Part Twenty-eight
Shadyhill Cemetery, Sunnydale, California. January 24, 2001
"There you are!"
Dawn turned around on the bench she had been sitting on, at the sound of Buffy's voice. Her sister definitely sounded upset as she continued, "You shouldn't be up and about, Dawn, the hospital only released you a few days ago. You should be home in bed - and don't even get me started on being out in Sunnydale after dark!" Buffy scolded her sibling.
The Slayer had been almost frantic when she'd discovered the Key had left 1630 Revello Drive, while their mother was sleeping. Putting aside the whole issue of the Knights of Byzantium - who, upon discovering what kind of formidable foe they faced, had temporarily vanished into the woodwork - this was still the mouth of Hell, where people got killed every night.
{Dawn's in trouble - must be Tuesday} Buffy had hurriedly thought to herself, just before the midnight hour had passed in fact.
Dawn just nodded at Big Sis's rant, she'd known that leaving the house was childish and irresponsible - but it was something the young girl had felt she had to do. "Sorry, Buffy. But I just had to get out of the house. Don't worry though, I brought protection!" Dawn showed the blonde Chosen One the cross she had been carrying.
The night air of the cemetery chilled both of them, as Buffy contemplated the holy icon. "Okay - but still, Dawn, you should know better. One swipe of the arm, and, like, a vamp has you at his mercy!" the older sister continued her chastisement.
She then noticed that her little sister was looking distant again, staring at one of the tombstones. Buffy didn't need to look to know which one it was; she had been here often enough to know who the stone belonged to.
Joyce's oldest daughter supposed this shouldn't have surprised her, either. {She still misses Xander über-bad...well, we all do.}
"You miss him?"
And there was no need to say who that 'him' was either, that the question referred to. Ever since Dawn had told her about the dream, Buffy had expected the teen to show up here. She just wished it had been during the daytime, damn it...
"I do. Buffy, I swear to you - it seemed so real. Like I was really talking to him," Dawn said with a wistful tone.
Buffy put her left arm over Dawn's shoulder, and sat down next to her. "I know. I'm sorry."
This surprised Dawn somewhat, although in the past few months Buffy had gotten better at admitting mistakes. "For what?"
"I'm sorry that it wasn't real. I really wish that you could have been there with him," Buffy replied. "Xander was always good with you..." {Well, I remember him being good with you anyway; which is close enough!} Buffy was still getting used to the whole 'Dawn was a great big ball of magic energy in the past' thing.
"He was good with everyone, even when they didn't deserve it," Dawn said simply.
Buffy sighed. "Yeah. That's another reason why I wish it had been real, so that I could find a way to make things up to him. I know that Willow feels the same way-"
"I'm glad Mom had this bench put here," Dawn said, changing the subject. "It was a nice touch."
Buffy nodded. "She knows we come here quite often, so does she. She probably didn't want to stand the whole time she was here-" Buffy noticed Dawn frowning. "Not that she wouldn't want us to use it also," she hurriedly added.
But Dawn shook her head. "The inscription," she muttered.
Buffy looked at Xander's marker stone. "The soul of a hero. Yeah, so?"
The younger sister shook her head again. "Buffy, why would I dream up a scenario that he wouldn't like that?"
The Slayer looked puzzled. "Huh?"
Dawn started to explain, "It's just - from what Xander said...it sounded like he didn't think of himself as a hero. He said something like, uh, 'heroes die on the battlefield in a blaze of glory. It's the survivors that walk away alive afterwards. And I know what category I've always belonged in'. Well, okay, I'm paraphrasing here - still, that was the general gistiness of it all. But he *was* a hero, Buffy. So why would I dream otherwise?"
Buffy didn't know what to say. "I don't know, Dawn. I honestly don't." But then she thought, {Come on, look at her face - Dawnie's about to cry! Say something positive! Anything! }
In this world, she had never known Maggie Walsh; but still, Buffy Summers had learned *something* from her freshman psychology classes last year. "Um, Dawnie...have you considered that this is - maybe a good sign?"
With the look of horror on her sister's face, the Chosen One hastened to say, "No, no, I didn't mean it like that! What I'm trying to say is...look, you're old enough now to know that Xander wasn't perfect, he wasn't the Xander-god that you had on a pedestal when you were 11 years old! He was a human being, just like the rest of us. He was - an ordinary guy, at least before the whole hell dimension thing. And maybe...just maybe...the dream was your subconscious trying to tell you that?"
Dawn thought over her sister's words, a frown on her teenage face. {Guess Buffy could be right, at that. After all, Xander *did* also tell me that I'd get over him and meet someone my own age - and that's definitely nothing my conscious mind would ever cook up!} "Yeah...maybe."
Buffy smiled, brushing back Dawn's hair from her face. "You're growing up," she said softly. "There was a time not so long ago, you'd have tried to tear my hair out for even mentioning something like that..."
Dawn grinned. "Who says I still wouldn't? If I were you - I'd lock the door after we get back home, Buffy, if you don't want to risk waking up bald in the morning..."
Buffy smiled at Dawn. "Chain on my door, don't you mean? You can pick locks."
Dawn shook her head. "Yeah, I remember the first time I was able to pick the lock on your diary. And can I just say, after I read what you wrote about Angel? Ewwwwww!" Dawn responded as she made a face.
Buffy made a face of mock outrage. "You're one to talk! I remember when I first snooped through yours...I think Xander would have turned the color of a tomato, if I'd ever told him what I found out-"
"Buffy!" Dawn squealed. "You wouldn't have!" She slapped her sister on her upper arm.
The Slayer stood up, and made a stage production out of rubbing her arm. "Come on, let's get you home."
Dawn stood up, and the two of them started walking out of the cemetery. As they walked, Buffy was struck by a thought that had been floating around in her mind ever since the Christmas night dinner that had developed into a Xander cry-fest. "Tell you what, Dawn, when everything settles down - we'll take a trip to Los Angeles, to visit Angel. The final part of senior year, Xander spent more time with him than anyone else. We can talk to my ex about him..."
Los Angeles, California. Later that morning
"Okay, so let's cut to the chase. How the hell do we get to this Pylon place?" Cleburne asked in exasperation.
"It's Pylea. And from what Reed told me, those lawyers opened up an interdimensional portal to get there. But he was more than a little vague on the details as to how," Cyrus responded in that distinctive guttural voice.
Most of those present frowned. And it was clear to Oz at least that the presence of the new arrival was, at best, being only grudgingly tolerated by most of the Siberians - Esther in particular. {Wonder why they dislike him so much?}
It had been three days, since Xander had been lost to the clutches of Wolfram & Hart. And for the past 72 hours, the Siberians had been stymied by not having any information on Xander's whereabouts. They had the men and weaponry to rescue him; they just didn't know where to deploy them. Now, thanks to the information acquired from Nathan Reed, they at least had a general idea of where he was.
Of course, *getting* there was a whole different story.
"I don't suppose he could be holding something back?" the Wizard asked the African mercenary, musingly wondering about Nathan's ability to conceal secrets under duress.
The look Cyrus sent the way of the child genius, immediately prompted the boy to continue, "Apparently not, I see. So, is there anyone else from the firm who we might be able to inquire of?"
Cleburne shook his head. "Not really. Those individuals we know that have the talent to do something like that, they're sure to be well guarded - and if we snatch them, there's a good chance that the kid will get moved to another locale long before we can mount a rescue operation. Besides, I'd prefer having our transport handled by someone we can trust not to be looking to screw us over, when we go through the portal."
"And we are still newcomers at this. Our resources and knowledge leaves something to be desired," Esther observed.
Hollins looked at the representative of the Catholic Church. "Might you be able to help us find someone who could assist in getting to this Pylea dimension?" he asked.
Monsignor Bentallo thought for a second. "Perhaps. I must admit to being completely unfamiliar with the locale in question; however, I've already started making the necessary enquiries to see if I can find someone to facilitate our transit there. I'll continue to do so, and if anything is learned on how to get the place - you'll be the first to know."
"We should try the Furies," Gunny suddenly spoke up. Within the group, only Oz was tighter-lipped than the Marine sergeant-major, so his pronouncement attracted the attention of the whole group.
"Yes," Hollins agreed. "That would be a logical place to start, as they willingly assisted us when we dealt with those slaver demons and their home dimension. However, the question is *will* they help?"
"They'll help. I'll see to that!" Rachael said with determination.
"Professional detachment?" Cleburne chided the Israeli secret agent.
"Shut up, Cleburne!" she snapped back. "The same can be said for you. We all want Harris back safe and sound, more than you'd tolerate in any other operation!"
Cleburne just blinked in response to Rachael's outburst. {Touchy}
"And there is every reason to believe that the three women would be most cooperative, if they knew Mr. Harris' safety is at stake," Bentallo commented.
"Yes, in light of what you relayed to us, under the circumstances - they'd clearly want the man to return intact," Esther commented.
"You gotta admit, anyway, possibly being pregnant with the kid's kids definitely shows that all three of 'em have warm and fuzzy feelings about him!" Cleburne observed. Then he thought wryly, {Harris, of all the crazy shit that's happened ever since I met you - that particular episode has *gotta* take the cake!}
Gunny hid a smile at the turn this conversation had taken. As when he had learned of what had happened with the Furies, he had been...impressed. After all, the Marine had met the three women, and he was a male with functioning eyes...
Across the room from him, Hollins was deep in thought. The fact that Xander had planned ahead in that way had impressed the strategist within the child genius. Of course, Irving still strongly disapproved of Xander walking into the law firm's trap like that; he just didn't express his displeasure in the same way that Cleburne did.
In any case, the Furies had known what was at stake. So if something went drastically wrong they'd wanted Xander Harris, the next generation - and they'd gotten it.
Cyrus pondered all that he had learned over the past few days. He knew that the Americans had bitten into something bigger than they had ever encountered before, yes; but this, this was almost beyond belief. {If Father was alive and I told him this story, he would beat me for not holding my liquor well enough!}
He turned to Cleburne. "Colonel, I must admit - you have far exceeded my expectations of just how much trouble you Yanks have gotten yourselves into!" the South African commented.
"Shut up," Esther snapped at him.
"Not now!" Cleburne held his hand up to stop the inevitable argument between the two. "We'll argue later over how screwed up this whole thing is. For now, we just get the kid back..."
The USMC officer then turned to Oz and the others. "So the Furies are rooting for his return, but fearing the worst? Then I'm thinking they'll help out, if we ask them nicely. Heck, they seemed really upset about the kid when we last visited them! Well - as far as I could tell..."
That earlier visit to the Furies had indeed been unique in Cleburne's experience. Actually, when the girls had imparted the information that they may be carrying Xander's children - the secret agent had thought he was going to have a coronary, right on the spot.
Once he had picked himself up and learned of the whole deal with the Soul Stones, Joshua had instantly realized that the Furies could very well become a target for Wolfram & Hart, and sooner rather than later. It had taken quite a bit of doing, but he had *finally* convinced them to leave their penthouse for their own safety.
The sisters were currently under guard at the USMC base located at Camp Pendleton. Quite a number of Cleburne's beliefs had been shaken in the past few days, but not his confidence in the ability of an entire division of Marines to fight off any threat to someone that they were protecting.
Oz spoke again. "What do we know about Pylea?"
Cyrus answered that one, "Not much. But it sounds like a place where the demons run the show, and the humans are no better than slaves."
"Must make you homesick," Esther muttered under her breath. Thankfully, Cyrus didn't hear her - or if he did, he chose to ignore her comment.
"Do we have geographical intel on Mr. Harris' location?" Hollins asked. As he knew that by this time, Cleburne had completely given up on trying to make sure everyone referred to Xander by his alias.
"Not really. We know they put him in the care of some demon priests, or something like that. And from what Reed said, these guys run everything. We think they'll be holding him at their headquarters, or temple, or whatever."
"You think? You think, and that's what you're basing your rescue plans on?" Hollins asked. He knew enough military theory to recognize the danger in that statement.
"I know, it's not much! But right now, it's all we have to go on," Cleburne replied. "I suspect that even Wolfram & Hart don't know the exact location of where the kid's being held, for security reasons. Which, you have to admit, is smart of them."
Esther frowned at that. "Then how do they keep track of what's going on?"
"Reed said they had a demon there as liaison. He's supposed to report in when something comes up," Gunny said. "Makes sense, as the demon priests appear to have a real problem treating humans with any degree of respect or tolerance."
"We really need to get to this place, fast," Cleburne remarked. "And I know I'm sounding like a broken record, but we also have to do something about the mind games they played on our boys, a few days back! We need to be sure we actually save the kid, and not have a dream put in our heads."
Cleburne, when not complaining about what had happened, had been obsessing on figuring out how to stop the law firm from playing the same trick again that they had earlier. Joshua turned to Esther, "Should we contact the Project Stargate people? I know they're more into remote viewing, but maybe they might have some ideas-"
"Actually, I have a suggestion," Hollins interrupted. "Ms. Weitz's organization refreshed my memory on something from the Eighties, that might just apply to our situation."
The private office of Lilah Morgan, Wolfram & Hart building, Los Angeles. Later that afternoon
"Where the hell's Nathan Reed?"
Lilah looked up in irritation at the interruption. Eli, the demon they had sent to Pylea to monitor the interrogation of Xander Harris, had barged in - and was standing at the doorway, looking annoyed.
"That almost certainly doesn't concern you," she replied acidly. Lilah hadn't encountered the new head of Special Projects during the last couple of days - and to be honest, she really was glad of that fact. "If you can't find him, he's probably too busy to see you. After all, you're only the liaison to Pylea from the accounts department! Don't let your current assignment in that demon dimension go to your head-"
"Oh, a sense of humor. You and that crazy kid no doubt get along great!" Eli said sarcastically.
Lilah's suspicion instinct went into overdrive. "What's up with Mr. Harris?"
"Well, wouldn't you like to know?" Eli smirked back. "Because just for the record, *Ms. Morgan*, I report to Mr. Reed - not one of Holland Manners' old flunkies. If you haven't noticed, there's a new order here at this branch of the firm!"
Eli knew that the office politics of Wolfram & Hart were cutthroat, literally. In such an environment, information was quite often the only difference between life and death.
He also knew that whatever information the prisoner gave up in Pylea, was priceless beyond any cash value. And the accountant was not going to give that power to Lilah, not when at the very least he had visions of a corner office bouncing around in his head...
Lilah, on the other hand, had similar thoughts going through her mind. If she was the bearer of whatever information there was, well - her stock around here would go up dramatically. And unlike Eli, she was actually pretty good at the internal politics of Wolfram & Hart; after all, she *did* have a corner office.
"A new order?" Lilah commented. "Yes, but we've both heard *that* one before, haven't we?" She grinned at Eli. "'Course, in any new order, there are always bean counters. Plenty of bean counters, and all of them easily replaceable."
"And yet, none of 'em have the information I do. Makes me kinda irreplaceable, at least for the moment - wouldn't you say?" Eli was not without his own talents, when it came to office politics.
"Oh for crying out loud, will you two just cut it out?" Lindsey MacDonald walked in behind Eli, and entered Lilah's office - slamming the door shut. "Because we don't have time for these kinds of stupid, petty games! On account of the Federal government has gotta be planning on tearing us apart right now!"
Lindsey almost sat down at the table where Xander had pinned his hand earlier, then remembering that - he quickly moved to the couch next to the window. {Damn him}
The male lawyer sat down and faced the others. "There's Trouble with a capital T, as no one knows where Nathan Reed is right now. He went out a few nights back in his limo, and didn't show up for work the next morning. The psychics can't trace him; so the smart money says he's run afoul of someone we've ticked off. Three guesses as to whom that 'someone' might be, and the last two don't count!"
Lindsey had no way of knowing that the reason the psychics couldn't track Reed was that he was in a specially drugged stupor at the moment, so his mind was unable to be detected by them and thus, the current situation.
"Who's in charge, then?" Eli asked, desperately trying to figure out who the new power around here was.
Lilah just frowned, thinking that the security of the Harris project might have been compromised - and that she was in line to cop the flak from that, given how all this had been her baby right from the beginning. {Damn it}
"Well, it looks like for the moment - you're talking to them," Lindsey waved a hand at himself and Lilah.
"You guys?" Eli managed to stammer out.
"That won't be a problem, will it?" Lilah asked sweetly, putting her doubts aside at once.
Eli hesitated, as he was quickly calculating scenarios in his head. Reed had been a hard-nosed SOB, which to be honest had worried the accountant. Flattery and groveling didn't work as quite as well, with that kind of boss. On the other hand, he was less likely to renege on a promised reward...
Still, right now he wasn't here - and even if Nathan did return intact, his position would almost certainly be compromised from getting captured by the enemy. And possibly revealing information to them.
Thus, the only game in town was right in front of him.
"Not at all. I was stopping in for a status report on the interrogation back in Pylea," Eli declared, having come to a decision in his head.
"And? How's it going?" Lindsey asked a bit too nonchalantly.
Eli advanced into the room and sat down on the couch not occupied by Lindsey, ignoring Lilah's glare. "Let me tell you something, that guy? He's something else. Harris is definitely one stubborn bastard..."
"Has he cracked yet?" Lilah asked impatiently.
Eli intentionally avoided directly answering her question. "First off - them priests, they started out with all the old classic standards. Y'know - red-hot pokers, knives, whips, beatings, they tried 'em all. And those guys are *really* gifted at inflicting pain on humans too, or 'cows' as they call you over there! But all of their tricks didn't accomplish squat; the guy didn't crack. In fact, he just laughed at 'em! Those priests were so infuriated, I thought for a second they were going to lose it and kill him..."
"Harris isn't dead, is he?" Lindsey asked at once in concern.
Lilah shifted uncomfortably at the possibility, and Lindsey idly wondered if it was over the fear that Xander might have been killed before giving up the information - or something else.
Eli laughed out loud. "Hell, no! Like I said, that guy is a complete hardass - all the way down the pike. Matter of fact, he got the drop on the head interrogator and would have killed *him*, if not for yours truly..."
"Really," Lindsey raised an eyebrow at that. He had trouble picturing Eli doing anything, that might have the demon putting himself in harm's way.
"Well, yeah! Of course, there were others present as well," After all, Eli had been the one who had called for the guards. "But lemme tell you, even after the beatdown they put on him for that - he *still* didn't crack."
"And?" Lindsey said. He knew that Eli wouldn't have returned just for that.
"Well, they're not complete idiots, they got creative after that little episode. Had some old demon woman come in, and do some sorta hocus-pocus with his head." Eli waved his hands around, "She was able to ask questions through some kinda weird Vulcan mind-meld deal, using the faces of people who had played a big role in his life - and that he had unresolved issues with."
"Interesting, I hope you took good notes of how she operates. We may want to adopt the procedure to use here," Lilah announced.
"I wouldn't recommend it, at least not for someone like *this* particular prisoner."
"Why?" Lilah and Lindsey both asked together. And then sent matching glares to one another, because of that.
Eli shrugged. "I already told you, Harris is one tough hombre! He figured out what was going on, and *really* did a number on that old lady. She wound up with blood leaking out of her eyes, while she was screaming like a banshee! And let me tell you, it wasn't a good banshee either. More like one of those off-key banshees who can't get work, except to wander the countryside making that awful racket."
"So, what's the status of the project right now?" Lilah asked, clearly not handling her impatience well.
"He's still there. Guy was out cold when I left," Eli declared
"And?" Lindsey prompted the demon accountant. Lilah wasn't the only one getting impatient around here.
"The priests there are...well, baffled at the moment, on what to do next. They've never encountered a cow...uh, prisoner like him before," Eli quickly corrected his little slip of the tongue.
"Any idea as to what their next step will be?" Lilah asked with a definite frosty tone in her voice, as she had noticed Eli's slip-up.
"Well, they're talkin' about going back to the basics. The guy has pissed off more than a few of them, and bottom line - the priests *really* want to get medieval on his ass!"
"There's something else, something you're keeping to yourself," Lindsey observed coldly - his courtroom instincts serving him well.
Eli turned and looked at the lawyer. "Well..." he started out hesitantly.
"What is it?" Lilah snapped, as she was still a little mad over the cattle reference.
"There was one thing he said that's - he sent you all a personal message." Eli was worried over how this next bit was going to be received. He now really wished it had been Nathan Reed he was reporting to.
"Go on," Lindsey said shortly.
"Uh, before I get into that - I think someone else should take my place there, so I'm making a formal request for a transfer back to my old job. 'Cause the guy kinda promised he was going to kill me, and I don't like my odds if Harris should ever manage to get loose..."
"Request denied. Danger goes with the job, you should know that you get death threats like that all the time here," Lilah replied.
"Yeah, well, I'd keep that in mind if I were you," Eli said with a look. "Because that dude said that somehow or other, he was going to kill all the big shots of the firm - including you, Ms. Morgan. In fact - Harris named you specifically, as Dead Woman Walking."
Lilah blanched at that, but Lindsey chuckled. "Well, Lilah, it certainly looks like you made an impression..."
The rest of the conversation didn't take long. Both lawyers questioned Eli about what Xander had said under the influence of those drugs, and thanks to the demon's near-photographic memory - it was like they were directly listening to Xander's replies, while he was talking to the fake versions of Anya, Willow, Buffy and Cordelia.
But since there was nothing they could use, apart from maybe the dog spit thing, Eli was quickly booted out of the office and sent on his way back to Pylea.
"This is a complete friggin' mess," Lindsey said succinctly, once he and Lilah were alone. He got up, and started pacing.
"You're telling me. Harris should have coughed up the goods by now, and been nothing but a corpse - like his official status says he is. Instead, he's making Rambo look like an amateur!"
Lindsey scowled. "Whatever. You think we should have Harris moved?"
Lilah gestured. "Why? Reed doesn't know how to get to Pylea, any more than we do. Even if Siberian Trip Wire knows where he is now, the odds that they'll ever find that particular demon dimension are still a million-to-one..." She sighed. "Any progress on that other front?"
MacDonald shrugged. "Yeah. The eggheads finally figured out who Harris enlisted to help, with that Soul Stone thing."
"And?" Lilah was *not* in the mood for games, after what Eli had reported.
"The Transuding Furies," Lindsey said with a sideways glance.
That made Lilah pause. She knew of the sisters, as they were considered a threat to the firm - but not enough of one to be worth actively pursuing and eliminating. Of course, that had all changed now. "Do you know where they are?"
"If you mean their official address, sure. But unfortunately, the birds have flown."
"Where?"
"According to a source, the Marine Corps base at Camp Pendleton. Things is, I'd already sent someone there to try to figure out how to tag them for extraction before I came in here today, but..." he trailed off.
"What?" Lilah asked tiredly, feeling like she was about to get a monster migraine from all the events of the past half-hour.
"Our inside man was caught, it seems that those guys aren't stupid; the brass there obviously know what's what. I mean, they have their soldiers patrolling around with crosses and stakes, as well as machine-guns! Our boy just vanished; haven't heard a word from him. Myself I suspect he was executed, via a firing squad."
Ms. Morgan got up after hearing that piece of news. "But they can't do that! The law clearly states-"
"You're thinking of civilian law, sweetheart - not military law!" Lindsey threw his hands up in disgust. "That's what *really* grates my cheese, you know, about that little message which STW sent us. How it was all perfectly legal..."
Los Angeles, California. That night
At a charity ball sponsored by Wolfram & Hart, Gwen Raiden was finally getting to practice the skills she was afraid were starting to get a little rusty.
That night, she was going to be a thief again.
It had all started when Lily Steele had told the Fang Gang how the evil law firm had set up this event for the East Hills Teen Shelter a couple of months back, as part of a public relations exercise to help raise money for the troubled homeless of the city. But Angel had quickly figured out that what Lilah and Lindsey were actually doing was overseeing a scheme hatched months ago, to steal two million dollars from the event for the firm's own nefarious purposes.
So Gwen had instantly volunteered to steal the money, before the bad guys got their hands on it. And as such, a plan had been set in motion for her to do just that.
It almost hadn't happened, though; just yesterday Gwen had had a really painful vision about a two-headed fire-breathing gigantic demon, rising in the sewers beneath the Kenyard School for Girls. One that had really knocked her for a loop, while Angel, Darla, Wes and Gunn had gone off to kill the huge thing. But she had quickly recovered, and insisted that she was okay to do this...
And eventually, her associates had agreed. Thus pulling herself back to the present, Gwen surveyed the scene below her hiding place.
The place was full of celebrities, mingling alongside the rich with a whole 'Wild West' theme to the charity event. Lily had invited all of the Angel Investigations staff, and they were present dressed for the occasion; a disguised Darla was hanging off Angel's arm, Cordy was with Gunn, and Wesley was present with Virginia Bryce...
Ms. Raiden smirked. She had the definite feeling that those two were going to be splitsville after tonight, given the way the wizard's daughter was currently looking at her date. { Pryce? It's time for you to start updating your little black book, my opinion... }
Wes himself was just looking totally awkward and uncomfortable. After all, it wasn't exactly *his* fault that one of Cordelia's two friends - the girls called Emily and Serena, who in another world Cordy would have lost touch with a *long* time ago - was sending out signals tonight, that she was still interested in his ass...
Then it was time. The signal was sent out, and as everyone focused on the prearranged disturbance/distraction - Gwen knocked out the Wolfram & Hart employees guarding the money and quickly took off, no one noticing her absconding with the loot.
Well...almost no one.
The demon named Boone suddenly appeared in front of her. "Little lady, I get me the feeling that what's in there - it don't belong to you."
Gwen shrugged, as she dropped the bags of cash and jewelry. "Yeah, but it doesn't belong to you either." She started stripping off her right glove...
"Well, either way, Wolfram & Hart tells me that you work for a fella named Angel. Thing is I met him back in the 20's, we had an argument in Juarez over a seniorita - one not unlike yourself. So the way I see it, you're my ticket to a rematch of our little altercation back then-"
Gwen sighed. "The way *I* see it, you're a moron."
So saying, she quickly blasted Boone away with a lightning bolt to the chest - one that sent him flying back, and leaving the demon a charred, lifeless heap on the ground. Gwen then put the glove back on, gathered up the most recent fruits of her labor - and grinned to herself. {I have to say, Harris, this assignment you sent me on is many things - but boring sure isn't one of them!}
The dungeons of the Imperial Palace, Pylea. The same time
Xander Harris wasn't exactly in any shape to appreciate Gwen's sentiments.
The demon priests of the Covenant of Trombli, as Eli had more than suspected would happen at the time, had gone back to good old-fashioned torture to get information from their captive. Still, it hadn't done them any good, apart from releasing a little frustration maybe.
And oddly enough, they had been somewhat distracted in their endeavors by something...unusual.
The Pylean drugs that had been used to make Xander talk to his women in his mind, had had a strange side-effect. After Vakma had lost that particular battle, Xander had started having hallucinations.
Nothing serious, thankfully - he had just briefly talked to people who weren't actually there - and who were also all dead, to boot.
Oh, granted that the X-man had been doing that a lot lately, what with his encounter regarding the First Evil. But this was different to that; as said, the drug-induced hallucinations had generated visions of people who existed solely in his mind.
Now, normally this wouldn't have bothered Xander much, once he'd realized what was going on. After all - he had been having conversations with dead people, ever since he was 16 years old! This little episode was just another day at the office; and it barely even made a blip on the old weird-o-meter, at this point in his life.
Rather, it was the *people* that had appeared to Harris that was cause for consternation.
Who were, to name just a few, Abraham Lincoln.
William McKinley.
James Garfield.
Alexander Hamilton.
JFK.
Martin Luther King, Jr.
Xander tried not to think about it, but he knew that all these persons had exactly one thing in common; that they had all been *assassinated*. And the fact that in his fantasies they were all welcoming him into the fold, calling him a "genuine American hero" - well, it wasn't the most comforting thing in the world to contemplate, when starting to question one's own sanity.
But then a stinging blow - thanks to Barshon's fist - snapped Xander out of his disturbed private thoughts.
"Cow, I will not say this again-" Barshon growled out.
"So then don't," Xander managed to gasp out.
That was rewarded by another fist to the face from Barshon. "You will give me the information that is required." The demon started to walk around Xander, keeping himself wary at all times. Nearby Groo watched, ready to intervene at any time to defend the deputy head priest.
"You are nothing more than a cow, beneath even the lowest citizenry of the realm. You and your kind only exist to serve us. Anything you know is ours for the taking-"
"And yet here you are, begging me to talk to you. That must suck, huh?" Xander joked. He had managed to get his breath back during Barshon's tirade.
Barshon again responded with physical violence. "Cow, tell me about this stock thing!" The red-robed priest didn't have the slightest clue what the demon from the law firm meant by stocks, he just knew it was important and that made him want to know. Knowledge was power, after all.
Off in the corner, Eli stood and watched. He knew that Xander was secured and shouldn't be a threat, still - he didn't want to risk his life and limb here. So he remained out of arm's reach, and just watched and listened.
"Look, Barshon - oh, mind if I call you that?" Xander started to say.
Barshon of course hit the prisoner for daring to call him by name. Nevertheless, Xander continued, "Thing is, dude, I'm just as lost as you are when it comes to the stock market - the Wizard's college classes didn't cover economics. Well, not yet, but I'm sure he was going to get around to it eventually..."
Xander wondered for a moment what the child genius was up to right now, and if he would ever see him again. Soldier Guy quickly started yammering in his head, {Focus. Concentrate on the here and now. It's the only way to survive this! }
Surprisingly, though, Barshon actually seemed to accept that. "Yes, I can see where a cow might be too stupid to understand something. After all, your brains are small, fragile and slow. Perhaps if we tried something simple..."
Eli looked like he was about to protest for a moment, but a stern look from Barshon instantly dissuaded him from that course of action. The accountant backed off, {You're just an observer here. So play the part! }
Barshon then refocused his attention on Xander. "Surely something even as slow-minded as you, would notice the end of your world. As that would interfere with your eating and sleeping habits! So tell me about the Apocalypse."
Nearby, Eli's eyebrows shot up. {Not a half-bad question, at that. The Senior Partners definitely will want to know his answer to that one.}
Meanwhile, Xander was also noting the question and its importance. {Now *this* is what I expected all along. Maybe there's some brains behind the brawn here. Just not much! } "Well - I didn't notice a lot, every time the end of the world was nigh. After the Purple People Eaters showed up with their Twinkies, I was always kinda busy hiding and eating."
Behind Barshon, Eli snickered. {Guy could get a guest spot on Oprah, if everyone didn't think he was dead!}
Barshon turned in anger. "Silence, you!" he shouted at the demon.
Eli shook his head. "Fine - but he's playing with you, there's no such thing. What he just said - it's a song, and a snack food."
"What?!" Barshon shouted. Xander Harris, no matter what else could be said about him, *did* possess the ability to get under anyone's skin.
"Purple People Eater, it's a song the cattle from his kingdom sing," Eli explained.
Even though he had no idea what that meant - music didn't exist in Pylea, even though dancing did - Barshon turned back around and backhanded Xander with fiercesome power. {How dare you mock me!}
Groo actually cringed in sympathy with what he witnessed. He heard the chains creak, and could clearly see that they were straining at the stress just put on them. Blood splattered in all directions from Xander's mouth, due to the force of the hit.
"My father hit me harder than that, you filthy demon," Xander managed to croak, before passing out from the pain.
Caritas Karaoke bar, Los Angeles, California. Later that night
Cleburne and the Navy SEAL nicknamed Red entered the busy nightclub. They looked around, and spotted their prey. With grim determination, they headed there. However, they themselves were spotted and intercepted before they got there.
"Honey, you stopped by?" a green-skinned, and very female demon waitress appeared in front of Red.
"Ametila?" Red said in surprise. He, like most of the Siberians, had a rather unnerving ability to concentrate solely on the task at hand, to the point of forgetting more mundane concerns.
Then Byrne smiled at his girlfriend, "It's great to see you, sweetie! However, we need to talk to your boss for a few minutes."
Ametila pouted adorably. "Okay, but when you're done talking to him, you stop by and talk to me before you leave, you understand?" Red just nodded with another smile, and the working woman pointed towards the main bar.
Red and Cleburne hurried over to him, as Lorne saw them approaching "Oh, sweethearts, been a while since I've seen either of you in here..." Lorne looked around with some concern, "Your friend Alexander Hall, he isn't with you?" he asked.
Because ever since the reading he had done on Xander just before he'd entered Wolfram & Hart's law offices, Lorne had been *praying* that what he'd foreseen...could somehow be averted.
Cleburne ignored his question. "The Furies sent us."
Lorne instantly nodded at that, knowing that whatever was coming next - he would probably have to go along with it, despite any personal feelings to the contrary.
"I need you to tell us about your old home. Place called Pylea..."
Private airfield near Los Angeles, California. The same time
Gunny watched the jetliner approach, taxiing to where he was standing. Esther stood next to him, and armed guards could be seen patrolling the perimeter.
"Guess we should be glad the colonel isn't here. He can't be happy with this particular development," Gunny noted as the ground crew opened the door of the jet.
"The only constant in this world is change, Gunny. Today's friends are often yesterday's enemies; those who we fought in the past, can easily become those who fight alongside us now," she observed as several men exited the plane.
Esther stepped forward, all calm and graceful. "Greetings, gentlemen, welcome to the United States."
The dungeons of the Imperial Palace, Pylea. The next day
Xander groaned, as he slowly regained consciousness. "Owwww, man! I have *got* to find a better way of getting to sleep..." he complained to himself.
"I do not understand. Why do you persist in needlessly putting yourself through this torment?"
Xander blinked his eyes quickly a few times, and focused on the source of the question. He could make out a human-looking male in Pylean warrior clothes, standing in the corner of the room. He recognized him as the guard who was present for the torture sessions, but had never participated in them.
"I've got my reasons. And just outta curiosity, who are you?" Xander asked.
"I am the Groosalugg, the champion of the realm," was the reply.
"Groosalugg? What kind of name is that?" Xander asked.
"It is not a name; it is a title the Covenant has bestowed upon me. It refers to being the brave and undefeated warrior of the kingdom."
Xander smirked. "Think I'll call you Groo for short. That okay with you?"
"It matters not to me - do as you wish. And I ask you again, why do you subject yourself to this?"
Xander thought for a second. Despite his initial impressions that Groo wasn't exactly a bad guy - he knew he had to be careful about what he said. For Harris knew that this might be just another tactic that his captors had come up with. {Bad cop, worse cop. Oldest trick in the world.}
"Because of the love of a good woman. And the fact that there are some things that your bosses, and those people who hired them, definitely should not know," he finally said.
"Why? Why do you not trust the Covenant to do what it is right?" Groo asked with an air of innocence.
Xander laughed, but not too hard so as to not cause more pain. "Haven't you been paying attention to what they've been doing to me? People who use torture to get what they want, are generally not the most trustworthy types around!"
Groo raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Why do you say this? The Covenant are the leaders of the realm, and have been for generations - millennia. They care for us, and never would do anything to hurt us unless it was called for."
Xander raised an eyebrow at his guard. "Let me guess - they raised you, right?" Groo looked away, and Harris frowned. "What is it?"
All of a sudden, it was like a damn had burst. The Groosalugg cried out, "An animal. A-a beast! To my people, I was nothing more than this..."
Xander was confused. "Why?"
His companion replied in confusion, "Can you not *see* why?"
Harris couldn't shrug, dangling as he was from those shackles. So he just said, "Not exactly. Care to enlighten me?"
The Pylean suddenly seemed suspicious. "Do you truly claim to be ignorant of the flaws of my - polluted birth?"
Xander just shook his head. "Well...huh?"
Groo stepped closer, and looked down at the captive. "My face was different. My limbs bulged out strangely. My heart beat in the wrong place. As I matured these - defects became more apparent. The Covenant soon determined there could be no mistake. There was *cow's* blood in my veins."
"And that was a bad thing?" Xander asked. {So, he's part-demon and part-human...kinda like that guy Doyle?}
Groo nodded his head, finally accepting Xander's ignorance. "I was cast from my village. Cut off from my life-givers. Forced to make my way on my own."
Xander couldn't help it; a flash of sympathy ran through him for the guy. "Funny thing is, I know exactly what you mean..."
But the other man just kept going, finally having the chance to unburden himself on a sympathetic listener. "I sought to end my suffering. I-I *foolishly* entered every contest of skill and daring that I could, in an attempt to snuff out my pathetic life. But even at *this* - I failed."
Xander snorted in amusement. "You did?"
Groo again nodded his head. "I *won* every match. I *vanquished* every flame beast. I *defeated* every Drokken. It seemed nothing could stop me-"
"And yet, something kinda did. You do understand, don't you, that these priests manipulated you directly into their service? That they only keep you around, because they think they can use you?"
"There is no other way."
"Sure there is. Where I come from, it's the humans - cows, to you - who rule the world. And the demons like your bosses, they have to hide in the darkness - if they don't want a mob of my people to kill them all, like animals."
"You lie!" Groo declared with indignation. {The cow cannot be serious! How can the Covenant possibly allow such blasphemy be spoken, and not have killed this creature? }
Xander lowered his voice a bit and spoke soothingly, knowing that he had to communicate in terms that Groo would understand. "You really think so? Think about it though, what do I stand to gain - from telling you lies?"
He sighed. "Look, I know it's hard when the assumptions of a lifetime get thrown out the window. Trust me, Groo, I've been there. I once had three people who I would have died for, turn on me and leave me for dead. And let me tell you that devastated me. Took me quite a while to get myself righted..."
Groo now looked confused, although he knew from Vakma's interrogation sessions that Xander was referring to those three female cows of his acquaintance. "Righted? Did they knock you to the ground?"
Xander suppressed the urge to laugh. "Well, I did wind up almost dead on the street, but they didn't push me down. They just left me there."
"Was one of them the good woman you mentioned earlier?" Groo asked.
"No, she came later. She's dead now, but see, I had to come here to keep her safe."
The Groosalugg was now even more confused. "If she is already dead, then why do you need to keep her safe?"
Xander grimaced, and proceeded to tell Groo about Faith's soul and the threat from the LA lawyers. "So you see, I couldn't abandon her like that. NO WAY," he said with some force. "I know what it feels like, to have that happen to you. And I was *not* going to put Faith through that crap. I wasn't going to do to her, what was done to me-"
"I will admit, it is not a very pleasant thing that those cows did to you that night. However, under similar circumstances the priests would not have left *me* in such a position," Groo replied. And in his mind, the grudging respect that he felt for the cow grew. {He let this happen to him, purely for another's welfare. Such a thing indicates true honor and bravery. }
"Of course not, because you're valuable to them. Uh...besides guarding me, which I really hope is a high-profile assignment by the way, what do they have you do?" Xander asked.
"As I said, I am the champion of the realm. Thus, I am charged with defending the kingdom from its enemies. As a warrior of Pylea, I keep the kingdom safe-"
"And how exactly do you do that? 'Cause you don't strike me as the safety inspector type," Xander lightly chuckled.
Groo looked confused again. {This cow says many things that do not make sense to me.} "I know not of this safety inspector you speak of, I defend the kingdom by fighting."
"You kill people for the priests, just on their say-so," Xander observed.
Groo frowned at what he suspected was an insult. "I fight my enemies in battle-"
"During which you kill them, because the priests want them dead. Whoever they are, they're inconvenient to your masters. So, who were they? Fellow warriors like yourself?"
"Most of them..." Groo said, with a very slight hesitation.
"By definition then, some of them weren't. So what were they? Ah, lemme guess...slaves, right? Cattle like me, who knew they had to fight for their freedom. People who wanted the right to live where they wanted, and *how* they wanted? To sleep in a clean bed. To choose who they had children with. You know - the little things, that most of the citizens around here take for granted," Xander said cuttingly.
Groo clearly reacted poorly to his words. "They needed to be defeated, in order to protect the kingdom!"
"Don't you mean to protect the priests, and their favored subjects? Face it, Groo, they just don't want anyone rocking the boat. Why else do you think almost no one around here knows about my world, where the cows like me would slaughter them all if your masters dared show their faces openly?"
The Groosalugg's face went red with shocked anger, but Xander kept going. "Lemme tell you something as one warrior to another, I've met cows just like these priests - and I *know* what I'm talking about. Those guys? They don't care about anything except themselves, and the power they have. And you're better than that. I've seen you watching all this..."
Xander rattled his chains to emphasize the point. "You're not happy with what you've witnessed happening in this room; I mean, how could you be? This isn't a fair fight on the battlefield. Where's the noble purpose in doing things like this, to a helpless captive? Bottom line, you can't help feeling that what you've allowed to happen here - is wrong. And you hate yourself at some level, because of that."
"I do not-" Groo didn't finish, before Xander interrupted him.
"Look, regardless of what eventually happens to my ass Groo - you have to decide for yourself what's right, and what's wrong. Otherwise, you'll just be a puppet for the rest of your life - which I'm sure won't last forever! Think for yourself. I *know* you can do it. You can even change things for the better..."
Suddenly Xander's mind remembered a phrase from an old Star Trek episode, the one where an alternate universe Mr. Spock had a beard and looked like a pirate - that felt perfect for the occasion. "In every revolution, there's one man with a vision. Be that one man!"
The Groosalugg was amazed to find himself mesmerized by Xander's speech. {He is indeed a worthy opponent, in the ways of warfare. It is a pity we never met before this, in the fields of combat.}
But Groo was prevented from responding, by the door to the chamber opening and Barshon returning for more interrogation. "Good, you're awake..."
Camp Pendleton, California. That evening
"We cannot do-"
"-what you ask-"
"-of us."
"What the hell do you mean?" Cleburne replied to the Furies testily. He had not expected this response.
"Only certain places-"
"-can be used to-"
"-create such a portal."
"To get to Pylea, or just in general?" Cleburne asked, as he looked from Fury to Fury as they did the tag team answer thing.
"What you require cannot be done here," The eldest Fury then pointed at a map on the wall of the conference room. "However, it can be done there," she said.
Cleburne peered at where the Fury was pointing. "You have *got* to be kidding me," he said in disbelief.
"We would not-"
"-kid you or anyone else-"
"-in this matter."
Cleburne just shrugged, and opened up the cell phone. "We'll need a fast plane."
Private conference room, House of Commons, London, England. Later that night
"Thank you all for coming. I know it's late and all of you have places to be, but the situation has grown extremely grave - and we need to discuss options."
Alec Cummings sat still, and listened to the senior civil servant. The man's career had not suffered too much, from the fiasco over Xander last year; even if the Watchers had naturally been screaming bloody murder, after the spy had not backed them to the hilt at the Army-Navy Club during that confrontation with STW.
Cummings knew though that the Council had been behind his recall back to the United Kingdom.
Quentin and his Watchers, even after being effectively kicked out of the United States, still had friends in high places within the British political arena. An organization that had existed that long naturally learned of information that would be embarrassing to certain parties, if it were ever to be seen in the light of day.
However, his bosses in MI-6 hadn't really punished him. When he'd arrived back in London, Alec had found that he had actually been promoted, his security clearance heightened beyond its previous level. He was still acting as liaison with the allied intelligence services, and even the Americans still worked with him just fine.
The Watchers had complained, of course, but they weren't the only organization that knew secrets. MI-6 was the elder statesman of the espionage art, having been in the business for centuries in all its various forms - and wasn't easily bullied. Cummings' transfer had been solely to appease one or two powerful ministers in Whitehall; and those men knew better than to push the issue, as to who sat where in the London headquarters.
The Watchers had then metaphorically pouted, and literally caused trouble wherever they could. MI-6 had ignored them, and tipped off Siberian Trip Wire when appropriate, in response.
The problem was that the Watchers Council had gotten more and more erratic as time had passed, or more accurately the leader of the Council had - Quentin Travers.
Which was the point of the meeting, as Cummings refocused on what the civil servant was saying.
"You are all aware of the events of the past year. Organizations and individuals within the realm have engaged in a pattern of behaviour that threatens one of our most fundamental foreign policy relationships. If they are allowed to continue, Anglo-American relations could very well deteriorate back to where they were during the mid-19th century!"
"Come now, I can't believe things could get that bad from just one Yank spy organization being annoyed at us. The politicals in the U.S. do have a habit of ignoring their career intelligence people," one of the people from the Foreign Office spoke up.
"Yes, that has been true in the past. However, the nature of the incoming Bush administration is such that they, of all possible U.S. governments, will be very sympathetic to the Siberians' concerns," Alec announced.
"In what way?" one of the relatively junior civil servants asked.
"Well, for example, Secretary of Defense Rumsfeld was once on the committee overseeing their activities - as was the current President's father, and Vice-President Cheney. Secretary of State Powell has also interacted with them in the past. Thus in my professional opinion, if anything happens to completely alienate us from the Siberians - then we will almost certainly end up with no friends in the Bush administration," Cummings announced to the suddenly-worried audience in the room.
"What could happen that would so enrage the Americans?" another middle-level civil servant asked.
The senior civil servant spoke up. "I believe that our guest can best explain that, and what has prompted us to hold this meeting." He nodded to the end of the table.
Roger Wyndham-Pryce put down the cup of tea he had been drinking from. "Gentlemen. The Council, in particular Mr. Quentin Travers, is worried that the man known as Alexander Harris may give vital information to the law firm Wolfram & Hart. Information that may very well endanger the entire existence of our world..."
There were nods from around the table, as all those present had been briefed on Xander's captivity - as well as who and what he was.
Roger finished up, "Thus, the Council is contemplating drastic action. In short, once he's been located - the assassination of Mr. Harris has been authorized by my organization."
"As a last resort, of course? If there's no other option," one of those present asked.
Roger shook his head. "You obviously do not understand what Mr. Travers considers to be 'no other option'. He does not consider it as a situation where Mr. Harris is beyond recovery from the forces of darkness; the head of the Council has determined that unless the man is within the custody of our group, he is to be eliminated. To put it in its bluntest possible terms, unless he has Mr. Harris in a cage - Travers intends to kill him." He paused for a second before continuing uncomfortably, "He, ah, is also intending to assassinate those who might shelter him from the Watchers."
The room was deathly silent, as the facts relayed by the Englishman sunk in.
The senior official from the Ministry of Defense spoke first. "If I understand you correctly, you are telling us that Quentin Travers is contemplating launching a covert war against a legitimate security agency of the United States government."
Wesley's father nodded, once. "That is precisely what he is preparing to do."
"Does he understand that this would cause a massive retaliatory response not just from Siberian Trip Wire, but from almost certainly *all* the American intelligence services?"
"I do not believe so. In any case, Travers believes that their power in relation to the Council had been overstated, by those opposed to this move. There have been some off-hand remarks about the colonials not even being able to kill Castro."
Cummings felt his eyes widening. "He *does* understand that we're not talking about the CIA or any of the other agencies known to the public, I take it? The Siberians are not really subject to any public scrutiny - and that the only possible restraint on their actions is if they're willing to obey orders from the American National Command Authority!" Cummings was referring to the political cadre that immediately surrounded the President, and was involved in decisions involving nuclear weapons.
"The head of the Council feels that the political leadership of the United States would not sacrifice the special relationship between our two countries - over a matter such as this one," Wyndham-Pryce replied stoically. It was obvious that saying all this, was bringing him no pleasure...
"Wait, it gets worse," the most senior civil servant said.
"What? How?" Cummings asked in disbelief.
Roger took a breath and continued. "There will also be attacks on those who might harbor Mr. Harris, but haven't done so yet."
"Such as?"
"Certain...independent demon hunters located over there; Mr. Harris' former friends in Sunnydale, and Los Angeles."
"Doesn't your-"
"Yes, my son is included in that number, even if that is neither here nor there at the moment," Roger said with a sigh. "It has become obvious that Quentin thought he could hide the developing situation from me. Fortunately, several individuals within the Council informed me of the plans..."
Another sigh. "And to be perfectly honest - I might not be here tonight, if that was the extent of it all. However, according to my sources Travers won't just limit his targets to the people I have mentioned so far. He also intends to hit several other intelligence services, which have benefited from Mr. Harris' information. The Germans, Japanese and Israelis, amongst others."
"Bloody hell..." Cummings said out loud, unable to believe what he was hearing.
"Indeed," the white-faced official from the Foreign Office said. "The man's gone completely mad, that would be a disaster of Biblical proportions. Your organization can't possibly win against a dozen enemies that would instantly unite to kill you all! And if our involvement becomes public - Her Majesty's government would become an international pariah! So what do we do?"
Wyndham-Pryce stood up at the question. "I have a suggestion, but I would require your assistance to implement it..."
Camp Pendleton, California. Later that night
"It seems to me to be a bit overkill," Hollins observed, as he studied some battle plans.
"No. I want the ability to handle *any* kind of situation, once we get to Pylea. Lorne tells me that the ocean isn't too far from the priests' stronghold, so it's an ideal solution," Cleburne replied. "Once we get to the site the Furies picked, they tell me they can open a portal to get us there."
"And how will you get authorization for it?" Esther asked. She, like Hollins, felt that Cleburne was going a bit overboard as usual.
"Don't worry about that part of it."
"Joshua, for heaven's sake, I can tell you right now that the Committee won't authorize this. And you know that they're already talking about pulling the plug on the whole operation, don't you?" Esther asked.
It was a mark of the respect that Cleburne felt for Mrs. Marcum, that he didn't snap at her for that observation. He just growled and opened up the cell phone he had been carrying around, "Screw the goddamn Committee. I'm going over their heads on this one!"
The dungeons of the Imperial Palace, Pylea. The next day
Barshon was getting nervous. Well, 'nervous' wasn't the quite right term. He was downright panicked. Because his time was running out.
Never before had a cow withstood the questioning that Barshon was skilled in delivering. The priest had used all the techniques he was familiar with; the ones that had never failed him before.
Until now.
Xander Harris had withstood everything that Barshon could think of. The only thing that Barshon had not tried was cutting off limbs. And that was only an ultimate last resort now, as it had been his experience that more often than not - the cow whose limbs had been amputated died from shock and blood loss, before the interrogation could be completed.
And the liaison from Wolfram & Hart had made it clear that they had to be sure that all possible information had been pried from the prisoner's mind, before it died. So Barshon couldn't risk the possibility of death just yet.
So, he kept trying the old standbys and hoped that the repetition would eventually break the cow.
The problem was though, that he didn't have an unlimited amount of time.
Silas had made it clear to Barshon that he was getting impatient with the lack of results. He had told his right hand demon that he expected results soon - and if he didn't get them, well, Barshon no doubt remembered what had happened to his predecessor.
Indeed, the deputy priest clearly remembered the screams, and would do so for the rest of his days.
So here he was, working like crazy to get Xander to crack.
It wasn't a pretty sight.
Harris swayed a little bit, held up solely by the chains linking him to the dungeon's ceiling. The human had not weathered Barshon's attention well. But just as much as Barshon was determined to break Xander, the prisoner was determined to resist his tormentor.
It was kind of like what happened, when an irresistible force met an immovable object. Right now, the object was winning...
But Xander knew that at some point, something would happen to change that. He just couldn't figure out, for the life of him, what it might be.
"Cow, I am losing my patience. Tell us what we want to know, and I promise to make your death somewhat pain-free," Barshon snarled at his prisoner.
"Somewhat?" Xander queried his captor with a raspy voice.
"You still need to be punished for the disrespect you have shown me and the other priests," Barshon declared. "There may be a need for a public execution, to remind the cattle of their place in the scheme of things."
"Worried that your grasp on them is slipping? I can see how, after your big slip in here earlier," Xander joked.
Earlier that day, Barshon had slipped on the pool of Xander's blood. Harris had laughed out loud, and even Eli had suppressed a chuckle at that sight. Naturally, Barshon had not been as jovial at that event.
Xander strongly suspected that he had at least one broken rib, from Barshon's displeasure of his clumsiness. And Barshon still didn't see the humor in the situation, as he backhanded Xander viciously.
"Cow, the more you delay and defy me, the more painful your death will be," Barshon. "Submit. It will be easier on you."
"Let me guess, you want me to tell the Scots to submit to the King of the English? I'll be sure to shout out 'freedom', before you disembowel me..."
Barshon looked confused, again. After all, he had no way to even know of the existence of the movie 'Braveheart', let alone how it ended.
"I do not care what you shout out," Barshon reached up, and grabbed one of the fingers on Xander's left hand. "Just as long as you tell me what I want to know." He then, with a smile on his face, viciously twisted one of the fingers. "Of course, I wouldn't mind you screaming in pain before we kill you."
Xander thus screamed in pain. For quite a while, too.
In the corner of the room, Groo inwardly cringed. He had been thinking about what Xander had told him, he couldn't help it. He had also been watching Barshon conduct the interrogation.
Nearby, Eli also watched. He just hoped that Xander would crack soon - as the less time he spent here, the less of a chance Harris would have to kill him.
Xander panted heavily for a few seconds. "Tell me what you know," the demon said with definite menace in his voice.
"Okay, okay," Xander said, in between deep breaths.
Barshon leaned down in triumph. {At last!}
Xander looked him square in the eye. "I know that I'm going to enjoy killing you. Every single moment of it."
Barshon leaned back, his face full of rage and anger. An inarticulate scream emerged from his lips, as the red-robed demon almost lost it. "Enough! Too much! I cannot kill you, but I will make you wish that you were dead..." He stalked over to the kettle, where they kept the pokers to keep them warm. He grabbed one, and headed back to Xander.
"What, you're going to tickle me again?" Xander asked.
Barshon came up and shook his head. "No, cursed animal. Something different." He brought the red-hot poker up, to within inches of Xander's face. "Do you remember how I was here, when that fool Vakma entered your mind? I heard everything you said..."
With his free hand, Barshon punched Xander in the gut as he moved the poker in front of his face. "I heard you, when you were talking to your cow friends. I heard you talking to Anyanka, and the others. I heard what happened, when you listened to the one you called Buffy. You once lost your eye, didn't you? And that seemed to bother you..."
{Oh, shit!} Xander started to struggle and lean back from the poker. Barshon's free hand lashed out and grabbed Xander's head firmly, preventing him from moving away from the poker.
The demon continued talking, "Perhaps I should blind you? Just in one eye, though. I'll keep the other intact, so that you can see what else I'm going to do. Would you like that? Now we both know I cannot get to your cow friends. Although if I could, I would! But there are plenty of cattle here in Pylea..."
A smirk. "You will watch me torture to death some of them - the young ones, the helpless ones. You'll hear their screams, their pleas for mercy. Don't worry, I'll leave your ears intact. You'll hear every whine, and every grunt. And you will know that they die, solely because of you..."
Xander was now equally enraged and worried. He struggled futilely against Barshon's grip.
"They'll curse you. I promise you this, they'll know it's your fault that they suffer that way. I might even make it harder on you and them. Torture the young offspring of some of the cows, in front of their life-givers. Can you imagine the screams under such circumstances?" Barshon asked, a sadistic look of pleasure on his face.
Xander only responded by spitting in his face. {I'll kill you somehow! I don't care about the how's and wherefore's, one day.}
Barshon only chuckled at his act of defiance. "You'll pay for that, but first - I must attend to that damned cow eye of yours!" He moved the poker towards Xander's left eye.
Xander felt the panic growing in him. {No. NO! Not again - I can't go through this again! It was bad enough, the first time around.}
Then suddenly, for some insane reason - a white wedding ceremony appeared in his mind's eye. {What the hell? What - where did *that* come from? } his mind frantically wondered about the image.
Then Xander understood. {Of course} Caritas, the night after he and the Siberians had gotten back from that hell dimension where he had been held as a slave for 4 1/2 years.
Lorne had told him that he would be dancing at a wedding during 2004, with both eyes intact. Instead of mourning Cordelia Chase, at her grave. That was what was in store for him, in this timeline. {Just gotta trust in fate, I guess. He fails, this damn demon fails somehow...at least, I hope so! }
Xander felt at peace with that knowledge, and so simply said, "Do your worst, asshole."
Barshon smiled, and thrust the poker at Xander's eye.
"I do not think so."
Barshon looked in shock at Groo.
For the Groosalugg was holding his arm, and forcing it back from Xander's eye. "What are you doing?" the priest managed to gasp out.
"This cow has accused you and the other clergy of many things, things which at the time I refused to believe could be true. But from your own words and deeds, it has been proven right; you and the Covenant do not have the best intentions for the kingdom in your hearts."
"You have gone mad!"
"I think not. Torturing children, even cow children, in front of their life-givers? Such an act is beneath even the lowest beggar of the realm. The cow was correct; you have no honor." Groo threw Barshon to the floor.
The red-robed demon leaped up, and swung the poker at Groo's head. The warrior simply ducked and punched his opponent in the face, hard.
Very hard.
Barshon went down for the count, without a sound. And in the corner, Eli's eyes were as big as saucers. He turned around and fled the room, "Help! Help! Guards! Guards!" he screamed as he ran.
Groo got the keys to Xander's chains from Barshon's robes, and undid them. And despite all his intentions, Harris almost completely collapsed in Groo's arms.
"We must hurry. I know a safe way out of the palace," the Pylean said simply.
Xander nodded, and staggered in the direction Groo indicated. "Thanks," he managed to get out, as the champion of the realm helped support him.
Groo nodded. "In your place, I-I could not have done as you did. Even though you are an enemy of the realm, you are an honorable warrior - and I could not stand by and do nothing. Yet in so doing, I have betrayed all the oaths I have taken..." He took a breath, the enormity of his actions hitting the Groosalugg before he spoke again. "You loved your mate very much, didn't you?"
{Now I get what Lorne was saying back then. I did the right thing in refusing Wolfram & Hart's offer to bring Faith back, and the Siberians are coming for me.} And as Groo helped him to the passageway Xander - his mind still a little bit rattled from the torture - replied blearily, "I love all my friends very much..."
TBC...