From: owner-buffyfic2-digest@lists.xmission.com (buffyfic2-digest) To: buffyfic2-digest@lists.xmission.com Subject: buffyfic2-digest V1 #3 Reply-To: buffyfic2-digest Sender: owner-buffyfic2-digest@lists.xmission.com Errors-To: owner-buffyfic2-digest@lists.xmission.com Precedence: bulk buffyfic2-digest Wednesday, February 10 1999 Volume 01 : Number 003 ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Date: Tue, 09 Feb 1999 23:01:17 -0600 From: Katie Malone Subject: (buffyfic2) XOVER: Ceremonies of Innocence (06/14) 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. ------------------------------ Date: Wed, 10 Feb 1999 12:30:21 -0600 From: Katie Malone Subject: (buffyfic2) XOVER: Ceremonies of Innocence (10/14) 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. ------------------------------ Date: Wed, 10 Feb 1999 12:30:46 -0600 From: Katie Malone Subject: (buffyfic2) XOVER: Ceremonies of Innocence (11/14) 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. ------------------------------ Date: Wed, 10 Feb 1999 12:29:56 -0600 From: Katie Malone Subject: (buffyfic2) XOVER: Ceremonies of Innocence (09/14) 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 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. ------------------------------ End of buffyfic2-digest V1 #3 ***************************** - To unsubscribe to $LIST, send an email to "majordomo@xmission.com" with "unsubscribe $LIST" 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.