Author's
Notes:
Collectively we would like to thank everyone who's read and encouraged our
lunacy on this little, well OK, getting bigger by the day, project and any or
our other (on hold and NOT abandoned) stories.
Kyria is still, and forever will be, thankful for the hot, half-naked man who jogs
past her office daily. She is especially thankful that he waved at her Thursday.
::insert dreamy sigh here:: She also would like to thank Nina and Specks
for all of their talent, dedication and creativity when it comes to getting
Angel back into leather pants. ::again insert dreamy sigh here::
Specks continues her homage to the dialogue guru and the umbrella-toting, ill-tempered
penguin... ::mumble mumble mumble::
Nina, now officially a survivor of the horrors of the Moron Quadruplets, invites
you all to a festive text book burning this evening in the heart of the Nevada
desert. Special recognition also goes to Ky, for the timely warning on
the show last night, and the masochist who designed the course for the charity
walk this past weekend... No, making 3 out 4 legs of the course uphill
wasn't too much... And the idea of having them all consecutively? BRILLIANT!
Really... ::adjusts the mammoth ice pack and gingerly stretches her
legs::
And now, without further ado, the story:
***
"Well, first off, they want you to
infiltrate the Order of Taraka…"
Angel's eyes shrunk to slits; growling rumbled deep in his chest, "The Powers
wouldn't ask me to become an assassin- I won't become a killer again."
Angel lunged to leave, only to find himself unable to move. He did the only thing he could, he continued
growling at the demon he was now certain had deceived him in anger and frustration.
Whistler waited calmly for the vampire to realize his predicament before
continuing, nonplussed by the glare, "Not so much a killer… Least ways
that's not the reason that the Girls want you in The Order. The Powers
want you in there to keep an eye on things. The Order isn't really that
bad you know," he assured the much larger, glowering 'man', trying to ease
his fears, "They may be assassins but the group is a true mixture of both
light and dark. The books weren't kidding when they said the order could
be made up of anyone. The only problem is there is no one you can there,
since you never know who's playing for which team."
"That sounds extremely dangerous," the dark, dirty vampire mused.
"Well, even you can't live forever..."
"So… what do they want me to do?" the vampire asked warily.
"Oh that… Details, details. They want you to help save innocents targeted
by Tarakans. Give the poor bastards a chance to flee or fake their
deaths. The important part, though, is
to make sure that their Warriors, the Slayers, don't become targets: and if
they do, well," he shrugged, knowing this part wasn't going to go over
well, "they're charging you to keep them alive."
"Why save Slayers," he mused indifferently, still warily regarding
Whistler, "After all, when one dies, another is called, And," he
winced rubbing his head as he recalled some of the damage a previous Slayer
inflicted on his person, "as I remember, they can take care of
themselves."
"Yeah, well… The Powers don't want the other side to have an…
unfair advantage. There's supposed to be a balance, you see, until the
End of Days, at least, but the other side's been playing fast and loose with
the rules. Since the Slayers are pretty much the only warriors our Powers
have in this dimension, they want to make sure the playing field stays level,"
Whistler paused, watching Angelus' reaction closely, "Is the Slayer thing gonna
be a problem for you."
The demon inside him raged at the thought of helping anyone, let alone his
mortal enemy… Angelus paused, wrestling with the possibilities, "Okay, so
I save the Slayers and the innocents… What of the people who aren't
innocent?"
Whistler eyed him shrewdly, "You'll help the Order take them out.
Can you handle that?"
Silence hung heavily between them. Whistler sighed as he leaned back, waiting for the vampire's response. Could the powers have been wrong to dump this burden on Angelus so soon? The half demon leaned forward, trying to think of something convincing to say when Angelus looked up- resolve glinting from his eyes.
He'd live to regret this he was sure, he thought rubbing his forehead as he
dismissed the last of his hesitation, "How am I to know who is
innocent?"
Whistler sighed inwardly with relief as he gestured towards himself smirking,
"I, your official link to the Powers, will drop by to fill you in if
there's any doubt."
The vampire cautiously nodded his agreement, "I'll do it."
"Good," beamed Whistler ready to get on task, "Now we can tackle
the real problem at hand."
"Real problem?" the bewildered vamp asked.
"Yeah! Your clothes. The
Girls… I mean The Powers have a mandate concerning their warriors, and lets
just say you can't go walking around looking like," Whistler gestured at
Angelus' unkempt form while wrinkling up his nose, "That. Now let's
see..."
Rummaging through a suitcase that had
appeared from thin air, Whistler produced a maroon silk shirt and a pair of
leather pants. Digging around some more, he found the last part of the
ensemble that warriors from every universe seemed to be attached to: the
leather duster.
Fingering the soft leather of the ensemble, Angelus eyed Whistler curiously,
"Why so much leather?"
"You have no idea how much THEY like the leather," Whistler grumbled under
his breath, "Friggen' Women."
"Now, go put on your clothes, you look
like shit." With that, he shooed
Angelus into a side door for him to change. Closing the door behind the
dark haired vampire, Whistler sat and waited, freshly filled snifter in one
hand and a small ring with a red gem in the other. Rolling the ring
between his fingers, he idly wondered how it would affect the outcome of
history. Would the changes he had set in motion be enough to prevent the
Buffster and Soul Boy from screwing things up, again, in the future? The
Powers were putting a great deal of faith in a half-sane vampire with a
soul. Shrugging off his doubts, he downed the contents of his glass in
one gulp before depositing the precious item back in his pocket. Staring
into the fire, the demon waited lost in his thoughts.
Twenty minutes later, Angelus emerged from the changing room. With his
color back after his recent feeding, he seemed to be feeling *much*
better. No longer looking like an emaciated beggar, he now looked the
part of a moderately prosperous young man.
Making his way across the room with a power that had been absent earlier
in the evening, Angelus stopped in front of Whistler and waited patiently for
inspection.
"Hey! You look half way decent! Am I good? Or am I
good?" Of course, Whistler admitted to himself, he couldn't take all
the credit. Truth was, he'd have never even thought of clothing or
food. All of the equipment had been provided by the new PTBs.
They'd thought of everything, and instead of him having to work out all the
details, as he had in the… future? The past? Scrunching up his brow
thoughtfully, he decided against working out the semantics that resulted when
one bent time, and decided on 'before.' Yes. As he had
before… Now, everything was taken care of for him. All he really
had to do was show up, talk, and hand over the necessary equipment. And
when he was done talking, he'd finally get to go back and take that
vacation. Things were certainly looking up.
Roused from his thoughts when the vampire cleared his throat uncertainly,
Whistler shook of his reverie, flashed one of his trade mark shit-eating-grins,
rose from his seat, and reached into his left pocket to produce the accessory
to complete Angelus' ensemble: The Gem of Amarra.
He chuckled as he saw Angelus' eyes widen slightly, before returning to his
neutral, stoic facade. Uncertain, the
vampire backed away a few feet and shot a questioning glance at his unlikely
benefactor. Relieved that, at least, the boy's senses were still intact,
Whistler set the ring on the table, pushing it towards its reluctant recipient.
"Well, go on," the quirky little man urged, "Take it."
"Is that…?" Angelus murmured as he inched closer to the table, eyes
fixed on the ring. "It can't be…"
"It can be and it is. The Gem of Amarra," trying to add some
levity to the moment, he affected his best game show host voice and added,
"A limited edition, indeed one of a kind, gem rendering it's wearer
impervious to sun, stake, fire, and beheading, exquisitely mounted in sterling
silver by master craftsmen and reinforced with Majiks known only by the gods
and the most powerful of Wiccans, this ring is a gift to you… A token, if
you will, of The Powers' great faith in their chosen Warrior."
Angelus regarded the ring in awe as Whistler's words slowly sank in.
The Gem of Amarra.
Of course, he'd heard about the ring, any vampire worth his blood had, but he'd
never believed the stories. It was the Holy Grail of the demon world, one
of those legends that had been passed down through the ages, sought by many but
never recovered. Even in his heyday with Darla, when he'd have given
anything to possess such a talisman, he'd thought it to be a fairytale.
And now it was his. A token from these mysterious Powers That Be that
Whistler kept referring to.
Reverently, he inched closer to it- hesitating before actually picking it
up. An electrical like tingle surged
through his hand as he slipped it hesitantly onto his left middle finger.
Immediately, something in him changed and he was filled with a surge of
confidence he'd never before possessed, not as cock-sure Liam and certainly not
in the horrendous months since his soul had been restored. It was
confidence he recognized as not being all his own and briefly he wondered how
much of that confidence came from the gem itself and how much of it came from
knowing that someone thought highly enough of him to bestow something of such…
magnitude… upon him.
Gazing up at Whistler, he had no words to impart his gratitude, so instead he
just nodded, wordlessly vowing to be worthy of so great a gift.
He'd never really been good with human emotions, Whistler reflected, dropping
his eyes and shifting uncomfortably under Angelus' grateful gaze. As the
Demon of Destiny, he'd rarely had to interact with any corporeal beings, a perk
he could now freely admit he'd taken for granted until it became clear just how
poorly suited he was for that sort of contact. With the previous Powers'
stance that all earth dwellers were 'lower beings' he'd never taken the time
improve upon those skills and now, with the pitiable vampire staring at him, he
deeply regretted that.
Maybe the new bosses would spring for a seminar somewhere. Somewhere
tropical, preferably… He made a mental note to ask and then quickly
re-established eye contact with his charge. Clearing his throat, he
decided to bypass any awkward personal-type conversations and just get right
down to the details of the mission.
"So… Um. Okay, now that you've got everything you need, we can
get into how you'll be infiltrating the Order. First things first… The
next meeting is a week from tonight," he advised, pulling out a sheet of
paper and writing down the date and time of the meeting and scribbling a map
with directions, before taking a moment to describe the meeting place.
"Once you're there, you'll get the information on your first
innocent. After that it's sort of like Mission Impossible-"
"Mission Impossible?" interrupted Angelus, brow wrinkled in
confusion.
"Oh sorry… Wrong era. Never mind. Moving on, basically
you have your choice of which assignment you accept. Make sure you only
take the ones who are demon and, well, bad. If an innocent is selected we
just need you to make first contact and explain to them that they've been
targeted. Use your 'grrr' face to convince them, if ya gotta. After
that, it should be pretty much out of your hands, we have others in place to
make sure they'll be okay if they believe you…"
"Wait, Whistler, all this is great information for once I've been
accepted, but how am I to infiltrate?"
"Ah, skipped a step, didn't I?" Whistler chuckled, "Actually,
there's not much infiltrating to do, Soul Boy. I've already laid the
groundwork for you. Your code name for entrance to the Order and all
their meetings is Fantome'. Don't answer to anything else. You
know, just in case. Once you're in, just try to blend, don't do anything
stupid, and you should be okay. If things get sticky, just act like your
demon did and you'll be fine. Now, let's see, did I miss
anything?" He paused, searching his memory for anything he might
have missed, "Nope. So, any questions?"
Angelus shook his head, "Ah, no."
"Good! If you need me, which you won't, don't worry, I'll know. Now
this villa," he gestured at the expansive estate with his hands, "is
yours to use, so feel free to roam. There's some blood down in the
cellar, but you'd better find a butcher before you run out. Money is not
an issue, since you've amassed a tidy sum over the years. Until you're up
to dealing with that end of things, there's enough here to keep you in
style. So, live and I'll see you around, kid." Without waiting
for a response, Whistler shimmered and disappeared from the room, leaving a
bewildered vampire to contemplate the drastic turn his life had suddenly taken.
***
We apologize to any members of PETA who may have been offended by our use of leather on Angel's, hot, sexy, hairless body [remember folks, we're talking the Pre-AtS Angel, whom is definitely worth killing a few cows for, as opposed to the current incarnation: (edited to remove anything that could further offend ::g:: )]. We apologize to any vampires that didn't know about the Gem of Amarra, we're sure that you really *ARE* worth your blood. We apologize to any contract killers/assassins if they feel that we portrayed their profession in a negative light… After all, John Cusack looked pretty cool in Gross Pointe Blank, so they can't all be bad, not as bad as say, Pat Buchanan… We apologize if we offended anyone by not valuing the lives of the guilty, erm, we mean 'un-innocent' as highly as those of the innocent, you know who we're talking about- Re… HEY! I'm using this… Don't TOUCH IT!!! AAAAARGH! Oooof, Argh, Ack! What the h…
A-hem, I'm finishing off the apology, 'cuz Nina is busy tying Kyria to the chair-- hope she remembers to gag her this time… Anyway, I apologize for our inability to keep Ky from the laptop. ::shrugs:: We can only do so much when she gets on a rant (after all, she *is* the bigger sister ::g::), but as you can see, we are increasing our efforts to keep this from happening another time. Again, we're sorry.
Now for the good stuff: Feedback! Please?
