"A Letter To Riley - Part Four"
by Debbie Nockels
(April 2001)
DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the characters from BTVS or ANGEL. They're owned by Joss Whedon, MutantEnemy, Sandollar, Kuzui, the WB, Fox, etc.
______________________________________________________________
������ "What?" Angel blinked. So did Buffy.
������ Giles spared him a glance from his task. "If this Wolfram & Hart firm brought Darla back by magic, perhaps they also used magic on you to make you more receptive to her."
������ Angel felt as if he'd been hit over the head. Magic! Of course. That was how Darla had entered his dreams so thoroughly. Why in the world hadn't he guessed something of the sort?
������ Giles finished his grinding. He lit two candles and motioned for Angel to stand in front of him. "What are you going to do?" Angel asked.
������ "I'm going to find out if any spells have been cast over you," Giles responded. "Magic leaves a trace, as you know. This powder, which I'm going to sprinkle on you, will glow if it detects any magical aura."
������ Angel nodded, thankful that his coat, with Buffy's letter in it, was hanging up in the closet. That would probably light up like fireworks. Giles began muttering, Latin words which registered only vaguely on Angel's ears. Buffy stood a few feet away, chewing absently at her bottom lip. Their eyes met for a few seconds, then both looked away. Giles finished the chant, cast a double handful of the fine powder in the air over Angel's head, and stepped back.
������ The dust drifted downward, slowly, like a special effects scene in a movie. It settled in Angel's hair, dusted his face and shoulders, and sifted down over his body and legs. A few grains fell on his shoes, then the remainder landed on the floor. Angel looked down. Everywhere the powder clung to his body it glowed like fluorescent paint under a black light, in marked contrast to the inert, dull-brown particles littering the carpet around his feet. Buffy sucked in an audible breath.
������ "Good lord!" Giles exclaimed. "They certainly did a job on you. I've never seen so much magical accumulation. Although some of it is undoubtedly due to the gypsy curse," he added after a moment's consideration.
������ "No wonder you've been acting weird," Buffy commented. "Giles, can you remove the spell?"
������ Angel shook his head just as Giles said, "Er, no, I'm afraid not."
������ "He'd have to know exactly which spell was used to be able to remove it," Angel explained further.
������ "Oh."
������ Giles thought for a minute then said, "Angel's right. But I can perform a general well-being spell. It will diminish negative or harmful influences, strengthen your willpower, Angel, and generally just give a, a boost to your health, both physical and emotional. It's very . . . well . . . gentle, and quite benign, I assure you. I see no reason why it can't be performed on someone with your special, er, circumstances."
������ Angel hesitated only a minute. "Do it. I want out from under whatever this influence is."
������ "It won't remove it," Giles reminded him. "The spell will only reduce its potency."
������ Angel nodded. "I understand. Do it," he repeated. Buffy asked, "Is there anything I can do to help, Giles?"
������ "Er, not really," Giles replied absently, his mind on the herbs and talismans he was selecting from the box. He hurried again into the other room after another item, not noticing Buffy's rather downcast expression.
������ Angel noticed, and understood. When Giles returned to the living room, Angel said, "Giles, I've changed my mind about that drink. Could I have some tea, please?"
������ "Certainly." Giles glanced up from the book in his hand, looked at Buffy. "Er, Buffy, would you mind? You know where everything is, and I'd like to get things set up here."
������ "Sure." Buffy went into the kitchen, Angel close on her heels. As she filled the kettle with fresh water, she looked up at him. "Thanks."
������ "What for?" Angel smiled down at her.
������ She smiled too, making his heart lurch. "For giving me something to do. You know I hate feeling useless."
������ "So do I." Angel opened a cupboard. "Is the tea up here?"
������ "Are you kidding?" Buffy nodded toward a canister sitting on the counter. "Giles would never put it way up there in a cupboard where it might take five extra seconds to get to it."
������ "I heard that," sounded from the living room. "The tea canister is on the counter because it's too tall to fit in the cabinet, that's all."
������ Buffy and Angel chuckled quietly. By the time the tea was prepared, Giles announced he was ready. Sipping at the fragrant brew, Angel followed Buffy back into the living room. "Where do you want me?" he asked Giles, setting the cup down on the coffee table.
������ "Sit on the floor, please," Giles told him as he moved the chair over against the wall. "I need to draw a circle." Angel settled himself tailor style on the floor and Giles proceeded to strew crushed herbs in a circle around him, chanting softly. The circle completed, and still chanting, Giles next picked up a bundle of herbs, dipped them into the contents of the bowl he'd used earlier but which now held a greenish liquid, and proceeded to flick it at Angel.
������ Angel flinched slightly as the droplets hit his face, but it was strictly reflex. The liquid wasn't hot or cold or any temperature, really, but as the chant continued and more droplets fell on him he began to feel a warm glow. Nothing unpleasant . . . quite the contrary. The more liquid that touched him the better he felt. With each drop a weight seemed to drop from his shoulders, his heart grew lighter, and the crushing desperation that had been a part of him for so long started to ease. Unconsciously, he relaxed, only then realizing his entire body was rigid with tension, and had been for months.
������Giles finished the spell, cut the air in front of him with the bundle of herbs, then set them down on the table. "How do you feel?"
������"I feel good," Angel told him softly. "Better than I've felt in - " Instinctively he glanced at Buffy, then immediately looked away again. " - a long time." He uncrossed his legs and stood up.
������"And Darla?" Buffy inquired.
������Angel was silent, sorting through his thoughts and emotions. At last he spoke. "That's better too. I'm still feeling the same compulsion or obsession or whatever you want to call it . . . but . . . it's weaker now. I can recognize it for what it is, and resist the urge."
������"Good." Giles handed him a bronze medallion hanging from a thick chain. "This talisman will help with that. We don't know whether it was a one time event or whether they're renewing the spell at intervals, so it would be a good idea to wear it for a while."
������Angel examined the medallion, recognizing the design worked on its surface. "Thank you." He hung it around his neck. Buffy came over. "What is this?" she asked, taking it in her hand to study the symbol engraved on it.
������"It's a Celtic knot," Giles explained. "There are hundreds of different designs, but this particular one is used to ward off evil influences."
������Angel couldn't say a word; he was too caught up by her nearness, the brush of her hand against his chest as she turned the medallion over, the familiar fragrance of her perfume. Suddenly she tilted her head and again he was pierced by the sad maturity of her green eyes.
������"You've had a rough time, haven't you?" he murmured.
������Buffy nodded slowly. "My mom - a few months ago they found a brain tumor."
������Angel's eyes flared wide with shock. "I'm sorry. How - how is she?" Dreading the answer.
������To his relief, Buffy smiled. "She's fine. They operated and took it out, and she's doing good. Back to normal, pretty much. She's back at the gallery three days a week, except she leaves early to pick Dawn up from school."
������"Who's Dawn?" asked Angel.
������Silence.
������Buffy stepped back and looked at Giles. Angel followed her gaze and saw that the Watcher was returning her look with one equally strange. He glanced from one to the other. "What's going on? Did I say something wrong?"
������"You have no memory of Dawn?" Giles said instead of answering him. "Buffy's sister?"
������Angel's eyebrows rose almost up to his hairline. "Buffy's what?" He chuckled. "Okay, what's the joke? Buffy doesn't have a sister."
������"Very interesting," Giles said to Buffy. "Apparently the monks' spell has limitations."
������"What monks?" Angel asked, beginning to lose his smile. "And what spell?"
������"Several months ago I acquired a fourteen-year-old sister," Buffy told him, "because some Italian monks cast a spell to prevent an energy force they called the Key from falling into the hands of an evil god. They turned the Key into a human being, named her Dawn, and plopped her down in my house as my little sister because they knew I'd protect her. Everyone's memories were altered to accept the change. I only found out because of . . . well, because of another spell, and it was totally by accident. And now, even though I know that a year ago she didn't exist, I love her just as much as if she'd always been around."
������She gave a wry little smile. "Of course, my memories tell me that she has been - for the last fourteen years anyway. I remember seeing her in the hospital just after she was born, how red and wrinkled and ugly I thought she looked. I remember her third birthday party, when she spilled her Kool-Aid all over my party dress. And one time when she was about six, Mom took us to the zoo and Dawn wanted to take the baby llama in the petting zoo home with us."
������"It - must be confusing," Angel said, more than a little dazed himself.
������"Oh, it is indeed," contributed Giles. "Except for me, you're the only other person who knows about this, Angel. Not even Dawn is aware of the truth, and for her safety we must keep it that way. Glory mustn't know where her precious Key is."
������"Glory?" Another unfamiliar name. Or was it?
������"The Evil Bitch god who's after her," Buffy supplied. "Or goddess, I guess she would be, really. She knows the Key is here in Sunnydale, but she doesn't know where it is, or what form the monks gave it."
������"Glory," Angel said, then repeated the name again, thoughtfully. "Would that be short for Glorificus?"
������Buffy and Giles regarded him with surprise. "Yes," Giles answered. "You've heard of her? What do you know about her?"
������"Nothing really, I'm afraid. Just heard her name mentioned once or twice, that's all. The only thing I really remember is that she's supposed to be extremely beautiful - "
������"If you like the Slutty Starlet type," muttered Buffy.
������" - and more than a little insane," Angel finished.
������"You've got that right," Buffy agreed.
������"Oh." Giles sighed. "I was hoping you could tell us something we didn't already know about her - which isn't much, let me add."
������"Have you called Wesley?" Angel asked him. When Giles looked surprised, he added, "You should. Wesley's great at research, and he has a lot of reference books."
������"You're right, of course," Giles said after a brief silence. "I don't know why it didn't occur to me to give him a call." He gave himself a little shake. "However, that can wait. Right now we need to address the problem of what to do about Darla."
������"We have to kill her," Buffy said at once, gazing steadily at Angel. He wondered if she was expecting him to protest. "I agree," he said evenly, "but that's easier said than done. She's four hundred years old and a vampire doesn't reach that age by being careless. I only succeeded last time because she didn't realize I was a danger. She knows better now."
������"Does she know you're here?" asked Giles. Angel started to reply, then stopped himself as a startling possibility struck him.
������"I don't think so," he said after a moment, slowly, "but I wouldn't swear to it. Lindsey - the attorney I mentioned before - is the one who told me about Darla coming here, after I caught him searching my room, but - I suppose it could have been staged."
������"You mean that he deliberately let himself be caught," Buffy said, "so that you'd find out about Darla? That makes sense. You might be a tad suspicious if Darla left you a note. �Hi, Angel, Gone to Sunnydale to kill the Slayer. Wish you were here.' "
������Angel had to smile. "Darla would never be that obvious, but yes, that's what I meant."
������ "Regardless," Giles broke in, "we mustn't take anything for granted. We have to assume that Darla lured you here, Angel, and proceed accordingly. So now the question is how to trap Darla without falling into *her* trap, whatever it may be."
������ "If she knows I'm here, then she wants to not only kill Buffy, she wants me to witness her death," Angel said, with absolute certainty. "She wants to cause me as much anguish as possible."
������ "Typical male," sniffed Buffy, to his surprise. Giles also looked at her with a puzzled expression. She continued, "Thinking it's all about you. Did you ever consider that maybe she just wants to kill me? I am the big bad Slayer, you know." She mock-glared at them, hands planted firmly on her hips.
������ Giles' face smoothed out and Angel chuckled faintly, then sobered. "You're right about one thing. Darla does want to kill you."
������ "So the best way to catch her is to set our own trap - with me as the bait." Buffy gauged their reactions. Both men looked unhappy, but they also knew she was right - she was their best chance at getting to Darla. Satisfied, she checked the clock on the wall. Nine o'clock. Plenty of time. A thought occurred to her, and she hurried to the phone.
������ "Mom, it's me. Don't invite anyone into the house that you don't know - anyone, I don't care what story they give you. And tell Dawn too." Joyce's voice came faintly over the phone. "Uh, well," Buffy went on, "do you remember Darla? Yeah, the girl who pretended to be tutoring me who was really a vampire. Well, she's back."
������ She listened. "I will, Mom. But you and Dawn be careful too."
������ "She looks different now," Angel suddenly blurted out, having just thought of this.
������ "Wait, Mom, Angel says she doesn't look like she did then. Yeah, he's here too. Hold on." She turned to Angel with a quizzical look. "So what's changed? Is she a brunette now, or what?"
������ "No. She's still blonde but she isn't dressing like a Catholic schoolgirl these days. She's more . . . dressy . . . fancy clothes. And no fringe. Uh, what do you call them over here?" He made a gesture across his forehead. "Bangs. She doesn't have them anymore."
������ One of Buffy's eyebrows went up. "Okay, Mom, she's given up on trying to look like a schoolgirl. About time too - it wasn't working four years ago! No, Angel says she's going in for a more glamorous look these days. So if a skanky blonde with no bangs and without a reflection shows up on the doorstep, don't invite her in, okay?"
������ She smiled. "Love you too. I'll probably be home late. �Bye." She hung up, looked at Giles with a question in her eyes, a question Angel also understood. Giles nodded, and she dialed again.
������ "Will, it's me. We've got a problem. Short version, Darla's back in town and Angel's here to help me get her . . . Yeah, he did, but she's back . . . Will, it's a really long story involving magic, and I'll be happy to tell you about it - later. Just be on the lookout for a dressy blonde; she's ditched the schoolgirl gig. Oh, and no bangs. Call Xander and let him know, would you? . . . No, I think we're okay, but if anything changes I'll call you. Say hi to Tara. Later." She hung up.
������ "Okay, everyone's warned. So what's the plan?"
������ It didn't take that long to form one, mostly because there weren't that many feasible options. They had no idea where Darla might be staying, and since the time it would take to locate her would work in Darla's favor, not theirs, they decided that Buffy should lure Darla into one of the crypts and dispose of her. Angel, of course, would already be there, hidden, to aid her. Drusilla was a wild card, since they had no idea whether or not the insane vampire was even in town.
������ "Let me try something," Angel said at last. Bracing himself, he picked up the phone and dialed the number to the new Angel Investigations office. "Wesley, it's Angel. Please don't hang up. I need to know if anyone's seen Dru tonight. It's urgent."
������ There was a momentary silence, during which Giles and Buffy exchanged puzzled glances, wondering, Angel knew, why he'd thought Wesley might hang up on him. Then Wesley's voice, cool and brusque, said, "As a matter of fact, yes. Gunn happened to mention that a friend told him he'd seen her somewhere in Chinatown."
������ "Are you sure it was her?"
������ "He described her as �that crazy white vampire bitch who talks to the moon.' I'd say the description matches, wouldn't you?"
������ "Yeah. What time was this?" He heard Wesley conferring with Gunn, then the Brit came back on. "A couple of hours ago."
������ Angel felt a surge of relief. Darla was enough to deal with; he didn't want to have to worry about Drusilla as well, especially since she had a frustrating penchant for spoiling his best-laid plans. "Good. Uh . . . thank -" A click sounded in his ear. Wesley had hung up on him. He sighed, then turned to the others. "Dru was spotted in L.A. this evening."
������ They were as relieved as he was, and went back to their planning. It was while Giles was arguing that he should accompany them on the mission as backup that the front door suddenly opened without warning. They jumped to their feet, startled and defensive. A familiar and (to Angel at least) unwelcome figure strolled inside.
������ "Have you ever heard of knocking?" snapped Giles, considerably annoyed.
������ "Xander, what are you doing here?" Buffy demanded.
������ The young man grinned. "You didn't think I was going to let you have all the fun, did you? Besides, from the little that Will was able to tell me, it sounds like you could use some help. So here I am." His eyes went to Angel. "Dead Boy, heard you were back in town. Did your Irish sidekick have another vision, or are you here on your own initiative this time?"
������ Angel clamped down on the irritation Xander Harris always induced and only said, quietly, "Doyle's dead." To his immense, though hidden, satisfaction, Xander at once lost his provocative attitude. His gaze fell to the floor, then up again. Giles and Buffy turned shocked faces toward Angel, but before they could say anything Xander spoke.
������ "I'm . . . sorry, I didn't know," was all he said, but he was clearly chastened. Clearing his throat, he turned to Buffy. "How can I help with the Darla slayage - and, by the way, so looking forward to hearing the story of her resurrection when we get the time."
������ Buffy exchanged glances with Giles and Angel, and sighed. "Okay. The plan is to lure Darla into one of the crypts. We were just working on how to do that when you showed up."
������ "I have an idea." Angel nodded at Xander. "But I'll need your help."
������ "My help," Xander repeated, understandably wary. Angel concealed his amusement as the young man added, even more warily, "Just what exactly do I need to do?"
������ "Be my victim." And Angel smiled broadly.
<><><><><><><><><>
������ Buffy turned in a circle, scanning the area around her, especially the trees and clumps of shrubs where a vampire might be lying in wait among the concealing shadows. It was a normal thing for her to do on patrol, so it shouldn't alert anyone who might be watching. There was still no sign of Darla. She'd been patrolling for over an hour without catching a glimpse of her, but she knew that the vampire was in the area. She could feel her presence like a tingling in her nerves. Angel should be settled in the old Sorenson family mausoleum by now, staging their trap. The plan had been for him to wait at Giles' for fifteen minutes after she herself had made a very public exit out the front door, then unobtrusively leave through the back. Xander would leave thirty minutes after that, to play his part.
������ The Sorenson crypt was perfect for their plan since the huge edifice had a smaller room inside it, with a door that shut. Why it had this feature no one could imagine - or rather, they could imagine only too well but preferred not to - but they were grateful. Angel would be hiding in there, having first dabbed a trail of blood (he'd raided the local Red Cross on his way) into the mausoleum . If Darla did know he was in town she would be wary, on the lookout for an ambush. They hoped the blood would reassure her that there was only an ordinary vampire inside and lull her suspicion so they could spring their trap.
������ They hoped.
������ Buffy glanced at her watch, something she'd sternly resisted doing at least ten other times since she'd come out - Darla might wonder why she was so interested in the time. If she was anywhere around to see the gesture, of course, but Buffy was still convinced she was close by. It was eleven o'clock. Thank God. Finally it was time to put the plan in action.
������ She heaved a big sigh, puffing out her cheeks. "Okay," she muttered for the benefit of listening ears, "really bored tonight. I'm about ready to bail." Yawning dramatically, she headed in the general location of the huge mausoleum.
������ "Hey, Buff, how's it goin'?" Out of nowhere, Xander appeared and fell in beside her, right on schedule. "Put any more notches on Mr. Pointy tonight?" Then he whispered, very quietly. "Where is she?"
������ "Xander, what are you doing here? I thought you'd be Bronzing with everyone else," Buffy replied in her normal tone of voice before also whispering, barely moving her lips, "Haven't seen her but she's around; I can feel her. Is everything set?"
������ "On my way there," was Xander's cheerful response. "Just thought I'd take a little side trip first to check on my favorite Slayer.". Then, softly, "Yep. I've got my bag of blood right here. Just give the word."
������ Buffy gave the area another scan. This time she spotted something, just the faintest motion as a shadow ducked behind a thick grove of shrubs about thirty yards away. She yawned again, using this as an excuse not to notice the movement. Whispered, "I think she's over there" - indicating with her eyes - "Consider the word given."
������ Then, aloud, she said, "If things get any slower tonight I'm going to fall asleep from sheer boredom. I think I'll finish up this sweep then meet you at the Bronze. Be careful going back."
������ "You know it. See ya in a little." Xander nodded at Buffy and walked away in the direction of the Bronze - and, not coincidentally, the Sorenson mausoleum.
������ Buffy smiled and moved off in a different direction. Her adrenaline was up and it seemed to take forever, though only a few minutes really passed, before she heard the shout that signaled the beginning of the plan. She whirled around. "Xander?" Began running along the route he'd taken. Another cry, muffled.
������ "Xander!"
<><><><><><><><><>
������ Darla's mouth stretched in a predatory smile. Her hours of searching for Buffy, who always seemed to have left wherever she'd been just before Darla showed up, followed by the time spent stalking her once she'd been found, had finally paid off. It was especially gratifying considering the frustrations of the night before.
������ First the car she'd stolen had run out of gas halfway to Sunnydale - and knowing it was her own fault for not checking the gauge hadn't improved her temper one bit. Then the car that stopped to help had contained three brawny, rather drunken, and extremely macho men who had their own ideas about what kind of help she needed. At least she'd gotten a good meal out of that little fracas, but she'd also lost the chance of an alternate vehicle when her victim's pals abandoned him, falling back into their car and speeding away in a panic. It had taken a while before another car stopped to render assistance. One way or another, she hadn't reached town until just before sunrise, which left no time to look for the Slayer.
������ But not only did she now have her prey under surveillance, she had just been presented with the perfect opportunity. Now was the time to strike, while the Slayer was distracted by the plight of her friend. What was his name? Xander? She must remember to find out just which vampire - or other demon - had attacked the young man, and thank him or her. Or it, as the case might be.
������ Darla felt herself morphing into her game face, but forcibly stopped the transformation. Time enough for that later, after she'd trapped the bitch and fixed her so she couldn't run. Oh, she would enjoy that, seeing her hated rival writhing in agony on the floor, helpless, consumed by fear.
������ "Revenge is so sweet," she hissed, picturing the horror those ridiculously large hazel eyes would express as she drew nearer and nearer. "And soon, my dear cheerleader. Very, very soon." Stealthily Darla followed Buffy as she hunted frantically for Xander.
<><><><><><><><><>
������ Buffy kept her eyes open, stopped at the first sight of blood splashed over the lower branches of a shrub. "Xander!" Wildly she looked around, ostensibly searching for her friend but in reality listening as hard as she could. Sure enough, she heard the small rustlings that indicated she had a follower. She tensed when a third cry came from Xander, this one weaker. She sped in that direction, noticing several more splashes of the blood trail along the way. The mausoleum came into view, its wrought-iron gate swinging open, more blood smeared on the threshold.
������ She burst inside, saw the limp form sprawled on the blood-stained floor and rushed to his side. "Xander!" He was lying on his left side. His turtleneck sweater and jacket were gory with blood at the neck and collar, and another patch discolored the side of his head "Oh my God, no! Xander! The gate creaked faintly behind her.
������ "Oh, he's not dead," came a voice she hadn't heard in four years, but whose silken, breathless, little-girl tones were unforgettable. "I can hear his heart beating."
������ Buffy whirled around. Involuntarily her eyes widened and she gasped. It wasn't an act. Despite knowing what to expect, the sight of Darla actually standing there in the flesh was still a shock. For one thing, she'd never realized before how beautiful the vampire was. That Catholic schoolgirl interlude hadn't been the most flattering of personas for her. The woman standing before her was truly striking, with her blonde hair and lithe body, and cheekbones to die for. Small wonder Angel had been seduced by her all those centuries ago. Thick ankles, though.
������ Darla smiled mockingly at her. "Surprised? You of all people should know that you can't keep a good woman down - not even after she's been turned into dust by someone she trusted." The arm that had been hidden behind her back came around. She was holding a gun and it pointed directly at Buffy.
������ Buffy said nothing, her eyes fixed on the gun, which looked enormous. Darla tilted her head to one side. "What, cat got your tongue? No witty comeback? No humorous comments about my hair or my eyes or my clothes?" She started circling around to one side. Buffy moved to keep herself between the vampire and Xander.
������ Darla's cool, silky laugh rippled out; her cat eyes were maliciously amused. "Don't worry, Buffy. I'm not interested in your oafish little friend there. I've never cared much for someone else's leftovers. No, I have other game in mind."
������ She took a few more steps, which put her with her back to the inner room where Angel waited. Unfortunately Darla had moved beyond the tiny crack he'd left open, so he was working blind. Buffy knew how tense he must be in there, hearing everything but unable to see what was going on. She only hoped he'd been able to glimpse the gun Darla carried.
������ Moaning, Xander rolled over onto his back and Buffy glanced down at him. Instantly two shots rang out. Buffy jerked back from the impact to her chest, crying out in pain. Two more shots into her midriff sent her staggering several feet back to hit against the wall behind her. Slowly, groaning, she slumped to the ground, huddled in a little ball. Blood began pooling beneath her.
������ Inside the small room, Angel shot to attention. Gunshots! He gritted his teeth to keep from rushing out to make sure Buffy was all right, and began edging open the door. He'd carefully sprayed the hinges with WD-40 upon his arrival until not even the ghost of a squeak remained, but even so he was careful. It seemed a lifetime before the door was open enough for him to peer around.
������ Xander cautiously cracked one eye open.
������ Darla, not noticing either of these things, moved toward Buffy, her lips curled back from her teeth. Her eyes glowed golden and all of a sudden her face morphed into its vampiric mask. "Hurts, doesn't it, Buffy?" She was now between Xander and Buffy.
������ Stealthily Xander reached into the inside pocket of his jacket, removing a large water gun. It contained holy water and packed quite a wallop when the trigger was pressed. The water would dispense in a pressurized spray rather like one of those garden hose attachments - for as long as the water lasted, which wouldn't be very long at all. The gun held only two cups. But it should at the very least distract Darla for a critical few seconds, if it was needed.
������ Xander fervently hoped it wouldn't be. He had a pretty good hunch that water, however holy, wouldn't be much of a defense against bullets, and if the shock of being sprayed with the vampire equivalent of acid caused a reflexive tightening of her trigger finger . . . His lips thinned, a vision of Buffy's head riddled with bullets flashing through his mind.
������ "You don't know how good this feels," continued Darla over Buffy's whimpers of pain. "One hundred and fifty years we were together, Angelus and I. We shared everything - our kills, our fun, ourselves - "
������ Again her laugh rippled through the air. "Especially ourselves! Everything. Even after he got his soul back, even when he couldn't be part of our family anymore, in his heart he still belonged to me. But then you came along. You! An ignorant little fluffy-haired teenager - a cheerleader! And just like that he forgot everything we'd had. He killed me, because of you!"
������ Unnoticed, Angel moved into the crypt. Xander held his water gun at the ready, stealthily raising himself into a sitting position. Silently Angel came up behind Darla, who was too busy gloating over Buffy to sense him. If ever he had doubted that he'd been under the influence of a malign spell, even after Giles' demonstration earlier that night, that doubt was now erased. With each noiseless step toward Darla he experienced a strong urge to stop in his tracks, to drop the stake in his hand. Memories of their past swept over him; wild, lustful, riotous memories, with odd moments of tenderness. Very odd, in some cases. Such as the gypsy girl she'd refrained from drinking herself back in 1898, saving the delicacy for him. . . .
������ He lifted his head with determination. No. This was going to end here and now. Instead he forced to his mind the memory of the human Darla's struggles as Lindsey's thugs forcibly restrained her . . . the pleading and despair on her face in the moments before Drusilla sank her teeth into her neck. His grip tightened around the piece of wood.
������ "Well, now I'm here to return the favor, Buffy," purred Darla. "I'm going to kill you because of him." The gun swung around toward Buffy's head. Darla's smile bared her formidable teeth.
������ "Not tonight, Darla," said Angel in the split-second before his stake plunged into her back, straight through to her heart. "Or any other night." Darla spun around, back arched, mouth gaping wide with shock. At the sight of him, her yellow eyes bulged even more.
������ "Angel!" was all they heard. Only Angel saw her eyes change, caught the expression in their blue depths before she exploded into dust. The gun fell, but with lightning reflexes Angel caught it before it could hit the ground.
On To Part Five