DAY 2
The dawn was just beginning to lighten the horizon when he threw open the door to the Hyperion. Fred, Gunn and Wesley were standing in the lobby, each with a mug of coffee in hand. Fred gasped, "Oh, my God!" and ran for the first aid kit. Gunn and Wesley turned toward the door, ready to stand and fight whatever had sent Angel home in such a condition.
"It's okay, boys. They're not behind me."
"Good," Gunn said with some relief. If Angel looked like this, he wasn't sure he wanted to meet why.
"You dispatched whatever did this then?" asked the dark-haired man.
"No, Wes. I didn't. I…I couldn't."
Just then, Fred came back armed with gauze and iodine. "Sit down here, Angel, let's clean you up and see how bad it is under there." She tore back the sleeve of his shirt and gasped at the scratches the dog's claws had raked across Angel's arm.
As she administered to him, they listened to Angel's story, such as it was. "I'm afraid that's all I remember. He wanted something that I didn't have, but that he seemed to believe I could get for him. I wish I knew what it was he wanted so I could bait him into another fight." The others stared at him. "If I knew he was coming and could get rid of that animal, I could beat him. I think..."
Wes was taking notes. "What did he look like? I need a description to see if I can find him in a database."
Searching his memory for a description of the man, Angel had to admit he could only say handsome. He had short-cropped, dark hair just beginning to gray at the temples, giving him an air of authority and experience. His voice had been deep and full and if it hadn't been a threat, Angel would have said the voice was soothing, resonant, almost hypnotic. He had worn a well-fitted set of chocolate brown trousers with polished dress shoes and a matching cashmere turtleneck that had covered his well-defined torso like a second skin.
"And I got the impression," Angel added, "that this he doesn't take being disappointed very well."
Fred packed away what was left of the medicine kit. "I'm afraid I still don't do a field dressing as well as Cordelia," she apologized, blushing.
"It's fine," Angel answered softly. "She'll show you the finer points when she…when she… gets back." Angel was still amazed how much he wanted for that to be true, and ashamed that he hadn't realized how much the loud brunette had meant to him until she had fallen into that coma.
"And the dog? What did it look like?" Wes probed.
"Huge. Reddish brown. Shaggy. Strong. Amber eyes. There was blood on his breath, fresh, human, and…no, had to be human. Amazingly strong. More a wolf than a…He called it 'Ovchi" when he stopped it from ripping out my throat. I got the impression…," his voice faded.
"What?" Fred asked.
"It was like Ovchi was a partner instead of a servant, like it did things for the master only because he felt like it. And boy, did he feel like killing me…"
"You have no idea what it is the man was searching for?" Wes asked, changing the subject gently.
Angel shook his head. "No. All he said was that I could get it and he wanted it."
"Well, I'd say we find it then, if it's so important," Gunn interjected.
"It's not much to go on, but I'll see what I can do. See if you can remember what 'it' is, Angel." Wes stood up and left the room for his books and internet connection.
"Meanwhile, I'll get some sleep, and maybe you two can see what you can find on the street? Buffy's still missing and I can't find a clear trail to any information about Sunnydale. Maybe you can scare up something on my maniac attacker too." He went to his room to sleep the sleep of the wounded and worried.
#####
Buffy awoke from the nap, her exhausted body had demanded. She had found her head lying in Willow's lap and it was good to know that there was still someone who loved her. It was near dawn now, the world outside was dark and dreamlike and it was a time when she would have reached out to someone else, if he had been there. She knew that Willow would balk, but after mulling it over for a while, Buffy decided she had little option, she had to ask. She called out, "Wil?". The redheaded witch had fallen asleep consoling her best friend. "Wil?" Buffy called again softly, unwilling to disturb the others although she wasn't even sure that Willow could hear her over the rumble of the bus.
Willow stirred and blinked. "Huh? Buffy? Hi. Sorry, I must've... You okay?"
Buffy nodded and sat up. She looked at Willow, "No more tears. Sorry I fell apart like that." Her eyes shown brightly even in the dim illumination of the bus' emergency lights.
"No, Buffy, that's okay. I get it, I think. I know how it is to lose someone you care about."
Buffy leaned closer and spoke conspiratorially, "Willow, I want you to do something for me."
"Sure, sweetie. Anything. What is it?" she whispered in return.
"Bring him back."
Willow stared at Buffy for a minute, not sure if she'd just heard her best friend ask her to resurrect her dead vampire lover for her. One look at Buffy's burning eyes, though, and Willow knew it was true.
"Please, Wils?" Buffy begged. "It can't end like this. I have to…I have to know if he was right."
"Buffy, I…," Willow faltered.
"If he doesn't come back, I'll never know if what I said was true. I'll never know if I loved him. Really loved him." Buffy's voice was now strained and desperate. She took Willow's hand and held it tightly.
Wincing with the strength of Buffy's grasp, Willow struggled to stay calm. Taking a deep breath she began, "Buffy, I don't think I can do that." Then she looked into wounded eyes of her best friend, "I mean, I might be able to, but…well, I don't think I should."
"Why not? Willow, I need this. I never ask…Okay, yeah, that's not true. But I need this…I need you to bring him back so we have time. Time. Just for us. Time for me to understand. To find out if…," her voice trailed away. Tears threatened to fall again and Willow hesitated, unsure.
"No." Rupert Giles stood in the aisle of the bus, supporting himself by holding onto the seat handles. Leaving Kennedy to drive, Giles had chosen to join the two women in conversation. "Buffy, you know we cannot do that."
"I could probably…" Willow began, but Giles continued, unfalteringly.
"Meddling with life and death is something we should not do, cannot do, again. It may be a power that you do possess, Willow, but it is one which stems from the darkest magic. She must not use it, not for herself, not for Tara, not for you." He reached out and layed a hand on Buffy's shoulder, "It had horrific repercussions last time and most assuredly will do so again."
Buffy knew, deep down, that what her ex-watcher said was true. It had been Spike himself who had told them repeatedly that magic always had consequences. Blinking back her desperation, she sat up and turned her face to the dark window, withdrawing into herself, looking for some small part of her that didn't hurt.
#####
Late that afternoon, as Angel lay still recovering in bed, as Gunn and Fred were out tracking down leads and Wes was tucked away in the study, the doors to the Hyperion burst open. Xander was the first in, leading what was left of their ragtag team; Faith, supporting Wood, Andrew, Giles, Kennedy, half a dozen half-trained slayers, into their new sanctuary. Buffy took up the rear.
"Anybody home?" Xander called out loudly, ringing the bell on the counter top. "Anybody?"
"Who is it?" came an English voice from a back room.
"Wesley?" Rupert answered. "Is that you?"
Quick steps came down the hallway toward them. "Giles? Willow? Xander? We've been worried sick about you all. Where have you been? Faith? What happened?" then, taking in the wounded, "Come in. Come in. Buffy? Sit down. What do you need?"
Rupert was a little taken aback by the effusive reception, but it was a welcome greeting nonetheless. "Thank you, Wesley."
"Glad you came, Rupert," the vampire answered as he ran down the stairs to the lobby.
"What truck ran over you?" Xander called a teasing greeting.
"Nice eye patch," Angel replied.
After they had all been seated, tended to and water had been distributed, those questions were all answered, but others remained.
#####
In a small, old apartment in a dark part of LA a very wizened, little man sat wrapped in a heavy robe, his small frame bent diligently over a microscope. He spun his chair away from the lens with a chuckle, "Yes. Yes! This is wonderful!" He removed his spectacles, massaging the bridge of his nose in thought. "It's true."
A voice thrummed from the shadows, "Tell me what you mean, old man."
"When I heard the rumor, I thought it impossible…but it's true. The Slayer has somehow imparted her legacy on all girls. The blood of the young lady your dog…"
"Ovchi," the man corrected. The dog raised its head at the sound of his name.
Undeterred, the little man continued, "…yes, Ovchi…killed last night, has the proper chemistry. It is Slayer blood."
"The first component."
"Yes!"
"And the others?"
"Well, the next element is proving more difficult just now, but I am making inquiries."
"Yes, yes, so you tell me."
"The final part is the power source itself. You made the contact, Magistericos? Have you discovered the whereabouts of Naillig's Crown?"
"Its location is unimportant. I have discovered the man…or rather, vampire…who will find it for us."
"As you say. But it is necessary. Without it we fail. It will hold the source and symbol of your power. It must be soon, however, the time approaches, the charts are very clear on the time."
#####
Buffy sat silently as everyone exchanged greetings. There were tales of heroics and tears for friends lost, but she still felt adrift. As the others went out to gather their meager belongings out of the bus but Buffy was content to sit and stare into space.
"Buffy?" Angel asked with concern as he sat down next to her. She did nothing to acknowledge his presence. "Buffy?" he called again, taking her hand gently.
She managed a faint groan.
"Buffy, come on. You need to snap out of this. The battle's over. You won. That's good. Remember?"
Buffy turned her head and stared at Angel in silent disbelief. Hadn't he just heard about the price they had paid for this victory?
"Buffy, where do you want your things?" Kennedy called out from the doorway.
Angel responded, "Room 102," and turned back to Buffy. "Okay, I know this was hard. You lost some good people. But we still need you. Buffy, look at this." He pulled the dressing off the four gashes that Ovchi had left on his arm earlier that day. He hadn't told any of the Scoobies about his encounter in the park but he knew Buffy needed a reason to reconnect. "This dog was strong. It had killed a human, a girl, a slayer, and we need to find it and its master before it happens again."
Buffy turned wide, sad eyes toward him, "Sorry," she said softly. "I don't do slayage anymore. There are others to do that now and I don't have to."
"But Buffy, you have the experience, you know things, you need to train the new girls. You should…."
"I should! I SHOULD?" she shouted. "Don't tell me what I should. That's all I've done for seven years and I'm tired of it. As far as I'm concerned, there's no 'I should' anymore. No more "Chosen One". There are others. I can walk away anytime. I'm going to get my bearings and then I'm outta here." Buffy stalked out of the lobby and down the hallway, Kennedy and her bags in tow.
The others wandered in, taking their bags into the hotel and separating into rooms as they chose: Faith and Wood, Kennedy and Willow. The young slayers chose to room together, used to the dorm feel of Buffy's house and uncomfortable with the idea of being alone. As they were settling in, Gunn and Fred made themselves useful in the kitchen, putting together a quick meal for their co-workers and a table full of unexpected guests.
#####
As they came back together for supper, the gang seemed more relaxed for the first time in what seemed like years. Kennedy and Willow were holding hands under the table; jokes and sarcasm were flying good-naturedly around the room. They were obviously enjoying the first stress-free moments any of them had known for months, with no apocalypse hanging over their heads.
The new Slayers introduced themselves officially to the group.
"Who knew when I stepped off that bus, what I was walking into?" Rona asked rhetorically. "Everythin' that's happened, it's unbelievable."
Vi, the tall redhead who had been so reticent before spoke up. "I'd never even heard of a Slayer until a few weeks ago. But it is exciting. Hellmouths, vampires and demons, oh my."
Shannon laughed. "Monsters were only in my nightmares before, but I know they're real enough now. And I know I can take them down."
"Yep, it's excitin' and all," Becca chimed in, "but I'm ready to go home."
The all agreed and even though she didn't understand all of it Chao-Ann understood the word "home" and nodded.
"Yep, you girls with family, should beat it out of here ASAP," Rona added. "I may just stick around, though. To see what's gonna happen next."
Lorne arrived with supplies and was introduced to everyone as the empathetic, good kind of demon. Soon, with his help and encouragement, the wine began to flow. As everyone began to ease into their new surroundings, the party began to increase in volume. Giles excused himself like a good grownup and went to check on the sleeping form of Cordy in one of the upstairs rooms. Wesley followed.
"Such a shame," Giles whispered to the younger watcher as they entered Cordy's room.
"Yes, it is." The brunette vampire had quietly slipped away earlier and was sitting quietly in the darkened room.
"Angel?" Giles asked, startled.
"Sorry, old man, just sitting here, waiting."
"Waiting? Waiting for what?"
The vampire considered this. Was he waiting to say he was sorry? Waiting to tell her the secrets of his heart? Waiting to see if she awoke more human or more demon or which was worse? "Don't know yet," he replied wearily, and lapsed back into silence.
Giles turned to the younger Englishman, "You've found nothing that can help? Have you looked in the…."
"We've all looked everywhere, Giles. There is nothing…except…."
"Yes?"
"Well, there was an oblique reference to something called The Crown, which 'restores the strength of those who possess it' or, well, something like that."
"You make it sound like an energy drink."
Wesley smiled. Giles had certainly eased up since they first met. Well, so had he. He placed a hand on the older man's shoulder and they both looked at Cordy again. "Shall we see if we can mix her up one?"
"What will happen if she returns? Wasn't she a demon…er, a demon's mother…or rather a…"
Angel answered him, "Cordelia will always be Cordelia. She was a cheerleader, an actress, a princess of another dimension, a secretary, a prima donna, a woman, a demon, a mother, infuriating, frustrating, irritating and self-opinionated, but she has been, and will always be, Cordelia Chase. At least I hope she will be. Because, gentlemen," Angel stood to leave the room and finished speaking as he passed the two Watchers without looking at them, "I love her."
Unsettled, but not exactly surprised by Angel's statement, Wesley started to speak, "But what if we can't…."
Pausing his steps, Angel spoke softly, "She and I are both immortal, we have all the time in the world. So, I will be here until I can tell her how I feel, even if the waiting outlasts you, or your children, or your children's children." The two Watchers chilled at the veiled threat and Angel turned around to look at them. "Come now, boys, I have all the faith in the world in you two. I have to, you're all I've got…all she's got."
A short while later the two men were in the office where Wesley had laid out the volumes they were studying to find a cure for Cordelia on a side table, the center table now occupied with books on dogs, wolves and large, strongmen. After showing Giles the passage about The Crown, they each began their own thought process, picking out different volumes and settling into separate chairs. After about an hour of reading, during which the party noise had bumped up another notch, Wes suggested retiring for a cup of tea. Both men picked up the books they had in front of them and headed for the kitchen.
#####
With the big man and his dog gone, the room seemed much larger. Doc leaned back in his easy chair sipping daintily at a snifter of brandy. He hadn't wanted to move to LA, his flat in Sunnydale had been cozy and warm, but he had had to follow his opportunities. Singing softly to himself, he ran a forked tongue over his lips. He was getting too old for this. But if all went well, this would be his last campaign. After this he would be back in his own dimension, safe and sound and in charge. But, he thought fleetingly, he would miss brandy.
#####
The party broke up early. Everyone was worn out by the recent events and the long journey and ready for bed…everyone, except for Kennedy, who had had that one drink too many. "Where are you all going? The night is young. We are the victors…," she paused and sniggered, "or, in some cases, the Victorias. Let's enjoy it!"
Walking up to her partner Willow laid her hand on her arm and said, "Kennedy, I think we're all just tired. It's been a long haul."
Kennedy laughed loudly and repeated, "long haul" with obvious innuendo. Then weaving dangerously and with her finger held to her lips she added, "Not for us though, huh?"
Willow looked with embarrassment at the others who returned questioning looks. Flushed the witch started to explain, "She's just a little… well, you know …."
"Tipsy? Sauced? Plotzed? Drunk?" one of the younger women suggested.
"Hell, yeah," Kennedy confirmed. "We have a right to it. Don't we?" She leaned heavily on Willow and spoke too closely.
The redhead nodded, "Of course we do." She put her shoulder under Kennedy's and slipped an arm around her. "Let's just go to bed. We'll all feel better tomorrow."
"Another party tomorrow? But you still won't join in, will you? You'll still be an ol' stick-in-the-mud. A fuddy-duddy. Wishy-washy Willow." Kennedy amused herself and nearly pulled them both over with her ensuing fit of giggles.
"Are you sure she's okay?" Xander asked. "I've never seen her like this before."
"Me either," Willow replied, with some shame for her partner's behavior. Adjusting her load she began to lead Kennedy back toward their room. "This isn't like her at all."
Fred stepped up and grabbed the other side of the unwieldy Kennedy. "I'll help you," she offered Willow.
"Oh, goodie, a threesome!" Kennedy cackled, leering at Fred. "A fantasy come true."
Just as she said this, Giles and Wesley returned from the kitchen with their tea. "How 'bout it English?" she confronted the older man. "Wanna take us all on? Always been a fantasy for you too, I'll bet. All men want a ménage a something…"
"She's drunk," Willow said quickly. "I'm sorry. She's not herself."
"Nasty drunk," Xander muttered too loudly.
"That's your fantasy, loser," Kennedy mouthed off. "You're the lousy drunk, remember?"
Xander looked from Kennedy to Willow with a raised eyebrow, Willow had to have been the source of the younger woman's knowledge about his relationship with Anya. "Willow," Xander lowered his voice. "Take your friend to bed before I…"
"Before you what, Columbo?" Kennedy countered brashly, gesturing to Xander's eye patch. "Think you can take me on, do you?"
Xander took a step in her direction but somehow Willow and Fred managed to hold Kennedy back as she swayed towards their one-eyed friend. "That's enough," Willow sternly told the younger woman and the three of them left the room.
Giles and Xander exchanged glances.
"She's just unwinding. We're all a little giddy," one of the other Slayerettes explained.
"There's giddy… and then there's mean," Lorne spoke from behind the bar. "That was mean."
#####
When the sun set the next day, Doc found his newest client pounding on his door and, with his strength, pounding was not far from splintering. "Hang on, hang on!" Doc yelled, pulling on his smoking jacket and knotting the belt hastily. He reached the door and withdrew several locks before swinging it open. "Yes, Magistericos?"
"I've brought you more blood." He cheerfully handed several bottles of blood to the scientist.
"Oh," the older man replied. "Well, thank you. Why so much?"
"You said we'd need a great deal. Thought I'd get a start on it."
"Yes, I did. You are right, Magistericos. But perhaps I forgot to mention that it must be fresh blood. I'm sorry; I won't be able to use this. We are nowhere near ready to do the ritual and, well, as I said, it must be fresh." The little man looked up at the larger one with all of the confidence of an immortal.
"Oh." Magus took a moment to consider this wrinkle. After a moment he found a solution that satisfied him, "Okay, I'll just keep it then, for Ovchi."
"Yes. Do. He'll enjoy it. A just reward for his kills," Doc nodded, handing the vials back to the larger man.
Magus smiled proudly, "He deserves it. Five last night!"
"Five? Well, well," Doc did his best to sound properly impressed.
"And, of course, the hair will be used," the larger man continued proudly.
Doc smiled serenely then he offered his client some good news, "There is something to tell you, Magistericos. The second piece of our puzzle has appeared, right here in Los Angeles."
The taller man raised his eyebrows. "Really? Good. Very good!"