TITLE: Second Chances
CO-AUTHORS: Hitwoman and Novus
SPOILERS: General Angel: the Series season five, namely for the presence of Fred.
DISCLAIMERS: Joss owns all, We own nothing! We're just borrowing them for a teensy bit.


Prologue

Southern California
c. 1600 AD

The beast howled and spat and clawed, so enraged that even the most experienced of the hunters
stepped back and prayed the chains would hold. There were only five of them (there had been a
dozen before the battle) and it was such a strong vampire. Stronger than most, strong enough
to leave a trail of dead villages all up and down the Californian coast. Strong enough to
merit the ultimate Earthly punishment from the Order of the Holy Cross.

After a long moment, the undead creature's strength seemed spent and it settled on hissing at
the tired, bleeding knights of the Order.

But that glare!

Don Pedro de Linares, the leader of the band, crossed himself, unashamed of his fear. Who knew
what diabolic power lay behind those eyes, after all? "Carlos, Juan, blind it."

The two spearmen exchanged nervous glances. "Lord?" Carlos, a Galician fisher's son who was
deeply regretting joining the Order at the moment, asked cautiously.

"Do it!" de Linares snapped.

Carlos and Juan cringed, but obeyed. With their spears, they managed to accomplish the task
without getting too close. The vampire let out another howl as they did and nearly attacked
them. Only a wooden spear pressed against its chest dissuaded the vampire from that course of
action, and that just barely.

"Now, the coffin."

The other two surviving warriors picked up the slack end of the chains wrapped around the
vampire and began to tug it along the dry, dusty ground. Ten feet away, a stone coffin lay,
half-buried in the dirt. A slab of a cover, hastily inscribed with a cross, rested next to it.

The vampire began to howl again as it was unceremoniously dragged into the coffin. The chains
clattered slightly as it hit the sturdy stone.

De Linares smiled for the first time as he stepped up to the coffin and peered down at the
thrashing occupant. "You are not so dangerous now, yes?" he asked it in the Castilian Spanish
that was native to them both. It was unchivalrous and probably unchristian, but he could not
resist a little taunting. "I hope all those people you kill haunt you now, until you finally
rot away to nothing. Or maybe all you'll hear will be your own screams until Judgement Day.
Either way..." He grinned down at the vampire, who regarded him with unmistakable hate, even
though its eyes were gone. "Vaya con el Diablo." De Linares spat, then stepped back.

The vampire's screams, louder than ever, were abruptly silenced as the heavy stone lid was
dropped down atop the coffin. Large iron spikes were hammered down into place, sealing the lid
tight, and then carefully gathered rocks were placed atop it as an additional precaution.
Finally, dirt and sand were shoveled on top of the tomb until it was well buried. After an
hour, with dawn approaching, de Linares and the others finally stopped and surveyed their
handiwork.

"Well done," de Linares said through his tired gasps. "Not even the Devil could let him loose
now." He smiled again, imagining he could still hear the vampire's screams. Just a fancy, but
one that would comfort him for many years to come.

* * * * *

Los Angeles
2001

"Well, shit."

Frank Berliner stared at the giant, black opening in the wall and wiped sweat off his brow. He
hated working in these old tunnels. They were full of rats, a stench that couldn't be
described in words, and worse things, the kind of thing that was never talked about but made
the city sewer workers pretty much the highest paid civic servants in LA.

And today, of all days, Harry calls in sick!

At least, Frank thought, it was still light out. A dump truck full of money wouldn't be enough
to get him down in the tunnels after sunset.

Get it over with, a small voice from the back of his mind said. Frank sighed and aimed his
flashlight into the black hole in the wall. There'd been a small earthquake earlier in the
day, barely enough to be noticed, but these old walls were always falling down.

Frank just hoped none of the pipes had burst. If not, he could go home and let the
construction workers worry about it. Walls weren't his business, but pipes... He sighed again
and headed towards the gaping darkness.

Two steps towards it, he stopped and listened hard, trying to hear over the sudden pounding of
his heart.

A second passed, Frank risked breathing, and then he froze. That time he had definitely heard
it. A soft... well, a soft sound, one he couldn't put any words to at the moment.

Frank waited for thirty seconds, clutching the flashlight and wishing it was an M-16 like the
one he'd had in Kuwait, then another thirty before even beginning to relax.

"You're being an idiot," he said aloud, relaxing a bit more when nothing pounced on him. Just
get going! that voice scolded.

"Okay, okay," Frank grumbled. He gingerly stepped through the hole, managing not to upset too
many loose rocks, and swung his flashlight around.

"What the hell?" he asked, so startled that he nearly dropped the light. There was a hole in
the ground - it was dirt and rock here, not cement or brick - and it looked like someone had
set off a landmine. Debris all over the place, centered around that hole. A hole just big
enough for a man... or something the size of a man... to wriggle through.

Frank found himself stepping closer to the hole, despite the icy fear gripping him. The
flashlight, its beam thin and pale in here, cast a little light on the hole as Frank peered
down it. There was a box under all the dirt.

"Shit!" Frank jumped back as if he'd bitten. That was no box. That was a coffin, he'd seen
enough of them to know the difference, and what the hell was it doing down here?

He started to turn, to get the hell out of there, but there was the sound again and now he
realized it was above him. The flashlight swung up, Frank saw a face out of a nightmare, all
dry gray skin and fangs, and had time to scream just once before it all went red, then black.


The vampire stared at the mess that had been a human and, trembling, licked a little blood off
one of its gnarled, desiccated fingers. Just a drop, but enough to send a jolt down its
decaying spine. Then it howled, loud enough to rattle the stones around the hole in the wall,
and loped its way out into the tunnel. If it noticed that its feet were cracking and peeling
with each step, it gave no sign of it. All it was thinking was BLOOD and it could smell it, so
much and so close, all it had to do was wait for the bright sun to set and then it would
feed...