TITLE: Interstitial Angel Ficlets AUTHOR: Katriena Knights RATING: PG13, language SUMMARY: Bits to go in and around, after, before or during episodes. NOTES: This is a WIP. I don't normally post WIPs, but I didn't really see any other way to do this one, since it'll be going on for a while. SPOILERS: This part, WttH and The Harvest MORE FIC AND ART AT: http://www.bewellweb.com/dknights/fanfic.html ARCHIVE: Ask it nicely and it'll follow you anywhere. DISCLAIMER: Not mine, just playing. WELCOME TO THE HELLMOUTH Angel liked Willie's, but he didn't like Willie. At Willie's, the gossip was always good and the blood was always fresh. Not always human, but always fresh. Willie, on the other hand, was obnoxious, and he smelled weird. Angel had been in Sunnydale for a few weeks, waiting for news. Whistler had told him to come here, and then had disappeared. Just like a demon to bail on you when you needed him, but Angel had felt like he could handle the situation. Until he started hearing the rumors. The Master. The Harvest. This was not good. Then he heard the biggest rumor of all. The one he'd been waiting for. He was sitting in a booth in a corner of Willie's bar, sipping a glass of warm B positive, when a couple of vamps plopped down at the table next to him. "Damn, you think it's really true?" one of them said to the other. "Sounded like bullshit to me," said the other. "Slayer." He made a scoffing noise. "Some chick can kill vamps? Yeah, right." "You've never heard of the Slayer?" Angel spoke without thinking, but it didn't matter--these were immature, ignorant vamps, probably Turned less than a decade ago. They turned to look at him, disdainful. "Who the fuck are you?" one of them said. He returned the other vampire's regard steadily. He, with 240-odd years to their ten or twelve, was not the one in danger here. "She in town?" The vamp's mouth tightened, yellow eyes flashing. Angel hated the ones who stayed in demon-face all the time. They thought it was cool, he knew, but among the Order of Aurelius it was considered a flaw in character, a lack of control. As much as he chose now to distance himself from that past, he still held those prejudices. "I said, who are you?" The young, stupid, poorly trained vamp came to his feet, glaring down at Angel. Angel smiled placidly back. Then came to his feet, grabbed the other vamp by the skull, and twisted his head off. The babyvamp had never had a chance, Angel was that fast. The second youngster sat gaping as Angel dusted off his hands. "Now," said Angel. "What have you heard about the Slayer?" # He gave her a cross. A big, chunky, silver one. The salesclerk at the jewelry store had given him an odd look when he'd refused to touch it. Buffy had taken it from him and looked at him with nearly as much disdain as he'd gotten from the vamps at Willie's. And why not? He could deal with other vamps, with demons, but he had no clue whatsoever how to interact with human beings. Especially her. He got close to her and he could swear his heart started beating. He'd come off like a stalker, he was certain. Of course, that was exactly what he'd been doing. His neck still ached where she'd kicked him. He smiled a little, rotating his head, feeling the bruise. But the smile faded. She was so young, so small, so alone. And before this was over, she would have to face the Master. Angel knew far too well the kind of power his grandsire possessed. He could only do so much for the little golden Slayer girl--the rest she had to manage on her own. He hoped she was up to the task. THE HARVEST "She did it. I'll be damned." Somehow, she had defeated the Master's minions. She and her goofy friends. It seemed an unlikely combination--and he couldn't remember ever having heard of a Slayer with sidekicks--but it had worked. She was something special. He'd known that the moment he'd first seen her, when Whistler had taken him to LA. He'd never wanted anything in his life as much as he'd wanted, then, to help her, to make something meaningful out of the waste of his existence. For her. At Willie's, the babyvamps were gathered in clusters, panicky, yammering about the Slayer. Idiots, all of them, convinced until tonight that the Slayer was nothing more than a myth, a boogie-girl invented by humans to scare the demons in the world. And now here she was among them. Slaughtering them. He couldn't help laughing at the depth of their stupidity. Six of them sat at the table next to his customary booth; they turned almost as one to glare at him. "What's so damn funny?" one of them demanded, yellow eyes glinting. He placidly sipped from his glass before answering. "You are." He shook his head in amazement. "You seriously didn't believe in the Slayer? Don't they bother to teach fledglings anymore, or do they just Turn you and set you free?" "She's a girl," one of the babyvamps protested. "How can she kill us if she's so small?" "Slayer's always a girl," Angel said. "One girl in all the world, to stand against the forces of darkness. Which would be you guys." He chuckled. "Doesn't look like such a big job, after all, from where I'm sitting." "Who the hell do you think you are?" If nothing else, Angel thought, he'd been doing a good job of pissing these guys off. Once again, he avoided the question. If he answered, "Angelus," he might get some reaction, perhaps a bit of respect, but he didn't want to. He'd left that name, and all it represented, behind him in Romania nearly a century ago. "I suppose you think the Master's a myth, too," he said. "No way. The Master's real. He's stuck underground. That bitch of a Slayer stopped the Harvest, or he would have risen tonight." Angel nodded. "The Master made the one who Sired me," he said then, carefully. "I am of the Order of Aurelius, and none of you is worthy to lick the bottoms of my shoes." One of the miscellaneous babyvamps gaped at him, recognition rising on her face. "Angelus," she said. Angel didn't answer. "Who?" said one of the other vampires. "The Scourge of Europe." She was warming to the topic, eyeing Angel with growing enthusiasm and more than a little lust. "If half the rumors are true, you're...spectacular." Angel had had enough. He stood slowly, peering down at her in disdain. "Time to start some new rumors." He turned and walked out of the bar, straightening his jacket and summoning some of the imposing presence he knew he'd carried as Angelus. If he was going to be some kind of evil-fighting hero, he might as well try to be cool about it. END for the moment.