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buffyfic2-digest       Tuesday, February 9 1999       Volume 01 : Number 002




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

Date: Mon, 08 Feb 1999 12:27:42 -0600
From: Katie Malone <[e-mail]>
Subject: (buffyfic2) XOVER: Ceremonies of Innocence (03/14)

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]

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

Date: Tue, 09 Feb 1999 23:01:47 -0600
From: Katie Malone <[e-mail]>
Subject: (buffyfic2) XOVER: Ceremonies of Innocence (07/14)

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

Date: Tue, 09 Feb 1999 23:02:19 -0600
From: Katie Malone <[e-mail]>
Subject: (buffyfic2) XOVER: Ceremonies of Innocence (08/14)

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]

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