FOLLOW YOUR HEART
Part Three
by Debbie Nockels
(April 2000)
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Buffy was on her feet. So was Vincent. "Where is he?" he asked. Mouse's eyes slewed around to Buffy, peering at her through his shaggy bangs. "Same place she was," he said. "Where the big fog is."
"Mouse," said Buffy. "Did this man say he was an angel, or that his name was Angel?" Mouse shrugged, apparently unsurprised that she knew his own name. "Don't know. Mouse just heard angel."
Buffy looked around for her bag. "I better check it out, Vincent. I don't know why Angel would be here, but then I don't know why I'm here either. Or how. But it could also be a trick, someone pretending to be Angel to put me off my guard."
"Don't need to go," Mouse told her, putting out a hand as if to stop her. "Sentries are bringing him here."
"Oh." After a second Buffy again pulled her trusty stake out of her bag. Sticking it in her back pocket, she moved away from the table to give herself fighting space, just in case. Her heart was beating wildly, and she swallowed. Vincent took up a position next to the entrance, where he wouldn't be seen right away. Father moved in front of Buffy, but slightly to one side, very much the patriarch and leader.
They didn't have to wait long. Within minutes a familiar form appeared in the doorway, shepherded by three guards in the characteristic garb of the Tunnel world. Buffy's heart gave a loud thump.
"Father," began one of the guards, a young man in his twenties with short brown hair and brown eyes. "This man came out of the fog - " He didn't finish. Angel spotted Buffy and shook off his guards as if they were flies. Before they could react he was in the room, ignoring everyone but her.
"Buffy! Are you all right?" Angel moved toward her, alert, brown eyes sweeping the room. "Where are we? Who are these peop - " He stopped short, and Buffy knew he'd seen Vincent. The mere sight of her vampire lover, her first look at him in five months, had caused her heart to spasm with joy - and pain - but she hastened to make the introductions.
"Um, everyone, this is Angel, as you've probably figured out. Angel, this is Catherine, Zach, Mouse, Father - I mean, his name is Jacob, but everyone calls him Father, and that's Vincent over by the door. I'm afraid I don't know your names." She looked apologetically at the sentries.
The brown-haired young man glanced at Father, who nodded. "I'm Kipper." Then he indicated the young woman next to him. "This is Jamie and that's Eric next to her."
"Thank you; I'm Buffy. Angel, why are you here? Is something wrong?" She took a step toward him, unable to resist the pull of her love. Angel looked at her, and she saw in his eyes the same emotions that were shaking her. He put his hands on her shoulders; she felt his fingers caressing them. She was aware only dimly of the three sentries being dismissed; all of her attention was focused on Angel.
"They're in love, aren't they?" Catherine whispered to Zach. "They might as well have a neon sign over their heads." When the young man nodded, she mused, "A Slayer and a vampire; that must be the forbidden love of all time."
Zach gave a sad little laugh. "You have no idea," he murmured back. "You and Vincent were lucky in comparison. You only thought you couldn't be together; they know they can't be. If Angel has even a moment of true happiness he loses his soul and reverts to being evil again. At least, that's the way it is in the show."
"Oh my God," Catherine breathed.
Father came around the table. "Angel, welcome. Would you care for some tea - oh. Er.. . ." It was evident that he had suddenly remembered Angel was a vampire. Angel wrenched his gaze away from Buffy and smiled at the elderly man.
"Thank you; that would be nice. I owe you all an apology for just barging into the room like that. I was worried about Buffy."
Catherine gave him her warm smile. "Please, sit down. Vincent, I think we need another chair." But Vincent was already bringing in two additional chairs from an adjoining room. One he gave to Mouse, the other he placed next to Buffy's. Everyone shuffled around, making room.
"Thanks." Angel gave Vincent a quick glance, then just as quickly looked away, not wanting to stare at this man who so closely resembled a lion. Buffy had already resumed her seat, first removing the stake from her back pocket and placing it on the table. He took his place beside her then hesitantly looked around the table. "Where are we, if that's not a rude question?"
"Not at all," Vincent replied. "You're in the tunnels beneath Manhattan in what appears to be a world not your own."
"A parallel universe," Angel mused, nodding slowly. "That explains it. I never thought I'd be personally experiencing that concept."
"Explains what?" Buffy demanded.
"Cordelia had a vision that there was danger, and that you were involved somehow. I drove to Sunnydale and followed you."
"You saw me go into the mansion?"
"Yes. When you didn't come out I went in and followed you here."
"How did you know where I'd gone?" she asked softly.
"I - just knew." His eyes met hers, and warmth spread through her heart. She cleared her throat. "So Cordy had a vision that someone was in trouble. What's that got to do with us being in a different world?"
Angel shook his head. "Not that someone was in danger, just that there was danger somewhere involving you. Buffy, I sensed something in that passage. I think that you were drawn here somehow - by a spell, possibly. Your presence, and now mine as well, is upsetting the balance between this world and ours. That is the danger."
He broke off to thank Father as he set a cup before him, then added, gravely, "We have to leave before the damage becomes permanent."
"Surely you wouldn't deprive us of the pleasure of your company so soon? I won't hear of it." The words rolled out behind them with the deep, sonorous delivery of a professional stage actor.
Angel turned sharply, as did Buffy. Someone else entered the study - a man dressed all in black, wearing a long black cape. He was thin and elderly, and a thin metal mask covered one side of his face, Phantom-style. He had a gun trained on Father. Buffy instantly recognized the Tunnel World's most formidable enemy.
"Paracelsus," she stated, at the same moment that Vincent gave a low growl. His lips were drawn back, disclosing formidable fangs. His chair scraped the floor as he shot to his feet.
"Stay right where you are!" Paracelsus ordered. He waggled the gun for emphasis. "You might kill me, Vincent, but not before dear Jacob goes to his reward also. Not even you are that fast."
Vincent's body rippled with tension, but he stayed put. Buffy's attention snapped back to the doorway as two burly men entered - bouncer types who looked like refugees from the WWF. Minions of Paracelsus, she assumed, probably his bodyguards too.
"What is it that you want this time, John?" Father leaned back in his chair, his voice taut with anger.
John Pater, known as Paracelsus, regarded him coldly. "Only the package I sent for, Jacob, I assure you. Now which of these two strangers would be the one chosen to be the instrument of your destruction?"
"Me," Buffy and Angel said simultaneously. Buffy scowled at Angel. "Oh, no you don't. You're always hogging all the fun!" She poked him in the chest for emphasis. "This time it's my turn."
Angel responded as if they'd rehearsed it. "I don't think so," he drawled insultingly. "Why would anyone want a puny thing like you when they could have me?"
"Puny?" screeched Buffy, springing up. "I'll show you puny!" Reaching out, she grabbed Angel's shirt and dragged him from his chair. He wrenched away, to the sound of fabric ripping.
Angel looked down at his tattered shirt then transferred the glare to Buffy. "That was pure silk!" he hissed. "You're going to pay for that!"
"Who's gonna make me?" Buffy taunted. She danced farther away from the table, which not coincidentally brought her between Paracelsus and Father. Unfortunately, Paracelsus noticed and moved to one side, once again bringing Father into the line of fire. Fortunately, that also took him closer to Angel. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the two bodyguards moving in.
"Bitch!" Angel spat out. He'd seen the henchmen too. "You obviously need another lesson on respecting your elders." They were almost in place now. He lunged for her, again blocking Father from the line of fire. Buffy whirled around just as the first minion reached out to grab her. Her kick sent him staggering back several feet.
Angel ducked the blow from the second bodyguard, landing a hard punch in the man's very solid gut. The husky man cried out in surprise and pain, and doubled over. Angel saw out of the corner of his eye a large furred hand grab the bodyguard's arm, and instantly turned his attention to Paracelsus. He was just in time. The gun was being aimed. He lunged in front of it just as Paracelsus fired.
Buffy followed up her first kick with another one, and then a third. Vaguely she was aware of loud growls in the background, but her attention was on her opponent. She ran and jumped, her foot meeting his chin with an audible smack. He lurched back a step, gave a half turn, and fell, just as a series of gunshots rang out. A roar that almost lifted her out of her skin echoed through the room.
Instantly Buffy whirled, her heart thumping with fear. The second bodyguard sprawled on the ground at Vincent's feet; Paracelsus had retreated closer to the doorway. Father was on the floor, with Catherine and Zach stretched over him like protective blankets. Angel was down on one knee, bent over, but even as she gasped his name he straightened up. Glaring at Paracelsus, he morphed into his game face. Five blood stains on his shirt and torso showed where the bullets had struck. A strangled cry came from Mouse, who stared at him open-mouthed.
"You have no idea how much I hate being shot," Angel growled. He started toward Paracelsus, who fired again. Angel jerked as yet another red spot appeared on his chest, then bared his teeth in a snarl. His yellow eyes blazed. Vincent started forward at the same time, both men obviously intending to reach Paracelsus.
The black cape fluttered as the elderly villain made a sweeping gesture with his hand. There came a loud noise, like a very large cherry bomb and a blinding flash of light. When Buffy could see again Paracelsus had vanished. She ran to Angel and helped him to his chair as Vincent sprinted through the doorway after the escaped villain.
"I'm all right," Angel gasped out, hissing in pain. "Is everyone okay? Father?"
"I'm fine." Father accepted Zach's assistance in getting to his feet. He came over to Angel and knelt beside him, stiffly due to his bad leg. "Let me see to your wounds. I'm a doctor, you know. Catherine, would you get my bag, please?" As he spoke he was busily tearing Angel's shirt open. "I don't understand why there's so little blood."
"Because I'm a vampire," Angel reminded him through clenched teeth. "We don't bleed much."
Father blinked. "Oh. No, I suppose you wouldn't. Er . . . what about the bullets? Don't they need to, er, be removed? Or did they go through you?" He carefully touched the area beside one of the wounds and raised a surprised eyebrow. Buffy guessed it was in reaction to Angel's cold skin.
"I think they did, yes." Buffy said now, gently urging Angel to lean forward so she could get a better look at his back. She carefully pulled the remains of his shirt off, biting her lip when Angel made a little sound of pain. "Yes, here's one, two, three, four, five, six exit wounds. Thank God he didn't have a more modern gun, with eight or ten shots in it." Catherine brought Father a bowl of water and a clean cloth. Angel leaned back in the chair and Father began to clean his wounds.
Angel winced a little but said nothing. Buffy stroked his cheek softly. "How do you feel?" A silly question, she knew, but her nerves were still shaking Angel gave her a little smile. "I'll be fine," he told her. Their eyes held for a long moment, broken only when Mouse came sidling forward, peering intently at Angel. He pointed a hesitant finger at the vampire.
"Why does your face look like that?"
Only then did Buffy realize that Angel was still in vampire mode. Apparently Angel had also forgotten; he stared blankly at Mouse for a second before suddenly morphing back into his regular features. If vampires were physically able to blush, Buffy was sure he would have.
"I'm sorry," Angel told Mouse. The young man stared, fascinated. "Now it's gone," he marveled. "Wish Mouse could do that. Bad guys would take one look and, whoosh! They'd run away faster than fast!"
"Mouse," Father reproved gently. "It's not polite to stare."
The young man looked much abashed. "Sorry. Didn't mean to be rude."
"It's all right, Mouse," Angel reassured him, then looked up as Vincent entered the room, looking grim and accompanied by several other Tunnel dwellers, among them a young boy of about ten who instantly went over to Catherine. "He got away?"
"I'm afraid so." Vincent walked over to the prone figures of the bodyguards. "They should be coming to any time now. Let's see if they can give us any answers."
"Answers?" asked Buffy. She was watching the young boy, who had Vincent's thick, untamed hair and Catherine's hazel-green eyes. That's their son; I know it. Catherine smiled down at the lad and smoothed a lock of hair back out of his eyes.
"To why Paracelsus summoned you and why he thought you would help him, for a start," Vincent replied.
"Oh. Yeah, those would be good questions to have the answers to." She looked around the room, spotted a small iron cylinder about eight inches long and one inch in diameter lying on a shelf nearby. She recognized it as a tapping pipe, used to relay messages on the larger pipes that ran through the Tunnel community. It looked about the right size. Picking it up, she tested the weight, then asked, "Father, may I use this for a while?"
Father's eyebrows snapped together in a wary frown. "For what purpose? I can't condone any violence - "
Buffy smiled. "No violence, Father. Intimidation only, I promise." In illustration, she held the pipe in her hands and slowly bent it, then pulled it straight again. Well, almost straight. A series of audible gasps rose from the new arrivals.
Father hesitated, visibly taken aback, then nodded gamely. "Very well then." Catherine looked startled. The boy gaped at her. "How did you do that?"
Zach said, matter of factly, "She's the Slayer."
"What's a Slayer?" one of the newcomers asked, eyeing Buffy nervously. Father sighed. "A Slayer is a very strong young woman with an important purpose in life. Now please, I promise I'll explain everything later, but right now is not the time."
After checking for concealed weapons, Buffy helped Vincent drag the unconscious men over to the wall and prop them up against it. They were starting to make little groaning noises. One of them, the one Buffy had fought, opened his eyes and stared blearily at her. A moment later the second bodyguard regained consciousness.
"Hello, glad you're back with us," Buffy said pleasantly. "No broken bones, just bruises and maybe a headache? Good. We have some questions for you."
The second bodyguard sneered. "What makes you think we'll answer them?"
Vincent smiled, as did Buffy. "Oh, I think you will," Vincent told them. Buffy didn't say anything more, just held out the iron cylinder in her hands, then casually bent it into a semicircle. Two pairs of eyes widened, then watched in disbelief while she just as casually turned it over and exerted pressure on the ends to straighten it out.
"Damn," she said, frowning at the still-curved rod. "I never can get these things completely straight again; they always have a bend in them. Can you fix it, Vincent?" She handed it to him. Vincent shot her a quick sideways glance, then took the cylinder and managed to straighten it a bit more. The bodyguards' eyes grew bigger.
"Here, let me try." Angel got up and took the cylinder from Vincent. Buffy stifled the protest that sprang to her lips. He took the two ends in his hands and pushed on them. Slowly the metal pipe curved around until the ends touched, forming an almost complete circle. Then the vampire pulled.
Buffy couldn't look away from the taut, straining muscles of his arms and chest. She knew this exertion must be causing him considerable pain, but he showed no sign of it. Slowly, slowly, the metal tube straightened until only the merest ripple showed along its length. By now the four watching eyes bulged almost out of their sockets.
Angel gave it back to Buffy. "Here you are, almost as good as new."
Buffy took it with thanks and set it on the table. "Have we made our point, guys?"
The first bodyguard licked his lips. He stared at the bullet wounds in Angel's torso, then lifted his eyes to Angel's face. "You're him, the one Paracelsus sent away for. You're the - vampire." Sweat shone on his brow and upper lip.
Angel allowed his game face to reappear. "That's right. Now suppose you tell us why Paracelsus wanted a vampire in the first place."
"To kill all the Tunnel folks, of course," the second bodyguard said. "He figured the ones you didn't kill would be so scared they'd leave, and then he would have his revenge on someone he called Jacob."
"Dear God," Father muttered, a sentiment echoed by many in the room.
Angel ignored them, concentrating on the two men. He laughed out loud; strangely, this didn't seem to reassure the two prisoners, possibly because of his fangs. "This Paracelsus has a lot to learn about vampires. Let me explain a few things so you can pass the word to him: First of all, we don't take orders from anyone. Second, we don't like anyone who tries to give us orders. And third, anyone we don't like doesn't tend to live very long."
He waited a minute, his yellow gaze fixed intently on them, then reverted back to his normal face. Father stepped forward. "Vincent, why don't you and some of the others escort our ‘guests' out? Unless you have more questions, that is."
"I have one," Catherine said unexpectedly. "How did Paracelsus summon the vampire?"
Bodyguard Number One shrugged. "He had some Voodoo woman do a spell or something."
"Narcissa?" Catherine exclaimed incredulously.
"No, her name was Flower, or Flue - something like that."
"Fleur." The wavery voice came from the doorway. They all turned around. An elderly black woman made her laborious way down the steps to them. Vincent hastened to give her his arm for support. As she came close, Buffy saw that her eyes were clouded over with cataracts; she was blind. Vincent helped her to a chair and knelt beside her.
"Narcissa, what do you know about this?"
Father signaled for the prisoners to be removed. Five men, as burly as the bodyguards, escorted them out of the room. The lingering Tunnel dwellers also left in response to Father's request, except for Mary and young Jacob.
Narcissa answered, "I saw it in de glass. De evil one was helped by Fleur. De granddaughter of my sister Iris. Always dat one has meddled with dark forces, since she was little, but never has she gone dis far before. Pulling in one from another world, upsetting de balance - " The turbaned head gave a negative shake. "Dis must not be. Where is de one who was called?"
All eyes turned to Buffy. Vincent stood up but remained next to Narcissa. Buffy hesitated a second, then went over. Narcissa brought back memories of Kendra, whose accent so closely resembled this one. The white eyes turned unerringly on her face, and a shock went through Buffy. She knew beyond doubt that the blind gaze saw straight into her soul. A soft breath hissed through Narcissa's teeth. She raised a trembling hand and pressed it to her own ample chest.
"Oh, child! Such pain, so heavy a load for one so young!" Her wrinkled face was troubled. "De light shines from you, but something is missing." Narcissa turned her head in a searching movement. "Where is de missing one? De one who completes you? De one who was also called."
Angel came over and stood next to Buffy. Without thought, almost without their volition, their hands clasped. Narcissa hissed again, loudly, and raised a hand before her eyes. "So bright . . . so bright! Together you have much power, but why did de evil one, Paracelsus, call you? Dere is no evil here."
"You're wrong," Angel said quietly. He let go of Buffy's hand, took a step away from her, and waited. Narcissa's blind eyes grew wide. She rose to her feet and came closer, laying her palm flat on his chest. A moment later she withdrew it with a startled sound. "I do not understand. In de middle of de light lies a great darkness."
She replaced her hand, cocking her head to one side. "De darkness is strong, but de light is more powerful still. It surrounds de dark, it will not let it escape." Her head came up with a sudden jerk. "De dark - it is a demon! You are vampire!"
"Yes. But I was given my soul back."
Narcissa's hand slid across his chest and down his torso, moving as if guided to the wounds left by the bullets, touching each one gently. Angel flinched slightly, grimacing, but made no protest. Finally Narcissa once more covered his heart with her palm, murmuring, "Oh, child, you too bear a terrible burden! So much to atone for - so many lives taken. Ah!" It was a cry of sorrow. "Such guilt and remorse, it shakes dis old woman to de bottom of her heart!"
She reached out with her free hand. Buffy took it. "Yes . . . yes," the old woman almost whispered. "You are his redemption. You are bound to each other, hearts and bodies and souls. He bears your mark and you bear his. Dat is why you felt de call of de evil one."
Buffy fingered the scars on her neck and glanced at the mark on Angel's upper chest, right where it met his throat, a mark so faint only someone who knew it was there could make it out at all. It was the scar from their first goodbye kiss, years earlier, when the cross she'd worn had seared its imprint into his skin. "But Angel isn't evil," she challenged the old woman. "Why would the spell summon either one of us?"
Narcissa started to shake her head, then stopped and let out a cackling wheeze of laughter. "Now I know! Oh, dat Paracelsus is stupid! He only tells Fleur to summon a vampire. He does not say, make sure it is evil." She laughed again.
"A classic example of ‘Be careful what you ask for'," suggested Father, smiling. "I wonder if poor John will ever realize what went wrong?"
"You better hope he doesn't," Angel told him. "Or he might try again, and succeed." Suddenly he swayed. Buffy ducked under his arm or he would have fallen. Vincent grabbed his other arm, and Father hurried over.
"Angel, please forgive my thoughtlessness; I completely forgot you were injured. You've obviously over-exerted yourself. Here, help him over to my bed."
Angel started to protest, but a second bout of lightheadedness changed his mind. He allowed them to guide him to the bed, and sank into its soft mattress with gratitude. Buffy sat down on the edge. "Are you okay?" She checked the bullet wounds, afraid his exertions with the tapping pipe might have hurt the healing process; but, no, the inflammation around each injury had almost vanished. Her fingers lingered on his cool skin, remembering its texture.
Father also bent over, examining the injuries. A sound of disbelief came from his lips. "It can't be! They've already begun to close." Straightening, he looked at Angel with something like awe.
"We heal quickly," Angel told him. "I'll be fine. Father, if we may impose a little further on your hospitality, I need to rest a little while, then Buffy and I should leave this place."
"Yes." Narcissa hobbled up to them. "De balance must be made right. But rest first, child; you will need all your strength." The old woman took both their hands in hers. "De road before you is long and hard, and for now you must each walk your own path. You will encounter much pain and grief, and always dere will be de loneliness . . . but in de end you will be together, without fear. Remember dat when de dark days arrive."
"In the meantime," Mary interrupted, gently but with authority, "you are welcome to stay as long as it takes for your recovery. We have a guest chamber nearby. Do you feel strong enough to make it there? It's completely private, but close enough that if you should need anything someone can be there in only a minute."
"Thank you." Slowly Angel began to sit up. Buffy and Vincent helped him to his feet, Buffy slipping back under his arm as he straightened. He gave her his trademark crooked smile and said, "Let me know if I'm too heavy."
"Of course," Buffy replied, lying through her teeth. Another faint smile touched Angel's mouth as they began their slow progression. He leaned on Buffy, but not too heavily, and they made it to the guest chamber without any incidents.
Click Here For Part Four