Fic: Meanwhile on Earth
Title: Meanwhile on Earth
Creator: drizzlydaze
Rating: PG
Setting: NFA battle
Word count: 976
Prompt: The Man in the Brown Suit (weirdly popular prompt)
A/N: Um, kinda too dialogue heavy. Part Thirteen. Parts One ( Chapters), Two ( Like Old Times, But Not), Three ( Help), Four ( Victim), Five ( Property), Six ( Escapee), Seven ( Interrogations), Eight ( The Plan/The Book), Nine ( The House), Ten ( Clues), Eleven ( (Some) Answers), Twelve ( Losers).
He opens his eyes.
She opens her eyes.
For a moment, ghosts of another dimension play in his vision. Steaming rocks and hellfire, dark and bright flames. Seems familiar. I thought I told you no more amulets.
And then the ghosts are swept away by her gaze, by her face, by her presence. It seems to him he is forgoing one illusion for the next-but no, she is real; her hand brushes against his face and he relishes the trembling touch.
And finally, finally, it seems like everything’s going right.
~~~~~
“Now, what did I just sign?” Never a good thing to say. The contract is back with the conduit. “And who the hell are you?”
The conduit is smirking. “First things first, you saved them. Funny that you didn’t ask; you trust me that much?”
“I don’t have much choice.”
“You freed me.” The smirk is now a smile, a grin. The conduit changes form, mercifully, into a dark-haired man in a dapper brown suit. He doesn’t look at all familiar. “Oh, this isn’t my true form either, but I assume you will be more forgiving if I do not emulate William Pratt.”
“Forgiving.”
The young man taps the contract with a finger. “You are property, after all. Not the Partners, true.”
“Yours?”
“No,” he chuckles. Angel doesn’t see the joke. “The Partners are gone. You are chained here, and I am free.”
The conduit- “No.” Angel shakes his head. “No, that’s not right.”
“Correct.”
He marches to the lift. It opens at his touch, but he cannot enter. “Who are you?”
“There is a schism in Wolfram and Hart.”
“Oh, I know.”
“And also with the Wolf, Ram, and Hart.”
He swallows. “That, I did not.”
“There being three, one is cast out. I was trapped here as conduit shortly after you defeated the Circle.”
Angel looks him over again with a fresh gaze. The man’s dark hair is pointed and unruly like antlers; his brown suit and slightly lighter tie are reminiscent of a dark hide; his cufflinks are engraved with the silhouette of a hart’s head. His eyes are an electric blue. “And I’m stuck. You’ve made me the conduit.”
“Fair trade, don’t you think? But as I said-be forgiving. I’ve beat them, so have you.”
“Your freedom doesn’t point to their defeat.”
“My very presence is their downfall. That is why they trapped me on the mortal realm. We are a trifecta; we can only stay on the higher plane with our collective power. When I went against them, they trapped me as conduit so they could continue using my power without my consent.”
“And now you can stop giving it. Then what happens?”
“Now they fall to Earth. Now they can be killed.”
~~~~~
They cannot go very long without talking. “You’re here,” Buffy says. “You’re back.”
“What did you do?”
“It… wasn’t me. You came back just after we started the soul restoration.” From the corner of her eye, Buffy sees Helga quietly leave.
“Bloody well too, you nearly killed me.”
“I was saving you!”
“I had my soul,” he says. “You were goin’ to pull it out of me. Bit of a change, that.”
They look at each other.
“So if I didn’t do it, and you didn’t do it…”
“…What happened?"
He tries to sit up in the bed and fails. Buffy gently rests her hand on his arm. “Don’t. You really have to rest.”
“Been lyin’ here this whole time, haven’t I?” But he doesn’t move, just looks at where her skin meets his.
He’s cold. Should be room temperature, but she’s grown so unused to the feel of a vampire that her mind somehow expected the regular human warmth. Slowly her hand moves to his and he sighs. “Is it done?”
Can we rest now? Buffy considers. “I d-”
The door bursts into blazing blue flame. A silhouette emerges from it. Buffy puts herself squarely in front of Spike. Their hands curl together.
“Don’t tell me I’m sittin’ this one out.”
“Lying?”
“Oh, bloody hell.” She practically hears hiseye roll.
“I’ll be here.” She feels his fingers loosen and she retrieves her hand. Half-facing him, she suggests, “We can take turns.”
The silhouette advances. Now she can see it is a man in a soft white suit, with death in his eyes.
“I’m long past mine!” Spike complains. “Been saved far too much.”
The man says, “Not to worry, William Pratt, she will need saving soon enough. The arrival of such help, however, is a delicious impossibility.”
“What is it with the lawyers? I mean, Big Bad law firm? Really?”
“That’s no lawyer, pet,” Spike says slowly. “Got a feeling he’s a bit more high up. Different-plane-of-existence high up.”
“I’m having a moment. It’s this big reunion with my lover,” she hears Spike choke, “and I’m not about to get out of the mood because you feel fighty.” When the man doesn’t respond, she tells Spike, “Let’s not have us separated again.”
“Never was exactly my plan, luv.”
“You’re the one who got all coma-y.”
“And you’re the one who got all soul happy.”
“You can’t blame me for that-have you seen your mind? Abandoned house kind of deal?”
“Now that’s just insulting.”
“I was actually there.”
“While I was in a fiery Hell kind of deal, so, mind or not, the place for saving me was dead wrong.”
“It counts!”
“Wasn’t you that saved me, though, was it?”
“No, but I wasn’t the one who went away first.”
“Involuntarily. Into a hellish pocket dimension.”
“You didn’t even call.”
“I died!”
“You came back just-”
It is a sad fact that vampires are extremely flammable. Spike did flaming once, reddish orangey yellow; he isn’t particularly keen to try on blue. But then, the white suited man doesn’t exactly care.
Creator: drizzlydaze
Rating: PG
Setting: NFA battle
Word count: 976
Prompt: The Man in the Brown Suit (weirdly popular prompt)
A/N: Um, kinda too dialogue heavy. Part Thirteen. Parts One ( Chapters), Two ( Like Old Times, But Not), Three ( Help), Four ( Victim), Five ( Property), Six ( Escapee), Seven ( Interrogations), Eight ( The Plan/The Book), Nine ( The House), Ten ( Clues), Eleven ( (Some) Answers), Twelve ( Losers).
He opens his eyes.
She opens her eyes.
For a moment, ghosts of another dimension play in his vision. Steaming rocks and hellfire, dark and bright flames. Seems familiar. I thought I told you no more amulets.
And then the ghosts are swept away by her gaze, by her face, by her presence. It seems to him he is forgoing one illusion for the next-but no, she is real; her hand brushes against his face and he relishes the trembling touch.
And finally, finally, it seems like everything’s going right.
~~~~~
“Now, what did I just sign?” Never a good thing to say. The contract is back with the conduit. “And who the hell are you?”
The conduit is smirking. “First things first, you saved them. Funny that you didn’t ask; you trust me that much?”
“I don’t have much choice.”
“You freed me.” The smirk is now a smile, a grin. The conduit changes form, mercifully, into a dark-haired man in a dapper brown suit. He doesn’t look at all familiar. “Oh, this isn’t my true form either, but I assume you will be more forgiving if I do not emulate William Pratt.”
“Forgiving.”
The young man taps the contract with a finger. “You are property, after all. Not the Partners, true.”
“Yours?”
“No,” he chuckles. Angel doesn’t see the joke. “The Partners are gone. You are chained here, and I am free.”
The conduit- “No.” Angel shakes his head. “No, that’s not right.”
“Correct.”
He marches to the lift. It opens at his touch, but he cannot enter. “Who are you?”
“There is a schism in Wolfram and Hart.”
“Oh, I know.”
“And also with the Wolf, Ram, and Hart.”
He swallows. “That, I did not.”
“There being three, one is cast out. I was trapped here as conduit shortly after you defeated the Circle.”
Angel looks him over again with a fresh gaze. The man’s dark hair is pointed and unruly like antlers; his brown suit and slightly lighter tie are reminiscent of a dark hide; his cufflinks are engraved with the silhouette of a hart’s head. His eyes are an electric blue. “And I’m stuck. You’ve made me the conduit.”
“Fair trade, don’t you think? But as I said-be forgiving. I’ve beat them, so have you.”
“Your freedom doesn’t point to their defeat.”
“My very presence is their downfall. That is why they trapped me on the mortal realm. We are a trifecta; we can only stay on the higher plane with our collective power. When I went against them, they trapped me as conduit so they could continue using my power without my consent.”
“And now you can stop giving it. Then what happens?”
“Now they fall to Earth. Now they can be killed.”
~~~~~
They cannot go very long without talking. “You’re here,” Buffy says. “You’re back.”
“What did you do?”
“It… wasn’t me. You came back just after we started the soul restoration.” From the corner of her eye, Buffy sees Helga quietly leave.
“Bloody well too, you nearly killed me.”
“I was saving you!”
“I had my soul,” he says. “You were goin’ to pull it out of me. Bit of a change, that.”
They look at each other.
“So if I didn’t do it, and you didn’t do it…”
“…What happened?"
He tries to sit up in the bed and fails. Buffy gently rests her hand on his arm. “Don’t. You really have to rest.”
“Been lyin’ here this whole time, haven’t I?” But he doesn’t move, just looks at where her skin meets his.
He’s cold. Should be room temperature, but she’s grown so unused to the feel of a vampire that her mind somehow expected the regular human warmth. Slowly her hand moves to his and he sighs. “Is it done?”
Can we rest now? Buffy considers. “I d-”
The door bursts into blazing blue flame. A silhouette emerges from it. Buffy puts herself squarely in front of Spike. Their hands curl together.
“Don’t tell me I’m sittin’ this one out.”
“Lying?”
“Oh, bloody hell.” She practically hears hiseye roll.
“I’ll be here.” She feels his fingers loosen and she retrieves her hand. Half-facing him, she suggests, “We can take turns.”
The silhouette advances. Now she can see it is a man in a soft white suit, with death in his eyes.
“I’m long past mine!” Spike complains. “Been saved far too much.”
The man says, “Not to worry, William Pratt, she will need saving soon enough. The arrival of such help, however, is a delicious impossibility.”
“What is it with the lawyers? I mean, Big Bad law firm? Really?”
“That’s no lawyer, pet,” Spike says slowly. “Got a feeling he’s a bit more high up. Different-plane-of-existence high up.”
“I’m having a moment. It’s this big reunion with my lover,” she hears Spike choke, “and I’m not about to get out of the mood because you feel fighty.” When the man doesn’t respond, she tells Spike, “Let’s not have us separated again.”
“Never was exactly my plan, luv.”
“You’re the one who got all coma-y.”
“And you’re the one who got all soul happy.”
“You can’t blame me for that-have you seen your mind? Abandoned house kind of deal?”
“Now that’s just insulting.”
“I was actually there.”
“While I was in a fiery Hell kind of deal, so, mind or not, the place for saving me was dead wrong.”
“It counts!”
“Wasn’t you that saved me, though, was it?”
“No, but I wasn’t the one who went away first.”
“Involuntarily. Into a hellish pocket dimension.”
“You didn’t even call.”
“I died!”
“You came back just-”
It is a sad fact that vampires are extremely flammable. Spike did flaming once, reddish orangey yellow; he isn’t particularly keen to try on blue. But then, the white suited man doesn’t exactly care.