"Good morning, Hermione."
Hermione looked up from the text she was reading. Giles stood near her chair, a cup of tea in each hand. They were alone in the library. Madame Pince rarely made it in as early as Hermione on the weekends.
"Care for a cup?"
"That would be … grand, thank you," she said. Drinking tea in the library was normally forbidden, but since Giles was a professor, Hermione decided to simply be very careful not to spill.
He placed the cup and saucer by her elbow. "May I ask what it is you're doing in the library on such a fine Saturday morning?"
"Umm … well, certainly." She held up her book. "Professor McGonagall wants 24 inches on reversing human-animal transfigurations. Harry and Ron are off schooling the new Quidditch team, so I thought I'd get in a bit of work."
He took the seat across from her, his face lit up by a grin. "Have I ever told you how much you remind me of Willow sometimes?"
"I do?"
"The number of times I found Willow studying in the library at odd hours …" He shook his head at the pleasant memory. "Above all else, she was a wonderful student."
"Thank you," Hermione said, blushing at the implied compliment.
"I wonder if I might impose on you once more, as I did last term. I know that you're quite busy with classes, training, and Mister Weasley," he said, turning her an even deeper shade of red, "but I'm afraid something's come up that requires a bit of research."
"Of course I'll help, Professor … Giles," she corrected. "I'm sure Ginny would, too."
"Actually, I think it would be best if we kept this to ourselves for now."
"Something is seriously amiss, I take it."
"Yes, quite." He produced the folder he had received from Quentin Travers and handed it to Hermione. "Could you look this over, please?"
She eagerly accepted it, flipping the cover open and scanning the pages. As she read, Giles pulled a number of books from the restricted section of the stacks and retrieved his notes from the cubby he had fashioned for himself.
When Hermione had finished reading, she looked back up at him quizzically. "I must ask, Giles. This is from the Watcher's Council; do you trust them?"
"Why do you ask?"
"Wizards don't, generally. I think that Professor Dumbledore must, if he hired you and Willow, but from what you've described to me before about your dealings with them and with this Faith woman, I would guess that you don't."
"I don't. Not entirely. On this, however, I fear they are trustworthy simply because they are scared."
"Oh my."
"Indeed."
"Have you done any further research on the Cadre Caelestis?"
"A bit. I haven't gotten very far. I know that originally there were Lucifer and his twelve captains who crashed from Heaven to Earth. Most accounts of them are vague, no names or powers given, no descriptions that match up over time. For all intents and purposes, they seem to be shadows."
"How come they stay in Hell? Must they stay there, or can they walk the Earth? Oh, but if they can't, how could they threaten Buffy?"
Giles chuckled softly. "Three excellent questions, Hermione. Questions that I must admit I have few answers for. I know this much: they are bound to Hell, which is effectively a different dimension. They can, however, be summoned to the Earth with a specific purpose in mind."
"That must be very black magic."
"Some of the foulest known."
"So a powerful practitioner of black magic set loose a fallen angel on Buffy."
"Yes. I believe the key to defeating it lies in learning which one was loosed, and…"
Hermione cut him off. "Professor, you realize it must have been You-Know-Who that did this, don't you?"
He removed his classes and rubbed away an imaginary piece of dirt with his sweater. "Yes, I daresay it was. What I fear, and you must repeat this to no one," she nodded, "is that he is revenging himself for his defeat last year, and that we will all be targeted."
"That would make sense." As she said it, a thought began to buzz in the back of her brain. She decided to wait for it to come forward on its own; that usually worked best for her. "If this fallen angel is so powerful, why wouldn't he attack Buffy directly?"
"Another excellent question, one that I have not yet answered either. I have some theories, however, centered on the idea that their home dimension itself is both the prison and the chains of their incarceration. I believe that the proximity to the Hellmouth has weakened this creature chasing Buffy, to the point where it cannot face her and hope to win."
"Do you have any evidence of that?"
"What you saw in the file, of course, as well as these." He handed her a small sheaf of paper with notes written in his meticulous hand.
She scanned them briefly. "I'll need to read all of these sections."
"I suppose you will. If it's too much of a burden…"
"No, Giles," she said, the excitement bright in her eyes, "not at all. This is a fascinating conundrum. I wish it were not …" Suddenly, her eyes widened in recognition as the thought at the back of her head finally formed. "Professor, didn't you tell us last year that when Angel received his soul the second time, he went to Hell?"
"Yes, he did. Why?"
"Perhaps he saw, or even met, some of these fallen angels?"
His eyes met hers, both glowing with recognition.
"I had not even thought of that. It would be a brilliant coup." She beamed. "There are many dimensions that could justly be called Hell, but it would be worth a try. How do you feel about a short field trip?"
"Oh my," Hermione said, squinting to see the whole of the Hyperion in the bright Los Angeles sun.
"You get used to it," Gunn said, hopping out of Angel's convertible. He had picked them up from a wizard's pub that had a permanent place on the floo network.
"The weather is nice here," Giles commented. "Though I suppose Angel doesn't get to enjoy it much."
Gunn laughed. "More than most of the vampires we get."
"Mister Gunn, I was wondering about something."
"Just Gunn, girl. What?" He led them up to the front door.
"Is Faith here?"
"No," he said, letting them into the hotel. "She and that peroxided fool took off a few weeks ago."
"Peroxided … dear lord, she's with Spike?" Giles asked. "He's returned?"
"Not exactly," Angel said, stepping out from the shadows once the door had been closed. "Hello, Giles." He looked at Hermione. "It's Hermione, right? You're the one who found that spell in the spring."
Her face colored as the handsome vampire looked at her. Up close, he cut a very imposing figure. "That was me. Hello, Angel."
"Yes, hello," Giles added, stepping into the lobby and glancing around. "My, this is stunning."
"It's home," Angel said.
"What was that about Spike and Faith?"
"Spike came here, looking for some help with his … problem."
"And?" Giles knew all about Spike's search for a soul.
"I did what I could, which wasn't much."
"What precisely does that mean?"
Angel took a sip from a mug of blood and stared at Giles. "How much I explain depends on how much you'll share with Buffy."
"Why does everyone keep saying that? It's as if I'm a bloody sieve," he muttered. "I won't say anything to Buffy. I know if you thought it was important, she would already know."
The vampire nodded. Hermione and Gunn sat on one of the couches and watched the other two as Angel began to explain.
"What do you know about our search for the Eye of the Golem last year?"
"I know you found it with a master vampire, and that he made Spike tell you about him and Buffy. Is there more?"
"He had a seer."
"That much I know. Spike said she seemed to be, quote, Hellen Keller with fangs and no personality, unquote."
"That's pretty accurate. Did he tell you about her reading?"
"Reading what?"
"Him."
"Certainly not. What happened?"
"The Don suggested that Spike let her read him. At the time, he refused to say what it was about."
"He has since told you?"
Angel nodded. "Essentially, what was said was that a Hellspawn is after Buffy, and only Spike can stop it. 'The Prince of Lust has met his match' were the exact words."
"Hey, that's from an Aerosmith song," Fred chimed in. She stood up from behind the counter. "Oh, hello," she said, noticing Giles and Hermione for the first time. They exchanged introductions, and then Fred added, "I think I have the tape upstairs. Should I get it?"
"That would be most helpful, young lady, thank you," Giles said. The tiny girl ran for her room. "Angel, while we wait, I was wondering if I might ask you … do you have any memories from your time in … well, in Hell?"
"Wondering if I met Spike's Prince of Lust? Because I did not."
"Actually, no. We have another problem, involving …" Giles stopped short and looked at Hermione, whose eyes were wide.
"Professor, it has to be the same. That has to be it."
"Of course." He removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. "This is why Spike is hell-bent, excuse the pun, on finding a soul. No creature without one could banish something of that magnitude."
"Okay, hold on," Gunn said, "I missed a few steps here. Something of what magnitude?"
"The Prince of Lust is a Hellspawn of incredible power," Angel explained.
"Not Hellspawn, Angel. Heavenspawn, if there is such a bloody thing."
"Now I'm confused. What do you mean?"
Giles explained the Council's discoveries. "If indeed what they saw was a Shallebite, and few creatures of any demonic persuasion fit that description, than this Prince of Lust almost certainly is a member of the Cadre Caelestis."
"A Shalle-what?" Gunn asked.
"Shallebite. They are companions of a sort to the angels. Minions, if you will. Not much is known about them."
"Why haven't you told Buffy about this?" Angel asked. "Fallen angels – that's very heavy."
"We can't. One of the rumors that persists in the texts is that if the target of the angel knows that she, or he, is under attack by such a being, they become far more susceptible to the thing's words. What exactly it can do, I have yet to discover, but I assure you it will be nothing good."
The four of them pondered that in silence until Fred arrived, tape player in hand.
"I took the time to cue it up. I hope you don't mind?" She handed the player to Angel.
"Not at all, my dear," Giles said, "Thank you."
Angel hit play, and the words filtered out.
The Prince of Lust has met his match. The witch has brewed her baddest batch. His sword is sharp, and hard as stone.
Hermione had them play it again as she scribbled the words down.
"And this was about Spike," Giles said. "Apparently his soul is more important than we thought."
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Author's Note:
I know you've all been wondering when the first one of these babies would pop up. Here it is.
First off, as always thanks to the many of you who have reviewed. I'm glad you're liking it, and I have to admit the reviews are a big part of what's keeping me going. The ideas are there but the writing's been a wee bit hard to focus on. Eh. It happens. Plus, this is a much more sprawling story than FTGF with a lot more diverse elements. Keeping it all tight is not the easiest thing ever, I'm finding. I think it may be a LOT longer than FTGF unless I expand my chapters, which I likely won't. 1500-2500 words is a good range for me. Still and all, the response is very positive, and we're what … 115 chapters into this story now? And people are still reading (more than a hundred people, judging by the hit count)? That's way flattering. Thanks again (and especially the group of you that review continuously – you know who you are, as do I. You guys are great!).
Now that I've buttered you up – some bad news. My version of Harry and company will be on a hiatus of at least two or three weeks. Why? Well, simply put, I'm moving 1000 miles north, my new home has no phone or internet access, and even if it did, there's no way I'll have time to write between now and June 26 or June 27. Please check back then, but I won't promise anything before July 1, 2003. I'm sorry for the disruption – believe me when I say no one's more anxious than me to see the rest of this story hit the streets. I'm simply stuck for a place to write, time to write, and a way to upload the stuff. Have no fear, though: IT IS MOST CERTAINLY NOT ABANDONED! I'm dying to tell the rest of the tale – one problem is that I have too many ideas, hence the sprawl. Hang in there, and I'll return, hopefully with a massive ten chapter update at the end of June.
Oh, and not to tease or anything, but I've been hard at work on a major secret project related to these stories. It'll be … neat. More on that later, though. And by the way, the book referred to in Chapter 24 is Robert Parker's Promised Land. If you've never read it (or the other Spenser novels), you're missing some of the best detective fiction ever written.
Thanks again for your patience. – 40
