From: Katie Malone Subject: (buffyfic2) XOVER: Ceremonies of Innocence (00/14) Date: 06 Feb 1999 12:31:18 -0600 The following story is not one of mine. I did not write it, but I *do* have permission from the author to post it. Please send any comments to her. Ceremonies of Innocence A 'Buffy, the Vampire Slayer'/'Tomorrow People' crossover Caroline Fales Author's notes and disclaimer: This story has been a long time in coming. Being a huge fan of the series 'Buffy, the Vampire Slayer' (I've been watching since day one), I've long pondered how I could crossover the Tomorrow People with this wonderful series. This story is the first part of a trilogy designed to do just that. As you'll soon learn, this first story is the setup for things to come. Legalese: The characters of Jade Weston, Ami Jackson, Adam Newman and Megabyte Damon do not belong to me. Nor does the concept of the Tomorrow People belong to me. They are the sole property of Roger Damon Price, Tetra Films, Thames Television, and Nickelodeon. The characters of Angel, Rupert Giles, Joyce Summers, Whistler, Jenny Calendar, Willow Rosenberg, and Buffy Summers don't belong to me either. They are the property of Joss Whedon, The WB, and Twentieth Century Fox. The character of Conner MacLeod (mentioned briefly) isn't mine either. He is the property of Panzer/Davis as well as Gaumont/Rysher Productions. The character of Catriona Fraser is mine. Notes: This story contains characters from the 'Forever Tomorrow' universe. It is not, however, a 'Forever Tomorrow' story. Since Michele and I have mapped out that universe, this story serves as an alternative universe. That is to say, that events in up until the story 'Connections' will mirror each other in both universes. With this story, though, they will diverge. However, the character background explored in this story will hold true for this universe as well as the 'Forever Tomorrow' universe. Thanks: I wish to thank Michele Bumbarger, Megan Freeman, Wendy Kelley, and Kathleen E. Ritter for their support, feedback, and suggestions. Without their help, this would never have been done. Special thanks to Michele and Megan for keeping me on task. And thank you, Wendy, for making me get the lead out and post this. Other stories in the Forever Tomorrow universe can be found at http://www97.pair.com/mbumbarg/forever/forever.html Any and all feedback is welcome. Email me at gsi16228@gsaix2.cc.gasou.edu or at Ceridwyn20@yahoo.com. Enjoy! Caroline Fales January, 1999 Katie Malone kamalone@usa.net - To unsubscribe to buffyfic2, send an email to "majordomo@xmission.com" with "unsubscribe buffyfic2" in the body of the message. For information on digests or retrieving files and old messages send "help" to the same address. Do not use quotes in your message. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- From: Katie Malone Subject: (buffyfic2) XOVER: Ceremonies of Innocence (02/14) Date: 06 Feb 1999 12:31:35 -0600 Chapter Two Two weeks later. There were times when she didn't wonder if she wasn't a glutton for punishment. Cat smiled thinly as she window-shopped through the fiberglass and tiled avenues of the mall. A little over two weeks had passed since what Jade had dubbed 'their close encounter of the scary kind' had happened here and not a day had passed without her thinking on it. Wishing she hadn't been such a 'fraidy-cat and run off without investigating further. Really, it was somewhat embarrassing. Running was not an option she took lightly. Cat believed very firmly in standing your ground and not being intimidated. Sometimes that position got her into trouble but then trouble was relative for the Tomorrow People. For crying out loud, she had faced a group of blood-thirsty cultists down and not retreated. 'But then the cultists had been human,' a tiny voice in the back of her mind whispered. She hadn't quite worked out an answer for that one yet. Yet. So here she was, strolling aimlessly through the mall, half-hoping that she ran into Mr. Mystery and half-praying that she didn't. Mostly, she was thinking what an idiot she was. After all, it wasn't very likely that whoever he was would just be lurking around, waiting for her to return, was it? *** Angel watched her from behind one of the center columnades. At first, he hadn't been sure it was the same girl though that mane of fiery red did give him hope. No, it wasn't until she turned around that he knew it was she. He wasn't one to forget faces--not a one in over two hundred years. Even though he wished sometimes that he could--especially the ones haunting his dreams. Besides, the girl was arresting by herself, to say the least. The blood of the Celts, the blood of his ancestors, ran through her veins--a creature right out of the old stories. Tall and proud with her oval face and high cheekbones. No poet would praise her feature by feature--they were too strong for that. A bard would, seeing in her, as he saw, the past reborn, the evidence of the immortality humans were given through their children. The immortality of his people. And a reminder of what he had lost. One sort of immortality denied, another granted. At a cost. Angel batted away the desire for self-flagellation. There were more pressing matters at hand of which this girl was merely one. But the one she presented was the most enigmatic of all. He had sensed her. That, in itself, wasn't out of the ordinary. What was out of the ordinary was that she had sensed him in return. Moreover, she had touched his awareness, her and one of her two friends. Touched it with a control that bespoke power and experience. Something that indicated to him that she had more than just passing psi abilities. And she had seemed to be aware of his own, somewhat limited psychic abilities--apparently not liking what she had sensed if her reaction two weeks ago was any indication. Curiosity had impelled him to loiter here--that and boredom. London was an exciting and beautiful city but until Buffy arrived there wasn't a whole lot for him to do except prowl the streets. And try to stave off the minor apocalypse Giles had mentioned to him over the phone. Apparently, for some odd reason or another, the first inhabitants of London had chosen to build their city on a dormant Hellmouth which had begun showing increased activity in the last few years. And here he thought he had left Sunnydale to escape that kind of fun. 'Silly me,' he thought wryly. Since he was awaiting the impending arrival of the Slayer and her Watcher, there wasn't much he could do except that--wait. This at least had given him something to do in the meantime. Night after night, just hanging about hoping for her--any of them, actually, to reappear. To give him a chance for further observation. To determine if they were a threat or threatened by his presence. He had almost despaired of a return engagement when just as mysteriously the red-head had returned, alone this time. Perhaps, it was just as well. Trying to keep track of three girls would have been hard enough--but three girls with psychic abilities might have been too much even for him. If they were just girls. When dealing with the Hellmouth, one could never be too sure. He watched her as she paused in front of the glass window of a clothing store, saw her shoulders rise and fall evenly. Then her head rose and she pivoted around. To stare straight at him. *** 'Where are ye?' she thought, 'Are ye even here?' She was half-afraid to let her shields down. Afraid of what she might find. Curiosity, however, was not seeing fit to let her off the hook this time. Knowledge is power, it whispered, and this thing could be trouble in the future. Better to face whatever this was head on now than later. The situation could be worse and more people might get hurt. It was a noble and completely compelling reason to throw her life on the line--or so her damned curiosity thought. Cat heaved a huge sigh. 'Adam would kill me if he ken what I'm going ta do,' she thought and regretfully acknowledged he might be right. Not that the thought seemed to be deterring her. Instead, she started slimming the constructs around her mind, feeling the buzz and pressure of the collective minds milling around her pressing in. If she kept this up long enough, she'd end up with one hell of a headache-- She found him. And gratefully raised her shields again until she could sense him alone. Her skin began to crawl as the uncomfortable feeling of eyes boring into the back of her skull hit her. She turned to find him staring through the crowds at her from a position half-hidden behind a columnade. For a long moment, it seemed all that they could do was stare at the other. Years later, she would probably what impelled her to start moving towards him, to make the first move. In fact, she would have liked to have known what suicidal impulse prompted her feet to move of their own volition right now. All she did know was that the interval of space separating them was vastly and rapidly diminishing. *** Angel wasn't sure what alarmed him more: the determined air of the young woman approaching him or that he was actually staying put long enough to let her approach. He found himself leaning against the column casually as if this whole situation were the most normal thing in the world, as if he weren't feeling nervous at all. The girl certainly was, he could practically taste her trepidation. Had he been his old, bad self, it would have made her taste all the sweeter. Angel banished that thought with a grimace of disgust and self-loathing. She came up within mere inches of him before she even faltered a step. Brave, he would give her that. Or possibly stupid but that would remain to be seen. "Can I help you?" he drawled, surprised at the arrogant laziness in that. It belied how he truly felt and he was, for the moment, grateful for that. "What are ye?" she demanded without preamble. The rolling brogue confirmed his suspicions about her Celtic roots--Scottish. "I beg your pardon," he replied mildly, "Don't you think that's a bit rude?" That seemed to throw her. For the first time, there was a crack in that tough facade. "I--," she floundered. "I mean, if I walked up to you and asked what you are, wouldn't you be offended?" Angel continued. 'I must be out of my mind,' he thought, 'to play these games with a total and potentially dangerous stranger.' There was something about her. She didn't feel dangerous despite the warnings his brain was screaming at him. If anything, he felt the overwhelming urge to relax, to trust her. Felt that no matter what might happen, she was not dangerous to him. That she couldn't, wouldn't, hurt him if she wanted to. He couldn't explain it; this willingness to trust a complete stranger puzzled him more than anything else. Evidently, it puzzled her as well for she cocked an eyebrow at him. She opened her mouth, shut it, then opened it again. Finally, "Well, all right then. How about we start wi' who are ye and move on from there? Do ye have a name?" He hesitated. There was still time to walk away from this, to evade her questions and leave. He sensed that she would even make it easy for him. There was no need to take this plunge. But he did take it. "Angel." END CHAPTER TWO Katie Malone kamalone@usa.net - To unsubscribe to buffyfic2, send an email to "majordomo@xmission.com" with "unsubscribe buffyfic2" in the body of the message. For information on digests or retrieving files and old messages send "help" to the same address. Do not use quotes in your message. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- From: Katie Malone Subject: (buffyfic2) XOVER: Ceremonies of Innocence (01/14) Date: 06 Feb 1999 12:31:31 -0600 Chapter One London, England. He had the most compelling eyes. They were soul-stealing, those dark orbs. Amidst the chatter and commotion, they mesmerized her, held her captivated. The words of her friends, though they sat mere inches from her, seemed as distant and nonsensical as the tide. Somehow, they seemed to draw her out of herself until there was nothing save him and her. Cat had noticed him right away. Probably because she hadn't been blocking everything out as was her wont to do normally. While waiting for Ami and Jade to show up, she had been letting some of the "background noise", as Jade liked to call it, filter in. Almost like slipping in and out of radio frequencies, idly flipping through until you found that one right station. Almost by chance, she had stumbled upon him. There was something about him--an air, an aura. A feel, if you will, of power, of something other than normal. He felt strong to her but that strength was not that of a normal human. Another Tomorrow Person, she had thought at first. But the mental aura didn't feel right for that. It felt ... interesting. Strangely similar to that of a Tomorrow Person but more potent, more intense. She could almost see the ebb and flow of that aura, could practically hear his thoughts--his shields, no less, thrum each time she brushed them. "Cat?" She heard Jade's voice as if it were coming through a hollow tube, the impatience there barely making a dint through the malaise affecting her. "Hmm?" Her mind felt sluggish, unwilling to be drawn back to reality, to beyond this moment. "Earth to Cat," Jade drawled, "So, Cat, tell us--how's it where ever you are?" "I--" She blinked and managed to tear her gaze back to her friend's faces--Jade's slightly curious and Ami's concerned. "I'm sorry. Did ye say somethin'?" "Oh, only for the last ten minutes," Jade shrugged nonchalantly, "But who's counting?" "Jade!" Ami sounded reproving. Her almond-shaped eyes focused on Cat's. "Is something wrong?" "I'm--I'm no' sure." Why had she said that? She didn't feel as if this guy were a threat though the alienness of his thoughts did rattle her. Her own reaction, however, was another thing entirely. Cat was unsettled by her unexplained absorption, by the way her mind was reacting to the feel of his. It was like a drug. It was incredible. It... ...didn't make sense. If he wasn't a Tomorrow Person, then what was he? A psychic? That wasn't quite right either. Cat had "run" into a few of those from time to time while scanning. Psychics still felt human when you brushed their mind. And this ... this did not. There was an strangeness to this mind that went beyond human ilk. Moreover, she disliked the mild sense of disorientation she was experiencing--almost as if she had or were being drugged. "Cat," Ami prodded. Her dark eyes were filled with worry and Cat pulled back internally as she felt the other girl gently probing her mental shielding. "Sorry," she rubbed the bridge of her nose, "It's nothing. Really. I'm just feeling a little spaced today." "I bet I know why," Jade sounded awed, "Oh, yum, I'll have some of that, please." The other two girls followed her gaze across the mall's Food Court... ...right back to Mr. Fathomless Eyes. He was sitting several tables over, almost diagonal to their table. He didn't seem to notice their stares, instead his attention seemed to be focused inward, an air of distraction plain on his face. One slender hand was making lazy rotations with a coffee stirrer above a Styrofoam cup as he leaned back in his chair. "What a hottie," Jade all but drooled over her plate. "Down, Jade," Ami teased. "He's definitely too old for you." "Says who?" Jade tossed her head in mock-outrage, "And I don't notice you looking elsewhere, dearie." Ami actually appeared embarrassed. Her eyes dropped, one hand twisting and tearing a paper napkin. "That's not the point," she protested. "Of course not," Jade patted her hand with a gleeful, triumphant smile. "So, Cat, should Adam be worried?" To tell the truth, she hadn't really looked at him until now. And now that she was looking, Cat had to admit that he was really quite striking. Thick dark hair, the kind that made you itch to run your fingers through it. Prominent cheekbones and deep-set eyes... Very nice but not the warm brown eyes, and boyish smile she had grown so fond of. "Dinna be daft," Cat rolled her eyes, voice dripping with absolute certainty. Jade raised her eyebrows skeptically but let it pass. "Still, he is definitely a hottie," she sighed. "So you've said," Ami gave her one of those knowing smiles that drove the younger girl up the wall. Which, Cat was fairly certain, was why she did it. "And I don't hear you disagreeing," Jade purred. Half-listening to Jade's comeback, Cat found her attention wandering back to the lone figure that had sparked such debate amongst them. There was something that teased and tantalized the edge of her thoughts, causing her to lower her shielding even more and focus on him. It bothered her, bewildered her. Experimentally, she reached out and brushed against the peripheries of his mind ever so lightly. He jerked upright, stiffening. So did she. 'He felt that,' Cat thought wildly as she noticed his eyes slitting and scanning the room almost like he was stalking prey. She suddenly had the very real feeling of panic wash over her. Some instinct screamed at her to run, to flee before she was caught and... And what? Turning her head so that her red hair fell forward, obscuring her face, she hissed at Ami and Jade, "Lower yer shielding." They stopped arguing mid-sentence. "Say what?" Jade's voice was incredulous. "Let. Yer. Shields. Down," Cat tried to make her voice sound as normal as possible. "Why?" Jade demanded. "Just do it," Cat snapped, "And dinna do anythin' besides that!" Ami studied her through narrowed eyes which quickly widened. "What is that?" she gasped. "Ye feel it, too?" Cat felt relieved. She had been half-afraid that her overactive imagination was finding needles in haystacks that didn't exist. Not to be left out, Jade evidently had lowered her own shielding. Her nose wrinkled, brow knit in consternation, "Oh, whoa." "That's putting it mildly," Ami muttered, rubbing her upper arms. Unease hovered over her, shoulders tight with sudden tension. It was evident she didn't care for what she was feeling. "What do you suppose it is?" "I dinna ken," Cat replied truthfully, "but I ken where it's comin' from-- Jade's hottie." "My hottie?" Jade's voice rose an octave, "Since when did he become my hottie? You saw him first!" "Not so loud," Ami glared at her. "Besides," Jade continued, undeterred. "Are you really sure it's coming from him? I mean, how could someone that cute feel ... ugh, like that." Before Cat or Ami could stop her, the younger girl sent a mental probe of her own. Then paled when their handsome stranger looked straight at them. His dark eyes glittered dangerously. "Um, guys," Ami's voice was quiet but for all its quietness, there was no mistaking the anxiety there, "I think now might be a good time to leave." "Seconded." Jade said in a small voice, rising and grabbing her food tray. Cat threw one last glance back as they hurried out. He was watching their departure, specifically staring at her as he noticed her gaze. She shivered. That feeling of being hunted, of the prey fleeing the predator, accosted her again. She didn't feel safe until she was a country away, back home in Scotland END CHAPTER ONE Katie Malone kamalone@usa.net - To unsubscribe to buffyfic2, send an email to "majordomo@xmission.com" with "unsubscribe buffyfic2" in the body of the message. For information on digests or retrieving files and old messages send "help" to the same address. Do not use quotes in your message. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- From: Katie Malone Subject: (buffyfic2) XOVER: Ceremonies of Innocence (05/14) Date: 08 Feb 1999 12:28:58 -0600 Chapter Four Angel, had he been human, would have been holding his breath as those three words left his lips. "I'm a vampire." There was a moment of complete and utter silence. Then the human girl started shaking--at first, he thought it was in fear but then she started giggling. Peal upon peal of laughter issued from her. He didn't fail to miss the more than slight edge of disbelief there. He sighed, "I told you that you wouldn't believe me." Cat was too busy laughing to reply though he would give her credit for trying. Tiny squeaks escaped from her hand-covered mouth. "It isn't that funny," Angel replied annoyed. It bothered him that he was being so open with this girl only to have it taken as a jest But then, how should she react to his little declaration? With complete belief and trust? Not after what she had glimpsed. Her use of the word 'tannasaq' could be applied to a human as well as any supernatural creature--both could get their kicks out of death. "Ye're right," Cat agreed, all traces of laughter fleeing from her voice, "It's not funny. It's sad, bordering on pathetic." "I'm sensing you don't believe me here." "Got it in one," she leaned closer, as close as she could get without her skin crawling, "I believe it's long past medication time for ye, Angel. " She spun around on her heel, damning those instincts that urged her to stay, to hear him out and trust him. How could you trust someone like him? Someone who's mind was like walking through Jack the Ripper's fun house and who claimed to be a *vampire* of all things. The answer was simple: you couldn't. And you didn't if you knew what was good for you. "Catriona." She slowed, swinging back around as if she were being pulled. The old saying about there being power in names flitted her head for no good reason. Right now, she wished she hadn't even come back in search of him much less given him her name. However, it was too late to cry over that spilt milk now. Angel skirted around the table, stopping just a few feet away from her, "I'm not crazy," he said earnestly. Cat refused to adhere to the weakening she felt in her anger. "No, ye're a vampire, is that it?" "Yes." "In what sense are we talking about here? Renfield's syndrome?" She asked, almost hopeful. As a psychology major, that was actually something she could deal with. At least it would mean that Angel was mentally disturbed and not responsible for his actions. That would allow her to feel some sympathy for him. Hell, it would even explain the preoccupation with blood she had sensed in him. "No." "Oh, so ye're a vampire in the Bram Stoker sense. Or would Anne Rice be more update and correct these days?" she replied sarcastically. "In a sense," Angel answered. "In what sense is that?" "In the sense that I turn into smoldering pile of carbon in direct sunlight, I'm immortal, and I drink blood." "No," she shook her head in denial, "Sorry, I don't buy it. Ye should have tried ta pick up some Goth chick who would love ta buy inta yer dark little Grimm fairy tale. Blood is really not a turn on for me. I'm sure ye understand." This time she didn't give him the time or chance to call out to her. Rapidly pushing her way through the crowd, Cat headed for the mall's exit. Once she was clear of prying eyes, she fully intended on teleporting back to Scotland as soon as possible. As she neared the escalator leading to the ground level and the parking area, she faltered a step, assailed by a mental buzz that was extremely similar to Angel's psychic signature. In fact, she thought it was him following her at first but the she realized something. There was a sharp difference in the feel of this mind and that of Angel's. This mind had all the darkness and sense of evil she had empathically sensed in Angel but none of the redeeming feelings of guilt, of remorse. There was only a vast, raging hunger to be sensed. She scanned the area until she finally decided on the source. It wasn't that hard, especially in lieu of the fact he was staring straight at her. She took him in as a series of images-- young, probably seventeen or so, brown spiky hair, and a lot of leather. 'Great, they're multiplying,' she groaned. 'What, is it the full moon or something?' Her instincts told her to run. She could agree with that assessment. What she couldn't deal with was that they were screaming at her to run *back* to Angel. She opted for her original plan, only with increased speed. *** Angel wasn't sure why he was following her or why he felt he had to convince her of the truth of his words. In a way, he had gotten off easy. She hadn't believed him and had run off instead of making a scene that he would just as soon avoid. Then again, what could she claim? That she had psychically glimpsed his murderous past? Yeah, the mall security would really buy that. More than likely, they would put her in the psych ward as soon as she got it out of her mouth. 'Which,' he reflected pragmatically, 'was probably why she hadn't made a scene.' Cat struck him as being smart enough to realize that. Still, the knowledge she had now was dangerous. Not just for him, but for her as well. Besides, with all that psionic energy, she was a walking billboard for his kind. That kind of power only served to make the draining process more delectable since vampires fed off of emotions as well as the blood. With London rapidly becoming supernaturally active enough to draw both Buffy and Giles here, it wouldn't be long before some preternatural creature, be it vampire or something else stumbled upon her. And he didn't want to think about what would happen then. Correction, he didn't have to think about it. He knew from past experience what would happen. He followed the red glint of her hair, nearly losing her in the crush of people. She reached the escalator before he did and was well on her way downstairs when he reached the mouth of it. From his vantage point, he was able to follow her progress and ascertain where she was heading. His eyes narrowed as he noticed the man following her, trying to be 'oh, so casual' about it and not succeeding in his eyes. It didn't take a genius to figure out what he was. Not when Angel could feel the aura that was the tell-tale signature of his kind. 'Damn,' he swore, thrusting his way down the moving stairs. Praying he got to Cat before she became the soup of the evening. *** Okay, she was beginning to get a serious case of the creeps. Cat clenched and unclenched her fists as she hurried through an another aisle of cars. The underground parking garage was silent but she knew he was there. Following her, stalking her, just at her back. Several times, she had turned around in fear of being surprised only to find nothing. Each stutter of the light fixtures made her freeze. The last thing she wanted was to be trapped down here in the dark with whoever it was following her. There was no way she could teleport. Not with tiny black cameras in the corners of the walls recording her every move. She was beginning to realize that coming down to a near empty parking garage was perhaps not the brightest thing she had ever done. Or could have done. Slipping behind one of the concrete pillars, Cat held her breath and made herself as still as possible. Although Tomorrow People were unable to kill, she could inflict enough damage on her pursuer to make him wish she had killed him. And there was no way she was going to lay down and die like a lamb to the slaughter. 'No sense in wasting all that training in Twae Kwan Do that Conner paid for,' she thought rather grimly. 'Or all that 'repressed' anger the shrinks tell me I have.' A shadow crossed the floor and she didn't even think. She reacted. With a low roundhouse kick, she knocked the person off their feet before fluidly rising into battle stance. Her eyes widened. "You know," Angel said with a long-suffering note in his voice, "I sort of miss the good old days when all girls did was scream a lot and ask stupid questions. It was a lot less painful--for me." "Angel! Oh my goodness. Here let me help you," She extended a hand out to help him up. Cat was so happy to see him that she momentarily forget why she had run off in the first place He pulled himself to his feet, looking a little surprised. 'Probably thinks I'm a little crazy or something,' she realized. It was just that Angel seemed to be the lesser of two evils at the moment. She wasn't thrilled with what she had learned about him but she didn't sense any malevolent intentions from him. 'Okay, let's try going with my instincts and see what happens. After all, how could things get any worse? ' Her eyes narrowed. If Angel was here then where was... Cat felt herself fall forward as something broadsided her from behind. Unfortunately, she was close enough to Angel that she fell on top of him. "This is awkward," she muttered. Even she heard the edge of hysteria in that statement. 'This is so not the time ta wig out,' she barked at herself, making herself get up. 'God, dinna be such a girlie girl. Ye've dealt with Immortals and mad Watchers, what could possibly top that?' She turned, felt her knees go weak and give way from under her as she stared into the face of death. Her throat tightened, unable to even form a scream as two cold, yellow eyes bored into hers. TO BE CONTINUED Katie Malone kamalone@usa.net - To unsubscribe to buffyfic2, send an email to "majordomo@xmission.com" with "unsubscribe buffyfic2" in the body of the message. For information on digests or retrieving files and old messages send "help" to the same address. Do not use quotes in your message. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- From: Wendy Kelley Subject: (buffyfic2) XOVER: Ceremonies of Innocence (04/14) Date: 08 Feb 1999 12:28:11 -0600 Chapter Three, Part Two Angel watched as Cat cradled her coffee with shaky hands. When he saw that she wasn't shaking off the psionic effects she had experienced earlier as fast as she should have been, he had insisted she find a place and sit down. When she looked like she might be mulish about it, he had simply taken her by the arm and dragged her over to the food court, overriding her protestations that she was fine. Somewhat reluctantly, she had allowed him to get her a coffee though she had insisted on paying. That had made the corners of his mouth twitch in amusement. She was a stubborn lass, this Cat, and it would take a stronger man than he to resist her. The silence that had fallen over the table was uneasy. The young woman across from him kept darting glances in his direction, her gray eyes asking him a million questions. Questions that he wasn't sure he wanted to answer. Like the inevitable question of -- "What did ye mean by I should go back ta my question o' what are ye?" Cat spoke up at last, her tone subdued. 'I knew I could rely on you,' he thought ironically. Cutting right to the chase with no hint of playing around. Anyone else and he might have been able to stave off this conversation. No, he had to run into the one person who by nature, if he read her right, would make that impossible. And there were certain things that she just didn't need to know--high on that list was that he was a vampire. Of course, he hadn't made this easy on himself--his comments had practically begged her to investigate further. Instead of giving her the brush off and holing up until Giles and Buffy arrived, he had all but invited Cat's attention. 'I must have a death wish,' he mentally sighed. "Are ye," she hesitated, "Are ye some kind o' psychic?" Angel kept his face blank, void of any incrimnating emotions. It was a mask he had schooled himself to wear, had perfected it to an art. "In a manner of speaking." 'Let her draw her own conclusions,' he thought. Humans always looked for a way to catergorize and normalize things they didn't understand. The fantastic became mundane in an instant. It made a vampire's life much, much easier. 'Well,' he corrected himself, thinking of Buffy and the Slayerettes, 'most humans were like that.' "You're not wrong," he replied in his best imitation of Xander's method of deadpan. It wasn't exactly a lie. All vampires were, to some extent, psychic--leaning more towards the empathic end of the spectrum. It was tied to their feeding process. She raised an eyebrow, obviously waiting for him to elaborate further. When he didn't, she pursed her lips. "That's no' much of an answer." "No," he agreed. Those slanting, feline-shaped eyes flashed gray fires. "My," she said in a voice heavily laced with sarcasm, "aren't we chatty? Ye're a real fountain o' knowledge." "Maybe you'd like to tell me about yourself, Catriona," he said deliberately. That shut her up as well as made the tension level skyrocket another five notches or so. They glared at each other, a mini-tug of war for control ensuing, neither willing to give any ground. Finally, Cat leaned back, letting out an explosive breath, "This is ridiculous. We're no' getting anywhere. "A compromise?" He was wary. "What?" "I'll answer a question o' yers and ye answer a question o' mine. Is it a bargain?" Angel considered it. It was a dangerous game he was playing but he had gone this far, so why stop now? And answers could be twisted, shaped into things that contained a seed of truth but not the whole truth. Misdirection would be easy if she asked him something he wasn't prepared to answer. "All right," he conceded, "One question. I'll go first." She nodded, crossing her arms in obvious anticipation. Angel studied her, noted how one hand absently tugged an errant lock of red hair, the colors of fire, and copper, and strawberry contained therein that one strand of hair. Her fair skin was fused with color, excitement coloring it pink. Out of habit, he found his gaze travelling to her bare throat, watching the pulse of blood under her milky skin, then to her wrists where branches of blue veins lay just below the surface. Her warm, salty scent aroused his hunger, tantalized him. How long had it been since he had fed? Hours? Maybe longer. But the cold blood he had stolen from the Red Cross was no comparison to the rich, copper-tasting river pumping through her. At one time, not so very long ago, he would have had no hesitation about taking her, letting her hot life's blood spill out in a red gush over his lips. Even now, conscience and all, it was so very difficult to fight the demonic impulses that argued that this life should be his, his rightful prey. And she wasn't helping much--not with her heart speeding with adrenaline and fear. The smell of it was addictive and he knew if he didn' stop now, there was no way he would be able to stop. He caught her eye, staring at her the way a snake might stare at a helpless bird. Gray eyes eyes lost their spark, growing glassy with bewilderment and lethargy. The signs of a glamor, the trick vampires used to attract their prey. 'This isn't right,' screamed a voice in his head. Angel knew it was wrong, knew that he should get out of his seat and get the hell out of here but he didn't. There was something about this girl, the way she felt to him, the way her emotions radiated out like rolling waves, the way she smelt--it attracted him. His subsequent reversion to Angelus then later on, his sojourn in Hell had altered him, had placed him more on the edge than he had ever been. The division between his vampiric nature and human conscience had become even more pronounced and of late, he had found his control slipping. Maybe it was the influence of this burgeoning Hellmouth, but ever since his arrival in London, Angel had found himself struggling harder and harder to leash in the destructive impulses that sang their siren song to him. Angelus wouldn't have hesitated. To him, there would have been no reason. She was human, she was prey. He would have amused himself by torturing her because she had challenged him. So many humans just laid down and died like the bloodbags they were, whispered the demon. The ones who didn't were worthy of special attention. They were the ones who made undead life enjoyable. 'But I am not Angelus,' he battled against the demon, the lust of for blood, for destruction singing in his mind. 'Aren't you?' hissed the demon. He saw once again the faces of his family as he killed them one by one. Then Drusilla, sweet and chaste Drusilla; he had ventured every form of mental torture ever known on her, had even made up a few new ones. He had driven her insane and then he had changed her. The Romani girl--he had enjoyed fooling her family, ingratiating himself into their good graces, then sucking their beloved daughter dry. Jenny Calendar, the heady smell of her fear, the way her neck had snapped so satisfactorily in his hands. Giles' pain had been exquisite but Buffy's... Buffy's had been beyond Angelus' wildest imagination. His human soul was repulsed by the menage of images, wanted to retreat in loathing of himself. The demon wanted that. Just like it wanted to kill this girl. Suck her dry right down to the marrow of her bones. The thought of it made his teeth ache in longing. A sharp intake of breath distracted him from the war going on inside him. He lifted his head to see the malaise afflicting Cat lift with a rapidness that was breathtaking to behold. Her eyes were widening in horror and he knew instinctively that somehow, in some way, she knew the thoughts that had been running through his head. "A mhuire," she whispered in Gaelic. Her next words came out in a sibilant rush, so fast that he caught only one of them. "...tannasaq." 'Spirit,' he translated. More than that, it meant a spirit of malevolence. One that feeds off the souls of the living. *** Cat found her body and mind relaxing into a paralytic sort of languor. It was hard to stay focused on anything besides the lassitude seeping through her body and the dark, impenetrable gleam in his dark eyes. She couldn't have moved if she wanted to. Not that she did. No, she was too caught up in the sensations coasting through her body. Fear had subsided, giving way to another kind of tension. A physical attraction that was almost unbearable seized her. Emotions and thoughts that would normally have brought a blush to her cheeks were running a riot. Suddenly, Angel had gone from being just an attractive man to something else. The hunger in his eyes made her want to throw herself at him, on some instinctual level knowing that if she did so, he wouldn't turn her away. The pull of his mind was strong, the difference she felt there intoxicating. She tried to throw off the fog clouding her brain, to think of Adam but all she could think of was Angel--his nearness, the almost unearthly glow of his skin, the memory of how soft his touch had been before. He was perfect, he was--he was.... A murderer. Somehow, her shielding had lowered itself again, causing Cat to recoil from the barrage of images flooding through her mind. They flooded her mind, overwhelmed her. The sounds of screams, the hunger, and oh, God, the pleasure. Pleasure so deep it nearly caused her faint. Voices rose in cacophony, each clamouring for attention. Too many voice calling, demanding her attention. 'Do you want to play with me? Miss Edith and I are having a tea party...' 'You will remember the faces of all those you have killed...that will be your punishment...' 'Angel, I know that some part of you is still in there...' And faces, so many faces. A beautiful woman, dark hair flowing around a face that was as pale as the moon. Her eyes... her eyes gave Cat shivers. They twinkled like two stars, completely devoid of anything resembling sanity. She had been so sweet, Cat somehow knew, and her destruction had been well worth the effort. Another woman, her eyes trusting and simple. Death after ugly death played through her mind but what horrified her most of all, was the powerful taste of blood in her mouth, the smell of it in her nose. She could almost feel it on her hands. How she seemed to revel in it; it was beyond any sort of pleasure she had ever known. Like sexual bliss, it gave her a feeling of completion, of peace. But it was something she only knew with the kill, with the taking of a life. The revulsion she felt dispelled the mists clouding her mind and she hastily pulled her shields back into place until she was alone in the sanctuary of her own mind, nearly crying in relief at the dissipation of those memories. It was all she could do not to shriek and teleport out as fast as she could manage. Recognition shone in Angel's eyes and he looked almost as horrified as she felt. Almost. Normally, Cat was not one prone to irrational behavior. Still, she was a Highlander, a Scot; there was in her blood, the knowledge of things beyond the explainable. Education and time had quieted that superstitious streak that ran through all those with Celtic blood but it had not been irradicated. It lay there just below the surface, ready to come out again like it was at this moment. "A mhuire," she murmured, reverting to Gaelic. The Roman Catholicism of her youth caused her to invoke Mary. The Gaelic also supplied her with a name for what sat before her--Tannasaq, a ghoul, an evil spirit that fed off of death and destruction. He reached a hand out to her. She jerked away from him, pushing her chair back with a loud scraping noise that drew several annoyed glances. None of which bothered her very much at the moment. Her stomach roiled in nausea at what she had gleaned from him. Part of her wanted very much to show her absolute disgust by throwing up all over his shoes. "Dinna touch me," she growled. Where, oh, where were her uncles when she needed them? Several inches of steel might be helpful in this situation. His hands fell back, landing on the table. He used them to gracefully push himself up until they were eye to eye. His next statement took her completely by surprise. "You said I could ask one question of you. Will you keep your word?" Angel asked quietly. Cat stared at him in disbelief. Was he completely insane? It no longer mattered to her to know anything about him. She already knew too much as far as she was concerned. Still, her sense of honor nagged at her, yer word is yer word. Damn my word, she thought back furiously. That nagging voice refused to quieten. And there was only one way she knew to do that. "Aye," she said through gritted teeth, "What is it ye want?" Angel looked so pathetically grateful at that bone she threw him that she almost felt herself soften. Then she recalled the broken images she had received from him and felt herself harden again. "What did you see?" "What do ye think I saw?" she snapped. Cat didn't want to dwell on those images even if her mind seemed to be permantly stuck on replaying them. "Just tell me." "I saw ye...," she trailed off before making herself continue, "And I saw blood and bodies...Ye're a killer. Yer worse than that--ye *enjoy* hurting people." "No--" "Will ye then be telling me what I saw?" she demanded, "And dinna try ta convince me I was confused or my mind was playin' tricks on me. I ken better. I ken what I saw so dinna try ta convince me otherwise." "I wasn't planning on it," Angel replied honestly, "You're not confused or wrong. I am a killer." His admission floored her. She had expected him to argue, to protest his innocence, to try to convince her that she was wrong. "Weel," she floundered, "at least ye're honest." 'At least he's honest?!! I am such an idiot,' she berated herself. 'Why the hell am I still here?' Because, because of the expression on his face. A look of guilt and remorse that was completely at odds with what she had mentally gleaned from him earlier. 'Looks can be deceiving, Fraser, she berated herself, after all, he doesn't look like a psychotic killer but...that's what he is, a killer. He had even admitted it.' She didn't understand--didn't comprehend the juxtapostion of images and sensations she had received coupled with this sense of guilt that was radiating from him. And for some odd, suicidal reason, she found that she wanted to understand. "My turn," she spoke. He appeared startled, surprised that she was still there. "I want ye to tell me why." "What does why matter?" he replied bitterly, "It doesn't change things." "Just answer the question, damn ye," she snapped. "I answered yer question, so I want ye to make me understand." "You wouldn't believe me," he stared at the table. "Try me," she said wryly, "Ye might be surprised." There was a long pause, then he said quite simply, "I'm a vampire." *** END CHAPTER THREE ... Wendy ladyslvr@xmission.com * http://www.xmission.com/~ladyslvr/ Listowner: Tomorrow People fiction and discussion lists Listowner: Sliders creative list - To unsubscribe to buffyfic2, send an email to "majordomo@xmission.com" with "unsubscribe buffyfic2" in the body of the message. For information on digests or retrieving files and old messages send "help" to the same address. Do not use quotes in your message. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- From: Katie Malone Subject: (buffyfic2) XOVER: Ceremonies of Innocence (03/14) Date: 08 Feb 1999 12:27:42 -0600 Just a reminder -- the author of this piece is Caroline Fales. Her email address is available in the part 0. Chapter Three, Part 1 "Angel?" Cat paused uncertainly. Of course. He would have a name to match his appearance. "Tis pretty. Verra pretty." And odd expression crossed his face, one of bittersweet nostalgia. "So I've been told," he replied quietly. Cat mentally winced as she realized that she had stepped on a nerve. "Oh," she stumbled awkwardly, "Well, that's nice." 'That's nice?' her brain screamed at her. 'Great comeback, Cat. Inane much?' She could hear Megabyte's jibes now. 'Wait a minute,' she caught herself. She didn't know this guy--for all she knew, he could be a psychotic killer. What did she care how she sounded to him? Unfortunately, for some reason that escaped her, Cat found that she did care. Very much. Either he didn't appear to notice or he had decided to have mercy on her, instead shrugging, "I guess. Your turn." My turn.... Oh. "Catriona," she replied carefully. He hadn't seen fit to give her his last name, so why should she give him hers? "But I prefer being called Cat." That didn't seem to surprise him. In fact, a small smile quirked his lips, "That makes sense. It suits you." "Really?" she crossed her arms, "Ye've known me for less than five minutes and ye already know what suits me? Omnipotent or just a lucky guess?" "Peace, Catriona," he held his hands spread apart in front of him. "No need to sink those claws into me." "Right," she muttered, annoyed by the twitching of his mouth into a smug smile. Cat straightened, "Ye were following me!" "No," he corrected, "I was watching you. There's a difference." "Bloody semantics! Ye were doing what ye were doing," she huffed. "You were looking for me," came the placid counter-accusation. There wasn't much to say to that, she realized. Especially since it was true. "Weren't you?" he prodded with an smug air of knowing that made her want to smack him. "Ye-es," she admitted grudgingly. "Are you always this combative?" Angel appeared amused which raised her pique another notch. "Are ye always so charming?" she replied sarcastically, "Ye are so annoying!" "Why are you so angry?" That gave her pause. Why was she so angry? Usually, she had to get pretty worked up before she got like this. What was her problem? It was rather simple: she was afraid. And at the same time, completely perplexed. The mixed, confusing signals she picked up emanating from him telepathically alarmed her. There was a darkness, a soul- blackening ugliness that surrounded him. Evil. Pure evil. Just touching it made her feel unclean, as if she had been wading through a year's worth of sludge. A simmering rage and a voracious hunger seemed to fuel it. Just the hint of it tempted her to teleport out now, in front of an entire mall full of people, just to get away from it. From him. What stayed her? Because in that corona surrounding him there was light as well. It broke through the darkness, flaring and tickling the edges of her senses. Gentleness and strange sense of sorrow that seemed to be at the core of his being. And most of all, regret; regret so profound it hovered over him like a cloak. The self-loathing she sensed in him confused her, made her want not to flee from him but take him in her arms and soothe him like a child. Yes, that was it. He reminded her of a hurt child, a wounded soul that clutched and hoarded his pain because he knew nothing else. Afraid to trust for fear of that being thrown back in his face, afraid to care for much the same reason. Isolated. Alone even in a crowd. It reminded her uncomfortably of herself. Of how she had been before Adam and the others had come into her life. Of how she still was to some extent--trying to find herself, her place. To be perfectly honest, there were times she felt like she didn't belong with the other Tomorrow People at all. There was a dark place inside of her, had been for a long time. There were things she had been, things she had done, that she wasn't proud of. Things that the others wouldn't understand because they couldn't. So she kept those painful secrets bottled down so far, so deep that she even she wasn't sure what would happen they finally bubbled forth. She hated it, keeping secrets from them, not being completely honest. She wanted so much to share everything with them as they did with her. There was just this small part of her that was so afraid, so unable to trust. What if she finally plucked up the courage to lay it all on the line and the others couldn't handle it? The risk wasn't worth it; it wasn't worth the relief of unburdening herself if it meant losing or hurting those closest to her. Even if it meant never dealing with the past and all it entailed. "Are you all right?" Angel asked. There was none of his earlier cockiness. If anything, Cat thought, she would swear there was a genuine concern in his voice. Concern for someone he didn't even know? It wasn't very likely. "Yes, I'm fine," she replied brusquely, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. His eyes searched her face. She tensed at the expression she saw there, at the flash of sympathy. She was surprised to find herself blinking back tears. 'What the bloody hell is wrong with me?' she raged. 'Why am I acting like this?' Great, this was just what she needed, another nervous breakdown. "Yeah," he said quietly, "You look it." "This was a mistake," she shook her head, "I'm leaving." She started to spin around on her heel when she heard that soft voice ask, "Why are you here in the first place? Why did you come?" It gave her pause. Cat wondered what would happen if she told him just what she was. Would he believe her? Would it even matter? 'What's wrong with me?' she demanded of herself again. Why were all these feelings suddenly being dredged up again? She hadn't felt this low, this useless in such a long time. "I dinna ken," she felt her shoulders slump in defeat. "I dinna ken." His eyes narrowed suddenly. Without warning, his hand shot out and grasped her arm. In shock, she tried to wrench away from that sudden contact. "What are ye doing?" "Stop that," he said, the commanding note in his voice causing her to cease her struggles. He studied her for a long moment. Then a flash of understanding seemed to enter his eyes. "Raise your shields." "What?!" Cat gaped at him, not exactly sure she had heard him right. "You're a psychic, aren't you?" Angel queried, his voice low as his eyes darted around the crowded mall before coming back to rest on her. "I--ye--," For once, Catriona found herself totally at a loss for words. Fear and surprise were too busy choking them out of her. "Just trust me. Raise your shields and I think you'll find you feel a lot better," he replied. With some misgivings, Cat began to realize just what he was talking about. Her mental shielding had lowered (instinctively?) around him, fixing on his mental processes whilst shutting out all the other minds droning in the background. Drawing in a breath, she began raising her shielding up again. Instantly, the malaise and depression seemed to lift and she felt relatively normal again. The feelings she had been experiencing ... they had been her own but amplified by his own mental state. Like an echo in a cave, she had some how latched onto him and gotten the backwash of his emotions, dredging up and doubling her own emotions. She had been so busy leeching his emotions that she hadn't even realized what was happening. A number of thoughts raced through her mind. First, Angel had to be one hell of a psychic if he could effect her on this level. Second, his emotional state was not exactly great at this moment. Then there was the fact that Angel had known she was a psychic... "How did ye ken?" she tilted her head up towards him. "You're not the first psychic I've run into," he explained. Slowly, his grip loosened on her arm, hand nearly losing contact with her flesh before she caught it, holding it firm. The expression in his eyes was unreadable as he stared at her then their clasped hands. "You should be completely normal again in a few minutes. It shouldn't be so bad the next time because you'll know what to expect. That is," he amended, "if you have some measure of control over your abilities." "Next time?" she echoed. He appeared stricken. "I meant...," he trailed off, "I'm not exactly sure what I meant." "Who are ye, Angel?" she whispered. 'And why do I feel so drawn ta ye,' she thought. He smiled, a rueful smile, "Better that you should go back to your original question of what am I." *** TO BE CONTINUED Katie Malone kamalone@usa.net - To unsubscribe to buffyfic2, send an email to "majordomo@xmission.com" with "unsubscribe buffyfic2" in the body of the message. For information on digests or retrieving files and old messages send "help" to the same address. Do not use quotes in your message. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- From: Katie Malone Subject: (buffyfic2) XOVER: Ceremonies of Innocence (07/14) Date: 09 Feb 1999 23:01:47 -0600 Chapter Five, Part 1 "Nice," Cat commented as Angel flipped the lights of his place on. The room slowly blossomed into view as soft light lovingly rose like an artifical sun. He glanced down to see her perusing her surroundings. "Better than you hoped?" he teased. Somehow, he couldn't shake the suspicion that she really thought he lived in a crypt. While not as nice as his place back in either L.A. or Sunnydale, this warehouse cum apartment was snug and more importantly secure. "More upscale," she returned blandly, "though I wouldn't recommend the view." She was referring to the blacked out windows, one more reminder of his true state of existence. As if he needed one more. He shrugged, then winced as a fiery pain burned its way up his side. "Comes in handy when you have a slight sun allergy." "I suppose so. So the sunlight thing is true then?" she asked. "Yeah," he replied shortly. It was one of the real regrets of his life, this longing to see a sunrise and to know that he never would again. An expression of contrition crossed her face and for not the first time, Angel wondered just how much of a bead she had on him. How far did her ability to read him extend? It made him uneasy. Right now, he'd like nothing more to send Cat on her merry way out of his life. He didn't want, didn't need, this sense of closeness that seemed to be creeping between them. Once, he'd had friends, close friends, and had very nearly destroyed them on his rampage as Angelus. Fortunately, Buffy had stopped him before he had taken out the Slayerettes. Jenny Calendar, however, hadn't been that lucky. Angel shook his head, pushing the haunting memory aside. He wasn't going to allow himself to dwell on it, not now. The mere thought of it, however, was reminder enough of how dangerous he truly was. He was didn't belong among 'real' people as Whistler called them because he wasn't a real person. His first mistake had been in believing that he could become just that. That belief had fueled his hope of, then his folly in, pursuing a relationship with the Slayer. That belief had culminated in the loss of his soul one rainy night and what had followed had more than reinforced his belief that he was better off in remaining distant. He would always love Buffy in one way or another, would always be there for her, but they would never be together. And that was something they were both learning to accept. In the meantime, he did what little he could to help, a penance for the sins of his past whilst remaining, as far as he could manage it, alone. Alone was safe, it had a certain aching comfort. In being alone, the only one to get hurt was yourself. So the last thing he needed right now was this young Scottish lass, who was doing her damnedest to help him, to be kind to him. In a way, her earlier standoffishness had been far more preferable. He did not want to like this girl. 'Too late for that,' whispered an inner voice. 'Just satisfy her and get her out of here,' Angel leaned against the wall, gritting his teeth in pain as another searing wave worked its way up him. That young one had scored him deeper than he had initially thought. It irritated him that. He was older than many vampires, certainly older than that young puppy he had staked earlier this evening, he should have been able to overcome him easily. 'Don't get cocky,' Angel warned himself. Then as an afterthought with respect to Cat, he mentally added, 'Or distracted.' "Maybe ye should sit down," Cat's subdued voice intruded on his reverie. The young woman was once again at his side, tugging at his elbow. Angel allowed her to lead him over to the leather sofa and push him down into its welcoming folds. "I dinna suppose ye have a first aid kit or something?" she tucked a strand of hair behind one ear. "In the medicine cabinet in the bathroom," he informed her. She seemed surprised, then her eyes narrowed, "Why do I have the feeling that this is no' the first time something like this has happened ta ye?" He gave her an innocent tilt of the head. "Why do you think that?" "Uh-huh. Ye're not fooling anyone," she told him. Leveling one finger at him, she ordered him, "Dinna move. I'll be right back." "Yes, ma'am," he replied sarcastically, "Should I eat all my vegetables as well?" "If I thought it would do any good," she glared at him, "I'd thump ye for that." "No, you wouldn't," he said confidently. She cocked her head at him, "Oh, wouldn't I?" Angel was surprised to find just how much he was enjoying their bantering. "I'm an injured man. You wouldn't hit an injured man now, would you?" At the puppy dog look he flashed at her, Cat rolled her eyes, "Men. Ye're all the same. Ye think all ye have ta do is smile, look helpless, and we women will fall all o'er ye." "Don't you?" he gave her an arrogant smirk. "Live in the now, Angel," she shot back, turning on one heel. Then, pausing, "Where is yer bathroom, by the way?" "Now who's helpless?" She tossed her hands in the air in silent plea before flouncing off. As soon as she left the room, Angel let the arrogant act slide, crumpling against the couch tiredly. He must have lost more blood than he had realized. It had taken every bit of strength he'd had just to stay upright in the last few minutes. He closed his eyes against the wave of dizziness that swam up before him, making him want to retreat to the fuzzy edges of conciousness. It felt so good to just lay here like this with his head against the armrest, eyes shut against the spinning of the room. Angel knew he needed to get up before Cat found him like this, it was too tempting to just lie here like this. 'Just a few moments more,' he promised himself muzzily. *** "Well, I found the the kit though I have ta ask what possessed ye ta hide it behind a rat trap. Ye should set up a warning or something, I nearly lost a finger getting the thing. I..." Cat trailed off, clutching the kit close to her chest as she took a few tentative steps forward. Angel was leaning against one end of the couch, eyes closed and not moving. She placed the kit on the coffee table, then turned to the patient. Cat did not like what she was seeing. Angel was normally pale, him being a vampire and all, but in the last few minutes he had moved beyond pale. His skin tone was sickly ash gray and it didn't take a genius to figure out that, despite his protestations, even if he was a vampire, Angel was not well. As gently as she could, she eased him into a more upright position, struggling to remove his jacket. When she finally managed that, Cat noticed the ragged ends of his shirt seemed a darker red than before. She ripped the shirt open and swore. The cut had torn, probably on the walk home, and was wider, despite all her care to the contrary. Blood was freely flowing over his skin and onto the couch. "Damn yer eyes for being so stubborn, Angel," she raged at him, "Why didn't ye tell me?" Running to the kitchen, she searched the cupboards until she found a bowl, rinsed it clean, and then put the hottest water she could manage in it. There was a set of fresh towels hanging nearby. She snagged one of them and hurried back into the living room. Soaking the towel, in the bowl, she bit her lip and murmured, "This may sting a bit." Angel whimpered as she pressed the wet towel against his open wound. She cleaned it as best she could without hurting him further but he didn't come around. That worried her all the more. After putting antiseptic on the wound, she pulled out the gauze and surgical tape. She wasn't sure how well this was going to work-- Angel's cut was deep and she'd bet anything that nothing short of stitches was going help. The problem was, that would entail going to the hospital and having a lot of questions that neither of them wanted to answer brought up. This would just have to work. 'It has ta,' she thought fiercely. She sat back on her haunches once she was through binding him up. 'Now what?' she asked herself. Angel being a vampire made it difficult to tell whether she had done the right thing or not. There was no tell-tale sigh of relief or catch of breath in pain-- in fact, there was no breath at all. He didn't need to breathe, he had told her. While she intellectually understood that, she found it bothered her not to see his chest rise and fall in suspiration. The dead don't need to breathe. She banished that thought. Angel was not dead, the dead didn't come back. The dead didn't feel pain or anything else but Angel could and clearly did. He was...he...well, he *just* was. Something different than she or other humans but she couldn't deny him his existence. 'How am I supposed ta know if ye're okay or not?' she brushed a hand against his skin. It was cold under her touch. More evidence of his undead state to be lumped with the lack of pulse and breath. Angel had said that he would heal and he seemed to think it wasn't that big a deal. Of course, that could have just been him putting on a good face for her. She heaved a gusty sigh, running her hands through her hair. Taking the already damp towel, she made a few swipes at the couch, attempting to remove the blood there. If Angel did recover, he was not going to be thrilled about what had happened to his couch. Suddenly, she froze, staring at the scarlet stain against the white cloth as a thought took root in her mind. Vampires survived off of blood, she knew that much. And Angel had lost quite a lot of blood tonight. What if...what if he had lost so much that he *couldn't* heal himself? The more she thought about it, the more convinced Cat became of the rightness of the idea. 'That means that I need ta find some...some sustance for him,' she hugged herself, hands rubbing at a chill that wasn't physical in origin. The thought of luring some poor, unsuspecting soul here for Angel to drain was totally out of the question. The very idea made her ill. So what options did that leave her with? Hospitals carried blood--she could always nip over and steal a bag or two. She shuddered at the image of herself standing outside an operating room waiting for scraps. 'Okay, now we're getting morbid,' she chastised herself. She could always open a vein and let him feed from her. The problem was, how would she know just how much blood Angel needed? Would she be able to stop him if he started taking too much? 'Think, Fraser, think,' she ran an exasperated hand from her hair. 'All right, Angel is a vampire. We've established that already. Vampires need blood. We've covered that base as well. So wouldn't it make sense for him ta have a food supply just in case...just in case...' She could hardly finish the thought, 'in case he canna go hunting.' Cat didn't want to think of Angel stalking humans for prey just as the young vampire earlier had stalked her, but it was a notion she couldn't entirely dismiss. 'Now,' she reined those thoughts in briskly, 'assuming that I'm right, where would he stash his supply? Where would I hide blood if I was a vampire?' Of course, since she wasn't and had never been a vampire, the answer didn't leap automatically to mind. 'So much for that approach,' she shook her head and began ransacking the room. No corner, no cushion, or statue was left unturned. Part of her hoped that the brandy bar in the corner was hiding a bottle or two but that proved fruitless. But the sight of decanters and wine containers did give her an idea. Dashing into the kitchen, she yanked open the small refrigerator in the corner and began scanning the contents. A few slices of cheese, some grapes, something that was completely unidentifiable and a couple of dark bottles in the back. She skipped over the edibles and removed one of the bottles. Carefully, she uncorked it and sniffed. Her nose wrinkled at the salty, coppery scent. 'Jackpot,' she thought. But there was little triumph in that. She turned the cold bottle in her hands uneasily. What had was in this bottle had once belonged to a living being--possibly a human. Sure, one could argue how was it different from eating a hamburger--the end result was the same but eating cow meat was a trifle different than taking the precious life fluid of a human being. 'Hold on,' she thought, 'ye dinna know this is human blood. It could be animal blood. Angel just said that he drank blood, he never specified what type.' She sincerely hoped what she was holding wasn't human. If it was, then she didn't want to know where or who it came from. Her stomach was already having a hard enough time with this as it was. Debating as to whether or not she should pour the liquid in a glass, Cat gave up and simply clutched the bottle in one hand, marching back into the living room. Angel was still against the leather couch, but she could see the stain of blood beginning to seep through his bandages. 'Damn,' she swore. Then she lifted the bottle to his lips. 'I hope this works,' she prayed as she cracked his mouth open and raised the bottle in her hands. A few drops of bright red liquid fell into his mouth. Cat stilled her hand, waiting for a sign that she was doing the right thing. Nothing, then he convulsively began to swallow, tongue rising to the rim of the bottle. With equal parts relief and unease, she helped him hold the bottle, watching him suckle it like a babe. Soon, she didn't even have to hold it for him. Angel took the dark-hued bottle from her grasp and began gulping down the contents. His throat constricted and for a moment, she thought he might be choking but then she realized that the constriction wasn't limited to his throat. His whole face was tightening. Brows arching into a demonic sneer, eyes a bright yellow that was hard to look at, and a elongated canines brushing his lower lip as he slowly lowered his head. Cat stared, fascinated by the complete and rapid change. 'This is who he really is,' she realized. 'But not all of him,' whispered another voice, 'this is just part. Remember that he saved your life.' Yes, that was the important thing, that was what she should fix in her mind. However, she knew that this face would also be along side it despite herself. Angel finally seemed to be aware that there was something beyond his irrational hunger, beyond the pain and the taste of blood. For the first time, his eyes focused on her, saw reflected in her eyes what was on his face and twisted his head around, away from her. "Go away." "No." "Get out, Cat," Angel's voice was devoid of anything remotely resembling human compassion or reasonableness. Cat felt her heart quicken in fear, but forced herself to remain calm. "No, Angel," she told him quite clearly and firmly. Then, summoning all her courage, she said, "Let me see ye, Angel." The muscles of his shoulders rippled in response to that. "Why? So you can ogle the beast?" he snarled. "I want to see ye, Angel," she kept her voice low, singsong almost. Hesitantly, she reached a hand out, paused, then setting her jaw, Cat let her hand come to rest on his shoulder. His flesh was unnaturally cool but not uncomfortably so. Even more importantly, he felt human--the skin underneath her fingers was strong but it was still flesh. It could tear and bleed just as easily as hers. It reassured her, gave her the courage to bring her other hand down on the other shoulder. He was tense under her and coupled with a flash of insight their tactile contact gave her, she realized that he was afraid. Probably about as afraid as she, though for differing reasons. Taking him by the shoulders, she began pivoting him around towards her. Angel resisted her efforts by catching her nearest hand. His voice was pleading, "Don't see me, Cat." "Why?" "You shouldn't have to see me like this," there was absolute loathing in his voice. Her heart went out to him, "No one should." "I saw ye before. How is this different?" she whispered, letting her captured arm lower, so that her fingers could clasp themselves around his wrist. He cringed, loosening his hold as if he had been burned. Cat took advantage of it, reaching with her free hand to take his chin and turn his face towards her. The yellow eyes that met hers weren't human, it was true. Nor was the demonic visage with its abnormally sharp teeth blantantly visible. But the panicked, half-hopeful expression was. He was still a man, still a fellow being with uncertainties and doubts. She let her fingers brush his cheeks, then over the twisting brow. He watched her with an expression of bewilderment. There was nothing sensual about the movement of her hands over his face--it was too like the tracing, inquisitive touch of a child for that. Lowering her shields, Cat felt waves of sorrow and anger and fear. He was like a wounded animal, craving attention but wary of the hand offered to him. That same frightening hunger she had sensed earlier was there but there was so much more locked underneath it. It frustrated her but there was no way she could breach his shields without his knowing it. Or without her own conscience nagging her. The shrill wail of the telephone snapped her back, shielding instantly raising back into place. Cat bit her lip as the moment strained but didn't quite break. Angel was still staring at her, those deep eyes drilling holes into her soul. The intensity of feeling she saw walled there made her acutely aware of just how similar they actually were. Neither one of them was very trusting. Nor were they completely open about how they felt. Where Angel walled his feelings off with a sullen face, Cat hid hers with a smile and the pretension that nothing was amiss. They both had their secrets though she was aware of what probably qualified as Angel's biggest one: namely that he was a vampire. And she had the distinct impression that like herself, that he was isolated not completely by choice but because there were some bridges that simply could not be crossed. Or that they were afraid to cross. At the moment, she wasn't quite sure which it was. There were parts of herself that she had locked away, hoping that she would never have to find the key and revisit what she had left behind. Who she had left behind. But being here, seeing something of herself in Angel, made her realize that locked door had never truly been shut off, not completely. It was just waiting for the right moment to swing open again. And it frightened her more than she cared to admit that this felt like that time. Cat had to stop this before her Pandora's box came completely undone. "Angel," she exhaled, "The phone." It was strange to watch that face shift back to its more angelic countanence. Stranger still to reconcile the man with the beast. And it was difficult to shut him out when he watched her with such an intent expression. She couldn't stand this. Leaping to her feet, she stalked over to the phone, feeling secretly relieved at not having to see his dark eyes glinting at her so knowingly. Yanking the phone out its cradle, she said more brusquely than she had intended, "Hello?" "Hello? Um," there was a uncomfortable pause before surprised voice asked, "Is this Angel's residence?" "Aye, it is." "Um, er--is he there?" the voice ventured. It was a British voice, male and quite flustered, if Cat was hearing him right. "Yes," she drawled out, curiosity sparked now. Any aquaintance of Angel's definitely had to be *interesting*. Then her mouth twisted into a rueful smile as she realized that she had just lumped herself into that category as well. "Could I speak with him?" a note of impatience was creeping into the other line's voice, "It's terribly important. Tell him that it's Rupert Giles." "I'll take that," said a voice in her ear. She jumped. Somehow, during her terse telephone exchange, Angel had crept to her side without her knowledge. Handing him the phone, Cat brushed a lock of hair behind one ear nervously, "I should go. Ye'll be all right?" She really didn't give him time to answer instead backing towards the door. A few more feet and she'd escape the stifling atmosphere of this place. And the uncertainties it evoked in her. "Cat." Looking back, she found him holding one hand over the mouthpiece of the phone. His face was serious as he said, "Please don't leave." "Angel--" "There are some things we need to discuss. Things you need to know for your own safety," he cut her off, "Please." She cast a longing glance at the door. Just a few more steps... The desire for freedom was nearly palpable. Then, there was Angel, who was begging her with large puppy dog eyes that made her feel like an absolute cow for even wanting to run out of here at top speed. 'Tisn't fair,' she moaned silently, 'he's immortal--he's probably had a long time ta perfect that mask. And I'm not even twenty-one years old yet--how am I supposed to blow off this sort of manipulation without feeling guilty? Those eyes of his should be classified a lethal weapon,' she thought in annoyance as she realized that she was already moving away from the door and back towards him. 'Guess that takes care of that decision.' "All right," she growled, immensely displeased with herself for giving in so easily. Waving a vague hand towards the back of the warehouse, "I'll give ye a bit of privacy for yer phone call. Then we can...talk." It was ungracious, she knew, to treat him this way. After all, he had saved her life but she couldn't help but feel that since the moment she laid eyes on him her life had begun spinning out of her control. 'Okay,' she corrected herself, remembering some of the Tomorrow People's past scrapes, 'more out of control than normal.' She didn't like that feeling. Didn't like how much she wanted to identify with Angel. So if she was snappish and short with him, could she really be blamed for that? 'Bloody hell,' she clenched her fists, 'what have I gotten myself inta?' *** TO BE CONTINUED Katie Malone kamalone@usa.net - To unsubscribe to buffyfic2, send an email to "majordomo@xmission.com" with "unsubscribe buffyfic2" in the body of the message. For information on digests or retrieving files and old messages send "help" to the same address. Do not use quotes in your message. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- From: Katie Malone Subject: (buffyfic2) XOVER: Ceremonies of Innocence (08/14) Date: 09 Feb 1999 23:02:19 -0600 Chapter Five, Part 2 *** Rupert Giles removed his glasses and began vigorously rubbing the bridge of his nose. It was a habit that he'd adopted with his tenure on the Hellmouth. It was a comforting, if less than effective way of trying to stave off a headache. Another unfortunate side effect to being the Slayer's Watcher as well as her new step-father. The inevitability of something unexpected happening or going wrong was practically assured no matter how well you planned things. Certainly, he had not expected anyone save Angel to answer his telephone. Especially not when he knew that as a rule, Angel tried very hard to keep his distance from most people. The Slayer and her friends included in that. So, Giles had to admit that his interest was piqued by the feminine voice answering the phone and the now muffled voices in the background. Obviously, Angel had a friend. Any other time and Giles would have respected Angel's right to privacy, but with London now showing signs of becoming a Hellmouth to rival Sunnydale in potency, he simply couldn't help but feel it might be important to know. This person, whoever she was, could possibly figure into future events--especially if she was a friend of Angel's. That alone made it important for the Watcher to, well... pry? It was his duty to do what he could to aid the Slayer and information-seeking was what Giles did best. 'So why do I feel so uncomfortable?' Giles wondered though he knew the answer to that. Because this was Angel he was dealing with. The vampire didn't really allow anyone save Buffy to probe into his personal life. And the only reason Buffy got away with it was because she was Buffy and Angel had loved her very much at one time. Giles was willing to wager that Angel was still in love with her even though they had drifted apart. He had been glad of their parting of ways. Angel was a valuable ally but no matter how poetic it might be for a vampire to be in love with a Slayer or vice versa, their whole relationship was doomed from the outset by their very natures. He had been less than reassured by the change in the vampire since the restoration of his soul and his return. True, Angel was good once again but that goodness was tempered with a wildness that bothered the Watcher. The demon was closer to the surface than he had been before...before Angel had become Angelus. Before Jenny had... His heart constricted. Even though he had married Joyce Summers, even though he loved Joyce with an intensity that sometimes frightened even him, he couldn't forget Jenny. Nor did he want to. She had given him a passion that he hadn't been aware existed, one that he now gave to Joyce in rememberance of his lost love. She was a part of him, now and forever. A bittersweet memory of what might have been. Memento mori, Jenny. Memento mori. It was the memory of Jenny that made him try to forgive Angel for what Angelus had done. And it was the memory of Jenny that made it precisely so hard to do that. Angel had not been himself when he had murdered the computer teacher/gypsy--it was easy to say that, to understand it intellectually. But it didn't mean that the anger didn't rise up whenever he saw the vampire. Of late, it had been getting easier to deal with that anger, to see past the body to the soul of the man. In part, that was due to Angel's relocation to L.A. and his clear willingness to...how did Buffy say it? To pitch in when the going got hairy? The cursed vampire's desire to make amends touched him, had eased some of tension between them. But not completely. Jenny's ghost hung between them, always just nearby and unseen, but there. A reminder that some things could not be changed or rectified. And Giles had the feeling that was the way it would always be, despite Buffy's efforts, despite Angel's, even despite his own. "What can I do for you, Giles?" Angel immediately appropriated the conversation, cutting out the Watcher's musings and bringing him back to the manner at hand. "Ah, Angel. How are things? How is England?" Giles winced; he never had been very good at small talk. Still, he made the effort. "Foggy, damp, and cold. Is there anything in particular you wanted to talk about or was this just a social call?" Angel sounded tense, almost...distracted? "I called to check-in with you actually. How are things faring in London?" He had the vampire's attention now. "You were right," Angel informed him somberly, "London is showing increased signs of supernatural activity. There have been a spree of deaths among the homeless--the police are trying to pass it off as natural causes to avoid a panic. So far, no one is really questioning it." "Why should they?" Giles couldn't help, but sound a little bitter, "After all, no one of any importance is being taken. And it reduces as Dickens so quaintly put it 'the surplus population.' Ignore what you can't explain and it's sure to go away--typical closemindeness." "Well, I, for one am glad that no one is paying too much attention." 'Of course, he would be,' Giles thought. If someone actually did begin seriously investigating the deaths or heaven forbid, actually suggest a less than natural reason for those deaths, the vampire community would be adversely affected. And Angel, even if he lived only on the fringes of that society, would be as well. "What bothers me," Angel was saying, "is not that they're taking these people. There's nothing surprising there. What worries me is the speed and numbers of the attacks." "You suspect something might be up?" Giles asked shrewdly. "Possibly," Angel replied, though his tone implied he thought it was a certainty. "It's like the local vamps are trying to build their strength up by gorging themselves. And no one is talking. I've tried several sources and they're all either completely ignorant or...." "Or?" "Or something has them frightened. Something or someone has frightened the undead community into silence. Hell, I can't even find out who the local leader is here. " "Oh dear," Giles pondered. "This does not seem to bode well. " "No," Angel agreed, "I'll keep trying though it may take less than kosher means to get the information." Giles decided not to comment on that last remark. He had a feeling that he really didn't want to know what qualified as 'less than kosher' means in Angel's eyes. There were some things that were just better left unsaid. "Good. Anything else?" "Yeah. There have been a number of odd occurances of late. Not enough for the general public to take notice but they appear to be increasing in frequency." "Such as?" Giles queried. "Sightings of ghosts for one. One man claimed that he was walking past St. Paul's a week ago when Christopher Wren stopped and introduced himself. Said that the architect asked him what he thought of his cathedral," Angel sounded amused at that one, "I guess even the dead have egos. Also, a graveyard near Chelesea was found with all its coffins lying open on the ground and all the bodies missing. Nor have they been found. An attack by a wild, unusually large dog in Hyde Park--does Oz have a British cousin? One woman in Hampstead reported turning on her bath only to have snakes slither out instead of water--not just one snake but dozens. People spontaneously combusting or speaking in tongues is another point of interest. There are others, but I'm sure you get the idea." "Quite. It would seem we have the makings of another apocalypse," Giles said before adding with a sigh, "Again." "Yes," Angel sounded no more happy about it than the Watcher did. "When can I expect you and Buffy out here?" "It will be another week, I'm afraid," the Watcher said apologetically, "I've arranged for Buffy to take her finals early but I'm afraid that with the college's bureaucracy that next week is the best I could manage. And as much as I would like to come on out there, Joyce will not permit Buffy to miss her finals, possibly failing her classes." "How are her grades?" "Hanging by a thread," Giles replied with a bit of displeasure, "No matter how hard Willow or I try to help her, Buffy's mind seems to be elsewhere when it comes to school work. It is really quite trying because I know she can do so much more. She may have her teachers fooled but I know that there's a keen intellect in that head of hers." "Giles, you sound like a parent," Angel teased. "I am a parent. Well," he amended, "a step-parent, at any rate." There was a lull in the conversation. Giles wondered if this would be the right time to broach the subject of the female voice who answered the phone earlier. Wondered how Angel would react. Wondered if it were really any of his business or if he just wanted to know so he could give Buffy advanced warning in case Angel had found someone new. Though she had begun dating other people, Giles harbored no illusions about the torch the Slayer carried for Angel. And seeing him with someone else unprepared would hurt her quite badly. 'So am I her Watcher or her parent?' he debated. 'Did it even matter?' "Well, I do hope you are being careful." Giles replied cautiously. "Careful?" "About who you're talking to. This sort of information in the wrong hands..." Giles trailed off delicately. Had he been human, Angel probably would have responded to that with a sharp intake of breath. The silence though spoke volumes and the Watcher began to feel he had crossed into uncharted, potentially explosive territory. When Angel finally spoke, he knew he wasn't imagining the edge to the other man's voice, "This is about Cat, isn't it?" "Cat?" Giles asked innocently, filing that name away for future reference. "Would that be the lady I spoke with earlier?" "Giles, you're about as subtle as a thunderstorm." "I take it that is a yes?" Another silence. "Yes," Angel answered unhappily. "Might I ask who she is?" "Might I say that it is none of your business," Angel snapped. The veiled warning in his voice was now quite clear: back off. "Angel," Giles said quite firmly, "As the Watcher to the Slayer, it most certainly is my business. Who is this person? What exactly have you told her?" "About you and Buffy, nothing." "What about vampires?" The pause this time was uncomfortable. Giles could feel his agitation growing with each passing moment. "Angel?" "She was attacked by a vampire. I saved her. She saw what the vampire was during the fight. Satisfied?" Angel answered sullenly. "I should say not. Did you even try to convince her that what she saw might have been a trick of light? Or hysteria?" "Cat's not like other people," Angel replied. He sounded almost amused. Almost. "Pretty, is she?" "That's not what I meant," Angel shot back immediately. "Then what did you mean?" Giles found with each passing year he was growing tired of secrets. While sometimes necessary, all secrets seemed to do most of the time was cause more trouble than they were worth. "Nothing," Angel said. They both knew he was lying as soon as he said the words. For Angel to lie...Giles rubbed his forehead worriedly. "Angel--" "Listen, Giles. I have a very headstrong, confused girl to deal with right now. I'll get back to you in a few days." "But Angel--" Giles began protesting. The phone clicked audibly as the other line hung up. Giles stared at the blue receiver darkly before replacing it in the cradle. Removing his glasses again, he rubbed his eyes vigorously. It didn't help. "What the bloody hell is going on there?" he wondered aloud. "Honey?" Turning in his seat, Giles saw his wife standing in the door frame, gazing at him in obvious concern. She had a cup of tea in one hand, which she extended towards him. He took the tea, casting her a grateful look as she sat down next to him. "Is something wrong?" Joyce Summers-Giles asked softly. He studied her, the fall of her curling blond hair around her oval face. Her eyes--eyes that her daughter had inherited, were filled with loving worry. Giles still had trouble believing she had actually consented to be his wife. After Jenny... well, after Jenny, he had thought he would never love anyone that much again. How glad he was that Joyce had proved him wrong. It was just that he hated her having to worry. There was nothing he could do to ease or change that burden. If anything by marrying her, he had only increased it. Now, she not only had Buffy to wonder and worry about but him as well. Still, she bore it better than anyone had a right to, continually amazing him every day. Taking her hand, he gave her a warm smile, "Nothing that a cup of tea and a quiet evening with you can't help, my dear." Joyce smiled in return, a secret smile of understanding, as she squeezed his hand in return. "Liar." *** END CHAPTER FIVE Katie Malone kamalone@usa.net - To unsubscribe to buffyfic2, send an email to "majordomo@xmission.com" with "unsubscribe buffyfic2" in the body of the message. For information on digests or retrieving files and old messages send "help" to the same address. Do not use quotes in your message. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- From: Katie Malone Subject: (buffyfic2) XOVER: Ceremonies of Innocence (06/14) Date: 09 Feb 1999 23:01:17 -0600 Chapter Four, Part 2 It was the boy she had glimpsed before. Only, only his face was contorted into a horrible parody of a human face. The cold sneer she saw there made her blood run cold and the fangs that brushed his upper lip made Angel's earlier words hit home. I'm a vampire... Vampires were real, did indeed exist. It was too much to take in all at once. And now was really not the time to deal with it. Not with every instinct in her body screaming at her to run. Scrambling to her feet, she got not more than two steps before something seized her by the hair and drug her back. 'Note ta self,' she thought weakly, 'cut my hair ASAP--provided I get the chance.' The feel of breath against her neck made her flesh ripple and she couldn't help but cry out. Visions of really bad horror movies danced through her head. She was going to end up as the stupid, helpless sheep who got slaughtered and there didn't seem to be a damned thing she could do about it. The hell there wasn't. She struggled, kicking and lashing out with feet and arms as hard as she could manage. All that earned her was a really smashing blow to the face. Reeling, she felt herself being pulled closer to a body that was unnaturally cold. Then she fell again, the grip on her hair loosened, then lost. She rolled away, scuttling as far into the shadows as she could. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a black clad blur barrel into the vampire. Angel. As the young vampire attempted to sink his fangs into Angel's arm, her would be rescuer snapped his head back with a punch to the creature's face that sent him backward. On a human that move would have killed or seriously injured a person. The young vampire simply shook his head, growling as he swung a blow towards Angel's breadbasket. Angel caught it but failed to see the switchblade the vampire produced from seemingly nowhere. It caught him across the abdomen, causing him to double over. The vampire then kicked him into a wall. There was a sickening thud as he slid to the floor. "Angel," her voice was shrill. 'Oh, please dinna be dead,' she prayed, 'not because of me.' Apparently satisfied that he had vanquished his opponent, the teenage vampire turned his attention back to her. She wanted to retch at the ravenous expression she read in his eyes. She could all but see herself with an apple in her mouth and spread out like some kind of butchered ham. 'Great imagery,' she castigated herself. As he advanced on her, she fell into stance and delivered a blow aimed at his neck--something she sincerely hoped would make him have second thoughts about biting her own. He caught her arm, absorbing the blow as if it were nothing at all. She winced as he cruelly twisted her arm back with one hand, using the other to bare her vulnerable neck. 'I am so dead,' she thought bleakly. A low snarl of rage and pain caught the attention of both vampire and human girl. Angel was slowly rising from the floor, face twisted into an animalistic sneer. Wide-eyed, Cat scarcely noticed the other vampire releasing her, backing away in obvious dread of the dragon he had awakened. All she could do was stare at Angel in a mixture of horror and disbelief. I'm a vampire. More than that--he was a bloody angry vampire, she recognized. So did the other vampire. He was moving cautiously, eyes glued to Angel as he kept backpedaling. Angel stalked him, obviously toying with him as he made a few rapid darts and dodges towards him. He showed no signs of pain though Cat could see the blood continuing to seep through his white shirt. She made sure she was well out of his path though couldn't help but trail him in concern as he backed the other vampire further and further into the shadows of the garage. Suddenly, he launched himself at the teenage vampire with all the grace of a panther. For a second, he almost seemed to hang in mid- air before he caught the other vampire, one hand closing around the hand holding the switchblade. She heard the crack of bones and a howl as Angel wrenched his wrist. There was a clattering. The switchblade, she guessed. Cat watched as Angel reached one hand into the folds of his jacket whilst holding the squirming vampire and producing a long, sharply pointed stick. A stake, she realized, remembering the legends surrounding vampires. And she had a pretty good notion of what he was going to do with it. He didn't disappoint her. The stake rose and struck its target swiftly. A soft moan. Then the vampire in Angel's grasp exploded into dust. Angel stood with his back to her for a long moment, then swayed in obvious weakness. She didn't question the emotion that sent her bounding to catch him from falling. Ducking under his arm, she staggered trying to hold him up. He tried to remove himself from her grasp. Cat held tight, commanding in irritation, "Stop that." He subsided and she helped him lean back into a sitting position against the wall. Then she pulled at his jacket. He caught her hand, causing her to glance up. Much to her relief, the animalistic visage had disappeared, and he was human once more. Correction, he looked human once more--they both knew he was more than that. He stared at her and she flinched at the coldness she read in his dark eyes. Then she squared her shoulders, "Ye're injured and unless ye like bleeding all o'er the floor, ye'd better let me have a look." His jaw tightened, but he didn't say anything. Nor did he release his death-grip on her hand. Instead, his eyes continued to bore into hers. The pain and self-loathing she read there made her feel a wave of sympathy for him. Obviously, he didn't like his current undead state and was uncomfortable about her having witnessed what she just had. "It doesna matter," she said quietly. And it didn't; what did matter was that he had saved her life. "Doesn't it?" There was more bitterness in those two words than in anything she had ever heard. "Not ta me," Cat shook her head. "Then you're a fool." Instead of being offended by that, she actually felt a small smile spread across her face, "Aye, well. 'Tis no' the first time I've been called such and I verra much doubt it will be the last." "This isn't a laughing matter," he snapped. "Of course it's not. But then neither is bleeding ta death," she replied sarcastically, then paused. 'Can vampires bleed to death?,' she wondered. "Um, Angel?" "What?" "I would really appreciated ye letting my arm go. I'm starting ta lose feeling there." She wiggled the fingers of her captured arm at him. Surprise crossed his face. Evidently, a few things had slipped his mind. She sighed in relief as he released her, a sensation of pins and needles creeping up her arm as she massaged life back into it. "Thanks. Now, I am going ta take a look at that cut. One way or another, whether ye like it or not. Should ye feel the urge to grip something, I have a hand here ye can hold. All right?" Cat asked. Angel regarded her silently. "And what if I don't want you to." "It would seem ta me, that there's not much ye can do to stop me at the moment. Being injured and all," the Tomorrow Person retorted, "Dinna be difficult." "I can stop you." She froze at those words, the threat implicit in them. Cat had no problem recognizing the truth in those words. Even weakened as he obviously was, Angel could stop her--probably with a hell of a lot more ease than he had dealt with the other vampire. It was an unsettling thought. Finding her voice, Cat forced a hollow laugh, " 'Twould be a waste, do ye not think? Ye going ta all that trouble ta save me only ta...ta ..." She fumbled for the words. Angel exhaled heavily, his dark head falling back to softly thud against the wall. "You don't give up, do you?" "No. Not on the important things," she replied honestly. There was no reply to that. Hesitantly, she turned back to his injury, one hand hovering over his bloodied shirt uncertainly before slipping a few of the lower buttons undone. She darted her eyes at him nervously. His dark eyes were nearly black as they stared the sputtering light above their heads. 'That's as good a 'go ahead' as I'm likely ta get,' she realized. Lifting the now scarlet dyed cloth gently aside, Cat winced at the depth and the size of the cut. 'This is bad,' she thought, running the tip of her finger around the upper edge of the damaged flesh, feeling the muscles of his abdomen ripple under her touch. "Ye need a doctor," she said at length. "I'm dead," Angel replied derisively, "Don't you think that might be a little suspect?" "Oh," she hadn't thought of that. "Will it heal?" "Eventually," he replied evenly. "Eventually," she repeated. So vampires could heal despite the fact that they were supposed to be little more than animated corpses. Cat filed that fact away from future reference. "Well, in the meantime, we should probably get ye somewhere and bandaged up. Um, where exactly do ye live?" "I can find my own way home," he protested, "It isn't necessary for you to escort me." "Oh, I think it is. Ye can barely stand, much less walk ta wherever it is ye live. Ye could, of course, take a cab," she admitted practically, "But then the blood would be hard ta explain, do ye no' think? So would passing out during the ride--could ye imagine what would happen if the cab driver were ta take yer pulse?" She crossed her arms and leveled a knowing gaze at him. Waiting. His lips thinned in displeasure, but didn't dispute her words. "I can manage." "For God's sake, Angel!," she lost her temper completely. All the fear of this evening came crashing back, fueling her anger, and it was all she could do not to scream in his face. "This is no time for a male ego. Take help when it's offered. Besides, it's not likely I could harm ye, now could I? Not when ye're three times as strong as me." "You'd be surprised," he replied with some irony, but she noticed he was studying her. He closed his eyes with a sigh, "Help me up." "Angel--" She was fully prepared to argue him down. "Or were you planning on carrying me back home?" he cracked his lids. Cat blinked. Oh. Oh, she started, realizing that Angel had just given in. Before he could change his mind, she slid an arm around him and carefully helped him to his feet. He groaned and she felt guilty. He really didn't need to be walking right now. Even if he was a vampire, even if he would heal, it was still going to hurt like hell for him to move around. More than likely, he was going to be very, very sore tomorrow. She could save him that pain. Casting a veiled glance at the wall camera, she considered taking Angel outside, maybe finding somewhere secluded, and teleporting them to his place. It would save him some pain and after so badly misjudging him, Cat was eager to make amends. However, there was one small problem: it wasn't just her secret she would be giving away. It would affect the others as well. As much as she might want to trust Angel, she had no right making this decision without talking it over with them first. And then there was the fact that she would have to explain about Angel. That wasn't something she was sure she wanted to deal with. Or wanted to. She had the distinct feeling that Adam would not be pleased about revealing their secret to a vampire--not with his strong aversion to any kind of violence. And vampires ... well, if vampires, if the legends held true, lived off death. No, Adam would not be pleased--she wasn't sure that she was all that happy with this situation at the moment. Vampires and Tomorrow People--it seemed like a paradox. Like life and death, matter and anti-matter. Still, she felt that she could trust him and not trusting her instincts had gotten her into this mess in the first place. She owed him that much. Owed him more than that--she owed him her life. And she fully intended to start making up that debt as soon as possible. "So, Angel," Cat asked casually, "What sort of digs do vampires have? Anne Rice mansions or horror story crypts?" To her delight, he rewarded her with a painful chuckle and a slight smile. 'There that wasna so hard, now was it?' she thought. 'Not quite as closed off as ye'd like to believe, are ye, Angel?' Her smile faded. 'Maybe 'tis something we both have in common.' 'Don't go there,' she warned herself. It was not something she could share. Not something she felt anyone could understand. Some things were better left dead, she knew, and the past was one of them. Unfortunately, the past had an unamusing way of coming back to haunt you. She should know better than anyone. *** END CHAPTER FOUR Katie Malone kamalone@usa.net - To unsubscribe to buffyfic2, send an email to "majordomo@xmission.com" with "unsubscribe buffyfic2" in the body of the message. For information on digests or retrieving files and old messages send "help" to the same address. Do not use quotes in your message. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- From: Katie Malone Subject: (buffyfic2) XOVER: Ceremonies of Innocence (09/14) Date: 10 Feb 1999 12:29:56 -0600 Chapter Six Angel stared down at the phone he had just hung up. His mind was already playing and replaying his conversation with Giles. 'Who is this person? What exactly have you told her?' He had expected that. It was only natural that Giles would be curious about Cat. It was his job to worry about things like that. What wasn't natural was his own reaction to the questions. He hadn't expected to be so defensive. No, he had been more than just defensive, he had been plain rude. 'Did you even try to convince her that what she saw might have been a trick of light? Or hysteria?' 'Cat's not like other people...' Now why had he said that? Though it was true she wasn't, why was he so reluctant to tell Giles about the young woman and her special abilities? Maybe it was because Angel didn't know enough yet about the young woman and those abilities. While it was true that she might be under the influence of the hellmouth, and Angel was finding that more and more difficult to believe by the moment, it was also possible that she was exactly what she appeared to be. And that was simply a psychic; a strong psychic, but a psychic never the less. Why not? Drusilla had had her gifts long before he found her and embraced her. She had not been living on a hellmouth, but rather her talent had been born and innate. It followed her through life, making her family ostrasize her and making it so much easier to push her in the directions that led to her insanity. Angel pushed back the thoughts of the mad vampire created by his hand and his blood. Those thoughts were dark thoughts that would send him along paths he would rather not travel at that moment. Besides, he had Cat to worry about. He had to find out *what* she was. "Are ye ready ta talk ta me now?" The young woman's voice startled Angel. 'Speak of the devil,' Angel mused, then erased the thought. Devils were something best not spoken of or thought of on a hellmouth. "How long have you been standing there?" he asked. She shrugged. "Not long," she hedged. He narrowed his eyes, trying to determine just how much of the truth she was telling. It did no good trying to read her face--she was purposefully giving him an innocently sweet smile. And her mind--well, all he could pick up was a surface scan really. Just a few fleeting impressions of feeling. She was agitated and trying to hide it. Curious, too. Maybe a little afraid. None of it surprised him very much except for the degree of agitation he was sensing in her. It belied her serene demeanor; she was hiding something and wasn't comfortable about hiding it. Interesting. "Ye said that there were things ye needed ta tell me," she crossed her arms, "For my own protection, ye said." "Are you thirsty?" Angel asked mildly. He felt the flash of impatience and bewilderment that statement engendered. "Can I get you anything?" "Yes." "What?" Angel padded towards the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and peered in it theatrically. A rather silly thing to do since there wasn't much there to look at. "How about some straight answers?" she snapped, "I've a real thirst for that." "Why are you so upset?" Angel leaned against the fridge. "Oh, I dinna know--maybe because I was almost dinner tonight! And I'd like ta know why ye people are following me? What do I have a sign on me that says, 'Eat me! I'm delicious!'?" Angel blanched. Her face showed instant contrition. "I'm sorry," she bit her lip, "That was uncalled for." "No, it was true," Angel replied slowly. "Which part? The sign or the uncalled for?" Angel gave a slight and frustrated shake of his head. This was not going to be easy. She was not going to make this easy. Then again, why should she? She was right. She had been attacked by a vampire and he knew that before today she hadn't even believed that vampires existed. Her entire world had been turned inside out and upside down -- and all because she tried to read his mind in a mall food court. Because he had let her get too close to him. He had known better, only he had ignored his common sense and now they were both paying for it. But it wasn't fair that she was paying the price for his mistake. The karmic wheel turned and once again deposited another fun situation in his lap. Joy. Angel wondered how many more of these moments it would take before he had even begun to balance the scales for the wrong he had done as Angelus. "Cat, let's sit down." She shook her head at once. "No. I dinna like ta sit down. That's when ye get the really bad news." Well, Angel mused, she was certainly right on that count. What he had to tell her might be really bad news -- but it was also the sort of news that might just save her life. If he could get her to listen to him long enough to understand that. "Cat, please." He watched, surprised as some of the fight seemed to go out of her. "Okay, I'll sit. But it doesna mean that I like it." Yes, but sitting was at least a start in the right direction. Angel followed her back to the living area, noticing the tenseness with which she held herself. She was still wary, only now she was trying to hide it under a veil of belligerence. It wasn't working and they both knew it. She flopped down in the easy chair, staring up at him with blatant expectation as he eased down into a sitting position. He winced at the sitch in his side. "How's the cut?" she asked, straightening in obvious concern. "A little tender but I'll heal. That was quick thinking on your part--getting the blood and all," Angel grimaced at the thought of earlier. Not only had she been attacked but she had been subjected to watching him wig out over a bottle of blood. No wonder she was being so rebellious. "Well, take it easy, okay? Ye're not Superman, ye ken," she chastised. He wasn't sure whether to tread carefully or just get everything out on the table at once. With some thought, he decided option one might be the wiser course of action. "You're a psychic," Angel began. "I 'ave a friend that would say, Been there, done that, bought the the t-shirt. Can we get on with it, please?" Angel felt his own ire begin to rise. "All right then. Your powers make you about as invisible as a nuclear reactor to me and my kind. You couldn't broadcast more clearly if you try." Silence. Cat stared at him, then lowered her gaze to watch her fingers trace patterns on the arm of her chair. Angel frowned, but continued, "We live off of blood, yes. But we also live off the emotions from our victims. Psychic as well as physical vampires, if you want to get technical. It gives us a rush, sustains us. That's why vamps like to play with their victims before they feed, to get the blood stirring, to get that emotional outlet charged. Psychics are an even better source of nourishment than most." "So basically I have the life expectancy of a bug?" she said at last, voice small. Angel suddenly felt tired. "Not if you're careful." "Careful?" she echoed. There was a secret pain in those gray eyes that made her seem positively ancient, a knowledge of...something that set her apart. Almost as if she were carrying a burden she could barely mange. It chilled him to see it. He had seen it before. In Buffy. But then the Slayer had good reason for that. It had been worn into her. Every night, her life was on the line, kill or be killed. Always knowing that one night she would walk out of her home and she might not come back. It had been hard enough for Angel to bear that but for Buffy... He marveled at her strength, her courage. And he worried for her because she carried that burden alone and was not inclined to let anyone ease the weight of it for her. Not even him. Not anymore, at least. There had been a time once though, a time that was now dead, killed by Angelus, where that had not been the case. His former self would have been pleased to know that of all the damage Angel ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- From: Katie Malone Subject: (buffyfic2) XOVER: Ceremonies of Innocence (10/14) Date: 10 Feb 1999 12:30:21 -0600 Chapter Six, Part 2 He turned away from her, "Stop it." "Why?" she continued, "If ye're still the man ye were then why will ye no' do it? I'm offering ye my life and if what ye have told me is true, I doubt that yer old self would turn it down." "You're not wrong," he replied. No, Angelus would have reveled in this girl's self-destructive tendencies, would have played with her, and possibly, because of her powers, turned her. "So do it," she touched his shoulders, "I'm willing--hell, I do owe ye my life and what better way ta repay my debt?" "You like playing with fire, don't you?" "Maybe more than ye think," she replied cryptically, "Well?" "Well, what?" "Are ye going ta do it or not? Could ye please hurry and make up yer mind? My neck is really starting ta get a crick in it," Cat replied tartly. "No, thanks. I already ate," Angel replied sarcastically. He felt a surge of anger wash over him. Didn't this girl understand how dangerous a game she was playing? It was all he could do to clamp hold of the hunger rising in him. The fight and his wound had drained him more than he had anticipated. And here was this young, fresh woman offering her throat and the rich, copper river that ran beneath it.... "I take it that's a no?" she asked coyly. Taking her firmly by the upper arm, Angel ignored her sharp intake of pain and surprise. He tugged her towards the door, his patience worn at last. "That's it. Get. Out." Cat shook free; rather Cat attempted to shake her arm free, but his grip held firmly. "No, we're no done yet." "Yes, Cat. We are." "Angel," her voice held a warning in it, "Let me go right now." "It's time for all good little girls to be in bed. Oh and you, too," he added as an afterthought. "Let me go," she began pelting him with her free arm. "Angel, so help me...." "You'll what?" he smirked. He had both the advantage of speed and strength; they both knew it. Angel had to admit he was interested to hear just what she thought she could do to him. Her nostrils flared. "Ye may be stronger than me, Angel, but ye're not the only one who can bite." His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "You wouldn't." "Sure o' that, are ye?" she smiled coolly at him, a predatory flash of teeth. "You little vixen," he whispered. Angel wasn't sure whether to be amused or vexed. After all, how often did he have to worry about someone biting him? The last time had been over two hundred and forty odd years ago. Of course, he had still been human then. Unaware of the twists and turns his life was going to take as he glimsped the sight of a beautifully dressed stranger in a Galway alley. People who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones. Why that age old saying should suddenly occur to him, Angel didn't know. What he did know was that this girl was playing with fire, and that in the end fire always burned. She may have thought that she was holding her own with him -- her wisecracks and her calm facade, but the truth was she had no idea how close to a very dangerous edge that she walked. Just because he felt remorse didn't mean he wasn't dangerous. He was incredibly dangerous, and all the more so because he knew there was forever the possibility that he might lose his soul again. How had Willow so elegantly put it? "Well, we just have to be sure that you aren't happy. I mean, that you aren't happy happy, like romantic happy, like it's a drug. Happy's a drug and you have to quit cold turkey." Well, it was elegant for Willow at any rate. "I guess I win," Cat smiled smugly, her words interrupting his musings. "This isn't a game where you win or lose--" "Why don't ye just let it go, Angel? I'm no' yer enemy--" In one swift fluid motion, he shifted his facial features and swept her up, backing her against the wall. His words were a low, feral growl, "But I could be yours. Anytime. Anywhere. Don't get cocky." She stared back at him, unblinking, unwavering. But he could feel her heart rate pick up, the change in her scent at his action. "So we're back ta this, are we?" she asked flatly. "Back to what?" "Back ta ye trying ta frighten me because ye're so utterly wretched and depraved. I'm not impressed, Angel. We both know ye're not going ta bite me so I'd appreciate ye letting my feet touch the floor again," she could have been carved out of stone for all the reaction he was getting out of her. She was good at hiding how she felt, he would give her that, the best he'd seen in a while but she couldn't disguise the tension in her muscles or the taste of fear in her scent. "Don't be so sure," Angel snarled. A strange light entered those gray orbs and he felt her go slack in his grasp. "Then do it and be done with it, Angel," she said. Consternation flashed through him. He drew back a bit, "You must have a death wish." "Ye know, it's funny but I think I do," she shrugged carelessly or rather tried to, "Some things never change, I guess ." "What are you talking about?" Angel asked warily. "I'm sorry, am I distracting ye?" she feigned chagrin at that, "Ye were about ta kill me, remember? Not having second thoughts, are we?" "This isn't funny," he said angrily. "No, it isna," she was finally serious, voice cold. The sudden transformation startled him. "Ye're a killer, Angel. I got that. But ye're not a cold-blooded one. And ye're certainly not the same person who killed that gypsy girl. If ye're so loathesome, if life is so wretched then why do ye no' just spare yerself the agony and end it all?" "You have no idea--" "What I'm talking about? Aye, ye've said that several times. Well, surprise, Angel--I do know what it's like ta hate yerself and I know what it's like ta have a past yer no proud of," she suddenly reached out and jerked him forward until their faces were just centimeters apart. Angel found himself transfixed by the sudden fires burning in those gray eyes. "Ye think ye're dangerous, Angel? Ye think ye have self-destructive tendencies. Ye have no idea." "I'm twenty years old and I've lived enough ta fill up several of yer lifetimes with regret," she continued in an intense voice, "Or so I thought. Of course, one's perspective changes a wee bit when ye've actually put the knife to yer wrists and done the deed. Something ye wouldna know about--ye dinna have the stones or the real inclination. Ye've just fooled yerself inta thinking ye have." There was a moment of silence as realization began to set it. Angel found his hold on her loosening as he stared at her, at the pain etched in her face. The anger he had sensed in her was draining to be replaced by a desolateness that struck him to feel. Tears were welling in her eyes and he stepped back from her, feeling his face morph back. Cat, meanwhile was sliding to the floor, miserably hiding her face behind a curtain of blood red hair. Angel hovered over her, unsure of what to do or how to respond. His mind was still reeling from what she had just revealed to him...and that she had revealed it at all. The idea of the self-prepossing girl ever trying to kill herself was impossible to imagine, much less believe. Yet there was something about it that rang true. It explained all the uncertainty and doubt that he thought he had sensed below the surface. That haunted expression he had caught earlier and sorrow that seemed so at odds with her almost blatant self-confidence. Kneeling down beside her, he queried, "Cat? Are you--you all right?" There was a muffled sound. Angel couldn't decide if it was a laugh or a sob. "All right? I am so far from being all right, Angel, that I don't even know what it is anymore." He couldn't remember the last time he had felt this, well, this helpless. Reaching out one hand, he brushed some of that unruly hair out her face. She scooted out of his reach, muttering, "I shouldna be doing this--hell, I shouldna even be here. I'm sorry ta bother ye, Angel." "Cat." She got to her feet, keeping distance between them and firmly not looking at him, "I have ta go. I--" "Cat," he caught her upper arms. Though it might be the best thing in the world for her to leave, Angel found he just couldn't let her leave like this. He wasn't heartless enough to ignore the obvious pain she was in. Maybe if he had been, none of this would be happening in the first place. "Stay." She did look at him then, her gray eyes watery and huge, "Ye told me ta leave, remember?" she tried to sound tart but it fell short to his ears. "And now, I'm telling you to stay." "Angel, so far this evening, ye've ordered me ta leave ye alone, no' ta look at ye while ye feed, ta go, ta stay, ta go again, and now ta stay. Will ye please make up yer bloody mind? I'm starting ta know how a dog feels." "Sit," he began, pushing her towards one of the chairs, ignoring the bite to her tone. She rolled her eyes at him in soggy exasperation, "Woof!" "Nice to see you haven't lost your sense of humor," Angel replied, "Now, I am not going to let you go running off into the night so I would appreciate it if you would...please...sit down." She fell back into the seat he had cornered her in front of. Angel had to admit some degree of surprise and suspicion at that concession. It must have shown on his face for she protested, "I'm no' always difficult, Angel." No, only about ninety-nine percent of the time, I'm willing to bet. But Angel didn't give voice to that thought. She would seize upon it, he knew, as a way to deflect the questions she obviously knew were coming. He would have, in her place. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked instead. "No," she shook her head emphatically, "I dinna want ta talk about it. But...but I think I *need* ta." *** TO BE CONTINUED Katie Malone kamalone@usa.net - To unsubscribe to buffyfic2, send an email to "majordomo@xmission.com" with "unsubscribe buffyfic2" in the body of the message. For information on digests or retrieving files and old messages send "help" to the same address. Do not use quotes in your message. could not right, this was the one that hurt the most. Hurt both of them. In a perverse way, he supposed, it was Angelus' final triumph, his legacy to Angel. It was, partly, why he had left Sunnydale. Seeing that haunted look grow year by year and knowing that he was part of the reason for it had been unbearable. Unbearable because they had crossed a line in which he could no longer help her assuage that pain. Knowing that as much as she loved him, trusted him, there would always be a part of her that was closed to him. He had journey thousands of miles only to find it again--this time in the face of the young Scottish woman across from him. It was completely unexpected. Unnerving. "I'm sorry," Angel managed. He looked away, staring at his hands and cursing himself as a coward for doing so. "Why?" she asked quietly, "It isn't yer fault. I owe ye my life." "But I am like them," he replied bitterly. "No," she said sharply, "Ye're nothing like them!" "How would you know?" he retorted, "You know nothing about me or what I've done." Cat slid out of her chair to the floor, catching his hand, "I know that you're good. Kind." "Good? Kind?" he laughed. She flinched at the mocking sound in it. "This isn't some fairy tale. I'm not the woodsman come to save you from the Big Bad Wolf--I'm one of the wolves." "No," she shook her head stubbornly, "I ken how ye feel ta me-- ye're different, Angel. I didna feel any sense of remorse or guilt from the other one." "That's because I'm cursed." He hadn't intended to tell her that but it was clear he needed to adjust some of her perceptions before they got her killed. He couldn't let her walk around believing that some vampires were good and others weren't. As far as he knew, he was the exception, not the rule. And sometimes, he wasn't even sure how much of an exception he was. Her forehead creased in confusion. "Cursed?" "I was in Romania, almost a hundred years ago. Travelling through the countryside, killing whoever I could find," he kept his tone conversational, almost light-hearted, "Came about an encampment of gypsy and decided to have a little fun. Played up being a lost, wearily traveller to the hilt and got taken in for the night. I repaid their generosity by killing the daughter of the camp's leader. Pretty girl, very sweet and docile, though a little simple-minded. It was very easy to lure her to the edge of the encampment and suck her dry." Cat stared at him in unmitigated horror. Angel felt it like a blow and wanted to hide but instead forced himself to look her squarely in the eye and continue. He had to make her understand. "Unfortunately, or should I say fortunately for me? she was the favorite of her clan. I ran as fast as I could but their curse still found me." "What sort o' curse?" "They restored my soul," he replied flatly, "And nothing else they could have done to me would have caused as much pain as this has. I remember clearly the faces of each and every person I ever betrayed, tortured, and killed." "And ye care," Cat whispered. There was pity in her voice now. "I care." He agreed. "Angel," she reached for him in obvious sympathy. He pushed her away, gliding to his feet and backing away from her. "I'm dangerous, Cat. More dangerous than anything you'll ever meet. You should stay away from me." "No, Angel," she said firmly, getting to her feet, "I'm not afraid o' ye. Ye're good--I can feel that--" He took her roughly by the arms, drawing her forward. She pulled back at his sudden nearness but he held tight. "I killed my own family, Cat," he whispered intensely, "I tortured the last set of people who called me 'friend' and I killed one of them. What makes you think I won't do the same with you?" "Because ye're trying to warn me off, " she lifted her chin in defiance, "Are ye really afraid for me, Angel? Or it is that ye're are afraid of me?" "What are you talking about?" "I think ye're afraid because I'm getting too close ta yer little secret and I'm not running screaming in terror. Well, I'm sorry ta throw off yer little pity party but I'm not going anywhere." "Haven't you heard a word I've said?" Angel glowered at her. "Aye, I have," Cat scowled just as darkly back at him, "Ye're an evil wretched person. Ye've done things in the past that yer ashamed of. And ye want me ta hate ye for that. Is that it?" Angel pushed her away from him in annoyance. "You understand nothing." "Oh, I think I do. If I understand ye correctly, ye lost yer soul when ye became a vampire? Which would imply that vampires dinna have souls? Is that right?" "Yes." She nodded at that, "Then I dinna why I should hate ye. It wasna ye who committed all those...terrible acts. It was someone else. Someone who ye used ta be." Was it his imagination or did a shadow cross her face with that last statement? A sorrowing flash of understanding, as if she knew exactly what she was saying. As if she had first hand experience with it. How could someone her age have any idea what she was talking about, he denied it. Or tried to even as he remembered Buffy. But Cat was not the Slayer. Nor was she a vampire cursed with a soul. He wasn't exactly sure who or what she was. And he wasn't exactly sure why he was putting up with this the way he was. Since the whole Sunnydale fiasco, he had avoided getting close to people, had pushed all closeness away. Until now. And he couldn't figure out why now, with this person, was different. Something Whistler had once 'casually' observed a few weeks previously came back to him. 'You ever think that sometimes certain people are meant to meet? That maybe Fate throws people into our lives at the right place and the right time for a reason. I mean, take the Slayer for instance. Ever stop to wonder what her life would have been like if she hadn't met up with Willow or Xander or even, my tormented friend, you." 'A lot happier, I imagine," he had said in response to the last. Whistler had merely shaken his head, replying, 'Certain people touch us, they change us. Help us see beyond ourselves. You gave Buffy strength, confidence, and more importantly, you gave her your friendship and love.' 'That's nothing compared to the terror and heartbreak I put her through.' 'That's where you're wrong, my dour amigo. It was everything because you gave it to her. Because it changed the both of you. You have to watch out for those people, Angel. The ones who help your journey along.' 'What journey?' 'Of becoming.' Becoming. At the time, he had discounted the whole conversation as nothing more than Whistler's cryptic ramblings. But now... Now he began to wonder just how much the demon/man actually knew--about him, his future. Had that whole conversation been a roundabout way of telling him that someone new would be coming into his life? Someone who he would have an impact on and vice versa? The more he thought about it, the more his head began to ache. One day, he promised, one day I am going to have a long talk with Whistler and get a straight answer out of him. 'Never happen,' a small voice in his mind whispered. "Someone I used to be?" He echoed, "Cat, you're trying to simplify something that isn't simple at all." "Isn't it?" Those gray eyes nailed him with their directness. "No." Angel studied her warily as she approached him once more. The jacket on her shoulders slid to the floor and she bared her neck. "Then kill me. I'll be willing ta bet that my blood's a good deal richer than the bottled stuff. Maybe it will even help ye heal faster." TO BE CONTINUED Katie Malone kamalone@usa.net - To unsubscribe to buffyfic2, send an email to "majordomo@xmission.com" with "unsubscribe buffyfic2" in the body of the message. For information on digests or retrieving files and old messages send "help" to the same address. Do not use quotes in your message. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- From: Katie Malone Subject: (buffyfic2) XOVER: Ceremonies of Innocence (11/14) Date: 10 Feb 1999 12:30:46 -0600 Chapter Six, part 3 *** Cat leaned back into the chair stiffly, heart racing for reasons that had nothing to do with fear of Angel. No, while Angel had tried to frighten her, the threat he presented was physical harm but the fear her mind was supplying her with was emotional. Rationally, she tried to tell herself that if anyone would judge her, it wasn't likely that Angel of all people would. Yeah, she could tell herself that all she wanted. It didn't make a difference to the irrational, near hysterical portion of her that was shouting at her to shut up and get out, that she had said too much already. Opening up only gets you hurt--it was a lesson that she had learned a long time ago and one that was only in the several months beginning to lessen. But the process was a slow one and she couldn't help but revert back to old habits. But, she needed to talk. She had said as much to Angel, and in her heart of hearts she felt the truth of those words. In her life, in her world there really was no one that she could talk to. The others were wonderful, and she considered herself blessed to have them in her life; but there were things that they simply could not, would not understand. Darkness didn't seem to be part of their lives. Despair and hopelessness were only words in a dictionary to them. With the exception of Adam, she didn't think that the others could ever comprehend the self-loathing and spirals of disgust that had affected her life. And even Adam, as closed off as he was about his past, shone like a beacon and piller of brightness. The world had never crushed them, never loosed itself on them as it had her. Angel knew darkness, he knew despair. He lived with it every single day of his life -- unlife -- existence. He would understand, and he would not judge. And most importantly, if she said the wrong thing, if there was the possibility of shocking or disgusting him, she never had to see him again. His was not a friendship that she needed and clung to desperately. Cat could walk out of Angel's life and never look back; never care. For some reason, that thought only made her more miserable. "Cat?" There was a gentleness to Angel's voice that was unexpected. Looking into his eyes, she saw the same mirrored there and she sighed helplessly. Once she went forward there was no going back, but she was certain that not a woman alive had ever said no to those eyes. 'And who am I ta break with tradition,' she thought with a sense of bleak humor. "I dinna know where ta begin," she said at last. "Wherever it hurts the least." That earned him a bitter laugh, "That's tough. Maybe the hardest thing of all--trying ta find a spot that doesna hurt. It would be easier if I didna care but..." she trailed off, shrugging. "I know the feeling." Their eyes met and Cat had that feeling of connection to him once more. She forced herself to glance away. "I was in a car accident when I was eleven," she began softly, "Got banged up pretty badly but I survived. My mother...well, she wasna that lucky." Oh, God. Why was it even now her mind could take her back with such agonizing clarity to that day? If he had asked, she could have told him what the weather was like, the hour they had left, how it felt when their car had skidded off that slippery road and straight into that rock face. She could still hear the shrill wail of crushing metal, her mother's screams ringing in her ears, and the jolting disorientation of that first teleportation. Cat had read that often victims of accidents could only recall the events in bits and flashes. She only wished she had been that lucky. "Mother died and father," she paused, staring fiercely at her feet as if she could dam all the feelings roiling inside her, "and father could not forget. Or forgive." A sharp intake of breath. "He blamed you?" Angel asked slowly. "Who better? I lived and she died. There was nothing that could be done ta change that but he could make me wish it had been me rather than her every day for the rest o' my life. And that's exactly what he did." "I started playing my suicide games just months after coming home from the hospital. I remember being scared ta death the first time I ever put a knife ta one of my wrists. Really frightened but it got easier with each passing day." Cat pushed up her sleeves to show him the chunky, multi-stoned scarab bracelet on her right wrist. "I've worn this since around that time, it was my way of hiding what I was doing. I didna have the courage or the desperation then ta slash my self deeply. All I was doing was giving myself surface wounds--always pulling back and stopping myself before I went too far. All in all, it was rather pathetic." "So what changed things?" Angel's face was damnably blank. It made her uneasy not to be able to read him, to gauge his reactions--that was how she had gotten by so long. She had learned to read other people and adapted herself accordingly, always one step ahead. Not this time. A rueful smile twisted her mouth, "My uncle Connor. He came and swept me back ta New York with him for nearly a year. He saved me. And he damned me." "He loved me, ye see. I sometimes think if I hadna known that love, if I had just slowly forgotten what it was like ta have someone care and look out for me the way he did. If I had forgotten what a family was supposed ta be like then maybe things wouldna have turned out as they did." "Do you hate him for that?" She shook her head, "I canna hate Conner and believe me, I tried. I was a little hellion back then and I tried every way I could devise ta make him angry in the hopes that he would stop caring about me. Because I didna deserve it. 'Twas my fault that my mother was dead. I had learned my lesson well, had it worn inta me." "But Conner, he's verra stubborn. Probably the most stubborn man I've ever met. I pushed and he pushed back. He didna give up, not once. He made me love him for trying, for caring enough ta try and save me. I started ta trust again, ta open up. And then Father came ta New York; he wanted me back with him. Where I belonged," her mouth grimaced at that. "I remember begging and pleading with Conner not ta let him take me," Cat sighed at the memory, "And I dinna think I remember ever seeing Conner so helpless before or since. I wasna verra kind ta him, I'm afraid. There was nothing he could do; my father had legal rights ta me and if he wanted me, then he could damn well have me. But then....then all I could see was the betrayal." Cat closed her eyes at the memories of Conner's entreaties and her own bitter words. 'I hate ye. I hope ye die. I hope I ne'er see ye again.' Angry words, the words of a lost child but still cutting words. They had never spoken of that night when those viperative words had been exchanged but Cat was fairly certain Conner remembered them. She would never be able to assuage her own guilt at hurting him thusly, guilt that didn't even begin until she was over the Atlantic again, sobbing her heart out for her uncle and fearing that she had caused him him to hate her. "I love Conner," she said quietly, "He's more dear ta me than any flesh and blood father could be but sometimes...sometimes I'm so angry at him still. For so many reasons. For caring, for not being able ta save me--" "For making you realize what you were missing?" Angel interjected. She glanced at him sharply then nodded. "Yes. Maybe for that most of all." "When we returned ta Scotland--I think that I thought perhaps things would change. I wanted so badly for things ta be different between us. I would have given him the world for just one kind word, just one. But it never came. The hope that he actually wanted me died within a week of our return. He didna want me, not really. He wanted me for appearances, he wanted me ta be his good, obediant little daughter. And so I did the only thing in my power I could do: I rebelled." "If he wanted a proper daughter then I would be the worst, most useless creature on the face of the planet. I would ruin my life ta get even with him though at the time I didna see it as such. And that's exactly what I set out ta do. I let my grades go, cut school, and when I was there, I began hanging with the sort of people I knew he couldn't stand. People I had no business being with," she admitted regretfully, "only I was too blinded ta see it." Angel was studying her detatchedly; she was grateful for that. Now that she was actually talking, the words were coming out in a gush. However, she had the feeling that one wrong look from him would probably shut her up and she would never get through this. And she did want to get through this, much more than she had ever realized. It was painful, it was like tearing open a barely scabbed wound but it was the most agonizingly dear sense of freedom she had ever experienced. "The suicide games started up again. I was still only inflicting superficial wounds on myself. Mostly because I was angry and damned if I was going ta roll over and die for my father's satisfaction." "Those were terrible days. My new 'friends' had gotten me started on drinking and parties. I'd come in at 4 a.m. if I came in at all, usually completely sloshed and there would be Dad, ready for a knockdown fight about my behavior," she ran a hand over her cheek self-consciously in memory, "Sometimes quite literally. The tension was so bad in the house that I didna always come home. Once I slept in a Edinburgh alley way just ta avoid him. Really stupid things like that." "Things had been boiling ta a head for a long while when the final straw fell. It was at one of those parties I used ta like so well. A bunch of us all sitting around in a condemned house, getting sloshed on alcohol when someone brought out a stash of acid." She buried her face in her hands, feeling herself transported back to that dingy room. Hearing slurred voices and seeing the cigarette, sometimes marijuana smoke floating above her head. Now, her out of control behavior gave her a rush of shame but things had been different then. She had been different. It was why she was able to differentiate between Angel before and after the gypsy curse. Because she understood quite intimately what it meant to be someone else. "I had never tried anything harder than alcohol before. Always turned drugs down when they were offered before but that day I'd an exceptionally nasty argument with my father. My grades were on the skids and my teachers had started making a few phone calls. We argued, he slapped me, and I left the house in a rage. All I wanted was an escape, from him, from myself, from life. So," she swallowed, "so I took the acid when it was passed around. My first and only experience with drugs." "I dinna remember much about the rest of the night except a sort of fuzzy feeling. But I do remember the next morning when I woke up next ta one the guys from the party," Her voice caught though she tried to make it sound light, "My first time and I dinna even remember it." Cat happened to glance at Angel as she said those words. The vampire actually paled, if a vampire could do such a thing, and cringed in his seat. She felt his reaction as if he had acutally slapped her. Her neck tingled as she felt the blood rush to her face in humiliation. 'What the hell am I doing telling him this?' she thought furiously. 'God only knows what he must be thinking of me.' "Cat?" Angel queried, interrupting her bleak musings. He seemed concerned though it was probably just a good face for her benefit. Underneath, he was probably recoiling in disgust at what she had told him. "Ye probably are thinking that I'm quite the little slut," she said without rancor. All the hurt his reaction had caused, she squelched. 'Did ye really expect him ta understand? Vampire or no', he's still a person and people canna help but judge. It's why ye never even talked with Conner about this--because for all that he's an Immortal, for all that he's lived for over five hundred years, there are still some things that even he couldn't understand. Or abide with.' He thought so well of her, cared about her as if she were his own child. If he knew what she was telling Angel, it would wound him deeply. Angel was...well, she wasn't sure how to classify him yet--friend, passing aquaintance, complete stranger? Maybe intimate stranger? 'That sounds like some cheesy potboiler romance novel,' she rolled her eyes. 'I am so sick of labels.' "And I canna say that I blame ye much, Angel. It was wrong of me ta burden ye with this and I apologize." "Catriona," Angel replied quite firmly, "I am thinking nothing of the kind." "Oh really?" She asked skeptically, "And what was that look of yers about a minute ago?" TO BE CONTINUED Katie Malone kamalone@usa.net - To unsubscribe to buffyfic2, send an email to "majordomo@xmission.com" with "unsubscribe buffyfic2" in the body of the message. For information on digests or retrieving files and old messages send "help" to the same address. Do not use quotes in your message. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- From: Katie Malone Subject: (buffyfic2) XOVER: Ceremonies of Innocence (14/14) Date: 12 Feb 1999 23:39:15 -0600 There is no part 14. I can't count. So, just a reminder here ... I didn't write this story. The author is Caroline Fales. This story was posted with her explicit permission and I know she would welcome any comments, suggestions, criticism, etc. at gsi16228@gsaix2.cc.gasou.edu END Katie Malone kamalone@usa.net - To unsubscribe to buffyfic2, send an email to "majordomo@xmission.com" with "unsubscribe buffyfic2" in the body of the message. For information on digests or retrieving files and old messages send "help" to the same address. Do not use quotes in your message. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- From: Katie Malone Subject: (buffyfic2) XOVER: Ceremonies of Innocence (13/14) Date: 12 Feb 1999 23:36:52 -0600 Epilogue Three nights later. Cat tugged at a lock of hair as she poured over the page before her then glanced ruefully at her reflection in the window. It was strange to see her once long hair now barely grazing her shoulders. A restless urge had caused her to have it cut and the color darkened to a deep Egyptian red. In all honesty, she wasn't sure that she liked it; it was certainly different. And different was what she had been hoping for--after all, she felt different, why shouldn't she look it? She had to admit that she had been viewing the world through new eyes since meeting Angel. Just walking down the street had taken on a new meaning. Before she had been more concerned about being trailed by government thugs or mad scientists or possibly even Immortals and now she spent her nights watching for vampires! She looked back down at her book with a rueful shake of her head, not just vampires but anything that fell under the dominion of the supernatural. This particular tome she had uncovered whilst unpacking a crate of books for the antiques store. To say the least, Conner had been a little surprised by her sudden, rather forceful aquisition of the volume. He had teasingly asked her if she was planning to become some kind of 'ghostbuster.' Cat rolled her eyes at that. Honestly, her uncle might be over five hundred but there were times he was even more immature than she was. Then again, she reflected, if you made it to five hundred, you were more than entitled to a bizarre sense of humor. A shadow fell across the table. She raised her head. Angel. "Isn't that a little heavy reading for a coffeehouse?" he asked casually. As usual, he was completely gorgeous even in just a t- shirt and leathers. Cat tried not to snicker as the eyes of nearly every woman in the room alighted on him and threw visual daggers in her direction. She shrugged, "Consider the company." He smiled at that. Cat noticed that even when Angel smiled, it was melancholy. She wished there was something she could do to change that, but she was glad that he was at least making the effort. Sliding down in the seat across from, he studied her, observing, "You changed your hair." Feeling suddenly self-conscious, she absently tugged at her hair again then glared at her hand in disgust, "It seemed like a good idea at the time," she sighed, "I dinna ken. Lately, I've just felt like a change was in order." He nodded. "I like it. Really." Cat chuckled, "Thank ye for trying ta be a gentleman, Angel. I'm just glad that the dye is only a temporary wash. I'm already regretting it and...is this not the most inane conversation we could be having?" "Inane is good," Angel said, with a twinkle in his eye, "Inane is unexplosive. Quiet. I'll take inane over danger any night of the week." "Ye're the only person I ken ta ever get excited over an 'inane' conversation, " she managed to keep a straight face, "How do ye do it?" "Practice." "Angel!" she exclaimed in mock-surprise, "Ye made a joke. Do ye need ta lie down or something? Are ye feeling all right?" He tried to give her a stern glare but failed. So instead, he picked up her book gingerly, then cocked an eyebrow at her, "'An Interpretation of the Supernatural and Maleficium'?" "Research," she replied helpfully. "Cat, you know that not all of these books are reliable let alone even occasionally on target?" "Gee, really?" Angel sighed. Taking pity on him, Cat reached over and patted his hand, "Angel, I'm not naive. Nor am I an idiot. I ken ta take everything I read with a grain of salt. Besides, that's why I have ye here: ta help me interpret and wade through this rot." "So basically I'm a textbook with arms?" he asked, sarcasm evident. "Well, I dinna like ta think of ye in those terms exactly but..," she teased. "Oh, thank you," Came the reply but for all his sarcasm, that twinkle hadn't diminished. If anything, it had grown over the last few minutes. It gave her a warm feeling that made her want to grin and jump up and down. Instead, she took a sip of her coffee. Then glanced back at Angel in embarrassment. "I'm being rude," she replied in chagrin, "It isna polite for ye ta sit and watch me scarf down food when ye canna have any yerself." "That's not exactly true," he admitted, "I can take liquid sustanance without any trouble. I don't really like eating but I can, if I have to." "Really? I wouldna have thought ye could have managed anything besides--," her voice lowered, "Well, ye ken." Angel shrugged, "I don't get anything from it other than the taste but I can eat and drink. Though less on the eating side--I'm on a strict liquid diet these days." Before she could even form her next question, a female voice rang in her head, /Cat?/ /Yes, Jade?/ Cat tried to keep her face normal and the irritation out of her thought query as she focused on the other Tomorrow Person. /I finished the book you loaned me. I'm bringing it by right now./ Jade thought at her, oblivious. /Jade!/ Cat knew it was too late to stop the other girl even as the thought rang in her head. She slapped her forehead in irritation. 'Great,; she moaned silently, Jade meeting Angel? This promises ta be one of the highlights of the evening. Especially after Jade's inital reaction to him. Mooning over him then fleeing in terror. Great first impression. The door to the coffeehouse swung open with Jade blithely strolling in. She spotted Cat right away, heading straight over to their table. Obviously, the blond girl hadn't seen Angel yet for there was no sign of a faltering step or any distress. No, that was coming though. 'Oh, please not another scene,' Cat prayed. "There you are," Jade began before she had even fully reached the table. "I tried your place but Conner said you were--" At that point the blond girl turned her head towards the other person at the table. Then paled. Cat pitied her; she probably had been expecting Adam or Megabyte. "Um, Cat?" Jade did not look like a happy Tomorrow Person. In fact, she looked like she had swallowed several piece of silverware. A glance toward Angel revealed that he was equally uncomfortable. 'Defuse this,' Cat thought, 'defuse this situation fast.' As brightly as she could managed, Cat said, "Jade, ye are so very the person I wanted ta see right now." Reaching out, she caught the younger girl's hand and dragged her forward, "This is Angel, Jade. He's friend." "Really?" Jade blurted out. Cat wanted to wince. "Really," it was Angel who answered. "Why don't you sit down? Any friend of Cat's..." Jade glanced between the two of them then gave Angel a shy, tentative smile before she proceed to slide down next to Cat and appropriate the conversation. Watching them, Cat had the feeling that things were going to work out just fine. For now. But then she would just have to cross that bridge when she came to it. Right now, all she wanted to do was sit back and enjoy the company. After all, who knew what tomorrow would bring? *** end Katie Malone kamalone@usa.net - To unsubscribe to buffyfic2, send an email to "majordomo@xmission.com" with "unsubscribe buffyfic2" in the body of the message. For information on digests or retrieving files and old messages send "help" to the same address. Do not use quotes in your message. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- From: Katie Malone Subject: (buffyfic2) XOVER: Ceremonies of Innocence (12/14) Date: 12 Feb 1999 23:36:00 -0600 Chapter Six, Part 4 His face fell and he glanced away. "It's not you. I was just ... thinking." "Remembering," she corrected him gently, really recognizing for the first time the abstract expression in his dark eyes. Because of all the Immortals in her life, it was a look that she was well aquainted with. "Yes," he agreed. It was clear that whatever he was remembering was not a happy memory. His eyes became hooded, "You're not the only one to have a bad experience in the intimacy department." Her curiousity piqued at that. "What happened?" Angel waved her off. "Another time," he replied. She blinked at the assumption that there would be another time, "Finish your story." "I dinna even know why I'm telling ye this--it's no' like ye even like me," she sighed. "I like you, Cat," he said quietly. She glanced at him sharply in disbelief. He met her gaze with a steady one of his own. He was being truthful, even without lowering her shields to scan him, Cat could feel that he was being honest when he said that. A strange surge of elation rushed through her. "I like ye too, Angel," she felt shy all of the sudden. Cat saw the disbelief that had probably been written on her face moments earlier suddenly mirrored on his. He looked vaguely uncomfortable. There was a moment of awkward silence. "Well, this is strange," she ventured, "One minute we're fighting and me pouring my heart out ta ye, then we're part of a mutual admiration society and canna get a word out." Angel chuckled, then winced clutching his wounded side. "Bad?" she asked sympathetically. "I'll live," his mouth twisted, "Sort of." "Are ye sure that ye're up ta listening ta me ramble? We can always do this later," she replied a little too eagerly. "Cat," he reproved. She sighed again, this time in resignation."So where was I?" "Your forgettable first time?" he answered gently. "Ah, yes," she let her head hit the back of the chair rest, "There wasna much I could do at the time but get up and out of there as fast as I could. I ran home. Thank God, my father wasna there--I honestly think if he had been there waiting on me that morning, I might have done something completely rash. As it was, I went up stairs and locked myself in the bathroom. I don't think I've ever cried so much at one time in my life as I did then--not even when my mother died. I lost something of myself that could never be replaced or repaired, no matter what I did." She pulled her knees up, wrapping her arms around them and letting her chin rest. 'Please,' she prayed, 'just let me get through this next bit without falling ta pieces.' "For awhile I tried ta pretend that it didna happen. That didna work very well as ye might expect," she said wryly or tried to at any rate. Unfortunately, her voice wavered far too much for comfort, "but it became near impossible when I started getting sick a month later." "Sick?" He echoed. The knowing glint in his dark eyes told her that he had an idea of just what she meant by 'sick' though he seemed to be waiting for her to elaborate. 'Damn, is he really going ta make me say it?' she thought irritably. The air of silent expectation surrounding him told her the answer to that. "Pregnant," she bit off, "I was bloody pregnant! Satisfied?" Angel ignored that last question. "What did your father say?" She laughed bitterly. Angel flinched at that harsh sound. "What didna he say? I believe that 'whore' was the kindest word he had for me. He wasna quite what ye would call understanding about the whole business." "In fact, he wanted me ta have an abortion. Didna want ta have ta go through the shame of being the grandfather ta a bastard." "So did you?" "No," she shook her head emphatically, "I told him that it wasna his child, it was mine and if I wanted ta keep it I damn well would. He threatened ta throw me out of the house but I turned the tables on him by reminding him how 'shameful' it would be ta throw his pregnant daughter out on the streets ta fend for herself." Angel studied her, "I'm going to ask you something and I want you to be honest about it." "What?" she asked warily. "Did you decide to keep the baby because you really wanted it?" he hesitated, "Or was it just because you wanted to spite your father?" Cat expected to find herself angry at that question and was surprised when she wasn't. "Both," she answered honestly. It wasn't something she was proud to admit, "I could claim ta have done it only because I wanted the child, which I did, but it wouldna be the whole truth. I did it ta spite him as well. A small measure of payback for all the hell he had put me through." Tears rising fast now, she asked in a small voice, "That's terrible, is it no'? I'm horrible." "No," Angel leaned forward, catching her hand, "It sounds human." She was grateful and almost desperate for the understanding he was giving her. Clutching his hand tightly, she continued the words coming faster now, "I stopped drinking as soon as I realized that I was pregnant, stopped partying. I even began paying attention again in school. I realized that for the first time in my life I actually had something that was wholly mine and no one else's. And I was determined not ta screw that up." She fell silent, head bowed. Angel let his thumb caress the back of her hand, feeling in waves the sorrow emanating from her, the utter despair that had been lessened with time but never completely vanquished. "What happened?" "I got a stomach ache one day and didna think much of it. I thought it might have been from stuffing myself on ice cream and french fries the night before. Anyway, I went ta school, hoping it would ease off as the day went on. Well, it didna. I got halfway through the day when I started having abdominal pains. Really ripping pains. And I--I started bleeding--" Drops of wetness rained against Angel's hand, "Oh, God there was so much blood, Angel. Someone noticed and the whole class went ta hell, with people screaming and crowding around me and ...and all I could do was just lay there, realizing that I was miscarrying, feeling that other life in me just drain away." Her voice caught, breaths coming in rapid sobs at the memory. Swiping at her hot, teary eyes, Cat found herself being propelled forward by a gentle pair of arms. She resisted, trying to struggle against that iron grip. "Cat," Angel whispered against her hair, "It's all right. It's all right. Just cry." Ceasing her struggles, she allowed him to pull her against him, feeling him stroke her hair as a measure of comfort. More than anything else she just wanted to let herself cry in the comfort of his arms and forget. But she had to finish this before she could even hope to begin laying this secret to rest. Against his shoulder, she tried to choke back her tears, "After that, everything began ta fall apart. I didna ken who I was or even cared. All I could think about, all I could see was all the things I had lost in my life--mother, Conner, and now the baby. It hurt so badly and I couldna see how anything would ever get any better. It was like I was cursed or something and all I wanted was ta make the pain stop. So I took a kitchen knife and I-I- " "You cut yourself," Angel finished for her, his voice filled with horrified pity. "Yes. No games, just one clean slice. It--it didna hurt as much as I thought it would. I thought I would be afraid but all I felt was tired, just sort of heavy, ye know? And with each passing moment, I seemed ta be getting lighter and lighter like I was floating. I should have died. I almost did." "But I botched it up. I had cut myself deeply all right but not deep enough ta kill me within a few minutes like I'd hoped. Father came home and found me in a pool of blood, barely hanging on by a thread. He bandaged my wrists up and got me ta the hospital. I dinna remember much about that time," Cat admitted, "but I do remember verra well waking up ta find myself tied down ta my bed. They had put me inta the psych ward at the hospital. It was only temporary--just until they felt I was well enough ta enter the clinic Father had committed me ta." "He had you committed?" "Yes, and it might have been the smartest thing he ever did. Oh, I willna lie ta ye and tell ye that it wasna scary. Or that I wasna frightened of just about everyone in there, of the thought that I might be just as mad as some of them. I was. But one day when I was in the middle of detox--I think I had been dry for almost three weeks, I began ta realize just what a mess my life was. Because I had let it happen, because I had willingly chucked everything of importance, dwelling on the things in my life that were never going ta get better or change instead of what I could do. What I could make of my life. They say when ye hit rock bottom, the only place ta go is up and that's what I did. I'm still climbing and it doesna get any easier but it does get more worthwhile," She smiled at him through her tears then exhaled shakily, "It's funny, Angel, but ye're the first person I've ever shared this with. And, it feels so *good* ta just let it all out. I get so tired of hiding all the time, of not being honest." "I know the feeling," he said ironically. Cat pulled away from him, one hand automatically swiping at her wet cheeks. "A bargain, then? I ken that there maybe things that ye canna share or maybe dinna want ta share. The same is true for me. But in everything we do share with each other, we're honest about it?" Of course, she thought, that was assuming that Angel still wanted to have anything to do with her after all this. She could understand if he didn't; being friends with a basket case was likely to be high on anyone's list. However, at this one moment, she felt closer to him than any other person. That they understood each other in ways other people couldn't. It was important, she knew, to have that understanding. And rare. Rare enough that she couldn't let it just slip away into the night. "Why would you want to be around me?" Angel asked, at length. "Because, well, because," she stumbled in surprise, "because ye're good--and dinna start with the 'I'm a wretched vampire' bit. I dinna have the strength ta argue that point with ye at the moment. Because I can talk ta ye, Angel, and so far ye havena shown any judgement. Ye *listened* and that was what I needed. And because ... because I need ye. And ye need me, too." "Oh, really?" "Yes, really," she said defiantly, "Ye're lonely, Angel. That's why ye've been letting me babble on so. It's why ye were looking for me earlier, at least partially. I can see it in yer eyes. Ye need a friend, Angel. And I'd like ta be that friend." "Most of my friends have a habit of dying--usually at my hand," he replied with seeming lightness but his dark eyes were serious, warning almost. She met his gaze steadily, warning and all, "Maybe I'm not afraid ta die." *** Tightening the latches on the doors, Angel glanced at the wall clock. Almost six. The sun would be rising soon. He checked the windows, tugging at them a few times experimentally. As if most humans could wrench out the welding he had placed there. As for anything else....Well, most of those were nocturnal guests and those he could handle. He glanced at the figure on the couch. Most of the time. Crossing the room to stand beside her, Angel pulled the quilt closer around the sleeping girl. She stirred, face flushed with sleep before subsiding. He stared down at her, listening to the gentle sound of her breathing fill the apartment. He wasn't quite sure what had happened tonight, how things had gotten away from him. Somehow from intending to send her away at the first chance, he had found himself finding excuses for her to stay. Like arguing it was far too late and she was not in any shape to go wandering around London unescorted. Like she wait here until the sun rose before venturing out again. Because he was concerned about her. Because...because...Oh Hell, because he liked her. A lot more than he wanted to. And that was not neccessarily a good thing in his book. He had tried to argue with her, to explain to her just why she shouldn't be friends with him but she had bulldozed her way over every objection he raised. It was her life and she would damn well throw it away if she wanted, Cat had countered at one point. No good would come of it, he thought gloomily. Sunnydale looomed in his mind and he shivered. Still... Angel couldn't help but smile at her tenacity or be touched by her courage. He had shown her the truth of his nature and she hadn't run screaming in fear. No, she wanted to be *friends*. Because she needed him. Not for help with the supernatural, not as an ally in a fight but as a 'person'. A friend; not something he had a lot of experience with outside of Sunnydale. He had a feeling life had just gotten a hell of a lot more complicated. Again. To his surprise, Angel found himself almost looking forward to it. *** TO BE CONTINUED Katie Malone kamalone@usa.net - To unsubscribe to buffyfic2, send an email to "majordomo@xmission.com" with "unsubscribe buffyfic2" in the body of the message. For information on digests or retrieving files and old messages send "help" to the same address. Do not use quotes in your message.