Legal Stuff: Buffy the Vampire Slayer concept & characters (Buffy, Angel, Oz, Willow, Cordelia, Xander, Giles, Drusilla & Kendra) are tm & (c) Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation, and basically belong to them, Joss Whedon, The WB Television Network and Mutant Enemy (Rrrr...Argh...). They were created by Joss Whedon, and I have absolutely nothing to do with it (wish I did). Atherlae is an otherwise original work that is (c) Fox Lee 1999, (yours truly). Any similarity between events in this story and in real life (yeah, that happened to ME and MY vampire boyfriend just the other day!) is purely coincidental and unintended (so deal with it). If you like this story and want it posted on your page, lack of frequent e-mail access prompts me to say 'feel free - in fact, please do', so long as you don't edit any bits and you make sure my name's on it along with this message. If you do re-post it, please e-mail me to let me know.
Last edited: 10-3-99
Timespan: This would either have to take place before Angel turned evil again, or after his return (he ain't back yet in Australia...*SOB*...). I began writing it just after the episode "Ted". Please note that I can't be held responsible for any inaccuracies that I wasn't aware of at this point, and that I've only actually seen about five or six episodes (not including the comics or what I've read on the Internet). What I'm trying to say is if I've screwed up, don't be too disgusted (but e-mail me and tell me so I don't embarrass myself too much!).
E-mail: Compliment me, criticize me, yell at me, insult me...heck, I don't care. The place to send it all is cyberslayerfox@yahoo.com. If that doesn't work properly (it ain't my fault) try fox_lee@hotmail.com.
Gimmicky promo stuff (!!!!!): Keep an eye out for my second Buffy the Vampire Slayer fanfic, There Can Be Only One, in which a summer adventure camp and a mysterious girl tied to Angel's past cause some serious trouble for the Slayer and her friends. Also, a decidedly out-of-the-ordinary school dance in A Night To Remember. Coming soon from Cyberslayer (hey, that's me!).
Oh, by the way: If you've got this story on your page and would like a decent-looking html version with groovy graphics, decent fonts, formatting etc. (I REALLY hate .txt files), please contact me.
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Part Ten
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Buffy skirted the duck pond as she jogged toward the bushes on the opposite bank. The words of Giles and the others echoed in her mind, and she was unable to shake them. If it comes to it. If it came to killing Angel themselves. She could never do it. She didn't even think she'd be able to let one of them. And who would, anyway? Which one of them would kill Angel for the good of all? Giles? Willow? Xander. Xander might.
Or would he? Willow had remarked that he liked Buffy, and she was inclined to believe it was true. Would he understand that, if he was the one who did it, she would never be able to even look at him again? What would he place as the greater pain; her dying at Angel's hands, or her living without him? And more importantly, how could she decide?
All she knew was how much she loved him.
She realized that tears were blurring her vision, and stopped to lean against a tree and blink them away. Here she was, brave Slayer rushing into battle, crying. It was stupid. And it was stupid that she kept longing to hear an ugly white goose hissing at her; it would mean that this had all been some nightmare that meant nothing, that she could wake up and find Angel at her side to comfort her when she felt like being a woman instead of the Slayer.
The thought of Duckula took her mind back to earlier that night, when she had been here and found the goose's remains. She remembered how her heart had lightened the moment she had found the decapitated bird, how she had suddenly had a hope to hold on to, no matter how fragile.
She slid her hands into her pockets, and one brushed on something coarse and hairy. It was the patch of fur that the goose had managed to steal before he died. She pulled it out and threw it away. She hadn't even bothered to show it to Giles. What good would it have done them if she had? It wasn't a lead at all; It wasn't even the right color. It was nothing more than a handful of dog fur.
But Drusilla had said that the goose had been killed by this 'pretty creature'. Hadn't she? She had implied it. But it didn't make sense. The two ends didn't meet, and it infuriated the Slayer. She wished she'd killed Drusilla then and there, even if it had meant dying with her.
Something moved in the bushes opposite her current position, and a tiny smile of realization lit Buffy's features. She'd never even entertained the idea that the atherla might come to her. The Slayer ducked behind the tree she leaned on, vowing to think more about what Drusilla had told her later. For now, even if she couldn't save Angel, she'd at least get her revenge.
A tawny body emerged from the bushes, and Buffy saw the atherla clearly for the first time. It struck her that Drusilla had been correct - in an odd sort of way - and that the powerful, tightly-muscled creature might indeed have been regarded as majestic. The atherla female was almost a meter high - no small thing for a four-legged creature - and was an unusual shape on four thick, stocky legs. Her neck was solid, sinuous, and quite long - longer than a wolf's, anyway. Her ears were not quite pointed, Buffy noticed, as they stood up from their flattened position on her neck, and her muzzle was not quite as sharp as that of a wolf. All things taken into account, Buffy thought the atherla actually looked more like some sort of great cat than a wolf. But her long, still tail was definitely lupine.
Buffy watched the atherla walk down to the duck pond and drink leisurely. It was too perfect. The beast had come straight out into the open. But, as the Slayer reached for her crossbow, she hesitated for a moment. All the bloodlust she had felt earlier had vanished when she had looked upon the atherla. How could such a beautiful beast be evil?
The atherla raised her head and looked at the Slayer-turned-huntress, quite calmly, black eyes lit with an uncanny gleam. It was a look of scorn, of proud cruelty. And as Buffy stared into them, Giles' words came back to her, the warning of it being evil, of enjoying the torment Angel suffered. She loaded and raised her crossbow. The atherla made no move.
And then she heard the words of Drusilla, and how she had described the atherla.
A very pretty creature.
A girl.
And a mother.
Buffy spun just as the first of the atherla's snarling young fell on her. The crossbow was knocked from her hand, and sent skating down the hill into the pond, no use to anyone, before she could fire a single bolt. The Slayer drove both knees upward as the atherla pinned her to the ground, catching it square in the stomach and throwing it clear. Buffy rolled, slipping the long knife free of its sheath as she did so, and slashed for her attacker's throat as it charged again. She felt her knife cut through layers of skin and flesh, and the atherla howled in fury as it collapsed.
She kicked the body aside, scrambling to her feet and preparing for the next attack. It came from two sides; one swipe she dodged, the other caught her face, leaving three bloody trails along her left cheek. She slashed at one with her knife, and kicked out at the other as it prepared to strike again, but neither was deterred. Snarling, they leapt for her throat. She noticed as she fell that both were not nearly as big as their mother; they must only have been born recently. But they fought well.
They pushed her backward, so she added her own force to theirs, giving her the momentum to do a complete roll. One remained with her, clinging to her shoulder where its teeth had gained a painful hold, and the other fell away. The one which gripped her tightened its hold, making her cry out in pain, and shook her violently in a manner that reminded her of a puppy with a sock. Not too thrilled by the idea, Buffy stabbed her knife up through the atherla's throat.
Free of them for a moment, Buffy realized that they might well be too much for her. Her shoulder burned with pain; already she was injured. How long could she hold out? She gave herself a mental headslap for ordering the others not to help her.
She quickly took stock of the situation. She had killed two. Near the base of the tree she had just rolled away from, there were five more. Coming toward her was one of the two which had just attacked her. And somewhere behind her was the mother.
The atherlae paced quite calmly, quite patiently. They moved in on her in crouch positions, tails straight and still, another canine trait. She could practically feel the evil that they harbored as six pairs of beady black eyes bored into her. She felt a sudden urge to turn and run, to hide her eyes and herself from their gaze. Slowly, they tightened their noose, driving her back. Suddenly, Buffy felt water around her ankles, and realized she'd played right into their proverbial hands. They had backed her into the pond.
Desperate, she acted on her earlier impulse, and bolted. She half-ran, half-waded through the water, knowing it was futile but desperate for some form of escape. Then, when she reached the thigh-deep water near the pond's middle, she realized they were not following her. The six young atherlae stood on the bank, watching her. She stopped running. Was it possible that the atherla were afraid of water?!
No. It was something else. But they were looking past her.
Realizing it too late, Buffy spun to look into the eyes of their mother. An stunningly powerful charge knocked her down into the water, and she struggled furiously under the huge, hairy weight of the mature atherla. Buffy felt one giant paw placed firmly onto her forehead, and suddenly realized just how cold and calculating the monster was.
It was drowning her.
The Slayer was running out of air fast, her surprise having allowing her no time to take a breath before she went under. Hopelessly, her fingers scrabbled through the muddy bed of the pond, searching for the knife she had just dropped, a rock, a branch, anything. She could feel herself falling into darkness even as her fingers closed around a curved, wooden object that felt strangely familiar.
Aiming the crossbow as best she could with hindered movement and sight, she fired. Even under the water, she could hear the atherla's howl. Its massive, powerful body collapsed onto her, thwarting her even in death. She kicked and struggled her way out from under it, head breaking the surface just as she swore her lungs were exploding.
On her knees in the pond's center, she choked out muddy water and gulped in air as fast as she possibly could. Her vision clouded over, but she could hear the howls and snarls of the remaining atherlae as they closed in for the inevitable kill.
Except it wasn't atherlae. It was far too familiar for that. For a moment, she thought it was Angel, but she abandoned that idea as quickly as it had come. But it was the roar of vampires.
She waited for her vision to clear, then saw them. The six remaining atherla had been engulfed by a mob of the soulless creatures. Cries of pain and cries of glee, from both atherlae and vampires, rent the air. Paws and arms and bodies and blood flew in all directions in a disgustingly grisly melee. And Buffy, watching the gruesome scene, suddenly felt quite ill.
So it was that Buffy the Vampire Slayer, bedraggled, bloodied, and exhausted, watched the extermination of the atherlae, and her salvation, by her sworn enemies. From the middle of a duck pond. She felt quite pathetic.
A familiar shadowed figure moved silently to the bank as the vampires, having finished the battle, drifted back into the night one by one.
"The bodies will be dust by the dawn," was all she said, in a soft, sing-song lilt.
And Buffy, staggering up the bank, suddenly realized that lying dead around her were at least five male atherlae.
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