The Evil That Men Do

  “Dead,” Angel said. “I killed her.”

  The beautiful vampire actually registered shock. It took her a few seconds to compose herself.

  And in those few seconds, with a quick nod at Angel and another at Xander and Willow, Buffy rushed her, grabbing her wrist and thrusting her backward. Angel’s captors immediately rushed to her defense, giving him a chance to use their momentum against them as he ran forward, dodging to the right side of Buffy. He managed a good, strong side kick to the large one on his right, at the same time that he yanked the stake out of another female vampire’s hand and dusted her.

  Then he was a blur to Buffy as he started putting the other vamps through the paces. Buffy concentrated on the female, giving her everything she had and then some — blow after blow, a hail of kicks and punches. Most of them landed, but few seemed to do any real damage. Same deal with Buffy herself.

  “We’re evenly matched,” the vampire announced, panting. Her eyes glowed golden through the wet night. “This is thrilling.”

  “Yeah. Color me thrilled, too,” Buffy said, grunting as the vampire smacked her in the face. “I’m just rolling in thrilled.”

  To her left was the explosive sound of a kill, followed by Xander and Willow cheering in unison. Buffy smiled briefly, proud of her drenched but stylin’ Slayerettes. But a quick glance told her they were outnumbered and in trouble. She renewed her concentration and threw every ounce of energy she had into her assault. If she could take out the queen bee, she would have free rein among the drones.

  Lightning flashed; thunder rumbled. Vaguely she heard the hum of a car engine, followed by the squeal of brakes close behind her. Buffy gathered up the woman vampire and rolled to the left. The front bumper of a black van — the van she had seen before — narrowly missed Buffy’s head. Then someone kicked her hard in the small of the back.

  “Hey,” she growled, letting go of the vampire with one hand as she reached around and grabbed the kicker’s ankle.

  “Thanks, Buffy,” Angel said, and as Buffy looked back and up, the vampire whose ankle she’d grabbed exploded into dust as Angel impaled it.

  “Another time, Slayer,” the dark vampire announced, snaking out of Buffy’s grasp. She leaped to her feet and headed for the van.

  The windshield was tinted; Buffy could not see the driver, who must have opened the passenger side for the vampire, who jumped in.

  The vehicle squealed away, to a chorus of protests from the abandoned vampires who were fighting Angel, Xander, and Willow. Buffy quickly joined in, and in outside of a minute, two of the three remaining bad guys were dust.

  The third was another demon, a blue, rubbery thing covered with a very smelly coating of what felt like fat. It was difficult to hold on to, but Buffy managed to keep its arms behind its back as Angel threatened it with a piece of red-hot chrome from the truck, which he held with the folded material of his duster.

  Xander and Willow looked on with not such happy faces, and Buffy figured she knew why: in the past, they each had seen what Angel had done to creatures he wanted information from. Including Giles, back when Angel had become evil again.

  “Why is she here?” Angel demanded, thrusting the chrome at the demon. “What does she want?”

  “She’d kill me if I told you,” the demon murmured.

  “Oh, that is so cliché,” Xander said. “I suppose next thing you’ll tell is you’re both with the CIA.”

  “Angel, I think the big question of the day is, who is she?” Buffy suggested, tightening her grasp as the demon renewed its struggle.

  Angel looked hard at Buffy. “I know who she is.”

  “Oh.” Care to share? Buffy wanted to ask, but she decided to wait until they got whatever they could out of lard boy. No sense letting the enemy in on your debriefing.

  “Okay. Answer one from column A, then. Let’s start with why you guys are out here on such a miserable night.” Buffy gave the guy a shake. Willow swallowed hard and slipped her arm through Xander’s.

  The demon grunted. Its almond-shaped eyes were focused on the hot metal; after a time, it said, “She told us she wanted you, Slayer.”

  Buffy sighed. “And Cordelia says I’m not popular.”

  “Do you know where our friends are?” Willow piped up. “Dark-haired girl. Really cute guy.” She glanced upward at the moon. “Whoops. Not a guy.”

  “And the girl is very beautiful,” Xander added loyally. “Probably also crabby.”

  The demon shrugged. “I know not.”

  “You know not? Did you learn English off some tapes in your car?” Buffy said. “Angel, burn him.”

  “No!” the demon shouted, as Angel waved the steaming chrome at him.

  “Look, Crisco, we have questions. We need answers. You killed an innocent little boy tonight.” Buffy gave herseff the luxury of a moment to mourn poor Mark Dellasandro, although she felt not a bit of guilt that she was glad Willow was the one who got out alive.

  ”I’m sure it’s not the first innocent little boy he’s killed,” Angel said, morphing into vamp face. He pressed the metal against the demon’s arm. Its shriek was unearthly. Its entire body began to smoke and shudder, and then to soften and melt. A big piece broke off and plopped into the mud, where it sizzled.

  “Yuck,” Buffy said, grimacing. ”Um, someone else want to hold this guy?” She smiled hopefully at Xander. ”Feeling left out?”

  “Nope.” Beside him, Willow weakly shook her head.

  “Tell us something. Anything,” Buffy ordered. ”I have a feeling the next time Angel puts that hot metal against you, somebody will be scooping you up in a bucket.”

  “I can say nothing. He will kill me.”

  Xander raised a hand. ”Ah, excuse me, friend? Way I see it, Angel’s going to beat him to it.”

  “No.” The demon threw back its head. ”My body matters not. Julian will kill my soul. He will feed it to Meter.”

  “You’ve got a soul?” Buffy wrinkled her brow and frowned at Angel, who frowned back and moved his shoulders. ”How does all this work, anyway? Who’s got souls and who doesn’t?”

  “Who’s on first?” Xander piped up, but at a look from Buffy, he shrugged and said, ”Settling back into silent mode here.”

  The demon’s mouth parted slowly and the lower half kind of dribbled down its chin. Eew.

  “Thee hath amathed great power, thee and her king.”

  Angel said, ”I thought Helen got away from Julian.”

  Buffy threw him a look. Helen? Julian?

  “Got away?” It was the demon’s turn to look puzzled. ”From Julian? But thee adoreth him.”

  “That’s not what I heard,” Angel persisted. Buffy felt a flare of what might pass for jealousy in more normal girls, who had real boyfriends who were also normal. She decided to call it intense curiosity and left it at that.

  “Then thomeone hath been telling you taleth, vampire.”

  The rest of the demon’s mouth slid off its face. An eye followed. Then the other one.

  “Thufferin’ thuccotash,” Xander murmured in awe.

  Willow made a retching sound and turned away. Xander held her shoulders and said, ”Easy, Will.”

  Buffy let go of the demon as it collapsed into a puddle in the mud. She said to Angel, ”If you’ll barf, I’ll barf.” Then she frowned. ”Are you capable of barfing?”

  “There are some things a guy likes to keep private,” Angel said with a faint smile.

  “Yeah, like his taste in porno,” Xander said, turning back around. When Angel and Buffy both stared at him, he shrugged and said, ”Not that I, ah, indulge. Who needs to, when your ex-girlfriend dresses like a hooker?”

  Willow scowled at him. ”It’s only funny if she’s here, Xander. Otherwise, you just sound . . . catty.”

  His brows shot up. ”Catty? Me? When have I ever been . . . oh, my God,” he said, his gaze traveling past Buffy and toward the destroyed truck. ”Buffy.”

  He pointed. In the glare of the fire, a small
figure stumbled toward them. It had to be Mark Dellasandro.

  Buffy took off after him, followed by the others. When he saw her, he opened his arms, then dropped them to his sides. He folded, landing on his knees, and hung his head.

  By the time she got to him, he was sobbing uncontrollably. Somewhat uncertainly, Buffy embraced him; her throat tightened as he clung to her, weeping. She had heard grief like this before. She knew she would hear it again.

  But for this boy, this was fresh grief, raw and cutting and soul-deep. He had been through so much.

  He was going to go through so much more.

  After a few minutes, Buffy gently but firmly pulled away and squatted in front of him.

  “You’re all right,” she assured him. Then she couldn’t help but add, ”For now.”

  “They’re going to kill me,” he whispered. ”Everyone’s gone crazy, just like my . . . my . . . bro . . .” He closed his eyes. Tears streamed down his face.

  “He’s right, Buffy,” Xander said. ”Everyone’s checking into the asylum.” He cleared his throat. ”Willow and I signed ourselves out tonight, but I don’t know why. Maybe we’ll get crazy again.” Shrugging, he put out his hand to Angel. ”Hey man, truth, you know I’m not your number one fan. But what I said tonight —”

  “It’s forgotten,” Angel said quickly. A look passed between the two, and Buffy knew it wasn’t forgotten.

  Willow stayed quiet, and Buffy was sorry about that. She squared her shoulders. ”Okay, the chick. What’s going on? Who is Helen?”

  “It’s a long story. One I don’t want to tell twice, and I think Giles should hear it.” He gestured to the boy. ”Maybe we could ask Giles to hide him?”

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Buffy admitted sadly. ”Giles is one with the body of nut cases.”

  “Possessed,” Willow translated.

  “Mucho possessed,” Buffy said. ”He called me a . . .” She pursed her lips. No reason to go there. ”There are some things a girl likes to keep private, too, I guess.”

  She sighed. ”Let’s stick out our thumbs,” she said. ”I’m absolutely certain someone will want to pick up five people covered with mud.”

  When Giles opened the door, he smiled at Buffy and said in a rush, ”Thank heavens you’re all right. Call your mother.”

  “Got it.” She crossed to the phone and picked it up. Her number was programmed in; she punched 1 and bobbed to music only she could hear.

  “Mom?” she said brightly. ”Hi, I’m sorry —”

  Her eyes went wide. Then her face became shadowed, and she glanced over at Xander and rolled her eyes.

  Xander felt for Buffy. It was hard enough to be a Slayerette — okay, easier for him since his parents didn’t keep up with his comings and goings — but it was definitely harder to be the one wearing Slayer shoes when it came to those big parental issues. Xander had assumed that once Mrs. Summers knew about Buffy’s special calling, she’d let up. Give up trying to treat Buffy like a normal teenage girl and get on board the slayage train.

  It had not happened that way. Somebody with a lifeas complicated as Buffy’s needed a lot of support. Xander tried not to judge, but it was sad that her mother only seemed to add more pressure.

  “This is Mark Dellasandro,” Willow said to Giles.

  “Hello, Mark.” Giles’s expression didn’t change at all, but Xander knew him well enough to read his body language. The presence of this boy was a good thing, as far as Giles was concerned. ”Would you like some tea?”

  “Yes, please,” Mark said. He was shivering. Everybody was covered in mud and slime, but from what he’d told Willow, he had been exposed to the elements for many more hours than the rest of them.

  “And a shower,” Willow called. ”And maybe some toast. I’ll help you.”

  “Oh, that’s all right,” Giles said, but Willow was intent on being a helper. She trailed after him.

  She looked with alarm at Giles, who stood in the CENTER of the most thoroughly trashed kitchen Willow had ever seen. He said to her, ”I’m all right now, Willow,” and then he stepped across the shards of white china and clear glass, and reached into the cabinet to the right side of the stove. He brought out a dark blue cup embossed with a gold Egyptian ankh.

  She closed her eyes and murmured the daily spell of protection that she had begun saying every morning:

  ”By the light and the heart of the earth,

  ”I forbid all evil spirits my bedstead and couch;

  ”I forbid you my house and my home;

  ”I forbid you my flesh and blood and body and soul.

  ”I irrevocably forbid you entrance to my mind and my thoughts;

  ”My fears and my strengths;

  ”Until you have traveled over every single hill and vale;

  ”Forged every stream and river;

  ”Counted all the grains of sand on all the shores;

  ”And every star in the sky.

  ”I forbid you.”

  Then she looked at him and said, ”Do you have a couple more teacups? That are, um, not broken? And some actual tea?”

  His answer was an appreciative nod. ”You fill the kettle, would you?” he asked. Then he turned to the alcove opening between the kitchen and the living room, where the others were standing awkwardly and said, ”Xander, show Mark where the shower is.”

  “Thanks,” Xander said. ”We’ll figure it out. However, we will be showering separately.” He clapped Mark on the shoulder. ”Come on.”

  The two went upstairs.

  As Giles put loose black tea in a tea ball, Willow filled the kettle with water from the tap. Giles said, ”I’ve got bottled water,” then touched his forehead. ”Oh, I forgot to get some at the market, I’ve been using the tap all week. Hideous stuff.”

  “Better in England?” Willow asked.

  “Not really.” He smiled at her. Then, as the guys trooped upstairs, he lowered his voice and said, ”How much does Mark know?”

  “Not much. He doesn’t even know Buffy is the Slayer.” She swallowed hard. ”He didn’t see the Crisco demon decompose into the mud but he did see the fire-breathing trucker one.”

  “Good Lord. You ran into demons?”

  “And this big shot vampire. Her name is Helen. She knows Angel.”

  Giles stared at her. The look on his face made her hair stand on end.

  Giles was terrified.

  “Helen?” he said, his voice a ghost in the ruined kitchen.

  Behind them, Angel said, ”The Betrayed One.”

  They turned. Angel stood in the doorway, his duster off, his shirt a tatter of ribbons. There was a bloody mark on his chest directly over his heart. Where the vampire had pushed the stake in, just so far. Another jab, and she would have dusted Angel.

  “Helen. Oh, my God.” Giles ran both his hands through his hair. ”We thought she was dead.”

  Angel said, flatly, ”So did I.”

  There was a long silence. Then Willow said, ”What’s the Betrayed One?”

  “My mom is still possessed,” Buffy called from the living room. She was replacing the phone on the charger. ”Or else she’s going through menopause. Y’know, it would be nice sometime if the first words out of her mouth weren’t, ’Why didn’t you call?’ She knows what my nights are like. Maybe I should buy her a police scanner. Or I could wear a camera. Slayercam. It’s a thought.”

  Giles gazed from Willow and Angel to Buffy. He looked stricken. Vaguely, he said to Willow, ”Please finish making the tea,” and walked from the kitchen into the living room.

  * * *

  Giles found himself thinking of the night Jenny had died. He had walked into this very room — through the front door, of course — found the wine he had assumed she had brought, and the inviting note. The votive candles, one on each stair, leading to his bedroom. He had loosened his tie as he’d climbed the stairs, his heart soaring with the sweeping opera music on the stereo. This was to be their night of desire fulfilled. The sweet culminat
ion of their longing for one another.

  Bliss. Crescendo.

  Instead, a dead woman lay in his bed, staring at him with perhaps a hint of reproach: Why didn’t you stop him?

  Why didn’t you save me?

  “Oh, dear God, Buffy,” he said, sitting down. He folded his hands between his knees and bent his head. He did not want to speak of death. He had had enough of it.

  “Giles, what? What’s wrong?”

  She’s so young. So new to the world. Why does the universe have to keep throwing deadly monsters her way?

  “Buffy, I don’t know how to tell you this,” he said honestly. ”The vampire you encountered. Helen.”

  “Yeah. Some trampy babe,” Buffy said. She made a face. ”So not my date for the prom.”

  “Buffy, sit down.” He gestured at the couch.

  “Giles, I’m mud girl,” she protested. ”I’ll stand.”

  “Buffy, please,” Giles said urgently. ”Listen to me. Helen is one of the most vicious creatures who has ever walked the earth. Centuries ago, the Watchers Council expunged all reference to her from the Slayer’s Handbook. They made it a punishable offense to so much as utter her name. And anyone who spoke of her to a Slayer would instantly be cast out and shunned for the rest of his or her life.”

  “Wow, are you guys Watchers or Amish people?” Buffy asked.

  “They believed that learning of her existence would so demoralize a Slayer that she would give up all hope of living out a normal life. You see, Helen made it her special mission to kill Slayers.” He cleared his throat. ”One after another.”

  “Really, Giles, whatever they told you about her, it’s not true. I kicked her butt.” Buffy looked smug. ”Did I not, Angel?”

  “Buffy, listen to him,” Angel said, coming into the room. ”When I knew her, there was a Slayer in England at the time. Her name was Grace. Helen was relentless. She ran that girl to ground like a bloodhound after a fox, and she ripped her to shreds.” His face was grave, his eyes dark and hooded. ”Literally. And she loved every minute of it. She reveled in it.”

  He hesitated. ”There were others.”

  “And you were there,” Buffy said softly.

  “Yes, I was.”