Track B in Track A  

Elizabeth cursed herself as she sat on a cliff overlooking a pretty decent view of the town. She’d forgotten what it was like to see cityscapes like this. Hell, landscapes, cityscapes, any kind of scape…there wasn’t much she could see in her world that wasn’t death, war, destruction. 

Idly she wondered how Giles and Cordelia – her Giles and Cordelia – were faring. Did they miss her as much as she did them? Yes, they were family, the three of them. What happened to them once she left? Had they continued the fight? She didn’t want that for them, had worked long and hard to ensure they had at least a semblance of normality – and safety – in their lives. The Hellmouth was balanced, secure as far as it could be, and that wasn’t for her nor was it for the fight. It was for them. 

Elizabeth hoped that whatever they were doing, it wasn’t fighting. Protecting themselves, yes, but not fighting. They deserved more. They deserved better. 

Thinking about them didn’t stop her cursing. No, it increased it. What would they say, she wondered. What would they say if they knew that Elizabeth Summers had run, yes run from the one thing she wanted most in this world? Coward. She was a coward. But then…she never had to deal with something like this before. She’d never been in love, though she had cared deeply for Forest. 

She was in love with a vampire who might or might not still be in possession of his soul. And she was the one to cause that. The problem was, if he had his soul, then he didn’t love her as she thought – desperately hoped – he did. And if he had, then she was responsible for bringing out his demon. 

It was a lose-lose situation and yet no matter what Elizabeth tried to tell herself, no matter what she thought, knew, she should feel, it didn’t matter. She wanted Angel to love her enough to lose his soul. She was a sick, sick woman. 

So what was she going to do about it? Was she going to sit there on the cold, hard ground and look out at a city that wasn’t like this in her world? Well, maybe for another minute. Elizabeth was going to do so because she wasn’t sure what else to do. Return to Angel? Yes. Yes, she desperately wanted to. But then what? 

Explain to him her fears? That she’s afraid that he doesn’t love her as much as he claims because he didn’t lose his soul? Or that she’s happy that he didn’t because it’s the soul she loved first and even though she knows he houses a demon inside and that that demon is mean and vicious, she still loves and…wants that demon as well? 

There was that lose-lose situation again. 

Standing, Elizabeth dusted off her jeans and pulled out her stake. Well, if nothing else, she could get in a little patrolling. Work off some of her anger and frustration. It’d always worked in the past, this should prove to be no different than before.
~~~~~~~~~~
Track A in Track B  

Buffy stalked through London with all the rage that still pumped through her and a healthy dose of the disappointment, too. 

Well, really. What did she expect? That Angelus would simply agree? If she wasn’t willing to, why should he? He should because he was different than the Angelus she knew from before. He was understanding and gentle, he was honest about his feelings and he knew what and who he wanted. It was different than her previous dealings with Angel/Angelus so therefore the reactions should be different, too, right? 

Not right. 

So what was the problem?

“What is our problem?” She asked aloud to no one who was interested. She did receive some strange looks however. Buffy scowled and the lookers quickly left. 

“Your problem,” Drusilla’s voice floated from the side of Buffy. “Is that you don’t see what you know.” 

Turning to look at the mad vampiress, Buffy paused in raising her stake. “Drusilla, what are you doing here?” She walked forward a step or two, wondering where Spike, er, no William was. Where Drusilla went, William did as well. 

“You’re hurting,” she said in answer to Buffy’s question. “You and daddy fight, and when you fight, the stars weep. I don’t like it,” she pouted and moved to stand directly in front of the shorter woman. Drusilla’s hand caressed Buffy’s cheek, softly with butterfly touches. 

“Well, I don’t like it either,” Buffy grumbled but didn’t move away from Drusilla’s touch. 

“Then why don’t you see the painting for what it is?” Drusilla wondered, that soft child-like voice of hers quiet in the darkened street. “You look and touch and love, but you don’t understand the players, you don’t understand the colors.” 

Buffy was confused. But then she hadn’t not been since she landed here months ago. Still, she shivered and wasn’t sure if it was because of Drusilla’s words or the cool breeze that blew through the London streets. Wasn’t London in the summer supposed to be hot? Wasn’t that why everyone left? 

A vague memory flashed through her mind. Willow saying something about why Charles Dickens wrote such depressing stories. And boy, was he depressing. A mini-ice age, that was it. Something about a volcano erupting and the world experienced a mini ice age. Well, that was nice. Better, she supposed, than stifling heat. 

God, she missed Willow. Was her friend still trying to get her back? As much as she didn’t want to leave, couldn’t leave Angelus, Buffy hoped so, in a way. She hoped so because she missed her friends, Willow, Xander, Giles, her mom. Riley. Oops. Fuck, Riley, she was supposed to miss Riley, too. 

“You see?” Drusilla was asking now, hand cupping Buffy’s cheek. “You allow yourself to remember, but you forget. You can’t stay and you leave, but you don’t know where. My sweet Buffy,” and Buffy wondered how often the vampiress actually used her name. “You have to see what you know.” 

A flash of memory shot through Buffy, but it was gone before she could grab it. “I know what I see,” she said instead. “I know where I am, and I know who I’m with.” 

“You do,” Drusilla nodded, “But you don’t see all of the painting.” 

“What do you mean?” Buffy asked as Drusilla took her arm and walked down the street. Angelus was close by, Buffy thought. She could feel him, that tingly sensation that made her skin dance. Was he following her? He had before, but then he hadn’t been nearly as angry then as he was tonight. 

“You don’t know who you see, sweet,” Drusilla said as she looked up. “You see my sweet Angel,” she sighed, “But you don’t know who he is.” 

“Yes,” Buffy said in a bitter and resigned voice. “Yes I do know who he is.” 

“You think you do, but you don’t.” Drusilla turned down a side street and then another, as if to lose someone. Angelus? Buffy mentally snorted. It’d take more than that for them to lose Angelus. “You think with the past, but you have to see the present.” 

Buffy paused in her steps, wondering what Drusilla meant by that. See Angelus? See him in the present not the past? Which for her was more confusing than normal, but she thought about it nonetheless. Angelus of her past was trapped under the soul she loved for a hundred years. Literally, a hundred years, Buffy thought now. Was the date significant? Didn’t matter. 

She walked with Drusilla as she thought about the vampiress’ words. The Angelus she knew, originally, was harsh and mean, he taunted and teased, and wanted only to kill her. Wait, did he? No, no he didn’t, but then why the words? Why the mean taunts, the snips, the belittlement? Why any of those things? If he wanted her, then why go about it that way? 

“Because,” Drusilla said as if she could read Buffy’s mind. Buffy wasn’t entirely sure she couldn’t. “He didn’t know any other way. He knew only that he felt the same way as the soul, and that was unacceptable.” 

How did Drusilla know these things? Buffy had stopped wondering about the same time she landed in this world. Still, her words made sense. And Buffy nodded, realizing that Drusilla was right. 

She didn’t see this Angelus for who he was. Him, in this time and place, without the soul, without the years chained in the same body as the soul. 

Buffy opened her mouth to say something, whether it was in agreement with Drusilla or something else, but she never got the chance.
~~~~~~~~~~
Track B in Track A  

Elizabeth grunted in pain as the vampire she’d been fighting got in a lucky blow. 

“Damn it,” she grumbled as she rolled to the side, “Where did you come from?”

Misunderstanding her, the vamp actually answered. “Just got here, actually,” he said with a smug grin. “Been traveling around Brazil, but they’re having even more problems down there than I want to deal with, even if the death rate is all the way.” 

Elizabeth shook off the blow and grimaced. Perfect, a vamp who wanted to chat. “Well, so pleased you could make it to our little town. Let me guess,” she smirked and caught Mr. Chatty in the chin with her foot. “You couldn’t miss an opportunity to explore our little Hellmouth, right?” 

“Actually,” he nodded, “Yes.” 

“So sorry you have to cut this trip short,” the Slayer said, stake at the ready as she prepared to dust the vamp before her. “But this is the last stop on the sightseer’s map. Hope you got your money’s worth.”

He didn’t get a chance to reply, the stake Elizabeth was holding plunged into his chest, effectively piercing the heart and turning him to dust. She didn’t, however, see the vamp behind Mr. Chatty. The shorter man caught the stake as Elizabeth moved her arm in the downward spiral and turned it onto her. 

Grunting in pain and shock, she looked at the equally surprised vamp. He couldn’t be taller than her, which was pretty sad, and how the hell hadn’t she sensed him? The stake was still in her belly, still oozing blood at an all too fast rate, and Elizabeth stumbled backwards. The vamp went with her, eyes glued to the sight of her bloody belly. 

“Wow,” he said in honest shock. “I didn’t expect that.” But his eyes didn’t leave her wound, and his fangs seemed to grow even more. “Sorry,” he said but didn’t sound very sorry.
~~~~~~~~~~
Track A in Track B  

Buffy shoved Drusilla to the side as the attack came. She didn’t want Drusilla hurt or in her line of fire. “Down!” She shouted as she ducked the first attacker’s wild punch. 

Drusilla stumbled against the wall, her long, heavy skirts bringing her down for a brief moment. Straightening, vamp face to the fore, she hissed, yellow eyes flashing at the attackers. They were of her own Order, she quickly realized as her nails lengthened into vicious claws. They were attacking her and her precious, and they were from her own Order! 

Growling, she joined in the fight. 

Buffy was taking on three at a time, but they were smart; one held her as the other two attacked. How that one got the Slayer’s hands behind her, Drusilla didn’t know, but she didn’t care. Her first job was to protect Buffy; there was no other way around that. Angelus wouldn’t care how many there were if something happened to Buffy. He’d tear her apart and then move on and worry about everything later. 

“Geez,” Buffy quipped now. “What is this, tag? I thought you smarter than that.” She kicked the one vamp in the face, the one who was holding – or trying to hold – her legs and used his shoulders and head to move her body up and over the vamp holding her arms behind her back. It hurt, oh, yeah, it hurt, but the vamp let go and she was free to stake him. 

“See?” She laughed, whirling out of the way of the next in line, “Stupid. Some things don’t change no matter where or when you are, I suppose.” 

“My Master wants you unharmed,” another said, the one who had been standing next to the vamp who tried to capture Buffy’s feet. “But he does not care if you are…bruised.” 

“Yeah, well, that’s swell. Really.” Buffy shook her head and let her fists fly into Mr. Talky’s face. “But I don’t care to meet your Master.” The shiver of fear that raced through her didn’t go unnoticed by the vamp she was pounding on. Knowing that, Buffy redoubled her attack. 

She knew who his Master was. Nest, the Master she’d faced, was killed by, and killed over three years ago. She never, never, wanted to face him again. Never. 

“Mummy doesn’t like it when the bad men interrupt,” Drusilla said as she slashed her claws over the neck of one of the vampires attacking her. He gasped and clutched his throat. It wouldn’t kill him, but it would weaken him. Without another weapon, that was all Drusilla could do. But she’d find him later, oh, yes, later when mummy was safe and she could take all the time in the world to hurt the bad men who tried to take her precious away from her. 

“No,” Buffy laughed in response to Drusilla’s words. “Mummy really doesn’t.” She bared her teeth to another vamp and added, “It makes me mad.” 

He laughed, amused to think that the mad seer of Angelus could think this human, this Slayer as mummy, but then Buffy’s stake was piercing his heart, and he crumbled to the ground less than a beat of her heart later.

She turned to see how Drusilla was faring and smiled when she noted that there was only one vamp left, and Drusilla was toying with him. Really, when not trying to kill her, Buffy could appreciate the way the vampiress moved, slick and sleek, graceful as she played with her enemy. Turning to where she felt Angelus racing around the corner, Buffy didn’t see, didn’t even sense another. 

The vamp, angry over the loss of his brothers, uncaring what the Master wanted, had picked up a rotted piece of wood from the garbage littering the streets and plunged it into Buffy’s stomach. The smiled faded from her face and her hands clutched the piece of wood automatically. 

“Oof,” she said in surprise as she looked down at the wood sticking out from her belly. 

“Buffy!” Drusilla shouted, ending the game with the vamp and ripping his head off in her grief and rage. “NO!”
~~~~~~~~~~
Track B in Track A  

Angel roared. The sound carried throughout the town causing everyone to wonder just what that was. Who that was. Cordelia and Wesley woke with a start, rushing from opposite ends of the hall into the Great Room of the mansion, still half asleep and disheveled.

“What was that?” Cordelia demanded, but there was a distinct thread of fear in her voice. She was deathly afraid she knew the answer already. 

Her head exploded just then and she wondered why the Powers decided that now was such a good time to send her a vision. Really, could there be a worse time? Apparently, yes, because the images, sounds, scents, that crashed through her shook her to her very core and the tears she shed were all too real. 

“Wes,” she whispered as the former watcher caught her, laying her on the mansion floor gently, “Wes, she’s dying.” 

“Who is?” He demanded, wondering if he should get to the kitchen for water and pain pills or stay here with Cordelia. 

“Elizabeth. Buffy. Both, I think. What’s going on?” She demanded. But Wes knew it wasn’t of him. “What happened?”
~~~~~~~~~~
Dru hissed from where she and Spike were hunting. The old man she was draining dropped to the ground before she could do any real damage, and she fell with him. Spike was there in a flash to catch her.

“Dru, luv,” he whispered, “What happened?” 

“She’s dying, my Spike,” Dru moaned, burying her head in Spike’s neck. “He can’t save her.” Suddenly her head shot up and Dru grinned, her dark eyes flashed yellow and her smile made even Spike shudder. “But that’s okay, too. Because in not saving her, he’ll make her his.” 

Spike shivered at that, but wisely said nothing. He had a feeling he knew exactly what Dru meant by this vision. Elizabeth was dying, and Angel was going to turn her.
~~~~~~~~~~
“What was that?” Willow asked groggily as the sound pierced her exhausted sleep. 

“Don’t know,” Xander admitted from his place on Giles’ floor. He wanted to roll over and try to get some more sleep before whatever that sound was decided to eat him, but Willow was having none of it. 

Anya wasn’t there, claiming that she wanted to sleep in her own bed and not on Giles’ floor, but Xander couldn’t leave Willow. Tara had gone as well, claiming she needed to see some friends. Willow said nothing, but Xander wondered just what friends she needed to see. Elizabeth? 

“It sounded like a lion,” she whispered from the couch, shifting so the pile of books she was looking through – again – didn’t dig into her side. “There aren’t any lions in Sunnydale.”

“Great,” Xander mumbled. “Something new the Hellmouth spit out at us? Just what I didn’t want to know.” 

Upstairs, Giles heard them talking but didn’t join in. He had a strange and sinking feeling he knew what it was. Or rather who. And he wondered just what happened for Angel to make a sound like that. A shiver raced through him, and he prayed it was nothing to do with Elizabeth. 

She may not be his Slayer, but she was, in a way. And he felt the same way for her as he did Buffy.
~~~~~~~~~~
Angel raced through the park, stopping behind the salivating vampire only long enough to twist his head from his body. Stepping through ashes he didn’t even see, Angel dropped next to Elizabeth.

“Hurts, Angel,” she said with a cry as he gathered her into his arms. “I’m sorry,” she continued, eyes closing. “Love you.” 

“You’re not leaving me,” he growled, fangs glinting in the moonlight. His eyes, golden-yellow, flashed red as the scent of her blood – strong, magickal…his – washed through him. He swiftly pulled the stake from her stomach, his hands covering the gushing wound as best he could. Even for a Slayer, this was bad. 

Elizabeth gave him a faint chuckle and then grimaced when that movement hurt. “I’m sorry,” she repeated but didn’t mean for this. “I never wanted to hurt you.” 

“I won’t let you go, Elizabeth,” he said. “I can’t.” 

She said nothing to that but opened her eyes and looked into his angry and terrified ones. “If you leave me,” Angel said, “Then this world is lost. I refuse to live in a world where you’re not there. I don’t care about anything anymore, other than you, don’t you understand?”

Elizabeth smiled, raised her hand to touch the ridges of his face, and brought his head down to hers. The kiss was simple, sweet, loving, and everything she was, wanted to be, everything he made her, Elizabeth poured into that kiss. She didn’t care that the face he showed her was his demon’s, she knew it. Loved it. Loved him. 

“I know, love, I know.” Her hand dropped, but Angel caught it, holding her close to his unbeating heart. “You have to,” she insisted, looking into his eyes, the eyes of the demon. And still she didn’t care. Because within those eyes she saw love and trust, need and passion. And hatred. Not for her, never for her, but for what happened. For life and circumstances, and a world that couldn’t accept them for who and what they were. 

“Do you?” He asked, quiet, thoughtfully. His hand brushed sticky tendrils from her face. The hot summer night settled heavily around them but neither noticed. “Do you know? No, I don’t think you fully do, lover,” he whispered, lowering his head to hers once again. “This world will burn if you die. It will burn to ashes, and the only thing left will be me. And after it’s done, after the world pays for keeping us apart, I’ll find you again. I’ll greet the sun and find you, whether you be in heaven or hell, whether I be as well.” 

He paused, pulled her closer, lowered his voice. “But I won’t let you die.” 

She looked at him for a long moment, but said nothing. Finally, she nodded. “I love you, my Angel, all of you.”

Angel lowered his head to her faintly beating heart, licked the skin covering her artery once, and gently, lovingly, sank his fangs into her. She arched against him. Whether in pain or arousal, Angel didn’t know. He also didn’t care, because he wasn’t letting her leave him. He drank down her magickal blood, his hands cradling her body to his, the blood from her wound covering the both of them. 

He felt her shudder, felt her body call for his, knew it was in arousal. He smiled then, his hands, his bloody hands, slipping up to caress her breasts, his body shifting so that her heat was directly over his knee. She was dying, but he was going to see it was as painless as possible. 

And when she rose, they were going to make love in the blood of those who kept them apart. 

The moon twinkled once, as if winking at them as they sat in the park, just past the swings and picnic tables. Alone, just the way they liked it, alone with each other in an embrace that was guaranteed to change the world.
~~~~~~~~~~
Track A in Track B  

“I did tell them not to hurt you,” Nest said as he suddenly materialized from the shadows. Buffy wondered if that was a trick he’d learned or if he’d been there all along. “But I guess it doesn’t matter now, eh?” 

His twisted and ancient features shone oddly in the pale moonlight, reminding Buffy of too many things she’d rather forget. Things that made her scared and that made her want to kill the bastard all over again. She’d have been perfectly happy never, ever seeing him again, a kind of ‘you live in New York on your way to the Hellmouth and I’ll stay here.’ 

Fate was never on her side. 

“You always did have lousy minions,” she grunted as Drusilla caught her. “But then that’s what happens when you have fruit punch mouth.” She snickered at her own lame pun, which turned into a cough as Drusilla pulled the piece of wood out of her stomach. “Shit, Drusilla,” she mumbled. 

“My plan, little Slayer,” Nest went on, ignoring her. He had no idea what she meant by fruit punch, but yes, he did have lousy minions. Maybe it was time to start training them better. No wonder every other Order wanted to crush his. “Was simple enough. Kidnap the Seer for you. It changed when I realized you were together. I want,” he took another step closer despite Drusilla’s warning hiss. A mother, he thought amused, protecting her cub. How odd. 

“To turn you,” he admitted bringing his attention back to Buffy. “I want you on my side, under me, as my Childe. As my favored and most powerful Childe.” 

“Not going to happen,” Angelus growled from behind.

“Angelus,” Nest said genuinely pleased. “I didn’t think you’d get here in time to see your Slayer as mine.” 

“She’s mine,” Angelus corrected, fangs gleaming in the moonlight, eyes blood red in anger, pain, and loss. “Always mine.” 

“Yes, yes,” Nest waved his words away. “You always were possessive. But then how long until you tire of the little girl? How long until you let your new interest kill her as you did my Darla?” 

“Never,” Angelus growled. “She’s mine. My mate, my lover, mine for eternity.” 

Normally, Angelus couldn’t take Nest. He’d tried once, and was lucky to be able to leave standing. He hadn’t tried again. The memory still burned, the strength the ancient had, the power, the beating a young Angelus had taken. He wanted another chance at the Master. 

This wasn’t the time, however. He could feel Buffy’s life draining from her, taste her blood in the air as Drusilla tried to stop the flowing life force. 

With an animalistic roar, he leapt the few feet separating him and Nest and tackled the elder to the ground. It was a feat, Nest was much larger than Angelus, but that didn’t stop the enraged vampire. His mate was dying and there was only one thing to save her. He’d planned on doing it anyway, but it was imperative now. 

He couldn’t lose her. 

The bloody hunk of wood that the dusted vamp had used on Buffy lay inches from Angelus’ hand and he grabbed it up, thinking how apropos it was that the stake used on his mate was the one used on her killer. 

“Angelus,” Nest said as he stood, dusting himself off. “Really, this is just juvenile.” 

He never got to say more because Angelus forced the wood through years of powerful vampire hide into Nest’s heart. “Damn it,” Nest said as he realized what happened. “All my plans…” 

Angelus didn’t even look at Nest as the elder fell to the ground, his body turning into thick black…goo. Not even dust as he died and went back to the hell he came from.

“Drusilla,” Angelus whispered as he gathered Buffy into his arms, “Find William.” He didn’t wait to see if his childe obeyed, he knew she would. Kissing Buffy’s rapidly cooling lips, he held her tighter, his own hands trying to stop the steady flow of blood from her stomach.

He heard William approach and wondered how the younger vampire knew where to find them. It didn’t matter, Angelus needed time, not a lot, but he needed time to do what he must. And he needed his family’s protection to do that. 

“You can’t leave me,” he whispered to Buffy as William raced around the corner. Drusilla held him close for a long moment as Angelus brushed tendrils of hair off Buffy’s face, sweaty even in the cool night. “If you leave me I will destroy this world, lover. I will tear it apart inch by inch until nothing remains. I will set it ablaze, in my anger and sorrow. In the end, only I and the sun will remain, and then only the sun.” 

Tears pooled in Buffy’s eyes, as she silently begged him not to. Not to destroy the world, not to kill himself, neither knew. “You can’t die, Angelus,” she whispered. “I can’t let you.” 

“The only way I live, beloved,” he told her, lips inches from hers. “Is with you.” 

The silence of the alleyway was broken only by Buffy’s slowing heartbeat. She looked at him for long moments as she weighed his words. Could she do it? Could she allow him to turn her, be a vampire, the very demon she fought on a nightly basis?

Could she leave him? 

“Then let me be with you forever.” Buffy smiled up at him, knowing her choices were limited. 

She either died now – and chances were Angelus turned her anyway – or she died and he destroyed everything she died for. The world, the innocents, everything. Or she agreed. Agreed knowing that no matter what, she’d be with her lover, her love, her heart and soul forever. Even if she didn’t possess that soul any longer, Angelus held it. She lost it to him the first day they’d met. 

Turning her head to the side, baring her neck that already bore his scar, Buffy willingly agreed. 

Angelus licked the mark that he’d reopened several times a night since she came into his life, kissed it softly, and said, “I love you. Forever.” Without waiting for an answer, he slipped his fangs into her neck, pulling strong draughts of her blood into him. Magickal blood, Slayer blood. 

She was his, all his now. His Mate, his Childe. His forever. When she rose, when she was fully, truly his, they were going to make love in the blood of the world. The world they were going to rule. Together. 

The moon twinkled once, as if winking at them as they sat in the filthy alleyway, Drusilla and William guarding the front of the street. But they were alone, just the way they liked it, alone with each other in an embrace that was guaranteed to change the world.
~~~~~~~~~~  
Everywhere and Nowhere and All of the In Between 

The book hummed in pleasure, smiling though none but its key could see it. 

This was perfect, though those who Watched didn’t seem to think so. Ah, well, it wanted to say to them. This was what you got for playing with things that are beyond your powers, beyond your comprehension. If they’d just have listened to the warning, but no, they hadn’t even heard it. 

The key beside it giggled at the disgruntled sound of the book’s consternation. The key had tried to tell its companion that they wouldn’t listen, but the book had tried anyway. 

Powerful beings often only think with those powers, the key reminded the book. You told me that eons ago, remember? These beings, these who Watch, are no better than the hundreds, than the thousands who came before them. Power isn’t always the way to go, but common sense is often ignored. Nothing changes no matter how often beings think it has. 

The book snorted in agreement as the pair watched the watchers. The beings whose lives these two were playing with seemed happy enough with what was happening to them, in their lives. But then it was clear that was all they wanted. In any reality, in all realities, that was all they wanted. 

Each other. 

The book wondered why that was, but didn’t ask its constant companion. It knew, though it didn’t want to acknowledge it. It was the same between book and key. One simply could not live without the other. It was the way of them. And, it seemed, the way of those beings below. 

Interesting.

Part 22       Part 24

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