Title: You Forgot To Mention Hell, Horatio
Author: JR
Email: JRR42@yahoo.com
Rating: PG-13 for language.
Status: Complete
Warnings: Nope. Not this time.
Category: Crossover with Highlander
Disclaimer: All other characters belong to their respective owners and are used without permission. This story is not intended to infringe upon any copyrights, nor is any profit being made from it.
This is what happens when you get involved with too many different fandoms.
Universe setting: For you Highlander fans, this story takes place sometime after ‘Archangel’ (sorry to all those Richie Forever people). Please forgive me for playing with the timelines of the shows, but hey, it’s fan-fic and I can do that ;-)
Thanks: As always, to Carrie, and to Marius, the oak and the ash to my birds in the forest.

“What was that?” Willow squeaked.

“Shhh!” Adam insisted for the twentieth time in as many minutes. According to Willow’s estimates, they were almost at the egress point for Angel’s apartment. Thus far, they hadn’t seen any trace of a single vampire, unfortunately, that also included the one for whom they were searching.

Suddenly, Adam felt tap on his back. Stopping in place, the Immortal searched around for any signs of possible danger. Sensing nothing, Adam trained the flashlight he had duct-taped to his forearm in Willow’s direction.

“What is it?” he asked. He had been more than a little worried that somewhere along the way, they were going to come across a silver chain surrounded by a pile of ash. He did his best to convince himself that his concerns were simply based on a tactical level. The loss of Angel would be a grievous one in the fight against the Legion. He refused to admit, even to himself that, despite their less than auspicious beginning, he would be sorry if Angel’s long existence came to such a senseless end.

“Over there,” Willow indicated, shining her light down to the far end of the damp tunnel. “What is that?”

The moved as one toward the object that had caught Willow’s eye. Moving closer, both Immortal and teenager were suddenly overtaken by a sinking feeling as they each recognized the item.

With a heavy hand, Adam leaned down and slowly retrieved the cracked, leather bound book that had last been seen in Angel’s hands as he departed the library.

“Oh God,” Willow choked as tears welled up in her eyes. For the second time in two days, she began to cry for the vampire named Angel.

At that same moment in another tunnel, Angel was utilizing every last scrap of willpower he had to control his inner-demon. He had regained consciousness hours ago, only to find himself alone in a room, chained spread-eagle on what looked to be a king-sized bed. By the cool dampness of the air, Angel suspected that he was still underground; and judging by the harshness of the predicament he found himself in when he woke, Angel had a fair idea of exactly whom was responsible for his abduction.

There was, Angel thought, an air of elegance to the cruelty he had been subjected to for the past few hours. Resting on a decrepit nightstand next to the bed was an enormous basin filled to the brim with fresh human blood. Already hungry when he departed from the library earlier that afternoon, the scent of the thick liquid so nearby was driving his demon absolutely insane.

But that wasn’t even the half of it.

It wasn’t simply a matter of being restrained by the iron cuffs on his wrists and ankles. For numerous reasons, such restraints were common among vampires. No, the real elegance -- the subtle difference between simply being held against his will verses a prisoner being tortured -- was the shackles themselves. The first time he tested the strength of the chains, Angel had quite painfully discovered that somebody had filed down the edges of the cuffs to insure that the razor-sharp metal sliced deeply into his flesh at the slightest movement. And, since the shackles were on his wrists and ankles, even the shallowest of cuts bled profusely, which, in turn, made his hunger increase exponentially.

It was brilliant. Had the part of him that was Angelus been in control at that moment, he would have applauded whomever had come up with the idea. Well, then again, maybe not -- not without losing both of his hands in the process.

So he waited. At first, he found it easy to resist. After all, he’d already been to Hell itself and survived, thanks to Willow. But despite all the heinous tortures he’d suffered there -- the whippings, the evicerations, the face-to-face encounters with every last one of his victims -- never once in all his time there did Angel ever experience hunger.

It was a powerful force, one that could drive the most pious of men to the most deviant of acts. The fact that Angel had a demon inside him only made matters worse, for the demon cared nothing about self-restraint or control. All it knew was that it was hungry and it wanted to feed, no matter the consequences.

So Angel resisted, not just the lure of the blood on the nightstand, but the demands of the demon within as well.

His internal clock gave Angel some grasp of how much time had passed. When he sensed the sun setting, he knew that the others would shortly become aware of his disappearance. On one hand, it filled him with a small measure of hope in that he knew that they would become aware of his absence and begin searching for him. Yet, the thought of them coming to his aid was also his greatest fear. He would never be able to cope with the guilt should harm befall any members of the group known as the Slayerettes.

The minutes passed by slowly, each second stretching on for an eternity of its own. Between his concern for those he considered his friends and the exertion of keeping his demon in check, Angel was beginning to feel the strain of the situation.

Before his control could slip, however, Angel heard the sound of the door to the room opening. It was then that he caught his first glimpse of their latest nemesis.

The vampiress was, indeed, as beautiful as the Watcher’s journals had indicated. With her dark brown eyes and long, flowing hair the colour of night itself, it was plain to see why this particular vampiress was destined to lead the Prophecy of Legion. She was wearing an extremely low-cut dress that left little to Angel’s imagination. Like the sheets on the bed he was chained to, Eleni’s clothes were made of the finest, most sheer black silk Angel had ever seen.

“Buenas noches, bellisimo,” she said in the musical tone of Castillian Spanish. The vampiress was not surprised when Angel did not deem to answer her. Tu no hablas Espanol, verdad? Que lastima. Well, then, perhaps we should try English, yes?”

Even when she switched languages, Angel refused to respond. Instead, he glared at her with all of his outrage from the cruelty she had so far inflicted upon him.

“You, of course, know who I am,” Eleni said with supreme confidence. “Just as I know all about you, Angelus, childe of Darla, sire of Drusilla. You are the beautiful one cursed with a soul, I am told.”

Eleni’s revelation did not surprise Angel overly much. One of the downsides of being somewhat notorious was that it made it difficult to maintain any semblance of anonymity.

“Still nothing to say?” Eleni questioned, moving forward until she reached the side of the bed. Without hesitation, the vampiress leaned forward to run her fingers through Angel’s spiky hair. When he continued to do nothing but grimace at her touch, Eleni couldn’t help but chuckle. “Come now, do not tell me that I have had the fortune to find that which all women seek: a man with the face of an angel, the body of an Adonis, and a tongue that is completely silent? Why, that is the definition of heaven itself. But, sadly, even I am not so fortunate.”

“So much power,” Eleni mused. As she spoke, the vampiress’s fingertips gently traced along his cheekbones, before continuing down to his neck and chest. Although her touch was meant to be erotic, to Angel it was anything but. In fact, it was all he could do to keep from shuddering violently. Unaware of her captive’s revulsion, Eleni’s hands drifted lower, across the rippled muscles of his abdomen, directly down to his pants-covered groin.

“Well, well, well,” she mused as she fondled him with a practiced hand. “I knew my choice was a wise one. And such control. Buenos, buenos. Once you are soulless again, you will be perfect.” Not discouraged by Angel’s lack of response, Eleni quickened the pace of her teasing hand for a moment, before withdrawing it completely from his body.

“Why am I here?” Angel sighed tiredly, finally breaking his silence.

“Ah, I knew it was too good to last. No matter,” she waved a hand dismissively. “You are here, Angelus, because I have chosen you.”

“Chosen me?” he repeated slowly.

“Yes,” she replied, her dark eyes smoldering in excitement. “I can give you that which we all crave -- power. You must already know of the Prophecy? It has already begun, and all that remains is for me to choose my consort. I have chosen you, Angelus. I will raise you above all the others, and when the new Master defeats the Champion, you will be by my side as I present to him the Army of the Masks.”

“Why,” Angel questioned. “Why me?”

“Because I wish it,” she replied dreamily, lost in her own illusions of power.

“And if I don’t?” he shot back, taking pleasure as she recoiled over his refusal.

“Oh, you will,” Eleni said knowingly. “And I ask for only two things in return.”

“Yeah? What’s that?” Angel asked, more because he knew it was expected of him than out of his own curiosity.

“The first is simple: you must submit to me, acknowledge me as your mistress.” Angel merely nodded, as establishing domination was typical any time two powerful vampires met. “The second is why you are chained here to this bed, for I do not think you will tell me freely.”

“Can we stop with the build up, already? Just tell me what the hell you want from me,” he cut to the chase.

“I’ve heard tales that you recently lost this soul that plagues you. I want to know how it was done -- after all, I cannot very well have my consort burdened with such a thing.”

It was, he noted, the third time she had mentioned his soul since she walked in the room. Her concern over the subject appeared to be a focal point of some kind. That, by default, made it an advantage in his favour. Now, if he could only determine why it was so damned important to her.

“Sorry, can’t help you. I like my soul just where it is, thank you,” Angel insisted smugly, purposely trying to arouse his captor’s ire.

“You *will* tell me!” she hissed, furious to be denied something that she wanted. With vampiric swiftness, she leaned forward and pushed down harshly on his forearms, causing the sharp metal of the cuffs to cut deeply into his wrists.

Crying out at the sudden pain, Angel missed the rage that momentarily flashed over Eleni’s features, only to be replaced by a more spiteful expression. Straightening herself up, the vampiress dipped a finger in the basin of blood, thoroughly coating the digit before once again turning her attention back to her prone captive. With a sadistic grin, she touched the dripping finger to his face, leaving a glistening dot to decorate the tip of Angel’s nose.

The cuts in his wrists were bleeding profusely, draining his strength away with each passing second. In addition, the nearby scent of the coppery, red fluid made it almost impossible for him to keep his control from slipping. Nevertheless, he managed. Angel simply refused to give the bitch the satisfaction.

“Your will is very strong, Angelus, but you will find that mine is stronger. You make this more difficult than it needs to be, but you will submit.”

With that said, Eleni exited the room, leaving the weakened vampire alone to struggle for control.

“So you found no signs of…uhm…that is…” Giles stumbled. Despite the lingering harsh feelings the Watcher had toward the vampire for his actions as Angelus, Giles didn’t want to see Angel meet such a tragic end.

As previously arranged, the other Slayerettes had been waiting for Willow and Adam just outside Angel’s apartment. Given the large amount of weapons they were carrying for their evening patrol, they had decided to take two vehicles to make the rendezvous. As a way to save time, Willow was riding with the other teens in Oz’s van, while Adam joined Giles in the librarian’s classic Citeroen

“No,” the Immortal assured. “We combed that part of the tunnel meter by meter. If Angel was, indeed, staked; it didn’t happen there.”

“Maybe Angel managed to elude them,” Giles said hopefully.

“Wouldn’t he have tried to contact somebody in that case?”

“Captured, then?” the Watcher offered.

“That would be my guess,” Adam confirmed. “But the real question is why?”

“Information, perhaps?” Giles brainstormed. “They may wish to know what, if anything, we’ve managed to uncover, and how much of a threat we pose to their plans.”

“Probably,” the Immortal agreed. “But why Angel?”

“I…don’t follow,” the Watcher said with a puzzled expression on his face.

“Why would they specifically target Angel?”

“Well,” Giles began, “as you mentioned previously, tactically speaking, Angel is the best fighter among us. Or, if they have been watching our activities, his daily forays into the tunnels might have made him the most easily accessible.”

“No, I don’t…,” Adam’s voice trailed off as he slipped into his memories of the previous night. There was something odd, something that he had yet to take into consideration. Time and again, he forced himself to comb through the recollection in slow motion. Finally, it came to him. “That’s it!” he exclaimed, receiving an odd look from the librarian. “The attack in the park last night wasn’t random – those vampires were sent there to take Angel…alive.”

“How can you be…”

“Don’t you see?” Adam enthused. “Willow said that those vampires weren’t interested in a meal and yet they attacked. By the time I reached them, Angel was already unconscious and Willow was already being bitten.”

“I don’t see…”

“Only *one* vampire was biting Willow. There were five others mulling around. If their intent had been to kill Angel, they had all the time in the world to do so. Yet, they left him...incapacitated and attacked Willow instead.”

“And still, I fail to see the importance of…”

“It’s Angel that they’ve been after the whole time!” Adam said bluntly, exasperated by Giles’ obtuseness. But now that he was on the right track, the librarian was quick to catch up to the Immortal’s train of thought.

“They want him for some specific reason, either to keep him out of the way…”

“…or because they *need* him for some reason.” Adam concluded. “Either way, I think that this is a sign that something is about to happen.”

“The Prophecy?” Giles hazarded.

“The Prophecy,” Adam confirmed.

Both men fell silent for a moment as Giles brought the car to halt for a red light. The area looked vaguely familiar to Adam and, looking around, he caught sight of his hotel a little further up the street on the right. Suddenly, he remembered that he had forgotten completely about the college fair he was supposed to be attending at that very moment in time. Well, at least he had a good reason for not being there. He only wondered if his Department Head at the University of Seacouver would consider ‘battling against demonic forces’ a valid excuse for not honouring his commitment.

As the light changed back to green, Adam was hard pressed to stifle a chuckle over the situation. Lurching forward as the librarian threw the car into gear, the Immortal was about to continue their previous conversation when he felt the traces of a familiar tingle in the base of his skull. The buzz grew stronger as they drove towards the hotel.

‘Shit!’ he cursed silently, realizing that Ahriman must have sent yet another Immortal to challenge Adam. ‘Shitshitshitshit. Damn it, not now! I don’t have time for this now!’

The buzz grew weaker as the car moved past the hotel, but the knowledge gave Adam little comfort. The addition of the other Immortal was a complication that he really did not need in his life at that moment -- especially now that he had, however reluctantly, become involved in fighting the Legion. As he saw it, he had three options to choose from: go back and face the challenger now, leave Sunnydale hoping that he would be able to evade the other Immortal, or ignore the problem for the time being. Given the circumstances, his third choice appeared to be the best solution for the moment.

“If the Prophecy is to be initiated soon, then we should focus on our research...,” The sound of Giles’ voice brought Adam’s attention back to the present.

“If the Prophecy has already begun, it might be more useful to try a more direct approach,” Adam countered.

“What...uh...do you have in mind,” Giles asked hesitantly.

“I must admit that I was thinking of quid pro quo,” Adam offered, noting the way the Watcher’s eyes grew large at the suggestion. “After all, they took our vampire, maybe it’s time we took one of theirs.”

“Do you have any concept of the dangers involved in attempting to capture a vampire?” Giles sputtered.

“Look, the key to winning *any* battle is information, something that they have and we are sorely lacking at the moment. So, unless you have another suggestion...” the Immortal invited.

Giles was silent for a moment, obviously attempting to come up with an alternative to Adam’s idea -- an alternative that would not place any of them in mortal peril. Then, out of nowhere, Adam saw the proverbial light bulb go on over the Watcher’s head. Almost instantly, the librarian was reaching for the headlight switch on the dashboard, rapidly turning it off and on to get Oz’s attention in the van in front of them. Following as the teenager pulled into a deserted parking lot, Adam turned to Giles.

“What are you doing?” the Immortal questioned as the librarian drove on past the slow moving van.

“Going back to the school to get a net.”




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