CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:
The room froze, completely focused on Tara and her stance in front of Spike, standing as a guardian between him and Angel. Tara stared at the marauding, dark vampire, almost daring him to make some kind of aggressive move. She was fully prepared to do whatever it took to protect Spike, the flames dancing around her wrist were proof of that.
Angel, for his part, was only now becoming fully cognizant of his precarious position. Here he was, well and firmly ensconced in what appeared to be hostile territory, and his one ally, the one person he thought would be his back-up was, so far, unaccounted for. Buffy hadn't made a single move, spoken a single word in his defence, and he was starting to wonder just what the hell was going on here.
Sure, he rationalised, Spike may have Buffy under his thrall, that was, after all, what had brought Angel to Sunnydale this time, but he was maybe, just slightly, surprised that his power over Spike as his grand-sire seemingly wasn't enough to shake the hold that Spike apparently had over the Slayer. Add to that his belief that he and Buffy shared such a bond, such a connection, that his mere presence should also have broken her free of whatever game it was that Spike was playing, and he found himself starting to have a really bad feeling about all this. Not to mention the fact that everyone in the room, including Joyce and Tara, were apparently perfectly willing to end him over the bleached punk was more than a little disconcerting. Just what the hell was going on here?!!
“Might I suggest, Angel, that it would be conducive to your longevity to not make any sudden moves? Slowly back away from Spike and Tara, and, if you would be so kind, explain yourself, beginning with your presence here, and concluding with your rationalisation for your unprovoked actions we just witnessed.” Giles spoke calmly, but his eyes and his hands never wavered, maintaining his aim with the crossbow that had been picked up at the first sign of conflict. Said crossbow being cocked and firmly aimed at Angel's heart.
Realisation crashed upon Angel, and so the vampire complied with the order, retreating to position himself with his back to the now non-existent training room door. He faced the room at large, pointedly trying to ignore the array of wooden weapons now being brandished by every occupant.
Buffy finally emerged into his eye-line, coming from behind him to place herself in-between her friends and the so-called 'good vampire.' When she spoke, Angel noted the lack of warmth or affection in her tone, so unlike anything that he was used to when it came to the Slayer.
“That was British for 'start talking'... … …” Silence reigned between them as Buffy tapped her foot and narrowed her eyes dangerously, her arms crossed defiantly over her chest. “Still waiting, Angel? And keep in mind, there had better be a damn good explanation for what you just did to Spike.”
Angel adjusted his stance to one of regal nobility, learned by watching others throughout his years, including the early years of Spike's un-life. It could still rankle the elder vampire that William had been of better class and status than Angel when the blubbering blond was turned by Drusilla. Better educated, better spoken, more knowledgeable about the world, despite Angel's surplus century of existence. And the ease with which William had been able to meld and blend into the upper class events that Angelus liked to attend in order to find himself some 'worthy' prey had earned the younger vampire many a beating. No matter how hard he had tried, Angel had always been discovered as someone who did not belong.
And here he was, a century later, once again finding himself on the outside of things, while William had been accepted, protected even.
Forcing the frustration from his mind as best he could, he found his voice, this time addressing Buffy directly and ignoring all the pointy wooden objects and the other occupants of the room who wielded them
“Uh, Buffy? Can we... maybe... … talk, privately?”
“PRIVATELY?! After what you just did? You come busting in here, no reason, no explanations, no nothing, you attack Spike, and you want to talk to me, privately? No, Angel! You can explain yourself right now, and you do it here, in front of everyone. And you'd better hope that it's a damn good explanation, otherwise I am so gonna kick your ass!”
And there it was again. Angel could barely believe what Buffy was saying to him. However, what it did do was simply reinforce his original assumption, one that he'd come to moments after his unexpected phone call from Xander earlier that day: Buffy was under Spike's thrall.
His demon was growling in rage that the young upstart would dare to try and take what Angel viewed as his, and Angel was placing all his demon's anger on Spike as well. The possibility that maybe Buffy had moved on with her life and maybe Angel had been replaced in Buffy's affections never crossed his mind.
Taking a breath, and keeping his distance, Angel began what he thought was gonna be a well argued and balanced answer. Unfortunately, his first sentence sealed his fate.
“Look, I only came because I care about you, Buffy, and Xander said-”
Buffy's hand went up instantly, stopping Angel in his tracks. “If you're here because of what he said, then you and I really have nothing to discuss, Angel. I don't want to know what he said, but I can promise you, it's not something that you want to be a part of, and also probably something from the un-trusty side of the tracks. I have little doubt that he's spun this to make himself seem like the good guy, and that Spike's the bad guy in this. I swear to you, that's not the case, and if that's all you have, you might as well leave now, Angel. I don't want to hear it. I've made a choice, one that I feel is a good one, but also, it's one that is mine, and mine alone. I want to be with Spike, and not you or Xander, or anyone else has a say in that. Discussion over. Done. The end.
“So, like I said, if that's why you're here, you might as well leave... … but... … before you go, I want you to apologise to Spike for what you did to him just now.”
“So that's it? Discussion over? No talking about this like adults? Just a childish tantrum and a refusal to discuss things?”
“Tantrum!! ME?! After what you just did? Physically attacking Spike with no justification whatsoever, except for what you heard from Xander?!” Buffy flung her arms out, encompassing the splintered door and Spike in one motion as she glowered harshly at Angel, and tried to keep her temper from boiling beyond her control.
Angel was taken aback by her vehemence, and couldn't help but think that things were not going well for him, and certainly not as he had thought that they would progress. He opened his mouth to begin again, however Buffy wasn't finished.
“And why should there be any discussion at all? What business is it of yours who I decide to be with, who I want to date, who I choose to sleep with? You left me, remember? Who I choose to be with is none of your business Angel, and the sooner you get over this little delusion of yours about you having some kind of right to interfere in my love-life, the better, cos gotta say, this whole 'jealous ex' thing? So not a good thing.”
“I'm not jealous, Buffy, I just don't want you to make a mistake that you'll end up regretting. Whether you choose to believe it or not, I love you, and I only have what's best for you in mind, and that's not Spike. I can promise you that. You don't know him like I do.”
Buffy let out an exasperated breath and rolled her eyes. “That's not your decision to make, Angel. I choose what's best for me, not you, and certainly not what you think is best for me. And just so we're finally clear, let me explain something to you: it took me a long time, and a lot of thinking, but I finally see Spike for who he is. You may have known him longer but that's all the past. I know who he is now, what he can be, and who he wants to be, for me. I'm gonna give him a chance to be that man, and there's nothing you can do or say that will change my mind.
“He fought for me, for my mom and Dawn. He helped me patrol, and he protected Dawn, put his life on the line, when faced with a hell god, someone whose power we've never encountered before. He did all this thinking he would never have a chance in hell of being with me, and yet he still did it. He stayed, helped, when it hurt him to be here, to see me with Riley. He stayed. That's more than you ever did. You left at the first sign of trouble, and let's not forget, that was after you killed a friend of mine, and turned into the true monster that you are.
“You want to know the real difference between you and Spike? He can control his demon, while you let yours rule you. His demon loves me just as much as Spike himself loves me, cos they're part of each other. That whole crap about you and Angelus being two separate people? So not buying it, not after spending time with Spike and seeing who he really is.”
Buffy took a breath, trying to calm herself, and delivered what she hoped would bring this whole mess to an end, something final, something definitive.
“The thing that you haven't actually understood in this scenario, Angel, is this... while you may still love me, or at least as much as you're able to, or think you can – and I won't deny that as a teenager, I would have thought it was really sweet – I've grown up since you left. I'm not the Buffy you knew, or thought you knew. She's gone. She's moved on to better things.”
She looked at him, hard and unflinching, meeting his mournful, puppy-dog eyes, which, she was proud to say, she found irritating and sad rather than mysterious and intriguing, and readied the hammer blow.
“Understand this Angel, cos I don't want to have this conversation with you ever again. I. Don't. Love. You. Anymore. It's that simple. We're over. Done. Finished. You had your chance and you blew it by walking out on me 'for my own good'.”
The last few words accompanied by some clearly sarcastic air quotes. Deciding that she needed to voice the final thought that she had locked in the back of her mind, after all, now seemed to be the time, she continued with one final statement.
“And if I'm being totally honest, which seems to be the thing to do right now, I'm not sure I ever really loved you. Not really. After feeling what I feel for Spike, I really don't know anymore. What I feel for him is so much more intense, passionate, profound than what I ever really felt for you. And it just seems to be getting... … more every day.
“I suppose we have to face it, Angel. You were a teenage crush that got out of hand, and we both let our better judgement disappear, let ourselves get carried away, and we crashed and burned, like we would have done anyway. Maybe, if I'd, or maybe if you'd, exercised some restraint, some good judgement, we never would have slept together, and things would be very different for all of us. I mean, I know it was my fault too, but as the adult, you don't think it was a little weird, you being sexually attracted to a school-girl? 'Cos, gotta say, looking back? SO not of the good!”
Angel stood, still as a statue, his face a study in disbelieving pain and misery, but she could also see the beginning of anger forming there, and knowing Angel, it was an anger that he couldn't control.
She instantly became even more alert, her Slayer instincts coming to the fore, ready, should battle need to be joined.
Movement and sound seemed to come back to her as she realised that everyone had silently been observing the tragic scene before them. Giles was doing his absolute best to look anywhere but the pair of them, all the while still trying to cover Angel with the crossbow. Needless to say, he wasn't doing too well. Turning to take in the room at large, she noticed that, while everyone seemed to still be armed, they were all trying, much the same as Giles, to not intrude on the particular situation unfolding in front of them.
Spike began moving, coming forwards, and attracting Tara's attention so as to not startle her. Spike took the white witches hands into his own, and held on as Tara extinguished the flames that had been burning there.
“Sorry, pet, but I can't let you do that. I really can't let you take on that particular burden, 'specially not for me. You have to remember, Glinda, you're the gentle one. Destroying things isn't your way, and I'll be buggered if I'm gonna let you start now, y'hear? If the big git needs dusting, I'll do it. He's my responsibility more than anybody else's here, with the exception of the Slayer, and I don't want to have to put her through that again.”
“Nothing to go through, Spike.” Buffy said quietly, while taking in his soft gaze, first at Tara, then at the sound of her voice, he turned his blue eyes onto her and she was momentarily lost in the sapphire depths.
A deep growl reverberated round the room, Angel vibrating with pent up rage, as he took in the blond duo looking at each other. Buffy had never looked at him like that. With love, passion, desire, lust, trust and understanding all mixed into one expression. It hit him then and there. Buffy loved Spike, and she loved the blonde more than she'd ever loved him.
This was unacceptable. Simply unacceptable.
His fangs descended, the growl turned into a roar, and Angel leapt towards Spike in a fit of rage the likes of which he hadn't experienced since the days of Angelus.
Spike's roar of challenge rang through the shop, once again causing everyone in the vicinity to cover their ears, just like the night of the attack on Joyce. Angel seemed to falter momentarily. He'd clearly expected Spike to fall into a defensive, maybe even submissive pose, and was surprised to see him displaying aggression of this level.
“YOU THINK YOU CAN TAKE WHAT'S MINE, BOY?! I'LL KILL YOU, YOU PRESUMPTIVE LITTLE SH-”
Spike watched as his grand-sire stopped suddenly, the dark vampire's a face a study in astonishment. Angel turned back to face Buffy, who had been behind him after his leap towards Spike, and in so doing, displayed the blunt end of a stake protruding from his back. Only the last two inches of said stake, it should be mentioned. The rest was firmly embedded in Angel's chest cavity.
“Buffy?” His voice held pain, accusation, confusion, amazement.
Buffy's however was cold, distant, and determined. She also added a small shrug of unconcern as she spoke. “I warned you, Angel. You tried to attack Spike, you pay the price.”
Aforementioned price being that, with a small puff, the monster known as Angelus, the pretender known as Angel, the leader of The Scourge Of Europe turned into a small pile of ash and dust on the Magic Box floor.
Spike looked at her with wild eyes. He couldn't believe it. Buffy had just dusted Angel. She dusted Angel. The Slayer had bloody-well dusted Angel.
“Bloody hell, pet, what'd ya do that for?! I was looking forward to kicking his ass all over the soddin' shop.”
“Well, if that's the case, I have to thank you, Buffy” Anya piped up, looking supremely unconcerned, almost bored, by the events that had transpired a moment ago. “Who knows how much damage they might have caused, and how much it might have cost to get it all repaired. It's really very disturbing how no one ever takes that into consideration.”
Buffy still kept her eyes on Spike, stepping over what remained of Angel, as she closed the distance between them. Linking her arms around his neck, she pulled him down and kissed him softly. Taking the moment in, she relaxed against him for a few seconds and then drew back, taking in his smiling, if still slightly surprised face.
Once again, a small shrug was all she offered by way of body language, but she spoke clearly enough to be understood by everyone present, “He threatened you. Simple choice.”
Kissing her forehead, Spike then pulled back and chuckled lightly. “Bloody hell, Buffy. It wasn't like he was gonna kill me or anything, he just thought he would 'ave a go is all. We haven't 'ad a proper ruck in an age, not really. I would've wiped the floor with him. The really was no need to-”
“No, Spike, you don't understand.... He threatened you. I don't care who would have won, or who's the better fighter, or any of that. He threatened you. NOBODY threatens you in front of me. EVER.”
“I'll be sure to try and remember that, and remind him if and when he comes back, but for now, can I ask you to try and rein it in a little bit.” The voice was strange; melodic, and yet, old, with a depth to it that almost rattled the air around them.
Clearly startled, everyone turned towards the sound of the voice, towards the front door of the shop, only to be confronted with a dark robe clad figure, hood raised and head bowed.
Spike growled, immediately moving to place himself between everyone in the room and the unannounced visitor. The growl continued, a low rumble, even as the stranger raised his head and regarded the vampire with glowing, white eyes.
“I know what you're thinking, William, and I would advise against it. Please, I have no quarrel with you, or anyone here, for that matter. I mean you no harm. That, I promise.”
Anya, who had maintained the air of boredom and disinterestedness at events that unfolded in front of her suddenly spoke up, a note of concern in her voice.
“Spike! Don't! That's... that's... Michael.”
“I know who he bloody well is, thanks, and I'm kinda curious. Never thought I'd ever meet one in person. Wonder what he's got. What do you think, mate, fancy a go?” Spike was smiling, all hint of aggression in his voice gone, but his stance was coiled and ready, energy harnessed for a sudden explosion of power if it was needed.
Taking a few slow steps forwards, Michael regarded Spike with amusement, but suddenly paused in his movements, his eyes glowing more brightly for a few seconds. Almost as suddenly as it had started, his eyes resumed their dull white-ish glow and he smiled more widely, a chuckle rippling through the silence. “It seems that we have some interested parties that we must disappoint, William. My apologies, but for now, I have another purpose here. Maybe, just maybe, another time? It would certainly be... interesting, and from what I know of you, a challenge, to be sure. It's been so long since I had a worthy opponent. Hmm, something for me to think on, I submit.”
Buffy chose that moment to speak up, thoroughly confused about who this person was and what was being discussed.
“OK, so, you, hood guy, wanna fill me in on what the hell is going on here, and who you are, maybe starting with what you're doing here?”
“Ah, but where are my manners? My sincere apologies, Miss Summers. Allow me to introduce myself, for my name is Michael and I am a servant of the Powers That Be.
At Anya's and Spike's raised eyebrows, he added, “Well, perhaps more than a servant, I suppose some would say. I suppose some would say that I am their word, others would say that I am their earthly embodiment, and still others would call me the Warrior of Heaven. I have to confess, as titles go, I'm most fond of the later. Myself, and another like me, are known across the world, and history, under many names. Some call us Angels, others, Archangels. Others call us Reapers or Wraiths, Spirits, Guardians and Gods. I humbly submit that none of these monikers are true, and I am simply Michael, a being who walks between this world and else, and is simply different to what you may have encountered on this Earth.
“And as for the disappointment I mentioned... it seems there is rather a lot of interest in myself and Spike having a... how shall we say... contest? Some seem to think that the outcome is rather... disputed? It would seem you have quite the reputation as a warrior, William. Even a couple of the Powers themselves were preparing to make wagers! Still, as I say, maybe another time?” Michael lowered his voice into a clearly staged whisper, still allowing everyone in the room to hear him, “A possibility we could make quite the profit, you and I.”
Spike barked out a laugh and relaxed his fighting stance. He would keep an eye on the guy, but for now, he was content that newcomer was not an immediate threat to anyone in the room.
“Now, onto the business at hand, if you will. I am here regarding the unexpected end of the one called Angelus, and sometimes falsely known as Angel. While the powers are not exactly pleased with this latest development, they do offer a proposal to try and remedy the situation.”
Buffy chose that moment to speak, her confusion clearly detectable in her tone as she asked her question. “OK, so, I may be buy-a-vowel girl here, but what do you mean by 'falsely known as Angel'? I don't get it.”
Michael smiled, a clear, easy, happy smile, obviously not adverse to answering her question, or being interrupted. “Well, what I mean is that Angel, the persona that he puts forth to the world for him to be known as is, quite simply, a lie. The soul that turns Angelus into Angel is an outside addition if you will, not something of his own. It is imposed upon him by the curse from those years ago as punishment for the deeds he committed. It is artificial and, might I add, unwanted as far as Angelus is concerned. Over the years, the control that it is able to exert over Angelus has diminished, allowing more and more of his true demonic nature to be revealed. Simply put, the persona that you perceive as Angel is an act put on by the curse to make him seem more civilised and appealing to human society. You saw yourself what happens when the curse was broken and the soul removed. Angelus's true face comes to the fore as he has little control over his demon at the best of times, being as weak-willed as he is.”
Michael availed himself of the nearest chair, having proceeded further into the shop as he spoke, and sat down at the research table, completely at ease and relaxed in his surroundings.
“Interestingly, this is where William and Liam differentiate themselves so sharply. While Liam cannot control his demon due to the weakness inherent in him from his human existence, William is more than capable of controlling, and even ignoring or over-ruling his own demonic, shall we say... impulses?” Michael finished that particular sentence with a slight grin and some mirth in his tone. However, he wasn't finished, as so continued on. “While Angel takes pride in bragging about being a unique being, the vampire with a soul, it is William that is the truly unique one. A vampire with humanity, maybe even with a glimmer of his own soul remaining, and with a heart strong enough to love, despite some rather... substantial obstacles placed in his path by others.” These words were accompanied by a rather stern glare directed towards Giles, who quickly dropped his eyes to the floor.
“Now, as I said, I am here because of Angel's rather unexpected demise, but-” Michael paused, seemingly sensing Spike's sudden and acute discomfort, or maybe anger was a better description.
“Is there a problem, William?”
Spike, who had moved with Michael back into the store growled deeply, keeping the volume low, but the rumbling sound passed through the room rather clearly. “YOU don't know me well enough to be calling me William, mate, so if I were you, I'd stop, yeah?”
The room suddenly became rather cold and still, but Michael simply inclined his head in a small nod. “Of course. I meant no offence. I do apologise, Spike.”
Giles, who until now had been keeping quiet and taking it all in, chose now to give voice to his questions. “Michael, is it? I must ask, do you mean to say that Spike is in possession of a soul? How is that possible?”
“Simply put, we do not know. We are unsure if he does have a part of his soul or not. What we do know is that, as far as we, being the Powers, can tell, Spike has an unprecedented and, previously unrecorded, capacity to love. The subject of this love, who he has chosen to bestow it upon, sits before me, in the guise of Miss Buffy Summers, the Slayer. I really should not say this, but one of the Powers, her main focus being the concerns of the heart, is really rather jealous of you, Buffy.” He added with a slight grin.
Buffy blushed, her face heating to the point that people could have warmed their hands from it on a cold morning, if such a morning were to ever occur in Sunnydale, that is. She then swelled with pride at the fact that she had something that a god, for want of a better word, desired. And then, just as the pride settled itself firmly in her mind, the insecurity born from years of disappointment reared its head and began whispering to her. This Power, this god, this being, could come and take Spike from her, and she feared there was little she could do to prevent that from occurring.
Spike, however was not impressed in the least. “You tell this bird, whoever, or whatever she is, that I'm not interested. I'm a one woman bloke, and I'm Buffy's, so she can sod off. GOT IT?”
The last word being bellowed at the ceiling and the sky beyond.
“Please,” Michael went on, raising a hand to calm Spike, “do not misunderstand me. She has no interest in intervening, or trying to take you away from Buffy. She merely stated that she was envious of the depth and scale of the love that you have for the Slayer, especially given the romantic hardships that have befallen you in your time of existence. It would be very easy, Spike, for someone to become indifferent, at best, and perhaps numb, at worst, to love, having experienced what you have. The fact that you have not is a testament to the strength of your heart, of that love, and to you, as a person. I should have also said that she is very proud of you, and sincerely wishes you and Buffy a happy life together. She deems that you deserve it.”
Buffy, whose heart had swelled a little more at Spike's vehement defence of their relationship in the face of a possible 'divine' intervention, came and sat herself on Spike's lap, his arms immediately coming around her middle to hold her tightly. Everyone else had drifted closer to the table as the conversation progressed, and were now seated, taking in the unfolding moment between the two blondes with smiles adorning their features.
“Now, to take us back to the matter at hand: My unexpected visit. I mentioned that the Powers had a proposal to try and rectify the unfortunate situation you have found yourselves in regarding Angel. This is where I come in.” Taking in the faces crowded around the table, Michael continued, “What we propose is rather simple, even if it may not be easy, if you will pardon the vagaries of language. Simply put, we wish to impress upon Angel that he has no place here in Sunnydale, that Buffy has moved on with her life and that he needs to let go of his belief that Buffy will be his again. Angel believes, rather firmly, that once he has done enough on his path of redemption, he will be rewarded by the Powers. This delusion extends to one of two possibilities he has in his mind. Either he will have his soul anchored, therefore being unable to lose it again, or that he will be made human, and you, Buffy, will welcome him back with open arms.”
A low growl rumbled through the room, but Michael decided to ignore this, and once again, continued on.“What Angel is unaware of, or perhaps, more accurately, is unwilling to entertain, is that even with his soul, Angel is still possessed of great darkness within him, due to the constant conflict between his soul and his demon. It must be understood that Angel, as a whole, as an entity, has no desire for altruistic intentions. He is simply on the path laid before him with the hope, and perhaps, the expectation, that he will be rewarded.
“It has to be said that Angel and Angelus are more alike than he would care to admit, with both of them being capable of great anger and spite, with a definite capacity for cruelty, and it should also be stated, and not forgotten, a certain fondness for more... un-savory actions when it comes to young girls. While the soul tries to temper these aspects of his personality, there is a constant struggle being waged. Unfortunately, the willingness of the Powers to give him a chance at being a force for good in the world has also given him an inflated sense of self-importance and worth. He believes he is the Powers' one and only chosen champion, rather than one of many in their service.
“What we propose is to bring him back, once again, and I shall do my best to rectify some of these issues, and make what needs to be said abundantly clear. If I am unsuccessful, which I admit is a distinct possibility, he shall be taken before the Powers, judged, and suitable chastisements will be placed upon him, which could include his permanent demise.”
Silence greeted the conclusion of his speech, and the Archangel once again took in the faces around him. All of them seemed to be closed down, unreadable. Not the reaction he'd been expecting.
“So, what say you? If you agree we shall proceed, and make attempts to... debunk Angel of some of his assumptions and delusions. If not, then I shall take my leave of you, and Angel shall be brought straight before the Powers for judgement.
More silence, for many a long moment, before it was finally broken by the voice of the person thought least to be willing to offer Angel any help whatsoever.
“I say do it, bring 'is poncey ass back, and try and set 'im straight. However much I hate the twat, and believe me I do, if he finally gets over this god delusion he has, as well as giving up on Buffy, maybe he could, for the first time, do some real good in the world, and let's face it, more help is never a bad thing, right? What? Why are you all looking at me like that?”
Joyce and Buffy, while maybe not the only people to have really grasped the enormity of that statement by Spike, were clearly the ones who were showing their emotions on the matter. Both of them had sad, but truly deep smiles on their faces, smiles which lit their eyes with deep affection, and, in Buffy's case, a love deep enough for Spike to drown in. At least that's what first came to his mind when he looked into the jade pools that beheld his own cerulean depths.
Buffy brushed a hand down his cheek and planted a soft kiss on his lips. “You just reminded me why it is that I love you, is all.”
Spike frowned slightly. “Oh?”
“Your heart.”
Spike looked down, clearly abashed, and mumbled quietly, though not quietly enough for his words to go unheard by the room's other occupants, “Not sure it still works all that well, Buffy, but for what it's worth, it's yours to have.” He reached forwards with his left hand, releasing his hold on her middle, and took her right hand, holding it softly, entwining their fingers.
Once again, Buffy leaned forwards, kissed him, and then, pulling back, used her free left hand to give him a light clip round the back of his head.
“Oi!”
“Fell asleep during Michael's speech, huh?” At his curious expression, she pressed onwards, “Heart strong enough to still love despite the pain you've suffered? A truly unique capacity among vampires for the depth of love? A love true and deep enough to inspire jealousy in a god? Stop me when any of that sounds familiar, doofus!”
Turning to regard Michael once more, Buffy chewed her lip and thought about what needed to be done. Trying her best to look at things objectively, to take emotion out of the process, she came to the conclusion fairly quickly. Buffy spoke deliberately and firmly. “Do it. Bring him here. Maybe, just maybe, with you here, he'll listen and understand that I don't love him anymore, and never will again.”
If nothing else, Buffy had to agree with Spike. The more help they had against the forces arrayed opposite them, the better. How much help would Angel have been against Glory, for example? Maybe even one day, he could save Spike's life. That thought, that scenario, was enough for Buffy.
Michael nodded and cast his eyes upwards. Upon the ceiling, above the clear area of the shop floor, a spinning mass of colour appeared, tinted with blue, purple and green, all mottled together and spinning rapidly. At its centre, a small black area appeared, and bright blue and white bolts of lightning appeared at the same time, flashing from the coloured perimeter towards the black centre.
A gate had been opened. Something was coming. Something large, judging from the roar that ripped through the swirling winds of the portal.
A horse, blindingly white in colour, almost opalescent, landed, having leapt from the portal at great speed, though no impact damage to the floor was visible, even with the resounding crash that accompanied its landing. Atop the great steed was a figure, clearly a man. Strapped to the rider's back was a white and gold quiver full of arrows, and in his hand he held a great bow, easily six feet long. Spike recognised it instantly as what he would refer to as a longbow.
The horse had barely come to a stop when another leapt through the portal, this one, also carrying a large figure of a man, was a deep red, almost the colour of blood. A large, two-handed sword adorned this rider, though he showed no struggle at all holding the weapon with a single hand.
Spike, having a theory on who the first rider was, had it confirmed by the appearance of the second, and had just managed to shove Buffy from his lap, and push everyone back, behind him, by the time the third interloper arrived.
This one, whose horse was a black the likes of which they had never seen before landed with an almighty crash, again doing no damage to the Magic Box floor, despite its impact velocity. The black of this horse was... … black. Pure, deep, empty black, as though it was trying to suck all existing light into it and leave the world dark. The rider, for his part, carried a rather odd object in addition to the massive double-headed axe strapped to his back. Said object being a simple set of scales, consisting of two flat plates, suspended on chains from a balancing point.
“Spike? What's going on? Who are these guys?” Buffy tried to make herself heard over the rushing wind of the portal and the cracks of the lightning bolts.
“Not good pet, not good at all. Stay behind me OK?”
“Uh... NO! I'm the Slayer, remember?” Buffy made to push past Spike, but he spun around, grabbed her shoulders and held tight.
“For God's sake just do as I ask for once, Slayer? I know what's coming and you don't so just do as I say, got it? It won't help for both of us to die in the opening volley if this goes wrong, now STAY!”
He roared the last word so loud it covered the entrance of the final rider. This one was different from the others, as he seemed to be without form yet solid enough to make out his shape, being dressed in a black, flowing, hooded cape or cloak, and obviously solid enough to be carrying a weapon. Said weapon being an ancient black scythe with a silver blade, the edge of which was glowing, alternating between red and white-hot. His horse was also different than the others, as it was a thin, almost skeletal, light off-white colour, but with glowing red eyes.
Just as suddenly as the horses had appeared, the portal vanished, leaving silence in the room, aside from some gentle whinnying from the horses and some claps as they stamped their hooves nervously.
Spike took a step forwards, having decided that if they were here to kill them, they would have done so by now, and also assuming that if they were all supposed to be dead, Michael could have done it himself, without all this added help, especially given who it was that he'd summoned.
Turing to said other-being, Spike spoke, almost with some amusement in his tone, trying his best to banish, or at least hide, some of the apprehension he was feeling, given the fact that Joyce and Dawn and Buffy were present . “So, where's the rest then? Still waiting on that army? Prior engagement, is it? We gonna have to wait long? Got places t' be, ya know, important stuff t' be doing.”
Michael laughed, and was just about to answer when Buffy spoke up from her position in front of everyone else, who had been backed up against the nearest bookshelf and the wall, effectively being pressed into a corner.
“Army? What army? Who are these guys, Spike?”
Spike simply looked back at Buffy, making sure he had her attention and pointed out the last rider to have appeared.
“And I looked, and I beheld a pale horse, and the name who sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him.”
Buffy's eyes bugged, and she took in a great gasping breath. Not deterred, Spike carried on, almost in a light, conversational tone, “Slayer, meet the four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, Horsemen, meet the Slayer.”
Turning back to Michael, Spike asked the question that had been burning in him since the first horse appeared in the shop. “So, Mike, what you got Poncy, Poofy, Pricky and Pissy 'ere for?”
Dead silence.
Complete. Utter. Silence.
Even the horses had stilled, all turning their heads to regard the vampire. “Spike!” Buffy's hissed word was ignored as Michael also looked at Spike, only his expression was stern and cold. Then, without warning, he laughed. Really, really laughed.
The horses were whinnying again, almost in an impression or imitation of Michael. The riders shifted in their seats, and though their faces seemed to blur and shift constantly, there were rumbles, like distant thunder, emanating from them.
Michael cleared his throat and answered Spike's question, once he'd managed to control his laughter. “I do apologise for the dramatics, but it was necessary. You see, Angel is being summoned from somewhere beyond this world, from where you would refer to as Hell. It is a void that is not crossed easily, and many would try and join him, try to gain access to this world. These four gentlemen are here as guardians against any enterprising interlopers who would try to gain access to this world when Angel is returned.” Turning to the group huddled in the corner, he beckoned them forwards with a hand gesture. “I promise, here and now, as the Powers are my witnesses, they mean you no harm whatsoever.”
They all took Michael on his word, and slowly edged their way back into the middle of the shop. All except for Dawn, who immediately made a beeline for the nearest horse, and without asking or even speaking, walked straight up to the pale, off-white horse that 'Death' was seated upon, and started stroking its flank!
“DAWN! Get away from there this instant!” came Joyce's cry above all the other shouting, and Dawn, appropriately chastised, took a few steps back towards her mother, only to be stopped by the soft sounds of hooves. Turning to look over her shoulder, she saw that the horse was following her, and as it drew back within range, it gently bumped her shoulder with its nose, and then lowered its head to her hand that was now hanging at her side. After a few nudges and snuffles, Dawn complied with stroking the horse on its nose, only to have it lean into her touch. Dawn laughed, as did the others, at the horse's clear desire for some affection, but this laughter burst into hysterics as Dawn suddenly found herself surrounded by the other three horses, who clearly wanted some attention as well!
“Uh, guys? A little help?”
Since the riders were making no effort to stop their horses, and also making no attempts to communicate, Joyce looked to Michael in question. He simply nodded and smiled, gesturing with his hand, making a sweeping motion from where Joyce stood to where the horses were, and off they went. Joyce, Tara, Willow, Buffy, Anya and Dawn were soon fawning over the horses, stroking and petting them, letting out little giggles when the horses tried to sniff around around their necks and faces, and when one, the blood red one, licked Buffy's ear and tried to start eating her hair!
Worse than this, however, was the fact that now the horses had had some attention, they seemed rather reluctant to let it go, as any attempt to stop was met with yet more snuffling and light nudges and bumps by noses against shoulders or unoccupied hands.
All the while, Giles, Spike and Michael simply watched, the former even managing a slight smile as he took in the events unfolding in front of him.
“Doesn't tell you that in the Bible, does it? The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, complete with a bloody petting zoo!” Spike grumbled good naturedly as he observed the blood red horse licking at Buffy's ear and still trying to chew on her blonde hair.
Just as the hoopla had started to die down, enough for Anya's comment about “horses crapping on the floor” to be heard, another deep rumble sounded, this one seemingly emanating from the sky above the shop.
“Ah, our guest appears to be on his way.” Michael spoke with obvious interest as the Horsemen shepherded their charges back towards the clear area of the shop, arranging themselves at the four points of a compass with a space left in its centre. Directly above this clearing, another portal appeared, this one a mix of purple and red, with the same black spot as its focal point. Yet more lightning flickered and flashed, bright red and gold, and this time striking the floor as well. Unnoticed and unseen on the floor, Angel's dust disappeared without a sound or trace of movement. Faster and faster the colours spun, and larger and larger the black hole grew until, finally, the lightning ceased and a figure fell to the floor with a distinct heavy thud.
Angelus, the demon with the angelic face, had returned.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Hi, everyone. Well, I'm back! I'm really sorry for the delay, but real life happened, unfortunately. Anyway, I offer this as my next chapter. I hope people like it, and enjoy where I'm going with this. Now, I have to take a moment to thank EVERYONE who has left me a review or a comment. I really do appreciate each and every one, and I will always reply to all of them, I promise. Up next is a massive thank you to P4S for helping me with this chapter. Without her, this would be a horrible, un-grammatical nightmare. And secondly, I have to say a massive thank you to PaganBaby for her patience, her encouragement and her beautiful banners, as well as inspiring me to write in the first place! Thank you, PB.
Lastly, I have to say, I don't own anything, just the plot-y bits. Characters are most definitely not mine, and this is done purely as entertainment. As a result, no copyright infringement is intended.
Lastly, I have to say, I don't own anything, just the plot-y bits. Characters are most definitely not mine, and this is done purely as entertainment. As a result, no copyright infringement is intended.
Chapter End Notes:
Well, there we are, guys and girls. I hope everyone enjoyed it. :-) Thanks for taking the time and giving this story a read. I hope you all take care. And once again, massive props, thanks and hugs to both P4S and PB. Without the two of them, well, I wouldn't be here, writing. Thank you both. X