Disclaimers: Not my universe, not my characters, not even my story, really. Joss Whedon wrote the main part of this; I just embroidered around the edges.
Note 1: Miss Mason's quote about betrayal is actually my brother's and can be found in his wonderful fic "The Song of Christmas."
Note 2: I fudged on a few minor things to make this concept work. I realize there are inconsistencies, even though I did my best to avoid them. Call it a different way of telling the same story.
Note 3: Thanks to Tanja Kinkel for a beta and for the wonderful idea about the Mayor providing for Faith.
Graduation Day
© 1999, HonorH
Joe Perry wasn't particularly worried. He'd heard a loud thump in the back of his truck a few minutes ago, but that was standard when one was transporting construction materials. Nonetheless, it was always a good idea to take a look at exactly what went thump, so as he pulled up to a stop sign, he put his truck in "park" and got out to take a look at his cargo.
In another second, he was leaping for his radio to call the police.
***
"Sir!"
Richard Wilkins, Mayor of Sunnydale, immortal, and incipient demon, turned from the wreckage of Faith's apartment as his aide called for him. The aide was holding a cell phone.
"Have they found my Faith?" the Mayor asked in a desperately worried voice.
The aide nodded. "A trucker found her, Sir. She's being taken to the hospital. No word on the other girl."
"Take me to her." The Mayor strode implacably out of the apartment, followed by his aide.
***
He was hot. Burning up. Willow swallowed her worry as she wrung out a washcloth and reached over to gently wash the sweat from Angel's brow.
He'd always been cool before. When he'd protected her with his own body from the mad Gwendolyn Post, Willow had noticed that he wasn't much warmer than the marble below her. Now, he was hot. It wasn't good. From what they'd read of the poison Faith had used, it literally burned vampires alive. His temperature would continue to rise until he finally combusted. Willow could think of few ways she'd rather not die. He was even breathing now, an unconscious response to the need to cool himself.
Angel moaned and stirred, opening his eyes. Willow tried to smile reassuringly.
"You're awake," she said.
"You've been watching over me?" Angel murmured. Willow was on the verge of starting to babble when the vampire gently took her hand in his and lifted it to his mouth for a kiss. His other hand moved to her upper arm in what could only be described as a caress.
"Well, we've been taking turns . . ." Willow offered uncertainly. She'd always liked Angel, and he'd always been kind to her (except when he went bad), but didn't that seem a little too friendly?
"I thought I'd never see you again," Angel breathed. "I can't leave you. I was wrong. I need you."
"Oh! You mean you need Buffy." The realization came at the same moment as her heart twisted at the romance of those few words.
Angel's brow crinkled, and he blinked. "Willow?" he asked.
"Yes. Right. Willow." She kept herself from congratulating him with some effort.
"Where is she?"
"She'll be back soon."
The hand on her upper arm squeezed gently, then relaxed as Angel fell back into his fitful sleep.
Willow watched him sleep for a moment with a lump in her throat. Another thing to dislike Faith for, she thought.
In a moment of total self-honesty, Willow realized she didn't merely dislike Faith; she hated her. Faith had had sex with Xander (not that Willow was totally excusing Xander for his participation, but she had a good idea who'd broached the subject) then had tried to kill him. Xander had walked around for a week wearing high-collared shirts to hide the bruises and had flatly refused to discuss the subject with anyone, going so far as to walk out of the room one time when the subject of Faith was raised. Faith had played viper in the nest, passing on who knows how much information to the Mayor before they'd caught on to her. She'd tried to strip Angel of his soul, even after having seen how deep the scars ran from the last time that had happened. And now she was hurting Buffy in the worst way she knew how: by killing Angel in the slowest, most painful way possible.
Willow wasn't proud of her feelings, but she wasn't about to try to change them. Faith may have had a bad time of it. She may have had a lousy childhood. Not everyone with a lousy childhood, though, turned out like Faith. Ultimately, going bad was a decision--unless, of course, one got turned into a vampire.
Quietly, the hacker-cum-witch collected her washcloth and basin and walked from the room, casting one last glance at the suffering Angel. Outside, Oz met her.
"Any change?" Oz asked in his quiet way. Willow would never again complain about his taciturn manner--not now that she knew what was underneath it.
"He's delirious. He thought I was Buffy," Willow said, her heart melting.
Oz grunted. "You, too, huh?"
Willow fought back a giggle as she visualized Angel mistaking Oz for Buffy. She'd have paid good money to see that.
"I hope she gets back soon. I mean, she'd better, if . . ." Willow couldn't bring herself to finish the sentence.
"Yeah," agreed Oz.
"I feel so guilty," Willow suddenly confessed.
Oz's brow crinkled. "About what?"
Willow gestured helplessly toward Angel's room. "It's just that everything's so terrible, and things are coming apart, and in some ways I feel like it's . . . the best night of my life." The last words came out shyly as she looked at her lover.
Warmth spread across Oz's impassive features. "The best?"
"The best." Willow moved happily into his arms. No matter what happened at graduation, they had this moment.
A quiet footfall caught her ear. Willow looked up to behold Buffy. Her heart twisted again as she realized fully just how painful it must be for Buffy to be separated irrevocably from Angel. She stepped away from Oz with some regret.
"I just checked on him just now. We're . . . watching." Willow wanted to be reassuring, but there wasn't much to say that was.
"Did you find Faith?" Oz asked.
Buffy said nothing. Her expression was bleak
A terrible feeling was growing in Willow's stomach. "You didn't . . . she's not here."
"How is he?" Buffy asked in a soft, flat voice.
Willow couldn't say anything. Oz answered. "He comes in and out. I think the . . . the pain's less."
"Would you guys . . . I'd like to be alone with him now." It was an order. Oz and Willow grabbed their coats and headed for the door.
"We'll try and find another cure," said Willow as they left.
***
Buffy looked down at her sleeping lover. He was so beautiful, even in this state. The heat suffusing his body had made his moonlight-pale skin flush. Tendrils of angry, swollen redness reached out in every direction from the wound on his shoulder. The arrow wound itself had already turned black.
He gasped a few labored breaths, then opened his eyes. "Buffy?" he murmured. "Is that you?"
"It's me," she whispered.
He smiled slightly. "I didn't want to go without seeing you."
Buffy placed a finger over his lips. "Angel, I can cure you," she said.
"It's okay," he murmured, obviously thinking she was trying to comfort him. "I'm ready."
A resolve that she'd been working on ever since killing Faith settled into place. "Angel, listen to me," she ordered. "Sit up."
Buffy tried to help him sit up, but he gasped in pain. His eyes found her again. "You're going to live." She took off her coat, exposing her neck and shoulders. "You have to live."
Angel was clearly puzzled. "What way?"
"Drink," she commanded. "Drink me."
Angel's eyes widened in horror. "No," he gasped.
"It's the only way," she insisted. "Drink."
"No," he said, and pushed her away. "Get away."
He forced himself upright and stumbled out of bed. She followed him into the sitting room, where he nearly fell over. Seeing him this way only strengthened her resolve to see this through.
"It'll save you," she pressed.
"It'll kill you."
"Maybe not. Not if you don't take it all."
He shook his head almost angrily. "You can't ask me to do that!"
"I won't let you die." She was almost angry herself. "I can't. The blood of a Slayer is the only cure."
"Faith," he moaned, leaning on a table. The heat radiating from his body seemed almost as intense as the fire. It wouldn't be long now.
Buffy swallowed. "I tried. I killed her." The words sounded strange coming from her lips.
Angel shook his head. "Then it's over."
"It is never over!" she almost shouted. "I won't let you die. Drink." She reached out and physically forced him to look at her. He swayed weakly in her grip.
There was desperation in his eyes now. "Please," he begged.
Buffy had thought it might come to this. There was only one way, then. She hit him.
Again.
And again.
A feral snarl raked her ears as Angel straightened, his face distorted into its vampire mask. This vampire wasn't strong, though. He was weak and hungry. Too hungry to resist an easy meal. Buffy stripped the tank top away from her shoulder, baring her neck to him. Then she reached out, pulling his head down to her neck.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then his mouth opened, questing for the blood vessels under her skin. She felt a surge of triumph and, as his tongue probed the juncture of her neck and shoulder, shivered with remembered passion.
His fangs sank into her.
***
Angel exploded into the ER.
"I need some help!" he shouted at the first medical personnel he saw. "She lost a lot of blood!" Buffy's tiny, limp form lay in his arms, seeming to weigh nothing.
Someone grabbed him, directed him as he babbled about her having lost blood, something bit her. He laid her on a bed.
"Was she conscious?" demanded a doctor.
Questions assaulted Angel's ears. He had an impression of answering them and of the doctor barking orders, but nothing made sense. More questions.
"Just help her!" he finally snarled. Something gave way under his hand, falling to the floor with a clunk.
The doctor stared at the empty space the door handle had once occupied. "You two been doing drugs?"
Angel stared at him, not comprehending why this was important.
"You want her to live, you have to be straight with me," insisted the doctor.
"She's clean," Angel bit out. Then he was being ushered outside.
As he spotted the phones, the vampire knew he needed to call her friends. Her mother--no, Buffy had said she sent her mother out of town. Call the library. Giles. Giles would want to be here. Angel picked up the phone.
He would never recall exactly what the conversation was. As he hung up, there was some sort of commotion, someone yelling for security.
From Buffy's room. Angel was in the room in a moment, yanking the Mayor away from the unconscious Slayer. The vampire placed his body between them.
"Don't do that!" he told the suddenly crazed Mayor. The change from the times Angel had been in his office was remarkable--and alarming.
"I will," snarled the Mayor. "I will do that and worse. Murderous little fiend! Did you see what she did to my Faith?"
"Hadn't made any plans to weep over that one," Angel growled softly, cruelly.
"Well, I'd get set for some weeping if I were you. I'd get set for a world of pain! Misery loves company, young man, and I'm looking to share that with you and your whore!" shouted the Mayor.
Angel's hand shot out, sending the Mayor flying across the room. It was with great difficulty that he kept the vampire from coming out.
The Mayor suddenly laughed. "Well, looks like somebody's been eating his spinach."
Angel glared. So the Mayor knew what he'd had to do to get his strength back, did he?
Security people and the charge nurse rushed into the room. The Mayor stood and smiled genially, giving no sign he'd just been thrown across a room hard enough to shatter reinforced glass.
"No, it's okay, folks. It's all right," he reassured the gathered security and nurse. "The show's not over, but there will be a short intermission. Don't want to miss the second act. All kinds of excitement!" With that, the Mayor left.
"I'll be there," Angel promised. He turned back to the doctor examining Buffy's still form. "Is she okay?"
The doctor took the unconscious girl's pulse. "She seems to be. Her pulse is getting stronger."
"Will she be all right?" Angel asked, almost pleading.
Something in his voice made the doctor take a longer look at him. "She should be. She's young and healthy, and with a few more units of blood and some time, she'll be okay. It was lucky you got her here so fast."
"Lucky," Angel murmured. He backed out of the room, feeling lost. For a time--he never knew how long--he just crouched by the phones, not noticing anything that went on around him.
"Angel!" It was Willow's voice. She, Giles, Oz, and Xander were all hurrying toward him. Angel stood up and closed the gap with a few steps.
"How is she?" demanded Giles.
"She's fine. She's asleep," answered Angel, knowing it was true but feeling almost that it was a lie.
Oz's brow wrinkled. "Well, you seem all right, too."
Suddenly, the full impact of what he'd done hit Angel. He couldn't bear to look at the others as he murmured an affirmative.
"What happened?" It was Xander, of course.
"When we left her she was fine," put in Willow. "Did Faith . . ."
She doesn't get it, thought Angel with some disbelief. "Faith's out of the picture. Buffy put her into a coma."
"And?" prompted Xander.
Damn you, Xander, Angel thought. "Buffy cured me. Made me . . ." He couldn't finish the sentence. It sounded too much like an excuse. It was impossible for the vampire to look at the rest of them.
"You fed off her." It was Giles' voice, stony and implacable.
For the first time, Angel looked up at him. He owed Giles that much. "Yes," he answered helplessly.
"How much?" Giles again.
There was no good answer to that question, no way Angel could answer it directly, so he settled for "She's gonna be fine."
"She won't be a vampire?" asked Willow worriedly.
Angel looked down again. "No. She didn't feed off me."
There was a long moment of absolute silence in which Angel stared at the floor, even more horrified at his actions than Buffy's friends were. It was broken by Xander's voice.
"Well, it's just good to know that when the chips are down and things look grim, you'll feed off the girl who loves you to save your own ass."
Angel could say nothing to that.
Another silence was broken by Giles' voice, sounding curiously neutral. "You better go, Angel. We'll watch over her."
"I don't want to . . ." Angel began, but Giles interrupted him.
"The sun will be up soon."
Thus exiled, Angel walked away.
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