Author: JR
Email: JRR42@yahoo.com
Part: 16a
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Madre de dios,” the dark-haired vampiress swore in Spanish. Together with Tonio, Eleni was undertaking one final check that all the preparations for the evening were complete. The five centuries of her existence were going to come to fruition in just a few hours, and the cunning Spaniard was not about to take any chances that some lack of planning might jeopardize the power that was so near to being hers.
“The stench is overwhelming,” Tonio agreed. Like his mistress, the male vampire wrinkled his nose at the cloying scent hanging stagnantly in the air.
“You!” Eleni spoke sharply to one of her minions. There were almost a dozen vampires loitering uselessly in the large hall. “Find something to cover that bowl before the smell attracts every rat in this pitiful excuse for a town.”
“Yes, Mistress,” the frightened male responded before scuttling out one of the room’s two exits.
“Is it prepared properly?” Eleni asked Tonio. Together the longtime companions wandered over to the natural formation of rock that comprised the ‘stage’. Once they reached the large ceremonial bowl on the end of the waist-high stone altar, the vampiress dipped a single, elegant finger into the wet, sticky substance it held.
“The spell calls for a paste made of passion fruit, Mistress,” Tonio reassured. “I doubt that even these local idiots could ruin something so simple. Forgive me, Mistress, for I would never doubt your judgement, but I believe the real question is: will it be enough?”
“You have heard something, my old friend?” Eleni quizzed, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.
“I...I had hoped to surprise you, Mistress,” Tonio said shyly, currying the vampiress’ favour.
“Tonight is *not* a night for surprises,” she retorted, her voice rising sharply.
“Your pardon, Mistress!” he groveled, realizing his error in judgement. “I only...the news...”
“Speak, you fool! What about the news?”
“It is good news, Mistress! I have heard from many that vampires from far and wide are coming tonight! Perhaps hundreds more than we anticipated. They have been arriving all day, wrapped from head to foot in heavy clothing, traveling in cars with the windows darkened over.” His voice trailed away as a smug expression crossed his mistress’s face.
“Of course they come!” Eleni exclaimed. “They come to serve me, to be a part of my army that will bring about the beginning of the end of the world! And you, Tonio,” she whispered huskily, trailing a finger across her minion’s cheek. “You will stand at the head of my forces. With you by my side and Angelus in my bed, there is nothing that will stop me.”
“Yes, Mistress,” Tonio replied, his eyes glazed over at the promise of the power Eleni offered him.
“Now then,” she commented, abruptly bringing the topic back to more practical matters. “See to it that guards are posted there and there,” she pointed towards the two egresses that led away from the main chamber.
“What about the tunnels themselves?” Tonio inquired cautiously.
“Do not be a fool! If you station guards *in* the tunnels, they will not be able to witness the ceremony,” Eleni replied impatiently, unable to believe that any of her minions would want to miss her moment of glory. “I would not deny any of them the opportunity to witness such a glorious occasion. Centuries from now, they will still be telling their fledglings that they were here on this night.”
“As you wish, Mistress.”
“I must go prepare.” Eleni proclaimed. “Make sure that all are here before midnight. If stragglers arrive late, tell the guards to kill them -- quietly. I will not tolerate any interruptions during
my ceremony.”
With those words, she regally swept out of the chamber.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They arrived at the warehouse just minutes before eleven o’clock. Getting straight to work, Giles was busy distributing weapons to all the teenagers. Aside from accepting two stakes, Adam had declined any of the other pieces from the Watcher’s mobile arsenal. Although he was well versed in the use of quarter-staffs, crossbows, and the myriad of other weapons available, the Immortal preferred to stick with that which he knew best: a sword. From the depths of his infamous trench coat, he produced a short sword, which would be conducive to fighting within a limited amount of space. Besides, as Adam pointed out to Giles, whether by a stake through the heart or a beheading, either one would prove to be effectively fatal to vampires.
While the others were reviewing Adam’s plan aloud, the Immortal was busy with another matter. Retrieving a butane lighter from the pocket of his new black jeans, he flipped the top open and struck the flint. Kneeling down, Adam picked up the corner of a large, empty sack and proceeded to wave the flame underneath it. He made several passes against the black material until he was satisfied that it was, as he suspected, fireproof.
Adam remained unaware that the others had ceased talking and were observing him closely, until Cordelia asked if the object he was holding was what she thought it was.
“Yes,” the Immortal replied calmly. “It’s a body bag.”
“Eeee,” Xander shivered. “Is anybody else getting the heebie-jeebies right about now?”
“Big time,” Cordelia assured, backed by nods of agreement from Willow and Amy.
“I’m pretty sure I’m going to be sorry for asking this, but just where in the hell did you find that thing?” Xander demanded.
“Oh, please,” Adam responded automatically. “Oz stumbled across it when we were looking for something to hold all the equipment we were in the process of...borrowing...from the fire house.”
“Oz!” Willow chided.
“Hey,” the werewolf replied, holding up his hands in protest. “I didn’t know what it was when I grabbed it! We just kinda needed something to hold all the little stuff so we could get out of there faster. We *were* robbing the place, remember?”
“Are you like a pyro, or what?” Cordelia addressed Adam, annoyed by his constant triggering of the lighter in his hand.
“Actually, I was just curious as to whether or not this is fire-retardant,” Adam explained.
“Why?” Xander questioned. “I mean -- and I don’t want to be the bearer of bad karma here -- but if any of us end up needing that thing, what harm would a little fire do to us by that point?”
“It’s not for you -- at least, I sincerely hope not,” Adam said emphatically. “It’s for Angel.”
“Angel?” Willow repeated. “I thought we were going to suit him up in this other stuff,” she questioned, pointing to the bright yellow equipment laid out on the floor.
“Well, I’ve been thinking about it and, as you’ll see in a few minutes, it may take too much time to get him into the proper gear. Things tonight are going to happen much faster than you anticipate. Using this will be much simpler, yet just as effective.”
There was a moment of silence as they all pondered Adam’s suggestion until, looking at the county-issue body bag in the Immortal’s hands, Oz found himself unable to prevent his wry chortle from escaping his throat.
“What?” Willow demanded, spying the grin on her ex-boyfriend’s face.
“C’mon, Will,” he commented. “Even you gotta see the funny in this.”
“It *is* somewhat ironic, isn’t it?” Giles noted, adding a chuckle of his own. “A vampire in a body bag?”
“I’ll make sure to call Alanis just as soon as we get back,” Willow said sourly, her nervousness about their upcoming battle igniting a rare show of temper. “Can we just finish getting ready now?”
“Let’s have at it then,” Adam agreed pleasantly. “Now, you will all need to remember that the gear is heavy and, more importantly, your movements will be impeded...”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The hours had passed with slow cruelty for Angel. It seemed like an eternity since Eleni’s minions had finished cleaning him up and dressing him for the upcoming ceremony. Worse yet, he was still stuck in his demon form, a side-effect from the enforced hunger that the vampiress had ordered on her last visit.
It would be soon, that much Angel knew without a doubt. With no strength left for even the simplest action -- like lifting his head away from the recently flipped mattress -- the vampire was reduced to rolling his yellow eyes downward in order to catch a glimpse of the clothing in which he had been attired.
At least someone -- Eleni, he guessed -- had good taste. From the petal-soft smoothness of the tight, black velvet pants to the fine imported silk of the long-sleeved midnight black shirt, Angel could have sworn he was hundred years back in time, being dressed in goods from the finest clothiers in Paris. Even the style was somewhat old-fashioned, a mix between turn-of-the-century finery and modern goth. In all actuality, it reminded him of a male version of the kind of clothing Drusilla favoured.
Angel knew from the grayness that was dimming his vision that he was about to pass out again. It had been happening to him on and off over the past few hours. Instead of fighting it, Angel simply allowed the darkness to overtake him, conserving his strength for the time being. He would need it later if he had any hope of enacting his plan to stop the Legion single-handedly.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Xander’s hands were shaking badly as he picked up the receiver of the pay phone. In fact, between his nerves working overtime and the plastic medical gloves covering his hands, he misdialed the three-digit number twice. Slamming down on the disconnect bar, he looked out into the deserted parking lot. Of course it was deserted, how many retail employees stick around the mall after hours, he mused silently.
Taking a deep breath, he let up on the bar and heard the familiar flat hum of a dial tone. Pushing 9-1-1, Xander fumbled with the tape recorder that was already queued to the proper mark. After only one ring, a calm, pleasant female voice carried through the line.
“9-1-1.”
Holding the recorder up to the mouth-piece, Xander pressed the play button. The gravel-filled voice of the man Adam only referred to as ‘Joe’ spun off the recorder.
“Listen carefully to what I’m about to say. It will be your only warning.”
“I beg your pardon? Sir, this is 9-1...,” the operator attempted to interrupt, but the tape continued playing.
“Your fire-boys were a little slow during their test run this afternoon, so let’s see if they can do better when it comes to the real thing. There is a bomb planted in the Sunnydale Eight Movie Theater on Hoya Street. This isn’t a prank. It’s set to go off in exactly ninety minutes. That’s the Sunnydale Eight on Hoya.”
“Sir, can you tell me where the device is located? Sir? Sir! Can you tell me what kind...,” her voice continued to rise, already at a screaming pitch by the time Xander pressed the stop button.
Having already listened to the tape twice, Xander knew that there would be no other forthcoming information. As it was, the teen already felt guilty, knowing that the theater would be filled with people taking advantage of the $3.00 Late-night Sunday discount screenings the theater offered.
The teen could hear the operator’s continued shouts as he slammed the receiver down into its cradle. Even though he was certain he was alone, Xander sprinted -- as best he could in the heavy protective gear he was wearing at any rate -- back to the still-running rental car. Fortunately, it was only a few feet away from the pay phone. Gunning the gas, the tires of the abused vehicle squealed as he pealed out of the parking lot.
He had a rendezvous to make.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Back at the warehouse, the rest of the Slayerettes were busy gathering the last of their things together. Giles and Oz would be traveling together in one of the tanker trucks. Opening the doors simultaneously, they nodded at the other members of the group before getting into the vehicle. They were all very much aware that there was a good chance this would be the last time they would see each other in this world. Sparing one last look at his former girlfriend, Oz impulsively blew her a tender kiss. Smiling as she blushed prettily, the werewolf winked at her before sliding into the truck’s driver seat.
Adam’s eyes were not the only pair following the taillights of the truck as it pulled out of the warehouse. Although they said nothing, even amongst each other, they were all thinking along the same lines. Silently they all prayed for a miracle to happen, and that somehow, they would all manage to live through this night.
“C’mon, kids,” Adam began. “Time to g…”
The rest of whatever he had been about to say would forever remained unspoken as the familiar – and totally unwelcome – buzz of another Immortal reverberated through Adam’s head.
‘Shit!Shit!Shit!’ Pierson swore madly to himself. ‘Of all the rotten timing! Not now! I don’t have time for this now!’’ he thought. Biting back a groan, Adam quickly assessed the potential threat. The buzz was relatively weak, which led to one of two possibilities: either the other Immortal was relatively young and new to the game, or he or she was still a bit of a distance away from Adam’s current position. Either way, the new Immortal’s presence was both unexpected and unwelcome.
Wasn’t it always the way, though? No matter how careful the preparation, how perfect the plan, something unexpected always popped up to throw a wrench into the works. It never failed, and Adam was more aware than most that bad luck had been around a lot longer than the ridiculous law named after an Irishman.
The fact that there was another Ahriman-sent Immortal in town had not been forgotten by Adam. Since sensing his potential challenger in the vicinity of his hotel the night before, Adam had avoided going back to the rented room. He had even gone as far as having Willow pick up some new clothing for him that afternoon, rather than taking any unnecessary risks. Adam had hoped that the other Immortal would keep a vigilant watch over the room, simply waiting until his quarry returned instead of actually going out and hunting Adam down.
‘So much for Plan A,’ the Immortal thought with a sigh. But the Immortal calling himself Adam Pierson was never without a Plan B…or C, for that matter. For the moment, Adam’s next option was to get the hell out of the warehouse as fast as possible. With any luck at all, he would lose the other Immortal before he or she could get a solid fix on Adam’s location.
“Get it together!” Adam ordered sharply to the teenaged girls. “We’re already running behind schedule.”
Snapping to at the commanding tone, Willow hastily climbed into Amy’s car. Cordelia was already in the cab of the truck waiting for Adam. Because the plan would later require it, the former May Queen was about to have a crash course in driving a heavy vehicle. Without further ado, the young witch followed the large tanker truck out into the otherwise-silent streets of Sunnydale.
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Ten minutes to go and already the chamber known as the ‘Vampire Arena’ was filled to capacity. Between their own blatant curiosity and the dire warnings of what fate awaited any stragglers, there were very few of the walking-dead willing to miss the beginning of what promised to be a very exciting night.
“...there’s gotta be a thousand of us down here...”
“...heard we’re gonna become invincible...”
“...what in the hell is that *stench*?...”
“...said she’s gorgeous...”
“...doesn’t this town have a Slayer? My sire told me to stay away...”
“...heard she’s gonna finally dust that traitor, Angelus...”
Tonio listened half-heartedly as he made his way slowly to the far entrance of the room. Already filled wall to wall with cold bodies, it was difficult even for Eleni’s second in command to weave his way through the throngs that had gathered at the promise of being granted some kind of special power. As he pushed his way through a small cluster of local vampires, Tonio couldn’t help but wish that the last statement he overheard were true.
He had been bitterly disappointed when his Mistress informed him of her choice in consorts. After all, Tonio had been Eleni’s companion for over three hundred years. Even though he hadn’t seen his own reflection for centuries, Tonio knew that he was not hard on the eyes. If he had been, he was quite certain that Eleni would have dispatched him years ago -- one way or another.
Still, he was not overly concerned. Although his Mistress was beautiful, Tonio was well aware that she possessed a very limited span of attention. Eleni had either taken or turned countless lovers over the years; yet she quickly grew bored with her choices of playmates. Only Tonio proved to be the exception to the rule. After so many years of having him as her subordinate, Eleni had not only come to depend upon him, she had also grown use to his company.
More often than not, Eleni left the task of eliminating her cast-offs to Tonio, a duty that the Spanish vampire looked forward to with great relish. Knowing that she never asked any questions as to his methods, Tonio took great pleasure in dispatching her past paramours. Of course, any excuse to exercise his vast knowledge of Inquisition torture techniques was only an added bonus in his mind.
Soon, he thought to himself, his Mistress would grow tired of this…Angelus…as well. Not that it mattered. For if there was one thing he had learned in his unnaturally long existence, it was the fact that while passion quickly faded, power was the true key to happiness.
And it was power he was about to receive.
While Angelus might share her bed for a time, it was Tonio that would, in fact, be the ‘field commander’ of the Army of the Legion. In the future, as in the present, he would only answer to one person, his Mistress in all things. Not even the upstart that Eleni was about to take as consort would be in a position to usurp Tonio’s authority.
Shaking himself away from his stray thoughts, the vampire focused on the matter at hand. At the moment, his primary concern was ensuring that the ceremony that would be the source of the Army of Legion would be begin on time and without any hitches. A few more steps and Tonio would *finally* reach the vampires with whom he needed to speak. Sparing a glance down the tunnel beyond the guards, the Spaniard was glad to see that it was deserted.
“All inside, are they?” Tonio addressed the closest sentry.
“A few came in about five minutes ago, but most of them were early enough. Guess that ‘be dead or be on time’ warning got their attention,” the guard grinned evilly. After a moment, he continued. “There are a couple of our guys up top rounding up the last minute arrivals, but they should be down pretty soon.”
“Good, good,” the Spaniard murmured. “All will begin shortly. Ensure that the Mistress’s orders are followed or I’ll see that you suffer the consequences.”
All four of the guards blanched at the sadistic gleam in Tonio’s eyes. Word had already spread throughout the local community about the foreigner’s penchant for torture and cruelty. Quickly nodding their assent, Tonio glared once more to reinforce his point before heading back through the crowded room. His mistress would soon need him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After successfully evading the other Immortal, Adam’s team was actually the first to arrive at their designated position, just a short distance from Sunnydale Hospital. To prevent premature detection of the Immortal’s presence, they were at a manhole over a hundred yards from the location of the underground arena. When the time came, it would be up to Cordelia to drive the truck the last fifty or so feet.
Climbing out of the truck, Adam waited for Amy to shift into park before approaching the car. The witch steadfastly refused to leave her vehicle, a choice for which the Immortal could hardly fault her. After all, had their positions been reversed, he would never have agreed to come this far in the first place. Even now, Adam was hard-pressed not to give into his own ‘flight’ instinct. Damn MacLeod for always getting him into these scrapes, even when the Scot was nowhere to be seen.
“Okay, ladies,” he began as the girls piled out of the car. “We have a lot to do and not much time to do it in, so I suggest we get right to it.”
“O..okay,” Willow’s voice trembled, betraying a latent case of nervousness.
“Alright then, if we read the maps correctly, we should be slightly behind those antechambers right off the main part of the Arena.”
“What if there are guards or something?” Cordelia protested, her fear getting the better of her. “What if they come after me? How do I always get messed up in these things? What was I thinking? Being May Queen isn’t enough? I have to hang out with ‘the geeks that fight yucky demons’ club? Like I need another activity picture in the yearbook...that badly.”
“Quiet!” Adam ordered in a commanding tone. “I doubt that we’ll stumble into trouble this early on. And you needn’t worry, I’ll be going in first. My presence should drive off any vampires they may be lurking around.”
“Oh, right,” Cordelia admitted. “I...uh...forgot about that.”
“Now then,” the Immortal reached into the cab of the truck and pulled out a crowbar. “So, who here wants to pull up the manhole cover? What, no volunteers? Why am I not surprised.”
Stifling a grumble, the Immortal set to work. It was precisely midnight, and things were just about to get very interesting.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
On the other side of the hospital, an identical truck was slowing down to a complete stop. Providence had smiled upon Oz and Giles, as Xander happened to drive up behind them just a few blocks back. Now they were waiting for the teen to park the rental car he was driving before executing the first stage of their part of Adam’s grand scheme.
Jogging up to the truck, Xander stepped on the side-runner beneath the door in order to peer clearly through the open driver’s side window.
“Hey man, how’d it go?” Oz questioned.
“Piece of cake,” Xander replied, hoping the pair in the truck would not hear the fear-driven shaking in his voice.
“Excellent,” the Watcher commented before he reached for the door handle. “We should, however, begin.”
“Saddle ‘em up, Apone,” Xander quipped.
“Apone?” Giles questioned. “Whom or what is an ‘apone’?”
“Just...get your stuff,” the dark-haired teenager shook his head woefully. This was not the time for drawn-out explanations.
“Right,” the librarian agreed before turning to the driver of the truck. “Oz, I believe you know what to do? Wait for our signal.”
“No problem,” the young werewolf insisted. “Good luck.”
“And to you,” Giles replied, reaching for the crowbar and heavy quilt that rested on the truck’s floorboards. Nodding to Xander, the pair set off at an easy jog, counting manhole covers in the street to measure the proper distance.
They came to a stop simultaneous at the third one, having reached their ultimate destination. Tossing the dirty, thick blanket to Xander, the teen hastily refolded it before laying it precisely to one side of the iron manhole. Finding the proper end of the crowbar, the librarian carefully wedged the wrapped tip of the metal rod into the seam of the sewer cover. Wrapping the end of the crowbar in surgical tape had been Oz’s idea -- a way to muffle the distinctive sound of metal against metal in order to keep their approach as stealthy as possible.
Once the bar was in position, Giles nodded to Xander. The teen then turned around, waving his arms broadly to signal Oz to proceed. The werewolf saw the sign and put the truck into gear. Moving slowly, the blond-haired teenager drove forward toward his friends.
Timing, in this case, was everything. Forcing himself to wait, Giles held his position until the truck was only yards away from where he stood. Finally, the librarian heaved forward on the bar, levering the manhole cover upwards. Xander was there to grab the heavy slab of iron, and together they forced the cover up and over onto the waiting blanket. The sound of it falling was reduced to a ‘thud’, muffled both by the quilt and by the truck as it rambled past them.
Both Giles and Xander reached to their belts, each withdrawing a stake for protection. Unbeknownst to each other, both men were having visions of dozens of vampires pouring out of the just-opened sewer entrance, which made the uncertainty of climbing down into the tunnel more than a little daunting. If they were to fail now, all hope for defeating the Legion would be lost. Frozen in defensive crouches, the student and the librarian waited to see what, if anything, would rise up out of the hole in the ground.
After a long moment, it became apparent that their activities had gone undetected. Mutually breathing sighs of relief, both men took a moment to calm themselves from their sudden rushes of adrenaline. Once their nerves were as close to steady as they were going to get given the circumstances, Xander gave Giles a nod before heading off to assist Oz, who was struggling with a heavy length of fire hose. The librarian kept an eye on the sewer outlet until the teenagers returned with their burden.
“We all know what to do, so let’s have at it,” Giles whispered, foregoing any last minute farewells.
“Take care, Oz,” Xander whispered.
“You too. Both of you,” Oz replied just as softly.
That said, the werewolf ran back in the direction of the waiting truck, keeping his eyes on the vehicle in front of him the entire way. Knowing full good and well that he might never see either of his friends alive again, it was all Oz could do not to look back as Giles and Xander descended down into the sewer.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The steady thrum of voices echoed through the chamber at an eardrum-bursting level as the vampires waited impatiently for something to happen. They were crammed wall-to-wall in the natural cave formation. The space was, however, woefully inadequate for the actual number of vampires who had arrived for this special event. Had anyone bothered to take a tally, they would have found the final head count to be just shy of 650.
The painfully loud sound of a gong ringing brought the room to instant silence. Craning their necks – some even standing on their toes -- all eyes turned to the far entrance of the room. There was an air of excitement in the chamber as they all awaited the arrival of the vampiress, wondering if all the rumors they had heard over the past few weeks were, in fact, true.
But, to their collective disappointment, the only vampires that appeared were male. The only thing interesting about them was that they were dragging someone forcefully behind them. Two of the guards stepped away from their position by the entrance in order to clear a corridor through the impossibly thick crowd. Vampire pressed hard into vampire in order to afford the procession room to pass to their intended destination.
Finally, lead by Tonio, the group reached the stage, where the two local vampires went to work. Using the chains that had been hung from roof of the cave earlier, they locked manacles around the wrists of their captive. Pulling the iron links taut to hoops on opposite walls – they strung up their prisoner until his feet dangled inches above the ground.
“Isn’t that Angelus?” a local vampire in the crowd stage-whispered. Given the magnifying acoustics of the room, the voice carried much further than it normally would. Unfortunately, proceeded by reputation, the name ‘Angelus’ was known to many, both locals and visitors alike. Those who were unaware of the chained vampire’s past listened raptly to the cursory explanations offered by those in the know.
The volume of noise in the room rose significantly as rumors, legends, and all-out fallacies were swapped among those in attendance. Impressed by seeing such a prominent vampire so humbled and helpless, the crowd was beginning to regain some of the air of anticipation that had dissipated during the long wait. It seemed as though the night might not be a complete waste after all.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
‘Thank providence for universal couplings,’ Adam thought as he connected one of their ill-gotten fire hoses to the proper valve on the water-bearing truck.
Like earthquakes and mudslides, California also frequently experienced out of control brush fires. As in many cities and towns in the State, Sunnydale had equipped its heavy tank vehicles to be of use in case of such natural disasters. Of course, if Adam’s plan ended up not working, Sunnydale would be in store for a lot worse than what Mother Nature could throw at it.
“Okay, it’s ready,” the Immortal called.
Hearing his words, Willow and Cordelia grabbed the nozzle end of the fire hose, gradually unfolding the carefully coiled heavy-duty canvas. Once they reached the open manhole cover, they lowered their burden to the ground. It was only then that the Immortal started the built-in compressor that would force the water from the tank of the truck.
All they could do now was wait for the other team’s signal.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
‘They’ll be all right. They’ll be all right,’ Oz chanted to himself as he waited for *any* sign that his two teammates had not just become vampire cocktails.
Determined not to just sit and stare at the manhole, the werewolf forced himself to keep busy while his friends were facing the unknown. Staggering under the weight of the second fire hose, the teenager tugged it halfway to the open sewer outlet. That finished, he returned to the truck in order to start the compressor. As he continued to work, Oz kept a close eye on the manhole.
It might have interested some to know that while Oz appeared cool, calm and collected to anyone who happened to be walking by at that moment, in truth, he was scared out of his mind. Surely he should have seen or heard from either Giles or Xander by that point. He tried not to think about the fact that Adam had designed this part of the plan with a backup in the event of a worst-case scenario, because if it did come down to that, the fate of the world would rest solely upon Oz’s slender shoulders.
He didn’t want that kind of pressure in his life.
As it was, the logical, practical part of the teenager’s mind was already losing ground to the fear-driven, ‘oh shit!’ portion of his brain. The seconds seemed to stretch into hours as they ticked away with infuriating slowness. It was definitely taking *way* too long.
Catching a flicker of brightness out of the corner of his eye, Oz whirled around to witness one of the most joyous events of his entire young life. For rising steadily out of the sewer was Xander, decked out in full fireman regalia. The dark-haired teen waved once, the ‘all-clear’ signal that they had established earlier in the evening. Releasing a long breath that he was not aware that he had been holding, Oz offered up a prayer of relief, not only that his friends were alive and well for the moment, but for their continued safety as the events of the evening started underway.
Xander continued up and out of the manhole, jogging over to retrieve the nozzle-end of the fire hose before descending once again into the sewers. Only seconds later, Oz felt a slight slug tug on the hose. Taking his queue, he fired up the truck’s compressor, wincing at the loud, steady thrum the machine made as it pumped the thick, viscous liquid held in the tank through the connected fire hose.
Stifling another silent prayer to any force of good willing to listen, the werewolf headed towards the cab of the truck. Reaching for the CB radio, he pressed his thumb down twice on the talk-bar, sending word to the other team that his group had, so far, been successful. He was answered by a similar reply, thankfully letting him know that everything was go with Willow’s group as well.
Despite the fact that the major portion of Oz’s job for the evening was finished, the werewolf was more anxious than ever. He was on his own now, with no backup in sight. All he had to do from this point on was keep an eye out for any vampires that might attempt to halt the flow of the deadly liquid being pumped out of the tanker truck.
For some insane reason, Oz found himself wishing that *he* could descend down into the tunnels as well. At least there, he would not know the terrible sense of loneliness that was overwhelming him at that moment.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The constant murmuring of the crowd came to an abrupt silence as the sound of the gong once again rang out through the chamber. An unnatural silence fell over the room as those gathered waited to catch a glimpse of the elusive vampiress that had brought them all together with her promise of power for the taking.
There was a stir in the entrance from which the group carrying Angel had emerged minutes earlier. Vampires twisted and turned, each seeking a better view of this new group to enter the chamber. There was, however, precious little to see -- nothing more than the same guards escorting a petite figure shrouded in a long, black cloak made of pure silk.
With sensual, feline-like grace, the hooded figure made her way up the four, carved into the natural stone, steps that led up to the altar. Moving slowly in order to work up a sense of anticipation, the vampiress first crossed to stand directly in front of her second-in-command. As she had previously ordered, Tonio sank dramatically down on one knee, bowing his head even as he reached for her hand to kiss.
Once the gesture was complete, Eleni pivoted as stalked away, this time stopping once she reached her chained captive. Raising her hand up towards his face, the vampiress ran a smooth hand along one of Angel’s high cheekbones. With an elegant touch, she allowed her fingers to flow down his jaw, pausing slightly over his sluggishly-pulsing jugular vein.
Bring her other hand upwards, Eleni dug her fingers under the edges of collar of Angel’s silken shirt. There was a moment’s pause before she tugged harshly. Succumbing under her vampiric strength, the buttons easily gave way, showering down upon the stone ground in a shower of little ‘clicks’. The ripped garment hung open loosely, exposing the vampire’s pale, broad chest for all to see.
As if examining her captive’s flawless skin for the first time, Eleni’s hands reassumed their downward journey. Using only her fingertips, the vampiress let her hands drift over Angel’s collarbones and across his pectoral muscles. Slowing her descent, Eleni lingered almost imperceptibly over Angel’s nipples, taking delight as the tender flesh puckered under her cold, teasing touch before continuing down across the muscles of his abdomen.
Once she reached the waistline of his trousers, Eleni’s hands reversed their course. Only this time, the vampiress used the back of her fingers. She could feel Angel tremble involuntarily from her stimulating touch, but that simply added to her own pleasure. He was her captive, hers to do with as she pleased.
As her eyes had been focused solely on her own hands, Eleni was taken by surprised when she glanced upward and found Angel glaring back at her. How dare he defy her, she thought furiously. He would suffer for his insolence.
Narrowing her eyes in anger, Eleni flexed her hands. Without so much as a thought, the vampiress sunk her nails into Angel’s chest and ripped downward, leaving ten deep, bleeding gouges in his flesh. Unable to help himself, Angel’s head flew backward as he hissed in obvious pain.
Seeing the tiny woman assert her dominance over the once feared Angelus, the crowd roared in approval. Amid a sea of cheers, laughter, and applause, Eleni turned to face her audience for the first time that evening. It was time to begin her era of glory.
With great care, Eleni raised her delicate hands to the edges of the silk that dipped low enough to completely obscure her face. The vampiress waited a long beat before throwing back the hood with a dramatic flourish. Keeping her head raised high, Eleni’s cold, brown eyes swept over the crowd with more than trace of defiance. She could sense them studying her, some fascinated by her beauty while others more cautiously waited to see if she could, indeed, control a crowd such as this.
Fortunately for Eleni, only a few of the faces she saw appeared to be openly hostile. She would, of course, speak to Tonio about it at a later time. Anyone the vampiress suspected might dare to challenge her authority would be weeded out of the Legion. Besides, giving Tonio fresh victims for his particular penchants would only be an added bonus.
Most of the gathered vampires, both male and female alike, were openly staring at Eleni. The vampiress could *feel* the lust -- the admiration -- pouring off the crowd in waves. Her nose was fairly tingling as pheromones filled the air. *This* was what she had spent 500 years working towards, and tonight, Eleni was finally going to meet her destiny.
“Hear me as I speak!” she cried out in a loud-but-sultry tone of voice. With a deft florish of her wrist, Eleni unfastened the clip that had been holding her cloak in place. The flowing black fabric rippled to the floor like a dark wave, revealing the skin-tight, red-leather bodysuit that had been concealed beneath the black layer of silk. Cut low enough to be considered indecent, the outfit left little of the vampiress’ Playmate-like figure to the imagination.
“I am Eleni Vasqeria Goya y Garcia, and after tonight, my friends, we are going to conquer the world!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Back above ground, Adam was busy watching the two young witches preparing to cast Willow’s protection spell. In all truth, the Immortal was a tad bit...unsettled. He had just heard the burst of static that Oz sent every five minutes over the CB radio in the cab of the truck. Fearing that their cell phones might give away their positions were they to ring, it had been mutually decided by the entire group not to use the mobile devices during the implementation of Adam’s plan.
What was troubling Adam the most was the success they seemed to have experienced thus far. Everything was going exactly as Adam had planned, and while the Immortal was more than confident in his strategic abilities, centuries of experience had – sometimes rather painfully – taught him that this in itself was cause for worry. No matter how perfect and precise the plan, something *always* went wrong. It was just a matter or what it would be and how detrimental it would prove to be.
“Do I *have* to wear this thing?” Cordelia complained, hefting the mask that would provide her with precious oxygen.
“No, of course not. Unless, of course, you don’t care about breathing while you’re down there,” Adam commented. Seeing the brunette struggle to put the awkward contraption on, he reached over and plucked it out of her hands. “Allow me,” he said with a flirtatious smile.
As was her nature, Cordelia instantly reacted to the Immortal’s attention. That’s not to say that she ceased her grumbling.
“I’m gonna look like such a dork!”
“Oh, stop,” Adam insisted, adjusting the collar of her heavy coat to completely cover her neck. “Haven’t you heard? Oxygen masks are going to be the next big fashion trend. All the major designers are adding them to their spring shows. Trust me, I was just in Paris last month.”
In spite of – or maybe because of – her nervousness, Cordelia rewarded the Immortal with a short snort. Granted, it was based in disbelief, but it was laughter nonetheless.
Adam was about to join her when the sound of cheering echoed up from the open manhole. The Immortal felt a brief flicker of apprehension at the sound. They were over a hundred yards away from the main chamber. Even taking into consideration the way the tunnels amplified all sounds, it required a hell of a lot of bad guys to make *that* much noise.
No, the Immortal decided silently, this wasn’t going to be easy at all.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I stand before you now, ready to share with you the dark power. Together, we will unite to become the most powerful army this world has ever known. After tonight, every creature -- both living and dead -- will bow down before you!” Eleni vowed, her voice rising as her excitement grew.
Another cheer rose up from the crowd, only this time it lacked the volume of the previous applause. While almost all of those in attendance were intrigue by the vampiress’ promises, there were more than a few skeptics among them, a fact which did not escape Eleni’s attention. It was time to re-enforce her words with actions.
“I can sense that some of you are not yet convinced that I speak the truth, that I am simply making empty promises.” Turning to face her chained captive, Eleni gestured toward Angel while continuing to address her potential followers. “I am sure that many of you have heard of this one, the once-favourite of the Sunnydale Master, one who once claimed the title of Master himself. It is such a shame that he has since become the great traitor, one who hunts his own kind, one who has been known to assist the *Slayer* herself!”
“Well,” the vampiress continued, her beautiful features melting away into her true, demon visage. “Behold the once mighty Angelus,” she sneered before leaning forward and sinking her fangs deeply into his neck.
Behind her, the crowd roared in approval as she drained away what little blood still flowed through Angel’s veins.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A shiver crept up Xander’s spine each time the sound of applause drifted down the corridor. Trying not to think about his fear, the teenager concentrated on the fire hose in his hands. He was pointing it at the floor while Giles stood nearby, keeping an eye out for vampires. The Watcher didn’t actually have to look far, however. Just around the corner and out of sight from where they stood was the archway that opened into the Vampire Arena. The short distance and a curve in the tunnel were the only things separating them from the five-hundred-plus vampires that were quickly working themselves up into a frenzy.
Right then, Xander would have given anything to be anywhere else on earth rather than where he stood at that moment.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Not surprisingly, Angel was experiencing similar thoughts at that same point in time. The exquisite white hot agony of Eleni’s teeth sinking into his neck both revolted him and excited him at the same time. While his soul shuddered at the very idea of what was happening to him, the demon residing within considered the bite to be a prelude -- foreplay into sensuous world only vampires could appreciate.
And it had been a *long* time since Angel had indulged in those kind of pleasures. Fighting his demon every second of the way, it took all of Angel’s Herculean control not to lose himself in the eroticism of what was happening. Unfortunately for his demon, the vampiric version of sex was *not* on the menu this evening.
Not if Angel could help it.
Soon, he told himself. Soon the bite would be over. It was mostly symbolic, anyway, since Angel had very little blood to lose in the first place. Eleni was working very hard to abscond with the precious few drops that welled up in the twin puncture marks she had inflicted upon her prisoner.
All he needed to do was wait for his opportunity to put a stop to all this madness.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Alright, then,” Adam proclaimed before lowering himself into the open manhole. Even as he descended down the ladder, the Immortal kept a watchful eye out for any vampires or other threats that might cause problems. This was it -- the critical stage of the plan -- and surprises definitely had no place in the paradigm he had created.
“All clear,” he whispered, tilting his head back to peer up the ladder. Cordelia would be the next one coming down, followed shortly by Willow, who would wait topside in order to turn on the truck’s compressor pump. Amy had departed shortly after she assisted the redhead with her protection spell.
“Hey, Immortal-guy,” Cordelia said in a tone just a little too loud to be considered a whisper. “How ‘bout giving a hand here. C’mon, this thing is heavy.”
“Feed it down,” Adam ordered, stretching up a hand to grasp the fire hose that Cordelia was guiding down.
“Oh sure, take the hose but don’t help me,” the former May Queen protested. “I figured you of all people would grasp the concept of chivalry.”
“After my time,” he informed her with a roll of his eyes. Unlike MacLeod, who followed the seventeenth-century code as if it was some kind of holy text, Adam had little use for the entire concept. Romantic drivel and nonsense -- all of it, or so he believed.
A harsh tug on the fire hose ended any further debate on the subject. Within seconds of Adam’s action, the heavy canvas was filled with water. Only moments later, Willow descended down the old, rusted-metal ladder. Once the redhead stood beside them, the Immortal turned to Cordelia in order to issue some last minute instructions.
“All right. Now you remember how this works, correct?” Adam was rewarded with a sharp look from the brunette.
“The words are ‘May Queen’, not ‘totally ignorant’,” she retorted, tracing her fingers over the mechanism that would control the flow of water from the hose.
“Willow? Are you all...,” the Adam’s words were interrupted by the haunting wail of pain the echoed along the underground tunnel. It resonated within the Immortal, sending him unwilling back into memories of countless war-zones, disasters, and other atrocities to the human flesh that had been his misfortune to witness.
While the sound cry itself was awful, a testament to true, agony-filled suffering, it was nothing in comparison to the pasty, shaken look on Willow’s face as she forced herself to voice her suspicions.
“That sounded like...”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Angel?” Oz whispered, unsuccessfully trying to control the involuntary shiver that ran down his spine. Even above ground, the werewolf’s extremely powerful hearing easily identified the familiar voice. Slowly closing his eyes, Oz found himself doing something he usually avoided for the second time that night.
He prayed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hearing the scream from the nearby chamber, Xander and Giles shared a horror-filled glance. Although Angel would probably never grace the top of either of their respective Christmas lists, both were truly frightened for the vampire. If only they knew what was happening!
In a reversal of their normal roles, it had been Giles who almost gave into impulse, actually fingering the stake he held in his gloved hand as he took a step in the direction of the chamber. The Watcher, however, was stopped by a hand grabbing his arm. Turning to face the teenager holding him back, the librarian’s wild eyes met Xander’s through the polymer plastic masks covering both their faces.
There was not even the slightest trace of indecision as Xander slowly, determinedly shook his head. It was definitely *not* the time to go running off half-cocked. The moment of hesitation was all Giles needed to regain the sense of purpose that had given way to blind panic. Nodding to the teenager that he understood, the Watcher stepped back to his previous position, guarding the ladder that led up to the street.
As Giles moved away, Xander allowed his shoulders to slump forward ever so slightly. Swallowing down against this latest rush of adrenaline, he focused his attention on the fire hose in his hands. The way the thick liquid poured quietly out of it was almost hypnotic. With nothing else to do for the moment, the teenager watched as thick substance oozed to the floor, then inched its way down the natural incline leading towards the larger chamber. Muffling a curse that it was taking far too long, the teenager silently urged gravity to do its work a little faster.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thanks to the naturally descending slope of the ground, the thick fluid being pumped into the tunnels gradually seeped across the floor of the cavern. Between the crowding of the vampires caused by the lack of space and the natural tendency of the below-ground stone to stay damp, none of the occupants in the room took notice of the deadly tide spreading underneath their collective feet. Besides, looking down would have been a waste of time, especially with such an entertaining drama unfolding on the stage before them.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Almost completely drained of blood, it was only a minute before Angel’s cries ended. Only when her consort-to-be slumped forward unconscious did Eleni pry her fangs out of Angel’s neck. Overall, the vampiress was left frowning in disappointment. It had ended all too quickly in her not-so-humble opinion.
‘Typical of these Americans,” she grimaced to herself. ‘They are always in a hurry.’ But what else could one expect from a country whose general populous had the maturity and attention span of a group of three year olds? ‘The New World,’ the vampiress mentally scoffed at the nickname. ‘How apropos for a nation filled with savages who wouldn’t know true culture if it bit them on the neck.’
Hoping that the unensouled version of her future consort would have more stamina than the ‘kinder, gentler’ Angel before her, the vampiress stepped away from her captive. Stopping directly behind the altar, Eleni reached for the ceremonial knife that rested there. Holding it up high in the air, she showed the weapon to her soon-to-be followers.
“Let this blade,” she proudly proclaimed, “banish the soul that contaminates this weak, pathetic creature.” Assured of the crowd’s rapt attention, the vampiress forged onward. Bringing the sharpened edge of the razor to her own exposed wrist, Eleni dragged the knife from the very bottom edge of her palm to the middle of her inner arm.
“Let my blood flow freely!” Eleni exclaimed in profound reverence. “Let it free the demon held in bondage by his soul! I know that you are trapped in this frail body, Angelus. Drink, Angelus. Drink and be free!”
Raising her bleeding arm up to Angel’s face, Eleni pressed her blood-covered wrist to Angel’s lips and waited. Only a moment or so later, the vampiress cried out in victory as she felt the slight pressure of one of Angel’s fangs involuntarily brushing against the tender skin of her inner-wrist. Like most of the vampires in the room, Eleni knew all too well that, even unconscious, the demon within Angelus would force its host to feed.
And feed it did, much to the delight of the crowd.
Knowing what he had to do, the demon prodded Angel to pool his slowly rejuvenating strength in order to move. Too weak and unaware to defy the demon’s impulses, the souled vampire twitched his head, hungrily burying both of his fangs deeply into his captor’s flesh. A large spurt of blood struck the roof of his mouth, as his elongated canine teeth nicked a vein.
Happy with his unexpected bounty, the demon within growled and forced its host’s body to drink for all he was worth. It wouldn’t be long now.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“This is taking way too long,” Xander protested. For the third time in less than a minute, the teenager’s eyes once again drifted to the watch loosely attached to one of the fastenings on Giles’ fire-protective coat.
Realizing that the intense moment of calm Xander had experienced during Angel’s first screams was past, the librarian fought the urge to roll his eyes at his companion. So much for their temporary roll-reversal. Once again, Xander was back to his normal, impatient, teenaged state of jumpiness.
“Isn’t it time, yet?” Xander’s question was muffled by the mask over his face. “I mean, you haven’t even checked your watch lately. If you don’t check, how will you know if it’s time?”
“I’d venture to guess that the moment several hundred vampires start pouring out of that archway we will, indeed, know it’s time,” Giles whispered sharply in exasperation. “Now show some patience and do shut up before they hear you.”
Recoiling from the normally mild-mannered librarian’s tirade, Xander lowered his head. A brief wave of anger swept over the teen at the harshness of Giles’ reproach, but the knowledge that the older man did have a point quickly stifled Xander’s flaring temper. It was only then that the teenager realized something. Watcher or no, Giles was as nervous as Xander was at that moment.
Somehow, the teenager found that thought both comforting and disturbing at the same time.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
All too quickly, a set of deceptively slender fingers wove themselves deeply into Angel’s hair. With a strength that betrayed her vampiric nature, Eleni tugged harshly on the hundreds of strands intertwined within her digits, forcing her consort-to-be’s mouth away from her bleeding forearm.
With his captor’s stolen blood flowing freely through Angel’s veins, the vampire became more and more aware of his surroundings. Fostered by a century’s worth of instinct, the part of Angel that was still a man began wresting control back from the demon within himself. It was a difficult struggle, but eventually the souled-part of him managed to prevail.
Exhausted, still hungry and wracked with pain, it took a moment for Angel to put together the pieces of where he was and what had happened to him. His eyes followed the long, slender arm he was feeding from in order to see the face of his benefactor.
As soon as he saw the long dark tresses of flowing black hair, all of Angel’s memories of the past twenty-four hours came back in a blurred rush.
‘Damn it all to hell!” Angel raged in his mind. ‘It wasn’t supposed to happen like this!’
He had planned it all so perfectly -- a scheme that was almost elegant in the simplicity of its design. Angel had been so careful as he laid the groundwork, convincing Eleni that she needed to ‘re-sire’ him as a vampire in order to rid him, once again, of his soul.
His endurance was supposed to pay off in the end, for in order to ‘re-make’ him, Angel would need to drink directly from the Spanish vampiress.
It should have been so easy. When the time came, all he needed to do was simply drain the bitch dry when she offered her blood to him. In fact, Angel even had a back-up plan. In the event of a worst case scenario, he could use the sharp edges of his fangs to rip her throat out -- a wound so severe, not even the most powerful of vampires could recover from it.
It was foolproof, Angel had told himself earlier that morning. At least, that was the way his plan looked on paper, so to speak. At the moment, though, it appeared that the only fool in the room was Angel himself.
For it was only now that Angel realized his incredible strategic error. Like a novice, he had made a stupid mistake -- he had greatly underestimated the intelligence of his adversary. And now, because of his own arrogance, the chances were great that he would be unable to prevent the spell that would create the Army of Legion from being cast.
Of course, Eleni had been wise -- or suspicious -- enough to anticipate just the kind of treachery Angel had planned. That was, undoubtedly, why she gave him her wrist to drink from, rather than her neck. That decision, of course, in turn effectively thwarted Angel’s plan A.
‘Guess it’s time for plan B,’ Angel grimaced.
Pooling all of what little strength he had left, the souled vampire took a moment to compose himself. Then, without so much as a warning, he threw back his head and began to once again scream.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Fumbling with the cheap digital watch attached to the front of his own jacket, Adam checked the time. As he suspected, the moment of truth had arrived. Taking a deep breath, he turned to his two female companions.
“Ladies?” Adam questioned. “Are you ready?”
“Like we have a choice now?” Cordelia questioned.
“Let’s just do this,” Willow said determinedly. Both Adam and Cordy looked at her with raised eyebrows, surprised by her uncharacteristic ‘take-no-prisoners’ attitude.
“You go, Sigouney Weaver,” Cordelia stated frankly. Willow and Adam were already taking a few steps toward their intended destination when their companion called to them one last time. “Good luck, you guys.”
The note of true sincerity in Cordelia’s tone stopped Willow in her tracks. Pivoting back to face the girl who had treated her so poorly for most of her life, the red-head paused for a moment to stare at her the former May Queen.
“Be careful, Cordy,” Willow cautioned.
“Me?” Cordelia asked, taken aback by the suggestion. “I’m not the one psycho enough to walk into a stadium full of the living dead. Now, will you please go so we can get this over with? If I have to stay in this fashion nightmare a minute longer, even my hairdresser won’t be able to fix the damage from the hat-ring that will form in my hair....”
As they walked away from the still-grumbling cheerleader, the Immortal and the witch shared a long look. While Adam may have rolled his eyes at their companion’s self-centered comments, Willow found Cordelia’s comments strangely comforting. It was good to know that, even on the Hellmouth, some things never changed.
With every step taking them closer to the danger ahead, all thoughts of the dark-haired girl behind them were abruptly banished from their minds. The time for humour had passed. Now it was time to kick a little vampire ass.
Unfortunately, it was also the time that Angel’s new screams of pain began echoing through the tunnels.
As the sound reached their ears, Adam and Willow both involuntarily tensed. With practiced ease, the Immortal reached down and slid his heavy broadsword from its make-shift sheath in the belt of his jacket. At the same time, the redhead tightly clutched the wickedly sharpened stake she was holding in her hands.
Armed and ready, the pair broke into a run as they flew down the remaining fifty yards to the main chamber.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Total silence descended upon the room the moment Angel’s last cry mutated into a desperate gasp of air. As he released the unnecessary breath from his useless lungs, the vampire’s head slowly returned from its thrown-back position. With an amazing level of sensuousness, Angel parted his lips before lazily opening his eyes for the first time since his ‘reversion’.
Starting at one side of the room, those rich, brown orbs meandered across the crowd. Turning his head slowly, he viewed the assembly with an expression that resembled apathy. The nonchalance he was exuding gave off the impression that he often awoke suspended from chains in front of an audience.
In fact, it was only when his gaze happened across Eleni that he began showing any real interest in his present situation. Turning to face the vampiress directly, one side of Angel’s mouth quirked up into an evil smirk. Making a show of it, Angel eyes traveled thoroughly up and down Eleni’s body like a predator hungry for its next meal.
“Well, well, well,” he drawled slowly. Settling his eyes on the generous swell of the vampiress’ breasts, he continued his thought. “Look what we have here. All dressed up...,” he began, finally raising his eyes upwards to stare straight into those of his captor. “...and isn’t that a damned shame?”
Even the Spanish vampiress could not miss the meaning behind Angelus’ lust-filled leer as he spoke. Eleni, however, remained silent, biding her time. Her lack of reaction was noted by her captive, but he ignored it with a remarkable amount of aplomb.
“So what’s the story here?” Angel questioned, seeming to notice the chains binding him for the first time. “Oh, don’t tell me that the little soul-boy, Angel, went and did something naughty,” he sneered. “Did he have his wicked way with you? Is this gonna be a stake-gun wedding? If it is, I’d like to suggest we skip the vows and cut right to the reception, ‘cause I’m a little hungry right now...,” Angel’s eyes once again settled somewhere in the vicinity of Eleni’s cleavage, but shot back up as he completed his thought, “...and I could eat, too.”
Finally, a triumphant smile spread across the vampiress’ face. Turning to the crowd, she made a sweeping gesture in her captive’s direction.
“I give you, Angelus!” she proclaimed.
And the crowd cheered.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
With the noise from the main chamber masking the sounds of their rapid footsteps, the witch and the Immortal finally crossed the invisible fifty-foot line of demarcation.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The first sign Eleni had that anything was wrong came from the corner by the left tunnel. Her followers had practically been frozen in place, enraptured, she believed, by the greatness of her presence. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, it appeared that a fight had broken out in the back of the room.
Before she could gesture to her guards, a ferocious spike of pain almost sent her mentally reeling. Using both hands, Eleni clutched at the sides of her head, desperately fighting for control over her panicked inner-demon. Even with her advanced age and sheer determination, the vampiress was barely able to keep from capitulating to her demon’s demands to flee.
“What is happening?” Eleni screamed. Her cry was not in fear, but rather in pure rage at this disruption of her night of triumph.
No one answered, her cry lost amidst hundreds of shrieks of terror.
Had she looked behind her, Eleni might have noticed the grim smile of satisfaction on Angel’s face.
The cavalry had just arrived.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The effect of the Immortal’s approach spread through the room like a blast wave from an explosion. Not surprisingly, the vampires nearest to the left tunnel were the first to be affected. One minute they were busy celebrating the successful conversion of Angelus, and the next they were overwhelmed by blinding pain in their heads. As the demons within each individual vampire fell into a state of absolute terror, they gave only one overwhelming order to their hosts -- escape!
But it was not that simple.
Packed shoulder-to-shoulder into the stone auditorium, there was little room to move, let alone to flee. Instinctively sensing that the source of their pain was coming from the nearby tunnel, they began pushing and shoving at the vampires who unknowingly blocked the way to the only other available egress.
It took only seconds for every undead creature in the room to feel the effect. All determined to escape the encroaching threat, they began turning on each other. Blindly they fought against one another, clawing, biting -- anything that would clear a path away from the impending danger.
Those on the opposite side of the chamber immediately ran for the unblocked exit. A few skidded on the suddenly slick floor, tumbling ungracefully to the ground. Unfortunately, those who followed behind them cared little for their fallen comrades. In their own hurry to escape the coming danger, they trampled over any and all impediments in their way. Once they cleared the main archway, dozens upon dozens of vampires poured into the tunnel that they believed would lead them to safety.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Here they come!” Giles shouted needlessly.
Having spent the last five minutes anticipating this very moment, Xander was already prepared for what was about to happen next. Squatting down beside the large puddle on the floor, the teenager looked at the small household item he held in his right hand.
“Don’t wait for them,” the Watcher instructed as the squishing sounds of approaching footsteps grew louder.
Xander, however, needed no instructions. Flexing his finger to press the ‘trigger’ to strike the flint of placed the long, plastic fireplace ‘Clicker’, the teen brought the open flame to the viscous substance on the floor.
As usual, Xander showed an eerie amount of calm in the face of danger. It was only before and after tough situations that he tended to fall apart. Such were the joys of growing up on a Hellmouth.
Nevertheless, at the sight of a dozen or so panicked vampires running directly at him, Xander flinched. Swallowing hard, he attempted to cover his nervousness with his normal defense: humour.
“Hey G-man,” he called as he waited what seemed like forever for the fluid to ignite. “How do you like your vampires? Regular...”
Even as he spoke, the thick liquid finally erupted in fire. With a muffled ‘whoosh’, the fire slowly spread across the flammable trail laid out for it. Just in the nick of time, too, since the incoming vampires had closed the distance down to about twenty feet.
“...or extra crispy?”
The student and librarian were able to watch with satisfaction as the tunnel quickly mutated into a vampiric holocaust. As the flames continued to spread down the passageway, they consumed most of the vampires as well.
Only the three closest to Xander made it out of the inferno. Protected by their fire-gear, Giles and the teen quickly and efficiently dispatched two of the burning vampires with stakes. The third, already aflame from head to toe, managed to slip past them. By the time he made it another ten feet down the corridor, the fire overwhelmed him completely. As his body failed, what little flesh remained of the vampire abruptly collapsed into a pile of ash. The same thing happened to the other burning vampires that had been closing in on the two Slayerettes.
“Son of a bitch,” Xander exclaimed in awe. “It’s working!”
And so it was. Who would have thought that the key to the world’s salvation would rest with something as common as run-of-the-mill cooking oil?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As soon as he saw the ghostly orange flicker of flames in the mouth of the manhole, Oz took off running in the direction of the other tanker truck. Phase two of their plan had obliviously begun. It was time for him to get to his position for phase three.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Back under the ground it was, to put it simply, total chaos.
From his suspended position over the altar, Angel was too weak to do anything other than watch the events unfold before him with a kind of detached fascination. The blinding pain of Adam’s approaching presence thundered in his head like a jackhammer cutting through pavement. As if that weren’t enough, only moments later a slow rush of flames came creeping from one of the room’s exits, consuming everything...and everyone in its path.
As the fire spread through the room, the already terrified vampires suddenly swayed and switched course like a school of fish threatened by a predator. Those nearest to the fire were more than willing to take their chances with whatever was approaching from the other tunnel, while those closer to the threat of the Immortal would rather be scorched by the flames. As for the rest, they were simply stuck in the middle.
Then, as if out of nowhere, Angel saw them. There was no mistaking the pair as they stood out in their heavy fire gear, even if he couldn’t directly see their faces. If Angel needed any confirmation that they were on his side, the sword in Adam’s hands was the clincher. It was the identity of the Immortal’s companion that gave Angel pause. With a sickening sense of dread, the suspended vampire noted the petite stature of the second person. It wasn’t, however, until he saw one of the panicked vampires turn to dust after blindly attacking the figure that Angel knew her identity without a doubt.
“No,” he pleaded softly to himself, closing his eyes in useless denial. When he opened them again, the tableau had shifted. With the fire stalled about half-way across the room, the gathered brethren closest to the Immortal had seemingly decided to fight their way to the tunnel. Watching helplessly as the combat switched to hand-to-hand, Angel was unable to prevent the cry that escaped his lips.
“Willow!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Angel’s cry, however, did not reach across the din of the room. Standing directly in the archway that led to the tunnel, Adam was busy hacking and slicing anything that approached him. Only a few feet away, Willow blindly held her arms out, allowing her protective spell to do her dirty work for her.
Once she overcame her shock and despair at her first sight of Angel, Willow joined the battle with a ferocity that would have startled many. Not the Immortal, however. Her determination was something that Adam had, quite frankly, counted upon.
“Go, Willow!” Adam commanded, cognizant of the fact that her protection spell was running on a clock.
Nodding in acknowledgement, the redhead began making her way toward the altar, taking out any vampire that happened to have the misfortune of being in her path. As she crossed through the chaos surrounding her, Willow’s eyes never left Angel's suspended figure.
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Once he hurried Willow on her way, Adam forgot all about her. In fact, as the battle thickened and as minutes passed by, the Immortal began slipping away from the present-day holocaust surrounding him. Instead of the here and now, Adam Pierson was mentally revisiting a distance time and place.
Instead of the heat of the fire, the Immortal’s mind registered the hot, dry sun beating down upon the desert sands. The odd taste in his mouth came not from the oxygen coming from the tank on his back, but from the indigo dye he used to decorate half of his face. His sword wasn’t cutting through the undead, but rather through the flesh of the inhabitants of another of the caravans and villages that he brought wholesale slaughter upon. In that time, his own name had no meaning -- only the title bestowed upon him by the few who saw him and lived to tell the tale.
In his mind, the Immortal was once again the living personification of Death.