Disclaimer: I bow to the geniuses that make up the Angel team and shudder at the thought of claiming that even one ounce of this creative wonder of an idea was down to me. Okay, maybe not so much shudder as tremble with delight at the thought it could even be possible…uh…what? Oh yeah, back to the real world.
Feedback: I know…I don't deserve it. I've been a baaad little fic writer, leaving my story unfinished like that for so long. I think I'll run away and hide now, but not before dedicating this long awaited chapter to the lovely Eloise for reminding me what a horrible person I've been for letting you guys down. And to think I used to curse the stories I had read and liked but never known the ending to. Bad author, bad!
CHAPTER 10.
Gunn rubbed his head and hissed. Then he rubbed his head again. The question now was whether or not he dared to open his eyes. He guessed it was something he had no choice but to do, so he braced himself for either the discovery that he had been rendered completely blind, or to be confronted by a scene that he would probably wish he didn't know about. As it happened, he was pleasantly surprised.
Contrary to expectations, he was not hideously mutilated or covered in blood. The cut on his head was only small, in fact, and the occasional bruises he discovered were not as bad as all that. He'd live. Neither was he surrounded by evil mercenaries awaiting his execution, nor the lifeless bodies of his friends. He was simply on the floor in the basement, alone, safe and relatively unharmed. He wasn't even tied up.
There was, however, evidence to suggest that he had been in the recent past, although how long he had been down here, it was hard to tell. Squirming and squinting his eyes in protest at the pounding headache that was so thoughtfully reminding him of his situation, he managed to prop himself upright against the cold wall and scan his surroundings.
Bits of cut rope lay around him, and one of the air vent grates had fallen off, but other than that, it was too dark to see details. He rubbed his head. Yep. Still hurt.
Would calling out be a stupid thing to do? You know, like they always did in some scary ass movie when it was obvious the big nasty was waiting for them in the dark, and shouting out for help was the last thing they should do? Not that he couldn't handle any big nasty that might fancy a go at him. It was just that, in his current state, taking on big nasties with guns was maybe a little ambitious. Best to keep quiet, then.
"I guess it's all up to me", he said to no one in particular, hauling himself up and groaning for effect. Since no one responded, he assumed neither friend nor foe to be within hearing distance. Be thankful for small favours. Or should that be, where the hell is everybody?
Peering ahead into the shadows, his maladjusted eyes and swimming vision could just make out the thin slit of light leaking in from under the basement door. Doubting, perhaps naively or over-confidently, that the others would have just left him here to make their own escape through the sewers, Gunn decided this to be his only route if he had any hope of finding out what had happened.
The fact that he was alone still confused him, though, especially considering his apparent free-to-roam state. As far as he knew, the door had no lock to it, and yet there was no guard. Plus, he could only assume that someone had managed to untie him, yet he was still down here with no one to thank. Whether said liberator had been foiled in their plan or had gone off to do something else, he could only guess. Seemed kinda dumb though, either way. Sigh.
Ordering his annoyingly independent feet to co-operate, he scrambled his way round the wall. Even more bits of frayed twine littered the floor where he walked, hinting at evidence it was too dark to see. Something strange was going on here.
Perhaps by some sense he was only subconsciously aware of, he felt the need to take a glance to his right before he began his ascent of the staircase. He'd learnt to pay attention to his instincts so, having no other sensible reason to do so, he paused to check.
Sure enough, two reflective eyes shone out at him from beside a wooden storage box, watching secretively from the shadows.
Instantly recognisable and lately of common occurrence, the sight did not spook Gunn as it might have done only a few days ago. He knew far too well that the demonic hell spawn most readily known as 'the rat' frequented the minute alleyways created by stacked crates on a regular basis, and he was always on the lookout for them. But these eyes belonged to a different type of rodent, and he approached with much less distaste.
"Hey there little guy, what you doin'?"
The creature held its half lidded gaze, issuing a soft squeak in recognition. With a slight shiver, it unfurled its little arms from where it had sat curled and held them out to Gunn, a sorrowful expression on its face.
Gunn frowned, but couldn't resist such a plea. Scooping it up from its damp hiding place he held it tight, carrying it with him as he went. He'd seen Wes do this before, and the creature always seemed happy to cling on for itself, using his shoulders as a vantage point. This time, though, it had no such intention, and Gunn had to cradle it carefully so that it didn't fall down. He hoped he wouldn't need to use his arms any time soon, or else his opponent would get an easy ride.
Putting an ear to the door, Gunn listened, waiting for a clue to reveal itself.
"Hey, Radar Ears. You hear anything?"
The creature looked at him half-heartedly, then closed its eyes and nuzzled into his chest.
"I tell you what, you just go to sleep, and I'll watch our backs. How does that sound?"
The creature ignored him, and Gunn shrugged.
"What's a brother got to do to get some answers around here?"
Moving swiftly on, Gunn readied himself to push the door open, shifting the creature to the other arm and putting his palm against the wood. Counting to three in his head and taking a breath on the last, he slipped through, pressing his back to the opposite wall in the lobby.
So far so good. He could hear a conversation going on in the lobby, and his area being in shadow, he risked a look round into the main of the room.
On the far side, a bunch of the gunmen were crowding round, standing to attention. Each possible exit was also blocked, guarded by at least two men keeping a wary eye on the goings on outside. They didn't look too concerned about keeping people in, but more about defending against something that was already out. And was he hearing things, or were those sirens wailing in the distance?
What was weirder was the state that the lobby was in. Broken glass and smears of God knew what painted the floor in some sick mosaic, finished off with a touch or two of severed demon limb and dead body.
Like ants swarming over a kill, some of the men were scurrying backwards and forwards, ferrying away their wounded and bagging up the enemy. Some were even on their hands and knees, scrubbing away at the stains. And they weren't just using some brand name bleach either. Whatever stuff it was, it was doing a damn good job at fizzing, bubbling and puffing pretty wisps of smoke out like there was no tomorrow. Gunn didn't need to be an alchemist to guess that they were using a little mystic help.
"Damn. I gotta get me some a' that."
Turning his attention back to the group in the middle, he noticed movement, with some of the men breaking away to help with the clean up. As they cleared, he picked out the backs of the gymnast woman and the boss guy, standing side by side in the middle.
A couple of the crouching minions rose suddenly, hefting something on their shoulders that looked like…wait a minute, was that Angel? Then a voice that he couldn't mistake rang out above the rest, shouting his name.
"Gunn. We can't go without Gunn. We have to go get him!"
Cordelia tried to wrestle her way through the crowd, only to be restrained by the many arms that snaked out to stop her. She wriggled and cursed, glaring at those who dared to defy her.
"Don't worry", Gunn heard the big guy say, "He'll be right behind you. You have to go now. It's for your own good."
He couldn't be sure what it was Cordelia said to that, but he had a feeling it wasn't friendly.
Maybe he should have guessed, but the fact was he didn't realise until the last second, and by then it was too late. With the mention of his name, some of the troops were dispatched to collect him, and immediately began to march his way. His cover was blown. Blame it on the head injury.
With customary shouting, pointing and running, they reached his side in two seconds flat, demanding that he give himself up. Not impressed in the slightest, Gunn decided to push them a bit a see how far he could get.
"Whoa, stand back. I've got a fluffy thingy and I'm not afraid to use it. This little dude's got some serious issues, so you might want to reconsider your distance."
Gunn thrust the creature towards them and they took a step back, a look close to astonishment on their faces. He hadn't seriously expected it to work, but the reaction he was getting made it worth his while.
"Yeah, you'd better get back. This thing's downright evil when it gets pissed. It'd whoop your ass before you could call for momma."
The creature shuffled round where it lay and there was a quiet gasp. Then it blinked, yawned, and closed its eyes again.
"Okay, okay, that's enough. Looks like we've found what we came for. You can put the little one down now."
Boss man nudged his underlings aside and confronted Gunn, a stern look in his eye. His order went unheeded, though, and he raised an eyebrow as though he had expected as much. Gunn just stared right back, unmoved. Nobody spoke to him that way. He was his own man.
"Gunn? Gunn please, just do it. We don't have much time. We have to go, now."
Wesley's voice urged him to rethink his attitude, and he obeyed, for the sake of the others. He trusted Wesley's judgement, and considering that he seemed to be missing a big chunk of the script, he guessed maybe it was best to just go along with the plot.
Lowering the creature to the floor with the intention of letting it walk for itself, he was relieved of his burden before its feet even had the chance to touch the marble. Some guy on his left wrapped his arms round the creature and carried it away, quiet dismayed cries the only indication that the creature knew what was happening.
"Now come, we can explain on the way."
Raising a mocking eyebrow at boss man's outstretch arm, Gunn brushed past, joining the others at last.
"What's that guys problem anyway?" he asked, giving Wesley and Cordelia a rejoining-of-the-group nudge on the arm.
After a meaningful exchange of glances and a brief smile on Gunn's part, the three allowed themselves to be herded out of the hotel to a queue of waiting people carriers. Angel was loaded into the first vehicle, followed by a hoard of his minders, and the doors were slid shut, the van pulling away without a seconds delay.
"Hey, wait a second! Where are you taking him?" Cordelia demanded, turning to the boss with a venomous glare.
"We'll catch up. Now hurry, the police will be here any minute."
"Police?" Gunn blurted, "Since when? Oh no, wait. I get it. They're here to arrest your ass."
"Something like that," Wesley replied, understanding Gunn's misinterpretation. "But unless we get moving, we'll all be arrested, for firearms possession, disturbing of the peace, destruction of property, let alone what they concoct to go with the state of the hotel. Need I go on?"
"Hey, don't beat on me, I'm just the guy who missed all the action and got the wrong end of one hell of a big stick. Okay, that came out wrong…"
Bundling into the back of their own waiting van was the easy part, but squeezing together in the uncomfortably small space with a bunch of her least favourite people was something that Cordelia had a hard time dealing with.
Sitting literally nose to nose with people she didn't like was one thing, but anticipating the jostling she was going to get as the van shuddered into life made her desperate to find a distraction. Turning to look the woman in the eye, she began the only conversation she had any interest in participating in.
"So, we've kept up our end of the bargain and told our side of the story, now it's your turn. Spill."
"Some of us are still trying to work out some of the more key parts of the story you know," Gunn interrupted, "starting with what the hell happened to Angel."
"Hmm, let's see. These guys tortured Angel, the hotel was attacked by demons, there was a big gun battle, me and Wesley saved some lives, they agree we're not evil, now we're all on the run from the law. Miss anything? No? Good. Now spill."
"That…makes no sense. But whatever. Can we please get to the who you are part?"
Gunn raised his eyebrows in line with his question, waiting patiently for the answer that he knew would be far fetched. The only sentence that went through his head was 'this had better be good'.
Gunn's pointed stare made the woman shift where she sat, but big boss guy seemed unfazed. Coolly glancing at them each in turn, he waited for the van to begin pulling away before he embarked o his explanation.
"We are the Guardians, appointed by ancient powers and bound to a legacy passed down through the generations. We are the last of a once powerful sect trained for one sole purpose; to protect the Three from the forces of darkness."
"Okay, so enough with the dramatics already," Cordelia scorned, "and what do you mean 'generations'? And who are the Three? Sounds like some kind of Matrix rip off."
"Our numbers dwindle, but there are still those of us left who remember the old ways. Jane and I are of direct descent from the original bloodline of protectors, and those that work with us believe in the prophecies. They remain loyal to the cause, which means, due to its secretive nature; new recruits are few and far between. We go to great lengths to ensure we stay unnoticed, so it doesn't pay to be too liberal when it comes to offering jobs, or letting any information about our group escape to anyone. That's in part why you received such treatment, I'm afraid."
Wesley raised an eyebrow at that, and Cordelia gave a not so discreet snort.
"As for the Three, they are the Knowing Ones, or the narchie in our forgotten tongue. The creature you have encountered is the first and most ancient of the Three, though I think you do not perhaps realise the implications."
"Then why don't you enlighten us?" Wesley suggested, bracing himself as the van took a sharp corner too fast. "I for one am sure I've never before come across ay prophecy relating to the…whatever it was you called them."
"You won't have done, because the truth has been kept hidden from well-meaning and bad alike, and we were to guard the secret. You must understand, such strictness is essential to ensure the survival of the Three against the forces that would see them fail. And if they were to fail…may God have mercy on our souls."
The man paused and leant back, letting the magnitude of his words sink in. He looked to Gunn as though he would rather not be saying any of this out loud, especially being as the very subject seemed to be cracking his otherwise unshakable look. This meant a lot to the guy, and Gunn guessed the man believed everything whole-heartedly, and had done all his life.
More swerving and bumping kept everyone quiet for a moment as they were bounced around, ricocheting off each other's shoulders.
The man fished a packet off cigarettes out of his pocket as soon as he could spare a hand.
"Say a word, Jane, and you'll be on cleaning duty for a week."
The woman held up her hands but kept her mouth shut. He lit the cigarette and continued.
"There is a prophecy that predicts the coming of the next major apocalypse, the one to end all ends."
"Huh, don't they all," Wesley mumbled, earning him a dig in the ribs from a transfixed Cordelia's elbow.
"It claims that, in this time, a benevolent force will rise up to serve the interests of mankind and fight for our side, beating back the scourge that will be unleashed on the earth. Without it, the world would undoubtedly be swallowed by darkness, but with it, we have a hope. As such, all evil seeks to destroy this chance at the source; by eliminating the Three."
"We have come to take back the creature," Jane continued, sensing her father's unease. As much as she loved him, he certainly knew how to drag a good story out, and she was eager to quell the confused looks on the faces of the others. "It is not yet time for it to act. It should be returned to its resting place to await the true arrival of the apocalypse."
There was an awkward silence as the recipients of the tale tried to digest all of the new information. Wesley looked as though he wanted to ask several questions, but he kept quiet for the time being. Gunn was the first to speak.
"So, let me get this straight. Are you saying that the knee-high super-ted is the protestor of mankind, waiting to haul our asses out of trouble? Somehow, that seems a little weird."
"It's not just the one creature," the man countered, managing to find his composure again. "That is simply the first of the Three."
"So you said," Cordelia chipped in.
"They represent our past, present and future, and they possess the power to see into the hearts of people. They see the wrongs of the world before anything else. Only when the pain and suffering of humankind reaches its tumult during the apocalypse, combining then, now and next, will the calling be strong enough to beckon forth the Three. Then they will arise and join together, increasing their power to formidable levels, ready to do battle on our behalf."
"How?" Cordelia demanded in her ever-blunt way, her doubts
finally making themselves known. "What will they do?"
"Well, it's unknown for certain, but-"
"So what you mean is, you haven't got a single clue, but you're hoping for the best because some prophecy says it will. You have absolutely no proof, or even the first idea about what might be really going on, is that it?"
Jane tensed, her eyes narrowing as her tone descended a degree or two, making her next words sound like an icy whisper.
"How dare you belittle our cause like that. You have no idea what we sacrifice for the greater good, what my father has sacrificed…"
"Oh, I do. You attack and torture innocent people and tie them up in their own homes. For the greater good. I was there, remember? Or did you think I had just forgotten and forgiven now that you've deemed us all worthy of your pathetic little inner circle?"
"Cordelia…" Wesley warned.
"Don't you Cordelia me. Someone needs to tell them to open their eyes. You can't just go around doing this! Being all high and mighty just because of some stupid story some misguided old man made up-"
"You still don't get it, do you?!" the man thundered suddenly, making everyone in the van jump in surprise. "Why do you think your hotel was attacked? They weren't after us, they didn't even know we would be there, otherwise they wouldn't have planed such an obviously doomed move. They came for the creature. That nest you cleared out? It wasn't some cosy home. What being today, demonic or not, would want to live in a cave when the whole of Los Angeles is there for the taking? No. It was no coincidence. Stupid as the beasts are, they knew what they were doing, guided by a higher master, perhaps. They dug there on purpose, targeting the burial room that housed the first of the Three, wanting it dead."
"But if you know all this," Wesley ventured, "then why didn't you stop the attack in the first place?"
The man sighed, his mood cooling a little with guilt.
"Long has the whereabouts of those ruins remained lost to us, much to the regret of our ancestors. The chambers of the Second and Third are well guarded, and we have searched for years in the rumoured location not far from here. But whisperings of a demonic plan did not escape our attention. We came to the site shortly after you had left, if what you have told us is true."
"It was," Wesley assured him.
"We assumed the dead to have been slaughtered by their traitorous masters as a reward for their hard work. We tracked you down using some of the more…unorthodox methods, and assumed you responsible for the missing creature. I see now that we were wrong to jump to such conclusions."
"Damn right you were," Cordelia added, still bitter after being shouted at.
"So, what happens now?" Wesley asked, ignoring the staring match that was taking place between Cordelia and Jane.
The man rubbed his temples and looked down at his crumbling cigarette, twirling it around through his fingers.
"Now, we pray that my men managed to clean up your hotel and get out of there before the police arrived, and then we try to return the creature to its rightful place. I t was disturbed too soon, and it cannot survive long with this much exposure to the suffering of the outside world. Let's just hope that we are not already too late."
To be continued…