Email: JRR42@yahoo.com
Part: 15
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“Don’t think of it as mopping,” Cordelia called helpfully to Xander, who was busy cleaning up the remains of the female vampire they had captured only hours earlier. “Just think of it as a chance to brush up on valuable vocational skills.”
“You’re killing me, Cordy. And speaking of practical job skills, maybe you should worry. After all, there aren’t a lot of companies lining up for ex-May Queens.”
“At least I won’t have to practice asking ‘Do you want fries with that’...” she retorted from her chair at the long table in the center of the room.
“Enough!” Adam shouted, tired of the pair’s endless bickering. “I may be Immortal, but you two are giving me a headache.”
“Indeed,” Giles commiserated as he herded everyone to their usual places at the table. As they took their seats, the librarian began speaking in his most serious tone of voice. “It appears that we have, in fact, run out of time. With what we just learned from our...guest...”
“...before she fit into a Dirt Devil...” Xander interrupted, much to the Watcher’s displeasure.
“...whatever Eleni is planning will happen tonight.”
“What exactly did she tell you?” Adam inquired, having been out of the room for the better part of the interrogation.
By mutual agreement, the Immortal had agreed to let the Slayerettes question the vampire before Adam made his presence known. Even intoxicated, the female vampire had been less than helpful, until Giles broke out the Holy Water. Although they had no qualms about staking vampires, the teenagers were nevertheless more than a little squeamish about torturing one, despite her undead status. That was, except for Willow.
Normally somewhat hesitant by nature, even Giles was taken aback by the redhead’s ruthless determination to get any information their captive had known about about Angel’s whereabouts. When they were satisfied that they had gleaned everything they could from the vampire, it was a grim-faced Willow who marched out into the hallway to retrieve Adam, who had been patiently rereading Cassandra’s journal as he waited.
For the third time in just over twenty-four hours, they watched a vampire react to the presence of an Immortal. What they witnessed shocked them all to the core, even the jaded Adam. Only a few days ‘old’, the fledgling vampire had no real inkling on how to ease the torment she was experiencing. Adam did not even need to enter the caged storage locker before the recently-made creature began clawing viciously at her own face. Minutes passed as the Slayerettes stood mutely by while the vampire continued her pitiful self-mutilation.
Unable to watch any longer, Cordelia ran from the room, covering her mouth with her hand along the way. One by one, the remaining Slayerettes turned away from the grotesque sight, finding interesting things to stare at on the walls or the floor -- anywhere they wouldn’t have to see the horror of what was happening inside the cage. In the end, Adam was the sole witness as the female vampire accidentally nicked her own jugular vein. It took another minute or two for her to finally bleed out before collapsing into the pile of blood and dust Xander had just finished mopping.
“The...ah...vampire,” Giles began shakily, still rattled by the gruesome sight he had just witnessed. “She..ah...mentioned something about a ceremony taking place tonight at midnight.”
“In the meeting place,” Oz added thoughtfully. “Wherever that is.”
“No, that wasn’t what she said,” Willow recalled. “She said in the ‘chamber of meeting’.”
“Do you think she meant that big cavern near the Master’s old domain?” Giles inquired of Xander. The teenager had accompanied both Buffy and Angel underground on various occasions.
“You mean the Vampire Arena?” Xander asked in return.
“’Vampire Arena?’” Adam parroted.
“It’s what Buffy used to call it. It’s this huge...I don’t know how else to describe it...stadium, maybe? The ground kinda slopes upward to one side, and there’s this rock formation that kinda looks like a stage. The whole thing is at least as big as the school auditorium.”
“And how many does the school auditorium hold?” the Immortal asked the librarian for reference.
“Four hundred, seated. But there is additional standing room in the rear,” Giles clearly recalled from his assigned stint as director of Sunnydale High’s last talent show.
“Did she say anything else? Numbers? What the ceremony was for? What kind of security they were going to have?” Adam asked hopefully.
“Nah,” Oz answered before Giles could speak. “As vampires go, this one was pretty new.” The Immortal was about to question the kid’s assumption, but the nods of agreement the other teenagers gave belayed the comment. Since the group was much more familiar with vampires, Adam was willing to take their word on it.
“Well, that coincides with the estimate the barkeeper gave me.”
“Four...*hundred* vampires,” Giles whispered as all trace of colour drained from his face. Not surprisingly, the assembled teenagers quickly followed suit.
“Actually,” Adam hesitated, “more like five hundred, give or take.”
“Giving or taking how much?” Xander demanded nervously.
“Ah...giving. About fifty or so,” the Immortal admitted.
“Five hundred and fifty.” Giles’ eyes closed, almost as if in prayer.
“What, if anything, can be considered normal here in Sunnydale?” Adam asked the others.
Sparing a quick glance at the teenagers, the Watcher reluctantly answered.
“At any given time, there are usually somewhere between twenty and one hundred vampires here in town.”
“That’s it?” the Immortal questioned.
“Isn’t that enough?” Cordelia shot back defensively.
“What did Willy say about Angel?” Willow questioned, abruptly changing the subject. There was a no-nonsense edge to her voice, one that seemed to raise more than a few eyebrows among her friends. But, having seen a glimpse of this side of the young witch the previous evening, the Immortal was not overly surprised. Only hours ago, the frightened, almost hysterical girl who had burst into the library had vanished once they had confirmation of Angel’s disappearance. After that, the normally shy redhead had become all business. There was an air of determination exuding from her -- one that Adam doubted would fade until Angel was safely returned.
“As we suspected, Eleni does, indeed, have Angel,” Adam informed them. “Willy mentioned that a number of his customers were discussing tonight’s ceremony. Apparently, Eleni’s second-in-command came into the bar a few days ago, asking all sorts of questions about Angelus and his curse.”
“His curse?” Giles questioned on behalf of them all.
“That’s not even the best part,” Adam verbally baited. “From what Willy overheard tonight, that ceremony thing happening this evening is going to have an opening act of sorts.”
“Why am I suddenly *not* looking forward to hearing this?” Xander asked of the universe at large.
“Maybe you are actually smarter than you appear,” Adam snipped.
“Hey...” Xander complained indignantly.
“Apparently, this Eleni has taken a shine to your boy, Angel. She’s going to openly claim him as her consort in front of the entire assembly tonight, right after she relieves him of his soul.”
“In front of everyone?” Xander exclaimed. “I always knew that Angel was bizarro, and not just in an ‘undead creature that roams the night’ kinda way. But talk about your exhibitionist…”
“Wait a minute,” Cordelia pleaded. “What exactly does this mean? Does Eleni have Buffy or something?”
“Buffy? What does she have to do with…oh,” Adam was struggling to recall the information he had read earlier on Angel’s prior reversion to Angelus.
“Last time Angel did a one-eighty, it was because he and Buffy got pelvic, if you know what I mean,” Xander said with more than a trace of disgust.
“Are you saying that the loss of Angel’s soul is triggered by him...” Adam snorted in disbelief. Now he really wished that he’d read further into those diaries this morning.
“...yes, well,” Giles interrupted before Adam could say anything...inappropriate in front of the students. “In all actuality, Angel only needs to know a single instant of total contentment in order for the curse to be broken. Although it has already been established that Buffy was, indeed, capable of…well…uhm… that is, we have no concrete way of knowing whether or not another person may be able to provide Angel the…uhm…same…uhm…”
“Satisfaction?” Adam supplied helpfully.
“Wait a minute,” Willow exclaimed, a small measure of hope in her expression. “Angel told me once that Buffy wasn’t the first person he’d...ah...”
“Done the horizontal cha-cha with?” Oz offered.
“...yes, I mean, since he was cursed the first time. That was why he ah...uhm...”
“Oh for God’s sake! Just say it already! Had sex with!” Cordelia blurted impatiently.
“Okay. Right. If he had known what was going to happen, he never would have...slept with Buffy,” the redhead blushed.
“Oh please. He was always all over Buffy like white on rice!” Xander protested before wheeling around on his best friend. “And what were you doing talking about *sex* with Deadboy?”
“I...that is, we were just talking about his past...not that it’s any of your business.” Willow’s eyes narrowed defiantly.
Through the entire exchange, the Immortal was strangely silent, pondering over this new twist in an already complex problem.
“So,” Adam concluded. “Basically, we can’t be certain of whether or not Angel will lose his soul during the ceremony tonight. Perhaps, then, it would be better to focus attention on the larger issue: the prophecy.”
Willow appeared as if she was about to protest abandoning the topic of Angel so quickly. Seeing her reaction, Oz was quick to offer her some reassurance.
“Don’t worry, Will. We’ll get him back before anything can happen to him.”
At the teen’s words, Giles’ and Adam’s eyes met, sharing a look of doubt.
“We should begin by reviewing everything we know about the prophecy -- every detail, no matter inconsequential it may appear,” the librarian insisted.
“Hold up a second here. I don’t know about anybody else, but I’m still stuck on the 550 to 1 part of this picture. Is anybody else thinking ‘Custer’ right about now?”
“God, Xander,” Cordelia fumed. “We’re in serious trouble here, and all you can think about is food?”
Like the others, Xander stared intently at the dark-haired girl, attempting to make any kind of sense of her admonishment. It was Giles who figured it out first.
“*Custer*,” he emphasized in exasperation. “Not ‘custard’. General George *Custer*...oh, never mind,” the librarian conceded in disgust.
Xander opened his mouth to issue a retort, but ended up simply shaking his head in disbelief. “Oh no. *So* not even gonna go there.”
“Did you remember to ask Willy about the masks?” Oz asked Adam, clearly attempting to get the conversation back on track.
“Repeatedly,” Adam replied. “He swore that he hadn’t heard anything about any masks whatsoever.”
“And you believed him?” the young werewolf asked.
“Oh yes,” the Immortal reassured with a cold smile. “Willy wasn’t in any...condition to withhold information by that point.”
The teenagers all looked a tad queasy as their imaginations supplied mental pictures to accompany Adam’s none-too-subtle implication.
“Although Willy was procuring items for Eleni’s second-in-command, a mask wasn’t on the list.”
“What was?” Willow asked curiously.
“Quite a variety of things actually,” Adam recalled.
“Curtains, coffins, o-neg,” Xander supposed. “All the usual stuff vampires get from the Home Shopping Network.”
“Actually, that was something that surprised me. Given what you all said last night about the ‘food shortage’ here in Sunnydale, I fully expected blood to be among the items they requested.”
“It wasn’t?” Giles asked, surprised at the revelation.
“No. Willy was arranging delivery for things like fifty pounds of cloves, thirty pounds of saffron, fifty pounds of some kind of mangos, and two hundred narcissus plants,” Adam recounted, his brow furrowed in puzzlement.
“Sounds like they’re making the world’s largest air-freshener,” Oz joked.
“Those crazy kids,” Xander chided. “Some people will do anything to get into the Guiness Book of Records these days.”
“Including evoking a prophecy to create the largest army of vampires in recent history,” Giles reminded tartly.
“Cloves and narcissus? That sounds like it could be the ingredients for some kind of spell,” Willow thought aloud.
“Look into it Willow,” the Watcher ordered. “If you wouldn’t mind, Dr. Pierson, would you please take a closer look to see if Cassandra had anything additional to add? The rest of you should review everything we’ve found to date.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“So, have any of you found anything noteworthy?” Giles questioned an hour later. When no replies were forthcoming, the librarian first called upon Willow.
“Well, I found some references to some of the stuff, but nothing that combines any of them together,” she replied in frustration. “Cloves are pretty common in witchcraft. It’s like a core ingredient for a lot of different types of spells. But saffron is pretty unusual. The only time I found it was in this spell to hide acne.”
“Ooh!” Cordelia perked up excitedly. “Can I see that?”
“The only thing I couldn’t find in any of the books was a spell that called for mangos,” Willow concluded as she handed the book over to the other girl.
“What was the other thing mentioned?” Giles asked.
“Narcissus,” the red-head answered.
“Love spells, I’d venture,” Adam added thoughtfully.
“Not exactly love spells,” Willow corrected. “It’s mostly used in spells for adoration.”
“That would make sense, given the mythological origins of the flower,” the Immortal agreed.
“A boy who fell in love with his own reflection. Yes, that would seem to be accurate,” Giles audibly considered the old legend. Turning directly to Willow, the librarian offered the redhead encouragement. “Keep searching. Maybe something will turn up. Now, as for the rest of you?”
“Only the same old stuff,” Xander shook his head. “Prophecy of Legion...masks will overwhelm...yada, yada, yada.”
Cordelia and Oz nodded grimly, letting the Watcher know that they, too, had found nothing new to add.
“And you, Dr. Pierson?” Giles inquired discouragedly.
“It’s mostly the same. I did stumble across one additional reference, though, with a slight change in the wording.” Adam flipped through the pages until he settled upon the correct one. “‘Ahriman’s arrival shall be heralded by that of his army, led by two who mask evil with beauty.’ See? Nothing really different.”
“Oh my God,” Willow whispered, what little colour there normally was in her pale complexion draining away. “OhmyGod, ohmyGod, ohmyGod.”
“Will?” Oz asked out of concern.
“You okay, Will?” Xander repeated.
“Oh my God.”
“I believe we’ve covered that,” Adam joked weakly, curious as to what had brought forth this kind of reaction from the girl.
“Don’t you guys see?!?” Willow squeaked to five very confused faces. “We’ve been looking at this all wrong. Eleni already has the masks!”
“Yes,” Giles agreed, speaking solicitously to the redhead as if she were a child. “We have assumed that she most likely already has the masks in her possession.”
“Of course she does!” Willow exploded in frustration. “We all thought that the masks were something separate, but they’re not! ‘Led by two who mask evil with beauty’,” Willow quoted.
“Oh my God!” Giles’ reaction was identical to Willow’s just moments earlier, right down to his shocked, white face. “How could I have missed something so obvious?”
“Don’t worry, G-man,” Xander soothed. “Most of us still haven’t figured out...*just what in the hell you guys are talking about!*”
“The masks, Xander,” Giles began impatiently. “A vampire’s true appearance *is* what you all refer to as its ‘game face’.”
“But,” the dark-haired teenager sputtered, “I always thought it was the other way around. I mean, Angel only goes ‘grrr’ when he gets riled or pissed off.”
“That is because those are the times when he loses control of his ability to keep his human appearance in place,” the librarian explained. “In this case, the illusion of humanity could be interpreted as a mask.”
“So then what you are implying is that Eleni intends to augment her beauty with this spell, seducing -- if you will -- people en masse to be enslaved by her?” Adam surmised, putting the various pieces of the puzzle together.
“That would be one way of looking at it,” Giles agreed.
“Well, I guess it’s obvious why this psychobitch chose Angel to be her lovetoy,” Cordelia concluded.
“Oh?” Xander whirled, fixing his eyes on his girlfriend.
“If this vamp, Eleni, is as beautiful and as vain as everybody makes her out to be, she’s gonna want to be seen with the hottest vamp in town. And Angel definitely qualifies as an eleven on the yum-meter.”
“What is it with that guy!?! First Buffy, then Willow, and now you!!” Xander accused his girlfriend. “What? Does he put out pheromones or something?”
“C’mon, Xander,” Oz chided. “Even you have to admit that Angel is, and I’m not saying this in any kind of a gay way, *is* good looking.”
“You, my friend, are a *very* sick person,” Xander chided the werewolf.
“’Angelus,’” Giles quoted the Watcher Diaries from memory. “’The one with the angelic face.’ Of course!” As was normal, the librarian seemed to be thinking aloud. However, his train of thought seemed to turn a darker corner. “Dear God, if Eleni were to succeed in removing Angel’s soul...the implications...”
“Like one more vampire will make a difference in the grand scheme of things,” Adam muttered impatiently.
“You are mistaken,” Giles coldly informed the Immortal. “Angelus is no typical vampire. He is highly intelligent, cunning, compulsive, and exceedingly vicious. Worst of all, he will know our strengths and our weaknesses, and he will use that knowledge to his advantage. If Angelus were to head the Army of Legion, I doubt there would be anything we could do to be able to prevent them from taking over the world. ”
“And there you have it from the Voice of Doom, himself,” Xander scolded. “Way to fire-up the troops there, G-man.”
“Perhaps you would rather we don pom-poms and do a cheer right here in the library?” Giles snapped.
“Look, all I’m saying is that we shouldn’t forget how many times we kicked Deadboy’s ass the last time he turned to the Dark Side.”
“Nor should we forget the losses we so dearly suffered at Angelus’ hands,” Giles quickly retorted. With the exception of the Slayer herself, the Watcher had, by far, suffered the most during Angelus’ reign of terror. “This time, however, Angelus will not be as easily distracted by his cat-and-mouse games with Buffy. I dare say, had he not been so obsessed with her, our losses would have been far greater than what they were.”
“Guys! Guys!” Willow interceded smoothly. “You both are making really good points here, but shouldn’t we be focusing our attention on making sure that he doesn’t lose his soul again in the first place?”
Properly chastised, the two men mutually decided to let the matter drop. It was long since time for them to begin making their plans for the evening.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“’I say we take off and nuke the entire site form orbit -- it’s the only way to be sure’,” Xander quoted, drawing grim smiles from the three other teens gathered around the table. Seeing the lost expressions on the respective faces of the Immortal and the Watcher, he felt obligated to explain the reference. “Ripley? Aliens? Sci-fi/action? Movie? A talkie, even? Ringing any bells?”
“Sharp sword? Finely-honed blade?” Adam shot back with a surprising lack of malice. After ninety minutes, even the Immortal was feeling a little punchy. By that particular point in time, they had discussed so many ‘out there’ ideas, Xander’s latest almost seemed viable -- despite its questionable origins.
The simple truth was that they needed to reach a decision and, more importantly, they needed to do so quickly. Exhaustion and fatigue were rapidly becoming as great an enemy to those assembled as the Army of Legion itself.
Sweeping a surveying gaze around the table, Adam took careful note of the dark, purple circles that underscored everybody’s eyes. Xander’s hands were shaking, undoubtedly a result of the massive amounts of caffeine the kid had been consuming since entering the library hours earlier. Willow had steadily been excusing herself to go to the bathroom. Judging by the blush on her face each time she got up, the Immortal guessed that stress and exhaustion were playing havoc on her digestive system.
“Tell me again why we can’t just blow up the tunnels?” Cordelia whined, willing to go along with any plan that would allow her to get a few hours of sleep.
“We’ve already been over this,” Giles sighed, sifting through the myriad of papers on the table before him. Finally he found what he was searching for: a basic blueprint of the Sunnydale sewer system, compliments of the Town Department of Works and Willow’s hacking abilities. “The area in question rests directly under the hospital...”
“So what?” Cordelia said harshly. “Call in a bomb threat, pull the fire alarm, whatever, I don’t care. But let’s just do *something*!”
“What about Angel?” Willow protested for the umpteenth time. It had been the redhead’s standard response to almost any idea that involved a massive attack on the ceremony. Yet, short of hand-to-hand combat, not one of them, the Immortal included, was able to devise an assault that did not leave Angel in immediate peril.
Being the outsider at the table gave Adam the advantage of objectivity. For the group from Sunnydale, the goal for the evening was to stop the Prophecy of Legion tonight with the least amount of risk to themselves.
At least, that was *their* objective.
True to his nature, the Immortal was concealing a more mercenary goal: helping Duncan MacLeod at any cost short of Adam’s own head. Unfortunately, if that meant the injury or death of any of those he sat next to at the moment, he would simply force himself to accept it as collateral damage.
In all honesty, Adam seriously doubted the survival of most of the Sunnydale natives in any kind of direct assault on the ceremony, including the captured Angel. While such losses would be regrettable, Adam doubted he would lose much sleep over it.
In spite of his callous thoughts, the Immortal had no intentions of using any of these people as cannon-fodder. Truth be told, he honestly hoped that they would collectively come up with an idea that would spare as many of their lives as possible. However, in the Immortal’s not-so-humble opinion, sacrificing any of their lives to save Angel was an unacceptable risk. It was time to make Willow understand that fact.
“Willow,” Adam began softly, feeling genuine sympathy for her in light of what he was about to say. “We’ve been over this up, down and sideways, and there doesn’t seem to be any way to safely rescue Angel -- at least, not without risking serious damage to the rest of you.”
“But...there has to be *something*,” she protested wildly.
Up until then, the Slayerettes had closed ranks, not surprisingly since it was ‘one of their own’ in danger. Even Xander and Giles, the two people with the most reason to dislike Angel, were unwilling to seal the vampire’s fate until they were certain that all of their available options had been explored. But reality was a harsh thing, and Giles was beginning to see the futility of continuing to argue the matter.
“Willow,” the Watcher said, his face revealing his regret. “I think...I think we should consider what is at stake here. We are talking about the fate of the entire world...”
“And so that’s just too damned bad for Angel?”
All heads turned at the angry words that came not from Willow, but from the most unexpected source of all: Xander.
“Yeah,” Willow agreed, sending a grateful look in her oldest friend’s direction. “We’ve done this ‘biggest threat, end of the world’ thing before, and...well, not to sound cocky...well, okay maybe a little cocky...we’ve always kicked some serious demon booty.”
“Booty?” Xander questioned Willow’s choice of words.
“You know what I mean,” the petite redhead scolded.
“Yes, we have,” Giles agreed, only to bring the pair back down to earth with his next words. “But we’ve also never faced five hundred vampires at one time before, either. And without B...” the Watcher trailed off, afraid of demoralizing the teenagers by reminding them that they would also be fighting without the Slayer as well.
“So we don’t have Buffy,” Willow rallied. “Look at w-what we do h-have. We’ve got an Immortal, a Watcher, a witch, a werewolf, and a...a...”
“...a future plastic surgery candidate and a Zeppo,” Xander said in a tone that was the textbook definition of false bravado. However, soon enough, he seemed to be drawn in by his own enthusiasm. “I say we go and open a big old can of demon whup-ass on the Legion. War is hell, and gentleman... and ladies, we’ve got a war on our hands here. But we can take them on, one at a time, or all together. I say we have fun storming the castle, that we go out there and win one for the Zipper...”
“Gipper,” Giles corrected.
“Whatever. The point is...well...I’ve forgotten the point...but now that I have...I’m back to being very nervous, *very* mortal guy. What exactly were we talking about again?”
“We were attempting to decide which option would be the best approach to take,” Giles reminded, looking toward the Immortal for support
Adam, however, had at some point ceased paying attention to the conversation. His normally carefully- controlled face was, for a change, completely open for all to see. Instead of the distant, vaguely curious look that he so often wore, the Immortal’s expression was a mixture of deep thought, a great deal of calculation, and more than a hint of wonder.
“Dr. Pierson?” Willow inquired cautiously to no avail. “Dr. Pierson?”
“What?” Adam started. “I beg your pardon, what were you saying?”
“We were getting ready for another round of pointless argument,” Cordelia informed him disinterestedly.
“What again are the known ways to kill a vampire.” Adam’s voice was so distracted, it almost sounded distant. In a way, the Immortal was distant, in thought, anyway. His mind was occupied with the task of examining hundreds of variables, exploring each option as a rat ventures down corridor after corridor in a maze.
“Well, there’s staking, sunlight, fire, decapitation...” Giles recited.
“You should be pretty familiar with that,” Xander pointed out.
“You forgot massive blood loss,” Willow added. “And crosses and holy water will hurt them.”
As if suddenly coming to life, Adam’s hand shot out to grab the sewer plans that had been resting directly in front of Giles. Grossly absorbed in the schematics, the Immortal ignored the silent, questioning looks and helpless shoulder shrugs the Slayerettes were exchanging over his actions. Finally, Adam allowed himself a calculating smile.
“Willow,” he called. “Would you mind looking up some information on the computer?”
“No...I mean, yes, sure,” the redhead answered, already up and moving. “What do you want me to look for?”
“I need you to get a list of the heavy vehicles Sunnydale has in its Town Works Department. I’ll also need to know the location of the motor pool for those vehicles. Also, see if you can put together a list of all the food manufacturers within a two hour radius of Sunnydale. Do you have all that?” he asked, satisfied when she nodded in agreement.
“Giles,” Adam had taken up the teenagers’ habit of addressing the librarian by his surname. “I’ll need a list of all fire stations in town along with their locations. Xander? Would you mind showing me what weapons you have available? And Cordelia? Do you think you can find a phone book around here somewhere? Oz? Maybe you can go for some food? I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m starving.”
“I don’t suppose you’d mind sharing whatever all this is leading up to?” Xander questioned.
“It may be nothing,” Adam answered honestly. “Let’s just wait a bit and then I’ll be happy to tell you.”
As they all set to their appointed tasks, Cordelia and Oz headed for the library doors.
“Geez, he gets one lousy idea and suddenly he’s ordering all of us around like some kind of Simon LeBon.”
“Legree,” Oz corrected.
“*What*ever.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Even in the cold, dark recesses of the sewers, Angel sensed the sunrise when it came -- hours ago. Half-mad with a thirst more powerful than any he had ever known, the time crawled by painfully slowly. He was still chained to the bed where Eleni had left him hours ago. After the short feeding from the vampiress minion, they had left him completely alone, with only his hunger and his thoughts to keep him company. While the blood he had been given kept Angel from certain death, it was nowhere near the amount he needed to regain even a small measure of his previous strength.
Around the same time that Adam Pierson was concocting his plan across town, Angel’s solitude was finally broken.
“Buenos dias, Bellisimo,” Eleni chirped cheerfully as she swept regally into the cramped room. “A good day, is it not?”
Angel could do nothing but stare aghast at the vampiress. Even as a vampire, he couldn’t comprehend how she was able to completely ignore the fact that he was covered in a crusted, dried up layer of blood. Angel had given up on trying to prevent further injury to his wrists. The effort required to keep his arms raised slightly above the flesh-tearing edges of his manacles was simply too much for him after a while. For the past few hours, the sharpened edge of the cuffs had rested solidly against bone. Not that it mattered much, for Angel had, mercifully, lost feeling in both of his arms long before the sun rose. The only good thing about the situation was that the intruding metal helped staunch the bleeding of his wounds.
“What’s so good about it?” Angel snarled, or tried to, anyway. His throat was so dry that the words were barely discernable amidst his painful coughing fit.
“Oh, come now, Bellisimo,” Eleni chided. Perhaps there was some pity left in her unbeating heart, since she reached for the abandoned cup on the dresser and dipped it into the basin of nearby blood. Bringing the cup to Angel’s lips, she continued speaking. “By the end of the night, we will unleash the Prophecy of Legion upon the world. You and I together, leading the army that will subdue everything in our path. You will have everything you have ever wanted, power, the adoration of all you encounter, and you will be mine.” As she said the last part, Eleni’s free hand traced along the muscled plane of her captive’s chest.
If he had possessed the strength, Angel would have rolled his eyes. Just what the world needed, another megalomaniac vampire, he thought to himself. Relaxing slightly, he ceded some of his remaining control over his demon.
“Please...more,” he pleaded.
“More of what?” Eleni asked, her voice dropping to a husky, seductive tone. To emphasize her question, the vampiress’ hand grew bolder in its exploration of Angel’s flesh.
“Whatever you want most,” Angel responded, using as much of his considerable charm as he could muster under the circumstances.
Charm alone, however, was not enough for Eleni. As much as she enjoyed seeing the handsome vampire at her not-so-tender mercy, it was obvious that she found Angel distasteful in his present state. Wrinkling her nose in a very human way, the vampiress yanked her hand away from Angel’s chest. In a dismissive gesture, she patted her captive’s cheek before turning and stalking back to the door.
“Tonight, Bellisimo. Tonight I shall give you pleasures beyond any you have ever dreamed. But first, there is much I must attend to for the ceremony.”
With that said, Eleni puckered her lips, sending an airy kiss in Angel’s direction, before closing the door behind her. Her second-in-command, Tonio, awaited her in the corridor.
“He may be beautiful to look at,” she said sharply in Spanish, “but right now he smells like a pig. Give him another cup or two of blood, and change the shackles. And you’d better find a shirt for tonight that will cover the marks on his wrists. If he is to be seen with me, his appearance must not be less than perfect. Choose three of my people to attend to him before the ceremony, and make sure they are all men. I will not tolerate any of these ignorant American women touching that which is mine.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
Eleni moved away quickly. She still had a lot to do before she took over the world later that night.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bit by bit, the elements of Adam’s plan began to come together. Only then did the Immortal disclose to the others what exactly he had in mind.
“Are you completely insane?” Giles hissed as the teenagers exited the library. Using what he knew about his newfound allies, Adam would be calling upon each of them to assist in various stages of the preparations for his overall plan. As it happened, Giles was to help with this particular part of the logistics. However, knowing that they would all need as much rest as they could manage, Adam had sent the teenagers to Willow’s house to try and get some sleep.
“I’ve been accused of being many things in my life. Insane is just one of the more flattering descriptions,” the Immortal answered with his patented brand of wry humor.
“What you are planning is completely reckless, reprehensible, and you are needlessly risking the lives and safety of these children…”
“Reckless? Reprehensible? You think I *want* to see anything happen to those kids?” Adam chastised. At least Giles had the good grace to look sheepish at the rebuke. “Correct me if I’ve been mistaken, but I thought we all were after the same thing: to stop the Legion Prophecy. *That* is what this plan is supposed to do, with as little risk to you, those kids, me, and believe it or not…Angel as well.”
“I know that,” Giles whispered with heartfelt conviction. “But this plan of yours…so many variables…so many things out of your control…too many things that could go wrong.”
“I know,” Adam said with honest sympathy. It wasn’t, by far, the best scheme he’d ever come up with, but for the moment, it was the best one they had. “If anybody had another…safer…alternative, I’d be more than willing to work with it. However, since that isn’t the case, it may be best to stick with what we’ve got.”
Realizing that Adam had a point, Giles sighed deeply as the Immortal gestured for the Watcher to lead the way to the door. The librarian complied, doing his best to conceal his fretting the entire way.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was just past noon by the time Adam and Giles let themselves into the Rosenburg house. The teens were scattered throughout the house, taking advantage of the beds that were usually unavailable to them during their long hours at the High School library.
“There’s a note here,” Adam commented, reaching for the yellow legal pad propped up on the living room coffee table. “It’s from Willow. She says you are to use the bed in her parents’ room – second door on the right,” he added.
“So what’s next?” Giles asked around a mouth-stretching yawn.
“According to the schedule Willow pulled off the computer, the first City Works truck is scheduled to finish up on the highway project at 12:45. The second will leave the depot at 2:00.”
“That would be Cordelia, then, wouldn’t it?” Giles recalled sleepily.
“Yes,” the Immortal confirmed, looking back at the pad in his hand to discern the location of the girl in question.
“Are you sure it’s wise to do this during the day?”
“It’s much less risky than trying to steal them from a motor pool lot that’s bound to be guarded,” Adam reminded.
“Point taken,” the Watcher yawned again as the two Brits made their way up the stairs. “And the police?”
“Both trucks aren’t expected back until six o’clock tonight. We just have to keep them out of sight for two hours. By then, the police will be so busy, they won’t have time to look for two City Works trucks,” the Immortal promised.
“Indeed.”
“You’ve done your part for the time being. Why don’t you just get some sleep?” Adam asked the librarian, who simply nodded a farewell before closing the door behind him.
Quietly as a mouse, Adam opened the first door on the left. Looking at the ceiling for some kind of divine patience, he wondered how in the hell he was going to wake Cordelia without disturbing Xander, when the two were sleeping on the bed entangled together like a pretzel.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Are you sure you can handle this?” Adam asked a short time later. “This should be good. Pull over here,” he indicated.
“Been here, done this,” Cordy answered with a gratuitous roll of her eyes. Pulling over to the shoulder of the two-lane highway, she brought the car to a stop and eased the gear shift into park. Adam was already out of the vehicle by the time the teen popped the hood, griping all the while. “God, I hope nobody I know recognizes me. It’s bad enough that my popularity stock has taken a nosedive from dating Xander, but this…”
“The whole point of you being dressed up like this *is* so nobody will recognize you,” the Immortal reminded. In all actuality, he doubted that anyone would associate Cordelia Chase with the…tart…in the driver’s seat.
To be on the safe side, Adam had used one of his other fake identities to rent a different car in the next town down the road. While the police would have little luck tracking down the ‘Benjamin Carter’ who had rented the car, they would probably have an easier time tracing a hometown girl – especially one as pretty as Cordelia.
The girl who stepped out of the Ford Taurus looked nothing like Sunnydale High’s last May Queen. Decked out in the platinum blond wig and big sunglasses Giles had ‘borrowed’ from the costume box of the school’s drama club, the heavily applied makeup and barely-there clothing successfully completed the disguise.
Grimacing in distaste, Cordelia hiked her already mini-skirt up to a point that would have gotten her publicly flogged not too many years ago, Adam thought to himself. Even in the current day and age, there still was a good chance that Cordelia could get herself arrested for indecent exposure. Hopefully, the police would not avail themselves of this tiny scrap of highway in the few minutes it would take to complete this phase of their preparations.
“There it is!” Adam exclaimed as the top of the truck broke over the edge of the not too distant hill.
“Go!” Cordelia ordered, never taking her eyes off the slow-moving heavy vehicle.
Moving stealthily, the Immortal gave the girl a confident smile before cutting through the flowerbeds of yet another state-funded highway beautification project. Taking cover in the brush just past the wildflowers, Adam waited.
“Come on already!” Cordelia hissed as she leaned over to peer under the hood of the car. Long minutes passed until finally, the pump truck was close enough for the brunette to see miniature rainbows as the sunlight refracted off the non-potable water being sprayed over the flowers on the side of the road. Righting herself, the teenager turned around as if just noticing the approach of the oncoming truck. Waving her arms frantically, she signaled her ‘distress’ to the driver of the heavy vehicle. After a heart-stopping moment, the truck slowed to a stop.
“Having problems, there, missy?” The driver’s words were half-obscured by the harsh, creaking groan of metal as he opened the truck’s door. The driver – Aaron, by the patch on his county-issue uniform shirt – appeared to be in his mid-thirties. Sweat-soaked in the heat of the Californian afternoon, Aaron’s shoulder length, dirty-blond hair hung down limply.
“Oh, thank God you stopped! I’m all alone out here, and this stupid thing just died on me,” Cordelia gushed, gesturing at the propped hood of the rental car. “I didn’t know what I was gonna do!”
‘Careful kid,’ Adam cautioned mentally. ‘Don’t lay it on too thick.’
“What seems to be the problem?” the driver asked helpfully. Although his words were kind, there was no mistaking the leer he shot at the scantily dressed girl.
“I’m not sure,” Cordelia fumed. “I was just driving along, and the stupid thing just stopped going.”
“Did it make any noises or anything? Or smoke, maybe?”
“No, nothing,” Cordelia insisted.
“Well,” he asked, taking an unnecessary step into the teenager’s personal space in order to get closer to the car, “let’s take a look, okay?”
“Okay,” she replied, forcing herself *not* to give in to her instinct to back away from the sweating, leering man.
Occupied with poking around the engine, Aaron never noticed the Immortal slipping up behind him with stealth that would have rivaled a vampire’s. To her credit, Cordelia did nothing to betray Adam’s approach. In fact, she distracted him further by pointing deep within the bowels of the engine to ask the name of a specific part.
Two seconds later, Aaron slumped to the ground, unconscious from a blow to the head from the butt of Adam’s gun.
“Geez,” Cordelia complained. “Took you long enough.”
“And it’s going to take longer if you don’t give me a hand here,” he retorted as he struggled to heft Aaron towards the trunk of the rental. “Grab his feet. No, other side – we need to keep him out of sight in case any cars happen by.”
“Yeah, right. Out here in the middle of nowhere? We’ll have a better chance of seeing a horse-drawn carriage than another car.”
The Immortal was wise enough to recognize that Cordelia’s sarcasm came more from leftover adrenaline and nervousness than from actual malice.
“On three,” Adam suggested as they prepared to heft their burden into the trunk. “One…two…and threeeeee.” The body landed with a muffled ‘thud’.
“God, why are they always so *heavy*?” Cordelia sulked. Despite himself, Adam ended up snorting in laughter.
“You know, I always end up asking myself the same thing.” Slamming the trunk closed, the Immortal once more turned his attentions on the girl assisting him. “You did a good job,” he said honestly.
Expecting some dry, bitchy retort, Adam was taken aback by the teenager’s demure ‘thanks’. Suddenly, he suspected that the girl wasn’t often thanked for her participation in the fight against evil. Then, with no small amount of discomfort, he recalled how quickly he himself had dismissed her as the weakest link in the Sunnydale group’s ‘chain’. It wasn’t often that he underestimated someone, and much to Cordelia’s delight, he told her so.
The May Queen was fairly glowing from the Immortal’s words of praise when she drove off toward the abandoned warehouse where they planned to store the heavy-vehicle until they needed it later that night.
As he slid behind the wheel of the heavy-truck, the Immortal allowed himself a calculating smile. With her self-confidence bolstered by his comments, Cordelia would definitely be a force to be reckoned with tonight. Just as he had planned.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
With both trucks hidden in the warehouse, the drivers locked safely away with the bartender in Willy’s walk-in refrigerator, and Cordelia returned – makeup free – to the Rosenburg house, Willow, Oz and Xander were called to step up to the plate. Using both of Adam’s rental cars, the two boys led the way to Sunnydale’s Fire Station Number 1.
From their vantage point on a rooftop across the street, the three men passed the pair of binoculars back and forth as they scoped out the situation.
“I still don’t like this. I mean what if there’s a real fire? What if somebody gets hurt because we…” Xander protested.
“One – there *is* going to be a real fire. Two -- if we don’t have that equipment, *we’re* going to be the ones to get hurt. Any questions?” Adam reminded, never taking his gaze from the wooden ‘tower’, which the rookie firemen used to conduct practice drills. The tower was little more than unfinished wood sturdily constructed into four flights of wrap-around stairs, but it was not the structure itself that interested the Immortal.
“There,” he pointed, handing the binoculars off to Oz. “See the hoses? We’ll need both of them. I suggest that you two work together moving both of them. Fire hoses are deceptively heavy. See that parking lot over there? Your best bet is to wait there, then drive in once I give you the all clear sign.”
“Can you handle the rest by yourself?” Oz inquired.
“If I’m not done by the time you get the hoses in the trunk, one of you should come in to help me while the other takes the Taurus back to the warehouse.”
“You take the Taurus, I’ll help Hannibal here,” Xander addressed Oz.
“Hannibal?” Adam questioned, wondering if the dark-haired teen knew the whole story of the ancient general.
“Yeah, you know, like the leader of the A-Team?”
“The A-Team,” the Immortal repeated, his voice flat in disbelief. Closing his eyes slowly in disbelief, Adam shook his head, wondering if the gene pool was starting to get a bit shallow again after all these centuries. Stifling a sigh, the Immortal reached for his cellphone, dialing a number recently committed to his memory.
“Hello,” Willow answered at the other end of the line. It had taken the combined efforts of Xander, Giles, and Adam to persuade Cordelia to relinquish her mobile phone to the redhead, for even just a few hours.
“You ready?” Adam asked the witch.
“Whenever you are,” she said, but Adam could hear the slight tremble in her voice. Softening his tone slightly, he spoke gently to reassure her. “You’re going to do fine, Willow. Just remember, the faster we get this done, the faster we can go after Angel.”
There was a slight pause before the girl responded. This time the Immortal could almost hear her smiling. “You’ve studied psychology before, haven’t you?”
“Kind of transparent, was I?” Adam grinned.
“Just a bit,” Willow laughed. But the tension of the moment was broken.
“But the important thing is: did it work?” Adam asked honestly.
“Yes.”
“Good to know there are some things I haven’t forgotten,” he jested. “Ten minutes.”
“Ten minutes, starting…now,” Willow confirmed.
Nodding at the two teenagers physically with him, all three men checked their watches. Adam hit the off button as they all headed for their respective cars.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dressed in the same blond wig that Cordy had worn earlier, Willow kept her head down as she slipped through the crowds. Her clothing, a non-descript outfit of blue jeans, an oversized chambray shirt, and a denim jacket, helped her to remain just another person in the throng of people doing a little weekend shopping. Timing her movements carefully, she did her best to remain unseen when she headed down one of the little-used access corridors of the Sunnydale mall. As she walked, she removed a pair of plastic hospital gloves from her pocket and surreptitiously donned them.
Keeping an eye out for any stray mall employees that might be wandering around, Willow kept walking until she reached one of the dumpsters provided for the various chain stores to dispose of their garbage. Fortuitously, this one was filled to overflowing with flattened, discarded cardboard boxes. Smiling at her luck, Willow reached into the pocket of the jacket and withdrew a smoke-bomb. With a quick prayer that she not get caught, perennial good girl Willow Rosenburg released the trigger mechanism and threw the bomb into the dumpster. Turning to the wall, she took a deep breath and pulled the bright red handle of the nearby fire alarm. Because it was a public location, the fire station Adam, Oz, and Xander were watching would automatically be dispatched to respond to the call.
As she ran down the increasingly smoke-filled corridor, Willow tried not to think about the fact that, for the first time in her life, she had just committed a felony.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Seven?” Xander asked back at the warehouse a short time later. They were sorting through the equipment they had just stolen while they waited for Willow. “Pretty smart thinking, grabbing an extra one just in case.”
“Actually, that’s not an extra,” Adam admitted. “It’s for Angel.” ‘In case he survives the initial assault,’ the Immortal added mentally.
“Hey guys, did it work?” Willow asked excitedly as she entered the dilapidated building. Scratching along her hairline, she finally gave up and pulled the wig from atop her head. “God, this *itches*.”
“Mission accomplished,” Oz assured, accompanied by Xander humming the theme from ‘Mission: Impossible.”
“Did you get what I asked for?” Adam inquired of Willow.
“Yes, it’s all out in my mom’s car. And before you ask, I went to the Old Navy store before I headed over to the mall. And I paid in cash, like you told me to.”
“Good,” the Immortal said simply before turning back to his work.
“So what’s next?” Willow questioned a short time later. Adam suspected that she was just making conversation, since she probably already had the entire plan memorized.
“Willow, you head back to the house, get another hour or two of sleep if you can. Since it’s your house, would you mind arranging a meal for everybody around seven? Let the others sleep while you handle dinner. And make it something filling, but not too heavy on the stomach,” the Immortal instructed. The last thing he wanted was for the teenagers to be lethargic after a huge meal. Turning his attention to the two boys, he spoke to them. “This truck is almost empty. Oz, you said you had experience driving something like this, right? Good. There’s an open storm drain about halfway down the block. Put on those two City Works shirts and take the truck outside. Pump the extra water into the sewer – and make sure the tank is *completely* empty. When you’re done, head back home for some rest. The next part of this is all up to me. Barring any problems, I should be back in about two and a half hours.” With a heavy sigh, the Immortal headed for the door.
“May the force be with you,” Xander called.
Adam nodded in acknowledgement. At this point, he would take any help he could get.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
St. Michael’s Catholic Church was completely still as Adam entered. Then again, he reasoned, with no small amount of amusement, churches were usually quiet. For a man who didn’t believe in any type of higher power, Adam certainly spent a great deal of time on Holy Ground. It was part and parcel of his life as an Immortal.
Moving over to a vestibule, Adam occupied himself by lighting a candle while he took a minute to scope out the church. Feeling sentimental, he offered a small prayer for the safety of Duncan MacLeod and Joe Dawson. After all, he might as well cover all his bets, just in case something out there *was* actually listening.
Moments later, a woman emerged from behind the curtain of a confessional. Keeping her head down, she slid into a nearby pew and began to pray. At present, she was the only other person visible in the church.
Seizing the opportunity, Adam made his way across the church and slipped into the darkened booth.
‘Catholics,’ Adam groused to himself as he sat down on the uncomfortable wooden seat. ‘Always going overboard on the concept of penance.’
“Yes, my son?”
‘What?’ Adam thought, startled out of his musings. ‘Oh, right. Catholic. Let’s see if I can remember how this goes.’
“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” Adam said out loud. ‘Oh, how I have sinned,’ he thought to himself. “It’s been about…a hundred years…since my last confession.”
“Surely it hasn’t been as long as all that for a young man like yourself,” the old priest chuckled, catching a blurred view of the ‘younger’ man through the intricate carvings of the wooden screen that divided the confessional.
“Oh, you might be surprised how old a person can feel, Father,” the Immortal smiled.
“What sins have you to confess, my son?”
“Actually, I’m not here to confess, Father,” he admitted.
“Oh?”
“Actually, I need your help, Father,” Adam requested.
“And what kind of help might that be, my son?” The priest’s voice was full of caution, along with more than a hint of curiosity.
“It’s nothing illegal, or even immoral,” Adam assured. “It’s just…unusual, and terribly important.”
“Important,” the priest reiterated. “How so?”
There was a moment’s pause as Adam calculated just how much he should reveal. Finally, he reached his conclusion.
“How long have you been in Sunnydale, Father?”
“Well, I was sent to St. Michael’s seven years ago.”
“So then you’ve been here for awhile,” the Immortal prompted.
“I guess you could say that,” the priest agreed.
“Long enough for you to…notice…some of the strange things that happen in this town?”
“Strange? I’m…not…sure I know what you mean,” the Father answered with obvious reservation.
“Oh, come now, as a man of the cloth, surely you must be aware that Sunnydale isn’t like other places,” Adam gently accused. “A lot of people seem to die around here, don’t they? But they don’t seem to stay down for long, do they? And they certainly don’t seem to have much appreciation for the church, or the cross, either.”
“I…see…”
“Don’t worry, Father,” Adam reassured, “what I’m asking you isn’t dangerous and it won’t get you in trouble with any…higher authorities. And you’ll be helping in the fight against a great evil.”
“I…I’m…”
“Please, Father,” the Immortal’s tone was almost pleading. “We need your assistance. I’ll even make a donation to your new Bible fund if that will help.” ‘Hell, I’ll even autograph them for you,’ he added to himself sardonically.
“What exactly is it that you would want me to do?” the priest asked reluctantly.
‘Gotcha!’ Adam thought.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Twenty minutes after swapping the trucks back at the warehouse, Adam Pierson found himself heading all the way to the very outskirts of Sunnydale in the vehicle who’s tank Oz and Xander had recently drained. Thanks to a detailed set of directions thoughtfully provided by Willow, the Immortal had no trouble in finding his last destination of the afternoon: The Goodtaste Snack Cakes factory.
It was ironic that the key to defeating the Legion would be found at this plant; one that made over twenty percent of all the Moon Pies and Sno Balls sold in the State of California. In all actuality, there were several other food manufacturers that would have been more convenient for the Immortal location-wise, but the Goodtaste site had one unique advantage over the other production plants being considered: it was completely shut down on Sundays.
‘God bless religious, family-run businesses,’ Adam chortled to himself. Nevertheless, he still had work to do.
Even though the factory production line was closed, it did not necessarily mean the place would be totally deserted. According to the phone call he received from Willow a half an hour ago, Adam could expect to encounter at least two security guards, as well as some guard dogs.
As he drove past the main entrance, the Immortal allowed his thoughts to drift to the red-headed teenager. She was a spitfire -- he would certainly give her that. Restless and unable to sleep when she returned home from her adventure in the mall, Willow had occupied herself by tracking down as much information as she could find on the Goodtaste company via her computer. Using payroll records, she’d been able to estimate just how many guards would be on hand, and the emergency fire-contingency plans the company was required to file with the county provided the exact location of the site. The girl was good. If he decided to attempt world domination again in the next thirty years or so, Adam would definitely want to have her on his team.
Turning the truck off onto a service road, the Immortal forced his thoughts back to the matter at hand. Given the layout of the place, Adam decided to park the truck, go in on foot, and take out the guards and dogs first before anyone had an opportunity to call the police. Of course, killing the guards outright would have be the easiest way to go. However, with all the illegal activities they had undertaken that day, the odds that the bodies could potentially be traced back to either himself or the kids were too great for Adam to risk it. No, it was going to have to be done the hard way.
Stifling a sigh, the Immortal opened the door and exited the cab of the truck. After all, the quicker he got this part out of the way, the more time he would have to nap before the fun *really* began later that night.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Wake up!”
Despite the harsh growl and the even harsher slap to his face, Angel did not respond to his captor’s prodding. Blood loss and sheer exhaustion had taken their toll on the vampire with a soul, sending him into the merciful void of unconsciousness earlier in the afternoon.
“Wake up you…”
“Tonio!” Eleni glowered at her second-in-command. The male vampire started, surprised by her unexpected appearance.
“Mistress, I…” he began, desperately attempting to find some way of explaining his actions.
“Silence!” Eleni’s tone brooked no argument. “I sent you here to get Angelus prepared for the evening’s events, not to beat upon him like an undeserving fledgling.”
“Forgive me, Mistress. I…”
“Just go, Tonio,” she said brusquely. Her next words, however, were purposely tempered. Raising her hand to his face, Eleni gently caressed the cheek of her longtime companion. “This is no task for you, not when there are so many important things left to be done. I need you; I need you to oversee the final preparations in the Chamber of Meeting. I do not trust these…local fools, not like I trust you, my dear friend. Go now, keep an eye on everything. Our triumph is upon us, and we must leave nothing to chance. Give me a moment before you send in the others.”
“I will see to it, Mistress,” Tonio promised solemnly. Bowing with all the grace of the courtier he had been in life, the Spaniard exited the room.
Ignoring her minion’s departure, Eleni’s focus her attention on the prone figure chained to the blood-soaked mattress. It was such a shame he had attempted to defy her, she thought, leaning forward to run her fingers through her captive’s hair. Once purposely unkempt, the dark strands were now matted with grime and blood. Yet, even now -- battered, bleeding, and unconscious -- Eleni was still captivated by his dark beauty.
Leaning forward, the Spanish vampiress pressed her mouth to Angel’s, ignoring his unresponsiveness as she attempted to kiss him back to consciousness. Long moments passed as her lips hungrily pressed against those of her captive. When there was again no reaction whatsoever from her prisoner, Eleni used her tongue to trace the outline of Angel’s lax lips.
At the sound of the heavy door squeaking open, the vampiress sighed loudly and pulled away from the prone figure of her future consort.
“Perhaps it is just as well that you remain unconscious, Bellisimo,” she said softly before turning to the three male vampires that hovered in the doorway. In her normal authoritarian tone, she addressed her minions. “See to it that he is properly bathed and dressed. If I am unsatisfied with your work, you will meet the sunrise, si? You may use that hook in the ceiling to secure his chains, but do *not*, under any circumstances, remove the shackles.”
“Mistress?” One of the men questioned quietly.
“What?” Eleni retorted impatiently.
“Your...a...man...Tonio?...”
“Well? What about Tonio?”
“He...a...that is to say...he...”
“He what?” Eleni fumed with impatience.
“He...ah...didn’t give us any clothing to dress this guy in,” one of the other vampires chimed.
“No matter,” she answered smoothly. “I will have somebody return with something...suitable.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“Now do your work! Remember, Angelus must be as close to perfect as possible...remember what I said about the sunrise.”
And with that last threat, Eleni swept out the doorway.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was half past seven when Adam finally returned to the Rosenburg house. The Immortal was not surprised to find that the assembled group was already clearing away the remains of their dinner when he arrived. Fortunately for Adam, Willow had set aside some food for him as well. It was only chicken soup and sandwiches, but it would be filling and light on the stomach -- just as the Immortal had requested.
“There you are!” Willow exclaimed in obvious relief. “We were just getting ready to call you to make sure you were okay. I made up a plate for you, and there’s more in the kitchen if you’re still hungry. Would you like some soup, too?”
For some inexplicable reason, the Immortal felt a wave of emotion rise up from deep within himself. Underneath all her nervous babbling, it was clear that Willow and -- judging by the expressions on their faces -- everyone else had been truly worried about him. It was painful to admit, even to himself, but it had been quite a while since anybody, Joe Dawson excluded, had shown any amount of concern over Adam’s well-being. In fact, the last person who had truly given a damn about him was Duncan MacLeod.
Whatever emotion Adam felt abruptly ended the moment he thought about the wayward Highlander. It was inevitable, but any recollection Adam had of the Scot ended with a mental picture of MacLeod’s descent into madness, courtesy of the demon, Ahriman. Battling back the bitter memories, the Immortal was, once again, all business.
“Soup would be good,” Adam said curtly once he realized that redhead was standing there with a stack of dirty dishes in her hands while she awaited his response to her question.
“Are you all right?” Willow asked. She spoke softly, not wanting to be overheard by the others as they went about clearing the table.
“I’ll be fine,” Adam reassured, giving the girl a small smile for her concern.
“Hey, Willow?”
The Immortal turned at the sound of the unfamiliar voice. He found the source, a blond-haired, teen-aged girl, coming down the stairs from the second floor of the house. Adam searched his memory, but could not recall seeing her before that particular moment.
“Hey, Amy, you hungry?” Willow inquired.
“Nah, I ate before you called. Listen, I’ve got everything set up and ready to go,” the blond spoke, gesturing towards the stairs.
“I’m sorry,” Adam interrupted, his curiosity getting the better of him. “I don’t think we’ve met.”
“Oh! My bad,” Willow intervened. “Dr. Pierson, this is Amy Madison. Amy...Dr.Pierson.”
The two exchanged wary nods before Amy shied away from the Immortal’s intense scrutiny. Without any further comment, the girl followed Willow into the kitchen, leaving Adam alone in the dining room with Giles.
“Okay, I’ll give,” Adam sighed as he took a seat at the table. “Who is she and what is she doing here?”
“Her name is Amy Madison,” Giles supplied, watching the Immortal as he dug into his meal. “She attends Sunnydale High School and, like Willow, she is a...student of witchcraft.”
“Isn’t there *anybody* in this town that’s normal?” Adam muttered around a mouthful of sandwich.
“I can see how one might get that impression,” the Watcher chortled.
“So, will she be joining us later?” Adam frowned, uncertain how the second witch would fit into his overall strategy for the night.
“Not exactly,” the librarian answered.
“I don’t follow you,” the Immortal stated, confused by Giles’ words.
“Although Amy has been...of assistance to us from time to time, she rarely becomes directly involved in our... activities,” he explained, unaware that Adam was beginning to recall reading about some of the groups interactions with the girl from Giles’ diary. “You see, Amy, like Willow, is still learning the craft at this stage.”
“Are you trying to tell me that Willow is just a *novice* at this? After what she did in the library?” Adam was truly surprised by the Watcher’s revelation. Based on what he had witnessed with his own eyes, he had assumed that Willow was much more...adept...than she apparently was. Concealing his reaction behind a blank expression, he listened as Giles continued to speak.
“Well...actually? Yes. Although Willow may, in fact, have a great amount of raw power and innate ability, she *is* still a relative beginner at spellcasting. It does appear that she has great potential. Amy, however, has been studying the Wiccan arts for a longer period of time. Of the two, it’s Amy who has greater control over the spells she casts, which is why she is here tonight. Amy is going to assist with Willow’s protection spell. By adding her strength to Willow’s, it should last at least a half an hour or so longer. Amy also found a way for Willow to end the spell at anytime of her own choosing, rather than having to wait for it to wear off gradually.”
“Ah,” Adam nodded, happy to have another warm body to help with their offensive. Plus, having a way to ‘turn off’ the spell would be an incredible asset when the time came. “I think Amy would be most useful if she went with your group tonight.”
“Umm,” Giles hesitated. “Amy won’t be joining us for the actual confrontation.”
“Really,” the Immortal commented flatly. Although he understood the girl’s desire for safety better than most, Adam couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed.
“Amy and Willow will cast the spell just before you both enter the sewer, but she’ll be leaving directly thereafter.”
“That’s a pity,” Adam replied honestly. However, in less than a minute, he was already thinking of other matters. Pushing his now-empty plate away, the Immortal turned to the librarian. “I’m off for a shower and a few minutes of rest. Make sure that everyone is set to walk out the door at ten o’clock sharp.”
“I’ll see to it,” Giles called to the figure retreating up the staircase. Sneaking a glance at the grandfather clock in the living room, the Watcher clamped down on the butterflies flittering around in his stomach. Once he had his fears somewhat under control, he stood to go round up the teenagers.
It was less than two hours before show time.