If Wishes Were Horses…

Disclaimer: Most of these characters aren't mine, I'm just using them for my own amusement. Please take a moment to review, it makes my day!

Chapter Eight

Angel cut the van's engine, looking warily at the warehouse beyond the windshield. 'Are you sure this place is safe?' he asked Giles. They were down by the docks, empty and desolate in the moonlight yet full of unspoken menace.

'As safe as anywhere is these days,' Giles replied. 'Come on, we have to move quickly.'

Angel went to stand by the van's back doors as Giles hurried over to the warehouse, knocking on the door with a set pattern of knocks. After a moment a hatch opened, then the door swung inwards. Giles waved his arm and Angel opened the van, helping the wounded climb down and making sure each one had someone to help them. A few people in fraying scrubs appeared from the warehouse, one man pushing a squeaking gurney, helping those most badly injured get to safety. Angel kept watch, eyes roving from one pool of shadows to the next.

'That's everyone,' he heard Giles say, but his focus was instinctively narrowing to the sound of a glass bottle rolling across concrete somewhere close by.

'Get inside,' Angel said to Giles.

'What is it?'

'Just do it, now,' Angel said in a tone that left no room for argument.

Angel watched the darkness expectantly, and a dark-skinned vampire appeared from behind a stack of shipping containers. He was thin and drawn, hunger etched into every line on his face. Angel dropped into a fighting stance and the vampire charged him, feral and crazed.

Angel ducked, flipping the vampire over his head to land hard on its back. He had no stake, so he went to grab the vampire's head in both hands. Slippery and quick, the vampire slithered out from his grasp and rose to its knees. It sank its teeth into Angel's leg, desperate for blood; Angel vamped out without thinking, shaking the vampire free and kicking it hard in the face. It flew several feet, landing with an audible crunch. Faster than thought, Angel was on top of it, lifting it by the lapels of its filthy jacket and dumping it onto one of the splintered wooden posts along the edge of the dock.

Without stopping to let the dust settle, Angel loped across the cracked tarmac to the warehouse door. As he got closer, he heard Giles arguing with a woman inside. 'He's a friend,' Giles was saying, 'his name is Angel.'

'He's a vampire!' the woman exclaimed. 'How do we know he's not one of the Master's flunkies?'

'I can assure you, Sheila, he's one of us,' Giles said. 'He has a soul, and he saved my life, not to mention all these people.'

Angel reached the doorway and three heads turned to look at him, one a short dark-haired woman and another a lean blond man in faded blue scrubs.

'Martin, Sheila,' Giles said. 'This is Angel.'

'Nice to meet you,' Angel said, respectfully staying outside the doorway.

Martin nodded to him. 'If Giles trusts you, that's good enough for me. Angel, come on in.'

'Thank you,' Angel said, stepping inside.

Sheila sighed. 'Fine, whatever, ignore my opinion. I have work to do.' She ducked behind a heavy curtain, footsteps quickly fading.

Martin barred the warehouse door with heavy iron bands. 'Come on, the treatment room's this way.' To Giles he added, 'We got everything set up as soon as you called.'

'Is it really safe here?' Angel asked him, following. 'I mean, can't the vampires just come in whenever they feel like it?'

'Sheila's sister Mary is a practising wicca, she and a friend found a spell that mimics the boundaries of a home. It basically means that vampires can't come into the warehouse unless someone who's living here invites them.' Martin shrugged his slender shoulders. 'I don't really understand it, but I'm not about to start arguing.'

The back room of the factory, once a meat storage area, had been scrubbed down and turned into a treatment room and operating theatre. Curtains hung around the edges; most were open, showing an odd mix of camp beds, inflatable mattresses and other makeshift sleeping arrangements. One section by the left-hand wall was closed off and Angel heard a faint cough from behind the thick fabric.

Sheila and a guy in green scrubs were working on an unconscious blond woman, hooking her up to an IV. There were a few others helping the factory survivors find places to lay down or rest, cleaning wounds and splinting broken bones. One woman was handing out cups of water.

'This is an impressive set-up,' Angel said to Martin, who had begun examining an injured man's neck wound.

'We do what we can,' Martin said, gently applying gauze to the wound. 'We managed to salvage a lot of equipment from the hospitals, but they're pretty much a no-go zone now and our supplies are starting to run low.'

'I can get you some more,' Angel said. 'Just tell me what you need.'

Martin paused, looking up at him. 'I'd really appreciate that,' he said, nodding.

'How are things here?' Giles asked.

'Not great,' Martin shrugged, standing. 'We lost Ben tonight.'

Giles sighed. 'I'm sorry to hear that. He'll be sorely missed.'

'Yeah, we need all the doctors we can get,' Martin agreed. Something in his face softened as he said, 'Plus I kinda liked him.'

'What happened?' Giles asked quietly.

'He was out on a sweep, his car was hit by a vampire raiding party. Oh, that reminds me - I was going to introduce you to our new guy…' he trailed off, looking around. 'Funny, he was here just before you arrived; he must have gone to lie down or something.'

'Who is he?' Giles asked.

'You'll never guess – he's from the Watchers' Council in London, says he's come to help on the front lines. Poor guy was out with Ben on the sweep - his first night out and he barely got back alive.'

'He's from the Council? What's his name?'

'Roderick Eaves. Said he knew your name but you'd never met.'

'Eaves…that rings a bell,' Giles frowned. 'Wait – no, I must be mistaken.'

'What is it?' Angel asked.

'I'm sure it's nothing, really,' Giles said. 'Only I could've sworn I heard that a man named Eaves was killed in the line of duty a few months ago.'

'He's looking well for it,' Martin smiled. 'You must be thinking of someone else.'

'I suppose so,' Giles muttered. 'Well, perhaps I'll come by tomorrow and meet this mystery man, but for now I must get back to the others. Angel, are you coming with me?'

'No,' Angel said. 'I'm gonna head back to the factory to help Buffy. I just want to look around here first, make sure nothing else is lurking outside.'

'Very well,' Giles said. 'Martin, thank you yet again for - '

'Welcome,' Martin interrupted with a smile. 'Get yourself home.'

'Yes,' Giles smiled, nodding at Angel before leaving.

'Where did you say this Watcher is?' Angel asked Martin.

'He must be resting, his bed is over that way,' Martin said, nodding towards the closed-off section. 'Why?'

'Not sure,' Angel admitted. 'Something just feels off; Giles doesn't strike me as someone who's wrong all that often.'

'No, he's not,' Martin frowned. 'What are you going to do?'

'I just want to have a talk with this Eaves character,' Angel said, something menacing in his voice.

Leaving a bemused Martin behind, Angel stalked toward the closed curtains. When he twitched them aside, he saw only a black woman in blood-stained scrubs sleeping fitfully on a blow-up camping mattress.

Angel looked around, his eye catching on a narrow corridor leading off into the shadows. Hackles rising with every step, Angel moved along it, demon face itching to emerge.

Eventually the corridor ended in a steel door, which opened noiselessly into an empty parking lot. Angel stood still, inhaling deeply, and caught a faint scent from behind a stack of rotting boxes. A growl rose in his throat; the scent was human, but tainted with something foul. He strode over and pulled out a cowering man from behind the stack of boxes. He was in his 40s, lean and greying, dressed in a very un-Watcher-like silver and black shirt.

'Who are you?' Angel asked harshly.

'Roderick Eves,' the man stuttered. 'I'm a Watcher, from London.'

'Then why do you stink of Chaos?' Angel asked, voice as cold as his flickering yellow eyes.

'Ah, I see – vampire, are you?' the man said with a smile, relaxing both his stance and his accent. 'Why didn't you say so, mate? I'm on your side!'

'You are?' Angel asked, playing along. 'My mistake.' He let the man go, watching as he straightened his shirt and smoothed his hair with both hands. 'So now that we're friends, why don't you tell me your real name?'

'Ethan Rayne,' the man said with a proud smile, which faltered when Angel didn't react. 'What, your Master didn't tell you about me?'

'No.'

'Typical. Well, you're in luck; looks like we just got a fresh delivery. Give me an hour to get the decks cleared, then I'll give you the invite to send the boys in.'

'What are you being paid?' Angel asked, putting together the pieces from what Martin had said.

'The usual – fifty a head and a hundred for the doctors.' Ethan's eyes narrowed. 'You do have the money, I hope?'

'Don't worry,' Angel said. 'You'll get what you're owed.'

'Good stuff,' Ethan grinned, backing towards the door. 'Well, I'd best get back inside before I'm missed. See you in an hour.'

Angel turned to look out at the moonlit water, running over the alternatives in his mind. He had to get back to Buffy, but he couldn't leave Martin and the others oblivious to the threat in their midst. He was reluctant to kill a human, even someone as rotten as Ethan Rayne, but he'd heard that the Watchers' Council had their own armed forces that may prove useful. If Rayne was working as part of a gang, they'd need to question him to find out how deep it all went.

Angel heard the faintest creak of hinges behind him and began to turn when he felt something sharp and cold thud into his back, inches from his heart. Angel snarled, vamped out and leapt for Ethan, standing in the doorway with a crossbow, but to his horror he slumped in mid air to crash down hard.

'Oops, missed the heart,' Ethan said blithely. 'My aim's not what it used to be; that's why I use a paralysing agent on the bolts.' He took a step closer. 'You must think I was born yesterday - I saw you arriving with Ripper. Did you really think I'd let you disrupt this cosy little setup?'

'They'll find out,' Angel gasped, limbs seizing up.

'Probably,' Ethan agreed, 'but I'll be long gone by then.'

Angel watched, helpless, as Ethan loaded another bolt and took a few more steps to stand right above him. 'Wouldn't want to miss a second time, that would be so embarrassing,' Ethan smiled, raising the crossbow. 'Ta ta.'