FIC: Once Again (6b/7) We'd Like You to Keep Your Promise
Summary: The group nears their goal.
Spoilers: Up through BtVS:Chosen and AtS:NFA
Rating: Minor language, violence
Acknowledgment: My thanks to Theo for his input, ideas, and beta reading.
< Part 6a -|- Part 7 > Part 6b: We'd Like You to Keep Your Promise
When Angel finally came to, he found himself tightly shackled to a vertical rock slab at one end of a small, windowless room. A horizontal sliver of grimy dim light was visible on the floor opposite him and provided the only source of illumination. Angel correctly guessed that would be where the door was.
As he assessed his new surroundings Angel's vampire vision quickly became accustomed to the level of light a human would find too dark to see anything at all. The room was rectangular, maybe ten feet wide by twenty long, the slab he was on at one end, facing the door. Except for the door, the entire room, a cell really, was completely made of huge stones fitted tightly together. Although cooler, the air was as dry and ashy as it had been during his trek with Xander. Oddly, whenever Angel made a noise there was no echo as he would have expected, as if the stone itself sucked up the sound.
Angel next tried to move and test his bindings. His ankles, wrists and torso were firmly bound with soft yet unyielding straps and he could barely move anything at all except his head. Concentrating, Angel put everything into a supreme effort to break free, flexing first one way and then another but there was absolutely no give at any point. Whoever it was who put him here, they knew their business. In a sudden helpless fury he struggling wildly for several more minutes with no further hint of success.
With his anger--and a good deal of remaining energy--spent, he gave a heartfelt sigh and let his head roll back against the dry, cool rock. There was nothing to do but wait for events to unfold.
Angel didn't know how long he had waited, and thought he might have even drifted off into unconsciousness, before his eyes opened upon hearing muffled voices on the other side of the door. After the loud clatter of a view slit being opened, the door swung smoothly aside to reveal the back-lit profiles of several human-like forms. He sniffed and realized one of them, the smaller one in the middle and forward of the others, was in fact a human.
Three captors slowly and confidently advanced into the cell, with several more behind holding flickering, sputtering torches. Angel's nose wrinkled at the stench of the spitting flames. He waited silently as the human among them let his eyes rove over Angel's imprisoned form, casually inspecting, nodding in satisfaction.
"Who are you?" Angel finally asked.
The human continued to quietly regard Angel for a long time before answering in a deep rumbling voice, a voice somewhat at odds to his slight build. "I am your captor. You are my prisoner."
Despite knowing it was pointless, Angel let his muscles flow into an outwardly relaxed appearance and gathered all his strength for one more lunge. At the very least he wanted to establish some measure of control in this situation, show he wasn't intimidated.
As before, his bindings held fast. The human who had addressed him didn't flinch or even raise an eyebrow, smirking confidently as Angel struggled and roared. He stepped around Angel, minutely inspecting him, totally confident in Angel's inability to do anything. When Angel finally gave up struggling the human moved to stand directly before Angel, casually picking at his nails while speaking. "Are you quite done yet?"
Angel, slumped with exhaustion, tipped his head.
"Good."
It really bugged Angel how self-satisfied this person was.
"I am the J'ochemla-Ach!adari, leader of the Cult of Anfal, faithful servants and those who prepare the way for the true rulers of the universe, the Old Ones." Angel's captor seemed to be genuinely amused. "You, Angel, may call me Tim."
Angel groaned. He swore to himself if, heaven forbid this entire Angel-gets-to-be-the-Keeper hoopla backfired and he instead turned back into Angelus again, he would eat only Monty Python fans until none were left on the face of the earth. He smiled thinly as he thought that might actually be a more quick and certain way to redeem himself than whatever stunt Envoy had in mind.
Tim continued speaking. "You seek the Pevasor Adnihilo. We have it." He waved to his demon vanguard who socketed their torches into wall brackets and quickly left. Moments later another human pushed what looked like a tall, wheeled coat-rack before him, upon which was draped a large, crudely made cloth shroud. He left it to one side of Tim and backed out, leaving only Tim in the cell with Angel. "Just to satisfy my own curiosity, Angel, what do you know of this? Why do you want it when it means your very death?"
For a moment Angel considered not saying anything, but he needed more information, more time, and the best way was to keep this human talking. "Envoy said there was a way for me to become the new Keeper of The Deeper Well. That thing is necessary for that to happen. He didn't explain how."
"You? The new Keeper? Interesting." Tim walked over to the rack and gazed lovingly at the shroud draped upon it. "Almost anything of worth," he began in a sing-song tone, circling around the rack, holding his hand out to the Pevasor Adnihilo but not quite touching it, "such as this, has more than a single purpose." Tim returned to his previous place before Angel while he talked.
Angel suspected Tim, like an anxious little boy, had been practicing this little victory speech for just this very moment.
"The more important a thing is--whether be person, object, or even a concept, idea or effect of magic--the more opposed those purposes are." Tim flipped-flopped his hand back and forth to illustrate. "A Yin-yang thing, if you will."
---
After many back and forths, dead-end canyons, false trails and more up and down hiking than Xander ever wanted to see again, the group eventually emerged through the mouth of a narrow canyon and onto the edge of a wide, flat plain, almost completely enclosed by tall mesas. The plain was dominated by a central, immense column of rock but otherwise virtually featureless.
Although Xander figured that impressive pile of stone was plenty tall, it was more squat than towering. It looked as if it were extruded from the depths below, pushed out by the forces of hell itself, it's sides shredded into surrounding rubble as it rose. Atop the column appeared to be a primitive fortress, gouged and carved into the rock rather than being built upon it. It was hard to tell the scale, but as tiny as it now looked against its foundation, Xander suspected the fortress was in fact quite huge.
Though she was not certain as they approached, Cordelia's sense was that whatever they were looking for would be there. This was proved as they circled around it, only for Cordelia to say they had passed their destination. Another circling confirmed it. "Whatever it is we're looking for, it's in there." Though she made her conclusion with confidence she nonetheless seemed unhappy about it.
"I was looking pretty closely, but I didn't notice anyway in. No stairs or ladders or pathway, not even a draw-bridge or anything," observed Xander. "Are you sure?"
"Yup."
"There must be some way, though it's probably well hidden. I suggest we split into teams and scour around to look," offered Giles.
"Sounds good, but we're all tired, and I for one am hungry, so let's take a break first," said Xander.
They were all tired and hungry. At their next stop they finished the last of their rations and half the rest of their water.
---
"Buffy! Buffy!"
Willow waved and jumped to get Buffy's attention as she cleared airport security. They rushed together into a warm embrace of two old and dear friends who had been apart for too long. After the initial hugs and effusive, bubbling, babbling words of greeting, Willow offered to take Buffy's carry-on.
"Honestly, Will," Buffy protested, "Of the two of us, which one is slayer powered?" Willow gave in easily.
Buffy interrogated Willow on the latest developments as they made their way through Heathrow and out to the car Willow had hired. "Has there been anymore newsy-news, any more calls?"
Willow chewed on her lip before answering. "Well, when he called me, this Lorne suggested a very curious errand." Buffy quirked her eyebrow to ask the question. Willow shook her head. "It's better if I show you," she answered evasively, "but otherwise there's really nothing you don't already know. No new hints," she groused. "You and I are the only people he called, and nobody has been able to track him down. I've done my darndest, the coven has tried, but zippity-zip doo-dah," Willow threw up her arms in frustration, "he's mystically invisible, doesn't exist."
Willow frowned in a very disapproving way. "And those two old poopheads, Roger and Royce, say it's all just a wild goose-chase anyway. Without more solid evidence they want the search called off and they're beginning to convince others and it's getting to be just you and me and Robin." Willow ran out of breath.
Buffy was equally annoyed with the Council. It wasn't until Giles had disappeared that she appreciated how much he really did--in a supposedly figure-head position--to hold everything together. He had always kept her in the loop with the most important information, yet shielded her from the worst of the petty trivialities and internal politics.
As the months had passed without any progress finding their lost friends, she and Robin were having more trouble convincing everyone to stay focused. Buffy admitted to herself, even she was having more and more thoughts they might be really gone for good, that maybe it was time to find some closure as had been suggested increasingly often.
Then had come the mysterious calls from Lorne, first to her, then to Willow. Buffy could see how she herself could be easily found, almost everyone knew The Slayer was in Rome. But how had anyone known who Willow was, or even where she was staying in Stow-on-the-Wold, having never left after arriving only one day after Xander and the others had disappeared?
"No, they're wrong, this goose needs to be chased! Is there anything new at the woods? Anything at all?" Buffy asked.
Willow shook her head. "The only lead we have is the directions he gave you. Oh Buffy, it's a holiday that's not!" Willow was nearly wailing and Buffy reached to take her hand and give it an encouraging squeeze. It took a lot of effort to put some measure of confidence into the gesture.
They arrived at Willow's car and she popped open the trunk. "This is the errand I mentioned." Willow waved at the contents filling the space.
Buffy leaned over to peer inside. "Willow! Are you starting your own ski team?"
Willow sighed and shrugged. "'Bring lots of overcoats,' he said. No explanation."
"Do you think...?"
"I don't know, Buff. I just don't know anymore." Willow sighed again as she stared sadly at the pile of coats and jackets in her car. She held out her hand. "Can I see the directions?"
Buffy handed them over without a word and they both clambered into the car. Willow quickly read through the list of turns and roadways and became agitated. She read them again and calmed herself, but her breathing was deep. "This is...this..."
"What, what? This is this what?" demanded Buffy.
Willow smiled for the first time in a long time. "This is very interesting."
---
Tim signaled to someone, or something, outside the door, and Angel heard the distant scuffling of humans and demons scurrying about. Tim looked sharply at Angel. "What do you know of astrophysics, Angel? Specifically, anti-matter?"
Angel did a confused double-take at the sudden change in topic. Did Tim now wish to discuss the stars or the Big-Bang theory? Or was this just some kind of hitherto unheard of interrogation tactic?
Tim smiled upon seeing the confusion flitting across Angel's face. "Let me make this simpler. Do you know what happens when matter and anti-matter are brought together? No? It's quite simple. They totally and utterly annihilate each other. There is nothing left, nothing at all. What you do get--oh, it is so exquisite in its purity!--is the most beautiful release! Everything is turned into an explosion of pure energy in less than a micro-second! Think of the possibilities if it could only harnessed." Tim's smile was wickedly feral.
"You and Xander would get along just great," grumbled Angel.
"Xander? Is he the boy you were with? He and all your friends are of no consequence. They are outside this very keep even as we speak. They might even be able to rescue you. It will be interesting to watch them try."
"The physics?"
"Ah, yes. The beautiful annihilation of everything but the energy. Do you see what I'm getting at?"
"You want to blow up everything. Very original."
"Not quite." Tim seemed very disappointed in Angel. "There must be a dominion for the Old Ones to rule, so that would be rather pointless, wouldn't it? Think!" commanded Tim.
"Their time has passed," declared Angel, "even Illyria admits that now." Angel didn't think the little white lie would come back to haunt him.
Tim snorted. "That piece of traitorous trash is of no concern. He betrayed his kind. But we are the true followers, and we will return the masters to their rightful place in the Universe."
Angel shook his head.
"The clues are all there, man!" Tim waited. "Nothing? Too bad. Alright then. You believe you are to take part in a ceremony, a rebirth, where you and this," Tim waved at the Pevasor Adnihilo, "would be brought together. With that you would become the new Guardian of The Deeper Well, the Battlebrand in common parlance.
"But didn't I just say everything can have at least two purposes? Including you? We make but a slight change to the ritual, a few indecipherable words here, onyx sand instead of white, a vulture's feather instead of a wren's, and then..."
Despite himself, Angel looked expectantly at Tim. The cult leader stood directly in front of Angel and quickly smacked his palms together in a thunderclap of sound, almost painfully loud to Angel's sensitive hearing.
"Power! A release of such beautiful magical energy of the blackest night, one only we are prepared for. You can not harness this energy, you will only destroyed if you do. You can but deflect it, give it the barest nudge. And we have our target. The Deeper Well itself! The cursed hole in the world, containing all the Old Ones who remain. Before you can blink your eyes--which you won't because of, y'know, not existing anymore--the armies of the Old Ones will be freed from their timeless prison and come pouring out, cascading down on every dimension, taking everything for themselves, destroying every opposition. And when they have consolidated their domain they will take their rightful place as supreme Gods of all you could ever imagine!"
Tim had been getting louder and louder, speaking in a deep and intense fervor as his eyes began to glaze over. A sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead. He slowly returned from the self-induced high of his apocalyptic vision, blinking owlishly at Angel. "Ah, well, yes, that's the plan, anyway."
Angel watched as Tim strode over to the stand in the corner. It seemed to Angel as if he were about to drop to his knees and prey to the thing, but he didn't. Instead he looked back over his shoulder at Angel. "Are you feeling particularly jumpy, Angel? Skin crawling? An itch you can't scratch?"
Angel responded in the negative as Tim returned.
"Hmmm, must be that pesky little soul acting as a buffer." Tim was mildly disappointed and frowned, but his face soon cleared. "Well, never mind. There are a few more things I need to prepare, sacrifice a few hundred virgins, eat a baby or two, that sort of thing. It actually gives me a nasty indigestion, but you know how it is, you've got to keep up the appearances. Well, until we meet again, Angel, please keep a sharp eye on our little prize here."
Tim turned and swept out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him with a very solid thud.
---
After hours of careful inspection they eventually found what appeared to be a lone, large boulder with scrap marks gouged into the cliff face against which it rested. They quickly surmised it was movable and, for lack of any other alternative, offered their only possibility into the keep.
Faith grinned wolfishly, clapping Carole on the back, "Let's have at it, boys." She hustled the four other slayers together and arrayed them against the stone before taking her own place. "On three. One. Two. Three!!" As one, the slayers let out a groan and gave a mighty push. They were rewarded for their efforts by a muffled scraping sound and a movement of a fraction of an inch. Alternately yelling and groaning, they continued straining against the rock. After several attempts they found they had only moved it two inches.
The slayers fell back, sweat breaking out on their faces, rubbing shoulders or arms that had been pressed up against the stone.
Tarian remained standing, glaring at the obstruction. "Well, it looks to be some real work here." She turned to Xander. "A little extra help would be nice, yeah?" Then she glared at Giles and Cordelia in turn.
"B-b-but I'm a very old man," stammered Giles, still looking fresh as a daisy even after all the recent hiking.
"Hey! I'm the one who got us here," Cordelia responded tartly.
Tarian's smile, as was all the slayers in fact, was thin. "Yes. Been meaning to thank you for that. Yes indeed, yes indeed. Just as soon as we move this big arsed rock, or it has been a rather pointless effort of yours."
But Tarian saved her special glare for Xander. Xander, still sitting, just pointed. "My ankle?" he said weakly.
Tarian huffed in disgust and stomped back to where the slayers were sitting. Faith caught Xander's eye, gave him a small smile and shook her head slightly in a silent message to not let Tarian get to him.
In the meanwhile, Giles had begun closely inspecting the area against which the rock rested, and had climbed up the face to stand above the rock.
Faith noticed and watched him curiously. "Hey, boss, whatcha' lookin' at?" She swiped her hand across her brow to fling off some sweat.
"I, I think we've been going about this all wrong." Giles pointed down near his feet. "If we apply appropriate pressure here, I believe it would be much easier for you to move there."
"Like undoing a latch?" asked Xander. Giles nodded. "Let's go for it." He waved for Cordelia to follow him and gingerly climbed up above to stand with Giles. They talked it over for a few minutes and worked out exactly what they wanted to do.
Cordelia, Xander and Giles sat down, side by side, and placed their feet against the top of the rock. The slayers arrayed themselves once more against the side. "On three," called out Faith again.
This time, with Xander, Cordelia and Giles pushing the top of the rock away from the face, and the slayers pushing sideways again, they were rewarded with an entire foot of movement.
"Anything open up?" called down Giles.
"Nada," answered Carole.
"Keep goin' Again!" And again everyone strained, inching the rock over
Without warning, the rock rolled sideways three feet and began to slowly fall away from the cliff-face. The sudden shift caused Fulani and Tarian to stumble and fall in front it as it swayed over them.
"Look out!" shouted Faith. The fallen slayers began to scramble but they slipped on the sand and pebbles strewn about. Zelinda and Faith, nearest to the fallen two, leaped forward and successfully yanked their friends from out of the path of the tumbling boulder.
It made a booming sound as it fell against the level ledge, and its momentum began to carry it over the lip. A loud cracking was heard from underneath it as its weight pulverized the edge. It flipped over and gathered speed as it rolled and crashed down the slope. Giles winced with every thunderous boom it made but otherwise, like everyone, he stood and watched in stunned fascination as it rolled out into the plain and finally came to a lurching stop.
"Do you think they know we're here?" timidly asked Carole once the last of the rolling thunder echoed away.
"Lucy, I'm home!" Xander called out. He wasn't fast enough to dodge Cordelia's swing. "Ouch! What was that for?!" Xander rubbed furiously at the back of his head.
"Bee," sweetly answered Cordelia.
Tarian laughed out loud while the others, even Giles, smiled discreetly. Xander scowled but let it pass. He carefully scrambled down to join Faith, Zelinda and the other slayers, who were already peering into the darkness of the opening they had just revealed. The gurgling sound of moving water could be heard. Then they stumbled back as one, some holding their noses closed, others furiously waving to get some fresher air.
"Ewww. What is that smell?" demanded Xander.
Giles arrived behind them, carrying a flashlight, and they let him through without warning.
He was heard to cough and gag, and an "Oh, dear Lord," was uttered, but it was several more seconds before Giles reappeared. He took a few great breaths, looking accusingly at Xander. "A warning would have been in good order."
"Where's the fun in that?"
Giles waved him off and announced his findings. "It appears to be a stream of...sludge running underneath us." He glanced back at the cavern, up toward the direction of the keep and back down. "I would judge, from the angle and direction of flow, that it is emanating from our destination."
"Great! We just opened the manhole to a demon sewer."
"Yes," Giles tentatively agreed with Xander, "I do suppose that's one way of putting it."
Cordelia pointed back into the cave. "I think that's our way in."
"You can't be serious!" exclaimed Tarian. Zelinda maintained her ever-stolid appearance, seemingly ready for anything. Fulani, who had experienced far worse, didn't seem bothered in the least. Carole was inclined to agree with Tarian.
"Yes, I can."
Xander nearly gaped. Very much to his surprise she really did seem completely serious. Cordelia and sewers: it didn't compute, the image too bizarre. He had been in a few of them while in Sunnydale, but he couldn't ever remember Cordelia tromping about in one. He and Cordelia had a lot more to talk about than he'd first realized. If they survived this.
"That's how Wes and Gunn escaped from the castle in Pylea: through the sewer," she explained.
"That was getting out, what about getting in?" asked Xander
Cordelia shrugged.
"I think she's right, this is now our most likely way in," said Giles, "But don't you think they would be ready for us?"
Xander laughed. "You mean as opposed to us being the only living, moving things in this incredible wasteland, visible for miles around as we approached? And then we tip over that gi-nourmous rock and it's louder than a Stones concert? No, I think we've got the jump on them, but crawling through this sewer will now definitely give us away."
Giles was chagrined. "Err...Touche, if rudely put."
Faith worked hard to hide a smile. She was going to have to convince Robin to find room in the budget for more of these cross-cultural, team-building trips. Leave aside the sweat and the stink, the danger and exhaustion, and the imminent end of mankind, and she was having herself a real blast with this crew.
Xander threw up his arms. "Sorry, Giles, it's just..." He glanced back at the hole. "I'm hot, I'm tired. My ankle's on fire, and I'd kill for a Twinkie right about now. That stink isn't helping any, either. Seriously, either they know we're here, or they don't. I don't think using the, err...back entrance will make a difference." Xander strode forward into the opening and dropped down the hole. His voice floated up through the darkness. "Tunnels. Did it have to be more tunnels?"
The others quickly entered and gathered around, peering down at the top of Xander's head. Suddenly he screeched. "I'm melting, I'm melting!"
"Xander!" called out Cordelia, setting herself to jump in.
"Don't move, Cordelia! Xander, is it burning? Is it acid?" Giles demanded loudly, getting himself ready.
Xander looked up and laughed. "I was kidding. It just stinks worse than Uncle Rory's breath after a long binge. Come on down."
Seeing that Xander was about to take the lead, Zelinda shouted for him to stop. When he turned around to ask what she wanted she jumped down next to him and quickly passed him by and took the lead. He rolled his eye and sighed but made no argument. Once Zelinda had a notion in mind there was no dissuading her, and that was that.
Soon they all had jumped down, some holding their noses as they did so. Fortunately their senses quickly became deadened to the overpowering smell and it was at least tolerable if they couldn't actually ignore it. Zelinda and Xander led off.
"After you, princess." Faith stepped aside to give Cordelia a free path. Cordelia harrumphed and steadily walked forward, not hesitating in the slightest when her feet splashed into the muck. Faith was mildly impressed and followed right after. The others, one by one, some more reluctantly than others, joined them.
"Are we going in the right direction?" Giles asked Cordelia, who seemed to be as focused inwardly as equally as she was concentrating on stepping on the higher and drier patches.
"Yeah, I think so."
After more time than any would have liked, sloshing and slipping around in the yuck, the naked rock above them turned to cut stone that was dry fitted together. Xander ordered them to turn off their lights and they proceeded much more slowly and quietly. Eventually a large iron grate appeared in the ceiling of their tunnel, with ruddy, flickering rays of torchlight filtering through. It wasn't much but it provided a usable amount of illumination.
Communicating in hand-signals, Xander signaled everyone to be as quiet as possible. They crouched back as Xander beckoned Faith and Zelinda. Again with quick hand-signs he got them to come up to the grate and listen.
"We're good," Faith whispered after several minutes of intense concentration. She and Xander looked to Zelinda.
"Ja, I agree."
Xander nodded. "OK then, I think this is our way in. Ladies, if you would, please do the honors." Zelinda looked confused for a moment but saw how Faith was bracing herself on one side of the tunnel, setting her hands on that end of the grate. She copied the senior slayer, and with a silent nod of the head they began straining against the weight of the iron.
With a soft scraping sound of metal against stone it began to move very slowly. When one side of it cleared the floor they began slipping it sideways, Tarian coming up from the rear to help out. As soon as the opening was wide enough to allow them to squeeze through Xander quietly called, "Good enough!"
"OK, let's go," whispered Faith as she reached up to the opening to hoist herself through. She was startled when Tarian reached out and put her hand on Faith's shoulder.
"I should go first."
"Say what?!" Faith looked hard at Tarian, more perplexed than angry.
"You're the senior, the most valuable we have. If some nasty bugger really is waiting for us up there then I'm the one that's got the experience yet is still expendable."
Faith pursed her lips and considered her sister slayer. She didn't entirely agree with Tarian, but she had to admit the girl had a point. When she looked up Xander he gave her an imperceptible nod.
"OK girl, you get to play hero."
Of all the people in that sewer Cordelia was perhaps the most surprised by Faith's decision. Faith executing restraint, thoughtfulness and perhaps even good judgment? Faith letting someone else go first into imminent and unknown danger? Where did this more mature Faith come from? Cordelia asked herself. Nor had she missed the silent conversation between Xander and the senior slayer, and she wondered how much of Faith's good judgment came from working with Xander. It was soon her turn to be hoisted up and Cordelia had little time to consider once more how all the Scoobies had changed since high-school.
They were in a set of low-ceilinged, dark and narrow corridors in the form of an H, with themselves in the very middle. There were spitting torches, one at each end of the central corridor they were now in. Less smelly and less cramped than the sewer tunnel it was still not much of an improvement and Xander worried that maybe he should have kept the gang in the tunnel while this dungeon was completely searched first by just one or two of them.
Fulani and Carole moved the grate back into place and rejoined the group now huddled near a corner of two of the intersecting corridors. They listened in on a soft-spoken argument on their next move. Cordelia had both her hands pressed up to either side of her head, with her eyes closed. "We're close. Really close. I can feel it."
A decision was quickly reached and the two junior slayers were sent down to search the near corridor, while the rest backed away to search through other parts of the dungeon.
Carole looked nervously at Fulani, whose midnight black skin made her virtually invisible in the dark. Fulani grinned in anticipation, her teeth almost glowing, helping to restore Carole's confidence. It was time for the rookies to step up to the plate and show they deserved the confidence bestowed upon them. They silently slipped around the corner and began quartering through their assigned hallway.
The corridor, with slightly higher ceilings than the first one they were in, had several low-arched doorways branching off of it. Some of the doorways were wide open, revealing the hforbidding pitch-black caves of cells, while others had very solid looking doors blocking them. As they began to pass the third one they heard a soft grunting noise from inside. They immediately tensed, ready for a fight. They peeked through a high opening slit and relaxed. Listening in for several more moments they assured themselves there was only the one occupant of the cell.
Carole gestured to Fulani that she should wait while she went back to get the others.
Fulani, too excited or too impatient, was foolishly unable to wait and slid back the bolts holding the door. She slipped through, falling back against the wall as a sudden feeling of intense unease threatened to overcome her. Her eyes darted about but there were no obvious threats and she fought to overcome her dread, turning to face the captive.
"The cavalry, I presume?" amiably asked Angel.
"Cavalry? What you mean cavalry?" Fulani was confused by Angel's question and her nervousness increased again.
"Well," Angel pointed out reasonably, "you hardly look like Dr. Livingston."
Fulani frowned deeply. "Livingston?" This vampire was like no other she had ever met. She sensed the ghosts of evil in him and she pulled out her stake, slowly advancing, prodded by a pervasive unease. But as she drew nearer there was more she could sense from him, something that, now they were alone and she could see how defenseless he was, stayed her stake. And his words, "cavalry", "Livingston"? This was too confusing. She wavered between striking now and fleeing.
Fortunately, before Fulani could do anything silly or dangerous, Carole arrived with the others and the jittery Fulani was relieved to let the others take over.
Xander stopped in front of Angel. "I like this new helpless look of yours, Angel. It goes well with the pallor and suits you very well."
"Suits you even better, I'd wager," Angel replied.
Faith and Cordelia both elbowed past Xander to get at Angel and free him. While they began working on the bindings Angel addressed Giles. "Giles, the Peva-, Peva-, whatever, it's over there." Angel inclined his head in the direction where Tim had left the artifact laying across its stand. Giles turned about to see a large and thread-bare rag draped over the thin iron frame of the stand. He, Xander, and Zelinda slowly approached, none willing to pick it up or even touch it.
Xander cocked his head to one side to examine it from a different angle. He shook his head. "I dunno. It's a little... disappointing? I mean, if this is what's supposed to help Angel save the world, shouldn't it be all big and shiny and important looking?" Xander grinned hugely. "Y'know, like a monster truck?"
"Theme, Xander!" Xander had been ready and easily ducked Cordelia's slap.
From beside Angel, Faith shook her head. In fact all slayers were looking a little dazed, almost comatose, as they stared at it. "There's power there, Xander," she spoke. "I can sense it. We all can. It's..."
"A slayer thing?"
"Maybe. I dunno. But it's kinda like the power in the Scythe we used before. But different. And I get the sense I'm feeling just a small part of it."
Giles turned back to Angel, now free, then back again. "Angel, are you feeling anything?"
Angel came forward and put his hand over it, within inches of touching, then put both hands around it in a cupping motion but still not touching. He moved to pick it up off the stand then stopped. He looked back at Giles, who nodded his head for Angel to continue.
Hesitantly Angel carefully picked up the folds of cloth and held it before him. He looked from Cordelia to Xander and then at all the others arrayed around him and quickly wrapped it over and around his shoulders like a sarape. He shrugged and rolled his shoulders a couple of times to settle it into place.
"You do a good Clint," generously observed Xander.
Angel felt silly.
"Anything?" asked Giles.
Angel shook his head. "It's kind of itchy back here." Angel reached back to scratch his shoulder blade but couldn't reach. "A little help here, please?"
Cordelia stepped up to scratch Angel's back. "You big baby." She smiled indulgently as he wriggled around for her to hit the right spot.
"There's something about a back-scratch that takes a little bit of the super out of the super-hero," commented Xander as they all waited impatiently.
When Cordelia was done Angel closed his eyes, first slipping into a calm and relaxed repose. After several minutes passed with no changes he instead tried intense concentration, his expression almost comically taut.
Angel opened his eyes to see everyone looking on expectantly. "Nope, not feeling a thing."
"Maybe you're really not the one?" wondered Xander.
Faith seemed puzzled. "I don't know what to tell you, Fang, but we're all feelin' it, right?" Faith checked again with the other slayers and they again all nodded.
"Well then," declared Xander, "that's settled. We've got Angel, we've got the Annihilator. Let's get with the goods while the getting's good."
"If you don't mind, I'd like to have my robe back."
They all turned toward the source of the deep basso voice, the sound of which rumbled and rolled through the small cell. Behind the intruder stood a large array of demons, many of which Xander couldn't identify. He was impressed. He was also impressed how they managed to get there without anyone hearing a thing. He did berate himself for not setting a watch, though.
For a moment that stretched on and on the two groups stared at each other, virtually motionless except for the blinking and nictating.
"I told you this was too easy!" Cordelia furiously whispered into Xander's ear.
"And I was assured this modest fortress of ours was quite secure." Tim waved his hand to clear the air. "I had no idea there was a sewer running directly under us." He looked back at one of his lieutenants. "See that the usual heads roll for this." One of the humans eagerly dashed off.
"Who're you?" Xander asked.
"Who I am is not important," Tim intoned. "What I am is. I am the leader of the Cult of Anfal, the hand and instrument of the rightful masters of all realities."
"He says his name is Tim," Angel said, answering Xander's question.
Xander looked delighted. "Really?!"
Angel shrugged.
"We're not going to be talking our way out of this one, guys," quietly commented Faith, having carefully surveyed the phalanx of demons arrayed behind Tim.
"Agreed," whispered Angel and Giles simultaneously.
More loudly Giles spoke up, pointing to the cloak still on Angel's shoulders. "But this is the death of demons. How would this do you any good?" he wondered, gesturing at Tim's retinue of demons.
"He's got this thing for astrophysics or something," supplied Angel. "It's the usual sturm und drang. Everything gets destroyed. Cleansing fire. Old Ones take over."
Tim glanced back to either side. "We must clear the way and prepare our reality. We are sworn to achieve that. The corrupted demons, they must be eliminated as well. It will work against a surprising number of humans too."
Xander, remembering some of the people he had come across, was forced to agree. "What exactly are you planning on doing now?"
"Only Tim will tell." Angel had mumbled the reply but Xander, and the slayers, heard it nonetheless.
Faith groaned, then smiled evilly. "Leave the dumbshit puns to the X-pert, 'kay?" she scolded lightly, nudging Xander. Angel bowed his head as if in pain. Most of the others winced also, but Cordelia could see both he and Xander were grinning.
Tim ignored the exchange, crossed his hands behind his back and began to pace theatrically. "Well, I was thinking I would explain all my nefarious plans to you in over-precise, exquisite detail, then majestically bwahaha my way out the door while I instruct my pet demons to kill you and your friends in the most twisted and arcane way possible, thus leaving you with a window of opportunity to think of some hare-brained yet ingenious last-second trick to foil our dastardly plot. Or we could just kill you right now."
"I like option A," piped up Carole, causing some smirks, or even laughs in Faith and Tarian's case.
"I was kidding," Tim replied flatly. That apparently was the signal as over two dozen demons swarmed into the cell and around Tim and descended on the gang. The five slayers immediately fanned out in a protective arc around Xander, Giles, Cordelia and Angel, taking the brunt of the onslaught.
Angel also started forward but was surprised when Giles firmly grabbed his shoulder, pulling him back. "You're what we're trying to protect!"
The fight quickly turned into a blurred melee of swinging arms, gnashing teeth, kicking legs, slashing blades and cracking bone or armor. The small size of the cell, and the even narrower doorway, prevented the large mass of demons from getting to the slayers all at once and the slayers were able to maintain their protective line, engaging the front ranks of attackers without worrying about being flanked.
Xander yelled at Cordelia to keep Angel out of the fight. He and Giles advanced to form a second echelon behind the slayers. Xander took up a cross-bow and was deadly accurate as he began to pick off some of the demons in the second rank who had not yet been able to engage. When he could he tried to hit any other demon that was attacking his friends. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Giles wielding a sword, slashing and cutting at any appendages that flashed into view.
The small chamber was filled with the grunts and roars of the combatants. The floor soon became slippery with spilled blood and gore. The slayers performed flawlessly, but even they had their limits. Tim seemed to have an endless supply to throw into battle. It seemed whenever one demon was cut down or disintegrated another would take its place, and it wouldn't be much longer before the slayers fell from sheer exhaustion.
The number of demons Tim was able to summon also caused the organization to break down into near chaos, each person or slayer fighting for their lives as they were nearly overwhelmed by the numbers. But eventually the training and co-ordinated close-in support of the slayers re-asserted itself and took its toll. Almost without anyone realizing it, the last demon was suddenly cut down by Xander and Cordelia as they tag-teamed it, one cutting high, the other slashing low.
Everyone whipped their heads about, looking for the next enemy, but there was none. They were the only ones in the room, standing amid stinking, steaming piles of gore.
"Where'd he go? Where's Tim?" shouted Xander. He wasn't in the room and the slayers immediately fanned out into the hallway. Fulani soon came back and reported he couldn't be found. Giles and Angel had been prodding through the heaps of demon bodies and parts but also found no sign of the cult leader.
"He musta shit his pants and taken off near the beginning," declared a triumphant Faith, leading the slayers back. Despite numerous injuries, one or two serious enough to earn the girl a week's stay in the Council House infirmary, all the slayers were grinning.
Xander stood by Angel, picking at the threads on his shoulders. "All that trouble for a ratty old bathrobe,"
Giles gave Xander a disapproving look.
"Don't let it fool you, X," Faith said reprovingly, glancing at all the other slayers, all who were nodding. "Whatever that thing is, it's got power. And I mean a shit-load."
"Now what?" wondered Xander.
Angel answered, "How about, 'there's no place like home'?"
"That is so lame!" said Xander, but he paused and looked around, just like everyone else.
"Wishful thinking," added Cordelia more sympathetically.
"But now we can begin the Tzian x'Chooe," Envoy happily declared from behind them.
As before, everyone jumped at the sound of Envoy's voice. They also started shivering. Without any sense of motion or displacement, one instant they were crowded in a stinking, fetid, overheated cell, the next they were outdoors in a blustery English twilight, the sun just resting on the northwest horizon.
"I really, really hate it when people do that!" complained Xander.
Most seemed startled or even confused by their new location, not even sure of what they were looking at. Xander got a dizzying sense of deja-vu as he looked around and had to steady himself with a hand on the rough stone.
They were in Stonehenge.
---
"It feels like the middle of winter!" complained Xander, the native Californian already hugging himself tightly and stamping his feet. Everyone automatically began bunching together in an attempt to keep warm. Xander put his arm around Cordelia when she huddled against him.
"Because, dear sir, it is. To be specific, it is December sixteenth in the calendar you humans most commonly use." Envoy, who seemed completely unperturbed by the icy breeze, swept his arms grandly about. "And pay utmost attention please, we are about to witness something quite rare."
"Angel!" cried out Buffy, stepping from behind one of the giant Trilithons.
Angel spun around. "Buffy?!"
She dashed forward a few steps before noticing the rest of the crowd around him. Her eyes widened. "Cordelia?!"
Cordelia, already used to this sort of reaction, was more stoic in her greeting. "Buffy."
"Cordelia?" Willow squeaked, also emerging from behind the same stone as Buffy.
"Willow?!" cried out Xander.
"Xander!" Buffy and Willow called out together.
"Hey, B., Red." Faith stepped forward out of the crowd and waved.
By this time Buffy and Willow were speechless, whipping their heads back and forth from Angel to Cordelia to Faith to Giles to Cordelia to Xander and around again.
"Am I the only one here with a normal name?" griped Carole.
Everybody turned and stared at the junior slayer.
---
Willow had raced back to the car to bring the cold-weather gear and the parkas and overcoats were quickly distributed to everyone as Envoy began moving people about. The setup for the Tzian x'Chooe was quite simple as Envoy had had virtually everything he needed already prepared, in place, ready to go.
When Xander wondered why Angel hadn't burst into flame when they had first arrived Envoy explained the cloak Angel was wearing would give him temporary protection.
"What if he hadn't had it on when you beamed us up?" Xander asked, blowing on his hands.
"We would have had to do this quite a bit more quickly," Envoy solemnly answered before he hurried off.
How Envoy kept the usual crowds of people away Xander didn't know, but he was glad for it as he watched Envoy direct everyone into position around Angel. The four junior slayers were arrayed at the points of the compass, outside the horseshoe of Trilithons, with their backs up against the Sarsen Stones. He had Cordelia walk off, alone, toward the Heel Stone. Xander could almost swear she stopped at the exact spot where he'd found her just a handful of days ago, but the light was fading fast and he couldn't be sure.
He broke off looking after Cordelia to see Envoy setting Angel into position atop the pale green sandstone of the Altar Stone, surrounded by the ancient and sacred jumble of standing and fallen stonework. Buffy and Faith were set facing him on either side.
Giles, Xander and Willow, as essentially supernumeraries, stood as a group off to the side, with a good view of Angel and one or two of the slayers. Xander noticed Buffy was in rather a daze, perhaps still in a bit of shock from seeing first Angel and then Cordelia--in fact, all the lost people they had been looking for for so long--and then being told this was all to save the world. And, oh yes, Envoy had added, Angel might be human once the show was over. Looking to his side, Xander could tell Willow was also still taking it all in, and he smiled and pulled her into yet again another hug.
It was one of the most unusual sunsets Xander had ever witnessed. As the Sun dipped entirely below the horizon Xander could feel the blackness, rising in the east, covering him like a suffocating blanket. Stars blinked on with a stabbing light in the clear sky and he was forced to look away. He tried to spot Cordelia again but, although he was sure she was still there, she had already become lost in the odd lighting. He briefly returned his attention to Faith, Buffy and Angel, but nothing seemed to be happening yet. Looking back toward Cordelia's position Xander saw the first glimmerings of the moon as it started its ascent above the distant trees.
Unlike before, when the cloak had had no effect whatsoever, Angel--or more accurately, something within Angel--twitched as the moonlight struck him. Angel felt like he wanted to leap out of his own skin. A horrible dread swept through him and he desperately wanted to escape whatever horror the cloak was about to do, to rip it off and throw it from him as far as he could. He needed all his self-control to keep still as the feeling got worse and worse. Angel gritted his teeth, fists balled into mallets. He practically vibrated he was so tense as he tried to keep himself under control.
Sooner than Xander expected the rising moon sat atop the Heel Stone and he could see Cordelia again as a shadowy outline. Xander thought he saw a faint shimmering in the air connecting Angel to the far off Cordelia. He looked back to the center and saw Angel was now lit like a brilliant beacon within an expanding corona, filling out to draw in Buffy and Faith.
And Angel screamed.
Xander tore his eyes from the screaming Angel when he heard the faint echos of Cordelia's own shouts. He went goggle eyed as he saw her perfectly encircled by the full moon, and for a moment he was utterly breathless, stunned by the simple beauty of her black-on-white image against the fullness of the moon.
The screaming continued, and Xander--all the slayers in fact--made to move, to do something, but Envoy had been ready. "Hold!" he said in loud, deep and commanding voice, precisely pitched to a subtlety that reached deep into the animal part of the human mind and paralyzed them, held them fast. Xander agonized as he heard Cordelia's far off keening wail diminish on a heart-rending falling note. He couldn't tell if she was alive or dead or anything in between. He just knew he couldn't move. Not. Yet.
In the meanwhile, Angel's pain, a tearing ripping sensation that began in his extremities, quickly flowed like liquid fire through every nerve in his body. It soared to incredible soul-destroying heights as the icy moonlight beat on him. Initially his muscles had been taut and kept him standing but now they twitched and he collapsed upon the stone and rolled off, writhing and spasming.
As bad as the physical agony was, the mental was worse. He could feel his mind...breaking, cracking, crumbling. Angel was only vaguely aware of his surroundings, that there even was anything outside himself. He heard shouting voices like soft echoing whispers. They meant nothing to him as he thrashed about, kicking and punching the air.
Angel sensed a part of himself literally being pulled out by its roots, fighting with some evil, corrupt force to stay locked within. It clawed and tore at him as it was pulled away. He'd been through hell before, suffered the worst kinds of torture, but he'd never before experienced this grinding down, this tearing apart of self. What little was left of a self-aware and thinking consciousness, a thing that could still be called "Angel", literally felt as if his body, his every fiber, was being shattered like broken crystal, ripped in two, the demon trying to sink its claws into his human self, pulling at every fiber as it was slowly but inexorably wrenched away.
He became somewhat inured to the pain after a time and could begin to think coherently again, wondering as he saw, in his mind, an image of that ravening, blood-thirsty, un-thinking beast being sucked away into he knew not where. With an exhausted gasp the fire suddenly disappeared after a final lightning explosion of agony. Angel rolled over on the damp ground, slumped like oil spreading out on water, every muscle abused, every bone broken. Or so it felt. With the little strength he still possessed he tried to huddle in on himself as the remnants of pain left behind a throbbing ache everywhere.
Everyone was released from their mental hold and surrounded Angel during his thrashing, but they held back from going to him. Even Buffy was too shocked to do anything but stand near and gape. But as Angel's spasms died down in intensity to a mere violent shivering, she knelt down to hold and cradle him, as the others remained in a tight circle about them.
Xander felt Cordelia crash into him from behind, having run up from her position by the Heel Stone. Surprise showed clearly on his face when he saw she seemed perfectly fine. Whatever she went through, Cordelia was apparently unharmed, for which Xander was immensely grateful. Cordelia quickly shushed Xander as he was about to ask how she was and she clutched him tightly while they both watched, morbidly fascinated, as Angel continued to shudder.
Although the pain had entirely disappeared, Angel now felt a desperate sensation surging from deep in his chest, a terrible pulling and sucking from within. It was like nothing he'd felt in the last two hundred years. This was almost scarier than the pain. Angel understood pain, and he now understood what had been happening to the demon within him, what it was, what it meant. But this desperation was unknown. He began to panic as he felt his body pull in on itself, his sternum working in and out like a piston.
Angel suddenly opened his mouth and he sucked in a huge lungful of air. And another. And another. He needed air! He needed it now! Every cell in his body screamed for it, desperately needing oxygen, and the roaring torrents of blood weren't delivering it fast enough. He took another huge gasp. His heart ached with the need to push the blood of his life through his lungs and back into his body. This was nothing like the lost day, years ago in Los Angeles, when he'd been human before. Then, everything just simply...worked, with hardly any pain or conscious thought. One moment a vampire, the next not.
Not now. Now, muscles which hadn't been needed in over 200 years were being called into action. Unused, long-dormant neural pathways where firing electrical signals long forgotten. Breathe. Pump. Breathe. Pump. Angel could think of nothing but sucking in great whooping gulps of air.
As Angel's cells got the oxygen they so desperately needed he felt a new sensation, a heat boiling over from within. He pulled at his clothes in a feeble attempt to get them off, to get rid of the heat. But soon the feeling smoothed out, softened and suffused him as the blood carried this new energy throughout, wrapping him in a blanket of his own warmth.
Angel stared up at Buffy, then at everyone standing motionless around him. He realized no one knew what was going on, it had all happened within seconds, and they were still standing dumbfounded. He tried to speak, to tell them but it only came out as soft croaks and he gave up.
Angel fell over when he tried to stand up, even with Buffy's help and everyone moved in closer. He could feel them near, feel them touching him. He marveled. It was so odd, because usually he could smell or hear humans first. But his ears were roaring like never before and his nose felt like it was stuffed with cotton.
Buffy continued to cradle his head and he looked up at her and smiled slightly before overwhelming exhaustion pulled him under. She patted his damp forehead. Startled, she looked up at everyone. "He...he's hot!"
"Yeah, yeah, a big box of saltines. Tell us something we don't know." But Xander's smile took the edge off his comment.
"No! I mean he has body heat. He's warm, like you or me." Buffy put her hand on his neck. "And he has a pulse, I can feel it!" She put her hand in front of his nose. "He's breathing!!"
Giles shouldered through and knelt down to check as well, quickly and professionally examining Angel's body. "Sh-She's right. I think..." Giles fell back on his haunches, almost as shocked as Buffy, and he slowly shook his head. "I think Angel is..." he looked up at everyone to deliver his verdict, "human. I think he's human!" He reached to pick at the coarse weave at the hem of the cloak, rolling the material between his fingers. He suddenly laughed, then stopped himself, grinning like a maniac. "By George, I think it worked!"
Envoy smiled, one that seemed truly warm and genuine. "Yes, I do believe you're right, Mr. Giles."
Giles stood up and squeezed his way back out of the crowd surrounding Angel. "It worked, then? This is how everything was supposed to be? Angel is the new Keeper? The Deeper Well is safe, and the Old Ones are secured away?"
Envoy closed his eyes and flickered for a moment. When he opened them he saw that Xander, arm wrapped tightly around a very sleepy Cordelia, and one of the other slayers had joined Giles, facing him, all waiting for an answer. "The balance is restored, the Well binds its occupants away from all our dimensions. We are safe."
"So that's it then, huh?" asked Xander with a sense of deep relief. "We can all go home now and celebrate." He looked down at the top of Cordelia's head resting on his shoulder. "Or sleep." She mumbled something that sounded like agreement.
Envoy fluttered his hand about. "There are details we must go over with the new Keeper, a few rules of conduct, some limitations he must deal with, the usual boilerplate and fine pri--"
Envoy's eyes widened to saucers. "Oh. That's unexpected."
It coalesced into raw physical existence in a swirling of air and dust and flashing sparks. Silently, within an eye-blink, the man-sized beast formed right between Giles and Xander. Horned, green and leathery, a pure demon of the vampire, it had forced itself back into this reality its will was so consumed with thirst and hunger. It roared a sound powerful enough to freeze the muscle of everyone near. At first it bellowed at nothing, not entirely aware of its place and surrounding, or even of its own existence.
But it know one thing for certain: it was hungry! And food was everywhere.
It slashed.
"Giles!"
< Part 6a -|- < Part 7 >
Spoilers: Up through BtVS:Chosen and AtS:NFA
Rating: Minor language, violence
Acknowledgment: My thanks to Theo for his input, ideas, and beta reading.
< Part 6a -|- Part 7 > Part 6b: We'd Like You to Keep Your Promise
When Angel finally came to, he found himself tightly shackled to a vertical rock slab at one end of a small, windowless room. A horizontal sliver of grimy dim light was visible on the floor opposite him and provided the only source of illumination. Angel correctly guessed that would be where the door was.
As he assessed his new surroundings Angel's vampire vision quickly became accustomed to the level of light a human would find too dark to see anything at all. The room was rectangular, maybe ten feet wide by twenty long, the slab he was on at one end, facing the door. Except for the door, the entire room, a cell really, was completely made of huge stones fitted tightly together. Although cooler, the air was as dry and ashy as it had been during his trek with Xander. Oddly, whenever Angel made a noise there was no echo as he would have expected, as if the stone itself sucked up the sound.
Angel next tried to move and test his bindings. His ankles, wrists and torso were firmly bound with soft yet unyielding straps and he could barely move anything at all except his head. Concentrating, Angel put everything into a supreme effort to break free, flexing first one way and then another but there was absolutely no give at any point. Whoever it was who put him here, they knew their business. In a sudden helpless fury he struggling wildly for several more minutes with no further hint of success.
With his anger--and a good deal of remaining energy--spent, he gave a heartfelt sigh and let his head roll back against the dry, cool rock. There was nothing to do but wait for events to unfold.
Angel didn't know how long he had waited, and thought he might have even drifted off into unconsciousness, before his eyes opened upon hearing muffled voices on the other side of the door. After the loud clatter of a view slit being opened, the door swung smoothly aside to reveal the back-lit profiles of several human-like forms. He sniffed and realized one of them, the smaller one in the middle and forward of the others, was in fact a human.
Three captors slowly and confidently advanced into the cell, with several more behind holding flickering, sputtering torches. Angel's nose wrinkled at the stench of the spitting flames. He waited silently as the human among them let his eyes rove over Angel's imprisoned form, casually inspecting, nodding in satisfaction.
"Who are you?" Angel finally asked.
The human continued to quietly regard Angel for a long time before answering in a deep rumbling voice, a voice somewhat at odds to his slight build. "I am your captor. You are my prisoner."
Despite knowing it was pointless, Angel let his muscles flow into an outwardly relaxed appearance and gathered all his strength for one more lunge. At the very least he wanted to establish some measure of control in this situation, show he wasn't intimidated.
As before, his bindings held fast. The human who had addressed him didn't flinch or even raise an eyebrow, smirking confidently as Angel struggled and roared. He stepped around Angel, minutely inspecting him, totally confident in Angel's inability to do anything. When Angel finally gave up struggling the human moved to stand directly before Angel, casually picking at his nails while speaking. "Are you quite done yet?"
Angel, slumped with exhaustion, tipped his head.
"Good."
It really bugged Angel how self-satisfied this person was.
"I am the J'ochemla-Ach!adari, leader of the Cult of Anfal, faithful servants and those who prepare the way for the true rulers of the universe, the Old Ones." Angel's captor seemed to be genuinely amused. "You, Angel, may call me Tim."
Angel groaned. He swore to himself if, heaven forbid this entire Angel-gets-to-be-the-Keeper hoopla backfired and he instead turned back into Angelus again, he would eat only Monty Python fans until none were left on the face of the earth. He smiled thinly as he thought that might actually be a more quick and certain way to redeem himself than whatever stunt Envoy had in mind.
Tim continued speaking. "You seek the Pevasor Adnihilo. We have it." He waved to his demon vanguard who socketed their torches into wall brackets and quickly left. Moments later another human pushed what looked like a tall, wheeled coat-rack before him, upon which was draped a large, crudely made cloth shroud. He left it to one side of Tim and backed out, leaving only Tim in the cell with Angel. "Just to satisfy my own curiosity, Angel, what do you know of this? Why do you want it when it means your very death?"
For a moment Angel considered not saying anything, but he needed more information, more time, and the best way was to keep this human talking. "Envoy said there was a way for me to become the new Keeper of The Deeper Well. That thing is necessary for that to happen. He didn't explain how."
"You? The new Keeper? Interesting." Tim walked over to the rack and gazed lovingly at the shroud draped upon it. "Almost anything of worth," he began in a sing-song tone, circling around the rack, holding his hand out to the Pevasor Adnihilo but not quite touching it, "such as this, has more than a single purpose." Tim returned to his previous place before Angel while he talked.
Angel suspected Tim, like an anxious little boy, had been practicing this little victory speech for just this very moment.
"The more important a thing is--whether be person, object, or even a concept, idea or effect of magic--the more opposed those purposes are." Tim flipped-flopped his hand back and forth to illustrate. "A Yin-yang thing, if you will."
---
After many back and forths, dead-end canyons, false trails and more up and down hiking than Xander ever wanted to see again, the group eventually emerged through the mouth of a narrow canyon and onto the edge of a wide, flat plain, almost completely enclosed by tall mesas. The plain was dominated by a central, immense column of rock but otherwise virtually featureless.
Although Xander figured that impressive pile of stone was plenty tall, it was more squat than towering. It looked as if it were extruded from the depths below, pushed out by the forces of hell itself, it's sides shredded into surrounding rubble as it rose. Atop the column appeared to be a primitive fortress, gouged and carved into the rock rather than being built upon it. It was hard to tell the scale, but as tiny as it now looked against its foundation, Xander suspected the fortress was in fact quite huge.
Though she was not certain as they approached, Cordelia's sense was that whatever they were looking for would be there. This was proved as they circled around it, only for Cordelia to say they had passed their destination. Another circling confirmed it. "Whatever it is we're looking for, it's in there." Though she made her conclusion with confidence she nonetheless seemed unhappy about it.
"I was looking pretty closely, but I didn't notice anyway in. No stairs or ladders or pathway, not even a draw-bridge or anything," observed Xander. "Are you sure?"
"Yup."
"There must be some way, though it's probably well hidden. I suggest we split into teams and scour around to look," offered Giles.
"Sounds good, but we're all tired, and I for one am hungry, so let's take a break first," said Xander.
They were all tired and hungry. At their next stop they finished the last of their rations and half the rest of their water.
---
"Buffy! Buffy!"
Willow waved and jumped to get Buffy's attention as she cleared airport security. They rushed together into a warm embrace of two old and dear friends who had been apart for too long. After the initial hugs and effusive, bubbling, babbling words of greeting, Willow offered to take Buffy's carry-on.
"Honestly, Will," Buffy protested, "Of the two of us, which one is slayer powered?" Willow gave in easily.
Buffy interrogated Willow on the latest developments as they made their way through Heathrow and out to the car Willow had hired. "Has there been anymore newsy-news, any more calls?"
Willow chewed on her lip before answering. "Well, when he called me, this Lorne suggested a very curious errand." Buffy quirked her eyebrow to ask the question. Willow shook her head. "It's better if I show you," she answered evasively, "but otherwise there's really nothing you don't already know. No new hints," she groused. "You and I are the only people he called, and nobody has been able to track him down. I've done my darndest, the coven has tried, but zippity-zip doo-dah," Willow threw up her arms in frustration, "he's mystically invisible, doesn't exist."
Willow frowned in a very disapproving way. "And those two old poopheads, Roger and Royce, say it's all just a wild goose-chase anyway. Without more solid evidence they want the search called off and they're beginning to convince others and it's getting to be just you and me and Robin." Willow ran out of breath.
Buffy was equally annoyed with the Council. It wasn't until Giles had disappeared that she appreciated how much he really did--in a supposedly figure-head position--to hold everything together. He had always kept her in the loop with the most important information, yet shielded her from the worst of the petty trivialities and internal politics.
As the months had passed without any progress finding their lost friends, she and Robin were having more trouble convincing everyone to stay focused. Buffy admitted to herself, even she was having more and more thoughts they might be really gone for good, that maybe it was time to find some closure as had been suggested increasingly often.
Then had come the mysterious calls from Lorne, first to her, then to Willow. Buffy could see how she herself could be easily found, almost everyone knew The Slayer was in Rome. But how had anyone known who Willow was, or even where she was staying in Stow-on-the-Wold, having never left after arriving only one day after Xander and the others had disappeared?
"No, they're wrong, this goose needs to be chased! Is there anything new at the woods? Anything at all?" Buffy asked.
Willow shook her head. "The only lead we have is the directions he gave you. Oh Buffy, it's a holiday that's not!" Willow was nearly wailing and Buffy reached to take her hand and give it an encouraging squeeze. It took a lot of effort to put some measure of confidence into the gesture.
They arrived at Willow's car and she popped open the trunk. "This is the errand I mentioned." Willow waved at the contents filling the space.
Buffy leaned over to peer inside. "Willow! Are you starting your own ski team?"
Willow sighed and shrugged. "'Bring lots of overcoats,' he said. No explanation."
"Do you think...?"
"I don't know, Buff. I just don't know anymore." Willow sighed again as she stared sadly at the pile of coats and jackets in her car. She held out her hand. "Can I see the directions?"
Buffy handed them over without a word and they both clambered into the car. Willow quickly read through the list of turns and roadways and became agitated. She read them again and calmed herself, but her breathing was deep. "This is...this..."
"What, what? This is this what?" demanded Buffy.
Willow smiled for the first time in a long time. "This is very interesting."
---
Tim signaled to someone, or something, outside the door, and Angel heard the distant scuffling of humans and demons scurrying about. Tim looked sharply at Angel. "What do you know of astrophysics, Angel? Specifically, anti-matter?"
Angel did a confused double-take at the sudden change in topic. Did Tim now wish to discuss the stars or the Big-Bang theory? Or was this just some kind of hitherto unheard of interrogation tactic?
Tim smiled upon seeing the confusion flitting across Angel's face. "Let me make this simpler. Do you know what happens when matter and anti-matter are brought together? No? It's quite simple. They totally and utterly annihilate each other. There is nothing left, nothing at all. What you do get--oh, it is so exquisite in its purity!--is the most beautiful release! Everything is turned into an explosion of pure energy in less than a micro-second! Think of the possibilities if it could only harnessed." Tim's smile was wickedly feral.
"You and Xander would get along just great," grumbled Angel.
"Xander? Is he the boy you were with? He and all your friends are of no consequence. They are outside this very keep even as we speak. They might even be able to rescue you. It will be interesting to watch them try."
"The physics?"
"Ah, yes. The beautiful annihilation of everything but the energy. Do you see what I'm getting at?"
"You want to blow up everything. Very original."
"Not quite." Tim seemed very disappointed in Angel. "There must be a dominion for the Old Ones to rule, so that would be rather pointless, wouldn't it? Think!" commanded Tim.
"Their time has passed," declared Angel, "even Illyria admits that now." Angel didn't think the little white lie would come back to haunt him.
Tim snorted. "That piece of traitorous trash is of no concern. He betrayed his kind. But we are the true followers, and we will return the masters to their rightful place in the Universe."
Angel shook his head.
"The clues are all there, man!" Tim waited. "Nothing? Too bad. Alright then. You believe you are to take part in a ceremony, a rebirth, where you and this," Tim waved at the Pevasor Adnihilo, "would be brought together. With that you would become the new Guardian of The Deeper Well, the Battlebrand in common parlance.
"But didn't I just say everything can have at least two purposes? Including you? We make but a slight change to the ritual, a few indecipherable words here, onyx sand instead of white, a vulture's feather instead of a wren's, and then..."
Despite himself, Angel looked expectantly at Tim. The cult leader stood directly in front of Angel and quickly smacked his palms together in a thunderclap of sound, almost painfully loud to Angel's sensitive hearing.
"Power! A release of such beautiful magical energy of the blackest night, one only we are prepared for. You can not harness this energy, you will only destroyed if you do. You can but deflect it, give it the barest nudge. And we have our target. The Deeper Well itself! The cursed hole in the world, containing all the Old Ones who remain. Before you can blink your eyes--which you won't because of, y'know, not existing anymore--the armies of the Old Ones will be freed from their timeless prison and come pouring out, cascading down on every dimension, taking everything for themselves, destroying every opposition. And when they have consolidated their domain they will take their rightful place as supreme Gods of all you could ever imagine!"
Tim had been getting louder and louder, speaking in a deep and intense fervor as his eyes began to glaze over. A sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead. He slowly returned from the self-induced high of his apocalyptic vision, blinking owlishly at Angel. "Ah, well, yes, that's the plan, anyway."
Angel watched as Tim strode over to the stand in the corner. It seemed to Angel as if he were about to drop to his knees and prey to the thing, but he didn't. Instead he looked back over his shoulder at Angel. "Are you feeling particularly jumpy, Angel? Skin crawling? An itch you can't scratch?"
Angel responded in the negative as Tim returned.
"Hmmm, must be that pesky little soul acting as a buffer." Tim was mildly disappointed and frowned, but his face soon cleared. "Well, never mind. There are a few more things I need to prepare, sacrifice a few hundred virgins, eat a baby or two, that sort of thing. It actually gives me a nasty indigestion, but you know how it is, you've got to keep up the appearances. Well, until we meet again, Angel, please keep a sharp eye on our little prize here."
Tim turned and swept out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him with a very solid thud.
---
After hours of careful inspection they eventually found what appeared to be a lone, large boulder with scrap marks gouged into the cliff face against which it rested. They quickly surmised it was movable and, for lack of any other alternative, offered their only possibility into the keep.
Faith grinned wolfishly, clapping Carole on the back, "Let's have at it, boys." She hustled the four other slayers together and arrayed them against the stone before taking her own place. "On three. One. Two. Three!!" As one, the slayers let out a groan and gave a mighty push. They were rewarded for their efforts by a muffled scraping sound and a movement of a fraction of an inch. Alternately yelling and groaning, they continued straining against the rock. After several attempts they found they had only moved it two inches.
The slayers fell back, sweat breaking out on their faces, rubbing shoulders or arms that had been pressed up against the stone.
Tarian remained standing, glaring at the obstruction. "Well, it looks to be some real work here." She turned to Xander. "A little extra help would be nice, yeah?" Then she glared at Giles and Cordelia in turn.
"B-b-but I'm a very old man," stammered Giles, still looking fresh as a daisy even after all the recent hiking.
"Hey! I'm the one who got us here," Cordelia responded tartly.
Tarian's smile, as was all the slayers in fact, was thin. "Yes. Been meaning to thank you for that. Yes indeed, yes indeed. Just as soon as we move this big arsed rock, or it has been a rather pointless effort of yours."
But Tarian saved her special glare for Xander. Xander, still sitting, just pointed. "My ankle?" he said weakly.
Tarian huffed in disgust and stomped back to where the slayers were sitting. Faith caught Xander's eye, gave him a small smile and shook her head slightly in a silent message to not let Tarian get to him.
In the meanwhile, Giles had begun closely inspecting the area against which the rock rested, and had climbed up the face to stand above the rock.
Faith noticed and watched him curiously. "Hey, boss, whatcha' lookin' at?" She swiped her hand across her brow to fling off some sweat.
"I, I think we've been going about this all wrong." Giles pointed down near his feet. "If we apply appropriate pressure here, I believe it would be much easier for you to move there."
"Like undoing a latch?" asked Xander. Giles nodded. "Let's go for it." He waved for Cordelia to follow him and gingerly climbed up above to stand with Giles. They talked it over for a few minutes and worked out exactly what they wanted to do.
Cordelia, Xander and Giles sat down, side by side, and placed their feet against the top of the rock. The slayers arrayed themselves once more against the side. "On three," called out Faith again.
This time, with Xander, Cordelia and Giles pushing the top of the rock away from the face, and the slayers pushing sideways again, they were rewarded with an entire foot of movement.
"Anything open up?" called down Giles.
"Nada," answered Carole.
"Keep goin' Again!" And again everyone strained, inching the rock over
Without warning, the rock rolled sideways three feet and began to slowly fall away from the cliff-face. The sudden shift caused Fulani and Tarian to stumble and fall in front it as it swayed over them.
"Look out!" shouted Faith. The fallen slayers began to scramble but they slipped on the sand and pebbles strewn about. Zelinda and Faith, nearest to the fallen two, leaped forward and successfully yanked their friends from out of the path of the tumbling boulder.
It made a booming sound as it fell against the level ledge, and its momentum began to carry it over the lip. A loud cracking was heard from underneath it as its weight pulverized the edge. It flipped over and gathered speed as it rolled and crashed down the slope. Giles winced with every thunderous boom it made but otherwise, like everyone, he stood and watched in stunned fascination as it rolled out into the plain and finally came to a lurching stop.
"Do you think they know we're here?" timidly asked Carole once the last of the rolling thunder echoed away.
"Lucy, I'm home!" Xander called out. He wasn't fast enough to dodge Cordelia's swing. "Ouch! What was that for?!" Xander rubbed furiously at the back of his head.
"Bee," sweetly answered Cordelia.
Tarian laughed out loud while the others, even Giles, smiled discreetly. Xander scowled but let it pass. He carefully scrambled down to join Faith, Zelinda and the other slayers, who were already peering into the darkness of the opening they had just revealed. The gurgling sound of moving water could be heard. Then they stumbled back as one, some holding their noses closed, others furiously waving to get some fresher air.
"Ewww. What is that smell?" demanded Xander.
Giles arrived behind them, carrying a flashlight, and they let him through without warning.
He was heard to cough and gag, and an "Oh, dear Lord," was uttered, but it was several more seconds before Giles reappeared. He took a few great breaths, looking accusingly at Xander. "A warning would have been in good order."
"Where's the fun in that?"
Giles waved him off and announced his findings. "It appears to be a stream of...sludge running underneath us." He glanced back at the cavern, up toward the direction of the keep and back down. "I would judge, from the angle and direction of flow, that it is emanating from our destination."
"Great! We just opened the manhole to a demon sewer."
"Yes," Giles tentatively agreed with Xander, "I do suppose that's one way of putting it."
Cordelia pointed back into the cave. "I think that's our way in."
"You can't be serious!" exclaimed Tarian. Zelinda maintained her ever-stolid appearance, seemingly ready for anything. Fulani, who had experienced far worse, didn't seem bothered in the least. Carole was inclined to agree with Tarian.
"Yes, I can."
Xander nearly gaped. Very much to his surprise she really did seem completely serious. Cordelia and sewers: it didn't compute, the image too bizarre. He had been in a few of them while in Sunnydale, but he couldn't ever remember Cordelia tromping about in one. He and Cordelia had a lot more to talk about than he'd first realized. If they survived this.
"That's how Wes and Gunn escaped from the castle in Pylea: through the sewer," she explained.
"That was getting out, what about getting in?" asked Xander
Cordelia shrugged.
"I think she's right, this is now our most likely way in," said Giles, "But don't you think they would be ready for us?"
Xander laughed. "You mean as opposed to us being the only living, moving things in this incredible wasteland, visible for miles around as we approached? And then we tip over that gi-nourmous rock and it's louder than a Stones concert? No, I think we've got the jump on them, but crawling through this sewer will now definitely give us away."
Giles was chagrined. "Err...Touche, if rudely put."
Faith worked hard to hide a smile. She was going to have to convince Robin to find room in the budget for more of these cross-cultural, team-building trips. Leave aside the sweat and the stink, the danger and exhaustion, and the imminent end of mankind, and she was having herself a real blast with this crew.
Xander threw up his arms. "Sorry, Giles, it's just..." He glanced back at the hole. "I'm hot, I'm tired. My ankle's on fire, and I'd kill for a Twinkie right about now. That stink isn't helping any, either. Seriously, either they know we're here, or they don't. I don't think using the, err...back entrance will make a difference." Xander strode forward into the opening and dropped down the hole. His voice floated up through the darkness. "Tunnels. Did it have to be more tunnels?"
The others quickly entered and gathered around, peering down at the top of Xander's head. Suddenly he screeched. "I'm melting, I'm melting!"
"Xander!" called out Cordelia, setting herself to jump in.
"Don't move, Cordelia! Xander, is it burning? Is it acid?" Giles demanded loudly, getting himself ready.
Xander looked up and laughed. "I was kidding. It just stinks worse than Uncle Rory's breath after a long binge. Come on down."
Seeing that Xander was about to take the lead, Zelinda shouted for him to stop. When he turned around to ask what she wanted she jumped down next to him and quickly passed him by and took the lead. He rolled his eye and sighed but made no argument. Once Zelinda had a notion in mind there was no dissuading her, and that was that.
Soon they all had jumped down, some holding their noses as they did so. Fortunately their senses quickly became deadened to the overpowering smell and it was at least tolerable if they couldn't actually ignore it. Zelinda and Xander led off.
"After you, princess." Faith stepped aside to give Cordelia a free path. Cordelia harrumphed and steadily walked forward, not hesitating in the slightest when her feet splashed into the muck. Faith was mildly impressed and followed right after. The others, one by one, some more reluctantly than others, joined them.
"Are we going in the right direction?" Giles asked Cordelia, who seemed to be as focused inwardly as equally as she was concentrating on stepping on the higher and drier patches.
"Yeah, I think so."
After more time than any would have liked, sloshing and slipping around in the yuck, the naked rock above them turned to cut stone that was dry fitted together. Xander ordered them to turn off their lights and they proceeded much more slowly and quietly. Eventually a large iron grate appeared in the ceiling of their tunnel, with ruddy, flickering rays of torchlight filtering through. It wasn't much but it provided a usable amount of illumination.
Communicating in hand-signals, Xander signaled everyone to be as quiet as possible. They crouched back as Xander beckoned Faith and Zelinda. Again with quick hand-signs he got them to come up to the grate and listen.
"We're good," Faith whispered after several minutes of intense concentration. She and Xander looked to Zelinda.
"Ja, I agree."
Xander nodded. "OK then, I think this is our way in. Ladies, if you would, please do the honors." Zelinda looked confused for a moment but saw how Faith was bracing herself on one side of the tunnel, setting her hands on that end of the grate. She copied the senior slayer, and with a silent nod of the head they began straining against the weight of the iron.
With a soft scraping sound of metal against stone it began to move very slowly. When one side of it cleared the floor they began slipping it sideways, Tarian coming up from the rear to help out. As soon as the opening was wide enough to allow them to squeeze through Xander quietly called, "Good enough!"
"OK, let's go," whispered Faith as she reached up to the opening to hoist herself through. She was startled when Tarian reached out and put her hand on Faith's shoulder.
"I should go first."
"Say what?!" Faith looked hard at Tarian, more perplexed than angry.
"You're the senior, the most valuable we have. If some nasty bugger really is waiting for us up there then I'm the one that's got the experience yet is still expendable."
Faith pursed her lips and considered her sister slayer. She didn't entirely agree with Tarian, but she had to admit the girl had a point. When she looked up Xander he gave her an imperceptible nod.
"OK girl, you get to play hero."
Of all the people in that sewer Cordelia was perhaps the most surprised by Faith's decision. Faith executing restraint, thoughtfulness and perhaps even good judgment? Faith letting someone else go first into imminent and unknown danger? Where did this more mature Faith come from? Cordelia asked herself. Nor had she missed the silent conversation between Xander and the senior slayer, and she wondered how much of Faith's good judgment came from working with Xander. It was soon her turn to be hoisted up and Cordelia had little time to consider once more how all the Scoobies had changed since high-school.
They were in a set of low-ceilinged, dark and narrow corridors in the form of an H, with themselves in the very middle. There were spitting torches, one at each end of the central corridor they were now in. Less smelly and less cramped than the sewer tunnel it was still not much of an improvement and Xander worried that maybe he should have kept the gang in the tunnel while this dungeon was completely searched first by just one or two of them.
Fulani and Carole moved the grate back into place and rejoined the group now huddled near a corner of two of the intersecting corridors. They listened in on a soft-spoken argument on their next move. Cordelia had both her hands pressed up to either side of her head, with her eyes closed. "We're close. Really close. I can feel it."
A decision was quickly reached and the two junior slayers were sent down to search the near corridor, while the rest backed away to search through other parts of the dungeon.
Carole looked nervously at Fulani, whose midnight black skin made her virtually invisible in the dark. Fulani grinned in anticipation, her teeth almost glowing, helping to restore Carole's confidence. It was time for the rookies to step up to the plate and show they deserved the confidence bestowed upon them. They silently slipped around the corner and began quartering through their assigned hallway.
The corridor, with slightly higher ceilings than the first one they were in, had several low-arched doorways branching off of it. Some of the doorways were wide open, revealing the hforbidding pitch-black caves of cells, while others had very solid looking doors blocking them. As they began to pass the third one they heard a soft grunting noise from inside. They immediately tensed, ready for a fight. They peeked through a high opening slit and relaxed. Listening in for several more moments they assured themselves there was only the one occupant of the cell.
Carole gestured to Fulani that she should wait while she went back to get the others.
Fulani, too excited or too impatient, was foolishly unable to wait and slid back the bolts holding the door. She slipped through, falling back against the wall as a sudden feeling of intense unease threatened to overcome her. Her eyes darted about but there were no obvious threats and she fought to overcome her dread, turning to face the captive.
"The cavalry, I presume?" amiably asked Angel.
"Cavalry? What you mean cavalry?" Fulani was confused by Angel's question and her nervousness increased again.
"Well," Angel pointed out reasonably, "you hardly look like Dr. Livingston."
Fulani frowned deeply. "Livingston?" This vampire was like no other she had ever met. She sensed the ghosts of evil in him and she pulled out her stake, slowly advancing, prodded by a pervasive unease. But as she drew nearer there was more she could sense from him, something that, now they were alone and she could see how defenseless he was, stayed her stake. And his words, "cavalry", "Livingston"? This was too confusing. She wavered between striking now and fleeing.
Fortunately, before Fulani could do anything silly or dangerous, Carole arrived with the others and the jittery Fulani was relieved to let the others take over.
Xander stopped in front of Angel. "I like this new helpless look of yours, Angel. It goes well with the pallor and suits you very well."
"Suits you even better, I'd wager," Angel replied.
Faith and Cordelia both elbowed past Xander to get at Angel and free him. While they began working on the bindings Angel addressed Giles. "Giles, the Peva-, Peva-, whatever, it's over there." Angel inclined his head in the direction where Tim had left the artifact laying across its stand. Giles turned about to see a large and thread-bare rag draped over the thin iron frame of the stand. He, Xander, and Zelinda slowly approached, none willing to pick it up or even touch it.
Xander cocked his head to one side to examine it from a different angle. He shook his head. "I dunno. It's a little... disappointing? I mean, if this is what's supposed to help Angel save the world, shouldn't it be all big and shiny and important looking?" Xander grinned hugely. "Y'know, like a monster truck?"
"Theme, Xander!" Xander had been ready and easily ducked Cordelia's slap.
From beside Angel, Faith shook her head. In fact all slayers were looking a little dazed, almost comatose, as they stared at it. "There's power there, Xander," she spoke. "I can sense it. We all can. It's..."
"A slayer thing?"
"Maybe. I dunno. But it's kinda like the power in the Scythe we used before. But different. And I get the sense I'm feeling just a small part of it."
Giles turned back to Angel, now free, then back again. "Angel, are you feeling anything?"
Angel came forward and put his hand over it, within inches of touching, then put both hands around it in a cupping motion but still not touching. He moved to pick it up off the stand then stopped. He looked back at Giles, who nodded his head for Angel to continue.
Hesitantly Angel carefully picked up the folds of cloth and held it before him. He looked from Cordelia to Xander and then at all the others arrayed around him and quickly wrapped it over and around his shoulders like a sarape. He shrugged and rolled his shoulders a couple of times to settle it into place.
"You do a good Clint," generously observed Xander.
Angel felt silly.
"Anything?" asked Giles.
Angel shook his head. "It's kind of itchy back here." Angel reached back to scratch his shoulder blade but couldn't reach. "A little help here, please?"
Cordelia stepped up to scratch Angel's back. "You big baby." She smiled indulgently as he wriggled around for her to hit the right spot.
"There's something about a back-scratch that takes a little bit of the super out of the super-hero," commented Xander as they all waited impatiently.
When Cordelia was done Angel closed his eyes, first slipping into a calm and relaxed repose. After several minutes passed with no changes he instead tried intense concentration, his expression almost comically taut.
Angel opened his eyes to see everyone looking on expectantly. "Nope, not feeling a thing."
"Maybe you're really not the one?" wondered Xander.
Faith seemed puzzled. "I don't know what to tell you, Fang, but we're all feelin' it, right?" Faith checked again with the other slayers and they again all nodded.
"Well then," declared Xander, "that's settled. We've got Angel, we've got the Annihilator. Let's get with the goods while the getting's good."
"If you don't mind, I'd like to have my robe back."
They all turned toward the source of the deep basso voice, the sound of which rumbled and rolled through the small cell. Behind the intruder stood a large array of demons, many of which Xander couldn't identify. He was impressed. He was also impressed how they managed to get there without anyone hearing a thing. He did berate himself for not setting a watch, though.
For a moment that stretched on and on the two groups stared at each other, virtually motionless except for the blinking and nictating.
"I told you this was too easy!" Cordelia furiously whispered into Xander's ear.
"And I was assured this modest fortress of ours was quite secure." Tim waved his hand to clear the air. "I had no idea there was a sewer running directly under us." He looked back at one of his lieutenants. "See that the usual heads roll for this." One of the humans eagerly dashed off.
"Who're you?" Xander asked.
"Who I am is not important," Tim intoned. "What I am is. I am the leader of the Cult of Anfal, the hand and instrument of the rightful masters of all realities."
"He says his name is Tim," Angel said, answering Xander's question.
Xander looked delighted. "Really?!"
Angel shrugged.
"We're not going to be talking our way out of this one, guys," quietly commented Faith, having carefully surveyed the phalanx of demons arrayed behind Tim.
"Agreed," whispered Angel and Giles simultaneously.
More loudly Giles spoke up, pointing to the cloak still on Angel's shoulders. "But this is the death of demons. How would this do you any good?" he wondered, gesturing at Tim's retinue of demons.
"He's got this thing for astrophysics or something," supplied Angel. "It's the usual sturm und drang. Everything gets destroyed. Cleansing fire. Old Ones take over."
Tim glanced back to either side. "We must clear the way and prepare our reality. We are sworn to achieve that. The corrupted demons, they must be eliminated as well. It will work against a surprising number of humans too."
Xander, remembering some of the people he had come across, was forced to agree. "What exactly are you planning on doing now?"
"Only Tim will tell." Angel had mumbled the reply but Xander, and the slayers, heard it nonetheless.
Faith groaned, then smiled evilly. "Leave the dumbshit puns to the X-pert, 'kay?" she scolded lightly, nudging Xander. Angel bowed his head as if in pain. Most of the others winced also, but Cordelia could see both he and Xander were grinning.
Tim ignored the exchange, crossed his hands behind his back and began to pace theatrically. "Well, I was thinking I would explain all my nefarious plans to you in over-precise, exquisite detail, then majestically bwahaha my way out the door while I instruct my pet demons to kill you and your friends in the most twisted and arcane way possible, thus leaving you with a window of opportunity to think of some hare-brained yet ingenious last-second trick to foil our dastardly plot. Or we could just kill you right now."
"I like option A," piped up Carole, causing some smirks, or even laughs in Faith and Tarian's case.
"I was kidding," Tim replied flatly. That apparently was the signal as over two dozen demons swarmed into the cell and around Tim and descended on the gang. The five slayers immediately fanned out in a protective arc around Xander, Giles, Cordelia and Angel, taking the brunt of the onslaught.
Angel also started forward but was surprised when Giles firmly grabbed his shoulder, pulling him back. "You're what we're trying to protect!"
The fight quickly turned into a blurred melee of swinging arms, gnashing teeth, kicking legs, slashing blades and cracking bone or armor. The small size of the cell, and the even narrower doorway, prevented the large mass of demons from getting to the slayers all at once and the slayers were able to maintain their protective line, engaging the front ranks of attackers without worrying about being flanked.
Xander yelled at Cordelia to keep Angel out of the fight. He and Giles advanced to form a second echelon behind the slayers. Xander took up a cross-bow and was deadly accurate as he began to pick off some of the demons in the second rank who had not yet been able to engage. When he could he tried to hit any other demon that was attacking his friends. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Giles wielding a sword, slashing and cutting at any appendages that flashed into view.
The small chamber was filled with the grunts and roars of the combatants. The floor soon became slippery with spilled blood and gore. The slayers performed flawlessly, but even they had their limits. Tim seemed to have an endless supply to throw into battle. It seemed whenever one demon was cut down or disintegrated another would take its place, and it wouldn't be much longer before the slayers fell from sheer exhaustion.
The number of demons Tim was able to summon also caused the organization to break down into near chaos, each person or slayer fighting for their lives as they were nearly overwhelmed by the numbers. But eventually the training and co-ordinated close-in support of the slayers re-asserted itself and took its toll. Almost without anyone realizing it, the last demon was suddenly cut down by Xander and Cordelia as they tag-teamed it, one cutting high, the other slashing low.
Everyone whipped their heads about, looking for the next enemy, but there was none. They were the only ones in the room, standing amid stinking, steaming piles of gore.
"Where'd he go? Where's Tim?" shouted Xander. He wasn't in the room and the slayers immediately fanned out into the hallway. Fulani soon came back and reported he couldn't be found. Giles and Angel had been prodding through the heaps of demon bodies and parts but also found no sign of the cult leader.
"He musta shit his pants and taken off near the beginning," declared a triumphant Faith, leading the slayers back. Despite numerous injuries, one or two serious enough to earn the girl a week's stay in the Council House infirmary, all the slayers were grinning.
Xander stood by Angel, picking at the threads on his shoulders. "All that trouble for a ratty old bathrobe,"
Giles gave Xander a disapproving look.
"Don't let it fool you, X," Faith said reprovingly, glancing at all the other slayers, all who were nodding. "Whatever that thing is, it's got power. And I mean a shit-load."
"Now what?" wondered Xander.
Angel answered, "How about, 'there's no place like home'?"
"That is so lame!" said Xander, but he paused and looked around, just like everyone else.
"Wishful thinking," added Cordelia more sympathetically.
"But now we can begin the Tzian x'Chooe," Envoy happily declared from behind them.
As before, everyone jumped at the sound of Envoy's voice. They also started shivering. Without any sense of motion or displacement, one instant they were crowded in a stinking, fetid, overheated cell, the next they were outdoors in a blustery English twilight, the sun just resting on the northwest horizon.
"I really, really hate it when people do that!" complained Xander.
Most seemed startled or even confused by their new location, not even sure of what they were looking at. Xander got a dizzying sense of deja-vu as he looked around and had to steady himself with a hand on the rough stone.
They were in Stonehenge.
---
"It feels like the middle of winter!" complained Xander, the native Californian already hugging himself tightly and stamping his feet. Everyone automatically began bunching together in an attempt to keep warm. Xander put his arm around Cordelia when she huddled against him.
"Because, dear sir, it is. To be specific, it is December sixteenth in the calendar you humans most commonly use." Envoy, who seemed completely unperturbed by the icy breeze, swept his arms grandly about. "And pay utmost attention please, we are about to witness something quite rare."
"Angel!" cried out Buffy, stepping from behind one of the giant Trilithons.
Angel spun around. "Buffy?!"
She dashed forward a few steps before noticing the rest of the crowd around him. Her eyes widened. "Cordelia?!"
Cordelia, already used to this sort of reaction, was more stoic in her greeting. "Buffy."
"Cordelia?" Willow squeaked, also emerging from behind the same stone as Buffy.
"Willow?!" cried out Xander.
"Xander!" Buffy and Willow called out together.
"Hey, B., Red." Faith stepped forward out of the crowd and waved.
By this time Buffy and Willow were speechless, whipping their heads back and forth from Angel to Cordelia to Faith to Giles to Cordelia to Xander and around again.
"Am I the only one here with a normal name?" griped Carole.
Everybody turned and stared at the junior slayer.
---
Willow had raced back to the car to bring the cold-weather gear and the parkas and overcoats were quickly distributed to everyone as Envoy began moving people about. The setup for the Tzian x'Chooe was quite simple as Envoy had had virtually everything he needed already prepared, in place, ready to go.
When Xander wondered why Angel hadn't burst into flame when they had first arrived Envoy explained the cloak Angel was wearing would give him temporary protection.
"What if he hadn't had it on when you beamed us up?" Xander asked, blowing on his hands.
"We would have had to do this quite a bit more quickly," Envoy solemnly answered before he hurried off.
How Envoy kept the usual crowds of people away Xander didn't know, but he was glad for it as he watched Envoy direct everyone into position around Angel. The four junior slayers were arrayed at the points of the compass, outside the horseshoe of Trilithons, with their backs up against the Sarsen Stones. He had Cordelia walk off, alone, toward the Heel Stone. Xander could almost swear she stopped at the exact spot where he'd found her just a handful of days ago, but the light was fading fast and he couldn't be sure.
He broke off looking after Cordelia to see Envoy setting Angel into position atop the pale green sandstone of the Altar Stone, surrounded by the ancient and sacred jumble of standing and fallen stonework. Buffy and Faith were set facing him on either side.
Giles, Xander and Willow, as essentially supernumeraries, stood as a group off to the side, with a good view of Angel and one or two of the slayers. Xander noticed Buffy was in rather a daze, perhaps still in a bit of shock from seeing first Angel and then Cordelia--in fact, all the lost people they had been looking for for so long--and then being told this was all to save the world. And, oh yes, Envoy had added, Angel might be human once the show was over. Looking to his side, Xander could tell Willow was also still taking it all in, and he smiled and pulled her into yet again another hug.
It was one of the most unusual sunsets Xander had ever witnessed. As the Sun dipped entirely below the horizon Xander could feel the blackness, rising in the east, covering him like a suffocating blanket. Stars blinked on with a stabbing light in the clear sky and he was forced to look away. He tried to spot Cordelia again but, although he was sure she was still there, she had already become lost in the odd lighting. He briefly returned his attention to Faith, Buffy and Angel, but nothing seemed to be happening yet. Looking back toward Cordelia's position Xander saw the first glimmerings of the moon as it started its ascent above the distant trees.
Unlike before, when the cloak had had no effect whatsoever, Angel--or more accurately, something within Angel--twitched as the moonlight struck him. Angel felt like he wanted to leap out of his own skin. A horrible dread swept through him and he desperately wanted to escape whatever horror the cloak was about to do, to rip it off and throw it from him as far as he could. He needed all his self-control to keep still as the feeling got worse and worse. Angel gritted his teeth, fists balled into mallets. He practically vibrated he was so tense as he tried to keep himself under control.
Sooner than Xander expected the rising moon sat atop the Heel Stone and he could see Cordelia again as a shadowy outline. Xander thought he saw a faint shimmering in the air connecting Angel to the far off Cordelia. He looked back to the center and saw Angel was now lit like a brilliant beacon within an expanding corona, filling out to draw in Buffy and Faith.
And Angel screamed.
Xander tore his eyes from the screaming Angel when he heard the faint echos of Cordelia's own shouts. He went goggle eyed as he saw her perfectly encircled by the full moon, and for a moment he was utterly breathless, stunned by the simple beauty of her black-on-white image against the fullness of the moon.
The screaming continued, and Xander--all the slayers in fact--made to move, to do something, but Envoy had been ready. "Hold!" he said in loud, deep and commanding voice, precisely pitched to a subtlety that reached deep into the animal part of the human mind and paralyzed them, held them fast. Xander agonized as he heard Cordelia's far off keening wail diminish on a heart-rending falling note. He couldn't tell if she was alive or dead or anything in between. He just knew he couldn't move. Not. Yet.
In the meanwhile, Angel's pain, a tearing ripping sensation that began in his extremities, quickly flowed like liquid fire through every nerve in his body. It soared to incredible soul-destroying heights as the icy moonlight beat on him. Initially his muscles had been taut and kept him standing but now they twitched and he collapsed upon the stone and rolled off, writhing and spasming.
As bad as the physical agony was, the mental was worse. He could feel his mind...breaking, cracking, crumbling. Angel was only vaguely aware of his surroundings, that there even was anything outside himself. He heard shouting voices like soft echoing whispers. They meant nothing to him as he thrashed about, kicking and punching the air.
Angel sensed a part of himself literally being pulled out by its roots, fighting with some evil, corrupt force to stay locked within. It clawed and tore at him as it was pulled away. He'd been through hell before, suffered the worst kinds of torture, but he'd never before experienced this grinding down, this tearing apart of self. What little was left of a self-aware and thinking consciousness, a thing that could still be called "Angel", literally felt as if his body, his every fiber, was being shattered like broken crystal, ripped in two, the demon trying to sink its claws into his human self, pulling at every fiber as it was slowly but inexorably wrenched away.
He became somewhat inured to the pain after a time and could begin to think coherently again, wondering as he saw, in his mind, an image of that ravening, blood-thirsty, un-thinking beast being sucked away into he knew not where. With an exhausted gasp the fire suddenly disappeared after a final lightning explosion of agony. Angel rolled over on the damp ground, slumped like oil spreading out on water, every muscle abused, every bone broken. Or so it felt. With the little strength he still possessed he tried to huddle in on himself as the remnants of pain left behind a throbbing ache everywhere.
Everyone was released from their mental hold and surrounded Angel during his thrashing, but they held back from going to him. Even Buffy was too shocked to do anything but stand near and gape. But as Angel's spasms died down in intensity to a mere violent shivering, she knelt down to hold and cradle him, as the others remained in a tight circle about them.
Xander felt Cordelia crash into him from behind, having run up from her position by the Heel Stone. Surprise showed clearly on his face when he saw she seemed perfectly fine. Whatever she went through, Cordelia was apparently unharmed, for which Xander was immensely grateful. Cordelia quickly shushed Xander as he was about to ask how she was and she clutched him tightly while they both watched, morbidly fascinated, as Angel continued to shudder.
Although the pain had entirely disappeared, Angel now felt a desperate sensation surging from deep in his chest, a terrible pulling and sucking from within. It was like nothing he'd felt in the last two hundred years. This was almost scarier than the pain. Angel understood pain, and he now understood what had been happening to the demon within him, what it was, what it meant. But this desperation was unknown. He began to panic as he felt his body pull in on itself, his sternum working in and out like a piston.
Angel suddenly opened his mouth and he sucked in a huge lungful of air. And another. And another. He needed air! He needed it now! Every cell in his body screamed for it, desperately needing oxygen, and the roaring torrents of blood weren't delivering it fast enough. He took another huge gasp. His heart ached with the need to push the blood of his life through his lungs and back into his body. This was nothing like the lost day, years ago in Los Angeles, when he'd been human before. Then, everything just simply...worked, with hardly any pain or conscious thought. One moment a vampire, the next not.
Not now. Now, muscles which hadn't been needed in over 200 years were being called into action. Unused, long-dormant neural pathways where firing electrical signals long forgotten. Breathe. Pump. Breathe. Pump. Angel could think of nothing but sucking in great whooping gulps of air.
As Angel's cells got the oxygen they so desperately needed he felt a new sensation, a heat boiling over from within. He pulled at his clothes in a feeble attempt to get them off, to get rid of the heat. But soon the feeling smoothed out, softened and suffused him as the blood carried this new energy throughout, wrapping him in a blanket of his own warmth.
Angel stared up at Buffy, then at everyone standing motionless around him. He realized no one knew what was going on, it had all happened within seconds, and they were still standing dumbfounded. He tried to speak, to tell them but it only came out as soft croaks and he gave up.
Angel fell over when he tried to stand up, even with Buffy's help and everyone moved in closer. He could feel them near, feel them touching him. He marveled. It was so odd, because usually he could smell or hear humans first. But his ears were roaring like never before and his nose felt like it was stuffed with cotton.
Buffy continued to cradle his head and he looked up at her and smiled slightly before overwhelming exhaustion pulled him under. She patted his damp forehead. Startled, she looked up at everyone. "He...he's hot!"
"Yeah, yeah, a big box of saltines. Tell us something we don't know." But Xander's smile took the edge off his comment.
"No! I mean he has body heat. He's warm, like you or me." Buffy put her hand on his neck. "And he has a pulse, I can feel it!" She put her hand in front of his nose. "He's breathing!!"
Giles shouldered through and knelt down to check as well, quickly and professionally examining Angel's body. "Sh-She's right. I think..." Giles fell back on his haunches, almost as shocked as Buffy, and he slowly shook his head. "I think Angel is..." he looked up at everyone to deliver his verdict, "human. I think he's human!" He reached to pick at the coarse weave at the hem of the cloak, rolling the material between his fingers. He suddenly laughed, then stopped himself, grinning like a maniac. "By George, I think it worked!"
Envoy smiled, one that seemed truly warm and genuine. "Yes, I do believe you're right, Mr. Giles."
Giles stood up and squeezed his way back out of the crowd surrounding Angel. "It worked, then? This is how everything was supposed to be? Angel is the new Keeper? The Deeper Well is safe, and the Old Ones are secured away?"
Envoy closed his eyes and flickered for a moment. When he opened them he saw that Xander, arm wrapped tightly around a very sleepy Cordelia, and one of the other slayers had joined Giles, facing him, all waiting for an answer. "The balance is restored, the Well binds its occupants away from all our dimensions. We are safe."
"So that's it then, huh?" asked Xander with a sense of deep relief. "We can all go home now and celebrate." He looked down at the top of Cordelia's head resting on his shoulder. "Or sleep." She mumbled something that sounded like agreement.
Envoy fluttered his hand about. "There are details we must go over with the new Keeper, a few rules of conduct, some limitations he must deal with, the usual boilerplate and fine pri--"
Envoy's eyes widened to saucers. "Oh. That's unexpected."
It coalesced into raw physical existence in a swirling of air and dust and flashing sparks. Silently, within an eye-blink, the man-sized beast formed right between Giles and Xander. Horned, green and leathery, a pure demon of the vampire, it had forced itself back into this reality its will was so consumed with thirst and hunger. It roared a sound powerful enough to freeze the muscle of everyone near. At first it bellowed at nothing, not entirely aware of its place and surrounding, or even of its own existence.
But it know one thing for certain: it was hungry! And food was everywhere.
It slashed.
"Giles!"
< Part 6a -|- < Part 7 >