The Feast Day of Saint Agnes

by Sshpadoinkel

England, 1880: A watcher and the slayer are forced to ask Angelus and his companions for their help to save the world. No spoilers.

2. The Feast Day of Saint Agnes part 2

The Feast Day of Saint Agnes – part 2

The woman sits down at the table.
- Mr. Angelus. Ms. Darla. Pleased to meet you.
Angelus is feeling a little puzzled. This woman seems to be nothing but contradictions. The first thing he notices about her is her scent. She smells human… but somehow wrong. It takes him a few seconds to find out why. There is no blood in her scent, as if her body has no blood in it. And that is just one of many odd things. She is only medium height, but she has a presence that makes her seem much taller. She has the look of a woman in her thirties, but her voice is much older than that. Her eyes are brown, but they have nothing of the warmth usually found in that colour. Dead-brown is the best way to describe them. Her dark blond hair is well groomed and she has a carefully applied makeup on her pale skin, but he has the distinct impression that she has not done this to appear attractive but rather to disguise herself somehow. And her walk. He has always been able to tell a lot about people by the way they move. This is obviously a woman who has used her looks and sexuality as a weapon, but there is nothing vibrant about her movements anymore. It is as though she is sexually dead and simply move this way out of old habit.
Angelus blinks. Sexually… dead.
The woman offers them a smile that is probably as warm as she can manage.
- It always interests me how long it takes people to figure it out. These two humans have no idea, but you two vampires seem to have guessed it already.
Darla nods.
- You are dead!
Samiyah shifts her body slightly as though preparing for a fight. Keats holds up a hand in alarm.
- Really, Ms. Darla, there is no reason to make threats here. Ms. Mendax is here to…
- Quiet, you fool! Darla snaps, contempt in her voice. I was making a statement, not a threat. She is dead!
Keats' eyes shift between the two women, obviously confused. Mendax nods.
- True. I died so many years ago. Wolfram & Hart has a very simple company policy regarding their employees. If you are not skilled enough, they kill you. If you are fairly skilled you can keep your job until you grow old or die naturally. But a few of the most effective employees, such as myself, are kept around for decades or even centuries after our death. It is simple business logic; why lose a valuable asset just because the person is dead? It is a highly effective system. There is no need to look so shocked, Mr. Keats. You know we are not an ordinary law firm. Otherwise you would not have paid for our expensive expertise.
Darla grins.
- Maybe he is feeling a little foolish having been attracted to a woman who turns out to be dead.
Keats' face turns a little red. It takes a few seconds for him to find his voice again.
- As Ms. Mendax mentioned she is here in a professional capacity. One of the areas Wolfram & Hart specialises in is binding contracts. And I do not mean legally binding, but magically binding. As Mr. Angelus said, neither party here trusts the other. Therefore we need a mutual assurance against foul play.
Keats opens his briefcase and extracts a piece of paper. He puts in on the table for Angelus and Darla to read.
- We had Ms. Mendax draw up this contract and one of their most powerful shamans put a spell on it. As you can see the text is quite short and simple. The contract will be binding for one year. It binds you, Mr. Angelus, to kill Agnes within this space of time or face all the magic of repercussion of this contract. And from the moment we sign this paper, no signer can hurt one of the other signers. Nor can we ask anyone else to hurt any of the others or even tell any outsider anything that we have discussed here, we can only discuss it amongst ourselves. And since I will be signing the contract with the great seal of the Watcher's Council my signature will be binding for all associates of the Council. Oh yes, two more things; the signature must be made with the signers blood in order to be magically binding. And any treachery will call down powerful magic upon the sinner.
Angelus and Darla exchanges looks. She nods and he turns back to Keats.
- It is quite clever, Mr. Keats. It certainly protects you against any foul play, but not so us. We can not be sure you have not made some arrangements with people who are not "associates" of yours in order to do something unpleasant to us. I will however agree to this arrangement under three conditions. 1: You tell us now exactly how you have imagined I will kill Agnes and I will decide whether it sounds feasible. 2: You give us a half hour alone in Drusilla's room so we can explain all this to her and make her sign. 3: Before we sign you allow Drusilla to read your minds to ensure you have told us the truth and have not planned any unexpected surprises.
Keats considers his words for 10 seconds.
- I agree with your first and third condition. I should have told you already how we think she can be killed. My mistake. You also have a right to be 100 certain we plan no foul play, so even though I do not like having a vampire read my mind at least you can not use it against us for a year once you have signed the contract. But if you want a half hour alone I must insist that my men guard the door and the windows to be sure that you do not talk with anyone else. And as soon the contract has been signed you will leave with us for Rome, Mr. Angelus, while Ms. Darla and Ms. Drusilla stay behind.
- Agreed. Angelus says. Now talk.
- Well, as you may know the Council has an extensive library. One of the volumes is a recent translation by one of our men. He translated some ancient scrolls, probably some two thousand years old, called the Xenos Scrolls. The scrolls describe the heroics of a mighty warrior called Xenos, the Warrior Prince, who travelled the countries around the Mediterranean long ago together with his friend Gabriel, who chronicled their adventures. What is of interest to us is Xenos' favourite weapon of which Gabriel made a detailed description. It is called a chakram.
Keats extracts a curious weapon from his brief case. A metal ring with an outer diameter of approximately 10 inches and an inner diameter of 8 inches. The outer edge seems razor sharp while the inner edge is blunt, and while the upper surface is slightly curved the lower surface is flat. Keats continues talking.
- Like I said it is called a chakram. The name comes from the Indian word "chakra" and…
Angelus looks him hard in the eye.
- … well, I suppose that part is not so important. But it is a highly effective throwing weapon. Thrown by a skilled hand it can decapitate an opponent in an instant. Samiyah has practised with this weapon for months and she is very skilled. She will travel with you to Rome and has agreed to train you in the use of this weapon during your journey. You have more than a month to learn how to handle the chakram and if you learn to use it well it should not be a problem to decapitate the unsuspecting Agnes with it.
Angelus laughs loudly.
- Life has given me many surprises, but I never thought I would see the day when a slayer would be teaching me weapons practice. Your plan is quite sound, but I will get one chance only, so I need to be 100 sure her attention is directed elsewhere when I throw. I think I can arrange that, though. Very well, unless you have anything more to say, Darla and I will go and have a little talk with Drusilla.
- No, I have nothing more to say at this moment. Just allow to make the proper arrangements with the men who will guard your room.
Keats gets up and leaves the room.

- It has been a half hour now, Mr. Keats. Samiyah says. I do not like letting them be alone. Who knows what deviltry they might be planning!?
- I do not trust them either, Samiyah, and I am sure they would love to cheat or kill us. But I believe they understand the grave danger the world is facing and do not want it to happen anymore than we do. And with all our precautions I honestly can not see how they can possible do us any harm once the contract has been signed. I trust it your shaman's magic is reliable, Ms. Mendax?
- It is. If one of the vampires breaks the contract, he or she will be given a soul. If the Slayer or anyone else working for the Watcher's Councils breaks the contract, that person's soul is forfeit.
Keats nods.
- I believe that is the ultimate threat for all involved. It should work. I think I hear them coming now.
Angelus opens the door and enters, then Drusilla and Darla last. One of Keats' men stand in the doorway. He nods to Keats. No one has tried to leave or enter the other room during the half hour. Then he closes the door. Angelus looks at Keats.
- We are ready to proceed, Mr. Keats.

The moon casts it pale light on the water of the Mediterranean. The ship steadily makes its' way across the calm sea. Angelus is standing at the bows, considering all that has happened in the last six weeks since Dru confirmed that Keats and Samiyah had been telling the truth. They had all signed the contract in blood, Keats also using the Council's great seal. Interesting crest the seal had. A quill and a stake crossed like two swords, probably signifying that the Council fought their battles with knowledge as well as weapons. And a Latin phrase underneath the two symbols; "Exitus acta probat", seemingly the motto of the Council. He had not known that. It is not the only thing he has learned in the last couple of weeks.
As soon as the contract had been signed the Mendax woman had taken it and left. Immediately afterwards he had left Sheffield together with Samiyah and Keats, without a chance to talk with Dru more. Well, there will be time for that soon. A private train had taken them to Liverpool where a ship belonging to the Council had been waiting for them. Keats had said his goodbyes and they had left port just an hour later. They had been on their way since. If they had travelled at a higher speed they could have been in Rome long ago, but obviously they feel that keeping him at sea as long as possible is the safest thing to do. He can not kill any unsuspecting people while on the ship (the crew knows he is a vampire), nor can he make plans the Council will not approve of except with himself. No need for that, though. He had made his plans already while Keats and Samiyah told their story, and during the half hour in Dru's room he had told the others what he wanted them to do. Things should be ready when he finally gets to Rome.
Despite the fact that he has not killed anyone for six weeks (he has been drinking animal blood during the whole journey), the longest such period in his entire vampire existence, the journey has not been a boring one. Several hours every day Samiyah has been training him in the use of chakrams. There are different kinds and sizes, and as he has learned which one suits him the best he has soon become very good. By now he can easily hit something the size of a human neck at a distance of more than thirty feet. Samiyah has been a good teacher, but her training has not been the most interesting thing he has learned on this journey.
He has known from the beginning that she is of Arab origin. Her looks and her accent makes that plain and her manners indicate that she is from an upper class family. She is also a Muslim. That is rather intriguing. The headquarters of the Watcher's Council is seated in England, the organisation is mainly Christian and he has never before met a slayer who is not a Christian also. He wonders for a second whether touching a crescent moon will have the same effect as touching a cross, but that is not important right now. Samiyah's religiousness on the other hand is. She has tried to hide her daily prayers from him, but she has underestimated his vampire hearing. She prays five times each day just like Islam calls for and only the most devout Muslims do so. Angelus has travelled enough in Arab countries to have a fair understanding of the Arab language, so he understands her prayers. Each time she prays with her head towards Mecca, she always finishes with a prayer for her family in the holy city. So, Samiyah is from a deeply religious, upper class, Mecca family. That knowledge will soon be put to use. He does not yet know all he wants to, but Dru can fill out the holes when he sees her again.
The ship will reach Rome tomorrow afternoon on Thursday the 20th. Samiyah will then contact a man from the Council's Rome office for any last news while he scouts the Church of Saint Agnes. She does not like letting him out of her sight, but she knows it will be too dangerous for her to come near the church. If Agnes is already there she might learn of their plans. That is another reason why they have timed their arrival so late; to minimize any chance of exposure. When they have finished their gathering of information they will meet in the Coliseum. It is her suggestion. She clearly does not want him to know the location of the Council's Rome office. And since she can not harm him in any way because of the spell, she prefers to meet at a deserted place where he will not be tempted to kill any innocent people. Angelus smiles. All her careful planning is playing right into his hands! His plan is growing more and more beautiful. He is looking forward to tomorrow with great anticipation.

It is late in the evening. Angelus is waiting for Samiyah inside the Coliseum. In the few hours he has been in Rome much has been done. His "family members" have done their jobs exactly as planned. He is a little surprised. Darla was the only he had fully counted on. Now everything is ready. He looks around the Coliseum. Even though it is now a ruin and just a shadow of its past glory, it is still a magnificent monument to the best and the worst in the human soul. To build something so grand and beautiful in order to use it for bloody entertainment. He laughs. Well, who is he to judge? He well understands the joy of watching suffering and death. Had he been made a vampire 1500 years earlier, he probably would have been a spectator.
He hears a small sound. There she is.
- Have you been to the church? She asks.
- Yes, and a beautiful church it is. And with many good places for an assassin to hide. Behind one of the pillars or up the gallery. I do not think we need to worry about tomorrow.
Samiyah walks back and forth in front of him. The stone just in front of him would be the natural place for her to sit down, so she does not. Instead she keeps a few yards distance. She knows he can not attack her or even have arranged for someone else to, but her slayer instincts allow no unnecessary risks. Just as he had expected. If she moves a little more to the right she is in exactly the right place.
- Did your Council man have any interesting news?
- Not really. No one knows for certain where Agnes is, but there is a rumour going around that something special will happen at the Mass tomorrow. She will be there.
Now she is in perfect position. Angelus scratches his cheek; the signal.
- Good. He says loudly. Now all we have to do…
His voice covers the sound of the attack. Almost. At the last instant Samiyah senses something behind her. But before she can react, something strikes her in the back of her head with great force. She stumbles to the ground, instantly unconscious.

Samiyah slowly wakes up. As she has been trained to do, she does not open her eyes, but pretends to be still unconscious. She evaluates her situation. How Angelus tricked her is not important yet, so she wastes no time thinking of that. The only real pain is in her head, but it is not too bad. There is no permanent damage. The only weapon she had on her, the stake in her inner pocket, has been taken, but she is not restrained in any way, which seems odd. Judging from the surface she can feel with her fingertips, she has not been moved. She can hear two voices. One belongs to Angelus, the other one has an English accent. She tries to figure out their intentions. They have not killed her, which means they want something from her. She is not restrained, which means they are somehow sure she will not be able to escape. That part she still does not understand. Angelus knows fully well what a slayer is capable of. She opens her one eye a little and tries to look around without being noticed.
- I know you are awake, Samiyah. Angelus' voice says. Your watcher would have been proud, but I noticed the change in your breathing. You can stand up if you wish.
She opens her eyes fully. As she gets up, she notices a peculiar weakness in her limbs for the first time. A concussion, maybe? She looks around. They are on the arena floor. Several torches are burning, lighting up the area. Angelus is sitting in a spectator seat several yards above her. The English voice turns out to belong to a male vampire with short, dark blond hair. He is about her height, maybe a little taller. He looks very self confident. Or at least he tries to. It seems a little false somehow.
- This is my little friend, William… Angelus says.
The other vampire interrupts him.
- Spike! Bloody hell, part of our agreement is that you call me Spike!
- All right. This is my little friend, Spike. He knocked you out, as you might have guessed. And if you wonder how we did it, we need to go back to merry old England. You see, it was not Dru who made all those messy killings in London and all around Yorkshire. It was her newly made son, lover, pet, whatever. Willie the Bloody; Spike. Dru turned him months ago, but the Council has not discovered it yet. Very careless of them. All your clever precautions were in vain, because Spike was in Dru's room the whole time. I told him all he needed to know during that half hour, and since he did not sign the contract he is not restrained from hurting anyone.
- And I am not restrained from hurting him. Samiyah says.
- True. Angelus says. But before you attack Spike, you should know how happy that would make him. Spike here has an obsession with slayers, you understand. He longs to kill a slayer to prove what a tough guy he is, so I decided to give him a chance to fight you. Spike would have fought you under any circumstances, of course. The boy has no sense of flair, but I decided to add a little style.
Angelus pauses a second, clearly savouring the moment. Samiyah does not wish to just stand and wait until he has finished telling how clever he is. She would rather attack or run and fight later, but the strange weakness still floods her limbs. She decides to wait, hoping the weakness will pass before Angelus is done talking.
- Have you been to the British Museum in London, Samiyah? They have many, many interesting artefacts. One of them is a marble relief from Halicarnassus depicting two female gladiators armed with sword and shield. Today, after a short visit to the church, I also paid a visit to one of the museums here in Rome which had a very nice exhibition of gladiator weapons. I thought, since Spike so dearly wishes to fight you and we are in Rome and you even insisted on us meeting here in Coliseum, what would be more natural than letting you two fight as gladiators?

Samiyah looks at Angelus.
- Do you really think I am going to play your silly game?
Angelus smiles at her benignly.
- It is not as though you have much of a choice. I am sure you have noticed that you are feeling a little weak. I will explain to you later how I have accomplished that. The important thing is; you know you are too weak to escape right now. Spike would catch you in no time. And since I have taken your stake, your only options are to fight with the weapons I provide you or allow Spike to kill you without a fight! Spike, show her your weapons.
From behind a boulder Spike takes three weapons, a trident, a dagger and a net. The dagger he puts in a sheath in his belt. He holds the trident in his left hand and the net in his right hand.
- Spike is so very eager to "catch" a slayer, so I found it appropriate to arm him as a Retiarius, fisherman. You will be armed like the female gladiators in the marble relief I told you about.
Spike looks up at him and says with mock gravity and a bow.
- Ave, Imperator, morituri te salutant!
Angelus throws two things which land at Samiyah's feet. She looks down. It is a short sword and a curved, rectangular shield.
- If we were to follow the old traditions to the letter Spike should wear armour on his left arm and you should both wear loincloths and some other garments. Unfortunately the exhibition did not have those items.
- And I bloody well would not have worn them, anyway. Spike says. I feel silly enough as it is.
- Ah, Spike. You never had any appreciation of history. It looks as though your opponent is ready to start, though.
Samiyah has picked up her weapons; the sword in her right hand, the shield guarding her left side. Among the many things her watcher had her study, she also read about the weapons of old Rome. The sword in her hand is a Gladius. It is the stabbing sword roman legionaries used. "The sword that conquered the world". It is also from this sword the gladiators got their name. Her shield is a Scutum. The same shape as that which the roman legionaries used, but smaller. Spike's throwing net is called a Rete. The net has small weights at the edges to make it fly through the air faster and enclose itself around the opponent. And if the net does not capture the opponent, the small weights can still hurt if they hit the opponent. The net is also tied to his right wrist by a string so he can pull back the net after a failed throw. The trident is a Fuscina. It has three sharp, metal points and a blunt piece of metal at the other end of the wooden shaft as counter balance. It can be used for both stabbing and throwing. The dagger is a Pugio, but it may not come into play at all.
Samiyah has scanned the ground. Most of the arena floor has fallen in. They do not have much space to move around, and she must be careful not to fall down to the level below. She has assessed her situation and decided that fighting is her only real option. Whether she wins or loses, she knows the fight will soon be over. She simply does not have the strength for a long fight. She feels like she is at only half her normal strength. There's something familiar about this weakness, but she can not quite put her finger on it. She does not know how Angelus has weakened her, but she does know that her only chance of winning is finishing this fight quickly.
She attacks Spike. He blocks her first stab with his trident. She almost gets him with her second stab towards his stomach, but he sidesteps at the last moment and the sword only grazes his ribs. Spike counterattacks. He steps forward on his left leg and stabs at her eyes with the trident. She blocks the trident with her sword, but it was just a feint. In the same movement he lifts his right leg and kicks at her shield with all his vampire strength. Samiyah is thrown backwards and lands hard on her back. For a moment she is stunned and she already sees the net flying through the air towards her. She can not get out of the way in time. She does the only thing possible. She throws her shield at the net so they collide in midair and fall to the ground. She jumps to her feet and attacks Spike before he can retract his net. Spike has pulled the net back, but she will reach him before he can pick it up. Quickly he grabs the dagger from his belt with his right hand and throws it at her. Samiyah turns sideways in the midst of her attack. The dagger misses her by an inch, but for a second she is unbalanced. Spike swings his trident in a half circle, low and hard. The trident hits her on the right calf and knocks her off her feet. Samiyah almost lands on top of her sword, but she just manages to hold her right hand clear off her body. But the impact knocks the sword out of her hand and in the next second the net closes itself around her. The fight is over.
Spike steps forward and looks down at the girl at his feet, helplessly entangled in the net. The he looks up at Angelus.
- Your verdict, great emperor? Does the defeated deserve mercy?
Angelus shakes his head and turns his thumb down.
- She fought poorly. She deserves no mercy.
- Sorry, luv. The emperor has spoken.
Spike lifts the trident high for the killing stab

Now it happens. Samiyah thinks. Now I die.
The thought does not frighten her. She knew from the beginning when she became a slayer that she was unlikely to grow old. And she has done all she could to live her life as she thought right.
As she grew up in Mecca, she did not expect her life to be anything special. She was a good girl, obedient. She did what her parents asked her to and caused them little trouble. One day she would marry and have children, and her family and Allah would be her life. But when she was fourteen her life had changed dramatically.
She had suddenly become very strong. If her mother slapped her because she did not do her chores quite right, she could barely feel it. When she cut one of her fingers with a knife, the wound was completely gone the next day. These unnatural things frightened her and she dared not tell her family about it. But then, after long confusing days, a man from the Watcher's Council had knocked on their door.
Her family thought he was mad at first, when he told his tale about vampires, slayers and watchers, but Samiyah did not. He knew all about how strong and fast she had become. He even knew about those strange dreams about other girls she often had, but which she had never mentioned to anyone. As if sensing her family's disbelief, the man had suddenly drawn a knife and thrown it at her head. Without even thinking about what she was doing, she lifted her hands and easily caught the knife in midair. In the end her family believed him, but her father refused to let her go with the stranger!
It was not right for a girl of the One True Faith to do such things and certainly not when it involved going to a far away land called Britain, where people believed that the prophet Jesus was God's son (as if God could have a son) and no one believed that Muhammad was God's final and greatest prophet. But she disobeyed her father, for the first time in her life. It was very painful for her to do so, but she knew she had no choice. She had been given a gift and she had to use it to do good.
She knew it was a bad thing to disobey your parents, but she hoped that Allah would forgive her and her family too one day. It had been hard to leave her family, but she had never regretted her decision. She had slain many demons in the last four years, saved many innocent lives, and she truly believed that she honoured the pillars of Islam by the way she lived her life. Her belief in the oneness of God and the prophethood of Muhammad had never wavered. She had never missed her five daily prayers even for a single day. She gave alms often, and being a slayer truly meant helping the needy. She fasted at the times set forth by the Koran. And being born in Mecca she had done the pilgrimage several times. Furthermore, she had never eaten or drunk any of those things forbidden by the Prophet. And she was still a virgin, of course. No, she did not fear the judgment of Allah.
Seconds pass. Still Spike does not thrust. She looks him in the eyes, confused. Spike smiles.
- It is not going to be that easy, luv.
Spike turns the trident in his hand so the blunt end is towards her. He smashes it into her forehead and everything goes black.

For the second time that night Samiyah wakes up, lying on the arena floor. But she knows right away that her situation is much worse this time.
The first thing she notices is her restraints. She is tied in a spread-eagle. The second thing she notices is her complete inability to get free because of an even greater feeling of weakness than before. The third thing she notices is that she is naked. The last thing she notices is a disgusting taste in her mouth. She can not quite identify the taste, but it nearly makes her vomit.
She opens her eyes. She sees Angelus, Spike and a third man. He is human and seems to be in his midthirties. He also has a number of bruises in his face and a very frightened look in his eyes. She notices more torches have been lit making the area around her almost as bright as during the day. Angelus looks at her with what he probably considers a friendly smile.
- I see you are awake. You are probably feeling confused, wondering why you are weak and naked. It will be my pleasure to explain what has happened and what will happen. The weakness you are feeling comes from this.
He holds up a syringe.
- You see, some years ago I tortured a watcher. Before she died she told me many interesting things, one of them being the ritual surrounding a slayer's eighteen years birthday. She also told me how to make this chemical cocktail and what effect different dosages will have. The first time you were unconscious, Spike gave you a small dosage (the spell does not even allow me to give you an injection), just enough to soften you up before the gladiator fight. By the way, are you aware that the Coliseum is exactly eighteen hundred years old? Emperor Titus inaugurated Coliseum in the year 80 with games lasting one hundred days. Here we are in the year eighteen eighty-one in an eighteen hundred years old amphitheatre, you are eighteen years old and you are now a prisoner because of a ritual invented by the Watcher's Council for the slayer's eighteen years birthday. Many eighteens.
Angelus looks at her urgingly. - You do not think that kind of coincidence is even a little bit funny? He sighs. No sense of humour. I do not suppose you can even appreciate the irony of a slayer being tied to four stakes?
To some people that kind of coincidence would seem like fate. Not to me, though. No fate but what we make. That has always been my belief.
- Bloody hell, you really are in love with your own voice. Spike growls.
- Young people these days, they have no appreciation of the art of elegant conversation. Angelus sighs.
- Monologue, you mean. Spike snorts. Just get on with it, will you? You were telling her about the small dosage I gave her, which was never my idea.
- No, Spike would have preferred a "fair fight", but I was not sure he could defeat you at full strength, or at least not defeat you without killing you. And as you have probably guessed, I do not want you dead. So you got a full dosage. You will not begin to regain your strength for another twenty-four hours. All this was my plan, of course, but for Spike to go along with this, I had to promise him he can kill the next slayer we come across without any interference from me.
- You also promised to call me Spike from now on.
- Yes, I did. Let us see if I can remember it. The last part of my arrangement with Spike is that he is now going to rape you!
Angelus looks her in the eye, urging her to comment. She does not answer.
- I hope you do not think me so simple that is all I have planned. This is where our human friend here comes in. Mr. Anderson!
Angelus waves the frightened man forward.
- Samiyah, this is Mr. Tempest Anderson. Mr. Anderson, this is Ms. Samiyah, the Vampire Slayer.
Anderson looks at the bound, naked girl. At Angelus. At Spike. Then back at Samiyah.
- Hello. He croaks.
- Hello? Really Mr. Anderson, where are your manners? Angelus scolds. There is no excuse for an English gentleman not to greet a lady properly when he meets her for the first time. Oh, dear me. Here I am talking about manners while I am being negligent myself. I quite forgot to tell who Mr. Anderson is. Mr. Anderson is a photographer, Samiyah. We brought him here from England to immortalize the physical connection soon to be between you and Spike.
Samiyah feels a ball of cold dread in her stomach, but she still remains silent. Angelus chuckles.
- When you lost the gladiator fight, I said you deserved no mercy. We only let you think we meant to kill you because we wanted to see how you would react, starring death in the eye. I have always enjoyed causing pain more than I enjoyed causing death. "Why go for the kill when you can go for the pain?" as my old friend d'Hoffryn likes to say. The dead do not feel pain anymore, while my idea of no mercy is continuous pain.
I talked with Dru earlier this evening. Thanks to her reading your mind back in Sheffield she could confirm some of my assumptions about you. Your age, your virginity and most of all your relationship with your family.
Samiyah does not blink. She will not show fear, but the cold feeling in her stomach gets even colder. Angelus continues.
- Your family is very conservative about religion and the roles of men and women. They do not like what you do. You did not stay at home and got married and raised babies like you were supposed to. You left your family to live among infidels. The men in your family have no control over you anymore. When men have no control over their women they always assume they are doing horrible, sinful things. Your father, brothers, uncles and cousins are no exception. And we are going to prove them right. After we are done here, we are leaving for Mecca. We are going to show your family some beautiful photographs of their wayward daughter being raped. Conservative Muslims have this wonderful ideology about rape. If a woman is raped it is her own fault and she has shamed her family. And it is up to the men to clear the family name. You have already shamed your family when you defied them and became the slayer. Arabs love to gossip and that story has had four years in which to grow. And now we are going to show those photographs all around Mecca. It would not do to show them to just your family, of course, then the scandal might be contained. No, all of Mecca must know. Shame and honour are public things, not private. The whole community has witnessed your family's shame and therefore they must reclaim their honour in the eyes of the whole community. There is only one way to do that; they must kill you!
Angelus smiles blissfully.
- Your family is rich and powerful, they can afford to send out family members all over the world to find you and kill you. I do not know if they will actually accomplish their goal, but I find the thought of a slayer's family trying to kill her highly amusing. Or maybe they will not have to? The only thing that can give me greater pleasure than your family killing you is you committing suicide.
That will never happen. The only ones I will kill are you and your "family". Samiyah thinks.
- There will be strong forces pulling you in both directions, am I not right? According to Muslim beliefs suicide is a sin, but you are not just a Muslim anymore, are you? You have lived in Victorian England for the last four years and you can not help but be influenced by their morals to some degree. Victorians believe rape is a fate worse than death. Death before disgrace and all that. And if the rape and your family situation is not enough to make you consider suicide, I have one more surprised for you. I assume you have noticed an unpleasant taste in your mouth?
Yes, Samiyah has noticed it, but she still can not figure out what it comes from.
- To explain that I must tell you about a funny superstition among young girls. As you may know, the night here between January 20 and January 21 is called The Eve of Saint Agnes. It is believed that on this night young, unmarried girls may have visions of their future husband. But in order to do so they must eat something rotten! I want you to be so lucky, so I asked myself: "What food would a Muslim girl consider rotten?" The answer was not all that hard to find, and while you were sleeping Spike was so kind as to feed you nice, little pieces of pork meat!
Samiyah is instantly seized by a deep feeling of nausea and sickness. She gags but nothing comes out of her mouth. Her stomach is in such a tight not she can not even throw up. Angelus smiles at her.
- It seems you agree with us about the rottenness of what you ate. And it seems to be working already. Just look at Spike; is he not a vision? And I think I can guarantee what is about to happen between you and Spike is the closest you will ever come to having a husband and a wedding night! Well, I think I have said my piece now. Spike, If you are ready to begin I will make sure Mr. Anderson and his camera are ready also.
Angelus guards Anderson as he sets up his camera on a tripod. Spike begins to undress. Rage and hatred finally overcomes Samiyah's sickening nausea and she finds her voice. She shouts.
- Angelus! Maybe you did not break the letter of the contract, but you broke the spirit of it and this treachery will not go unpunished. The spell does not allow me to put a curse on you, but I will not have to. You just mocked the concept of fate, said you do not believe in it. Let me tell you what I believe in. I believe we are all held responsible for our actions in accordance with our good or evil intentions. You just jokingly talked about the magic of eighteen and this I foresee: Eighteen years from the day you signed the contract your betrayal will come back to punish you!
She hisses at Spike.
- The spell does not allow me to cast a spell on Angelus, but I can do it on you. She starts to chant. I call upon the power of all slayers that ever were and ever will be. I put the Slayer's Curse on you and be it tomorrow or in a hundred years a slayer will fulfil it, be it me or another slayer. The day will come when the atrocity you are about to commit will come back to haunt you. The time will come when you will deeply regret having ravaged a slayer. Your pain will be great and the soulless creature you are will die!
- If you say so, luv. Are you two ready?
Angelus nods. Spike lies down on top of Samiyah and begins.

Angelus looks around. The Church of Saint Agnes is almost full; the festal Mass will soon begin. He is standing behind a pillar, wearing a monk's cowl with the hood hiding his face. He does not know if Agnes might be able to recognise another vampire by his face, but he is not taking any chances. He knows she can not sense his thoughts and the chance of her picking up his scent in such a large crowd is very small, as long as he does not get too close to her. It should not be too difficult for him to find her, though. It is unlikely Agnes will be hiding her face and he has carefully studied the drawing of her which the man from the Council had made before she killed him.
He smiles a little. Samiyah would probably have been surprised to see him here if she had known. He had purposely not mentioned it to her last night, making her think maybe he had found a way to cheat his way out of the contract like he had cheated her. Well, let her wonder. When Spike is done with her he is supposed to dump her in a remote cellar where she will not be found, tied and gagged. In 24 hours, 48 hours at the most, the effect of the drugs will wear off and she will be able to free herself. Then she will see what a man of his word he is. He even let Tempest Anderson go when he had completed his job, like he had promised to. And for all the cheating fun he has got out of this whole affair, he has never really considered not fulfilling the contract. Keats was right. He likes this world and all the pleasure it can provide him and he is not going to let some crazy, little, overpowered vampire-witch destroy it. Angelus, saviour of the world. What a laugh.
He has read about what is going to happen during the Mass, he does not want any part of it to take him by surprise. He watches the final preparations. The church, the titular cardinal and all the concelebrants are decorated with red, white and gold, A procession of little girls are standing ready, veiled and dressed in white lace with pale blue ribbons. Four men are carrying two baskets with two baby lambs in them. The baskets are decorated with red and white flowers and red and white ribbons. Red for martyrdom, white for purity. The lambs are wearing crowns. They are to be blessed and incensed before being taken to the Vatican for the Pope's blessing. Later their wool will be woven into twelve archbishops' palliums. Finally they will be sacrificed on Good Friday. Agnes probably means to follow the two lambs to the Vatican, telling the Pope who she is and ask him to bless one more lamb, herself. Angelus shakes his head.
There she is! He recognises her immediately. And even if he did not know what she looked like he would still know her. It is not just that he recognises her as a vampire, it is more than that. She radiates power. Maybe the humans around him are too dense to feel it, but he is not. If he had ever had any doubts that what Keats told him about her powers was true, his doubt would now be gone. He watches her out of the corner of his eye. She sits down in one of the back rows as the Mass starts. He does not move closer to her. Not yet. Patience, there is lots of time. Preaching. Singing. The minutes pass one by one. Now the procession of little girls move forward through the centre aisle and the four men with the two lambs do the same. Agnes also gets up. Angelus has not noticed until now that her clothes are the same colours as the little girls. Clever. She looks as though she is part of the procession. She does not want to cause any disturbance. Well, soon there will be disturbance. He moves into the centre aisle also. Many people are standing in the aisle now, he attracts no special attention. Agnes is standing still. He is only about twenty feet behind her, now is the time!
He makes the hand signal they have agreed on and grabs hold of the chakram. The wide sleeve of the monk's scowl hides the chakram well. Two people, wearing the same monk scowls as he and with the hoods up, step up in front of the altar. The smallest one is leading the other by the arm. The tall one's hands are in front of him, hidden in the sleeves so no one can see that his wrists are tied together. The small one throws her hood back. It is Darla. She pulls the tall one's hood back also, takes the gag out of his mouth, puts on her vampire face and buries her fangs in Father Giovanni's jugular.
Father Giovanni's scream of pain and terror echoes through the church. Exactly as planned Agnes is frozen to the spot by the sight of her father being murdered by a vampire. Angelus pulls out the chakram and throws it in one fast, smooth movement. The chakram perfectly decapitates Agnes and continues, burying itself in one of the lambs. For one endless second Agnes' headless body remains standing up. Then her body explodes in a sky of dust as the magic and demonic energies within her are released in a roaring explosion. The explosion finally rocks the stunned crowd into action. Men, women, children and one little lamb are suddenly all running towards the doors. In less than a minute the church is empty except for three people.
Angelus looks down at the dust that was Agnes and at the dead lamb. He feels something aching to a giggle rise in his throat. Two lambs were to be sacrificed on Good Friday. Now two lambs have been sacrificed, Agnes and the small animal, and this is most certainly a "Good Friday" in his book. Actually it is the best Friday he can recall.
Suddenly he notices what Darla is doing with Father Giovanni. She has bit her wrist and now holds it to his mouth. Angelus is surprised.
- Are you turning him?
- Yes. You and Spike have had all the fun so far, now it is my turn. I am giving Father Giovanni the chance to uphold the family tradition.
- You mean, become a vampire like his daughter?
- Yes, and maybe share her madness as well. When she became a vampire, Agnes thought she was Saint Agnes reborn because of their shared name and the manner in which she could die. Maybe Father Giovanni will do the same.
- He might think he is someone reborn? Who?
- Come now, darling, it is not all that hard to figure out. You know what the English version of Giovanni is.
- John.
- Yes, and what famous John from the Bible was killed by decapitation, just like our John might be?
- John the Baptist! Angelus laughs out loud.
- Exactly! And any newborn deserves to be baptized with his mother holding him. I will do the same with my newborn vampire "son"! Will you fill in as the priest? You are already wearing the proper robes. She giggles.
- Of course, he is my brother after all. Angelus can barely contain his mirth as well. Darla carries the limp body to the baptismal font. Angelus brings a cup from the altar for the holy water.
- What is to be the child's name? He asks in a solemn voice.
- John the Baptist.
- John the Baptist, I baptize you in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost.
Using the cup he pours water over the unmoving head three times. There is a slight sizzle from his forehead, as though the demon is already in his body and reacts against the holy water.
- Well, now he is both John the Baptist and John the Baptized. Angelus grins. Darla nods.
- And John said: "I have need to be baptized of thee", Matthew three-fourteen. Remember how Agnes explained that she cross would burn her when she touched it? Maybe he will come up with some similarly divine explanation when he is burned by holy water! Can you imagine it; John the Baptist being burned by the water whenever he tries to baptize someone!
They both bend over, laughing and giggling madly. Angelus is the first to straighten up.
- Darla, my love, this was truly beautiful. Kudos! He makes a respectful Japanese like bow.
- Angelus, darling, the greatest praise belongs to you. Kudos. She returns his bow. They step forward, embrace and their lips meet in a passionate kiss.
- I have missed you. He whispers and fondles her breasts.
- I have missed you, too. Six weeks is a long time, but now is not the time for this. She playfully slaps his hands away. He sighs.
- You are right. Everything has gone so well. It would be foolish to risk anything now by staying here too long. Actually I am surprised this whole complicated scheme has worked out so well. I did not doubt that you would find the Monastery of Saint Agnes, grab Father Giovanni and be here as planned. I was worried about Dru and William, though. Grabbing a photographer and the right drugs and bringing them here on a rented ship was not all that complicated, but those two are not too reliable. She is mad and he is a fool. Oh well, it worked out. Dru is at the ship, playing with her dollies and waiting for us and Spike should be back there soon, also. I suggested that when he was done with the Slayer he could try to track her scent back to the Council's house here in Rome. Killing a couple of members of the Council should keep him out of any other trouble.
- We should be heading back to the ship also, Angelus. Police might show up here soon and try to spoil our fun. Wearing these monk scowls with their large hoods it should not be a problem walking the streets here during the day, as long as we do not look up at the sun.
Angelus nods. They leave the church and start walking towards Ostia, the Rome harbour.
- And now we sail for Jerusalem. He says. Funny, is it not: Right now we are in Rome, the most holy city of the Catholics. Next we are going to Jerusalem, the most holy city of the Jews. And after that we are going to Mecca, the most holy city of the Muslims. One could almost think we are religious people.
- But you do not want us to go to Mecca to soon, am I right?
Angelus smiles at her lovingly.
You are absolutely right. You know me so well. Haste will ruin the fun. We will take our time. Let Samiyah run off to Mecca if she wants to, trying to find us and steal the photographs. Maybe she will run into her family. That would be interesting. Anyway, she can not stay there for months, waiting for us. Her duties as slayer will call her elsewhere soon. She must either go or neglect her duties as slayer. We win either way, but I think she will do as her duties require. She will most likely not be there when we come to Mecca in late October, but even if she is the contract will still be binding by then. The Council can not touch us.
- Why do you want to go there in October? Darla asks. He smiles wickedly.
- Because in October Dhul Hijja starts. Dhul Hijja is the holy month in which Muslims can do their pilgrimage to Mecca. All the members of a religious Mecca family will certainly be there at that time of the year. And I thought, what better time to show our photographs to her family and lots of other people than during the holy pilgrimage when Mecca is bursting with people!? They will be outraged. And besides, it will be completely impossible for anyone looking for us to find us amongst the thousands and thousands of pilgrims those days.
Darla smiles at him admiringly.
- I am glad to hear that saving the world has not robbed you of your normal spirit.
He grins.
- That heroic stuff is not something I wish to repeat. Can you imagine me: an Angel of Mercy, a hero helping the helpless, saving the world again and again? He shakes his head. I will go to Hell and back before that happens!

The end

Author's note: This my post # eighteen hundred eighty-one at www.buffyfan.dk