Title: In Diamond Light
Author: Ivytree
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, UPN, Mutant Enemy, etc.
Feedback: Please!
Summary: How will Spike get from "B" to "A"?
Setting: After "Chosen."
In Diamond Light
Part Two
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
"Yo, Lilah," Gunn said, "You're supposed to know everything around here. Where's the big guy?"
The demon, zombie, undead, neo-vamp, or whatever the hell she was now sat perched on the corner of her desk in the former Wolfram and Hart building's inner sanctum. Crossing her legs, she looked him up and down, tossed her hair back, and smiled provocatively.
"I really couldn't say," she purred.
"Yeah, right. I thought he was still in his office lurking –- well, brooding…"
"Don't you mean sulking?" Lilah snapped. "Certain spindly blondes tend to have that effect on him. I can't imagine why."
"…But he's not in there. So what's the deal?"
Wesley appeared in the doorway. His collar was loose, his hair was disheveled and dusty, and his glasses perched halfway down his nose. Evidently, he'd been engrossed in research of some kind, for under one arm he carried an oversized, battered tome bound in red leather.
"I believe," he said, "that Angel's gone back to the Hyperion."
Gunn stared at him. "Why would he do that?"
"Because I told him to," Wesley replied. "We're going, too. All of us." He shot an enigmatic glance at Lilah, who smirked back at him. "Well, all of us who are actually alive, anyway."
"Why?"
"There's someone coming. Someone we should meet."
"So you're Nostradamus now?" Gunn folded his arms. "You got a crystal ball? Or maybe two?"
"This is not a vision or prophecy," Wes said, his gaze growing distant. "More of a simple prediction. The Lor Liri Codex…"
"Wes, honey bun, you haven't been perusing THAT dreary old piece of lambskin?" Lorne, clad in a particularly handsome lemon-yellow sharkskin suit, entered from the direction of the elevator banks. "You'll go blind from sheer boredom. I mean, heroes come and heroes go, but you're only young once. Why waste it on fourth century cryptography?" He turned to greet Gunn, rubbing his hands. "Boy howdy, Panther Man! So, are we all ready?"
"We're just waiting for…"
Fred burst in, struggling out of her lab coat. "Sorry!" she caroled. "I just got kind of buried in research. This is SO exciting, you all just don't realize--the chemical composition of Fyarl mucous is REMARKABLY similar to…" All at once she seemed to notice the others staring at her with varying degrees of revulsion. Apparently, not everyone was as fascinated by Fyarl mucous as she was. "Oops! Sorry!" she said, with an apologetic smile, adding brightly, "I'm ready. Let's go!"
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Buffy stood in the center of the lobby of the Hyperion Hotel, looking around her in some dismay. The place was a startling mess. Tables and chairs were overturned, a chandelier had crashed to the floor and lay in shards, and the door behind the counter hung loose on its hinges. It looked like there had been a riot or something right in this room.
Willow's directions had been explicit; Buffy was sure she'd come to the right place. But why had Angel—-or Cordy, for that matter—-let Angel Investigations' headquarters get into this state? It occurred to her that a lot more must have happened on Angel's watch than she knew. A faint sound struck her ear, and she was instantly alert, her eyes raking the darkness.
"I can't believe you heard that," a familiar voice said. "You are the best. There will never be another one like you."
"You think?" She chuckled. "You might be in for a surprise. Hey, there."
Angel emerged from the shadows, as she knew he would. He'd always been good at skulking. Not like… but she resolutely restrained her thoughts.
"Hey, yourself," he said, with that cool, crooked smile she had once loved so much. "So, Sunnydale survived another apocalypse?"
"Well, not exactly," Buffy replied. "But WE did. At least, most of us. Long story. I see your town's still standing, though."
"Just barely. Most of us got through it, too. Did the pendant help?"
"Yes," she said softly, dropping her eyes. "It did. You could say it saved the day."
Angel moved closer, his footsteps utterly silent. "Good. I'm glad you could use it."
Buffy looked up at that. "No. Not me."
"Really? Then who was your champion?" An unwelcome thought seemed to strike him. "Just tell me it wasn't Xander…"
Buffy couldn't help smiling. "No, not Xander."
"You're being awfully mysterious," Angel complained, looking at her sharply. "And what's in the box?"
She cleared her throat. "That's kind of what I wanted to see you about…"
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
"Maybe we should knock," Fred whispered. "Is someone in there with him already?"
"I don't think so," Gunn said, peering into the shadowed lobby through the cracked glass panel of the main door.
"We can go right in," Wes said confidently. "There's no danger."
Exchanging doubtful looks--Wes was still acting kind of weird, perhaps from overindulgence in rare books--Gunn, Lorne, and Fred pushed open the door together. The lobby was dark and silent, but upon their entrance, the lamp on the coffee table clicked on, casting a pale, yellowish glow against the vaulting gloom.
"Hi, guys," Angel said. As their eyes adjusted to the dim illumination, they saw him sitting in an armchair, with an expression on his face unlike any they'd ever seen, at once apprehensive, disbelieving, and just the slightest bit proud. Oddly, on his knee he carefully balanced a container about the size of a shoebox, wrapped in brown paper.
Wes strode forward. "Who was here with you?" he asked sharply. "Have they gone?"
"Gone?" Angel seemed bemused, almost dazed. "Well, yes and no," he answered, "Buffy was here. She left to go shopping, apparently. At least, I think that's what she said."
"The 'Ooomph' Girl herself?" Lorne exclaimed. "That's who it was? Gosh, Wes, couldn't you have researched a little faster? I wanted to meet that little bundle of super-powered feminine pulchritude. In my world, kiddies, she's da blonde bomb-—and I mean that literally."
"Me, too," Fred said. "I ALWAYS wanted to meet her; Cordy told me some things you wouldn't… that is, I've heard so much about her. Well, darn!" She turned a reproachful glare at Wesley.
"So we came all the way back here for nothing?" Gunn said.
"No, I'm sure the time was right--in fact, we're early by several hours. My calculations couldn't have been mistaken…"
"Maybe she's coming back," Fred offered.
"Do you mind if I ask what the flying heck you guys are talking about?" Angel said, rousing himself. "What calculations? Why are you all here, anyway? Wes just suggested that I check the place out."
"Celebrity meet-and-greet, Angel-cakes," Lorne explained. "Wes, here, read it in the stars. If only our resident Harry Potter wanna-be hadn't mistimed the whole she-bang…"
"Yeah, we were all supposed to be here," Gunn added. "You know, another day, another prophecy. Except I guess this one's not. "
Angel ran a hand over his face and hair. "Let me rephrase. Could someone explain IN ENGLISH? I'm kinda tired, what with the recent apocalypse and all. I'm not getting it."
Wes squared his shoulders and straightened his glasses. "The Lor Liri Codex translation is unquestionably accurate," he declared. "We're required to assemble here, together, and someone will join us. Someone important." He bent his head over a yellowed paper he pulled from an inner pocket, triggering a cascade of old-book dust from his hair. "The information about the actual hour of his, her, or its arrival is curiously vague, but I was SURE the timing was accurate… I can't imagine what's gone wrong."
"Well, are you sure we're in the right place, then? I mean, why here?" Fred asked. With an involuntary glance at Gunn, she added, "We've all moved on from, well, everything that happened here, right?"
"Aha!" Wes exclaimed. "That's it—-of course!" He looked up from the parchment, his jaw set. "The Lirin Stone. That's why we're here. We need the Lirin Stone. We must have left it behind when we moved."
"But I don't think we left anything valuable," Fred protested.
"It mightn't look valuable, but it is, very," Wes said. "As I recall, it just seems to be an ordinary piece of gray stone, but…"
Gunn's head whipped around. "Gray stone? Sorta light gray, with a flat side?"
"Yes, that sounds accurate," Wes replied. "I've never seen it, but that's how it's been described."
"Oh, you've seen it, all right!" Gunn strode across the room. The broken door of the weapons cabinet gave a screech as he pulled it from its hinges with one hand. He reached down and brought up a dove gray stone, with a roughly domed top, and a flat bottom. It was apparently not very heavy; he held it up with one hand. "This it?"
Wed blinked. "Yes, I think it is, indeed. Whatever was it doing there? This is a powerful artifact."
"We've been sharpening our swords with it for the past four years." Gunn turned the unadorned rock between his hands. "Worked good, too."
Lorne frowned. "But correct me if I'm wrong, Wes, sweetie, but isn't the Lirin Stone used for rites of transformation? You know the kind of thing--in goes a nasty, grubby caterpillar, out comes a lovely butterfly--or a Zoth demon, with the wrong incantation. But still. And, frankly, if I'd known there were going to be rites, I'd have worn a different outfit." He squinted down his radiantly yellow sleeve. "This is a bit too casual, wouldn't you say?"
Suddenly Angel began to laugh.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
TBC
Author: Ivytree
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, UPN, Mutant Enemy, etc.
Feedback: Please!
Summary: How will Spike get from "B" to "A"?
Setting: After "Chosen."
In Diamond Light
Part Two
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
"Yo, Lilah," Gunn said, "You're supposed to know everything around here. Where's the big guy?"
The demon, zombie, undead, neo-vamp, or whatever the hell she was now sat perched on the corner of her desk in the former Wolfram and Hart building's inner sanctum. Crossing her legs, she looked him up and down, tossed her hair back, and smiled provocatively.
"I really couldn't say," she purred.
"Yeah, right. I thought he was still in his office lurking –- well, brooding…"
"Don't you mean sulking?" Lilah snapped. "Certain spindly blondes tend to have that effect on him. I can't imagine why."
"…But he's not in there. So what's the deal?"
Wesley appeared in the doorway. His collar was loose, his hair was disheveled and dusty, and his glasses perched halfway down his nose. Evidently, he'd been engrossed in research of some kind, for under one arm he carried an oversized, battered tome bound in red leather.
"I believe," he said, "that Angel's gone back to the Hyperion."
Gunn stared at him. "Why would he do that?"
"Because I told him to," Wesley replied. "We're going, too. All of us." He shot an enigmatic glance at Lilah, who smirked back at him. "Well, all of us who are actually alive, anyway."
"Why?"
"There's someone coming. Someone we should meet."
"So you're Nostradamus now?" Gunn folded his arms. "You got a crystal ball? Or maybe two?"
"This is not a vision or prophecy," Wes said, his gaze growing distant. "More of a simple prediction. The Lor Liri Codex…"
"Wes, honey bun, you haven't been perusing THAT dreary old piece of lambskin?" Lorne, clad in a particularly handsome lemon-yellow sharkskin suit, entered from the direction of the elevator banks. "You'll go blind from sheer boredom. I mean, heroes come and heroes go, but you're only young once. Why waste it on fourth century cryptography?" He turned to greet Gunn, rubbing his hands. "Boy howdy, Panther Man! So, are we all ready?"
"We're just waiting for…"
Fred burst in, struggling out of her lab coat. "Sorry!" she caroled. "I just got kind of buried in research. This is SO exciting, you all just don't realize--the chemical composition of Fyarl mucous is REMARKABLY similar to…" All at once she seemed to notice the others staring at her with varying degrees of revulsion. Apparently, not everyone was as fascinated by Fyarl mucous as she was. "Oops! Sorry!" she said, with an apologetic smile, adding brightly, "I'm ready. Let's go!"
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Buffy stood in the center of the lobby of the Hyperion Hotel, looking around her in some dismay. The place was a startling mess. Tables and chairs were overturned, a chandelier had crashed to the floor and lay in shards, and the door behind the counter hung loose on its hinges. It looked like there had been a riot or something right in this room.
Willow's directions had been explicit; Buffy was sure she'd come to the right place. But why had Angel—-or Cordy, for that matter—-let Angel Investigations' headquarters get into this state? It occurred to her that a lot more must have happened on Angel's watch than she knew. A faint sound struck her ear, and she was instantly alert, her eyes raking the darkness.
"I can't believe you heard that," a familiar voice said. "You are the best. There will never be another one like you."
"You think?" She chuckled. "You might be in for a surprise. Hey, there."
Angel emerged from the shadows, as she knew he would. He'd always been good at skulking. Not like… but she resolutely restrained her thoughts.
"Hey, yourself," he said, with that cool, crooked smile she had once loved so much. "So, Sunnydale survived another apocalypse?"
"Well, not exactly," Buffy replied. "But WE did. At least, most of us. Long story. I see your town's still standing, though."
"Just barely. Most of us got through it, too. Did the pendant help?"
"Yes," she said softly, dropping her eyes. "It did. You could say it saved the day."
Angel moved closer, his footsteps utterly silent. "Good. I'm glad you could use it."
Buffy looked up at that. "No. Not me."
"Really? Then who was your champion?" An unwelcome thought seemed to strike him. "Just tell me it wasn't Xander…"
Buffy couldn't help smiling. "No, not Xander."
"You're being awfully mysterious," Angel complained, looking at her sharply. "And what's in the box?"
She cleared her throat. "That's kind of what I wanted to see you about…"
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
"Maybe we should knock," Fred whispered. "Is someone in there with him already?"
"I don't think so," Gunn said, peering into the shadowed lobby through the cracked glass panel of the main door.
"We can go right in," Wes said confidently. "There's no danger."
Exchanging doubtful looks--Wes was still acting kind of weird, perhaps from overindulgence in rare books--Gunn, Lorne, and Fred pushed open the door together. The lobby was dark and silent, but upon their entrance, the lamp on the coffee table clicked on, casting a pale, yellowish glow against the vaulting gloom.
"Hi, guys," Angel said. As their eyes adjusted to the dim illumination, they saw him sitting in an armchair, with an expression on his face unlike any they'd ever seen, at once apprehensive, disbelieving, and just the slightest bit proud. Oddly, on his knee he carefully balanced a container about the size of a shoebox, wrapped in brown paper.
Wes strode forward. "Who was here with you?" he asked sharply. "Have they gone?"
"Gone?" Angel seemed bemused, almost dazed. "Well, yes and no," he answered, "Buffy was here. She left to go shopping, apparently. At least, I think that's what she said."
"The 'Ooomph' Girl herself?" Lorne exclaimed. "That's who it was? Gosh, Wes, couldn't you have researched a little faster? I wanted to meet that little bundle of super-powered feminine pulchritude. In my world, kiddies, she's da blonde bomb-—and I mean that literally."
"Me, too," Fred said. "I ALWAYS wanted to meet her; Cordy told me some things you wouldn't… that is, I've heard so much about her. Well, darn!" She turned a reproachful glare at Wesley.
"So we came all the way back here for nothing?" Gunn said.
"No, I'm sure the time was right--in fact, we're early by several hours. My calculations couldn't have been mistaken…"
"Maybe she's coming back," Fred offered.
"Do you mind if I ask what the flying heck you guys are talking about?" Angel said, rousing himself. "What calculations? Why are you all here, anyway? Wes just suggested that I check the place out."
"Celebrity meet-and-greet, Angel-cakes," Lorne explained. "Wes, here, read it in the stars. If only our resident Harry Potter wanna-be hadn't mistimed the whole she-bang…"
"Yeah, we were all supposed to be here," Gunn added. "You know, another day, another prophecy. Except I guess this one's not. "
Angel ran a hand over his face and hair. "Let me rephrase. Could someone explain IN ENGLISH? I'm kinda tired, what with the recent apocalypse and all. I'm not getting it."
Wes squared his shoulders and straightened his glasses. "The Lor Liri Codex translation is unquestionably accurate," he declared. "We're required to assemble here, together, and someone will join us. Someone important." He bent his head over a yellowed paper he pulled from an inner pocket, triggering a cascade of old-book dust from his hair. "The information about the actual hour of his, her, or its arrival is curiously vague, but I was SURE the timing was accurate… I can't imagine what's gone wrong."
"Well, are you sure we're in the right place, then? I mean, why here?" Fred asked. With an involuntary glance at Gunn, she added, "We've all moved on from, well, everything that happened here, right?"
"Aha!" Wes exclaimed. "That's it—-of course!" He looked up from the parchment, his jaw set. "The Lirin Stone. That's why we're here. We need the Lirin Stone. We must have left it behind when we moved."
"But I don't think we left anything valuable," Fred protested.
"It mightn't look valuable, but it is, very," Wes said. "As I recall, it just seems to be an ordinary piece of gray stone, but…"
Gunn's head whipped around. "Gray stone? Sorta light gray, with a flat side?"
"Yes, that sounds accurate," Wes replied. "I've never seen it, but that's how it's been described."
"Oh, you've seen it, all right!" Gunn strode across the room. The broken door of the weapons cabinet gave a screech as he pulled it from its hinges with one hand. He reached down and brought up a dove gray stone, with a roughly domed top, and a flat bottom. It was apparently not very heavy; he held it up with one hand. "This it?"
Wed blinked. "Yes, I think it is, indeed. Whatever was it doing there? This is a powerful artifact."
"We've been sharpening our swords with it for the past four years." Gunn turned the unadorned rock between his hands. "Worked good, too."
Lorne frowned. "But correct me if I'm wrong, Wes, sweetie, but isn't the Lirin Stone used for rites of transformation? You know the kind of thing--in goes a nasty, grubby caterpillar, out comes a lovely butterfly--or a Zoth demon, with the wrong incantation. But still. And, frankly, if I'd known there were going to be rites, I'd have worn a different outfit." He squinted down his radiantly yellow sleeve. "This is a bit too casual, wouldn't you say?"
Suddenly Angel began to laugh.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
TBC
