Bring Forth The Night
By Maquis Leader
Author’s note: This is an alternate sequel to The End Of Days, which you’ll need to read for this to make sense. The story picks up roughly a day later. And please remember that Angelus is EVIL.
Angelus eyed the bag of plasma with disgust. He’d heard how nasty it tasted. Unfortunately, it also had everything he needed to heal.
The second fall from the top of the Sky Temple Club had hurt him even more seriously than the first time, the broken bones and blood loss barely leaving him the strength to crawl out of the sunlight as the Beast's magic died with him. He had crawled to his knees and fallen several times before he reached a shady spot.
He had lain as still as possible waiting for his injuries to heal. His head ached unbearably, and the slightest movement had made the world dip and spin. The explosion had ripped away his duster and left his clothes in tatters, allowing the sun to scorch his face and body.
Hearing movement, Angelus had carefully turned his head. Two vamps had crept up to him and looked him over. “Hey, guys. How’re you doing?”
“You’re Angel.” One of them had said.
“Angelus, actually.” He had grimaced when the second vampire grabbed his hair and turned his head to look at him.
“Yeah, that’s him.”
“Thought so.” The first vamp had nodded.
“Now that we’re all agreed.” Angelus had laughed weakly. “How about you let me lay here awhile. We’ll get together some other time – kill some lunch.”
“Morty still got that bounty?” Vamp One had asked Vamp Two.
“Last I heard.” Vamp Two had poked at one of the wounds on Angelus’ chest, making him yelp. “Angel broke up that sweet little business he had going.”
“Okay, I can see where the trouble is.” Angelus had tried to crawl away from them. “I’m not Angel. I’m Angelus. Say it with me now, Angelus.”
“Yeah well, you look like him to me.” Vamp One had grabbed one arm while Vamp Two took the other arm. “We’ll just let Morty sort it out.”
He had almost passed out when they lifted him up and carried him farther inside one of the damaged buildings. His broken hip had ground in its socket, and he had desperately kicked out with his other leg.
Vamp One hadn’t been paying attention and took the boot to the head. He had staggered back, dropping Angelus’ legs.
Vamp Two had staggered under the sudden pull of dead weight. “What the fuck are you doing?” He’d dropped Angelus’ arms.
“He kicked me!” Wiping blood from his lip, Vamp One had snarled at his cohort.
“You always were a wuss.” Vamp Two had sneered in return. “Even before you were turned.”
“Hey, you’re the one who used to – “ A puzzled look had crossed his face. Glancing down, he had seen a broken two by four jutting out of his chest. ”Well, shit – “
Vamp Two had gaped as his pack mate exploded into dust.
Angelus had fallen as the vamp dusted, unable to defend himself as the other vamp jumped him.
“You son of a bitch!” Vamp Two had kicked Angelus in the side. “To hell with the bounty, you’re dust!”
Despite the pain, Angelus had fought back as best he could, using his larger size and weight to roll them over. Morphing into game face, he had roared in agony as his crushed cheekbone shifted and changed.
“I’m going to dust you – “ The other vamp had growled.
“Sorry – didn’t realize you – were mates – “ Angelus had grunted as a fist clipped his chin. “Since you like boys – “ Baring his fangs, he’d plunged them into the other vamp’s throat.
Vamp Two had clawed at Angelus’ face and then stiffened as the pain of the bite gave over to the pleasure. He had moaned and clutched Angelus closer as he suckled.
Gulping down the blood, Angelus had grimaced at the taste. The blood of another vamp wasn’t enough to live off of, but it had given him the strength to fight.
Rolling off the weakened vamp, Angelus had scrabbled through the debris around them, looking for something to stake him with. He had been crawling, dragging his injured leg, when the other vamp got to his feet.
“You fucker – “ Swaying, weakened by the blood loss and the aftershocks of the bite itself, he had grabbed Angelus’ injured leg and pulled him backwards.
It pulled free of the socket and for a moment, Angelus had thought his leg was coming off. He had kicked back with his other leg, catching Vamp Two in the shin and making him stumble and let go of his leg.
Lurching up to grab Vamp Two’s coat had brought sparks to dance before his eyes. When he’d pulled himself up, he could see the other vamp was snarling and cursing, but he couldn’t hear him. The ringing in his head had drowned out even the sound of his own screams of pain.
Angelus had thrown himself backward, dragging Vamp Two with him. He'd passed out as a spear of splintered wood thrust through his back.
When he’d opened his eyes, he’d blinked the vamp dust away and looked down at the wood that had burst out of the right side of his chest. “Someday, I’m going to look back on this and laugh.”
He’d hung there, pondering how exactly to get down when he’d heard someone moving through the damaged building. “Lovely. More company, and the house is such a mess.”
“Are you okay? “
A flashlight beam had blinded him. “Except for the light in my eyes.” And the two by four through my chest.
“Sorry.” The light had flicked away.
Angelus had lifted his head, realizing there was a heartbeat and the scent of human fear coming toward him. “I’m hurt pretty bad… I need your help…”
“Hang on!” A man trotted up to him. “Oh, Jesus!”
“Just help me…” Saliva had built up in his mouth, and it had been all he could do not to let his true face show. “It hurts…”
“Let me see.” The man had examined the piece of wood jutting out of Angelus’ chest. “I better go get – “
“No!” He could see dinner slipping out of his hands.
“Okay, okay, we’ll do something.” The man assured him. “Just relax.”
Relax? With hot, fresh blood so close? “Help me down… please…”
“Sure.” He had shined the flashlight behind Angelus. “I think I can get that piece loose.”
Sucker. “Just pull me off of it.” Or would that be suckee, technically?
“Oh, no, we can’t do that!” The man peered up into Angelus’ face. “You could bleed to death – you’re not thinking clearly. Probably shock.”
“What was I thinking?” Besides the fact that it hurts like a bitch? And that you’d make a nice entrée?
“Wait a second – “
Where the fuck would I go?
The wood had jiggled, causing Angelus to bite his lip to keep from screaming. Then he’d fallen to his knees as the wood came loose from whatever had been holding it up.
“There we go.” The man had slid an arm under Angelus’ and helped him to his feet. “You’ll be okay now.”
“Yes, I will.” The man’s throat had been mere inches from his mouth. “I’m about to feel ever so much better.”
“My car is right outside. I can take you straight to the hospital.”
Angelus’ face had stopped midway between human and vampire. He needed to get away from here. Buffy would look for him. And if she and her merry band of morons found him… his game face had slid away. “Yes, please, take me to your car.”
“Come on, buddy.” The man had helped Angelus limp toward the front of the building. “My car is right outside.”
“Outside? Wait – “ Angelus had pulled back. Shit! “The sun – “
“It’s back out – oh – “ The man had given him a sympathetic look. “A lot of people are scared of the sun now. Don’t be ashamed – it’s okay.”
People are scared of the sun? Angelus had latched onto that piece of information. “It was gone – then it came back! And everything exploded!” He had cringed like a nancy boy. No mean feat with a busted leg.
“It’s okay – hey, I think I can get the car in the shade.” The man had pulled him toward the front of the building again. “And I’ve got a sleeping bag in the trunk, you can use it to cover up if you want.”
“That would be great.” Otherwise I’ll have to go ahead and rip your fucking throat out and steal someone else’s car.
Angelus had leaned against a broken doorframe safely out of the reach of the sun while his new buddy moved his car closer. Luckily, the guy had been considerate – that is, a total moron – and had brought the sleeping bag so he could cover himself up. Bursting into flames would have spoiled the honest relationship they’d established.
Laying in the backseat, safely covered, Angelus had pushed past the pain of his injuries and concentrated on Buffy. He couldn’t feel the familiar tingle that he always had when she was close. It was the usual Slayer tingle, only different. Faith, Kendra – countless other Slayers – had all been the same. Buffy was an electric zap that started at the base of his spine and ran up. Buffy was different. Buffy was, well, Buffy. Buffy, Buffy, bo-uffy –
She was alive; he’d been certain of that. He’d felt her when he’d first come to after his fall from the building. With her chest wound, they had probably taken her back to the hotel. That would give him a little time before they went looking for him.
“Hey, buddy, you okay back there?” The man had called over his shoulder. “Don’t die on me.”
“Don’t worry.” Angelus had smirked. “I can’t die.”
“That’s the spirit! We’re almost there!”
There had been a change. The sun was no longer trying to sneak in under the sleeping bag, and the sound of the car engine echoed.
“Wait – stop!” He had called out as if in pain. Which he was, but not the mortal terror kind of pain that he’d made it sound like. The sound he’d heard from many a victim. “Stop!”
“Oh my God!” The car stopped with a lurch that had made Angelus groan for real, and then the man had leaned over the back of the seat. “What is it?”
Throwing back the sleeping bag, Angelus had reached up and grabbed the man’s shirtfront. “It’s dinner time.” Golden eyes flashed gleefully as he’d slammed his fangs into the man’s throat.
As his broken cheek and nose began to heal, he had howled in pain and choked on the blood he was trying to swallow. Blood had trickled down his chin and onto his neck.
Gasping, he’d cried out again. The bones mending had hurt almost as badly as breaking them. Growling, he’d sunk his fangs deeper into the soft throat. Only more blood would end the pain.
He had heard the bones crunching and grinding as they knitted and slid back into place. His body had jerked and twitched uncontrollably as it healed, causing Angelus to moan and cry out as he gulped down the hot, fresh blood.
When the man was drained, Angelus had pulled him into the backseat. Wrapping his fingers around the wooden piece stuck through his body, he had jerked it out, an agonized cry burning his throat.
Once the pain had subsided, he had crawled over the front seat and driven the car to the lowest level of the parking garage, where he knew there was access to the sewer.
Dragging the man’s body to the sewer, Angelus had stuffed it through the open manhole. He had dropped down after it, landing painfully, his not quite healed hip buckling under him. Cursing at the dirty water seeping into his torn clothes, he’d stood and slid the manhole cover back over the opening.
Stripping the body, he had shrugged into the shirt and pants. They had been too short and tight, but not uncomfortably so. “Look at me, I’m Tom Jones.” He had pocketed the cash and credit cards before leaving the body to the demons that were still milling about. “Lunch is on me, boys.”
He had moved through the sewer tunnels to a safe place to wait out the night. Feeding from Mr. Good Samaritan had healed most of his wounds, but he’d still been weak. The deep wounds and thick bones had yet to mend, and his broken hip had throbbed.
“Buffy, need Buffy.” Angelus had rubbed at the nagging hip. He’d tried to formulate a plan, but the gnawing hunger in his guts and the pain had turned his thoughts. Buffy covered in blood… licking it off inch by delicious inch… “Mmm… Buffypop…”
Finally he had pushed himself up and limped back into the sewer. He’d needed blood and he had known just where to get it.
Subtle, gotta be subtle. He had mused as he walked slowly through the tunnels. Buffy and Soul Boy’s brain dead gang will be looking for me. So… low profile. No killing for fun and profit.
Shoving the manhole cover aside, he climbed back up into the hospital parking garage. I want blood. They have blood. That works for me. Now how do I make a withdrawal?
A man wearing a white coat had stepped out of a nearby car.
Well, hello! Angelus had smiled at his good fortune.
The doctor had been easy to catch; one look at the blood that had seeped through Angelus’ borrowed shirt and he had turned into Ben Casey.
“To eat or not to eat?” It was tempting, but he hadn’t wanted to leave a drained body for Buffy to possibly find. Instead he’d snapped the doctor’s neck with a quick twist, tossed the body down the open manhole, and walked away, adjusting his new white coat and stethoscope. “Hmm… wonder if Buffy would like to play doctor?”
At the hospital doors, Angelus hadn’t even hesitated. He had waltzed in as if he owned the place. Long ago he’d learned that if you acted like you belonged somewhere, then people believed that you did.
Stepping into an elevator, he’d pressed the button for the basement. The elevator had been crowded, and it had been all he could do to keep from feasting on the human smorgasbord.
When the elevator had finally opened, he’d walked out and grabbed the first flunky type he saw. “Blood bank – where is it?”
“What?” The guy had pulled away.
“Blood – we need it right away!” Angelus had put his hands on his hips and done his best to look doctor like. “There’s chaos up there! Where is it?”
“You don’t know?”
“I’m a doctor.” He’d sneered. “I don’t usually get the blood. That’s for people like you. People who don’t have the medical degree, the six figure income, the Mercedes, the trophy wife, and the house in the hills.”
“Down the hall.” Properly chastised, the guy had pointed the way. “Fourth door on the left.”
“Thank you.” Angelus had looked the guy over. “And go get a haircut.”
Four doors down the hall and to the left, he’d found the blood bank. “Oh my… the mother lode… it’s real, Momma, and I’ve seen it…”
There had been an ice chest sitting next to one refrigerated unit and he had started tossing bags of blood into it. His mouth had watered but he had resisted temptation. Wouldn’t do for someone to walk in and catch him sucking down some O pos.
The thought had no sooner crossed his mind than the door had swung open.
“Hey, man, what are you doing?”
“I’m…” Angelus looked at the half filled ice chest. “…Taking this to the ER.”
“Why didn’t they just call down?” The guy had yawned. “Since when does a doctor come down for blood?”
“Because no one answered. Do you see anyone here?” Angelus had thrown his hands up. “Take this up there now.”
“Me? Hey, I’m going home. I haven’t slept in two days.” The guy had protested.
“Look at me!” He’d opened his coat, exposing his bloody shirt. “I’m hurt, and I’m working! And I’m a doctor!”
“Okay, okay!” Grabbing the ice chest, the other man had left the room. “Damn doctors.”
“Just be thankful you didn’t wake up dead.” Angelus had spotted a duffel bag hanging on a hook, taken it down and unzipped it. “Okay, once more with feeling.”
Plucking an assortment of blood types from the refrigerator – nothing but AB pos and neg would tip off the white hats that a vamp had swiped the blood for sure – Angelus had quickly filled the bag.
In the next unit were bags of plasma. He’d grimaced. Pure plasma was nasty. It was, however, a concentrated package of all the good things found in blood that he had needed to heal.
Peeling off the white coat and stethoscope, he’d stuffed them into the bag on top of the blood bags. Just in case anyone decided to peek inside they’d have seen nothing he would have had to kill them over. And in case Buffy did want to play doctor… Oh, Dr. Angelus… maybe you should check my temperature…
No one had bothered him as he’d taken the elevator to the parking garage once again. There had been too many injured people demanding the staff’s attention for them to do more than spare a glance for someone on their way out of the hospital.
Mr. Good Samaritan’s car was where he’d left it, and Angelus had driven out into the cool night.
Now he sat staring at the orangish plasma. Even in a wine glass, it still looked like crap. “Pretend it’s orange Kool-Aid.” Resolutely, he lifted the glass to his lips.
The first swallow almost came back up. Other vamps had said it tasted horrible. He’d never had it before; Soul Boy would never take something so precious to humans. But horrible didn’t begin to cover it. I’m gonna kill that fucking Kool-Aid man…
The miraculous quality hadn’t been exaggerated however, and instantly his wounds began to heal.
“Jesus – “ The stem snapped in his hand, slicing a gash in his palm that healed in a split second. Angelus clutched at the counter for support. Bones snapped and crunched back into place, and slivers of bone and wood were forced out by his flesh as it knitted itself back together.
Fumbling for the glass, he gulped down what was left in it. The only way the pain was going to stop was to heal completely. Baring his fangs, he howled in agony.
Angelus woke suddenly. He was lying on the floor in Stupid Nice Guy’s house. His body had healed so quickly that it was more painful than the original injuries had been. At some point, he’d passed out.
Cautiously, he sat up. Nothing hurt. Getting to his feet, he took a cautious step. He was as good as new. Maybe better.
“Alrighty then.” He clapped his hands together. “First a shower and then – revenge.”
Stripping off the blood encrusted clothing, Angelus turned the water on in the shower, turning it up good and hot. Using the dead man’s soap, he began washing the dried blood off.
His first instinct was to go straight for Buffy. But that was the quickest way back into the box. This called for finesse and careful planning, followed by flawless execution. Several of them.
Stepping out of the shower, he rummaged through the drawers next to the sink until he found a pair of scissors. His hair had grown until it was shoulder length. A vamp’s hair grew faster than a human’s, but the plasma had apparently given it a jolt along with the rest of his system. Carefully, mindful of his now talon length fingernails, he began trimming his hair. “It’s all fun and games until somebody loses an eye.”
Toweling off, Angelus pulled on the silk robe that was hanging on the back of the door and wandered back into the living room. There was a rather impressive collection of porno DVDs on Mr. Good Guy’s shelves. Putting in Blondes In Heat, he watched the action while he plotted.
Occasionally, he’d take note of something he hadn’t tried – Soul Boy hadn’t been one for kinky stuff, and it appeared there were some new kinks to kinky. “When did they start making toys that do that?”
First thing he needed to do was find out where Buffy was and what she was doing. How long would she stay at the hotel before she went back to Sunnydale? He’d need to go check, but the problem there was that she could sense him the same way he could sense her.
“What to do? What to do? Well there’d have to be padding in the handcuffs.” No bruises for his baby. Something the cop obviously wasn’t concerned about as he fucked the blonde cuffed to the cell bars. The other cop impatiently waiting his turn didn’t appear too concerned either. “Tsk, tsk, no way to treat a lady.”
Getting someone to check on Buffy for him could be equally dangerous. If they were caught, then they could rat him out. So he needed to do it himself, and he needed to be able to do it from a distance.
Padding into the kitchen, he took a bag of AB pos from the fridge and poured it into a glass. Watching it go around in circles in the microwave, he wondered at the options. Telescope? Binoculars?
Back in the living room, he sat down and sipped at the warm blood – not perfectly hot, but better than pig slop – and watched the security guard spying on four blondes who were entertaining themselves with a variety of toys. “Hey, they make those in purple now?”
The glass stopped partway to his lips. “Cameras… cameras… there’s a thought…” The cameras Wolfram and Hart had put in the hotel were still there. They’d been disconnected but never removed. The Fang Gang hadn’t had the time, and then they’d forgotten about them.
“If I can hook them back up…” Angelus smiled as he watched the security guard jacking off as one blonde climbed on top of another and fucked her with a strap on dildo. The woman’s legs were held up and out of the way by a third blonde in a display of sisterly cooperation. “Then it’s Buffy TV.”
He tilted his head as another blonde with her own strap on moved over the prone and moaning blonde and began pumping energetically. She set a counter rhythm to the strokes of the other equally energetically pumping blonde that would have garnered a ten from the Russian judge. “Well, that’s something we won’t see on Buffy TV.”
The two fucking blondes kissed each other, displaying tongues that would make a succubus jealous. “Maybe we should get a few of those toys…” Taking a sip of blood, he grinned. “That’d be fun…”