A/N: Inspired by I Am Legend, Jeremiah, Resident Evil, and Jericho, here's my post apocalyptic tale……
After All Our Nightmares (1/?)
"Why are we doing this again?"
"We're doing this 'cause Angel reckons Marvin Barnes is a collector of occult and rare texts who has or probably had the best collection of apocalyptic prophecy in the world," Faith retorted.
"Great," her companion grunted as they crept through the darkened corridor, dust scuffling in their wake. "So why are we in this goddamn hospital?"
Faith raised an eyebrow at Xander's continued grumbling. "'Cause Fang's broken int all three of Barnes' mansions on this continent and found zip. He figures Barnes to have been a pretty ruthless bastard who only donated to one charity, this hospital, the one nearest to his primary home. So he figures all this money Barnes pumped into this hospital gave him certain privileges including maybe a hiding place."
"As usual what Deadboy thinks we have to follow up."
"That ain't fair," Faith stopped and peeked her head around a corner. "'Tain't like the others aren't here too."
"Whatever," Xander grunted. There was a dangerous edge to her man that hadn't been there before the disaster. But then the last three years had changed them all and rarely for the better. "Just let's get it over with."
Faith carried on, keeping to the shadows. Just five years ago, just after her break-out and the Mass Calling, she'd been on top of the world, scared yet exhilarated by her freedom. 'Course it hadn't taken long for her life to go down the crapper, firstly with Wood sticking his tool into a gal Watcher five months into their relationship. She'd been resting in England and waiting for Giles to sort out the legal problems caused by the two weeks' hospital stay she'd given Wood as a leaving gift when Xander had returned from nine months in Africa.
Xand had warned everyone who came within earshot about what the African Shamen had said about the impending world ending. 'Course Harris being Harris no-body important had cared to listen, both Buffy and Red being smugly secure in the Slayer army, and G as always following their lead.
Looking back at it that way, it was little wonder Xand was permanently pissed these days.
Not that she was complain', well not about Xand's return least ways. It had given her a chance to apologise and them to bond and help Dana. And the bonding, Faith half-smiled, well that had led to other fun things.
Then Angel had sent Los Angeles straight to hell before escaping to join Lockley in San Diego. That was the point where things had really started going downhill.
Demon attacks began increasing despite the Slayer army's best efforts. Not only that, freak weather had increased too, blizzards in Texas, long dormant volcanoes erupting, torrential downpour in the Sahara, that sorta thing. Then, after a year of terror and uncertainty where almost the entire world became dimly aware that something was badly wrong, on the second anniversary of the Mass Calling the dormant hellmouths across the world simultaneously opened, unleashing demonic hordes upon the world.
They'd been relatively lucky under the circumstances. She'd dragged Xan and Dana to San Diego so she could show her saviour the girl she'd helped save. Kinda like a puppy lookin' for approval, but anyhow bein' out of the UK and nowhere near a hellmouth had saved them all. Billions though hadn't been so lucky.
The populations of over a hundred cities sitting on previously dormant hellmouths had been completely annihilated. The world's greatest mages – Strange, Hellstorm, the Halliwells, and Rosenberg had all been driven loco by the magical corruption, leaving only the minor witches behind. In her rampage Willow has destroyed the Council, killing G, Wes' dad, Summers, all the UK-based Slayers, some twenty of them, and according to legend had spent a month torturing Dawn, trying to force her to turn back into the key so she could use her as magical energy.
When Xan had heard that, she'd had to tie him down for a few days And not in the fun way.
Over the last three years the world had degenerated into a primeval wasteland. Surprisingly Wolfram & Hart had been first to go, submerged in an avalanche of demons determined not to bow to the old powers. Next had been the world powers, leaving global and national communication systems devastated. Even the global economy system had been replaced by a barter system – food, fuel, and weapons bringing the most. Lawlessness now ruled, with only the rumours of a few champions remaining.
Theirs was such a group, patrolling the west coast. For the year before the fall, Angel had been working with Lockley's team of Kate, Pike, the Groosaluug, Gwen Raiden, all ironically tracked down and financed using Wolfram & Hart resources, assisted by Illyria and Connor. When the fall had come they'd joined forces and carved a legend, but a legend not without losses – Dana, Raiden, and Pike all dying.
Faith guessed that another loss had been the 'Xanderness' of her lover. When he'd returned from Africa, Xander had lost a heck of a lot of the booze-weight that had accumulated over the years. Add a tan and the eye-patch, and he'd looked wicked hot. Three years of training with her, Groo, and Connor had turned Harris into a bitching fighter the equal of any pre-fall MMA star.
Still, there wasn't much she wouldn't give to soften some of the hard edges on Xander. 'Tho in this bright new world, people without hard edges either died or got trampled on. And in this bleak new world there were plenty eager to do the killing and trampling.
"Listen hon," Faith used some more of the seemingly never ending patience she needed to deal with Xand these days, "Angel figures there might be something in Barnes' collection that'll help us fight this apocalypse. Maybe even close the hellmouths. That's gotta be worth at least tryin'."
"Too late for Buff and the others."
Faith arched an eyebrow as they entered a darkened ward. "And on that sunny note," she muttered.
Faith fought back a shudder as she gazed around the shadowy six-bed bay. She'd seen some bad shit in her time, but this was pretty close to the worst.
Once The Shared Heart hospital had been one of the plushest facilities in the state. Now though, dried feces and urine stained the sheets and half eaten skeletons filled the beds, the tell-tale scurrying of rats to be heard all around. This hospital hadn't cared for anyone for a long time, the only remaining question was was anyone using it as a hideout or home.
Faith nodded towards her honey. Xander nodded back, shotgun sweeping in a semi-circle as they sneaked to the end of the bay. "You know, I'd figure this searching for hidden passageways would be more Indiana Jones and less Friday The 13th,"
Faith barked a tremulous laugh at what passed for Harris humour these days. "Eight of us searchin' an entire hospital ain't gonna work is it?" Faith queried. "Not in one night."
"If there's even anything to find," Xander grunted. "We can't even pick up some side bonuses of medical supplies, anything that's easily transportable has long since been taken."
"Yeah," Faith agreed as her fingers danced over the bay's far wall before shaking her head. "Damn, nothing here. It's solid."
"It doesn't make sense anyway." Xander commented. Faith looked towards her boyfriend for clarification. "If I was an eccentric billionaire looking to build a secret passage or hideaway it wouldn't be somewhere where's there's going to be a steady influx of people."
"Yeah," Faith nodded, a cat-like smirk stretching across her face as an idea began to flicker into life. "Damn good point. Somewhere private, hell." She grinned as the idea coalesced. "Hell, somewhere people don't wanna go, like the morgue."
"Yeah," Xander nodded. "Makes sense."
They were soon creeping down a dark stairwell, the air dusty and arid to breathe. "Fuck," Faith cursed as they reached the basement level, a long pitch-black corridor stretching out before them. "I hate morgues."
"They don't bother me, I always liked Tru Calling," Xander mused. "In fact I think its cancellation was one of the signs of apocalypse."
"Liked Tru Calling" Faith snorted as they edged through the passageway, one at either side, clinging to its dirty walls. "Liked looking at the lead's tits more like."
"Well," Xander shrugged as they reached the morgue double doors and peered through its shattered glass windows, "that too."
Faith chuckled as she shone her torchlight into the room. "It was better than most of the crap you watch." Faith glanced towards her man. "How do you figure to do this?"
Xander scowled. "I'll check the morgue cabinets. You do the rest."
"Five by five," Faith swallowed as she eased the door open and started through. She started in the inner office, shoving over filing cabinets and checking the walls for any hollowness. When that didn't work, she started in the examination room, studiously avoiding the autopsy tables set in the room's centre.
Her heart dropped when she checked the last tile floor and wall space. "Fuck." Faith snarled before turning to Xander stood in the doorway. "Anything?" Her heart dropped when Xander shook his head. She'd been so sure. "FUCK!" Her temper exploded and foot swung out, clanging against the central autopsy table's steel side.
Her brow furrowed when the table echoed. "Motherfucker!" she exulted. "The table's hollow Xan!" Faith grinned at her boy-friend. "It must be under here!"
"Maybe," Xander looked at the thick screws securing the autopsy table to its supports and the floor. "One thing though, we'll need the smurf's strength to pull the table off."
"Yeah," Faith sobered. "I'll get on the radio to Fang."
By the time Angel and Illyria made their way into the morgue room, Connor, Kate, and Groo had already arrived, the air in the darkened room thick with anticipation. "It's in there," Faith kicked one of the table's sides. "'Least-ways I think so."
"It's certainly hollow." Angel smirked at the Slayer. The coal-eyed brunette was practically giddy. Since the fall, Faith had become his lieutenant, filling a role left vacant by Wesley, hotter but without the book smarts. " Illyria?"
The imperious Old One stepped forward, grabbed two handfuls of the table, and ripped it away, floor screws popping out. Xander peered down into the hole left by Illyria's imposing display. "There's steps," the former Sunnydaler reported.
"Right." Angel hid his unease around Xander by glancing down into the hole. Once the Sunnydaler had an exterior of jokes and inappropriate remarks that had concealed his huge heart and implacable will. Now it seemed the exterior and heart had been burnt away, leaving nothing behind but the will. He sometimes wondered if Faith realised that.
But if the boy ever hurt her, then he'd answer to him.
Shoving aside that worry as for another day, he climbed into the hole and looked up. " Conn, Faith, Illyria, and Kate stay up here, Xander and Groo come down with me."
Xander raised an eyebrow before climbing into the hole. "Aye, aye skipper."
Angel ignored Xander, choosing instead to lead his companions down the dark stairs. At the bottom they were confronted by a steel grille with a useless key-pad in the left wall. "Can you-."
"Yeah," Angel nodded at Xander's question. Even without the others' torchlight he would have been able to see the vast room beyond, filled with case upon case of books. The answers he searched for had to be there.
Eyes remaining fixed on the prize beyond, Angel grabbed two bars and tugged. At first nothing but muscle strain occurred, his arms and shoulders burning. "Grrr," Angel growled as he vamped out, feeding into his inner-demon for the power needed to complete his task. Then slowly at first, oh so slowly, the bars began to creak and pull away.
Finally he stepped back, the central bars now bent away from each other. "We should be able to get through here."
"Not much in the way of security," Xander commented as he slid sideways through the bars.
"Barnes probably relied on secrecy rather than security," Angel replied before glancing over his shoulder. "If you see anything related to post-apocalyptic literature, shout out."
"Sure," Xander replied. "If you see anything relating to military history or tactics do the same."
Angel nodded as he began to search. That was something else new about Xander. The Xander he remembered had to be dragged to a book, ironic considering the time he spent in a library, but this Xander never stopped reading, but only of military books or martial arts manuals, anything he thought might make him a better fighter. A better killer.
"I believe I have found the books oh fellow champion."
At least Groo never changed. "You have?" In a second he was by Groo's side, rummaging through the selection. "Got that. That too. Read that. Haven't seen that though. Got that. Haven't got that, but he's a hack. Got that. Haven't read that. Got that." Angel stared down at the pair of thin volumes, hope briefly flaring in his undead heart. Maybe somewhere in their pages would be a way out of this mess for everyone.
Fighting back his curiosity, Angel looked towards Xander. "Find anything interesting?"
"A translation of a book on the ninja by a 12th century historian," Xander replied before glancing his way. "Are we ready to go?"
After a second Angel nodded. "We're ready."
The two black-tinted vans they'd acquired six months ago were still where they'd left them, parked in the long-since gone wild woods to the right of the hospital's main building. The moment her van's rear doors slammed shut, Faith started the engine.
She was soon motoring back to their base. Her eyes were constantly moving, searching the darkened streets for any sign of trouble. During the journey she saw burnt-out and turned over cars, corpses, skeletons, and refuse littering the ground, ruined buildings, and flickering distant fires.
Thankfully though they didn't encounter any trouble and they were soon pulling into home base, the sixth they'd had in the past three years. This time it was an underground garage by a sewer grille that led to their real base, a secret compound within the sewer itself.
Faith winced as she pulled the sewer entrance shut behind them. Their hiding place was well-hidden, but man it stunk. The base wasn't exactly filled with luxuries either. A few mattresses, a curtain separating the dressing areas, and a couple of arm chairs and a sofa was all the creature comforts they had.
Which was still a hell of a lot more than most.
Angel immediately dropped into the least threadbare of the armchairs and began reading. After a few minutes the vampire snarled and flung one of the books away. "That's a harsh review," Connor snarked.
Angel glanced at his son, a half-smile tugging on his lips. "The writer's a hack, copying from half a dozen different texts, there's nothing new." Faith's mentor picked up the second book and began to read. What little colour the vampire had drained from him. "Oh no."
"What's the sitch?" Faith half-rose from her seat.
"According to this book," Angel half-shook his head. "Yang-Fut's Apocalyptic Prophecy, we caused all this."