FIC: Cleveland Calling (14?)

"Beejesus!" Breena leapt into the air, single-hand vaulting the kitchen counter en-route to kicking the deranged vampire full in the face. The demon growled and vamped out as he flew into the wall behind.

The vamped out demon threw a right hook that smashed into Breena's forehead. Dazed by the ferocious blow, she still managed to roundhouse kick the pencil out of his hand before stumbling backwards, her butt hitting the counter but was helpless to avoid a backhand slap to the mouth, her mouth filling with the metallic taste of blood. The still growling vampire lunged at her, leading with a leaping heel kick.

Breena crouched down, allowing the attack to fly over her head. Grabbing the enraged demon's foot by the ankle, she threw him over her shoulder, and into the kitchen cupboard above the sink.

The cupboard imploded with the impact of the vampire crashing into it, door torn from its hinges, shelves, and contents likewise plummeting to the tiled floor. "Ach, Andrew gonna kill me," Breena muttered as she surveyed the damage. "If I live through this."

That unsettling thought uppermost in her mind, Breena leapt back over the counter to be met by another thudding right to the face that burst open a cut over her left eye. Stunned, she was helpless to prevent the maddened vampire from grabbing her around the throat, choking her as he lifted her into the air with a frightening ease, his other hand smashing repeatedly into her ribs.

Breena responded with a kick to Angel's face, knocking the back of the Irish demon's head into the demolished cupboard. The vampire roared in pain before throwing her into the wall by the door, the impact of her collision knocking the clock off the wall. Seeing the vampire advancing on the dropped pencil, Breena grabbed the round clock from under her and flung it like a Frisbee at the demon's head.

Even as the makeshift missile crashed into the vampire, knocking him to one knee, the kitchen door flew open, and Breena's fellow Slayers rushed in. "Grab him!" Breena screamed. "he's been infected!"

Penda was first to reach the Irish demon, braids swinging as his elbow thudded into her forehead. Despite that, the African Slayer grabbed Angel around the waist, placed a foot behind the demon's legs, and flung him backwards, crashing onto the stove. Howling in pain, the demon retaliated by grabbing a saucepan and hitting Penda with it.

The African Slayer grunted but grabbed the demon's arm, restraining it even as Dae rushed in with the cupboard door and smashed it into the demon's forehead, knocking him to the ground. In an instant, all of the Slayers bar Breena were on the wildly struggling vampire. "Well done," Breena praised as she got to her feet, body aching from the battering she'd took. "I'll go get some restraints."


"W….what are we going to do?"

Breena looked around her fellow Slayers, seeing the panic she felt reflected in her friends' faces. They'd managed to secure Angel but were no closer to finding out what had happened to them all. Except, Breena pursed her lips together, as she remembered her idea from before Angel had joined the rest of them in the looney bin. "Guys, go check on Xander, Faith, Dana, Connor, Andrew, and Angel. Check their restraints and make a note of what they're ranting about, that might give us a clue." Breena stood. "I'll check on Amy."

"You can't take her gag off, she might cast-."

"I know," Breena waved off Dae's wide eyed objections. "But I have to make sure her restraints haven't loosened." Breena looked expectantly at the others. "And then we'll ring Mr. Giles for help. Now, what are you all waiting for?"

Breena sighed as she entered the witch's bedroom. This was so hard, so scary, like being a kid at their first day at school. But they had to be strong, all of them, Mr. Harris, Faith, and the others had all helped them, now it was their turn to return the favour.

Walking over to the writhing witch, she tugged gingerly on the ropes fastened to her wrists, stopping as she noticed a grey sigil on her wrist. "What's that?" Pulling out her cell, she flipped it open, and easily pinned the convulsing mage to the bed with one hand before taking a photo of the strange marking. "I'll have to show this to Mr. Giles!" she muttered as she ran out of the room.


"And furthermore," Giles glanced at his notes, cursing the fates as he did so. Monthly account meetings, if he'd known what a pain in the arse managing the Council would be he'd have presented his neck to the first Bringer he'd run into back in Sunnydale. "If we buy -." He groaned as his mobile went off, the opening bars to 'Strange Brew' triumphantly playing. Flipping it open, he growled a greeting. "Hello?"

"M…mr Giles, we need help."

Giles searched for the name of the vaguely recognisable voice. After a second he had it. "Breena?" his heart leapt into his throat. "Is there something wrong with Xander?"

"Yes-."

"Please dear, just give me a moment." Covering the phone with his palm, he looked towards his companions. "Ladies, gentlemen. I'm afraid we'll have to postpone." Without waiting for consent or disagreement, he walked out of the meeting. "I'm sorry, dear," he apologised into the phone as he hurried down the corridor heading towards his office. "Please continue."

"Last night," Giles noted the poor girl sounded terrified, "Ms.. Madison came home from her magic meeting. This morning she didn't get up so Faith went to see her and found her ill in bed. The others went to check on her and then Faith collapsed too. Then Dana, Connor, Andrew, Xander, and lastly Angel did the same over the past day."

"And what are symptoms?" Giles shoved his office door open and hurried inside, sitting down on his leather-upholstered chair.

"They all scream and try to hurt themselves. We've had to tie them all up. They're unaware of their surroundings and cry constantly."

"And why have you waited until now to contact us?"

"Angel wouldn't let us," the Irish Slayer explained timidly. Giles scowled, bloody vampire. "There's one other thing too." His phone beeped. "I've sent you a photo of a tattoo I found on Amy's wrist that wasn't there before all this started."

"Most enterpr-." Giles' voice trailed off and his stomach hollowed as he inspected the photograph. This was bad, very bad. "I don't suppose," Giles was pleased when his voice didn't tremble, the girl didn't need the extra pressure of knowing just how worried he was, "you happened to take a note of what they were screaming?"

"Yes, Mr. Giles. I had the others make a note-."

"Well done dear," Giles praised. "Now, if you don't mind?"

"Uh," Giles heard the sound of rustling paper. "Faith was screaming about a finch. Andrew about a Jonathan and a Katrina. Dana about a whole bunch of people. Connor about someone called Jasmine. Mr. Harris about someone called Sweet," Giles grimaced at that less than glorious memory, "and Angel called out for a Kate and Jenny."

Giles winced at the memory even as he realised the screams confirmed what he'd feared. Which meant neither he nor Willow could go and help, lest they be infected. He shuddered at the thought of the damage an infected Willow could do. It also explained why Angel wouldn't allow him to be contacted.

Gathering his thoughts, he began to plan. "Has Detective Lockley been contacted?"

"Yes sir, she's on her way over."

"Excellent, excellent, you're doing wonderfully," Giles soothed. "Here's what I want you to do. I'll be sending an agent over to assist you, but until then I want you to stay in and guard the others. No patrolling-."

"W…what if we get infected too?"

Giles winced at how young and scared the Irish girl sounded. This was a lot to lay on her inexperienced shoulders. "Dear," he soothed. "The demon who has infected Xander and the others is a Hshuma demon. They feed on people's guilt for the evil they have, mistakes they have ma-."

"Mr. Harris would never do anything wrong!"

Giles chuckled softly at the Irish Slayer's hotly-stated loyalty. "Xander is only human, my dear," he gently reproved. "Even he has made mistakes. You and your fellow Slayers aren't under any danger, anything you've done is too insignificant to allow for infection. If you look after them until my agent arrives, she'll help you affect a cure."

"Yes sir. How will we know her?"

"Her name is Lady Patricia Milton-Snipes." Giles pursed his lips together. "And the password will be 'Ripper'. Now, if there aren't any more questions?"

"No, sir."

"Then I'll leave you to it. You're doing a fine job, Breena."

"Thank you sir." There was a click as the girl hung up.

Giles stared at the mobile for a long moment before calling up a number from its memory. After about ten rings the phone was answered. "Hello," purred an upper-class voice, "Lady Patricia speaking."

"Hello," all at once Giles felt like a callow youth again, "it's Rupert -."

"Ah!" Lady Patricia exclaimed. "Rupert! It's been much too long! And how are you and Miss. Rosenberg?"

"We're both fine, thank you," he replied to the woman who'd mentored both he and Willow through their darkest times. "However I do have a situation that I would be more than grateful for your assistance with." He summarised the Cleveland crisis in a few short sentences.

After he'd finished there was a few moments of silence before England's premiere white witch and leader of the Devon Coven spoke. "A Hshuma, eh? Interesting. Add an opportunity to meet the renowned Xander Harris and the enigmatic Faith Lehane, and you have me hooked." Giles let out a relieved sigh. "You have my fax number, correct?" The noblewoman carried on before he had chance to reply. "Please send me all the relevant information at once. I'll leave as soon as I've got it."


"I'll get that!" Kate volunteered at the sound of knocking at the front door, grateful for the opportunity to flee from the feeding of the contaminated. Before any one had chance to protest she'd bolted from the room and rushed to the entrance.

Opening the door she found a tall, thin regal-looking woman in her late sixties with a commanding air stood on the porch. "Ah," without waiting for an invitation the woman strode imperiously inside. "Too old for a Slayer. You must be Detective Lockley," the woman sniffed, "the vampire's friend. I'm Lady Patricia Milton-Snipes, sent by Rupert Giles. The password is 'Ripper'. Now," the fearsome battle-axe stared searchingly at her, "if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to see Miss. Madison."

"Uh, sure," Kate muttered, strangely cowed by the Englishwoman. "Follow me."

"Thank you, dear."


Breena looked up as the door to Amy's room swung open and a dazed-looking Detective Lockely led in a scary-looking older woman in a long-flowing dress. "You and you," the older woman snapped at Penda and Astrid, my bags are in the hallway, take them to a spare room!" The woman raised an eyebrow when neither girl moved. "What, Slayers can't follow simple instructions now? Shoooo!"

Both girls bolted from their room. Breena gulped when the woman turned her forbidding gaze on her. "You're Breena Murphy, correct?" the grey-haired woman snapped. Breena nodded. "A mute Slayer, interesting. Now, where's this tattoo you noticed?"

Breena crouch down beside Amy's body, pulled up her sleeve and pointed. "There it is."

The aging woman crouched down beside her with a long drawn-out groan, produced a pair of reading glasses from within her jacket, and put them on. After a second the woman nodded. "Yes, it's the sigil of a Hshuma. You did well to spot it Miss Murphy, well done."

Breena's cheeks burnt. "It's nothing," she mumbled.

"Miss Murphy," Lady Patrica shot her a withering glance. "I seldom give praise and only when it's deserved. Please do me the courtesy of accepting it."

"Yes ma'am, sorry ma'am," Breena meekly apologised. After a second she continued, her tone carefully respectful. "What's a Hshuma?"

"A particularly nasty demon," the noblewoman replied. "They feed the guilt of good people who have made mistakes, driving them insane in the process."

"But there's a cure?" Dae asked.

Lady Patrica's answering smile gave her lined face a surprising radiance. "Indeed there is, indeed there is." The witch turned businesslike. "So what are we waiting for? Let's get a move on!"


Lady Patrica inwardly smiled as she watched the Slayers scurry around obeying her barked orders. As a white witch of the highest order, she could sense emotions, and there was a lot of love in this building. And even if she couldn't sense the feelings, the amount of concern the Slayers had for their fallen companions gave it away. Family, a simple word but with such power.

"Lady Patricia?" It was the black girl, or was there some other politically correct term, she was too busy actually doing good to worry about some liberal tree-hugger's hurt feelings, Penda, that was her name. "You said you wanted the bodies laid out in the garden?" she nodded impatiently, unwilling to repeat herself. "W….well it's daytime. And Mr. Angel is a vampire?"

"Really?" she arched an eyebrow. "I hadn't noticed. Think dear child," Lady Patricia shook her head. "Cover him with a blanket."

"Oh," the African-born Slayer looked shame-faced, "yeah, I should have thought."

The ebony-skinned Slayer turned to rush off. "Penda." The teen turned back to her. "Remember being a Slayer isn't always about being stronger or faster than your opponent. Sometimes it's about being smarter. Your brain's a weapon too, next to your heart the strongest of them all."

"Yes, ma'am," the teen nodded, her braids rattling, "thank you, ma'am."

Lady Patricia shook her head as the Slayer rushed off. "The youth today," she chuckled.


"Is everything alright?" Breena enquired cautiously.

The witch's gaze swept over the garden before turning to her and nodding. "Most satisfactory," the witch praised before looking towards the others standing sentry over the madly-twitching bodies encircling the two of them. "What I intend," the white witch explained, "is use the pain of the demon's victims to draw it here. Once here, detective Lockley will shoot the monster, weakening it. And then Breena will slay it. However," the Englishwoman stared at each of the Slayers encircling them in turn, "it is vitally important that the demon is not allowed to touch any of its victims, otherwise it will receive an enormous power boost. Any questions?"

When nobody spoke, the English noblewoman backed out of the circle, leaving Breena feeling dreadfully alone. "Breena, dear. Are you ready?" queried the witch. Too nervous to speak, Breena just nodded, fingers tightly gripping the Slayer Scythe that Lady Patricia had brought her on loan from the Council. "Excellent. You'll do fine dear."

Her assurance given, the witch began to chant in a vaguely Celtic sounding dialect. A tension-filled minute later, and the temperature noticeably dropped. A half-second later and there was a momentary flash of light.

A short, powerfully-built monster stood in the centre of the circle. A single gleaming yellow eye bored out of its face, just above its tusked mouth. Breena grimaced as she noticed the spiked knuckles on its three-fingered hands. She'd have to avoid them.

"Kate."

The moment Lady Patricia spoke, Kate's hand blurred up, pointed her silenced gun at the monster and fired twice. The rounds splattered into the monster's red chest, shattering the shell-plates encasing it, green viscera spurting out. "Breena!"

Breena darted forward, ducking beneath a clumsy haymaker to drive the bottom of th Scythe into the monster's thick chest, knocking it back a step. Changing her grip, she at the demon's head only for it to duck under her attack.

The beast growled before charging her, throwing a body shot that she barely managed to twist away from. "Uh!" Breena grunted and stumbled sideways when the demon backhanded her across the face.

Dazed, she responded with a swing at the monster's legs. The demon rapidly back-pedalled, falling over its own feet in its haste, crashing to the ground. A grin on her face, Breena bounded over to the monster and raised her weapon.

Pain exploded in her left thigh when the demon slammed its spiked knuckles deep into her leg. Screaming in wordless agony, Breena stumbled backwards, blood pumping out of the wound, dripping down her leg. A grin on its hideous face, the demon advanced on her.

Right into her Scythe swing, the attack ripping the monster's head off its powerful shoulders. The last thing she saw before falling backwards was the monster's head and body simultaneously hitting the ground. The last thing she heard was Lady Patricia's voice in her ear. "Well done, dear. You did splendidly. Now sleep."


"What the hell!" Patricia looked up as her room's door crashed open and a furious-looking figure stalked in. "Were you playing at? You're this big ass witch, why did you risk my girls! You could have kicked that bastard's ass on your own!"

Patricia watched with thinly-veiled amusement as Faith angrily paced the room. The Slayer was an exceptionally striking young woman who's intensity and energy radiated off her. Finally she consented to answer. "And what would have been the point of that?" Seeing the Slayer's eyes harden and her mouth open, Patricia continued. "Your concern for those you are responsible for does you credit, but there may be a time when you aren't there to assist them, they must have the confidence to deal with perilous situations on their own. Although they didn't know it they were never in any serious danger, I had the situation well in hand." Patricia smiled. "And their glee and pride at being able to help you and the others was quite a delight to behold."

The Bostonian stared at her for a second before shaking her head. "Whatever," the shapely beauty turned to leave.

"Your past misdeeds don't define who you are, you know."

The Bostonian spun round to face her, face taut, and fists clenched. "My past is none of your damn business! So back off lady!"

Patricia raised an unruffled eyebrow. "Your guilt eats you up. Even with a Slayer's natural resistance to demonic interference, you were the first one to be infected by Amy. And yes, you have made many mistakes," the Slayer's mouth opened, "don't interrupt!" Patricia snapped before continuing in a softer voice. "I was very pleased when Rupert asked me to come here, I've always wanted to meet you." She hid a smile at the east coast native's nervous foot shuffle. "There a number of conflicting and contradictory theories about you at the Council. Some see you as untrustworthy rogue. Others as a freak that should have never been Called." The Slayer winced. "And some as hope that anyone can be redeemed." Lady Patricia paused. "When you requested Dana be brought here, I strongly advised Rupert against it. I thought that such a renowned hot-head such as yourself was no guardian for someone with Dana's problems. However," Lady Patricia smiled, "I'm pleased to say I was completely wrong. You've done an amazing job with her."

"Uh, thanks."

"You should always remember the evil you've done, but also never forget the good you've done. Yes, you've killed," the brunette beauty winced again, "but you've also helped Dana, saved the world a number of times, saved people, and taken these other girls under your wing."

"Don't make up for the lives I've taken."

"No, nothing can do that, but your actions have proved that isn't all you are. You should hold onto that. And that means you should be allowed some happiness. For example with that young Xander."

The Slayer's cupid-shaped mouth opened and shut several times before she managed to croak out a comment. "What the hell are you talkin' about?"

"Dear, I am the world's most powerful white witch-."

"More powerful than Red?"

Patricia's temper flickered into life at the twin annoyances at being interrupted and reminded of the one human who's power eclipsed her own by some ten-fold. "True enough," she conceded through gritted teeth. "But Miss. Rosenberg's misdeeds preclude her from consideration as a true white witch. That aside, a white witch of my power can sense emotions. Dear," Patricia's voice softened, "you care very deeply about that young Watcher but fear holds you back." Seeing the Slayer's mouth open in an angry denial, she raised a hand to forestall her. "Fear is nothing to be ashamed of dear. But failing to confront it is another matter entirely, young lady. Now," Patricia looked to the door, "if you don't mind?"

"Uh," the bemused-looking Slayer nodded before heading towards the door, "sure."

Patricia's face hardened into flint as the door closed behind the young lady. There was someone else she had to speak to before leaving.

She somehow doubted it would be a pleasant visit.


"Good day, Angelus."

Angel glanced up from his Oscar Wilde, surprised that a human could get into his room without him sensing them. Calming his demon's scared whimperings, he stared evenly at the regal-looking witch stood by the door. "I prefer Angel these days."

The Englishwoman sniffed. "What you prefer is immaterial, vampire." The noblewoman impaled him with a vicious glare. "I first met Rupert almost thirty years when I mentored him after various mishaps-."

"Egyhon-," Angel commented.

"Amongst others," the witch nodded. "Three decades of friendship. And in those three decades he was only in love once. And you killed her."

"That wasn't-."

It was as if he hadn't spoken. "You were very fortunate I didn't discover what had happened until much later. Your deluded Slayer wouldn't have stopped me from ensuring you paid." The woman ignored his growl. "I like these children. They have great potential, amazing promise." The woman's eyes bored into him. "You on the other hand are nothing but a leech. I would advise you to take very good care of them. You really don't want to give me a reason to get some long overdue revenge for dear old Rupert."

"And," Angel stared evenly at the woman, ignoring his demon's choked sobs, "you'd be wise not to threaten me. I don't react well to them."

"Brave?" Patricia chuckled. "It would appear you do have some good qualities. Use them to keep these children safe. Goodbye."

With a rustle of her skirts the woman left, leaving Angel staring bleakly out of the window. When he'd come back from heaven he'd hoped to get a second chance to connect with his son, to make a difference but it seemed no matter how long he lived some people would never forget his blood-drenched past. "And no should they," he whispered.


Faith took a long, rattling, breath before knocking on X's office door and striding in. God, she shook her head as she noticed how sweaty her hands felt and how fast her heart was beating. "Lady Pat's dropped at the airport."

Xander looked up from his paperwork. X with paperwork, didn't that just beat all, and nodded. "Thanks." Her potential honey looked down at his cluttered desk with a sigh before looking up again. "Was there anything else? Only I've got a ton of stuff to do."

"Yeah, there is actually." Faith bit her bottom lip. Damn, she realised that she'd done a lot of stuff in her life, but she'd never actually asked a guy out, she'd always been the askee not the asker. "I was thinking maybe we could do something -."

"About the front of the house, yeah, I'll get Andy and Connor to help me paint it."

"No," Faith shook her head. God, this was hard enough without having to compete with Xan's motor-mouth in full flow. "I was thinkin' maybe we could," she took another breath, man she could do with a shot of JD right about now, "I was thinkin' we could go out some time?"

"Oh," Xander's remaining eye widened. "Like a bonding dinner, sort of a well-done bash for the kids? I guess Council funds could stretch to that."

"No," Faith rolled her eyes. Jesus, she actually wanted to date this 'tard? Fuck, she was starting to wonder which of them was dumber. "I was thinkin' you and me could go on a date." Deciding she had to make it join-the-dots clear, she added. "Together, romantic like. You know like Bonnie and-," she stopped, deciding that was a bad example, "Solo and Leia?"

Xander blinked several times, his face looking something like a cornered deer. "You want to go out on a date? With me? But why?"

Faith prayed that Xan's paleness was due to shock and not mind-numbing terror. "'Cause," Faith shrugged. Shit, she hated opening up. "'Cause that night we fu-, had sex, when ya held me it felt good, tender. Ya make me laugh. And I trust ya. I think maybe we could have something."

There was a long, unbearable moment of silence. Then Xander spoke, his voice faltering. "Uh, yeah. I guess Angel could run patrols for us. Maybe Thursday night?"

"Great," Faith forced a smile. She just hoped wasn't just accepting for fear of what she'd do if he said no.