Hellraiser: The Angels Beneath

Buffy chewed her fingers and stared at the television. Three women were pregnant and they had absolutely no idea who the father was. Sluts. And where exactly did these women shop? Goodwill much? Euw. The audience were hissing and one pregnant girl got up and shouted bleeps at someone beyond the camera’s range. She was young, no older than Buffy. And she had the softest looking skin that Buffy had ever seen; milky white and no imperfections.

Buffy had imperfections. Her eyes were too close together and she was fat.

Ooooh, commercial.

It was definitely time to diet. And maybe she just needed to change her eye make-up? Riley didn’t like all the black. He didn’t like the natural look either.

Buffy chewed harder on her fingers, barely noticing as the skin split and spots of blood trickled. She needed to throw out her blue pants. Riley said they looked like pyjama bottoms. That wouldn’t do.

The pregnant women were back. They were trying to bitch slap each other.

How had she let herself get like this? Why did she look like such a mess? She ran a hand over a stomach that was firm and taut.

So dumb. So very dumb. That was the real reason that she’d dropped out of college. She hadn’t been able to hack it. She hadn’t been smart enough. A dumb blonde with a bit of muscle and a flair for weaponry, that’s all she was. And that was all she’d ever be. Without Riley.

A small clink and a shuffle from upstairs and Buffy curled into a tighter ball on the couch. Revulsion coursed through her and she swallowed bile and thrust a finger back between her teeth.

One more, that’s what he said. Just one more. Maybe two. And then he would be healed. Then she would have the real Riley back. He knew what the box was now, and he’d vowed not to swim in its depths again. Things would go back to normal. He was different now. Different to the man that hit her, humiliated her, degraded her, fucking *broke* her night after night. This man was – would be - like the Riley that she’d met on her first day of college.

He just needed to heal. One or two more bodies and he would be all fixed up, good as new. The only reason that he’d done those things to her last night was because he wasn’t yet healed. Oh, he was a vast improvement on the animated skeleton that had first graced her bedroom. The new version had skin; glossy, vein filled, translucent skin.

Buffy had raided her first aid box and found enough bandages to wrap Riley up like an Egyptian mummy. He hurt. He hurt so much that even after he’d sucked Anya dry, he’d cried in agony and misery. She’d given him a whole box of pain pills and a glass of whisky to ease his suffering. That had been a mistake. The pills sat undigested like little bullets in his broken gut and the whisky had poured straight through him and out the other end. It seemed that all the pipes weren’t quite as healed as he'd thought. Buffy had re-bandaged him and then obliged him with one more favour before exhaustion took its toll.

Even without a cock to get hard, Riley had gotten his pleasure. The look of revulsion, shock and disgust on Buffy’s face was enough to get him off.

As he’d twisted his bloody fingers inside her he’d whispered words of comfort and love. She’d smiled.

His fingers had become sore after a while so he’d used a can of hairspray.

Another noise from upstairs and Buffy reluctantly got up. School was about to finish and Dawn could be home any minute. If she was coming home.

Riley had to be quiet. And she had to bear this just a while longer. One more body, maybe two, and everything would be back to normal.

Everything would be right again.

**

“Soooo, just you and me, Dawnie.”

Dawn nodded and hugged Xander carefully but securely.

“What was that for?”

“Nothing much. Just for, you know, being here. And for being you. Just you.”

Xander looked very touched. And slightly confused. He guessed that maybe Dawn just needed some stability in her life. Things had changed so fast for her. Riley had ‘left’. Her mom had died. Buffy was…a little crazy.

Xander had always been the solid one; the one you could trust your darkest secrets to, the one that would stand by you no matter what, and the one that could take away your pain and make you laugh in under five minutes on a bad day, two minutes on a good day.

“I won’t let her do it again, Xander. I won’t let her hurt you.”

“Dawnie, it’s okay. Your sister and I, well, we just have some issues to sort…”

“No. I don’t care what either of you say, I won’t let her do it again.”

Xander stared at his friend, and for a split second he could see the spitting image of Buffy. Or rather the spitting image of Buffy when she was a sweet sixteen, teenage beauty; fiery will and infinite goodness.

“I know, Dawnie. Thanks. So, who exactly is babysitting who tonight?” Xander asked, attempting to steer the conversation away from Buffy and onto much more pleasant things.

“Well, Willow said that ‘officially’ you’re babysitting me, but it’s actually the other way around,” Dawn grinned.

“I see. Strange. I got exactly the same speech. They really know how to play us, huh?”

“Yeah, but you’ve got to admit, it’s much better to watch TV in here than be out there slaying vampires. It’s going to rain.”

“Rain? Really? Well, that changes everything entirely. They’re the suckers and we’re the smart ones.”

“Exactly. So, what’s the plan?”

“Well, I was thinking, pizza, popcorn, movie marathon, pyjamas, duvet on the sofa. Oh, and all drinks, snacks and anything else that we could possibly need all within easy reach so we don’t have to get up.”

“Unless we need to pee.”

“Unless we need to pee,” Xander confirmed.

Xander ordered the pizza and took his sweats into the bathroom to change. He would do it quickly. The more time he spent with other people, the less time he had to spend in his own head. He didn’t want to think about the nightmares. He didn’t want to remember his mother. He didn’t want to think about how much Buffy had changed.

He didn’t want to think.

Xander quickly pulled off his jeans and t-shirt and caught his reflection in the mirror. His body was scattered with fading bruises and healing cuts. Buffy had done this to him. One of his best friend’s had done this to him. No, that was a lie. Spike was his best friend. Buffy had never been in the running. Or was that just bitterness talking now?

Turning away from the mirror in disgust at his own reflection, Xander quickly pulled on his sweat pants and shirt and went to face Dawn with a happy smile.

And he was happy. The movies were fun, total riot if the truth be told. The popcorn was so rubbery that it bounced and made a very interesting game of ricochet. And the pizza was so good that Xander ordered them another one.

For just one evening everything seemed normal.

Just normal.

**

“What’s going to happen to me?”

Xander turned slowly and faced Dawn with a comforting smile. He considered for a moment just lying or playing down the truth, but he dismissed it in favour of honesty and respect. Dawn was a bright kid, brighter than he’d been at that age. She’d see through any attempt to gloss from a mile away. And besides, Xander knew what it felt like to be lied to, especially when you were a kid. It wasn’t a nice feeling.

“I don’t know. Buffy’s in a weird place right now. I really hope we can pull her out of it.”

“But if you can’t. If Buffy stays like she is now…they’ll take me away. Won’t they?”

“No!” Xander’s voice was loud and fierce and it echoed around the otherwise silent room.

“No,” he said more quietly. “There’s no way. You’ve got me. And Spike. And then there’s Willow and Tara. Hey, there’s even Giles, if you can put up with his books tripping you up everywhere.”

Dawn laughed through tears that she was still holding on to. “Someone should tell him they’re a fire hazard.”

“I’m sure I’ve mentioned it a few times.”

“Xander?”

Xander ran his fingers down the complete length of Dawn’s hair and smiled. “What?”

“Why did your mom die?”

His fingers dropped and his smile faded.

“Oh, god, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. Sorry, I…”

“Don’t be sorry,” Xander said, the attempt at pulling the smile back to his face an obvious effort. “I’m just not used to talking about it.”

“You don’t have to.”

“No, it’s okay. You asked and…sometimes it helps to share.”

Dawn nodded and twisted herself around on the sofa. If it hadn’t been for the grief etched over her face she would have looked like a child getting read for a bedtime fairy story.

“Um, okay. My mom killed herself.”

Dawn’s eyes went wide. “Xander. I had no idea. Do the others know?”

Xander shrugged. “I’ve always assumed so. But…I’ve never talked about it, so I wouldn’t really know. Willow knows, she was…there. And Giles would probably know if he’d ever looked at my records. And Spike knows because, well, he weaselled every single piece of information about my life by our third date. Actually, I don’t really know if you could call it a date, unless you count dates that take place in the shower…” Xander stopped and realised who he was talking to. “Anyway, to sum up,” he said with a slightly embarrassed smile. “Yeah, everybody *probably* knows.”

“I didn’t know. Nobody ever tells me anything.”

“Ahh, the trials and tribulations of being a teenager. I remember it well. If you want information and general gossip, then you have to either bribe, blackmail, eavesdrop, or ask me.”

“You know lots of gossip?”

“Just call me one of the girls.”

“Really? Can I?” Dawn asked with a Spike smirk. Someone had obviously been taking lessons.

“Well, not literally. Just think of me as a woman in your head; a woman without breasts, but with a…ah, I’m going too far again, aren’t I?”

Dawn put her thumb and index finger together. “Only a little.”

“Gobstopper?” Xander offered.

“No, thanks. I think you need them more than I do,” Dawn scoffed. “Um, so, why?”

“Because I tend to speak without thinking, I guess? Spike says I’ve got a third brain that operates on another level. You know, like a third eye.”

Dawn thought about this. “Where’s your second brain?”

Xander opened his mouth to give the truthful automatic answer. And thought better of it. “So, back to my dead mother,” he finally said with a cheerful smile and then a wince.

“You’re so weird,” Dawn said with a laugh and a small kiss to Xander’s cheek.

“It’s a rare and wonderful talent. I’ll teach you if you want.”

“I want. Um, not meaning to back track here, but why did she kill herself? Your mom.”

Xander sighed and leant his head against the back of the couch. He really needed to talk to Spike about smoking indoors. The ceiling was starting to turn yellow.

“You don’t have to…” Dawn continued.

“I know. It’s okay. My mom, she suffered from depression. I don’t remember when it started. But I remember that she had it for a long time. I don’t remember her not depressed. She drank a lot, she cried a lot, threw stuff.”

“Why? Why was she like that?”

Xander shrugged. He didn’t really know. He’d never known. He’d spent his childhood only knowing his mother as a depressed and often hateful person. It cut him deep to remember how she was, how she’d treated him. He’d longed to be held by her and he’d relished every kind act that she’d displayed. His memory didn’t hold too many of those kind acts. It was strange how the human brain fixed on the nasty stuff and just wouldn’t move on, wouldn’t leave it be; just kept remembering and remembering and twisting and distorting.

There was one memory that he knew would never fade, a stupid memory that didn’t really count for much in the great scheme of things. But it never left him. He never forgot.

Him, a tiny child, just learning the art of running and bumping into things. Except normally he bumped into the couch and went flat on his ass on the carpet; definitely worth a giggle or two.

But this time had been different. He’d made the mistake of running outside and had tripped over what could only have been his own feet. He’d scraped his knees across the concrete and had gone face down in a flower bed. After choking and spluttering on dirt he’d looked down at his throbbing knees and seen blood. Blood was bad. Grown-ups on the TV bled. And then they sometimes died. Mommy bled once and they’d taken her away for ages. Blood was not good. After the realisation that he was quite possibly at death’s door, he’d screamed.

And he hadn’t stopped.

Nothing could stop him. Not the rough cloth that was scrubbed in his face. Not the evil smelly stuff that was splashed over his knees. Not the shouting. Not the plates smashing. Not the cries to be quiet, to be silent, to be somewhere else. Not the tugging. Not the dragging.

He’d cried until he’d been sick. And he’d been sick until he passed out from exhaustion.

And that had been one of the nights that his brother had held him, one of the few.

“Xand?”

“Sorry. I don’t really know. She was just kinda crazy, I guess.” This was one of those rare occasions where internal Xander was more than happy to be quiet. His nightmares of late had shown a possible reason for her ‘quirky’ behaviour. He just wasn’t quite ready to believe that his father was that evil.

“Sorry.”

“Stop being sorry. You don’t ever have to be sorry. Unless you’ve finished all the peppered jerky. Then you can just run for your life.”

Dawn laughed and hugged him, smiling as she felt his arms close around her.

“You haven’t, have you?” Xander asked. “Oh my god, you have!”

**

“Well?”

“I…”

“Is this how much I mean to you?”

“Wha…?”

“Is this how much you claim to love me?”

“I do love you, Riley. I do.”

“Then why do you see me suffer? It’s been a day and you promised me, Buffy.”

Buffy had promised. Another body, by today. But so far she’d only made it as far as the mailbox and back, part of her wanting to hide away and not face the reality of ‘outside.’ And part of her wanting to hide in the beast's arms, to hide behind him and deny that she was the real monster.

“I’m sorry.”

“Really? And I’m disappointed. I guess that makes us equal.”

“This isn’t easy, you know. I had to…I had to kill one of my friends.”

Riley laughed. “Friend? You hated Anya.”

“No! No. We had our differences. Big differences. She turned back to vengeance; I had no choice but to drive her out.”

“Hmm.”

Buffy narrowed her eyes. “What?”

“Just…no, never mind.”

“What?” she asked, more firmly.

Riley shrugged casually. “It just strikes me as odd that you’d choose Anya over a complete stranger.”

“I…”

“Surely it would have been easier to just pick a random victim? Why Anya?”

“Well, I…” Buffy paused and desperately searched her brain for the answer to that question. “I…don’t…”

“Shhh.” Riley pushed himself up from the bed and wrapped his bandaged arms around Buffy’s suddenly trembling form. “Shhh, it’s okay. I know why you chose her. It’s because she deserved it.”

Buffy struggled against her lover’s grip, shocked by his strength despite his emaciated appearance. “No.”

“Yes, of course she did. You could never have let her live, not knowing what she was. She never promised, did she? She never promised that she’d stop. All you did was move her on. Now, I know that you could never have let her go on as Vengeance demon, not as The Slayer. She had to die.”

Buffy nodded. “She tried to hurt Xander.”

“That’s right. I remember. She swore vengeance on him. Even when you drove her out and made her stay away from him, you could still see the murder in her eyes. I mean, come on, he cheated on a Vengeance demon. She would have killed him eventually. You could never have let that happen.”

“No, I couldn’t. She had to die. There was no other way.”

“Exactly. You’re The Slayer. You had to…slay,” Riley said with a light chuckle.

Buffy turned in his arms and smiled up at him. “You’re right. You’re so right. Just because I tolerated her once means nothing at all. I couldn’t allow her to go on hurting and killing innocent people. I was just doing my job.”

“Of course! That’s my girl. But…” Riley shook his head.

“What? But what?”

“There are some that might not see it that way.” Or some that might have the knowledge and power to send him back.

“Who?”

“Your Watcher.”

“Giles?”

“Yes. I don’t think he’d approve. Well, not that he approves of anything you do these days.”

“That’s not true.”

Riley smiled. “Of course it is, dear. When was the last time he told you that you’d done a good job?”

“I…I don’t remember.”

“Did he come and see you when he found out about your mother.”

“Well, no. But, it was difficult, because I… Xander. I…”

“It shouldn’t matter what happened between you and Xander. Giles should have come to you. He didn’t even call, did he?”

“No,” Buffy whispered.

“I guess he must approve of what Spike did to you. Hm. Didn’t he hate Spike once?”

“Yes.”

“Huh. And he never approved of your…relationship with him?”

“No.”

“Yet he approves of Spike and Xander?”

“Yes.”

“Huh. Well, I wouldn’t take it personally. I think the Watcher has another agenda.”

Buffy pulled back. “You do? What agenda?”

“I’m not sure,” Riley said with another shrug. “But he’s awfully close with Spike, don’t you think?” His voice grew serious. “Giles is up to something, Buffy. I can feel it. And…”

“What?”

“I heard whispers, when I was in the corridors. The whispers filled my head but one voice was strong. I was sure it was a message. A message meant for you.”

“Who was it from? What did it say?”

“From Leviathan himself. Giles is a great danger to us all. He’ll turn back to the magic of Chaos. And he’ll kill us all. He’ll bring about the next apocalypse, Buffy. You have to end it before it starts.”

Riley wasn’t *entirely* lying. He had heard the whisper of the name Rupert Giles in the Corridors of Hell. And he’d also heard the name of another – Ethan Rayne. And yes, these names had been spoken by the Ancient one – Leviathan – himself. These were the names of two powerful sons of god, two powerful Chaos mages that could destroy the harmony of the corridors and spread the disease of Chaos though Leviathan’s flesh and into all the dark worlds beneath.

To claim to have killed one of them? Well, wouldn’t that just put Riley in favour with Leviathan if the Cenobites, the Angels Beneath, ever caught up with him? Maybe Leviathan would even reward him?

Maybe.

“He’s hurt you, Buffy. And he’ll hurt me if he finds me. And one day…he’ll kill us all.”

Buffy pulled herself out of Riley’s arms. She straightened out her clothes and looked determinedly into Riley’s eyes. “Then he dies. Tonight.”

“Good.” Riley smiled and ran a finger down her jaw. “Oh, and Buffy? You might as well bring him to me. Waste not want not.”

TBC…