Conciliation

By DSC

Disclaimer: Anyone who thinks I invented Buffy or Angel lives in a seriously delusional world. All credit for them goes to Joss Whedon. Nimue is my manipulation of the sorceress who captured Merlin for all eternity and belongs to Sir Thomas Mallory if anyone. But he died in the fourteenth century and thus is blissfully ignorant of copyright law.

Cordelia’s shriek surprised Angel. He had found, in his years of helping humanity, that evil liked to take the summer off, to give the warriors on both sides a chance to calm down, heal their wounds, prepare for the battles of winter, fall and spring. Hell, it had been three weeks since Cordelia’s last vision. He jumped out of bed and skirted the sunlight that flowed into portions of her apartment to find her and cradle her until she came out of the vision.

He picked her up and brought her into the kitchen. Wordlessly, he sat a pad of paper and a pencil in front of her. While she held her head, he poured her a glass of juice and found the prescription painkillers she’d been hoarding for just such occasions. She swallowed the pills and the juice silently. Angel started to get a little worried. Usually Cordelia would have blistered his ears with complaints by now. Instead she just looked into his eyes with a look of infinite sadness.

“Buffy. She’s being held by a vampire. I’m not sure where, but she’s in pain.”

Angel was immediately on the phone, dialing up Giles. He counted six rings before the ex-Watcher finally picked up. Angel didn’t bother with introductions. “Giles, what’s going on?”

“Buffy went on patrol last night and didn’t report back. We found Riley knocked out in the cemetery a half-hour ago. He just came to and told us about the ambush. I was actually about to call you.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” He threw Cordelia the keys and pulled on a shirt. “It’s the trunk for me. We’re headed to Sunnydale.” He scratched a note out to Wesley, and headed for the car.

Angel knocked on Giles’ door. His back ached: the trunk was no place to spend a two hour car ride. However, it was the quickest way to get here. Giles opened the door, his face drawn tight in the twilight. He admitted Angel and Cordelia in wordlessly.

The whole Scooby Gang was there. Xander and Anya had books draped on their laps. Willow and her new girlfriend- There was something I didn’t see coming. What’s her name, Tara? - had their eyes focused in rapt attention on a computer screen. And there, in the far corner of the room, pacing in frustration, was one Riley Finn.

Xander spoke up first. “So, Dead-boy. Do you think you and I can pull off the rescue one more time?” The tone was joking, but Angel saw a dead seriousness and utter anxiety in the boy’s eyes. He allowed his mouth to quirk slightly.

“Maybe, White Knight.” He turned his gaze back to Giles. “Do you know anything more since I called?”

Another familiar, vaguely comforting gesture: Giles took his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “We sent Spike off to go beat up Willy the Snitch just before you arrived.”

“Spike?” Angel’s last memory of Spike was of being brutally tortured at the vampire’s behest. Then he remembered some vague story about a chip in Spike’s head. “Are you sure you can trust him?”

“No. But, he was the only one who could get information out of Willy.”

Angel swallowed for a moment. “Is there anything in the Codex?”

“I hadn’t thought to check, actually. Do you think there would be?”

“There was a prophecy in it the last time she died. If she was going to die again, I think there might be a prophecy.” The words were cold and bitter on his tongue, but he was too far in shock for euphemism. All of the color drained out of Willow’s face, and both Giles and Xander were taken aback. Even Cordelia was a little stunned.

Riley reacted in anger. “Oh, this is just what we needed. A vampire to freak everyone out.”

Angel ignored him, but softened his tone to Giles. “Giles, please, check the Codex. We need to know if this is severe life and death stuff.” He walked to the shelves and unerringly picked out the Codex from the several dusty volumes on the bookcase. He began leafing through the tome.

“I’m going to go on patrol, see if there’s any word on the street.” Angel turned away, but Riley stopped him.

“I’m going with you.” Angel allowed his gaze to run over the boy before finally meeting his eyes.

“Buffy’s life could very well be at stake, and you’re going to play cowboy? I am going into the seamy demon underbelly of Sunnydale, and you don’t exactly look the part.” He saw the look of determination on Riley’s face and relented. “Fine. Come along. But there’ll be some places you won’t be able to get into. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Angel stalked out. Riley paused only a few moments before following him out the door.

Anya stared as the pair left. “Primal male jealousy. I like it.” The rest of the Scoobies gave her odd looks before returning to their research.

“So, Finn, what exactly happened when you and Buffy were ambushed last night?” If the kid insisted on coming along, at least Angel could pump him for information.

“We were doing a standard patrol in the cemetery, things had been pretty quiet, it was only a little before dawn. Then a bunch of vampires surrounded us. She dusted about six of them before they finally overpowered us. I woke up in Giles’ living room.” Riley was having minor difficulty keeping up with Angel’s pace.

Angel quirked an eyebrow. He remembered what one of Buffy’s “quiet night” patrols could be like. He didn’t mention it. Instead, he took a jibe. “She took out six?”

He almost chuckled at the defensive reply. “I got one. She’s a little bit stronger than me.”

“Tell me about it.” Before Riley could respond, Angel continued. “More than four vampires in on an attack at the same time, that’s a raiding party. That indicates a master vampire.” That meant trouble. “Sonovabitch.”

“You the expert on that subject, not me, Angel.” Riley pronounced his name like he was spitting out bile. Angel paid him little mind. There were so few master vampires left around. Most of them preferred to haunt Europe and Asia, although he’d personally sired the two masters who haunted Australia, and he knew the eight bastards who vied for control of Africa.

There had been perhaps seven true masters in the Western Hemisphere. The Master himself was dead, as was Kakistos. Angel and Spike no longer were in the game. Drusilla... that was a possibility, but leaving Riley alive wouldn’t have been her style. Angel was well acquainted with Santiago, and knew he would loathe leaving his villa outside of Lima. That left one truly vicious vampire.

“Nimue.” He sighed.

“That an old friend of yours?”

Angel spared him a smile. “Another of my ex’s, in fact. Over two hundred years, they collect. It’s Nimue, I’ll bet. Which means we’re in a world of trouble.”

“How are you so sure?” Riley was instantly suspicious. Angel calmly explained his logic. The boy looked at him askew. “What do you mean there were only seven master vampires? Buffy’s been slaying them for years.”

Angel was beginning to lose his patience. “If you commandos had bothered to read on the lore, you’d know how rare a master vampire is. Most vampires are fools, and they’re also a fractious bunch. Some of them are more intelligent, more powerful. But a select few are master vampires, leader vampires, who live longer than any of the others, kill more, are more vicious.”

“Of course, you were one of them.”

He flashed Riley an evil grin. “Of course. My sire was one, her sire was one, and I personally sired four of them. Most of the masters living are my blood kin.” Angel caught a glimpse of platinum hair. Speak of the devil. “Spike!’ he called out.

The younger vampire wheeled around. Their gazes met. Simultaneously they spoke. “Nimue.” A half-century of working together overrode the past three years of strife, torture, and abuse.

Spike nodded. “Just got it out of Willy the Snitch. She’s holed up in some of those caves up in the hills-“

“Near the stream, sounds like her m.o.” Angel finished. Spike nodded and took a drag off of his cigarette.

“What’s Captain America doing here? There’s not much he can do in a fight against Nimue.”

Angel shook his head. “There isn’t. I only just figured out it was her. Take him back to Giles. Tell them I went to the caves, I’m going to get Buffy out.” Spike nodded and started back on his walk to Giles’. Riley, however, argued.

“No way. I’m not going to go sit while Buffy’s in trouble. I’m going to the caves with you.”

“Finn, you are only a liability in this fight. If you come with me, you will probably get yourself and maybe Buffy dead.”

Riley met his gaze. “I’ve faced the big bad before.”

Angel snapped. “Not like Nimue you haven’t. Nimue’s more than a thousand years old. Before she was turned she was a great Celtic sorceress. Her powers have only grown since then. She will kill you if you give her the chance.” Riley failed to back down.

Behind them, Spike coughed. “Well, Captain America, if you’re not scared of her, I am, and I’ve got the wrinklies to admit it. I’m going back to the Scooby headquarters. You want to follow the great poof to your certain death, that’s fine with me.” He stalked off. Riley didn’t to join him.

Angel glared at the boy. “I take no responsibility for what happens to you. I’m saving Buffy, not you.” He started hiking the other way, towards the caves. Towards Buffy. I pray I’m not too late. Somehow, he knew that as of yet, he wasn’t. He would’ve known if Buffy was dead, would’ve known it in his heart.

Buffy was not dead, in fact, she was painfully aware of the fact she was alive. The knock on her head which had finally brought her down had healed by now. Now she had all sorts of new pain to deal with.

There was blackness all around her. A small visor allowed her to see the vampires, two small holes around her ears let her hear them. What she was in resembled the old bloody Mary execution devices, with a cruel twist: the points were not close enough to kill her. They merely bled her every time she moved, out of weariness, muscle spasm, or escape attempt. She was bone tired now, ready to cry. Her blood was not going to waste. Occasionally she would see a vampire kneel in front of her and pull a small cup up. The woman vampire would smile and show Buffy the cup before she drank down the contents. The vampire was slender, small, and beautiful while in human guise. Buffy could feel the power and tell this was a master vampire she was dealing with.

When she first heard the voice, she thought she was dreaming, or delirious from blood loss. “Nimue, Nimue, Nimue, of all the people I didn’t expect to see around here. How is New England this time of year?” What was Angel doing here?

The vampire, Nimue, was clearly familiar with him. “Angelus. It’s been decades. How’s the soul?”

She heard Angel’s low chuckle. “You don’t miss a beat, do you Nimue?”

Nimue’s voice was low, throaty. “I wouldn’t have lived a thousand years if I weren’t. Now, there are all sorts of nasty rumors flying around about you draining this one and leaving her alive. Now, if you were doing it like I am, I could understand. She’s delicious, like a fine wine. But, last I heard, you were in L.A.”

Buffy could hear his footsteps on the stone. “She’s a special girl, and not any danger to you, out in Hartford. What are you doing here on the West Coast?”

“With the Master dead, it’s been free territory for more than two years now. Everyone thought you or Spike would jump in, take over, but nope. You were busy for a few months and then dropped off the map.” Buffy could see her proffer a cup of her blood to Angel. “Have a drink, on the house.”

Angel breathed in the smell. He knew exactly what Nimue was talking about. “Nimue, just give me the Slayer. You must have seen my mark on her when you took her. That mark means mine, you know it, I know it, every vampire in the world knows it.”

Buffy on the other hand, didn’t know the significance of that mark. It burned now, like she had been branded, which it turns out, she had. That caused her to flinch, and she cursed as the spines drove into her arms.

Angel heard her curse and started walking toward the box in the corner. He thought he’d smelled her. Nimue grabbed his arm. “Please, Angelus. I’ve been sick. You know the potency the Slayer’s blood has. Just let me hold her until I’m back to full strength.”

Riley chose that moment to knock over something in back. Nimue’s eyes slit in suspicion. “You brought a human here?” He tried to stop her but it was too late. She used a powerful binding spell, and Riley dropped like a stone. The sorceress was swift, and bypassed Angel to grab him up. She held a knife to his throat. “What do you say, Angelus? You leave here with him, I’ll hold on to the girl.”

Angel cursed the boy. “Not going to happen, Nimue. They’re both coming home with me.”

Nimue licked Riley’s neck. “This one doesn’t have your brand on him. Come, we’ll drink him together. I can smell her all over him. We’ll all get a kick out of it.” Nimue was threatened and dangerous. Angel knew of only one thing to do.

He ran towards the box that held Buffy.

As he’d hoped, Buffy was the real prize, and Nimue forgot Riley entirely in her rush to save her meal ticket. He managed to wrestle her to the floor, but she spelled him to feel an incredible rush of pain. Fortunately for him, Riley had come free, and before Nimue could inflict any more damage, he had pulled her off. Angel shook himself out of the pain in time to see Riley howl in pain as a magical force threw him against the cave wall. He looked around for something handy and wooden but failed to find one. Instead he threw himself at her. She must have been sick; normally she would’ve killed them by now. She bit his hand hard and he yelped, pulling away. Riley had crawled up, and was breaking apart a chair. Nimue began a spell to set the chair on fire, but Angel vamped out and bit her in throat from behind. She shrieked and threw him against the wall. Angel braced himself as he felt the fires of a spell run up and down his nerves. It was ten times the agony of holy water. He howled, ready to pass out from the pain when Riley came to the rescue and plunged the leg of the chair, still attached, through Nimue’s chest. Angel nearly wept with relief when she exploded in a cloud of dust. Riley threw the chair away, stared at him for a moment, panting, then offered him a hand up. He accepted it, then realized what Riley had been staring at. He let the vampiric ridges fade away and wiped his mouth of Nimue’s foul, stale blood.

They both looked at the cabinet. Buffy was screaming inside of it. Riley looked with a frown at the lock. “What do we do about that?”

Angel grunted and pulled the door off its hinges. A relieved Buffy collapsed immediately into Riley’s arms. He gasped at the sight of the hundreds of wounds in her flesh. Angel sighed. “Lay her out on the table.” Riley did so obediently. Angel found a wash cloth and began wiping the blood off of her naked body. At that, Riley blushed. Angel sighed once more. “See if there’s anything around here to cover her up.” While the boy did that, Angel finished cleaning the wounds. She had lost a lot of blood. His eyes gleamed when he spotted a small refrigerator. Nimue had meant to keep Buffy alive here for some time, and there was juice in the fridge. He broke one of the juice boxes open and carefully coaxed the fluid down her throat. She came into a half consciousness as he did, but wasn’t aware at all.

Riley had found a fairly ratty blanket. “I guess Nimue wasn’t keeping her clothes in this cave.” With Angel’s help, he wrapped it around Buffy’s body. “Is she going to be okay?”

Angel frowned. “She’s a bit weak, a little pale. But I’ve seen her overcome worse that this. Still, I’d like to get her someplace warmer.” He did some mental calculations. Closest by a three-quarters of a mile; good thing he still had a year’s worth of lease on the place. He made a quick decision. “Riley, find a phone and call Giles. Tell him to meet us at the Crawford Street mansion, and to bring food and iron tablets.” He carefully collected Buffy in his arms.

“Then where do I go?”

“To the Crawford Street mansion. I’m carrying a wounded woman. If you can’t catch up with me, you haven’t been fighting demons very long.” With that, Angel turned around and strode out of the cave.

The house was a bit dusty in his absence. Fortunately, there were still soft sheets on the bed. Angel laid her down tenderly before lighting a fire. He heated some water in it and began dressing Buffy’s wounds, some of which had reopened during the journey.

He was just tucking her in when Riley arrived. “Giles will be here in a few.” He gazed concerned at Buffy. “She okay?”

“She should be. Slayers heal pretty quickly. Knowing her, I expect her to be awake any moment.” He put the gauze away. “Thank you, by the way.”

“It’s alright. You saved my life before that. We’re even.”

“Don’t keep score.” Angel was too tired for this. Giles arrived then, Willow and Joyce in tow. Buffy came into the half-consciousness while they coaxed her into a nightgown and fed her broth, juice, and iron tablets, but was only aware enough to swallow. After a few hours, Angel managed to persuade them to go home, and get some sleep.

Except for Riley.

“You’re exhausted, man. Major head trauma is something that demands rest.”

“Not until she’s awake.” Angel couldn’t argue with that. Instead he pulled another wing chair up to her bedside and sat down. “Lots of memories here?”

Angel would have been happy with comfortable silence, but he was content enough to indulge the boy. “Yeah. Got sent to Hell here, came back from Hell here, that sort of thing.” He sighed.

Riley chuckled at that. Angel tilted a glance at him. “Sorry. It’s just other girls I’ve dated have told me about how their ex would have gone to Hell and back for them. Buffy’s the only one who means it literally.”

Angel leaned back, gazing at the sleeping figure. “Yeah. She does that to a guy.”

“She’s a special kind of girl.”

They were silent for a few moments. “Is she happy?”

“What?” Riley seemed a bit confused at Angel’s query.

“With you? Is she happy?” He needed to know that much.

“I, I think so. I hope so.” Riley didn’t seem sure if that answer would get his throat torn out.

Instead Angel smiled. “Good. That’s all that really matters.”

Riley thought on that a moment. “It really is.”

After a half-hour of watching, Riley fell into sleep. Angel picked up a slim volume of Donne’s poetry he’d left behind and began reading. Three hours later, he could hear her beginning to stir. He closed the book and knelt by the bed, holding her hand. When she opened her eyes, he was the first thing she saw.

“Hey there.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say. He gave her hand a soft squeeze.

“Hey there,” she replied back weakly. “Can I get something to drink?”

Silently, he got her more juice and another iron tablet. She accepted them and downed them all. He returned to her side immediately. “You going to live?”

“I think so.” She smiled. “Thank you, for coming, and for rescuing me.”

He smiled back. “I even called this time.” She chuckled.

“What was that talk with Nimue, about the mark?”

She had heard that. He tried to think of the easiest explanation. “Sometimes, if a vampire takes a special interest in a human, he’ll leave his mark on them. Less powerful vampires won’t drain them.” A gleam caught in her eye, and he added quickly, “They’ll kill, torture or maim them, but they won’t drain them.”

Buffy sighed. “Guess it’s no Glinda’s kiss then.”

Angel smiled. “You need to sleep. Close your eyes.” With his other hand, he lightly stroked her hair out of her face. He tried to pull away, but she wouldn’t let his hand go.

“Don’t go, while I’m asleep.” It was a plea from the heart, and he had always had trouble saying no to her.

“I’ll be here when you wake up, I promise.” She still didn’t let go of his hand, and he had to wait until she had fallen back asleep to stand. He settled back down in his chair, glad Riley had still been asleep. Just then, the commando spoke, his eyes unopened.

“You keep that promise to her or I’ll stake you myself.”

Angel couldn’t help but smile. He still didn’t like the boy. He was too bland, too hulky, too cornbread for Angel’s refined, aristocratic tastes. But if Finn was that dedicated to making Buffy happy, Angel supposed he could live with it.

For now.

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