Dies Irae

By Medea

Chapter Nine

Fiona Leary drove her car along the road to Horsham, cursing her colleagues for prolonging their discussion of the situation past dusk. She should never have listened to them! In their arrogance, they had assured her that nobody would ever know the identity of their small circle. No records had ever been kept of their plans -- meeting times, orders, inquiries, all had been committed to memory, rather than written down.

But someone knew everything.

She couldn't believe how stupid they'd been. The *Powers* knew. Why had she believed Henry Lloyd when he had insisted the repercussions would be moderate, given that they were actually "serving the greater good in the ultimate scheme of things"? That stuffy old prig was so blinded by his own righteousness that he had convinced himself, and all the others, that it was the Council's place to balance the scales.

<And I let myself be seduced by every word!> Fiona berated herself.

Her self-chastisement was cut short when a sudden movement snapped her attention back to the road. She gasped and slammed on the brakes as an uprooted tree fell across the tarmac. The car skidded out of control and crashed into a ditch.

Shaken, Fiona recovered her composure, then surveyed the situation. Although the sun had sunk below the horizon, the evening was just fresh enough that in the twilight she could see her surroundings. The Horsham parish church was only about a kilometer further down the road.

As soon as she saw the tree that had caused her "accident", Fiona knew she was being stalked. There wasn't so much as a breeze in the air, yet something...someone...had pulled that tree up by its roots, which hung at the base of the trunk, still clinging to clumps of soil.

Her heart raced.

As she scanned the area, Fiona saw no one. But they were out there, waiting. Of that she was certain.

She couldn't stay in the car. Cars didn't provide supernatural barriers against vampires. If she waited, she was as good as dead. But if she went out into the night, she was most likely dead as well.

The petite woman steeled herself. Not without a fight...

She reached into the back seat and retrieved the crossbow loaded with wooden bolts that she had packed for protection. Knowing that it improved the odds of her survival only marginally, she clutched it to herself and, breathing deeply, opened the door and climbed out of the car.

The sky was growing darker.

In no mood to emulate the brainless characters in horror movies who walked slowly and hesitantly when they were about to be attacked, Fiona ran full-throttle toward the church. It was her best hope.

As she ran, she heard laughter echoing behind her. Then footsteps, getting closer and closer, no matter how hard she ran...

Yet they didn't strike.

And that was when she made her last mistake.

When she was barely ten meters from the church, she foolishly stole a glance behind her. Still, she saw nothing. However, no longer concentrating on where she was going, she stepped on a rock in her path. It threw her off balance and sent her sprawling to the ground.

The laughter returned. Now it was closer.

When Fiona scrambled to her feet, facing away from the church and still clutching the crossbow, she saw them. By their appearance, she knew them immediately. Angelus...William the Bloody...and the Red Minion. They looked at her with amusement as she inched away from them, creeping toward the church as they slowly moved with her, until she was at the entry.

"Stay back...all of you!" Fiona insisted as she held the crossbow in front of her and backed toward the heavy wooden door of the church. Trembling, she reached behind her for the iron handle, desperate for the safety of a sacred space.

Angelus watched her with laughing eyes, as he continued to hold his hands up like an indulgent parent facing a small child with a water pistol. "And how long do you think you can hide in there?"

"Longer than you can wait outside," she hissed triumphantly as she pulled the door open. However, her triumph was short-lived, turning to panic when she backed straight into a body standing just inside the threshold. Before she could wheel around to confront her new opponent, strong arms reached around her and wrested the crossbow from her grip.

"Vampires may be skittish about entering churches, but I am not," Giles stated coldly as he pushed her outside, the crossbow now pointed squarely at her back.

Spike chuckled and said to Angelus, "And you wanted to leave him in Sunnydale."

"So this is the first time I've ever been wrong," Angelus retorted, although his voice revealed more amusement than irritation. Stalking toward Fiona with a sinister gleam in his eye, Angelus gathered her in his arms and began a macabre waltz. The dark vampire savored the delicious scent of fear as it grew stronger and stronger.

"Indeed, I'm rather glad that you're here, Rupert. Saves me the trouble of handling all those pesky arrangements that have to be made during daylight hours. Speaking of which..." Angelus continued.

"Everything is prepared. We'll find what we need around back," Giles confirmed.

"Excellent," Angelus hissed. "Come along, my dear. You've had a long day, now it's time for you to retire."

"I hope you burn in hell!" Fiona screamed, struggling for her life as Angelus carried her effortlessly through the parish cemetery toward the back of the church.

"Tsk, tsk," Angelus rebuked her. "Only one woman has ever been able to consign me to the flames of hell, and you don't even come close to measuring up. Soon enough, though, you'll have one thing in common..."

Spike laughed uproariously at Fiona's mounting panic, while Willow and Giles followed with grim determination.

They came upon a long, shallow wooden crate, a covered plastic bucket, and a freshly-dug grave. Fiona's eyes widened when Angelus kicked the lid off the crate and she realized that she was looking at her own coffin. Her screams renewed, but in a flash Angelus had clamped his hand over her mouth and whispered in her ear.

"Tell me, sweetheart, do you like poetry? I've always been fond of Yeats, myself. How does this sound for your eulogy?"

Spike stepped forward and started to undress her while Angelus began reciting the morbid verses of 'A Dream of Death':

"I dreamed that one had died in a strange place, near no accustomed hand...and they had nailed the boards above her face, the peasants of that land -- you know, I don't really think of myself as a peasant--" Angelus frowned as he digressed from his poetry recitation.

Spike slid first the sweater, then the blouse, from Fiona's shoulders, stroking her shivering skin in a twisted mockery of a lover's touch. He raised one of her wrists to his mouth and kissed it before sinking his fangs in as deep as the bone. Another wail of agony broke forth from the captive woman, but was muffled by Angelus's hand. Willow approached them, grasped Fiona's other arm, and began to drink as well.

"Don't drain her..." Angelus reminded them. "Now, where was I? Ah, yes...Wondering to lay her in that solitude, and raised above her mound a cross they had made out of two bits of wood, and planted cypress round...we'll just skip the cross part...never cared for them...."

Spike and Willow dropped her wounded wrists and finished removing her clothes. As she stood, naked and vulnerable, Spike allowed himself a frenzy of biting. He bit her thighs, her belly, her hips, and her breasts, drinking very little but leaving gashes that oozed blood. As he did so, Angelus finished his poem.

"...And left her to the indifferent stars above, until I carved these words: She was more beautiful than thy first love, but now lies under boards."

With that, he removed his hand from Fiona's mouth and kissed her. The woman's confusion instantly turned to terror and then shock as Angelus let his demonic face surge to the fore and savagely bit off her tongue. He spit it into the grave and licked her blood from his lips.

Unable to do more than gurgle on her own blood, Fiona offered no resistance as Angelus tossed her unceremoniously into the crate. He then removed the lid from the plastic bucket and tipped it over her, sprinkling her liberally with writhing maggots. Those that fell on her open wounds instinctively began burrowing into her flesh.

As he looked down on her, Angelus pondered lightly, "I wonder what's worse, asphyxiation or being eaten alive? Well, no worry...even though screw-worm larvae can drop a full-grown horse in seven days, I'd wager you'll suffocate long before that. No, the maggots won't kill you...they'll just ensure that your last hours of life feel really, really bad."

Spike peered into the crate and added with a wink, "Sweet dreams, luv."

He and Willow then fixed the lid over the top and nailed it down tightly. Far stronger than human pallbearers, Spike and Angelus pushed the crate to the edge of the grave, climbed down, and then lifted it into their bare hands and lowered it into the earth. They hoisted themselves out and looked down with satisfaction.

Picking up a shovel, Giles pitched a clump of earth onto the crate and murmured, "The blood that they have shed will hide no longer in the blood-sloken soil, but cries to Heaven... 'How are the mighty fallen'..."

Angelus chuckled as he likewise grabbed a shovel and helped Giles fill the grave with dirt. "You know, Rupert, I once met Sir Henry, in 1859, I think it was..."

*****

"She's not answering..." Andrew Barnes announced as he listened for a few more moments before switching off his cell phone.

"Damn!" Charles Watson swore.

"I suspect that Fiona panicked and tried to run," Henry Lloyd surmised.

"Well, anyone might have guessed that, given the way she was going on about it yesterday," Margaret Austen remarked.

All eyes snapped up, as the remaining five conspirators looked at each other in instant realization.

"Someone didn't have to guess. They listened to our every word," Winston Barnes voiced the horrible truth.

"Correction...*are* listening..." Henry Lloyd stated tersely.

A cacophany of shouts and accusations erupted as all present reacted to the unsettling discovery that they were being monitored like rats in a maze. At last, Henry Lloyd was able to make his voice heard above the din, and persuaded his colleagues to listen.

"There is still one safe place available to us," he informed them calmly. "But it would be better for us to speak of this elsewhere."

*****

"Well, Spike, it just got more challenging," Willow quipped, as the five conspirators abandoned Henry Lloyd's home, thus moving beyond the reach of her spell.

"You know, I should *hurt* you for rubbing my nose in it," Spike retorted.

"Promises, promises..." Willow sighed with a wink. Her blond companion smirked back at her.

"*Children*, we'll have time for that later," Angelus broke in. "Right now, we have people to kill, and to kill them, we have to get at them. Rupert, check the database again."

"Well, all right, but I've been over it ten times and I haven't found reference to any Council properties to which Willow hasn't already gained access via the runes," Giles muttered as he rubbed weary eyes and prepared to launch a search on the computer.

"Which databases have you checked?" Willow asked, moving to stand behind him so she could look at the screen.

"Every one for which there are records, dating back to 1919. I'm sorry, but I couldn't get any records dating prior to the First World War," Giles explained as he scrolled through various lists.

Willow followed along as he clicked through various screens. When they came to records for the years 1939-1949, she stopped him.

"Hold it...what's this one? Why haven't I seen it in any of the other records?"

Giles scrutinized the name through his spectacles. "Wren...I don't think there has ever been a Wren in the Council. It's possible that this was one of the temporary shelters used during the war."

"Do you think Lloyd could be taking them there?" Willow suggested.

"You may be on to something, Willow," Giles confirmed with renewed zeal for the search. "Now all we need to do is figure out who the owner was, and track his descendants...although..."

"Although *what*?" Spike demanded impatiently.

"Well, all we have for the name is Wren, and the first initial, 'C'," Giles muttered. The ex-Watcher continued to search through various directories for another few minutes, when suddenly a riotous laugh split the air. All of them looked over at Angelus, who was shaking his head and grinning.

"Don't bother looking for descendants," the dark vampire advised. "I know where it is. The real problem will be getting three of us inside."

Giles stared at him in confusion. "What, you mean an invitation?"

"Oh, it'll take a little more than the usual invitation for Spike, Willow and I to be able to function at full strength in Chris Wren's house," Angelus offered cryptically, waiting for the flicker of recognition in the ex-Watcher's eyes.

As the dark vampire had hoped, that spark appeared in an instant, and Giles gasped, "Christopher Wren, the architect...St. Paul's cathedral! Of *course*...no wonder it was still standing after the fire-bombing of London."

"What's wrong with churches?" Willow asked.

Angelus scowled at her in disgust. "Were you turned yesterday? Churches? Sacred spaces that are anathema to vampires?"

"But I thought Spike fought Buffy in one, once..." Willow insisted defensively.

"And nearly got myself dusted," Spike added solemnly, "He's right, luv. In a pinch, we could get ourselves in, but once inside we'd be too weak to do much."

"Unless...." Giles mused thoughtfully.

"Unless what?" Angelus prompted him.

"A sacred space ceases to be potent if it's desecrated," Giles reasoned.

"Been there, done that," Spike quipped blithely, "This is a bloody cathedral we're talking about. You'd need a fucking monster of a desecration for that. More than spitting on a sodding icon."

"It can be arranged," Giles said quietly.

Willow saw the sad determination in his face, and grew concerned. He had already been pushing his boundaries with everything they had done so far. No matter how much he cared for Buffy, he wasn't a vampire -- he was still human. He had a soul, and a conscience, and something told Willow that he was too close to the edge...that he was about to pay too high a price for vengeance.

"How?" Willow demanded, summoning up her resolve face.

"Willow...please trust me on this," Giles answered. When he saw that she was about to argue with him, he added, "I suspect I know what you're worried about. Don't worry...I'm not planning anything that will put me in *eternal* jeopardy."

Willow bit her lip, still worried about her human friend. Before she could debate the issue further, Angelus interrupted impatiently. "As long as you can make sure we can fight in there, that's all that matters. Can you deliver?"

"Yes, I can."

"Then let's go," Angelus commanded as he rose to his feet. Giles and Spike moved to follow, but Willow remained rooted in place near the computer, her brow furrowed. The dark vampire fixed her with a stern glare and warned, "No time for games, Red. Move. Now."

"No...this is exactly the time for games," Willow insisted fervently. "Angelus, please hear me out. If you don't want to -- well, then take off your belt and get ready to use it, because I'm going to say this anyway!"

Spike cursed softly as he saw a familiar clench to his sire's jaw. In an instant, Angelus was flush against Willow. He whisked his belt from his pants loops and wrapped it menacingly around her neck, tugging the ends with just enough pressure to make her aware that he could crush her throat if he so chose.

"Make it quick and make it good," Angelus murmured, his voice low and deadly. "If it isn't, I'll leave you here unconscious, and when we return from slaughtering Council members, what I do to you won't be pretty."

Willow forced herself to remain calm and nodded. "Alexei."

"You get the picture," Angelus agreed.

"No...not me. Them," she explained. "If Giles wants to put himself at risk, I can't stop him. But it should be worth it. It needs to be a lesson that won't be forgotten, ever. That can't happen unless we make an example of these five, and to do that we need witnesses."

Angelus stared at her intently for a minute longer, before he released her and slipped his belt back on. As soon as he had fastened the buckle, his fist shot out and connected with Willow's jaw, sending her hurtling across the room. Without saying another word to her, he instructed Giles to contact a few members of the Council with an anonymous message about coming to St. Paul's cathedral for further information on the recent fire at the manor. With a furtive glance at Willow, Giles went to the phone to make the calls.

While Giles spoke briefly to several different Council members, Angelus crossed the room to stand over Willow. He looked down at her. Then a smirk lifted at the corner of his mouth and he extended a hand to help her up. Confused, Willow frowned, but accepted his gesture and allowed him to raise her to her feet.

"That was for your tone of voice," the dark vampire stated. "But I like your thinking. I always did love an audience..."

Pulling Willow closer, Angelus nuzzled his cheek against hers and whispered in her ear, "...and I love your fire, little one...you are so much like my boy...so defiant..."

In spite of herself, Willow felt her desire mounting. Not because of the intimate pressure of his body against hers, but because of what she heard in his voice.

Pride.

Before her emotions grew seriously distracting, Giles finished his calls and cleared his throat. "The lure has been cast."

"Right. Shall we, mates?" Spike suggested, holding the door open with a flourish. Willow looked at him and caught his sympathetic wink and nod in mute support of her successful experiment in standing up to Angelus. The dark vampire followed, carrying a sinister-looking, black leather satchel.

Although she still had misgivings about what Giles might have planned, Willow felt herself warming to the thrill of the hunt. As they descended the stairs from their flat, she announced dramatically, "Here's to cheating, stealing, fighting, and drinking..."

Smiling, Giles joined in. "If you cheat, may you cheat death."

"If you steal, may you steal a human's soul," Spike proclaimed loudly, before drawing close to Willow, placing a light kiss on her neck and adding, "...or my heart..."

Clapping both Willow and Spike on the back, Angelus boomed, "If you fight, may you fight beside those of your clan."

As they stepped out into the darkened street, all four of their voices echoed resoundingly.

"And if you drink, may you drink with me!"

Continue