Fool of the Devil II-7

Sneakered feet slapping the freshly-mopped and polished floors of Sunnyhell High, Xander ran back to the auditorium. All thoughts of his drunk-as-a-skunk mom were pushed firmly to the back of his mind, Jessica Harris already secured away and hopefully safe as long as she didn’t do any wandering.

Hopefully… He couldn’t help the twitch in his eye anyway. The one time you act like a good mom and it’s vamp night… Xander bit back a grunt as he made his way through the still-empty halls, keeping a picture perfect running stance that would have had the PE teacher sign him for track in a heartbeat.

Yeah, he ran, but it was the wrong kind of running. 

He knew what he was doing and he knew he was doing it right; a jogging-in-place, arms-pumping kind of fake-running that looked good from the outside and had taken him a while to get down.

Picture perfect, sure, but it was also perfectly punishing to pull off; all the fakeness just making the thing coiled in his gut scream at him to just let go. To actually push the motion into the asphalt-eating, fence-clearing gallop his body wanted. But noooo… 

Gotta play human. Gotta pretend his lungs could still burn from something this light, that the distant sounds echoing from the auditorium weren’t making him want to just blur in there, roaring like a… a… 

Well, you get the picture.

The young Imp rounded another corner, and suddenly froze as he sniffed; the air suddenly feeling quieter.

Colder. Deader. 

Senor Broody. The vampire formerly known as Angelus leaned up against the wall, sans the sombrero Xander was currently picturing on him. Missing that particular accessory, the Blood Prince stood there a perfect study in tragic-hero-on-a-poster-in-a-teen-girl’s-bedroom. Really, with all that dark leather and product-filled hair, Xander had no doubt he would have picked up at least one modeling job in all the years he’d been kicking it as a dead’un.

Xander skidded to a halt as he forced himself to breath heavy, the sound fake and loud in his own ears. Angel’s head turned and those dark, old, eyes looked at him the same way Xander used to track the neighbor’s big dog when he walked by the fence. “Where’s Buffy?” 

A bead of sweat trailed down Xander’s forehead, the single bit of sweat he’d worked up on his run over here almost entirely from pretending to be tired. “Inside,” he gasped, putting a little extra wheeze into it for effect to keep up the practice when he burst in to help. “Dealing with Blondie and his merry band of stink bombs.”

Angel pushed off the wall, leather jacket swirling around him as he whirled off toward the auditorium. Walking behind him, Xander just rolled his eyes. Pfft. Show-off.

The second those cold old hands touched the door, Xander’s eyes narrowed to a squint as something in Angel's shoulders changed. The vampire stood straighter and taller, the look on his face twisting up into something that could have been a sneer if the bloodsucker didn’t look so constipated.

Don't like that. As funny as it looked, Xander couldn’t help but frown, eyebrows pulling tight as he shot Angel a look of his own. “Uhhh… what’s your deal, man?”

Angel didn't look at him, eyes straight ahead as he kept that wannabe-cool look on his face that just didn’t fit him. "Just follow my lead." 

Xander blinked again as he realized the vampire was even changing up his voice too. Yeah, you didn't have an acting career in your future. 

The words didn’t even have a chance to leave his lips as Angel pushed the doors open and the smell knocked all thoughts of anything else out of his head. 

As familiar as the smell was, Xander wished it was so much more of a stranger as his nostrils flared wide and he felt the few hairs on the insides of his nose shrivel up and cry. Culebra.

He wasn’t a fan of the new breed that had been skulking their way into his town the last couple of weeks but they seemingly didn’t care about his opinion on that. Wrongwrongtoomany. The darkness in his gut had its own opinions, though; the roiling energy perking up like a dog hearing a can opener.

Eager. Hungry. Ready.

Xander grit his teeth, locking his jaw with a grunt as he almost slapped himself right then and there. H-head on straight, Mister, a voice that might have been Willow’s barked at him like the world’s most nervous drill sergeant.

Either way, it worked.

His eyes snapped to Buffy, the girl of the hour, blonde hair whipping around as she did her best to fight off a good dozen or two of the dusky-skinned leeches.

Her best, yeah, but there wasn’t much you could do when you were up between a rock and a hard place; the hard place being a far wall with a bunch of civilians behind her. Parents and teachers and students did their best, all of them stupid-brave as they jabbed back with cafeteria chairs and whatever else but the twitchy snakey vamps were not making it any easier. 

And there, in the center of it all, watching it like it was the Raiders game, stood the bleach-blond-bastard he’d been hearing all about.

Spike.

Apparently, the black leather was just a thing that came with being a vampire of advanced age or whatever, because the pale-faced prick wore it just as well as Angel. 

Something that Xander was very much not jealous about, no siree.

The blond vampire didn’t waste a moment as soon as he heard the door open, turning on his heel only to stop as his eyes landed right on Angel.

Then he grinned; a wide, mean, amused look on his face that reminded Xander of every Animal Planet documentary that talked about what it meant when a predator showed their teeth. 

“Angelus.”

Wow. Xander blinked at the voice, blinking a second time because no one could have prepared him for the ‘’ello guv’nor’ of it all.

"Well, well, well,” Spike’s eyes didn’t even go his way as Sid Vigeous just tilted his head to the side. “Ain't this a surprise?”

Angel stepped further into the room, back straight and Xander had to take back the insult about the guy’s acting because it wasn’t half bad, actually. It took skill to manage to look down your nose at someone from all the way across a room but Angel pulled it off somehow, Buffy’s beau keeping his hands loose and posture easy. The nearest vamps visibly hesitated, snake-eyes flicking between Spike and this clearly older, stronger vampire.

"Spike." 

Angel said one word as the both of them locked eyes across the room, Prince and Lord, Xander feeling an entire conversation he wasn't invited to. 

It stretched. 

Long enough for a parent to go flying through the refreshment table and take the punch bowl with him. 

Long enough for Spike's grin to stretch wider.

"And here I was thinking you’d gone of and done a runner," the British vamp almost chewed on the words, tongue working around in his mouth. "But I gotta say, old man, you're lookin' a bit... soft."

Angel just stared back. “And what made you think that?”

The other blood sucker shrugged, not really answering for a few seconds as he just chuckled off the question. "So what's the game 'ere?" He asked one of his own, grin sliding back into a more careful smile. "You back to being the big bad bloody bastard?"

It had all been going as smooth as smooth could go, given the situation of course.

But then Angel had to lose his cool.

Literally.

The older vampire flinched, jaw tensing up; too quiet for a second too long.

Xander saw it, his own eyes good enough to pick it up. Oh no.

Spike… Spike definitely saw it. From the way the grin died almost immediately, there was no way he hadn’t. The blond’s face twisted up, going all gargoyle as those yellow-eyes came out with the game-face. “You’re still playing nice, aren’t ya?”

The Cockney leech didn’t give Angel another chance to speak as he shook his head, a hiss of a sigh leaking out of him like the world’s ugliest balloon. “Take the old man down.”

All at once, the culebra hissed.

Xande expected the flood, but it was still a sight to see; eyes went wide as a wave of twitchy snake-faced bloodsuckers all rushed them at once.

The world jerked sideways, cold fingers grabbing his jacket collar before Xander could so much as take a step back. Hey, watch the merch! Angel clearly didn’t know or care about the going rate of primo Rosen Queen products as he yanked Xander back through the doors, wood slamming shut behind him as both of them slid into the hallway.

“Unholy hell, man,” the teenager pushed Angel off him as he caught himself, “don’t ever touch me like that if you wanna keep your hand, capisce?”

Angel just blinked his way. 

Xander blinked back. “...I know I’m pretty, but why the staring, Danny Zuko?” 

“...unholy hell?”

Xander’s eyes widened, but before he could say anything, the doors shuddered.

Both sets of eyes snapped to the side as wood groaned, hinges screaming for release as bodies slammed against the other side; the vampires apparently too dumb and feral to turn the handles or just too packed up against each other to manage it. 

Great. Both he and Angel stood in the hall, the space waxed and shiny under emergency lights as a trophy case gleamed to his left; rows of fake gold people staring at nothing. Trapped in a hallway with Captain Forehead and an army of stank-lizards.

Back to back, they took the same position they used against the Master’s minions so many months ago; Angel's spine against his as the doors finally buckled under the force of twenty-something Mexican vamps punching their way through wood.

"So, uhhhhh, senor?" 

“What?”

“I mean, Angel,” he bit back a grin as he licked his lips, "You got a plan, or are we just gonna go for the world record in 'Last Stand before Getting Eaten'?"

Angel was silent for a few seconds, Xander blinking silently as the man seemed to do a quick mini-brood from the way his eyes set together, then… "Try not to die.”

Rude. "Also not a plan." His hands clenched into fists, Xander rolling his shoulders as he readied himself for another brawl. "How about you try not to slow me down, then?"

"Slow’s definitely the word to use here,” Angel used a grunt like a period, the vamp still not in game-face. “These things are fast. Especially fast for being this young.”

Xander raised an eyebrow, eyes still locked on the door as he pushed down the energy spiking with his heartbeat. Keep the eyes under control, X-Man. He could play off some fighting skill with summer practice, not so much glowing red eyes. “They’re young?” His fists went white-knuckled as the banging got louder, harder, hairline cracks showing in the wood. “How can you tell?”

“Bloodlust,” Angel made a sound that was almost a laugh. “The younger the vampire, the less they can control it.”

“Hm.” That was something that should have been obvious, but the books at Rosen Queen hadn’t exactly given him that tip. Good to know. "Thanks for the hot tip, Batman."

The doors exploded out, wood disintegrating into a shower of splinters that peppered his face, as the Culebra poured through the opened entrance, a flood of bad BO and worse outfit choices. 

The first one free didn’t waste a second, half his friends piled on top of either in a scramble of bodies. 

No, he saw fresh meat and lunged.

It was a blur of motion, all twitchy speed and wide-open mouth, ready to take a bite out of something.

Angel wasn’t in the mood to serve him dinner. The vampire spun, elbow snapping out in a short brutal arc that met the side of the vamp’s head the second it got in close. 

Crack! The skull gave in before the body knew it was over, the vampire collapsing sideways into the wall.

That didn’t stop the Blood Prince though, Angel reversing his motion with another spinning kick from behind that caught another vamp in the chest. Inhuman strength sent the tequila-vamp flying, the thing launched hard into the trophy case with shattering glass and awards raining down on it.

Broody’s still got it. Of course, so did he.

Two of them rushed Xander at once; fangs out like the first and hissing like they'd stepped on hot coals. Xander didn’t bother with ducking or dodging. Why? 

No, he wore a grin on his face wide as Spike’s had been as he charged straight through then, shoulder slamming dead center into the first one’s chest. Like he was used to, their bodies barely even held up against even his milder hits, the sound of ribs giving way a crk-crk-pop that was music to his ears.

The thing in his gut roared.

Yesyesyes.

A third came at Angel, claws extended. The Prince flowed under the attack, hand shooting up to grip the leech's wrist and without a single word, he twisted. The Culebra didn’t even have a chance to scream at his broken hand, Ange’s side-kick to its knee and the wet crunch of bone that came with it giving it something else to scream about. 

Before it could crumple to the ground, Angel grabbed its head and left a new dent in the plaster once-twice-and a third time, before the Culebra’s brain was no more and Angel held nothing but dust.

Xander's fist shot out while another vamp was still reeling from a second charge, a brutal hook pulping its face; bone, cartilage and dead skin collapsed around his knuckles like a crushed beer can. 

An instant before the thing could dust, another vamp flanked him; almost a blur.

Almost.

Xander didn't turn his head all the way as he lashed out with a backhand. Bloody knuckles connected with jaw, teeth and fangs scattering on linoleum like Tic-Tacs.

A quick second later, both fists came down on the back of its neck, a hammer blow that sent the vampire’s spine firmly into its asshole; probably the worst pain in the world. Luckily for it, it didn’t live long enough to regret it.

Dust clogged Xander’s face for a split second, blinding him with a cough as clawed fingers grabbed him from behind, sharp tips digging into his jacket. “Hands!” Xander dropped his weight, instinct guiding him as he swung the bloodsucker over his shoulder. “Off the merch!” 

Angel didn't miss a beat as the vamp flew his way. As if he’d watched Roadhouse religiously, the perfect roundhouse from the old vampire snapped into the culebra’s head, metal doors buckling as it made a second flying introduction to the lockers headfirst. 

Xander's chest heaved; not faked this time, as the rush had his heart beating fast. "Do I get a thanks?"

Angel drove a stake from his sleeve into another vamp's heart, the Southern vampire exploding into that disgusting-smelling desert dust. "For what?"

"The assist! Teamwork!" His voice came out higher, Xander almost feeling insulted at the sheer lack of appreciation on display. "You know, that thing normal people do?"

"We're not normal."

Yeah, no shit. "Could've fooled me, you're doing a great impression of a guy who needs his ass saved."

Angel's eyes flicked to him for half a second. "Funny."

Xander grinned, the thing in his gut still humming. "I try."

Even through all the chaos, a voice cut through thanks to the hallway acoustics doing their job, and bouncing it right into his ears; more mocking Cockney noise. "Angelus, my dear old grandsire. Always good for a laugh."

Grandsire? The word landed in his brain like a brick through a windshield. As in grandpa? What is this, bloodsucker Jerry Springer?

Claws came at his face the second Xander froze in place, confusion knocking him out of the zone. Shit.

The edge of his vision blurred as Hands grabbed the culebra's head and twisted, neck giving way with a dry pop. Angel stood there for a split second, the vampire giving him a narrow-eyed look that felt like getting shushed by a librarian.

"Focus."

"I am focused!" His fist slammed up into another vamp's jaw; bone gave way instantly, the thing's mouth hanging loose as it stumbled back. "I'm focused on the fact that this is apparently a demonic family reunion! What the hell was that?"

Angel grabbed another leech, slammed it into the ceiling and then back down into the ground with a loud crack of linoleum. "Later."

"No, not later! Now!" His voice came out higher, Xander just barely able to hold back a laugh thanks to pure irritation; as funny as it was, it was also insane. "Grand-sire? That mean grand-dad?"

"Shut. Up."

They kept on moving, pushing past the remaining vamps, neither of them going for the front doors with all of them blocked. 

“...how incestuous does this get?”

“I will kill you.”

Xander’s eyes darted to the left, a tall window open and unblocked. As if reading his mind, Angel was already angling toward it. Oh, we're doing this?

Apparently, they were.

With a grunt, they hit the glass together.

It shattered around them, sharp hail raining down, and cool night air slapping his face as gravity remembered to exist. Grass rushed up to meet them and Xander’s shoulder hit first, body rolling, turf getting in his mouth, dirt and grass clippings and ugh.

"Motherf-" He came up spitting, pulled himself to his feet, and whirled. 

Bare knuckles slammed themselves into the brick wall of the school, spiderweb cracks spreading out from his knuckles. With another grunt, Xander hit it again. "Fucking family feud."

Angel stood a few feet away, leather jacket somehow still perfect despite the tumble.

"...something like that."

– o – o – o – o – o – o – o –

Willow Danielle Rosenberg, all five feet and sixteen years of her, sat curled up in a cramped utility closet, knees pulled to her chest as she desperately hoped for all this to be over.

She could still hear all the chaos from the relatively thin door, and had no faith in it being enough to keep a vampire from making short work of the single gallon of blood she carried around inside her defenseless body at all times. 

It was times like this that she regretted not listening to Xander’s advice of eating a diet extremely high in garlic, no matter how badly it tanked her chances of getting a random kiss from him.

“Dear God…”

The redhead bit back a sigh. 

To make all this so much worse, she wasn’t alone in here.

“If you’re listening…”

No, she was sharing the tiny space with Cordelia Chase herself, the head cheerleader of Sunnydale High pacing around with her hands clasped together.

“And obviously, you should be, because… c’mon, it’s me…”

Willow shut her eyes. 

“Please send someone to rescue me, like now.”

The sigh finally found its way loose, as Willow’s chin came to rest on her knees. “I dunno, God probably has better things to do.”

The taller curvier girl snapped her head around to stare daggers at Willow. “Like what?” The second word came out a whispered hiss, almost no different than the vampires. “Letting me get eaten by vampires?

Willow couldn’t help but roll her eyes, muttering under her breath, “Not much worse than being stuck in a closet with you.”

“...excuse me?”

“Uh… nothing.”