Author: Teenwitch
Email: Emi074@msn.com
Disclaimer: All characters are property of Joss Whedon, UPN, The WB and
Mutant Enemy. I claim no ownership or infringement of any kind.
Spoilers: Set post Chosen/Home. I realise the idea of the watcher's council
reviving kind of defeats the purpose of slayers united, but I started this
before I saw Chosen, so bear with me. And then again, who knows?
Feedback: Welcome.
Distribution: BA_Fluff, SempiternalBeloved, Fanfiction.net, and anyone else
who asks are welcome to it.
Rating: Ranges in different chapters, but let's give it a good solid R at
present.
Summary: Destiny has its own design.
Authors note: The Devandire Sibylline codex was referred to in Angel 4:22 'Home'.
****
Chapter Three: "Rewind, Repeat Performance"
****
Fred and Gunn had just left, deciding to detour past the cafeteria before separating to their own different divisions. Wesley had just returned to his research when the phone on his desk began to ring with annoying persistence.
He sighed, resigned to the fact that he was just not gong to get any work done today, and picked it up on the third ring.
"Yes?"
His fellow employees would have answered with much more cheer, and a professional, maybe a little irritating slogan like Cordelia had once made them use for the business, but he had no patience for such facades. He was straight and to the point.
"Um, am I speaking to Wesley Wyndham-Price? Because if I'm not, I'm not leaving the line until you direct me to the right department, buster."
Wesley suppressed a relieved chuckle. He recognised Willow Rosenberg's tone instantly, and read through the supposed attitude. "Yes, Willow", he said fondly. "It's me.
"Oh good. I have to ask, is it Angel making that place less organised, or the apocalypses, or is it just like that?"
Before he could reply, her voice grew more serious. "Look, it doesn't matter. I was wondering if Buffy and Faith came to see you yet, or whether I'm just going to have to speak up first?"
Wesley smiled dimly. "They were here a few minutes ago."
"Well, good then. I don't know what we were going to do if Buffy didn't agree to let you help".
Here he had found a source for their mysterious visit, and his curiosity egged him onward. "What exactly is the problem?"
She sighed, sounding weary. "Oh, the Watcher's Council have revived, and they're working on recruiting the new slayers; at least as many as they can lay their hands on."
"And you thought a multi-national law firm specialising in the dark and unknown might be able to help you get rid of them?" he finished shrewdly.
He could hear her smile. "In context. We still don't know if they're going to be able to get enough backing. Travers is dead after all, and so are all of their most influential members. And they're pretty much high and dry in terms of funds. Of course its always possible a big company like that kept off-shore accounts."
Wesley ran a hand over his stubble. "Actually, I could almost certainly vouch for that."
"Damn. So. Think Angel will help?"
Wesley smiled. "We are talking about the same Angel?"
She laughed. "Yeah. What I thought. We just have a little problem. The reinforcements are arriving at nine-o'clock tomorrow morning. Earlier than expected."
"I doubt we can work up a deportation order by then. Even through some of our more powerful contacts. Which actually includes a large number of our government and political parties."
"I'll have to warn Buffy, anyway. I only hope I can reach her in time. Anything you guys could do would be great, though. The slayers were never meant to be controlled."
"I really couldn't be more in agreement."
"Glad someone sees our side of it. I have to go, Wes. Knowing the council and the way this situation could go, I'll probably be seeing you soon."
"I almost guarantee it."
He hung up the phone, looking down at it pensively. Interesting Buffy had been so reluctant to seek their help. Obviously, Faith's influence in the end. And the Council were back.
*This just can't end well.*
****
Wesley wasn't to know that just across town, much bigger problems were in the works.
Dark forces gathered in the cover of the filtering darkness, swarming almost like a moth to a beacon. They surged from the very scumpits of the earth, from the depths of the ocean and the skies. Opposing forces united for one single purpose, to summon forth The Warrior For The Darkness. Only he could stop the coming threat to their kind.
The Warrior's release into this dimension had never been done, and was sure to spark a wave of bloodshed and mayhem. It was not of their concern. It was only there to fulfil its purpose, and it must not fail.
Representatives of the dark gathered around the symbol for The Warrior, cloaked in black and swathed in the blood of innocents.
The chanting echoed like a low buzz over the city, imperceptible to the ears of a human, and driving the last of the lower, insignificant demons and vampires from the city's limits in fear. Only the harbingers for what was to come remained, forced into underground caverns and sewerage systems, despite their natural environment of the open.
The words were in a tongue not of the earth, and went on long into the night. The darkness from the demons seeped into the earth, until the symbol was a pulsating, glowing emblem, and the ground beneath it began to shudder. The trembling was only slight throughout Los Angeles, and the citizens thought nothing of it, for this was Southern California after all.
Those united stood in eager anticipation, and The Warrior rose.
It butchered them all, consuming their darkness for its own, and the scent of demon blood ripened the night air.
Then it turned, and started for Los Angeles.
****
It wasn't until late in the night that Lorne managed to badger his way past Angel's secretary into his office, since the Big Bad Vampire had requested no more appointments after his diminutive encounter with Buffy and Faith.
Angel could see almost instantly Lorne's foul mood, and the green demon was across the room and in the other desk chair before Angel could open his mouth.
"Uh, make yourself at home".
Lorne glared, red eyes flashing with an unusual amount of animosity, and he crossed his legs at the ankles. "I might just do that, Angelcakes. What's the matter, a little visit from your pretty little ex and you loose your appetite for all social activity? Even from your true pals".
"Can't say I've seen you much lately", the morose vampire grunted, arms folding as he remained not moving in his position in his office chair.
Lorne waved a hand impatiently. "I'll apologise for that later, because right now I think there's something you should know."
"What would that be?"
Lorne began to feel restless in his seat, and jumped to his feet again, stalking around the room. He was rarely so agitated, and Angel straightened a little. Lorne was glad he could garner that much of his attention.
"I've a mind to ask about that attitude later, bro, because moody is not a good look for you." He sighed. "I ran into your little blue bird in the corridor, and hear me when I say *blue*. The vibes I was getting off her? Whole different world."
"You *read* her?" Angel demanded, launching to his feet. His fists unconsciously clenched, and slammed against the mahogany desk violently.
Lorne stopped mid-sentence, looking at him with one eyebrow raised. "Well gee, Mr. Jumps-to-conclusions, over reactive much? I didn't really have much of a choice when the PTB decided to *hit* me with one right in the middle of the hall". He shook his head, wincing as if reliving the memory. "And can I say, ouch. I don't really want to dwell on it. Those Powers need to set up a stage, because melodrama seems to be their speciality when they invade in somebody's head".
"What did you see, Lorne?" the vampire questioned impatiently, leaning forward with his knuckles on the wood.
Lorne rolled his eyes, but didn't bother to comment on his impatience. "Thank you for you concern, on a Hallmark scale it's touching, really", he said sarcastically. "I don't know what happened. I really couldn't say. My head was throbbing like a jackhammer for hours afterwards, and all I did was touch shoulders with her."
Angel was frowning deeply, eyeing him over with caution. "You think the Powers were sending you a warning? Well, what did you see?"
"Like I said, these were vibes. The most I got were a few flashes, and I could barely make sense of them then on account of the pulsating pain rocking around in my head. All I can tell is that we have some badness headed our way, and they're wanting us to know."
"And they couldn't have used more clearer channels than a vague message in your head?"
Lorne gave him a look. "We are talking about the Powers That Be."
"Right. So, what did it mean? Buffy has something to do with it? Something she's supposed to fight?"
"Honey, you are forgetting she's not the slayer anymore. And I don't think that's what this is about, or I'm sure I'da picked up on it easier. Whatever is coming, it has strong *strong* connections with our fair little damsel, and it ain't because she's a slayer. It was almost like she was... marked."
"Marked?" Angel repeated.
"That's almost definitely how I'd put it, now I think about it. She's marked, and the feeling was so conflicting... I'm not sure whether it was for Good or Evil".
"That's not really much to go on".
Lorne shrugged helplessly, even as he did watching the diverse emotions playing out in Angel's eyes. He pitied the vampire's obvious love for her, even if neither of them were admitting it.
"No, its not. But Angel..." He decided to be frank. "I've never had such a strong reaction from one person, and I've read a few shifty ones in my day." He pursed his lips, gut still full of an intrinsic dread he couldn't quite express aloud to his friend. Maybe it would be better for them all if he didn't.
Now he had gotten it out, Lorne slumped back into the chair, wanting nothing more at that moment than a seabreeze to permanently attach itself to his hand, and maybe a warm, soothing bubble bath to soothe away the pain in his head. Unfortunately, that didn't seem to be on the agenda in this line of work, and he could just see the expensive spa bath back at his new Santa Monica apartment going to waste.
"This is something big", Angel translated unhappily, ducking his head as he sat back in his own chair pensively.
"Yes, that it is", Lorne agreed quietly. He decided not to voice his other concerns, that he was getting the strong notion Angel was somehow connected to all of this. And he wasn't sure what that could mean, but it made him very averse to the idea of the slayer being in contact with the vampire.
After all, when did the Powers ever warn them of something good?
****
At precisely nine-o'clock the next morning, the door to Motel Suite 101 at the Sun Inn in downtown Los Angeles rattled loudly, like whoever was on the other side was in a wicked bad hurry.
Faith had disappeared that morning for a 'jog', though Buffy could only guess at her sudden reversion to fitness junkie, and Buffy had just thrown on some sweats and a tank top after a long morning shower.
She threw open the door in annoyance, eyebrows knitted together in a deep scowl.
On the other side were three men, all dressed in conservative tweed business suits that left her no doubts to their origins. One of them she recognised as the representative from the other morning, who kept his pointed distance from her, eyes warily checking for signs of the other, less diplomatic slayer. Buffy could sure use her presence right about now.
Unfortunately for her, the motel manager had failed to pass on any coded messages from Willow on their coming, and she figured she had missed her only warning.
She prepared to slam the door back in their faces, but the older one, the knocker she guessed, flattened his palm on the wood and prevented her from doing so, at least without causing him deviant injuries to his wrinkled face. He looked like one of the watchers long past retirement, and if she had made it a personal rule not to hit Travers, she wasn't going to hit this guy, who looked ancient in comparison.
"Ms. Summers, I presume?"
"I'm guessing you're Mr. Sly, right?"
"Sloane, actually".
She folded her arms, wedging her body firmly in the doorframe so they couldn't hope to enter her suite. "Yeah, we'll see".
He was surprisingly patient, at least more so than his predecessor, but even so she could see an annoyed scowl crinkle his forehead. "Ms. Summers, I'm sorry to intrude, but it seems we're having a little difficulty communicating with you. Mr. Hutton here tells me he had little success bartering with you yesterday."
Buffy tilted an eyebrow, seeing the word 'understatement' on the edge of said representative's lips. She stifled a grin. Faith's methods were definitely way more effective at times like this.
"Then I thought you would be fairly clear that we're not interested in your help", she said bluntly. "Why can't you get it through your mind that this is it? The world doesn't need another Council. The days of tweed, masterpiece theatre, and stuffy British leaders are over. We won. You had no part in that. Deal with it."
Sloane was fast loosing the last vestiges of his tolerance. "We're well aware of your disobedience, Ms. Summers, but until now I carried a certain level of respect for you and your... American methods. There are hundreds of girls out there, *hundreds*, who need your help, who have no idea what they have become, and you really think without the proper resources and funds, that you will be able to help every single one of them? There is no way you can be so naïve".
"Insulting me really not helping your case", Buffy said irritably, leaning one hip against the doorjamb and folding her arms.
"This is pure insanity", Hutton said in exasperation.
Buffy narrowed her eyes. "I know you don't have any records, but if you actually still had my files, you would realise I'm not exactly keen on co- operating with the Council in the first place. The slayers don't need you. In fact, they never did."
"You still must face facts", Sloane said, with a little more decorum. "The Council can offer you the proper assistance and resources to help with this cause. Where else are you possibly going to acquire that kind of sponsorship?"
"I could think of one or two alternatives".
The three stern-faced watchers glanced around at the interruption with aggravation.
Angel stood casually in the hall interior, with a thick manila folder in one hand. He nodded to Buffy with a small smirk. "Sorry I'm late."
She shrugged, forcing her voice to sound noncommittal even as she felt a jungle-large surge of butterflies flutter around her stomach. "No big," she murmured calmly. "You're right on time".
Sloane narrowed his eyes, observing their exchange with reserved mistrust. "I'm sorry, young man, but I don't believe this matter is of your concern", he said snarkily.
Angel shot him a withering look, and instead waved forth the wad of papers in his grasp. "I think it might be. I have here a restraining order, placed on you and all members of your organization, should you continue any further harassment to either Buffy or Faith." He removed another sheet, holding it in the enraged watcher's face.
"And this is a court order directing your removal from the State of California effective immediately." He slapped in none-too-gently against Hutton's chest, who spluttered with indignant disbelief, all the while wearing a self-satisfied smirk. "Law enforcement," he said conspiratorially to Buffy, yet so the rest of them could hear. "Who said the good old fashioned law couldn't solve anybody's problems?"
Angel gave him a nudge down the hall, but Sloane still paused, face clouded over in a dark mask as he glared straight into Buffy's eyes. "I hope you realise you're aligning yourself with the darkest force in this city", he snapped. He gave her a long, cold smile. "And may God have mercy on your soul once it begins."
Buffy stared after him, eyebrows raised, until he disappeared. She looked at Angel, mildly disturbed at his one final cryptic remark. "*It*? What it? Where's the it?"
He shrugged, replacing the papers back in the folder. "I really don't know. Though I get the feeling its more than just this last words of a very pissed but beaten watcher."
She smiled. "You did beat him pretty good."
He was all modesty. "I had to pull in a few favours. It was actually thanks to Wesley, mostly. Willow called him yesterday and gave him the early warning".
Buffy's expression darkened slightly. "Willow called?"
"Uh yeah. Why? Is there something I'm missing?"
Buffy sighed, massaging her forehead tiredly. The smell of fresh lavender and vanilla shampoo tantalised his primed sense, and Angel felt his chest constrict tightly.
"No, nothing", Buffy muttered, oblivious to his discomfort. When had being around him felt this awkward?
"Well, I um, I really should go", he said hesitantly. "I mean, if everything is taken care of here...?"
Buffy glanced up, then looked away, surprising herself by feeling hurt by his hurry to get away again. "Yeah, of course", she murmured, hiding her disappointment. "I think everything's pretty much—"
A rough movement rocked the earth, catching both of them off-guard, and interrupting her mid-sentence. Angel staggered across the shifting carpet, bumping into her, and they both quickly moved between the doorframe. Buffy twisted around to look at him, ignoring how close he was pressed to her back.
"Can you hear that?"
He listened, unnecessary breath tickling her neck, but he didn't have to wait very long. There was a grating, thundering noise outside, like shrapnel being dragged along gravel. They both realised at the same time their instinctive Californian reaction hadn't been correct. Whatever was causing the ground to shake, it wasn't an earthquake.
Buffy moved away from the doorframe, balancing herself hazardously on the erratic earth as she began to move down the corridor. Angel followed behind, and it was only when they reached the door they realised the movements were coming from underground.
Car alarms went off in the street as the ashfelt under the bright Los Angeles sun juddered. Angel craned his neck behind Buffy, careful to remain out of the sun's harmful rays. "Buffy, what is it?"
She opened her mouth to answer when a loud, rippling crack like thunder deafened them, and the road in front of the Sun Inn began to shift upwards. Buffy's mouth fell open in dull shock as a long crack formed down the centre, and one massive chunk of earth began to suspend itself above the other.
The ground beneath it exploded, sending a rain of dirt and gravel and grass over the neighbourhood around them, and causing one final tremor that threw them off their feet.
Buffy stumbled to her feet, bracing herself against the railing of the balcony as the source revealed itself. Hundreds of ugly black hunched over demons flocked from the ready-made crater in the middle of fifth avenue, climbing all over each other in an effort to escape. Their movements were surprisingly nimble and speedy, and they quickly spread out. Several spectators to the incredible sight stumbled backwards in shock, crying out as they began to flee from the scene.
Just as Buffy was about to spring into a more violent kind of action herself, the crawly little demons blinked out of existence, one by one, as if moulding into their backgrounds. By the sound, she knew they were still there, but as the racket began to move westwards, she realised they were headed in the direction of downtown, and she had no hopes of spotting them.
She felt a heavy hand on her shoulder, and turned around to see Angel at her back.
"Get in the limo", he ordered point-blank. His expression as so grim, she didn't quail as she usually would have at his sudden orders. "I'll explain when we get there".
****
"I think those watchers cast a little chaos spell to get revenge on me", Buffy grunted, as she sat in Angel's office with the rest of the AI crew, tapping her heel against the foot of the plush leather sofa. "That Hutton guy looked pretty shifty, don't you think? Though he didn't look like he had the balls to pull off a small-time robbery let alone call forth an army full of inviso-crawler-demons, but you never really can tell with those guys".
Angel ignored her as he glanced up at Wesley pointedly. "Would you mind telling me why Los Angeles has been invaded by Prowler demons without us picking up on them?" he demanded shortly. "I thought we had measures against this sort of thing?"
Wesley shrugged helplessly, looking more than a little mentally drained. His research was proving more confounding by the second, and now they had this new cataclysmic issue to terminate as soon as possible.
"Essentially, we do. But the Prowlers could very well have been out of range under the earth's surface. There are any number of reasons our equipment didn't pick up on them".
"I don't understand how they could have multiplied this fast", Fred insisted thoughtfully, pacing the length of carpet. Wesley took a short moment to admire how much her confidence had been boosted at a lead position in Wolfram and Hart. "I thought we killed the whole nest the other night?"
"Obviously not", Gunn muttered, on the sofa beside Buffy. He folded one leg over the other. "So, what do we do about them?"
Wesley sighed wearily. "We should be able to send out a team to exterminate them fairly easily", he mused. "Although I doubt this will escape publicity, considering the damage they're sure to cause."
Buffy cocked her eyebrows. "Um, are you guys listening to yourselves?" she asked, staring up at them in mild disbelief. "Those things are a danger to millions of people, and you're discussing the *publicity*?"
Wesley shifted awkwardly, and Fred looked at the floor. Angel's expression grew slightly disturbed, and he slumped into a seat on the opposite sofa.
"Okay", Gunn said at last, carefully avoiding her all-too-true observation. He hadn't realised how much this place was really affecting them until an outsider could point it out. "So we get rid of 'em. Anyone 'sides me thinkin' they're here for more than just your every-day butchering?"
Fred and Wesley exchanged a look, and Angel frowned at them warily. "What?"
Fred cleared her throat, fiddling with her glasses.
"Uh, we didn't really want to... say anything, not until we knew for sure," the physicist admitted hesitantly, chewing her lower lip.
Wesley sighed. "Fred came up with a theory that Prowlers carry certain similarities to a demon called G'Ashinda, which has origins in Eastern Europe in the late fourteenth century", he began. "They were thought to be killed out after the bubonic plagues, but there was no circumstantial evidence to back this up".
"Getting to a point in there, Wes?" Buffy piped impatiently.
He shot her an irritated look, perhaps momentarily forgetting the changes in each of them that no longer made them watcher and slayer.
"The *point*", he said lengthily. "Is that the G'Ashinda were very indisposed to enclosed spaces. Yet for the past few weeks, they have been nesting under the surface in large groups, and breeding, if the army of them is any indication".
"That's assuming the Prowlers are actually the G'Ashinda", Angel pointed out.
Wesley shook his head. "I can almost definitely say they are", he insisted. "And if that's so, then we have a problem."
"Always do", Gunn muttered.
Wesley ignored him. "I decided to take another look through the Devandire codex Wolfram and Hart stole from the Watcher's Council a few years ago", he explained. "The G'Ashinda's revival is no coincidence. The G'Ashinda are harbingers for the arrival of something big."
Angel stared at him. "The End of Days?"
Wesley shrugged one shoulder. "Certainly a possibility".
"I knew that Sloane guy wasn't just making with the snarky", Buffy muttered. "He knows something. And now there's no way we're ever gonna know what".
"Wolfram and Hart can monitor all demonic activity in the city", Fred said helpfully. She had been inwardly surprised at the slayer's introduction to her earlier. She was so different to what she had imagined. "That should give us enough of a warning... hopefully."
"Well, it better", Buffy said, rising to her feet.
Angel gave her a sharp look. "Where are you going?"
She narrowed her eyes. "I'm gong to go out and clean up the mess these demons of yours have created".
"I already told you—"
"You have a team to take care of them", she finished, arms falling to rest on her hips. The other three in the room watched on uncomfortably, aware of the tension building between the two noticeably. "Somehow, I doubt your 'team' will be too concerned with innocent people getting caught in the crossfire."
She swivelled around, stalking from the room.
Angel gaped after her for a full thirty seconds, then was across the room and grasped his leather jacket from the hanger on the back of the door.
"Angel...?" Wesley started, also standing.
Angel turned to point a finger at him. "Talk to Lorne", he instructed. "Tell him to tell you what he saw. I'll be back soon."
"Where are you going?" Fred asked in confusion.
Angel glanced at her briefly, then returned his attention to the exit. "To follow her."
He was gone almost as quickly as Buffy was, leaving Gunn and Fred to stare after him and wonder at his strange behavior.
Wesley only sighed wearily, with the apathy of someone who had witnessed it all before. "They do that".
****
TBC
Authors note: The Devandire Sibylline codex was referred to in Angel 4:22 'Home'.
****
Chapter Three: "Rewind, Repeat Performance"
****
Fred and Gunn had just left, deciding to detour past the cafeteria before separating to their own different divisions. Wesley had just returned to his research when the phone on his desk began to ring with annoying persistence.
He sighed, resigned to the fact that he was just not gong to get any work done today, and picked it up on the third ring.
"Yes?"
His fellow employees would have answered with much more cheer, and a professional, maybe a little irritating slogan like Cordelia had once made them use for the business, but he had no patience for such facades. He was straight and to the point.
"Um, am I speaking to Wesley Wyndham-Price? Because if I'm not, I'm not leaving the line until you direct me to the right department, buster."
Wesley suppressed a relieved chuckle. He recognised Willow Rosenberg's tone instantly, and read through the supposed attitude. "Yes, Willow", he said fondly. "It's me.
"Oh good. I have to ask, is it Angel making that place less organised, or the apocalypses, or is it just like that?"
Before he could reply, her voice grew more serious. "Look, it doesn't matter. I was wondering if Buffy and Faith came to see you yet, or whether I'm just going to have to speak up first?"
Wesley smiled dimly. "They were here a few minutes ago."
"Well, good then. I don't know what we were going to do if Buffy didn't agree to let you help".
Here he had found a source for their mysterious visit, and his curiosity egged him onward. "What exactly is the problem?"
She sighed, sounding weary. "Oh, the Watcher's Council have revived, and they're working on recruiting the new slayers; at least as many as they can lay their hands on."
"And you thought a multi-national law firm specialising in the dark and unknown might be able to help you get rid of them?" he finished shrewdly.
He could hear her smile. "In context. We still don't know if they're going to be able to get enough backing. Travers is dead after all, and so are all of their most influential members. And they're pretty much high and dry in terms of funds. Of course its always possible a big company like that kept off-shore accounts."
Wesley ran a hand over his stubble. "Actually, I could almost certainly vouch for that."
"Damn. So. Think Angel will help?"
Wesley smiled. "We are talking about the same Angel?"
She laughed. "Yeah. What I thought. We just have a little problem. The reinforcements are arriving at nine-o'clock tomorrow morning. Earlier than expected."
"I doubt we can work up a deportation order by then. Even through some of our more powerful contacts. Which actually includes a large number of our government and political parties."
"I'll have to warn Buffy, anyway. I only hope I can reach her in time. Anything you guys could do would be great, though. The slayers were never meant to be controlled."
"I really couldn't be more in agreement."
"Glad someone sees our side of it. I have to go, Wes. Knowing the council and the way this situation could go, I'll probably be seeing you soon."
"I almost guarantee it."
He hung up the phone, looking down at it pensively. Interesting Buffy had been so reluctant to seek their help. Obviously, Faith's influence in the end. And the Council were back.
*This just can't end well.*
****
Wesley wasn't to know that just across town, much bigger problems were in the works.
Dark forces gathered in the cover of the filtering darkness, swarming almost like a moth to a beacon. They surged from the very scumpits of the earth, from the depths of the ocean and the skies. Opposing forces united for one single purpose, to summon forth The Warrior For The Darkness. Only he could stop the coming threat to their kind.
The Warrior's release into this dimension had never been done, and was sure to spark a wave of bloodshed and mayhem. It was not of their concern. It was only there to fulfil its purpose, and it must not fail.
Representatives of the dark gathered around the symbol for The Warrior, cloaked in black and swathed in the blood of innocents.
The chanting echoed like a low buzz over the city, imperceptible to the ears of a human, and driving the last of the lower, insignificant demons and vampires from the city's limits in fear. Only the harbingers for what was to come remained, forced into underground caverns and sewerage systems, despite their natural environment of the open.
The words were in a tongue not of the earth, and went on long into the night. The darkness from the demons seeped into the earth, until the symbol was a pulsating, glowing emblem, and the ground beneath it began to shudder. The trembling was only slight throughout Los Angeles, and the citizens thought nothing of it, for this was Southern California after all.
Those united stood in eager anticipation, and The Warrior rose.
It butchered them all, consuming their darkness for its own, and the scent of demon blood ripened the night air.
Then it turned, and started for Los Angeles.
****
It wasn't until late in the night that Lorne managed to badger his way past Angel's secretary into his office, since the Big Bad Vampire had requested no more appointments after his diminutive encounter with Buffy and Faith.
Angel could see almost instantly Lorne's foul mood, and the green demon was across the room and in the other desk chair before Angel could open his mouth.
"Uh, make yourself at home".
Lorne glared, red eyes flashing with an unusual amount of animosity, and he crossed his legs at the ankles. "I might just do that, Angelcakes. What's the matter, a little visit from your pretty little ex and you loose your appetite for all social activity? Even from your true pals".
"Can't say I've seen you much lately", the morose vampire grunted, arms folding as he remained not moving in his position in his office chair.
Lorne waved a hand impatiently. "I'll apologise for that later, because right now I think there's something you should know."
"What would that be?"
Lorne began to feel restless in his seat, and jumped to his feet again, stalking around the room. He was rarely so agitated, and Angel straightened a little. Lorne was glad he could garner that much of his attention.
"I've a mind to ask about that attitude later, bro, because moody is not a good look for you." He sighed. "I ran into your little blue bird in the corridor, and hear me when I say *blue*. The vibes I was getting off her? Whole different world."
"You *read* her?" Angel demanded, launching to his feet. His fists unconsciously clenched, and slammed against the mahogany desk violently.
Lorne stopped mid-sentence, looking at him with one eyebrow raised. "Well gee, Mr. Jumps-to-conclusions, over reactive much? I didn't really have much of a choice when the PTB decided to *hit* me with one right in the middle of the hall". He shook his head, wincing as if reliving the memory. "And can I say, ouch. I don't really want to dwell on it. Those Powers need to set up a stage, because melodrama seems to be their speciality when they invade in somebody's head".
"What did you see, Lorne?" the vampire questioned impatiently, leaning forward with his knuckles on the wood.
Lorne rolled his eyes, but didn't bother to comment on his impatience. "Thank you for you concern, on a Hallmark scale it's touching, really", he said sarcastically. "I don't know what happened. I really couldn't say. My head was throbbing like a jackhammer for hours afterwards, and all I did was touch shoulders with her."
Angel was frowning deeply, eyeing him over with caution. "You think the Powers were sending you a warning? Well, what did you see?"
"Like I said, these were vibes. The most I got were a few flashes, and I could barely make sense of them then on account of the pulsating pain rocking around in my head. All I can tell is that we have some badness headed our way, and they're wanting us to know."
"And they couldn't have used more clearer channels than a vague message in your head?"
Lorne gave him a look. "We are talking about the Powers That Be."
"Right. So, what did it mean? Buffy has something to do with it? Something she's supposed to fight?"
"Honey, you are forgetting she's not the slayer anymore. And I don't think that's what this is about, or I'm sure I'da picked up on it easier. Whatever is coming, it has strong *strong* connections with our fair little damsel, and it ain't because she's a slayer. It was almost like she was... marked."
"Marked?" Angel repeated.
"That's almost definitely how I'd put it, now I think about it. She's marked, and the feeling was so conflicting... I'm not sure whether it was for Good or Evil".
"That's not really much to go on".
Lorne shrugged helplessly, even as he did watching the diverse emotions playing out in Angel's eyes. He pitied the vampire's obvious love for her, even if neither of them were admitting it.
"No, its not. But Angel..." He decided to be frank. "I've never had such a strong reaction from one person, and I've read a few shifty ones in my day." He pursed his lips, gut still full of an intrinsic dread he couldn't quite express aloud to his friend. Maybe it would be better for them all if he didn't.
Now he had gotten it out, Lorne slumped back into the chair, wanting nothing more at that moment than a seabreeze to permanently attach itself to his hand, and maybe a warm, soothing bubble bath to soothe away the pain in his head. Unfortunately, that didn't seem to be on the agenda in this line of work, and he could just see the expensive spa bath back at his new Santa Monica apartment going to waste.
"This is something big", Angel translated unhappily, ducking his head as he sat back in his own chair pensively.
"Yes, that it is", Lorne agreed quietly. He decided not to voice his other concerns, that he was getting the strong notion Angel was somehow connected to all of this. And he wasn't sure what that could mean, but it made him very averse to the idea of the slayer being in contact with the vampire.
After all, when did the Powers ever warn them of something good?
****
At precisely nine-o'clock the next morning, the door to Motel Suite 101 at the Sun Inn in downtown Los Angeles rattled loudly, like whoever was on the other side was in a wicked bad hurry.
Faith had disappeared that morning for a 'jog', though Buffy could only guess at her sudden reversion to fitness junkie, and Buffy had just thrown on some sweats and a tank top after a long morning shower.
She threw open the door in annoyance, eyebrows knitted together in a deep scowl.
On the other side were three men, all dressed in conservative tweed business suits that left her no doubts to their origins. One of them she recognised as the representative from the other morning, who kept his pointed distance from her, eyes warily checking for signs of the other, less diplomatic slayer. Buffy could sure use her presence right about now.
Unfortunately for her, the motel manager had failed to pass on any coded messages from Willow on their coming, and she figured she had missed her only warning.
She prepared to slam the door back in their faces, but the older one, the knocker she guessed, flattened his palm on the wood and prevented her from doing so, at least without causing him deviant injuries to his wrinkled face. He looked like one of the watchers long past retirement, and if she had made it a personal rule not to hit Travers, she wasn't going to hit this guy, who looked ancient in comparison.
"Ms. Summers, I presume?"
"I'm guessing you're Mr. Sly, right?"
"Sloane, actually".
She folded her arms, wedging her body firmly in the doorframe so they couldn't hope to enter her suite. "Yeah, we'll see".
He was surprisingly patient, at least more so than his predecessor, but even so she could see an annoyed scowl crinkle his forehead. "Ms. Summers, I'm sorry to intrude, but it seems we're having a little difficulty communicating with you. Mr. Hutton here tells me he had little success bartering with you yesterday."
Buffy tilted an eyebrow, seeing the word 'understatement' on the edge of said representative's lips. She stifled a grin. Faith's methods were definitely way more effective at times like this.
"Then I thought you would be fairly clear that we're not interested in your help", she said bluntly. "Why can't you get it through your mind that this is it? The world doesn't need another Council. The days of tweed, masterpiece theatre, and stuffy British leaders are over. We won. You had no part in that. Deal with it."
Sloane was fast loosing the last vestiges of his tolerance. "We're well aware of your disobedience, Ms. Summers, but until now I carried a certain level of respect for you and your... American methods. There are hundreds of girls out there, *hundreds*, who need your help, who have no idea what they have become, and you really think without the proper resources and funds, that you will be able to help every single one of them? There is no way you can be so naïve".
"Insulting me really not helping your case", Buffy said irritably, leaning one hip against the doorjamb and folding her arms.
"This is pure insanity", Hutton said in exasperation.
Buffy narrowed her eyes. "I know you don't have any records, but if you actually still had my files, you would realise I'm not exactly keen on co- operating with the Council in the first place. The slayers don't need you. In fact, they never did."
"You still must face facts", Sloane said, with a little more decorum. "The Council can offer you the proper assistance and resources to help with this cause. Where else are you possibly going to acquire that kind of sponsorship?"
"I could think of one or two alternatives".
The three stern-faced watchers glanced around at the interruption with aggravation.
Angel stood casually in the hall interior, with a thick manila folder in one hand. He nodded to Buffy with a small smirk. "Sorry I'm late."
She shrugged, forcing her voice to sound noncommittal even as she felt a jungle-large surge of butterflies flutter around her stomach. "No big," she murmured calmly. "You're right on time".
Sloane narrowed his eyes, observing their exchange with reserved mistrust. "I'm sorry, young man, but I don't believe this matter is of your concern", he said snarkily.
Angel shot him a withering look, and instead waved forth the wad of papers in his grasp. "I think it might be. I have here a restraining order, placed on you and all members of your organization, should you continue any further harassment to either Buffy or Faith." He removed another sheet, holding it in the enraged watcher's face.
"And this is a court order directing your removal from the State of California effective immediately." He slapped in none-too-gently against Hutton's chest, who spluttered with indignant disbelief, all the while wearing a self-satisfied smirk. "Law enforcement," he said conspiratorially to Buffy, yet so the rest of them could hear. "Who said the good old fashioned law couldn't solve anybody's problems?"
Angel gave him a nudge down the hall, but Sloane still paused, face clouded over in a dark mask as he glared straight into Buffy's eyes. "I hope you realise you're aligning yourself with the darkest force in this city", he snapped. He gave her a long, cold smile. "And may God have mercy on your soul once it begins."
Buffy stared after him, eyebrows raised, until he disappeared. She looked at Angel, mildly disturbed at his one final cryptic remark. "*It*? What it? Where's the it?"
He shrugged, replacing the papers back in the folder. "I really don't know. Though I get the feeling its more than just this last words of a very pissed but beaten watcher."
She smiled. "You did beat him pretty good."
He was all modesty. "I had to pull in a few favours. It was actually thanks to Wesley, mostly. Willow called him yesterday and gave him the early warning".
Buffy's expression darkened slightly. "Willow called?"
"Uh yeah. Why? Is there something I'm missing?"
Buffy sighed, massaging her forehead tiredly. The smell of fresh lavender and vanilla shampoo tantalised his primed sense, and Angel felt his chest constrict tightly.
"No, nothing", Buffy muttered, oblivious to his discomfort. When had being around him felt this awkward?
"Well, I um, I really should go", he said hesitantly. "I mean, if everything is taken care of here...?"
Buffy glanced up, then looked away, surprising herself by feeling hurt by his hurry to get away again. "Yeah, of course", she murmured, hiding her disappointment. "I think everything's pretty much—"
A rough movement rocked the earth, catching both of them off-guard, and interrupting her mid-sentence. Angel staggered across the shifting carpet, bumping into her, and they both quickly moved between the doorframe. Buffy twisted around to look at him, ignoring how close he was pressed to her back.
"Can you hear that?"
He listened, unnecessary breath tickling her neck, but he didn't have to wait very long. There was a grating, thundering noise outside, like shrapnel being dragged along gravel. They both realised at the same time their instinctive Californian reaction hadn't been correct. Whatever was causing the ground to shake, it wasn't an earthquake.
Buffy moved away from the doorframe, balancing herself hazardously on the erratic earth as she began to move down the corridor. Angel followed behind, and it was only when they reached the door they realised the movements were coming from underground.
Car alarms went off in the street as the ashfelt under the bright Los Angeles sun juddered. Angel craned his neck behind Buffy, careful to remain out of the sun's harmful rays. "Buffy, what is it?"
She opened her mouth to answer when a loud, rippling crack like thunder deafened them, and the road in front of the Sun Inn began to shift upwards. Buffy's mouth fell open in dull shock as a long crack formed down the centre, and one massive chunk of earth began to suspend itself above the other.
The ground beneath it exploded, sending a rain of dirt and gravel and grass over the neighbourhood around them, and causing one final tremor that threw them off their feet.
Buffy stumbled to her feet, bracing herself against the railing of the balcony as the source revealed itself. Hundreds of ugly black hunched over demons flocked from the ready-made crater in the middle of fifth avenue, climbing all over each other in an effort to escape. Their movements were surprisingly nimble and speedy, and they quickly spread out. Several spectators to the incredible sight stumbled backwards in shock, crying out as they began to flee from the scene.
Just as Buffy was about to spring into a more violent kind of action herself, the crawly little demons blinked out of existence, one by one, as if moulding into their backgrounds. By the sound, she knew they were still there, but as the racket began to move westwards, she realised they were headed in the direction of downtown, and she had no hopes of spotting them.
She felt a heavy hand on her shoulder, and turned around to see Angel at her back.
"Get in the limo", he ordered point-blank. His expression as so grim, she didn't quail as she usually would have at his sudden orders. "I'll explain when we get there".
****
"I think those watchers cast a little chaos spell to get revenge on me", Buffy grunted, as she sat in Angel's office with the rest of the AI crew, tapping her heel against the foot of the plush leather sofa. "That Hutton guy looked pretty shifty, don't you think? Though he didn't look like he had the balls to pull off a small-time robbery let alone call forth an army full of inviso-crawler-demons, but you never really can tell with those guys".
Angel ignored her as he glanced up at Wesley pointedly. "Would you mind telling me why Los Angeles has been invaded by Prowler demons without us picking up on them?" he demanded shortly. "I thought we had measures against this sort of thing?"
Wesley shrugged helplessly, looking more than a little mentally drained. His research was proving more confounding by the second, and now they had this new cataclysmic issue to terminate as soon as possible.
"Essentially, we do. But the Prowlers could very well have been out of range under the earth's surface. There are any number of reasons our equipment didn't pick up on them".
"I don't understand how they could have multiplied this fast", Fred insisted thoughtfully, pacing the length of carpet. Wesley took a short moment to admire how much her confidence had been boosted at a lead position in Wolfram and Hart. "I thought we killed the whole nest the other night?"
"Obviously not", Gunn muttered, on the sofa beside Buffy. He folded one leg over the other. "So, what do we do about them?"
Wesley sighed wearily. "We should be able to send out a team to exterminate them fairly easily", he mused. "Although I doubt this will escape publicity, considering the damage they're sure to cause."
Buffy cocked her eyebrows. "Um, are you guys listening to yourselves?" she asked, staring up at them in mild disbelief. "Those things are a danger to millions of people, and you're discussing the *publicity*?"
Wesley shifted awkwardly, and Fred looked at the floor. Angel's expression grew slightly disturbed, and he slumped into a seat on the opposite sofa.
"Okay", Gunn said at last, carefully avoiding her all-too-true observation. He hadn't realised how much this place was really affecting them until an outsider could point it out. "So we get rid of 'em. Anyone 'sides me thinkin' they're here for more than just your every-day butchering?"
Fred and Wesley exchanged a look, and Angel frowned at them warily. "What?"
Fred cleared her throat, fiddling with her glasses.
"Uh, we didn't really want to... say anything, not until we knew for sure," the physicist admitted hesitantly, chewing her lower lip.
Wesley sighed. "Fred came up with a theory that Prowlers carry certain similarities to a demon called G'Ashinda, which has origins in Eastern Europe in the late fourteenth century", he began. "They were thought to be killed out after the bubonic plagues, but there was no circumstantial evidence to back this up".
"Getting to a point in there, Wes?" Buffy piped impatiently.
He shot her an irritated look, perhaps momentarily forgetting the changes in each of them that no longer made them watcher and slayer.
"The *point*", he said lengthily. "Is that the G'Ashinda were very indisposed to enclosed spaces. Yet for the past few weeks, they have been nesting under the surface in large groups, and breeding, if the army of them is any indication".
"That's assuming the Prowlers are actually the G'Ashinda", Angel pointed out.
Wesley shook his head. "I can almost definitely say they are", he insisted. "And if that's so, then we have a problem."
"Always do", Gunn muttered.
Wesley ignored him. "I decided to take another look through the Devandire codex Wolfram and Hart stole from the Watcher's Council a few years ago", he explained. "The G'Ashinda's revival is no coincidence. The G'Ashinda are harbingers for the arrival of something big."
Angel stared at him. "The End of Days?"
Wesley shrugged one shoulder. "Certainly a possibility".
"I knew that Sloane guy wasn't just making with the snarky", Buffy muttered. "He knows something. And now there's no way we're ever gonna know what".
"Wolfram and Hart can monitor all demonic activity in the city", Fred said helpfully. She had been inwardly surprised at the slayer's introduction to her earlier. She was so different to what she had imagined. "That should give us enough of a warning... hopefully."
"Well, it better", Buffy said, rising to her feet.
Angel gave her a sharp look. "Where are you going?"
She narrowed her eyes. "I'm gong to go out and clean up the mess these demons of yours have created".
"I already told you—"
"You have a team to take care of them", she finished, arms falling to rest on her hips. The other three in the room watched on uncomfortably, aware of the tension building between the two noticeably. "Somehow, I doubt your 'team' will be too concerned with innocent people getting caught in the crossfire."
She swivelled around, stalking from the room.
Angel gaped after her for a full thirty seconds, then was across the room and grasped his leather jacket from the hanger on the back of the door.
"Angel...?" Wesley started, also standing.
Angel turned to point a finger at him. "Talk to Lorne", he instructed. "Tell him to tell you what he saw. I'll be back soon."
"Where are you going?" Fred asked in confusion.
Angel glanced at her briefly, then returned his attention to the exit. "To follow her."
He was gone almost as quickly as Buffy was, leaving Gunn and Fred to stare after him and wonder at his strange behavior.
Wesley only sighed wearily, with the apathy of someone who had witnessed it all before. "They do that".
****
TBC