she rushed forward to Angel, who remained lying on the ground. Dropping to her knees, her eyes and hands ran over Angel’s body. Quickly, she assessed his wounds, noticing a myriad of bruises and cuts littering his skin. Once her gaze reached his still vamped face, Cordelia tried to look into his eyes, which to her concern, remained closed. Fearing that even the lightest touch would be painful, Cordelia whispered his name.
“Angel?”
Following several beats of no response, Angel opened his eyes as his demon slid away. Slowly turning his head toward her, Angel said but one word.
“Buffy.”
Cordelia’s eyes widened, before she looked toward the approaching Wesley.
“Wesley, he’s really bad off, he thinks I’m Buffy. We don’t even have the same coloring, and let’s face it, I have far more in the boob department and—“
Rolling his eyes, Angel tried to sit up, wincing during his attempt.
“No, Cordelia, I know you’re not Buffy. I have to find her. I have to—“ Angel tried to lift his body from the floor. After a few failed attempts, Angel fell back, his upper body landing none too gently on the floor behind him.
“Angel!” Cordelia’s panicked tone quickened Wesley’s pace. In an instant he was kneeling, flanking Angel on the opposite side from Cordelia. Each looked for an uninjured area of Angel’s body as they helped their friend from the floor. After a few moments, they assisted Angel into a seated position. Cringing, Angel looked at Wesley.
“Wesley, we need to find Buffy.”
“Angel, we will, but first we need to get you out of here. You haven’t eaten in days, and after some substance and needed rest, we will find her.” As he spoke, Wesley tried to keep his gaze trained on Angel and ignoring Cordelia, whose eyes widened from the notion of “finding Buffy.”
“No, Wesley, you don’t understand. We need to find her now!” Despite how damaged his body was, Angel quickly pulled up from his position on the floor and hobbled toward the open doors.
Wesley and Cordelia looked at one another briefly, before following him. Even with his injuries, he remained several feet ahead of them as he crossed through the previous demon holding area, and through another doorway located on the other side of the room.
Stopping briefly, when the hallway split off into two directions, Angel raised his nose in the air. After single, deep inhalation, he headed off to the right. When Cordelia and Wesley reached him, he was pounding both fists on a metal door, causing his injured hands to again bleed, leaving bloody patterns on the metal in his wake.
“Angel! What are you doing? Please, stop!” Cordelia screamed while Angel continued hammering away at the door. Despite the strength behind each blow, his blood left the only marks of his efforts.
Angel ignored Cordelia’s shrill pleas, while Wesley looked around before locating for the object of his search. Rifling through a dead guard’s pockets, Wesley located and pulled out a key-card and cautiously approached the Angel’s right side, who continued his unrelenting blows.
Angel stopped his pounding once the soft click of the keypad changing from red to green announced the door’s unlocking as it slowly slid open. Once it opened enough for him to pass, Angel rushed into the room. Instantly, he noticed Buffy standing in the middle of the room, unchecked tears streaming down her reddened cheeks.
***** *****
Prior to Angel arriving
From the moment Spike left, Buffy endlessly paced. The guilt and resentment toward herself for her treatment of Spike echoed in her mind and fueled her initial fast-paced movements. Endless time seemed to pass before her set jaw relaxed and her quick gait started to slow. Soon the passion flowing through her from these emotions lessened and was replaced by more crippling, heart-wrenching emotions of remorse and fear.
Long before the door slid open, Buffy had collapsed on her bed while overpowering sobs wracked her tiny frame. Hearing the door, Buffy rushed to the line awaiting the man who’d brought forth this flood of emotions.
**** ****
Present time
“Spike?”
Despite the tears still falling, Buffy’s voice was light and hopeful. In an instant, her face changed from eager to crestfallen as her eyes rested on the dark-haired, bloodied, and bruised vampire that stood on Spike’s side of the room.
“Angel? What are you doing here? What happened to you? Where’s Spike?” Buffy’s questions came fast and furious, and it took several moments for Angel to comprehend all of them. Despite how adamant her voice sounded, Angel didn’t answer her questions, but asked a few instead.
“Buffy, how long have you been here? Were you trapped in this room with Spike all this time?”
Knowing that Angel wouldn’t answer her questions, unless she answered his first, Buffy inhaled deeply then spoke,
“I don’t know exactly, a week, two. I don’t know. And yeah, I was in here with Spike.”
The growls sounding from Angel’s throat caused Buffy to look downward and tug on Spike’s tee shirt that barely covered her upper thighs. Following several uncomfortable moments, Buffy shook her head pushing past the guilt that came following Angel’s possessive growl, and looked up at her ex.
“Angel, where is Spike?” Regardless of the tears staining her cheeks, her disheveled appearance and her barely-there clothing, Buffy’s voice took on an authoritative tone that demanded attention.
While Buffy’s word hung in the air, Cordelia and Wesley entered the room. Their eyes raced between the two warriors, even though all the while Buffy and Angel’s gazes remained fixed on one another.
Angel began to hobble forward, attempting to comfort his battered love. Before he reached the line separating the room, Cordelia called out to stop him.
“Angel, don’t! You’ll turn into instant dust if you pass that line with your bracelet still on. Hold on a minute.”
Angel’s eyes remained locked with Buffy’s, as he raised his banded arm to Cordelia, who unlocked the bracelet quickly. Before the bracelet hit the floor, Angel was standing before Buffy, his hands in fists by his sides as Spike’s overpowering scent wafted off Buffy’s form.
“Buffy, you don’t have to worry anymore. It's all over.”
“Spike?” Buffy held her breath, hoping what she feared wasn’t true.
“Spike’s gone, Buffy. He won’t bother you anymore.”
The moment Angel’s words penetrated through her silent prayers, Buffy crumbled. Her mind screamed in pain, as the legs that barely held her upright, buckled. Angel quickly caught her before she fell to the floor. Scooping her up in his arms, Angel continued to ignore Spike’s scent that intermingled with hers.
Feeling utterly defeated and hopeless, Buffy slowly laid her head on Angel’s chest, while her tears resumed falling.
Angel looked down at Buffy and suppressed another growl that rose in his throat when he noticed how much thinner she was, the dozens of bruises in different stages of healing scattered over her arms and legs, and especially, the dual fang marks on her neck, which without confirmation he knew were Spike’s. Even though Angel wanted to offer her words to soothe and comfort her from all the unspeakable things this place and Spike had done to her, he chose to keep silent.
Cordelia cautiously approached the pair and gently picked up Buffy’s limp arm to release her from her bracelet. Once done, Cordelia placed Buffy’s arm back on her lap and stepped back to let Angel pass with the distant, injured Slayer.
Silently, the group exited the room. Angel gently carried Buffy through the hallways, Wesley and Cordelia following closely behind. After ten minutes of walking, they finally reached the exit. Trying not to harm her any further, Angel pulled Buffy closer as they stepped out into the night.
The chilly night air encased the group, causing Buffy to shiver in Angel’s arms. Despite these tiny movements and her shallow breathing, Buffy remained virtually motionless. Only her continued tears, saturating Angel's ripped and bloodied shirt, showed she was conscious.
Without a word, Wesley nodded to Angel and Cordelia before he left to bring Angel’s car around.
With unease etching her features, Cordelia looked at the battered woman with guilt and questions she wanted to ask, but didn’t. Did her brushing off all of Giles’ phone calls cause Buffy to remain in that awful place longer? If they hadn’t found Angel when they had, were those sickos planning to pit him against her?
As Cordelia’s mind continued to race, Wesley arrived with the car. He had put up the top on the convertible, so Buffy would be protected from the cool night air. Cordelia pushed back the front seat, allowing Angel room as he skillfully, still holding Buffy in his arms, slid into the back seat. Once everyone was situated, Wesley slowly pulled out of the parking lot, heading toward Angel Investigations.
With everyone preoccupied with getting Angel and Buffy back to safety, no one noticed a pair of golden eyes glistening in the distance, intently watching the scene playing out before him.
[Reviews - 167]
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story |
Chapter or Story | 
Chapter or Story
Has been viewed 1655 times
- Text Size +
-
Table of Contents [Report This]
Chapter or Story |
Chapter or Story | Chapter or Story - Text Size +
Author's Chapter Notes:
*Waves* Hello all! First, I would like to thank all those still following this story, I really appreciate it. Without the readers, this story would be just words on a screen. Next, I would like to thank all those that voted for me at the SunnyD awards. Without all your support, becoming the Runner up for Best Episode Re-Write would've never had been possible. So...BIG THANKS! Now, on to the chapter. To be honest, this chapter was a bitch to write. This was not due to not knowing what to write. It was more so due to wanting to convey so much and needing it to flow perfectly. Well, I hope I don't disappoint. And last but NOT least, I would like to take this opportunity to give my heartfelt thanks to my betas: Sanityfair and Diebirchen. You ladies are the best!
Chapter End Notes:
Well, whatcha think? Good, bad, otherwise? Please let me know your thoughts. I know I've been a bad putty when it comes to responding to all of your reviews, but I do appreciate ALL of them. I would like to take this opportunity to thank all those that voted at the SunnyD awards for Slip of the Tongue, which was the Runner up for Best Comedy(since this is a completed fic, I needed to thank you guys here). Also, shameless plug, take a peek at my WIP Helluva Day. *Big Thanks!*