FIC: A New World (14?)
"You wanna do a fully body search?" Faith stepped towards the lecherous security guard stationed at the bottom of the balcony steps. "No problem," she pointed towards the balcony. "'Course your boss might be wicked pissed that you got to touch before him. He could be the understanding type." Faith raised her arms to the crucifix position. "What da ya think?"
Even as she spoke, her mind was filled with the kiss she'd shared with Xander. She hadn't meant to do it, she'd just been caught up in the moment, enjoying herself.
God, she was such a slut. Wood hadn't been dead for even a week and she already locking lips with another guy. And the look on X's face when she broke it off. No way he'd want to be her Watcher after that. Fucked up again.
Banished such thoughts from her mind, she glared defiantly at the bodyguard in front of her. Finally the man nodded and stepped aside, allowing her access to the spiral stairwell beyond. After snatching her purse back from the guard who'd searched through it, she started up the stairway, her stomach clenched at the role she was about to play.
The Immortal's mouth dried as he rose to meet the smoky-eyed goddess swaying into his domain. It had been decades since he'd seen a woman to match her sultry beauty. This weekend was going to be the best for quite some time. "It is a pleasure to meet you," he took the curvy beauty's hand, bent and kissed it. "And pray tell what is your name?"
"Angela Norton," the brunette raised a finely mascaraed eyebrow. "Thanks for saving me from that jackass."
The Immortal laughed. "It is entirely my pleasure, sweet child."
Faith seethed inwardly, her skin crawling every time the murdering bastard touched her, her teeth grinding every time he spoke. It was a struggle not to just grab and snap his neck right now. Only the knowledge that doing so would cost them their only lead to those who'd ordered the hit that had resulted in Woodie's death restrained her.
When she'd been a kid, experiences of the boys at the local high school had left her dreaming of well-dressed, smooth-talking men with fast cars. After all being that they were rich and smart, they had to be classier. Bitter experience as she'd grown older had taught her different, leaving her with the firm belief that all men were bastards.
It was an opinion she'd held until Angel had saved her from self-destructing. Yeah, there were some good ones – Fang, Xan, Gunn, Wes, and Wood accounted for all the good ones she'd ever known. And the Immortal, smooth-talking slime that he was, wasn't likely to join that exclusive list. "Say," she drawled. "This mansion that you been telling me about. How about showing me if it's as wicked as you say?"
"My dear," the Immortal smiled. "What a splendid idea."
"Yeah," Faith replied, the bitterness in her throat almost choking her. "I'm full of 'em."
Giles glanced up from his perusal of his laptop. "They're on the move," he reported before glaring back down at the computer. He'd sworn never to use one of these bloody things but with Willow's demise, he pushed aside his sorrow, needs must.
Angel nodded. "Let's go."
"We're here, Angela."
"Nice." Faith had to admit she was impressed. The sleaze might be a murdering shit, but he did it in style. He lived on top of a small hill, in a three-storey mansion surrounded by a ten foot stone wall, iron grille gate. It even had its own vineyard. Once they'd driven up to the main doors, the Immortal's bodyguards peeled off to leave them alone, their leering smirks leaving her in no doubt as to how they expected the night to go. Boy, Faith hid a smirk of her own, were they gonna be surprised.
Faith allowed the Immortal to lead her up to the second floor. "And this is my bedroom," her guide half bowed as he opened an oaken door. A low whistle of appreciation escaped her lips as she strode into the room beyond. It was cool, a pretty wicked place.
A four-postered bed took pride of place in the spacious, rush-weaved rug covered room. Satin sheets too, she loved the feel of satin on her body. The walls and ceiling were all mirrors, ensuring that no matter the angle the lovers would see themselves reflected in the act. In the far corner there was a well-stocked bar, by the door there was a Jacuzzi. Yeah, it was the bomb. Just the sort of place she'd have loved spending a few days with Woodie.
Forcing away the tightness in her chest, she turned to her smiling host. "Real classy," she praised before looking around. "I gotta freshen up. Where's the bathroom?"
"Allow me my dear." The Immortal strode across the room and slid one of the mirrors aside. "Through there my sweet. Take your time, I'll be waiting."
"Can hardly wait," Faith replied with all the sincerity of a Wolfram & Hart lawyer. The moment the door closed behind her, she opened her purse and pulled out her make-up box. Pulling out her lipstick she unscrewed the bottom and pulled out the transceiver hidden inside. "Guys, any time now would be good."
"Let me in there! That little slut owes me!"
The two men exchanged amused glances at his rant. It was obviously far from the first time a jilted suitor had turned up at the Immortal's estates causing trouble. "I'm sorry sir," the shorter of the two security men spoke in broken English. "But I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave."
"Why don't you make me?" Xander challenged with a sneer. The two men stepped towards him.
Just as Deadboy stepped out of the shadows behind them. Even as the men began to turn, the Irish demon grabbed their heads and drove them together, the sounds of their skulls crashing together making Xander wince as the pair fell to the ground. "Eight years and still squeamish?" Angel scoffed.
"Ha, ha," Xander shot the former Scourge an irritated glance before looking at the iron grille gates. "How are we going to get them open Deadboy?"
Angel smirked. "Illyria!"
Vi leapt onto the top of the wall, balancing on the top for a half-second before somersaulting to the ground to land beside her best friend. Feeling her mobile vibrate against her hip, she pulled it out of her pocket. "Hello?" she whispered.
"It's Angel, are you in?" Vi was unable to resist a shiver at the vampire's voice. He was a hunk but she couldn't understand Buffy's attraction to him. Her entire being screamed at her to slam a stake through his heart every time she was in a room with him.
Deciding the blonde must have read way too much Anne Rice, she replied curtly. "Heading to the guardhouse now."
"Okay," she could almost hear the Irish vampire's nod. "Give me a call when you're in position."
"Sure," she dropped her phone back into her pocket before turning to Rona. "Let's move out." The two of them hurried through the grounds, darting from cover to cover until they reached the guardhouse some one hundred paces from the back of the main mansion. "How many?"
Rona peeked through the window. "Six beds but only four guards," her friend whispered.
Vi nodded. "Check the back for another exit," she hissed.
Her fellow Slayer disappeared around the back of the one-storey building only to return a couple of minutes later. "Nothing."
"Good." That made it simpler. "You take the right side, I'll do the left." Once they were in position, she glanced across at her African-American counterpart. "You ready?" her friend nodded. After taking a breath, Vi pulled out her mobile and dialled the vampire. "In position."
Thirty seconds later and a klaxon's high-pitched screech filled the air, the shock of it making her wince. A couple of seconds later and the guardhouse door crashed open.
The moment the first guard stepped out of the building, VI grabbed hold of his collar and slammed him headfirst into the doorframe. Even as the thug slumped to the ground she leapt over his falling body, drop-kicking a second hoodlum to the ground before driving a fist into his face, knocking him cold. Looking up she saw Rona had similarly dealt with her rivals. "Let's get inside."
Rona nodded. "Good idea."
"No Faith!" Swallowing hard, Angel did arguably the bravest thing he'd ever done and raced across the bedroom to grab hold of the homicidally screaming Slayer. He dragged the Bostonian off the crumpled Immortal, noting with some satisfaction that the villain's face was a bloody mess. "Faith!" he yelled into the virulently swearing east coast native's ear. "We need him alive!"
He was relieved when something close to reason returned to the raven-haired beauty's eyes. "Put me down Fang," she muttered. "I'm cool."
After a second he complied with the young woman's request before turning to the blood-splattered Italian on the bed and wincing. Unless the Immortal knew some heavy duty mages he wouldn't be charming anyone with his Latin lover looks any time soon. Both eyes had been bludgeoned into something resembling misshapen eggs, his once Roman nose was now smash across his face, the blood leaking from it covering the bottom half of his face. And, Angel shuddered, in her insane fury, Faith had torn one of the Italian's ears off. Shades of Mike Tyson.
"Angelus, keep her away from me," the Immortal wailed hysterically.
"Faith," he continued to stare at the trembling man. He somehow guessed the Immortal wouldn't take much softening up. "Go and wait in the hallway with the others. Illyria and I will deal with this -."
"I wanna see what you do to this fucker."
The intensity in the Slayer's voice chilled him to the bone. "You might want to," Angel struggled to keep his tone calm. If Faith went off the deep end, only Illyria would be able to stop her. And then only by using fatal measures. "But you're not going to."
"Fang."
"Deadboy's right," Angel thought that Xander's voice was surprisingly steady considering he was stood next to a pissed off Slayer who in one of her less stellar moments had attempted to kill him. "You shouldn't be here. Not for this."
There was a long pause. "K," Faith looked at him. "Fang-."
"Don't worry," Angel continued to stare at the Immortal. "I'm not feeling merciful." Once the door had closed behind the others he strode over to the Immortal. "Long time no see."
"He is of the Chosen."
"What?" Angel turned to the blue-haired woman. "I'm fairly sure he's not a Slayer."
"No," the Goddess shook her head impatiently. "The Old Ones used to make the most useful of their human servants immortal. He must have discovered the rites and used them for himself."
Angel raised an eyebrow. "That explains a lot. But he's not invulnerable or immune to pain?"
"Of course not," Illyria sneered. "One does not give insects too much power lest they forget their place."
"Good to know." Grabbing the Immortal's hand he twisted it back to breaking point. "Now you can make things easy or hard on yourself."
"You wouldn't," the Immortal sobbed. "Your soul."
"My soul?" Angel allowed her eyes to turn yellow. "My soul is totally at one with this. Because of you one of the two women I've ever loved it dead. Because of your organisation several of my friends are dead. And my demon's just along for the ride. Remember Darla?" the Immortal shrieked as Angel snapped his wrist like a twig. "And there's the proof. Now, talk."
Faith stared at the floor, her heart clenched and mind racing. She didn't have a problem with what she'd done to the Immortal, the fucker deserved it. But the rage that had consumed her had scared her, reminding her of the bad old days. "You okay?"
She looked up at Xander, surprised at the very real concern she saw in his single eye. "I kinda lost it in there, uh?"
"Hey," Xander placed his hands on her shoulders. "I'm not going to judge. I've hardly been Mr. Rational have I? It'll take time, but you'll get control again, I trust you."
"Thanks X." Faith smiled. "Means a -." She broke off to see Angel coming out of the bedroom, a dumbfounded expression on his face. "What's the what?"
"The Immortal didn't know much," Angel replied. "Not even who he worked for. But he did tell me who his contact was."
"And?" G moved forward, his eyes gleaming eagerly.
Angel hesitated for another second. "Andrew Wells."
