(((Part 3a)))




Angel sighed, trotting down the stairs ten minutes later. "Okay, guys," he said, toweling his hair dry as he walked. "What's up?"

"Ah, Angel, good of you to join us," Wesley replied, smiling his greetings.

"Not a problem, Wesley," Angel replied, his voice overwhelmingly civil. "After all, I don't mind waking up early... and you're the boss."

"Yes, well..." Wesley turned back to the stacks of books covering his desk. "I've come across a prophecy that I think needs our attention. Are you familiar with The Nostrembeau Chronicles?"

"Yeah, they were compiled in 1040 A.D. by ten mute French monks. They give a complete vampire history up to 1040 and predict the Apocalypse, among other things." Angel perched at the edge of the desk, keenly interested. The Nostrembeau Chronicles were a favorite resource of his. They were generally accurate, and amazingly insightful.

Wesley frowned. "Yes, that's a fairly accurate description. I must remind you, though, that their prediction of the Apocalypse is, as yet, unverified."

"Sure, but almost everything else they've predicted has come to pass," Angel argued. "Why would they be wrong about that one?"

"Well, for one thing, it's scheduled to occur in three years, which I'll admit, I'm not too keen on." Wesley removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly. "And for another, most of the predictions in those volumes that have come to pass have been verifiable through other sources." He blinked, and wiped the sleep from his eyes. "At any rate, that particular prophecy is not why I called you down."

"What's up?" Angel asked again. He perused absent-mindedly through the articles littering Wesley's desk, noting with some apprehension the mug of cold coffee sitting next to a first-edition copy of The Diary of Lucius Temple. "Why is this out, anyway?" he questioned, removing the book from the coffee's dangerous presence and waving it before Wesley's face. "Lucius Temple was an authority on Acathla. Right?"

"I expect you would know better than I," Wesley responded, not without humor. "But yes, he was. His discoveries also included a study on dimensional portals, similar to what Acathla used to suck the world into Hell."

"And that's relevant because...?" Angel prompted, laying the book back down on the stack. He stood up and took a regular seat in front of the desk.

"I assume you know of the Cardinal who commissioned The Nostrembeau Chronicles," Wesley began.

"No, actually," Angel replied. "Why don't you fill me in."

Wesley smiled, obviously relishing his position as teacher. "His name was Monsignor Pedro del Amico."

"Italian," Angel noted. "Why did he involve the French?"

"Del Amico was Italian, but he commissioned the Chronicles in secret, supposedly while he was on holiday in France," Wesley replied. "As I'm sure you're aware, the church was, at the time, working to quell the pagan beliefs in vampires and witchcraft that were prevalent throughout Europe."

"Why was del Amico involved, then? Didn't he risk excommunication?" Angel inquired curiously.

"Yes, he did. That's why he tried to keep his involvement below radar, so to speak." Wesley smiled, a bit unpleasantly. "I'm rather surprised you've never heard of del Amico. I thought all vampires would know his name. Besides commissioning the Chronicles in 1040, he made another important... advancement, I suppose." He paused, continuing at Angel's expectant look. "In 1053, the church found out about del Amico's extracurricular activities, and he was excommunicated. He retreated to England, where he began to organize other men of the faith who nevertheless believed in demonic activity. Men who were devoted to stopping evil, to fighting demons and vampires, using magic as their ally..."

"The Watcher's Council," Angel realized uneasily. He shifted forward in his seat. "But wait a minute, I thought that the Council had been around forever. And I know there were Slayers before 1053. They're even listed in The Nostrembeau Chronicles!"

"Yes, there were Slayers before the Council was assembled," Wesley agreed. "Some of them even had Watchers, but it was all informal. They had no titles, there was no organization. One girl was called, but no one would know who she was except for the ones closest to her. Word traveled faster through the demon underworld than it did through the people, I'm sure."

"That's unbelievable," Angel said, his chin perched in his hand, which was steadied on the arm of the chair. "So del Amico formed the Watcher's Council. You're right, I'm surprised I didn't know."

"Well, it isn't all that unexpected, I suppose," Wesley admitted. "After all, the Council keeps all news of their inner-workings a secret. It's all... smoke and mirrors, where they're concerned. And del Amico was still trying to keep his identity a secret when he had the Chronicles compiled."

They sat in silence for a moment, until Angel remembered why he had been so rudely awoken. "Didn't you say something about a prophecy?"

Wesley opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by shouting from the lobby. It was Cordelia.

[END 2a]