The Penny Series

Ficlet 17) Pennies From Heaven
Summary: (Quote) 'Night came on, and a full moon rose high over the trees... lighting the land till it lay bathed in ghostly day. And the strain of the primitive remained alive and active. Faithfulness and devotion, things born of fire and roof were his... yet he retained his wildness and wiliness. And from the depths of the forest, a call still sounded.'
The Fire cleansed and spat him out.

The floor was smooth. Cold.

A cloud of numbness filled his mind, until with effort he stirred and looked up. Cold sweat congealed on his forehead, the smell of ashes was still in his nose. With a grimace he pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, his head sagged between his arms before he could half crouch, half stand and leave.

He could feel Her again.

Kill Whelp.

Find Buffy.

Caution pntednted him from getting there quickly. He kept ducking and hiding at the slightest noise. Skittish. As he approached the high school, he looked over his shoulder worried that someone might see him.

He used to lurk, but maybe he wasn't so good now.

Part of him hoped to run into Her. He needed Her.

There was growling in the library, followed by barking and snapping. On instinct, he dropped and crept forward inching along the shadowall.all. At the double doors, he pushed one in slowly, and did a quick shuffle into the library before hiding quickly behind the circulation desk.

"I don't know what she sees in you," Xander muttered, jabbing the butt of the gun into the gap where books were returned.

The werewolf growled again, leaping up at the cage with teeth bared.

"Willow used to like me, not that I liked her, ever in that way. But you're not worthy of her. You're not even human."

A snarl curled the hunched were's lip, but he stayed out of reach of the jabbing gun.

Kill the scummy bastard.

Kill him now.

"She's getting ideas like Buffy. Thinking regular joe humans are last year's 'in' thing. Cordeila won't get that idea though, I've made sure of that."

The werewolf smelled the vampire and issued a snarling bark.

He cringed, ducking behind the desk. Not moving for several lengthy seconds as the silence ticked by. He heard the runt moving around, doing one thing or another. Heard the were snarling warningly in his cage.

Then the boy was in front of him, with his back turned. It was an opportunity he could not miss, standing he edged closer to him. Halfway there a loud growl intoned, startling them both and the boy turned, a glass with green liquid in it.

"What is your problem Wolfboy, you aren't still upset because Willow left are you? Better get use to that. Once Willow comes to her senses she wo wan want you anymore. She'll want a real guy."

The beast crouched and jumped up onto the cage bars, claws sinking into holes and shook the rickety barrier.

He ducked back into the side office and held still, not moving less it make noise to alert the boy that he was there. The wolf kept beating on the cage, snarling in rage until the runt clubbed him on the head with the end of the gun, before cocking it to aim it between the were's eyes.

"Don't you fucking move," Xander gritted out through clenched teeth. "Violent as a vampire. Want to kill don't you? Fur all in a twist. Well you can smell me all you want but you're not getting human flesh, maggot."

The beast howled, and leapt up on the cage before spinning and hitting the glass window; the expected sound of shattering glass did not fill the air because the window had opened easily beneath the assault upon it.

Not good.

A hasty retreat was made, and he kept his teeth bared in hostility, wearily watching the runt who had flipped the gun around expertly and was now jumping and aiming the gun in all directions.

He didn't want that thing pointed at him.

Escaping the library, he paid attention to signs of the beast as he loped away in a half crouch. Knuckles scrapping the hard ground, he took to the woods for cover and knew the werewolf had better prey. The runt.

The runt was his kill, but killing a rival predator wasn't on his agenda.

Mate. Find.

Out of nowhere a branch swept down in front of him, blocking his path through the forest. Annoyed, he hissed at it and went around intent on finding her. Noisily he raced through the trees in the direction of one of the many cemeteries when a frightened rabbit dashed out from under a bush and attempted to run free by shooting through his legs.

Quick reflexes had the rabbit caught and struggling in his grasp, the little foot fluttering madly as frightened screams ripped from its throat. The scent of fear wafted deliciously to his starved senses and the hunger in him rose.

Blood.

The squeals ceased abruptly and quiet descended as the first taste of faintly copper tasting blood rolled over his tongue. He drank neatly to ensure that every single drop of nourishment was wrenched from the hapless creature, despite the raving hunger demanding him to hasten. A few swallows later and the hunger had yet to be sated, although the small creature had given him its all. His appetite strong and calling for the singing of her blood.

She was near.

He imagined that her blood would be sweet and powerful, plenty to fill him.

No!

In protest to that thought he scrambled through the bushes to the other side as if to run from such horrific tempting thoughts of her blood and how it could heal him quickly.

Hungry. Not blood, but kisses.

He craved her kisses. That's what he would devour, not the singing rush of blood right under the fluttering pulse on her exposed creamy neck.

Snarling, he moved into the middle of the path and ran straight into a pair of slender legs. Momentarily dazed, he raised his head to stare up and up and up those slim powerful thighs encased in denim, gently rounded hips hidden partially behind the flap of a leather jacket, tiny full breasts stretching taut against a light blue tee, exposed golden throat with fast strumming pulse, to hazel eyes that had turned a deep sapphire blue, wide with shock, up to her hair trapped within a ponytail, and finally back down to lush lips.

His brain struggled to a halt at signs of tears, and he scuttled back on hand and feet in a crab walk so he could gaze at her better. It was her. Buffy. Mate.

A sound of a twig cracking in the distance caused him to jump and growl threateningly as he inched closer to protect her from the werewolf that was on the loose or perhaps that runt who was after the were. When she attempted toesteestep him, he pounced on her to get her out of the way of possible danger.

She yelped, and he glared down at her trying to instill within her the need for quiet. The demon flashed in his eyes, as he glanced up at the sound again. He pushed off the ground and tried to go after it only to find himself being yanked back to the ground.

He lurched forward again but she had other ideas, detaining him from the pursuit of the noise.

Growling hopelessly he turned to face her, golden eyes shimmering down at his mate before She swung blindly at him. He stood there in shock as her fist connected with his skull and rendered his already weakened form unconscious.

Cold damp tile caressed his face and body when he awoke. Groggily he lifted his head, and looked around at where he was. Realizing that it wasn't the lair from which he'd been contained in previously, he relaxed.

A cool hand touched his shoulder and he flinched in fright, a growl in his throat to warn whoever tried to harm him.

He turned hastily away, afraid of being hurt by the hand, and his fear upped another notch when his movements were hampered by chains. A growl rumbled in his throat, as he edged farther away into the corner, frightened eyes darting a look at her and then away around the room before settling on her again.

A whimper escaped him as he saw the charred spot where he'd landed when the circle of fire had disappeared. It had to have been the whelp in the woods; a were would not have chained him up. He hadn't protected her and if she was hurt it was all his fault. The vindictive boy would have gotten to her by now, and he wasn't there to take the blows.

Another whimper escaped him as he huddled into himself. Making himself smaller to avoid the pain he expected to follow from the touch of the hand.

"Angel," she whispered tentatively, her voice broken, reaching out again.

Startled, he whirled around to face her, not daring to hope yet. But then he saw her, and relaxed. Subtly shifting toward her, blinking slowly, he drank in the sight of her - his mate. She was tense though, anxiously watching him for signs of something.

That you're not me.

"It is you isn't it?" Buffy asked in aguish, tears glimmering in her eyes.

Yes.

He nodded quickly, his gaze caught and held hers and then he was entranced within the misty blue gray of her eyes. Shakily he reached out a hand to her, needing to know that she was real. That she was alive and not dead like he had thought.

She clutched his outstretched hand within her own and brought it to her cheek, holding him tightly there as if afraid he'd too not be there if she concentrated her senses upon him fully. His mate wept bitterly before dropping his hand and launching herself into his arms. He encircled her tightly, ignoring the chains, as he held her weeping form against him.

Nonsensical sounds spilled from his lips, as he rocked her almost delirious with joy. She was here; in his arms, with him. He could smell the newest scent in her hair--- a fruit he couldn't recall --- feel her heart beating solidly against his chest--- even if it was a trifle fast --- taste her tears as he nuzzled her with his lips. He murmured incoherently to her, trying to convey his love and not able to.

Feeling frustrated, he attempted to say the words again but lost them as they reached his tongue. She clung harder to him, touched him frantically with roving fingers as if to ascertain that he was really there and not an illusion, a dream.

"Angel," she prayed, burying her face in the hallow of his cool neck, and choked on another set of tears. "Forgive me, please, please, oh Angel." She pulled back to grabbed his face in her hands, her eyes caught his and gazed deeply into their depths before bringing her lips to his.

Bittersweet. A reunion of their love in this soft tender joining of lips hesitantly brushing against the other. Hingeingers shifted in her hair, pulling her closer, tighter, opening his mouth to capture her tongue. Their mouths mated. He warmed in her embrace, all the pain fell away at the touch of her tongue along the roof of his mouth.

She slipped quietly back into the hole of his chest and made it beat with the wonder of life. The wonder of her life --- of her love. They shifted closer, her hands coming to rest on his chest curling into his cool skin. She was wearing far too many clothes, he assessed, pulling away from her mouth in increments.

A long low howl sounded nearby. He jumped nervously, looking up, expecting to see the werewolf there foaming at the mouth for his mate. Testily he pulled on the chains, his face slipping into the prominent ridges of his vampire nature and growled threateningly. Jerking Buffy behind him, he took no note of her yelp of fright as he placed himself in front of whatever was prowling along the perimeter of the mansion.

A sneer made his visage appear cold and frightening as he snarled low in warning to the creature outside. Buffy tentatively touched his shoulder, but he had been expecting that. He didn't flinch, just continued to stare stonily at the bricks his lip curled.

She whispered quietly, removing her hand. "Angel?"

He didn't know how to reply, so he didn't try. Honing all of his senses on the beast lurking, he refused to think of her sweet smell. She meant too much to him, and he wouldn't let her enticing, bewitching ways keep him from focusing. The werewolf would regret following his scent and trail to this place.

Here he was king and did not have to lurk.

Wrapping the chains around his wrists his tugged harshly, the months of torture and pain, making the raw scrape feel like a paper cut. It hurt like hell, but it was bearable.

"Angel stop it!" Buffy shouted, reaching up to grab the chains.

The scent of her fear aroused him, agitated him, and he jerked on the metal cuffs again. She lunged around him and he yelped. Fear coursed through him as she scampered away from him to the wall. The beast was just outside. He couldn't protect her.

Frantically, he worked the chains, his growl growing louder, more menacing. Somehow he knew if he acted hurt she'd come back to him, but he couldn't show weakness. He couldn't; the creature was strong and the scent of fresh air told him there was a door or window open where the wolf could slip through.

She needed to get by him.

Another howl called out. Loud, right where she sat huddled against the wall watching him wearily. This time she jumped too and leapt to her feet. Buffy turned her back to him and walked backwards, closer to him. He'd make sure she was safe.

However she stopped before getting within grabbing distance and looked over at him and then around the place. Suddenly she dashed away, and he instinctively lunged after her. He cried out, the level of his fear rising, but she was gone. Frenzied, he struggled against his bonds, shouted wordlessly out to her. Attention focused on her, the surroundings faded marginally, his area of search became sharper, his wrist red and raw from exertion against the metal.

Buffy raced back into the room, a bag of weapons over her shoulder. Skidding into him, she laughed nervously and dumped the bag within easy reach. She rubbed his bicep comfortingly. "I closed the garden doors. Not much but we should hear glass breaking if whatever that thing is tries to get in here."

He saw her glance down at his wrists and flinch. Tentatively she traced her fingers along the edge, and he bit back a hiss. Her had fell away and she looked up at him with teary eyes. "You've hurt yourself. Let me go get bandages."

She made a move to leave and he whimpered, widening his eyes in both fear and desperation. He didn't want her to go. Wanted her to stay. Her eyes clouded, and she sat down again closer to him. His body shook in reliend snd she cooed, wrapping her fingers into his hair before tugging his head down into her lap.

Softly Buffy ruffled his hair, parting the thick locks as she ran her fingers through. He lay quietly beneath her touch and shuddered thankful for the Fire's role in removing all traces of what had happened within the magicked circle. Involuntarily he gasped, when her fingers rubbed gently against the back of his neck.

"I didn't want to choose the world," she whispered brokenly, bending over him as she tilted his face to hers. Their gazes locked and she pressed a kiss to his brow, and rested there. Her soft pouty lips brushed against his skin when she spoke again. "I wanted to choose you so badly. You were more important. You are the most important person in my life. I didn't want to let you go, and that's precisely why I did. I couldn't be selfish. I wasn't allowed to be selfish."

She was so pensive as if worried he wouldn’t believe her, her voice as serious as he ever recalled hearing it.

Rolling over onto his back, he stared up into her large eyes filled with trembling tears and waited for her to cry. There was so much pain inside her. He wanted to take it away.

"Selfishness never sounded so good. I couldn't, and for that I'm sorry. I had to be the Slayer, instinct was calling me to act as one. But Buffy rebelled, her instinct was to cling to her mate, her love. but Buffy isn't strong. She's just a girl and the Slayer won."

Her tears trickled slowly, clinging to her lashes before she squeezed her eyes shut and turned her head away from him. He made a small sound and Buffy turned back to look at him, her lashes sticky. Gently he cupped her face, wiping her tears away with his thumb, until slowly they stopped. Guiding her down to him, he laid his lips against her eyelids before pressing her head onto his shoulder.

She was so warm.

So alive.

Here next to him.

There were no words to describe the feeling. His mind blanked entirely when he tried to find the words, and he drifted over the soft wispy clouds of sleep, snuggled next to his mate. Blissful hours passed by, before hisep gep grew lighter with her absence. He tossed and turned more before waking abruptly with a start.

A s of of dread boiled in the pit of his stomach. With wide eyes, he cast his gaze over the dimly lighted room in search of her.

But her absence was mysteriously filled with anxiety.

His senses sharpened and everything suddenly became too loud, too bright, too quiet, too dark, in a flashy whirl of sensations that confused him and agitated him.

Something was very wrong, he could sense it. Buffy was in danger.

The panic filled him, and he furiously struggled against his bonds. He attempted to squeeze his hands through the manacles on his wrists before recognizing it as futile. He slumped against the wall and looked up by a miracle of chances and saw that he was tied over a wall fixture.

Old flimsy fixtures that surely had weakened over time.

Immediately he set to work, pulling outward to the very lengths of his chains. The metal tore his skin, flayed it off of his body pealing away, in sticky long clumps. Jaw clenched, he grit his teeth, grinding them together as he used every reserve of strength to rend the fixture from the wall.

A low gasp of pain tore from his lips as his mate was hurt.

He leapt against the bonds, rewarded finally with the first music of groaning metal as it was bent from its socket in the stones. Steadily walking away, he ignored the pain shooting up from his wrists and was thrilled when he felt a sudden slackening in the chains.

The metal grate fell down, crashing into the stones below. He jerked the chains, and to his frustration the gate stuck to them, he jerked angrily again, and was finally given enough freedom to move.

Immediately he took off, not wasting any time to get to her.

Without really thinking on it, he knew where she'd be. He bypassed the cemeteries, and the nightclub. He wrapped the metal links around his hands so he could sprint faster. When he reached the school he could sense her stronger. Fear and adrenaline wafted from her small form.

He had to get to her, but suddenly a new smell hit him. The boy was down below with her.

"You're just like Cordeila," a low angry masculine voice raged. "I took the potion for her and she didn't appreciate it. I thought you'd enjoy having a real man around to go patrolling with you, vampire slut."

The boy hit her consecutively three times in a row.

He hurried down the stairs, reluctant to slow down, but knew trampling down them might alert the bastard. Horror clutched his throat as she fell backw fro from the last punch.

They were moving the fight further away from him as Xander advanced on Buffy, who was lying heart-stoppingly still.

When the runt got close she lashed out, kicking him off and away from her. The little shit fell backward into a bunch of crates.

He was focusing on her, taking a quick inventory on her well being. Her gaze met his, and the widening of her eyes made him realized that he was in game face. Her horror hurt.

With a roar, he attacked Xander, who turned and met him half way. The chains were useful as their heavy links caught the bratling in the face. The momentum of the swing carried out and he swung again, landing another solid connection to the face he'd come to hate.

The whelp lunged forward, grabbing his throat. He didn't need to breathe, but the force of the attack drove them backwards. The boy was stronger than he had been before he had been stuck in a circle of holy hell.

Xander yanked him from the crates they had landed in and threw him to the floor.

Buffy was standing now, gingerly assessing her weight on her right leg, when the boy turned away from him and went after her.

He roared and the boy turned around again, this time with a cruel smirk on his face. He grabbed the broken pieces of the wooden crate in his hands, twirling them like batons.
ComeCome on vampire. Do you think you can take me? I'm strong now. Powerful. I don't know how you got out, but I'm sure as hell putting you back there." The boy snarled, throwing one of the pieces at him. "You're dust!"

"No Xander!" Buffy cried out, shoving into him knocking the other piece out of his hand.

Xander backhanded her, crumpling her to the floor. He bent down and forcefully yanked her eye level with him. "You shouldn't have interfered. I'm going to make you regret that. Amy too, I bet the two of you bitches got him out."

"Out?" Buffy whispered, her eyes clouding in pain at the newest betrayal.

"I'm not stupid Buff. He's weak, and he should be. Your dead boy will be indeed dead. I'm going to take care of it personally this time."

Xander raised his arm to backhand her again when chains whipped around his neck and jerked back choking him. He made a gargled grating noise, hands desperately trying to get the metal from around his neck. Before he could break free, his neck was snapped with another painful twist to the chains and the boy dropped to the ground silently.

Xander's hate-twisted face slackened back to his normal features, the bulges in his arms from the steroid shrunk and he again looked like the friend she had once thought he was.

Another friend who had betrayed her, just like Ford.

She was hyperventilating, staring down at his dead body, her eyes welling with tears.

His heart hitched, gripped in icy dread.

But suddenly her warm body hurled itself into his arms, squeezing him tightly to her. "Angel!" Returning the embrace, his chest heaved and he finally broke.

"Buffy," he murmured, clutching her to him, allowing his tears to fall.

His whole body went limp, bringing the two of them to their knees. Her name fell from his lips again and again, mindlessly, full of hope and tears. She clung to him, her hands in his hair, pressing a kiss to his throat. Hot tears dripped from her chin and landed on his naked torso.

Buffy tightened her grip on him, trailing her lips up to his and softly pulled his lower lip between her teeth. Her fingers curled in the hair at the nape of his neck, and she kissed him tenderly. She nibbled on his lip, soothing her love bites with her tongue, before gently opening his mouth to her onslaught.

Her tongue traced his fangs, and her hands smoothed over his vampiric features and suddenly he shifted back, jerking away from her.

His hands trembled as he tried to hide himself from her, shamed by his nature, but she gently forced his hands away.

The look in her eyes would have left him breathless, had he needed breath and she laid her hand over his still heart.

Buffy licked her lips, and whispered quietly her gaze never wavering. "Don't hide from me. I love you, all of you. Don't hide."

"Buffy," he whispered in agony, but she shushed him, kissing him briefly on the mouth, scooting closer.

"Yes, I'm here," she affirmed, planting another kiss on his lips. "Always. Never doubt that."

They sat there silently until dawn threatened and then Buffy helped him to stand. Together they walked slowly away from the carnage. Outside the school it was raining. He was pensive, attempting to curve his lips around the words he wanted to tell her but they evaded him. He settled for wrapping his arm around her waist, and squeezing her hand a little tighter.

She smiled at him, singing quietly. "Ev'ry time it rains, it rains pennies from heaven."

Buffy brought his fingers to her lips, giving them idle kisses as they walked back to his place.

"Don'tcha know each cloud contains pennies from heaven? You'll find your fortune fallin' all over town. Be sure that your umbrella. is upside down."

He smiled at her, feeling the broken pieces of himself mend as her voice washed over him, and he silently thanked his lucky pennies for a woman like her. She rested her head on his shoulder, as they ambled down the streets watching the first rays of twilight creep over the horizon.