Chapter Seven
'I sit looking 'round
I look at my face in the mirror
I know I'm worth nothing without you
And like one and one don't make two
One and one make one
And I'm looking for that free ride to me
I'm looking for you
I'd gladly lose me to find you
I'd gladly give up all I got
To catch you I'm gonna run and never stop.'
The Who, 'Bargain'
Cordelia grunted and shifted her weight from one foot to the other, this was quickly becoming tiresome as she watched her breath form a silvery halo around her head.. The temperature was dropping quickly as the midnight hour approached, and her arms were tired from holding Brian's heavy-duty flashlight while he scanned the ground for clues to their likely destination. After knocking on the door for a good five minutes, they agreed they were not inside, and neither of them was certain if they were happy of that fact. As they left, Cordelia spotted a glint of metal in the front yard, finding Willow's lost keys. Obviously, Willow would not have left without them, so it must be a clue that they were forcibly taken away, filling Brian and Cordy with a deeper chill than the night air. Further examination showed several footprints in the wet grass or dug into the mud leading off to the west. Neither of the two had any skill whatsoever in discerning what shoes were whose, but there were definitely more than one pair of sneakers and one pair of heeled boots making indentations in the mud.
"This is getting us nowhere!" Cordelia cried, fatigue and panic beginning to set in. She was tired, cold, sore, scared and very, very angry. And worst of all, she finally knew what she wanted, and again he was just out of her reach. Someone was going to pay. And the price was going to be steep.
Brian sighed and nodded, tiredly wiping at his eyes. He stood, grateful to whatever blessing or curse that provided him with some degree of accelerated healing. Already, the tired and aching muscles of his arms, shoulders and upper back were regaining some vigor, and the deep bruising across the whole left side of his face was beginning to stop its burning and dizzying throbbing. A staccato beat pounding deep within his eardrum that was threatening to drive him mad. He hefted his sword, and concealed it within the opening of his black leather blazer. Without a single word, he walked past the brunette and headed across the street, back to his house. Cordelia huffed in irritation, but followed him back into the house.
By the time Cordy had caught up with Brian, he was already in the living room dialing numbers as he read them off a sheet of paper. She sat down heavily on the sofa, propping her feet up on the coffee table. It was doing nothing for her fatigue. If anything, doing nothing just made her more tense and irritable. She had to find Xander. Now.
"Mr. Giles? This is Brian. I am sorry to be calling you this late, but Willow and Xander are missing..." Brian spoke into the receiver, feeling restless and more ill-tempered by the moment. "I need your help."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Xander's senses returned gradually, noting first in his groggy state the rancid cloying stench filling the air. 'Probably the remains of... well, something dead,' Xander thought, fighting down a wave of revulsion. He couldn't be absolutely certain of what, though. His next thought was to ask himself where he was and how he got there. Memories came flooding back to him, and he clutched at his head in to allow his body to catch up with the rest of him. "Willow?" He called out weakly in the faint pale lighting, wincing as even the sound of his own whisper sent a sharp lance of pain arcing through his brain.
A single dying torch was all the illumination that was provided in what appeared to be a small prison cell, the room no bigger than his bedroom at home. Heavy looking iron chains hung from bolts into the stone wall. And judging from the dust and cobwebs in and around the chains, they'd been unused there for years, possibly even decades. 'This can't be good.'
He scanned the dimly lit cell, immediately noticing the slumped form in the far corner of the room. Even in the darkness, Xander instinctively knew who it was. "Willow!"
Xander scrambled over on his hands and knees, as fast as he could and not pass out from the sharp spikes digging into his brain or the vertigo sensation he received for moving at all. "Willow!" Xander cried, ignoring the protests his body gave him. He reached over and shook her shoulder, hoping to rouse the unconscious girl. "Willow? Come on, wake up."
It was a long moment that felt like a month before the red head began to move of her own accord. "Brian?" She called out to the darkness, and Xander felt an icy stab to his heart as he realized for the final time where her heart truly lie. 'So fast,' he thought sadly. 'I never had a chance, I guess.' Then he gave his thought a little more attention and mentally berated himself. 'Ah, who are you kidding really, Xander? You had ten years to act.'
"No, Will. It's Xander. Come on, wake up, Will." He cried. "We need to find a way out of here!"
She looked up suddenly and Xander noticed a large gash across her hairline. It was seeping steadily down her nose and across her cheek. He paled for a moment before tearing off a strip for his shirt tail and daubing at the wound. It probably wasn't the least bit sanitary, but there was nothing else available.
"What happened?" She mumbled, still fighting off the cobwebs. "Where are we?"
"I don't know, Will. We were talking and those vamps caught us by surprise. I guess they knocked us out and locked us up here." He took another long look around their filthy little cell. "Wherever here is."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
He didn't know why he continued to smoke. It certainly didn't do anything for him anymore. He had no breath. He had no pulse. No way for his dead lungs to pass on the nicotine and carbon monoxides into his bloodstream. At best, it was nothing more than an oral fixation left over from his humanity. And yet here he was, staring out into the night sky and working on the remains of his second pack of the day. 'I really should quit.' He thought to himself, crushing the paper and cellophane package and tossing it over his shoulder. 'Then again, it's not like it would kill me.'
He fingered the tattoo on his left wrist, circling the blue emblem of the Society of Watchers with a slender finger. His father-in-law, Joe Dawson, was a watcher. Still was, as far as James knew. 'Though the fallout from my defection would probably cost 'dear old Dad' his position. Perhaps he'd be stuck with a cushy severance. Forced retirement, they call it now. A slightly more PC term for getting your ass kicked to the curb.' But why would he care? This was all part of his plan.
It was a "chance" encounter at the university library during his senior year. He was captain of the rowing team and majoring in business, she was a mousy little sophomore majoring in 18th century French poetry, or some such nonsense. A few coy glances from him and shy smiles in return, and six months later, they were engaged and she dropped out of university. A successful stint at a prestigious investment house in New York caught the eye of his father-in-law. 'A little job on the side,' Dawson had termed it. 'Just keep an eye on this guy for me. Let me know what he does, where he goes.'
'Sure,' James replied with a smile. 'Anything for family.'
So he kept up with the dutiful son routine for two years, rising through the ranks with ruthless efficiency before he saw his opening. A few of his 'mates' were bitching about their posts. Simple shadowing and surveillance, wondering if that was all they were really good for. And the travel really sucked. So over a pint or two at a local pub, he let slip what he really thought of them. The Immortals. 'After all, why should we just sit back and watch while these creatures decided the future of mankind?' It didn't take much to get them to agree. Fools.
He laughed, and stamped out the remainder of the cigarette with his heel, then headed back down into the tunnels. "Like I care about the fate of Immortals. Once I ascend, they will all bow before me!"
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Giles stepped aside, as Cordelia and Brian entered his apartment without so much as an invitation. Any feelings of irritation were quashed by the looks of pain and fear written on the teens' faces. 'On the other hand,' he mused. 'obviously they can't be vampires, barging in uninvited like that.'
He contemplated calling Buffy's mother, knowing that this was just the type of mission the Slayer would be needed for, but unfortunately Buffy's concussion would prevent her from even coming to the phone, especially so late on a school night. He breathed deep, calming his anxious mind. He had no idea what to expect from this boy. And Cordelia was even more of a question mark in his mind. "How long have they been gone?" Giles asked to begin to sort through the available information.
Cordelia didn't even look up as she began to load up on the crossbow bolts from the open weapons foot locker that Giles had dragged into the living room. She barely glanced at her watch. "Forty-nine minutes."
"Er, yes. C-Cordelia, where did you get t-that crossbow?"
Cordelia stepped into the Horton's stirrups and pulled back on the thick black bowstring with what Giles determined to be more than a casual familiarity. "From Brian. Fifty minutes, Giles. The clock is ticking."
Giles stood slackjawed at the brunette, before turning his eyes to the younger man. "Brian, what do you need from me."
"Weapons, ammunition. Information. The location of the vampire's lair." Brian replied evenly, tying his scabbard so that it hung across his back and angled slightly to his right for easier reach. Then he grabbed a pair of stakes, throwing one to Cordelia, who strapped it inside the sleeve of her Sunnydale High cheerleading sweater with a leather holster from Giles' weapons trunk, while Brian tied his stake to a leather strap around his forearm. It was out of the way and well-concealed. Once Cordelia finished tying the strap down, she reached for a small English short sword, tying the scabbard behind her shoulder. She checked herself in the mirror, feeling entirely ridiculous loaded down with weapons while decked out in her cheerleading uniform.
Giles chuckled tiredly. "The location of the Master's lair?" Brian nodded. "One does not simply walk into the Master's lair! The gates to his dominion are guarded by more than just common fledgling vampires. This is the oldest living vampire in the Watcher archives. Heinrich Joseph Nest is over eight hundred years old, maybe more. No one truly knows for certain. He leads the most powerful clan of vampires on the face of the Earth."
Cordelia glowered at the Englishman. "And he has Xander and Willow. So, do you know the way or not?"
Giles removed his glasses and began to clean them with a handkerchief. "Er, n-no, I don't."
"But I do," a voice called from the arched alcove the linked the living room to the bathroom and kitchenette. A handsome man with dark hair and wearing a black suit coat, a plain white t-shirt and dark pants walked in.
"He's a vampire!" Brian shouted, stepping forward with his stake in hand and murderous intent in his eyes.
Giles interrupted before Brian could object further. "Brian, please calm down. I invited him here."
The Herald blinked a few times in disbelief. "You invited him here. You invited a vampire into your home?"
"Angel is different, Brian. He has a soul."
"So?" The young man turned to Angel. "A soul, huh?" Angel nodded evenly. "And just what remarkable thing did you do to deserve something like that?"
Angel's eyes darkened at the memory, and he hung his head slightly. "I murdered a little girl, and her family cursed me to feel guilt for eternity."
Brian made a face, somewhere between disbelief and apathy. "Great, so you're a child murderer on top of being a vampire! That sure makes me want to trust you."
"Do you want my help, or not? I could just go home right now. See how well you find your way through the Master's caverns without me." Angel turned to leave, but was stopped by Giles.
"Brian, we have no time for this... petty bickering. He is the only one I know, or trust, to lead us to Xander and Willow."
Brian scowled, and reluctantly nodded for Angel to lead the way. "Just so you know, Angel. If this is a trap, you'll be the first to die."
Angel nodded, and turned to leave. Cordelia and Brian shared a dark look before following the souled vampire. Giles reached back for a vial of holy water, several stakes and his sturdy wooden cross before hurrying to catch up to the group.
They reached the entrance with no difficulty, a sewer grate near the Bronze that led to a cracked portion of the electrical subsystem. Brian stayed at the ready just behind Angel, sword drawn and certain this was a trap. Cordy notched a bolt into her crossbow and taking up the rear, constantly checking behind them.
"Boy, you people sure know how to pick 'em." Brian groused, sniffing disdainfully at the brownish layer of film coating the worn down electrical tunnel. Tepid water collected in pools where the concrete was no longer level, either by faulty construction or the myriad of tremors, earthquakes and aftershocks that have plagued these passageways since their construction.
Angel bristled from the slur. "You people?"
He nodded, refusing to be apologetic. "Yeah. What, should I come up with a less insulting name for you? You are demons! I don't like you. I don't want to like you. I don't have to like you. Because of you people, Willow and Xander have been kidnapped, possibly being tortured to death." He narrowed his eyes at Angel. "Or worse."
"Brian, that's enough!" Giles raised his voice as much as he dared, risking alerting the Master of their presence. "May I remind you, that Angel has a soul. He is fighting on our side now."
Brian snorted derisively and looked away. "I have seen plenty of evil things done by people with souls. And so help me God, I will..."
Angel had had enough of this boy blaming him for everything bad in this town, shoving Brian roughly in the shoulder. "You'll what? You may think you're some kind of bad ass waving that sword..."
"Enough!!!" Cordelia cried out, her shrill voice echoing down the tunnel, frightening several unusually large rats and causing them to scurry back into their hidey holes. "You are wasting time. My time. Xander's time. Willow's time! And if you two think you're a bunch of bad asses, I swear by all that's holy that I will beat the fucking shit out of you two if you don't shut the Hell up and start walking!"
Giles, Brian and Angel all blinked at the sudden violent outburst from the young woman. Giles felt the need to reprimand her for her profanity, but the look in her hazel eyes clamped down any further thought on that subject. "Uh, yes. Cordelia is quite right. Time is of the essence here. So let's not waste any more of it with this petty bickering and find Xander and Willow before it's too late." He hefted a vial of holy water from his lapel pocket in one hand and a held out a sturdy wooden cross in the other. He ducked his head against the narrower entrance to the catacombs, trying to avoid the filthy water that threatened to ruin his fine tweed suit.
Angel and Brian stared off at one another, and likely would have continued, had Cordelia not purposely bumped into Brian on her way into the corridor. With one last glare, Brian turned and followed the two humans, silently swearing to God his vengeance on any who harmed Willow and Xander.
'I sit looking 'round
I look at my face in the mirror
I know I'm worth nothing without you
And like one and one don't make two
One and one make one
And I'm looking for that free ride to me
I'm looking for you
I'd gladly lose me to find you
I'd gladly give up all I got
To catch you I'm gonna run and never stop.'
The Who, 'Bargain'
Cordelia grunted and shifted her weight from one foot to the other, this was quickly becoming tiresome as she watched her breath form a silvery halo around her head.. The temperature was dropping quickly as the midnight hour approached, and her arms were tired from holding Brian's heavy-duty flashlight while he scanned the ground for clues to their likely destination. After knocking on the door for a good five minutes, they agreed they were not inside, and neither of them was certain if they were happy of that fact. As they left, Cordelia spotted a glint of metal in the front yard, finding Willow's lost keys. Obviously, Willow would not have left without them, so it must be a clue that they were forcibly taken away, filling Brian and Cordy with a deeper chill than the night air. Further examination showed several footprints in the wet grass or dug into the mud leading off to the west. Neither of the two had any skill whatsoever in discerning what shoes were whose, but there were definitely more than one pair of sneakers and one pair of heeled boots making indentations in the mud.
"This is getting us nowhere!" Cordelia cried, fatigue and panic beginning to set in. She was tired, cold, sore, scared and very, very angry. And worst of all, she finally knew what she wanted, and again he was just out of her reach. Someone was going to pay. And the price was going to be steep.
Brian sighed and nodded, tiredly wiping at his eyes. He stood, grateful to whatever blessing or curse that provided him with some degree of accelerated healing. Already, the tired and aching muscles of his arms, shoulders and upper back were regaining some vigor, and the deep bruising across the whole left side of his face was beginning to stop its burning and dizzying throbbing. A staccato beat pounding deep within his eardrum that was threatening to drive him mad. He hefted his sword, and concealed it within the opening of his black leather blazer. Without a single word, he walked past the brunette and headed across the street, back to his house. Cordelia huffed in irritation, but followed him back into the house.
By the time Cordy had caught up with Brian, he was already in the living room dialing numbers as he read them off a sheet of paper. She sat down heavily on the sofa, propping her feet up on the coffee table. It was doing nothing for her fatigue. If anything, doing nothing just made her more tense and irritable. She had to find Xander. Now.
"Mr. Giles? This is Brian. I am sorry to be calling you this late, but Willow and Xander are missing..." Brian spoke into the receiver, feeling restless and more ill-tempered by the moment. "I need your help."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Xander's senses returned gradually, noting first in his groggy state the rancid cloying stench filling the air. 'Probably the remains of... well, something dead,' Xander thought, fighting down a wave of revulsion. He couldn't be absolutely certain of what, though. His next thought was to ask himself where he was and how he got there. Memories came flooding back to him, and he clutched at his head in to allow his body to catch up with the rest of him. "Willow?" He called out weakly in the faint pale lighting, wincing as even the sound of his own whisper sent a sharp lance of pain arcing through his brain.
A single dying torch was all the illumination that was provided in what appeared to be a small prison cell, the room no bigger than his bedroom at home. Heavy looking iron chains hung from bolts into the stone wall. And judging from the dust and cobwebs in and around the chains, they'd been unused there for years, possibly even decades. 'This can't be good.'
He scanned the dimly lit cell, immediately noticing the slumped form in the far corner of the room. Even in the darkness, Xander instinctively knew who it was. "Willow!"
Xander scrambled over on his hands and knees, as fast as he could and not pass out from the sharp spikes digging into his brain or the vertigo sensation he received for moving at all. "Willow!" Xander cried, ignoring the protests his body gave him. He reached over and shook her shoulder, hoping to rouse the unconscious girl. "Willow? Come on, wake up."
It was a long moment that felt like a month before the red head began to move of her own accord. "Brian?" She called out to the darkness, and Xander felt an icy stab to his heart as he realized for the final time where her heart truly lie. 'So fast,' he thought sadly. 'I never had a chance, I guess.' Then he gave his thought a little more attention and mentally berated himself. 'Ah, who are you kidding really, Xander? You had ten years to act.'
"No, Will. It's Xander. Come on, wake up, Will." He cried. "We need to find a way out of here!"
She looked up suddenly and Xander noticed a large gash across her hairline. It was seeping steadily down her nose and across her cheek. He paled for a moment before tearing off a strip for his shirt tail and daubing at the wound. It probably wasn't the least bit sanitary, but there was nothing else available.
"What happened?" She mumbled, still fighting off the cobwebs. "Where are we?"
"I don't know, Will. We were talking and those vamps caught us by surprise. I guess they knocked us out and locked us up here." He took another long look around their filthy little cell. "Wherever here is."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
He didn't know why he continued to smoke. It certainly didn't do anything for him anymore. He had no breath. He had no pulse. No way for his dead lungs to pass on the nicotine and carbon monoxides into his bloodstream. At best, it was nothing more than an oral fixation left over from his humanity. And yet here he was, staring out into the night sky and working on the remains of his second pack of the day. 'I really should quit.' He thought to himself, crushing the paper and cellophane package and tossing it over his shoulder. 'Then again, it's not like it would kill me.'
He fingered the tattoo on his left wrist, circling the blue emblem of the Society of Watchers with a slender finger. His father-in-law, Joe Dawson, was a watcher. Still was, as far as James knew. 'Though the fallout from my defection would probably cost 'dear old Dad' his position. Perhaps he'd be stuck with a cushy severance. Forced retirement, they call it now. A slightly more PC term for getting your ass kicked to the curb.' But why would he care? This was all part of his plan.
It was a "chance" encounter at the university library during his senior year. He was captain of the rowing team and majoring in business, she was a mousy little sophomore majoring in 18th century French poetry, or some such nonsense. A few coy glances from him and shy smiles in return, and six months later, they were engaged and she dropped out of university. A successful stint at a prestigious investment house in New York caught the eye of his father-in-law. 'A little job on the side,' Dawson had termed it. 'Just keep an eye on this guy for me. Let me know what he does, where he goes.'
'Sure,' James replied with a smile. 'Anything for family.'
So he kept up with the dutiful son routine for two years, rising through the ranks with ruthless efficiency before he saw his opening. A few of his 'mates' were bitching about their posts. Simple shadowing and surveillance, wondering if that was all they were really good for. And the travel really sucked. So over a pint or two at a local pub, he let slip what he really thought of them. The Immortals. 'After all, why should we just sit back and watch while these creatures decided the future of mankind?' It didn't take much to get them to agree. Fools.
He laughed, and stamped out the remainder of the cigarette with his heel, then headed back down into the tunnels. "Like I care about the fate of Immortals. Once I ascend, they will all bow before me!"
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Giles stepped aside, as Cordelia and Brian entered his apartment without so much as an invitation. Any feelings of irritation were quashed by the looks of pain and fear written on the teens' faces. 'On the other hand,' he mused. 'obviously they can't be vampires, barging in uninvited like that.'
He contemplated calling Buffy's mother, knowing that this was just the type of mission the Slayer would be needed for, but unfortunately Buffy's concussion would prevent her from even coming to the phone, especially so late on a school night. He breathed deep, calming his anxious mind. He had no idea what to expect from this boy. And Cordelia was even more of a question mark in his mind. "How long have they been gone?" Giles asked to begin to sort through the available information.
Cordelia didn't even look up as she began to load up on the crossbow bolts from the open weapons foot locker that Giles had dragged into the living room. She barely glanced at her watch. "Forty-nine minutes."
"Er, yes. C-Cordelia, where did you get t-that crossbow?"
Cordelia stepped into the Horton's stirrups and pulled back on the thick black bowstring with what Giles determined to be more than a casual familiarity. "From Brian. Fifty minutes, Giles. The clock is ticking."
Giles stood slackjawed at the brunette, before turning his eyes to the younger man. "Brian, what do you need from me."
"Weapons, ammunition. Information. The location of the vampire's lair." Brian replied evenly, tying his scabbard so that it hung across his back and angled slightly to his right for easier reach. Then he grabbed a pair of stakes, throwing one to Cordelia, who strapped it inside the sleeve of her Sunnydale High cheerleading sweater with a leather holster from Giles' weapons trunk, while Brian tied his stake to a leather strap around his forearm. It was out of the way and well-concealed. Once Cordelia finished tying the strap down, she reached for a small English short sword, tying the scabbard behind her shoulder. She checked herself in the mirror, feeling entirely ridiculous loaded down with weapons while decked out in her cheerleading uniform.
Giles chuckled tiredly. "The location of the Master's lair?" Brian nodded. "One does not simply walk into the Master's lair! The gates to his dominion are guarded by more than just common fledgling vampires. This is the oldest living vampire in the Watcher archives. Heinrich Joseph Nest is over eight hundred years old, maybe more. No one truly knows for certain. He leads the most powerful clan of vampires on the face of the Earth."
Cordelia glowered at the Englishman. "And he has Xander and Willow. So, do you know the way or not?"
Giles removed his glasses and began to clean them with a handkerchief. "Er, n-no, I don't."
"But I do," a voice called from the arched alcove the linked the living room to the bathroom and kitchenette. A handsome man with dark hair and wearing a black suit coat, a plain white t-shirt and dark pants walked in.
"He's a vampire!" Brian shouted, stepping forward with his stake in hand and murderous intent in his eyes.
Giles interrupted before Brian could object further. "Brian, please calm down. I invited him here."
The Herald blinked a few times in disbelief. "You invited him here. You invited a vampire into your home?"
"Angel is different, Brian. He has a soul."
"So?" The young man turned to Angel. "A soul, huh?" Angel nodded evenly. "And just what remarkable thing did you do to deserve something like that?"
Angel's eyes darkened at the memory, and he hung his head slightly. "I murdered a little girl, and her family cursed me to feel guilt for eternity."
Brian made a face, somewhere between disbelief and apathy. "Great, so you're a child murderer on top of being a vampire! That sure makes me want to trust you."
"Do you want my help, or not? I could just go home right now. See how well you find your way through the Master's caverns without me." Angel turned to leave, but was stopped by Giles.
"Brian, we have no time for this... petty bickering. He is the only one I know, or trust, to lead us to Xander and Willow."
Brian scowled, and reluctantly nodded for Angel to lead the way. "Just so you know, Angel. If this is a trap, you'll be the first to die."
Angel nodded, and turned to leave. Cordelia and Brian shared a dark look before following the souled vampire. Giles reached back for a vial of holy water, several stakes and his sturdy wooden cross before hurrying to catch up to the group.
They reached the entrance with no difficulty, a sewer grate near the Bronze that led to a cracked portion of the electrical subsystem. Brian stayed at the ready just behind Angel, sword drawn and certain this was a trap. Cordy notched a bolt into her crossbow and taking up the rear, constantly checking behind them.
"Boy, you people sure know how to pick 'em." Brian groused, sniffing disdainfully at the brownish layer of film coating the worn down electrical tunnel. Tepid water collected in pools where the concrete was no longer level, either by faulty construction or the myriad of tremors, earthquakes and aftershocks that have plagued these passageways since their construction.
Angel bristled from the slur. "You people?"
He nodded, refusing to be apologetic. "Yeah. What, should I come up with a less insulting name for you? You are demons! I don't like you. I don't want to like you. I don't have to like you. Because of you people, Willow and Xander have been kidnapped, possibly being tortured to death." He narrowed his eyes at Angel. "Or worse."
"Brian, that's enough!" Giles raised his voice as much as he dared, risking alerting the Master of their presence. "May I remind you, that Angel has a soul. He is fighting on our side now."
Brian snorted derisively and looked away. "I have seen plenty of evil things done by people with souls. And so help me God, I will..."
Angel had had enough of this boy blaming him for everything bad in this town, shoving Brian roughly in the shoulder. "You'll what? You may think you're some kind of bad ass waving that sword..."
"Enough!!!" Cordelia cried out, her shrill voice echoing down the tunnel, frightening several unusually large rats and causing them to scurry back into their hidey holes. "You are wasting time. My time. Xander's time. Willow's time! And if you two think you're a bunch of bad asses, I swear by all that's holy that I will beat the fucking shit out of you two if you don't shut the Hell up and start walking!"
Giles, Brian and Angel all blinked at the sudden violent outburst from the young woman. Giles felt the need to reprimand her for her profanity, but the look in her hazel eyes clamped down any further thought on that subject. "Uh, yes. Cordelia is quite right. Time is of the essence here. So let's not waste any more of it with this petty bickering and find Xander and Willow before it's too late." He hefted a vial of holy water from his lapel pocket in one hand and a held out a sturdy wooden cross in the other. He ducked his head against the narrower entrance to the catacombs, trying to avoid the filthy water that threatened to ruin his fine tweed suit.
Angel and Brian stared off at one another, and likely would have continued, had Cordelia not purposely bumped into Brian on her way into the corridor. With one last glare, Brian turned and followed the two humans, silently swearing to God his vengeance on any who harmed Willow and Xander.
