Bring Forth The Night
Chapter 3
Tears ran down Buffy's cheeks as she read through the journal again. Sniffling, she laid it on the bedside table and shut the light off. Pulling the velvet comforter around her, she closed her eyes. The tears continued to slip out.
“Poor baby.” Angelus crooned softly. He reached out to stroke her cheek on the screen. “It’ll all be better soon.”
After dumping his dinner leftovers downtown where the local scavengers could finish it off, Angelus had gone back to the real Marvin’s house and tidied up, taking the empty blood bags as well as the full ones from the fridge. Just in case someone got nosy about Mr. Good Guy’s whereabouts – which it seemed no one had so far – but you never knew. Empty blood bags might bring Buffy and the simpleton squad to investigate.
He’d left the house clean and neat like he’d found it. The car parked in the garage with the keys in it and the wallet in the front seat to really confuse the issue.
Before he left, he’d chugged down the second bag of plasma, gagging at the horrible taste. As before, his hair had grown, and now all he had needed to do was cut off the blonde ends, and he’d be back to his usual dark, sexy self. And clip his damn nails! He’d yelped as he’d accidentally scratched his still tingling scalp.
After a pit stop to pick up a mini fridge, some supplies, and something to tame his thicker than usual hair, he’d gone back to his new digs and made the place as homey as possible.
Now, kicked back in a comfy recliner covered with a nice velvet coverlet, warm blood in his belly, and all the Buffy TV he could handle, he was a happy vamp. Angelus chuckled; handle being the word for it. He cupped his balls and sighed contentedly.
It had taken some time to find the rooms he wanted to monitor, but he’d no sooner finished than Buffy had returned to the hotel.
She’d looked dejected, and he’d wanted to go to her and comfort her. Okay, and fuck her brains out, but that could be considered comforting. But that wasn’t part of the plan, and he’d reminded himself that he had to wait.
For his self control, Angelus was rewarded with naked Buffy. She had gone up to his rooms and started to strip. By the time she was down to her panties, he’d gotten his pants open, and when she stepped into the shower – scarily enough equipped with cameras – who the fuck at Wolfram and Hart had wanted to see him naked? – he’d all but pressed his nose to the screen.
Like the security guard in the porno flick, he’d jacked off while he watched Buffy run her soapy hands over her body. Unlike the security guard, he would eventually get some pussy.
After her shower, she had slipped on one of Angelus’ favorite silk shirts of Angel’s, and picked up the journal to read.
That’s when her tears had started. “Damn you, Soul Boy – why did you have to write that day down? Wasn’t it enough to torture us with it?”
He crooned again, stroking her black and white face. Angelus knew Buffy was mourning Angel more than him, but that was okay. Women tended to go for the soulful, sensitive crap that Mr. Puppy Eyes had peddled. But she’d loved what he had to offer as well. She’d gotten off with him and that last kiss before the fight with beasty boy? Angelus sighed at the memory. “That kiss was for me, not Soul Boy.”
“Sleep, baby.” Patting her cheek on the screen, Angelus pulled the heavy velvet up over himself and drifted off to dream hot, naked Buffy dreams.
“Buffy, we can keep looking, but – “
“No buts.” Buffy stepped back and spun a hard kick into the heavy bag. “I’m looking for Angel until I’m convinced.”
“Buffy – “ Giles staggered back. Holding the bag for Buffy was as much exercise for him as it was for her. “If Angelus survived – we’d have heard about it.”
“Not if someone’s got him. He’s got a lot of enemies. Or he could be hurt – if he’s – he’s – “ She hit the bag furiously, tears running down her cheeks.
“Buffy, please stop.” Giles stepped out from behind the bag. “You’ll hurt yourself.”
“So?” She sat down on the mat. “He could be hurt, Giles. Angel could be lying somewhere – hurt – and in pain – dying – “
“Angelus took care of himself for almost one hundred and fifty years.” Sitting down beside her, he ran a soothing hand over her hair. “If he did survive the battle, then no doubt he’s just fine.”
“You have no idea, Giles, old buddy.” Angelus smirked.
So far Buffy TV had been pretty entertaining. He’d gotten to see Buffy naked, Buffy showering, Buffy naked, Buffy working out and getting all slick and sweaty, Buffy naked, and hopefully there’d be more of Buffy showering. Which of course meant more Buffy naked. He hoped it was renewed for next season.
“We’re going to test that theory on going blind.” Angelus told his cock with an affectionate pat.
Buffy was pale, and there were dark circles under her eyes. Angelus hated the torment she had been going through for the past week, but it was important that she believe he was dead.
Her friends had been helping his cause, constantly harping to her that he was dead and that she should go home to Sunnydale.
“Thank you for being the callous bunch I knew you were.” Angelus raised his mug in a toast to insensitive friends. Hallmark should make a card.
Only Wes shared her belief that he was still alive. Of course, Wes had guilt to goad him along. But as time went by even he was beginning to waver.
“Buffy!” Lorne came down the stairs. “Buffy! Angel’s alive!”
“What?” Angelus set his mug down.
“What? Where?” Buffy jumped to her feet. “Is he here?”
“A guy called me – there’s a vamp downtown saying he’s Angelus.”
“Oh.” The hope in Buffy's eyes dimmed. “Just like that last guy. The short one. Yeah, whatever.”
“Buffy, cookie, this is different.” Lorne took her hands. “My source says he’s tall, dark, and gorgeous, and wearing a long duster that a certain vamp we all love favors.”
“Oh.” A smirk curled Angelus’ lips. About time his creation showed up. He was beginning to think the moron had gotten himself dusted already.
“Lorne, is this source of yours reliable?” Giles had also gotten to his feet, albeit slower than Buffy.
“Extremely. He says this vamp has broad shoulders, mussed brown hair, brown eyes, and to die for kissable lips.” Lorne shrugged. “I’d say that sounds like our Angelcakes.”
“Let’s go.” Buffy bounded up the stairs. “Tell Will to make ready with the spell – I’ll bring him back pronto!”
“You’re not going alone!” Giles followed her up the stairs and onto another monitor. “Angelus is too dangerous!”
“Fine, grab a trank gun and come with.” Buffy went to the weapons cabinet and took out one of the tranquilizer guns. “Wes!”
“I just heard.” The former Watcher was pulling on his jacket as he came out of Angel’s office. “Let’s go.”
“And no staking.” She eyed the stake Gunn slipped into his jacket pocket. “This isn’t a search and destroy mission. We bring him back alive.”
“Hey it comes down to him or me – “ Gunn picked up one of the trank guns. “And he’s dust.”
“Then stay out of my way, and you won’t have to worry about it.” Buffy said sweetly as she pushed past him.
“You tell him, baby.” Angelus chuckled and took a swig of blood as Buffy and the intrepid idiots rushed out of the hotel.
“There!” Giles pointed across the dance floor.
A tall, dark man in a long duster had an arm thrown around an effeminate looking man. He was nuzzling along the man’s neck with obviously amorous intentions.
“Not unless he’s started batting for the other side, as they say.” Wes shook his head.
“That’s not Angel.” Buffy felt another piece of her heart fall off to lie in the pile of broken bits in her belly.
“It looks like him to me.” Gunn followed her as she started across the dance floor. “Maybe that’s an old friend or something.”
Buffy had known the vamp wasn’t Angel even before she saw him. There was no special tingle. No delicious zap that told her this vamp was the vamp.
She didn’t feel the familiar tingle that she always had when he was close. It was the usual vamp tingle, only different. Spike, Dru – countless other vamps – had all been the same. Angel was an electric zap that started at the base of her spine and ran up. Angel was different. Angel was well, Angel. Angel, Angel, where are you?
Sensing something, Chris – or Angelus as he was calling himself – looked around the bar. There was a freaky feeling at the base of his spine, and his skin felt all crawly. “What the fuck?” His face changed into vamp mode, and he couldn’t change it back.
“Hi.” Buffy stopped at the table. “I’m Buffy, and you are?”
“Angelus – the angelic one.” He pushed his intended victim away. There was something about this woman that frightened him. And excited him at the same time.
“No you’re not.” She looked him over carefully. He did resemble Angel. Big and broad shouldered, dark ruffled hair, and his eyes had been a dark brown before he’d morphed into game face. But he was like a bad Xerox copy. “Where did you hear that name?”
Since he’d woken up alone and confused in the hotel room, Chris had learned there was a vamp named Angelus who had apparently been a real bad ass – and everyone had mistaken him for this Angelus. Maybe that was why the vamp that had turned him had thought that too.
Whatever the reason, he’d had his pick of blood, sex, and accommodations since he’d started tossing the name around. The vamps that had been hanging around him began to slip away. He wasn’t letting this little bitch scare him off.
“Well?” Buffy tapped her foot impatiently.
“That’s not Angel, is it?” Gunn frowned.
“No.” Wes wasn’t sure what saddened him more, that this vampire wasn’t Angelus or that Gunn couldn’t tell. Granted the vampire was wearing his demonic face – but each vampire was distinctive. “The ridges are much less pronounced, and the nose more defined. This one is obviously a fledgling.”
“Possibly only a few days old.” Giles agreed.
“What do you want, bitch?” Chris sneered. “Who are you? A groupie?”
“I’m the Slayer.” She pulled the stake from the waistband of her jeans.
“The Slayer?” He smiled. No wonder Marvin – his sire, Chris corrected himself – had said not to be afraid of her. “You’re just a little girl.”
“Normally I’d have a pun or cute comeback.” Buffy shoved the table so that it pinned him against the back of the booth. “Tonight – I’m just too tired.”
Not very subtle. Wes looked around. The other vamps and demons in the bar had scattered, leaving the place virtually empty. Then again, why bother?
Struggling, Chris found he couldn’t push the table back. Frightened now, he bared his fangs and growled. His newfound strength was something he’d come to take for granted. How was this little blond bitch stronger than he was?
“The vampire who turned you – “ Giles sat down on the edge of the booth. “Who was he?”
“None of – “ He cried out as the table was shoved harder into his stomach. “Marvin – “
“Marvin?” Gunn laughed. “Marvin the vampire?”
“Not exactly the stuff of nightmares.” Wes agreed.
“What did he look like?” Giles pulled off his glasses and polished them with one of the napkins from the table.
“What the fuck do you care?” Chris cried out again as his ribs began to snap under the pressure. “Blonde – big – “
“Blonde?” Buffy let go of the table.
Chris gave a sigh of relief that barely stirred his dust as it settled on the tabletop.
Buffy slipped the stake back into the waistband of her jeans as she turned and walked out of the bar. “It’s time to go home.”
Angelus perked up as Buffy pushed open the hotel doors. Tears tracked through the dust vamp on her face. She looked more defeated than he’d ever seen before. His unbeating heart ached for her. I’ll make it up to you, baby. She threw the trank gun on the counter as she went by.
“Hey!” Cordy jumped. “Watch it! We need this stuff in good condition if we’re going to sell it.”
“We’re not selling it.” Buffy told her.
“We have to.” Cordy put her hands on her hips. “We’re going to need money.”
“We are not selling anything.” Buffy snarled. “We don’t need money.”
“Hello?” The other woman walked around the counter to confront her. “We’re all out of a job now.”
“Out of a job?” Buffy's jaw dropped. Even from Cordy, this was insensitive. “Out of a job?”
“Angel Investigations, remember?” She looked down her nose at Buffy. “Angel is dead, so we’re out of business. I haven’t had a single vision – I guess he took those with him or something. I mean, what am I supposed to do now?”
Angelus leaned forward; he recognized the look in his mate’s eyes. She was about to put the smack down on Queen C. “Get her… Get her…” A soft growl rumbled through him.
“I don’t know what you’re going to do. And I don’t care.” Buffy advanced on Cordy, not intimidated by her height or her attitude. “I’m so sorry that Angel’s – “ Her voice wobbled. “That you’re inconvenienced – maybe it’s time for you to get out and get a real job.”
“Hey, I hurt too.” Cordy laid a hand on her chest. “I lost the man I loved – “
“Yeah, I can see you’re hurting.” Sneering, Buffy pointed at the trank gun. “You’re already slapping a price tag on his things and trying to make a quick buck.”
“At least I didn’t sleep with the thing that stole his body!” It was Cordy’s turn to sneer. “It was Sunnydale all over again. Angel’s gone, so you crawl right into Angelus’ bed.”
“I did not – “
Cordy cut off her protest. “Didn’t you? Ask them what they think. We all saw how you were with that animal.”
Angelus growled softly. Queen C was going to get a painful death.
“It wasn’t like that! You don’t understand! Angel is – Angelus – “ She looked to the group for support. Willow, Wes, and Giles met her eyes; the rest looked away. “I love Angel and I love Angelus and – I know it – it’s hard to – “
“Buffy, you don’t have to explain.” Willow went to her and took her hand, glaring at Cordy. “You don’t have to justify your feelings.”
Buffy gave Willow’s hand a grateful squeeze. “Angel’s been your friend for years.” She looked over the so-called Fang Gang. “You know, somehow I thought you’d be different. But you’re just like everyone else.”
Turning her back on them, she started up the stairs with Willow following her. At the first landing, she turned and the gray eyes were cold. “I own everything in this hotel except your personal possessions. I suggest you start packing them and get out.”
“Classic exit!” Angelus applauded as Buffy continued up the stairs. “Oh, Buffy! Mr. DeMille, my baby is ready for her close up!”
Wes watched her, shaking his head sadly. “Giles, I could use your help with Angel’s books. I should imagine Buffy will want to take them to Sunnydale with her.”
“Yes, of course.” Giles gave the others a scornful look before following Wes into Angel’s office.
Upstairs in Angel’s rooms, Buffy went to his dresser and jerked open one of the drawers. Scooping up the neatly folded sweaters, she carried them to the bed. She grabbed one of the empty boxes stacked next to the door and laid the sweaters into it.
Willow opened another drawer and took out the undershirts that were lying inside. She carried them to the bed and laid them in the box on top of the sweaters.
Buffy ran her fingers over the one on top. “I made fun of these. Old grandpa t-shirts.”
“I bet he didn’t look like anybody’s grandpa in them.” Willow watched Buffy lift the undershirt out of the box.
“No – he said they’re – “ She wiped at her tears. “Wife beaters. And – I said – you’re not – and – “
“Buffy.” Willow wrapped her arms around Buffy and guided her head to her shoulder. “Oh, Buffy, I’m so sorry.”
“He’s gone – he’s gone – “ Buffy held the t-shirt to her face. “I always thought – he’d always be here – and shanshu – we’d – but he’s gone!”
Angelus touched the screen. “Buffy, baby, we’ll be together soon.” He watched helplessly as Buffy sobbed in Willow’s arms. Until now, she’d cried often; she’d cried herself to sleep every night, but the tears had always been silent. Now her body shook as harsh cries tore from her. Buffy had finally accepted that he was dead.
A strange feeling settled on him. One that had hung onto Soul Boy like a second skin. Guilt. He didn’t like it. Angelus watched Buffy collapse onto Angel’s bed, Willow rocking her and crying with her. He’d make it up to her later. She’d understand and forgive him. He’d screw her silly and it would all be okay.
Keening softly, he gripped the arms of his chair until he tore through the leather and into the upholstery. As much as he wanted to go to her, now wasn’t the time. Willow would bottle him up and shove him back into his box in a second.
“Revenge is a dish best served cold.” Angelus reminded himself. “And those Klingons know their revenge.”
Settling back, he curled up in the warm velvet and watched until Buffy cried herself out and Willow covered her with the velvet comforter before she began to pack the rest of Angel’s belongings.
Now that Buffy's last hope was gone, all he needed was to wait a few hours to put the next phase of his plan in action.