By bloody_vir

Hi everyone! Once again, we want to thank you for your patience and reassure you that we're still working on this series. It's very slow going, but we want to make sure that we get things absolutely right.

We're going to try something different with this episode. Instead of posting the entire story at once, we're going to break it into three or four pieces of about 10 pages each, and post every two or three days. We're doing this because we know that not everybody has the time to sit there and read a huge chunk like we've been posting, all in one sitting. Don't worry - we're going to give you a chance to tell us how you feel about the change. There'll be a poll in a week or two where you can tell us whether this works better for you or not. Or, you can always leave a note in the comments about how you feel about the change.

Okay, enought talk...now, on to the story...




Title: Angels and Demons, Episode 17: Lifting the Fog
Authors: cafedemonde and kallie_kat. Editor: dragonydreams.
Rating: The series will be NC-17 overall. This episode is NC-17 for sexual situations (a.k.a. smut) and violence.
Characters: Ensemble; pairings will continue to evolve. Currently they are Angel/Gwen, Willow/Spike and Annabelle/Gunn, but just like in real life, things can change at a moment's notice.
Feedback: Yes, pretty please.
Disclaimer: These characters all belong to various other entities. We only own the story, and seek no profit from any of this.
Note: We want to thank dragonydreams for the beta. And a special thanks to bloody_vir for the amazing Angels and Demons banner.

Previously on Angels and Demons: Angel and Gwen have decided that they are more than just friends, and a mysterious someone has plans for Gwen, and possibly the rest of the UI gang as well. Willow has figured out how to get Fred back into Illyria, but Fred is having to fight Illyria every inch of the way. Drusilla's visit had everyone on edge, but she seems to have disappeared (for now?). Tension is building between Angel and Spike, and neither seems to know what to do about it. A recent announcment about a baby on the way has the gang feeling good, and Fred's return has everyone happy.
Want to get caught up? Previous episodes can be found here



Cast:

David Boreanaz - Angel
Alexa Davalos - Gwen
J. August Richards - Gunn
Amy Acker - Illyria / Fred
James Marsters - Spike
Alyson Hannigan - Willow



A slender, dark-skinned, dark-haired girl stood in front of the building, eyes on the homemade sign for Unusual Investigations. Connor had constructed it for his father, having inherited a good deal of his artistic abilities, and Angel had proudly displayed it in the front window of their business. Despite Gwen’s obtaining something more professional and installing it on the door, Angel kept Connor’s creation up for the world, or maybe just himself, to view.

She looked at the slip of paper given to her by the tall man with the nice accent to make sure this was the right address. Confirmed, she knocked and stepped back, pulling her woolen coat tight around her as a gust of wind whipped up around her.

Nearly a minute passed before she heard the sounds of rickety metal squeaking. The door was yanked open, revealing a very nice looking man. His shock of blond hair had her attention until he spoke.

“You don’t look hopeless.” Spike’s gaze roamed up and down. He wasn’t leering; he was just waking up and too borderline-cranky for that, but he was curious. The girl just didn’t put out the vibe of someone in need.

As if to illustrate his point, she smiled brightly. “Oh, you’re from England, too!”

Spike raised an eyebrow and managed to frown at the same time. “You have a reason for waking the dead?”

“What?” her smile faded to confusion.

“Nothing. Can. I. Help. You?” The girl was pretty and young, something Spike used to find irresistible, but there was a mug of blood with his name on it – literally, since Willow had had one made for him at a novelty shop – and she was keeping him from it.

“Oh, sorry…” She slung her Echo backpack from her shoulders and started digging in it. “Just a sec.” The process was less than graceful, but soon she produced a smallish white wooden box. It was large enough be held in two hands neatly, but no burden. “Here.”

Spike stared at it as if it was holy water. “What’s in it?” he asked, the demon naturally suspicious.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. This guy asked me to bring it here, and gave me a lot of money to do it.”

“Did he give you a name?”

“Nope.” She shoved the box in his direction, ready to leave. “Take it, please. I have to get home before my mom to feed the dog.”

Sighing, he relieved her of her responsibility and stared at it. There were ornate carvings, something Wesley would have enjoyed researching… You’re from England too!

“Hey,” he blurted, glancing up, but the girl was gone.



~~~*~~~



“Who was that?” Fred asked Spike as he climbed back up the stairs.

“Dunno. Some girl running errands for someone else. Gave me this.”

Spike placed the wooden box into her outstretched hands, then watched as she turned it over, examining it thoroughly. “Interesting markings. I wish...” she trailed off, the curiosity on her face shadowed slightly by grief and memories.

“I miss him too, pet,” Spike said, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and leading her to the couch.

“It’s just...sometimes I feel like he’s still here, you know? I forget for a minute, and think, ‘Wesley will really like this,’ or ‘I bet Wesley will know the answer,’ and then it hits me that he’s gone, and I’ll never have a chance to talk to him again.” Tears had begun to pool in her eyes, but she wiped them away, almost angrily, with the back of her hand.

“He’d be proud of you if he could see you now. So strong and brave, and taking back your life.”

“Would he?” she wondered, her delicate brows angling into a frown. “I mean, what’s the use of having all this brainpower if I don’t ever do anything with it now? I’m not working, not going to school. It’s like I’m on this extended vacation where I never do anything important.”

“You just need to decide what you want out of life. Me, I think the extended vacation idea is great, as long as someone else is paying the bills. But maybe that’s not right for you. You should sign up for a couple of classes at the community college, maybe. Or get a part-time job.” He glanced up as Willow came in.

Successfully distracted from the subject of Wesley, Fred allowed herself to consider Spike’s suggestion. “Maybe I could take some art classes. Or marketing. Get away from the science thing altogether.”

“Whatcha got, Fred?”

Willow plunked down next to Spike on the couch, eyeing the white box Fred still held. When the other woman handed it to her, Willow turned it over in her hands, looking at the symbols and frowning. “This looks like ancient Minoan hieroglyphics. Kind of. But not completely.”

The blank looks she got had her explaining, “The Minoans were a bronze age civilization who lived in Crete back around 1450 B.C.” More blank looks. She shook her head slightly frustrated.

Frowning, Spike took the box from her. “You think this box is that old? 1450 B.C.? Seems like it’s in remarkably good condition.”

“Not a chance. My guess is that someone else got this box and put the symbols on it themselves.” She was curious, but uneasy, wondering what purpose the maker might have had. “Any idea what’s inside?”

The other two shook their head. “Last time I got a box it was full of nothing,” Spike remembered. “But it turned me from a ghost into a real vamp again, so I guess it wasn’t too bad.”

“I don’t think we should open it.” Having learned a lesson from Illyria’s sarcophagus, Fred was the cautious one; and Willow nodded, inclined to agree with her.

“Give me a couple of hours to work on the hieroglyphics and if they seem harmless, maybe we could open it then.” Willow knew Spike would prefer to open it now and damn the consequences, but she wasn’t going to allow that. “Where did it come from, anyway?” she asked, staring at the box thoughtfully.

“Spike got it off some girl,” Fred offered cheerfully, grinning when Willow raised an eyebrow at him.

“What? A girl showed up at the door and gave me the bloody thing. Said some bloke with an accent like mine paid her to do it.

A mysterious box, dropped off by a stranger at the behest of some other mysterious person, was not something to be taken lightly. “Yeah, no opening this thing until we know what this stuff means. Got it?” She looked to Spike, as he was the one she knew would open it.

“Whatever.”

“Want any help?” Fred asked hopefully.

“Sure. You want to grab some of the books from the library? Anything that looks like it might have something to do with ancient Greek or Mediterranean languages or history.”

Fred frowned, but headed to the bookshelf to do as Willow had requested. Lacking anything better to do, Spike followed along behind her as self-appointed book-holder.

They settled at the kitchen table, where Willow handed out pieces of paper and pencils.

“Oh, no, drawing is Peaches’ thing. Not mine,” Spike objected.

Pushing back a piece of hair that had fallen out of her ponytail, Willow pulled his paper and pencil back. “Fine. You can either read, or go watch TV. But someone is going to need to recreate some of these symbols so that we don’t have to constantly pass the box back and forth. I figured that we could use paper and pencil and do wood rubbings, so that we could get a good idea what the symbols were.”

If it was anyone else besides these two women, he would have headed for the TV. But Fred’s puppy-dog eyes were his undoing. He grabbed back the pencil and paper and looked at Willow. “I’d better get something special for this tonight.”

Willow blushed crimson, while Fred popped him on the arm. “Be nice,” she insisted, knowing she would have better luck asking a drowning man to drink water. “Or at least save it until I’m not around.”

Spike gave her a leer. “Nothing saying you can’t be part of my something special.”

He tried to block as both women punched him in his arms.


~~~*~~~


Researching Ancient Minoans was boring work. So boring that after an hour of poking around, all three of them were asleep. At one point Spike had found some promising tidbit on translations, but after chasing that lead for a while, it dead-ended into a big fat nothing.

The resident attorney came into the apartment, the sound of snoring leading him to the kitchen. He pushed the door open and stopped, grinning.

Spike, Willow and Fred were out of it, heads resting on crossed arms. He let the door fall shut with a bang, his grin getting wider when Spike’s head shot up.

“Taking a beauty nap?”

“No.” Glancing around quickly, Spike blinked a bit to clear his eyes of the fog. “What time is it?” It felt like it should be late.

“Almost nine.” He took in the books spread out on the table. “We got a case?”

Spike shrugged and picked up the box. “This came special delivery today. Red wanted to translate it before we open it.”

His brow furrowed, Gunn took the box from Spike, turning it around in his hands. “These glyphs…”

“You read Minoan?”

Gunn shook his head. “Minoan, no. I have no idea what Minoan is. But the symbols on this box are Tragderian.”

“The demon tribe?” Spike asked, nudging Willow hard. She had them cracking the books for an hour looking for Minoan translations and that allowed him to be a certain measure of cranky for a while.

“Yep.” Gunn tapped his head. “All those demon languages are still buried in here.”

“I’m up. Stop poking me,” Willow complained and sat up. “Hey, Gunn.”

“Hey, Willow. I was just telling Blondie about these symbols. They’re Tragderian. Demons. I can translate for you guys, if you want.”

She was still kind of groggy, but that got her attention.

“Oh, you’re a lifesaver!” She tapped Fred on the shoulder.

“Hmmm?” the young woman answered, raising her head slowly. “Oh no, eye boogers. How long have I been asleep?”

“Long enough for Gunn to offer to translate,” Willow announced happily. “So, Gunn, what do you think this means?”

Gunn opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Angel and Gwen came into the kitchen. “What’s up?” Angel asked, setting a bag of groceries on the counter.

“Whatever it is, don’t mind me,” Gwen said, grabbing a chair and sitting down hard. Her back had been bothering her lately, the extra weight of the baby becoming an issue for her small frame, so she spent as much time as possible sitting down.

It was Willow’s turn to explain about the unusual box, and how Gunn was going to help them decipher the symbols on it before they opened it.

“So, what’s the word, Lawyer-Man?” Spike was antsy, curious to know what was in the box, but also ready to be done with it. He was hungry, and Willow was looking awfully tasty.

“What, do I look like some kind of computer?” Gunn asked. “It’s gonna take some time to get through these symbols. Some of them mean different things when they’re coupled with other symbols. I’ll get to work on it, but it’s going to take a couple of hours.”

That was good enough for Spike, who grabbed Willow and headed for the bedroom. “Give me a call when you know something,” he said.

“Maybe I’ll go take a nap,” Fred announced, covering her mouth with her hand as she gave another wide yawn. “Still a little sleepy, I guess.”

“You two going to desert me, too?” Gunn asked Gwen and Angel.

“Pregnancy sucks,” Gwen declared. “My back’s killing me, my feet hurt, and I could really use a backrub.”

“I guess that’s a yes,” Angel confirmed. “Duty calls.”

And that was how Gunn found himself alone in the kitchen with a little white box covered in Tragderian symbols.

“I guess it’s just you and me,” he said, holding the thing in his hands.



~~~*~~~



“Oh, that’s wonderful,” Willow groaned. Spike’s fingers were massaging her shoulders, working away the tension that had gathered in them as they bent over the books earlier in the evening. They were sitting on his bed, her back against his chest, her head bent forward as he worked at her knots.

“Love to touch you, pet. Could do it for hours.” His hands glided down to her chest, his thumbs sliding across her nipples through the light fabric of her blouse.

She felt the heat rise under her skin, reveling in the way her body awakened from his touch. Even though she had been hoping for sleep, her reserve melted easily and she turned her face to meet his, their lips brushing together softly,

She twisted some, opening her mouth to him, and her hand, hot and grasping, was locked behind his neck, daring him to move away. They were demanding and a little hard, her kisses, but they got his motor running, full stop.

Every time she did this, took the initiative and attacked him, he wanted her more, his desire for her swelling and cresting on the waves of immense passion. He had a hard time separating what Spike the man wanted from what Spike the demon craved when it was like this between them, his struggles manifested as the demon in him took over to a greater degree than he normally would allow, outside of fighting.

Just like fighting, though, Willow was all over him, pushing him back on the bed, grinding her hot center into him as she straddled him. He kept his eyes on her face, enjoying the way she frowned, concentrating as she tried to get off by just the friction.

He grabbed her hips, stilling her. “It’s much better with our clothes off.”

For a moment it seemed like she didn’t understand him, her frown shifting into a puzzled scowl. Then she was muttering something that had his skin tingling and they were both completely naked in the space of a blink.

Spike stared at her a beat before tugging her down to him and pressing his mouth to hers. His other hand snaked between them to play in the soft heat of her sex. She bucked slightly when he brushed against that swollen bundle of nerves there and he smiled into her mouth before pulling away.

“Want this?” he asked and guided her hand to his erection. She nodded, her appearance so innocent that he began to feel a little pervy. That lasted only seconds because her gazed darkened, onyx bleeding into the green, and she tightened her grip, watching him intently as his eyes fluttered shut.

“Fuck Willow…” he panted, thrusting upward into her hand.

“Yeah,” she lifted her hips enough to hover, her cunt poised over the tip of his cock. “Fuck me.”

She slid down on him, back arching slightly as he filled her, her slender body welcoming and warm. Setting the pace, she rose and fell, fluidly matching the jerky thrusts he delivered from below her. It was slow, safe, and to her liking, so he allowed it for a while, grunting for control. She gazed down at him, smile languid as her hands pressed against his chest for leverage and he knew she was teasing him purposely.

Suddenly, he grabbed her shoulders, pulled her flush to him and rolled until he was on top, taking control, although she fought to keep it. Her fingers dug into his arms, the nails biting into his flesh, leaving long, bloody trails as she moved them down to his hands.

The scent of his blood was like a challenge to him. The wall between man and demon blurred, then disappeared completely, taking with it his conscious concern for her human state.

He pounded into her, his hips jerking sporadically as her loud moans and desperate screams vibrated from her and through his chest. And she was wild beneath him, all wide glazed eyes and frantically grasping hands that touched him everywhere, stroking his tarnished soul. Her lips pressed against his, mouth open and panting. He smiled, enthralled by the moist warmth of her breath.

“Love you. Love this,” she panted, pulling her mouth away. Trailing a line of searing hot kisses down his neck, she locked her teeth on his shoulder, biting deep as she came, groaning low in her throat. Her body bucked, walls relentlessly clenching his cock as Spike drove into her, the tight coiled heat in the base of his spine spreading fast like lightening.

“Need to taste you. Want all of you,” he gasped, his voice a deep and rolling thunder over the valley of her growing love for him.

She felt his need, a living presence shared only by them, and without thinking she bared her neck to him, waiting for the stinging sensation that would bring that sex-throbbing pleasure.

He didn’t disappoint, sliding skillfully into butter-soft flesh as he spilled his seed into her. He drew the blood from her veins, and fire raced through him as he tasted her life.

“Oh, god,” she whispered, holding him tightly as he continued to feed.

“Relax, pet. This is what you were made for,” he murmured against her skin, his mouth taking a detour to leave a bloody kiss on her lips.

She tasted her blood on her lips, at once repulsed and intrigued by the coppery flavor. “What do I taste like to you?” she wondered aloud.

“Like blood, splashed with the sweetness of strawberries and the richness of cream, and of goodness and grace. Like the sun’s heat and the moon’s calm love and the energy of the stars, coursing through me,” he whispered to her and went back to his task.

The realization that he wasn’t stopping didn’t come to her all at once. It was a slow comprehension, complicated by the fact that thinking was becoming more difficult, less needed. Once the reality hit her full force, she began a futile struggle, her hands pushing at him weakly.

But she had waited too long, and the small amount of energy she had left was ineffectual against vampire strength. His hands on her shoulders kept her still, his lips against her neck still drawing the blood from her. She tried to conjure up a defensive spell, but her mind was a whirl of thoughts and sensations, and none of them would stop long enough for her to latch onto any one.

‘I’m dying,’ she thought, panicking as the edges of her vision began to blur, then turn to dark. ‘I was never more than a meal to him. He’ll never see me the way he saw Drusilla, or Buffy.’

Those thoughts filled her mind as her vision tunneled completely, her body stopped moving, and everything faded to black.



~~~*~~~



Gwen sat on her bed, waiting for Angel to get out of the shower. She needed a massage, that was a given. Her back ached incessantly now and she was just barely seven months along. Reluctant to lay back because it was difficult to get up on her own, she practiced the exercises her doctor had prescribed for her, hoping to relieve some of the stress to her lower spine. The door to the bathroom opened, steam and the scent of shampoo drifting out to her. Seconds later, Angel’s arms slid around her waist, his hands settling on her belly.

“Whatcha thinking about?” he asked her, the words a grumbling sound tickling her ear.

With a sigh, she replied, “Nothing. I just really need a good rub down.”

He felt like a bad boyfriend for not having done this before he took a shower. Immediately, he urged her to her side. “Sorry. Just relax, okay?”

She did, so much so that she was asleep minutes later. He got up when he realized and pulled a blanket over her still form, clicking the light off on his way out.

Despite the cover, she was cold, and woke a little while later.

“Angel?” she called into the dark. No reply came and she shifted to sit up, surprised at how easy it was. The blanket fell away as she stood and she glanced down, her eyes adjusting to the dimness, to see her feet. “Hey, there strangers.” She hadn’t seen them from that angle in a while.

The freight train called reality slammed at full force. “Hey! Oh God! What happened?” she yelled. “Where’s my baby?! Where’s my baby!! Angel! Angeeeeeeel!”

The door burst open, Angel panting. “Gwen, what’s wrong?”

She rushed him, her hands clutching the collar of his shirt and yanking him violently with her considerable strength. “What happened to the baby? Where’s my baby?”

Perplexed, Angel tried to get her to let go, but her grip was firm. “She’s fine, Gwen! What’s wrong with you?”

“I WANT MY BABY!” she screamed in his face and he stilled, taking in her frantic state for what it really was.

“Shhhh,” he tried to calm her while leading her out of the room. “I’ll show you, okay?” She was wary, still panting wildly and just a breath from screaming again, but let him escort her out of her room and to the very next one. He opened the door, giving her one last look that was more like a warning. “I just got her to go down, so don’t wake her.”

Gwen froze, unable to take another step toward the sleeping entity in the frilly white crib. “I didn’t pick white,” she mumbled, like it mattered. Then she turned her face upward to Angel’s and spoke louder, tears spilling from the corners of her eyes. “I don’t understand,” she whined weakly

The baby stirred and Angel shook his head, urging Gwen to back out of the room before speaking again. Once he’d closed the door, he turned to her and pushed her hair back from her forehead.

“You tried to use them again, didn’t you?”

“What are you talking about?” She shook off his touch, annoyed because she felt like she was being managed. She wiped her eyes roughly then glared. “I was pregnant, I took a nap, I woke up really unpregnant and with a baby that I don’t remember having. You need to explain that.”

Inhaling deeply, he ran his hand over his face, tired, the gesture a familiar one like he’d been there done that too many times before.

“You had the baby four months ago. But your powers are iffy, and whenever you try to use them, sometimes they work, a little, and sometimes they don’t. But when they don’t you…lose time. Forget things.” He explained this to her succinctly and Gwen got the impression that it wasn’t his first time doing this.

“I don’t remember,” she whispered, tears pooling in her eyes again. “Why don’t I remember?”



~~~*~~~



The meeting of the African-American Attorneys of San Francisco ran late, and even though he was well-equipped with a stake and holy water, not to mention the handgun in the glovebox, Charles Gunn was still anxious as he walked across the empty parking lot to his car.

The night was dark, the soft illuminations of the mood hidden by heavy clouds of fog that often swept over the city after sundown, leaving only the infrequent street lamps to light the way with their unnatural hum and glow. Nights like these, the vamps like to come out and play, he reminded himself, thrusting his hand into his coat pocket to grip the comforting weight of the stake he always kept there.

As he got closer his car became clear and he stopped. “Shit,” he groaned quietly. The front windshield of his vehicle was nothing but a spider’s-web of cracked glass. “Now, who’s gonna come out here in the middle of the night to help a brother out?”

AAA was one option, but that was for the tow. He wasn’t keen on sitting here alone until they arrived so he pulled out his cell phone to call one of the crew and flipped open the cover.

Nothing.

He pressed the ON button, but still nothing happened. “Great,” he sighed as he remembered talking to Annabelle on it the previous night and never charging it. Unsure about what to do, he decided all he could do was walk until he saw a cab or found someplace open. Phone booths were few and far between these days, considering nearly everyone had a mobile.

The sound of footsteps behind him gave him hope, but he was smart enough that it also set him on edge. He turned quickly, looking at the sexy young blonde that approached him. His smile was charming, but his right hand was still in his pocket, resting on his stake.

“Any chance you have a cell phone on you? Or a spare tow truck?” he called out, as the figure drew closer.

“Sorry, I’m fresh out,” she purred, her eyes narrow slits as she considered him.

“Okay, well, I’ll just be heading off in this direction, then,” he said, stepping away from the car and from her. Every instinct he had told him that this woman was not what she seemed. Whether she was a vampire, or a demon, or simply a down-on-her-luck pick-pocket, he couldn’t be sure, but he knew when it was time to boogie, and now was *definitely* the time.

She sped up just as he took off running, and he could hear the slap of her shoes as she followed him across the parking lot.

He reached the other side of the lot, but the road wasn’t one that was busy at the best of times, and at this time of night, traffic was especially light. Panic tried to settle in him and drove him to run faster, but he knew that sooner or later she would catch him. She had a demon on her side, while he only had human speed, coupled with the human weakness of needing to breathe and rest.

Turn and fight now, or wait until he was tired, until she’d worn him out? It was a hard choice to make. Panic and adrenaline said to keep running, but common sense made him slow down and face her.

“Finally, my big, strong man. Oh, you’re going to love what happens next.” She had a slight southern drawl, and she tossed her hair over her shoulder like a teenager flirting with a potential boyfriend.

She lunged for him, so intent on her prey that she’d made a fatal mistake and taken him for an easy target. The stake he whipped out, plunging it straight into her heart, took her by surprise. Her mouth formed a wide ‘Oh’ of shock as she exploded, covering him with a fine sheet of dust.

“Well, that was easier than I thought,” he said. He pocketed the stake and kept looking for a taxi or phone.


Part 2