It Was A Start
Disclaimer:
I don't own any of the characters on Buffy; wish I did. Don't sue!
Word
Count: 2605
Rating:
R
Warnings:
dark fic, mentions of killing
Summary:
Wolfram & Hart ended the world after NFA, yet it keeps going and Angel
walks a fine line working for and against them, and then Buffy is captured and
he has to save her despite the risk.
**
Wolfram
& Hart ended the world. Or, at
least, civilization as it was known in the beginning of the twenty-first
century.
After
a war lasting barely six months, they conquered every square inch. Surviving humans were put to work to produce
the things demons wanted or bred to birth food. There were pockets of resistance but they were mostly a nuisance
to the pure-bred demons who ruled as well as objects of amusement. A few had caused some damage but they would
be captured and killed soon enough.
One
such group had sprung up in Los Angeles to stop the first wave of demons. Most had been slaughtered but a few
remained, hiding in the ruins of the city, plotting. Led by the son of the one who started it all, the vampire, Angel,
they did what they could to help those still free. They were pests, but easily confined to the city limits, and no
one really wanted to live at ground zero, even demons.
More
annoying were the Slayers, several hundred strong and joined by witches and
seers and other supernatural but benign creatures. They were scattered around the world, but their leader was in
England and Wolfram & Hart were forced to admit that she was a
problem. Charismatic and powerful and a
real pain in their collective asses.
One
year to the day from their entrance to this world, the senior partners of
Wolfram & Hart captured Buffy Summers and dragged her to New York City,
their capital. They were going to
execute her publically and horrifically, in the hopes that some of the more
violent and, unfortunately, capable resistance cells would surrender or simply
stop fighting.
Even
demons wanted a peaceful existence.
So,
the execution was set up, the broadcast lines reestablished so that every slave
camp, every work site, every remaining demon governed community around the
world would see it, and the Slayer was ritualistically prepared.
And
a debt was called, stopping it all.
*****
"I
want her."
"Anyone
but her, lord. You have your pick of
the most beautiful human females. You
can have them all, if you wish."
Angel
turned to glare at the toady the Senior Partners had attending him while he
visited the city. "Make it
happen. They owe me. Tell them I'm calling in the favor."
Slowly
the former mayor nodded as he cowered, then shuffled out of the suite at the Ritz. He was going to his death, but at least the
master demons who ruled would make it quick.
The vampire was known to toy with his food.
As
soon as the fallen human was out of sight, Angel slumped and rubbed his tired
eyes. He'd been awake for nearly three
days, waiting for the moment Buffy arrived in New York, waiting to make his
move.
For
a year he'd been playing along with the Senior Partners. When he'd realized that the invasion was
more than just to bring him and his gang down, he and the survivors had made a
quick plan. Sending Connor, Spike and
Illyria into the depths of the L.A. subway system, Angel had executed the
nearly dead Gunn in full sight of the leader of the demonic invasion. Gunn has given his permission but his death
haunted Angel every day.
His
original plan had been to bargain for Los Angeles--he had knowledge the Senior
Partners would want. When he'd quickly
realized the whole world was at war, he gave over the names of every traitor
within Wolfram & Hart--and there were a surprisingly large number--and
turned himself in. Whether or not the
Senior Partners believed that he'd been working to bring down the traitors,
including his own people, or not, they let him live and forced him to hunt for
them. At first they did it to punish
him. It amused them to have him under
their thumb. Angel suspected they were
waiting for him to rebel so they could kill him as a traitor--they liked
executing traitors. He also knew they
were wary about the prophecies surrounding him--sometimes if you killed
something, it only came back stronger, Illyria being an obvious example and the
Senior Partners really didn't want any other Old Gods roaming their Earth.
But,
he did nothing to arouse their suspicions and after the war ended he was left
alone to bring down those in hiding and, while he did that, feeling only a
little remorse since they had sided with demons, he set up resistance cells,
and linked them to Connor.
By
the anniversary of the invasion, he had turned over forty-eight humans to be slaughtered
and set up nearly a hundred cells, the vast majority of them under the radar,
waiting for the word to engage the demons.
Months earlier, the Senior Partners had been impressed enough to grant
him anything he wanted outside of leaving the planet or their heads on
platters. He'd put them off, but now,
with Buffy's capture, he asked for one thing.
His
soul was so dark now, but she was his eternal light.
He
couldn't let her die.
*****
The
negotiations began within the hour and lasted over a day. He was truly exhausted by the time the
Senior Partners conceded--with the brutal warning that this was the only boon
they would grant him and he would work for them for the rest of eternity. If Buffy caused any trouble, they both would
die, prophecies be damned.
Slumped
on a couch watching the sun set, he waited.
She
was brought to him in chains, surrounded by a dozen minor demons, but her head
was held high and her eyes were bright with anger. She was dirty and bruised and so incredibly beautiful. When she saw him, her eyes narrowed, the
anger turning to outright hatred.
Angel
sighed softly in resignation. So, she
knew one side...
The
demons retreated, one of them tossing him the key to her shackles, and Angel
pushed his tired body to his feet.
As
soon as the door closed, Buffy charged, somehow still managing to move
incredibly fast despite the ankle restraints.
Angel caught her but not before she punched him in the jaw. He shook, it off and listened to her ranting
at him.
"Traitor,
bastard, how could you, you son of a bitch, we trusted you, we believed you,
you turned on us all, I hate you."
Picking
her up and slinging her over his shoulder, Angel carted her kicking and
screaming into the bedroom and dumped her on the bed. As she twisted and tried to bite him, he unfastened her chains
and threw them into a corner of the room, then put one hand between her breasts
and shoved her down hard.
"Yeah,
I'm all of that, and I just saved your life."
"Didn't
ask you too," she yelled as she clawed at his hand and kicked up, trying
to wrap her legs around him.
Crouched
over her, Angel leered down at her.
"You're mine now. Fight it
all you want. I like how it makes you
all...glistening and heaving."
Buffy's
eyes widened and she jerked back, scrambling from beneath him as he sat back on
his heels. "Don't touch me!"
The
suite was bugged, both microphones and cameras, and removing them was too
risky. They were being watched so he
couldn't say anything, couldn't even write a note to explain. For one night they were trapped here. Tomorrow he could get her out of her, back
to his base in San Francisco. He could
explain.
Until
then, he'd have to put up with her fury and hatred.
Rising
to his feet, he ran a hand through his hair and then stripped off his
shirt. He was worn down and only wanted
sleep, but he didn't dare leave the Slayer alone with his unconscious
body. Even chaining her back down was
too risky. She was just too damn
strong.
When
Buffy scrambled off the other side of the bed, shaking her head, hands held out
in protest, he sighed again. "I'm
not touching you. Not here. I'm tired and I'm going to shower. There's no escape, not even out the window
to your death--unbreakable glass and too many damn wards. Get some rest. We leave for California in the morning."
As
he headed for the bathroom, he heard he whisper, "Did you lose your
soul?" and he shook his head. The
last thing he heard behind him before he closed the bathroom door was a broken
sob.
Being
soulless would have made this so much easier.
*****
When
he returned from the bathroom, damp and wearing only black sleep pants, Buffy
was curled in a window seat, staring into the night. New York City was pretty much intact and many storeys below the
streets teemed with both demonic and human night life. Every city had collaborators, those humans
who wanted to survive as more than slaves and who had the power to offer the
demons an easier way than mass slaughter.
Wolfram & Hart had always had uses for humans.
She
didn't turn her gaze to him, but said softly, "We're never going to
win. I've tried to keep everyone's
spirits up, rally the troops and everything, but it's hopeless. Either we survive like rats in hiding or
like those humans down there, pretending the world hasn't ended, or we
die."
"Yeah."
"I'd
rather die."
He
snorted softly. "It's not the
escape you think it is."
"I've
been to Heaven," she retorted, glaring over her shoulder. "It's better. It's just peace."
"Well,
tough for you because you're not dying anytime soon."
"I
don't love you anymore. I despise
you," she hissed.
"Well,
then my love will be unrequited," he snapped back, then left the
bedroom. "Don't come out until I
come get you in the morning or you won't like the consequences."
He
ignored her petulant mutter of, "I already don't like them," and
slammed the door shut, then slumped back on the couch, reaching for the remote
to find something mindless to keep him awake.
L.A. was destroyed, but filming of moronic television shows continued
elsewhere. And there were always the
demonic game shows where humans were prizes or contestants where life and death
really meant something. Reality shows
never died.
*****
The
buzzing of the intercom brought Angel out of a light doze. Quickly ascertaining that the bedroom door
was still closed and Buffy wasn't lurking in any corner ready to attack, he
answered his wake-up call, then rose and stretched his stiff limbs. A car was ready to take them to his private
jet. Wondering how much stink she'd put
up, he quietly opened the door and slipped inside.
Buffy
was on the bed, but awake, still clothed, though she'd cleaned up. On his entry, she sat up and watched him
warily as he pulled clothes out of his unpacked bag and dressed in front of
her. He did notice she looked away as
he stripped to the skin. He also
noticed a blush formed on her pale cheeks.
"We're
leaving. Do I need to chain you
again?"
She
didn't even think about it, just rose and held out her hands, fists
touching. "Yep."
Rolling
his eyes, Angel replaced her shackles, then closed up his suitcase and summoned
a valet.
Buffy
didn't cause a fuss and never once dropped her chin or her stubborn eyes as he
ushered her through the lobby to the stares and whispers of the staff and
guests. Once they were in the car with
necro-tempered glass windows, Angel poured her a glass of orange juice and
himself a glass of blood. He watched
her sip it slowly, testing if it was drugged, and sipped his own drink.
Neither
spoke on the trip to the airport. The
driver was one of theirs. His pilot and
co-pilot were his people. He could
speak to her on the plane.
He
just hoped she'd listen.
They
pulled into a hanger holding a Lear jet and Buffy allowed Angel to help her
from the car and onto the plane. He
knew she was biding her time, her eyes taking in everything, looking for any
escape. When the plane's door shut and
the pilot announced they had clearance for take-off, he unlocked her shackles
and sat across from her.
"You
should buckle in," he suggested as he affixed the strap over his lap and
nodded at her own.
"So,
what would your pilot do if I killed you at thirty thousand feet?"
He
couldn't help it, an impressed smirk twisted his lips. "Take you to Spike."
Buffy's
eyes widened in shock.
"He's...he's...?"
"Alive
and annoying and in command of the second L.A. resistance cell."
She
was stunned and he reached over and hooked her seat belt for her. "But...Okay, I'm confused." Crossing her arms over her chest, she glared
at him. "What's going on?"
"I
won't lie to you. I've done some
horrible things to get into the position I'm in. I did them to survive and try to undermine the Senior Partners
any way I could. In doing so I earned a
favor from them. I was going to use it
if my son was ever captured, but I used that favor for you instead."
"I've
seen you on film, standing there, unfeeling as they put humans to death,"
she whispered, and he could hear her heart racing.
"Yes,"
was his soft reply. "Horrible
things, but as I brought in spies and ruled California with an iron hand, I
formed resistance cells and funneled supplies to them, even to your council,
though they never knew the source."
"Why
didn't you tell me last night?"
"Bugs
and cameras. This plane is mine, the
pilots mine. You're safe now."
Angel
wasn't surprised when she broke down, crying softly into her hands. When they reached altitude, he fetched a wet
cloth, and a basket of fruit and sweet rolls.
Sitting next to her, he waited for her to calm, then gently washed her
face and offered her the food. He also
wasn't surprised she ate nearly everything.
She probably hadn't been fed since her capture.
Finally,
she turned brave, reddened eyes on him and sniffled. "So, what happens now?"
Gently
he cupped her chin, his thumb stroking a crumb from her lips, and he heard her
slight gasp. "We pretend. My people are mine, but there are always
eyes on me in public. In my home we can
be whatever we want. In public, you're
my broken slave."
"Let
me go," she begged. "Let me
go so I can continue to fight."
"Your
fight's over, Buffy," he replied with sorrow staining his voice. "I'm sorry. You can help me with the resistance in other ways, but you can't
leave and you can't pick up a weapon."
"I'm
the Slayer, that's what I do."
"Time
to retire."
She
jerked away from him and curled into her seat.
"Leave me alone."
Sighing,
Angel returned to the seat across from her and watched her brood as he did the
same. He knew the moment she fell
asleep, and he moved to the couch, putting his feet up on an ottoman and
letting himself go into darkness as well.
His
last thought was that Buffy would adjust.
She was strong and would see that this was the only option she had to
stay alive.
He
just wondered if she'd ever love him again.
*****
When
Angel awoke he found Buffy curled on the couch next to him, her head on his
lap. There were fresh tear streaks
dried on her cheeks but she had come to him.
It
was a start.
End