Track A in Track B 

Darla sat stiffly by her Sire. 

It wasn’t because she was anxious to begin their plan, though that impatience was simmering underneath the surface. No, it was because his punishment was quite severe. And painful. And now she could barely sit still. 

Despite her love of pain, Darla preferred it to be followed by pleasure. The Master didn’t see his punishments as ending in pleasure, so it didn’t. No, Darla’s whipping, beating, and raping was entirely for show; she’d left her Sire with her errant Childe and now had to be punished for her transgression. Because, in theory, the Master had given his blessing for her and Angelus to leave, Darla’s punishment was much more severe than normal. 

So now, as she once again sat at his left hand side, Darla remained immobile. She refused to show anyone what he’d done to her, though she knew she deserved it. She was lucky she still lived, and they both knew that, too. So, she’d sit there, acting as ever, and refuse to let her enemies – new and old – see how she suffered. If only the Master knew of her punishment, then only the Master would ever suspect that starving her for seven days as he had his way with her depleted her reserves to the point of near collapsing. 

“I find myself intrigued with this Slayer,” the Master said in his gravely voice, pale, nearly white clawed hands gesturing to the letter Darla had sent weeks ago. “You don’t go into much detail other than to say she’s even admitted to not being the one from this time.” 

Darla shrugged, but aborted the move midway through. Damn but that hurt; her back was a series of just now healing lashes, and she was surprised she wasn’t bleeding through her gown. But, of course, the Master wouldn’t like that, so very tawdry he’d insist; so she’d had one of the minions dress her back with a series of bandages that now itched. Somehow, she just couldn’t win. 

“She didn’t go into detail, Sire,” Darla explained from her seat next to him in his private rooms. “And Angelus, Drusilla, and William insisted on protecting her; Drusilla claimed to have a vision that she was to become a powerful figure in our world.” 

“Drusilla’s visions,” the Master murmured, “Are often true.” 

He’d only met the childe once, a chance meeting between the two of them while Angelus and Darla were out in the Ottoman Lands, feasting on a caravan of pilgrims heading to Mecca. But the visions she’d smilingly and coyly told him during their chance meeting about treachery in his ranks had turned out to be true. Of course, he hadn’t realized it until almost too late as Drusilla had gone on about things he wasn’t familiar with – he never did figure out who Miss Edith was. 

“Still, there must be a reason that she was sent here.” 

Darla didn’t care if she was the next messiah! She wanted that bitch gone and didn’t care how. The easiest and most obvious way was to ask her Sire for help. So she had. Now she regretted that. He seemed as interested in this Slayer as Angelus was! 

“Perhaps she was sent here to destroy you, Sire,” Darla suggested, keeping her emotions in check and her posture submissive. “She did seem to know you, and was properly frightened of your name.” 

“Really?” He asked, intrigued. “Now I am impressed. The Watchers either wised up in the future,” he laughed derisively at that. “Or she has another reason for so fearing me.” 

He looked down at his childe, his beautiful Darla, his favorite, the one who’d made one of the most vicious creatures the Master had ever met, and waited. No, she’d told him everything she knew, but he was no fool. Darla wanted this slayer out of the picture because she was jealous, pure and simple. Well, that could work to his advantage; she was so malleable a woman. 

“Darla, Childe,” he soothed, “We’ll get her, don’t worry. But I want to study this first. She’s here for a reason; people just don’t travel back in time because of a sneeze. Not even Slayers.” He settled into his throne, the large wooden chair with real human skulls on the arms. 

“We’ll take a couple of days, Childe, have my scholars look into it. Dalton is a genius with languages and codes, maybe there’s something in one of the prophecy books he can decipher. If not, then we’ll simply capture her and torture the information out of her.” 

He laughed then, imaging the look on Angelus’ face when that happened. If the younger vampire was as enamored with this Slayer as Darla’s jealously suggested – and his spies indicated – then it was only a matter of time before he had a turned Slayer and his successor back with him. 

And then the real fun would begin.
~~~~~~~~~~
Track A in Track B 

The scream echoed in the still London night, shattering the predawn silence with the fury of a woman who had not gotten her way. 

Darla grabbed the first human she came across, viciously twisting his neck to try to relieve some of her anger; it didn’t work. She was furious, so angry it was a wonder she didn’t combust with the sheer fire of her fury. Her Sire had abandoned her; he’d all but promised that Slayer would live because he was interested in her past. Future. Whatever. 

Sure, whatever, fine. But the bitch deserved to die. She deserved to be tortured, defiled, and degraded until the only thing left of her physically was a mess of flesh and the only thing mentally was a babbling idiot. 

And then Darla wanted to start again. Her fist shot out and caught a brick gate, the pain barely coming through the fury. It wasn’t enough, and Darla hit the bricks again. Again and again until her hands were a bloody mess and her screams a hoarse whisper. And still she didn’t feel better. 

She needed to control herself. She needed to calm herself and plan. 

This was no way to achieve her goals; this was no way to kill the Slayer and teach Angelus a lesson. 

She still had an hour before dawn, and then probably another hour afterwards in the foggy streets of the East Side of London. It was enough time to feed until she was healed and strong again and to recruit those minions loyal to her. 

She was going to kill the Slayer herself, get rid of the blonde pain in her ass, and she wasn’t going to let her Sire know about it. He wanted that Slayer for himself, for reasons he hadn’t shared with Darla during their talk. Whether to kill and drain her or to test her limits, or simply to figure out why she was there where she wasn’t supposed to be, Darla didn’t know. 

She also didn’t care. 

Buffy the Vampire Slayer was going to die. And Darla was going to be the one to do it.
~~~~~~~~~~
Track A in Track B 

Drusilla wailed in the house, crying out in pain and sorrow. 

William jumped from the bed where they’d collapsed not half an hour ago, after exhausting themselves hunting and fucking. He stumbled to where his lover was crouched near the draped window, cowering against the thick velvet curtains that hid the rising sun. 

“Drusilla,” he whispered, brushing her wild curls off her face. “Pet, what do you see?” 

She was crying, tears dropping from her expressive eyes as fear gripped and paralyzed her. Drusilla could only shake her head, her hands violently scratching at her arms, then at William’s as he tried to capture them. She couldn’t express what she saw, couldn’t tell him the horrors of what was to come. 

“She’s leaving us, my William,” Drusilla whispered as the door crashed open and Angelus stormed in, naked and uncaring; Buffy was immediately behind him, trying the sash on a heavy lace gown – no doubt at Angelus’ orders. William wasn’t surprised, Angelus didn’t like their new maid to see Buffy naked, though he figured the elder would trust his childer more than the human workers. 

“What happened?” Angelus asked, crouching on the other side of Drusilla, looking to William for answers. “What’d she see?” 

“Something about Buffy,” William shrugged, “She didn’t say much more.” 

Drusilla let out another wail that went straight through the three occupants of the room; Buffy resisted covering her ears. “They’re going to take her away!” 

Buffy looked at the crazy vampire, confused. If Drusilla was talking about her, then who was going to take her away? Her friends from Sunnydale? Had they finally, after more than a month, found a way to get her back? Eyes automatically leaping to Angelus’, she shivered. She didn’t want to return. She was home here; she had her lover, her entire life here. She didn’t want to leave him! 

Suddenly, Drusilla broke free of their hands, brushing past William and Angelus and wrapping her arms around Buffy. The Slayer staggered back a step from the sudden weight, arms automatically going around Drusilla to steady the both of them. 

“They’re going to take you away, my precious,” Drusilla sobbed, shudders still wracking her body. “They think you’re not here and that the stars lie.” 

Confused, Buffy stared at Angelus through Drusilla’s mass of curls. Huh? The stars? It was day as far as Buffy could tell…and then she understood. 

“They figured out a way to get me back?” The words were whispered in the room, a strange contrast to Drusilla’s crying. 

“You won’t leave us,” Drusilla asked, pulling back slightly from Buffy to stare into her green eyes. “You won’t leave us, will you, mummy?” 

Buffy shook her head, the denial instinctive. “No, Drusilla,” she soothed, brushing a hand down the taller woman’s hair. “I’m not leaving.” 

Satisfied, Drusilla allowed William to pull her back. Sitting on the bed, she lay against William’s shoulder and sighed; obviously, the vision had exhausted her. “She’s not leaving, my William,” Drusilla whispered, “Mummy promised not to leave us.” 

“I heard her, pet,” William smirked as Buffy wrapped Angelus’ arms around her, anchoring herself to him. “I heard.” 

“Will you stay with me, mummy?” Drusilla asked and her voice was no longer the crying scared woman, but that of a child who had just awakened from a nightmare and wanted the comfort of another being. 

Buffy hesitated. Stay with her? That was they oddest request she’d heard since…forever. Looking up to Angelus, she silently asked what she should do. With the news that her friends were preparing to try to get her back, she didn’t want to be out of his arms. Nevertheless, Drusilla was obviously distraught and Angelus, cared deeply for his favorite Childe and her consort. 

Angelus kissed her forehead, leading her to where William was laying a half-naked Drusilla onto the bed. He nodded to her, watching as she lay down opposite his Childe as his Childe grabbed Buffy’s hand, holding her close. He wasn’t about to let her out of his sight, so Angelus lay behind her, wrapping his arms around his Mate in a tight embrace before nodding to William to get into the suddenly smaller bed with them. 

Together, the four members of the family fell into a fitful sleep, filled with dreams of Buffy suddenly leaving them.
~~~~~~~~~~
Track B in Track A 

Eight days had passed since contacting the owner of the Blue Ox, and they were nearly ready for the spell. 

Not everyone was ready for it; only Xander, Giles, Riley, and Willow were, though everyone seemed interested in the results. 

Willow had double-checked the ingredients, the words, the positions of the participants so many times that she had memorized them completely. She didn’t want anything to go wrong with this. Buffy was gong to return to them, and this Elizabeth was going to go back where she came from. 

Anya had to be wrong. Willow reasoned that she had to be, as she carefully poured the small amount of blue blood the Ox had graciously let them use into a ceramic bowl with a chip from his horn. Apparently the ‘Light made from a Blue Ox horn’ wasn’t literally from the entire horn itself. It was a small chip mixed with a vial’s worth of blue ox blood in a ceramic bowl, stirred thrice counterclockwise and then poured into a pure silver goblet. 

Sometimes these spells were just crazy, Willow mused with a smile as she emptied the bowl into the goblet. It’d actually been rather easy to find a pure silver goblet; the local magick shop had them in stock for ‘them new-agers who liked to think they knew the ancient ways.’ Willow had politely nodded and left, not wanting to get into a discussion of any kind on magicks, not when she was so close to returning her best friend. 

It’d take another fifteen hours for the blood and horn potion to reach its full potency, and then they could begin the spell. 

No one had seen Angel or Elizabeth since Anya’s little outburst, or no one whom Willow actually talked to. Cordelia and Wesley were living in the mansion with them, as was Spike, but no one had seem them, either. Tara wasn’t talking about it, preferring to stay in the middle between Elizabeth and Willow. The redhead hated that, hated that her girlfriend was such great friends with Willow’s look-alike best friend. 

It wasn’t that she didn’t want Tara and Buffy to get along, but it seemed that Tara had found some kind of great friendship with this Elizabeth imposter. But, Willow thought smugly as she went to rinse the ceramic bowl in Giles’ sink, since the big blow-up of a week ago, Tara hadn’t seen Elizabeth. Good. 

And once Buffy was back, everything would return to normal; she’d have Riley no matter what Angel or anyone else thought otherwise, Xander had Anya – though she had been conspicuously absent since her little speech, too – and Willow had her Tara. 

Life was perfect.
~~~~~~~~~~
Track A in Track B 

“I thought we already had this discussion,” Buffy hissed. 

“We did, but things are different now,” Angelus returned as he stood in the doorway of their room, his large frame effectively blocking her exit. “Drusilla’s vision changes everything now.” 

“What?” Buffy countered, dressed for her hour of slaying. It was their compromise; during the hour he hunted, she slayed. It worked so far, though she was feeling the strain long before Drusilla’s vision of Buffy leaving them. “You’re saying that because your Childe had some vision of me leaving that I actually will?” 

She took a step closer, both to soothe his fears, and to try to figure a way around him without fighting. Not that she wasn’t in the mood for that, but their fighting led to their fucking, and then he’d just sneak out while she laid on their bed exhausted and hunt when she couldn’t keep an eye on him. Her slaying was both about killing the vampires and demons that preyed on the clueless humans of 1885 and on making sure that Angelus wasn’t staked by overzealous demon hunters. 

Buffy knew he could more than take care of himself, but that wasn’t the point. She needed to protect him, just as he did her. Moreover, this world needed the demon hunters that kept the streets cleaned of the stupider and lesser vampires and demons. Just because she compromised her morals and obligations because of love and need didn’t mean that they had to suffer. 

“Drusilla’s visions are always accurate, lover,” Angelus snarled. Fear for her pounded through him, but Angelus covered it with anger over her refusal to listen to his words. “And I refuse to let you put yourself in harm’s way just because you think you have to protect the useless humans of this world.” 

“You don’t get it!” She screamed, advancing another step. “I have to do this! I have to hunt and slay. Just as you have to hunt and drain.” 

“Oh, I get it,” he countered, not budging one inch. “But that doesn’t matter. You aren’t leaving this house, Buffy, and I don’t care what you think otherwise. You are not leaving my sight until I’m sure the danger from Drusilla’s vision has passed.” 

Feeling trapped beneath his words, his possession finally going too far, Buffy’s eyes flashed the white of the First Slayer, and she shoved Angelus out of her way, watching him stumble backwards with a surprised snarl on his beautiful features. Her kick directly under his chin sent him crashing to his knees, and Buffy took that opportunity to flee. 

His bellowed “Buffy!” echoed oddly with her tearful thoughts. 

Why wasn’t this working? Wasn’t this supposed to be working? They were together, they wanted to be, they were, and there was nothing out there that could possibly tear them apart. So why wasn’t this working?
~~~~~~~~~~
Track B in Track A 

“You’re not coming with me!” She screamed, finally at the end of her rope, unable to keep her calm façade in place any longer. 

She wasn’t going to let Angel return with her no matter how she wanted him to. If he did, then he’d be revered as the messiah, as the returned Angelus. Granted, her War would probably end, but what of him? And what of her with him? Would he embrace the accolades heaped upon him as the lost Angelus finally returned to the Vampire Council? 

Or would he fight with her to stabilize a world ravaged by treachery and a hundred years of fighting? And if he did, if word spread of the returned Angelus fighting with the Slayer…what then? What happened to the both of them then? 

Assuming, of course, that Willow’s little spell worked, that Elizabeth returned to her own world where and when she left – Cordelia and Anya were full of stories of how Willow’s spells never worked. Except that one time with Angel and his soul; what were the odds with that? 

Angel’s face shifted, his demon coming to the fore. He grabbed her arms, hauling her close to him, kissing her wildly, pouring the passion and love he felt for her into that kiss. He released her lips, bruised from his, but didn’t release her body. That was trapped against him, where she belonged. 

“I am, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me,” he insisted, the snarl all the more promising when said around his fangs. “Wherever you go I go, and I don’t care if it’s to heaven, hell, or your world, understand?!” 

Elizabeth shook her head. “Why don’t you understand?” She asked, desperate for him to see things her way and for him to admit that she needed to return. Alone. 

“You have to stay here, Angel,” she insisted. “I need you to be safe here. If you come with me, they’ll think you’re the Angelus foretold to come again. And if you don’t act like him, then what’ll happen to you, love?” Her voice dropped and her eyes softened. “What will happen to you then? Will you take your place among the Vampire Council and rule them, leading their armies against me? Or will you fight with me, shunning your past and your brethren, putting us both in more danger than we are here?” 

“Do you think I care?” He demanded, “Do you think it matters to me? No, I don’t care what they think or want or need. Nothing matters to me, nothing but you!” His forehead touched hers, and he whispered, “Why can’t you see that?” 

“Because all I see is you, and the thought of you in danger in my world scares me like nothing ever has. I don’t want you hurt, my love, and if you return with me then one way or another you will be.” 

“I love you,” he stated, releasing her. “And I’m coming with you.” 

With that, he pivoted, stalking from the room and calling to Spike as he did so. Elizabeth stood where she was, stunned. She wasn’t as sorry as she probably should have been; she desperately loved Angel and wanted him with her no matter what. Even if it was in a world where she was hunted and he was revered.
~~~~~~~~~~
Track B in Track A 

Anya and Cordelia sat in the kitchen of the mansion, eating chocolate cake and drinking strawberry daiquiris with loads of whipped cream and just a tad too much alcohol. It was the perfect combination. 

“When is Tara getting here?” Anya asked as she carefully cut another piece of the triple layer chocolate chiffon cake and closed her lips gratefully around it. Hmm, delicious. 

“As soon as she checks in with Willow, she said. Tara wants to make sure Willow doesn’t screw the spell up and send Elizabeth to some hell dimension or something.” It was more than that, but Cordelia didn’t care. She’d never liked the redhead, and couldn’t say that this new ‘Bring Buffy Back’ kick was making any strides towards them being life-long friends. 

“Really?” Anya asked and licked her lips of the whipped cream from her drink. “I thought it was because she was spying on them for us.” 

“Well,” Cordelia admitted, “Yes. But Tara doesn’t like being in the middle between Willow and Elizabeth,” she reminded the ex-demon. “So don’t remind her that technically, she’s spying.” 

“And what has our little spy found?” Spike asked as he strolled into the room. They’d all heard Angel shout for his GrandChilde and assumed Spike had willingly gone to see what the elder vampire wanted. Though they were both acting weird lately. Of course, that could be because of the whole return Elizabeth thing, but it was definitely weirder than normal, even for the two of them. 

“Don’t remind her she’s spying!” Cordelia insisted again and took a long drink through her purple straw. “She’s antsy enough as it is, let’s not cause her to break down.” Cordelia paused. “At least not until we learn what Willow’s doing.” 

“Right,” Spike rolled his eyes, something he found himself doing more and more lately. “So then, what’s our not-spy found?” 

“Nothing yet, the spell is what Giles and Willow said it was when they found it.” Cordelia shrugged and finished her drink, the third of the afternoon. She had a feeling she was going to need a lot more before this whole thing was finished. “Plus, she’s convinced Willow to let her anchor her during it, so nothing…drastic goes wrong.” 

“Like Elizabeth turning into a bunny,” Anya said and topped off both her and Cordelia’s drinks. 

Shooting her companion an odd look Cordelia amended, “Or sending her to hell.” 

“Yeah,” Spike shrugged and swiped a finger full of chocolate frosting. “That never turns out well.” 

“Where’d Angel storm off to?” Cordelia asked, scowling at Spike and hoarding her cake closer to her. 

“Don’t know; he just wanted me to make sure Elizabeth didn’t do anything stupid while he was out.” 

They all looked to the brightly lit sky. Spike shrugged. “This place has sewer access, one of the reasons Angelus took it over in the first place.” 

No one asked what the other reasons were. 

“Where the hell could he go that was so important it needed to be done now?” Cordelia couldn’t even begin to wonder where her boss got to anymore. This whole Slayer switching thing was beyond the pale even for them.
~~~~~~~~~~
Track B in Track A 

“Dru,” Angel called, his voice echoing through the sewers to where his childe waited. “I thought I taught you better than to expose yourself like that.” 

“Daddy,” she said, floating through the muck and grime to where he stood, impatiently waiting for her to do so. “I’ve missed you, daddy.” 

Impatient, Angel brushed her hands from his shoulders, still waiting for her to explain herself. She did, but only after staring into his eyes for long, long moments. Seemingly satisfied, she kissed his cheek and flounced a step or two away. 

“She’s here, isn’t she?” Dru asked, not waiting for an answer. “She’s here to change everything. The stars, they are all aflutter! So confused, so happy, so bloody.” 

“And the stars,” Angel asked, not at all surprised that it was a vision that had his Childe returning to him this way. He’d known she was in town the moment she arrived; whatever she and Spike were planning, they both should have known better than to keep it from him. As the elder of their bloodline, he always knew. 

“Do they tell you about Buffy as well?” 

Dru frowned, “A cloud is covering them, daddy. But it’s a bright cloud, bright with blood and with family. She’s with you already.” 

So Anya’s tirade was true then, Angel thought, unmoved by it. Buffy was with his past self, with Angelus already. And Elizabeth was sent here for him. Perfect. 

She wasn’t leaving then; Elizabeth wasn’t leaving him no matter what.

When Worlds Collide Index        Christine's Page        Home