Author's Note: Here's chapter 14, *finally*! I'm sorry to all those who had to wait so long for me to actually getting around to finishing this crazy story. Too many things going on in my life as of now and I haven't had much time to work on this chapter. I promise the last chapters will be produced faster than this one was.

*****

"Ugh. . . . My head. . . I feel like I was seriously smashed. . ." The Bostonian Slayer walked ever-so carefully out of Wesley's office making sure she didn't collapse from the dizziness. "Then again, being smashed doesn't involve small, green demons in colorful robes chanting gibberish. Not since New Orleans anyway."

"Well, well. . . Looks like someone finally decided to wake up." Willow stepped beside the dizzy brunette and took the crook of her arm. The redhead led her to the stairs.

"Could you tell us what happened?" Tara asked, rushing to Faith's other side. "Can you?"

Faith shook her head, her hands cupping her temples. "Sorta. I don't remember much. It's all kinda blurry." Willow handed her a glass of water. "Thanks, Red."

"Tell us what you *do* remember, then," Willow asked, her voice a little more anger-filled than she had intended. Patience while talking to Faith was not one of Willow's virtues. The two females don't exactly have a friendly past, one might say.

Faith took a sip of water before telling her view of the tale. "This midget of an ugly-ass demon-thing came into the hotel. He came in here all demanding that little bundle of Angel's joy. And, if you wanted to know, that little Minnie Mouse-girl is, like, tougher than she looks. Anyhows, the Almighty Diminutive One froze us all with some kind of paralyzing spell thingy." Willow and Tara nodded. It was what they had expected. "Once the midget was done acting bigger than he was, he took the kid and then did some sort of knocking-out spell." She took another sip of water. "That's 'bout all I can remember."

A British voice entered the hotel's air. "So it was a Pleuon, eh? Annoying little bastards when they're casting spells on you." The three girls crowded around the stairs noticed Spike sitting on the couch closest to the TV with the Drusilla-masked-as-Cordelia sitting at his side. "They're the extreme poster boys for overcompensation. It's kinda like when a guy gets a really, really nice red sports car; you know what *that* says about him. Pleuons are the same way, only with magic instead of cars, to make up for lack of height rather than . . . performance." Spike turned back around to watch the TV. "Had to deal with a few of them in my heyday, not that I'm still not in it."

"Nasty little creepy-crawlies, crawling under my skin and messing with my insides and outsides," mumbled Drusilla, almost incoherently.

Spike gestured his thumb at Drusilla. "What she said."

A second British voice made its way into the Hyperion's lobby. "Aspirin. . . Water. . . Now. . ."

"Hey, Princess Margaret woke from his nap-nap," Faith observed of Wesley's teetering entrance.

Wesley's eyes adjusted to the dim light of the lobby. "Connor's still missing, I take it." Willow and Tara nodded in unison. "That's just bloody brilliant. Now they have all but the secret missing ingredient."

"I'd watch what you were saying, Giles, Jr.," the blonde vampire expressed from the couch.

"What do you mean?" Spike's finger pointing at the TV answered Wesley's question. Rather, the news report on the TV answered his inquiry.

The man on the TV appeared flustered and baffled. ". . . Folks. . . I really don't know how to explain this. . . The only thing I can say is, 'Thank God the Angels are playing Kansas City in *Kansas*. . .'"

"Why?" the former Watcher asked. The blonde male held up one arm to silence him and the reporter on TV continued, almost on cue from the vampire.

"A strange red substance. . . Some sources say blood while others say strawberry Kool-Aid. . . has filled the entire stadium. . . Even stranger is the fact that the red substance, whatever it may be, has formed some kind of river leading out of the stadium and into the streets of Anaheim. Recent reports have been showing this mysterious river has come to a stop and formed. . . a moat. . ." The reporter still couldn't believe what he was reading. ". . . around Disneyland, which is still out of service due to yesterday's earthquake." The television switched to black at the remote's control.

"My goodness. . ." Wesley drawled. It took several moments for his mind to digest this information and several more to realize the room was now filled with people who felt just as groggy and confused as he was.

"Baseball's a damn bloody sport," Spike wisecracked. Several people in the room groaned at his joke.

"What was that all about?" Fred asked. She had been the last to enter the room therefore getting the least amount of information from the man on TV.

"Whatever it is," Gunn interjected, "it doesn't sound good no matter how you look at it."

"It's the blood spewing forth from the angel," Giles whispered, barely audible.

"It's happening. . ." Wesley mumbled. His facial expression was that of shock and fear.

Dawn looked around the room at the people who were staring either at their feet, their hands, or at each other. The saddest expression of all was Angel's. The former Scourge was solemnly gazing at the empty baby bassinet which once carried Connor. He was doing a nice impression of a statue that would break even with the slightest touch. No emotions really played his face, more of just a gaze which showed that all feeling from his vampiric body had been wiped away. Dawn felt really bad for him, but didn't know exactly *why* he looked so sad.

"Does this baseball thing have anything to do with the baby's disappearance?" Dawn winced as she expected the elder vampire to break down. Fortunately, he didn't.

"Look here, kiddo," Lorne answered, sipping at his Seabreeze. "You know the domino theory? That one event affects another and so forth and so on?" Dawn nodded with slight understanding. "It's like that with this whole Sacred Demise thingamajig. When they get the virgin's blood, *bam*, the earthquake happens. When the earthquake happens and reveals where the Great Slimy is buried, the eye goes all glowy. And when the eye goes all glowy, they need the child. You see where I'm going with this, girly?" The younger Summers nodded another time. "And when they have the child. . ."

". . . The angel spews the blood," Lorne and Dawn said together.

"See, now you're getting it," the Host finished.

"Is it me or was this Ch'Nalin guy a modernist?" Heads spun in Buffy's direction. "I mean, of all the sacred places to be buried, the guy gets buried in *Disneyland*. The glowing eye? The Indiana Jones ride. When it comes time for the blood to spew from the bowels, where does it come out? ANGEL stadium."

"Actually, the correct name is Edison Field," Gunn said matter-of-factly.

"Whatever. I just found that really strange."

Wesley stepped onto the main stairwell behind Faith, Willow and Tara and raised his arms high into the air to catch the attention of the group in the lobby. Unfortunately, not many of the crowd noticed and went about on their own miniature conversations about the matter at hand. The Britishman cleared his throat extra loudly but availed no progress. Another loud clearing got no more focus than the first one did. He knew he would have to resort to the big guns if he wanted to get anything done around here. At the top of his lungs, he shouted the first attention-grabbing word that came to mind.

Every eye in the lobby was directly fixated on the Watcher at the foyer. "Wesley! Where did you learn that word?!"

The younger Britishman gave the Pylean demon a sour look. "Well. . . now that I have your attention. . ."

"Such language in front of the children," the green demon sarcastically admonished, placing his hands over Dawn's ears.

Wesley clenched his teeth together and closed his eyes tightly. He was trying his hardest not burst into obscenities. . . more, that is.

"Thank you. . . Lorne." At this point, he didn't know whether to laugh hysterically or tear that demon's horns clean from his head. He decided on neither, for now. "It seems as though we have a new problem at hand."

"What? The fact that our hero is locked up in the looney bin? Yeah, I'd say that's a problem."

Wesley was about to answer the question when he realized that the asking voice was Cordelia's and it wasn't talking in the same sing-song tone as Drusilla's. "Cordelia! You're back!"

"Live and in the flesh. And this time, it's my own."

"How long have you been back?" Angel inquired. By the tone in his voice, they could tell he was happy she was once again in her own skin.

"Oh, for about five minutes now. I just didn't want to make a big entrance. Too cliche."

Gunn snickered. "That's our Cordy. She could have visions that cover her face in boils, set her on fire, or even get possessed by century old lunatic vampiress and the girl can *still* keep her sense of humor."

"Don't forget the pregnancy," Angel added.

Confused and curious looks headed Cordelia's way. "Went on a bind date, became eight and a half months pregnant with some sort of demon child. Don't ask."

"So. . . What are we going to do now?" Willow asked, just to break the strange topic of conversation. "I mean, we know the Apocalypse is a sure thing.

"They've got all they need," Tara interjected.

"Right," Willow agreed. "Blood, baby, Disneyland itself and the fourth thing that caused the stadium to mysteriously fill up with 'red liquid.' Do any of you here have a master plan of stopping this thing?"

A familiar female voice answered the Wiccan's question. "Freeing Xander would help."

"Anya!" The Scoobies cried out. "What are you doing here?" Fred and Gunn stared at each other in confusion and shrugged.

The battle-ridden blonde put her hands to her hips. "Help. What does it look like I'm here for?"

"Help with what?" Buffy asked. "Isn't Xander out of the hospital?"

"Oh, he is."

"Then why do you need him freed?"

Anya sighed irritably. It hadn't been a very good day, what with all the demons breaking into the Magic Box and the escaping from the hospital and breaking into of ambulances and the capturing of Xander by evil demons at Disneyland and the running away to L.A. for Buffy and Angel's help. No, it just wasn't a very good day at all for this former vengeance demon.

As quickly as she could Anya retold the whole tale, from start to finish, Magic Box to the attack at Disneyland.

"Bloody hell. . ." Giles mumbled once she was done. "Xander's been kidnapped."

"But it gets even better," Anya continued. "They have him locked up in Sleeping Beauty's tower, from what I hear. When time rolls around for the ceremony to take place, Xander will have a front row seat for the world's execution."

"At least he won't be lonely," Spike interjected. "He's got Dru to keep him company."

Wesley closed his eyes and sighed. "This tale just keeps getting stranger and stranger as the minutes go by."

"At least we don't have the 'Xander stuck in a padded room' problem," Buffy noted.

"But now we have a 'Xander trapped in a fairy tale castle with a crazy vampire surrounded by terrifying demons' problem," Cordelia retorted. "Which, I think, is a whole lot bigger problem." The brunette looked at her boss who was giving her no look back. "This is where you'd say 'we need to work on a plan,' Jeeves."

Wesley snapped out of his thought trance. "Oh. . . yes. A plan. Right." Wesley looked nervously around the room.

"Let me guess," Buffy said with a tone of sarcasm. "It's 'Happy Fun Planning Time'."

"Uh. . . Well. . . Yes." On cue, everyone, save Wesley, Giles and Fred, groaned.

"Can't we do that tomorrow?" Gunn whined. "We're tired and hungry and I wanna go home."

"No offense, Gunn, but it's not like we have any choice," Wesley admonished. "The world's ending at midnight tomorrow night and time is of the utmost essence here."

"Wes has got a point," Fred said. "Besides, we all just took a big nap, didn't we?"

"Yeah. . ." Gunn knew he wasn't going to win this one.

"Then what do you have to complain about?" Fred picked up the heaviest book lying on the counter and threw it at him. Gunn caught it with an "oomph."

"Oh, she's good," Buffy complimented. Before Buffy knew what was coming, she was hit in the chest with the second largest book.

"You too," Fred admonished in a motherly fashion. "Just because you're the Slayer doesn't mean you can just sit around while the rest of us work."

The blonde Slayer looked down at the book cradled in her arms. "Very good."

"Let's all get to work now," Fred kindly suggested. When no one budged, her Texan wrath came into play. "Now!"

Afraid for their very lives, and of the brewing Texan rage, everybody ran to the nearest book, piece of paper, or notebook. Fred, the only one not running around, crossed her arms and sighed. "Check me out. I'm 'Take Charge Fred.'"

"Go you," Lorne sarcastically cheered as he walked up to the girl, arms loaded with reams of paper. He dropped the paper in her arms.

"'Let's all get to work now,'" the demon mocked as he turned his back and walked away, humming a bar of "Superstitious" as he walked away.

"Cocky green demon," the petite brunette mumbled. She rolled her eyes and sighed. "It's gonna be a long night."