TRAGIC FARCE: A COMEDY IN THREE ACTS
Act Two: Brand New Way(continued)

 

Angel lurked on the mezzanine behind a pillar where he knew couldn’t be seen from the lobby. He just wanted to watch her for a little while. That was all, just look at her without having to worry that he was making her uncomfortable. He liked that she’d let her hair grow, and erased the blond streaks. The urge to run his hands through the chestnut silk of it was almost uncontrollable sometimes.

He wanted her. He loved her.

She didn’t know, of course. His fault. As far as she was concerned he was with Buffy, and that was the end of it.

He’d thought they were beginning to rebuild their friendship, but for the past week she’d been avoiding him. She won’t even stay in the same room with him if she can help it. Somehow things have gotten screwed up again and he hasn’t been able to figure out what.

Gunn came up to her desk and said something. She laughed and threw a paperclip at him. The two of them seemed to spend a lot of time together. They’re like brother and sister, teasing each other, having video and pizza nights at Cordelia’s place. She seemed to have completely accepted Gunn as a vampire. She was more comfortable with it than Angel was. It’s getting better though. He still felt the urge to dominate and control his ‘son’, but luckily he had a lot of practice controlling his demonic urges.

“Angel?” Buffy offered him her bag. It looked like a lot of clothes for an overnight trip but he didn’t say anything. “Ready?”

He took her bag. “Let’s go.”

~*~

He took the train down the coast to Los Angeles. Driving would have gotten him there quicker, but he wasn’t so keen on driving nowadays. It was hard to keep his eyes on the road when the voices start. Wasn’t safe for him or anyone else.

Blood had been spilled in one of the cars he passed through to get to his berth. Not his fault, been years since he killed anyone on a train, but someone had died there, blood and blood and blood and all the scrubbing and new carpet couldn’t keep the stink of it from burning his nostrils. He sidled past and hurried to the sanctuary of his berth.

He kept to his compartment with the curtains drawn as the train clicked and rocked its way through the night, unlocking the door only when the conductor knocked for his ticket. Tried to stay awake because at least then he had some control, could tell the difference between memory and reality. But as the engine pulled smoothly through the coastal range exhaustion took the decision away from him and he fell asleep.

He shrugged into the coat and checked it fastidiously for blood. It was a fine bit of tailoring; he’d admired it when Jenkins first appeared in it a few weeks back. Bespoke of course – but they were much of a size and it fit him well enough. His old acquaintance stared up at the night through his one remaining eye, the other a dark puddle around the spike that had been driven into his skull. Later he’d spin a tale to Angelus of elaborate tortures, but truthfully he’d been too bloody hungry to drag things out; Jenkins always was a jammy sod…

He woke with a gasp as the train pulled into Union Station. As he stepped onto the platform he remembered the first time he and Dru had come here. It had been brand new then, reeking of raw wood, fresh plaster and paint, finished just in time for the Olympic Games. They’d dined on an unwary pair of tourists in the unfinished ladies lounge before waltzing off to investigate the shiny new town. He can see them, Ed and Sandy, from Omaha, hovering at the edge of his vision daring him to look at them, to see their torn throats and empty eyes and to lose himself in guilt. He bloody won’t. He had places to go, things to do.

He wrapped his fingers around the cross in his pocket until the pain in his hand pushed down the pain in his chest and drove off the ghosts. He bandaged his burned hand neatly with a handkerchief before stepping out into the cool night air.

~*~

Buffy shoved past Angel as he opened the motel room door and made a bee-line for the bathroom, peeling off her be-slimed clothes as she went. “So,” she said, as she dropped her bra next to the tub. “That was fun.”

“Yeah. It was,” Angel agreed. That hadn’t changed, it was always fun fighting with her at his side. The Breaux demons had provided just enough of a challenge to make it interesting, but the outcome had never been in doubt. Afterwards, they’d dragged the carcasses down to the water, hoping that the tide would carry them out to sea, if that failed the Scripps institute would have an interesting new species to examine.

Buffy turned the shower on full. “Wanna join me?” She asked over her shoulder.

Angel pretended to think about it. “No. I better call L.A. and check in.”

“Good idea.” She disappeared behind the curtain.

~*~

Gunn grinned as he hung up the phone. “Mission accomplished, they’re definitely staying down there overnight. Won’t be back before tomorrow afternoon.”

Cordelia gave him her best innocent look. “And Lorne’s in Vegas, so we’ve got the whole place to ourselves. I dunno, want to watch a movie?” She shrieked as Gunn pounced.

~*~

So where was the bugger? He went to his old digs but no Grandpa, no building in fact. He lingered in the empty lot for a little while, poking among the weeds and broken glass and wondered if he’d be able to tell the bastard’s dust from the ordinary dirt. Only if Angel had been destroyed surely the news would’ve reached Sunnydale. Right? Whatever had happened here wasn’t recent. The weeds were so tall they brushed the bottom of the realtor’s sign.

So where the hell was he?

~*~

Buffy lay on her back, naked, her arms stretched wide above her head, handcuffed to the bed frame. She arched her back, small breasts quivering, tiny pink nipples begging to be touched. She was more than ready for him, the sharp scent of arousal rose from her quivering body. Her eyes glittered as she stared at him, her tongue traced her lips lasciviously. She spread her legs a little wider, the muscles flexing in anticipation.

Angel sighed. He eyed the handcuffs a little nervously. He’d had them specially enhanced, but whether they would hold under these circumstances… He took a half step backwards.

“Buffy, we need to talk.”

Her eyes snapped open. “Talk? Now?!!”

Angel took a moment to remind himself of who he was. He was a 250 year old vampire. He’d died twice; spent a century in hell suffering unbelievable torments; lost his faith and regained it; had his son stolen; lost his love and found new love. He can do this. He took a step closer to the door and spoke. “Listen, Buffy, we can’t do this any more.”

Ten of the longest minutes of his long life later he was heading North on the 5, going home.

~*~

Gunn had put a lot of work into his room. He figured he was going to be here for a while. He’d cleaned it up, put some art on the wall and got himself a kickin’ entertainment center. And now he had Cordelia, it was perfect. This was the first time they’d been together in his room, his bed, and he knows he shouldn’t take it so seriously. They were supposed to be fuck-buddies, nothing serious going on, but he never could get the hang of casual sex.

He ran his hand lovingly down her silken side, savoring the heat that spilled from her skin. He pressed his lips to the junction of her hip, savoring the throbbing pulse as she gasped, and giggled. His hand wandered up to skim the soft underside of her breast and then traced the margin of her aureole before slowly spiraling in to her eager nipples.

It hasn’t been that long but he’d almost forgotten what sex was like, before. Before he could feel her blood rising through his fingertips, before he could see every detail of her perfection crystal clear even in the dark. Before being inside her was like becoming part of her, feeling himself resonate with every heartbeat, every breath.

He rolled her over so he could lovingly trace the line of her spine with his mouth; from the sensitive nape of her neck, tongue dipping following each bump and hollow along the way, between the wings of her shoulders, down to the terminus blazoned with the sun. He nipped playfully at the succulent swell of her ass with carefully blunt teeth, ignored the ache for the blood millimeters away. He wanted to taste her, wanted it bad. Hoped to hell they’d get to the place one day when he could ask her. Just a taste. He’d never hurt her, the idea made his skin crawl.

He nudged her thighs apart. Slipped his fingers between her cheeks to the quivering moistness there. Cordelia groaned, and shifted to give him better access. His long strong fingers danced along the delicate strip of skin between her ass and her pussy, slid along the very outside of her labia, before slowly easing them into her blazing heat.

“Gunn,” she whimpered.

He was playing with fire. He knew it: one look was all it would take for him to slip and fall in love with her, even though he knew she wasn’t in love with him.

~*~

Angel Investigations was in the yellow pages. Bloody convenient for all the poof’s enemies. He’d always known Angelus was mad. His new digs were in a bloody huge old hotel. He checked the address again, not quite believing it. First the Sunnydale mansion, now this place. He and Darla always had to have their bloody view.

Still, better a crypt, dank and dark than a mansion reeking of blood…

“Don’t you love your mother?”

“Shut up,” he muttered and stepped through the doors.

Inside the lobby reeked of old bad magic; the symbols not quite erased from the fancy marble floor that plucked at his nerves. Sensory ghosts lingered, human and vampire. More than one, which was odd. He almost imagined he sensed the Slayer.

He heard voices upstairs. Whoever they are they probably know Angelus, or at least where to find him.

“You! Get away from me… aaaaaaah!!!” A scream ripped through the air and he flew through the darkened hallways to the source.

The two figures struggling on the bed, vampire, holding down a half-dressed girl both gaped at him when he kicked the door open. Hatred flared in his chest. The monster released her just before he crashed into him. The force of his attack threw both of them into the wall, him on top holding him by his throat. The baldy git was so new he still had dirt in his ears, so new he clawed in a panic at the hands locked around his throat forgetting that breathing was optional. He laughed and dug his fingers in, but before he could get the leverage to snap his neck the fledge slammed his forehead into his face. He saw stars and loosened his grip and his opponent got his leg up between them and kicked him off. When he went after him he was rocked back on his heels by a massive punch and just barely to dodge the follow-up. He danced backwards, gesturing for him to come on, pleased that this wasn’t going to be a complete waste of time.

The fledge attacked and he dodged again and lashed out with a side kick his opponent deflected that but got caught by a punch that snapped his head back. He staggered back but caught himself and came back again. They traded blows fast and furious. The baldy black fledge must have been a fighter before he was turned.

Got hit a few more times, nearly worked up a sweat. The fledge really wasn’t bad at all, but he has more than a hundred years of being a violent bastard on him; never any doubt of how it was going to end. As the fight turned against him what surprised him was that he didn’t try to get away, just kept fighting, long past the point it was obvious how it was going to end.

He ended it finally with a double hammer blow on the back of the neck. Baldy dropped to his knees dazed; he looked about for something handy to finish him off with. Wondered vaguely where the girl had got to.

A chair splintered across his back and he turned with a snarl to find the chit in question hefting the chair’s remains in a threatening manner.

“Get the hell away from him!”

What the bloody hell was wrong with the chit! Wait a minute, he knows her, doesn’t he? “Cordelia? Bloody hell, you’ve changed.”

“Spike! You haven’t. Except for the hair, interesting choice. Back for some more torture, maybe a little kidnapping?”

“Me! I was trying to save your arse. He was attacking you!”

“Dumbass, he’s my friend! We were just fooling around!”

“He's a bloody vampire! He’ll suck you dry you stupid bint!”

Glaring at Spike and not letting go of the wood, she put her arm around the other vampire and helped him up. “Newsflash, Lord Clairol: Gunn's got a soul. No sucking dry will be taking place.”

Spike felt uncertainty welling up inside him. Fuck him again, if it was true. But it couldn’t be true. And even if it was, he had to warn them. “It’s not safe. He’ll hurt you…hurt the girl. You ought to know better!”

‘Gunn’ took offense at that. “Yo, Cordelia’s my girl blondie, I’d never hurt her.”

He sounded so damned sure of himself, it raised Spike’s hackles and brought the demon back up, the need for violence crawling like lightning over his skin. Fucking idiot fledge, thinking he could control it, keep his desires under control; he didn’t know. Didn’t understand that sooner or later the demon would get free, take what it wanted.

He snarled, snatched the wood out of her hand and tossed it away. “I was trying to help!”

“Thanks, but I don’t need help! And since when do you help?”

“I’ll have you know I’ve been helping the Slayer for more’n two years now.”

“Helping?”

“Yeah, helping. Killing the bad guys, helping the innocent. Like that.”

Cordelia laughed. “You don’t really expect me to believe that?”

“Why don’t you call Sunnydale then, talk to Willow. Or Tara. She’ll tell you…” He felt a chill as Cordelia’s face froze. “What?”

~*~

“Wes! Wesley! Wake up dang you! WAKE UP!

The first thing he was aware of was a cold claw digging into the flesh of his shoulder. He shouted and fell off the couch where he’d dozed off watching the news.

“Wesley!”

“Fred?” He stared up at her slightly translucent image. “What on earth!”

“Wesley get up! You have to go to the hotel!”

“Why?”

“There’s somethin’ about to happen. Something bad and you need to be there. They’re going to need all the help they can get.” Her eyes were literally glowing and her hair floated around her head in a gorgon halo.

“Who? Angel? Buffy?” he didn’t try to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

“Charles is there too!”

“Right then,” he said getting to his feet.

Fred hovered anxiously as he loaded a duffel bag with weapons and a flask of holy water. Neither of them noticed that the door opposite was open a crack, or saw the eyes that watching hungrily as Wesley hurried past.

~*~

She wasn’t at her apartment. He wasn’t worried about that, nope, not worried at all. She was probably still at the Hyperion. No reason for him to be worried. If he was worried he could call her, except that would mean he’d have to a) find his cellphone and b) figure out how to use the damned thing. Besides, he definitely couldn’t talk to her about what he needed to talk to her about over the phone. So he wasn’t worrying as he sped across town to the hotel.

He hadn’t been worried, not really, but he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw her car parked in the Hyperion’s garage. She probably got caught up in finishing her work and stayed to eat with Gunn. He slammed the car door and hurried inside.

She wasn’t in the office, but she had been. Her fading scent calmed him. Gunn was nearby too. And another thread of … something familiar. Naw, it couldn’t be. Not…

“Spike?” What the hell would Spike be doing here? Buffy had told him about the chip, and mentioned in passing that he’d attached himself to her band of monster-fighters. She’d also said something about him leaving town right around the time Willow had her meltdown. Dammit, he really didn’t have time to deal with Spike right now.

As soon as he stepped out of the elevator he heard voices, loud, pissed-off voices. Cordelia, Gunn, and fuck, it was Spike. The hint that Cordelia was in danger made him vamp out as he raced down the corridor and burst into Gunn’s room.

A hurt and bleeding Gunn and a disheveled Cordelia stood together facing down Spike

“Spike!”

Angel’s kick knocked Spike halfway across the room, he went after him with intent to beat him into the carpet, but stopped when Spike lay there with his hands raised in surrender and a sour smile on his face, offering no resistance.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Nothing. Made a mistake.”

“Coming here? Yeah. Does Buffy know you’re here?”

“Angel?”

Angel turned towards Cordelia’s voice. “Cordy, are you O.K.? Did Spike hurt…?” His voice trailed off. Her blouse was unbuttoned. He can see her bra. He can see her breasts. She blushed when she noticed him noticing and tried to cover up.

Gunn tried to explain. “We were just kidding around when this Spike guy decided I was hurting Cordy."

They were kidding around? What kind of kidding around involved Cordy’s nipples making a public appearance?

“How the hell was I supposed to know? Looked like he was attacking her,” Spike grumbled at his feet.

He could smell Gunn. All over her.

“What the hell are you doing sneaking around a private building anyway?” Cordelia snapped at Spike.

Things were starting to add up and he didn’t like the way the numbers were coming out. At all. Angel growled softly. The other occupants of the room froze.

“Gunn?” Angel’s voice was very calm. “Why don’t you tell me what the hell’s been going on here?”

~*~

“Ms. Morgan, there’s a development,” the technician said pointing to the monitor showing the Hyperion’s front as a small beige car suddenly turned left across the flow of traffic and roared up to the hotel’s main entrance.

Lilah leaned over his shoulder to watch as a somewhat frazzled looking Buffy Summers jumped out of the car and ran inside. “Is that a stake I see in her hand? Hmmm.” She smiled, it looked like things were about to get even more interesting.

~*~

“Now?” Marta asked.

Ethan smiled, nodded, and kissed the twisted countenance of chaos full on the lips.

The sorcerer groaned as power ripped through him, gloriously inchoate. He fought the wild flow to channel it into the spell he’d drawn over the walls of the hotel, seeing the lines glow brightly as he closed the bars of the cage. When he was done he sagged with a satisfied grin.

“Well?” Linwood‘s words echoed oddly as they were transmitted through the crystal.

“They’re trapped. No-one inside the hotel can leave. And the portal should open in...” he checked his watch. “Approximately 20 minutes.”

“And then the real fun starts.”

~*~

Angel growled again. He glared at Cordelia but when she glared back he shifted his death glare to Gunn. Gunn tried but he couldn’t hold out against his gaze for more than a few minutes before flinching and looking away. Letting his instinct take the reins Angel stalked the young vampire, backing him up till his back brushed the heavy curtains of the tall window.

“What were you doing with Cordelia?” He snarled, nose to nose. He could smell Gunn’s terror, his entirely justified fear that his maker was about to unmake him. Fear and Cordelia, smeared so thickly on Gunn’s skin that Angel can’t believe he missed it.

He was a little bit impressed when Gunn’s managed to lift his head and meet Angel’s eyes. “Our business, not yours.”

Angel grabbed Gunn by the throat and slammed him into the window. It shattered sending glass and wood showering into the night. Angel could see fear in his eyes but there was still a spark of rebellion. He considered his options; a five-story fall wouldn’t kill Gunn, but a few broken bones might just restore proper respect for his sire and teach him the folly of touching what wasn’t his.

“Stop it!” Cordelia grabbed Angel’s arm and tried to pull him off Gunn. She squeaked when he dropped Gunn and grabbed both her wrists.

“How could you? With him!”

She tugged, but he wouldn’t let go. “How could I what? Sleep with Gunn? What the hell business is it of yours Angel? I don’t belong to you.”

“Wrong.”

She leaned forward, fearlessly facing the demon that really, really, wanted to bite her right then. “And last time I checked you have a girlfriend! Buffy!”

“Wrong again.”

“Huh?”

“We broke up!”

“When?”

“Tonight! I told her when we were in San Diego, and then I came back here to tell you!”

“Why the hell would you do that?”

“Because I love you!”

Cordelia gaped at him. What had he said?

“I love you, Cordy,” he said it again. He liked the feel of the words in his mouth.

Cordelia’s face crumpled. “You asshole!” she shouted. She wrenched herself free and ran out of the room.

Angel just stood there, shoulders hunched staring at nothing for a long moment, almost long enough for Gunn to let himself hope. Then Angel straightened up and went through the door. Going after her. Gunn picked himself up off the floor and brushed off the splinters and broken glass. He knew there was only one way the story was gonna end now. Time for him to save what was left of his pride and get the hell out of here. Maybe Wes’ll let him crash on his sofa.

Spike had pulled himself together and was slouching against the wall lighting a cigarette. Their eyes met as Gunn went past but neither man said anything. He just wanted out.