Broken
Things
Author:
Ares
Summary:
Buffy and Angel doing their best in a world gone to ruin.
Rating:
PG
Pairing:
B/A
Word
count: 8020 approx.
Written
for IWRY 2011 Marathon.
Disclaimer:
Still not mine.
A
huge thank you to my beta Jo. The woman is a marvel.
**
“I
don’t think I can do this anymore.”
Buffy
was nestled in the arms of her lover. Her tousled head lay upon his chest and
her fingers drew intricate designs across the muscles of his torso. His body was warm, heat stolen from her as
she lay close. The heat of their night’s passion still stirred through her
blood. And yet, despite it, she was feeling sad. There weren’t many days she
wasn’t feeling blue, and she wondered if people could die from sadness when it
threatened to overwhelm. Most days, exhaustion battled her depression and won.
Not today. Today, her grief had beaten away the weary and now it was kicking
her butt.
Angel
kissed her head. He’d heard this complaint before, and as much as he wanted to
give her back her happy he knew it was impossible.
She
continued, her voice a worn and sad reflection of itself, “We’re not getting
anywhere. What we do? It isn’t stemming the tide. The world isn’t getting any
better. Resistance is futile.” Buffy knew the Star Trek quote would go over his
head but she said it anyway. Her lame attempt at dragging humour kicking and
screaming into the conversation was her way of trying to dig herself out of the
pit of despair she had fallen into.
“Cynthia
wouldn’t think so,” Angel murmured, totally missing the pop culture reference.
He was thinking of the girl they had rescued from vampires a couple of nights
previous.
He
felt the warmth of Buffy’s sigh against his chest.
“I
want my sister back. And Giles, Willow, and the others.”
He
kissed her head again. “I know you do.”
Buffy
was silent, then. Angel felt her tears, hot and wet, sliding down his front. He
let her cry. There was nothing he could do but be there, quietly holding
her.
After
a long while, she said, “And you, Angel.
Connor is gone. It’s not fair.”
Angel
preferred not to think about his son, now lost to him. “No, it’s not.”
They
lay like that, thinking about family. Eventually, Buffy’s hand wiped away her
tears. She sniffled.
“I’m
sorry. Look at me, I’m a mess. No,” she said quickly when Angel began to obey,
“don’t look at me. It’s just a figure of speech. God, Angel, could you be more
literal?”
Angel
settled back, his lips twitching up into a small smile. He had Buffy forgetting her sadness, even if
only for a brief moment.
Buffy
disentangled herself from the sheets. She swung her legs off the bed and onto
the floor.
“I
need a shower.”
“Don’t
hog all the hot water,” he said as she padded off into the small bathroom.
“I’ll
try not to,” she promised behind the closing door.
Buffy
sighed under the hot stream. Hot water was a scarce commodity these days. The
motel they had taken refuge in had its own generator and Angel had got it
going. They had electric light, and more importantly, hot water. The cities no longer had power and hot
water, and nobody wanted to go there. No one left alive, that is. The cities
were graveyards. Bones littered every corner, every sidewalk and high rise. The
buildings standing sentinel to man’s folly. Germ warfare. Buffy shuddered at
the thought and put it at the back of her mind. She leaned into the waterfall
of hot water and began to soap her hair.
Angel
had the bed stripped, the sheets bundled up and thrown into a corner. Throwing clean white linen onto the bed gave
him something to do. Besides, he knew that Buffy loved fresh bedding. They had
slept on too many floors in the last year. The bed made, he twitched at the
curtains at the window. The sun was setting behind the building and it was safe
for him to look at the world outside. The highway was a ribbon of emptiness,
passing the motel on its way to nowhere and everywhere. Their vehicle stood
black and brooding in the parking lot, dwarfing the abandoned car that stood
next to it. Buffy had named it the Angelmobile. He didn’t understand why Buffy had chosen the name, but the
Toyota Sequoia had been an excellent choice in car. As Buffy had told him, it
was big enough that he could use it for shelter if they ever got caught out in
the daylight, and it could carry enough supplies, and sometimes people, if they
came across any. Angel let the curtain fall back into place.
The
motel was a frequent stop for them. It had running water and diesel-generated
power. When they had first run across the motel, Angel had had to carry out the
gruesome task of emptying the rooms and cars of corpses. He had burned the
bodies out the back, gasoline fuelling the fire. Buffy had cleaned the room
they had chosen – it had been the manager’s dwelling and more an apartment than
a motel room - within an inch of its life. She had plundered the laundry and
found soap, clean sheets and towels. And now the motel was a way-station, a
haven on the way to, or on the way back from wherever they journeyed.
Angel
rummaged about in the refrigerator and pulled out the milk he had prepared
earlier. The milk had been powdered, it was the best they could do. He placed
the box of cereal on the table and fetched about for a bowl and spoon. By the
time the kettle had boiled, coffee was an essential part of Buffy’s routine,
Buffy herself had emerged from her shower, scrubbed clean and in better
spirits.
Angel
poured them both a cup of coffee and sat at the table. Buffy filled her bowl with cereal, added
milk and began to eat. Angel enjoyed watching Buffy eat. It felt like a normal
thing to do. They never had had normal and now, in all the desolation, he had
found a sort of normality. Guilt stabbed at him. He could never admit to Buffy
that he wasn’t grieving for the loss of the world as she was. He mourned his
son and wished it were otherwise, he despaired that the good people on earth
had been wiped out, all those children and families, but all said and done, in
the here and now, he and Buffy had each other. They were a couple. They shared
everything. In that way his dreams had come true.
Buffy
broke into his thoughts. A spoonful of cereal was at her lips. “Do you think we
should ask the others to join us?”
“Do
you want them to?” He hoped not.
She
chewed and stared at him. “Not really. Is that bad of me?”
Relief
at her answer. “No. I like you all to myself. They can eat when we’re done.”
“Still…”
Angel
put down his cup. “You’re thinking that with so few people left in the world,
we should be making nice with the ones we have.”
“Then
why don’t I feel like rubbing shoulders and singing kumbayah around the fire?”
Reaching
across the table, Angel’s hand found hers. He gave it a gentle squeeze.
“It’ll
come.”
She
pulled a face. “I don’t know if I want it to.”
“You’re
still grieving. It’ll…”
She
interrupted, “How are you coping, Angel? How is it that you can carry on? Don’t
you feel it? The sadness, the despair, the desperation that I’m experiencing? I
feel like I’m drowning.”
Seeing
the tears glimmering in her eyes, Angel again felt a stab of guilt. It ate at him when she was this way. If he
could he would change the world back, just to see her happy again, but he couldn’t,
and that twinge of guilt he had was to do with the fact he couldn’t and he was
okay with it. He did know how Buffy was
feeling. He had felt such sadness and despair when baby Connor had been taken
from him he hadn’t thought he could make it through. And when Buffy herself had
sacrificed herself for Dawn and the world, he had thought his world had died.
“In
all the years I’ve existed, I’ve had to watch people grow old and die. People I
have cared for. Friends have died and I’ve been responsible. It comes with the
territory when you live as long as I have. You learn to cope.”
Buffy
wanted to scream at him. Angel was being so reasonable it made her want to
throw something. Instead, she said, “This is different, Angel. This is the
whole wide world we’re talking about. Everything
has changed.”
“We
will adapt.” He reached across the table and caressed her cheek. “We have no
choice.”
Buffy’s
shoulders slumped. He was right. There was no choice. It was do or die. Looking
at his worried frown, she plastered a smile on her lips.
“I
guess you’re right. Never mind me. I’m just tired.” Playing with her spoon, she
pushed cereal about on her plate, her appetite gone.
“Eat
up,” he cajoled. “You’ve got to keep your strength up.”
“Yes,
sir,” she replied, and forced another spoonful into her mouth.
+++
Angel
cleaned up their dishes while Buffy went to see to their guests.
They
had three. Cynthia was the latest addition to their group. She was a pretty
young thing, something they hadn’t noticed until a hot shower had scrubbed her
clean. Her ginger hair framed an elfin face and bright green eyes stared out
from beneath perfect brows. They had picked her up a couple of nights ago.
Robert
was middle-aged, a wiry fellow. Dark-featured, he had a ready smile that showed
off his perfect teeth, and an easy disposition. Quite knowledgeable in
mechanical matters, he would be a handy man to have about. He had been with
them a week.
Tall
and lanky Allan had been studying medicine when the world had fallen apart. He mourned
the loss of his family still, and was moody and a little difficult. They had found him four nights previous.
Angel knew that he would come round, especially with a pretty girl on board.
Buffy
knocked on doors, calling out to their charges, asking them to breakfast.
Robert was the first to appear, his clothes rumpled and his head sporting bed
hair, Buffy thought. He nodded and
smiled at Buffy as he made his way across the courtyard.
Buffy
rapped gently on the last door once more. Leaning up against it, she said,
“Cynthia, it’s Buffy. You have to eat. Come on, I’ll wait for you.”
While
she waited for Cynthia to open the door, Allan stumbled by, his head bowed, his
shoulders in their habitual slump. As she watched him, her own shoulders caved,
starting their own trek south.
“Morning,”
she called, forcing her posture to straighten and her voice to sound cheerful.
His mumbled reply was lost to her when the door opened and Cynthia peered out
at her.
“Ready?”
Buffy smiled. The girl nodded and, stepping
out of her room, she closed the door behind her. Buffy turned and started to lead the way.
“It’s
not morning,” Cynthia said, “it’s afternoon. Why do you say good morning?”
“Because
that’s the way we live now. Angel…”
Cynthia
halted in her tracks. “He’s one of them. A demon.”
“A
demon who saved your life. Has saved many lives. I thought we’d been over this
already.”
“It’s
safer for us to travel in the daylight. The vamps can’t go out in the day. They
wouldn’t be able to attack us.”
Buffy’s
voice lost its false cheer. “There’s not only vampires to worry about. There
are other demons quite happy to grab a human snack in the middle of the day.
But you’re right, Cynthia. It would be safer for us in the day as far as
vampires are concerned. But you know what? We don’t do safe. Our job is to find
people, and sometimes that means we have to rescue them from vampires. And to
do that Angel has to be able to move about freely. He and I have dusted quite a
few in our travels. And, for your information, we do travel during the day when
the need arises. And today is your lucky day. We’re leaving as soon as you’ve
eaten.” Buffy stomped away, leaving the
girl to make her own way to her meal.
Her sympathy for the girl, or anyone who couldn’t face up to the situation,
had worn thin.
Angel
heard the door slam, announcing Buffy’s arrival. He had finished cleaning up
after Buffy and he was now towelling his hair. His shower had been a quick
one. The water had run cold after the
first minute.
“Everyone
okay?” he asked her from beneath terry cloth.
“They’re
eating.” Buffy stomped over to where
their bags were and started sorting through their things.
Angel
refrained from saying anything more. He let Buffy rummage about, throwing clean
clothes into the bags while he finished getting dressed.
It
was another hour before everyone was ready. Angel had the generator turned off
and the motel was locked down. He was safe inside the car, sitting in the
passenger seat. The windows were well tinted and he was safe. It was Buffy’s
turn to drive. It was daylight. Angel drove at night, his eyes better
suited. Angel closed his eyes. He would
attempt sleep while he could. He drifted off to the hum of the engine, the beat
of four human hearts and the stink of fear.
Buffy
drove like a demon. They had miles to go and a forest to navigate. This was a
familiar route, one they had taken a time or three. A look in the rear view
mirror showed her a quiet landscape, the city left behind two nights before. Glancing over at Angel, she saw that he was
asleep. Another peek at the mirror had her assessing her other passengers. The
girl sat behind her, nervously twisting her fingers, Allan behind Angel,
casting furtive glances at the girl. Robert was sprawled out in the back, quite
relaxed. He was reading one of the books Angel carried around. Of the three,
Robert was the one Buffy could rely on. He had been quite capable of looking
after himself. He had fought off demons and had survived. Allan and Cynthia
each had made it through in their own way. They had hidden from the monsters
that roamed the streets. They had watched from secret hidey holes as the
vampires raged war against one another, vying for the last human blood. Buffy
snorted quietly on that thought. The vampires were doing their job for them by
killing each other. If only they could do it more quickly and on a grander
scale.
“How
many people did you say there were?” Cynthia asked, breaking the silence.
Buffy
kept her eyes on the road. “Forty, fifty, I think. I don’t know, I haven’t kept
count.”
“We’ll
be okay there?”
“What
can you do, Cynthia? What did you do before…?”
“Before
the world went to hell? I was a secretary. For a firm of accountants.” Cynthia
paused, and then in a small voice she added, “Not much call for that now.”
“There
will be other things you can learn to do. You’ll be fine.”
Cynthia
nodded and stared out the window. Farm
houses went by, empty shells that once held folk, the animals now feral,
fending for themselves, those that hadn’t starved to death, penned up and
helpless. Cynthia’s throat closed up. Helpless. She knew the feeling.
Allan
surprised her when he said, “I’m sure they’ll need nurses. You can learn to be
a nurse.”
Hope
crept back into Cynthia’s voice. “You think so? Who would teach me?”
Allan
smiled. “I would. I was training to be a doctor. I guess we could learn
together.”
Behind
them, Robert chuckled as if there was something funny in his book, but Buffy
doubted it. She glanced once more at Angel and saw the minute lift of his lips.
Smiling in spite of herself, Buffy shook her head and concentrated on the road
once more.
Buffy
stopped at a gas station she and Angel on occasion frequented. It was, of
course, deserted. Still, Buffy kept an eye out for trouble as she and Robert
got out of the SUV, the hand-pump in his hands. Like a well-oiled machine,
Robert and Buffy pulled apart one of the panels on a gas pump to access the
fuel below. The mechanic placed the tube into the storage tank and proceeded to
pump the gas up and into a jerry can. When it was full, he adjusted the hose so
that the fuel would fill their vehicle’s tank.
Allan
and Cynthia decided to stretch their legs. Nervously, they looked around just
to be sure there wasn’t an unpleasant surprise waiting for them. It looked safe enough. There didn’t appear
to be any demons lurking about waiting to jump them. They relaxed a little.
“Let’s
see what’s inside?” Cynthia suggested, wondering if there were edible snacks
still on the shelves.
The
window of the SUV wound down a crack. Angel’s voice drifted out to them.
“Let
Buffy know what you intend to do. She’ll make sure it’s safe before you go in.”
They
did so, and waited outside while the slayer checked out the station’s store.
“It’s
a relief, you know, not to have to think of everything all the time,” Allan
said to Cynthia.
“I
know what you mean.”
Buffy
came out of the small building, saying “All clear,” as she went on by.
“How
did you manage to stay alive?” Allan asked Cynthia as they wandered onto the
premises. “I moved around a lot. Bunked down in high rises. When my food ran out, I moved elsewhere,
grabbed things on the way.”
“I
lived in a Wal-Mart. They have everything. Food, clothing, blankets…and then
the monsters came. I kept myself small and they didn’t see me. I got away. I
was so scared. I’ve kept moving ever since. Oh. There doesn’t look like much is
left,” she said, as they eyed up the almost bare shelves.
Allan
smiled at her. “Never mind. Let’s see what we can find.”
Cynthia
smiled back. Perhaps life is worth living
after all, she thought as they began to look about.
When
they made it back outside, Allan and Cynthia had their hands full of chewing
gum and packets of potato chips. They pulled up short when they noticed Angel
standing beside the car, the sun having set in the time they had been inside.
The vampire terrified them. It was what he was. Never mind that he had helped
rescue them. They had seen too many monsters and the things they did not to be
afraid. Angel sitting in the car, asleep, had made them uneasy, but standing,
he was a hulking figure and a frightening one. Allan and Cynthia went around
the other side of the car and got in.
Angel
pretended not to notice. The stink of the humans’ fear was hard to ignore. At
least the older man, Robert, seemed more at ease with him. Buffy made a face at
him as she came out of the station’s bathroom.
“At
least you don’t have to face the horribleness of public bathrooms,” she
complained, shaking her hands in an attempt to dry them.
“I
consider myself lucky,” he smirked at her as she went by. He heard her telling
the two in the car to use the facilities. They weren’t stopping again.
The
road had begun to climb. They were heading to higher ground. Trees loomed tall
and close, prodded on by the army of pine and spruce behind them. Angel navigated the bends with ease, the
vehicle’s headlights causing shadows to shift and menace. Buffy shivered. Angel
noticed and, with a touch of a button, the interior began to fill with heat.
“It’s
not even winter yet and I’m cold,” she complained, staring out at the
road. “I miss California.”
“Minnesota’s
not such a bad place. There’s plenty of wood for heat and for building. And
wildlife to hunt.”
“And
water. The state has an abundance of rivers and lakes,” Robert chipped in from
down the back. “Where there’s water there’ll be fish.”
Buffy
glanced over at Angel. Making sure he was watching her, she mouthed, “We don’t
have to stay, do we? We can go elsewhere, go help more helpless?”
He
nodded. They could move on. They should move on. Buffy was unhappy enough as it
was, it wouldn’t hurt to venture south. Angel’s first priority was Buffy. It
always would be Buffy. Beside him,
Buffy’s posture stiffened. She had noticed the car’s lights reflected in eyes
watching them from beneath the trees.
Cynthia
had noticed too. Anxious, she asked, “Are there demons out there?”
“Just
wolves, I think,” Buffy reassured them.
“Just
wolves? They’re as dangerous as demons,” Allan muttered.
Buffy
heaved a long-suffering sigh. Anywhere
but here, she thought. “Not all demons are evil. Some are quite nice,
actually.” She cut a glance at her demon lover.
“Yeah?
I haven’t met a demon yet that I haven’t wanted to kill.”
“Because
those are the ones who do want to eat you. If you haven’t been paying
attention,” Buffy swung about to face her fellow passengers, “you’d have
noticed that there are demons feeding on other demons. There are demons out
there just trying to get along, just like there are people doing the same. The
weak get preyed on. It’s a fact of life. Deal with it.”
“How
do we do that?” Cynthia asked meekly in the face of Buffy’s ire.
“Be
strong. Be smart. Don’t put yourself in bad places. I guess you know that last
part already. You’ve made it this far. Up till now you’ve been hiding and
surviving. Now it’s time to start living. It’s time to build a community. And
that means sharing responsibility and staying alive. Even if it means you have
to share with people you don’t like. As long as those people don’t want to hurt
you, then you get along. There are too few people left in the world to start
making enemies. Help each other. Share. And have I said get along?”
Buffy
turned back in her seat and crossed her arms. She was suddenly tired of
talking. No wonder Angel did so little of it.
Angel
whispered to her. “Well done.”
“Your
turn next time,” she reminded him.
He
arched a brow at her and smiled.
She
punched him gently on the arm. “You know what I mean,” she said.
Buffy’s
outburst was the last thing said in the car for a long while. The car moved through a sea of trees, the
moon’s light unable to penetrate, making their journey an eerie one. The quiet
purr of the engine was the only thing anchoring them to reality. If Buffy
didn’t know that civilization had ended she would think civilization had
ended.
Once
upon a time, she knew, demons preferred to inhabit the underbelly of human
cities. Now they roamed the countryside looking for a meal, be it animal or the
rare human. This far out, any travellers had to be on their guard.
Buffy
chuckled. It had been a long time since
Angel had heard her laugh.
“What?”
“Vampires
farming cattle and pigs.”
“What?”
he said again, confused.
“When
vampires come to their senses and realise that there are limited food sources,
they’ll have to take up farming. Can you imagine it? Farming would have to be
done at night. Vampires in denim overalls!”
Angel
flashed his teeth at her. He had to admit it was pretty funny.
“Out
of all the freaky things that have happened to the world, that would have to
top the list,” she said.
Angel’s
smile died. A terrible thought blossomed in his mind. Not willing to have
Buffy’s mood plummet he decided not to share.
“Domesticated
vamps,” he said instead.
“Ma
and Pa Vamp,” she laughed. And then, as
if she had plucked the thought bouncing about in his head, Buffy’s laugh died.
“People
farms,” she said in a grim voice.
“More
reason to get these people to safety,” he said to reassure her. Angel glanced
in the rear view mirror. Their passengers hadn’t heard their conversation. The
people in the back had succumbed to the motion of the car and had fallen
asleep.
“What
on earth were they thinking? Germ warfare, Angel?”
Taking
the next bend easily, Angel nodded. This wasn’t the first time he had heard
Buffy’s thoughts on why the Earth was the way it was.
“From
what Frank told us,” Buffy said, “the plague must have spread around the world
in two days. Nobody knows how or why it happened.
Nobody even knows if governments had time to flee to secure locations
underground. For all we know, there are government morons living below us. Safe
from the mayhem.”
“They’d
have surfaced by now, surely,” Angel said, and not for the first time.
“Maybe.
Maybe not. They might be terrified that there are lingering spores out here
just waiting to strike down anyone that hasn’t got immunity.”
“Mmm…”
Buffy
continued on. “Vampires being dead are
automatically immune, most demons too, apparently. Only a very few humans were
lucky enough to be safe from the virus, whatever it was.” She went quiet for a moment. “Either I have
a natural immunity or my slayerness is what protects me.”
“Or,
the plague has run its course and was harmless by the time we got back,” Angel
reminded her.
Buffy
and Angel had been in another dimension, putting paid to a petty overlord who
had turned covetous eyes on humanity’s reality and had been sending his demon
warriors through to pillage and plunder. When Buffy and Angel had stepped back
into their own dimension they found their world had gone to ruin. The world
that had greeted them was eerily quiet. There were no cars polluting the air
with exhaust and sounds, no noise at all from dead and deserted cities. At
night, when the vampires were out hunting, it was another story. Vampires were
silent, deadly predators. When they attacked, as they did one another, fighting
over food scraps - that the scraps happened to be human was the whole point -
then the city rang with their roar. And
the smell. Buffy would never forget the
smell. Millions of dead people left an undeniable odour. Not freshly dead,
even, but putrid in decay. The desiccated ones were a godsend. And then Buffy
remembered the birds. Flocks of black birds, feasting on the corpses left out
in the open.
Buffy
stared out through the windscreen and into the night, trying to shake away
images of feeding birds from her mind.
Angel
drove on in the silence, waiting for her next thought.
Buffy
decided talking was better than brooding. Angel did enough for both of them.
“Will we make it? I mean the human species? Do we deserve to survive? Wouldn’t
the world be better off without us? No, scratch that. The world is better off
without us. Trees will grow back, farms will become wilderness. Cities will
crumble.”
She
heaved a big sigh. “Demons will inherit the earth.”
Angel
dared not say that demons had been here first.
“There
might be a chance,” he said instead, “if enough people get together and build a
viable community.”
“If
they can keep the monsters at bay,” she said. “Most would be demon fodder by
now.”
Buffy
blinked back tears that threatened. She didn’t want to think about babies and
children having made it through the sickness, starving to death or becoming
food for the monsters.
Angel
counted off the seconds, twenty-two, before Buffy said in a small voice, “I
don’t think we’re going to make it either.”
He
was at a loss on what to say. Taking his hand off the steering wheel Angel
reached across and clasped her hand. Buffy squeezed his fingers. With her other
hand she surreptitiously wiped at her eyes. Their hands entwined, sitting
quietly, they drove on through the night.
When her emotions had settled, Buffy thought it was rather like that
movie, ‘The Body Snatchers’ where the car was driving along, the heroes the only
ones left and fleeing the scary.
A
break in the trees indicated the turning Angel was looking for. The road had
wound its way upwards and over the hills and had made its way down again. Angel left the road. The surface, a more
bumpy ride, woke the Angelmobile’s other passengers.
“Where
are we?” Robert yawned hard. Angel heard his jaw pop.
“We’ve
left the main highway,” Cynthia said, looking out at the night.
“I
think we’re almost there,” Allan said.
He wasn’t quite right. It was another twenty-odd minutes before they
slowed and came to a stop. Buffy got out of the car and went to open the gate
that was closed ahead of them. Angel drove through and waited till Buffy had
secured the gate and had hopped back into the car.
And
the lights of the car went out. Cynthia let out a little squeal.
“Are
we in trouble?” she asked, sliding lower in her seat.
Angel
continued to drive without the lights, his eyes adjusting to the night quite
quickly and he had no trouble navigating.
“No,
and we like to keep it that way. It’s just a precaution,” Buffy said to
reassure.
The
car lurched along, its pace slowed because the road was now just a track of
sorts, winding its way through the wood. Everyone sat quietly, watching the
darkness slide by, waiting for the vampire to hit a tree. When Angel finally
brought the car to a stop, they breathed a sigh of relief. It was short-lived,
however, when the vampire said, “End of the road. Everyone out.”
Buffy
shivered again, and pulled on the jacket she had had wrapped over her knees.
Her companions huddled into their jackets too, the air cold outside. Angel
started unloading the car. Bags and boxes went into a pile. Buffy clicked on
the flashlights she had rescued out of the Angelmobile and handed them out.
“Clip
them to your belt, let the light shine onto the earth, and follow me.” She
shoved as many things as they could carry into their arms before picking up her
share. Angel had the last of the boxes, she saw, and took up the rear. She led
the way, her light picking out obstacles. The two men and other woman were able
to watch their feet as their light danced around with every step.
An
imposing shape loomed up ahead, throwing the newcomers into a panic.
“It’s
a truck. No biggie,” Buffy said as she manoeuvred them around it.
Beside
the truck, on the other side, a car and a van were parked. It was totally
unexpected and Robert let out a shaky laugh.
Several
figures emerged out of the gloom. Cynthia squealed again in fright.
“Easy,”
Angel said. “They’re friends.” A
vampire telling them to be easy didn’t make it so, but they did relax when the
figures proved to be human.
“Hellos”
and “can we help with that?” greeted the travellers, and soon the group were
stepping into a house, their hands and arms relieved of their burdens.
Through
the door there was light. Allan, Cynthia, and Robert blinked with surprise. The
room was larger than they thought possible and in it were more people.
“But
how?” Cynthia began.
One
of the men with them said, “We don’t like to announce to the world where we are
even if we are out in the back of beyond.” He waved a hand towards the windows.
They were well covered with thick material. “Black-out curtains.”
“I’m
Frank, by the way, and this is Chris,” he gestured towards a slender woman of
indeterminate age. Chris smiled back warmly. “The others will make your
acquaintance once you’re settled in.”
Buffy
introduced her charges to the assembled crowd, and beat a hasty retreat, Angel
behind her. She suddenly felt hemmed in, claustrophobic, and there were way too
many people impinging on her personal space. Not for the first time she
appreciated how Angel felt in a crowd. The slap of cold air outside was welcome
after the heat of the room.
“I’m
bushed, Angel. Let’s go to bed.” Angel wrapped his arm about her waist. Buffy
snuggled into him as he led them towards their room.
The
slayer and her vampire had their living quarters away from the rest of the
community. Space was tight but room had
been made. No one wanted a vampire in their midst and a solution had presented
itself. Buffy and Angel were gone more often than not so they had the use of
the room that had been carved into the hillside. It had started out as a bear
den, they presumed, and the previous owner had made a cool room, a storage area
out of it. It was now Buffy and Angel’s retreat when they were about.
“Buffy?
Angel?”
Slayer
and vampire turned about. It was Chris, she had followed them outside. She had
a flashlight in her hand.
“It’s
late,” Chris said. “I know you’re tired. I just wanted to thank you. If it
wasn’t for you…”
Angel
nodded in the other woman’s direction. “Good night.”
“Good
night, Angel,” she said, smiling up at him. “Good night, Buffy. And thank you
again.”
A
shot rang out. Then two. Angel sped away, disappearing as he was able to do.
Buffy chased after him, griping under her breath, “Wait for me.”
Behind
them chaos erupted. Voices called out, light blossomed as doors opened and it
went dark again.
When
Buffy caught up with Angel, he was talking to a young man with a rifle in his
hands. Buffy’s nose caught the tang of gunpowder.
“Damned
wolf!” the man was saying. “It was after the chickens.”
“There’s
plenty of game about. The wolf may be lame. Did you hit it, Eddie?”
The
young man shook his head. “I don’t know if I did. It sped away quite fast.”
“I’ll
go after it,” Angel said, “to be sure.”
Buffy
put out a hand and laid it on his arm. “Can’t it wait till tomorrow night?”
“If
it’s injured it will be a kindness. You go to bed and keep warm.”
“Angel…”
“You’re
tired. Get some sleep. I’ll be back before sunrise.”
Buffy
was tired. And it was cold. Still, a
part of her didn’t want to let Angel go off on his own.
Angel
saw her hesitation. “Go. It’s only a wolf.”
She
conceded. “Okay.” She gave him a kiss. “Be careful.”
“Always.”
+++
Angel
liberated his sword from the car and he set off, tracking the wolf. His tread
was silent as he swiftly covered ground. He had hunted in these woods before,
having had to provide for his own nourishment. At times, he drained his prey
dry and carried the carcass back for the humans to eat. Fresh meat was always
welcome.
The
spoor of the wolf was not difficult to follow. The animal was lame. And yet the
wolf kept ahead of him, despite its injury.
Angel pursued it none-the-less, he couldn’t have it returning to the
farm and killing any of their livestock. As Angel hurried over rough terrain,
the forest closed in around him. The
going was trickier now. Angel was beginning to think the animal wasn’t so lame
to have made it this far. If he didn’t know better he would think the creature
was luring him to a trap. A soft growl alerted him to danger. The wolf was
ahead of him, standing proud on a large rock that jutted out of the ground. It
was white, not at all the grey of the timber wolf. An answering growl had him
turning his head. Several wolves had come up from behind him, circling him,
blocking off his retreat. There was only one way, and that was forward, if he
wanted to avoid the snap of jaws.
Angel
stepped towards the wolf on the stone, sword raised. “Come get me,” he snarled,
changing face.
Blinding
light seared his eyes and he closed them, covering his eyelids with a hand. It
was a mistake. He knew it the minute he closed his eyes. Blinking hard, Angel
spun about, and was sure the wolves would have been leaping for his throat. He
was surprised to see them sitting there, watching him. He twisted back around
and, in place of the white wolf, a glowing light radiated. Narrowing his eyes,
Angel made out a faint outline. A wing here, a beak there.
“There
will be no harm,” a voice in his head said.
Raising
his hand to his eyes again, Angel said, “Who are you? What are you?”
“We
are miigi. In your terms, a Power of the People.”
“People?”
“The Anishinaabe.
Ojibwe. Chippewa
in your language.”
Angel
knew then he was dealing with one of the Native American deities.
“Power?
The Powers That Be?”
There
was a sound rather like the soft, rolling thunder heard a mile away. The
supernatural being was laughing. “Not really.”
“Why
have you brought me here?”
“To
set you on your path.”
It
was Angel’s turn to laugh. It was a bitter sound. “As I said, a Power.”
“You
mock.”
“It’s
a gift. I’ll bite. What path?”
“There
is little left of this world. You have done us a service these past days.”
“What
service?”
“The
People live on in two you have saved. Their blood will continue. Ah-kï is wounded but she will recover. And
with her so will her People.”
“Ah-kï
?”
“She
is all around you. Mother Earth.”
Right. “Who have I saved?”
“The
man who fixes things and the young buck who thought to kill me with his
weapon.”
Robert
and Eddie. The men had Chippewa blood
in them.
The
miigi continued. “The People will be new, different. The men don’t remember the
old ways, but perhaps that is a good thing. The tribe’s history will be
reborn.”
Wondering
if he sounded impatient, Angel asked, “What path are you setting me on?”
“The
female, your lover, will have a dream. It will show you the way.”
The
light began to dim. Angel could see more of the outline. Talons and feathers. A
dark eye. Fur. Horns.
“Wait.
The way to where?”
“Back
to your world. Your presence here has done what it was meant to do.”
Speechless,
Angel stared as the light faded and was replaced by the form of the wolf.
Lifting its muzzle in the air, it howled. The wolves surrounding Angel answered
the call. Suddenly, Angel was alone in the forest. The wolves had bounded away,
leaving him to return to Buffy.
+++
Buffy
took her time shutting the door. She lit the kerosene lamp and placed it on a
hook on the wall. Buffy heaved a sigh and sat on the bed. There wasn’t much
room, the bed taking up most of the space.
Hangers hung laden with clothes, both male and female. Buffy leaned down
and clicked open the small chest standing there. She pulled out the stake in
her pocket and placed it inside. Something silver glittered. It was the
crucifix that Angel had given her, it seemed, eons ago, and she had forgotten
to put it back on after her shower all those weeks ago. Rubbing her fingers
across the metal, she left it in the box. Sleeping with Angel meant crosses
weren’t something they took to bed. Slipping her clothes off, and pulling on a
tee shirt to sleep in, she climbed into bed. Fighting lethargy and losing, she
was instantly asleep.
Buffy
dreamed. A voice was calling to her.
The voice wasn’t familiar and yet there was something about it that resonated
within her. A wall of light surrounded
her. Putting out a hand, it disappeared into the light. Frightened now, she yanked it back and was
surprised her hand was whole. Buffy couldn’t find Angel. He was somewhere close
and she couldn’t see him. His voice was chanting something in a strange
language. Buffy had a feeling she had heard the words before. The words had a
quality about them. The chanting made her shiver. She wasn’t afraid. It was
Angel. He wouldn’t hurt her. A bull
stepped into her path. A moose, then a bird, a crane high-stepped past her, and
a duck waddled after. A bear, raised up
on its hind legs, roared at her. Startled, she fell back a couple of paces.
Thunder rolled, drowning out Angel’s voice. A large figure, beaked, its eyes
brimming with lightning, its feathered wings spanning into infinity beat once,
and Buffy was deafened again by the sound of thunder. When Buffy looked again, she saw the creatures who had stepped
into her path vanish into the light, as if they were walking into the Ark, two
by two. Soon, she was left with the thunderbird, for that was how Buffy thought
of it. It stared at her intently before turning away and followed the others
into the light. Behind it a totem pole
stood.
Buffy
woke. Angel was standing at the end of
the bed, staring at her.
She
patted the bed. He sat.
“I
had the strangest dream.”
“Tell
me about it.”
When
she was done, she asked him, “What does it mean?”
He
told her what had transpired in the forest.
Buffy
was dumbstruck. She managed to work her mouth. She found her voice at last.
“What?
How…how… I don’t understand, Angel. We’re in the wrong place? This isn’t our world?” Buffy got out of bed
and paced. There was room for five steps. She took them, and turned. Paced back
five steps. “Did something go wrong
with the spell we used to open the portal?”
She
threw her arms up in the air. Spinning about, she laughed.
“Our
world is still there! Intact! No germ warfare, billions not dead! We can go home!” She all but squealed the last
word. Buffy flung herself at him and planted
a
kiss on his lips. She pushed him back on the bed, laughing and crying at the same
time.
Angel
laughed with her, happy for her, happy for them both. Happiness was not
something he usually allowed himself to feel. And certainly not perfect
happiness. His dance with Buffy would soon be over. He was thrilled for her.
She was going to get her world back. He was glad that his boy was alive and
that humanity hadn’t perished. And yet, he knew he was going to have to adjust
to a life without Buffy. She would go back to her family and friends, back to
her duty and responsibility as a slayer, as head of an army of slayers, and he
wasn’t a part of that. And he never would be. He wasn’t trusted or wanted by
the others and, rather than make life for Buffy difficult, he would make his
own way.
Angel
made love to Buffy. It was slow and it was tender and it was almost perfect.
Inside his mind, Angel was already grieving the loss of her body, the feel of
her skin sliding across his, and the delicious scent of her. He wanted the moment to last forever and he
knew it could never be.
Lying
side by side when they were finished, Buffy looked into his eyes and asked him,
“If only we could take everyone back with us. This world is dead. These people
needn’t be. We could help them. They could come back to a world they once
knew.”
Angel
kissed her. “I love you. Your heart is a big as the world. You know why we
can’t. This world needs them. Perhaps humans will do better next time.”
“If
they survive.”
“I
think they will. There’s an interested party watching over them.”
Buffy
ran her fingers over the planes of his face. “Talking of, where do we begin?”
“I
think we could start with the incantation. I may recognize it. What do you
remember?”
Buffy
pulled a face. “It was all double Dutch to me. There was a loud noise. I
couldn’t hear you when it began to thunder.”
“Never
mind. Close your eyes. Visualize, or in your case, try and remember what you
can.”
Not
sure that she could remember anything of the words Angel had been chanting in
her dream, she closed her eyes and did as he asked.
“It’s
not working,” she said, frustrated, after a minute.
“Sshh…”
Angel kissed her on her lips. “Keep your eyes closed, listen to my voice…”
He
whispered words in a soothing voice, calm tones, relaxing her until Buffy felt
herself drift away, her dream unfolding in her mind.
“Can
you hear me?” he asked as if from a great distance.
“I
can hear you,” she murmured. And she could.
“Tell
me.”
Buffy
repeated the words of the chant she was hearing again in her dream. Angel had
her go over it until he was satisfied he had what he wanted.
She
felt his lips on hers, and she woke up, dazed.
Gathering her thoughts, she said, “Well?”
His
smile was dazzling. “You did good.” And he proceeded to whisper the chant back
to her, careful he didn’t put his will and power into his voice. Spells needed
strength of will and determination to succeed.
“Wheee!
I think that’s it.” Buffy’s eyes glittered with excitement.
“It’s
the same spell we used to get here.”
She
hugged him. “I knew it sounded familiar! Can we go now?”
“Do
you not want to say goodbye to the others?”
“Oh.
I guess.” Buffy wasn’t that bothered but she knew Angel was right. “What do we
tell them? We’re skipping this world, and no, you can’t come with us? I don’t
think that’s going to work.”
“If
we disappear tonight, they’ll be worried and start looking for us. I don’t want
them to do that. It’s dangerous out there.”
“Can’t
we just say we’re going south? To a place that’s a lot warmer? They know I
don’t like the cold.”
“It
means we’ll have to wait another night. It’s too close to sunrise for me to
leave now.”
“I
suppose I can live with that.”
Angel
kissed away her pout. “If this doesn’t work, we go find the nearest Indian
reservation. Perhaps that’s what your dream was trying to tell you, that we
need to go to a place of the People. Places have hot spots, a weakening in
dimension walls that allows a person to travel between. ”
“The
totem.” Buffy laughed. “And by the way, it’s Native American now.”
”Anishinaabe.”
“Bless
you.”
“It’s
the old name for the People.”
“Oh.
Why didn’t you say so?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,”
she said and snuggled into his arms again.
“I think I’m too happy to fall asleep.” Buffy sighed. “It will work. It
has to, Angel. We have magical beings, Gods even, pointing the way.”
+++
The
next evening, they set off in the Angelmobile, having said their goodbyes. Not
everyone had been unhappy to see them go, although all agreed that things were
about to get a lot tougher without Buffy and Angel. The slayer and her vampire
sped through the night, eager to be gone from the world.
Buffy turned to Angel. “I wish we could have
told them where we’re going.”
“It’s
better they don’t know.” And it was. Angel buried the regret he felt at leaving
everyone behind. It had to be. The miigi wouldn’t be happy if they absconded
with two of its tribe. Besides, he
couldn’t be responsible for everyone in the world. It felt that way, sometimes.
He hoped that the world they were leaving would recover, that humans managed to
gain a foothold and flourish.
“I
know, still…” Buffy grinned. “What’s happened to the speed demon I know and
love? I know you can drive faster than this. Put your foot down, mister.”
Angel
was happy to oblige.
End
October
2011
A.Ns.
I
apologise to anyone if I have erred in my use of the folklore of the Ojibwe
People. I gleaned what little I know from Google, and Wikipedia was very
helpful.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ojibwe_people#In_legends_and_fiction
Minnesota
is almost unknown to me, so I kept it simple. And remember, alternate realities
do differ. J