Chapter 2.06
Tuesday, May 14th, 2002
Fred tried repeatedly to reconnect with Lorne's, or more accurately,
Spike's cell phone. Every time, she was connected to an answering service, which
announced that the cell phone she was trying to reach was currently switched
off. Finally, she was forced to accept that the battery on his cell had given
up.
She decided to try speaking to Angel, again. It had only been
minutes since he had hung up. It was unlikely that they would have refuelled
and been ready to move on so quickly. She really wasn't sure exactly what Lorne
had actually said. The signal had been breaking up so badly, but it was the
desperation in his voice that had really worried her.
Lorne wasn't given to making mountains out of molehills, but
something had banished his normal equanimity, and just maybe she'd heard the
words "on fire" somewhere in those few seconds before they had been
cut off. She tried to work out how best to express her concerns before she dialled
the number. This was going to sound so lame. "Lorne called and he might have
said that the bin was on fire, or maybe he said there was gunfire, or maybe
I haven't got a clue what he was saying and I can't get back through to him
because his phone's dead. No, I said his phone's dead."
Deciding that procrastinating was only making things worse,
she dialled the number for Angel's cell phone. An all too familiar answering
service message was her only reply.
Spike was determined to savour every last second he and Buffy
shared, not because he thought it was likely that either of them would fail
to make the return trip, but because, however small, there existed that possibility.
So, even though serious business was at hand, it wasn't enough to stop his hand
from straying underneath Buffy's coat to brush against the soft flesh of her
midriff where her top didn't quite meet her jeans. He still inhaled the perfume
of her shampoo, filing it away with his memory of how she felt, sitting on his
left thigh, her back to his chest, her head resting to one side and just slightly
below his. He memorised her mood, how her emotions were mirrored back to him
through their skin; the determination to do whatever needed to be done to save
those in danger, impatience to reach their destination and concern that he suspected
was directed at him as well as at those trapped in the burning building.
He whispered the three words he'd found himself saying so often
in the last week, his lips brushing against her hair. "I love you, my slayer."
Buffy tilted her head back to search his face. Normally, use
of her title was a sure sign that Spike was looking for a fight, either verbal
or physical. Instead, his tone held only pride. His touch told the same story,
though it also betrayed a proprietorial side to the pride that she suspected
he would rather have kept hidden, or maybe not, given his choice of wording.
She knew she should object to the concept that she belonged
to him, but hadn't she promised him just that. His attitude wasn't politically
correct, but it was honest and passionate and maybe it was something to do with
the bond but it was the same way she felt about him.
No, what was important was that Spike loved her, even when
her duty took precedence over him and their relationship. He didn't worry about
being eclipsed. He didn't try to change who she was, or how she did things,
other than a request that she not take unnecessary risks. She knew that he would
be there to support her, if she needed him. She knew, if she didn't, he could
stand back and watch her work, content to know that she was his girl. There
was an element of egotism in there. This incredible girl is with me. I'm the
one she goes home with at night. Nevertheless, it was vastly outweighed by his
feelings for her.
Riley had accepted that she was the slayer, at least to begin
with. Spike loved that she was the slayer. Okay, so maybe not the part where
she killed his friends, but he loved that she was stronger than him. He loved
that she could take charge. He loved her because she was something more than
ordinary, not in spite of it. Perhaps for the first time, having that affirmation
as a constant in her life allowed her to love those qualities in herself as
well.
Buffy processed all this in a fraction of a second. She still
had more of a problem saying the words than he did, especially in front of an
audience including her ex. Not that he was any old ex. He was the only man she'd
fantasised about marrying, but Spike was the man who she was going to marry.
"I love you, my... " she whispered before returning
to her normal voice, which thanks to the engine noise probably still wouldn't
be heard by either Willow or Gunn. "Okay, I'm trying to think of one word
to tell you what I'm thinking, but it's kinda busy in here and I don't think
there's one word that can say all that. How about we add this to our list of
things to discuss? Later? In private?"
Lorne couldn't see all of the kids any more, only the ones
immediately next to him. Smoke permeated the building, coming up from the cellar
through gaps in the floorboards and billowing down from the upstairs corridor.
The floor was uncomfortably hot, but there was nowhere else to go. The bedrooms
weren't an option. They were above the worst part of the fire. When last he'd
been able to see the far wall that separated off the reception room from the
kitchen, it had still been containing the blaze, but it had looked as if the
bedrooms above had caught fire. Sometimes, they would hear rumbling crashes
that Lorne thought were probably caused by bits of the upper floors collapsing.
Every few minutes he got the kids to sound out by the numbers,
listening for the missing link that would tell him the first of them had passed
out or maybe fallen through to the cellar.
In the midst of all the noise, he tried to listen for the sound
of the helicopter's return, but it was hopeless. But then wasn't that Angel's
job, helping the hopeless.
The helicopter made a wide circle round to end up upwind of
the fire. As they moved in as close as they dared the view in front of them
suddenly wavered. It was as though they had punctured a bubble around the cabin,
letting them see it as it really was. What had previously looked like a fairly
steep wooded slope resolved itself into a cleared plateau with an even steeper
cliff behind it and a large burning wooden cabin a little over a hundred yards
away in the lee of the cliff.
The two pilots stared at the scene before them with some surprise.
Then one of them came to a decision.
"This is real, right? This is what you all were talking
about before?"
"Yeah, this is the real deal," Buffy assured him.
"Well, I figure if we put down over here then you won't
all be needing that ladder." No sooner had he voiced the thought than he
put it into action, though Angel reckoned he'd been pretty damn careful setting
down until he was sure the "ground" was going to take the chopper's
weight.
The pilot had one last word of warning before his passengers
disembarked. "I might have to take off again if the wind changes. Head
upwind and you'll find me."
"Don't worry. We'll find you," Buffy assured him.
Even though there was nothing they could do until Willow got
there, it was impossible for either Buffy or the vampires to resist the urge
to get to the burning building as quickly as possible. Buffy was slightly faster,
but Spike had the advantage of knowing exactly where he was going.
As it turned out they made it to the front door of the building
at almost exactly the same time, with Angel just a couple of seconds behind.
"Think we can force it before Red gets here?" he asked Buffy before
holding a hand up near the shutters. Only when he couldn't feel any significant
heat radiating from the metal, did he first risk a tentative touch and then
thump loudly on the metal.
"Anybody home?" he called loudly.
Three answering thumps sounded from the other side of the shutters.
"We'll get you out of there soon. Just hang on a bit longer,"
Buffy shouted. She bent to grasp the lip at the bottom of the shutters and both
Angel and Spike did likewise. They strained to lift the metal, but it soon became
apparent that they weren't going to have any luck and they were reluctant to
try kicking the shutters in, at least not until Willow tried her spell. Fortunately,
she and Gunn arrived before Spike's patience ran out.
The witch took only seconds to observe the position of the
locks, before she uttered the command.
"Fragilus."
"That it?" Spike asked as on either side of him Buffy
and Angel executed front kicks to the locks, which shattered as if they were
made of thin glass.
Spike shrugged, the answer to his question now superfluous.
Reaching down, he grasped the bottom edge of the shutters and yanked them sharply
upwards. Looking down, he discovered he was knee to face with his favourite
green demon. Of course, if pressed he'd be compelled to admit he didn't know
many other green demons, but just the same...
He reached down and gripped Lorne by the elbow, pulling him
to his feet and out of the building. Angel was there to help the first of the
kids out, steering them toward Gunn and then going back as Buffy and Spike also
took turns to help the youngsters to crawl the last few yards to freedom.
Lorne was just beginning to think the nightmare was truly over
when there was a loud crash from inside the building. Looking round he counted
three girls and two boys. The kid who'd played chef was still missing.
Rising to his feet he tried to get to where he could see through
the entrance into the building.
"Michael?" he called out, but no answering shout
was heard.
Angel tapped Gunn on the shoulder and then held out his hand.
"You and Willow get these guys to the chopper."
Gunn pressed something into Angel's outstretched palm and began
herding the teenagers and Lorne toward the area where they had left the helicopter.
Angel could tell from the body language that Buffy and Spike
were steeling themselves to enter the burning building, using some strange private
code.
"Ready, Randy?"
Spike nodded in affirmation. "Ready, Joan?" The pair
were just about to clasp hands and brave the smoky atmosphere when Angel stepped
between them
"You're injured. You need to breathe," he told them,
pointing first at Spike and then at Buffy. "And I have these." He
held up the pouch containing the orbs of Nezzla Khan. "I win. Stay close.
He might need CPR when I get him out."
Both the blondes looked as if they were about to argue, but
then Buffy shrugged as she watched Angel's retreating back.
"He's got a point," she conceded.
"Yeah, so how come you didn't pay attention to it when
I made it?" Spike teased as he wrapped his arms around her from behind,
so that they could both watch for Angel's return.
"You weren't invulnerable, and I wasn't going to let you
go in there on your own." As the seconds ticked by with nothing to show
except more smoke billowing from the doorway and from the back of the building
both of them grew more tense.
Buffy tilted her head back. "If he shouted for help you'd
hear him, right?"
"I'd hear. Wouldn't necessarily tell you," he teased,
"but I'd hear."
"Can you hear the kid?" she asked.
"'Fraid not, pet. I guess he got knocked out when the
floor gave way."
Angel lowered himself into the cellar through a hole where
the floor had given way. He made his way tentatively through the precariously
stacked debris in the basement, keeping his arms up to shield his face instinctively
when he had to duck through the flames, even though he knew it was unnecessary.
One false move could cause his footing to give way or send
burning debris scattering around the room. Logic told him that the missing teen
should be near the main door, and he searched mostly along that front wall,
clearing away chunks of burning debris, until finally he found what he was looking
for. Angel pulled the belt from his trousers and slipped it through the loops
in the leather pouch that held the orbs before fastening it round the kid's
waist.
Whatever happened now, the kid wasn't going to get any worse.
Scooping the teenager over his shoulder in a fireman's lift, Angel scrambled
onto the remains of the piano, which had fallen through to the cellar, its weight
too much for the weakened floorboards. Checking briefly around the hole in the
floor he could make out Spike and Buffy's voices not too far away. Using them
as his guide, he decided to go for speed rather then caution. He leapt from
his perch to the floor above, landing well clear of the hole's edge and seconds
later he emerged through a curtain of billowing smoke into the fresh night air.
Even as Angel bent over to lay the kid at Buffy's feet so that
she could check him over, Spike was sweeping off his precious duster, using
it to smother the few smouldering embers that had landed on the older vampire.
He cast a critical glance at the parcel that decorated the teenager's waist.
"All well and good the kid being in one piece if you turned
into a Roman candle before you got him out of there, ya daft ponce." Spike's
tone belied the harshness of his words. He shook his head in disbelief at his
grandsire's actions, before sliding back into his coat. Spike concentrated his
attention on the youth lying on the ground. He was breathing, albeit slightly
erratically and he had a pulse. Spike was pretty certain that other than that,
there wasn't much that Buffy was capable of checking.
He scooped the kid into his arms, determined not to show it,
when his battered body protested at the burden. "Come on, pet. Quicker
we get to the helicopter, quicker we can get this one to a hospital."
When the foursome got back to the helicopter, they found everyone
else belted in and waiting to go. Spike deposited the youth onto the bench seat
next to Lorne, propping his upper half against the side of the vehicle while
he strapped him in.
"Are you sure it's good for him to be strapped in like
that when he's unconscious?" Buffy asked.
"As opposed to rollin' round the floor like a sack of
potatoes? I'm goin' to go with yeah."
"He'll be fine, pumpkin," Lorne assured her. "The
pilots have warned the local hospital that we're on our way. They're going to
have a trauma team waiting.
And as soon as we've dropped the little darlings off, we can
head home so I can have a bath in privacy and a good stiff drink or two."
'Now,' thought Spike, glancing over to where Buffy sat
opposite him. 'There's a couple of ideas I can't argue with.'
A/N: Okay,
this chapter marks a departure for from the norm for me. I decided
I was too rough on Angel in general. (It's just so easy.) This
chapter was by way of making up for that a bit, a deliberate attempt
to make him look downright heroic. So what I need to know now
is: Did I pull it off? |
