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Part 3
Angel's Gate Lighthouse
Detective Kate Lockely stood on the landing of Angel's Gate Lighthouse, watching the uniformed officers at work around the remains of the latest victim of whatever was menacing the waters of San Pedro's harbor. The body parts were piling up fast, and so far no one had been able to come up with a workable theory about what had happened to them. None of the forensic biologists had been able to account for the teeth marks. But perhaps they weren't considering all of the possibilities. Kate knew if she voiced her thoughts to anyone, she'd be laughed out of the precinct, but if demons existed, if vampires were real . . . why not sea monsters?
A mist sat on the water, obscuring the horizon. What might be hidden in it? She stared out at the vast ocean, half-expecting a Nessie-like shape to poke out of the waves beyond the breakwater. What a strange, unpredictable place the world had become since that day when Angel had shown his true face.
"Kate, don't go out there."
She jumped. He was standing right behind her in the shadow of the lighthouse that incidentally bore his name. He didn't look well, and she wondered momentarily if vampires got sick. Then again, all the better if they did.
"Why? What don't you think I'm ready to see now?" she asked.
"It's not about that. It's about you not getting killed. Aren't you a little out of your jurisdiction?" he asked suddenly.
"Aren't you a little out of yours?"
"Kate, it's a demon," he said tiredly. "A really big one. There's nothing you can do to stop it."
"I can call out the Coast Guard. The marine biologists from the university. Find a really big harpoon, if I have to."
He looked momentarily taken by this idea, but then he shook his head. "You'll never catch it. It's very old and probably pretty smart."
"But you can handle it all by yourself."
He ducked his head as if hurt by her sarcasm. "I'm working on it."
"Well, while you're working on it, people are dying. Real people. So if you think I'm going to walk away on your say-so, think again."
At least now she knew for sure. She turned to find an officer who could locate her a boat.
"I don't think I convinced her," Angel said. "In fact, maybe just the opposite."
"What are we going to do?" Wesley asked.
Angel looked around. "Steal a boat." Wesley stared at him. "Temporarily, of course."
Wesley nodded dubiously. "Of course."
Kate stared hard at the water as the officer drove the patrol boat back and forth across the harbor in a search pattern. The fog limited visibility substantially. She had told them that she wanted to look for debris, since the victim found at the lighthouse had been reported missing from a motorboat. But now she felt a little foolish, like a tourist hoping for a glimpse of the Loch Ness monster. Still, if Angel said this was a demon, well, it took one to know one.
She heard the sound of another boat and looked up to see one of Angel's employees coming up behind her with idiotic determination. Hadn't she made it clear to the officers on shore that no one else was to come out here?
Her boat rocked suddenly, and she looked at the officer to see what had happened. He was equally surprised. "What was that?" she asked.
He cut the motor, and they drifted in silence. The other boat stopped several yards behind them. Gripping the railing, Kate stared out across the waves. For a moment she thought she saw a huge ridged shape rise briefly from the water, then disappear again. "Did you see that?" she asked the officer.
Before he could answer the boat rocked violently, nearly overturning. Kate clung to the railing, but heard the officer cry out as he went overboard.
As soon as the boat righted itself she leaned over the edge, looking for him. Angel's employee aimed a crossbow at the water.
"No!" she cried, but he fired anyway. "You idiot! Are you trying to kill him?" She unbuckled her life jacket and prepared to dive in after him.
"Trying to save him, actually," was the response. And suddenly the officer surfaced. She threw him a life preserver, and once he'd grabbed hold she pulled him in and helped him aboard. He was bleeding from a huge gash in his leg. It had obviously not been made by a crossbow bolt.
"There's something down there," he gasped as she ripped open his uniform pant leg to look at the wound. It did not look good. "Something big." His face was gray with shock.
The boat rocked violently again, and she had a sudden horrifying vision of a huge creature bumping it from underneath. The injured officer groaned as they slid together across the deck, leaving it smeared with blood. This was no good. Kate leaped up and turned the key to start the engine.
But no sooner had the boat begun to move than a huge shape arose from the water, blocking her way. Her brain refused to identify it as a head, though it had golden luminescent eyes and dripping streamers hanging from its blunt jaws. Fog curled around it.
Suddenly her view was blocked by the other boat cutting between them. "Kate, get out of here!" Angel called tightly. He had apparently been hidden in the cabin and was now wrapped in a blanket to protect him from any sunlight that got through the mist. He had a long sword in one hand. His employee stood determinedly behind the wheel, and together they plowed forward into the fog.
Kate lost no time in turning a tight circle and hitting the gas. They hadn't gone far when the air was filled with a moan that sounded like a whale in labor. She looked back but could see nothing. Then the other boat came speeding out of the mist. It followed her until they reached the shore. Her first priority was the injured officer, but as soon as she had called the paramedics, she turned to deal with her erstwhile rescuers.
The other boat was already empty.
Cordelia was waiting for them when they arrived back at the office. "Well?" she asked.
"You should have been there," Wesley said exuberantly, feeling the need to lighten the mood. "Sir Angel versus the Sea Dragon, our hero charging into the fray with only a trusty broadsword and his faithful squire at his side, defending the innocent maiden and her lackey against the fearsome evil lurking in the deep."
Angel's mouth quirked upward in amusement at this version of events, and Wesley counted it a tiny victory. "Too bad ‘Sir Angel' had to do battle with a blanket over his head," he said ruefully. "Not quite the heroic figure you usually find in the fairy tales. And it's a good thing it didn't turn into a pitched battle, or this might have been one of those stories where the first few knights end up in the dragon's stomach."
"But you won, right?" Cordelia asked. "You saved that blond woman in my vision?"
"Yes," Wesley replied. "It turned out to be the good Detective Lockely, who is on the case and in over her head, I fear. We frightened it off long enough for her to escape, but not before a police officer was wounded.
"I'm not sure it was frightened as much as good and annoyed," Angel said, shaking his head. "We got lucky. We still don't know how to kill it, and until we do, more people are going to die."
"I guess it's back to the books again, then," Cordelia sighed.
Angel kicked sullenly at the inside of the barn door, knowing he couldn't break the lock. He was in serious trouble this time. When Father waited until his anger had cooled, the strap connected much more consistently.
It wasn't that he didn't deserve it. His carelessness had cost the life of their best milk cow. He squirmed at the memory of his mother's face as she absorbed the news. It had been a dry year. Without the extra milk to sell, it would be a hard winter.
Finally he heard the key turn and the door opened. Father stood framed in the doorway against the bright afternoon sun, a green amulet hanging across his chest. With a quick thrust Angel knew he could push his way past the old man and be gone faster than anyone could follow. But he planted his feet and stood his ground.
"I shouldna be surprised that ye have disappointed me again. Thinking only of yourself and your friends, caring nothing for your own family. We'll all go short come winter, thanks to you."
"I'm sorry, Father." He was mortified that his voice shook. "I didn't mean for –"
"No, you didn't think, did you? You'll see us all dead, and go on your merry way. It was a sin to have sired you."
Angel stared at the blood seeping from his father's neck. Then he remembered his mother and sweet Kathy lying lifeless beside the kitchen door.
"Your own flesh and blood, dead at your hand. What am I to think of that?" His father reached to his belt, but instead of a strap, he held a stake. "Ye have no family. Ye are no son of mine."
With a snarl of hatred, he plunged the stake into Angel's heart.
Angel woke abruptly. He looked around his office and was relieved to find himself alone.
He almost forgotten about the cow. He had only been eleven years old and hadn't realized how far a cow could wander while he joined the rest of the village lads for a cool dip in the river. She had fallen in a hole and died, and bread had been scarce that winter.
The beating had not hurt nearly as much as the disapproving look that lingered in his father's eyes.
Angel shook his head to dismiss the memory. It had happened over two hundred and fifty years ago. His father would be dead now even if his son had not become a vampire. The cow was just an innocent mistake. The rest was not, but there was nothing he could do about it. He had murdered his family. He accepted it. But that didn't make it any easier to live with.
He paced the length of his office and back, needing something to do, something to fight, or at least enough room to walk off the growing burden of all the memories the amulet was digging up. It was bad enough to die a thousand deaths, but these latest dreams were about far more than simple death. But the sun was still up, and there was no reason to think that the sea dragon would be causing anymore trouble just now.
He glanced through the office windows. Wesley was reading. Cordelia was . . . filing, or something. There was not much he could do to help them.
He found himself staring at the plant that Melissa had given him, sitting on the shelf behind his desk. Despite the fact that Cordelia watered it faithfully, it was looking rather stunted. It wasn't supposed to need much light, but the pot it was in looked quite small. If nothing else, he supposed he could relieve its suffering. He went downstairs to find a bigger pot and some potting soil.
Angel prowled the sewer tunnels in search of home, carefully avoiding the streaks of sunlight that pierced the murky air. He was hungry – hungrier than he usually let himself get, the kind of hungry that made passing strangers seemed horribly tempting. He could feel them moving to and fro in the street above.
The tunnels went on and on. He must have been walking for hours. Had he taken a wrong turn somewhere? Nothing looked familiar anymore.
There was something behind him. Something human. He could smell the blood . . . he turned, and froze with surprise.
"Buffy? What are you doing here?"
Her eyes did not recognize him. "It's pretty simple," she said sarcastically. "You're a vampire. I've come to kill you."
He could hardly hear her over the rush of blood through her arteries. He felt his face change. "No," he heard himself say. "You've come to die."
The battle was brief and vicious. He didn't want to hurt her but he wanted her blood so badly. He remembered what it had tasted like, rushing from her neck and down his throat. But the only blood he got a taste of was his own, when she smashed his face against a grate and split his lip. She was stronger, quicker than he was, just as she had always been. She slammed him against one wall, turned, and threw him into the other. He fell to the ground in a twisted heap.
She knelt beside him, stake in hand. Suddenly her eyes grew warm, and sorrowful.
"I'm sorry. But I have to do this."
The hunger for blood vanished and he remembered the smell of her hair, the weight of her head on his chest. "Why?"
"Because I'm the Slayer."
She kissed his forehead and slid a hand under his shoulders, cradling him. Then she drove the stake through his heart. He collapsed to dust in her arms.
"Angel, did you want – " Cordelia froze in the act of barging into his office. "Oh my God. I didn't know you could cry."
He sniffed and brushed the tears from his face with the heel of his hand. "I don't do it very often," he admitted. He took a deep, calming breath. "Did I want what?"
"Nothing. What's wrong? Let me guess, another nightmare. And you haven't slept in days. I know I'm a wreck after just one all nighter, and if somebody was killing me in my dreams I'd probably be – "
"Cordelia – " he tried to cut through her spate of concerned babbling. She halted, mouth open, and he realized he would have to continue. "It was Buffy."
"She was the one who . . . ? That's terrible."
"It was strange. At first she didn't know me, and I was so hungry that I – " he broke off abruptly, dreading the guarded look that would come into Cordelia's eyes if he continued. "God, I miss her," he finished lamely.
"I know. But it was just a dream. She wouldn't do that."
"She sent me to hell once."
"I'm sure it was the only way to save the world. You two have the best fairy tale love story I've ever seen."
"So when do we get to the happily ever after?" he asked bleakly.
"OK, maybe more like a Greek tragedy – only without the eye-gouging. The point is, no matter what, Buffy will always love you. And you'll always love her. So don't let some evil magic dream get you down."
She had a point. "Right." He looked at her hopefully. "Are you sure you didn't want something?"
"Oh, um, yeah. I just called the hospital. That police officer is going to be OK. They've stitched up his leg and they don't think there will be any permanent damage. Detective Lockley is there with him. Did you want to try to talk to them, see if they could tell us anything useful?"
"It all happened pretty fast – I doubt they know anything that we don't. Or that Kate would tell me, even if she did. Still," he added thoughtfully, "maybe she'd talk to you."
"You're still in the dog house, even after saving her life? Again?"
He sighed. "Her father was killed by vampires, and I was there but couldn't stop it. She thought I was human, that the world made sense. I doubt if I'll ever be out of the dog house."
"Right. I'll see what I can find out."
When Cordelia returned a few hours later, Wesley was alone in the office, surrounded by haphazard piles of more books than Cordelia had thought Angel possessed. Sweat stains were beginning to show under his arms. He had opened a single window shade to cast light on the small table in front of the couch, where he was perusing some ponderous tome.
"Great news! No, incredible, wonderful, earthshaking news!" she told him.
"What, you've discovered a way to kill the sea dragon? Or stop Angel's nightmares?"
"No, are you kidding? That would just be business as usual news."
"Oh." He looked deflated. "Then, what?"
"I got the part!"
"The part?"
"The part in the commercial that I auditioned for last night! I went home to change and there was a message on my machine!"
"Oh, very nice," he said with some effort. "What kind of commercial?"
"It's a nationally known, big bucks type company. Once everybody sees my amazing talent, I'll be able to get auditions everywhere! And my stardom will be assured."
Wesley picked up immediately on the tiny detail that she had chosen to omit. "And am I to know the vehicle for your grand debut?"
"OK, so, it's a cat litter commercial. But cats are really great, and everybody knows where you have cats, you've gotta have cat litter. Big bucks, you know? People don't realize how much money there is in common, everyday household products."
"Of course." Wesley's eyes strayed back to his book.
It was so unfair. Her first big break, the first step on her way to her dreams, and everyone had too many problems of their own to appreciate it.
"Anyway, it's tomorrow afternoon." She paused. "Any luck with all these books?"
Wesley shook his head. "It's slow going – my medieval Welsh is pretty rusty. I think I may have a lead on our sea dragon, though."
"What's that?"
"It may not be here voluntarily."
"What do you mean?"
"I'm not sure. But there's something very interesting in this book of spells that are used to conjure demons out of the deep – volcanos, bogs, lakes, and so on. I need to cross check it with . . . that one . . ." He trailed off, pulling another huge, leather bound volume from the piles, threatening to topple the whole structure.
She cleared her throat. "Umm, how's Angel?"
He looked up from the book again. "Not so good, I'm afraid. The nightmares seem to be getting worse."
"Yeah, I noticed. Well, maybe he could use some cheering up." She started toward the elevator.
"Cordelia, I don't think . . ." he trailed off as she ignored him, sliding the elevator gate shut and pushing the button.
Angel's apartment was lit only by a large three-branched candelabra on the desk in the study. In the open space behind the sofa, Angel slashed, parried, and lunged with a small blade, fighting off some monstrous . . . nothing. Cordelia sighed with relief as she realized he was just practicing. His movements were controlled, graceful, almost dance-like. She stood watching until he stopped and leaned against the back of the sofa, winded.
"Wow. That was beautiful," she observed.
He shook his head. "I'm just a novice. A true martial arts master – now that's poetry."
"Oh." She shrugged. "I talked to Kate. Or – tried to. I'm afraid we're all in your dog house. No leads." Angel nodded, unsurprised. "But there is a little bit of good news." It galled her to understate the case so, but Wesley's response had stolen some of her confidence. Angel glanced at her hopefully. "I got the part. In that commercial that I auditioned for."
"Oh." She prepared for a second disappointment, but then he smiled quite genuinely. "That's good. Congratulations."
She smiled back. "Thanks."
"So when do you go and do the, uh, acting thing?"
"Tomorrow afternoon. Two o'clock sharp!"
"That's good," he said again. In spite of his sincerity she felt a bit gypped that he didn't have the energy to muster a little more enthusiasm. Then again, the circles around his eyes were getting quite dark. Being stalked by killer nightmares was a pretty good excuse.
"Well," she said brightly, "I guess I should go home and get some sleep – " She winced, realizing she had inadvertently rubbed his nose it his predicament. "Sorry."
He smiled kindly. "It's OK. Go get some rest. You have big day tomorrow."
For an instant she wanted to hug him, but
she lost her nerve
and just let herself out the sliding door instead.