TITLE: Nightscape, part 2b
AUTHOR: Memnoch
EMAIL: clarkk3nt@aol.com
RATING: NC-17
CONTENT: Extreme violence, lots of language, m/m sex (non-consensual), bondage, Angel/Xander, Xander/Buffy. This story contains graphic imagery, not for the faint of heart!
SPOILERS: Little bit dealing with Faith.
SUMMARY: The vampire who's spent a good portion of eternity causing evil must now fight the evil that threatens to destroy his lover. Warning - as with part 1, this story is not for the faint of heart.
DISTRIBUTION: Anywhere, as long as you email me to let me know.
FEEDBACK: Anything at all you'd like to say, I'll eagerly listen! I also try to respond to all the feedback I get.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Read Nightscape, part 1 (can be found at www.deadboyandxander.com) before even attempting to read this. 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. In writing the ritual, I've adapted the works of Silver Ravenwolf and Gerald Schueler. The word "magick" (with the letter "k" at the end) is used in Wicca to seperate a Witch's ritual magick from slight-of-hand/illusionistic magic done by magicians like David Copperfield. As for content, 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 Lilakdragn for helping me beta this fic! I'd also like to thank anyone who's given me feedback in the past; any writer will tell you that it is a wonderful feeling to both give and receive feedback on works.
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!
FINAL NOTE: This story was very difficult for me to write. The entire Nightscape fiction, although only two parts long, took an extremely long and taxing amount of writing and drafts before it turned out the way it did. I went through five endings before finally becoming happy with the conclusion. Therefore, I need a breather. This is my last fic... at least for the near future. I hope you enjoy this story as much as I liked writing it. I love everyone at Whiteknight -- you are so supportive of your writers! I can't wait to see what stories appear next on the list! Thanks for reading.
Memnoch
- 6 -
The bedroom - 3:50 a.m.
Her voice was still and monotonous, and yet it quavered with the smallest tremble. She was afraid.
She spoke, her red hair hanging wet and flanking her pale, white cheekbones. "I am a living being. The Goddess of the House of Sacrifice must not take possession of this heart of yours. May I be assisted by the Opposers in Annu. To invoke the powerful protection of Isis, I must see Set. To invoke She Who Comes to Defend, I must be strong. My heart is itself sorrowful in the presence of the Goddess, because though She protects and assists me, yours has be taken from Her. She is my influence."
The room had not inverted back to Nightscape since the moment Willow had created the circle of candles. Four walls barricaded them inside the tight space, without a window to the outside world. Those walls, which once were a faded white, were now streaked with enough dried blood to make them nearly pink in hue. The floor was the same, a hardwood platform of crusted and slimy drying fluid that may or may not have been from a human, although Willow couldn't tell. The lights were dead, one lamp having been broken long ago and another just faded out. Burnt.
Willow felt her chest heave and she felt short of breath. Her clothes were torn in numerous places and her face was awash with wet, hot perspiration. Her hands had calluses on them, although she knew not how they appeared. It was the work of the Nightscape demons, she assumed, because they had just blistered over on her palms and fingertips as she worked her magick. Amy stood behind her, chanting subliminal words as commanded by Willow. For some time now she had been on her knees, her legs having lost their strength. Her arms had blistered over like Willow's, except her boils oozed with blood and course, stingy fluids. And yet, she knelt, brave, eyes squeezed shut, fear rising in her throat but not overpowering her desire to save a life.
And then there was Xander. His white, naked body had grown thin and almost non-human. His fingers had elongated by at least a couple inches, Willow judged silently, and his hair had grown to hang over his face limply. Even through the thick black mass of hair that masked Xander's visage, the two girls could see the strong green illumination as it swirled in the black holes of his facial cavities. His chest was covered with scars and bruises; a mixture of self-infliction and harm from Willow's spells. The teeth that inhabited his mouth were still a frosty, bleached white, and their sharpness had also taken on an inhuman growth. He was nearly unrecognizable, especially as his mouth hung wide open and the voices screamed and wailed.
With every incantation, with every attempt at a cure, they would curse and howl and rock Xander's body violently, slamming the bed against the floor and knocking over candles, while digging dents into the blood-covered walls. Willow and Amy just ignored the screeches and tried to concentrate on what they were doing.
Amy cleared her throat and read from the book. "The thoughts of the heart are in the Temple of Usekh-Hra, The God Whose Face Is All Inclusive. He will direct him through the sand to the entrance into Khemenu. May his heart not be possessed, but may it be assisted."
The voices screamed, rocking the body forward quickly and clumsily. The wrists pulled at the chains until blood ran in droves down his limbs from the deep imprints of metal in the flesh of his forearms. Xander brought his feet up and cried out; the cry nearly deafened both girls, and if there was a window it most surely would have been shattered. Willow almost lost her balance , and her book toppled to the floor. She felt tears pushing their way down her face and she looked at Xander's body, the emerald glow in his eyes, the opaque illuminescence in hers.
"This heart of mine has received the essential teachings of Tem. It can pass through the Realms of Suti."
Another cry. The voices bucked the body upwards and then let it drop to the bed harshly. The box-springs beneath the mattress were battered and nearly to the point of collapsing.
"I will not give you his heart! His heart will be protected by the Goddess, and it will escape these demonic conditions that are caused by those who are disembodied!"
Xander's body thrashed against the bed and this time the box-springs did collapse. A loud cracking sound broke the screaming and the entire top mattress sunk into the wood frame of the bed. The frame snapped at all four sides and splinters spread out onto the floor, some coming daringly close to the open flames of the candles. Xander's arms and feet were suspended upward, now that the chains and the bedposts were higher and the mattress was on the floor between the boards. Black blood dribbled from his eye holes as the voices shrieked.
"You motherfucking cunt, I'm going to rip out your teeth and use them to grind your torso into shreds! Do you hear me?! DO YOU HEAR ME?!" The voices now spoke almost as if they were one, their tones merging and bellowing with a frightening clarity. "YOU ARE NOTHING! YOUR MAGIC IS NOTHING BUT--"
Willow stepped forward, anger in her eyes. She lifted her hand and the Legion felt Xander's throat tightened. They gagged, their host body injured, and attempted to speak. The Witch spoke first.
"My magick is pure," she stated in defense and integrity. She closed her eyes for a moment and then looked at the creature chained to the bed. "My heart is true before the Goddess. It is truth-speaking and I have mastery over it. I do not have to speak for it. I have mastery over my own body and I have mastery over you. I command you to listen to me."
Xander's body howled and arched upward again, straining against the pain and the alienation to escape the torture. "That's a joke, Witch."
Willow sighed and helped Amy to her feet, then turned to Xander. "Xander Harris. May your heart be at peace here. May your mouth be your own. May you communicate with it. May you pass through the transition. May you be enabled to overcome your own death. May you be strengthened in the Subplane of Dispersion by the God Seb, the Progenitor of the Gods."
"Shut up!"
"May you escape from the strong binding force that has been developed by--"
Xander's mouth, which had never closed, opened wider, his multiple rows of teeth exposed to the two girls. Amy screamed at the sight and began to back up. Willow whirled around and outstretched her arm, nearly screaming herself. "Amy, NO! Don't break the circle!"
Too late to react, Amy backed against the door, stepping out of the circle of candles. There was a small rumble, and Xander sat up on the mattress, his arms still suspended by the chains. His face became placid and still. Willow felt a cold breeze caress her cheek, and then it was gone as quickly as it had come. Her eyes studied Xander's grim, deformed face and her heart picked up its beat. Amy stared silently in horror as she leaned against the door.
The flames of the candles immediately died, throwing the room into total darkness. The cold breeze came again, and Willow knew that if there had been lights, she would have been able to see her breath. Her heart, which had been thumping incessantly, suddenly skipped a beat when she heard a movement of chains, and then the sound of dull metal falling limply to the floor. Another flat, clanging sound as two more chains dropped to the ground. A creak as the box-springs shifted from their broken pile. The patter of bare feet stepping for the first time in a small eternity on the hardwood surface of the floor. The feeling that there no longer was a floor, or walls, or ceiling.
The bedroom was no longer. Willow turned around and around, searching for signs of movement, wishing her eyes would adjust to the blackness. Far away, Amy made a small cry.
"Amy?" Her voice echoed into the Nightscape.
Somewhere a dull, squishy, gnarled sound came into the air, and Amy let out another grunt, but this time it was muffled by something. A sliver of chills tricked down Willow's spine and gooseflesh rippled over the usually smooth surface of her forearms. "Amy?" She asked again, her voice small and meek.
The spongy, wet sound fell upon her ears again, this time accompanied by Amy's tiny, weak whimper. Willow felt nauseous and her stomach rose in her throat. "Amy, please say something," she felt her voice breaking. Tears were threatening to come out of her eyes, but she fought them back and tried to draw courage from any place inside her consciousness. There was a gagging, quiet sound coming from behind her in the dark, and she thought it could have been Amy's voice. Willow's hands shook with a frightened nervousness.
Something was moving around her in the Nightscape, but she couldn't place it. Every time she turned around she saw nothing. The door was gone; there was just the absence of reality and the floating, hanging darkness. Movement across her face -- then gone. A giggle. It reverberated with an eerie, harmless glee and then faded out.
Willow brought her hands up to her face. "Amy, please, oh God, Amy... say something, anything..."
Suddenly, she could see. There was no light source, no sudden transference back to the bedroom, but at the same time she could see everything. The bed, a mattress lying atop a collapsed set of box-springs. The wooden bedposts cracked and wobbly leaned inward towards the empty mattress, and the chains lie broken on what should have been a floor, but in this reality was only emptiness. This time, when her mouth opened, she could only let a single word come from her lips, as her gaze glued itself to the damaged manacles. "Fuck..."
Behind her, something twitched. She turned on her heels, but no one pounced on her, ready for the kill. But Amy was there. Her eyes were glazed, but alive. Sadly alive. Willow took her hands away from her mouth and as she saw Amy, and took in the vision, she screamed louder than she had ever in her life of fighting evil. She screamed and screamed until the tears came from her eyes and the dry, cracked feeling in her throat overpowered her ability to cry out.
The sun was going to come up soon. It was almost finished.
- 7 -
The apartment - 4:20 a.m.
Angel checked the clock on the wall. Sun up was in a little less than two hours. He looked at the palms of his hands and wondered if it wasn't such a horrible idea to just let the warm rays carry him out of this world. There was so much blood on his hands. You couldn't see it, but it was there just the same. And now Xander's blood had been added. Why had he even attempted to try and have a normal life?
But he couldn't now, not yet, at least. He had to hope and pray that Willow and Amy would be able to save Xander's soul, because he had failed. He couldn't help the boy in the bedroom.
The front door opened and Buffy looked at him with anxious eyes. Angel only looked away from her face, still standing in the center of the room with no purpose except to watch that clock and the door to the bedroom. Buffy shut the door behind her. There were swells of the bandages that wrapped around her abdomen, where the stab wound had been. "Any word?"
Angel shook his head no. Buffy bit her lower lip and walked to him. "Giles and Cordelia have been admitted; they're both in stable condition."
The vampire clenched his fist. "He could have died."
"But he didn't," she soothed. Angel wasn't affected by her words, and his eyes to her looked hopeless. "Angel," she asked softly, taking one of his hands in hers. "Angel listen to me." Finally, he looked at her, but his expression remained blank. "What you did to him was not your fault. And he's going to be all right. You can't hold yourself responsible for--"
"Where's Oz?" He interrupted.
Buffy paused, and then nodded slightly. "He's staying with them. If their conditions change he's going to call. And I didn't think it would be a good idea for him to come back to the apartment after--"
"Anya's dead." He said again, ignoring her explanation.
The Slayer ran a hand through her blond locks. "Yeah..."
Angel thought for a moment and then walked over to the sofa. Sitting down, he leaned back and closed his eyes. Buffy went to him and sat down, unsure. She took both of his hands this time, and placed her hands around them, feeling the icy flesh against her hot palms. "You remember Faith?"
He quirked an eyebrow and then nodded. "How could I not? Seems like an eternity ago, but I do."
"Five years is a long time..." Buffy reminisced, then tensed and tried to smile. "Anyway, Faith once told me that the key to destroying evil is human weakness. That's something I never really forgot."
Angel sat up and stared at her. She continued. "I think you'll get Xander back, mostly because a demon of such evil can't possibly understand human love."
The vampire cracked a grin. "I'm pretty sure that's not what Faith meant," he said softly and sarcastically. "But thanks for the sentiment."
The Slayer's look was filled with a moment of weary love for the old vampire, and she hugged him. "Ok, I'm not the best with the deep stuff, big guy, but since we usually leave the intelligent commentary to Giles, I'd figure I'd fill in for him."
Angel returned the hug and let out a sigh of relief. "I just want him back, Buffy. I want this all to stop. People have died because I waited to long to realize something was wrong."
Buffy's eyebrows scrunched and she leaned back, staring into Angel's eyes. "What do you mean?"
He shook his head and balled up his fists. "Do you know what the term 'miner's canary' means?"
She pursed her mouth. "Is my name Giles?"
He stood up, rubbing his hands together and pacing in front of the sofa. "In old days, when miners would go down into caves and mines to work, they would take a cage with a canary in it. Canaries are smaller and more susceptible to things like lack of oxygen and harmful gas. If the canary died, the miners would know something was wrong and they would evacuate the cave. Little thing alerts the big thing."
Buffy let her head drop, knowing where he was going with the analogy.
Angel stared out the glass window leading to the balcony from his place in the living room. "It was the little things, you know? A glass would break on it's own, the t.v. would change channels by itself. And not once did I stop to think anything was going on. 'We're not in Sunnydale anymore,' I would tell myself. 'These things don't happen anymore,' I'd alert my senses any time something suspicious would happen. Denial. It's so powerful that you don't even know you're a willing participant until it's too late. And now it might just be too late."
He was crying again. Too many tears; tears that didn't have to be shed if he had actually stopped once in these past weeks to realize something was out of the ordinary. The stench of urine filled his nose once more as he thought of the stained sheets Xander had soiled in his early internal battles with the Legion. The mental flash was gone as quickly as it had appeared.
The scream that came from behind the door rocked the very foundation of the remaining levels of Angel's sanity. Buffy was on her feet before he could even turn to her. Every inch of his body ached from pain, but still he managed to run behind her to the door. That scream... both of them wished they hadn't heard it. They wanted to believe Willow and Amy had won the battle. The fact that Willow's voice had reach that high of a decibel told them otherwise.
"WILLOW!" Buffy cried out. She couldn't lose her best friend, she just couldn't. Angel pictured the poor girl in there, trapped, unable to fight back with her pure magick because she was too fearful of hurting the body that once housed her friend Xander Harris. Angel knew she would never fight that body.
Buffy turned to Angel, her heart racing, her eyes focused. "I'm going to break down the fucking door. Stand back."
Angel took a few steps away, leaning against the glass panes of the balcony door. Willow's scream was the final snap in his mind. He knew now that Xander wasn't coming back. Not now, not ever. The body in the room was just a doppleganger, a visage of someone he once loved. Buffy slammed her body against the door once, and Angel wished he could do something to make it all stop. He watched her fight to save her best friend in the world. And fail.
Buffy was now the one crying. Willow screamed again from inside and the Slayer just couldn't stand it. She was weak because her body and mind were tortured with the sounds. The tears prevented her from being what her friend needed the most. Angel saw all this and took it in quickly -- if the door between the bedroom and the rest of the apartment was removed, he knew the Nightscape could spread. That door was the one thing they had going for them. But if that door wasn't destroyed, Willow would die. She could already be dead, he realized. The world, or Willow, he pondered.
"Buffy, get away from the door." He said calmly.
"But... Willow! Christ, Angel, he's going to... he's g-going... W-will..."
"NOOOOO!" The red-head's voice came from the distant room.
Angel put his hands on Buffy's shoulders and threw her away from the door. She hit the glass door and leaned against it, her chest rising and falling intensely with every suffocating breath. Standing against the glass, leaning against that crystal clear barrier of the outside world, she watched Angel pull his arms inward and thrust his shoulder out. He ground his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut, then charged towards the bedroom door with all his vampiric and human strength.
Two things happened at that same moment in time. The first was that Angel slammed into the bedroom door. The second was that the door exploded outward, along with a blast of black fire. The explosion ripped through the apartment with a fast, momentous energy. As if in a hurricane, furniture flew towards the walls. Lamps and glasses shattered. The carpet's surface grew black and singed by the hellfire almost instantaneously. Angel's body flew against the side wall. Another eruption filled the apartment and Angel had only moments to put his arms up in defense as the sofa slammed into his body, burying him beneath it's weight.
Buffy screamed as the shockwave picked her up off her feet and sent her through the glass balcony door. She didn't have time to react, only feel the rainstorm of glass surround her and then she was falling against the iron railing. The third explosion had the rest of the door gouging down into her body and she saw the sparkle of glass intermingled with the night sky as she lost consciousness.
- 8 -
Nightscape - no time
Angel didn't want to get up. He didn't want to open his eyes. He knew what had happened; it came flooding back into his memory even before he attempted to remember. He wondered if Willow was alive. Second that, he wondered if Buffy was alive. He'd seen her body thrown through the glass only seconds before the sofa had pinned him against the wall. Now, it was lying next to him, on it's side, and the only other thought left in his mind was: Where was Xander?
The bedroom door was gone. So was the bedroom. So was the apartment. Now he saw the recognizable features of that Otherworld, that place. That Nightscape in their minds. The pitch blackness where he could still see objects, the absence of all features such as ground and ceiling. It has spilled out into the rest of the apartment, and possibly more. Where had it ended since the glass protecting L.A. was now gone? A sliver of moist coldness ran up his spine like a dead, wet tongue.
It was a dead, wet tongue. Xander's hands tugged at his shoulders and body as he realized he was nearly naked again. That knowledge made him uncomfortable, as he didn't know if he could withstand another round from the Legion. The slimy palms reached around and caressed his face. "Oh, Angel..." The voices said, one after the other, sometimes overlapping, sometimes pausing, then fading. "OhAngAnOhOngelAOhAngeOAnAngeAOOhOA"
And then, together: "Let me touch you again."
The vampire flinched and rolled away, getting to his hands and knees and staring at the thing. It wasn't even Xander's body anymore. The flesh was decaying, the eyes were no longer there at all. Even the green had disappeared. Just empty black cavities. The hair, straggly and thin, descended over the drawn, pale face limply. It reached out to him with one hand and smiled. Inside the grin Angel could see that what remained of the teeth were rotted and bronzed. It spoke with a voice not unlike that of many demons he'd encountered in the past. Full of malice, and decrepicy, and weariness. It was rough and made up of the multitude of Legion. "I got you a present."
Angel shivered. In the moonlight coming from the broken balcony doors, he saw her. The two iron poles. The first ran horizontally along the length of her arms, the nails going through her wrists and through the thick metal. Dried, red blood smeared along her forearms and hands, gathering in pustulating, bubbling wet wounds at the wrists. The second iron pole went up the length of her legs, digging and disappearing into the dark trench of her vaginal region. From there he could see none of it, until it reappeared coming out of her mouth. Her neck was thrown back, so that the pole was enabled to stay in place as it balanced her impaled body on it. Blood rushed like a squeezed potato down her inner thighs and likewise streamed out of her mouth, down her neck, into the hollow of her collar bones, where it joined the blood that had poured from her wrists.
Angel fell forward and vomited up any remaining blood he had left in his system from his feeding from Giles. The musk of the Watcher's scent wafted up from the puddle of drank blood that now puddled on the floor in front of Angel's face. The vampire couldn't bear to look at it again. "Amy..."
"Angel?" Another voice came from behind him.
He turned and saw the battered red head reaching up from a place on the floor near him. "Willow!" He coughed out. There were bruises scattered over her face and dozens of tiny cuts and wounds along her arms and legs, but he saw no life-threatening wound from his eyesight. "Willow, I thought--"
"ANGEL!" She screamed.
He turned to see the Legion standing over him. It raised one hand and a blast of invisible energy struck Willow, sending her plummeting backwards. The moment she hit the ground she was still.
The vampire turned back to the demons. "What do you WANT? What do you want with us? You want us to suffer a fate worse than death?"
It stared at him for a long time. "No. Just death." It paused, a selfish grin on it's half-face. "Why, you don't think that's enough?"
The blackness surrounded them from all sides. Willow disappeared, and so did the crucified body of Amy Madison. Buffy's body also disappeared. It was only them. The lovers.
"Will it always come to this?" Angel whispered under his breath?
It punched him hard, causing him to spew a new spray of blood from his mouth. "What do you mean, lover?" They asked him.
"Everyone I love... their lives are destroyed, or they destroy mine. And now it's both."
"I want to make you hurt so badly, vampire." It said, before thrusting it's foot down on him. He saw a red brightness in front of his eyes from the pain, and the energy in him was quickly depleting. Another strike to his face and he found himself drifting off. He wanted to scream because
* * *
he realized that it was going to be over quickly.
But when he looked up, he was standing in his bedroom. The sun was out, and streaming through the windows, but he wasn't harmed. The sunlight felt warm and refreshing on his skin. He was dressed in all black, but the clothes felt strangely alien. Everything was as it should have been -- the bed was neatly made, a glass of water sat on the night table where his love always put it before going to sleep. Outside, the sky was a bright blue, and only a few stray clouds moved along the azure pattern.
He opened the window and looked out at the city. L.A. never looked so clean, he thought to himself. At that, he chuckled. The breeze felt so wonderful on his face, and he could hear birds -- yes, birds -- chirping on the windowsill. So perfect, so beautiful.
"I always forget to empty that water glass," Xander's voice said.
Angel turned around his heart skipped a beat. Xander stood there, in the center of the room. His face was so beautiful and bright. The dark, angular eyebrows framed his deep chestnut eyes. His hair was tosseled and lightly curled over one side of his forehead like he always kept it. Fittingly, he wore a white shirt and light jeans. And in truth, that's what he really was, wasn't he? The light to his darkness. How cliché, he chuckled again. Enough with the metaphor, he scolded, and then ran to his lover. They embraced tightly -- so tightly -- and he had to kiss him. His lips, his eyelids, his cheeks, his neck. That warm spot on his throat that he suckled so gently, so lovingly. And Xander's hands roamed his body, his chest, his massive shoulders. Lips pressed against flesh, body heat and cold coming together.
When they finally let go, Angel was crying. "I thought I'd never get to see your face again. You don't know how painful it's been." He tried to compose himself, but it was too hard to hold back the tears of joy. "Xander, I... I'm so sorry."
Xander's hand touched Angel's chest, where his heart was. "Just because it doesn't beat doesn't mean you can't express emotions, lover. I want to be with you so badly. I love you so much it hurts."
Angel kissed him again. "I just want to stay here with you."
Xander hugged him and nudged his face deep into Angel's shoulder. "I want to be out there with you. But it's not me anymore, lover. You have to understand that. He isn't me."
"I know... but I still can't hurt him. It's your body, Xander."
The boy felt his own tears welling up and he brought himself closer to Angel's body. "I know." He sniffled, letting a few tears come down his cheeks. "But... but I don't want to hurt them anymore, Angel. I don't want to hurt you. You have to stop it."
"I don't think I can, Xander. I want you so much..."
Xander stepped back and put his hands gently on each side of Angel's face. "I love you. Do you understand?"
He wept so hard that Xander's face was becoming blurred through the tears.
Xander nodded. "Even if I'm not on that world, I'm still in here." He put his hand on Angel's chest again. "But what you have to do right now is more important than our love. This is about our friends now too. And I can't let them get hurt anymore. You can't let them get hurt anymore. It has to end."
Angel hugged Xander and kissed that warm spot again, trying to find solace in his lover's hot skin. "I can't live without you."
Xander touched Angel's lips. They were both crying. "But you're not alive, my love." Of course, just as Xander always did, trying to cover up a situation with humor. They both smiled and Angel knew this would be the last time he spoke to his lover. His real lover.
"Xander..."
"Be quiet, Dead-boy. Do what you do best, and just hold me. Just love me." He smiled softly and they held each other in the white, warm sunlight.
- 9 -
Nightscape - no time
He felt another punch to his jaw, and knew that if he hadn't already been dead for two and a half centuries, he would have been killed. Blood ran down his chin. Angel snarled and forced himself to stand. "You've killed my friends, you asshole."
It cocked it's head and gazed at him with those black holes. "You can get new ones. In Hell, when I send you there."
"The only one that's going to Hell tonight is you." Angel growled and charged forward. Raising a fist, he punched the Legion on the face, and was horrified when a chunk of flesh slid off. He stared at the piece of rotting skin as it dropped to the floor. Looking back up, he had just enough time to see the hole where the chunk had been, and the oozing green fluid coming from it, right before he was hit in the chest.
The thing came toward him and kicked him in the ribs. Angel bowled over and held his stomach, and a fist came rushing up to his face. New blood spurted from his nose. He pulled back and punched the thing in the shoulder, but was returned with another kick to the gut. "Ready to give up yet, you little shit?" They asked angrily. Angel shook his had and pushed him hard -- they both went tumbling to the floor.
Angel attempted to get the upper hand and wrapped his fists around the thing's neck. He could see the life dying from it's face. He cringed, and at that moment, it grabbed him by the wrist and bit down hard on his hand. The vampire screamed and fell back, sweat running over his face. Teeth marks, bright and hot-red, gleamed on his palm and fingers. "FUCK!" He screamed, trying to stop himself from being pushed off the demons.
It tore itself free finally, and swung both of it's hands against Angel's shoulder. He struck the floor and tried to concentrate, but he couldn't focus. Where were the bodies? He wished they could help him; he couldn't do this alone.
"No, you can't," it said, reading his thoughts again. Before Angel could even get to his feet, the Legion was kicking him again, and again, and over and over. With each strike to the stomach, he saw those bright flashes of red in front of him. It was kneeling down know, dragging him, sitting on him, grabbing him by the hair and flipping him onto his stomach.
"Xander..." Angel muttered as it slammed his face against the floor. He felt his nose crushed by the second blow, and by the fourth, the center of his face was numb. He could taste more blood. How much blood could one person lose, even a vampire, before they left this world? He tried to move and searched for the strength, but his head kept meeting the ground. "Xander..."
Hands hooking into the rim of his pants and pulling them down. A tongue, no, tongues, probing the trench. The wetness against his tender orifice, the hands cupping those two globes. Angel closed his eyes. "No..."
"Angel, don't you want me?" Xander's voice.
"Get off of me!" He demanded, bucking upwards and throwing the Legion off. The thing fell a few yards away, giving Angel enough time to pull up his pants and struggle to stand. "Get off... no more."
The thing held out it's hand and opened it's fingers. A blast of energy threw Angel against a wall somewhere in the Nightscape. The Legion still stood where it had been, it's arm still extended. It opened it's fingers again; Angel felt that invisible kinetic force strike him and force him back more. Again, against the wall. And again. He felt something in his lower back snap. His nose was still numb. Could he still taste blood? He didn't know -- he'd forgotten what saliva tasted like. The wall again. That bright redness.
This time when he fell, he managed to stay on his knees. He could neither fall nor get up. Just kneel there, exhausted, spent, defeated. His hair hung in front of his eyes, which were swollen and pain-stricken. He let out small, tiny breaths. Even as a vampire, he found himself needing air. Had it come to this? Breathing? The realization that something had probably snapped in his vertebrae made him dismiss the notion as a question.
Xander's body was moving nearer. The thing moved forward, the body levitating itself slightly. It's arms hung limply at it's side; the feet barely touched the floor. Only the toes slid along the ground as he glided forward. Angel's stomach wanted to rise again, but he caught it in his throat. The sight of the body slowly edging forward, sliding on it's malformed toes, nearly drove him mad right then and there. If his heart had been able to beat, it would have stopped.
They came closer. Them. The demons. It stood in front of him now, still, taking in the sight of the defeated vampire. Angel put his hands in his lap, wishing he could at least stand, or lie down, or move at all. He was too tired. Too tired to care any more.
"Had enough yet?" They asked. There was a low rumble of laughter.
"Please give him back." It was a whisper, barely there. But he managed to say it. His throat was so sore, his mouth was so wet with blood. "Please..."
The Legion held out one hand and it's fingers curled open. Holding out it's flat palm, an object suddenly materialized in it's hand. A long, wooden object. It was perfectly carved, almost ceremoniously engraved. The tip was as sharp as glass. The fingers wrapped back around the long, precious stake.
Angel lowered his head. He wanted to be in that warm sunlight again with Xander, but he knew it had only been a dream and nothing more. This was the cold, harsh reality that had been dealt to them. Anything and everyone he'd ever touched, destroyed. Gone. Killed because he was a demon of darkness. Darkness overcomes the light. He wished he had never met Xander Harris, and then maybe the boy would still be alive this very moment.
The demons lifted the stake upward, and at the same time pushed Angel back a little, exposing his chest. Fingers ran lightly over the vampire's breast. "X marks the spot." The Legion joked, tracing an 'X' on Angel's flesh with his fingertips.
He closed his eyes. Somewhere he could feel Xander's warmth, and he wanted to be there.
The stake came racing down towards his chest, and his eyes flew open. He snarled, and his gameface materialized. Angel felt his adrenaline rise up in his chest and he howled. The Legion's eyes reappeared then, the green light fluttering open in surprise. Angel grabbed the stake from the thing's hand and squeezed it tight in it's own fist, pulled back, and buried the wooden object inside the Legion's abdomen.
The demons fell backwards, too shocked to speak. Angel stood and limped over to the thing, grabbing it by the shoulders. It screamed in agony as blood began to gush from the stab wound. Angel's bare feet became flooded with the black liquid as it splashed onto the surface of the living room floor.
Everything reappeared around them. The wrecked room, the broken glass door, Buffy's unconscious form out on the balcony, Willow's comatose form near the hallway, and Amy's crucified body in the doorway. The sofa was still on it's side and the rest of the room was in shambles. The bedroom door was completely destroyed, and lay in dozens of singed pieces on the blackened carpet.
Angel growled, his gameface still on, and held the dying demon in his arms. "You are losing this body, fucker! Do what you've wanted to do since you took him! DO IT!"
"I will have him..." They spoke in unison.
"TAKE ME!" Angel screamed, shaking the thing. "TAKE MY BODY!"
The thing laughed a series of giggles. "He will come to the grave with me."
"DO IT! TAKE ME! TAKE ME!" He shook the body hard, throwing the head back and forth on the loose neck. "MOTHERFUCKER! You know you want me!" He kissed the decaying thing. "I know you want it," he whispered softly.
And then he saw Xander. The body in his arms was Xander Harris. It was injured, but it was whole. The gaping wound in his stomach bled real, red, human blood. The chocolate eyes stared up at him almost lifelessly. Xander gagged on his own blood, and brought his hand up to Angel's face.
Angel felt the Legion enter his body and he threw himself on the floor, screaming. The demons racked his form and he felt like his head was going to explode. He saw Xander one more time before his sight was lost to him.
- 10 -
Epilogue
Los Angeles General Hospital - 7:34 p.m. Pacific time
Two days later
Oz stopped in front of room 309 and knocked softly.
"Come in," a soft, young voice said from the room. Oz pushed the door open quietly and smiled as Willow looked at him from her hospital bed. She looked tired, and pale, but the color was beginning to return to her cheeks. An IV was hooked up to one arm and the t.v. was playing a rerun of Charmed, but the sound was muted.
"You're awake," Oz said happily. He sat down on the bed beside her and placed the flowers on the small table. "How are you feeling?"
"Better," she said with some life in her voice. "It's a little hard to sleep, but besides that I think I'm pretty lucky."
Oz nodded and kissed her gently on the lips. "I don't think any of it's really hit me yet."
Willow nodded and looked out the window. L.A. was alive in the early evening. "It hasn't hit me yet either. Have you spoken with Angel?"
Oz shook his head. "No... he won't talk to anyone. I think... I think it'll take a long time before, well, you know."
"Yeah," Willow agreed. "We have to be there for him. He saved my life. He saved all of our lives."
"I love you," he said, hugging her. "I wish I could make the hurt stop."
"You're here. That's enough."
* * *
Cordelia stepped out of the elevator and turned down the hallway. Her left arm was in a sling, and although her face had been covered with bruises, the star of "Loved Ones" knew how to keep herself looking attractive. She'd been given a couple weeks of vacation by the producers, but she knew it would take a lifetime to get over what they'd been through. And the loss.
She saw Giles and Buffy near the nurse's desk and increased her walking speed. Buffy had her hair up and bandages on her arms, and her face still wore the battle scars of someone who'd been in a war. She pushed the wheelchair Giles sat in carefully. Both of them looked up at Cordelia as she came near them.
"Hey, I swung by the apartment on my way here. I hired some cleaning people and it looks like they're making progress. Hopefully it'll be livable by the time Angel needs to use it."
"Thanks, Cordy... I'm sure he'll really appreciate having his home back." Buffy said, giving her friend a smile.
"How're you doing?" Cordelia looked down at Giles, who was leaning on one hand.
"I'm well the worse f-for wear, but nothing permanent." He stared down at his wheelchair. "Six months won't, uh, go by fast enough."
"How is he?" The actress asked. Both people were silent for a while, before Buffy brought one hand up to her face and rubbed her eyes.
"Not too well. He doesn't really speak to anyone anymore. I think he's still in shock after taking the demons into his body. Angel knew he was taking a huge risk by allowing the demons to come into him, because the vampire demon might not have been able to defeat it."
"But Angel's demon destroyed them, right?"
"Yeah, but like I said... he's still a little upset. I mean, Xander's--"
Cordelia looked away. "Yeah..." She tried to push her emotions out.
Giles stayed quiet. Buffy nodded at Cordelia and began to push the wheelchair. "I guess I should get him back to his room, and then call my mother. I've been keeping her updated on everyone's condition. I also have to call Amy Madison's father. He was devastated. My mother is going to stay with him for a couple weeks."
Coughing, Giles looked at Cordelia. "Joyce and Mr. Madison h-have been friends for a, um, a while. He needs someone to be close with for a while... he and Amy w-were very close."
"All right. Take care." Cordelia watched them move down the hall and then she continued her walk. She passed the nurses desk and was walking towards Willow's room when she saw him sitting on a chair in the hallway.
He looked like he hadn't bothered to take care of himself. He was clean, but his hair was a mess and his clothes were wrinkled and unkempt. And although his vampire healing factor had recovered most of his injuries, he still had blue and purple blotches of bruise on his face. His head was lowered and he stared at his hands, which lay in his lap. She sat down next to him.
"Hey," she spoke. Angel didn't reply.
"I heard you've been brooding a lot more lately, big guy." She smiled, trying to cheer him up, but he barely moved. Gingerly, she placed one hand over his own. "And I know you're not one to talk a lot, but if you want to talk to me, I'm here."
Angel stayed motionless. Cordelia put both her hands on his cheeks and turned his head so he faced her. "Angel, he loves you. Nothing that happened his your fault, or his fault, or anyone's, do you understand? The forces of evil are a bunch of selfish mother-fuckers that like to ruin people's lives. But Xander loves you."
The vampire moved away from her and stood. "I know he does."
Cordelia checked her watch. "It's early. Maybe you'd like to go for a walk and then stop and pick up some flowers?"
"No thanks, Cordy. I want to be here when he comes back to me."
"I understand." She said, and kissed him on the cheek. "I'm going to go check on Willow so you can have some time alone."
Angel nodded and watched her turn back down the hall. When she was gone, he stared at the door in front of him. Slowly, he opened it and walked into the darkness of the room, stopping at the foot of the bed.
Xander slept peacefully. Two separate IVs were attached to both arms, and a large bandage covered his chest. His face was swollen from head-trauma, and most of the bruises still looked fresh. The heart monitor beeped steadily. Angel walked to Xander's side and touched his hand.
"Hey Xan. The doctors say you're going to be all right, as long as you wake up. They say the longer you stay asleep, the less of a chance that you can come back to me."
Xander quietly slept in his coma, his long eyelashes fanning out over his lower eyelids. Angel kissed his forehead. "Please fight it. Please come back."
He sat down on the bed and kissed him again. Taking Xander's hand in his, he took his shoes off and laid down beside the boy. Xander's body was so warm, and it felt so right. He could feel Xander's strong heart-beat beneath the bandage on his chest, and the hot blood coursing through the boy's veins. Angel started to cry, hugging his lover close. "Please wake up... please don't leave me here alone."
The boy continued to breathe softly. Angel closed his eyes and wanted to smother Xander with kisses and hugs, but for now he could only cuddle against the body and hope that it would all be over soon. That he would wake up. "I'll never leave your side, Xander. We came this far... and I refuse to let us lose now."
Angel wasn't used to sleeping at night, but he felt that dream world overtaking him. He could see Xander in his dreams. They could talk, and make love. He snuggled against his lover. "I'll be here when you wake up, Xander."
He smiled and drifted off. Xander's arm came up around Angel's shoulder and pulled him close. They slept together, and when the day came that Xander awoke, it was certain that Angel would be beside him, ready to catch that first glimpse of those beautiful chocolate eyes.
The End