Out of Time
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Author: Dark Star Rating: Soft Adult.
He tipped the glass and
downed the last of his whiskey. He placed the glass back on the bar, just as
the hair on the back of his neck began to prickle. He tensed. Somebody was
coming up behind him. "Angel?" An unfamiliar woman's voice
made him turn slowly. She had a confidence well beyond her young age, and he
could feel the power in her lithe body. "Slayer?" She grinned at him.
"Got it in one, big guy." His heart sank. He really
wasn't in the mood for this. Couldn't he even have a drink in peace? "Do you mind waiting,
while I have another…" "Buffy needs
you," the Slayer broke in, and his protest trailed off. She laughed.
"Giles said that would stop you in your tracks." "Giles sent you?"
He knew his response was lame, but his brain had seized up with, Buffy
needs you. "Yeah." Her
expression was sober. "Buffy's been taken." "Where is she?" "That's… something
Giles should tell you." "Why do you need me?
Giles has got a dozen slayers to help him." She nodded. "True. But
this… is something we can't do." That sounded intriguing. He
followed her from the bar to where her car was parked down the street. The journey across the city
took half an hour, and the Slayer, who went by the name of Jackie, filled him
in on what had been happening. Jackie took him to Hyde
Park, where she told him they would be meeting the others. Giles had
eventually settled in London with the remaining Slayers. A contact had
inherited the deeds to a property that had been owned by the Council of
Watchers, and given it to Giles to help him with his self-imposed job of
mentoring the new Slayers. But over time, some of the girls had lost their
power. Others were weaker than they had been, and Giles felt it was only a
matter of time before it happened to the other girls as well. When Faith had
died - and Angel remembered grimly the pain he'd felt when he'd originally
heard that news - no new slayers had been called. Buffy, in spite of
her pleasure in no longer being the lone Chosen One was rapidly becoming the
Slayer once again Jackie took him to a secluded
area surrounded by trees, and Angel wondered idly if this was all a ruse,
whether this was all some kind of ambush for him. He could feel the power of
the other Slayers, and his muscles tensed in readiness; but then, Giles
appeared from somewhere behind the girls to meet him. Without waiting for any
kind of greeting, Angel said, "Where is she?" Giles motioned him to
follow, and led him back through the trees. Angel wasn't sure what he had
expected to see, but whatever it had been wasn't… nothing. There was
nothing to be seen except more trees, and he frowned in confusion. No… that
wasn't quite right. There was something here, in between the trees,
and he turned back to Giles. "A barrier?" "Yes. We know Buffy is
behind it, but we can't get in." That was all he needed to
know. Buffy was there, she could be in serious trouble, and he would
find a way in. He'd taken two steps forward before Giles stopped him. "Angel! Wait." He waited. Giles opened his
hand, and only then did Angel notice he was holding an apple. Why was
he holding an apple? Couldn't he wait five minutes to eat his lunch? Curious,
he watched Giles roll the apple across the ground and into the barrier. The
apple rolled between the trees, shimmered, changing as it moved. It wrinkled,
went brown, soft and powdery, and finally, it disappeared completely. "We're not sure what
it is." Giles was saying. "It could be a mystical or time barrier,
it might be a portal. We don't even know if there is another side. Nothing
we've sent in has made it all the way through. We have no idea what would
happen to a human body during the journey through, or if it could pass
through at all. A couple of the Slayers have offered, but I can't ask my
girls to risk that." "But you can ask
me." It wasn't a question. "I can't even
guarantee that you will survive, Angel." "Do you think she is
still alive?" Angel asked softly. "I do. The barrier
went up after she passed by, and I believe something is trying to keep us
out. I don't know why, but whatever took her didn't just want her dead."
"Well. We can't just
leave her there. I have to try, Giles." "I know." Angel
took several steps toward the barrier. He stopped at the very brink, and
Giles said, "Bring her back, Angel." He squared his shoulders
and prepared himself. "I will," he declared, and stepped into the
barrier. † He stumbled, disorientated
and trembling, reaching the other side of the barrier. The first step inside
had been excruciating; he had forced his legs to take another step, and
another; he had to grit his teeth and picture Buffy in his mind's eye to keep
going. He would not let her down. The forth step was almost painless, and the
steps after that became easier and easier. He assumed the first part had been
the security element. He had no way of being sure, but he knew, somehow, that
he had emerged into a different dimension. His mind, confused by the barrier,
now focused on why he was here. He had to find her. He pulled himself up from
his kneeling position and stood up. He was in some kind of hallway, and there
were doors leading off on both sides. He turned back to the barrier, and he
could feel that it was still there, but on the other side the trees had
vanished and the hallway continued on behind it. He was reminded of the
timeflux he experienced when he and the gang went to see Giselle. Great. He set off down the
hallway, peering into all the doorways as he passed. Most of the rooms were
empty; some had beings in chains or various stages of torment. He itched to
help them, but he wasn't here for them. He could think of only one person,
and until he found her - everything else would have to wait. He lost count of how many
floors he had searched, how many people he'd seen in distress in the
building. Only twice had he hidden inside the rooms because somebody else was
using the hallways. He was beginning to despair of finding her in the maze of
the building, when… his skin started to tingle. Like the feeling he'd got off
Jackie earlier, but much stronger. It had a special element all of its own,
and only one person ever made him feel like that. He sprinted down the
hallway, using his instinct to guide him. He hesitated outside the
door to her room. What would he find? Had they tortured or raped her like
some of the others that he'd seen? Perhaps… he shook his head to clear the
horrible images that confronted him. He pushed open the door and stepped
inside. The room was nicer than
some of the others. Soft furnishings, comfortable furniture. She was lying
fully clothed on top of the bed, not bound in any way, and yet - absolutely
still. He frowned; something wasn't quite right. He moved forward carefully,
expecting some kind of booby trap. But there was nothing; he reached the bed
and looked down. Her eyes were open but completely blank. "Buffy?" She continued to stare
straight ahead, unblinking, and still totally immobile. What had they done to
her? She was alive, and he could
hear her pulse speeding up. She knew he was there, but was unable to respond
to him. Was she drugged? He hesitated, fighting his instinct to take her in
his arms. Instead, he stepped back and let his gaze sweep down over her body.
He could see nothing wrong. Except, on her left ankle was a gold chain that
he had never seen her wear before. He bent down for a closer look, but still
without touching her. The anklet had tiny symbols
carved into the gold, and he waved his hand over it. He could almost feel the
energy in it. Damn. She was the booby trap. Some instinct warned him it
would be dangerous to touch her. Somewhere, there must be a way to get her
out; a key of some sort. "I'm sorry," he
said sadly, "I hate to leave you like this. But I swear I'll get you out
of here." Her heart rate jumped, and
he wished he could comfort her. He hated seeing her so still; he didn't want
to leave her, but he had to find a way to get the anklet off without hurting
her. He backed slowly away from
her, and then turned and entered the hallway again. He searched all of the
hallways and adjoining rooms, looking for some kind of office, or control
area, but he grew more and more frustrated at not being able to find a way to
help. Eventually, he began to
realise that the whole place was protected by the timeflux - or whatever it
was. He felt like a rat in a trap. The only thing he could think of doing was
to return to Buffy. As he approached her door, he noticed a second scent in
there with her. She had company. He stopped outside her room
and listened. Somebody was talking to her, very quietly, but even his ears
couldn't pick out what was being said. He slipped silently inside the room.
The subdued lighting left shadowy edges to the room and it was easy for him
to blend into the background. Buffy's visitor was
standing at the side of her bed, and standing looking down at her. He was
slightly stooped, as though of a great age, and the loose lines of his
garments made his apparel look like robes. "Another four taken
today, Buffy. What do you think of that?" He cackled at his joke,
knowing that she was unable to respond to him. "I'm arranging to have
that alteration to your chain I told you about." The man's voice had
taken on a lower pitch, and Angel's back tensed with the man's leering tone.
"Then we'll have some fun, Slayer. You'll still be completely frozen,
but I'll be able to touch you any way I choose to, and I'm really looking
forward to giving you a… urk!" Angel's arm tightened
around the old man's throat. He had no intention of letting him finish that
sentence. The man squawked, and Angel
released his hold just a touch. "Are you going to behave?" The frightened man nodded
and Angel let go of his throat and shifted the hold to his chest. "Who are you?"
the man whispered, not being able to see his adversary. "My name's Angel.
What's yours?" "Rig," the old
man rasped. "I wondered how long it would take you to get here." Angel tightened his grip on
the man's chest. "You were expecting me?" The old man chuckled, an
attempt to make it sound as though he wasn't scared witless. The vampire
wasn't fooled. "The Slayers' mate? I'm surprised it took you so
long." "Well, how about you
getting her out of here before I snap your neck?" The old man pulled a small
stick from his pocket. The stick, no bigger than the palm of a man's hand had
the same markings along the shaft that had adorned the chain on Buffy's
ankle. Angel growled, and was
rewarded with the unmistakable scent of fear. "I'm watching you. If
anything happens to her… you die." Rig nodded, too afraid to
speak. Angel released him and watched as he passed the tiny stick over the
chain. A blue spark passed between them, and the chain fell from her ankle.
Buffy's fingers twitched. "She'll be all right
in a moment." Rig assured him. "What do you want with
her?" "It's nothing
personal," Rig said. "It's what I do." "Kidnap women?" "But she's not any
woman, is she? She's the Slayer. A warrior." He gave Angel a very smug
smile. "I'm paid very handsomely to remove warriors from their
cause." A chill crawled down
Angel's spine. "You sent an assassin after me." Rig looked uncomfortable.
"The Mohra, yes. It wasn't very effective, was it?" The memory of the Mohra
brought up the memory of his perfect day, and he hurriedly pushed that back
into the archive of his brain. "Why go to all this
trouble with Buffy?" he snapped, making Rig jump. "Why didn't you
just kill her when you had the chance?" "Because I am
the Slayer," the familiar voice said, and he glanced back at her. She
was sitting up on the edge of the bed, looking a bit weak but otherwise
healthy. "Are you okay?" "I've been
better," she said, but her smile melted his heart. "If he had just
killed me, another Slayer would have been called. But storing me here - in a
dimension where the time travels differently - I don't die, and no new
warrior gets called. Possibly for a century or more." "What would have
happened if I had tried to get the chain off myself?" "It would have
imploded and taken us both with it." Rig was edging backwards,
when suddenly he turned and sprinted for the door. Well, he would have
sprinted if he hadn't been so old, but Angel caught up with him easily.
During the brief struggle, Rig tried to pull something that looked like a gun
out of his pocket, and Angel, who'd had a really bad day, broke his neck with
one swift movement. Rig and weapon dropped to the floor, and Angel ignored
both of them to go to the woman on the bed. He knelt down, and she let
her head drop onto his shoulder. Angel took her in his arms; she must have
felt so scared. The one thing that had always frightened her was becoming a
victim. To be so helpless, and so much at the mercy of a maniac, must have
terrified her. When she pulled away, he
asked, "Can you walk?" "I think so." She
tried to stand up, but sat down again rapidly, and said apologetically,
"Give me a minute, okay?" Angel sat down on the bed
next to her, taking her hand without even thinking about it. "Do you
know who all the prisoners in the building are?" "Warriors, Angel. All
of them. Without all the warriors and champions in the world, demons get to
be top of the chain." "Because nobody is
strong enough to stop them." "Yes. Time travels
differently in this dimension. I don't know how much time has passed back
home - but if it's years, then it probably isn't a very nice place to
be." "We've got to find a
way back," he told her. "While you are getting your strength back,
I want to go and release some of the other prisoners. Will you be all
right?" "Peachy." She
smiled, looking more like her old self. "You go. Do what you have to -
I'll be fine." Angel raised her hand and
kissed it. "I'll be back soon. If you need me - call." "I will," she
replied, her mind distracted by the touch of his lips on her skin. And then
he was gone, and she was alone again. Angel started with some of
the prisoners closest to Buffy's room, and told them what was happening. And
they, being warriors, wanted to find out for themselves. So they set to the
task of releasing more prisoners. Some of those went off to find a way out,
some to help the other prisoners, and some to look for the inevitable guards.
The hallways, that had looked so empty earlier, now teemed with activity. When Angel returned to
Buffy's room she met him at the doorway. She looked a little unsteady, an
after-effect of being immobile for so long, but she didn't want him to help
her. In the background, they could hear sounds that could only mean fighting,
and then there was a cheer. With every step she took,
she grew stronger. When they reached the point where the hallway turned, the
whole area seemed to shimmer, and they held still. The never-ending hallways
faded away, leaving a normal looking building in its wake. "What's going
on?" Buffy asked a passing ex-prisoner. "Brewster's turned off
the Simatek ." "Simatek ?" asked
Angel. "Brewster?" said
Buffy. The informant grinned at
them. "Brewster's one of those that were freed. He says the Simatek
gives a false frontage to shield something. It's a bit like a glamour, but
scientific, not mystical." The infectious smile was back, and he held
out his hand. "The name's Phil, by the way. And I never thanked you for
releasing us." Angel took the man's
proffered hand. "You're welcome. I'm Angel." "Buffy, "she said
eagerly, not wanting to be left out and Phil shook her hand too. "Do you
know how to get out of here?" Phil sobered. "You'll
need to see Brewster. Come on, I'll show you." Brewster turned out to a
very large man with snow-white hair, his left arm in a sling and wearing a
wild expression. He was scurrying up and down the bank of sophisticated
computers, apparently knowing what he was doing. He grunted when he saw
them. "If you want to go home, you'll have to wait. I've got a backlog of
warriors all wanting…" "Brewster," Phil
broke in gently, "Angel is the one who came and freed us." Brewster's expression
changed instantly to one of apology. "I'm sorry, I had no idea…" "Looks like you've got
your work cut out." Angel commented, watching the large man feeding in
codes, organising helpers, and reading printouts. "Do you understand all
this?" Buffy asked. "Mostly."
Brewster replied. "It's a little more recent than I'm used to, but I'm
figuring it out as I go. My main concern is not overloading the system. There
are over a hundred people here who insist on getting back to fight the good
fight. If I try and send too many through, the whole bank will collapse and
likely take weeks to sort out. I seem to be the only one who knows anything about
this. We need to allow it to build up power again, and that will take about
three hours before I can send anyone else through. I'll make you two a
priority." "Thank you. Is there
anything we can do to help?" "Phil's trying to
organise the headstrong bastards into something that resembles order, and he
could really use some help." And help is what the young
man received, in the form of one very large and formidable vampire, and one
very small and bossy blonde woman. Many of the assembled group were awed that
they had a real slayer in their midst, and order was achieved rapidly. An inventory was made of
everyone who had been freed, what skills they had that could be used to help;
who needed to return home quickest or could go in groups, who was too ill to
return just yet, and a priority list was drawn up. Everyone was given a job
to do, from security personnel, to science assistance to helping Brewster
with the Simatek technology, right through to organising food, supplies and
sleeping arrangements for those who had to wait before they could return
home. By the time the Simatek was
ready to send them through, Phil was in charge of an organized and useful
group. An archway in the adjoining
lab turned out to be the entrance to the portal. Brewster assured them that
the security element in the barrier that had caused Angel so much trouble had
now been nullified. "How can we be sure to
arrive together?" Angel asked. "Don't we need to be enclosed by
iron on four sides?" At Buffy's enquiring gaze, he explained that he'd
had to do that once. Brewster shook his head. "No, no. This technology
is more sophisticated than that. As long as all those who wish to arrive
together leave during the same power surge, it will work." Together, they stood beside
the archway, and waited for Brewster to turn the power on. A faint whine
filled the air, and the space under the archway crackled and then cleared,
but there was no other sign that the portal was active. Conscious of the need
not to waste the Simatek's power source, they stepped through the arch as
soon as Brewster told them it was ready. They emerged out of the
portal into an alley behind some shops. Slightly disorientated, Angel blinked
- he had expected to return to the point that he had left from. "Where are we?"
Buffy asked as they made the short walk down the alley. "I'm not sure,"
Angel replied. "It's not Hyde Park, but I think it's still London."
Rubbish was strewn
alongside the walls, poked out of soggy cardboard boxes and rattled over the
concrete when accidentally touched. They emerged from the alley, and began to
walk along the deserted street. Angel felt certain that he had been there
before, but it was hard to tell. The streets were all empty, lights muted or
absent, and he was reminded of how things had been during the blackout. The
people were in hiding. A faded underground sign
came into view, and the location of the place immediately became obvious. "We're in
Knightsbridge," he said firmly. "Are you sure?" "Yeah. Harrods is just
down there. I know exactly where we are." Buffy grinned.
"Harrods? Never figured you for a shopper, Angel." "I wasn't, but…"
he hesitated, wondering whether to tell her the truth. "….Darla was. She
loved the place." Buffy scowled. "Lucky
for them they had what she wanted." "Oh, they
didn't." One hundred years ago, and he remembered the incident so
clearly. "She was so pissed off she burnt the place to the ground."
Buffy started to respond,
when the sound of an engine reverberated down the silent street. She and
Angel ducked into a darkened shop doorway to see what was coming. A motorcycle, whose mounted
rider was clearly a demon, sped past them and disappeared from view. "What's going
on?" Buffy exclaimed. "As far as I'm aware, demons don't roam
freely around the streets of London, and the streets are busy and less…
derelict. What's happening?" "Without the world's
champions to stop it, demons have taken control. I don't know how widespread
this is…" "Well." Buffy's
eyes were alight with anticipation. "The champions are back. I think
it's about time we took control again, don't you?" "I do." Angel's
expression was thoughtful. "But we need to know exactly what's been
going on. I think there is somewhere we have to go first." In order to get to where they
wanted to go, required a fairly hazardous journey across town. They decided
against hijacking a demon motorist and stealing his transport, and they
decided against using the underground system. Although it might have been a
quicker route, they reasoned that it was probably crawling with demons of all
kinds, and opted instead to travel above ground on foot. At Piccadilly they ran into
a gang of four leather adorned demons who fancied themselves as tough guys.
Two minutes later, all four had been dealt with and left dead on the ground.
The whole area around Shaftesbury, Regent Street and the Strand was swarming
with demons, forcing them to make a wide detour down by Victoria Embankment.
It didn't even occur to them to backtrack and maybe try Park Lane as an
easier route. These two didn't do easy. And it was there, down by
the Thames, that they ran into real trouble. The first part of the road
was quiet, and the walk along the Embankment could have been called pleasant,
if it wasn't for the lack of light and traffic in the area, making it feel
surreal. And then the place was filled with noise; a gang of demon
motorbikers appeared in front of them. They had heard them coming, but there
was nowhere to take cover where they were, and although they hurried up in
order to get off the street, the bikers saw them, and screeched to a halt
with loud whoops and screeches. "I hope you feel up to
this," Angel said under his breath. "Don't worry about
me," she shot back. "I'll be fine." The leader of the pack -
and the snuffly howls some of his compatriots were making made that
particularly appropriate - approached them with a swagger. Buffy stepped
forward to stand next to Angel, in what she hoped looked a confident pose. "What have we
here?" He barked at them. His ears wiggled, and his long snout dripped
saliva. "Euw," said
Buffy. "You got a hanky there, Angel?" "I wouldn't waste it
on the underdog," he shot back. The dog-demon paused
uncertainly. He was used to humans screaming and being frightened, and he
wasn't certain how to handle this. He tried again. "I'm
going to give you a head start, " he barked. "Think you can get
away? Huh? Do you feel lucky?" Buffy rolled her eyes.
"Oh, pulease! Now you think you're Clint Eastwood?" To the demon's surprise she
stepped forward. She'd had enough of this silliness. "Tell you what,
Clyde, why don't you be a good doggie and let us pass?" "Clyde?" he
repeated, totally confused. "Clyde." She said
again. And then, in her best authoritarian voice, she commanded,
"Sit!" The demon didn't move, but
it was beginning to filter through his small brain that she was making fun of
him. Buffy glanced at Angel and said, "Well, it was worth a try…"
she never finished that sentence because that was when the leader charged at
them. Then there were demons
everywhere. Buffy and Angel managed to manoeuvre themselves so that they
stood back to back, protecting each other. They hadn't fought together in
years, but they had always worked well together, and now, it was as though
nothing had changed. Together, they were strong. Their movements were strong
and fluid, dropping dog demons at every turn. But there were too many, and
they were being worn down by the sheer weight of numbers. Close by, they could
hear a car, or a van, screech to a halt and the door slam open. Buffy's heart sank, and she
fought harder. There were already too many to beat, and more… But then, newcomers arrived
on the pavement. Humans, armed with weapons, joined the melee, and a few of
the remaining dog-demons fled in fear. Four young men stood over
the mass of demon bodies in the street. One of them came over and nodded to
the pile of bodies surrounding them. "You did well,"
he said, his voice tinged with awe. But before Buffy and Angel could respond,
the sound of more motorcycles filled the air, and their rescuer said,
"Unless you want another round with them - do you want a lift out of
here?" That sounded like a great
idea, and Buffy and Angel scrambled into the back of the van. The van pulled up at what
looked like a deserted garage, and went inside. People were waiting for them
to hide any evidence that the van had been there at all. "Our place is close
by. Do you want refreshments? A place to crash?" That sounded even better,
and they followed him through a couple of side streets and down some steps. A young girl, apparently on
sentry duty, saw them coming and welcomed the newcomers in, and the three
people that they hadn't spoken to passed them by and went on ahead. The leader of the humans
led them through some disused offices. "The name's Jack, by the
way." "Nice to meet you,
Jack. Thanks for the help back there." He grinned at her, and she
continued, "My name's Buffy. And this…" She caught Angel's eye,
who, oddly, was shaking his head, so she improvised, "…Jason." Jack shook both their
hands, and when he turned away, Angel mouthed, "Jason?" Buffy shrugged. "The
first name I thought of." Jack led them down to where
the others had congregated. Food and sandwiches were offered, and Buffy
realised that she was starving. When had she last eaten? The coffee and sandwiches
were most welcome; Angel accepted a mug of tea, and carried it off with him
when he offered to help unload a lorry that had just pulled in. After they left, Buffy ate
her sandwiches in awkward silence, not certain what to say to the young man
with her. "Um…" she
started, wondering what on earth to talk about. "Where are we,
exactly?" "Abandoned warehouse
down by the Angel," he told her. Okaaay… "The Angel?
Why is it called that?" Jack shrugged, handing her
some more sandwiches and wondering where on earth such a tiny woman was
putting them all. "Nobody knows. Some people think that there used to be
a pub here called the Angel, but some believe that an Angel helped somebody
down here. A miracle, maybe." He grinned at her bemused
expression, and decided to change the subject. "Where are you trying to
get to?" "Highgate." Buffy
replied. That seemed to satisfy
Jack. "Makes sense," he agreed. "Highgate is still a safe
area. Many of our people hole up there." "The demons haven't
tried to take it over?" Jack laughed. "Oh,
they've tried. But there's a feisty old guy up there that seems to be able to
keep them at bay. Don't know how he manages to keep it so organised up there,
but we get most of our supplies and information from him." "Well," Buffy
said reluctantly. "When we've had a bit of a break, we'd better be
going. We want to be there by morning." "Look…" Jack was
saying. "You both look beat to me. Why don't you stay here for tonight,
and go up in the morning?" "Uh… thanks. But…
Angel's got this thing about travelling under cover of dark. Stealth, and all
that." "I understand. But
we've got a lorry going back to Highgate first thing - it'll still be dark.
If you try to get there by foot, you'll have one heck of a job; this time of
night, the route is crawling with demons. In the morning, they usually leave
us be. There are more patrols about then." "Well…" she
hesitated, but the idea had appeal. "Thank you. I… we would
appreciate the lift, if its no trouble for you?" Jack grinned. "No
problem at all. I'll speak to the guys and they'll arrange it for you." After Angel returned, a
small room was found for them, and a couple of sleeping bags thrown in. Buffy
found it curious that Jack's group had not asked them anything about where
they had come from, or why they had no provisions of their own. "It probably doesn't
really matter to them," Angel suggested. "When you're faced with
day-to-day survival, its probably best if you don't dwell too much on the
past." "I guess," Buffy
replied, distracted because she was eyeing up the two sleeping bags and
wondering whether to put them next to each other or not. As if reading her mind,
Angel said, "They know we're a couple. It will look strange if you
don't." Her mind in a whirl, she
placed the two bags together in the corner. Angel had said, They know
we're a couple. Had he meant it? Now that the world had changed… would he
stay with her? "Are you okay?"
his soft voice broke into her muddled thoughts, and she felt just like a
child with her hand caught in the cookie jar. "Yeah," she
replied, pretending to busy herself with straightening the bags out, and
desperately wanting to change the subject, she accused, "That was you
this place was named after, wasn't it?" She was gratified to see
that he now looked embarrassed, and she asked, "What did you
do?" "I just happened to be
in the right place," he said modestly, coming forward to sit down on the
bags next to her. "I helped somebody." She was getting the
impression he didn't want to talk about it, and for a moment, she considered
pressing him on it. In the end, she gave him a rueful smile. "It's what
we do, isn't it?" He smiled back, and her heart
skipped a beat. She had forgotten how much his face could change when he
smiled - maybe it was because he didn't do it nearly often enough. "You should
rest," he was saying. "We don't know what tomorrow will hold."
He was disconcerted that her expression fell. "What is it?" "Angel…. When you
found me, I'd been held still for so long, and… you don't know what that does
to your mind. Supposing… none of this is real? Supposing I wake up to find
that I'm back there again?" She swallowed and looked down, her voice
coming out in a whisper. "I was so scared. He could have done anything
he wanted to me and I couldn't have stopped him. It was only that the anklet
held a security element that he didn't. He was going to get a modification
that would allow him to do those things to me, and the things he said…."
Angel sat up, brought his
hand to her face. "That part is over now. Rig is dead. This is real,
Buffy. I'm real." Her eyes held real fear as
she whispered, "But how do I know that?" she blinked her eyes, trying
to focus on him. "You don't understand, Angel. You don't know what it
was like…" "But I do," he
replied, his eyes locking on hers intensely. "I was held a prisoner in a
box at the bottom of the ocean for three months. I do understand, Buffy. I
understand the fear, and the loneliness, and the utter despair of ever
getting out." He had her attention now, and he continued, "But
you're free. You're here with me, and it's all real." His fingers traced the side
of her face. "This is real," he said again. "My hand is real.
Feel the touch of it on your skin and tell me it's not real." Her heart was thundering.
Was he real? Or was he only here because she had dreamt of him so much? His
fingers were now running down her neck, and tracing his scar with a touch so
delicate, it made her shudder. And suddenly it didn't matter. If this wasn't
real, if he was going to disappear when she woke up, she wanted whatever
support he could give her tonight. She leant forward slowly, touching
her lips against his, and expecting him to pull away. But he stayed still,
except that the hand on her neck slipped back behind her head to slide his
fingers through her hair, and only then did he respond to her. She was dreaming. She knew
she was dreaming; everything she had always wanted all in one package, and
suddenly, she didn't care. She needed him; needed to feel his mouth on her
skin, needed to touch and be touched by him. She moved to straddle his hips,
and already his hands were peeling her sweater off and she raised her arms to
help him. His hands were on her back, and her skin tingled where he had been
but he wasn't touching her where she needed him to, so she unfastened her own
bra and threw it down on top of the sweater. Taking his cue from her,
Angel's hands moulded round her breasts, feeling the weight and texture of
them, and enjoying her moans of pleasure as he explored the softness of her
skin, and the arching of her back as her body begged for more. Her skin felt like silk,
and wanted to touch every part of her, but he was afraid of moving too fast,
and he was content to let her take it as far as she needed to. Buffy leant forward,
fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, yanking the material open so that she
could run her hands over the hard contours of his chest; Bending further, she
let her mouth follow where her hands had been, but she wanted more, and all
the time her lips caressed his skin, her hands were impatiently working to
unfasten his belt, his jeans, and get them out of her way. Angel was doing
the same with the rest of her clothes, and with a tangle of arms and legs
they came together, skin on skin, bodies joined at every place that was
possible to connect with. Afterwards, she collapsed
on top of him… and slept. The first thing she felt
when she awoke was Angel's naked chest against her face. She pushed up to
rest on one elbow. He was asleep, and he looked… happy. Something twisted
inside her. Oh god… what had she done? She was off the sleeping bag in an
instant, pulling on her clothes as quickly as she could. "What's up?" his
voice, slurred from sleep, sounded confused. "Nothing," she
snapped, already turning to get out. Too slow, he was off the ground to grab
hold of her arm and turn her round. She was very conscious of the fact that
he was standing in front of her, stark naked. "Talk to me." "We can't, can we?
Angel… the curse…" He let her go, a frown
creasing his face. "Last night was wonderful, Buffy. But it isn't going
to give me perfect happiness." When she looked hurt, he rushed to
explain. "It isn't just sex that is the problem. The danger comes when
everything is right, and I finally feel at peace. And I'm sorry, but as much
as I long to make love to you… doing it in a grubby warehouse doesn't count
as perfect." "Oh," she said,
sounding disappointed. Then she gave a slow grin, and she deliberately let
her gaze drop down his naked torso. "Think we've got time before we have
to leave?" That morning Jack had an
extra pair of helpers to load his lorry. He couldn't put his finger on why
they looked different this morning, but he reckoned that rest must have done
them good. Demons were beginning to
become scarcer as daylight approached, and the lorry made the short journey
to Highgate unhindered. The guards at Highgate checkpoint let them through,
and the lorry dropped them outside the house they were looking for. The wooden front door
suddenly seemed scarier than the worst foe. Buffy raised her hand and
knocked. The sound was so soft, that she could barely hear it, and she
knocked again - much harder this time. The door inched open, and
Rupert Giles, seventy-three years old and clutching the doorframe with one
hand and a crossbow with the other, stared in shock at the vision on his
doorstep. Neither of them had aged a day since he had last seen them. Was he
hallucinating? Had he finally gone raving mad? Nobody moved, perhaps
because they were afraid that this would all disappear if they did.
Eventually, trying to break the strained silence, Angel said, "Hello,
Giles. I did as you asked…" And then, both Buffy and
Giles were laughing and moving toward each other and the years seemed to just
drop away from him as he clutched his Slayer tightly in his arms, crossbow
forgotten somewhere on the floor. She was home. End
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