With Buffy still in his arms, Angel span around, roundhousing into the locked door in front of
him. It fell immediately to the ground, the lock splintered and broken. Angel trampled
determinedly across the wooden door and gazed straight ahead at the large window to freedom
before him.
"We're almost out," he whispered to Buffy, stroking her hair gently behind her ear as he set her
down upon the ground. She blinked slowly, too tired to reply.
Angel ran over to the window and peered out. The room was on the first floor which meant
there wouldn't be that much of a drop to the ground - a blessing in Buffy's case. After a couple
of punches to the lock, Angel was able to slide the window up to a reasonable height, through
which he and Buffy would be sure to make it.
A creak from the fallen door behind him, made him freeze. Someone else was in the room with
them. Angel twirled around angrily, growling low in his throat. Buffy #3 stood in the doorway.
"Buffy the Bitch, in the house," she proclaimed sneering, as she bent down and tugged a stake
out of the splintered door. She glanced over at Buffy and giggled. "Isn't she a little...alive for
you?" she taunted. Angel snarled, and ran at her, his arms outstretched, ready to grab the
makeshift stake from her fingers. Buffy #3 stepped aside, and Angel missed her completely. She
giggled again, as she sauntered over to Buffy and stomped hard upon her stomach.
"I love being me," she trilled, twirling a stray tendril of hair around her finger. "And I *love*
getting my own way." Angel lunged at her again, this time ready for her dodge, grabbing her
shoulders and forcing her to the floor. She squirmed beneath him angrily, as her stake fell from
her hands.
"Me too," Angel commented. Rising to his feet, he dragged her with him, clawing her shoulders
tightly. "See ya later alligator," he jeered, as he leant backwards and used his weight to propel
Buffy #3 through the air. She flew through the doorway, and hit the opposite wall with a
sickening thud. A surprised squeal escaped her lips and she fell to the ground, out cold. Angel
inhaled sharply. He stopped halfway through his gulp of air and realised he could smell smoke.
Smoke meant fire.
"Shit," he cursed under his breath. Running a hand quickly through his hair, he trotted over to
Buffy. Wrapping his hands around her waist, he pulled her into a standing position. Buffy's knees
refused to lock, and she slipped back down to the floor again. Sighing, Angel roughly yanked
her up again, and flung her over his shoulder. He didn't have time to be gentle. The fire could
anywhere close by. Jogging over to the window, he paused to lean Buffy against the wall, so that
some of her weight was taken off of him. Glancing quickly behind, he was shocked to see that
Buffy #3 had gone. Shrugging, he forced Buffy's body to slide into his arms. Thrusting her limp
body through the open window, he slowly lowered her to the ground, where she crumpled on
her front. Yanking his arms back inside, Angel leapt upon the windowsill and crouched there for
a second, judging his landing. Nodding to himself, he let go of the walls he was clutching for
balance and leapt through the air, hitting the ground with flat feet beside Buffy. Casting a quick
glance up at the smoking laboratory, he growled. If he ever found the person who did this to
Buffy, he would kill them.
Slowly.
