Dark Moon: Pt One - Waxing Moon

“Well, look what the cat dragged in,” Spike said wryly as Angel approached him out on the harbour front, “So what brings you to my neck of the woods?”

“I think you know why I’m here,” Angel said coldly.

“That all depends on who I’m dealing with today; is it lean and mean Angelus? Or fluffy-bunny Slayer-lover Angel?”

Angel growled, and advanced menacingly.

“If you’re looking for Dru,” Spike said, offhandedly, “You won’t find her around here. I’m not sure if she’s off with her Chaos-Demon boyfriend again, but I haven’t seen her all night.”

“If you see her before I do,” Angel said as he turned away, “Tell her that I’m looking for her.”

“I’m sorry about what she did. I know that I can’t apologise for her actions, but you know Dru... one egg short of a dozen. Ciorstaidh was a great girl, even if she was a little odd at times.”

Angel whirled about in surprise, the shock clearly registered on his face. The overhead harbour lamps caused Angel’s face to glow even more pale than normal, and Spike could see his hands start to shake.

“How did you know Ciorstaidh?”

“We met in Glasgow one summer... you were already in your present pathetic state... She wasn’t too keen on you finding out about her. So you didn’t.”

“I can’t blame her... I was pretty cruel.”

Angel bowed his head in shame, not knowing what else to say to the Demon who was both his friend and enemy. Spike changed the subject slightly, in an attempt to spare Angel the embarrassment.

“Dru said she was different, not normal and such. Care to explain what I’m missing?”

“She was a Slayer,” Angel said quietly, “Slayers don’t become Vampires; they’re immune.”

“Oh, really...” said Spike thoughtfully.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

Angel continued on his walk across Sunnydale, guided by only the faint remaining sliver of the moon. It would not be long until the moon faded completely from sight.

He knew that elsewhere in the town, Buffy would be fighting and defeating his kind; vanquishing them from the realm they had infested.

And he knew that deep in his silent heart, that he was no better than those he despised.

He too, was a part of the infestation.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

“Ok girls, so this is how it’s going to be,” Faith instructed Buffy, Willow and Amy during the few hours before sunrise, “We’ve got a two-four of beer, and a day off. Let’s party.”

“I don’t drink,” said Willow quietly.

“And I haven’t drank alcohol since the sorority house incident,” answered Buffy.

“Well, then there’s just more for me and Amy. Isn’t that right, Amy?”

Amy giggled, happy to be a part of the crowd. Faith passed her a beer, and the two clinked them together before taking a swig.

Buffy and Willow exchanged glances, then Willow said, “Well, we only live once,” and reached for a bottle of her own.

“Or twice,” replied Buffy, “Bottoms up!”

The four girls were gathered in Buffy’s bedroom with their sleeping bags for what might be their last sleep-over. With less than twenty-four hours until the fulfilment of the prophecy, tensions were high, and the two Slayers needed to find a way to relax. The bulk of the day had been spent down at the local mall, spending the money that had either been given to them by their parents, earned by part-time jobs, or, in Amy’s case, with a little divining. As a result, they had returned home in the evening with shopping bags full of clothes, and the case of beer.

An hour and a half later, with only three unopened bottles remaining, Amy and Willow were sharing slurred spells and trying to built a tall tower out of the beer bottle caps standing end on end. It looked more like the leaning tower of Pisa than anything. Faith and Buffy just watched in awe, marvelling at their friends’ talents.

“You know,” Amy slurred, “The best Goddess to work with is Hekate... but you have to say her name right... none of that He-Kate crap... you have to say Hek-A-Tee!”

“Isn’t she scary?” Willow asked with wide and bleary eyes, “She’s Goddess of the Underworld.”

“Naw... she’s the one who best keeps you safe at night... she has dogs.”

“Dogs?” asked Buffy, rolling her eyes sleepily, “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Dogs are nice,” Amy smiled drunkenly, “Hekate didn’t want me to transform into a dog because Artemis might have made me stay that way forever. She likes dogs too, especially the type you can take hunting.”

“Artemis almost made you stay a rat forever, remember?” Willow reminded her, “If it hadn’t been for Ciorstaidh...”

“That’s different,” Amy cut in, “Artemis was protecting me as a rat. But as a dog, she might have wanted me to stay that way forever,” she repeated, “Maybe to go hunting with her.”

“Sounds kinda weird to me,” Willow replied, “What do you think, Buffy?”

When she received no response from the elder Slayer, she turned and found that both Buffy and Faith were fast asleep in their sleeping bags. When Willow gave Buffy a gentle nudge, all she elicited was a faint moan; Buffy would not be roused easily from her slumber.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~

The interior of Angel’s mansion was even dimmer than usual, illuminated only by the light of a few scattered candles. Angel stood at the stove in his kitchen, gently warming a bag of blood in a pot of hot water.

Upon his face he wore the same kind of gaunt expression found on those who suffer from long-term sleep deprivation.

Regardless of how different he was because of the soul he possessed, he was still a Vampire, and Vampires did not require sleep. His unkempt state was directly a result of too much stress and too little blood.

He had been donating a couple of pints lately.

Satisfied that it was warm, Angel carefully removed the bag from the pot of water, and dried it with a dish towel. After removing a large mug from the cupboard over the sink, he cut open the bag with a pair of scissors and carefully emptied the contents into the mug.

Taking small sips as he walked up the stairs, Angel pondered the meaning of his own immortality. Just a few hours earlier, he had been assisting Giles, Xander and Oz in doing the nightly patrol, as the girls were taking a well-deserved night off. As Giles had expected, Vampires were scarce.

This bothered Angel to no end.

“Where did they all go?” he asked himself silently, “Have I really fallen so far out of touch with my own kind? I should have asked Spike yesterday when I had the chance...”

He cursed himself silently under his breath. Spike had not been in any of his typical haunts when Angel had returned earlier that evening to pay him another visit. Sometime during the previous twenty-four hours, he had taken advantage of the opportunity to move on without leaving a trace. Angel had meant to ask him where exactly the so-called party was going to occur when he had found him the first time. But Spike’s revelation that both he and Drusilla had known Ciorstaidh was shocking to the Vampire who had not been aware of her existence for over two hundred years. To put it lightly, it had knocked Angel off balance.

If anything, the revelation had made him more intent on finding Dru and exacting his revenge.

Angel sighed as he reached the top of the staid and approached his bedroom door. He opened the door and was greeted by the flickering flames of five candles that surrounded his bed.

“Fire, air, earth, water, and spirit,” he whispered, naming the five elements that made up all that was life.

The shadows created by the flames danced across the black silk sheets in response, but the figure positioned in the middle of the bed did nothing.

“I swear, Ciorstaidh,” he whispered hoarsely to the shape, “I’m going to bring you back.”