Atherlae

Story last edited 1999-03-09. Posted briefly at "The Chronicles website before it closed. Now posted at Fox Lee Studios. Won Ducks the Slayin' Sage's "Should Have Been an Episode Award" in 1999, which would be here, except I lost the graphic ^^; Finally, it was gicven a brief layout makeover on 20001-06-11, in the interest of slower loading times.

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Compliment me, criticize me, yell at me, insult me... heck, I don't care. The place to send it all is bitemegraphics@gmail.com.

Chapter I

Buffy Summers let out a barely audible sigh as she ducked inside a badly-aimed swing. If a vampire was going to go to the trouble of attacking her, it might have at least been a decent fighter.

"This is a waste of both our time, y'know," she muttered, blocking two clumsy punches and driving her knee into its chest. The vamp stumbled back, growling in anger and surprise, but was too slow to get a blow in edgewise as she delivered a low kick to its knee, grabbed one flung-out arm, and flipped the soulless creature over her shoulder. Before it could rise, her freshly sharpened stake was in her hand, and driving through layers of skin and flesh with a rather sickening crunching noise. Wrenching her stake free again, Buffy stood back as the vampire disintegrated in a satisfying little explosion, flicking stray strands of blonde away from her eyes.

"Chalk one up for the Slayer."

The comment came from behind her, and the reflex action of kicking out in that direction had taken place before she'd realized who was responsible for it. Fortunately, Angel had been prepared.

"Hey," he cautioned after ducking her move, "careful. You could hurt somebody."

"Angel!" Buffy snapped. "How many times have I told you not to do that?!"

"Counting just then?" He inquired calmly.

"Angel - "

"C'mon. Loosen up. What's with you, anyway?"

"Try total and utter boredom," she grumbled.

"Ah. They're not exactly keeping you on your toes, huh?"

"Hardly. I mean, I don't want to come across as ungrateful, but they've really been scraping the bottom of the barrel lately."

"And that's a bad thing?"

"Yes..." Buffy suddenly realized that Angel had slipped an arm around her shoulders. "...Well, not really..."

Grinning, he kissed her forehead.

"I guess it does give me more spare time..." she mused.

Angel laughed. Not loudly; just a short, breathy chuckle accompanied by a contented smile. The Slayer mirrored the smile; She loved to see him happy, more to hear his laughter. It didn't happen nearly often enough. It gave her one of those slightly sickening 'warm-and-fuzzy' feelings that probably would have made Giles laugh out loud, had she described it to him.

"Okay," Buffy conceded. "Definitely a good thing."

She was content just to let him hold her for a few minutes, and then broke the circle of his arms.

"Now, if you'll excuse me," she grinned, "I was trying to have a nice, peaceful jog. If you want to talk, I guess you'll just have to try and keep up."

He raised an eyebrow. "That sounds like a challenge, Slayer."

She shrugged. "Your call."

Without warning, Buffy took off, laughing at Angel's shocked expression.

"Hey!" he protested, immediately pursuing. "That wasn't fair!"

"Afraid of losing?" She taunted playfully from her head start.

"Oh, now you're in trouble!" Speeding up, he slowly gained on her just as she neared the park's small duck pond.

"Gotcha!" he dived for her legs, at the same time as she cried, "Angel, wait!" to no avail. The vampire tackled her, pulling her over on top of him, and at the same time giving them both enough momentum to roll down the small hill and end up sprawled in the murky water.

"Smooth move," Buffy grunted, removing a lily pad from its perch atop her head.

"You started it," Angel muttered.

At the sound of a furious hiss, the Slayer and the vampire looked up. A disgruntled resident of the pond, a large, angry-looking goose, was gliding over, glaring at them dangerously.

Angel looked at Buffy. "You aren't allowed to slay that, are you?"

"Idiot," she scowled back. "Have you ever heard of a vampire goose?"

"Then I suggest we run!" Angel grabbed her hand, and the pair scrambled clumsily out of the pond just in time to avoid the goose's wrathful vengeance, laughing until they were out of breath.

"You know," Buffy gasped between tears of laughter, "We aren't idiots together nearly often enough. We have to do this more often."

"What," Angel grinned, "and piss off 'Count Duckula' down there again?! Thanks, but I'd rather not, if it's all the same to you!"

They collapsed side-by-side onto the grass, breathless and soaked, filthy and tired, into fits of laughter that made their sides ache. At length, Angel sat up, his breathing finally slowed to a normal rate, and ran one hand through his dampened hair.

"You're right, you know," he said. "We don't do this often enough. I mean, just running around being stupid. Having fun."

"Three guesses why that is," Buffy grunted.

"I was thinking about it earlier," Angel continued. "It can't be good for either of us. Us, I mean. It's your ultimate tragic romance. It's pretty dangerous."

"Angel?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't think."

Another quiet chuckle as he gathered her up and kissed her again, this time the long, slow kind. She loved it when he kissed her like that; it gave her the chance, if only for a moment, to forget about Slayers and vampires and demons and Watchers and just pretend that she was a regular, ordinary teenage girl who was out with her regular, ordinary boyfriend under the stars. Just for a moment.

He released her too soon, and she sought his lips again immediately. But he moved away, his focus suddenly somewhere else.

"Did you hear something?" he asked her.

"Man, Angel, that line is such a cliché," she groaned.

"No, really."

"Where'd it come from?" She asked, looking around. In front of them the grass sloped down to the duck pond, ringed by the track she had been jogging on. To their left was an old park bench, to their right a small gazebo. Behind them was nothing but grass, eventually becoming a line of small shrubs and bushes that formed a ring around the entire park. Except for them, the goose appeared to be the only other form of life present. But then, both the Slayer and the vampire knew better than to take things as they appeared. And besides, Buffy reminded herself, it doesn't necessarily have to be alive.

She felt Angel shift his weight uneasily beside her. She too could feel that something wasn't right.

Geez, she thought to herself, another stupid cliché.

Something had just moved. She could sense it. And this time, it hadn't been Angel. Buffy scrambled to her feet, assuming fighting stance, and Angel mirrored her. They stood back to back, neither saying a word.

"Maybe I was wro-" Angel began in a whisper, but Buffy cut him off.

"Sshhh!" she hissed. "You were right. There's something out there...something...Angel, duck!"

The Slayer threw herself to the ground as the creature sprang from the bushes, snarling viciously. Just in time, she thought, feeling a rush of hot wind and the tips of coarse hair as it brushed past.

Unfortunately, Angel hadn't hit the deck when she had. With her down, their shadowy assailant had Angel's undefended back to take advantage of. The unprepared vampire went down under its weight mid-turn, fending off some sort of squat, powerful animal as it snapped at his face and arms.

A furious cry went up, a growl of pain and anger that could have belonged to Angel as easily as the creature. Wasting no more time, she sprung into a squatting position and pivoted in a sweeping kick, grinning in satisfaction as she felt it catch the unknown beast and heard the creature's pained yelp. It was thrown back slightly, giving Angel the opportunity to roll away and leap to his feet, as she did.

But the fight was over. The mysterious beast was on its feet and running in a second. It was followed immediately by the adamant Slayer, but Buffy couldn't keep up. Surprised at its speed, she slowed to a dispirited stop, able only to take note of its hunched, compact shape and decidedly lupine gait, information that might be useful later.

Frustrated, she jogged back to check on Angel. Having reverted back to his human appearance after the fight, Buffy's bruised boyfriend was holding one shoulder tightly and glaring darkly in the direction of the creature's departure.

"Are you okay?" She asked, noticing.

"I'll be fine. But whatever that thing was, it sure was strong."

She took his arm gently, and he winced. "We should get help. You're bleeding everywhere."

"And this is a new jacket, too," he grunted. "Damn."

Still gripping his shoulder, he allowed her to lead him away.

And, not too far behind them, a dark shadow watched, black eyes alight.

Chapter II

"So you say this thing just took a bite out of Angel and then ran off?" Giles asked, pressing a pad soaked with liquid against Angel's shoulder. The vampire, stripped to the waist because his shirt sleeve had refused to roll up far enough, was sitting on a table in the library as Buffy's Watcher tended to his shoulder. Angel ground his teeth as the liquid stung the open wound, but for all that, it seemed to staunch the bleeding fairly effectively.

"Well, not exactly," Buffy replied, cutting a length of adhesive bandage from a long roll. "It put up a bit of a fight...but if it was as strong as Angel says, I don't know why it gave up so easily."

"Any ideas?" Angel asked the librarian.

"Well, I'm not entirely sure," Giles replied, "but from what you've told me, it's a possibility that it simply got what it came for."

"What, a piece of me?" Angel grunted, watching Giles thread up a needle.

"It would appear so, yes. Now hold still, please."

"Great," Buffy snorted. "That brings us a whole lot closer to knowing what it was and why it attacked us."

An angry growl escaped Angel's throat as Giles made the first stitch in his shoulder, and the vampire immediately looked somewhat embarrassed. Giles immediately looked somewhat nervous.

"You wouldn't...would you?..." he stammered a little.

"Relax," Angel replied. "That just kind of happens sometimes. I've got no intention of flooring you in return for sewing me up."

Reassured, Giles added a second stitch.

"Aargh," Angel grunted. "Then again..."

"Now, Buffy," the Slayer's Watcher continued, turning to her again, "contrary to what you just said, I'd be inclined to think that we now have quite a large clue to what this creature is...or was. There aren't a large amount of animals that strong that would attack with such a simple goal, and disappear without ending the fight. It's not terribly logical, when you think about it."

"So we're dealing with more than some dumb animal here," Buffy assumed.

"Probably," Giles agreed.

"Maybe I should call Willow..." Buffy began.

"Actually, I spoke with her earlier, after you called me," Giles, quite uncharacteristically, cut her off. "She seems to be indisposed at the moment."

"Hmm...I wonder what Will would be doing on a Saturday night?" Buffy murmured to herself.

"Maybe that 'Oz' guy you mentioned," Angel suggested innocently as Giles tied off the line of stitches. Buffy pointedly ignored him.

"I decided that, without Willow, we might at well leave the search until tomorrow," Giles continued, applying the bandage to Angel's shoulder. "It's a little late tonight, and researching is significantly easier with her help."

"Great," Buffy said, her sarcasm as obvious as it was pointless, as Angel slipped off the table and pulled on his bloodstained shirt. "Fantastic. Can't think of a better way to spend my Sunday."

"See you here, then," Giles called after them as they left.

Chapter III

"So?" Buffy asked as her friend arrived.

"So what?" Willow asked innocently.

"So, where were you last night?" Buffy rolled her eyes. "Don't play dumb with me! I'm the Slayer; I can tell when you're hiding something!"

She grinned. "And since when has killing vampires meant you have ESP?"

"Just tell me. C'mon, Will. Pleeease?"

"Hey, I've got my secrets too, Buffy."

"Killjoy." Buffy refused to be deterred. "Was it Oz?"

Willow flushed, just barely. "What do you mean, 'was it Oz'?! Of course it wasn't Oz! Why would it be Oz?! What gave you that idea?!"

"Chill," Buffy grinned knowingly. "It was Angel's idea, anyway."

"If there were two of that man, he'd be dangerous."

"He already is."

"Yeah," Willow muttered, under her breath, "to any pictures Xander may have had of his future!"

"What was that?"

"I said...uh...we'll be seeing Xander in the near future!" she recovered quickly, seeing him coming down the corridor. "And here he is now!"

"This is so depressing," Xander groaned as he reached them. "I mean, spending so much of our weekends at school. Definitely not one of your Slayer job perks."

"Nice to see you too, Xander."

"Oh, hey, Buffy. Nice day. Exactly the kind I wanna spend in a library."

"Is anybody else sensing just a little hostility here?" Willow cut in.

"Lay off, Willow. I'm just...tired."

;"Okay," Buffy changed the subject, quite tactfully. "No that you're here, we've got everybody but Cordelia. Have you seen her, Xander?"

"What do you mean, 'have I seen her'?!" Xander replied, a little too hastily. "I haven't seen her! Of course I haven't seen her! Why would I have seen her?!"

"All right, already!" Buffy threw her hands up in exasperation. "Aargh! What is it with people around here?! Every time I so much as mention someone's name, one of you two goes off like a car alarm!"

"Hi, everybody!" Cordelia chirped, suddenly appearing. "Here I am!"

"Great," Buffy snapped. "The world can breathe again."

Without another word, the frustrated Slayer whipped around in a sharp about-face, and briskly took off in the direction of the library. Cordelia stared at her back, puzzled.

"What's with her?" she asked the two other remaining teenagers.

"I wouldn't worry," Willow smiled. "She gets like this whenever somebody beats up on Angel."

"Who wouldn't?"

"I wouldn't," Xander immediately replied.

"I mean people who actually count, Jerkface!" Cordelia snapped, rolling her eyes.

"Jerkface!" Xander feigned hurt. "Ouch! You've been practicing, Cordy!"

"Come on," Willow prompted, starting to follow Buffy. "We should start the search now if we don't want to be here all day."

"Whaddaya mean, 'if'?" Xander grunted. "Of course we don't. I mean, we will anyway, but that doesn't mean that we want to..."

"Xander, will you please shut up?!"

Chapter IV

"Here. Put this one on the stack," Willow handed several pages of printout to Cordelia.

"Another one?!" Buffy groaned. "How many profiles can there be that fit this thing?!"

"When we've only the limited amount of information you and Angel were able to give us," Giles replied, "a great many."

"Hold on, here's something," Xander displayed two pages of a dust-laden volume that was probably even older than Angel. "Something called a Shagra-Mar. Fits the description perfectly."

"Bookmark it," Willow advised from the computer.

"And put it on the pile," Xander finished unenthusiastically, glancing at the stack of books with hastily-torn paper markers sticking out, accompanied by numerous printed pages from Willow.

"This could go on forever," Buffy moaned miserably.

"Aren't you being a trifle melodramatic?" Giles inquired.

"Y'know, you aren't exactly helping, Buff," Xander pointed out, indicating the stack of unopened books that sat in front of the Slayer. "You gonna look through those, or just at them?"

"Yes," Buffy shot back. Then her tone changed. "...Well...soon..."

"You haven't even started looking!" Cordelia cried accusingly.

"I'm going to!" she snapped irritably. "It's...just that..."

"...That you're so preoccupied with worrying about Angel that you can't concentrate for more than a twenty-second time period," Willow finished. "If that's what it is, why don't you just go see him?"

"Because I'm searching," Buffy sounded hurt.

"You know, Buffy, that may indeed be the best course of action for you," Giles pointed out. "It will doubtlessly accomplish more than your sitting around here."

"You think? I mean, I do feel kinda stupid. That wound wasn't enough to put Angel in any kind of danger. And I should be helping."

"Buffy," Giles rolled his eyes. "If it will stop you from moping around here, then please, go with my blessing. With all of our blessing."

"Really?" Buffy brightened considerably. "'Coz, you know, now that you mention it, it would make me feel a whole lot better..."

"Buffy, just go!"

The Slayer took off, leaving to her friends the books and the Internet.

"How could I forget," Xander muttered darkly. "The Slayer gets all the breaks."

At the Internet terminal, Willow finished yet another printout. "Add it to the stack."

Chapter V

"Angel?" Buffy called, ducking into the old, abandoned building that was her 242-year-old boyfriend's home. "Angel, are you home?"

She listened for any sign of him, concentrated on breathing, movement, presence. She could feel something, but the only reply to her calls was their echo, caught and thrown back to her by the concrete walls. Immediately, she became concerned.

"Angel?" she called again. Nothing.

She moved over to Angel's bed, remembering the last time she'd been here looking for him. Then, she had been surprised by Kendra, the Slayer summoned when she had 'died'. Kendra, who had fashioned herself to fight without aid or hindrance from her emotions. She felt a twinge of jealousy as she told herself that Kendra would never have been so useless during the search. She would have set her mind first to her duty, instead of her loved ones.

But then, Angel had never kissed Kendra.

As she sat down, she remembered the time Kendra had found her here. She'd fallen asleep, sick with worry, instead of searching for Angel like she should have. She toyed with the one corner of the blanket, wondering if things would have turned out differently, if Angel would still have had to go through so much pain, if she hadn't been here. Would she have been able to find him sooner, or would she have wasted her time and energy on a fruitless search?

A noise shocked her out of her reconnaissance. In an instant, she was on her feet, stake whipped out of her shoulder bag, waiting. Cautiously, she moved away from the bed, braced for combat.

She knew he was there before he betrayed himself. She could feel him like that. It was the shock, the refusal to believe that Angel would attack her, that delayed her actions long enough for him to claim first blood. Something heavy and sharp was in his hand as it struck her temple, knocking her down, and it was only the taste of hot blood trickling down her face that kept her conscious as she almost passed out. With great effort, she wrenched herself free of the descending haze, rolled away as he struck again, and sprang back to her feet, wavering unsteadily.

She noticed that Angel had reverted into his vampire form. It came as a shock to her, even though it happened inadvertently when he fought; numerous times he had commented on how he hated her to see him like that. Indeed, she knew, he hated himself for what he was. But none of that mattered as he lashed out again, and she realized what he had hit her with as she saw it in his hand; a broken piece of concrete, one edge jagged where it had come loose.

"Angel, stop it!" Buffy cried, circling defensively, waiting for him to move before she did. "What're you doing?!"

"I know what you're doing, Drusilla," he snarled. "You'll never hurt Buffy! Not with me here!"

Had he called her Drusilla?!

"Angel! I am Buffy! What's wrong with you?!"

He lunged for her; she sidestepped, but not far enough. His shoulder collided with her breastbone, winding her, leaving her to choke helplessly for air. Her stake spun out of her hand, turning circles as it slid across the floor and far from her grasp. He kicked her savagely in the head, and she felt the darkness coming again.

She noticed that he had retrieved her stake. The thought penetrated her numbing mind, he really does think I'm Drusilla. He thinks he's killing her to protect me. It was rather ironic to be admiring the man who would, in seconds, kill her. She wondered vaguely if he would realize his error when she simply lay dead, instead of turning to ashes, or if he'd never know what he'd done. He has holding the stake above her chest, preparing to deliver the final blow.

Pain and surprise lit Angel's eyes simultaneously as a chair broke over his back. The vampire went down with no more than a surprised grunt, joining the now unconscious Slayer on the floor.

Disdainfully, Xander dumped what was left of his weapon on the floor, and regarded the unmoving forms of the vampire and the Slayer. "Never did like the creep anyway."

Chapter VI

"Hold on, she's coming out of it," Willow said, taking Buffy's hand as she noticed the Slayer opening her eyes. "You okay, Buff?"

"I've... felt better..." Buffy muttered, moving her other hand to her head.

"Understandably so," Giles commented.

"Who - "

"Xander," Willow replied, anticipating her question. "I guess his 'Angel-paranoia' comes in handy sometimes. Just after you left, so did he. Said he thought that creature might attack again."

"Of course, it was quite obvious that he simply didn't trust Angel," Giles added. "I don't think he'll ever really get past it."

"Not after this, anyway," Buffy groaned as she sat up. "How is he?"

"Xander? Don't think I've ever seen him happier."

"I meant Angel."

"Oh. Well... uh..."

"Buffy, I don't really think you should see him at the moment," Giles interceded.

"I've got a right to!"

"Yes, of course, but it just might be better for all concerned if - "

"Giles."

"All right. Fine."

"Don't say he didn't warn you," Willow advised, helping her up.

In grim silence, they directed Buffy over to the weapons locker, the corner of the library that was blocked off by barred screens and used for storing various implements of destruction. It had been employed more than once as a holding pen for demons, vampires or the like. Now, the weapons had been evacuated, and in their place was a small, makeshift bed, which Angel lay on, quite still, staring at the ceiling. She could see that he had been tied down. A large padlock was on the door, and Xander stood guard with a dutiful expression.

"He's conscious again," Xander reported as they approached.

"It's about time," Cordelia commented. "You must've hit him pretty hard."

"Hey, I saved Buffy's life," Xander protested. "Who cares whether I hit him hard or not?!"

"Nobody's questioning your actions, Xander," Giles quickly cut in, glaring at Cordelia.

"Except the part where you came back gloating," Willow muttered under her breath.

"Let me in," something lumped in Buffy's throat as she gave the order.

"Uh... do you think that's really smart, Buff?"

"Just do it, Xander."

"You're the Slayer." Shrugging, Xander took out the key and unlocked Angel's prison.

Buffy felt tears threaten as she entered. Flushing, she turned away from the others. "Hey. A little privacy, you guys?"

"Yes, of course," Giles ushered the others away.

"But - " Xander began.

"She's a big girl now," Willow silenced him. "She can take care of herself."

"Yeah," he grunted, "like she did before."

Ignoring their comments, Buffy moved to Angel's bedside, wondering if he would still react as he had to her. As it was, he didn't move at all, just continued to fix his gaze upward.

"Angel?"

"Don't come near me, Buffy. " He firmly closed his eyes. "You know what I did."

"You weren't yourself then! Angel, I - Angel, look at me, please."

"Don't ask me to, Buffy," he shook his head, slowly. "I want to, but I can't. You can't let me. Make sure I can't, Buffy."

"I won't. It's okay. You're going to be all right, Angel." After a moment of thought, she reached up and pulled away the hastily applied strip of bandage around her head, and tied it over his eyes, making an effective blindfold.

"There's blood on this," Angel observed. "Is it yours?"

"Angel - "

"Is it yours?!"

"Yes."

"Did I do it?"

"Yes."

He swore, then turned his face toward her.

"That's why I can't look at you..." he said. "... I already know what I'll see..."

"What?" she asked. "What will you see? You have to tell me, Angel."

"I can't..." he began to struggle against his bonds. Buffy bit her lip, another tear falling, and wondered if it was his intent, or someone else's. "I can't say... it's too... too... it hurts... too much..."

"Shhh," she soothed, placing a hand on his chest. "Relax. It's okay."

"No... you said... I have to tell you..." he breathed heavily, forcing out the words.

"Not if it hurts you." Her voice was choked with emotion. "Nothing matters more than you."

"I can see her... hurting you..." he continued, ignoring her, "... not killing you... but I can hear you screaming... and I can't reach her... I can't reach you..."

"Angel - "

His fingers were beginning to turn white, the muscles along his arms taught and trembling with the strain of...of what? Was he trying to break free, or trying to stop himself from doing so?

"You scream my name..." his voice stepped up in volume and intensity as he spoke, and by the end of his sentence, he was shouting. "You scream it over and over again... and the others are all dead... and I can't save you... but I can hear you, over and over... I have to kill her, Buffy! I have to! Let me go! I have to kill her!"

"Angel!" the tears were a torrent, and her own voice practically a scream, as she gripped his shoulders with both hands, trying to hold him still. "Stop it! Just stop it, Angel! I'm here! I'm okay! She can't hurt me!"

"But I can see her," he choked out weakly, his struggles slowly coming to a halt.

"Listen to me, Angel. Nobody's hurting me. Something's wrong with you. Once I find out what it is, you'll be back to normal, and - "

"I hit you, didn't I?" Angel asked, suddenly calm again. "We fought. I almost killed you."

She didn't answer. She couldn't bring herself to.

"Buffy, if I try to hurt you again, do whatever you need to. Kill me, if that's what it takes."

"No..."

"I love you." He seemed suddenly exhausted as, deprived of his sight, he found her face with his hands and kissed her. "Nothing matters more than you."

She gently moved her hand along the lines of his face, barely touching him, and kissed him back, wondering if he noticed her tears on his forehead as she did so.

"Remember," he repeated weakly as she rose to leave. "Do whatever you have to."

"I love you," she whispered through tears, but she was somehow sure he couldn't hear her.

Chapter VII

Giles watched, quite concerned. It wasn't the first time he had seen her in a mood like this, but it was definitely the most intense. Normally, she balanced herself evenly between being Buffy and being the Slayer - she had never really regarded them as the one person. But when something got her this angry, when somebody she loved as much as Angel was in such danger, all traces of Buffy Summers, high school teen girl, were instantly gone. And what she had seen earlier had changed her. She was one-hundred-percent Slayer as she rained a hail of vicious blows on the battered punching bag.

"When I find out what that thing was, you know what I'm going to do to it?" she asked, her voice a little wilder, a little more shrill than usual, as she pounded the unfortunate bag.

"Much the same thing as you are to your training equipment?" he asked.

"I'm gonna make it wish we had killed it that night," she replied, sounding quite bloodthirsty, and spun to deliver a painful-looking sidekick. "And it had better not plan on breeding any time in the near future, I tell you that!"

"Buffy, why don't you - "

"I'm going back to the park tonight," she continued, totally ignoring him. "I'm gonna look for its trail. No matter what it takes, I'm gonna find that son-of-a-bitch wolf thingy and dismember it!"

Giles sighed. He watched as Buffy delivered a final, violent blow, and then stood back in surprise as her punching bag suddenly burst open at the seams.

"Damn," she snarled, then brightened. "Hey Giles, you wanna practice body throws?"

"Not really," he replied. Then, he rose and walked over to her. "Buffy, maybe you should take some more time before you go running off on the trail of some unidentified beast. We simply can't risk what happened to Angel happening to you."

"We don't have time, Giles!" she snapped. "Have you seen Angel?! I've got to do something!"

"I know, Buffy. Believe me, I understand how you feel. I'm just not sure that rushing headlong into unknown danger is the best way to start!"

"Oh, yeah? And what would you suggest I do?"

"I suggest you calm down and take it easy. Tomorrow, we're taking a closer look at the search results. It can't take all that long, surely."

"Tomorrow," she ran to the gym's door. "Great. You do that."

"Buffy - "

"Meanwhile, I'm gonna take a nice walk in the park."

Chapter VIII

Buffy squatted next to the bushes where the creature had first emerged. She'd spent almost two hours searching for a trail. For anything. A footprint, a hair, a mutilated body. But there was nothing. She should've expected nothing more, since they'd already established that it was no ordinary creature.

Dispirited and depressed, the Slayer plodded down to the edge of the duck pond. She kicked at the water angrily, wishing that she could go back in time two days and tell Angel to get the hell away from her before it even appeared. She was still sure that that bite had been meant for her. Miserably, she waded out into the middle of the duck pond, slumping down in the water, well aware of how pathetic she must have looked and wishing that Angel could be there to tell her. Everything made her think of him. The park, the pond, the stars. He was all that was missing.

No, he wasn't, she suddenly realized. Something else was. Something had been there on Saturday but wasn't there now. Something...but what?! It was unbearably frustrating. She needed an outlet, something she could kill, or at least hit really, really hard. She might even have been grateful if that horrid goose had been around...

"Count Duckula..." It hit her like a freight train. She'd been sitting in the pond for ages, but the goose hadn't shown up. On Saturday, it had only taken moments for it to chase them away. That was what was wrong. A big, ugly goose had disappeared.

Springing to her feet as quickly as the muddy water would allow, the bedraggled Slayer splashed her way over to the opposite bank of the pond, where the goose had come from. But Count Duckula, as Angel had named it, was apparently not home. Excited, sure she had found some manner of lead, Buffy circled the pond, hurriedly rifling through the bushes and weeds, until the ground made a peculiar crunch under her foot. Immediately, the pungent aroma of death met her nostrils.

Count Duckula, or what was left of him, was not a pretty sight. The goose had been decapitated, all flesh, skin and feathers gone but for a few pathetic, dried-up remains. The grass around the body was trampled and messy; it appeared that Duckula had put up a fight, even if it was a really lame one.

Don't get too carried away, she reminded herself as she knelt down and inspected the carcass. A cat or dog could easily have killed it.

She pried the goose's beak open, and was rewarded for her efforts by a small snatch of blackish-gray hair. This she pocketed, not entirely sure how she might benefit from it, but aware that it may help somehow. As Giles would have quoted, 'better to be safe than sorry'.

"It was a pretty creature," a familiar voice came from behind her. "I fed it bread once. But it was not so pretty as the one that took its life."

"What are you doing here?!" Buffy snarled. She faced a black-clad figure, face obscured by shadows, but the Slayer was only too aware of who was beneath it as she leapt to her feet. "I could kill you in a second, you know."

"But if you did, I couldn't tell you about it."

Buffy felt one hand slide unconsciously to her stake. "About what?!"

"You know. The one who hurt my Angelus."

Your Angelus?! Buffy thought indignantly.

"What do you know about it?" She demanded.

"I know she was pretty. Very pretty. A girl. A mother. It hurt her when you called her 'it'."

"Don't waste my time, I'm warning you..."

"Atherlae. That is the name. She lives near here. And that is all I can say. She would be angry with me if I said any more. She is pretty when she is not angry. And when she hunts."

"Why did she attack Angel?!"

"She likes to hunt," came the calm reply, as if it were obvious. "She once liked many things. They made her happy. There were many more when she was young. But they were all killed."

Silently, not budging in her gaze or stance, Buffy took note of it.

The figure cocked her head to the side. "Is that all you want to know?"

"And why you're helping me."

"If you succeed, he will live," she replied simply.

"And that's what you want?" Buffy assumed.

There was no answer.

"Answer me!" the Slayer demanded, raising the stake that seemed to be aching in her palm.

Immediately, a vanguard of vampires, roughly fifteen or more, appeared from the dark. Buffy gave herself a mental kick. Why hadn't she been concentrating?!

The Slayer tensed herself for the inevitable combat.

"Don't fight them all. We don't want to fight now. We want to go home."

The infuriated Slayer ground her teeth in frustration as her informant turned and left, her apparent henchmen backing away and not taking their eyes from the Slayer. Buffy was half-tempted to run after them and take as many out as she could before they killed her. Maybe she would even be able to survive.

No, she decided, clenching and unclenching her fists as she watched them go. The odds were against her, and if she didn't find this 'atherlae' thing, Angel didn't stand a chance.

Buffy had never thought she had much of an ego, but as she turned and ran back to the library, she realized that something had definitely been crippled by the knowledge that she had been aided by Drusilla.

Chapter IX

"Got it," Xander exulted, holding up the book. "Atherla, plural atherlae. I gotta be on some kind of roll here!"

"Xander, I could kiss you," Buffy grinned, leaping over the table for the book.

"Really?"

"It's a figure of speech," Willow informed him flatly. "Don't get too hopeful."

"Thought to be extinct since the late 1940's," Buffy read. "Which fits in perfectly with what Drusilla told me."

"It's too weird, having her as our only lead," Xander muttered. "I still say we shouldn't trust her."

"She's all we've got, Xander," Buffy reminded him. "And she's Angel's only hope."

Xander seemed unmoved.

"There doesn't seem to be much information here on its appearance," Giles noted, reading over her shoulder. "Build, height, weight."

"Who cares?" Buffy cut in. "I saw enough of it to recognize it. Besides, all we really need to know is where it's hanging out, and what we need to save Angel, right?"

"Essentially, yes, but - "

"But nothin'. Keep reading; I'm gonna find me some more weapons."

"Did you see the look on her face just then?" Xander commented as the Slayer disappeared into an adjoining room. "I think she really enjoys this part o' the job!"

"She's probably just imagining how good she's going to feel when she totally flattens this creepy wolf thing," Willow replied. "Wouldn't you?"

"Here's something on visuals," Giles interjected. "It's been described as 'low to the ground, extremely powerful around the leg and lower back area'...and here, 'squat, strongly built'...'similar to a common wolf, with a heavier build and shorter legs'..."

"So," Xander concluded, "Buffy's up against the big bad wolf...on steroids."

"How about less of what it looks like and more of what we can do for Angel?" Buffy re-entered, having armed herself with her customary stake, the ever-popular crossbow, and a long knife in a sheath that buckled to her thigh. "By the way, Giles, I don't know where you got this knife, but I like it!"

"It's very classy," Willow agreed. "Goes with your shoes."

"Buffy, I believe I know what happened to Angel," Giles reported. "It seems that females secreted a kind of venom, which contained a sort of strong hallucinogen, released with their bite. This was found to affect certain individuals more than others, particularly those of the male gender, and usually caused brief fits of violence, altered perception and sudden mood swings."

"Sounds like Willow's PMS," Xander grinned, and received a headslap from the very embarrassed-looking girl. "Ow!"

"Ironically," Giles continued, "the only known antidote to the female's venom was that of the male. The two sort of balanced each other out."

"What?" Xander asked, noticing that Buffy had suddenly gone quiet.

"There aren't any more males," Buffy answered weakly. "Drusilla said they were killed."

"Then Angel..." Willow murmured.

"Angel's got no chance." Buffy paled visibly. "He'll just keep getting worse."

There was another lengthy silence.

"Buffy," Giles began, "if it comes to it, we don't expect you to...to be the one who has to..."

"It won't," Buffy said bluntly. "It won't come to that. I won't let it. We'll find another male. Or another antidote. Anything. Angel is not going to die."

"Buffy, you - "

"I have a job to do, if you'll excuse me. I'm gonna rip that bitch to pieces."

"Buffy, wait," Giles stopped her. "There's some things you should know first."

"Make it quick," Buffy recommended, her tone quite threatening.

"Quick...all right, I can do quick...firstly, you'd be most likely to find her in some sort of cave or burrow. She dislikes civilization, and is accustomed to the dark. She's close to being nocturnal."

"Got it."

"You're looking for a creature that would roughly reach up to your elbow - quite large, I'm afraid - that is similar to a wolf, but shorter and more solid. And for what it's worth, she has brownish-gold fur, and would blend in better with cover of the same color."

"Check."

"And Buffy, this creature is very intelligent. We were right about her intent. She has some kind of high-level perception that means she enjoys hunting, and knows the difference between killing and using her venom - she knows what will happen. Be careful, Buffy. Please be careful."

"Right. Now that the pep talk's over, I'll be going. And by the way," she turned to Willow and Xander, "if either of you, and this includes you too, Giles, even think about following me, don't. This is between her and me. Don't step in."

Buffy's two friends looked to Giles. If anybody was going to contradict Buffy, it would be her Watcher. But the librarian seemed just as reluctant as they were to voice his true feelings.

"Just don't get yourself killed, Buffy," Giles muttered hastily. "I've grown quite attached to you."

"Shhh," Buffy cautioned. "Be very, very quiet. As of now, it's atherla season!"

Chapter X

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 thick, 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.

Chapter XI

"I'm back," Buffy said bluntly as she kicked open the library door, her rather slim form bent under the weight of a large, gray-furred body. "Ask questions later."

Xander, Willow, Cordelia and Giles looked up from their poker hands and stared blankly at her. Her badly torn clothing hung limp and wet on her body, her hair was soaked and plastered to her face, blood was smeared over her pretty features. Smudges and scratches covered her, blood had clotted and dried into three claw-marks on her face and her weapons hung menacingly from damp leather straps. It took her a moment to realize that she must have looked like some sort of failed Linda Hamilton wannabe.

Feeling quite secure in her 'just-finished-the-fight-scene' image, Buffy dumped the body of the atherla onto the table in front of her Watcher.

"It's a boy," she quipped, voice flat. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'd like a shower.'

Chapter XII

"You're not gonna jump me as soon as my back's turned, are you?" Buffy asked playfully.

"Buffy - " he groaned.

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry." She grinned, snuggled further into the warmth that was Angel's side. "I'm just glad to have you back, Angel."

He kissed her forehead, then looked around. "I don't know why you wanted to come back here. Everything's normal again. No more atherlae."

"Just a feeling, I guess," she shrugged.

He slumped down onto a familiar grassy hill, between a gazebo and an old park bench, and motioned for her to join him. "You know, we were interrupted last time we were here."

"We were, weren't we?"

He propped himself up on one elbow and faced her. Buffy echoed the movement.

"You know, it almost ended in disaster this time," he pointed out. "How many more chances do we have until it does? We're gonna be back here again, Buffy. It's never going to end for us."

"Shut up and kiss me," she ordered.

Laughing, he did.