Chapter 22: The Sunnydale Mission Part 1

Los Angeles, Silver Lake, May 1st, 2008

John looked around. Back in his safe house. They should've picked a new one, but he didn't have another prepared in Los Angeles. Not one large enough to house everyone. And with Spencer captured, the odds of Fulcrum managing to discover this safe house were slim. Slim didn't mean nonexistent, of course. But at least John was getting his money's worth.

"So… do I call you Watcher Casey now?"

He glanced over his shoulder. Caridad was sprawled on the bed, on her side, looking at him as she kicked off her shoes. Unlike his bruised ribs, the actual gunshot wound she had taken didn't bother her any more. He turned to face her. "We're not Watchers," he told her. They didn't have the training for that. John hadn't studied tons of books about demons. He hadn't trained to fight demons, either. He could fight demons, of course. And he drank coffee, not tea.

"What are you, then?"

"Spies." You didn't stop being a spy just because you changed employers.

"Spy Casey?" She frowned, though exaggeratedly. "That doesn't sound nice."

He snorted and sat down on the bed. "How long until the Council's got a fix on the last locations for the body parts?"

"I don't know," she replied. "Probably not long - Willow's good at that."

The woman was one of the most powerful witches, as far as John knew. And wasn't that a scary thought? Knowing that you were backed by the strongest military in the world was supposed to be comforting, but knowing how often those very same soldiers missed their mark with heavy ordnance put things into perspective. At least for those on the frontline calling for close air support and artillery fire. Of course, Rosenberg hadn't messed up as far as he knew - though there had been some hints about her past…

"We'll be called when they've got something." She rolled over in a smooth motion, raising to sit behind him with her head on his shoulder.

"There's still the vampire behind the training camp. Nathan," he reminded her.

"Yes. And we'll get him. But not tonight."

He felt her nip at his ear and stiffened. "I've got a guard shift in an hour."

"Plenty of time."

He had been planning to nap until then, but… he had dozed off on the plane for a bit. He nodded, but she was already pulling his shirt off.

Los Angeles, Silver Lake, May 2nd, 2008

"Where are the others?" Caridad asked as she entered the kitchen. She was wearing an oversized unbuttoned shirt - his shirt - over the top and shorts she used as sleepwear. And she was barefoot.

John, dressed a little more appropriate - polo shirt and slacks as well as shoes - flipped the eggs in the pan. "You didn't hear them leave?"

"I wouldn't ask if I had, would I?"

He pushed the plate with pancakes towards her. The Slayer obviously needed breakfast to improve her mood. "Bartowski, Walker, Bane and Grimes went to tell his family about the changes."

"Ah!" Caridad managed to reply despite her mouth stuffed with pancakes. After swallowing what looked like the volume of a guinea pig in one gulp, she went on: "Store-bought?"

"I'm not going to mix up pancake batter from scratch," he replied. He was a spy, not a cook.

She pouted. "Do you buy your marinade for barbecues as well?"

"Of course not!" That was different. "Phil's still asleep."

"I know. I heard him snore." She pushed the empty plate back and eyed the eggs.

"Those are mine. Make your own," he told her as he let them slide on his plate.

She pouted, but he knew not to fall for that. "You could already be eating eggs if you'd started cooking instead of whining," he said as he started eating.

Sighing, she went over to the fridge and pulled out a carton of eggs. Then proceeded to scramble all eggs in the carton.

Bartowski and Grimes would have made a comment about arteries and cholesterol. John didn't. Odds were, neither she nor himself would live long enough to suffer from such complications. If Slayers even suffered from such - he had his doubts.

"Is the Council's protection team on their way?" he asked as he finished his second egg and Caridad started on her second serving.

"They're hiring locals for that. People who know about demons and stuff."

"Ah. Vetted?" They would have to be, to be trusted with the safety of Bartowski's family.

"Yes. Old friends, sort of. Those of Angel's gang who weren't pissed off at getting saved by us when they got into too much trouble on their own."

He nodded. He knew the type - some people literally would rather die than accept help. Or, more often, would rather let their spies die than ask for help. He didn't care for either. "So, what are the plans for today? And tonight?" She grinned like the cat that had caught the canary, and he snorted. "Apart from that."

She stuck out her tongue in response. "I thought about doing a patrol in daylight. Check out some haunts - we have been away for some time, so some of the scum probably got cocky. They could do with a small reminder that…" She trailed off, then pulled her phone out of her pocket. "Oh."

He narrowed his eyes. She had grown tense.

"They found the other body parts."

That was fast. On the other hand, Rosenberg had gone back to London a few days ago. And when it came to preventing an apocalypse, speed was of the essence. "Where?"

"A few locations. But we got one assigned to us," she replied. "The closest one."

He tilted his head.

"It's in Sunnydale."

"Oh." He frowned. "Sunnydale is underwater." He had been there when they met Orion, after all.

"Yes. I guess that's another reason we were assigned the body part there." Caridad grinned. "They think we'll have to dive."

Unlike the Slayer, John wasn't happy to hear that. Diving was dangerous even under the best circumstances. People had drowned in water that was only two yards deep while diving. Swimming, or, rather, getting dragged by underwater sledges, to get close to a target was one thing, but actually searching a cursed demon god body part underwater? Even without any interference by an enemy, that would be a lethal danger. If you had to expect fanatic cultists coming after you? He grimaced.

"Oh?" Caridad looked surprised. "Don't worry, Sunnydale's Hellmouth is closed. It's no longer a demon magnet."

He sighed. This would take a while to explain.

"Hi, guys! We've survived Ellie's wrath, and things are alright - for the time being, at least," Bartowski called out as he entered the living room. "So… what's wrong?" he stared at them. No, at Caridad.

"We're all going to die," the Slayer told him.

"What?"

"We're not going to die," John corrected her. "But we're going to something extremely dangerous."

"We're going to dive for demons in Sunnydale," Caridad said.

"What?" Bartowski looked from John to Caridad and back, before turning to Walker, who entered behind him.

"London called. They found the rest of the body parts. And we've got the mission to get the one in Sunnydale."

"Oh." Bartowski blinked, then sighed. "Of course there would be one in Sunnydale. Where else?"

Walker, fortunately, was focused on the mission. "And it's underwater?"

"According to the coordinates we've been sent, yes," John told her. He turned the laptop around and pointed at the marker on the satellite map. "In the middle of Sunnydale Bay."

"In the middle?" Bartowski leaned forward. "That would be Sunnydale High."

"Not the exact centre," John corrected himself. "A little off."

"Oh. That's…" Bartowski craned his neck. "I actually don't know what's there. Can you overlay the old map?"

Instead of doing so, John pushed the laptop towards the nerd.

"Thanks!"

Bartowski hit a few keys, then leaned back. "Oh. No wonder I didn't recognise the place. That was a private manor."

"Can we actually do anything without heavy excavation equipment?" Walker asked. "That's all rubble, isn't it?"

"Most likely," John agreed.

"But if it had magic protections - and it would have them - then it could've survived the sinkhole. And such cursed things tend to be found no matter what," Bartowski said. "I don't think that we can assume it's safely buried without, uh, actually checking."

"Diving for a cursed body part. Probably with magic protections." John shook his head.

"Uh, yes. Sorry, but…"

"Yes, yes. I'll do it." John was the best-trained diver in the group. He would have to go down.

"And I'll be your diving buddy!" Caridad said.

"You're not trained," he retorted.

"I learn fast. And no one else has much experience, either." She grinned. "But I'm the only one who can sense the cursed thing, so I have to go down. With you."

He wanted to argue that she was needed on top, to deal with cultists. But she was right - she was the only one who could actually find the body part. John sighed. "We'll need to get you more training." Preferably not in the Sunnydale Bay.

"Yes!"

That was a remarkably quick change from her earlier mood, he noticed. Probably the Slayer competitive spirit at work.

Pacific Ocean, West of Los Angeles, May 3rd, 2008

John looked around. At this depth, the expected depth of their target, he didn't need additional light to see everything. Not with the sun shining. There was Caridad, swimming towards him, trailing a string of bubbles from her respirator.

She was moving gracefully - better than he could, even with his shoulder finally healed. Not that he had ever been worried about her swimming skills. Nor did he fear that she would be panicking and losing her directions while diving. Diving was more than swimming underwater. Even with the support of modern diving watches and computers, a diver had to know what they were doing, how long they could stay underwater at any given depth - and, most importantly, how long they had to stay at any given depth to avoid the bends.

He raised his arm and made a few gestures. She looked confused for a moment, then nodded and flashed the appropriate signs back. Good. Communication was vital. They wouldn't be skimming five yards below the surface this time, but dive down to ten, fifteen yards. And search the seabed. Sure, they were supposed to have a communication system rigged up by Bartowski, but… John didn't trust such systems. Not with his life. If something went wrong, you needed alternatives.

Caridad swam so close up to him, their masks touched. She was smiling behind hers, he knew. And she pointed up, at the surface.

After a moment, he agreed. They had done all the training they could afford - they need to get to Sunnydale Bay now, to keep their timetable.

After all, they were working with several other teams who would all be striking at the same time.

Tomorrow.

They returned to the surface, after the required decompression stops, and climbed aboard the yacht they had rented. Grimes was sitting at the table in the back, a stack of folded towels on the seat next to him.

"Thanks, Morgan!" Caridad beamed at him as she began to peel off her wetsuit.

John nodded at the Watcher; the towels were pointless before they had showered, but it was a nice thought.

"How was the dive?"

"No problems," John replied as he shimmied out of his own suit.

Caridad was more vocal, but there wasn't much to talk about. It was a routine training dive, nothing more. No problems meant it had fulfilled its function.

"We should save water," Caridad said with a smirk as they went belowdecks.

"I don't think that would actually save water," he replied, raising his eyebrows. "And it might wreck the shower," he added. The thing was cramped, as expected on a small yacht.

She pouted, then sighed. "I guess you're right."

He nodded, then hesitated. Caridad wasn't usually that frisky, and she had seen the shower before. So… Right. He reached out to hug her.

Caridad grabbed him and held him - not quite crushing, but he had trouble breathing for a second before she relaxed and leaned against him.

He didn't ask if she was nervous or afraid of the upcoming mission. He knew better than that. He simply held her.

And tried to ignore the reaction holding her while both were in bathing clothes caused.

Pacific Ocean, Sunnydale Bay, May 4th, 2008

John checked his GPS. They were exactly over the position Rosenberg's coordinates marked. He guided the yacht away a little, then yelled: "Drop anchor!". He'd rather not park the ship straight above a potential threat like a cursed demon god body part.

Not that they had a fix on the part's exact location, anyway. Magic apparently wasn't that precise, and the scrying spells Brown-Smythe had tried in Los Angeles - the Watcher was holding down the fort there - had failed. Which indicated that at least some of the magical protections were still intact.

Not that John was worried - he had gone on more dangerous missions. He sighed as he cut the engines and checked the rest of the systems before leaving the bridge. He was worried, of course. But you didn't show that before a mission. Not if your team members were nervous as well.

"Everything's set up," Bartowski told him as he entered the tiny dining room, which the nerd had taken over for his electronics. "Dad's hacking into the drone base, too, so we have air support if we need it. Of course, he can't exactly have the drone loiter above us - the Air Force would shoot it down - but if we have a little warning, we can send the cultists to hell with a Hellfire missile or two!"

"Good." John nodded curtly. Of course, odds were that such a drone would arrive too late, and hacking one would draw a lot of attention, more than they could afford. He didn't fancy resurfacing and staring down the barrel of a navy ship's turret. But as a last resort, you could do worse than calling in a drone strike.

Bartowski smiled in return. "Too bad we don't have underwater drones. Those would be really helpful."

"We might not recognise the body part on a video screen," John said. Hell, he might stare straight at it and miss it, if the right spell was active or something - the tales Brown-Smythe had told, and the stories Bartowski and Grimes had shared from Sunnydale…

"That's a good point."

John nodded again and headed to his and Caridad's cabin to grab his gear.

Sunnydale. They were right above the town's ruins. There shouldn't be anything left intact. Not after falling into a sinkhole which then had been buried under the sea. Tunnels would have collapsed, buildings crushed, things swept away.

And yet… he could almost envision finding a haunted house under the sea, populated by ghosts and sea monsters. Some magic trap or ambush, just waiting for them.

He shuddered as he grabbed his sports bag, then cursed and tried to push the stupid idea out of his mind. It was time to focus on the mission.

On deck, Caridad was slipping into her suit already. Or trying to - he stepped up and helped her. No need to have her wreck another suit because the neoprene wasn't rated for her strength.

"Thanks."

"No problem," he replied, patting her back as she zipped up.

Bane appeared, wearing a bikini, followed by Grimes in ugly shorts. "You're going down already? The other teams aren't supposed to start until evening," the man said.

"The other teams don't have to go underwater to find their target," John replied. Even with several hours worth of diving before the evening, they might not even find it in time for the mission's official start.

"Ah."

Bane simply nodded and grabbed a bag of her own. "We'll be sunbathing on the foredeck," she said.

John nodded as he slipped into his own suit. They'd keep up the 'tourists on a pleasure cruise' cover. There weren't many tourists, even now, to Sunnydale, but that was no reason to grow sloppy. It only took one nosy old woman to ruin a mission, as the Mossad had found out in Switzerland, after all.

Twenty minutes later, John and Caridad were ready for the first dive. Suits, weapons, respirator, oxygen tanks, flippers, masks - he had double-checked everything. Bane and Grimes were on the foredeck, keeping an eye on the sea and sky under the guise of sunbathing. Walker would be joining them once she finished getting the Stinger and AT-4 ready and stashed close at hand. And Bartowski was on the bridge, monitoring radio and electronic communications.

"Let's do this," John said.

"Yes!" Caridad smiled, the picture of an eager Slayer.

He didn't call her out on this. Everyone knew how dangerous this was. Even Grimes - he had grown up here, after all.

He nodded and let himself fall overboard, into the sea.

As always, the sudden quietness struck him. Everything was muted, which made the sounds he did hear stand out even more. Next to him, Caridad plunged into the water, trailing air bubbles as she reoriented herself. He made eye contact, then pointed down.

And they were off. The water was clear - there was no river carrying mud with it into the bay, and it was a sort of natural harbour if there were anything left to dock to, which helped. He could see the field of rubble forming the seabed below as he swam down. The remains of a wall stuck out, broken concrete riddled with pieces of rebar. I didn't match the blueprints of the manor they were looking for - far too modern. But on the other side, the area there looked like someone had scattered a giant bucket of bricks and tiles all over the ground. He checked where Caridad was, then pointed at it.

She took the lead, quickly descending to the seabed - he noted the depth and marked the time - and picked up a brick, holding it in front of her face. Was she studying it, or sensing something? She couldn't smell anything underwater, but magic wasn't physical. Or not just physical.

Then she dropped it and shook her head. He looked around while she swam above the rubble. Probably randomly - it wasn't any pattern he recognised. Certainly not a search pattern. But then, she was the Slayer. He was just her dive buddy. Overwatch.

He checked his harpoon gun, strapped to his oxygen tank. It would take care of a shark, or any other aquatic predator that might bother them. But he didn't know how well it's fare against an underwater demon. The explosive charge might not affect those things at all. And he didn't fancy fighting anything with just his knife.

Caridad swam up towards him, then stopped, shaking her head. Nothing here, then. Well, there were plenty of areas to search. He dropped a buoy to mark the area and pointed at the next.

"Nothing!" Caridad blurted out as soon as she'd spat out the respirator. "I didn't feel anything," she added as she pulled herself onto the yacht.

He followed her, with a little more effort - diving was tiring work. Walker, dressed in a bikini as well now, held out her hand but he managed by himself. "We started searching the immediate area, but with the way the town collapsed, the manor could've ended up further away," he told her.

She nodded.

"That will greatly enlarge the area you have to search, though," Bartowski, in shorts and an ugly Hawaii shirt, commented.

"Yes," John replied, looking at him, and the nerd blushed a little for stating the obvious just to say something.

"Uh… radio traffic is normal, nothing in the 'net either. Chavez might not even know about this location, of course, but, on the other hand, it is Sunnydale, and any, uh, practitioner would know about it."

Caridad finished peeling herself out of her suit - John hadn't yet started - and ran her hands through her hair. "And even if he knew, he probably would go for a location where he doesn't have to dive."

"He seems the type who hires others for such work," Bartowski replied.

John nodded in agreement. "Keep an eye out." He had a bad feeling about this.

"After we've eaten!" Caridad declared. "I'm starving!"

"We've got lunch ready," Bartowski said. "Mostly sandwiches, but we've got some pasta too…"

By the time John had finished stripping off his suit, Caridad had already gone through two sandwiches and was on her third bowl of pasta. Well, everyone had expected this.

"I'm monitoring the sea traffic," Bartowski said while John started on a roast beef sandwich of his own. "So far, there's been no sign of Chavez's yacht, but he could've easily altered the registration."

"Cartel members don't use their real name and address for their yachts," Walker added. "He can use their contacts."

"Or trade his yacht for something else," Bane said.

"Like a plane? Or another yacht?" Grimes asked.

"Why are the bad guys always rich?" Caridad complained. "Why can't they be on a shoestring budget? I'd like to fight a bad guy who has to take the bus to go places! Or a bad guy who doesn't have hordes of minions at his…" She trailed off and narrowed her eyes, then grabbed the binoculars from the bench next to her. "Zodiacs!" she announced after a glance. "Four of them, headed towards us."

Goddamnit. Rockets and missiles would be almost useless against zodiacs. Hell, even with guns they'd be hard to hit if they kept their distance and went evasive. Unlike a stationary yacht. "Get us moving!" John yelled, grabbing an M249 from the bag at their feet.

"Uh… alright!"

As John set up the SAW, the first shots rang out - bursts. The enemy had light machine guns as well. Perfect. Bane was already returning fire, as was Walker, but the distance was a little too long still. Not for the enemy, though - John noticed several shots hitting and punching through the railing near the bridge, followed by a yelp from Bartowski.

"Chuck!" Walker yelled. Predictable.

"I'm OK! Just startled!"

"Start the engine!" John yelled back as he opened fire himself.

His first and second burst went wide, but his third was on target, but he saw no one fall before all zodiacs started weaving through the water - John's tracers must have unnerved them. "Get us closer!"

"Closer?"

"Yes! We need to take them out!" He fired again and again, short bursts, all on target, but to no effect. None that he could see, at least. Other than forcing the enemy to evade and throwing off their aim that way.

"Anchor's up!" Caridad yelled, jumping and landing next to him, then reaching into the weapon bag.

"Use tracers!" he yelled to her over the noise from shooting and the engines springing to life.

As Bartowski swung the yacht around, the enemy spread out. That meant John could only target two of them from his position on the afterdeck. Good enough for now. "Shoot the closer one!" he told Caridad, focusing on the other himself.

The Slayer started shooting, tracers flying out - she used long bursts, too long for anyone who couldn't keep a rocking assault rifle steady as a vice. The leading zodiac swerved away. Good. John kept up his short bursts. If he could make the enemy piloting the boat blink…

His next burst was completely on target, and he saw the pilot slump over, then fall. The zodiac suddenly veered off to port, a far too tight turn… there! It flipped over after hitting a wave. John switched to the next zodiac on his side as the distance closed.

More bullets hit the yacht - one of the bridge windows splintered and the railing next to John sprouted more holes. He changed magazines on the M249, then continued firing. Cariad was going through magazines like an addict through a medicine cabinet.

Despite the zodiac's wild manoeuvring, the volume of fire began to tell. One of their gunners fell into the water, then another, and as the pilot held course a little too long, turning away, John's next burst caught him in the back. That left...

A scream, followed by Grimes' panicked yelling. "Kirsten! Kirsten's hit!"

John cursed again and grabbed the SAW, moving it to the other side. "Help them!"

And Caridad was off. He set the gun up and checked the enemy. Both zodiacs were still attacking - circling them - but both had lost at least one gunner. Walker was firing on the closer one, so John picked the one farther away.

It took him another box magazine, but he managed to take out both the pilot and remaining shooter, leaving the boat going in a circle on the sea, the engine stuck at an angle. Walker had killed the last gunner on her zodiac, and the boat was trying to escape. This pilot, though, kept weaving, taking short, random turns, which made hitting him damned difficult.

But not impossible. The man's luck ran out before he managed to get out of the range of their guns, and John saw him jerk, then slide to the side, into the water. "How's Bane?" he yelled before putting a few more bursts into both zodiacs - no sense in letting survivors in the water recover them; best if they had to swim to the shore.

"She'll live!" Caridad yelled back.

Good. He quickly took stock of their situation. The yacht was running, Holed like swiss cheese in places, but nothing vital seemed to have been hit. Nothing serious - the pumps could handle any bullet holes below the waterline. Bane was out, but she wasn't essential for the mission. But… John hadn't seen any diving gear in the enemy boats. And he doubted that Chavez had been in any zodiac, either. So… "It's a distraction!" he yelled. "Take us back!"

Bartowski got it at once. "Oh, no! They're making their move underwater!"

John nodded. "Yes. We need to dive."

"Just the two of you?" Bartowski asked. "We don't know how many enemies are down below. Or what they are."

"We can improvise depth charges." Some C-4, with the right detonator… that would mess up anyone underwater.

"That won't faze some water-based demons. Demons made out of cursed water," Grimes chimed in.

Bartowski nodded. "Yes. They should be pretty immune to explosions. Unless they've got other parts."

"It'll kill any humans though - like cartel killers or mercenaries," Walker said.

"So, let's drop a depth charge, then go diving to mop up what's left!" Caridad said.

John couldn't tell if she was eager or just putting up a brave front. It was even odds, what with the recent fight winding her up. "Get me the spare depth gauge," he said as he went to grab the C-4 and a waterproof detonator.

"Can't we just use a timer?" Bane asked from where she was sitting, bandaged but still able to at least shoot.

He shook his head. "No. I don't want to blow up the seabed and unearth whatever might be buried there. Or have some demon throw the charge back at us."

Bane paled a little more. "Good point."

"Yes, very good point. But let me do it!" Bartowski cut in. "You get ready to dive." John looked at him. "I'll just link the detonator and the gauge. I won't touch the explosives! Promise!"

John grunted in agreement and went to the afterdeck, where Caridad was already suiting up. "Check the gear," he told her. "Some stray bullet might've hit something." Not the pressure tanks, of course - they'd have noticed one of those blowing up.

"But we don't have much time left!"

"We won't have any time left if something breaks underwater," he retorted as the ship started to turn around - Walker had the conn.

She frowned but started to look at the diving gear. And she found a torn air tube. "We'd have noticed that right away," she commented.

He grunted in return.

"We're above the site," Walker reported. "Something's on the sonar. No idea what."

He went to take a look. The yacht's sonar was meant to help with fishing, but it was more for show - the kind of gimmick people with too much money and not enough common sense bought. But even so, something was moving beneath them. Good enough for John. "Got the detonator ready?" he yelled.

"Almost, just connecting the last... Done!" Bartowski replied.

Good. John went to grab the C-4. He licked his lips as he calculated the amount he needed - well, the amount that wouldn't blow the yacht up as well. Better safe than sorry, but the mission came first. On the other hand, if he managed to blow up his own team, the mission would be scrapped anyway. And the others would be dead.

He erred on the side of caution.

Bartowski handed him the improvised detonator. "It should be waterproof for, well… a minute or two." He smiled weakly. "It doesn't need to last longer, right?"

"No. Walker, as soon as I throw this, take us away as fast as possible!" John said.

"Ready," she replied.

He switched the detonator on and launched the charge. The engines started to roar before it hit the water, and the yacht sped away. "Everyone, down!" John yelled.

"Sarah!"

"I'm driving!"

"Set it on autopilot!" Bartowski yelled.

"It won't go at that speed!" she yelled back.

John glanced up. Walker was crouching behind the steering wheel. That would have to do.

A few seconds later, a water column shot up behind them as the charge blew up. And then the shock wave reached them, lifting the stern of the yacht out of the water. John held on to the bench next to which he was crouching, but Grimes was thrown forward, crashing into the stairs leading belowdecks.

Then the yacht crashed back down. John managed to hold on again, but not everyone did. He heard Bartowski yelling and saw the man crashing into the railing at the stern. Damn. "Everyone alright?" he asked as he got up. "Bring us about, Walker!"

The yacht started turning, so Walker was alright.

Bartowski groaned and started to get up. But Grimes…

"I think dislocated my shoulder," the man said from the stairs.

"I'm OK," Caridad said. John hadn't expected anything else. It took more than that to hurt a Slayer.

"Uh. I'm… OK. I think," Bartowski said.

"Sit down," John snapped. "And don't get in the way."

He finished suiting up as they returned to the position of the former manor.

"No bodies in the water," Caridad said. "Just fish."

"Bodies wouldn't float," John said. They would've been trimmed to stay below.

"The sonar is not working," Walker reported.

Perfect. "Let's go down," John said, grabbing the respirator.

Time to hunt underwater. Or be hunted. He checked his gear one last time - cursory, though, just out of reflexes - then let himself fall backwards into the water. A twist and he was swimming downwards. Unfortunately, the explosion had thrown up silt and sand over a large area, turning the formerly clear water muddy. They would do better to wait until the currents had diluted the whole thing, but that wasn't an option.

Underwater and practically blind past a few yards - there were worse conditions, but John couldn't remember having fought in any.

A shape appeared next to him - Caridad, waving at him, then pointing to the side before swimming into that direction.

She must be sensing a demon. Great. He followed her, feeling both relieved to be with her and angry at hiding behind her as he drew his harpoon gun and checked the harpoon. The tip sported all the different materials the nerds had managed to scrounge up, so it should hurt pretty much every demon that was vulnerable to something. Given that some demons weren't vulnerable to specific stuff, it wasn't particularly comforting.

He almost lost Caridad in the murky water but managed to catch up when she stopped a few yards above the seabed. There was a body floating down there, trailing blood in the current. Diver, standard scuba gear, human. Or human-looking. And he had a spear gun on a strap tied to his wrist.

But Caridad wasn't looking at the body. She was looking at the water. Damn. He swam a little closer to her. If they got separated… something moved! He lined up his harpoon gun, but Caridad was faster, shooting towards the thing with two long knives out. He saw her twist out of the way of something, striking at it as it passed. And he heard a scream. Inhuman. Screeching.

The water was moving, rippling - like something invisible. Gritting his teeth, he aimed and fired. The harpoon flew, trailing bubbles - and then stuck in water. Invisible water demons. Damn.

The thing turned, presumably to face him, but there was Caridad again, hacking at it with her knives, close to where his harpoon was stuck. And the thing screeched again, loud enough to make John's head and ears hurt before the screaming cut off.

Caridad made cutting motions, then kicked off and withdrew. John floated closer, reaching out to recover his harpoon. Something brushed over his hand and arm, and he jerked it back. It had felt like leather. Or sharkskin. He grabbed his harpoon on the second try and pulled. Then he finally saw it. A torn, almost transparent skin as large as himself, partially wrapped around his harpoon, twisting in the currents like a giant jellyfish. A demon that had been filled with water?

And there could be more of them around. Would be - Caridad was still tense, looking into one direction in particular. He swam towards her until he entered her field of vision, then pointed in the same direction.

She looked at him, nodded, then started swimming. He followed. Visibility was improving, which was a mixed blessing with invisible demons around. At least all the sand and silt made it easier to spot the things when they were close to gutting you, or whatever they did to kill people. Probably drowned them - they didn't seem to have teeth.

Caridad swam at a fast clip now, and he had once again trouble keeping up. She was headed straight towards the seabed. Then he saw a broken ornamental turret appear in front of them - jutting out of the field of rubble. One of the few landmarks here. Now he knew where they are - for all the good it did to him.

Caridad jerked again, kicking her legs to propel herself back towards him, blades out and flashing in a complicated pattern. John caught the hint of movement, but not quick enough to shoot. Caridad kept swimming back towards him, head turning - tracking another of those things. He followed her gaze with the harpoon gun. All he needed to do was to hit it again. That would let Caridad track it better. And slow it down.

He squinted - the water was clearing up slowly, but there were still particles reducing visibility, especially when they caught the light, and… there! He saw movement again, coming towards them, but at an angle. No matter, it was almost close enough to hit it easily with his gun…

Caridad suddenly whirled, turning away from the monster - and looking straight at John. No, at something behind him!

He kicked out and felt his feet hit something solid but not hard. Like a water bed. Then something hit his side, and he was pushed towards the seabed, ribs cracking. He clenched his teeth to avoid screaming and losing his respirator, and kicked out again, twisting to bring his harpoon gun to bear, but the thing was gone already. Caridad arrived, turning towards him - he signalled that he was OK, but before she could reply, she was hit as well, from the other side. She managed to twist and slash at the monster, but it didn't look as if she'd hit it.

Two near-invisible demons, doing hit and run attacks on them. He swam close to Caridad, putting his back to hers. They had to cover each other or they were dead. They might be dead anyway. How did you deal with this?

They had to get some cover, at least one direction. He grabbed Caridad's arm. A blade shot towards him but stopped before it cut his head off. He ignored it as much as he could and pointed downwards. Towards the turret's remains.

She nodded, then grabbed his belt and dragged him down. He kept the harpoon gun trained on the water behind them as they descended. Movement! He fired, but the harpoon missed and disappeared in the murky water. He frantically grabbed another to reload, kicking out with his feet. The demons would be attacking him now!

And it did. His feet hit something, then he felt it slide past, along his legs. He struck with the harpoon gun, hitting something, then stabbed with the harpoon in his hand. Another screech. Yes!

Then a blow hit his stomach, and he folded like a jackknife, the air driven out of his lungs and the respirator from his mouth.

He grabbed for it, dropping the harpoon, then the gun, but something was quicker - it was pulled out of his reach. And with a Slayer dragging him towards the seabed, and a demon tugging at his air tube, the rubber would soon snap.

Then it would be even odds if the demon killed him before he drowned.