Chapter Five

Chapter Five

Money – the one vice Willy could honestly admit to. He loved money more than he loved his first wife, Martha. Unfortunately for him, the woman felt likewise and had turned out to be a much higher class of player (especially in the bedroom department!). In under a year, they'd married, separated, and divorced. And she had taken pretty much everything. So down on his luck - but not out - Willy had got in touch with a few friends and struck a precious nugget of gold.

A friend of his from LA, Doyle, had a friend who was selling his bar in Southern California. "It's a sure fire winner man!" the Mick had assured him over a beer. "He's doing very good business. It's a bloody goldmine!"

Of course being the sort of man he was, Willy didn't exactly trust Doyle (you had to be a few cards short of a deck to do that) and decided to take a trip into Sunnydale to check out the joint.

At first sight, The Alibi Room had proved Doyle right. The then current owner Louie appeared to be comfortably well off, it had a reputation for well-behaved clientele. Everything looked to be nothing short of great and with little persuasion Louie agreed to sell his bar. Sunnydale was perfect for him. In a small town people trusted people. Willy had never been one for grand scams. A few tiny ones wouldn't do anybody any harm. He would live life easy in the Californian sunshine.

Or so he'd thought, until he'd served his first 'late-night' customers about two weeks in.

Willy shook his head. His customers might be the minions of Satan but at least he made a pretty penny out of them. Today would be good on that score, three hundred dollars good.

He knocked on the door.

He was pleased with himself. The underground wasn't an easy place to extract information from; to get such valuable pieces of the stuff within such a short space of time required talent. Luck was obviously on his side the day that female Chaos demon walked into his place.

There was no way that Angel couldn't pay up.

Willy chuckled to himself. In Sunnydale there probably was a way in hell…

He knocked again.

Angel tossed his book onto the coffee table. Whoever was outside definitely wasn't the landlord – they hadn't shouted insinuations that he enjoyed relations with his mother.

He opened the door. "Willy," he said dully. "You're here. Why are you here?"

"You offend me Angel," the snitch answered.

Angel slouched back into his chair and stared at the barman intently. With his Watcher in a hospital bed, the worm might actually prove to be his best hope for a long while. However, Darla's buddies were scaring other demons over the hills and far away. He couldn't see any reason why any one of them might give Willy a tip off, drinks on the house or no.

"I've got what you asked for," Willy continued. "I believe that we agreed a sum 'o three hundred?"

Angel said, "Dirt first – pay later."

Willy shrugged and started to open his mouth in objection. Now he had the man worrying about the security of their deal. If the snitch was embellishing the truth he could be sure of it. "Talk Willy," he prompted coolly.

"Alright, alright! They say some ancient vamp callin' himself 'The Master'" came here…"

"In the 1930's to open the Hellmouth. But an earthquake ruined the church he was working from and he got trapped underground, between the demon dimension, and this one," Angel finished. "The vampires have come to free him."

"Hey! I tried," Willy assured the vampire. "But these guys are scarin' the pants off my customers! I mean demons call themselves 'immortal' but most of 'em just do it for the virgins ya know?"

I know…

Paris, 1754

The sights and pleasures of gay Parie in the spring; how Angelus loved them. How Angelus loved life now.

He had been wasted in Galway, stomping from tavern to whore house, from whorehouse to tavern - not that he hadn't had good company. He and Sandy Burns had shared many a hearty belly laugh over a tankard of ale and a "serving wench." He'd been a fine and faithful friend, a good man.

A man who'd had equally good blood running through his veins.

Truly a life of the night was the life for him. He had never dreamt of leaving Ireland and travelling across Europe. Especially with a lady such as Darla, yet now it was a reality. He felt as if his fangs were tearing into the throat of the very world, its blood was his for the feeding and that his hunger for it would never rest until he had drained it all.

They walked together into the dim alleyway.

Aye, no man was lucky enough to have a woman as fine as Darla at his side. No man alive.

He smiled sweetly at his sire. The moonlight danced playfully; illuminating her soft pale, skin until her radiance was greater than that of the moon itself. Angelus loved her. She had given him the gift of eternal love and all she had asked of him was his companionship. Tonight, she wore the same gown as on the night she had rescued him from boredom, the night he was changed.

The night he became.

Darla had made everything beneath him. The conventions of the world meant nothing to him. He could do anything he pleased. Night after night he fulfilled his every whim, he drank and killed, for Angelus need not answer to anyone ever again. His Da had often lectured him on matters of the Lord as he'd taken his belt to him, but now there was no God. He had forsaken him the moment that he laid eyes upon his beloved sire. Angelus was above every law known to man.

Angelus was an immortal. Angelus was a god.

Sunlight - of course - by its very nature of light, hated him as it hated all children of darkness and, would ensure his most agonising end should he dare to venture out in the hours of its daily reign. But that was now elementary as far as he was concerned. Darla had taught him well. As long as he tried to avoid the 'mad' peasants who claimed to have some inkling about his true nature, then he and his lover would stay in each other's embrace until civilisation finally burned itself to the ground (such was the nature of man Darla had instructed him).

Wooden stakes, fire, holy water could kill him and crosses could burn him - but mortals hardly had the ability to use them well enough to take the matter of vampires into their own hands.

I shall live forever, he thought confidently.

"Something on your mind my sweet," Darla whispered, breaking his train of thought.

"Its nothing," Angelus said grinning. "Just thinking about how grand life is. You've taken me from Ireland to this wonderful city. I feel so out of me place… Darla…"

Darla smiled putting a finger to his lips. "You're a bright boy Angel, you'll get used to it."

Angelus laughed out loud, Darla threw him an oddly sharp stare in return. He couldn't help himself; it was his nature. He'd had schooling in Galway but not paying attention had been the one subject at which he had excelled. To him Paris was as strange and unnatural as being a vampire, possibly more so. People spoke in a strange indescribable tongue that had made seducing the young woman of France difficult (though not impossible – he had fed). And try as hard as his sire did to school him, his Irish tongue didn't seem to like the language all that much.

Ah well, it was better to simply enjoy the nightlife - the shows, the buildings, the fine clothes, and most importantly the blood. The warm blood of a frisky Frenchie was quite a little delicacy.

"Help," a female voice screamed in French. "Monster!" He'd heard the sounds of the words often enough during their visit to understand what they meant…

They walked on in the direction of the girl's calls.

Still a good few yards out of sight, Darla held out her arm to push him back as he tried to walk further.

"Darla?" Angelus asked, dumbstruck. The older vampire failed to respond, only hissing as she stared on. Her face had changed. "Ah, getting ready for our supper…."

Darla's head turned sharply. "Shut up!" she growled in annoyance. "Watch her…."

Angelus saw nothing to be afraid of. A vampire was attacking a young woman. He held her tight up against a wall. She looked as good as his.

"No, please monsieur," she begged in French, tears streaming down her face. Angelus thought her very attractive - long auburn hair, a shapely form. Even at a distance, a most appealing kill

The vampire tightened his grip on the girl's throat. "No, please!" she shrieked. The vampire snarled as he moved in for her neck.

Before the girl grabbed his, causing it to release grip.

"Thank you for your kindness!" she shouted happily, as if she were trying to let any passers by know that she was fine. The vampire jumped at her. Again, the girl moved with the most incredible speed that Angelus had ever seen, stepping to the side and elbowing the vampire in the side of the head.

Who in the name of the holy mother is she, thought Angelus, his mouth now wide in awe. It was impossible for a human to fight hand to hand with a vampire, impossible. In corner of his eye he could see Darla's rage burn through her, she had seen this before and she hated it, hated it with a passion he had never thought possible.

The vampire roared again and wildly threw punches at its victim; all of which she avoided before delivering a blow of her own. The vampire was on his knees, immobilised with pain.

"No…" Angelus mouthed. A small point slipped into the girl's hand. Grabbing the vampire by his hair she plunged it into his chest…

Until that moment, Angelus had considered fear to be without foundation to him. Fear was for the living, for those who had something to hold onto: a fragile mortality that would eventually pass. It was for the prey, not for the predator. But he felt it then.

He felt it then.

Shaking slightly, he watched the girl walk away.

And watched her turn back.

She stood, watching, eyeing the darkness as if, as if she knew that he was there. When she spoke again it was in English. "You would do well to leave this alley tonight."

Neither he nor Darla responded as the girl backed off into the shadows.

"Darla?" he asked again.

When Darla faced him again her face was human and yet the venom of her scowl had not faded. "It's time you learnt an important lesson my love," she told him.

"Do you know her?"

"No," Darla replied. "No, I don't."

Angelus was confused. "Then why did you…."

"She is the Slayer," his sire interjected.

"Slayer?"

Darla gave him no answer until they had reached their lodgings. Then she divulged everything to him. She told him about how the Slayer was the sworn enemy of their kind, how one girl in all the world was infused with the power to kill them. She told him that the Slayer was their superior and that only a vampire trained well in hand to hand combat would be able to kill such a mortal.

She told him that he would one day taste such a glory.

But back then, Angelus was simply afraid of this huntress, this Slayer. He could not foresee his future, he did not know then where or when or indeed if he would kill a Slayer. Angelus could not have been aware of the regret such a kill would one day bring to his heart. All Angelus knew was that he should avoid these Chosen Ones of the human race.

All he knew then was that he should survive…

***

"Angel? You there?"

Angel blinked for a second. Willy had brought him out of the past. He got back to the present quickly enough. The snitch had told him nothing that he didn't already know about. There was no reason for payment as far as he was concerned.

"No deal Willy," he said emotionlessly.

"Aw c'mon," Willy protested. "I did the best I could! This is deep shit Angel, way out of most guys' leagues! And what did ya say? 'Get me all you can.'"

The man was right but the information was of no value or use to him, it would be money given for nothing. "I'll give you one fifty now, for what you've got and if you get me more on top then you get another two fifty. No buts Willy, you earn this money and you might earn more, you don't…"

"Received and understood," Willy said, a little sadly to Angel's ears. "But you don't screw me around eh? I mean, ya broke the deal man, I mean I ain't so sure ya straight this time."

Angel nodded. "I'm playing straight. I'm going for high stakes - can't afford to lose. You give me something of what I need and you get your money - if you can't, you still get it."

Willy looked down at his shoes. "I'll get what I can for ya Angel," The vampire had to admit to being impressed. He'd never heard such determination in the human's voice before. Willy understood what he was telling him, and would risk his own neck to stop him from losing the game that he was about to play. That took guts.

Angel moved over to his wall safe and produced Willy's money. "Catch," he said tossing the bound notes.

Willy smiled as he caught the greenbacks. "Thanks," he said lowering his voice. "Word of advice from a gambling man: know when to fold and walk away buddy."

Angel smiled slightly as Willy walked out. "Wish I could," he whispered, grabbing his long black coat.

Back in his days of killing, torturing, and other life destroying acts of evil, Angel never really cared much about not being able to walk during the hours of daylight (mainly because he was having too much of a good time at night). Now though, as was the case with so many things in his life, it became an annoyance. He had an injured Watcher to speak with and visiting hours were over.

He'd been coming back to Mercy Hospital over the last couple of nights to check on the Englishman's condition but so far he'd got nothing. The man was out and out cold. He just had to wait. No matter how little time he had, he had to wait.

And pray.

He entered through the main entrance, thankful for the irony of getting past. Much as he tried he couldn't save everybody and because he couldn't save everybody both of Sunnydale's hospitals were regularly inundated with fresh emergency cases thanks to vampire and other demonic assaults (not forgetting the odd regular human beatings). In the end it just meant that no one noticed or was interested in his being around. After about four corridors he reached his intended room. Looking both ways for any oncoming humans, Angel stepped inside – the door had been left wide open. Busy night, he guessed.

The Watcher, one Rupert Giles according to his wallet, lay flat on his back. For a moment Angel thought that the man was still in his coma before his eyelids fluttered.

"How did you know that I was in here?" Angel inquired, his voice hushed.

"I've been expecting you, sooner or later," Giles answered wanly. "I suppose I should thank you now." "Didn't figure you for changing your mind."

"Neither did I," Giles' chuckle was strained. "But you still seem somewhat determined to prolong my life."

"You really don't know the half of it," Angel said gravely. "So where do we stand Mr Giles?"

"Near the end or so it would appear," Giles remarked. "Unless everything you told me was nothing more than a desperate lie for my trust."

"There's nothing I can say to make you believe me," Angel said, defeated. "You trust me or you don't – it's your choice."

"Who is 'The Master?" the Watcher asked, his tone curious.

"The Master?" Angel shook his head. "The Master is a very old and very powerful vampire Mr Giles. And he's here in Sunnydale waiting, for the end of the world."

Giles propped himself up. "Its…unfamiliar," he mumbled, his words spiked with thinly disguised concern.

"There are some old texts," Angel continued. "They make references to a Master that shall restore 'the dominion of the Old Ones' Now the vampire I know might just be insane but if he's everything he looked to be and if the stories I heard were right then he's the guy to make things happen."

"But if this vampire is as great a threat as you say he is then why hasn't the Slayer tried to stop him?" Giles put in.

Angel ran an "I wish I knew" hand down his face before speaking again. "When I was in North California during the 30's I read some newspaper reports about a series of serial killings here in Sunnydale – the victims were all drained of blood. A couple of months later I hear a story that the vampire responsible was The Master himself…"

"Oh God," Giles' eyes widened. "The Hellmouth."

Angel nodded an affirmative. "He tried to open the gateway, Watcher, but there was an earthquake and he got trapped underground and in-between dimensions while he was at it. As far as anyone knew he could never break free."

"But that isn't the case is it?" Giles speculated.

"No," Angel said bluntly. "He has followers – vampires all his descendants, they were gonna be his army on the day he took things over. Now they're here and ready for a jailbreak. Trouble is I don't know what they're planning or when they're planning to put things in motion."

"How is it that you know so much about them?" Giles asked suspiciously.

"My sire, is one of the Master's direct bloodline, she invited me to meet with him long before I had my run in with my Gypsy friends," Angel informed him. "I would have joined The Master in a heartbeat. Trust me, he's going to watch the world burn if his kids give him the chance. My sire's in town and there's more vampires coming into town every night. They're working something."

Giles appeared deep in thought. "I'll make a call to the Council tomorrow," he said. "I'll request that the Slayer come here."

"She won't come," Angel said cynically. "I need your help now! If I can stop them now, then there won't be a Master!"

"My resources are few and far between!" Giles argued. "I haven't been a Watcher for years, I came here to escape all of it for God's sake!"

"Mr Giles? Are you alright?" a nurse called.

"I'm fine," he returned.

Once the sound of footsteps subsided, Angel moved from behind the door. "We'll speak again," he said. "Good luck with Buffy."

With that the vampire walked out, his coat moving with his anger, as if it were caught in a fierce storm.

"Buffy?"

Willow walked out of The Bronze alone. Though she didn't want to leave Xander's company, she had to leave, it was just all becoming too much for her. The talk earlier in the day had helped but now it just seemed like the distant past rather than a morning away. Her thoughts were starting to show on her face a little, making her an open book.

A book that she didn't want her friends to read.

Xander and Jesse were trying their utmost to put her at ease again but they couldn't help her. Within her mind, Willow saw herself staring into the abyss, an endless shadow that called to her, enticed her to become one with it, to lose her very self inside it: death. All she asked for was peace: a place where the memory of Jaclyn McCormick would not hurt her to the very core of her being, a place where she would never be hurt ever again. Within her mind, Willow had found it.

Deep in thought, Willow did not know that her every move was being patiently and carefully scrutinised, and had been for nights upon end. As her head fell against her pillow at night and she took a final gaze of longing out of her bedroom window, she saw no shadow sitting in the night, watching her toss and turn until finally she slept.

But then Darla was careful.

She had observed the child for nights on end; taken a peep at her as she cried her endless stream of grief, seen her every pitiful expression and listened in to each and every conversation she'd held with herself, until she had all she needed.

Darla smiled. Given time the girl would become the key as she had hoped she would be. She would let death take the child's hand and lead her unto the peace of darkness that she so vehemently sought.

And death's name would be Angel…