He couldn't look at her, couldn't bear to see her face. What are you? She had asked as hellfire exploded in his mind. It all came back to him; the sword, the pain, the overwhelming confusion. And she had lied to him; don't worry about it, she said as hell's vortex erupted behind his back; I love you, she had whispered only moments before plunging a sword into his body. His face changed, his human mask slipping as righteous fury overtook him. What are you? She asked as if he were a monster, an abomination. Was he an abomination in her eyes when he held out his hand to her from within the vortex? Confusion in his eyes, pleading in his outstretched arm, was he merely a means to an end? What are you? She had refused to take his hand then, why should now be any different?
"Angel, please," she said brokenly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I love..."
He turned on her, anger gleaming from his golden eyes, "get out before I rip your bloody throat out!" he cried, his voice hissing through his fangs.
She stared at him in shock, taking in his demonic features and the hate etched on his disfigured face. With a despairing cry she clutched her torn blouse to her body and ran out of the mansion into the warm sunlight, where he could never follow.
His hands clenched into fists, his claws digging bloody half moons into the palms of his hands, his body trembling with tension. He listened to her run till she disappeared from earshot entirely. A roar escaped his lips as he listened to the quiet in vain, he loved her and hated her so much it nearly destroyed them both.
"And so you finally understand," the maniacal voice from within his mind cried gleefully. "You have finally come to realize the truth."
He couldn't deal with this now, it was just too much. "Leave me alone!" He howled like a wounded beast, his demonic visage contorting wildly with every word. "Just leave me the hell alone!"
A rushing sound began to form in the confines of his mind, growing stronger, angrier with every passing moment. "LEAVE YOU ALONE?" The harsh voice demanded, "I WILL NEVER LEAVE YOU ALONE!" His eyes clamped shut and his hands pressed against his ears but he knew nothing could stop the dark winds of fury blowing through his mind. With a despairing wail he dropped to his knees. "YOUR NAME WAS WRITTEN IN THE STARS SINCE THE BEGINNING OF TIME. YOU WERE MINE BEFORE YOU WERE EVER BORN!"
"No," he moaned, but he could not deny the truth he heard in the fanatical voice.
"YES! ALL THAT YOU ARE, ALL THAT YOU HAVE EVER BEEN IS MY DOING! YOU WERE MINE FROM THE VERY START! "
"Dear God, No!" He cried, unwilling to accept the horrible truth.
"YOU THINK YOUR BEAUTY COINCIDENTAL? AN ACCIDENT OF BIRTH?" his tormentor pushed on relentlessly, exposing all that he was, tearing him apart ruthlessly. "YOU THINK YOUR MIND A GIFT OF CHANCE? YOU ARE MY DOING! MY CREATION AND MY REWARD!"
"I am my own man!" He screamed, although he knew it was useless, although he knew it would probably cost him his life. Maybe it was all true and he was indeed the product of a warped imagination, but in the end his life was what he had made it out to be, the choices he had made throughout his long and sinful existence. That was truer now then ever before.
"OBSTINATE CREATURE! YOU ARE NOTHING IF NOT CORRUPTIBLE AS THE REST! WILL YOU REMAIN YOUR OWN MAN ONCE YOU HAVE FELT REAL POWER? FEEL THE POWER!"
He let out no more then a single despondent cry as the now familiar rush of burning power engulfed him, transformed him, corrupted all that he was.
She ran blindly, her fingers clutching the torn material of her blouse to her body as if that single desperate act could ward away the pain. It couldn't. Nothing could.
More than anything she wanted to run home, curl up in a little ball on her safe familiar bed and cry herself to sleep. Even that small comfort
was denied her as events more important then her own needs and wishes were taking place.
She slowed her run to a slow walk and took stock of herself. Her shirt was torn in the front, her face was wet with tears and her hair felt like it had been slept on. With a miserable sigh she recalled the Kleenex, mirror and bobby pins in her purse, which was now conveniently located on the floor in Angel's bedroom. With a shudder she steered her mind clear of Angel's bedroom, she couldn't go there just yet. Especially if she was going to do what needed to be done.
With a resolved sigh she ran her fingers through her hair, wiped her face with the hem of her shirt and tied it as best she could around her body. Not exactly Versace, she thought as she surveyed herself, but it'll do.
Slowly, hesitantly, moved by a power far greater then herself, she made her way to the factory.
The guards weren't much of a challenge, too shocked and worn by day to offer much resistance. Spike really needed to get himself better lackeys, especially if he was about to get daytime visits from the likes of her. The dark vampiress was quite another matter altogether.
"Spike!" Buffy called out as the crazed Drusilla lashed out at her. She ducked and rolled, kicking Drusilla's feet from under her in the process. "Spike!"
"In my home!" Drusilla screeched, her demonic features contorted with rage. "The Slayer is in my home!" With fluid grace she rose off the floor and lunged at the irritated Slayer.
With calculated ease Buffy side stepped the charging vampiress. She quickly jumped around to face the enraged Drusilla only to receive a hard fist in her face. Enough was enough! With a very vampire-like snarl Buffy whipped out a stake, "Spike!" She yelled, "unless you want to vacuum your girlfriend, get yourself out here!"
"No need to yell, Slayer," Spike said calmly from the balcony to her side. Both Buffy and Drusilla whipped around to face him. With dignified grace he slowly made his way down, "you could have just knocked, you know." He pointed out as he wrapped his arms around his maddened lover from behind. She seemed to visibly relax in his embrace, easing from a lethal killer into a contented kitten in his arms. "Had yourself some fun, luv?" He whispered in her ear as he placed soft kisses on his lover's jaw.
"Nasty Slayer woke me up," Drusilla reported sullenly glaring at Buffy with undisguised malice. "I want to punish her, Spike. Let princess punish her."
Buffy rolled her eyes, "we need to talk, Spike."
He gave her an impudent grin, "that's usually my line, pet. Dru does have a point though. You can't just barge into people's homes in the dead of day and expect them to..."
He was playing games with her! Buffy felt her fist tighten on her stake as she fought to remain calm, "we need to talk now!" She grated through clenched teeth.
Spike looked her up and down noting her disheveled appearance and the deadly weapon in her hand. Nodding once he let go of his lover and led the tightly wound Slayer into a back room. "That wasn't very smart, Slayer," he started as soon as he closed the door.
She lunged at him, pinning him to the wall and planting a knee against his gut as he groaned in pain. "I don't care why that man died last night!" She hissed in the surprised vampire's face.
"Well that makes my job a lot easier," Spike gasped. The knee in his gut pressed deeper.
"I don't even care who killed him!"
"If only all Slayer's thought like you." He silently wondered if it was possible to be staked by a knee. He sincerely hoped he wasn't about to find out.
"But if anyone else shows up with so much as a bite mark I'm going to hold you personally responsible!"
"I knew it was too good to be true," Spike murmured, then breathed with relief as the blonde Slayer abruptly let him go.
"The only reason I'm not staking you right now is that I need you to do something for me."
Spike turned to glare at her, a condescending smirk on his lips, then taking a good look he thought better of it. "What the hell happened to you?"
She ignored him, "I need you to go to the Elders. Tell them I need to talk to them as soon as possible."
He frowned, a concerned look creeping on his pale features, "what's going on?"
She went on ignoring him. "On second thought tell them one of them will be enough. I don't need to see all of them."
That was it! His patience snapped as easily as a twig. "Did you rehearse that little speech all the way down here, pet?" His face, still human but intensely angry was mere inches from hers, "you can't just kick your way in here and order me around. I am not your errand boy!"
"That's right," she agreed as sweetly as she could. "You're theirs." Silently rejoicing over the shock in his face she turned to leave. Now she could cry in peace.
