Destiny Denied, Chapter 11 By Specks, Nina, and Ky
Never one to spend a penny more than absolutely necessary, or give much thought to the comfort of two junior council members, Quentin Travers and the Travel Department of the Watcher's Council had passed on booking a direct flight from Gatwick or Heathrow and had instead booked a circuitous route with stops and changes of plane in New York City, Cincinnati, and Salt Lake City before ultimately terminating at LAX. A car had been provided for their use and, after fighting with the airline about their lost luggage, and with each other about who would be driving, Wesley Wyndham-Pryce and Angel had been on their way to Sunnydale, with the understanding that their luggage would be delivered to their motel upon its finding.

The drive to Sunnydale had been an experience unto itself; one the ancient vampire was desperately determined never to repeat. Already in a righteous snit about their lost luggage, the traffic in LA, coupled with the driving on the 'wrong' side of the road and sitting on the 'wrong' side of the car, had turned the already high-strung Wesley into a ranting, reckless vehicular menace. As the conformist young Watcher careened from lane to lane, Angel sat rigidly upright in his seat, frequently lamenting the luck that had deserted him when he lost the coin toss to determine who would be driving and toying with the ring that, though rendering him invincible, did remarkable little to quell his discomfort as he watched the scenery and other cars fly past through the window.

So, after a day of constant travel, he was remarkably thankful to have arrived at their destination: The Hellmouth.

Shaking his head in disbelief, he carefully set about disentangling himself from the seatbelt and stepping out of the ridiculously compact vehicle. He'd never been happier to feel dirt underneath his meticulously polished shoes. As he emerged from the coupé, Angel shielded his eyes against the bright California sun and took a deep, relieved breath before he began to survey the school before him.

Although it looked, with its well-maintained landscaping and masses of milling teenagers, like any normal high school, he could feel the malevolence lurking just beneath the surface—a tangible evil that made the little hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention and the demon within him howl its frustration.

"Well, we ought go introduce ourselves to our charge," Wesley suggested, obviously anxious to meet the Slayer.

"I suppose so," Angel agreed with a heavy sigh, reluctant to face another Slayer so soon after the debacle in Jamaica that still weighed heavily on his conscience. Despite his lingering reservations, he followed Wesley toward the school… and the next undertaking the Powers had tasked him with.


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