Again with the Library—
“This has been *THE* grossest thing you guys have ever had me do!” Cordelia’s dulcet tones exclaimed as she and Buffy entered the library. They carried a covered bucket between them and neither looked particularly happy.
Then Cordelia noticed Xander was awake and upright. “Xander!” she yelled, dropping the bucket and sprinting over to give him a hug.
“Geez, Cordy,” he said in a strangled voice. “If you don’t let go of me, you’ll finish what Angel started.”
“Oh, sorry.” She let him go, then grabbed his chin in her hand. “You really are a complete clod, you know that?” She kissed him briefly on the mouth.
“The hospital will definitely believe your story,” Oz remarked dryly.
Buffy set the bucket down with a thunk, and gently put her arm around Xander’s shoulder for a squeeze. “It’s good to have you back.”
“Believe me when I say it is good to be back. Especially considering what my other options were. What did you bring me?” He nodded his head at the bucket.
“You *don’t* want to know. And it’s for her,” Buffy replied, jerking her head at Leonora. She turned to Giles. “Mission accomplished. And may I just say, ICK.”
“No, you may not. What you may do is help Xander to Cordelia’s car so that she can take him to the hospital for further examination. Those ribs should be x-rayed, just to be safe. And then you should all go home and get some rest.” Giles’ tone was emphatic.
“What about Leonora?” Willow asked, stifling a yawn.
“I shall see to her.” He glanced significantly at the bucket the girls had brought. “We will regroup here later this evening after everyone has had time to recuperate.” He ushered them out of the library with another admonition to get some sleep before turning to deal with the bucket and its contents.
He heaved it into his office before removing the lid, thanking the powers that be that it was Saturday morning. The bucket was half-filled with liquid crimson that gave off a heavy, meaty odor. The Watcher filled an old mug with the animal blood and placed it in the microwave to warm it. Then he took it to Leonora.
He hadn’t gotten within four feet of her prone form when her eyes opened at the scent. Warily, Giles rounded the table, unsure of what the dhampir might do in her weakened condition. But when Leonora simply lay there, staring at the mug in his hands, Giles lifted her head and held the cup to her lips. She drank in huge gulps, emptying the mug in seconds.
“Breakfast of champions,” she joked weakly, and as she spoke, Giles noticed that her canines had grown.
“I’ll um, get you another..ah…well, you know.” He backed into his office with the mug. Leonora lay still on the table.
When she had finished her fourth mug, she was able to sit up with his help. “Thanks,” she said gratefully, her lips stained red. “But I think I can take it from here. You look like you could use some rest yourself.”
“Well, yes. A few hours of sleep would do me some good. But I don’t want to leave you here alone if…” he trailed off as she shook her head.
“All I’m going to do is sleep and drink. If you could just help me to that couch in your office and give me a blankie, I think I can manage the rest on my own.” With Giles supporting most of her weight, Leonora hobbled to the couch. With a sigh, she sank down on it while Giles looked for the blanket he kept for the times when he slept here.
He checked her wound before wrapping her in the blanket. The bleeding had stopped and the hole in her flesh was slowly beginning to heal, but the Watcher knew that the damage would take some time to repair, even with the blood. Leonora had lapsed into her sleep state again. He tucked the blanket around her, replaced the lid on the bucket, then left the library to seek his own rest.
Angel and Drusilla sat nursing their wounds, as they had been doing for much of the day. Spike held the vampiress in his lap, stroking her hair soothingly, and threw a look of reproach at Angel.
“I told you that one day you’d go too far,” Spike gloated smugly. As unhappy as he was about Drusilla’s being shot, he could barely contain his glee over Angelus’ condition. About time someone gave that pompous ass his comeuppance. Too bad it couldn’t have been Spike himself.
“I’ll tell you again, it wasn’t the Slayer.” Angel tried to get up, then gave up when he felt a half-healed bullet hole reopen.
“Well, obviously, mate,” Spike replied jauntily. “Last time I ran into your ex, I don’t recall her sporting automatic weapons. Which begs the question: who have you managed to piss off this time?”
“Oh, Spike,” Drusilla moaned from where she was curled up in the vampire’s lap. “Make the mean lady go away.”
“Hush, princess. Spike already took care of that. Which is more than some people around here were capable of.”
“Oh yes, way to stick her, Brainiac,” Angel sneered. “In case you’ve failed to notice, that didn’t stop her. She and my little present for Buffy got clean away.”
Spike glared at him. “Maybe if I’d had a bit of help? But I didn’t want to disturb that ‘bleeding on the floor’ gig that you had going.”
A strange female voice with a thick accent interrupted their bickering. “I can see that she has already been here. It would seem that I have come to the right place.” Two huge, glowing blue eyes appeared in the darkness of the hallway. An odd-looking young woman entered the room.
Braided, jet-black hair swept to her knees. She had large blue eyes that seemed to take up half of her face, and an even larger forehead. Her mouth looked positively tiny by comparison. There was a hardness about both eyes and mouth that bespoke wicked determination and arrogance. She stepped further into the flickering half-light of candles and everyone could see the lithe strength in her small frame, for she carried a bulging black bag over her shoulder that stretched the handles almost to the breaking point without any sign of strain.
“What the hell did you do Angelus,” Spike yelled derisively. “Put up a neon sign that said ‘Vampire Hide-Out Here’?”
“Silence, all of you,” the newcomer ordered. “I have neither time nor patience for your insignificant arguments. I am seeking someone—a woman. Tall, dark hair, green eyes. Perhaps you’ve run into her?” This last was said with a mocking tone and a sidelong glance at Angel.
“And who the bloody hell are you to come traipsing in here and putting questions to us? Seems to me it should be the other way around, cutie.” Spike wheeled closer to her. There was something odd about her speech—it was like she never paused for breath between her sentences. Add to this the heavy Romanian accent, and this woman’s speech was almost impossible to understand.
“Yeah honey,” Angel agreed, levering himself off of the couch and joining Spike. “And what’s with the accent anyway? You’re a little late for the whole Dracula scene.”
Angel found himself picked up by the throat and thrown across the room. “Insolent peasant,” she hissed, wiping her hands on her pants, as if coming into physical contact with him soiled her. “You will answer my questions or I will flay the flesh from your miserable bones! Have you encountered a woman answering to that description?”
“Take it easy, ducks,” Spike soothed, warming to the woman after she’d chucked Angelus across the room. “We’ve seen her. She came through here just about dawn this morning, shot up my two compatriots here, then got the hell out of Dodge.” Drusilla whimpered and Spike petted her hair absently. “What’s your interest in her?”
“None of your concern.”
“I was just wondering, see, because it looks like our mystery guest has hooked up with the Slayer and her groupies, which may make it a bit hard to get to her. That is, if I am correct in assuming you don’t just plan on inviting her to tea.” Spike smiled evilly up at her. “Perhaps we can be of assistance to each other: we’ll help you with your problem and you help us with ours.”
Spike watched as the woman considered his proposal. Eventually she nodded, sparing a glance at Angel who had taken a backseat to Spike. “Your plan is acceptable. For now.” She dug into her bag and removed a very old looking book “My name is Li. And this is the Arcanorum Grimoire.”
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