For Every Action Chapter 8: When Devlin Met Dawny, an angel fanfic

Devlin lures Faith into a trap and eludes Buffy for a second time and tries to get to Xander before she can. Jeta improves Dev's spirits and fires up Elektra who proposes they kill Spike and Angel. Meanwhile, a flashback shows Dawn's first encounter with Devlin.

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Jeta's arrival and supernatural dispatch of the lead Arab changes everything. The four remaining Algerians and two remaining skinheads flee away from the powerful, mysterious new woman while Devlin and Elektra are still on their knees. Dev slowly gets up as Jeta quickly approaches him. It must be a mirage. Maybe he had already been staked and this was a pre-disintegration hallucination. He holds his arms out, but Jeta runs by him and hugs Elektra. Clearly, this wasn't a fantasy.

"What took you so long, bitch," Leks jokes. "We were fighting for our fucking lives."

"I vanted to see if you were vorth my trouble," Jeta jokes back in her thick German accent.

"Worth your trouble," Devlin interjects, not getting the joke. "How many Slayers have you killed?" He instantly realizes it was a mistake to insult the woman that for many years was his dream girl. He also remembers the fleeing humans, who are now more than one hundred yards distant. Dev takes aim and shoots them in the head two at a time. He's trained himself to aim and fire at two targets simultaneously, something humans cannot do, but Jeta's not impressed by such frivolous gunplay. "I'm sorry. You probably haven't had the chance." He immediately realizes this attempt to smooth things over might have sounded patronizing.

"I have fought many Slayers."

"By yourself," Elektra adds. "Like me. I couldn't kill 'em 'till I got with Devlin. And even then we can't kill the Big Kahunas. But with you we can do it! We'll be unstoppable."

"Where have you fought Slayers," Devlin asks, wanting to further pinpoint their location.

"Everywhere, it seems. They follow me. But I found one who wasn't in Gibraltar. She was older. Experienced. In every sense."

"You mean the other one," Leks infers. "She's with Buffy now, trying to find us." Elektra is having visions of taking down Buffy and Faith, which would both destroy the enemy and make them instant legends.

"Faith," Devlin interjects. "You fought her. Me too!"

"Yet few have faith in her," Jeta offers.

"Yeah, isn't it ironic, don't ya think," Elektra adds, not interested in such personal, internal matters.

"Tell me about the fight," Devlin requests.

"Later. First we dance." She takes Elektra's hand and the two of them prance around the fire as Jeta hums an eastern tune. Devlin jumps over it in another vain attempt to impress the Gypsy.

"You call that a jump," Elektra taunts. She backs up and jumps over the fire from a standstill from twenty feet away while doing a flip. Jeta closes her eyes and keeps dancing. Devlin stares at her and smiles.

"Looks like I found you a woman," Elektra whispers to him.

"You knew all along. But you didn't tell."

"And ruin the surprise? We've been chatting online for a while now."

"Yetta's online? Has she seen my videos?"

"You mean OUR video?"

"Does she say anything about me?"

"She thinks you're a good leader."

"Really. Wow. So she accepts I'm in command?"

"I don't think anyone's in command of her. Ever. She does what she likes. Now she likes us. And maybe she'll do you."

"What about you," Dev asks with a smirk. "You know where her heart lies."

"Jealous?"

"Only when she touches you." Jeta runs over and takes Elektra's hand.

"We eat now," she orders the siblings. "I know a great place."

"There's so much I have to tell you," Elektra begins. "We were in London. And we - " Jeta holds Elektra's right hand up and bites into her wrist. "Ow!" She slowly drinks, then licks the wound while looking at Devlin.

"Nice story. So he killed another Watcher. That will bring vengeance."

"Like everything we've already done hasn't," Elektra counters with good reason.

"He was special." She then speaks German.

"You're right," Devlin responds. "The Watcher in the Council's old capital had to be prestigious." He already knew of Robson's close connection to Giles and was only pretending to be surprised to flatter Jeta. Not surprisingly, she could tell.

"You don't need to make me happy." She takes his left hand. "Just lead."

"Where are we going," he asks, unfamiliar with the city.

"I'll lead," Jeta responds, skipping forward with Elektra through the sand as Devlin trots along, perhaps an indication of things to come."

"You want to know my past," Devlin asks, hoping she'll bite him.

"I've read your blog." Dev's disappointed, but likes that she's kept tabs on him. It's also funny to hear a woman he regards as the epitome of the Old World use the word blog.

Paris did not have surveillance cameras in profusion like London, so Buffy was stymied in her search for where Dev and Leks went when they detrained. She's sure they went to the coast, and correctly guesses Marseille when she sees it on a map. Giles believes Devlin is following his old strategy of luring the enemy after him then attacking its base, which would place him on the way to Buffyless Rome. Marseilles just happened to be on the way to Rome. Faith, the only one who really could get inside the mind of a fugitive, believed they stayed in Paris to hide out until the two senior Slayers moved on. Then they'd kill the novice Parisian Slayer duo and rub it in Buffy's face. Giles had to confess to Buffy that this also sounded very credible. So they stayed put and made contact with Sophie and Marguerite, who lived Watcherless in the City of Lights. The two young, fancy-free Slayers, who reminded Faith of her and B when they were that age, proudly explained how they had exterminated or terrified all the vampires in the city center, and that vampires now only lurked in the outer suburbs, especially the banlieus where Algerians lived. Unable to blend with the locals, they sired neighborhood gang members, who were able to negotiate a modus vivendi with their former comrades. In exchange for not killing locals, they attacked people in other suburbs, but didn't go after tourists in the heart of town out of fear of the Slayers. Marguerite was clearly the more bookish one, and Sophie sometimes looked bored as her partner explained the strategic situation, which even bored Buffy, who mostly just cared about catching Devlin. Giles later explained how this information might prove handy. While showing off the previous year, Devlin had flaunted his Arabic fluency to Dawn by conversing in front of her with a Kuwaiti tourist. It would be natural for him to use this skill to forge alliances with these banlieu vampires and increase his numbers to attack all four Slayers.

Shortly after dark, they hit several of these neighborhoods. Buffy's aggressiveness brought in much more kills than the girls were used to getting, but alienated the locals with her attitude, thus hurting future prospects for cooperation, as Marguerite explained. Buffy said if they didn't kill Devlin, Sophie and Marguerite might not have a future to worry about. She explained repeatedly how these new vampires didn't play by the rules. Buffy also worked the Slayers longer than they were used to, keeping them up nearly to dawn and only allowing them to hit clubs for business, not pleasure. Faith seemed to grow especially close to Sophie, even though the girl spoke little English. Shortly after getting to sleep, Buffy was awoken by Giles.

"Do you have any idea what time it is," she asks as she rubs her eyes.

"You'll have time to sleep on the train to Marseille."

"I was right!"

"Sadly. I found out this morning of twenty two deaths there, including fourteen presumed demon fighters."

"Demon fighters? No Slayers, I hope."

"All male. There were bullet wounds. Chinese throwing stars."

"Their calling cards."

"But there's something new. In the killings that followed, they were reported to be accompanied by another vampire. Eyewitness descriptions match those of the elusive Yetta."

"Yeti? I thought those didn't exist."

"The Gypsy." Buffy had forgotten about her with everything else going on.

"Oh. Right. The lesbian bird lady."

"Such a combination would prove very deleterious our cause."

"Why? We can kill them all together. It makes things easier, the way I see it."

"The two of you shouldn't take all three on at once."

"We won't. I promise."

"Sophie and Marguerite? Are they experienced enough?"

"They seem to have it going on. Marguerite's a bit of a talker, but - "

"If you trust the two of them, go ahead. But don't forget - "

"They killed Rona and Vi. I can't."

"Neither can I."

"That's why they gotta die. That and they're, you know, vampires."

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While Elektra slept soundly on a full stomach, Devlin updated his blog with their latest adventures and Jeta asked for information about the witch who worked with Buffy. Dev assured Jeta Willow was far away, which oddly seemed to disappoint the vampire. Jeta seemed very businesslike and down-to-earth. Devlin wasn't used to her that way, and it bruised his idealized illusions of her as some spacey free-spirit. Jeta went to bed next, putting her arms around Elektra. Devlin, who went to bed last by several hours, put his arms around Jeta for the first time.

The high-speed train got the four Slayers to Marseilles before noon. The police had already checked most of the hotels for three teenage guests, starting with the fanciest places. Buffy didn't trust them, so she hit the fancy places again herself. The problem was that Devlin, anticipating a relentless pursuit, checked out a room in Toulon thirty miles to the east, which they traveled to in the skinhead's car. Buffy was therefore wasting precious time. By supper, frustrated with her lack of success, Buffy decided to stake out the airport with Marguerite, while Faith and Sophie took the central train station. She discarded Giles's admonitions to respect the strength of the newly-formed trio in the interests of not letting them get away a second time.

But Buffy was never to arrive at the airport. Nor Faith the train station. As they left the restaurant, four officers approach them. Buffy assumes they are there to help. Sophie and Marguerite quickly realize they are not. They plead with the officers, flabbergasted by what they hear come out of the gendarmes' mouths. When one of the men takes Faith by the arm, Sophie punches him. Marguerite kicks the one near her. Faith immediately realizes what's happening and kicks a gun out of one gendarme's hand, hits another with a right roundhouse kick to the face, then punches the previous one out with a right hook. The three of them run, with Buffy quickly behind. When they get a few blocks away, Buffy stops them. "What the hell was that? A return to bad form?"

"They were trying to arrest her," Marguerite explains.

"What? Faith? Why? Oh. Wait. What about the vampires who are killing everyone in town?"

"I'm guessing they tipped the cops off about my history," Faith infers. "G-man said he'd do something like this."

"I don't believe this," Buffy declares. We're trying to find three killers, who are probably killing right now, and we're the bad guys? Fucking French. No offense, girls." The sounds of approaching sirens can be heard.

"They should go," Faith says.

"Non," Sophie replies, sensing what Faith was proposing.

"We're staying," Marguerite declares. "To protect Faith." Buffy's glad they're loyal, though it would be nice if they were loyal to her.

"Then I'll go," Faith replies. "I can take care of myself. And you can kill 'em without me. It's been real, B." She runs north. Buffy runs south. Sophie and Marguerite, after a few seconds of hesitation, follow Buffy.

"Okay girls," she says as they run down the back streets. "Here's the plan. We go to the train station, try to keep from getting arrested. The airport's too far away. Fucking cops." Just then, a police cruiser blocks their path. The three of them leap over the obstacle. When they land, they realize they are surrounded by six armed cops. Buffy halts and puts her hands up rather than risk getting the girls shot. An investigator steps forward.

"Where is the American fugitive," he asks Buffy in English.

"You'll never catch her," Sophie yells out in French.

"It's not like she's a tree," Buffy replies. "She can move."

"Where did you last see her?"

"You know, with all this chasing going on, I can't remember."

"She's on our side," Marguerite says in French.

"You don't cooperate, we'll revoke your passport," he threatens.

"Ooh. I'm shaking."

"The Americans, however, can do a lot more. 'Harboring a Fugitive, I believe, is what they told me."

"This is insane. There are three killers on the loose."

"We are searching for them as well. Do not think we cannot handle two crimes at once. We are a big force," he says patronizingly. "You two can go," he says in French.

"Non," Marguerite replies, heartening Buffy.

"Oui," Buffy insists. "Be careful," she says to Marguerite. The investigator knows they are dangerous, and therefore would rather only have to restrain one. Buffy realizes she can no longer work in this town. The vampires, for now, have won.

The police fanned out throughout the airport and left pictures of two out of the three killers at security checkpoints. They also had officers at the train and bus stations. Of course, the wanted man and women could just drive away, and there's no way they could stop that, although there was a bulletin out for the car stolen from the dead skinheads. Simply put, aside from getting in Buffy's way, the police did everything they could to help. Devlin had already driven out of town the night before. But now he drove back to the airport, in another car of course, this one stolen from some unfortunate young male driver Elektra stepped in front of and flashed. When he stopped, pulled down the window and asked her kindly if she needed a ride, or, if not, if she could get out of the way, Devlin ripped him out of his seat and Jeta bit him. Elektra walked over and joined in. Devlin sat down in the driver's seat and calmly told them to please finish before someone drove by and saw them engaging in such suspicious oddness. After all, they had a plane to catch.

The plane was a private charter. They were able to drive to the hangar and avoid airport security by bypassing the terminals. Jeta was nervous, since she had never flown on a plane. She had, of course, flown on her own as a raven, making her fear of flying all the more odd. "There's really nothing to it. A little ear pain, sure, but it's a small price to pay for unlimited mobility," Dev says to her with his right arm around her shoulders. Also, there are things you can do to make a flight more enjoyable." She pushes him away. "Not that. Drinking. Watching movies. It's basically like a slumber party. Wait, you don't know what those are."

"Just a buncha girls in their underwear talking about boys," Elektra explains. Jeta puts her right arm around her shoulders.

"Tell me more." Elektra pushes her away.

"Not like that. Least not at any I went to."

"Maybe at some of Kennedy's," Devlin interjects. "You can ask her about them. When we get there. And to get there, we need to fly."

"Kennedy was a man," Jeta replies.

"Not this Kennedy."

"Yeah, she's like head of the Sunnydale 12," Elektra adds, underestimating their numbers. "And she's a major lesbo. But not in the butch, hairy armpit, spiky hair way."

"Willow doesn't go for that," Devlin says. "Though I'm guessing this one's a bit of a tomboy. Would you like to have your way with a tomboy Slayer?"

"I have already found my Slayer. She's Spanish. Vell, she's Greek, but she doesn't know it yet." Dev and Leks are confused by that last part, but soon figure out the first part."

"Oh no," Leks yells. "Not you too!"

"For every great vampire, there is a Slayer," Dev says with a smile.

"I don't fucking believe this. Slayers are not hot. Vampires are hot. Slayers are just souped-up mortals who wanna be vampires. Why not go for the real thing?"

"I did. Once," Jeta replies.

"You start wanting Slayers, soon you can't kill them," Elektra warns. "Look what happened to dad."

"How is Spike,"Jeta asks.

"Working for Angel," Dev reports. "It's pathetic."

"Spike and Engel," Jeta says.

"Sort of like Marx and Engels," Dev jokes.

"Who are they," Elektra asks.

"Nobody you'd care about. But Karl Marx did write a lot about vampires."

"He had a thing for vampire women," Leks asks.

"Not that I know of. He just thought they were a lot like capitalists."

"Bor-ing."

"Lucky for you I'm enough of a capitalist to afford this jet. Dev walks up the stairs. Leks leaps over the stairs. Jeta, outdoing Leks, turns into a raven and flies into the plane.

"Show-off," Elektra jokes. Devlin closes the door and the three of them settle in.

"They need each other," Jeta says, seemingly out of nowhere. "Spike and Engel. Like we need each other." Devlin smiles.

"Spike doesn't need Angel," Elektra objects. "He's just afraid. Souls do that to vampires."

"Spike's a leader," Dev adds.

"WAS a leader."

"The way I see it, Angel was a complete loser for about a century. Spike's hit the ground running. He'll surpass Angel in time."

"Unless we kill him first," Elektra says. Dev gasps. "He's not the same Spike. The vampire we loved and obeyed is dead."

"There are ways of taking away a vampire's soul."

"Brother, you don't get it. Our father didn't die when he got a soul. He died when he fell for that cunt Buffy. Take away the soul, he still loves her. And he'll still protect her. Which is why we gotta kill him before they get back together."

"What about Angel," Devlin asks. "Isn't he even more dangerous? He's got powerful followers."

"We kill Angel too. One after the other. Then Buffy's alone. She won't have any vampires to not fuck. That's gonna be hard on a cunt like hers." Devlin nervously looks outside as the plane taxis on the runway to make sure the authorities aren't on his tail. He took care of Buffy and Faith with a phone call to Interpol. But the police can still ground him. At least for the next ten minutes.

"I did not join you to kill vampires," Jeta explains.

"You wouldn't do it? They'd kill you in a second if they got the chance."

"Their souls need to suffer."

"Jeta's right," Devlin says.

"Like how you're making your ex-sister suffer rather than killing her?"

"Not about that. About the other thing. We're together to kill Slayers."

"For now."

"We'll burn that bridge when we get to it."

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After being let go by the police, Buffy caught the first plane she could get from Marseille to Rome. "They left. About an hour before you got there," Gretchen reports.

"Figures. Where are they going?"

"The plane's flight plan says Lagos."

"Where Xander is?" Buffy's instantly concerned.

"I think they think Xander's a Watcher," Dawn explains. "And I think they're trying to kill as many Watchers as they can. Devlin's been writing online about how much rarer they are than Slayers, and harder to train," she says with pride. But Buffy is skeptical.

"Why would he tell us what he's going to do before he does it? Why wouldn't he say one thing, to throw us off track, then do something else?" Dawn doesn't appreciate the vote of no confidence.

"Because he's already killed two while leaving the Slayers alone," Giles answers.

"Whatever. He's in - where is he?"

"Lagos," Gretchen replies.

"I go there, kill him, save Xander. Who wants to give me a ride to the airport?"

"I'll drive," Giles says. "Gretchen's also leaving. For Cleveland."

"But my flight's not until tomorrow."

"You can get an earlier flight." Gretchen wonders why Rupert wants her gone.

"So that leaves me," Dawn points out.

"Watch Andrew," Giles orders. "Make sure he doesn't get into any trouble." Dawn mopes away. Babysitting Andrew was no job for a Watcher-in-Training. Maybe they were punishing her for her friendship with Devlin. Or they were just ignoring her as usual.

Dev, Leks and Jeta landed in Nigeria two hours before sunrise. They immediately walked to a car on the runway. A group of six security officials approach them. Evidently they've been tipped off by the French. "Please come with us," one of them says to Devlin. He reaches into the bag he's carrying over his right shoulder. Guns are pointed at him.

"Relax." He slowly unzips the bag. "You see, I just got here. So I haven't had a chance to pay my disembarkation tax. I should have been prepared for that. I apologize. He pulls out one thousand U.S. dollars in his right hand.

"Please come with us, sir," the guard orders, seizing his left arm. Dev pulls out another thousand. The guard lets go of his left arm.

"Thank you sir. That will be all." The six of them walk away. Devlin laughs.

"I love the Third World." They continue on to the waiting SUV.

"How much cash are you carrying," Elektra wonders.

"You don't wanna know."

Rome. September 2003. Dawn sits alone at a cappuccino bar after school, sipping an espresso. At the other end of the bar, twenty feet to Dawn's left, sits Devlin. He looks over his shoulder, making sure it is still cloudy outside. The server brings his cup. Dev takes out his lighter and ignites the coffee, which is mixed with a hefty shot of grappa liquor. There are a few gasps. Dawn hears them, and the sound of fire. She sees a teenage boy in expensive black slacks, Gucci shoes and a shiny blue button-down shirt with a cup of flaming something in his left hand. He leans his head back, downs the concoction and slowly exhales smoke, first out of his mouth, then out of his nose. A few people clap. Dev smiles and bows. His hair is parted in the center, with his bangs hanging over his forehead, making him look younger than his nineteen years. Dev catches sight of Dawn and pretends it's the first time he's seen her. She walks over and speaks halting Italian. Devlin lets fly a fusillade of soft-spoken rapid-fire Italian, adding "Okay," at the end. "Relax. I'm American too."

"What makes you so sure I'm American? Besides, like, hearing me talk right now."

"We have a certain look. I've been on all six continents. You can always spot the Americans right away."

"Only six," she jokes. "What are you, scared of Antarctica?"

"I'd like to go there when it's always dark. I was in Tierra del Fuego in June. Four hours of sunlight a day."

"You like the darkness," she asks.

"Yeah. I'm a real vampire." He chuckles. She doesn't at first, then realizes he's joking and probably doesn't even know they really exist. "No. Seriously. I like extremes. Light. Dark. Cold. Hot."

"Ergo the flaming coffee." They both laugh.

"Someone's taking Latin. So what college do you go to back in the states?"

"College? You think I'm in college?" Dawn's flattered he overestimated her age. People are always treating her like a little girl.

"You go to a high school with a study abroad program? That's unusual."

"No. I just study abroad. Here. I live here."

"With your family?"

"Yeah."

"Lucky you." He lights up a cigarette. "Ya mind?"

"Oh. No." It occurs to her this is the first man who's smoked in front of her since Spike, though he couldn't be more different.

"Want one?"

"Oh. No! I don't smoke." She was a little shocked by the offer. Once again, it serves to make her feel grown up in Devlin's eyes.

"I know I should quit. These things take years of your life. Now that that sorta thing mattered in ancient Rome, where life expectancy was thirty years and you could die any day from disease or war. "

"You study ancient Rome?"

"That's why I'm here. What better place to be for that?"

"So you can read Latin?" She has some homework she'd like to use this guy to do.

"And ancient Greek. German. Italian. Spanish. I also speak Arabic, though I can't read it."

"Wow. How'd you find the time?"

"My family traveled a lot when I was a kid. You pick up stuff here and there. Except for Latin and Greek, of course. Those I took in high school. Six high schools. Traveled even more than my namesake."

"Who? I mean, what's your name?"

"Jason. Except, unlike him, I have no plans to marry a Russian witch and then abandon her. I mean, if she's a witch, why take the risk?" Dawn laughs at the clueless yet erudite and strangely interesting young man who, like most people, must have no idea of the supernatural netherworld that lurks around every corner.

"I'm Dawn." She holds out her right hand.

"Hey." He just waves his, which has a cigarette in it. No point risking her feeling his cold hands. "So do you come here often?"

"Whenever I need a caffeine boost after school. Which turns out to be most days."

"I'm guessing they won't want me back after my little pyrotechnic display. I'm always getting kicked out of places."

"A nice guy like you? I don't buy it." She thinks he's clearly trying to impress her by sounding like a bad boy, which he obviously is not.

"Nice? Me?" He turns his head and watches a young man in tight jeans walk out. "Now that's nice. Me, I'm just, serviceable. Or so I'm told." Dawn realizes he's gay, which comes as a slight shock. She was sure he was hitting on her. This is great! He doesn't want to be her boyfriend. He just wants to be her "girlfriend." Finally, she has someone outside of school and away from home to talk to. Plus he can help her with her homework and her Italian.

"I know what you mean. It's hard getting boys to notice me, too."

"Nice try sister. I'm not buying it."

"You've probably had more boyfriends than me."

"That things are going to have to change." Dev hears the rain outside and smiles on the inside. He rushes out. She follows him. He takes out his umbrella (the one he will use in the future to kill Robson) and holds it over her head. "Too old, too short, too fat, perfect." Dawn grabs his arm.

"What are you doing?"

"Playing matchmaker. If he's straight, he'll go for you. If he's not, all the better." Dawn yanks his arm.

"No."

"I'm just kidding, honey. I hate getting set up, too. My mom was always playing matchmaker. Until she found out." Dev imagines how Dru and Spike would take it if he really was gay, and almost bursts out laughing.

"Was that tough? I'm sorry. Too personal."

"No, no. I brought it up. Christmas Break, last year. I was finally in college, so I figured it was time."

"I have a gay friend. Listen to me. Next thing I know I'll be saying 'some of my best friends are gay.' Which is true. Or, was."

Dev puts his left hand over his heart and gasps. "You mean I'm not your first? There've been other queens before me?"

"No. Just, lesbians." Dev starts walking. Dawn follows along.

"Them I don't get. Who hates the penis?" She giggles.

"You're funny."

"We're supposed to be. Don't you watch tv?"

A very different Devlin approaches the abandoned oil storage building in Lagos where the vampires have set up temporary headquarters. Still, he has some of "Jason's" flair and flamboyance. "We're not just walking in there," he tells Elektra.

"I can jump through a window. Yetta could fly. You, you can't do much."

"Oh yeah?" He scales the wall.

"Any vampire can do that."

"Doesn't make it less effective." Elektra follows. Jeta turns into a bird and flies up to the roof. Dev finds an opening and swoops in from thirty feet up, his coat billowing as he falls to the floor. Elektra is next. The vampires, suspecting a sneak attack, charge. Yeta flies in and lands on Dev's right shoulder. Then she morphs back into a vampire, materializing in front of Dev and Leks and shocking the nine attackers in their tracks. "You need to work on security," Devlin brags. "I could have been a Slayer."

"Then we would have killed you."

"What if I were four Slayers? See, that's the problem."

"And you are the savior?" The black vampires all laugh.

"I come not to kill, but to feed." He opens his bag and pours out gobs of cash. "One hundred thousand American. That should take care of your other appetites." The vampires rush over and take the money in hand to make sure it's real. Elektra's shocked her brother is such a baller. "I also have a humble suggestion. Forget about the Slayers. Kill the Watcher. Then you can see how they fare without a leader."

"The one-eyed white man is charmed," another vampire explains. "He is protected by forces unseen."

"No one here has magic," Jeta declares, indirectly insulting the vampires for being ordinary. "I would sense him if he were."

"Plutarch wrote that the best generals were one-eyed," Devlin bloviates. "Philip of Macedonia. Sertorius. Hannibal." Xander would love the comparison, and the fact that someone finally is putting good spin on his loss of an eye.

"How charmed can he be if someone took his eye out," Elektra asks.

"Have you tried to kill him," Devlin queries.

"No. It would be a waste."

"So you don't attack him because he's charmed, which is proven by the fact he isn't attacked. Nice circular reasoning."

"Forget the Slayers and you get a stake in the back," a third vampire points out.

"You have the numbers to hold off the Slayers and attack the Watcher. Though I wouldn't do it until Said comes down from Abuja."

"Said is an infidel Muslim," a fourth vampire, this one female, yells out. Devlin's at the end of his tether.

"When are we going to learn that it doesn't matter which God you choose to curse and defy? It's all the same force."

"I don't see Slayers wearing crescents around their necks," she points out.

"I also don't see vampires getting vaporized from touching pages of the Gospels. Pages of Koranic verses, yes. Christians don't have a monopoly on talismans. And, at the very least, you'll need him for fodder Monday night. Better he get killed than one of you." Devlin sees that Elektra's seducing an especially attractive vampire. "Leks! Sister. We don't have time."

"Can I take him with me," she pouts.

"He's needed here." Leks lets go of him, but he grabs her and pulls her close.

"Five minutes. I'll rock your world." She throws him over her shoulder to the ground.

"Five minutes? That's not even worth the grinding." She walks back to Dev and Jeta, outraged.

"It's okay," Dev tells his sister. "He just hasn't had any Slayer blood. That shit'll make you go for hours. Trust me." They laugh at the short white man flaunting his supposed sexual prowess. Even Jeta smirks. "My point is, the sooner you kill the Watcher, the sooner you'll kill the Slayers. Without him to lead them, they'll fall one-by-one. Maybe not in one night, but soon. You are part of a vanguard of a new age, a new era for vampires that you yourselves will help create through your heroic actions. The Slayers think they can kill anything. They have NOT killed you. Your very presence is testimony to their weakness. They cannot conquer you. They will NEVER conquer you! You shall overcome them!" The vampires are too busy counting the money to listen to his stirring speech. But at least he has their loyalty one way or another. "Goodbye and good luck. I know you won't need it. He turns and walks to the door. Jeta and Elektra follow, knowing they have to hurry to make it to their plane before sunrise. "Kill! Maim! Destroy," he yells with raised right fist.

"Yeah," one vampire shouts back, move by the sentiment. They start chanting menacingly in Yoruban to build up their courage and invoke protective spirits before bedtime, the most dangerous time of the day.

"I think my work here is done," Dev says proudly. Elektra rolls her eyes. She knows he'd be nowhere without his small mountain of cash. It's the only thing that gives him a leg up over other ambitious Slayer killers eager to lead the world's vampires. "On to Rio," he says after slipping the driver a hundred bucks.

"On to Rio," Elektra repeats.

"Onto Willow," Jeta says with a smile.