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Internet Message Format | 1999-02-12 | 166KB

From: Katie Malone <[e-mail]>
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 [e-mail]
or at [e-mail].

Enjoy!

Caroline Fales
January, 1999


     Katie Malone
     [e-mail]

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-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Katie Malone <[e-mail]>
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
     [e-mail]

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-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Katie Malone <[e-mail]>
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
     [e-mail]

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-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Katie Malone <[e-mail]>
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
     [e-mail]

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-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Wendy Kelley <[e-mail]>
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

[e-mail] * http://www.xmission.com/~ladyslvr/
Listowner: Tomorrow People fiction and discussion lists
Listowner: Sliders creative list

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-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Katie Malone <[e-mail]>
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
     [e-mail]

-
 To unsubscribe to buffyfic2, send an email to "[e-mail]"
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-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Katie Malone <[e-mail]>
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
     [e-mail]

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-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Katie Malone <[e-mail]>
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
     [e-mail]

-
 To unsubscribe to buffyfic2, send an email to "[e-mail]"
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 For information on digests or retrieving files and old messages send
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-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Katie Malone <[e-mail]>
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
     [e-mail]

-
 To unsubscribe to buffyfic2, send an email to "[e-mail]"
 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 <[e-mail]>
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 <[e-mail]>
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
     [e-mail]

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 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
     [e-mail]

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-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Katie Malone <[e-mail]>
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
     [e-mail]

-
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-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Katie Malone <[e-mail]>
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 [e-mail]


END



     Katie Malone
     [e-mail]

-
 To unsubscribe to buffyfic2, send an email to "[e-mail]"
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 "help" to the same address.  Do not use quotes in your message.


-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Katie Malone <[e-mail]>
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
     [e-mail]

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-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

From: Katie Malone <[e-mail]>
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
     [e-mail]

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