FIC: A New World (19/21)
Giles' eyes widened at the Versace suited green-skinned, red-horned demon stood in the room's doorway. His blood still racing from killing Andrew, his gun came up at and pointed at the intruder.
And was snatched away from him by Angel. "What the bloody hell are you doing you arse?" he growled.
"He's a friend," as usual the vampire was unmoved by his anger. Angel turned to the green demon. "I thought you said I wouldn't be seeing you again?" the Irish vampire demanded.
"You wouldn't Cupcake," the demon grimaced. "Except one of my girls is in trouble."
A rare look of confusion flickered across Angel's face before leaving his features in their usual unreadable mask. "Cordy's," Giles couldn't fail to be moved by the longing in the demon's voice, "gone Lorne. And so is Fred."
"I'm talking about Blackbird, Angelcakes."
"Blackbird," Giles glanced from the vampire to the demon. "Who's Blackbird?"
"He means," Angel briefly vamped out. "Faith."
Faith groaned as she awoke, her head thumping worse than after a two Tequila bottle hangover. "Son of a bitch," she muttered as she looked around her pitch-black surroundings. The only thing she was sure of was she was butt-ass naked and fastened spread-eagled by chains to two thick iron rods either side of her
She tensed as a door opened and a light was turned on. It took her a few blinks to get used to the sudden light but when her vision cleared she looked around her prison, it was a featureless room of three walls, a sheet-covered table in front of her and behind that a glass wall that she figured was an one-way mirror. Fuck performing for an audience again. Finally, she turned her attention to her captor and found herself being sneeringly regarded by an immaculately-suited man in his early seventies. Despite his advanced years, the white-haired man had an air of bustling energy and a commanding aura. And although she'd never seen the man before, there was something vaguely familiar about him. "Ms. Martin," the man chuckled. "I'd like to say it was an honour, but then again I was brought up to tell the truth."
She recoiled when the man ran the back of his hand down her face, his dry touch making her belly flip flop. "Let me out of here right now," she snarled, swallowing the fear-filled bile rising in her throat. "And I won't rip your heart out."
"Ah yes," the Englishman, he had to be judging from that snooty accent, sniffed. "That arrogant Colonial attitude, typical of what I've come to expect from your sort." She thrashed around in her chains as the man approached, desperate to escape. "Be still!" the man's fist smashed into her mouth, snapping her head back.
Faith spat blood at the man. "Oh now I am so gonna rip your heart out," she blustered.
The man shook his head as he produced a monogrammed handkerchief and wiped her blood off his suit. "Ruined, typical of the street trash you are," the man sighed. "And to think that pillock Rupert thinks you should be held up as an example to the other Slayers. Typical of his spineless ways."
Faith's brow furrowed. Rupert? This bastard knew G? "Who the fuck are you?"
"Bloody slapper." Her captor tutted and shook his head. "You can't even ask a question without indulging in obscenities." Faith raised an eyebrow, guy kidnaps her, strips her naked, and complains about her language? How fucked up was that? "My name is," the man smirked at her, "Roger Whyndham-Pryce."
"Faith!" Giles started forward, his stomach hollowing in fear. "What's happened to her?" Oh god, his heart missed a beat as he remembered Xander was with the Bostonian Slayer.
"Oh that's right," snapped the demon. "Demand answers after waving a gun in my face."
"Lorne," Angel growled.
"Fine, fine," the demon sat down uninvited opposite Andrew. His mouth widened as he noticed the corpse. Then he shrugged. "I'm not surprised, Andrew always had a bad aura. And I don't like people camper than me, cuts into my act's appeal."
"I want some answers!"
"My," Lorne shook his head. "You're not a happy camper. I really hope you don't sing, what with the vibes you're sending off."
"Lorne," Angel interjected. The vampire's voice was tight. "Please, for Faith?"
"Yes," Lorne nodded. "I had my escape route all planned. A club-owner friend of mine in Texas. So I headed there. First night there, I heard of you," the demon sighed. "Wes, Gunn."
"The court jester," Illyria appeared in the doorway. "Have you returned from running like a dog?"
"Angel?" Lorne looked mortally offended. "I don't have to take that from her!"
"Illyria, please," Angel on the other hand looked like he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. For once the demon had his sympathy. Dealing with these two oddities had to be an ordeal. "Lorne's here to help."
"He has come to add his arm to our struggle?" Illyria sniffed. "Little help he was against the Black Thorn."
Lorne's eyes hardened. "Listen goddess," the immaculately-tailored demon snapped. "I was out fighting demons while you were still planning your invasion of the body snatchers-."
"Will you two bloody shut up!" Giles roared, worry about his children causing his temper to snap. "We don't have time for this bollocks!"
Illyria's eyes narrowed. "Be warned insect-."
Suddenly Angel's friend let out an ungodly scream. In a second both he and Angel were on the floor holding their heads. "As I was saying," Lorne continued, his tone mild. "Faith's in big trouble."
Faith stared at the man, her stomach constricting and twisting in knots. "Wes' dad?" she gaped. Oh fuck, she was in a world of trouble.
"The same," the aging man nodded. "Do you understand what you cost me?"
"Me?" Faith was momentarily confused then she understood. "Look I'm sorry about what I did to Wes," she said, "but we reached an underst-," she grunted when the man punched her in the stomach, his hand now gloved in brass knuckles.
"I would have been the next Council head but for you." The Watcher's eyes blazed. "But for you," spittle flew out of her captor's mouth, spraying her, "your rebellion made my family a laughing stock!"
"Glad to be of service," she muttered before raising her voice. "Look I've learnt my lesson, why the fuck aren't you helping us hunt -," her voice trailed off as it all fell into place. "You crazy bastard! This isn't just personal is it?" She pulled at her chains desperate to be at the man behind all her pain, but the rods securing her failed to loosen. "You're the son of a bitch who killed Wood!"
"Robin Wood." The Watcher appeared unfazed by her anger. "A good man waylaid by a common harlot. It became apparent to me that Rupert, Summers, and yourself needed eliminating from the Council. Giles' disregard for our age-old customs and traditions was disgusting, the freedom he gave you girls." The Englishman shook his head, a faintly disdainful expression on his lined face. "Never before has a Watcher been so ill-educated as Harris -."
"Do tell," Xander muttered as he slumped into a chair by the doorway of the increasingly crowded hotel room, having been rescued from the scene by Dawn and her group, drawn to the explosion by curiosity. His head, his entire body hurt, but nothing as much as his heart. Faith. Another name to add to those he'd failed to protect.
The green, custom-dressed demon gave him a long stare. He stared back impassively, having long lost the capacity to be shocked. "As I was saying," the demon continued. "A friend I'd help find his destiny gave me a job in his club. Two days ago, these kids came in. They were off duty soldiers, rowdy but no real harm. Until they began singing." The demon shuddered, turning a waxy grey. "They're torturing her, I don't know why or where, but she's in a real bad way."
Xander felt sick to his stomach. "How do we find out?"
Xander glanced at the vampire, Angel having beaten him to the question. "That's where Long John Silver comes in," Lorne nodded towards him. "I was worried when I got here and he wasn't here, but he's the one."
"The one?" Xander queried.
"Her anchor, her friend, maybe her saviour," the demon shrugged. "I don't know, but the only face I saw in my image that wasn't enjoying it, was you."
"How can I help?" Xander looked at Angel, the vampire's confused expression probably mirrored on his own face. Why him, why not Deadboy?
"Sing."
"Sorry?" Xander blinked. Of all the answers he might of expected that wasn't one of them. "You said sing?"
"Lorne reads people when they sing, see their futures," Angel explained. "Please Xander."
"Okay," he took a breath and began singing the Beatles' 'Help'.
The pitying look the demon shot him chilled him to the bone. Even as he opened his mouth to query it, the green-skinned monster spoke. "A small ranch outside Yuma."
"Right," Angel nodded thankfully at the demon. "We better move fast, we'll plan on the route. Giles?"
"Agreed, anything bar weapons and essentials we leave, we're moving now-."
Finally Xander came to a decision and stood. "I'm not going." He couldn't do this any more, he couldn't try and fail again, watch someone die because he wasn't good enough.
"Xan is worth ten of you!"
She screamed as the man crashed his brass knuckles into her nose, shattering the bone and engulfing her face in blood. "Ah yes, another one of your many paramours," the Englishman chuckled. "And another of your victims. I wonder which experience was most pleasurable?"
"Fuck," Faith spat a wad of blood and bile on the floor. "Are ya gonna talk me to death?"
"Oh no dear," the Watcher smirked. "I have far bigger plans for you."
"Oh yeah," Faith glared at her attacker. "And what the hell are they?"
"All in good time my dear," the man reached beneath the sheet covering the table, "tell me, do you recognise this?"
There was a moment of shocked silence following Xander's pronouncement, during which the young man strode out of the room. Giles shook his head and started towards the door. "I'll-."
"Let me," Angel volunteered. Before the Watcher had chance to argue he was out of the room and striding after the American. "What do you mean, you're not going?" Angel grabbed the one-eyed man's arm and spun him to face him. "What are you playing at?"
"I failed her Angel," Xander snarled. "What's the point? Tara, Anya, Buffy, Willow, now Faith." The young man shook his head. "I'm out, I'm useless, you don't need me, you've got two Slayers, Connor, and Illyria. What use is an one eyed former carpenter?"
"Oh yeah," Angel forced his temper under control. Lashing out wouldn't work, some calculated baiting on the other hand… "I seem to remember a young boy who thought he could make a difference. Had the balls to walk up to the meanest vampire around, stick a cross in his face, and tell him what's what for the sake of a girl he loved. Still," he looked down meaningfully, "maybe they've shrivelled."
Something flickered in the young man's eye. "That's really obvious you know?"
Angel shrugged. "Did it work?"
The California native smiled grimly. "It worked." Xander's smile turned to a beaming grin. "Angelcakes."
Angel groaned. "Shut up, Harris."
Roger enjoyed the naked Slayer's confusion. Even with the blood pouring down her face, she was a beauty and no mistake. Under other circumstances he'd be more than interested in paying for a shag with the little slag. "It's the Slayer's Scythe!" the perplexed yank looked at him. "But that blew up with the keep?" Her soulful eyes widened. "Wells!"
"Yes," he nodded. "Andrew had the occasional use, he was easy to influence, appeal to his over-inflated sense of self-importance and he'd do anything."
"The others have him now," the raven-haired slapper blustered. "they'll be here soon."
"I doubt that my dear," he replied. "Seeing as he doesn't even know who I am, much less where the place is."
"Fine," Faith's eyes flared at him. "So why you got the shiny thing?"
"Yes." He reached into his pocket and pressed on the remote control there. The Slayer gasped when a light went on illuminating the area behind the window. The busty beauty's eyes shot towards him, filling with horror. "Yes," he smiled towards the shackled girls sat there, "I see you recognise your fellow Slayers, the girls who idolise you-."
"This is between us! Let them go, you bastard!"
"I don't think so," after a quick glance to ensure the iron rods were holding her in place he smiled at the raging brunette. "These young ladies are integral to my plans. More to the point, they are redeemable, unlike yourself." He sat on the desk opposite his captive, close enough to fully appreciate her allure, but far enough away to preclude her attempting a headbutt or a bite. "You see, when Kendra Zabuto died, the Slayer spirit passed to you. You are in fact the true Slayer. And because of that," he smiled, oh this was a master plan. "I have two mages, Ethan Rayne and Amy Madison, waiting to direct any pain you suffer into the Scythe, and should any of these young ladies displease me, they will have your pain redirected from the weapon into them, as many times as I deem necessary. A salutary lesson don't you think?" He didn't wait for an answer, pulling the sheet off the table with a flourish, revealing the terrifying collection of tools beneath – a variety of whips, pliers, a blow-torch, a claw-hammer, a cattle prod, some knives, and a set of electrodes.
The girl had paled, but to her credit remained defiant. "So is that it?" she sneered. "That how you get off, torturing girls? You sick bastard!"
"Hardly my dear," he sniffed. "Although I admit it will be entertaining watching you suffer. Unlike yourself I do not consider myself an expert of torture. So instead," he looked behind him at the sound of the door opening, "I acquired one."
The brunette gasped at the newcomers. "Riley! What the hell are you doing here!"
"Mr. Giles refused his request to have a Slayer assigned to his UN team, and a few months ago his wife was killed in an operation by demons. As a result he blamed the Council and since then he's been working with me, when this is over, he'll be my head of operations, they'll be no half-measures with demons under our watch." He turned to the giggling slender brunette accompanying the soldier. "This is Drusilla." He smiled at the Slayer's fearful gasp, she'd obviously heard of her. "Even amongst vampires she's considered quite the sadist. And Angelus' childe, destroying his protégée, there's a certain irony there." He turned to the ashen grey Slayer, she wasn't willing to beg. Yet. "Through Agent Finn I've received the next generation of behaviour modification chip. If Drusilla takes things too far." The demon wailed as he pressed the button, falling to her knees, her head in her hands. "She'll soon regret it. Now, dear," he smiled beatifically at the Slayer. "Feel free to scream."
