Creative Works   

Before the Dawn (Part 2)
By Eliz
ealutz(at)hotmail.com

Disclaimer: They're not mine. Sadly, they never were. I just sneak them away from the big guy every so often for a little fun. And, as usual, I'm quick to suggest that I treat them a lot better than their *cough* actual owner ;)

. . .

"So... how'd it go, big guy?" Whistler asked, popping the tab open on a beer.

Angel closed the door behind himself, refusing to look at the demon. Instead, he walked back over to the darkest corner of his little apartment and crouched down against the wall.

"Oh. That good? Well..." for once, Whistler seemed to be at a loss.

"She didn't seem to like me very much," Angel finally said through lips that felt wooden.

"So you're brooding again?" the demon asked conversationally, snagging a chair with his foot to drag over near where Angel was. He sat down, taking a sip of the beer. Angel could feel his gaze.

"What?" he finally asked defensively, looking up.

Whistler shrugged. "So it wasn't the way you thought it would be, right? Surprise, surprise."

Angel's eyes hardened. "I gave her the message you told me to. She didn't..." he swallowed hard. "I don't know if she even believed me."

"She did." Apparently ignoring Angel's astonished, questioning look, Whistler took another drink. "She went to the Bronze afterwards and met up with her Watcher."

Forgetting the misery he'd sunk into, Angel leaned forward. "You were there?"

"Of course. I had to see how you did your first time out... let's not forget where I found you, right? I mean, you were chasing rats. In an alley. And frankly... you smelled pretty bad. I figured you might have lost a step or two in the... uh... etiquette field. So I watched you. You did a good job - tough and mysterious... she was impressed. I followed her to the Bronze and listened in on her powwow with the Watcher - sheesh, what a stiff," Whistler commented dryly. "Anyway, she told him about you."

"She did? What did she say?" All thought of failure and rejection faded as he listened intently to Whistler.

"Well, she said you were handsome... boy, has she got rotten taste, huh?"

Angel barely heard the rest of Whistler's recounting of Buffy's less than congenial encounter with her Watcher. He hadn't failed. She hadn't hated him on sight. She didn't know he was a vampire. Barely daring to believe, he forced himself to attend to what the demon way saying.

"... gotta go get ready for tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"Yeah." Whistler finished off the beer, tossing the can onto the table next to him. "Next thing is, we gotta get you to the mausoleum. You know the one... with the tunnel access?"

Angel groaned. He knew it well. The Master's vampires used it regularly to get to the underground tunnels that snaked beneath Sunnydale. They'd gladly shared the information with the new vampire in town... until he'd accidentally given away that he wasn't precisely one of them in the fullest sense. He winced, remembering the old man. He couldn't just stand by and let them kill him... so he'd intervened... and it had hurt. A lot. But he'd saved the elderly pensioner, and it had only cost him a few broken bones that healed quickly. A small enough price to pay. From then on, he'd been treated like an abomination. They avoided him at all costs. For whatever reason, though, they didn't attack him as he thought they might. He'd expected the revulsion of course - he would have felt the same way... before... - and he didn't miss the company of other vampires at all... he regarded them with the guilt-ridden disgust that could only have come from being one of them once. It had been unfortunate for his information-gathering purposes though, and he'd gone on to cultivate a human source who was the proprietor of a local bar that served vampire customers frequently.

Shaking himself from the memories, Angel nodded. "I know the place. Why...?"

"She'll be there eventually. Vamps attacked some of her new friends."

"What?" Angel leapt to his feet, ready to dart towards the door.

Whistler stopped him with a gesture. "What's done is done. She saved most of them. She'll need your help later, though, so don't go nuts on me now. Save it." Calming down slightly, Angel nodded for Whistler to continue. "She's gonna try to go down in those tunnels - you try to stop her. She probably won't listen to you on this one... wouldn't surprise me... but you gotta at least try. She'll be in better shape for the Harvest if she doesn't face them so soon." The demon stood up, heading towards the door. "So - get going. You have to get there before sunrise. And stay away from the windows, too. I'll see ya around."

Angel moved convulsively to follow him. "Where are you going?" he asked.

Opening the door, Whistler grinned at him. "You're on your own with her. From now on... it's outta my hands. I have to go somewhere else. Don't worry, though - I'll be back."

"When?" Leaving? On his own? Angel felt anxiety nibbling away at the edges of his thoughts. This was the last thing he'd expected.

"Not for awhile. I have other stuff to do, you know." The little demon puffed out his chest importantly. "Ahhh," he made a dismissive motion with his hand, sighing in resignation "...who'm I kidding? I don't know where I'm going. I guess I'll know when I get there. Just don't screw this Slayer-thing up too badly, okay?" he joked, slipping out the door and closing it behind him.

"Wait!" Angel ran to the door, wrenching it open... only to see the dark, empty hallway as it always was. "Whistler?" The demon was gone. Angel was truly alone. Moving slowly away from his apartment, his feet shuffling automatically towards the cemetery, Angel wondered nervously what he was going to do without his mentor.

. . .

It was a good thing he was already dead, or his legs would be seriously cramping up, Angel decided with a sigh, shifting his weight for the umpteenth time. She wasn't coming. He was going to sit here all day, alone, trapped by the sun... and she wasn't even going to show up. He would have considered leaving, except he knew Whistler wouldn't have lied to him... and besides, the only non-sunlit way out of the mausoleum were the tunnels the other vampires used. Not the best option, there.

A stealthy noise by the door made him roll fluidly to his feet. He could hear a heartbeat... and after only a moment he knew it was Buffy's. Tension flooded his body once more as he remembered their first encounter. He wished he could believe this one would go more smoothly.

She was already at the gate, fingering the heavy lock that barred her way. Even though her back was to him, he could tell the instant she registered his presence. As he expected, she gave no sign for a long moment, then spoke. "I don't suppose you've got a key on you?"

Angel briefly recalled the tooth and nail fight he'd been in with two vampires only the week before, just inside this tunnel entrance. Only the fact that they were both quite a bit younger than he allowed him to prevail. As it was, before they fled, they'd managed to wound his side deeply - a scar that was healing slowly. "They really don't like me dropping in."

She turned to face him, even more beautiful than the last time he'd seen her. The faint sunlight - indirect and faded though it was - was the most natural light he'd ever watched her in. It gave her soft-looking skin a peach glow that the moonlight could not emulate. She was a vision. "Why not?"

Angel sighed. She was an angry, impatient vision. He thought again of the two fledglings. "They really don't like me."

He could see her trying not to smile at his almost inadvertent play on words. She fought it, though, and spoke again with only the faintest quirk of her lips. "How could that possibly be?"

It was meant to be an insult... so he figured he should probably give as good as he got. Tough - that's what Whistler had told him. Tough and mysterious. "I knew you'd figure out this entryway sooner or later. Actually, I thought it was going to be a little sooner." He allowed the corner of his mouth to kick up, just to let her know he wasn't serious. It felt odd, teasing her. It wasn't something he'd done to anyone in a very long time.

"Sorry you had to wait," she replied crisply, with an small answering smirk. He was elated. She sighed deeply, her eyes examining him in minute detail. He had to force himself not to fidget, wondering what she thought of him. "Okay. Look, if you're going to be popping up with this cryptic wise man act on a regular basis can you at least tell me your name?"

He suddenly, inexplicably felt very shy. His name? They were making a personal connection now. She'd seen him, talked to him... and now she wanted to know his name. An old, familiar sensation spread through his body slowly, making him feel alive. He felt more... human. "Angel," he said softly.

"Angel. It's a pretty name."

He wanted to savor the moment forever... but it faded quickly as she turned away from him to consider the locked gate once more. She moved towards it, determined.

Quickly, he stepped forward. "Don't go down there."

She turned back immediately, her little hands propped on her hips as she considered him, then she sighed dismissively. "Deal with my going."

Whistler had said to stop her... or at least to try. Angel had a feeling she wasn't going to be stopped easily. "You shouldn't be putting yourself at risk. Tonight is the Harvest. Unless you can prevent it the Master walks."

Eyeing him challengingly, she moved closer. "Well, if this Harvest thing is such a suckfest why don't YOU stop it?"

Why didn't he? Because Whistler hadn't told him to? Because it had never occurred to him? Because he didn't even know where it was supposed to be? He shuddered a little at the thought of the Master. And Darla. He looked down into her eyes... eyes that were hard and resolved. Tough. Be tough... don't let her see... "Because I'm afraid." His voice sounded mocking, just as he'd intended.

She searched his eyes for a moment, and he almost thought she saw the truth of his words in their depths. With breathtaking speed she spun away and her tiny foot lashed out, kicking the gate open, rupturing the chain that bound it like it was made of string. Turning back to him, she dared him with her eyes to say something. He didn't refuse her. "They'll be expecting you."

Ignoring his warning yet again, she squared off against him matter-of-factly. "I've got a friend down there. Or at least a potential friend. Do you know what it's like to have a friend?"

He thought of Whistler. He thought of her, standing in the alley the night before. Her words still rang cruelly in his ears. *Maybe I don't want a friend*. Hurt, he dropped his eyes from hers, unable to keep up the charade.

With sudden, soft distress, she edged closer to him, and he sensed her genuine concern for him. Quietly she said, "That wasn't supposed to be a stumper."

He lifted his eyes to fill his soul with the sight of her once more. The sadness in him lingered... but her actions now belied her words from before... enough to give him hope. Her eyes reinforced the message - it seemed to him that they came to some sort of agreement in that moment. Conceding to himself that he wasn't going to be able to stop her from going down after the vampires, he tried to think of something he could tell her that would be of value. "When you hit the tunnels head east towards the school. That's where you're likely to find them."

She nodded, accepting his peace offering. "You gonna wish me luck?" she asked with the tiniest hint of a grin.

He couldn't hold back an answering quirk of his lips, not speaking. His heart was too full, his mind conflicted, their truce too new and fresh. He felt the connection between them now like it was a tangible thing... though faint and tenuous in its infancy. Instead of replying, he tried to imprint on his memory how she looked at this moment... the moment when she looked at him and saw a man - not a vampire. She was gazing at him like he was somebody... as he'd told Whistler all those months ago he wanted to be.

She turned away before he'd had his fill of her beauty - but he had a feeling they could've stood there for centuries and he would never be satiated. She moved to the gates, then through them, disappearing from sight without a backward glance. He watched her go, his silent heart aching. "Good luck," he whispered belatedly... then moved to follow her. He was almost to the mouth of the tunnels when he heard a noise behind him. The faintest scrape of a tennis shoe on cement. Angel ducked into a shadowed alcove quickly, pressing himself against the wall as a human moved past him through the passageway, completely oblivious to the danger.

It was a young man, about Buffy's age, clutching a flashlight like it was a lifeline. The scent of fear rolled off him in waves... and Angel knew it had to be attracting other vampires like flies to rotting meat. As soon as the boy had passed his hiding spot, Angel eased back into the corridor to follow him... only to freeze as he sensed the presence of others in the tunnel. Turning around, he saw that he'd been correct - the boy's fright had indeed attracted underground predators. His body tensed, ready to fight, as he recognized the pair of vampires - those same damned fledglings - who were lounging against the dank walls. "You again?" one of them drawled with disdain.

"I'm afraid so," Angel acknowledged with a weak smile.

"We'll teach you to spy on us, you spineless traitor!" Angel braced himself for the attack, catching the first vampire around the waist and flinging him into the wall. As the other one moved to retaliate for his fallen cohort, Angel resigned himself to the fact that Buffy would have to be on her own for now.

. . .

Angel sat nervously in his apartment, wondering what he was supposed to do next. He was ashamed to think that without Whistler, he had no idea how to proceed. Since the night he'd found Angel dirty and starving on the streets of Manhattan, Whistler had pretty much told him what to do... and now that safety net was gone. Squaring his shoulders, Angel stood up, wincing as he aggravated his bruised shoulder. He'd been unable to find out where the Harvest was going to be... and there were conflicting reports of when it would be... but he still had his source at the bar at least. Maybe he'd heard something new. Walking down the hallway towards the door to the outside of the building, Angel heard faint cries of violence and fear coming from just beyond it. He rushed outside... and was almost bowled over by a couple of vampires running as though they were being chased by hellhounds. He could hear only a few of their frantic, desperate words. "Slayer... the Harvest... ruined!" as they ignored him and raced past. His heart sank at the thought that he'd failed to help her... failed her... but then the realization swept over him that she'd succeeded. She'd beaten back the vampires who'd tried to raise the Master - saved the people who were to be sacrifices - all by herself. Pride surged through his body, lightening his soul for a moment. "She did it... I'll be damned," he whispered softly into the night air. He turned, grinning, and headed down the street towards the bar. There was surely some information, somewhere, that could help her fight more of his erstwhile brethren in the future... and he was going to find it.

Then he'd have a perfect excuse to see her again.

. . .

Buffy replaced her diary carefully in the bedside table drawer. Turning off the lamp next to her alarm clock, she sighed, turning on her side to snuggle underneath the blankets. This was such a crazy town... 'Sunnydale' - what a cosmic joke. She shifted, feeling the healing bruises from her fight with that super-strong vamp at the Bronze earlier. 'The Vessel' Giles had called him. Whatever. The point to all this was that she'd had big plans for a normal life when she'd moved here, and now that was all shot to hell. Still, she'd averted the Apocalypse tonight, and she'd be lying if she didn't admit to at least a small amount of satisfaction. She'd stopped the Harvest... like he'd asked her to. Him. Angel. The dark, mysterious... and, okay, gorgeous... stranger. She remembered what she'd just written in her diary, flushing in the darkness of her room. 'Angel warned me about the danger of going down into the tunnels, then told me where to look for the vamps. He seems so lonely - it would be nice to get to know him better. He's got these really dark, penetrating eyes that make me just dizzy. I wonder what his deal is? I wonder if he's really on my side? I wonder if he noticed that I was wearing the cross he gave me?'

Rolling over onto her other side, she looked towards her dresser, seeing the silver cross glinting there, reassuring her of its presence. He hadn't been just some crazy dream - he was real. Real... and kind of standoffish, she reflected with another sigh. Sure, she'd been going about her Slayer-ly business at the time, but would it have killed him to at least act like he noticed her as more than a vamp-killing machine? Maybe even noticed her as a pretty girl? She scoffed at the idea, even as a tiny spark ignited and began to burn deep within her at the thought. What if...

She chided herself, cutting off that thought with a last, longing glance at the cross he'd given her before closing her eyes and trying to get to sleep. He probably didn't even know she existed...

Finis.

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