Nexus Chapter 19
Angelus felt himself falling apart. He´d kept some semblance of composure talking to the Slayer, that bitch, that fucking cunt––and Gods, did he want to feel her neck snap in his fingers for hurting his boy––but now, as he dashed up the stairs and down the hall, he felt panic like he´d never felt before.
Into the bedroom, and he laid his precious, his unconscious wounded boy, on the bed and stared at the vicious looking stake protruding from his chest. It was all that was holding back the dam, keeping his boy from bleeding out.
Angelus knew he had to pull it out, pull it out and deal with what followed. Since the moment––that nightmare moment––when he saw the stake enter his boy´s chest, he had been exquisitely attuned to all of the boy´s systems, keenly listening to the strong, if hastening, functions of heart and lungs that told him that those organs were undamaged.
Had his senses told him otherwise, he´d have let his boy go, let them take him away to the hospital to be saved. As it was, he still wondered if he had done the right thing. He could imagine nothing worse than having his boy die right there in front of him. Would he turn him? Yes! the demon answered emphatically. He´d hold onto whatever of Xander he could preserve. But he didn´t want that, and what if he´d made the wrong choice? He´d never know, he realized, if he didn´t act. Soon. Now. Otherwise, it would be too late. His sweetling might be bleeding, bleeding inside his body.
With a low whine, Angelus ripped the fabric of Xander´s shirt around the wood, then pulled out the stake. Flinging it aside, he bent quickly to the rush of blood, too anguished to take pleasure in the bounty. Sealing his lips around the gaping hole, he concentrated hard, drawing in all of his senses and the power of the bond to intuit the extent of Xander´s injuries. Tongue digging into the wound, probing the depths of it, he did his best to clean it, to lave all of it with his healing saliva, unaware of his own anxious keening as he worked.
Finally satisfied that he had fully explored the wound and stopped the bleeding, he drew back, watching his boy´s face. Remembering the recently discovered effect of his blood on the boy, Angelus started to tear open his wrist, then thought better of it. Xander had probably had less than a teaspoon before, and that had made him giddy. He couldn´t risk giving too much. Gathering Xander––sweet, warm Xander––into one arm, he pierced his own forefinger delicately with two fangs, upper and lower canines, and insinuated the finger between the boy´s pale lips, hoarsely begging his claimed to take the blood, to suck, to swallow.
A still moment, then Xander´s mouth and throat worked, accepting the offering, and, as a totally insignificant California teenager began to heal, an ancient and powerful demon shuddered with relief and closed his eyes, feeling weak. Letting the demon´s needs and instincts drive him now, he curled himself around his injured claimed and began a soft, protective snarling, his yellow eyes automatically fixed on the chamber door.
Xander woke, hurting and disoriented, to the sound of a low continuous growl, a sound that would have been terrifying had he not at the same time felt the gentle reassuring stroking of Angelus´ big hand on his abdomen. Someone was in trouble, he thought dozily, but it wasn´t him.
Letting his eyes flutter open, he smiled tiredly as the growl morphed almost instantly into a purr. “Hey, there,” he whispered weakly.
“Hey.” Angelus was struggling to be calm and reassuring for him. “Are you okay?”
“I dunno. Hurts.” Sudden alarm and, “What happened?”
“You got hurt.” Angelus was cagey.
“Oh. Oh!” Angelus watched as memory came back. “You did, too.” Fretfully, he reached for the vampire, eyes anxious as he found the slashed and blistered flesh of his arm. “Let me! ” Xander began, trying to sit up, gasping with sudden pain.
“Nay, sweetling, stay still, or ye´ll be bleeding again.”
“But your arm! ”
“Never mind, it´s nothing.”
Obviously not convinced, Xander frowned at the injury, then met Angelus´ gaze. “Did anyone else get hurt?”
“I lost some good minions.” Angelus sighed, stroking his boy. “But I know what you mean. None of the damned Scoobies got it bad.” He watched the relief light up his boy´s eyes.
“I´ll tell ye one thing, though. I near killed that bitch for hurtin´ ye.” He flashed into gameface, growling.
“I remember. She didn´t mean it, so no. Don´t, ´kay? No killing anyone.” Dark lashes flitted back to Angelus´ bleeding arm.
“Please, let someone take care of that arm, please? It has to hurt, with the water still in it. I´ll be okay while! ”
“Hush, hush, Acushla. I´m fine. Go to sleep.” Angelus, satisfied that his boy was healing, offered a painkiller and a glass of water.
“No, you´re hurt, I want––I wish I could take care of you.” Xander was still looking at the gash, a worried frown puckering his brow.
“Oh, ye´re sweet. So very sweet.” A soft kiss on the furled brow. “I´ll take care of it directly; it just needs the holy water washed out of it, then it´ll heal. Right now I´m more worried about my sweetling. Take this, won´t ye, Acushla? Won´t ye take it to please me?” Helpless against Angelus´ coaxing, Xander swallowed the pill, then regarded the wounded arm worriedly until sleep carried him away.
Angelus lay close to his boy, fiercely guarding for hours, until a soft but insistent tapping at the door took him reluctantly away from Xander´s side.
“What?” He snarled to the minion outside. “Didn´t I tell ye that I wasn´t to be disturbed save in an emergency?”
“I know, Master,” the minion was apologetic. “It´s the one your mortal calls Chip. He is too gravely wounded to save. We think so, and he agrees. He knows that your bond claimed is injured, so he asks to see you instead before he! goes.”
Angelus looked back at Xander sleeping deeply, torn. But he remembered Chip´s loyal service, and knew that his boy wouldn´t want Chip to go uncomforted. With a sigh, he left the room with a last longing look, called two of his best minions to guard the boy, then followed the messenger upstairs into the attic, which was given over to the minions.
At the top of the stairs, the Master found a rank–smelling space, scattered with the foul, disordered nests of the individual minions. At the far end, one corner had been partitioned off with a blanket. Behind it, Angelus found a contrastingly neat space. Either by scavenging, or by employing some of the financial rewards that Angelus and Xander had occasionally bestowed, Chip had accumulated a few things for himself. A modest bed, with a real mattress and a modest table beside it, a single hard chair. The bed boasted relatively clean sheets and an old blanket. On top of the bed, bleeding, lay Chip, ashen grey, with a freshly sharpened stake lying on his chest.
Angelus sat next to the minion, looking carefully at the frightful wound on Chip´s neck. The watcher´s axe had been just a bit off its mark, failing to strike off the minion´s head. But the edge had bitten deeply enough to sever the spinal chord.
The minion who had come for Angelus had told him the details. Chip could swallow only with the aid of someone massaging his throat, and could feel nothing below his neck. Angelus sighed heavily. The minion would take months, perhaps years, to heal, and how would he survive until then? Hopeless. If this were his childe, now, then he could share the gift of Sire´s blood. Or choose to withhold it, as he had chosen to do to punish Spike for his insolence.
This one, though, was not his childe. And masters did not give blood to minions. It was almost unheard of. This one was not even his get; by concentrating, he could smell Spike´s odor faintly. There was nothing he could do.
The minion´s sunken eyes fluttered open, reflecting gratitude when he registered the master´s presence. “Master Angelus, I thank you for your generosity in coming to see your humble servant. Is my young master alright?”
“Yes, he will be. No vital organs were struck.”
The minion closed his eyes briefly. “I am very glad to know it, Master. I apologize to you and to him for my failure to keep him from harm.”
“You have nothing to regret, my good servant. You have done well, and I am in your debt.”
“Then, Master, would you convey to Master Xander my affection and my gratitude for having had the honor to serve him. And, Master, I would be grateful and honored if you would wield the stake for me.” The minion glanced downward to where the stake lay ready. “I can be of no further use to you.”
Angelus sat for a time, clearly reluctant. “You are by far the best of my people, and my boy is fond o´ ye. I canna like the idea of doin´ ye in.”
Chip regarded him evenly for a time. “It´s what must be done, and it is my last wish that you be the one to do it.” Even as he spoke, he looked apologetic at causing his master further trouble. “I believe that I can make it easier, Master.” He seemed to be gathering himself, then spoke again. “When you had the brandy, I offered, no I tried to persuade Master Xander to let me take him out of the house. The day you had me destroy the brandy, I had been making plans to take him away, even if I had to do it against his will.” The minion said his piece, then waited for the killing blow.
It nearly worked. Angelus, predictably, felt a rush of rage at the idea of anyone stealing his boy away, but his anger was short–lived as he recalled his own horror of what he had done to Xander, and how far he had endangered him. He brought his eyes back to the minion´s as Chip spoke again.
“Does that make it easier for you, Master?”
“Yes,” Angelus said finally. “Yes, it does.” Quickly, the master dropped his fangs and tore open his wrist, laying the bloody limb against his minion´s mouth. “Drink. Drink, and be healed.” With those words, he used his other hand to stroke the minion´s throat to force his body to swallow. Chip stared up at him with stunned wonder for a time, but soon drew gratefully on the wound, depending on Angelus´ manipulations to force it down.
Angelus patiently fed the minion as much as he dared, then made arrangements for others to procure human blood and help Chip swallow it. Satisfied that the minion would begin to heal, Angelus hurried back to his boy.
Xander looked better. Faint color had begun to come back into his cheeks, and he slept peacefully, his breathing slow and even. Angelus drew back the sheet carefully to lift the light dressing and examine the wound. It was clean and beginning to heal. At last, the vampire went to wash the burning holy water from his own flesh, then returned to his sleeping boy. With a soft groan of weary relief, Angelus stretched out beside his boy to seek his own rest.
The vampire came wide awake as soon as Xander stirred, early in the evening. When the boy opened his eyes, he saw Angelus leaning over him, smiling reassuringly. “Good evening, sweetling. Feeling better?”
Xander shifted cautiously, experimentally. “Ow. Better than I was, yes. Better than ever, no.”
“Here, sweet. Here, it´s time for another pill.” The vampire offered the painkiller along with a glass of cool water, which Xander drank gratefully then settled back down on the pillows with a sigh. Angelus set the glass aside and smiled down at his boy, stroking the soft hair off his damp forehead.
Xander closed his eyes and allowed himself to enjoy the attention for a minute before peering worriedly up at his vampire. “Angelus, what are we going to do?”
“Shhh. Don´t worry, Acushla. I´ll take care of everything. Ye just concentrate on feelin´ better.”
Xander wasn´t to be put off so easily. “They´ll be back, you know.”
Angelus looked grim. “They´ll have to heal up a bit first, sweet. And by then, I´ll have worked things out, never ye fear.”
“Why don´t we just leave Sunnydale? Go somewhere else?” Angelus knew how hard that particular option would be on Xander. He smiled and nuzzled the silky dark hair, murmuring, “We may do that, if there´s no other solution to be found. But we have some time.”
“Angelus, why don´t you want them to know how things are with us?” Xander caught the vampire´s hand and held it to his cheek. “Maybe if they knew that I wanted to be here, how I feel about you! ”
Angelus was shaking his head emphatically. “Sweetling, do ye imagine that they would say ‘well that´s alright then, happy for you both, we´ll just leave ye be?´ Not likely, dearling. More like they´d be that much more eager to see me dust, and then they´d be after bundling ye off to some quiet place with high walls for a long rest cure. Nay, better this way. An´ if, God forbid, ye and I are parted, then ye´ll have a great deal less explainin´ to do.”
Xander was unconvinced, and distressed by the mention of parting. Angelus saw and inched closer to his boy, draping a sheltering arm over him. “But don´t worry about such things, my own. Because I´ll take care of ye, and all will be well.”
Large hands stroked gently, and a purr rumbled up to comfort the boy as the painkiller began to take effect; within minutes, Xander drifted into a deep, healing sleep.
A short time later, Angelus´ keen ears caught the sound of a timid knocking at the front door of the mansion. By the time Willow had been admitted as per his instructions, Angelus was at the top of the stairs, looking down into the large entryway. He felt a moment of reluctant admiration for the little thing; she was white as a sheet, and trembling like a sapling in a high wind. But her chin was set, and she faced bravely up to the minion who had admitted her as she demanded to see Angelus.
“Hello, little mouse.” At the sound of Angelus´ silky voice, Willow´s head snapped up and her eyes widened at the sight of him descending the stairs shirtless and barefoot, top button of his black jeans undone. He smirked as her eyes skittered down the length of his body and her heartbeat galloped loudly.
But, Xander–like, she did her best to mask her fear and lifted her chin, meeting his eyes with a calmness that she manifestly did not feel. “You told me I could come and ask about Xander. Is he alright?”
Fondness for Xander, reluctant respect for the feisty redhead, and his own natural urge to torment warred within him. After a moment, as so often happened lately, Xander won out. Angelus stood looking down at the terrified, brave girl for a moment, then sighed. “Follow me.” With that, he turned and started up the stairs, not looking back. He heard nothing for a moment, then the light sounds of the girl´s tentative steps behind him. At the top of the stairs, he turned and spoke softly to her. “He´s healing, and he´s resting comfortably. I´ll let you see him, but you´re not to wake him.”
In spite of her fear, the expressive little face lit up. “Can I really see him? Oh, thank you!”
“Remember, don´t wake him.” He caught her suddenly around her waist and brought her up hard against his massive body, dwarfing her. “Watch yourself, little one,” he warned softly. “Don´t forget that you´re in the beast´s lair.”
She swallowed hard, but met his eyes evenly. “I won´t forget.”
“Gutsy little thing, aren´t you?“ He released her and grinned suddenly. “Come along then.” With a final gesture to remind her to be silent, he opened the bedroom door and stood aside to let her enter.
Willow caught her breath at the sight of her best friend, apparently more or less safe and sound, sleeping in the big bed. He was breathing naturally, and his color was good. Willow felt tears of relief come into her eyes, and without thinking, she moved forward, hand extended. Immediately, a soft growl sounded from nearby, and she jerked her hand back quickly, eyes flying to the vampire´s. He gestured toward the door and she stepped away from the bed. While he reached for the doorknob, she glanced around the room, taking in details. As he opened the door and waited for her to step through, she finished her visual survey of the room and met his eyes once more. The shrewd intelligence he saw in her eyes took him by surprise, and he jerked his head in the direction of the door, suddenly uneasy and impatient to conclude the visit.
Willow´s quick mind was turning over the clues before her. The indentation on the pillow beside Xander´s head, the black silk shirt draped over the headboard, the impressive armchair before the fire––Xander wasn´t occupying this room alone. And he was being cared for, made comfortable. The wound was carefully dressed, and Willow had seen the bottles of medicine beside the table. Something niggled at the back of the girl´s mind, something that just didn´t add up.
Just as Willow stepped past the vampire to cross the threshold, there was a small sound from the bed, not quite a moan, just! a sound. The vampire moved so fast that it stole Willow´s breath. As she watched, fascinated, the vampire bent over the boy, studying his face closely, adjusting the covers fussily. One hand reached as though to touch the boy´s hair, but the vampire, perhaps aware of his audience, thought better of it and dropped his hand to his side, then turned abruptly, took Willow´s arm, and marched her out of the room, closing the door softly behind them.
Halfway down the corridor to the stairs, she hung back, saying, “Wait.”
One brow raised at her effrontery, the vampire paused, turning to face her. “Well?”
“That was your bedroom.”
“You´re very presumptuous, infant. Especially considering your present precarious situation.”
“Why is Xander in your bed?”
Unsettled, Angelus abruptly decided that he was no longer in the mood to be indulgent. Willow squeaked as she found herself pressed against the wall, the vampire´s much larger body grinding against hers. “I like a little something young and warm in my bed from time to time, little one. And what better choice than a friend of dear, dear, Buffy´s. Like to keep it in the family, so to speak.”
Willow stared at him, frozen with fear, as he pressed one knee between her thighs and nuzzled her neck. “Ever wish, little mouse,” he rumbled close to her ear, “That you were the one I found first, rather than your pal Xander? It could just as easily be you warming my bed, you know.” A slow lick up the velvety white neck, which tasted faintly of dark mysteries. “Wouldn´t that be fun?”
“NO! Not fun! No bed warming.” She struggled, and he grinned down menacingly, then stepped away, freeing her. She was off like a shot, fleeing down the stairs and out the door with the demon´s soft laughter trailing after her.
