Part Four
For some time, the library had been ensconced in silence. Giles was working through a book detailing the history of vampires, written by an Italian who claimed to know everything there was to know about the subject, while Clarissa continued to study the grimoire she'd discovered. She had become so involved in the incantations and spell components that she didn't, at first, hear Giles saying her name. Not until he repeated himself did she blink and look up.
"What?"
"Er, I didn't mean to interrupt you, but something occurred to me regarding your meeting with Spike. Have you given any thought to that, by the way?"
He regarded her with a calm, steady gaze, and she found herself somewhat reluctant to reply.
"Well, no." She pursed her lips, then stuck her finger in the text as a bookmark and closed it. "I was a little busy defending myself from Daddy Dearest, and then we came here..." Her voice trailed off then. "Wait a second."
"What?"
The vampire stood suddenly and began pacing, the book tucked under her arm. "Albino Boy said he wanted an irritant removed. That he couldn't do it himself. Could he have been referring to Angelus?"
Giles raised a thoughtful eyebrow. "It is possible. If, for some reason, the dynamics of his relationship with Drusilla prevent him acting alone, he could very well seek outside help, so to speak. And since he doesn't have the connections the Master did, to call on known assassins, it seems logical that he would turn to new, unknown faces, like yours and Michael's."
"I still don't understand how he knew we were here, though," she muttered. "He's the one who found me, and he mentioned Michael without my even having to tell him."
"It could be that he or Drusilla have powers unknown to us as yet." Giles paged through the book he'd been reading, stopping when he found the list of 'vampiric strengths'. "After all, your chovhani powers couldn't have been predicted by any historian."
"True." With a sigh, she sat back down again, replacing the grimoire on the table. Flipping it open, she traced a finger down an illustration that decorated the center of the page, vines and leaves tracing their way between columns of text. Something about the way Giles was looking at her, out of the corner of his eye, suddenly reminded her of the woman they'd been discussing before. She couldn't restrain her curiosity any longer.
"You loved her, didn't you?"
Her sudden observation startled Giles. He glanced over at her, then sighed softly and removed his glasses.
"Yes," he admitted. "It will always be one of my greatest regrets that I never took the opportunity to tell her that, while I still had the chance."
"I think she knows."
Giles glanced up at the vampire. Her dark eyes were warm and understanding.
"Our people -– at least, when I was still part of the clan -– believed in reincarnation. The idea that the soul returns to the flesh after a time of rest? I know that she's safe now, and at peace, where she is. And if you both look favorably on it, then perhaps someday you can be reborn together and have the chance you didn't in this life."
Her voice had unconsciously dropped into the reverent tones in which the original speech had been delivered to her. Giles looked rather overtaken by the notion, and she smiled softly, to lighten her words a little. It was several moments before he responded. "I'd like that."
Clarissa regarded the librarian with a fond gaze. She had yet to figure out why she'd been so drawn to him, or how she'd become so comfortable in his presence in such a short amount of time. The only thought she could dredge up was that his store of knowledge, interest in the unknown, and willingness to impart learning all reminded her of Magdalena, the old Kalderash woman who had been her teacher. Even his habit of removing his glasses and rubbing his forehead was reminiscent of Magdalena with her ancient spectacles...
She shook herself from her reverie abruptly. Though the sky through the windows was pitch black, dawn was not far in coming, and she had a bit of a jog to the motel.
She stood, taking the grimoire and tucking it under her arm. Giles glanced up at her. "Ah, yes, it's close to dawn, isn't it?"
"Closer than I'd like it to be. I'll be back tonight, once I've had time to think on this." She patted the book, and he nodded; then she departed at all speed, so swiftly that he didn't even see her leave. She took off for the motel at a run once she was off school grounds.
Having given Michael the keycard before, she had to knock on the door to gain entrance. As she waited for him to open it, she gave quiet thanks that he'd somehow arranged for a room whose door and window faced west. The sun was just beginning to creep over the horizon, and the side of the building on which she stood was, thanks to its positioning, in deep shade.
The sound of something heavy being shifted came through the door, and then it opened, revealing Michael's face. He looked somewhat bleak and haggard, and he stepped back, further into the room, as soon as he saw that it was her. His eyes were dark and unreadable. Clarissa took a deep breath as she stepped into the room, turning to close and lock the door behind her. She saw that he'd propped an upholstered chair under the door handle before, as that very item stood directly to her side.
"Okay," she sighed. "What's this about?"
"Oh, I wanted to be sure you wouldn't sic your little Slayer on me."
She blinked at him. He pushed past her, replaced the chair in front of the door, and then turned to sit on the bed. His glare was decidedly resentful.
"Okay, you are making absolutely no sense," she said calmly. Sitting down in the chair, she folded her hands. "What is this really about?"
"When were you planning on telling me you were a witch? Or about this Angelus character? Have you been lying to me about everything?"
"Wait – no, whoa, hold it right there. Michael, I've always said there would be things I wouldn't be able to talk about – but don't ever say that I haven't been honest with you."
"All right." He made that concession reluctantly, but his eyes were still fierce. "So you were just going to keep me in the dark?"
"That's not fair. These are things I had to deal with – I thought they were part of my past." Clarissa was starting to get agitated now; she rose and began to pace the length of floor between bureau and bed. "You can't tell me you don't have things you don't want to tell me about – things you've done that you're ashamed of."
That hit home. She saw him flinch. But it didn't wind him; he fired back without pause. "It still doesn't give you the right to lie about doing magic to me."
Clarissa knew her jaw dropped, but for a moment she could do no more than stare at him in dumfounded shock. When her voice returned, it refused to come out louder than a whisper. "How – how did you know?"
"I figured it out. And it helped, running into one of the, oh, what's a good word, standard vampires here." He had stood now, and his features were hard, angry, full of hurt. "Jogged a few memories, seeing him. Seeing you with that book. And then when you did the scrying in Chicago. Why'd you do it, Clarissa? Maybe I'd have been happier as a normal vampire."
"You'd killed your fiancée, Michael." She couldn't force her voice to a normal tone. Maybe it was because her throat had closed against the onslaught of threatening tears. "You weren't a normal vampire even then – not after you went after your Sire for making you a vampire in the first place."
"You're lying." But his accusation was fainter now.
"Yes, I should have told you. I was wrong. I'm sorry. Michael, you were a wreck. You would have killed yourself."
"You should have let me die."
Her heart ripped then. His face had completely shut down, and he stood in the middle of the room with fists clenched at his side.
"You'd rather be dead than have known me." The tears were coming now, no matter how she tried to stop them.
"No -– 'Rissa, that's not what I--" She had broken through with that statement, but she couldn't bear his sympathy now. As he reached for her, she fled, pushing him away, backtracking to the relative safety of the bathroom.
The rational part of her mind observed that locking the door was essentially useless against the strength Michael possessed, but she did it anyway. And was gratified when he didn't break the door in after all.
She was exhausted, from the fighting and research and travel. It was the floor or the tub, and she decided to risk a sore neck rather than sleep on cold tile. She kicked off her shoes and curled up without any more thought.
"...and so it turns out that this Clarissa chick is actually the Romany girl that Angel munched on and got cursed for, except he left out the part about making her a vampire, and oh, did I mention she's a witch, too?"
The residential streets of Sunnydale were fairly quiet at almost one o'clock in the morning. The only sounds on Rebello Drive were those of three sets of teenaged feet walking along the sidewalk, and the monologue of Buffy Summers as she filled in her friends on the events of the evening.
"Harsh," Willow commented.
"So, she and her boyfriend, who's also a vampire, decided to come here and help us get rid of Angelus why? Out of the goodness of their demonic little hearts?" Xander naturally sounded skeptical. Buffy understood, in a way. He'd never been able to give Angel the benefit of the doubt, especially after the vampire's true nature had been revealed; after the curse had completed itself and Angel had become Angelus, Xander had only felt justified in his beliefs. Why, now, would he trust a vampire again, especially one he'd seen talking to Spike?
"I'm not sure it's because they want to help us," Buffy hedged. "I think it's got more to do with this dream she was having."
"Well, if it works, it'll be cool." Willow, who was walking in between the Slayer and Xander, was playing peacemaker as usual. "I mean, you'll have Angel back, and things will be like they were before, right?"
"I doubt anything will be like it was before." Buffy couldn't keep the dark note out of her voice, no matter how hard she tried. She glanced up in relief, seeing that they had finally reached her house. "Right now I just want to get this dealt with, and then we'll handle the fallout."
"Gotcha." Xander reached over to squeeze Buffy's shoulder. "See you tomorrow."
She waved to them, then sighed a little, watching Xander sling a companionable arm over Willow's shoulder as the two turned to head towards their own houses. Gathering her resolve, she walked up the path to her front door. She'd been due home an hour ago. Her mother wouldn't exactly be thrilled to see her coming home at this time of night.
"I don't believe I've ever met you before. Are you from Thessaly?"
The stranger shook his head. A dark radiance seemed to glow around him as he moved towards her, and she had to bite her lip to remind herself that he was not to be trusted. For half an instant she wondered bleakly what she was doing, playing games with a demon.
"No, I'm from elsewhere." The faintest touch of an Irish accent tinged his rich voice. "But I must say that I've never seen so beautiful a lady in all my travels."
Despite herself, she blushed. That was good, she thought – add to the illusion that she was meek and inexperienced. Even if she was. "Oh, you're – you're too kind, sir. Do you have a name?"
"Do you?"
He moved around her and sat down on the bench next to her. They were a good distance from the encampment now; she could just barely hear the music and see flickers of the bonfire through the trees. Her family would be celebrating a good day's tradings. She should be there, not here, trying to kill a vampire.
"I'm Clarissa," she said in her shyest tone of voice, eyes determinedly focused on the hands folded in her lap. Then one of his hands reached for hers, drawing it towards himself. His thumb moved lightly over the back of her hand, teasing her skin. His touch was cold. She hadn't expected that.
"A lovely name," he replied. "I'm Angelus."
The Angelic One. Clarissa's blood ran cold with fear. Of all the vampires in the world, this one had chosen her for its next prey. Images of the degradation and destruction he'd caused ran through her mind. Her eyes flicked up to meet his, all dark and dancing.
"It's – it's an unusual name." She stumbled over the words. She was beginning to feel as idiotic now as she had initially pretended to appear.
"Perhaps you should take me to meet your family," he invited. "They certainly can't think it's proper for one as young as you to be alone here with an unknown man..."
She shook her head demurely. "They trust me."
"Aren't you scared?" His voice was almost teasing. She looked up at him, shaking her head, trembling a little.
"N-no."
He grinned.
"You should be."
She wanted to scream as he came towards her, even as the thinking part of her mind began to protest – this isn't how it happened! But she was frozen in fear, paralyzed by the darkness dancing in his eyes, by the rakish look of his face and the way a few strands of hair fell loosely from the tie-back...
Clarissa blinked, and they were standing in the park where she had confronted Angelus the previous night. The night was still and clear, the sound of water dancing in the fountain behind them. He wore the same clothes he'd worn then, though. The only difference was that he now sported his true, demonic face instead of the human guise.
"Why don't you get out of town now, before you start any more trouble?" he snarled.
She stood her ground. She was still wearing the dress she'd worn that night when he'd made her a vampire, when she was eighteen years old and vulnerable and innocent. Was her mind trying to tell her something?
"I'm here to stop trouble. You should stay out of my way."
"Tough talk. I don't buy it."
They circled each other. She looked around frantically. No one else was there, no sound betraying even the most distant of life. She had no one, no resource but herself. It would have to be enough.
"Why don't you see what I'm worth now? I might surprise you."
A flicker of motion from off to her right made her involuntarily glance in that direction, despite the possibility that she might be opening herself up to attack. To her surprise, another Angelus stood there. But this one was different. He wore twentieth century clothing, what she'd seen him in last night – the long, black coat, black pants, a white v-neck t-shirt underneath the coat. His hair was close-cropped, scruffy, and his face entirely human. When he looked up at her, there was an honesty and vulnerability in his eyes that took her breath away. He looked helpless, utterly without hope.
Her gaze swung back to the Angelus she'd known when she'd still been human. Something clicked. This was Angel, this second image. This was who Angelus had become after the curse.
She couldn't explain why, but suddenly she knew what had to be done, and how she could do it. Perhaps it would help to defeat her inner demons at the same time.
Clarissa woke with a gasp, followed by a whimper of pain. She craned her neck carefully, trying to keep from bashing her head on the faucet. Sleeping in the bathtub had been less comfortable than she'd hoped it to be, and even the cushioning provided by several folded towels hadn't done much to prevent her from acquiring a decided ache at the base of her neck.
Yawning, she stretched and sat up, forcing her muscles to respond. She glanced at her watch out of habit, even though she knew that it was past sunset despite the lack of a window in the bathroom. As she stood and stepped out of the tub, she wondered if Michael was gone yet.
The bedroom was empty, confirming her initial suspicion. From the stillness of the room, she decided that he'd probably gone as soon as the sun had slid below the horizon. She changed clothes quickly, found the grimoire where she'd set it on the table by the window last night, and headed out.
She had to feed, unfortunately, and they'd exhausted the supply from the apartment the night before. Respectful of the Slayer's wishes, Clarissa didn't hunt to kill, but fed sparingly from her victims. It amused her to realize that she had to adopt Michael's style, the one she'd mocked for so long. Oh well, it'll only be until we get out of this town.
Then it was to the library, where she knew the mortals would be waiting.
"I don't like it."
"Xander, you've been saying that for the past hour and a half." Willow attempted to use her calmest, most reasoning voice, but even her temper was beginning to fail.
"So? That doesn't mean I can't keep saying it."
"It does mean that you're going to have a broken arm if I hear it again." Cordelia's patience, never celebrated to begin with, was wearing thin as well. As she stood from where she'd been sitting next to Xander to walk around the table, he gave her a hurt look, then pouted at Buffy in hopes of a kind word.
The Slayer only gave him an amused smile. "Don't look at me. I'm not feeling very sympathetic tonight."
"Giles, I--"
"Save it, Xander." The librarian's clipped tones were quick and sharp. "We know that you don't want to trust Clarissa and Michael. I even understand why you don't want to. But I would appreciate it if you could at least keep your mouth shut and show some support. They may very well be the last hope we have."
"Sorry." Xander's resentful tone joined with a glare towards Giles, but he subsided into silence as Giles set down a pile of books on the table.
"So, what's the new?" Buffy asked.
"I'm not sure, exactly," Giles admitted. "We did research for quite a while--"
"Which would explain why we found you crashed on the table with a book for a pillow?" the Slayer quipped.
Giles only gave Buffy a look and didn't bother to dignify her words with a reply. "While the grimoire she discovered would seem to be of some considerable help, I'm not clear just yet on what, exactly, the true problem is, or if there even is one beyond the persistent threat with which we've been dealing."
"That being Angelus."
The new voice startled everyone, and Xander turned his glare on Clarissa as she walked up to the railing of the library's mezzanine level, an even look on her face. "What, you vamps have some kind of appear-out-of-nowhere power or something? They teach classes on how to scare people?"
"Xander." Willow bapped her best friend with the back of her hand. He rubbed his shoulder, a mock look of pain on his face.
Giles, for his part, seemed used to such sudden appearances, for he merely glanced up, with a nod. "Yes. Angelus."
"And you are..?" Cordelia, who was leaning on the table next to Willow, glanced up to Clarissa with an utterly disdainful air.
"Cordelia, this is Clarissa, the vampire we were talking about?" Buffy said. Cordelia glanced over at the Slayer, one eyebrow arching; then, as comprehension dawned, she nodded.
"Oh, yeah. Nice to meet you." She smiled faintly, and as Clarissa came down the stairs to the lower level, the former May Queen glided back to her seat by Xander.
"So, did you learn anything?" Giles asked. Clarissa shrugged. She was still clutching the grimoire she'd left with that morning, rather like a lifeline, he thought.
"Maybe. I had something of a revelatory dream," she confessed.
"So, tell." Buffy leaned forward eagerly. She was sitting on the table, legs crossed, and her eyes sparkled.
Clarissa found herself unable to keep still as she spoke of the events of her dream. It didn't bother her to tell them about the scene that had actually happened, but the words slowed and stumbled when she reached the change of setting. The Slayer's eyes narrowed as Clarissa spoke of the modern Angel, confirming, for the vampire, the statements Giles had made the previous night regarding Buffy's feelings for the vampire who was her sire.
"Anyway," she concluded, "when I woke up, I knew what to do. And how we're going to do it."
"You don't think you can handle him by yourself, then?" Giles looked a bit confused.
"Well, I haven't tested my magic in a while, and I don't want there to be a problem if something goes wrong." She opened the grimoire and laid it down on the table. Buffy peered at the pages that lay open. "This section speaks of the original curse that was laid on Angelus when he made me. But there's some qualifications. Basically, once the original spell was cast, it can't be done on the same vampire again. I'm pretty sure this is what someone in my clan did to me, actually," she added as an aside to Giles, who had come up beside her to read from the book. "Although I couldn't tell you for sure. Doesn't really matter now, all I know is that they didn't do the same thing with the happiness part on me."
"Go on," Giles said. Interest was transforming his face as he listened. The others paid attention as well, though Xander was still pretending to sulk at the other end of the table.
"Okay, so I can't cast the same thing on him. But," and her tone was almost triumphant now, "I can reclaim his soul from the void and restore it to him. Only problem is I sort of have to exorcise the demon from his body first."
"Do wha? How?" Buffy demanded. Even though she couldn't read the ancient Romany writing, she was trying to decipher it from upside down anyway.
"Well, there's a few components I need. An Orb of Thesulah, runes, I haven't carried those around in ages, a personal item of his..."
"What are you saying? You're going to bring Angel back?"
"Well, yeah." Clarissa looked up and met Buffy's eyes. The girl looked close to tears, and Clarissa realized that she'd severely underestimated the Slayer's feelings for Angel. "But without the curse – a restoration ritual, rather – which means he'd be himself permanently. Still a vampire – there's no spell in the world to change that – but you'd be rid of Angelus."
Buffy suddenly slung the leather jacket she'd been wearing from her shoulders, handing it to Clarissa, who blinked at her.
"It's his jacket," Willow supplied helpfully.
"Ah." Clarissa nodded and accepted it. "This should work nicely. The rest, though..."
"Well, ah, actually," and Giles looked almost embarrassed now, "I have an Orb of Thesulah."
Clarissa blinked at him. He removed his glasses and began to clean them on the hem of his vest. "I've been using it as a paperweight. And the runes should be easy to secure, as well."
"All right then." Buffy's smile was almost predatory. "We'll snag Angelus – hey, Spike's even gonna help us there, what a guy, huh? – and you'll do the spell, and presto, Angel's back?"
"I hope," Clarissa sighed. "If it doesn't work, if I do something wrong, we'll have to finish him off immediately."
Xander finally leaned forward, resting his chin on his hands. "So let me get this straight. We're either going to save Angel's soul or kill him altogether?" He pondered the notion for a moment, then smiled. "Cool."
"Xander!"
Three female voices spoke his name simultaneously, and he looked around with hurt innocence. "What?"
this page last updated on 18 january 2003