CHAPTER ONE
Shaken, Not Slayed
(April)
"Xander, please, I am trying to concentrate here," Angel whispered as he stared at the lavatory mirror and adjusted his bowtie. Buffy had warned him on several occasions that he had grown so fascinated by his own reflection he was in danger of turning into a lotus petal. He tried to explain that not seeing himself for hundreds of years tended to build a certain curiosity, but she'd seemed unconvinced.
Xander continued complaining via the small earpiece tucked into Angel's left ear. "All I'm saying is that I don't see why we both couldn't have rented nice tuxes and checked out this place together. Why did I get stuck with the waitering job?"
The bathroom's décor suited the opulent grandeur of the building. Marble, gold fixtures, actual linen towels instead of the cheap metal dispensers. The Moonridge opera house was an infant in terms of years, but they hadn't seemed to have spared any expense in its construction.
"Can we maybe talk about this later?" Angel implored as he wiped his hands on a towel and threw it in a nearby bin. He plucked a breath mint from the tray of a confused looking attendant and flashed what he hoped was an earnest-appearing smile as he swung open the door and returned to the lobby.
Xander, non-dissuaded, continued, "We're supposed to be partners, remember? Having me serve hors d'oeuvres and take drink orders is embarrassing! Look around, Angel, every other waiter is in their early twenties and probably doing this for spring break money."
"You have a youthful face," Angel murmured as he wove through the black-tie crowd mingling in the opera house's enormous waiting entrance hall. Elegantly dressed women and tuxedoed men mingled, drank, and wandered on polished floors beneath a high, mirrored ceiling. Strains of elegant music, a Brandenburg concerto if he wasn't mistaken, wafted from the instruments of several orchestral musicians tucked into a far corner.
Angel continued his attempts to mollify Xander as he deftly maneuvered between a ruddy faced, elderly man holding aloft a crystal tumbler and a much younger brunette wearing a short black dress. "I'm sure you fit right in."
"Thank you, but that's not the point!"
Angel sighed internally. "Just let me know if you see anyone of the extra-human variety."
"Fine," Xander snapped.
Angel stepped up to a long bar the metal of which had been burnished until it gleamed. The edges, like much of the décor throughout the lobby, were gilded. The stools had been removed for the event to allow guests to mingle and swarm. Angel glanced up and smiled at himself in the mirror.
"See something you like?" a crisp, feminine voice whispered beside him.
Startled, Angel turned away from the bar to see who had spoken.
A beautiful, wide smile beneath gold-flecked green eyes and lightly curled blonde hair beamed up at him. Buffy wore a dark purple, knee length dress made of shimmering satin held aloft by a single strap casually draped over one shoulder. Tasteful diamond stud earrings and a slim gold tennis bracelet sparkled in the lights. Angel glanced down at Buffy's translucent, high heeled shoes.
"Those don't look very practical," Angel pointed out.
"Yeah, but check out what they do for my calves," Buffy replied gleefully as she laid her hands on the bar and tilted her feet so that she was standing tiptoed.
Xander's voice squawked once again in Angel's earpiece. "That sounded like a girl. Who are you talking to?"
Angel ignored him and flagged down a bartender. Before he could order, Buffy interjected.
"I'll have a glass of champagne," she said with a winsome smile.
"Club soda for me," Angel said hastily.
The bartender nodded, ignored raised hands from a horde of thirsty guests, and scurried off.
"Buffy, what are you doing here?" Angel asked in the most neutral tone he could manage.
Xander's voice chimed in again, "Buffy? What's she doing here?"
Angel held a finger up to his ear. "That's what I just asked. Could you please lay off the mic for a minute?"
"I bet she isn't pretending to be a waitress," Xander muttered before he blissfully went silent.
The bartender returned and handed them their drinks. Buffy held aloft a sparkling champagne flute and Angel dutifully clinked glasses before taking a sip.
"Buffy," Angel tried again, "how long have you been here, and why did you come?"
"I haven't been here too long," she replied as she shot him a sly little smirk, "and as for the 'why,' I changed my mind." She took another sip of champagne.
"Changed your mind about what?"
Buffy gazed up innocently at him. "About coming tonight."
Angel gritted his teeth for a moment. "I thought we agreed it probably wasn't the best idea?"
"No, you agreed," Buffy said firmly. "I just decided not to argue about it. I'd spotted this dress last week, I felt in the mood for a high society soiree, and since my beloved … that's you, by the way … received a plus one thanks to Moonridge Investigations' generous purchase of a charity auction ticket, I figured I'd spare us the always-so-not-enjoyable bickering session and just meet you here."
"Buffy …" Angel searched for the right words. "This could be dangerous."
Angel noticed Buffy's grip tighten on the stem of the champagne flute. "I can still handle myself," she said flatly. "Besides, didn't you say this was just reconnaissance? That you were checking out a lead on a possible Hellspot cult? Sounds like a piece of cake."
"Yeah, but reconnaissance missions don't always go as planned," Angel protested.
"How does Buffy look?" Xander asked.
"She looks great," Angel snapped.
"Well, thank you," Buffy murmured as she leaned forward and gently grasped the lapels of his tuxedo.
Overcome by the moment, and also by the sight of her warm eyes staring upwards, he stooped and brushed his lips against hers. She pulled him closer and held the kiss for a long time.
"Now, wasn't that nicer than arguing?" Buffy asked with an impish grin as she released his coat.
Before Angel could answer, Xander interrupted again, more insistently this time. "Angel, we've got two party-crashing demons in the lobby."
Angel immediately began looking about. "Where?"
Buffy sensed the shift in mood. She slid her glass away and glanced around. "Vampires?"
"Tell Buffy it isn't vampires," Xander replied.
"Xander says it isn't vampires," Angel relayed.
Xander continued, "They look human but are glowing a yellowish green; I haven't seen anything like it before." Xander paused a moment, then continued, "It's those two guys heading towards those big doors."
"The ones to the auditorium?" Angel asked.
"I think so."
"Good job," Angel said as he began sidling towards the ornate double doors. "Meet us by the bar."
"Music to my ears."
Buffy reached out and grabbed Angel's forearm. "Mind filling me in?"
"Two demons," Angel explained, "Xander can't identity them, but they pass for human. They're heading into the auditorium."
"Well, what are we waiting for?" Buffy asked as she turned away from the bar.
Now it was his turn to grab her arm. "Maybe let me and Xander check out what's going on first?"
Buffy brushed his hand away. "You promised me you wouldn't keep doing this," she said in obvious irritation.
A few of the nearby guests briefly turned to stare.
"Buffy," Angel whispered, "can we please talk about this later?"
"I'm coming," she whispered back.
"Buffy, it isn't like it used to be," Angel said without thinking. He immediately regretted the words.
"What you mean is that I'm not like I used to be," Buffy corrected him as she turned away. Angel could see her jaw muscle clench. "I'll be fine."
"Are you even armed?"
Buffy tilted her head to the side and peered at him through narrowed eyes. "In this dress? Hardly. Not a lot of places to tuck a stake."
Xander, who was carrying a tray stacked with empty plates and crumpled napkins, chose that moment to join them. Angel watched him lay the tray on the bar, then remove a garish red sash from the waistband of his black pants and toss it alongside.
"Guys, are we following those demons, or what?" Xander asked impatiently as he rolled up the white sleeves of his shirt.
"We are," Buffy and Angel said at the same time.
Xander did a double take as he looked over Buffy. "Wow, Buff, you look amazing." He glanced at Angel. "You two got dolled up while I'm out here slinging drinks. I should have brought Emmy, we could have made a night of it." He glanced again at Buffy, then at Angel. "You guys look like models for a wedding cake topper."
Angel noticed that Xander's left eye shone a deep red beneath the lobby lights. "I thought you were going to wear a contact lens tonight?"
Xander shrugged. "I was, but they're super itchy."
"Sure, I get that, but the point is for us to blend in," Angel pointed out. "Don't you think folks might notice that their waiter has a bright red eye?"
"If we're supposed to be inconspicuous, why aren't you getting on Buffy's case about looking like a Bond girl?"
Buffy grinned. "A Bond girl, really? Which one?"
Xander was about to answer Buffy's query when Angel interrupted, "First, I didn't coordinate Buffy's arrival or her wardrobe, and second, she isn't working for me, you are."
"With you, not for you," Xander heatedly corrected him.
Angel was about to retort when he realized a few other gentlemen in the area had not only taken an interest in their increasingly energetic conversation, but they were also flashing appreciative glances in Buffy's direction. Feeling slightly self-conscious and more than a bit possessive, Angel stepped forward. "Let's go."
"Maybe we should call Giles or Buffy … the other Buffy?" Xander suggested. "For backup?"
"I'm the backup," Buffy replied.
Xander cast a doubtful gaze in Angel's direction, and Angel was proud that he managed to catch himself before he winced at Buffy's comment. He decided that arguing any further with Buffy would simply be pointless.
He gestured towards the auditorium, "Xander, lead the way."
Xander began to direct them through the crowd towards one of the sets of doors that led into the opera's auditorium. Sidestepping small cocktail tables surrounded by guests and decorative stands, they eventually reached a thick, deep red carpet that separated the lobby from the rows of large doors.
"Should we just …" Xander started to say as Angel pushed the doors open and stepped inside.
Xander and Buffy ducked into the auditorium before the doors swung shut. The lights above the rows of seats were dim, but a number of spotlights shone upon a stage that had been prepared for the evening's charity auction. Easels bearing paintings, tables slung with numbered baskets and various sundry items, and a pedestal with a microphone had all been organized in neat rows. Lecterns bearing a stack of pamphlets listing the items up for auction, along with suggested bid amounts, were set near each of the entrances. Rows of curtained balconies rose on either side of the burnished wooden seats. The scarlet cushions and carpet in the soft light gave the large auditorium an unearthly, ruddy glow.
"I don't see anyone, demon or human," Angel pointed out as he gazed around the room.
"Me neither," Buffy added. "Xander, are you sure they came in here?"
Xander nodded. "I'm sure." He laid a hand over his right eye and searched intently with the red pupiled, gold-flecked iris of his left. "They went through there," he said confidently as he pointed at the left side of the stage.
"How do you know?" Buffy asked skeptically.
"The way Xander explains it," Angel explained, "stronger demons leave an aura, a glow behind them. The stronger the demon, the longer it lasts." Angel glanced over at Xander. "That about sum it up?"
"Yup."
Alert for signs of any movement, they made their way down the aisles towards the front of the theater. When they reached the stage, Angel and Xander pulled themselves onto it. Buffy, meanwhile, made her way around to one side, climbed a small flight of steps, and joined them. They all squinted against the glare of bright spotlights.
"That way?" Angel asked as he pointed towards a simple wooden door set in the back corner of the stage.
Xander nodded.
Angel gazed around the stage for a moment, then grinned. He opened a large cabinet perched on a nearby table, extracted several baseball bats, then handed one to an eager Xander and one to a skeptical Buffy. Xander hefted his appreciatively while Buffy examined hers with a careful eye.
"Angel," she protested, "these bats are signed by baseball players. They're for the charity auction."
"Well, I believe our efforts on behalf of humanity represents a charitable endeavor," Angel retorted. "Besides, we don't have a client funding this particular excursion, so Moonridge Investigations is out the price of tonight's rather exorbitant ticket. The least they can do is loan us a few bats."
"Well, try not to break them," Buffy replied as she carefully tucked her bat beneath one arm.
Angel and Xander looked at each other, cast a doubtful glance in Buffy's direction, then the three of them headed towards the door.
"Anyone in there?" Angel asked Xander as they neared.
"Looks clear."
They quickly stepped inside after Angel swung the door open. A long hallway lined with props, racks of costumes, and makeup stations stretched in both directions.
"Am I the only one that wishes Willow were here?" Xander asked as he glanced around.
Buffy frowned. "She and Oz have other priorities right now."
Xander nodded quickly, "Oh, I get it, but still … you know what I mean."
"We know what you mean," Buffy confirmed. "This trio is a little lacking in the magic department."
Angel held his bat out in front of him. "Let me go first."
Buffy shot him an irritated glance but decided not to argue the point. Angel crept forward, Xander and Buffy following closely behind. After thirty or forty yards the corridor branched into a choice of three directions. They all glanced around.
"Where to now?" Angel asked Xander.
Xander pointed first straight ahead, then to the left. "We've got demonic glows in both directions." He gestured to the corridor in front of them. "Yellow glow goes that way, but I think something else, maybe a vamp, headed that way." He nodded to the left.
"A vampire?" Buffy said eagerly. She patted the bat against the palm of her hand. "We should definitely check that out."
Angel shook his head. "I say we follow the yellow brick glow. We're looking for a supernatural cult, and vampires don't usually go for cults." He considered for a moment. "Except for those creeps that still worship my son, and Greece has a thousand year old sect called the …"
"Angel!" Buffy interrupted him. "Maybe we should divide and conquer. You two follow the glow, I'll take out the vamp."
Angel and Xander both hesitated for a moment, then began simultaneously hemming and hawing while they tried to think of a polite way to voice their disagreement.
Buffy rolled her eyes and held up her hand. "I was kidding. I'm not delusional about my ex-slayer status, but thanks for the vote of confidence."
Angel rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.
"I'll check out the vampire, you guys follow the glow," Xander said as he tapped his ear. "By the way, Angel, my mic isn't working. How about yours?"
Angel realized that the earpiece had stopped echoing everything he and Xander had been saying to each other. "Nope, must be some kind of interference." He removed it and tucked it into his jacket pocket."
Xander did likewise. "I'll catch up with you both after I find the vamp."
Angel looked uncertainly at Xander. "Maybe we should stick together."
Xander's face grew very still, and for a moment Buffy thought his red eye flashed oddly beneath the fluorescent ceiling lights.
"I'll be fine," he said in a low, even tone.
Angel started to disagree, caught Xander's expression, then bit his tongue and nodded. "We split up then."
Xander nodded as he headed down the corridor to the left. "See you soon."
Buffy and Angel continued straight ahead and soon found themselves at a dead end; a dead end featuring a large, ragged hole that appeared to have been jackhammered out of the concrete floor. A ladder propped against the wall led downwards.
"More tunnels," Buffy said with a decided lack of enthusiasm. "Wonderful."
"Hopefully there are no giant badger monsters at the end of this one," Angel replied. "I'll go first."
This time Buffy didn't feel the slightest inclination to argue.
Angel grabbed a hold of the ladder, yanked on it a few times to make sure it was secure, then stepped onto the rungs. He dropped his bat down the shaft, then grabbed Buffy's bat, ignored her protest, and tossed it down as well. A faint clattering sound could be heard below.
"Well, nobody will be bidding on those," Buffy said in a regretful tone.
"They'll figure something out," Angel said as he began to descend.
Buffy glanced down at her evening dress. "With this outfit, you're going to get a hell of a view when I climb onto that ladder.
Angel tried not to grin. "Why do you think I wanted to go first?"
Buffy stuck out her tongue and feigned a retching sound.
. . . . . . . . .
Xander continued down the fluorescent-lit corridor, bat extended warily in front of him, while he kept a watchful eye out for the telltale red glow of any lurking vamps. The racks of clothing jammed along the sides of the passage had grown thick enough that he had to turn sideways at times in order to navigate forward. Thinking he must have been mistaken, he was about to turn back when he passed an open door and noticed a stooped figure rummaging through a metal footlocker. The man-shaped creature was garbed in a tuxedo and to Xander's demonic eye its body trailed a faint reddish glow through the air as it moved.
Bingo.
He slung the bat over one shoulder and loudly cleared his throat. The vampire, who had the appearance of a slim, gray-haired man roughly fifty years old, immediately stood and turned around. Its eyes opened wide in shock, then squinted in recognition.
"Hey, I know you, you're one of the waiters."
Xander clenched his jaw, and both felt and heard his teeth grinding against each other. "That was a disguise," he grumbled angrily.
"A disguise for what? You part of the Order?" The vampire looked him over. "Not a bad outfit for blending in, but the weird pinkeye kind of gives it away that you aren't altogether kosher."
"Kosher?" Xander said as he blinked in surprise at the unexpected term. "What, are Moonridge vamps trawling for new recruits in synagogues now?"
The vampire, oddly enough, appeared insulted. "Wow, what's with the bigotry? Anyone, regardless of the religious beliefs they held when mortal, can be elevated to the ranks of the blessed undead."
Xander felt the need to defend himself. "I didn't mean any offense; I just didn't expect Hebrew from a vampire."
"Well, I found your comment offensive, as would anyone with a modicum of cultural awareness."
"Oh, this is ridiculous," Xander scoffed as he held the bat aloft. "You mentioned an Order a few seconds ago. Tell me all about this Order, including, most importantly, where I can find them."
The vampire crossed its arms and tilted its head at him. "And what makes you think you and are I going to have a friendly chat about anything, you antisemitic asshole."
"I'm not antisemitic!" Xander yelled. "I just didn't expect to hear an undead monster talk like a Seinfeld character!" A thought occurred to him. "By the way, I have a question I've been meaning to ask for years, but it kept slipping my mind. What's the deal with only crosses burning vamps? Why not the Star of David, or ankhs, or that crescent moon thing, or any other religious symbol, really?"
"I'm going to really enjoy killing you," the vampire replied in a low growl.
Xander decided to give dialogue one last attempt, "Let's refocus: does the Order you mentioned perhaps worship a big green glowing ball that magically appeared back in January?"
The vampire smiled, and then the flesh of its face rippled and bones lengthened until Xander was staring at yet another yellow-eyed, feral-visaged monster.
They all think that vamp-face transformation is pretty scary, don't they? Well, maybe it was … the first hundred times or so. Okay, two hundred times, at most.
"Does this mean you won't be answering my questions?"
The vampire snarled and hurled itself across the room. Xander managed one glancing blow with the bat, then the creature was on him. Despite the vamp being shorter and lighter, he found himself stumbling backwards through the door. His foot caught on the wheeled stand of one of the coat racks lining the corridor and he fell with the vamp lunging and snapping at his throat. Xander put both hands on the bat and pushed upward to keep its jaws from closing around on his windpipe.
"I will feast on your blood, bigot!" the vampire spat through bristled fangs.
"I … am … NOT … A … BIGOT!" Xander screamed in anger. He could feel his left eye, in fact, the entire left side of his face, grow hot with rage, hotter than he had ever felt it before, and then the heat began to course down the side of his neck and flow into his left shoulder and arm. His left hand grew warm, then blazing hot, as though live coals were sizzling beneath his skin. It was an unsettling, but oddly exhilarating, sensation.
The vampire snarling and snapping inches from his face grasped his left hand where it was gripping the bat, then the creature screamed and yanked its arm away as the heat scalded its flesh. Smoke sizzled as its taloned paw burst into flames. Xander took advantage of the opportunity and shoved the vampire away from him. Howling as it was flung across the room, the vamp crashed against the far corner. Beating its still flaming hand against its chest, the vamp leapt upright, scurried to a corner, and used its elbow to break open a glass case affixed to the wall.
Xander regained his feet, but before he could react the vamp had grabbed a fire extinguisher, pulled its pin, and sprayed smothering white powder all over its hand. Not content with merely extinguishing the flames, it proceeded to direct the spray in Xander's direction. Xander found himself coughing heavily as he inhaled the flame retardant dust. When the extinguisher was finally empty of its contents, his glowing left eye cast a red haze throughout the room as he stared in irritation at the vampire.
"Was that really necessary?" he asked.
"What are you?" the vampire hissed in fear. "Human? Demon?"
"Mostly column A, but with a little bit of a column B aftermarket upgrade," Xander replied as he pointed the bat at the vamp. "Now, you're going to answer my questions." He suddenly realized that the bat was smoking where his left hand was grasping the wood.
The vampire hurled itself at him in desperation. He swung almost casually with the bat and the creature's head exploded into sparkling motes; its body quickly followed suit. Xander willed himself to breathe slowly and steadily until he felt the heat radiating down the left side of his body dissipate and the blazing glow vanish from his eye. He examined the bat; it was blackened and charred where his left hand had gripped it. He tossed it aside.
"Oh, I am definitely going to have to talk to Emmy and Dr. Hu about this," he murmured, "but first, let's see what Mr.-Super-Sensitive-Vampire was looking for."
He threw open the footlocker to find neatly folded stacks of green robes woven from heavy wool fabric. Xander picked one up and examined it; it had an odd symbol he didn't recognize embroidered on the left breast and a soft rope dyed the same hue of green was threaded through belt loops.
He was about to throw the garment back into the footlocker when an idea occurred to him. He grabbed two more of the robes, tucked all three under his arm, and hurried towards the direction Buffy and Angel had headed.
. . . . . . . . .
In an effort to help her with the last few steps of the ladder, Angel reached out and grabbed Buffy's waist. She brushed his hands away and stepped down.
"Enjoy the sightseeing?" Buffy asked primly as she smoothed the satin of her dress.
Angel coughed a few times and hastily looked about. "I was too busy making sure no one was around to keep my eyes on you."
"Yeah, sure."
They stood within what appeared to be a rather large, and thankfully rather dry, storm drain. Someone had been thoughtful enough to lay a series of large plastic tarps down the middle of the tunnel and to line the corrugated metal walls with glowing lanterns. Angel reached up and grabbed one of the lanterns.
"Angel, take a look at that," Buffy said as she pointed upwards.
Angel held the lantern aloft and examined where she was pointing. There were large vents in the roof of the storm drain that led, or should have led, into a neighboring street. Instead, it appeared that a large metal plate had been welded across the entire opening.
"Guess this cult doesn't like to get their feet wet," he observed drily.
"Let's hope they also don't like to get their hands dirty," Buffy replied nervously.
Something in the tone of her voice made him stop and reappraise. Angel inhaled the musty, stale air; he was still getting used to the sensation of breathing. His heart trip-hammered a steady, thumping beat in his chest. Sometimes it was easy to forget that it wasn't just Buffy who had changed, he had, too. There'd be no quick recovery from a bullet through the head for him, no lazing about watching daytime soap operas while a limb regrew. He could walk in the daylight, and he'd reassured himself over the last few months that he could still handle himself in a fight, but everything was different. Yet, here they were, as though he was still an immortal vampire and Buffy was still a slayer and not a middle-aged woman who up until a few weeks ago was walking with a limp. He shouldn't have humored her.
I don't know if I can keep her safe.
A raw panic rose within him.
"Angel, are you alright?" Buffy asked as she reached out to rub his shoulder. She looked up at him with concern.
Angel glanced down the tunnel. If the two demons Xander had spotted had come this way, they might have allies. He had no idea what was waiting for them.
"Buffy, this was a mistake," he said quietly as he fumbled into his pocket and found his cellphone. He held it up and glanced at the screen.
No signal.
"Angel," Buffy said as she tightened her grip. "I'm not sure what's going on, but you look paler than I've seen you since January. You need to pull yourself together."
"We're leaving," Angel announced. "Start climbing."
Buffy released his shoulder. "Why?"
"We found what we were looking for. I say we come back with numbers and do this properly."
"With numbers?" Buffy said as she narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "You mean, without me, right?"
"That isn't what I meant," Angel lied. "This was reconnaissance. Mission accomplished."
Buffy's green eyes glittered with anger, yet he couldn't help but notice how beautiful she looked even in such a miserable setting. Even her ridiculous, translucent shoes seemed remarkably appealing.
I have to get her out of here.
"Angel," Buffy said evenly, "what is going on?"
"You're taking this the wrong way," he explained far too quickly. "It's just that we don't know if Xander is alright, and we'll need Giles or Willow … well, Giles … with us if we do find a Hellspot down here."
Buffy paused for a moment. "Well, you might be right about Xander."
"Right about what?" Xander called out as he began descending the ladder.
Angel felt irritation that his ready excuse to flee had evaporated, but also a sense of relief that someone else had arrived to help keep Buffy safe.
Xander hopped down and handed a folded bundle of green cloth first to Buffy and then to Angel.
"What are these?" Angel asked.
"Got them from a rather thin-skinned vampire," Xander replied. "He mentioned some sort of Order, and that's just another word for cult, right? I'm thinking we put these on, and if we run into anyone, just try to blend in."
"You ran into a vampire?" Buffy asked. "Are you okay?"
"Oh, absolutely. As a matter of fact, I feel great."
Angel noticed that Xander did, indeed, appear not only unharmed, but surprisingly enthusiastic.
"Did you go all Louisville Slugger on him?" Angel asked as he picked up one of the bats he'd tossed down.
Xander nodded. "Yeah, but I think it was mostly the burning that did the trick."
"Burning?" Angel asked in confusion.
Xander nodded. "I'll explain later."
Buffy began sliding into her robe, and Xander quickly followed suit. Angel decided to voice the notion of retreat one last time.
"I was just telling Buffy maybe we should rethink the situation," he said hesitantly.
"Rethink the situation?" Xander asked incredulously. "How so?" Xander reached down, grabbed the other bat, and offered it to Buffy.
Buffy shook her head. "Thanks, but I think you might make better use of it."
"Buff, you need a weapon," Xander said as he tied his robe closed and tucked the bat into his belt.
"Weapons!" Angel said heatedly. "That's what we need, weapons! We should go back and get more of them."
"Oooh, slippers!" Buffy exclaimed with glee after rummaging through the pockets of the robe. She quickly swapped her footwear, then turned to Angel. "I'll keep an eye out for anything pointy and made of wood while we walk," she promised.
"Guys, I really think …"
"Angel," Xander said flatly and in a strangely hostile tone. "I dressed up as a waiter, I got insulted by a vamp, I breathed in about a pound of whatever cancer-causing chemical they put in fire extinguishers, and now I'm in a storm drain. Take Buff home if you want, but something down there," he pointed with his bat down the tunnel, "is demon-shining awfully bright, and I'm going to see what it is."
This time Buffy was sure it wasn't her imagination, Xander's eye was glowing red.
"Xander," Buffy said with some concern, "your eye …"
"What about it, Buff?"
She searched for the right words. "It's doing that glowing thing again. Have you talked to Dr. Hu yet?"
"I'll get on it," Xander growled. "Now, who's coming with me?" He began stalking down the tunnel.
Angel and Buffy looked at each other. Buffy leaned over and whispered to him, "Sweetie pie, when we get home, we need to talk."
Angel was fairly certain that the sensation he was experiencing was terror. "About what?" he asked meekly.
"You know what," she whispered back.
"Guys," Xander called back, "it's a refreshing change of pace that I'm the one who's motivated and focused on what we're doing, but I can't help but feel like maybe we all should be?"
Buffy and Angel shared a crestfallen glance and then fell silent. The three of them continued down the tunnel.
. . . . . . . . .
"You're taking it the wrong way," Buffy hastily explained, "it's not that I don't want your company, it's that I don't need your company. It'll be midnight in an hour. You could be home, soaking your bunions, playing scrabble with Olivia, or rewatching that show you love that's so ancient it's only on VHS."
"Soaking my bunions?" Giles asked in an aggrieved tone as they stopped just outside the gate to Moonridge's largest, and as of late exceedingly busiest in terms of both construction and new arrivals, cemetery. "Missy, I'll have you know that I am not afflicted with bunions, or gout, or rheumatism, or any other maladies classically linked with advancing age."
Buffy hastily continued, "Look, I know you're in great shape, all things considered, but you don't need to exert yourself like this. I can handle a simple patrol."
Giles's wounded expression intensified. "I can still manage a few miles of walking on level ground despite my advanced state of infirmity, thank you very much."
She decided to change tactics. "Here's the thing, I don't need a minder anymore. I've got the lay of the land around here, and keep in mind that I was on my own in Cleveland. You could fit a couple dozen Moonridges into that shithole."
Buffy reached out, grabbed the heavy chain wrapped around the cemetery gate, and with one yank snapped apart the thick padlock securing the links. Shards of metal fell to the ground and the padlock dial spun along the pavement until it came to rest only a few inches away from another, similar, dial undoubtedly left behind after one of Buffy's prior patrols.
She stepped into the cemetery. "Besides, I've discovered that cellphones a few decades into the twenty-first century are basically supercomputers. Can't you just livestream me to your television?"
"Buffy, need I remind you that I cannot cast spells through a monitor," Giles replied as he followed her through the gate. "Furthermore, while at times it may not feel like it, discretion is rather imperative."
"It's your funeral."
He did not dignify the comment with a response.
The cemetery, which consisted of a few dozen acres of small copses, streams, rolling meadows, and, of course, resting places for the dearly departed such as tombs, crypts, and graves, showed evident signs of construction within its twenty-foot high encircling stone wall. In the distance Giles spotted an ornate, gothic mausoleum that appeared to be nearly complete. Fresh rows of ready graves adorned several of the hillsides, and he suspected that within tastefully tucked away tents would be found coffins and burial tools. Business had been good, and that was bad for Moonridge.
Buffy, the younger Buffy as he often thought of her, much like her predecessor generally ignored this wardrobe advice when it came to patrolling. At least her tastes ran to the more practical, as khaki pants held aloft by a black woven belt, studded boots, and a gray tank top were, in his view, a definite improvement on his former Buffy-protégé's preference for whatever skirts and heels were in fashion that week.
At least they both listened to him when it came to wearing a necklace bearing a thick cross.
While spring had already arrived, there was still a decided chill in the air. He did not have the benefit of a slayer constitution and thus kept his hands in the pockets of his thick jacket. He found himself once again supremely thankful for the woolen undergarments Olivia had gifted him.
"We follow the path again?" Buffy asked in a bored tone.
"Unless your instincts tell you otherwise."
"I don't think you want to know what my instincts are telling me," Buffy snapped as she swerved to her left and began following a large cobblestone trail that looped around the entire cemetery.
Giles stayed silent. She'd improved over the last few months, but he'd learned that when her mood turned sour it was best to wait for her to reach out. A few minutes later she did.
"Sorry about that," she said. "I'm trying, but maybe we should just accept that I don't …"
He finished her sentence for her, "play well with others?" He thought he might have caught her smile, but maybe it was a trick of the moonlight. "Do not worry about it," he said gently. "Considering what you've been through, I could not be more …"
"Don't," she interrupted him as she rubbed her forehead. "I know you mean well, but don't. I'm not in the mood to hear what a good little slayer I've been."
I'm losing her. Slowly but surely, I am.
Buffy needed to make a real connection to this world, or she would be lost, and the last thing any of them needed was a Buffy Summers who had gone rogue. She wasn't just one of the strongest slayers, sadly, she was also the youngest. By a wide margin. And given her origin, she not only represented their best hope of restoring the broken slayer line, he feared she was their only hope.
He let the silence stretch on as they wound their way past headstones, fountains, and through strands of pine trees, all the while seeking for signs of freshly disturbed earth, of odd aromas, of movement where one would expect stillness, and, of course, for yellow eyes shining in the dark. The high walls of Moonridge canyon rose on either side and the clouded night sky obscured most of the stars. At least the moon was bright and nearly full.
"I think we've got something," Buffy said. She pointed at a small crypt that appeared to have had one of its stone walls burst asunder from the inside.
Giles nodded. He pulled a cross from one pocket and a handful of powdered, garlic-soaked sawdust from another. With a flick of his wrist and a quick incantation he could set alight anything that might stumble into their path. Unfortunately, the concoction smelled fiercely terrible and was nearly impossible to get out of his clothes … and worst of all, Olivia didn't want his hands anywhere near her until he'd scrubbed out the aroma. Still, he had no desire to mix it up physically with a vampire, or anything else for that matter, so magic would have to do.
Buffy gracefully squatted, grabbed a chunk of stone, and threw it into the crypt.
"Anybody home?" she yelled inside.
They both heard a scrabbling sound from within.
Buffy stood up and wiped her hand on her pants, a gesture which left streaks of gray dust and mud on the fabric, then reached behind her neck to pull a stake from a sling hanging between her shoulder blades.
Giles doubted there'd be more than a single vamp inside, but just in case he positioned himself so that he had a clear angle in case Buffy needed some magical backup.
"Either come on out, or we set you on fire. Your choice," Buffy yelled.
A month ago, she would have just crawled in there without hesitation. This is definitely progress.
She wasn't the Buffy Summers he'd known for two decades, but in only a few short months he found his heart ached for her pains much the same way they once had for the Sunnydale Buffy. At first, he had thought Buffy's demonstrative fatalism was a result of trauma, of suppressed grief, and of loneliness. Now he had begun to fear it represented a very real death wish. She'd retreat, she'd leave for patrol, she'd ask for training, but she wouldn't talk to him. Not about what she'd been through, not about the people she'd lost, not even something simple like how she'd gotten that scar across her lip.
He knew the scar bothered her … bothered her immensely in fact, but the angriest she had ever been with any of them was when he and Willow had gently offered to see if magic might be able to help. Her furious, snarling reply still echoed in his ears: 'I got this trying, and failing, to save someone I cared about very much. I've lost everything else, so if you try to take this from me, I'll kill you." Then she stormed off and didn't return for two days, and when she did reappear, she brushed off the entire affair as though nothing had happened.
"Come on you coward, it's just little old me," Buffy called out. "Are we going to have come in there with fireworks a-blazing?"
The rustling sounds from within the crypt grew louder.
"Here he comes," Buffy said eagerly. Her green eyes glistened in the night and for the first time all day he was sure he saw her smile.
A clawed hand reached from within the crypt and grabbed the edge of the shattered wall. Yellow eyes appeared in the night, and a crouched black figure wearing a dark suit clambered out of the recess. The vampire watched them warily as it slowly stood up from its crouch. And up. And up.
It had to be close to seven feet tall.
Gulp.
Buffy tapped the stake against her hand. "Damn, you're a big one. Did you play basketball?"
"You have no idea how tired of that question I was when I was alive," the vampire answered in a low growl. "I was an escrow officer and I hated basketball."
The vamp stepped closer.
"Huh," was all Buffy said before she attacked. She nimbly jumped onto the roof of the crypt, then launched herself towards the vamp while spinning into a vicious back-kick. Her foot connected solidly with the vamp's face and Giles heard a splintering sound emanate from the creature's mouth. Buffy landed gracefully and pirouetted away, stake at the ready.
The vampire, who hadn't moved an inch from the spot where it was standing, reached out a hand and spat a broken tooth into it. It looked at it for a moment, then tossed it into the night. It spread its jaws wide and roared at Buffy as it approached with arms extended.
"Fire?" Giles asked
"Fire!" Buffy agreed.
Giles uttered a single harsh word in Latin, then flung the handful of powder at the enormous vampire. Its clothing erupted in flames and the creature screamed as the fire began to spread.
Buffy darted in, intent on finishing the distracted vamp with the stake, but she was a tad slow in ducking beneath a ponderous backhand. The vampire's hand struck a glancing blow upon the top of her head, which given the thing's size proved to be sufficient to knock Buffy off-balance.
It roared as it approached Buffy, then it abruptly halted as the flames began licking at its neck. The vamp, eyes glowing with rage and pain, feverishly batted at its clothing, then to Giles's surprise it sprinted to the right. He and Buffy glanced at each other, then began pursuing. The vampire scrambled into a small stream and immediately began rolling around in the foot high water. In only a few short moments the fire had been extinguished. As it regained its feet, Giles noticed that the skin of its face was charred and partially melted. It extended a clawed hand and beckoned the two of them to come closer.
"Come and get me," it growled.
"Oh, fuck," Buffy muttered.
A moment later a thick wooden stake burst through the vampire's chest. It looked down in shock, an emotion Buffy and Giles were feeling as well, then it vanished into a rather large cloud of dust. The motes fell into the stream and were swept away.
A compact figure in a long black overcoat wearing a white t-shirt and dark jeans tucked the stake away and leapt over the stream, taking care not to get his boots wet.
"Spike," Giles said in a voice devoid of emotion.
"Spike, what are you doing here?" Buffy said in a voice heavy with suspicion as she glared at Giles.
"Saving your ass, is what it looks like," Spike replied. He looked down at the stream. "Are the Lakers down one center that I hadn't heard about? That was a big one."
"I had him," Buffy informed Spike. "Now please tell me what you're doing here."
Spike gestured over at Giles. "He invited me, so don't get your knickers in a twist that I'm here."
Buffy turned to Giles. "You invited him?"
Giles held up his hand defensively. "I told him where we'd be patrolling, he did ask, after all, but I did not ask him to come."
"What, you think I was going to sit home all night while Angel and Xander hobnob with Moonridge's elite and you two play Dark Avengers?" Spike asked as he popped a stick of gum in his mouth and began chewing.
Giles wondered if he might have preferred Spike's smoking habit to the loathsome sound of smacking bubblegum he was now subjected to every time the blond ex-vampire appeared.
"I'm surprised you're the only one I've run into tonight," Buffy said as he tucked her own stake away. "Help seems to have a habit of showing up whenever I'm on the job, regardless of whether or not I actually want assistance."
"Everyone else is busy," Spike explained as he ignored Buffy's peevishness. "By the way, I had my hands full on the other side of this boneyard. Place is teeming, and not just with vamps. Bunch of demons of all shapes and sizes wearing green robes have been gathering over there." He pointed at the large mausoleum that Giles had noticed earlier.
Buffy looked accusingly at Giles. "What is everyone else busy with, Giles, and why don't I know about it?"
Giles winced as he searched for the right words. "Well, you see …"
Buffy crossed her arms and leaned against a nearby tree. "Out with it."
Giles removed his glasses and began to clean them on his vest. "Angel heard rumors of a Hellspot cult spreading throughout Moonridge, and that some of the businessmen and politicians in the area might be involved."
"Heard rumors?" Buffy asked. "From who?"
Giles shook his head. "I don't know the specifics. You know how Angel is with his detective work, all the needless secrecy and sneaking about."
Buffy chose to ignore Spike's comment. "So where are they now?"
"At a charity benefit being held at an opera," Giles explained. "Apparently not only were some of the cultists rumored to be there, but a Hellspot is rumored to lie somewhere inside . He and Xander were planning on buying a ticket and doing some reconnaissance."
"Makes sense considering construction boy can spot demons from a mile away," Spike said. "Also, can't you folks not come up with a better name than 'Hellspot?' It sounds like a nightclub trying too hard to be edgy."
"Spike mentioned he noticed a gathering at that mausoleum," Giles said in an effort to change the subject. "I say we head that way, perhaps find out what their intentions might be and whether they're peaceful."
"Oh, we're not done talking about your leaving me in the dark," Buffy corrected him. "I'm the Sla … well, I'm a slayer, and this is my town." She pointed a thumb at her chest. "I'm the slayer in town, dammit. Maybe I would have decided I need to be there? Heck, maybe I'd even bring Spike. You should have told me about all of this. "
Giles shrugged, "There isn't much to tell, really. You know how it goes with Angel, most leads turn out to be nothing. Besides, it was a black-tie affair, and …" he trailed off.
Buffy placed her hands on her hips and fixed Giles with a steely glare. "And what? You don't think a commoner like me could mingle with the rich and famous?"
"Well, you're too young," Giles blustered, "and Spike is … is …"
"Is standing right here?" Spike interjected. "Is that what you were going to say, you old ponce."
"Incapable of being inconspicuous," he said through gritted teeth
"It's my call to make," Buffy admonished him. "Next time, clue me in"
Giles opened his mouth to argue, then changed his mind.
She's taking an interest. I should encourage it.
"Fair enough," he replied. "You're right, you've been here months now, you should have been informed."
Buffy nodded. "And here I was expecting you to argue with me."
"Yeah, he really rolled over on that that one," Spike added with a grin between loud chews of his gum.
Giles slid his glasses back over his nose. "What now, Buffy?"
She gestured towards the ornate mausoleum. "I liked your suggestion that we see what's going on over there. Let's go."
She stepped off the path and began to trace her way across the grass between rows of graves.
"Wait a moment," Spike interrupted.
Buffy stopped and turned around.
He continued, "Aren't we forgetting something?"
Buffy and Giles looked at each other in confusion. "What might that be," Buffy asked.
"Well, I just saved your neck a few minutes ago," Spike pointed at the stream. "Remember the big giant guy with the big pointy teeth? How about a thank you?"
Buffy turned and resumed marching away.
"I mean it!" Spike yelled.
Giles began following Buffy.
"Come or go, makes no difference to me," Buffy yelled back.
"Oh, bloody hell," Spike muttered as he began following them.
His back prickled for a moment, and he felt an odd sensation that he was being watched. He stopped and stared at the shadow cast by the wall surrounding the cemetery. For just a moment he thought he saw a familiar, thin brunette with pale skin. Instinctively, he started walking towards where the figure had been, then he remembered Buffy. He glanced back over his shoulder and realized that she'd soon be out of sight.
As quickly as it had appeared the sensation of being watched vanished; he glanced towards the wall and saw no signs that anyone had been standing there. He spent a few moments searching for signs of movement, and finding none, he dismissed the occurrence as his imagination and hurried to catch up with the others. The faintest hint of oleander hung in the night air.
By the time Spike had closed the gap, Buffy and Giles were standing just off the trail peering through a bush at the mausoleum. A number of people, and judging by their tails, a number of demons, too, were milling about a set of large double doors. The doors, which were made of green-tinged bronze, shone a dull orange color beneath the moonlight.
"What are we thinking?" he asked aloud. "Give 'em all a chance to surrender or go in swinging?"
Giles glanced over in irritation. "I'm thinking that perhaps we might confirm that their intentions are not peaceful before we begin bashing skulls."
"I mean, seriously though, Giles," Buffy interrupted, "what are the chances they're peaceful? I mean, when are they ever?"
Giles rubbed his brow. "There has been a Hellspot in Oldtown for decades and it hasn't led to all out wars in the streets. We simply cannot assume …"
A cheery voice interrupted from directly behind them. "Assume what, fellow devotees?" They turned to find a humanoid shaped demon with green skin and blue porcupine-esque spines covering its body smiling at them.
"Don't recall anyone talking to you," Spike snapped. "Eavesdropping is rude. Haven't you heard?"
"No offense intended," the demon sputtered in a high-pitched squeal as it backed away. "Just passing by."
"What's up with the robes?" Buffy asked.
"The robes?" The demon asked as it plucked at the garment. "Oh, all devotees were issued these for the consecration." He looked them over. "Are you not here for the consecration?"
"Oh, we are definitely here for the concentration," Buffy said confidently.
Giles pondered whether he should correct Buffy's word choice. He decided to let it go.
"That's wonderful," the demon replied with a smile. "I'm sure they will have more robes for you?"
The green-skinned creature started to move forward, then found his way blocked by a casually sidestepping Spike. He stepped to the side, only to find Spike once again blocking his path.
The demon wiped at its forehead. "Is there something else I can help you with?"
"Yeah," Spike replied. "Why don't you tell us all about what's being consecrated and just how many people are doing to die for that to happen?"
Buffy moved forward to stand next to Spike.
The demon shook his head and began spluttering, "Die? No, no, no, nobody is going to die. The Order of Novalucis is devoted to restoring a life force to this world, our intentions are peaceful, I can assure you." The demon's eyes darted nervously towards Spike and then Buffy. "Are … are your intentions peaceful?"
Spike reached out, swung his arm around the demon's shoulders, and pulled him close. "Absolutely. Just so long as you keep being so helpful."
Giles cleared his throat and the demon stared imploringly up at him. Ignoring the frightened, darting eyes, Giles pointed at the mausoleum. "Something in there, you believe, is restoring this world?"
"The demon nodded.
"What does it look like?" Giles asked.
The demon blinked. "I have not been blessed with a viewing as of yet, but I have heard it described many times."
"Big green glowing ball, looks like a wad of phlegm mixed with a flashlight?" Spiked asked.
The demon flinched slightly. "I would agree with some of that description, yes."
"And the people who have been blessed with a viewing, do you know which way they went?" Buffy asked.
"I suppose I do," the demon said nervously. Its face brightened as an idea occurred to it. "I would be happy to tell you where to go."
Spike tightened his grip on the demon's neck. "Buddy, I think you misunderstand the theme for the evening. It's 'togetherness.' As in, you and I are joined at the hip until you take us to that big beautiful green glow ball."
"Please don't hurt me," the demon pleaded.
Buffy stepped close. "Please don't make us hurt you."
Giles frowned, glanced at Buffy with concern, then decided to change the subject. "Is there an entrance that will help us avoid that crowd," Giles pointed at the group gathered by the mausoleum's doors, "and still get us inside.
The demon nodded. "Yes, I think so."
Spike pushed the demon forward. It stumbled heavily and nearly fell to its knees. "Lead on."
The demon nodded and began to scurry forward. It periodically glanced behind with a terrified expression on its face.
"I hope you were merely trying to scare that demon into compliance," Giles whispered to Buffy. "Hurting demons who have done nothing wrong is no different from hurting innocent people."
She didn't bother to look up. "We need his cooperation. So long as he gives it, he'll be fine."
"And if he doesn't know the answer, or if he's too frightened to speak?" Giles whispered calmly and evenly.
This time Buffy glanced up at him. "Depends on whether I believe him."
Finding himself without a ready reply, Giles focused on keeping pace. The demon led them around to the rear of the enormous, gleaming stone structure until they arrived at a much smaller wooden door leading into the mausoleum.
Buffy jiggled the large, embossed doorknob, found it locked, and turned to the demon. "I don't suppose you have a key?"
The demon shook his head nervously. "No, but maybe it's just stuck." He yanked on the doorknob a few times, at first hesitantly, then more firmly. The door didn't budge. "I'm sorry," the demon said, its voice rushed and panicky, "maybe there's another door that isn't locked?"
"Don't worry about it," Buffy said as she kicked at the thick wood. The thick door bent inwards as splintering sounds reverberated, but it remained closed.
"Need some help?" Spike asked sarcastically.
Buffy's lips drew a thin, white hard line across her face as she raised her boot and kicked again. This time the hinges gave way entirely as the door flew inwards to crash against the far wall.
Spike shoved the demon into the room before proceeding inside, Buffy and Giles following closely behind. Lit torches flickering in sconces bracketed to the polished marble walls illuminated the small room. Metal plaques bearing unreadable inscriptions and symbols were inlaid in the stone walls; a large, embroidered rug covered nearly the entire floor.
Within the room, three large demons were pulling robes over bodies adorned with thick leather armor. Wooden cudgels with leather-wrapped hilts were strapped to the waists of each of the demons and muscle striations flexed beneath scaly, striped hides. Tails swished across the floor as the three demons fixed them with shocked stares; in unison they drew the cudgels from beneath their robes.
"Well, crap," Spike exclaimed.
. . . . . . . . .
"If not for these slippers, you'd be carrying me right about now," Buffy exclaimed after the three of them had crept for at least a half mile down the storm drain tunnel.
"Anyone else starting to feel like maybe we should head back?" Angel asked. "We've been walking for a good fifteen minutes, and we haven't seen a sign of anything. Maybe this is an escape route, or something?"
Xander glanced back at them and pointed at his left eye. "I'm telling you, there is something at the end of this tunnel so bright that I've been able to see it for the last twenty minutes."
Angel checked his phone again. Still no signal. "Let's say we find the Hellspot, then what? I can't reach Giles, and we're going to need him if we're going to ... do whatever it is that he and Willow came up with to get rid of Hellspots."
"If we find a Hellspot we secure the area and wait," Xander replied matter-of-factly.
"Secure the area and wait?" Angel asked incredulously. "As in, what? Kill everyone there?"
"Not if they leave," Xander replied.
Buffy held up a hand. "Let's take things one step at a time. We find the Hellspot, then we go from there."
"All I'm saying …" Angel trailed off as they followed a curve in the tunnel to unexpectedly discover a large, marble spiral staircase. Angel held the lantern aloft, gazed upwards, and pointed to where the stairs twisted out of view. "Is that where the glow is coming from?"
Xander shook his head and pointed down the tunnel. "Nope, still that way."
"Then what's with the fancy staircase?" Buffy asked as she admired the polished steps and handrails; they appeared to be carved from single slabs of marble.
"I'm guessing this cult got really tired of having to hike down a storm drain," Xander opined. "And I can't say that I blame them. I'm guessing this tunnel was a temporary solution until they built wherever it is that stairway leads."
All three of them stared upwards.
"I'm going to see where it leads," Buffy said.
Angel began to reach out and grab her arm, then caught himself. He gripped the handrail, instead, and hoped that she hadn't noticed the gesture. "We know the Hellspot isn't up there, so why bother?"
Xander nodded in agreement. "Coast has been clear so far, I say we keep going."
Before Buffy could respond, the unmistakable sound of footfalls on the marble steps reached their ears.
"Someone is coming," Angel whispered.
"We know," Xander replied.
Buffy waved for them to follow as she circled behind the staircase; Xander and Angel dutifully joined her. Angel laid the lantern on the ground and peered around the corner.
"They're almost here," he whispered.
There's definitely more than one or two.
He braced himself for a fight and gathered himself to step out from the behind the stairs. Buffy beat him to it. As she peered around the stone, Buffy suddenly started grinning. Angel's heart leapt into his throat as she casually walked out into the light.
"Fancy meeting you here," she said to a very flummoxed looking Giles, Buffy, and Spike. "Giles, you were just the man we were thinking of."
"And why did my name come to mind?" Giles asked as he examined the dank surroundings.
"This tunnel," Buffy pointed into the distance, "leads to a Hellspot."
Spike, who had a firm grip on the neck of a diminutive, green-skinned demon covered in spines, looked up at the ceiling in exasperation. "You guys left me to fight three very determined cultists when you knew of a back door the entire time?" Spike reached up and wiped away a trickle of blood dripping from a swollen lip.
"We fought three determined cultists," Buffy … the other, younger Buffy, said.
"It wasn't as though we knew this tunnel was here," Angel exclaimed. "This was supposed to be reconnaissance; we didn't expect a sewer crawl."
"The kind where you wear tuxedos?" Buffy asked as she surveyed Angel and Xander's wardrobes beneath their robes.
The older Buffy nodded. "Exactly that kind."
"I've been following leads on this cult for weeks," Angel continued.
Buffy snorted as she crossed her arms. "Weeks? Since we found this place five minutes into a patrol, I guess you aren't much of a detective."
Angel opened his mouth to protest, but suddenly found himself at a loss for words.
Spike grinned widely, then blew a bubble. The pop echoed in the silence of the tunnel.
"Got an extra piece?" Angel asked.
Spike shook his head. "All out."
Giles frowned and looked over at the older Buffy. "Buffy, this hardly seems like a situation where …" he trailed off.
"Where what?" Buffy asked flatly. She moved forward and put her hands on her hips.
"Where you should be," her younger version replied. "I mean, if you're going to be here, shouldn't you be packing a shotgun, or maybe a howitzer?"
"I don't like guns," Buffy replied flatly. "And I can look after myself. Been doing it a long time."
Younger Buffy shrugged. "Suit yourself."
The cringing demon roused itself in Spike's grasp. "I fail to see what more assistance I can offer." Its wild eyes danced from person to person. "Please, I won't tell anyone about any of this."
Angel looked more closely at the demon. "You're a Brachen, aren't you?"
The demon nodded. "Yes."
Angel glanced at Spike. "I'd prefer not to kill him."
The demon keened softly in fright.
"Are you suggesting that I might execute him for no reason?" Spike frowned as he popped a fresh stick of gum in his mouth. "I'll have you know, mister-usually-kill-first-ask-questions-never, I'm not some bloodthirsty monster." He paused for a second, then continued, "At least, not anymore."
"I thought you were out of gum," Angel protested.
Spike shrugged. "Forgot about that piece."
"Enough!" the older Buffy yelled. "Let's just follow the tunnel's path and see where it leads."
"I like that plan," Xander said excitedly.
Spike stared at him in surprise. "You're awfully gung ho."
"What of it?" Xander asked. "We're down here sewer-crawling down a Hellspot path like a bunch of psychos, we might as well finish the job."
"We're psychos following a path …" the younger Buffy mused. "We might as well call it a psychopath." She snickered softly.
The older Buffy also began laughing.
Giles rubbed his forehead. "Now that there are two of them, I'll never be free of the puns."
The Buffys looked at each other. "I thought it was funny," they said at the same time.
"Let's go, then," Spike said as he pushed the demon forward.
Angel winced as the creature staggered and almost fell. "How much further?"
The demon shook its head. "I don't know, truly."
"I still think we should rough him up a little, just to make sure he doesn't know anything else," the younger Buffy said lightly as she drew the stake from the sheath at the back of her neck. She tested the point. "Who knows what's waiting up there for us."
"Please," the demon wailed as it scurried forward. "I don't know anything!"
Buffy grabbed the elbow of her youthful counterpart. "Torture? Really?"
Buffy shrugged off the grasp. "What of it? It's not like anyone here hasn't done it before."
"We don't torture," Buffy protested. Upon hearing a bevy of cleared throats, a few murmurs of disagreement, and eyes carefully looking every direction but hers, she modified her statement, "We've only tortured when there was absolutely no choice. And I was never really okay with it!"
Buffy shrugged in reply. "Whatever you say. I mean, it's a demon."
Giles and Angel exchanged a concerned glance.
Buffy tried one last time to reason with her younger self. "The issue isn't what the torture does to the demon, it's what torturing does to us. It's wrong. We're the good guys, remember?"
The demon had begun to gibber and mewl in terror.
Buffy crossed her arms and frowned at her older counterpart. "I can see why you died half a dozen times."
"It was only twice!" Buffy howled in protest while she tugged at the sleeve of Angel's robe. "Angel, tell her it was only twice!"
Xander blissfully interrupted the argument. "We're almost there; the light is nearly blinding." He fished a patch out of his pocket and draped it over his left eye.
"I'm thinking we don't need this bloke anymore," Spike said as he grabbed the demon once more by the collar. He pointedly looked back at the group for direction. "Knock him out? Something more permanent?" The former vampire made a slashing gesture across his throat.
The demon fell to its knees and sobbed.
"Let him go," Buffy said.
Her teenage self sullenly nodded in agreement.
"Tell no one what you have seen, or I promise you that we will find you," Giles told the demon. "Now go."
The demon stood up and kept its back pressed firmly against the wall as it began sidestepping back the way they had come.
"Are you sure letting him go is a good idea?" Xander asked.
"Run," Angel whispered to the demon. It stared at him in horror, then began to sprint towards the staircase.
For a few moments they watched the demon flee, then they continued forward. After one final, length bend in the tunnel, a half oval entryway appeared in front of them. Within, they could see rows of dark wooden pews arranged around something glowing an incandescent, bright green.
Everyone followed as Buffy moved through the entryway, stake held low and at the ready.
The room was roughly circular, maybe fifty yards across. Numerous metal plates had been affixed to the walls; undoubtedly, they represented more attempts to prevent water from intruding into the tunnel. The pews had sufficient seating for at least a hundred adherents, maybe more. Several lecterns had been placed in the center of the room.
And hovering in the center of the room was the Hellspot.
"Does that look like the one you and Oz saw in Oldtown?" Buffy whispered to Angel as she stared up in awe.
"This one is bigger," Angel replied.
"How much bigger?" Xander asked.
"A lot bigger."
The glowing green globule that hung suspended in mid-air was perhaps twenty feet across. It seemed to rotate and writhe on its own axis while its green mass glistened and pulsed with an inner light. What looked like mist swirled just beneath the surface.
"That looks just like the cloud that Ethan was making," Buffy whispered.
Giles nodded. "That would make sense, as Ethan was attempting to recreate and funnel Hellmouth energy."
"How many of these things do we think there are?" the younger Buffy asked. "And can they really create demons and monsters?"
Giles considered the question for a moment. "Given my findings, four to six, total, not counting the apparently much smaller version Angel previously located. And these Hellspots don't create demons, they draw them to it."
"Like sharks, or vampires, to blood," Xander added.
"Something like that," Giles agreed.
Their conversation was interrupted by a loud chorus of yells echoing from the tunnel from which they had just emerged. The younger Buffy looked at the older Buffy with an expression of disdain.
"That's why I didn't want to just let that demon leave," she said angrily.
"Argue later, help me close this door now!" Angel yelled as he threw off his robe and rushed towards the entryway. He looked somewhat ridiculous in his tuxedo as he struggled to yank an immense circular door resembling a bank vault hatch into place.
Xander tossed off his robe and rushed to help. Spike and the younger Buffy did likewise, and the older Buffy was just about to join them when Giles interrupted her.
"Buffy," he exclaimed as he held out a small pouch.
"Yes?" she replied impatiently as she shucked her robe aside.
"What the hell are you wearing?" Spike yelled. "Not that I'm casting aspersions, that's a stunning dress."
"And Giles bugs me about what I wear on patrol," the younger Buffy snarled as she planted her feet and helped tug the enormous metal door into motion.
Buffy looked down self-consciously at the purple satin of her dress.
"Is it too much?" she whispered to Giles.
He smiled paternally at her. "Buffy, you look lovely." He handed her the pouch as he pulled a leather-bound book from a pocket. "Now, if you wouldn't mind, sprinkle this bag of powdered manticore dung beneath the Hellspot."
Buffy nodded and moved to comply. While she dumped the glittering contents of the bag onto the concrete, the orb above her head cast a verdant, bright light over her motions. It felt unearthly and, frankly, somewhat dizzying.
"All dumped," she reported when the bag was empty. Giles, who was chanting unrecognizable gibberish and focusing on the text of the book, did not reply.
With a resounding clang the metal door slammed shut. Angel found a rather large locking pin leaning against a nearby wall; he grabbed it and slammed it home in the latch.
"There we go," Angel said as he dusted his hands off and breathed heavily. "No one is getting in here without a battering ram or a plasma torch."
"And how are we going to get out?" Spike asked.
Giles's chanting had grown loud and strained. He pointed at the Hellspot as sweat began to course down his face.
"What's up with him?" Xander asked between huffing and puffing from exertion. A loud banging noise began to reverberate through the room as the cultists locked outside pounded against the thick metal of the door.
"Casting a spell," Buffy replied.
Xander frowned at her. "Yeah, I figured that part out all on my own!"
They all flinched in surprise when Giles loudly clapped his hands together. A spider-webbing blackness began to gather in the shadows of the room, and the skeins of shadows crept along the pews, the ceiling, and the walls, then with a rush spun a web around the Hellspot. The cords of darkness grew thick and heavy, then with a strange shifting movement they, and the Hellspot, vanished. The room, now lit only by lanterns strung along the walls, felt empty and lifeless.
Xander pulled off his eyepatch. "Wow, that seemed easy. Did you actually just destroy a Hellspot?"
The younger Buffy stepped forward and stared upwards in curiosity at where the Hellspot had been. "I have to admit, I'm impressed." She looked at Giles. "You've been holding out on me. Next time I'm on patrol, instead of a lightning bolt or a little bitty fireball, make the bad guys vanish."
Giles flashed a wan smile. "That particular spell will not work on living things, or things from our dimension, at all, and the Hellspot is not destroyed, merely shifted out of phase with our reality.
"Still seems pretty handy," Angel said while they all did their best to ignore the increasingly loud ramming sounds from behind the door.
"The only problem is that it isn't permanent," Giles admitted.
All eyes snapped to him.
"What do you mean?" Buffy asked as she retrieved her high-heeled shoes from her discarded robe.
"Willow and I know of no way to destroy the Hellspots, at least not safely, but we can buy time by de-phasing them with our reality. The energy is still there, but one cannot perceive or interact with it. Eventually, however, the power of the Hellspot will disintegrate the spell. If we can't find a more permanent solution, I will have to cast it again."
"How long do we have?" the younger Buffy asked.
Giles pursed his lips. "Several months, at least. Maybe even a year."
"Wonderful," Xander replied. "Anyone else ever feel like we're just treading water?"
"What else is soddin' new?" Spike replied as he began walking around the room. "Maybe we should all turn our attention to figuring out a way out of here?"
Angel pointed at the door; it had begun to crumple and bend along one edge. "I'd say we've got about ten minutes before whatever is big enough to dent metal that thick is in here with us."
"Found something," Spike reported. He pointed at metal rungs embedded in the far wall of the chamber.
Everyone gathered near him and peered upwards.
"They look like they lead to a manhole cover," Xander replied. "Do you think we can get it open?"
"Only one way to find out," Buffy replied as she glanced at the older version of herself. "Good luck climbing in that dress."
"I'll manage, thanks," Buffy snapped in reply.
Spike and Xander fought back the urge to grin as they imagined Buffy attempting to navigate the ladder in her dress.
"I can carry you?" Angel offered.
"I'd rather fall and die," she replied.
One by one they ascended the ladder. Upon reaching the top, Buffy planted her shoulder against the manhole cover and gave a solitary, grunting heave. It popped free to sail away into the night sky. She nimbly pulled herself up and then waited, without lending an assisting hand, for everyone to join her.
The older Buffy, who had decided to ascend last, took Angel's hand as he gently pulled her free from the hole. She once again smoothed her dress while she took her in her surroundings. Rows of grave markers, gentle rolling hills adorned with benches and memorials walls, and crypts of various sizes surrounded her. In the distance, on either side of the grounds, she could see the lights from neat rows of houses rising along the walls of the canyon.
"A cemetery?" she said incredulously. "You have to be kidding me. No matter what I do, no matter how I start out my night, why do I always end up wandering in a graveyard?"
No one had an answer.
. . . . . . . . .
Oz woke up with a start and found the bed empty. Tossing back the covers, he opened the bedroom door and headed towards the living room of his and Willow's two-bedroom apartment. As he turned the corner, the pale light of an end table lamp greeted him.
Willow was nesting on the couch in the same spot she'd been sitting when he went to sleep. Draped over her was a thick patchwork quilt; a half-filled mug of probably long-cold cocoa stood on the coffee table beside a stack of very old, very mystical looking books. The television and stereo were both off.
"Don't you think it's getting pretty late," Oz whispered as he sat beside her on the couch.
Willow, transfixed by her phone screen, didn't look up at him. "I haven't heard from anyone about tonight. Not Angel, not Giles, not Buffy … either Buffy. It's like they all just vanished."
"Sometimes they get busy," Oz murmured. "You need to get some sleep."
"I mean, one little locater spell and I'd probably know …"
He cut her off. Not harshly, but firmly. "Willow, please. You promised. No magic, not until after the baby."
And if it was up to me, never again.
She frowned. "Oh, I know, Giles gave me a good and proper warning on that front. I'm just thinking out loud."
He pulled her closer and didn't say anything.
"You think it was a fun event?" she finally asked after a few moments of silence.
Oz looked at her questioningly. "The opera charity auction?"
Willow nodded. "Yeah."
He shrugged. "Maybe in between looking for a Hellspot cult, sure? I guess?"
In truth, it didn't sound fun to him. Not in the slightest. He and Willow had done their part, many times over, in fact, but right now fun wasn't what came to mind when he considered what was happening in Moonridge.
Terror was the word that came to mind.
Whatever Ethan Rayne had done seemed to have unleashed all the old evils of Sunnydale. The Hellmouth hadn't reopened, but the end effect seemed remarkably similar. The only upside to the entire situation was that business had never been better. His eyes wandered to the boxes of backstock merchandise lining one of the walls of their living room.
Let's just hope we're not selling anything intended to kill us.
"You sure you don't want anything?" Oz asked. "Something to eat? A foot rub?"
Willow smiled up at him. "Maybe when I'm as big as a house, but for now I'm fine."
Oz grumbled in disagreement. "Big as a house? No, I think you mean glowing with new life."
Willow laughed. "Yeah, something like that."
Her phone buzzed in her hand. Eagerly, she read the message, then began feverishly typing in reply.
"That them?" Oz asked. "Everyone okay?"
Willow nodded without ever taking her eyes from the screen. "Looks like it." She muttered something that sounded like a curse in a language Oz didn't know. "They found the Hellspot and Giles phase-shifted it out of our reality." She shook her head and resumed typing. "This was just supposed to be reconnaissance!"
"Everyone's alive though, and that's what's important," Oz pointed out as he disentangled himself from the blanket and stood up. "I've got the morning shift, so I'm heading back to bed. Don't stay up too late?" his voice trailed off into a question.
Willow looked up and smiled. The silver in her red hair glinted in the dim light. "Of course. Just a few minutes."
Oz blew her a kiss, a gesture met with a bashful smile. He had no illusions that Willow would be joining him in the immediate future.
Something has to change.
