Creative Works
The Return (Page 2)
By Little Slayer
little_slayer(at)hotmail.com
Disclaimer: I don’t own him! Uh, her. Or Buffy, Angel, Giles, Willow,
Joyce, and everyone else. They’re all in here. I don’t own Angel’s
nickname of Peaches. The only thing I own is Mya. She’s mine. I
created her. And so I can easily destroy the skanky little…uh, oops.
All the Buffyverse people belong to Joss Whedon and anyone else who
legally owns them. Anybody who has been either A) mentioned on BtVS, or
B) seen on BtVS, I don’t own. I do own a few people but am too tired to
name them.
. . .
Chapter Two, The Retrieval
Angel walked nervously into the school. The sun was setting
and he had run into the Slayerettes on his way down the street. They
had told him that Giles said not to disturb him tonight, he had
research to do or something. Angel moved down the hall and stopped
at the library doors. Quietly, he pushed them open and walked into
the library.
“Ah, you’re here,” Giles said then turned around. “Angel?
What are you doing here?” he asked startled. Quickly, he pushed
something behind a stack of books and Angel frowned.
“I needed to talk to you,” Angel said. “About my dreams that
I’ve been having about Buffy.” He stopped talking, his voice
catching on the ‘dead’ Slayer’s name.
“Can they wait until tomorrow?” Giles asked hurriedly and
glanced out the window at the darkened sky. “I’m expecting someone
very important.”
“But –” Angel started.
“And, I have something to tell you about Mya. Something that
I’m not at liberty to explain right now,” Giles said quietly. Angel
opened his mouth to speak. “And it’s about Buffy.” Angel paled and
stood frozen to his spot.
“Is Mya responsible for Buffy’s…death?” Angel asked slowly.
Giles didn’t respond. Instead, he drew in a deep breath and
sighed.
“I’m not at liberty to discuss it,” he repeated.
“Giles!” Angel said. “Tell me! What happened? What really
happened to Buffy? Please, I need to know.”
“Mya…she…Buffy’s not dead. Not like we were told,” Giles
said.
“Then where the hell is she?” Angel asked.
“That’s exactly what I’m talking about. Hell.”
“No,” Angel said. Giles nodded.
“Do not tell anyone what we spoke of,” Giles said. “I’m
expecting some people who will help bring Mya what she deserves. All
will reveal itself in due time.” Angel blinked then, with his head
lowered, he started for the door.
“I can’t believe it,” Angel murmured.
“I have proof, and soon, I will have Buffy,” Giles said.
“Come back tomorrow, Angel, perhaps we can discuss this more then.
But now, I need you to leave me in peace.” Angel nodded, and still
in shock, left the library. He had intended finding out what his
dreams meant, but this, this was too much! Buffy was alive and the
one person he allowed himself grow close to was the one responsible
for her death. He got to the door then stopped. No, he wouldn’t
leave. He’d stick around and see exactly who was so important that
Giles couldn’t tell his closest friends about. Slowly, Angel found
an unlocked room and hid away in the dark. After about an hour, he
heard voices go past the room and down the hall towards the library.
Quietly, he crept out of the room and followed.
. . .
Giles paced throughout the library. It was almost an hour
after sunset and the others were getting suspicious as to why they
couldn’t be in the library. He had told them there wasn’t anything
to be worried about, but they saw right through him. Maybe if he had
just left and kept the doors locked…
“Watcher?” a hesitant female voice asked.
“Sorry, Giles isn’t home right now. Please leave your name,
number, and brief message after the tone and he’ll get back to you as
soon as he can,” Spike muttered.
“What? Oh, uh, hello,” Giles said as he turned, startled,
and faced Spike, Drusilla, and Whistler. “How long have you three
been here?”
“Not very,” Whistler said casually. “We needed to pick up
something that Spike here…destroyed.”
“It was an accident!” Spike exclaimed. “I couldn’t help the
fact you put it in a tube that resembled my hair dye!”
“Calm down, Spike,” Drusilla murmured. “We know it was an
accident. It wasn’t your fault.” Giles suppressed a grin and looked
at the others.
“Well, we have all of the supplies. Let’s get started, shall
we?” Spike and Dru nodded and both Giles and Whistler got out a bag
of sand. It was dark green mixed in with some shimmering white bits.
They drew a circle around the area where Buffy had been shoved into
hell and Drusilla lit some candles. Spike silently took a bottle of
a strange oil and poured it into two wooden bowls.
“Spike, when I say, you need to light those, okay?” Whistler
asked. Spike got out his lighter and nodded.
“We’re almost ready,” Giles said.
. . .
“Ready?” Crenshaw asked. Buffy strengthened up and nodded.
Crenshaw handed her a long black velvet robe and she slipped it on
over her clothes. Next to her, Angelus paced in the confined area
that they had to be in and also put on a robe. Buffy rubbed the
velvet against her cheek then pulled up the hood.
“I can’t believe it,” he muttered. “I have to act like the
Slayer’s damned lap dog!” Buffy sighed and then looked at him
through narrowed eyes.
“Don’t even start,” she hissed. “I don’t like this any more
than you do.”
“Ha!” Angelus said. “You’re going to love this! Not only do
you get to order me around, but you’re going to have two Angel’s
around to do your bidding!”
“If you’re thinking what I think you are…” Buffy
threatened.
“Face it Slayer. The thought of both Angel and I in bed with
you makes you all hot and bothered,” Angelus said. “It’s a good
thing that Angel gave you a bit more experience though, because I
don’t want to repeat that night of your seventeenth birthday.”
“I’m sick of fighting with you,” Buffy said slowly. “Take it
back, or I swear on my mother’s grave you will never live long enough
to leave hell.”
“Oh that’s right, one of my creations killed that annoying
little twit,” Angelus said cruelly. Around them, two bowls of oil
were lighted and two demons in robes started to chant.
“And I’m going to hunt him down and make him wish I’d kill
him,” Buffy growled. “And I’m going to practice on you.” Angelus
laughed and Buffy pulled out a stake.
“Oh come on Slayer, you couldn’t kill me before, what makes
you think you can now?” he asked, mockingly.
“Well, if you think I’m not going to be able to kill you,
let’s do this. Stay in the weird green sand, and we’ll fight,” Buffy
said.
“We aren’t even out of hell and already you’re ordering me
around!” Angelus growled. His face morphed into it’s vampiric visage
and Buffy kicked at him. Bright blue light surrounded them and
Angelus looked at it, mesmerized. Buffy took the advantage and
raised the stake to plunge it into his chest. White light burst
through the circle and Buffy, blinded, jammed her stake down into the
vampires chest. He howled in pain and then the light died. Buffy
looked around and was semi-startled to stare into the face of
Giles.
“Hi Giles,” she said perkily then glanced down at the vampire
who she had jammed her stake into. He was lying on the ground, the
stake deep in his stomach. She bent down to check if he was
conscious and then stood up. “Damn, I missed,” she muttered, her
hood still covering her face.
. . .
Angel crept to the library doors and he peered into one of
the circular windows. His eyes widened as a small black figure
crouched over a larger one, then straightened up.
“Damn, I missed,” it muttered. The larger black figure from
the floor stood and pulled a sharp wooden stake from his stomach.
Some light fell onto his face and Angel stood in the doorway,
reflecting the black-clad figure holding the bloody stake. *My god,*
Angel thought. *Angelus.* The short feminine figure walked into the
lighted part of the library, but Angel didn’t even look at it until
his demon counterpart talked to it.
“Dammit Slayer, why’d you have to go and go that?” Angelus
hissed.
“Why’d you have to go after my friends after my seventeenth
birthday?” Buffy asked.
“No matter what I do, you always come back to that,” Angelus
grumbled. Angel slowly looked at the blonde Slayer who hopped up
onto the counter and did a double take. Giles said he’d get Buffy
soon, but…*Buffy.*
. . .
Page 2 of 7
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