April 6
Angel walked back into the lobby. Alone. It wasn’t their first choice, but it was an interesting one, they had to admit.
Finding and losing their son in one night. Knowing She was no longer captive of Lilah. Knowing She was alive, knowing they weren’t dreaming it. Knowing She’d find them soon. They’d find Her.
“Angel?” Cordelia asked, immediately coming up to them. Touching them. Hand on his arm, fingers caressing them through coat and shirt.
What’s next? Batting her eyelashes at us? Snorting at the thought, Angel looked down at the seer. Demon. What kind of demon was she? And why hadn’t they wondered that before Spike’s question?
“Did you find him?” her voice was sweet and coy. “Where is he?” Confusion entered her eyes as she looked behind him, as if she expected Connor to be there, hiding behind his father’s coattails. Her fingers were still absently moving over their arm. Christ, she was about to bat her eyes at them.
“He’s safe,” Angel told them. The gang was watching them with a look that told Angel the four members of their crew didn’t believe them. They narrowed their eyes, and sure enough no one looked at them, all avoiding their gaze.
“He’ll be back,” they nodded, confident, and walked past them to their rooms. Fred jerked as they passed, and Angel couldn’t help but laugh. Yup…their ‘team’ thought they’d done something to their son. Fools.
The sound of Angel’s laughter drifted down even when the door to his room closed. Fred shuddered and moved closer to Gunn. His arm wrapped around her, pulling her close.
“Are we sure,” she asked in a quiet voice that quaked with uncertainty, “That Connor’s okay?”
“I…” Cordelia trailed off, leaned heavily on the counter. Eyes closed, she shook her head. “I don’t know. That laugh,” she opened her eyes, looked at Gunn then Lorne. “It’s not Angel’s laugh.”
“I’ve never heard Angel laugh,” Fred offered. “Except with Connor.”
“Lorne,” Cordelia turned to her friend, her follower. She grabbed his hands, and asked desperately, “You swear on your gods that his soul is there?” She was pushing it with that one, but an act was an act. Besides, her acolytes insisted Angel needed his soul to conceive. Hence, she needed Angel, not Angelus. Damn. “That Angel’s really Angel and that Angelus…” she trailed off, stopped. Swallowed for good measure, and swiped a hand over her cheek, though no actual tears fell. “That Angelus isn’t out? That he’s still buried under Angel?”
“Buttercup,” Lorne gave her hands a squeeze, kissed her cheek. Beautiful goddess…where had that come from? “His soul’s there. Don’t I read him every couple of days? Don’t I see it there?” But he sighed and admitted, “I agree, though. Something’s off. Not quite right with our handsome champion. It’s the glow around his soul, that’s the only thing I can come back to.”
“I’m going to-” Cordelia waved a hand “Meditate or something. I don’t know what. But I need a vision from the Powers,” she told them and was relieved when they nodded. She couldn’t afford to kill them, not yet at least. No, they were to be her strongest protectors, her greatest advocates. Her warriors, her prophets.
Plus, it might make everyone suspicious. Couldn’t have that.
“I don’t know.” She scrunched her nose. “I don’t even know how to meditate,” she gave a weak chuckle which, thankfully, both Gunn and Fred returned. “But I have to do something. We need to know what’s going on with our champion!”
Upstairs, Angel laughed. They didn’t bother to keep it silent, saw no reason to do such a thing. It wouldn’t benefit them, not any longer. No, all it’d do was make the team feel safer. Or something like that.
The sun peaked through the bottom of their curtains, signaling a bright new day.
Connor was out there someplace, and we don’t know where. Could we have persuaded him to stay? No, probably not. Should we have offered? Hmm, maybe. She’d be angry with us over that. But what was a vampire to do?
~~~~~~~~~~
April 10
The sun hurt her eyes. It was harsh and bright, stinging sensitivity and hot blistering.
There, over there was a darkened place. It smelled abrasive, death and despair. It smelled coarse. But it offered some relief from the light. From the glaring discordant world she found herself in. Loud. It was loud. Banging against her head, against her brain so she couldn’t think.
But she knew. Deep down, she knew. She had to find him. She wasn’t sure who he was, but his face swarmed around her. Beckoning her to find him. Or was he to find her? She didn’t know. Angel. Was he her Angel? Who was he? What was he to her?
There was something else as she leapt over buildings, crossed rooftops with a speed she wasn’t aware of, one that felt innate and right. A feeling, an intuition, that pulled her in the direction of the desolate building. She felt her hair brush her thighs, felt the wind blow across her skin, heavy and grimy.
Hide. She needed to hide. Away from the brightness. From the prying eyes. From light. From sound. From…hell.
She didn't know what the word meant. Hell. Negative. Hurtful. Pain and death. Death. Not hers. His. Who was he? What was Hell? But she knew that’s where she was. Hell. She was in hell. Except if he was here, this wasn’t hell. Then what was it? Where was she? Where was he?
The place wasn’t deserted. But she knew, with that same innateness she knew everything, that she was…not safe. But she’d be okay for a while.
“Who are you?” the voice startled her.
She jerked around, snarled. Her eyes hurt, and she couldn’t see the figure in front of her clearly. There was a scent about him, but not danger. She didn't know what it was, but she relaxed. Eased back, stood straight and waited.
“You don’t feel human,” the voice said, and she pegged it now. Male. Young, but male. It had a faint accent to it…how did she know that? “You feel…off. Strong. I’m not sure what it is.”
“Slayer.” The word was pulled from her, from where she had no idea. “I’m the slayer.”
“Slayer? You’re the Vampire Slayer?” Frowning, she nodded. Yes, that sounded familiar. “I’ve heard of you. You’re like a…” the voice, the boy, he was becoming clearer now that her eyes adjusted back to the darkness she craved. “A mythical warrior. My father,” the boy smiled, and the familiarity in that smile clenched at her heart. “He worshiped you. Said you were a race of warriors destined to fight and die, but you did so bravely, and earned our respect. He never said you were supposed to be naked.”
“Father?”
“Yes,” there was sadness in that voice now, and she moved to him. Took his dirty hand. Offered him comfort when she wasn’t sure what comfort was. Why she was doing it. “He’s…he died.”
“And…you miss him?” Her throat burned with the effort it took to speak, and the words mysteriously appeared to glide off her tongue, even if she wasn’t aware where they came from. She knew what they meant. Or thought she did. Should.
“Yes, terribly.” He sniffled, and she wrapped her arms around him, guiding him to the floor. This felt familiar. Comfort. Yes, it was comfort. She was once comforted like this. No. She once comforted like this. Sister. She had a sister.
“Shh,” she whispered, smoothing his matted hair off his face. She kissed his forehead, smelled dirt and death, and something underneath it all that she breathed in deeply. “Sleep. Just sleep now. I’ll protect you.”
Protector. Yes, she was a protector. That’s what she did. That’s who she was. As the boy did as she bade, she thought that maybe she was more. There was a niggling thought that told her she was once something more to…someone.
“Angel.”
The boy in her arms twitched at the name, sighed once and fell instantly back to sleep.
When Connor woke that evening, the beautiful – naked – woman was gone. The slayer. He thought of tracking her, thought of finding her again, but didn’t. He wasn’t sure what stopped him, why, but knew, with a sense born of instinct rather than knowledge, that she wouldn’t want that. That same sense told him to find his father. His birth father, if not his real one.
~~~~~~~~~~
April 12
“Shall I sing for you again?” Angel asked as their team watched them. They’d been watching them since they entered the room, since their return from their nightly ritual. To find Her. “Or are you tired of that? Want something else? A dance, maybe? My Astaire is a little rusty, but I’m sure I can find something in my repertoire.”
“Ah, no, Angel, man.” Gunn stood, hefted his axe. “Don’t need that. You coming?”
“Where?” And they were genuinely curious as to Gunn’s destination.
“The demon in Cordy’s vision. Remember?”
“You go on ahead. I’m sure you’ll be fine – you’re a big boy now.” So saying, they left. Searching for both Lover and Son. To the roof, higher ground. Connor would stay on higher ground, they knew it. Would have done the same in his position. Would do the same now, because they, too, were being tracked.
If Wesley didn’t think they knew he was following them, he was stupider than they originally thought. Alive, still, but that could easily be remedied.
“Dad.” The name stopped them, stilled every movement as they perched atop the roof, teetering on the edge. Slowly turning, they looked at their son, at their beautiful Connor. And scented the night air. She was there, Her scent clinging to his, soft, love, comfort.
“Where have you been?” they asked. But cautiously lest the animal skin-clad boy attack. As he had yesterday.
“Been around. Met someone. She helped me around the city.”
Yes, so it seemed; She was all over Connor, though they were comforted by that, rather than jealous. She was, after all, Connor’s mother. In their heart, if not in actual fact.
“And now?”
“Now,” Connor moved his shoulders uncomfortably. “I thought…I could stay.”
It was what they wanted to hear most. What they longed to hear. “What made you change your mind? You tried to kill me yesterday, as I recall.”
“Still might.” Connor rocked back on his heels, still clasping his weapons. Still clothed in animal skins and filth.
“Then why should I let you in my house?”
“Because I might not.”
“What did Holtz tell you about me?” At Connor’s look, Angel laughed. “Please. I know he filled your head with lies. Oh, I’m sure they’re truths to you, but they’re not. No, Holtz was always good with the lies.”
“From what he said, twas you who used lies like the Devil.”
“Aye, once upon a time, perhaps. But that was even before Holtz knew of me, before I was a vampire.” Angel took a step forward, keeping their hands loose at their side, eyes on Connor’s. Looking for that spark that said their boy was going to attack. Or acquiesce.
“You never,” disbelief filled his words now. “Lied when you were a vampire?”
Another laugh, and they shook their head. “Never needed to…well, once or twice. The truth was easier to use when manipulating someone.” Another step forward. “You’d do well to remember, that, son; Holtz knew the trick as well.”
“What’s different about you?”
The question caught them off guard, and they weren’t prepared for the straightforwardness of it, the honesty. “Other than you’re human, and I’m a vampire?” Connor nodded, ignoring the sarcasm in the question. “I told you. I have a soul.”
“A vampire with a soul?” He laughed, and, despite the incredulity in it, the sound warmed their heart. Yes, that laugh was just as they imagined Connor’s laugh would be. There was still the thread of the boy they’d loved in that laugh; Holtz hadn’t driven everything completely from him.
“No such thing.”
“Well, I’m unique, I admit that. Cursed. Gypsies. It’s not a pretty story, but it is a true one. Tried to tell Holtz that, but he wouldn’t listen.”
“I’m listening.”
“I’ll tell you sometime. After you come home.”
“Home? What’s a home?”
“Someplace where you feel safe, where you sleep with those you love.”
“And that place is home to you?”
“It’s not, no. But it can be. For us.”
He didn’t go right away. But without Father’s words whispered in his ears every day and night, Connor had already decided certain things for himself. Like he didn’t want to stay in the desert all his life. He wanted to find this Earth Father spoke of. He wanted to meet Angelus, the man who sired him. Wanted to know him with a child’s need for such things. Yet now, with Angelus there, waiting, standing before him, Connor wasn’t so sure.
“I’ll see.”
~~~~~~~~~~
April 27
They went out again, into the smoggy night, searching.
Connor was there, beside them, but said nothing. He didn't know what they searched for, and yet night after night, he was with them. Hunting. It was then they began hearing rumors of the huntress. How she prowled the streets, night after night, saving souls. The beautiful woman, naked and primal.
Naked? She was naked? Who dared looked upon Her but us? We’ll kill any who looked at Her.
“I’ve met her,” Connor said, stopping them mid growl.
“What?”
“This huntress these people speak of. I’ve met her.”
It was difficult not to grab him. Not to shake him until he told them everything about Her. They resisted. Barely. And only because Connor was their son. “Where? When?”
“Met her my first night here,” the boy admitted with a frown. Clearly he didn’t know how to handle their interest in this. “She said she was the slayer.”
“She is.”
“You know her?” There was excitement in his voice, interest, enthusiasm. How were they to destroy that when it was the first time he’d shown any such emotion since returning to them? Even though he said he wanted to know them, even though he hadn’t tried to kill them – okay, after that third time when they were sparing – Connor hadn’t shown much of anything to them. Except hostility and reluctant acceptance.
“Yes.”
“Tell me about her?”
It wasn’t what they’d been expecting, and the fact was, they didn’t know what to say to Connor that would make sense. It’d been so long since they actually talked about Her, or to a Connor who would understand the words they spoke, that they weren’t sure where to begin. With the mounds of drawings? Probably a little too stalkerish there. Their story? Hmm, skipping the unhappy parts of course, and the sex ones…maybe not.
“She’s my Mate.” Frowning as they tracked Her through the night, they wondered why they chose to begin there. “I thought She was dead. But Wolfram & Hart…they brought Her back.”
“Why? Why would they desecrate such a warrior’s body like that? Did you kill them? What happened?”
“I didn’t kill them.” But it was close. Lilah was close to death, though she didn’t know it. “They brought Her back to torment me. But in tearing Her out of heaven, they created something they don’t know how to control. A slayer,” Angle continued as they paused, scented the air.
Yes, She was there. Or had been earlier. The dust littering the ground attested to Her work already done. She’d moved on before they’d had a chance to find Her.
“A slayer was meant to go to Heaven, and She was there. By pulling Her out, by doing that to Her, they’ve created a predator they’re ill-equipped to handle.”
“What’s her name?” Angel looked at their son, confused. “You keep talking about her, but you don’t say her name.”
“I used to talk about Her when you were young,” Angel whispered. “Buffy. Her name is Buffy.”
~~~~~~~~~~
May 1
Wesley looked through Lilah’s desk for a second time. Still nothing.
Other than the requisite secrets she kept from him, there was something big she was hiding. While he didn’t really expect her to keep it in her desk where anyone – or he – could find it, he was expecting something there. It had to do with Angel, most everything Lilah did had to do with Angel.
There was a bigger concern with Angel than he thought even Lilah knew. Fred, bless her heart, had been by to see him a few times, and had spilled. That girl just couldn’t keep a secret, that’s for sure, but in this case, it was a good thing. The gang worried that Angelus had returned. Apparently, even though Lorne read Angel nearly every day, the consensus was that his soul was slipping.
Between that, and the news on the street about a new demon hunter, Wes wished for his old team back. As that was not to be, and he knew it was fruitless to wish for such things, he did the next best thing. He snuck into Lilah’s office and searched for what she had on any of that.
That, too, was proving fruitless.
No, of course he wouldn’t learn anything about anything. Lilah wasn’t stupid. But maybe the suspicion that Lilah was working on something big still nagged. She didn’t recruit him for the fun of it. She didn’t sleep with him because she loved him, though he did admit the sex could be pretty good.
Motives, reasonings, there was so much she hid, and Wes was desperate to learn more. What it had to do with Angel, why the sudden surge of magicks around the building. But so far, all he’d been able to locate was rumors about the tank on Sublevel 27. About magicks that shook the building. Or had shaken the building.
They’d suddenly stopped, and no one knew why.
He wasn’t finding anything here, should have known better. Maybe it was time to check up on those rumors of the sublevel. Maybe it was time to see what his old team, whether they wanted him or not, had heard.
~~~~~~~~~~
May 7
She was being followed.
Day and night they hunted her, closing in. But they couldn’t capture her, wouldn’t unless she allowed it. Tugging at the clothes someone had given her, she scratched her arm and leapt across the street, landing gracefully on the opposite roof without blinking. Running from those who would capture her.
Lilah. She knew the other woman was desperate to find her, but she didn’t know why. She wasn’t about to find out, either. She’d escaped from the Tank and had no desire to return. Why did she escape? There was a reason, but she couldn’t remember it.
It was as if she knew it, knew what it was, but couldn’t identify it. The reason. The feeling, the name…Angel. Him. A familiarity in the night air she was drawn to. The boy she’d comforted one night was there, too. Did he know this Angel? Was he working for him? Were they working for Lilah?
No, they couldn’t be. Whatever Angel was, she knew he – yes he – wasn’t working for Lilah. He was more to her. He was hers.
There…dropping to street-level, she headed in that direction. No, this wasn’t the feeling, though this, too, was familiar. This was what she hunted. What, then, was He? Whipping her head around, hair moving with her, she listened. Was He there, too?
Without another thought on him, on Angel, she continued on to that original feeling. Rounded the corner, listened. Stepped behind the group that closed in on a pair of girls cowering in the corner, and, without a word, attacked.
“It’s the slayer!” one shouted.
“I thought she was dead,” another added even as he tried to escape. It was no use. She was fierce, unstoppable. This was her job. This was her purpose. This was…Her.
“Did you hear that?” a new voice shouted. A gang of humans rounded the corner, weapons drawn, prepared to join in the fight.
“Whoa,” one said, stumbling to a halt. “Check her out.”
“What is she?”
“I have no idea,” the leader admitted, but there was awe in his voice even if the wooden crossbow never wavered. “But she’s beautiful.”
They were dusted, gone, so she left. She looked at the humans, registered no threat from them, and disappeared. Jumped three stories onto the fire escape, back onto the roof, and into the night she felt most comfortable in.
“Magnificent,” the leader said, still standing where he had been minutes before when the vision fought.
“She’s like Batman,” one said. “The Dark Knight, the Caped Crusader. Helping those who can’t help themselves, then disappearing into the night.”
“I’ve heard of her,” a fourth admitted as she went to check on the pair of women in the alley. To them she asked, “What the hell possessed you to walk into an alley at night in this city?”
Without waiting for an answer, she shoved them into the street, dimly lit but lit nonetheless, and ordered, “Go home. If you can’t go home, there’s Anne’s Shelter. She’ll take you in. You know it?”
“Yeah,” the older looking of the teens nodded.
“Stay off the street at night. There aren’t many things worse than those,” she jerked her head behind her at the piles of dust that littered the already filthy alley, “But there are some.”
“What’d you hear of this chick?” the leader asked. They’d regrouped already; even if they were trained to fight vamps, it was always better to stay together. Gunn had taught them that, and even if he wasn’t around so much anymore, his lessons stayed.
“She’s called the Huntress. Doesn’t say much, but she fights like a wild woman.”
“One of the vamps called her a slayer.” They were moving along the street now, doing their best to keep their end of town free from evil. Of the supernatural variety at least. Hey, it was something.
“Don’t know about that,” the woman shrugged. No one else seemed to, either.
“Tracy, James, Bounty.” The three called pushed their way to the front. “You get a good look at her?”
“Her eyes, boss,” Tracy admitted. “And her hair. That’s about it.”
“Put it on the wall. This place has a new protector.”
~~~~~~~~~~
May 11
The only sign Angel had that She was still out there was Her scent on the wind. A lingering trace that teased and eluded. Their Beloved was moving quickly. From whom? Lilah? Wolfram & Hart’s teams? What was She running from She couldn’t go to them with?
And that was when it hit them. Did She realized they were there? That they were still waiting for Her? Searching for Her?
“Angel…dad,” Connor shook his head at that, but they didn’t press. Much as they wanted Connor to call them dad, they didn’t press. It was the one sane and decent thing Cordelia had suggested. Yeah, they were amazed.
“I told you, Connor,” Angel said as he followed Connor’s voice. They’d split up after reports of a gang of vamps in the area, but so far nothing. “You can call me Angel. Whatever makes you comfortable.”
“Nothing about this is comfortable,” Connor muttered, but then jerked his head at the wall. “This is her. This is your Buffy.”
Angel stilled, unable to tear their eyes away from the mural. “Buffy,” they said the word softly, reverently, and reached out a hand to touch the wall.
“Yes. This is Her.” Their Buffy, their Love, their Mate. “She’s here, Connor, She’s lost.”
“When Wolfram & Hart pulled her out of heaven,” Connor said, watching his father watch the painting, “Do you think they…messed something up?”
“What do you mean?” The question was sharp, Angel’s eyes hard and golden.
“Nothing good comes of magick,” Connor spat.
“You did.”
“I came from magick?” Evidently he didn’t buy that, was, in fact, completely panicked over the thought.
“In a way. The son of two vampires? How else to explain your birth but that?”
Not having an answer for that one, Connor went on. “When they pulled her out of heaven, do you think they…forgot something?”
“No.” The answer was instantaneous. “They didn’t. It’s Buffy, I know it is.”
“How?”
“I can feel Her. We’re bonded Mates. I can feel Her, and I know it’s Her.”
“Tell me more of her,” Connor asked as they left the alley. No longer in search of the vampires they’d heard of, for it was obvious Buffy had taken care of them, but of Buffy. She was difficult to track, and Connor had never had any trouble tracking before.
Then again, he’d never been so fascinated with anyone before. Maybe he’d ask Angel (dad) to show him a picture of her. If Angel (dad) loved her as much as he claimed, then they’d have to have one, right?
~~~~~~~~~~
May 19
“It was the duality of his soul, milady. Because the soul shared the body with the demon, your magicks were rendered, ah…” he paused, hoped he’d survive the next words. “Useless.”
“You promised me,” Cordelia raged, “That the strength of the potion would be enough to overcome that!”
“Well, yes,” he was so dying in the next few moments and knew it. As long as his mistress was happy…he needed a new gig. “I believed that to be true. However, I didn’t count on the strength of that soul. Or the demon,” he added. “Together, they're much more powerful than I originally suspected. Separate, then you have a chance. However, there’s no way to remove the demon from the body. It is all that keeps the soul alive.”
“Are you certain,” she demanded through clenched teeth, “That my rebirth has to be preformed with a male with a soul?”
“Yes milady, it is so. Angelus cannot bring about your transformation. Only Angel can do so.”
The scream hurt his ears, but he resisted – just barely – the urge to cover them. Wouldn’t do to show disrespect to his goddess. Especially when he was certain death was rapidly approaching.
“That is unacceptable!” she shouted. “I’m running out of time! I need to transform soon, or this body will be too weak to hold me!”
“He does have a son, milady.” The light in her eyes told him he’d just brought himself new life.
“Connor.”
“Yes, milady. Connor. The son of two vampires is very powerful. He will be able to bring about your transformation as you desire.”
“What do I have to do?”
“Before you transcend, milady, you must groom him. Plant the seeds in his impressionable mind, use the tragedy of youth as your weapon. It is imperative that he believes this is voluntary, and therefore it will be. Without that, nothing will happen.” He paused, waited until Cordelia nodded, and sighed. Still alive.
“Before your faithful servant takes you, you must do this, or, when you return, all will be as it is now. Time is of the essence, milady.”
She sent him a beatific smile, and nodded. “Thank you, Skip. Now, what of…?”
“He is being summoned as we speak, milady,” Skip nodded his bronzed head.
“Excellent. My poor darling,” she sighed, sitting gracefully in the chair Skip had so thoughtfully provided. “To be turned from a beautiful lover into a stone demon. I swear to you,” her eyes glowed bright white, her aura shinning with silver and gold, her voice shook with anger and the walls trembled at the sound. “I swear I’ll avenge him. Once I regain my form, my power, I’ll avenge him.”
“Yes, milady. I’m sure my lord will be most pleased.”
~~~~~~~~~~
May 25
“What do you mean she’s disappeared?” Fred demanded. “She can’t have just disappeared!”
“I’m telling ya,” Gunn insisted. “One minute we were in the courtyard talking about,” he lowered his voice. “Angel.” Raising it, he continued. “And the next she was being ascended or some crap like that. Floating in the air as if she were some damn angel or somethin’.”
“What now?”
“I went to find Lorne, he’s looking into it. Tried to find Angel, but all his kid’d say was that he was out. Out where, I have no freakin’ clue. And it looked like Connor was about to leave, too.”
“They’ve been spending an awful lot of time out,” Fred commented. “I wonder what they’re doing?”
“I’d say bonding,” Gunn shrugged. “But I have no clue.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Angel was bonding with Connor. In a way.
More importantly, they were searching for Her. And getting closer, they could feel it. She didn’t run as far whenever they tracked Her someplace. Ran still, yes, but waited. Watched them from the shadows, they could feel Her.
When they returned to their room, just as the sun was rising, they heard them.
“Wesley,” Gunn said, voice hard and cold. “There’s a reason we called you, and it wasn’t so you can play make it better and say I’m sorry. Again. We don’t care about that, have heard it, and are no longer interested.’
“So you said. Twice. Then why did you call?”
“Cordelia’s missing.”
With an apathy that belied the rage swirling inside them, Angel purposely let Wesley live. Unknowing just how close to death the human traitor had come that evening.
Back to Scars On My Soul Page Christine's Page Home
