Chapter 2 - Coming Back from the Brink, Part 2


                                             Coming Back from the Brink
                                                          by Volpone

                                                 Scene 5: the School Parking Lot

          As they broke from a very passionate clinch, Oz gave a slightly bemused smile and said
appreciatively, "Whoa... maximum Willow kissage."
          Willow smiled and gave a slight giggle. She had only recently convinced Oz that, while she
might not be totally over Xander, she really wanted to be with Oz. I mean, she liked Xander still, but it
was Oz that she found herself day-dreaming about now. Once that had been established, Oz had quickly
gone from patient friend to willing accomplice. They had managed to squeeze a remarkable amount of
both talking and making out into a very short, very happy time.
          But today was different somehow. Willow was thrilled when she figured out that Buffy and
Angel had done the deed. It was totally cool... she thought. But it was also as if Buffy had suddenly
become a woman while she was still just a kid. It was something that separated them. She had thought
that it was only logical that Buffy would live life a little faster, take bigger bites, because, well, she was
the Slayer, and she might be killed any day, so she had to experience life... sooner.
          Then, in a sudden epiphany, Willow realized that she, too, might be killed any day. Since she
had joined in helping Buffy and Giles, she had almost been killed on half-a dozen occasions... had
actually been dead once... and she wasn't even the Slayer, with a Slayer's instincts and resources to help
keep her alive.
          Oz lifted a hand to the side of her face and asked, "Hey, where'd you go? You kind of left for a
minute there."
          It suddenly seemed to all come together... the hand-kissing (she had thought she would faint
when Quinn did that!)... Buffy's giving her virginity to Angel... the realization about just how short her
life might be... and Oz's kisses (the last big time)... they all seemed to point in a single direction.
          Before she really thought it through, she blurted out, "Oz, would you like to... you know... do
more than just... kiss... me?" Her Embarrassment over what she had said threatened to overwhelm her,
and she thought, Please, God, just strike me dead now, quick, before I say anything else as stupid.
          Oz looked at her with a little surprise, but didn't let the silence grow too long.
          "Would I like too do more? Of course. I mean, I'm a guy, and you're like everything I wanted.
You are so amazing, any guy in his right mind would want to.
          "But if you're really asking am I going to do more, then no, I'm not." He rushed on before she
could be hurt by his refusal. "We've got something totally off the chart here, and we're just learning
what we are together. That is so cool, I didn't think it would ever happen to me. I'm not going
anywhere. Why rush things if we don't have to?"
          "But that's just it!" she exclaimed. To her surprise, she wasn't going to burst into tears. She was
excited to share with him her revelation.
          She talked for several minutes, explaining events of the past year (omitting the bit about Buffy
and Angel, because that wasn't hers to share), doing her best to explain just how she felt, knowing that if
anyone might understand, it would be him. She spoke earnestly, passionately, her usual hesitancy in
speaking gone, not using any emotional blackmail or manipulation to get her way. He was already one
of her closest friends. She needed Oz to understand.
          "And so, you see, I don't want to do this with just anyone. I don't want to do this with Xander. I
only want to do this because its you, because I care about you." Then she lapsed into silence to let him
think.
          Oz sat without moving for almost thirty seconds, examining how he felt towards this wonderful,
sweet, surprisingly passionate young woman. He wondered if she might be fooling herself into thinking
she was in as much danger as she claimed, but he had assisted them in at least one life-and-death conflict
with supernatural forces, so he knew that was likely as coldly factual as Willow could make it. She was
amazingly smart, and would be able to examine things realistically. It was a little like she was a street
cop, or a soldier, or a fireman... people who willingly put their life on the line for the sake of the greater
good. In a flash, he realized that not one of those occupations was the job for a kid. Yes, she was
young, but she was also surprisingly wise.
          Gently taking both her hands in his own, he looked at her pretty, caring face, and he knew she
would calmly accept whatever he decided.
          "Willow, will you please make love with me?"
          Her face lit up with the smile that he loved so much, and rather than answering, she all but
launched herself across the space between them, throwing her arms around him and bearing him
backwards.

          When Buffy found that Willow wasn't in the computer room, or near her locker, she remembered
her saying that she was going to look for Oz. Buffy didn't know that many of Oz's hangouts yet, but she
knew that his van was parked in the south parking lot, so she might as well try there next.
          Moving quickly, wanting to catch her good friend and get her as far from the school as possible,
Buffy approached the van which was the sole occupant of the student parking area. She was almost on it
when she heard murmuring coming from the van's interior, and the slight motion. Moving more
carefully, she came closer, and heard the unmistakable sounds of passion coming from the rear
compartment.
          Oz had a girl in there! Oh, god, this was going to just kill Willow! First Xander, then Oz. This
was becoming too much. She had expected better from Oz. Well, she was going to let him know just
what she thought of assholes who did that kind of thing.
          Buffy felt a cold rage building. God, she was going to make him sorry about this! He was going
to never let Willow find out, and then he was going to spend the next seventeen years of his life making
it up to her.
          As she came around the front of the van, she glanced inside. She wasn't able to see into the back,
but what she did see stopped her in her tracks. There, draped over the back of the passenger seat, was
the brown striped blouse Willow had been wearing earlier that day. No... it couldn't be...
          Suddenly changing tactics, Buffy moved quietly to the side door of the van, then placed a hand
on the door and leaned in to hear better.
          It took just a second for her to recognize the voice of the female occupant, even though they
weren't being terribly verbal. They were, on the other hand, being very vocal. She listened at the door
for about thirty seconds, her amazement growing by the second... and she began to be turned on by the
sounds of sex coming from inside.
          It was! It was Willow inside there with Oz, and they were really enjoying themselves... a lot!
Then, as she heard Willow begin to enjoy herself yet again, she slipped quietly away from the van.
          As she wandered back toward the school, she thought to herself, Well, I don't have to worry
about Willow finding Xander. What was it that was going on? Did someone put something in the water
supply? Why were all her friends behaving like rabbits on shore leave? (She had no problem in mixing
her metaphors, especially to herself.)
          Once again, her thoughts strayed back to Quinn kissing her hand, and her nipples perked up in
reaction. Tonight was definitely going to be a date with Mr. Hand!

Scene 6: Meanwhile, Back at the Ranch

          Buffy swung by her locker, thinking of going home, taking a long, sudsy bath and letting her
fantasies run free, when she opened the door to her locker and was surprised to find two folded notes
sitting on top of her stuff.
          The first was from Quinn, saying simply:
                    Buffy,
                    We need to talk right away. It's urgent.
                    --Quinn
          Hmmm... that sounded very promising. Either that or ominous. She really hoped it turned out to
be the former.
          The second note was in a much more florid hand, looking as if it were written with a quill pen,
and as she read, all thoughts of the first note fled from her mind:
                    I am terribly disappointed by Angel's failure
                    of the other night, and so we will be saying
                    a final goodbye to him tonight around 10 o'clock
                    at the old church... you know the place. Don't
                    be late if you want a chance to say "bye-bye".
                    --Drusilla
          Shit! Drusilla was up to her tricks again. And this time, she was using Angel for bait. Oh, it
was a trap, all right. But it was also possible that Drusilla might be whacked-out enough to actually kill
Angel just to hurt Buffy. Then again, Angel might be hurtful enough to have set this up just to guarantee
Buffy's presence. Dammit! She cursed at Angel's going over yet again.
          She had to tell Giles quickly, so it was back to the library for her. Some part of her subconscious
hoped Quinn might still be there.
          Quinn had excused himself soon after Buffy left, leaving just Jenny and Giles alone in the
library.
          When they were quite alone, Jenny turned to the reserved librarian and said pointedly, "What an
interesting man. And so gallant. So few men bother with the little romantic gestures now-a-days.
          "Now, what do you think he might have meant by congratulating you?" She sashayed slowly
towards him, adding a quite intentional sway to her hips. "You don't think that he got the impression
there might be something going on between the two of us, do you, Rupert?"
          It had taken them several weeks to straighten out the problems that had arisen early on in the
relationship, especially the episode with Eyghon, but it seemed that things were back on course for the
two once again. They had shared several enjoyable meals, and had exchanged several quite notable
kisses, but no more.
          "I'm sure I couldn't say. He is a remarkably perceptive fellow. I wouldn't be at all surprised..."
          His words were cut short as Jenny planted a very warm, very suggestive kiss on his mouth.
          When they broke, she ran a finger down his cheek and murmured, "Sometimes you talk too
much."
          "Yes... I must admit it's one of my failings." This time, he actually finished before she initiated
the next kiss, pressing herself against him. She was feeling especially mellow towards Giles today... and
rather randy.
          She began to breathe more deeply, her excitement getting the better of her, and a sudden idea
crossed her mind... a very wanton, risky idea. One that she decided to act on before the moment grew
cold.
          Giles was surprised by the emphatic kiss, but enjoyed it for several moments before the gallant
reflex of his own began growing in his pants.
          He broke the kiss and stepped back. "Jenny, we really shouldn't be doing this here."
          "Oh, really?" She moved toward him with an almost feline motion. She knew exactly what she
intended, and she was not going to let Rupert's gentlemanly reserve get in the way. He was far too much
a creature of habit and propriety. It would be good for him to break the mold. "Where would you prefer
we go?"
          He was becoming flustered, and she was growing more aggressive with each passing moment.
She had a much more scarlet past than he did, but she wasn't going to tell him that. Men should only be
told what was absolutely necessary... no more. It kept them on their toes, and stopped them from taking
things, and women, for granted.
          "I mean...", he stammered, "Are you... What I mean..."
          Before he could go any farther, she had again stopped his words with her lips, and she left
absolutely no doubt what she intended as her tongue explored his mouth and she pushed the tweed jacket
off his shoulders, then raked her nails gently down his back.
He tried to object several more times before he gave in to the inevitable. It was either that or ask
her to leave, and he cared for her far too much to risk rejecting her. And actually, he had thought about
this for a long time.
          "Relax, Rupert, and enjoy." She had managed to remove his tie and shirt, and her own blouse
had joined the growing pile of garments on the floor.
          Soon, they found themselves naked, and he was kissing and nibbling at her marvelous breasts,
his hands kneading her firm ass, sucking first on one rosy nipple and then the other. Though she hated
comparing one man to another, she was pleasantly surprised that Giles had been hiding away such a
delightfully proportioned bit of manhood... and some very pleasant aptitude. She was so impatient that
in moments, they were clenched with her legs around his waist as she rested back on the desktop and
guided his very engorged penis to the opening of her very wet cleft.
          As he slid himself into her, he kissed her neck and whispered, "Oh, Jenny..." Then there was no
more restraint to their lovemaking as it became much more primal in nature. Her nails dragged across
his bare shoulders, speeding him on. She began to bite at his collarbone and he rapidly lost his
gentlemanly facade, reading what she wanted and driving into her, trying to match the gyrations of her
pelvis. She contracted the muscles of her pussy around his shaft, squeezing him tightly in velvet and
steel, trying to drive him over the top. There was virtually no holding back for them as he stroked into
her. She wrapped her arms around him and crushed her breasts to his chest, then let out a sound of pure
animal release as she exploded in orgasm, quaking and panting as the contractions washed over her,
back arching and hunching herself with each spasm of pleasure.
          He had been celibate far too long to be able to hold out against the sensual overload, and he
groaned out as his cock swelled and spat its load of stored-up semen deep within her clenching pussy.
          He continued half-a-dozen more strokes as he emptied himself into her, and she purred in response to his
attentions.
          After several moments simply holding onto one another in that position, their breathing began to
slow enough to allow them to murmur gentle encouragements to one another. Then, when they had
rested and whispered back and forth for several more minutes, Jenny decided that she was ready for a
rematch. She was a healthy woman with healthy drives, and she wasn't going to let another opportunity
slip away if she could help it. It had taking them far too long to get to this point, and too much of her
natural passion had been banked away for too long. In this case, to Jenny, anything worth doing was
worth overdoing.
          She slowly began to kiss her way down his shoulder, across his chest, nuzzling and tickling each
nipple on her way. Bending her knees outward, she slowly knelt, legs well apart, until her eyes were
level with his waist. His stomach was surprisingly flat under her lips, and she trailed her nails down his
sides, raising goose bumps in their path. Around to his hip, then slowly inward until her own scent on
him filled her nostrils. It was an exciting smell, the smell of sex, and Jenny inhaled its heady perfume
greedily. She licked her lips, and then, taking him in one hand, she guided him to her waiting mouth.
          Giles tried to make some proper-sounding demurrer, but he was only human, and after
stammering out a word or two, he stopped, moaned appreciatively as she ran her tongue all the way up
the underside of his cock, and surrendered to the greater demand. He ran one hand over her hair and
then behind her head, while she let out a throaty chuckle and began to show him a bit of virtuosity.
          She continued to lick all the way up the length of his shaft with her soft tongue, delighting in the
taste of their mixed juices that were still on him, and delighting him in the process. God, but she had
wanted to do something like this to him for far too long! Something that was well beyond "proper"
behavior that would feel lascivious and wanton, something to crack that cool British reserve of his and
make him a little crazy. A woman liked to feel that a man wasn't always in control around her, even if it
only seemed that way for a few moments. Certainly this woman felt that way.
          Stirrings of life were beginning to appear in Giles once again, so she took the crown between her
lips, holding her teeth well back from the sensitive skin, and she began to move her head in a tight
circular motion, stimulating all around the flaring edge of the head, bringing another gasp from the
bookish gentleman enjoying her ministrations. He continued to grow gradually, and she began to apply
more suction to his tool as she slowly slid her talented mouth down further and further until her lips met
with her hand and his cock made its acquaintance with the entrance to her throat. She controlled her gag
reflex without a great deal of effort, this being one of her favored pastimes and far from her first
experience. Then she took a deep breath and as she held him deep in her mouth, she hummed a deep
note back in her throat, a mixture of music and a sensual moan that vibrated right through him and gave
him the most extraordinary sensation. He gasped and she stifled a smile of triumph and began to suck in
earnest, sliding her clinging lips up to the tip of him, then tossing her head slightly and taking him
almost to the base again, then repeating the motion over and over again, until he was hard and ready. He
began to flex his hips slightly in time with her motions, fucking her mouth (though a gentleman would
never use such crass terms) and reveling in the sensation.
          Jenny was becoming even more excited as she sucked his cock, her cheeks caving in as she tried
to give him every bit of pleasure she was capable of, until he began to moan in earnest. She slowly slid
her lips back to the head and then slid him out of her mouth completely. He was breathing like a
racehorse, and if he was even remotely as excited as she was, the slightest stimulus would set him off
like a rocket.
          Their clothes made an less than ideal pad on the hard floor, but neither of them thought about
that as she pulled him down, lay back on the floor and spread her sweet thighs to him. Then he was in,
and she began to meet his thrusts enthusiastically, kissing his mouth greedily, possessively. She groaned
out in her passion, but he controlled himself and kept the rhythm steady, not allowing himself to finish
ahead of her. It took just a few strokes and they were both at the edge of another orgasm. Then she dug
her nails into his back and bit the muscle joining neck and shoulder, then gasped as she peaked and
began to shudder in climax. He was right there with her, and he stroked another load of semen into her
tight pussy as they gasped out their mutual pleasure.

          Buffy happened to glance through the small window in the library door, just to see if anyone
interesting (namely a newly-met paranormal investigator) was there before entering, and got her third
shock of the afternoon.
          Right there in plain view in the middle of the library, Ms. Calendar's was going down on Giles!
She couldn't help but stare through the window in frank disbelief. No way!!! But there was her stuffy
old Watcher pumping his cock into Jenny's blissed-out face.
          Buffy turned on her heal and walked quietly but quickly away from the library. It wasn't until she
was almost to the school's main entrance until she realized that she needed badly to go home and change
into another pair of panties.

Scene 7: the Church

          The small group waited with resignation inside the fire-gutted church for their prey to arrive.
The building was mostly open to the elements now, with occasion al gaps in the outer wall, and most of
the roof completely missing. They rested near what had once been the main entrance, the dark male
leaning easily against the burned doorway, while the female stood by another man, gently stroking his
punk blond hair. A pair of crutches belonging to the blond man rested nearby, and his face still showed
some signs of burn scars. He had almost been destroyed by the same fire that had taken the building
they occupied.
          A number of other vampires lurked outside as lookouts, and a larger male stood with the three
and peered out the portal into the night.
          "Do you really think the Slayer will be foolish enough to come?", he asked.
          "Will you relax?", said the blond. "We could have said, 'Angel wants you to come to an ambush
held in your honor. Please be prompt so we can kill you quickly and make it home in time to see
Letterman.' She would still show up. So long as she knows Angel will be here, she'll show. She has
some strange affection for our dear Angelus here."
          Angel pushed himself away from the doorjamb and strolled to the left side of the doorway,
looking down into the font for holy water which had remarkably survived the destruction that had
ravaged the rest of the structure. He gave an almost imperceptible shudder, then said, "It really was a
good idea having Dru write the letter. It let her know that we'll both be here, and she knows that we
once shared something... special. She won't be able to stay away. Her curiosity will make it a command
performance."
          "You know this won't work again. It has to succeed this time or not at all, because after this,
she'll never believe a threat aimed at Brother Angel again," observed Spike.
          "But it won't have to, my darling," said Drusilla in her distinctive, half-stoned-sounding delivery.
          "If it makes her hesitate for just a moment, it could be enough."
          "Besides," joined Angel, "even if we don't take her at first, I think I can convince her our falling
out has made me an ally of hers again." He gave a very unfriendly grin. "That should make her drop her
guard just long enough to allow me to get close enough to put an end to our problem... permanently. The
betrayal alone may do the trick."
          Spike looked at Angel and mused aloud, "I am continually amazed at the jones you have for this
Slayer." He might have said more, but just then one of their lookouts appeared at the stairs leading up to
the door.
          "Someone's coming through the cemetery," he reported.
          Spike took his crutches and moved to the doorway. "Is it the Slayer?", he asked impatiently.
          "I don't know."
          In an exasperated tone, he ordered, "Then go and find out." As the underling went to do his
bidding, he turned to Dru and Angel. "It may be curtain time, kiddies. Places, everyone!" With the help
of his crutches, he stood on the first step down, Angel behind and to his right, and Dru took a wooden
stake and held it pointed to Angel's heart through his back, completing the scene they had created.
          Some noise came from out of sight. Then a tall figure, presumably a man, in a long dark coat
strolled casually through the grave markers, moved nearer, picked a tombstone, and hitched one leg up
so that he was half sitting on the granite memorial.
          Spike looked at Dru. "Is he one of Us?" His dress and behavior seemed to lean in that direction,
but Drusilla felt otherwise.
          In that otherworldly manner of hers, she stated, "No... he is a man... I smell warm blood."
          Then, much to the surprise of all present, the latecomer began to sing. The song was a
melancholy Scottish tune in a minor key, with a very old sound to it. He sang in a strong, beautiful
baritone with a definite Celtic lilt to it, and it carried in it an unmistakable air of great sadness.
                    "I am a poor sailor, my story is sad,
                    Though once I was carefree, and a brave sailor lad.
                    I courted a lassie by night and by day,
                    But now she had left me, and sailed far away.
                    "Oh, if I was a blackbird, could whistle and sing,
                    I'd follow the vessel my true love sails in,
                    And in the top-rigging I would there build my nest,
                    And I'd flutter my wings o'er her lily-white breast.
          "Bloody drunk!", swore Spike. "Go shut him up before he gives away the whole thing." He
propelled the large vampire down the stairs, and called after him, "And see what happened to Jonas!"
He turned back and muttered under his breath, "Just what we need... Serenade for Oboe and Ambush in
C Minor."
          The singer had just finished the chorus and was beginning on the next verse when the vampire
interrupted.
          "My friends don't care for your singing," he said, baring his fangs. "I think that you should stop."
          He stopped his advance about four feet from the sitting man, who appeared quite unimpressed.
          "Oh... your friends don't like my music?", and without changing position or taking his eyes from
the menacing figure, he drew from behind the tombstone a simple, cross-hilted long sword and rested the
point on the ground to his left in a most casual manner.
          The vampire took one look at the sword and laughed. "You think you can stop me with that
toothpick? It takes a wooden stake to kill me, little man."
          The hand holding the blade flicked out amazingly fast, and the vampire's head parted company
from his shoulders, both flashing to dust before they could reach the ground.
          Quinn stood up and said to no one in particular, "Idiot doesn't even know his own rules. Talk
about evolution in action." He moved casually toward the steps of the church from where Angel, Dru
and Spike had witnessed the encounter.
          Angel said back over his shoulder, "Well, now we know what happened to Jonas."
Knowing they were in no danger with all their followers so near, they stood, waiting for the
intruder to reach the steps, placing his head in the proverbial noose. Still holding the sword, he
sauntered up until he halted about twenty feet away from the triumvirate.
          "Well, now, let me see here." He scrutinized the trio for a moment. "Judging from the
description, you must be Angelus." He was greeted with stony silence, so he turned to the next in line
and continued, "And that means that this lovely must be Drusilla." He inclined his head in the most
minimal of bows. "And, of course, Spike. Been to any good barbecues lately?"
          Nettled, Spike responded, "And who do you think you are... Duncan-Bloody-McCloud?"
          With a self-deprecating gesture, Quinn replied, "I'm as mortal a Marc Anthony, and of no
consequence whatever."
          "Come, come. You know our names. It's only polite to give us yours. Or should we just call
you 'lunch meat'."
          With a slight nod, he agreed. "Point taken. The name's St. George." At Spike's snort of disbelief
he added, "Family name. Though it does have some appropriate connotations." Changing mental gears,
Quinn commented, "You know, I expected you to be much shorter." At Spike's questioning look, he
corrected himself. "Oh, of course! I'm confusing you with Pinky and the Brain... Understandable...
come out at night... try to conquer the world... fail miserably." When it was obvious that the reference
had gone right over them he explained, "Pop culture reference. You people really need to live in the
now."
          "And just what the hell are you doing here, except fulfilling a death wish."
          "I am here in the role of referee. You see, I'm one of the last true believers in the rules of
chivalry, and I feel it is terribly impolite to try to kill a lady you've made love to... call me oldfashioned,"
he flicked some imaginary dirt off the quillons of his sword, "but I'm just funny that way."
          "Well," said Spike, "this is a private party and you don't have an invitation. So if you would be
so kind..." He jerked his head towards a couple of his followers, who began to move in on Quinn.
          Judging discretion the better part of valor, Quinn began to calmly and slowly back away to their
right, continuing on until he disappeared around the corner of the church. Exit, stage left, pursued by
vampires...
          Buffy had seen most of the preceding, being able to approach much closer without being
observed because of the disturbance caused by Quinn. What the hell did that idiot think he was up to?
          So he caught one vampire napping. Big whoop. Did he think that made him invincible? With some
luck, he would survive long enough to get away from them.
          She noted the location of the other lookouts on this side of the building, and managed to stake
one lanky vampire chick with absolutely no fashion sense before she could raise an alarm.
          As she came closer to the church, she wished she could tell if Angel was actually a hostage or
not. He hadn't said anything since she had come within earshot, it looked as if his hands were tied
behind him, and Drusilla hadn't let the stake aimed at Angel's heart waver a bit. It was like the scene
from one of her nightmares of Angel's death at the hands of this creature he had made.
          Well, waiting wouldn't answer anything. Steeling herself as best she could, she walked boldly
into the clear area in front of the church. When they had clearly seen her, Drusilla called out, "Oh, good!
I was afraid you were going to miss our send-off for dear Angel."
          At his name, Angel called out to her, "Buffy, don't come any closer! It's a trap!"
          Which proves absolutely nothing, thought Buffy. It was sort of a "well, duh..." kind of statement.
Of course it was a trap. The question was, was he a willing part of it or not? His warning had sounded
so sincere...
          She needed to get a closer look. If he were actually in danger, then she would need to work her
way close enough to get Angel away from them without getting him killed.
So she tried to look casual as she walked closer. "I know you guys aren't into cheery, but this
place is a new low, even for you."
          It was Dru who answered. "But this place has special meaning for Angel and me. It's where we
became even closer." Though she was referring to a ritual that had been interrupted by Buffy and
company... a ritual in which Angel was almost killed... the double meaning wasn't lost on Buffy. "It was
just so... perfect. And a graveyard right here."
          "Yeah... all the homey little touches."
          "Actually," said Spike, "the location was my idea. It felt fitting that this be the place since it's
where I acquired the use of these," and he indicated his crutches. Not long ago, he had been confined to
a wheelchair. He was healing, but it was a slow, painful process, and he wished to share that pain with
Buffy in a very literal way.
          She replied, "Couldn't have happened to a nicer jerk."
          "And I'm the one who insisted you be allowed to say goodbye." Spike's words dripped
insincerity.
          "Remind me to put you on my Christmas list."
          "Oh, that won't be necessary. It also won't be possible. You see, you'll be dead long before Santa
comes around."
          And then they attacked. Angel, Dru and Spike stayed frozen where they were, while several
other vampires closed in. It was a good thing that Quinn had eliminated one and drawn two more away,
or else she would have been trying to deal with seven opponents, something she doubted she could keep
up long. It certainly would prevent her from getting anywhere near Angel. Four was going to be plenty
difficult. Then she was too busy to do anything more than react. She kicked one assailant high in the
chest, sent him staggering back, then struck at another with a spinning back-kick, following up as she
swept his feet from under him. He had no more than crashed to the ground than one of the remaining
vampires blind-sided her, bearing them both to the ground. Buffy kept the momentum going to throw
him off, then kipped back to her feet just as the fourth reached her. It was kick and move, spin, dodge,
strike and dance away before they could close. Each of her opponents outweighed her by at least sixty
pounds, and had the feral strength and resistance to pain that was the natural resource of every vampire.
          They were in blood lust, and behaved like berserkers. If they had been fighting smart instead of fighting
hungry she would have been having much more trouble. As it was, she was just keeping even with
them, and still she was getting no closer to seeing if Angel was indeed hostage. Another thirty seconds,
and with a sinking feeling, Buffy realized that she could only last so long before one of them would take
her.
          Drusilla was smiling her dreamy smile at the plight of the Slayer. Poor, stupid thing didn't even
know that if she won, she still lost. It wouldn't make a bit of difference in the long run. Even if they
didn't manage to kill her, Angel's betrayal of her would hurt her as deeply as death. She was still
thinking such lovely thoughts when she felt the cold steel ever-so-gently touch the side of her neck. She
could see the point of the sword extending several inches out over her right shoulder.
          "Tsk tsk tsk... it's so hard to make good help these days," the voice of Quinn whispered very
quietly to her from the darker area of the doorway. Then just loud enough to be heard by the other two
on the steps, he said, "Everyone is going to be very still and quiet, or darling Dru goes home in an urn...
all right?" Though they still looked at the battle in front of them, the shoulders of both men tensed
enough to tell him that they had heard him.
          He reached into his left coat pocket with his free hand, and as he brought out the object he had
been reaching for, he spoke in a very calm, even tone. "Good. Now everyone, no sudden moves, no
jumping. Loud noise coming. Easy... two... one..." BLAAAAAAAAATTT! The blast from the
emergency air-horn in his hand made Dru, Angel and Spike flinch at the volume, while all the
combatants jumped and spun towards them, expecting to see a semi-truck bearing down on them.
          Quinn moved a little more into the light, then called out in a clear, controlled voice, "Time out!
Fifteen yards, unnecessary roughness!" As several of Buffy's antagonists recovered and began to move
towards the group on the stairs, he snapped out, "Everyone freezes or the Red Queen here is hearth
sweepings!" He was pleased that his words had their desired effect.
          Spike was the first to speak. "Now, you aren't the type to kill a lady in cold blood, are you?" He
didn't turn, but he tried to give the impression that there was no real danger. Angel still hadn't moved.
          "Kill a lady in cold blood?" He seemed to consider for just a moment. "You're right. I wouldn't,
so I guess it's a good thing I've got Drusilla here instead." He dropped the bantering tone, and his voice
went quiet, flat and as deadly serious as the Plague. "Angel, stay right where you are. Drusilla dear,
Spike doesn't believe me. Ve-ry slow-ly, I want you to turn to your left." The blade of the sword didn't
waver from her pale throat, but soon she was turned far enough to see Quinn clearly. "That's good.
Now," he leaned closer to Drusilla, "look into my eyes, and tell our Doubting Thomas what you see."
          Slowly, Drusilla did as she was directed.
          Spike felt the situation slipping beyond their control, so with growing impatience, he said over
his shoulder, "Well, tell us what great revelation you see."
          Very calmly, as if from a great distance, Drusilla said, "I see my death in his eyes."
          Without a hint of a smile, Quinn said, "Thank you."
          Three shadowy forms had been slowly moving closer through the interior of the church, trying to
make no noise as they came to rescue their mistress. They had come within several yards when Quinn
leaned over to his left, and without turning, swept his hand into the bowl of the font to the side of the
doorway, sending a spray of holy water backwards, showering the three new-comers lightly. With a cry
of pain and dismay, they retreated back out of range as small hissings as if from acid came from the
occassion al droplets which touched them.
          "Now, how about if you tell Huey, Dewey, and Louis to back off before they cause me to become
more seriously perturbed?", he told Spike.
          "Go on. Back away. Don't do anything 'til we tell you otherwise." Then to Quinn, "Happy?"
          "I'm tap-dancing inside. Now, Dru, I want you to lower your right hand and drop the stake very
carefully right beside your right foot. Do you understand? Slowly, please." The stake dropped and
rolled to a stop about a twelve inches from the outside of her heal.
          "Very good."
          As soon as the stake had stopped, Angel relaxed and started moving towards Buffy.
          "Oh, Buffy!" But he stopped in his tracks as Quinn's next words reached him.
          "FREEZE, ANGEL! I said 'No one moves', and that especially means you." He put the toe of his
shoe under one side of the stake at their feet.
          "Buffy... catch!", and flipped the stake towards her, which she managed to catch without moving
from her spot. He instructed her, "If he gets near you, don't listen to him, don't even give him a chance,
just stake him! Trust me. Remember my talent."
          Buffy clearly didn't like what she heard, but decided to play along until she could figure which
was correct. She held the stake at the ready. Looking at Angel, she said, "You heard the man. If you get
any closer, you're toast. So back off!" If Angel were actually reformed, he would forgive her being
cautious. If her were not, then Quinn might have just saved her life.
          But Angel wasn't done yet. He concentrated on talking Buffy around.
          "I know... you're not sure you can trust me. I understand. But I'm back! Everything's going to be
okay. We can be together again." When she didn't show signs of relenting, he tried a slightly different
tack. "I had to stay with them so that I could find out what they were doing. Don't you understand?"
          Quinn answered instead. "And to maintain your cover, you just had to help them in their plans,
right, Angel? You just happened to misplace your soul for a short time, but now it's grown back and we
can all be friends. I'm telling you, Buffy, if you let him get close enough, he will take you."
          Suddenly, the demon inside Angel couldn't stand being thwarted any longer. His wonderful plan
was being destroyed by this... interloper.
          "You!" he started towards Quinn, but before he took more than a couple of steps, Quinn shifted
his grip on his sword.
          "One more step and you lose an ally! Then when I'm done with Dru, I'll take Gimpy there before
you can get near me," he indicated Spike with a jerk of his head, "without missing a beat. You might be
able to get to me before I was ready for your turn, but do you want to risk it? If you lose, you'll join
them in a heartbeat. Oh, sorry... that's right... you don't have one."
          One of the other vampires near Buffy thought to even the odds by grabbing the Slayer while she
was watching the others, but didn't count on her reflexes. Before he could grab her, she moved to the
side and impaled him with the stake in her hand in a single motion. As he blew into so much dust,
Angel whirled on her. His tone was ugly and accusing.
          "Who is this guy, Buffy? Your new lover? Is that it? You just couldn't wait to get someone new
in the sack, huh? Is he any good? Do you do him and think about me, is that it?"
          Without getting near her, he was still managing to hurt her, partially because she had thought of
exactly what he was accusing her of. He was right... she was no better than he said she was. She would
have been willing to take Quinn as a new lover, if the timing had been right. If she had run across him
this afternoon before she found Drusilla's note...
          Quinn's voice brought her back to reality.
          "Oh, yeah, Buffy. I can tell this guy loves you a lot."
          Then she realized that Quinn was right... the real Angel would never say such hurtful things to
her.
          One look at her face, and Angel could tell he'd lost.
          He spun on Quinn. "You're a dead man!"
          "I guess that makes two of us." He addressed Buffy again.
          "Look at him, Buffy," he said. "Just look. If he could get close enough, he'd tear out my throat
without a moment's hesitation. Is that who you loved?"
          "No." The word fell like a stone from her. "No. The Angel I knew is gone. I don't even know
who this is."
          "Then just turn and walk away, Buffy."
          "What about you?" She was suddenly concerned. If she left, that would leave him without
anyone. He'd be facing... she did a rapid count... nine or so vampires. He wouldn't last a minute, even if
he did managed to take Drusilla and Spike without getting killed first. "I'm not going to leave you here
with them."
          "I'm in much more danger with you here than not. I have no intention of sacrificing myself if
there's another way out. Remember, God fights on the side of the heaviest artillery." As he spoke, he
pulled the silver crucifix from inside his shirt so that it fell at the from of his throat. "Believe me, I'll be
okay. Just go home."
          "Thanks for the offer, but I'm staying." She started towards him.
          "Dammit, Buffy, get out of here!"
          "Stop being a hero and shut up. We both get out, or neither gets out."
          By weaving between the motionless vampires and keeping well away from Angel and Spike, she
managed to make it to Quinn. She stood behind him, menacing the three vampires who still lurked
within the ruins of the church's interior.
          "See? This way I can guard your back." She pressed her shapely back to his, but was
concentrating too much on keeping them alive to enjoy the contact.
          In a highly exasperated voice, he said, "This is not what I had planned."
          She smiled sweetly at him over one shoulder. "I don't run out on my friends. Deal with it."
          "This would have all been much easier if you'd answer notes left you." Quinn regrouped
mentally. "Okay... come on, Drusilla. Slowly, down the stairs." They began to move away from the
door, and the three lurkers slowly followed.
          Spike spoke up as they moved passed. "You will never make it out of here. Either of you."
          Buffy began to assess their tactics and warned, "Quinn... moving out into the open like this... not
a good idea."
          As those in front fell back slightly, the others closed in until the entire group stood in the clear
area in front of the church, the two humans with their hostage in the center of a circle of vampires.
          "That's it. No farther," commanded Spike, and the ring stopped.
          Buffy said, "I tried to warn you about this."
          Quinn again began to rummage in his coat pocket. "No worries. Time is on our side."
          Angel laughed. "What? You expect to stand here 'til sunrise? That's about seven hours from
now. You'll never last 'til then," he almost gloated.
          "Well," mused Quinn, "if we can't make it 'til sunrise, we'll just have to bring sunrise to us," and
he dropped the cylinder from his pocket halfway between themselves and where Angel was standing.
          Angel didn't know what it was, but he knew it couldn't be very explosive or it would kill them
all, Quinn and Buffy included. He just didn't anticipate what did happen.
          Without warning, Quinn pushed Drusilla at Spike as he threw an arm across his eyes.
          The cylinder burst into blinding white light, causing every vampire to cry out in pain and fall to
the ground. The heat it threw off could be felt like a bonfire.
          The sudden light dazzled Buffy, and before her eyes could adjust, she felt Quinn grab her hand,
and then she was being pulled rapidly passed the writhing forms.
          "Come on!" exclaimed Quinn, and he propelled her through a small gap in the ring.
          Buffy stumbled along for a couple of hundred feet before her eyes readjusted to the night. As
they stopped, she checked and saw no sign of pursuit. She looked up at Quinn.
          "Wait a second," he said. "Were far enough away so that I can't see now." He released her hand
so he could remove the sunglasses he had slipped on, blinked like an owl for a moment, then went on.
          "Okay, I'm good again." He turned to Buffy. "Are you alright?"
          "Any crash you can walk away from, I guess... What the heck was that thing?"
          "White phosphorus grenade. I came across the idea in a story I read once. Made sense, so I
decided to try it."
          She looked at him dumbfounded. "You didn't know it would work? You just figured you'd find a likely group
of vampires and test it out."
          "Hey, it wasn't quite that bad. At worst, I knew it would dazzle them long enough for us to break
away and make a run for it. Over all, I'd say it worked pretty well, wouldn't you?"
          Now that the crisis was over and she was calm again, the usual feelings raised by the adrenalin
surge of slaying were strong. Quinn was standing close to her, his presence adding to her growing
arousal.
          Pointedly, she asked, "So, what do you do for an encore?" She tilted her head up towards his
face and smiled. She was disappointed by his reply.
          "You are going home. No more adventure for one evening. Go home, and lock yourself in.
After they've recovered, they may realize they really weren't hurt that badly and try for a rematch.
Somehow, I doubt disappointment is going to bring out the fun-loving nature in that group."
          Buffy didn't particularly want to go home alone, as the growing sensation in her loins could
attest. She knew he was interested... she had felt it. She still could. "But don't you..."
          "I've got to go take care of something."
          "Listen, if you think I'm going home while you go back after Spike and Drusilla..."
          "I'm not going anywhere near them." At her look of disbelief, he continued. "I promise. Go
home. I'll see you later." And then he was gone.
