"Telling your Watcher of this is your choice to make," Gerrico said indifferently. "Keep in mind, however, that he too is needed to guide us through these times."
"I need time to think about this," she gasped, struggling to control her jumbled thoughts.
Gammina nodded, compassion returning to her eyes erasing all traces of her former callousness. "Choose quickly, Slayer. Time is slipping away for all of us. Someone will be waiting outside to take you back to Sunnydale."
Buffy nodded, realizing she was dismissed. With her shoulders slumped and her spirit crushed she made her way out the room.
Angel paced the mansion restlessly. His impatient body moved with feline grace as he crossed the dimly lit room for the umpteenth time that evening. Thoughts raced through his feverish mind, fragments of memory and illusion as he tried to discard what his body demanded, what his mind cried out for, what his soul ached.
The taste of Spike's blood was still on his lips tantalizing him, seducing him all the more. He hadn't even thought of taking his childe's blood, but the feel of Spike's mouth on his neck, the press of Spike's body against his own and the sight of his smooth, pale neck just begging to be plundered was more then he could handle. And, of course, there were the memories. It wasn't the first time they had done something like that, although the last time was lost in ancient memory.
He continued pacing, his body moving with deadly grace as he tried to shrug away temptation. He didn't want Spike's blood, he'd had enough of that. He wanted someone else's. Someone living.
"You cannot dismiss what you are!" The voice sounded in the confines of his mind. He froze, his foot stopping in mid pace giving him the appearance of a startled ballet dancer. "You are a demon, take pride in that!"
Angel snarled, his shock won over by rage at the intrusion into his mind. "Who are you?" He demanded, his face slipping into that of a demon.The voice sounded amused, though no less commanding, "you know me Angelus!" It boomed, "I was the earth shuddering at the day of your birth and I was the sky weeping at the sight of your death. I watched you walk the earth and writhe in hell. I am yours as you are mine!"
The dark vampire shook his head in denial as his eyes sought out a physical threat. His fists clenched as his body tensed, a soft deadly growl oozed out of his throat promising a painful death to the one who dared to do this.
"I dare, Angelus!" The voice cried out with ecstasy. "You are mine and I dare! I dare to grant you power!" The voice rose to an unbearable crescendo. "I dare to give you the world!" Angel dropped to his knees, his eyes and mouth clenched tightly shut, his hands clasped against his ears in a futile attempt to block out the deafening roar from his mind. "And all I want in return is you!"
Blood began to drip through his fingers, his eyes felt as though they would burst. "No!" He grated through lips wounded by his own fangs. He had no reason to object other than for objection's sake. He would not submit to anyone like this, the demon in him refused it as well as the man.
He could fill a flicker of annoyance at his renunciation, "I gave you life!" The voice cried out, "And now I give you power!"
He could feel his blood begin to boil as power coursed its way through his veins. His elbows connected with the floor effectively curling him up into a defensive shell as an incessant fire burned through his body. "CAN YOU FEEL IT?" The voice rose higher into the realms of insanity as Angel screamed out his agony. "CAN YOU FEEL THE POWER?"
The sky engulfed him, he could feel it tearing into him, demanding him even as the earth pulled him back down, claiming him as its own. He was torn, caught in a tug of war between two divine entities that could rip him to shreds. He shrieked with fear, a wounded animal unable to control his reactions. "YOU HAVE THE POWER. COMMAND THEM AND THEY SHALL BE YOURS!"
"Enough!" He cried out. Thunder roared furiously and the ground shook, but the tug of war on his mind stopped. A slow feral smile spread across his pallid features. Tentatively he reached out his mind towards the heavens and laughed as thunder crashed about him in reward. Somewhere in the distance windows shattered and car alarms wailed. He reached towards the earth and felt it shudder with expectant lust under his touch.
With a cry that would have sent a brave man crashing fearfully to his knees he took them both at once. Power flowed through him with a force that would have torn a lesser man apart. His skin glowed as sky and earth submitted to his will, allowing him to do with them as he pleased. With a wild snarl he ran out the mansion into the sudden downpour of the Sunnydale night.
The hunter roamed the dark streets of the Sunnydale night, his golden predatory eyes glimmering in the harsh electric lights. Hard rain cooled his feverish body, the violent downpour embracing him an ethereal veil of silvery illusion.
The hunter moved with deadly grace, rain sliding off him as though it was nonexistent. His senses were attuned with the night, as befitting a creature of darkness such as he, searching, aching for a victim.
His body slid into a crouch as a familiar scent hit his senses, his fingers curling into lethal claws. He recognized that scent for what it was; weakness and fear, a human knowing it was threatened on the most primal of senses, a sentient mind regressing instinctively into prey. A snarl escaped the hunter's taut lips, a vibrant eagerness sizzling through his body at the prospect of attacking, of giving chase, of the first lethal lunge that would end a life at his hands.
He started to run, his eagerness for the kill, the taste of warm blood overcoming caution. A harsh electric light caught his golden eyes, exposing the animalistic frenzy hidden within the hunter's soul. He passed a corner and froze, his face lifting slightly, as he tasted the night air. There was another hunter out this night, a challenging snarl escaped his lips at the thought of his prey being snatched away from him.
The consenting growl soothed away the tension in his hard body. An almost soft smile played across the hunter's lips. He knew this other hunter and was gladdened for he would not need to hunt alone this night.
They moved as one, although they could not see each other in the rain, silent predators hunting a weakened prey. Between the two of them there would be no chase this night, but that was also for the best, as the demand for the taste of blood grew fiercer in the dark hunter's heightened awareness.
Through the silvery veil of rain he could see his prey, old and defeated yet living nonetheless. The hunters lunged as one, an unspoken thought guiding their actions, moving them like choreographed dancers in the complex ballet of life and death.
They attacked from either side, their victim moaned once with denial before succumbing to the hunters' superior strength. Locked firmly by the two predators, pressed against them from either side as the rain slithered down their bodies, he understood in a primitive part of his mind that he was already lost. To an outside observer they would look in the distance like a single body undulating madly in their bloody, deadly orgy. The two hunters latched on to their victim's throat, pale hair mingling lecherously with dark as a human life played the buffer in their wicked passions.
Their dying prey snapped his eyes open to look death in the face. In a single moment of clarity as the blood drained from his body through twin wounds he looked upon the face of his destruction and cried out with awe at the golden animalistic eyes that stared back. In that moment all the legends and myths of his childhood came floating back and he wept as he became a believer.
None of that mattered to the hunter as the life-blood of another filled his mouth and coursed through his veins. It was stale and tepid, the blood of an old man, but it was filled with life and terror that compensated for that. And the long forgotten closeness of his brother to the hunt was worth the imperfect prey. He could feel the strong pulse weakening under his ministrations, fluttering slower before coming to a dead halt.
Only then did the lifeless corpse drop to the ground in a discarded heap of wasted life. The hunters gazed at each other, the hard rain plastering their hair to their heads, their clothes to their bodies. It cleaned the blood smeared across their faces, wiped away all evidence of a crime. There was still ferocious exultation in the demonic golden eyes, a natural ecstasy of a life taken for the pleasure of another.
White lightning blazed fiercely above their heads, to be followed moments later by crashing thunder. The pale hunter blinked, blinded momentarily by nature's pyrotechnics, then frowned irritably as he looked upon the horrified face of his former brother to the hunt. "Oh my God," Angel whispered, his sickened human eyes locked unto the lifeless corpse at his feet. He took an involuntary step back, his head shaking in futile attempt to deny what he had done. "Oh my God!"
Spike shook his head with disgust, his face slipping back into his human mask as he watched his revolted sire. "There is no God here!" He hissed through clenched teeth.
"No!" Angel cried, his feet moving back, instinctively seeking escape. He tripped over a pile of garbage and fell with a crash on the wet refuse still unable to take his eyes off the murdered victim.
"Yes!" Spike growled. "This is what you are, accept that!"
The dark vampire shook his head in denial, violently forcing himself to look into the face of his angered childe. The rain weakened into a soft drizzle, bouncing happily off the vampires. "I can't accept it." He looked back at the lifeless body, his face contorted with nausea, "not this!"
"You're still as pathetic as you used to be!" Spike accused watching the play of emotions across his sire's face. "Just get out of here, you old poof!"
"What about...?" Angel nudged his head towards their victim.
"We were never here," Spike instructed. "The Slayer will stake my ass for this if she finds out."
"Buffy..." Another wave of panic rushed through Angel's expressive features.
Spike rolled his eyes, "tell her what you want, mate. As for me, I was never here." He walked away muttering in disgruntlement as the telltale sounds of retching echoed in his sharp ears.
