TITLE: Nightscape, part 1
AUTHOR: Memnoch
EMAIL: clarkk3nt@aol.com
RATING: NC-17
CONTENT: Extreme violence, lots of language, m/m and m/f sex (consentual and non-consentual), bondage, Angel/Xander, Angel/Giles, Xander/Buffy. This story contains graphic imagery, not for the faint of heart!
SPOILERS: None
SUMMARY: An extremely dark story dealing with the durability of relationships when confronted with outside forces. Warning - this story is very intense, you may not want to read this if you are weak- stomached!
DISTRIBUTION: Anywhere, as long as you email me to let me know.
FEEDBACK: If you read the story, I'd be glad to hear from you! I've never written anything this intense before, I would appreciate feedback from anyone willing to give it.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Although this can be read as a single story, I am considering it to be in the same universe as "Prodigal" and "Exodus;" you DON'T have to read those fics to understand this one. This fic has absolutely nothing to do with them. Also, this story deals somewhat with ceremonial Wiccan practice, and although I've taken time to research some angles, I've also taken liberties with the religion. This story took me an extremely long time to write and I am very proud of it. Everything I've written in the past has essentially been relationship- driven. If you're looking for mushy love, this isn't what you want. It's a horror story, plain and simple.
SPECIAL THANKS: Thanks to Lilakdrgn and Niccy for helping me work out all the grammatical stuff with this fic!
DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of these characters -- "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" was created by Joss Whendon and is owned by a bunch of companies that I have nothing to do with. Oh, and if you're under-age or not mature enough, don't read this please!

Everybody is a book of blood; wherever we're opened, we're red."
- Clive Barker

***

- 1 -

L.A. was loud. More than. Its noisy, clamoring, incessant whine resonated up through the streets and bounced off the high walls of its populated buildings. There were just as many golden-skinned bodies with their sun-streaked hair and trendy summer ensembles as their were sleek, gleaming cars on the streets, the chrome as perfect as the moment the ten-day tags came off. Some were debutantes, some were waiters and waitresses and car washers and vale parking attendants -- they were all men and women of the millennium -- a generation of spenders and thinkers and doers. It was Los Angeles, California, the City of Dreams, crowd-pleaser and patriarch of the entertainment world. The city that made its inhabitants, and could break its inhabitants just as easily. A place of endless possibilities, and endless danger. The setting for the story.

- 2 -

Los Angeles - 12:40 a.m. Pacific time

"Forrester, don't you know I love you?" She asked him quietly, her angst-filled voice choking up. Her dark brown hair was pulled back away from her face, and as he ran his hand over the smooth, creamy flesh that rested tenderly above her cheekbones, he smiled and wordlessly leaned in. She parted her lips for him and then found his taste on her own; his mouth covering hers.

"CUT!"

Cordelia Chase pulled back, grunting uncomfortably. The man standing next to her put a hand behind his head and yawned, gazing at the clock on the far side of the studio -- it was well past midnight. Cordelia shoved past him and flashed an almost predatory glare at the small, pudgy man sitting in the director's chair. "What the hell was wrong with that one? We've been working on this for three hours now and I really want to go the fuck home, Jimbo," the brunette tactlessly yawned.

Jimmy Weis backed away from a nearby camera and sighed. "Chase, this scene just isn't meshing. You two are kissing like this is some cheap porno flick, and the audience really doesn't want to see that. This is daytime network television, sweetheart, not late-night Cinemax."

She fought back the urge to scream and whirled around, preferring to remain speechless. Staring at her co-star, she shrugged and trudged back over to the well-lit set. "All righty then, let's try this one more time."

Cordelia Chase graduated from Sunnydale with her life taking a very surprising turn of events -- her family's wealth was suddenly depleted. Depleted to the point of poverty, in fact. This left Cordelia with the option of taking out student loans for college, or facing the great blue yonder with only a high school diploma tucked under her belt. Neither seemed very appealing to the ex-Sunnydale Razorbacks' varsity cheerleader, so Cordelia left Sunnydale and headed for the great legend of Los Angeles.

Once there, she used what savings she had left to acquire herself an agent. After only four small auditions for different film projects, Cordelia landed a small role on a big network soap called "Loved Ones." Months passed, and the one-time role became recurring. Suddenly the cheerleader from back-water nowhere land Sunnydale was being handed a four year contract-role on "Loved Ones," which was quickly becoming number three in the Neilson ratings. She began putting money away for, what she hoped would be, a college education eventually; the pieces of her life that seemed destitute were somehow coming back together. Her character, "Charity," and her on-screen love interest, "Forrester," were becoming a steamy hit with fans, and ratings were going strong. "Loved Ones" was nominated for five Daytime Emmy Awards. Cordelia Chase? Nominated for Best Female Newcomer -- she won.

Suddenly pulling in a six-digit salary, Cordelia found the idea of college more and more distant. She extended her contract on "Loved Ones" from four years to six years. Cordelia Chase was quickly becoming a household name. L.A. was looking more and more like home.

She received the phone call from Rupert Giles during filming one day, in late July.

- 3 -

Paris - 1:30 p.m.

She brushed back a lock of her short red hair and took another drink from the hot porcelain coffee mug in her hands. Sitting it down on the small plate, she leaned back on the stool and looked out over the horizon. It was a bright, sunny day in Paris. Willow Rosenberg smiled and let her eyes trail over the distant glimpse of the Eiffel Tower a couple miles away. The skyline was crystal clear and beautiful.

The twenty-three year old rose to her feet and slung her purse over her shoulder. The waiter came over and she thanked him politely in French, leaving her money, in Franks, on the cafe's table. She walked the streets alone, an American debutante, not rich, but with a substantial amount of money. She wore a pressed feminine suit and her hair had a slight salon-infused wave to it. Outside the cafe she climbed gracefully into her seemingly spotless black Infinity and pulled away from the curb. Not more than ten yards from the cafe, her cellular phone rang.

"Ms. Rosenberg?"

"Yes?" Willow answered, the driver's side window down, letting in a fresh breeze that tussled her gorgeous ruby locks.

"This is Gordon MacMillain with the appraisal on the house. You're looking at the range of ninety thousand to one hundred and twenty thousand, depending on if the market goes up or down in the next six months."

"That's it?" Willow almost choked, keeping her eyes on the road. "Look, that's not a lot for a house in prime real-estate in sunny California."

Gordon's breath faltered, and then he continued. "Ms. Rosenberg, if you haven't noticed, Sunnydale has an extremely high death rate, and what was once prime real-estate is just about average. Not that the town's a bad place, just that--"

"Hold on," the redhead fired back as she pulled into a parking spot outside of the office building and began to leaf through her dayplanner. "My fiancé is in America right now touring with Dingoes Ate My Baby, I'm sure you've heard of them... you know, "Stuck Steering Wheel" was number one on the alternative BillBoard charts for ten weeks straight. Anyway, I'm going to have to get a hold of him first."

"I understand, it's a difficult decision."

"Well, it's not that," chuckled Willow, "it's just that we're buying a condo that's going to set us back about two-hundred grand, and I at least want to get something out of this old house, Gordon. Oz has a show at the 9:30 Club in D.C., if you can't get a hold of him there, then I'll call him tomorrow from my plane. I have one meeting here and then I'll be back in the states tomorrow morning."

"Sounds good to me, Ms. Rosenberg. Take care."

Willow smiled. "Ciao."

Ten seconds later, Willow's cell-phone rang again, and it was Giles, Buffy's ex-Watcher. Her heart skipped a beat at the terror in his words, and the desperation in his voice. The suddenly sunny day was growing cloudy.

- 4 -

Los Angeles - 9:30 p.m. Pacific time
Two weeks before the phone calls

Xander leaned against the tile. Hot water streamed over his face and shoulders, massaging the thick knots of muscle beneath the skin. His hair lay wet and limp over his forehead and eyes and he brought one hand up to wipe the soaked strands away from his face. Taking the soap from it's resting place on the shower rack, he began to lather his smooth chest and arms.

"Can I join in?" A deep, gentle voice came from behind him as the shower curtain was pulled back. Xander turned and smiled as Angel stepped before him, underneath the heavy spray of tepid water. The younger man smiled and ran the soap playfully over Angel's broad, muscular chest.

"Of course you can, Dead-boy..." He grinned and kissed him lightly on the mouth. "Good evening." The vampire purred a frisky growl and took the soap from Xander's hands, scrubbing his lover's shoulders and back with the white bar.

"Very good evening, Xan. Sleep well?"

Xander smiled. "I was sleeping in your arms, wasn't I?"

"Good answer." Angel leaned in and nipped at Xander's throat, the soft area beneath his jawbone where the boy's pulse beat so steadily. "I love you."

Xander spun around at his lover's words and pressed his wet, naked body against the vampire's. Their groins ground against each other and Xander caught Angel's lips with his own again. Angel's kisses trailed over his mouth and cheeks, and nibbled at his earlobe. Exasperated moans restlessly heaved from both men. "Bet I love you more, Dead- boy." Xander whispered as steam rose around them and he took Angel's hardening member in his hands. Slowly, he began to pump.

Angel's face buried itself in the warm area of Xander's neck, his lips widening and his open mouth feeling the hot, pulsating beat of Xander's jugular under the flesh. The motion was so intimate that any other person in that position would have soon felt the prick of Angel's inhuman canines piercing their flesh, but for Xander, it was only the warm mouth of the man who loved him suckling the supple skin.

Heaving breathlessly, Angel pulled Xander's hand from cupping his scrotum and placed his own hands on Xander's waist. With his preternatural vampire strength, he effortlessly lifted the boy up against him, mounting him against the slick, wet tile and pressing his already moist manhood against the puckered opening of Xander's rear. The boy uttered a soft lament and wrapped his arms around Angel's neck, pulling his face close to him, resting his cheek on Angel's beefy, rugged shoulder. Another groan of indulgence escaped his parted lips as the head of Angel's hardness slipped into him, probing. His fingers pressed firmly into the vampire's flesh -- cool even in the hot shower -- and he gnashed his teeth together as his bowels were filled with the phallic, cool organ going deeper and deeper.

Xander wrapped his legs around Angel's thighs and buried his head closer against the vampire's shoulder. As Angel pushed in and pulled out, snarling quietly against the warm spot on Xander's neck, Xander felt his own hardness sliding against the soapy, rippled abdomen of his partner. The friction caused him to wrap his legs tighter around Angel and rub himself against the toned chest.

The water in the shower started to cool and Angel fumbled in his ecstasy for the knob. As another moan echoed off the tiles, his hand found the nozzel and he turned it to the left; just as he was pressing himself further into Xander's nether-regions, the water grew hotter and a fresh wave of steam rose around them. Angel felt his hair, wet and hanging, bounce off his forehead with each thrust. He lifted one hand and ran it over Xander's face, touching his cheek and lips. He ran an outstretched thumb over his lover's closed eyelid and then kisses it as Xander's groans and cries of enjoyment grew louder. His fingers went through Xander's soaked hair and then held the nape of his neck tightly. His plunges into Xander grew faster and smoother, his organ gliding against the wall of the boy's prostate with each lunge. Nearly screaming, Xander's legs tightened even more around the vampire and he massaged his swelled manhood harder and harder against Angel's stomach.

Angel thrust himself deeper into the wet body clamped around him and he felt his testicles swell, then release that stream of fluid into the main shaft. Another plunge and he'd let it spill out in hot, jettisoned squirts, which filled Xander's insides with the seed. Almost momentarily, Xander pressed himself against Angel for that final moment, and he came with a loud scream, his fingers digging further into Angel's shoulder. The vampire was in gameface, but he only pressed his face into Xander's neck as the moment of intense orgasm overtook them. Xander felt Angel's lips part and his mouth widen against the tender area of his throat. There was no bite -- there never was -- but it was a move that dealt with such unwavering trust that it made the act even more sensual.

The water was beginning to run cool again, so Angel found the knobs and turned the shower off. Xander unclamped his legs from Angel's sides, his head dizzy and his lungs still catching their breath. The vampire picked the boy up in his arms and carried him from the bathroom into their bedroom, where they laid on top of the sheets, their bodies drying, locked in each other's arms.

"That was fun." Xander said with a grin, and kissed Angel on the tip of the nose. Angel chuckled and tickled Xander in the armpits, causing the boy to erupt into a fit of laughter and squirm under Angel's attack. Finally, Xander got the upper hand and rolled on top of him, still grinning. "You think you can just tickle innocent people like that?! I'll show you..." Xander said, his fingers dancing over Angel's smooth pectorals and even smoother stomach. They both laughed again and then they were kissing, their tongues frolicking with each other, hands roaming, bodies writhing.

After another round of playing, as they lie in bed, taking the moment into their minds, Angel looked down at Xander. Both were quiet. Xander's head was resting on Angel's chest and the vampire was running his hands casually through Xander's still-damp hair.

"Xander?"

The younger man looked up at his best friend and lover and smiled softly, mumbling a quiet response. "Hmmm?"

"You're happy, right?"

Xander turned his head up and put his hands on Angel's midsection, resting his chin on his knuckles. "Now what kind of question is that, Dead-boy? Of course I'm happy! I'm with you, I'm going to graduate school, we're away from the hell-beasts of Sunnydale..."

Angel cocked an eyebrow. "You don't ever wish you could still be with your friends?"

Xander snickered and looked at Angel's bellybutton while he spoke. His fingers played with the cute trail of brown hair that surrounded Angel's bellybutton and led down to the sunburst of hair that surrounded his privates. "Angel," he said, taking his eyes off his lover's well-endowed crotch for a moment, "it's not like I just ran away. I talk to them on the phone all the time. Willow's in Europe, Oz is touring the eastern coast with the Dingoes... Buffy's the only one still in Sunnydale anyway -- well, her and the big G. We went to Giles and Joyce's wedding, didn't we? And besides, Cordelia lives fifteen minutes away, and Anya keeps Buffy and Giles company in Sunnyhell. Things change, Angel. In my humble opinion, things have changed for the better."

Angel pulled Xander up to him and kissed him lightly. "I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't shown up at that airport that day five years ago, and demanded I take you with me. I can't imagine a life without you."

Xander laid back, his hand stroking Angel's collarbone. "Without you, I wouldn't have made something of my life. Who would have thought that a below-average student like me could finish college in four years and go into graduate school."

Both of them sighed and held each other. Things really had changed. After leaving Sunnydale, Xander had acquired his transcripts from Sunnydale High School and enrolled in a community college near L.A. After two years there, Xander took Angel's advice and applied for a fellowship program at L.A.'s Morgan University, one of the top colleges in the state. His high grades -- hard work gained from long study hours with a nurturing and caring Angel -- found him being offered a full scholarship to the college. Angel himself had opened up a private investigator's agency in downtown L.A. with Doyle, a demon who, like Angel, wanted to fight the good fight against evil, instead of be part of it. Xander had kept in close touch with Cordelia, and both he and Angel celebrated with her when she won her Daytime Emmy Award for her role on "Loved Ones." Things were looking good for Angel and his best friend.

After Xander had fallen asleep, for he had classes in the morning, and Angel was sitting in the kitchen, it began to storm outside. Angel sipped his glass of hot, deep crimson blood, and leaned back in his chair. He would have to go into the office in an hour or so after he called Doyle, and he hated walking in the rain. There was something about this rain that he didn't like at all, either. Something foreboding and dangerous.

Upstairs, Xander slept peacefully.

- 5 -

L.A., the following day - 8:50 a.m. Pacific time

Xander pulled into the parking lot and hopped out, pulling his bookbag along with him. Angel had been sleeping when he'd gotten up to leave, and anyone knows that a cranky vampire is one who didn't get enough sleep during the day. After stepping out of the house, Xander had seen that it had rained over night -- something that didn't happen very often in L.A. in the peak of July -- but by the time he was at the building where his morning class was, the sun was out and the streets were dry once again.

He passed Cordelia's studio on the drive and thought that maybe he would call her for lunch after his class. As he walked into the building, a shudder came though him, and he just couldn't shake off the feeling that something was wrong. He looked around, and saw nothing out of the ordinary.

"Get with it, Harris," he scolded himself. "It's been five years... this is L.A. Get your mind out of the Hellmouth." After his personal remonstrance, he readjusted his bookbag on his shoulders and continued up the steps to the building.

Sitting in class, he squirmed in his desk -- the typical one-piece desk with the seat attached to it with the metal bar -- and stared out the window, for the first time in a long time daydreaming. He couldn't get it out of his mind that something was wrong. Something felt out of place for the first time in five years.

"Mr. Harris? You alive?"

Xander looked up at the professor and smiled his infamous sheepish grin. "Just peachy. Sorry." He apologized as a few smirks bounced off his classmates. The professor continued to speak about some sort of glycogen-creating protein as Xander struggled to keep his attention from wavering again. He was a good student -- he hardly ever wasted his time daydreaming anymore -- but something was different about today.

The professor turned once more as he heard a faint vibrating coming from one of the desks. Lowering his glasses, he saw Xander, in a daze, staring at the floor with his desk fiercely vibrating.

"Mr. Harris? This isn't very funny, if you think you are joking, you can leave." No sooner had he said it did the vibrating stop and Xander looked up at him with wide, concerned eyes.

"That wasn't me." The young man said quietly. More snickers.

"Mr. Harris, you're twenty-three years old, I think you can behave the way a twenty-three year old should act." The professor turned back to the board and began diagramming a portion of the digestive system as the rattling began again.

Xander stared down at his desk, not understanding. It shook very little, but the noise was being made from just that small movement. "Mr. Harris!" His instructor yelled, just as the desk jerked out from under Xander. He screamed out; the one-piece desk flipped onto it's side and sent both itself and Xander toppling to the ground. As the desk hit, it snapped in two from the harsh force. Xander fell head first, the side of his face slamming against the hard, uncarpeted floor. Blood spurted from his mouth and his arm hit next.

A few people rushed from their desks to help him up, but he shoved them off. "I'm ok, I'm fine... please..." Xander stood and held his aching face and tasted blood from the wound on the inside of his cheek. His head was spinning. "I didn't... I didn't tip that freakin' desk..."

Unable to take the stares from the fifteen or so people in the classroom, Xander grabbed his bookbag and made a beeline for the door, his arms broken out in a cold sweat and the hairs on the back of his neck standing at attention. He didn't stop until he was back in his car and resting his hands against the steering wheel. Afraid to turn the ignition on, he sat still for a long time and let himself calm down. Something was definitely not right.

***

12:30 p.m.

"So anyway, I'm sitting there and I'm thinking, this is fucking ridiculous!" Cordelia slurred, taking a bite of her tuna sandwich. Xander cringed at her words.

"Jeeze, Cordy, Hollywood's really given you a mouth. I don't think I ever heard you say that word the entire year we dated."

The brunette smiled and shrugged, sipping from the straw of her soda. "Yeah, well, what can you expect. So, what's new with you?"

Xander paused, nervously running his hands together. "Well, not much. Angel and Doyle are still saving the world every once in a while with that P.I. agency, and my classes this semester are a breeze."

"Must be nice," she laughed sarcastically.

"What do you mean?" Xander honestly inquired.

Cordelia played with a strand of her brown locks and then rolled her eyes. "Oh, you know. To be settled down. You're going to be a veterinary doctor, that's a good job Xan! And you have a guy that loves you, and you love him. Hell, my last date was a disaster."

Now it was Xander's turn to roll his eyes. "Yeah, and yet you can steam up daytime television with all those love scenes you and 'Forrester' have. He's a cutie," Xander winked.

"Yeah, and in real life, he's married baby." Cordelia shot back. "And besides, you never mix business with pleasure."

"I thought the number one rule in L.A. was Sex Will Get You Everywhere."

Cordelia shook her head. "But I'm glad you have a lot going for you, Xan. It seems all of us made something of ourselves. Even Buffy's made a life out of Slaying. Who would have thought she would become the youngest Chief of Police Sunnydale has ever seen, at just age twenty-three."

"That's Buff for ya. She and Riley get married yet?"

"No, you know we'd be invited silly. Last I heard Buffy stopped the apocalypse last week and they're taking some time off."

"Sounds nice." Xander said with a tone of guile. There followed a long silence between the two, and Cordelia finished off her sandwich. Xander sighed apprehensively and sipped his Sprite. Cordelia reached over and put her hand on his, startling him.

"So are you going to tell me what's going on?"

Xander quirked his eyebrows. "What?"

"Is it Angel?"

Xander coughed. "No, no... nothing like that. It's just..."

Cordelia waited patiently, resting her chin on one upturned hand. "It's just? You look like you've seen something this-way-of-the-Hellmouth. Please don't tell me a horror story, I don't think I can take it after five years."

"Well, I--"

He was cut off by a shrill, squeaky, teeny-bopper cry of enthusiasm. "CORDELIA CHASE?! THE Cordelia Chase? OMIGOD!" Screamed a young, fourteen year old girl as she raced up to their outside lunch table at the cafe. The girl stretched out her arms with a notepad and a pen in both hands.

"That would be me," laughed Cordelia, blushing slightly.

"Oh God, I watch you all the time! You are SO totally great on the show! Can I please have your autograph??" The teenager slammed the pad and the pen down on the table in front of Cordelia. Glancing at Xander, Cordelia smiled slightly at the sudden interruption of being recognized because of her celebrity status.

"Sure you can," she said sweetly, picking up the pen. "And who am I making this out to?"

The girl squealed. "Whitney!" Cordelia sighed the obligatory To Whitney - One Of The Best - Cordelia Chase, and then handed the paper back with a smile. "I can't WAIT to tell my mom I saw you today! Thank you so much!" The girl said before running off. Cordelia turned back to Xander, cracking her knuckles and taking another sip from her glass.

"Sorry about that. It happens more often now."

Xander laughed. "You and Oz... I know two celebrities!"

Cordelia grinned and set her glass down. "Yeah, yeah... so what were you saying before we were brutally attacked by the fandom?"

Xander looked away, and then back into her eyes. "It's nothing, really. Just a little new-semester jitters, I guess."

"That's bound to happen, Xan. You've got your B.A., now you're moving up the medical ladder, you're in medical school, next semester you're going to be interning in L.A. General... you're gonna feel crazy sometimes."

"That's probably it." He tried to sound reserved.

Cordelia sighed. "I am so proud of you, Xander. Look at what you're doing with your life. You got out of that shithole Sunnydale and your horrible parents, and you're going to be a doctor. Well, veterinary medicine, close enough..."

"I thought I shouldn't take my chances with actual humans," Xander sarcastically spat. Both of them giggled and Cordelia picked up her purse, which had been lying next to her plate.

"I have to get back to the studio. Thanks for calling me and bringing me out of that damn lot... we should do this more often."

"Definitely." Xander replied. They hugged, and went their separate ways. The sun just couldn't come out, Xander noticed as he walked to his car. Earlier, yes, but now... now no matter how hard the day tried to be bright, the clouds kept covering the sunshine.

- 6 -

Los Angeles - 7:30 p.m. Pacific time

Angel rose from his slumber with a large yawn and a stretch. Scratching his chest with one hand, he pulled on a pair of Xander's boxers -- the closest thing lying near the bed -- and walked groggily into the living room of the apartment. With his other hand he ran through the mussed top of his hair. He smiled sheepishly as he saw Xander sitting on the couch watching television.

"Hey, how was your day?"

Xander gazed at the television, his eyes unblinking, Angel's words seemingly having gone right through his ears. Angel sat down on the couch next to him and waved his hand in front of Xander's eyes. "Earth to Xander, come in, honeybuns."

His lover jerked out of his trance and smiled at Angel. "Oh! Hey, you're up."

"You were doing some intense nothingness there," Angel remarked.

"You know what? I didn't even realize you were in the room." Xander said quietly, leaning against Angel's arm and kissing his shoulder. "I missed you."

Angel laughed and hugged him. "Yeah, I missed you too... all fifteen hours of it... are you sure you're feeling all right, Xan?"

Xander sat back in the couch and closed his eyes. "Actually, something really weird happened today in my anatomy class." He paused and looked over at Angel, who stared at him with wide, curious eyes. "And before I tell you, schnookums, you gotta promise you won't think I'm nuts."

The vampire snickered. "After two-hundred and forty-eight years, I don't think anything could surprise me now."

Xander slid closer to him and ran his hand over Angel's bare stomach. "You have the nicest tummy..." he said, kissing his lover on the chest. "Ok, I guess I should tell you before my hormones get the best of me. In class... my desk kind of, uh, moved."

"Moved?"

"It started vibrating really quietly, but it was enough to interrupt the class. You know, like if someone was tapping on it... but I wasn't! And then it tipped over completely and I fell on my face in the middle of class. I bit the inside of my mouth and bled on the freakin' floor."

Angel cocked an eyebrow and then a smile spread over his mouth. "Being class clown again, were we?"

"That's just it, I wasn't. I didn't move that desk, Angel."

"Xander, I think you're making too much out of this... are you sure this isn't just stress or nervousness about everything coming up? You've been really jittery lately anyhow, and this could--"

"Thank you, Cordelia."

Angel looked at him, lost.

"Angel, that's exactly what Cordelia told me. But I don't think it is."

The vampire rose to his feet and turned the television off. "So," he said with a laugh in his voice, "what, you want Doyle to look into any recent poltergeist activity within a hundred-mile radius? Xander--"

"Ok, fine, if this is funny to you, I'm sorry I brought it up." He scowled and threw the remote control against the wall. The sudden act of violence startled and silenced Angel. The two men stood stationary for a long moment, neither saying a word.

"Xander--"

"Save it. I'm going to bed." The human flippantly said as he turned his back and headed into the bedroom. Angel flinched as the door slammed shut. Unable to think, he walked over to the corner and picked up the remote control from where it sat on the ground. This had been the first time he and Xander had ever fought in the five years they'd been spending together. He couldn't imagine what had come over himself, how he'd acted to obnoxiously and callously towards Xander's words, but he regretted them now.

In the bedroom, he heard a loud crash. The noise jolted him from the pool of thought he'd immersed himself into and he raced to the door. Throwing it open, he saw Xander lying on the bed, dressed only in a pair of jeans, with his bare feet hanging off the edge of the bed and his head buried in a pillow, sobbing his eyes out. On the floor next to the wall were the remains of their bed-table's lamp, having been thrown and shattered. Angel didn't bother to pick up the pieces of the lamp; he only moved towards Xander slowly. The boy was crying heavily, possibly hyperventilating, some of his cries coming out as loud screams. Angel nearly burst into tears himself at the desperate state of the boy. He threw himself on the bed and wrapped his entire body around Xander, blanketing him with his arms, legs, and chest. Lovingly he rocked him to sleep, cradling him and protecting him. There was no verbal apology between the two, but just the act of lying together, falling asleep in each other's arms, was enough apology for the both of them.

***

1:20 a.m.

Angel was still asleep. Xander stared blankly at the wall, his eyes glazed and unresponsive. He could feel the vampire's arms around him, but his attention was on the wall. The white, windowless wall. Xander felt his eyes linger on the floor then, where the shattered pieces of the lamp lay.

"Angel?"

No response. Xander sighed as Angel's sleeping body did not awaken. Angel couldn't hear him, or the words that came from his mouth in a tiny, helpless plea.

"I didn't throw the lamp."

- 7 -

Los Angeles, 3:30 a.m. Pacific time

Angel woke up with the hair on the nape of his neck prickling the pillow beneath his head. A chill rose up his vertebrae as his eyes wandered down to the young man wrapped in his arms; the still, handsome head that rested on his chest. Xander was sleeping too quietly, so absolutely motionless. "Xander?" He shook the boy slightly. Although Xander didn't move, Angel's attention was caught by something else. The sudden feeling that something felt wrong with the bed. He had that feeling that one gets when you sleep in a very hot room and you sweat on the sheets. A sudden stench wafted up his nostrils.

Angel rolled Xander over carefully and jumped out of the bed. His skin was damp, Xander's boxers were soaked, and there was a huge patch of wetness covering almost three-fourths of the bed. The smell was undeniable -- the raw, nauseating foulness of urine. Xander had, in his strangely still slumber, urinated so profusely that almost the entire bed was soaked.

"Oh, man..." He picked Xander up and stripped off the boy's wet boxers, then wrapped him in fresh linen and carried him into the living room. "Xander, Xander... wake up..." He patted the sides of Xander's face gently, and his lover finally stirred.

"Dead-boy?" Xander immediately remembered their fight. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean--"

"Shh, it's ok," Angel comforted. "Are you feeling all right?" He asked this as he sat Xander down on the sofa, then sat next to him.

"I-I'm... I don't know, I think..." Xander said, suddenly holding his stomach. Angel's worried look increased as Xander doubled over and dry-heaved against the side of the sofa. "Angel..."

The older man grabbed him then, and held him close. Xander was shivering; even under the blanket Angel had wrapped him in, his skin was clammy and cold. Rubbing his hand over the clammy flesh, trying to console the sickly boy, Angel leaned down and kissed him on the cheek. "You're gonna be ok..."

Too much was happening too fast. Angel laid Xander against the arm of the sofa and ran back into the bedroom. He had to get Xander back into a comfortable bed. He stripped the bed down to the bare mattress and then pulled on a new set of dry, white sheets. He put new pillow- cases on the pillows and then pulled back the quilt to ready the bed for Xander. When he walked back into the living room, he was greeted by a newly horrific sight: Xander, lying face down on the floor -- having fallen off the sofa -- unconscious, with a pool of vomit spilled beneath his mouth.

Angel ran to his love and picked him up, the sight of so much vomit frightening him. He'd never seen someone release that much at once, and Xander's totally unmoving condition made his thoughts become even more terrified. Back in the bedroom, Angel laid him down and pulled the sheets up over him. Xander didn't move or react -- he looked almost dead in his state of sleep.

That's when the bed started shaking. Angel jumped back as the entire bed jerked up and slammed on the floor, Xander unfazed by the movement. The other lamp they kept on their dresser flew towards Angel and he ducked just as it flew past his head and shattered against the wall. Angel gathered his wits and picked Xander up off the rocking, jolting bed and took him back into the living room. All the while, Xander lie unconscious, his skin pallid, his limbs dangling lifelessly. Angel sat him on the sofa and raced for the phone. The number was burned into his mind, although he hadn't used it in years. After only two rings a familiar British voice picked up.

"Hello?"

"Giles, it's Angel."

Even on the phone, the savvy ex-Watcher could tell something was wrong by the intonation of Angel's voice. "What's wrong?"

Angel nearly broke down; he'd never had things happen so fast to someone he held so dear. "Giles, it's... it's Xander, something's wrong, I don't know, he's vomiting and losing consciousness, and things are moving. Beds, desks, lamps."

"You think it's demonic? Poltergeist?" Rupert said calmly.

"I don't think so, I don't know. I--"

Angel's voice was cut off as he dropped the phone in severe pain. A hard, cold, sharp metal object was suddenly thrust up his rectum. He screamed as blood burst from the violently entered orifice and ran down his leg. They blow came again, and again, as the razor sharp object anally raped him and slashed the inside tissue. Tears fell from his eyes. The pain was too much and he fell to the floor, blood starting to ooze from his mouth. Angel coughed up another load of his ancient blood and squirmed at the horrendous pain coming from his anus. His eyes lifted slightly in his pain to see his attacker.

Xander stood with the long, bloody scissors in his hands. His eyes stared forward, blank and colorless. Xander had blood streaked across his face and he looked down at Angel with a strange, amused smile. "Don't we like to fuck? I like to fuck you. I like to fuck you! I like to fuck you!" It was not Xander's voice at all, not even a voice that sounded human. It was many voices, overlapping each other; voices filled with pain and suffering and anger and hatred. "I LIKE TO FUCK YOU!" Xander's body screamed with that inhuman voice, growing louder and louder with every repetition of the sentence. Falling on top of the helpless, pain-stricken Angel, he shoved the scissors over and over into the vampire's body through that most tender orifice.

- 8 -

Sunnydale - 3:50 a.m. Pacific time

The vampire bared it's teeth and burst forward in a rage of energy. Buffy ducked his attempt at a punch and swept him off his feet, letting his body drop to the ground before jumping on him. He gnarled through his open lips and tried to wiggle free as she straddled his hips with stake in hand.

"So, you gonna say anything before I kill you? You don't happen to know about any plans to end the world, do you?"

The vampire looked at her with confusion and shook his head.

"Good, I was just making sure." She smiled and shoved the stake through his chest. He burst to dust under her and she stood up, brushing her outfit off and then turning to Giles. "Well that was fun. You see, I told you that none of these guys knows about the apocalypse."

"I-it's just so, uh, strange. I could've sworn my books spoke of a great upheaval near the Hellmouth," the taller man said in his Americanized British inflection. "I guess I should, um, consult them again."

"Sounds exciting Giles, but I really want to go home and sleep. I have to sit behind a desk and do paperwork all day tomorrow. I mean, for God sakes, we just stopped Armageddon LAST week! How many bad guys can possibly be planning world domination within two weeks of each other?"

"Well, I suppose you're right."

"When am I not?" She smiled and slid the stake under he belt. "I guess I'll give you a call tomorrow just in case you do find out anything."

"That would be good. Tomorrow then." Giles smiled back and walked from the graveyard to his car. He turned to say goodnight to Buffy, but she'd already disappeared, without making a sound. "I hate it when she does that... she's getting to be as bad as Angel."

***

Buffy Summers' life hadn't changed much in eight years. Eight years ago she'd moved to the Wonderful World of Hell, known to most of it's clueless residents as sunny Sunnydale, California. Since then, she'd slew vampires, stopped the apocalypse five times, sent her ex-boyfriend to Hell in a handbasket, and all the while balancing active social and academic lives. No, life hadn't changed much in eight years. She was still Buffy Summers, she still had the same friends and loving cluster of people in her life. She still lived in Sunnydale. She was still the Slayer.

And yet, some things had changed. She was in college. She had quickly gone from cop to Sunnydale's youngest Chief of Police. With her newfound power she'd slowly appointed contacts in City Council, and vampire activity in Sunnydale was nearly non-existent. Most importantly, Buffy Summers was coming very close to becoming Buffy Summers-Finn, since she was very sure her boyfriend of two years, Riley, would be proposing that the two spend the rest of their lives together.

Her cellphone rang as she neared the doorstep of the Bronze. She was planning to make a quick round of the nightclub and then head home for the evening. Reaching down with one hand, she flipped her cellphone open and put it to her ear.

"Summers here."

"Hey sweety."

A grin spread over Buffy's face. "Riley, what are you doing? This is my work phone, baby..."

The voice on the other end laughed. "I wanna be naughty, Buff. That, and I'm lonely. I missed you this morning, you didn't tell me you had to go in early."

"Well don't worry," Buffy responded cheerfully, "because next week we'll have five whole days to spend together... you don't know how much I've been looking forward to this vacation."

Riley smirked. "Yeah, unless some great evil tries to end the world."

"Ok, Mr. Glass-Is-Half-Empty, I--" Buffy was interrupted as the line beeped, signaling someone else trying to get through on her cellphone. "Honey, can you hold on for a moment? I have a beep."

"If I have to," her boyfriend joked with a slight, loving giggle.

"Hold on sweets," Buffy said as she switched over to the second line. "Yes?"

"B-buffy, we have a, uh... a bit of a problem." It was Giles' voice, sounding more panicked than Buffy had heard him in ages.

"What's wrong?" The Slayer asked, immediately sensing the fear in her ex-Watcher's voice.

"Angel called from L.A...and, um--"

"Is he in trouble?" Buffy said, freezing in her tracks. She could hear the beat of heavy, industrial music echoing from inside the walls of the Bronze, but her mind was focused only on the phone in her hands.

"Well, that's the problem. He was cut off, and, I... I don't know. I think something's very wrong... supernatural. I'm calling Cordelia, because she lives near them, and I'm going to try and get a hold of Willow on the eastern coast--"

"She's in Paris," Buffy corrected. "I have her new cell phone number; do you have something to write with?"

Giles stammered. "I can reach her cell phone all the way in Europe?"

Buffy sighed heavily. "Yes, technophobe, technology's come a long way in ten years. Now write down this number and I'll be over there in fifteen minutes."

- 9 -

Los Angeles - 8:10 p.m. Pacific time

Doyle ran a hand through his short, curly, cobalt hair and knocked on the door again. He stood there, his untucked open flannel shirt hanging limply over his plain white underlying t-shirt. His jeans were two sizes too big and bagged over his shoes. He was growing impatient -- an alcoholic demon on the side of good only has so much of an attention span -- and he knocked again, this time harder and with more of a deliberate anger.

No answer.

Doyle checked his watch, the leather band of which was old and torn, and rapped once more on the door. "Angel?" He said through the peephole. "Oh yeah, that'll work," he mumbled half to himself and half to the empty hallway. He slammed his fist on the door again. "ANGEL! You in there, man?"

His partner hadn't shown up at the agency, and Doyle had waited an hour before even attempting to call. Angel, being a vampire, was not known for his punctuality, but an hour is an hour. So he called. And received no answer. He called again fifteen minutes later and the same thing happened. Already steamed that Angel hadn't shown up for work for no excuse, he made his way over to the apartment, at least hoping the vampire or Xander would be there with an answer. Now that he was here, he still found himself staring face-first into a dead end.

The fifth time he knocked, the door suddenly opened slowly. It squeaked and slid completely open, revealing an empty, suspiciously cold, living room. Seeing no one, he walked into the room and the door closed behind him. Chills crawled down his back -- no one had opened the door and now it was closing by itself -- and he realized that the apartment was too quiet.

"Angel?" He asked, his voice cracking a little.

"He's not here." A voice said from behind him. Doyle turned, nearly jumping through the ceiling, and shouted out loud. Xander stood no less than three feet from him. Something about the boy wasn't right, however; his eyes were darker, his skin, paler. His expression was nonexistent. "Did I scare you?" He asked, his voice monotone.

"Uh, yeah man... ya creeped up on me like that!" Doyle said, forcing a smile. "Are you ok? You look a little, uh, pale."

"Mmm," Xander said, his lips pursed together. "I'm just dandy."

Doyle studied the young man and then turned around, studying the rest of the room. "So where's Angel?"

Xander calmly moved towards the kitchen counter. "Oh, he's around. You'll see him soon."

"What's that suppose to mean?" Doyle meekly inquired.

"Oh, nuthin'." Xander ran his fingers over the clean, gleamy surface of the counter. "C'mere, let me show you something."

Doyle raised an eyebrow and stepped towards Xander. "Look man, I just want to know where the hell Angel is. He needs to call if he's gonna take an evening off. I don't care if he's the bossman or not, he... he..." His voice faded off as he neared the kitchen and saw what lie beneath the counter. "Oh shit..." He mumbled as his eyes fell on Angel's body, sprawled on the floor, blood everywhere -- on the floor, on his chest, on his legs, splattered unevenly over his face -- and small wounds all over his body. Tiny stab wounds.

The vampire weakly opened his eyes and opened his mouth when he saw Doyle. His voice was barely there, and the one word he did speak was hoarse and choked with dried blood. "Run."

Doyle looked from Angel's bloody form back up to Xander. What he saw was Xander's pale face, his eyes completely black, his hair stuck to the skin of his forehead with perspiration. Doyle saw Xander move slightly, but the movement was so quick he couldn't decipher what had happened. He felt the cold swipe of something on his throat. He saw the stream of thick, red fluid coming out of his own neck and then stopped breathing. The scissors went all the way through his throat and the points suck out the back of his head. Xander pulled the scissors out of Doyle and let the man's dead body hit the ground with a dull, lifeless thud.

- 10 -

8:30 p.m.

Cordelia came out of her kitchen with two glasses, both filled with water. Sitting them down on coasters, she glanced at Willow and Oz, who sat on the love-seat across from her.

"Are you sure you don't want something, Oz?" The actress asked politely.

The werewolf shook his head and nearly made an expression. "No thanks, Cordy. I'm good." He put his arm around Willow and his fiancé leaned against him.

"This is quite a place you have here, Cordelia," Willow remarked, looking at the spacious condo Cordelia owned. High ceilings, plush furniture, stylish coordination. "The show must be doing really well."

Cordelia smiled. "Yeah, we're number two in the ratings right now. We've been battling it out over the number two spot with "The Young and the Restless" for a month now." The three of them laughed and then their faces quickly returned to concern. "I really wish they'd get here soon. I'm worried about Xander, and the fact that Giles told me not to go over there has me even more concerned."

"Did you call the agency?" Willow asked.

Cordelia sighed and took a sip of her water. "Yes, and I didn't get an answer. Doyle's suppose to be there on Saturday nights, but he didn't pick up. I left a message. Ok, I left five. I'm really worried."

Willow shook her head. "What is this all about? Giles barely filled me in on any of this, he just asked that we come to L.A. as soon as possible."

"All he told me was that Angel called in hysterics about some sort of supernatural activity going on."

"Is Angel going to be here?"

Cordelia put her hands over her face. "I don't know, Giles wouldn't tell me anything. He said that he, Buffy, Anya, and Amy were driving down from Sunnydale tonight, and to meet the three of us here, at my place."

"I wonder why he wants Anya and Amy here too," Willow said under her breath. Oz sat up and folded his hands.

"They're both witches, aren't they?"

Willow shrugged. "Well, Amy is, but Anya is technically just a demon. And a powerless demon at that. Giles must be desperate for info if he's getting her involved."

A knock rattled the door. All three of them jumped from their places and rushed for it -- Cordelia made it first, and pulled it open to face the ex-Watcher and two blond girls. Giles looked nervous, while Anya and Amy looked serious. Cordelia's face scrunched. "Where's Buffy?"

Giles entered, taking off his glasses and glancing at Willow and Oz. "I, uh, I sent her over to Angel and Xander's t-to investigate and make sure they're ok. Needless to say... she'll be late."

Willow followed Giles into the main living room area. "What's going on?"

                   End part 1