Bring Me To Life – A Buffy the Vampire Slayer / Angel Crossover Event
Part 44
Dirty Girls, Part 4.5
Sunnydale, California-Summers Residence, Buffy's Room
9:01 p.m. - Nightfall
Days Before The End Of Days: 16
Dresses like a preacher, calls himself Caleb. Dresses like a preacher. Calls himself….? No. No. Can't be. Just a coincidence. Has to be, a troubled Lindsey quietly mused in silence amid the discussion. Refusing to believe that that ghost from his past had resurfaced again in the middle of this nightmare.
Meanwhile, most of the core group was in Buffy's room, and they were holding a big power pow-wow.
Buffy paced in front of Xander, Willow, Cordelia, Spike, Faith, Gunn, Fred, Giles, Oz, Wesley, Darla, Lorne, Lindsey and Kate, and the blonde Slayer's mind was brimming with plans.
"We need to start arming the girls," Buffy said, her voice leaving no room for argument. It was not a request. It was an order. "I want to be ready to move at a moment's notice. We're going out to find him."
Willow was confused. "We don't even know where we're going."
"Or who this fake preacher guy is we're dealing with," a cautious Oz added in his taciturn way.
"And it's kinda late to start banging the war drums, isn't it?" Fred added. She had been used to late-night fighting as part of Angel Investigations over the last two years, but nothing on as large a scale as what Buffy was proposing. Granted, Fred admitted she was no fighting and strategy expert, but even she knew that sending everyone this late at night to battle the forces of darkness when most of their side was tired was a bad idea.
"That's why I figured we'd do a little recon first, see what we can find out," Buffy said. "We get his location, we move tomorrow night. Sunset. Tonight, we do recon."
"Could be pointless, Vanilla Drop," Lorne suggested. "Maybe Big Bad Preacher Man is on the move already."
Buffy shook her head. "No. No, that message he sent was deliberate. He's definitely not hiding, Lorne. He wants us to find him."
"Sounds like a trap to me," Darla chimed in, her delicate features a stark contrast to the ancient wisdom in her sky blue eyes as she looked at Buffy. "I know a thing or two about killers myself, seeing as how I used to be one. He's using what he did to that girl as bait to lure us—"
"Shannon." Off Darla's confused gaze at Buffy's sudden, terse interruption, the Slayer elaborated. "Her name was Shannon Jones. Seventeen years old from Portland, Oregon. A runaway. I read her file in Giles's paperwork. Sweet kid, parents were killed in a car crash. Watched as Bringers gutted her Watcher while she hid in a closet. She was coming here for protection. For safety. She thought I could protect her."
Buffy broke off, bitterly. "And then Caleb killed her. And told her while she was bleeding to death that he was coming for us next. I'm not waiting around for that to happen. This time, we take the fight to the bad guy. If he's working for The First, all the better. I've been wanting another shot at that bitch since L.A., anyway."
A frowning Gunn, not liking the idea, shook his head. "I'm not feelin' this plan. I know about traps, too. Back when my crew was patrolling on Venice Boulevard and making a name for ourselves, a couple of vamp cliques started to pick off one or two of us. Tell us to meet them at a certain place to get them back. It usually ended in some kind of ambush." Gunn relied on his seasoned experience as he made his case to an equally seasoned, but clearly emotional Buffy. "Say we find him, and he's got the place rigged, then what? Buffy, it's this Caleb cat's territory, that means he's got home field advantage."
"Sometimes, the 'away' team can steal a victory, Gunn," Buffy replied. She wasn't having it any other way. "If we can find him, get the jump on him, maybe we can use the element of surprise to our advantage."
Cordelia didn't look so certain. "I don't know. Sunnydale never really had a great track record with 'away' games. Ex-cheerleader here, I remember." She looked at Buffy, doubt etched in the beautiful Seer's doe-brown eyes. "Maybe we should wait until Angel comes back, Buffy. Or at least call him to let him know what we're—"
"No."
The way that one word thundered vehemently out of Buffy's mouth was so sudden that it made Cordelia flinch. And made everyone else look at Buffy uncomfortably.
Gathering her composure, Buffy reigned in her volatile emotions at the mention of Angel's name. Pushed them way in the back and let The Slayer drive the bus. "He needs to be focused on getting that dagger thing, Cordy. If he finds out what we're planning, it will only distract him. He can't afford that now." She swallowed, her voice a tad quieter. "Besides...we don't need him for this."
Though inwardly, Buffy couldn't help but wonder if the last part was trying to convince Cordelia...or herself.
"And from what I hear, the big ox might not even come back, anyway," Spike muttered, which earned him a harsh elbow from a scowling Faith. "Oww!"
The thought of that...even the concept of Angel not coming back from this quest...made Buffy's lower lip tremble ever so slightly in emotion. But The Slayer, now driving the bus, forced her mouth to remain a straight, thin line, biting hard on the inside of her lip to focus on anything but that. She didn't have time for the emotions of Buffy Summers. The Slayer only had time for action.
Turning to Faith, The Slayer asked, "Recon. You up for it?"
Faith wasn't exactly loving this idea, either. Something about all of this felt off. Convenient. Most killers in her experience didn't want to be found, but this one did? The whole thing smelled rotten to Faith. But she silently admitted that she'd be lying if she said she didn't want another crack at The First's goons again, particularly Nash, Pearl and that bitch Drusilla. She had one hell of a score to settle with those assholes. So Faith shrugged: compliance, but no obedience. "Point me where you want me."
Giles was also confused. "But are you certain this is the best course of action? You don't even know what this man has of yours, if he in fact has anything."
Buffy replied, "It could be a girl. A Potential trying to get to us."
"It could be a stapler," Giles rejoined, unconvinced.
But Buffy had already made up her mind. She set her course and it was all done but the doing, in her eyes. So the petite blonde beauty set her jaw in determination and raised her chin, saying, "I'm going in, anyway."
"I don't think this is a good idea," Wesley joined in. He had gotten pretty good at strategy over time. And this felt like an emotional decision on Buffy's behalf. And in Wesley's experience, emotional decisions often led to disaster. Like kidnapping a best friend's son...Wesley batted that thought away harshly. No need to revisit that again. "We know nothing about this man, or his connection to The First. Most of our forces would include still-green teenage girls and street children…"
"Those 'street children'? Could kick your ass. Just saying," Kate said crisply, defensively as she went full 'Mama Bear' mode at Wesley's reference to the kids she protected.
"...and we would be wandering into a situation where he controls the environment," Wesley continued, ignoring Kate's comment as he directed his words to Buffy. "It doesn't sound like a winning strategy, Buffy."
"That's what the recon is for, Wesley," Buffy replied, her patience starting to thin at everyone questioning her plan. "We scout ahead, check him out, we have one day to prepare and then we strike. If we control the timing, we control the battlefield."
"But using the Potentials?" Giles asked. "Most of them have yet to be tested in the field at all, let alone in a life-or-death situation."
"Then it's time we test 'em," Buffy insisted, remembering Robin's words from earlier in the day. "We'll just take the ones who've been with us the longest. The rest can stay here."
Spike likewise looked less than enthusiastic. He had set his fair share of traps in his time, too. Hell, he learned from the best on how to do it. Not that he would ever admit to calling Angelus the best, he quietly amended. All this sounded like it was right from Angelus's playbook. Hell, Spike had used a similar scenario to lure Nikki Wood, his second Slayer kill, out into the open decades ago.
"Could be that's what he wants you to do. Ol' bait and switch," Spike suggested. "Classic Bad Guy Trap 101. Hell, I used it a time or two myself back in the day."
His comment earned Faith's gaze, the brunette reminded again that Spike wasn't always the joking, sarcastic yet secretly sweet lug she had come to know and...well, really like these last few weeks. He was once a vicious, murdering animal, a Slayer-slayer. But Faith swatted that away casually. It wasn't exactly like she had a squeaky-clean past, either. The reminder that they shared that in common only served to attract her further to him.
Willow nodded in agreement with Spike, the de-powered witch not liking how any of this smelled. "Exactly. He lures us away, then kills all the girls we leave behind."
"I know," Buffy said to Willow. "That's why I want you, Kate, Wesley, Robin and Darla to stay with them tomorrow."
Willow was still not following.
Buffy explained, "You're my most powerful weapon, Will. But right now, you can't help me the way you usually can. Without your powers, it's not safe out there. Stay here with Wesley. Between him and Darla, maybe you can provide some kind of advice on mojo in case we need it to protect the girls."
Wesley looked a bit startled by that. "I'm not really in favor of what you're proposing myself, Buffy. Too many variables and questions. But if it's all the same, if you're really going ahead with this, I'd rather be out there with all of you."
A year ago Buffy would have found the idea of Wesley in the field with them during a fight laughable. Hysterical, even. But she had come to see that this version of Wesley, the hardened, battle-ready warlock with a hidden arsenal of deadly weapons, was more than a formidable foe in a fight.
"I know. But without Willow, that makes you one of the strongest magick users we have, Wesley," Buffy told the ex-Watcher then motioned to his wrist, where his powerful multi-tool weapons kit was hidden. "Besides that, you have your...super cool, Batman-y gadgets there. You can keep these girls safe if something happens. And Robin and Kate can add some muscle. I'm counting on you, Wes. Don't let me down."
Wesley wanted to argue that he was better used out there. But off the insistence from Buffy, Wesley relented and nodded. Besides, it had been a long time since anyone told him they were counting on him. Best not to disappoint, Wesley mused.
Xander shook his head, so not loving this plan. "Unknown man breezes into town, says he has something of yours . . . Buffy, this thing's got 'trap' written all over it. In flashing neon letters."
Buffy glossed over that. "He won't be expecting a full attack. Not this soon. That's why we have to move."
"We know nothing about this man!" Giles insisted. "We cannot go into battle without preparation. We need time."
"Giles," Buffy said, "we don't have time. And you're not going into battle. I need you to stay behind with the others." That news stunned Giles, clearly not expecting that. Off his reaction, The Slayer paused, and could not help herself from sarcastically adding, "Help the girls who still need a teacher."
Her barb hit home, and Giles shut his mouth. Tightly.
Sunnydale, California-Shadow Valley Vineyard
10:12 p.m.
Days Before The End Of Days: 16
Recon was a go.
And Faith was nothing if not good. Better than good, she mused.
Over the last day or so, she had started to feel a little better. Things with Spike were getting a little more serious. And she had to admit, she was starting to fall hard for the guy. True to his word, he was taking his time with her. Smoothing out the edges. Willing to surf on the hard waves. Rolling with the punches. And in the process, Faith had begun to see a softer side of the blonde undead badass, a side he rarely showed anyone.
Her toes kinda tingled a little when Spike pulled her aside before this recon mission. How he told her tenderly, "Be careful, luv" as he brushed a stray lock of hair back from her face and tucked it behind her ear. How she uncharacteristically gave him a peck on the cheek in appreciation, winking as she said "You know me, Blue Eyes" before she headed upstairs and headed out with Buffy flanking her.
The sweet, tender William. The bad, rugged Spike. Faith was starting to fall for both of them.
Meanwhile, Buffy was with her, and she was the opposite of good. Between her break-up with Angel, the small aches in her body that hadn't completely healed from The First's attack days ago and the shock of watching that girl, Shannon, die in front of her, she was anything but good. But that was fine. Maybe Buffy Summers couldn't deal. But The Slayer could. That's what The Slayer was built for. So she ceded control to The Slayer, letting her lead the way.
They were following a Bringer, who was darting through the darkness in a brisk and furtive way. Each Chosen beauty blending into the shadows, stalking like lionesses in the dark. Their natural element.
"No eyes," Faith mused as she stared at the Bringer they were following, "but look at him go. He got sonar or something?"
"Or something, I guess," Buffy said. "They're pretty good when they attack.
"They say your other senses get better," Faith said, as they both watched the buy. "Maybe all blind people are smokin' in a knife fight."
As Buffy gave her a raised eyebrow, Faith said, "Not saying it's likely."
"Been reading too many 'Daredevil' comics," Buffy snorted.
Now it was Faith's turn to raise an eyebrow at Buffy's atypical comic-nerd reply. Blushing in embarrassment, Buffy hastily added, "Uh...slow patrol night a while ago. Xander was along and he was bored, so he started talking about comics. Really not worth the stroll down Memory Lane."
Faith shrugged and let it go. Didn't sound like a great story to her, anyway. Her sharp brown eyes returned to the Bringer and she gestured to their robed target. "They just roam free 'round town?"
Buffy watched the Bringer. "Well, normally they show up out of nowhere and either stab or get stabbed and then run off." She paused and added, not all that happily, "This guy seems like he wants to be found."
"Lends weight to that whole 'It's a trap' theory," Faith observed.
"I'm through waiting around for people to attack us," Buffy insisted. She had enough of all of this, of The First's games and this Caleb guy's taunts. She was through playing defense. The Slayer in her wanted to go on the offensive. Find something to hit.
"Hey, I'm with you," Faith assured her with a shrug. "Drop me in the hornet's nest. What the hell."
Buffy nodded, focused on the Bringer.
Off the small silence that followed, Faith had no idea why, maybe it was the damn silence or something, but she took a shot at connecting with her sister Slayer. Honestly, Faith still wasn't cool with the last heart-to-heart discussion they had back when the Hyperion Hotel was still standing. When Buffy basically called her a dirty, unloved slut for getting close with Spike. But enough time had passed and too much was happening for them to be focused on petty shit from the past, at least that's how Faith saw it.
So what the hell...offer the olive branch, Faith inwardly sighed.
"You've got a rough sitch here, trying to turn a bunch of little girls into an army," Faith offered sincerely.
Buffy didn't like the description at all. "They're Potential Slayers. Just like we were," she groused defensively.
"Right," Faith said. "Maybe they'll do as good as us."
Buffy shot a glance at Faith, unclear if she was being sarcastic. "They're getting better," a weary Buffy muttered, though a part of her wondered who she was trying to convince.
"I'll work with 'em," Faith offered. "Some of them seem real eager." She couldn't help but to scoff a little as she thought about Vi's goofy cap. "Fashion disasters, yeah, but ready to fight."
Buffy let that go by.
She let a few more seconds go by.
Then she asked the question she had wanted to ask Faith for the last few days. "What's happening between you and Spike?"
Caught off guard, Faith ground to a halt. "What?"
"You. Spike. What's the deal? You two an item now or…?" Buffy elaborated. Not really sure why she wanted to know that herself, honestly. But she knew she had to know.
"What does it matter to you? I thought you and him were over. Hell, I was there when you fired the torpedoes on that ship," Faith asked, somewhat defensively. Though Faith wasn't sure if she was being defensive over Buffy's inquiry into her personal life, or defensive like a lioness warding off anyone else trying to go near its mate.
"No reason. Just...curious," Buffy said, somewhat lamely.
Faith thought it over, the two hidden in the shadows. No Bringers around, so there was a little time to address this elephant in the room. "Tell you what, B. I'll tell you about Spike and me...after you tell me what that whole deal was with you and Angel this afternoon. I kept seeing you give him the cold shoulder. Trouble in paradise with you lovebirds or something?"
At that, Buffy's face fell, her pained eyes looking away.
That look told Faith everything. "Shit. You guys broke up again?"
Swallowing hard, Buffy gave a reluctant explanation. "He said he was scared about becoming evil again. Couldn't put me in danger, the same crap from before. So...we ended it." She swallowed hard to force down the lump in her throat. She wasn't going to start crying on a recon mission, damn it all. "I ended it."
Faith shook her head in pity. Despite her and Buffy not having always gotten along, there was a part of her that did want to see her sister Slayer happy. And she figured that Angel had to be devastated. She knew damn well how her surrogate big brother felt about the tiny California blonde.
Faith's voice was sincere, meaning every word. "Damn. I didn't know...I...I'm sorry, B."
Shaking it off, Buffy raised her hand, not wanting Faith's pity. "No, it's...it's fine. It's not the first time I've had my heart broken. Probably won't be the last. I can deal. Always have."
Buffy sighed bitterly. "We barely said two words to each other before he left...God, I don't even want to think about awkwardness of it all when he gets back, if he gets back—"
"Hey." Faith's suddenly stopped, whirled on Buffy with an angry, insistent look in her eyes. "Angel's coming back. Understand?"
It took a briefly surprised Buffy a moment to understand. Faith was not about to lose hope in Angel. Would not even consider the idea that Angel may not come back alive. It was simply out of the question.
Despite her current feelings towards Angel being complicated, Buffy found herself appreciating the sentiment. "When...he gets back," Buffy amended with a nod and a ghost of a smile. Satisfied, Faith nodded back and the two Slayers continued their recon mission.
Folding her arms across her chest, Buffy eyed Faith again. "Now. About you and Spike?"
Faith still felt a bit cagey when confronted about her feelings towards the platinum blonde vampire. In part because she was still figuring them out. "We're hanging out. Talking. Listening, sharing..."
"Dating?" Buffy asked, a hint of pointedness in her question.
Faith cocked her head, feeling the lioness in her crouch low, as if ready to pounce on an animal invading her territory. She looked hard at the other Slayer. "Let's say we are...is that a problem for you?"
Startled, Buffy blurted, "No! No. That's, that's not what I meant. I. . .I'm . . . glad that you two are...whatever you two are. It's...it's good."
"Is it, though?" Faith asked, not entirely sure she was convinced.
While the Boston-born brunette felt for Buffy about this Angel thing—I mean, geez, Angel, I love you, but how much of a bonehead can you be? Faith mentally groaned—that didn't mean Faith was going to be cool with her sister Slayer sniffing again around her man.
Whoa...My man? Faith was shocked by her own thoughts. Hold up, Faith, don't get ahead of yourself. Neither of you committed yet, and you don't do relationships, remember? At least, that's what she tried to tell herself.
Sighing, Buffy gave her a tired nod. "It is," she said, the little blonde warrior's tone filled with honesty. "Spike and I were never going to work out. For many, many reasons. If he's moving on, then I'm glad for him." She frowned, before adding, "He's trying to be good, Faith. So do me a favor—just don't hurt him, okay? He deserves a chance."
Faith agreed. He did deserve a chance. Hell, at this point, Spike had earned his chance, as far as Faith was concerned. "As long as he doesn't hurt me, we're five-by-five," the brunette stunner shrugged, but with a hidden smile spreading on her face like she had won something as she looked up at the stars.
A not-so-hidden understanding passing between both women.
Buffy sighed, sucked it up...and finally let go. "Good...thank you."
"No prob. You know me," Faith said lightly. "I'm all about the good deeds."
"Willow told me about how you helped out Angel back in L.A. Before you came back here," Buffy said warmly.
"Yeah." Faith made less of a deal out of it, but gave Buffy a quick smile. "Had to do this whole magical mind walk with him. That was some trippy shit. But then again, with you having gone into Cordelia's mind with Darla a bit ago, I guess you can relate, right? Though it's probably less frightening going into an ex-cheerleader's mind than it is the mind of 'The Scourge of Europe', I'm betting."
In a flash, Buffy remembered struggling in futility while Jasmine held her effortlessly by the throat against the cold stone of the apocalyptic mindscape of Cordelia's mind, the Beastmaster impostor of Cordelia trying desperately to jam her deadly trident into a prone Darla's form…
"You'd be surprised," Buffy wryly muttered.
She frowned as she picked up on something Faith said.
"You were . . . in Angel's mind." Buffy sounded annoyed for reasons the blonde beauty couldn't place.
Faith heard the annoyance in the older Slayer's tone and...as ashamed as part of her was, Faith couldn't help it. She liked that. It was like a little kid prodding her annoyed older sibling.
"Yeah. Very weird. We got close," Faith spun. "Saw all sorts of heavy stuff from his past. Tripped me out."
"Uh-huh," Buffy said, not liking where this was going. Faith in Angel's mind. Faith knowing Angel's secrets. Faith. Knowing Angel secrets...
Angel rarely shared such secrets about his past with Buffy back when they were together years ago, sharing those private things with Buffy only when it was important. While Buffy had come to know Angel well, she knew there were things about Angel's past that he simply wasn't willing to talk about. Maybe because he was afraid of how Buffy might see him if she knew. Maybe because they hurt him too much to talk about. Or both.
Not that it matters now, Buffy thought miserably, her heart aching painfully in her chest at the thought.
"...that whole vampire-with-a-soul tip...interesting, isn't it? I mean, the darkness and the light. Not sure how Angel does it every day. He might kill me for saying it, but...I can see the same thing in Spike." Buffy almost didn't hear Faith musings. "So . . . how much did you and Spike . . . ?"
"Can we not with the 'me and Spike'? There's plenty of water under that bridge," Buffy squirmed, dodging the question. She groused bitterly, "Besides, these days, it looks like the only people I'll be seeing are 'Me, myself and I'."
Faith bit back a smile and shook her head. Same ol' B. All work and no play. It was almost painful, how easy it was to get under her skin.
Suddenly, Faith came to a halt, alerting Buffy to the situation again.
"Buffy," Faith began, then nodded toward the Bringer up ahead.
Old No-Eyes was gliding into a clearing, heading toward an old building, stone and vine-covered. Dark wood abounded; there were shadows, and it was quiet.
Abandoned, but not empty.
The Bringer went straight for a heavy wooden door, opened it, and went inside.
He started down some stairs . . . and then the Slayers' view was cut off as the door slammed shut.
"What is this place?" Faith asked.
"Look." Buffy gestured. "There's more of them."
Bringers from the north of them, Bringers from the west. they walked out of the woods, maybe four of them, all headed for Door #1.
Bingo.
"Shit. Looks like we found our hornet's nest," Faith murmured.
Buffy concurred. She had seen enough. "Let's go tell the cavalry. We saddle up tomorrow," she said.
England—The Cotswolds, outskirts
Home of The Deeper Well
Two Hours Earlier
As the crackling vortex behind them disappeared, Angel alertly took a look around at his surroundings.
The Cotswolds.
Angel had visited it once a century ago, back when his soul was new to him. Angelus would've found the place too dreary and woodsy for his tastes. But Angel had found its beauty welcoming, soothing even, with its Walden-esque landscapes.
Still on alert, Angel made his way to the front as he, Whistler and legendary archmage Alasdair Coames found their way through a grove of trees in the foggy moonlight.
"When is a door not a door? When it's not freakin' there," Whistler wondered aloud. "Yeesh, this place hasn't changed much in the last century."
"You've been here before?" Angel asked his mentor absently, keeping a sharp eye out for danger.
"I've been pretty much everywhere on this rock, kid," Whistler shrugged, wafting away the fog. "Seen a lot in my time. Mesopotamia. The Dark Ages. The Renaissance. Bubonic Plague. Industrial Revolution. Lollapalooza. All the good stuff and bad." Annoyed, the Balance Demon kept fanning away the persistent fog. "Fog still as thick as New England Clam Chowder. I hate that stuff, always had a weird aftertaste, know what i mean?"
"Afraid not," Coames replied, adjusting his glasses as he looked around appreciatively at the natural beauty of the bowed, bending trees around them. "Personally, I've always enjoyed coming here. Good place to clear one's head. Though I can't say I've ever dared to venture this far."
Ignoring them both, Angel tried to keep his mind focused on the task at hand. Finding this Deeper Well that he had left his friends, family and Buffy half a world away for. Even the thought of Buffy was enough to send fresh waves of sadness and guilt through his system. And those feelings also made him angry. Which was fine. He figured he could use that for facing whatever it was he was about to face.
He stopped suddenly as his keen preternatural eyes found what appeared to be what they were looking for.
"Right there," Angel said as he looked at a large tree suspiciously shaped differently than the others around them—like a door-shaped entrance. He took a look back at Whistler and Alasdair. "You guys wanna bet that's the entrance to the Deeper Well?"
"Either that, or Christmasland," Whistler quipped. Off Angel's blank, quizzical stare, a disappointed Whistler groaned. "Seriously, kid, we need to have a talk when this is over about you experiencing this thing called 'fun.'"
An annoyed Angel was about to fire back a sarcastic reply of his own when…
SWOOSH!
...a sudden flash of light illuminated from out of the tree. Before they knew it, armored men, or what appeared to be men—corpses, from what Angel could smell off their rotted, fetid stink— who were wielding swords rushed out of the tree, growling menacingly.
Angel gritted his teeth, the warrior in him relishing the oncoming battle. "Speaking of fun...I'm about to have some."
A battle-like smile graced the lines of Alasdair's aged face as he held up his mystical blue lantern, which hummed angrily as the intruders approached. "Ah, yes. Good to be back in the game again."
"And they even brought us weapons," Whistler smirked, cracking his knuckles "Okay, boys. Strategy?"
Never taking his eyes off the oncoming attackers, Angel merely stretched his arm out. "Just hold my hand, Queens."
The Queens, New York resident and friendly neighborhood Balance Demon raised an eyebrow in confusion at Angel's request, but shrugged as he reached out to take Angel's hand.
And when his hand made contact with what Angel was hiding in his palm, Whistler smiled and nodded. Attaboy, Angel.
"Weapons Move Number 83. The haircut," Whistler said appreciatively, referring to Angel's training years ago under the demon's tutelage. "Nice."
Angel smirked. "Thought you'd forgotten. Let's show 'em how it's done, old man."
The teacher smirked back at his student. "Just try and keep up, Rat Boy."
With that, Angel and Whistler let go of each others' hands….and out dropped a length of thin, but lethally sharp razor wire between them. As the armored creatures approach, Whistler and Angel stepped apart and pull the wire taut. And like good brainless minions, the dimwitted, sword-wielding corpses ran straight into the wire, getting clotheslined by it, the razor wire promptly cutting off their heads.
Two of them charging at Alasdair were unprepared for what happened next—a flash of electric blue light erupting from the lantern that charred them both into a pile of ashes. Whipping the lantern around wildly, a well-timed swing from the old archmage decapitated the next corpse swinging his sword wildly at him.
The kind grandfatherly face on Alasdair melted into a seasoned, battle-hardened smile. The Terror of the Ley Line War of '78 was back. "Oh, I missed this."
Impressed by Alasdair's show of power, and satisfied that the archmage could take care of himself, Angel reached back into his coat and drew out his Irish Claymore broadsword. With reckless abandon, Angel and Whistler—who picked up one of the swords from the first dispatched demons—began hacking and slashing away at the next group of demons coming at them. Which, by Angel's count, had quickly reached a dozen of them.
As he spotted Whistler fighting ably, but without the use of his hidden powers, Angel called out, "Now would be a good time to bring out the big guns, wouldn't it?"
"Can't," Whistler said, grunting as he blocked a sword blow from another corpse. "These are the bodies of fallen warriors of light. Good guys. I'm forbidden by the PTBs to use my powers on what's essentially holy ground against another creature who served the light. Even if they are trying to hack my head off."
"How is that even remotely fair?" an annoyed Angel asked, slicing through the neck of another corpse.
"Hey, you got your ways, and the Big Guys have theirs, pal," Whistler replied as he decapitated his foe.
Swords clashed loudly in the otherwise silent Cotswolds' forest. Lethal blue light lit up the woods.
The numbers kept climbing. But that was fine, Angel mused as he blocked and parried one of the corpse's swings at him. He was hurting, angry and primed for a fight. And if he did get tired...well, he'd just imagine they were all Spike.
The battle raged on as Angel, Whistler and Alasdair Coames fought viciously against the oncoming warriors protecting the tree gateway. Within 10 minute, Angel and his allies were dominating the battle.
And Angel welcomed the violence. Every slash, every hack, every punch and crescent kick and vicious slash of the throat was cathartic to him.
Venting out his frustration. CLANG!
His anger. SHUK!
His failures with Buffy. POW!
With Connor. KA-POW!
With his own friends. WHAM!
Every mistake he had ever made over two hundred years and change, another hundred counting the time he spent in Hell once. BAM! BAM! CLANG! SMASH! POW!
After he finished cleaving his last attacker in two with a mighty swipe of his sword, the pieces falling to the ground to join the rest of its cohorts, Angel bellowed out to the sky, filled with rage, heartache, battle fury, piss and vinegar. The demon in him was dangerously ready to show its face.
"Is that all? Huh? C'mon! We haven't even started!" a furious Angel, blood caking his face, shouted defiantly to whoever was in there. Daring them to make another move. Wishing they would.
The Champion was ready to call down the thunder, the lightning and all of the heavens and hells itself on whatever dared to show its face next...
...when another flash of lightning illuminated the woods and a man suddenly appeared at the tree gateway.
A man whose scent Angel immediately recognized as familiar.
"I'd say that's enough," the man, cloaked in leather battle armor, said with some bemusement as he walked towards them.
Angel could barely believe his eyes. This was a man he knew. A man he considered a friend.
A man he hadn't seen in nearly a century.
"Drogyn." A surprised Angel's greeting was short, typical of him.
Drogyn warmly nodded his head, the handsome, rugged warrior reaching out his hand. "Angel."
Angel clasped it in a handshake, stunned that his old ally was here. "I haven't seen you since Lviv. 1944."
"The Lwów uprising," Drogyn nodded, his lips giving a faint smile towards his old ally. "I'd have never made it out of Poland alive were it not for you."
"You saved my tail back there, too," Angel shrugged. "Besides, those Nazis needed to get taught a lesson."
Whistler gave Drogyn a friendly wave. "Dro! Been a while! Good to see ya again."
Drogyn's smile faded, an annoyed look on his face. "Messenger," he greeted dismissively.
Off his chilly greeting, Whistler shrugged. "Yeesh. Well, good for one of us, anyway."
Angel eyed the door, then turned his gaze back to Drogyn. "You're the keeper of the well."
Drogyn nodded curtly. "Have been for decades."
Alasdair looked between the two men in confusion. "Um, Angel...introductions would be helpful, yes?"
Nodding, Angel looked to his allies. "Alasdair Coames? Meet Drogyn The Battlebrand. Immortal Warrior of light. And apparently, keeper of the Deeper Well."
Alasdair looked stunned. "This is Drogyn the Battlebrand? The warrior given eternal youth a thousand years ago? The Demonbane?"
Drogyn suddenly whirled on the old archmage, his dark eyes lit with fury. "Do not ask me a question." The eternal warrior got up close into Alasdair's face. "If you ever ask me a single question, I will kill you outright. Don't think for a moment that I can't."
Angel gave a shocked Alasdair a nod. "He can. He would."
Calming himself with one deep breath, Drogyn turned back to Angel. "You're here about Hope's Dagger."
Angel's reply was short. "Yes."
Drogyn gave his old friend a cautionary look. "Thousands have tried to retrieve it, Angel. Over countless millennia. Their souls are still wailing in suffering inside these walls. Are you certain this is the quest you want to take?"
Angel didn't even hesitate. "The end of time's looming, Drogyn. If this Hope's Dagger can help us fight the First Evil...not much of a choice."
Drogyn gave him a rueful smirk. "Same old Angel." He hesitated for a moment, as if to give Angel one last chance to reconsider. When he saw Angel's jaw set, an unshakable determination in his dark brown eyes, Drogyn sighed and then waved him in. "Walk in."
Alasdair still looked perplexed. "But how—?"
Drogyn angrily whirled back at the archmage. "I just said to you, not one moment ago, DON'T. Ask."
With that, Drogyn walked toward the tree.
Angel looked at Alasdair and gave him a shrug. "Seriously. He doesn't like questions."
"Why not?" Alasdair asked, perplexed.
As they began walking, Whistler offered the archmage a short explanation. "For starters...he can't lie."
Sunnydale, California-The Love-In, Local Strip Club, Seaford Avenue
11:53 p.m. - Nightfall
Days Before The End Of Days: 16
Even tiny little towns like Sunnydale weren't bereft of their dive bars and hangouts.
Enter "The Love-In."
A seedy strip bar for seedy people.
The booze was cheap, and the women fast. And every lowlife, creep and weirdo managed to find their way there nightly for their round of booze, babes and barroom fights.
The place reeked of spilled drinks and empty dreams. And tonight, the natives were restless, clamoring for another fresh piece of meat to walk on stage and entertain them.
"I am
doll eyes,
doll mouth,
doll legs
I am
doll arms,
big veins,
dog bait"
As the slow, raspy lyrics of Courtney Love from the band Hole began belting out "Doll Parts" through the bar, out stepped a black, pale beauty that was one of the best-looking women that had ever stepped in this joint. The wolf whistles and howls were loud, the dollar bills waving wildly…
...as Drusilla slowly strutted onto the stage, an indecipherable look on her face. A sleek black dress hugged every curve of her slim, yet curvy body. Slowly moving her body in a patient, torturous rhythm.
She could smell the dogs panting, drooling, saliva flowing, and she smiled, enjoying every minute of it.
"Yeah, they really want you
They really want you, they really do
Yeah, they really want you
They really want you, and I do too"
Running her slender fingers through her hair, Drusilla showed off each one of her long pale legs as she swayed and rocked her body to the music, playfully twirling around the stripper pole, sliding her hands up and down her tempting body. Putting on a show that the once-pious, Victorian girl she had been in London, England a lifetime ago would have been shocked and horrified to see. She had these fools eating out of the palm of her hand, and she knew it.
Enjoy, big boys, she thought wickedly. Big boys enjoying their naughty toys. Bedtime will come soon enough…
"I want to be the girl with the most cake
I love him so much it just turns to hate
I fake it so real, I am beyond fake
And someday, you will ache like I ache"
One of the patrons who had too much to drink clumsily made his way onto the stage.
"Yeah! Shake it, baby! Earn your money!" he slurred, awkwardly dancing along to the slow grunge song.
Waving off the angry bouncer who was approaching, Drusilla smiled coquettishly at the drunken fool. Drew him in like a Venus fly trap with every slow, rhythmic movement of her hips, every pout of her lips…
"Make a wish, my lamb," Drusilla smiled, her hips singing a pale siren's song.
Closing his eyes as Drusilla pressed up against his neck, burying her nose against his neck, the guy thought immediately that this was the best night of his life…
...until he saw her face pull back. Her true face.
Ridges, fangs and the yellowest eyes he had ever seen. Like an exploding sun.
"Time to blow out the candles," the insane vampire cooed, a toothy smile on her lips…
...right before she tore his throat right out, bringing his gurgling, struggling form closer as she drank from his open, bleeding throat like a hose.
Shocked and afraid, the other patrons and strippers backstage began to scatter towards the exits...only to be met with two twin bolts of hot green plasma that fried three men instantly. Two energy bolts that came from two people floating above them, a pale man and an equally pale woman.
Nash smiled with a predator's grin. "Ladies and gentle-meatbags, allow us to conclude tonight's entertainment."
Pearl flashed an evil smile, her eyes growing a deadly jade hue and her hands charged up with more lethal energy. "And your miserable lives."
The screams and cries of panic and fear from the doomed patrons and employees echoed through the small, flat building. They cried out for mercy...
Drusilla, Pearl and Nash showed they had none.
"And someday, you will ache like I ache
And someday, you will ache like I ache
And someday, you will ache like I ache
And someday, you will ache like I ache…"
To Be Continued…
NEXT: Angel prepares to face the deadly trials for Hope's Dagger. Will he survive?
Meanwhile, as all hell breaks loose in Sunnydale, Buffy prepares her friends to venture deep into the shadows of The First's lair. But death and danger awaits them, as well. And in the shadows, waiting to deliver both to Buffy...a man known only as…
...Caleb…
More to come soon!
Best,
Jean-The Guardian
