Note: This was written especially for Claudia, because she inspired me to start having an 'online presence' in the first place. Its my way of saying - "Thanks, and you're the COOLEST webmistress around. Bon appetit, cherie."
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Cold burns.
Am I cold? Or am I near the sun that I feel the skin blistering swelling, cracking and peeling away from my face and hands?
I put my hand in front of my face. It's still there. It doesn't look any different to my eyes. Maybe my eyes have changed.
Suddenly vision blurs, and everything goes wavy. My hand goes up on its own to trace the steady trickle that is collecting on my upper lip. Flick tongue. It's salty. And a faint tang of - I can't put a name to it.
I must be crying!
Amazement gives way to wonder. Why am I crying? I can't remember. Who am I? Where am I?
Eyes travel up and around. It's dark - there goes the sun theory- but faint outlines of bushes and trees couple with the sensation of a thousand blades of grass prickling my back.
Relief floods me. I can put words to these things - grass, garden. I must be lying in a garden.
Why am I here?
Sudden panic seizes me and I fight it down. Swallow saliva that tastes of blood, block out hot heavy rush of memories that threaten to swamp me.
I must be looking at the stars. Yes, that must be it. I can see a woman, with blonde hair and a telescope, teaching me the constellations.
"And that's Sagittarius, the archer."
Smile in love and longing for that time. Realize that I must have stopped to look at the stars. That's why I'm here. I must have lain down to get a better view, and fallen asleep.
My foot hurts. It's been asleep and wants to wake up. All right then, time to be used.
I draw my knees to my chest, slowing as I realize that I am tired and hurting.
So very tired.
Two feet placed on the floor, and I sit up.
OW!
Pain, hot and sharp lances through me. I cry again.
Rest a while.
Some thing urgent is hammering at the back of my brain, demanding to be let in, but I refuse. Right now, I just want to get warm.
Rising to my feet, I take a few steps. Panic hits.
Where should I go?
A glint of silver catches my eye, and I can see a long ribbon threading its way some distance to my left. Again, I can name it, and that reduces my fear.
Road.
I will walk to the road and walk along it. It will lead me somewhere.
When I reach the road, taking slow and painful steps, I am confounded again. Left or right?
I look up to the sky for inspiration. None found.
An ache in my right arm seems to decide for me. Right it is.
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I have a zit on my nose. Can anything be more gross?
I check it again in the rearview mirror. I think it's growing bigger. I swear that benzoic whatever cream had better be worth the 25 bucks I paid for it, or that salesgirl is going to feel my pain.
Press down on the accelerator. It's late and I don't want to run into any vampires. I'm moving so fast that I almost miss seeing her on the road.
Buffy.
I brake, and turn in my seat, calling breezily, "Hey, Slayer, want a ride?"
That's until I see what she looks like.
God in heaven!
I've never seen anyone beaten up so badly. Her eyes are a dark mass of purple, her forehead bleeding from a cut that's so deep I can see bone.
Her neck - Oh, God, her neck!
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I know that's a car, and I think I know the girl in it. No, wait she has dark hair.
Memories flooding back, and I can see her toss her hair back, laughing, always the laughter before the pain.
No!
NO!
This time there is no one holding me down, and I can finally run.
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"Buffy, wait! Where are you going?"
The fear in her eyes - may I never again see that look in anyone's eyes.
Hardly knowing what I am doing, I take off after her, and its easy to catch up with her. She's limping, and I think she must have broken a bone, because after a few steps, she gives another agonizing cry and sinks to the ground in a sobbing heap.
I approach carefully, praying for guidance, strength and the name of the son of a bitch who did this to her, so I can rip his lungs out.
I bend over her gently. She flinches from my touch.
Okay.
"Buffy? Buffy, it's Cordelia."
She won't look up, but her shoulders are still tense, as though waiting for the next blow to fall. God, I swear, give me a crowbar and two minutes alone with the bastard...
Her injuries are bad, pretty bad, if the Slayer healing hasn't kicked in yet. She needs qualified help, but I can't get her back to the car on my own. She has to listen to me.
"Buffy, I swear, I won't hurt you. Please, just get into the car, and let me drive you to - to Giles. You know Giles, don't you? He'll help you. Please honey, just listen to Cordy, ok?"
The planes of her body don't relax, but they are noticeably softer. I soften my tone.
"Trust me. I won't let anyone hurt you, but you have to get into the car, so we can get away from here. Its not safe this late."
She raises her head, and looks at me, fear and hatred warring with pain and need. Then she nods, and whispers painfully, "Not - Giles."
I nod furiously. "Sure, ok, we'll take you to the hospital - "
"NO!" She shouts violently, startling me.
"Oh right. The no-one-must-know-I-am-the-Chosen-One-thing. But did you have to let the whole neighborhood know we're here?"
And if any vampires show up with the Slayer in this condition...
Ok, that leaves one place.
"Buffy? Buffy, I promise, no hospital. I'll take you home - to my house. You can rest there."
That seems to be all right by her, because she allows me to help her up and into the car.
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The wind is cold against my face and I can't seem to stop shivering. The dark haired girl - Cordelia, I know that name. I don't really trust it, but I don't think she is the one who hurt me - she fumbles under the seat after one glance at me, then hands me a bearskin rug.
"Fake." She shrugs. "All the best things are."
Gratefully, I wrap it around myself and sink into the warmth. In no time, I am warm and sleepy. Snuggling into a position that is easiest on my poor body, I close my eyes for a little rest.
Sleep. Warm dark. Nothing disturbs me. I smile.
It's been a quiet night so far. A few fledgling vampires are no challenge at all. Well, I could go home early.
Or I could - wander over to that part of town. Just to see what's happening.
I mean Angelus has been awfully quiet for a while. No visits - not that I want him to visit, its just that I like to know what my lover - worst enemy is up to.
Careful not to disturb anything, I scale the wall, and take cover, listening for any hint of activity.
The garden looks deserted, no vampires around. That's odd.
Still with a stake in my hand, I move quietly around to the gazebo where I know he paints. Freeze two meters from my destination when I hear a familiar voice.
"An - GEL!"
Throaty laughs followed by the unmistakable sound of a masculine growl. A shriek that I can well recognize.
Realization hits even as my mind screams against it.
He's... WITH... Drusilla!
More laughter, and a guttural moan.
"Oh, baby..."
"Eek! Yes!"
" Oh - "
I can take no more and I turn to run. It's only then that I realize there is a figure in the shadows watching with me, a familiar one in a wheelchair. He smiles, and lights up. In the flare of the match, I catch a gleam in his eye, the look of a little boy whose wildest chocolate fantasy just came true.
"Dru!" He calls.
"Shut up, dick head." This from Angelus.
"Oh, I think you'll want to see this too, mate."
His tone works. I am paralyzed as Drusilla and Angelus come from the shadows into the light of the moon.
Angelus swift intake of breath is eclipsed by Drusilla's mad grin and ecstatic shriek.
"Spikey! A prezzie! For me?"
"For you, pet."
She walks over to me, a confiding smile on her face. Even then, I expect her to be stopped, for a word from a quarter that has been silent so far.
She halts inches away from me, so close that I know she can feel my breath on her face.
"So warm and soft." She whispers, tracing my cheekbones with an extended fingernail.
"So eaaaaaasy to tear." The razor edge cuts so gently that I barely feel more than pressure before the warmth trickles down my face.
My breathing is rapid, and though every nerve is screaming to fight, I am held in the gaze of those moonlit eyes, drowning in their mad, wonderful depths.
She pauses, and turns to the two who are waiting.
"Can I darling?"
It is Angelus who answers her smile.
"Of course, pet."
And he moves forward to hold my arms.
End part 1.
Disclaimer: The events in this story use characters that do not belong to me. This is NOT a B/A(us) love story, it explores the dark side of their relationship, so be warned. It is most definitely NC-17.
"Does he shoot people, Mommy?"
"Um. Only bad people."