Date written: Wed 27 Aug 2003
Author: Starway Man
E-mail: theop@kew.hotkey.net.au
Disclaimer: The Angel/Buffy
the Vampire Slayer characters are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy,
Sandollar, Kuzui, WB and UPN; no copyright infringement is intended, and not
one red cent is being earned from this story.
Rating: R
Warnings: Some violence
and language are present. Plus there are spoilers present for seasons 1-7 of
BtVS and 1-4 of Angel.
Main characters: Angel,
Drusilla, Xander
Setting: Takes place initially after season 3
of BtVS/ before season 1 of Angel, then in seasons 4 and 1; ends up in an AU
season 5/ season 2.
Pairings: Conventional:
Willow/Tara, Buffy/Riley and implied Cordelia/Doyle. Unconventional: Anya/Giles
and mentioned Dawn/Kevin. Unrequited feelings: Cordelia/Xander,
Drusilla/Wesley, Faith/Angel, Lindsey/Darla and Spike/Buffy.
Acknowledgments: Thanks to www.buffyworld.com for episode
transcripts used in some parts of this fic. Ditto lots of other Buffy/Angel
sites, for various bits of information. Also to Nodakskip and Vegakeep for some
helpful suggestions, and hints.
Classification: Angel-Buffy
Crossover, Action-Adventure, Angst, Alternate Universe
Summary: Wo-Pang tells
the Ra-tet of its upcoming demise, they hatch a desperate plan to survive, and
the life of Xander Harris is never the same again.
Title: Visions and Pawns
~~~~~~
D: “Maybe that’s your power.”
X: “What?”
D: “Seeing. Knowing.”
X: “Maybe it is.”
(Dawn Summers and Xander Harris, BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER)
“Los Angeles. You see it at night and it shines like a beacon. People
are drawn to it. People and other things.”
(Angel, ANGEL)
“I am the master of my fate/ I am the captain of my soul.”
(William Ernest Henley, 1875)
~~~~~~
Part
I: Plans
Within Plans
Los
Angeles, California. Summer, 1999
Night time in the City of Angels. The alley cat moved soundlessly
through the streets of the metropolis, perfectly at home in the sweltering
gloom that surrounded it. The creature was unhurried; its eyes scanned the
darkness, moving fluidly as it searched for its evening meal.
Then all of a sudden, the feline stopped; the hackles at the back of
its neck rose, as it arched back and hissed at what lay before it. Then the
animal turned around, and bolted away as fast as it could travel.
The spires of the Wolfram & Hart law offices stood proudly in the
humid smog of the city. But the outward glittering façade could not hide the
stench of evil that permeated its bricks and mortar, as well as the souls of
the inhabitants that dwelled within it – even at this late hour.
At that moment a shaman of the Order of the Kun-Sun-Dai arrived at the
place, looking mostly like some sort of ninja out of a Chinese kung-fu movie.
However Wo-Pang, as his name was known, was neither a figure of fun or in any
way interested in starring on the big screen.
The man simply walked straight in through the front door, went up to
the night watchman and announced, “I am Wo-Pang. I am expected, at this time.”
The attendant never looked up from his monitors. “Elevator 6, straight
down and to your left.”
The dark mystic departed immediately, without saying ‘thank you’ or
anything asinine like that. He just went to the lift, hit the door control,
went in and waited. Without any effort on his part, the machine then started
moving upwards.
Wo-Pang waited, outwardly perfectly calm. All of a sudden, a huge white
button appeared at the top of the floor level selection menu; and without hesitation,
the guy immediately punched it.
The small chamber dissolved into nothing but white light, and when his
vision cleared the shaman found himself in the White Room. An otherworldly
interdimensional space, that existed within the law firm.
And a fearsome collection of people – if you could call them that –
awaited him there.
First, there was the evil creature that wore the shape of a human
little girl, named Mesektet. She was the link between the demonic Senior
Partners of the firm, and the “earthly contingent” of Wolfram & Hart. Even
though, that was just her day job; as more importantly, she was also a member
of the Ra-tet, one of the five symbolic manifestations or ‘Totems’ of the
ancient sun god, Ra.
Next to her stood the Totem named Mr. Ashet, who looked like a tall,
dignified African male. And beside him stood the one known as Manjet, even
though off-hours he preferred to go by “Manny”; a scruffy-looking Caucasian
male. Beside him stood Ma’at, a white magic shamaness and another member of the
order. And last but not least stood Semkhet, a fearsome-looking skinless
saber-toothed tiger.
Manny looked around in amusement, as he quickly glanced at his peers
and then at their guest. “Been a long time, since we had this kinda family
reunion,” he remarked to no one in particular.
Semkhet growled a reply, that everyone except Wo-Pang instantly
understood. “I agree,” Ashet remarked acidly. “It definitely has not been long enough.”
Ma’at shook her head, the good woman despairing of the duo ever
changing. “Why must you two always be so negative?”
Manjet grinned. “Must come with the territory.”
Ashet scowled. “This, from someone who has such a prodigious collection
of human pornography as yourself?”
Mesektet, in many ways the most senior of them despite her appearance,
silenced the bickering. “Well. We have a guest here, family members. So –
manners, please. You contacted me, Wo-Pang of the Kun-Sun-Dai. Foolish of you,
but then your words intrigued me. The Ra-tet is gathered, as you requested.
What is it you have to say, before you get squashed like a bug?”
Wo-Pang looked at the five faces, whose expressions ranged from
politeness to amusement, anticipation, anger and indifference. And his reply
was as noncommittal as if they were just discussing the weather.
“All of you are going to die, very soon.”
~~~~~~
His words caused quite a furor, as the members of the Ra-tet were
immortal – as long as they were not ritually murdered. Immediately the
complacency disappeared, and the shaman was bombarded with questions.
Wo-Pang just knelt into his Zen meditation position, and again calmly
waited until the barrage was over. Finally, Mesektet silently told the others
to shut up, and the shaman was ready to explain.
“I do not know much,” the Oriental man said, as he cast some runes onto
the floor of the room. “But I have foreseen some things concerning my own
future, as regards a vampire with a soul...”
Semkhet roared, and Manjet agreed, “Yeah, whoever heard of a
bloodsucker with a soul?”
“Be that as it may, behold what I have seen...” and with these words,
Wo-Pang did the most horrible thing you can do to someone; he let the five into
his mind, and see exactly how they were going to die.
They saw how a huge and nasty demon colloquially known as “The Beast”
drained the life energy of Mesektet, right there in that very room. They also
saw it later murder Ma’at, ripping out her heart. Mr. Ashet was next, as the
Beast killed him near an oil field and took some sort of metal device from his
body; then Semkhet was killed in a desert cave, after being eviscerated for his
device first.
Finally, Manny witnessed his own demise as did the others; they saw how
a nude, beautiful brunette woman took an axe to his head in a locked room, and
later yanked out the blood-soaked orb he kept within there.
The telepathic communication was cut, and Wo-Pang then quietly started
making further preparations. “That was in fact only a sample of the death I
have foreseen,” he murmured, “The beast will kill thousands more, apart from
yourselves...”
By this time, Ashet alone had recovered his equilibrium enough to
regain his suspicious nature. “Why? Why warn us like this of our fate? What do you get out of it all?”
Again Wo-Pang showed no emotion when he replied, “The only other thing
I know is, the beastmaster will manipulate and play me for a fool. I dislike
being treated that way – by anyone.” Then the shaman muttered an
incomprehensible spell, and his body turned into thousands of glittery yellow
sparkles that quickly vanished from the room.
Manny yelped, “Hey, he’s gone-!”
Ma’at shivered. “Never mind that – the odds are, he’s already told us
all he knows anyway. The question is, what now?”
Semkhet then let out what sounded like a low purr. The others looked at
him, somewhat surprised. “An excellent question,” Ashet nodded. “Who was that human woman that killed him?”
Mesektet looked thoughtful, and gestured. Something like a miniature
white dwarf star blazed for a moment, and then a pretty young woman appeared in
the White Room. “Good evening,” she smiled, seemingly totally unfazed by what
had just happened. “I’m Files and Records. How may I assist you?”
The evil creature sat on her chair, and sent a telepathic image of both
The Beast and the female killer into her mind. “Who are they?” more than one of
the Ra-tet demanded at the same time.
The eyes of the woman briefly started fluttering, as if they were some
sort of high-speed camera shutters. “First subject is a rock-like demon known
as “The Beast”, last seen in Prussia during 1789; banished from the mortal
plane by the Svea priestesses, while talking to the vampire known as Angelus.”
“Who?” Ma’at asked at once.
The woman’s eyes fluttered some more, then became normal. “Angelus.
Sired during 1753 in Galway, Ireland. Became known as the Scourge of Europe,
along with his creator Darla and vampiric children Drusilla and Spike. Cursed
in 1898 Romania with a human soul, by gypsies of the Kalderash clan-”
“WHAT?!” most of the Ra-tet yelled, remembering Wo-Pang’s warning.
Files and Records went on, ignoring the outburst, “Disappeared for
approximately 99 years, then showed up in Sunnydale, California using the name
‘Angel’. Helped the vampire Slayer Buffy Summers from 1997 onwards. Recently
departed the Hellmouth, and currently residing here in Los Angeles.”
“And the other one?” Manjet demanded.
There was another brief pause, as the female’s eyes again scanned her
memory bank. “Second subject is known as Chase, Cordelia. Born in Sunnydale,
California during 1981. Critically injured during November, 1998. One of a
group of people helping the Slayer Buffy Summers, until May this year. Also
currently residing here in Los Angeles.”
There was a short pause, until Ashet said simply, “The solution seems
obvious to me. If she is the one who summons The Beast, we just kill her now
and the problem is solved!”
Manjet looked rueful. “Yeah, sounds nice in theory, but ya know what?
This whole situation stinks so much, it can’t be that simple. Can it?”
Before anyone could say anything, Files and Records stated calmly, “No.
The relevant Power-That-Be will almost certainly just arrange to use another
human vessel to eventually give birth to itself; you are all still scheduled
for termination.”
The five Totems turned and stared at her. “How did you know that?”
Mesektet asked for all of them.
The woman stared back, as if it should be obvious. “I’m Files and
Records. That’s my job.”
Semkhet growled at her, and the Wolfram & Hart employee looked
puzzled. “I’m unable to understand the basis of your speech patterns. Please
clarify.”
Manny looked annoyed. “Sheesh, sister, do we really gotta translate it
here? He asked, why did you mention that this Cordelia Chase chick was
critically injured last year? 'Cause I’m wondering – does this have anything to
do with our current problems?”
“Affirmative.” The woman’s eyes started doing the camera shutter trick,
but then something really odd happened – they froze, then went completely
black, and Little Miss Files and Records actually staggered for once in her
life.
“What’s wrong?” Ma’at asked at once.
The woman took a deep breath, as her eyes became human. “Nothing. My
apologies. I did not anticipate encountering a wild card of this nature.”
“Wild card? What is this supposed to mean?” Ashet demanded.
Files and Records took another deep breath. “The term is used to denote
Harris, Alexander Lavelle. Born in Sunnydale, California during 1981. Although
this had not been originally destined to happen; no entry is to be found for
said individual in the Akashic records...”
Now that fascinated the
Ra-tet, as the text that predicted the fate of every human soul had been
thought to be inviolate from the forces of good and evil alike.
The woman went on, “...and his existence is due to the direct
intervention of the specific Power-That-Be, that has you all targeted for death
and dismemberment during 2002. This, in fact, is an indirect result of the
consequences of the wild card’s inherently unpredictable actions.”
“Explain yourself fully,” Mesektet demanded.
Files and Records did so, giving details about Cordelia Chase that had
culminated in her coming to L.A. She then went on to give a comprehensive list
of young Mr. Harris’s actions over the last 18 years...
This included saving the blonde Slayer’s life after the ancient vampire
called the Master had bitten and drowned her during 1997, nullifying an
inevitable prophecy. Being indirectly responsible for sending Angel to Hell
during 1998, and possibly saving the world. Definitely saving it too, when the
Hellmouth had opened earlier that year and a zombie’s bomb was about to go off
and kill everyone...
“You don’t like him, do you?” Mesektet then asked, with a slight smile
on her seemingly-young face.
“The firm’s files and records now require considerable updating and
constant revision, thanks to the activities of the wild card,” Miss Files and
Records replied, for once looking annoyed.
Manny chuckled. “So, this guy dated the girl that’s gonna kill me?
Don’t know about the rest of you, but I hate him already...”
Ma’at shook her head. “A brave and resourceful young man. It is not his
fault he has been manipulated by one of the Powers, for almost his entire
life.”
“Is there anything else we need to know?” Ashet demanded, ignoring his
two associates.
“Mr. Harris’s current location is Oxnard, California. He is scheduled
to return home during the September of this year. But even that has an
undefinably low probability, due to what he is,” Files and Records finished up
smoothly.
When there was nothing more added, Mesektet gestured again and the
woman disappeared. “We appear to have been the victims of a well-thought-out
campaign,” the so-called Little Miss Muffet then casually remarked. “I must be
getting old. Time was, something like this would have never escaped my notice
during the planning stages...”
“So, what do we do?” Manjet asked, looking around.
“I’m not sure there’s anything we can
do,” Ma’at interjected, and Semkhet made a noise of agreement.
“Your opinions are in error,” Ashet said coldly. “It is perfectly clear
to me what must be done; fight fire
with fire. Forewarned is forearmed; all we need do is use this pawn of our
enemy to our own advantage, just as the Power attempted to use him against us.”
The others then stared, as they slowly got an idea what he meant. “You
can’t be serious?!” Ma’at demanded.
“The spell is a relatively simple one,” Ashet replied stonily, looking
at the group. “Ma’at can perform the magicks required, with Mesektet to provide
the motive power. Semkhet, Manjet and I will direct the focus for the appropriate
outcomes...”
“The rite to alter destiny like that will have repercussions!! For example, one of us will have to be
sacrificed, in order for it to even work!” the decent-hearted shamaness shouted
hotly.
“And if we don’t do it, all five of us will end up dead,” Ashet shot
back. “Is that what you want?”
“Enough. As always, we settle this by vote,” Mesektet cut in. “The
majority rules. Now all those in favor of the plan, say aye. Those opposed,
nay. How say each and every one of you?”
“Aye,” said Ashet, of course.
“Aye,” said Mesektet, not surprisingly.
“Nay,” said Ma’at, unable to accept the idea of trying to accomplish
good by doing evil.
“Nay,” growled Semkhet is his own language, somewhat to the surprise of
the others.
They then all stared at Manny, who was the deciding vote. “I’m
thinking, I’m thinking...” the neutral Totem, who was the potential of every
human soul, muttered.
If he had said “Nay” – events would have played out just as the
Power-That-Was eventually known as “Jasmine” intended. Well, that is, until a
miracle child named Connor killed her and Angel inherited the L.A. branch of
Wolfram & Hart...
But Manjet said “Aye” and after the Ra-tet – who had some serious juice
up their sleeves, if need be – joined forces, a blinding light filled the White
Room.
And thus the life of Xander Harris, more popularly known as the Zeppo
or the White Knight, became the focus of an invisible but deadly war between
the forces of light and darkness.
~~~~~~
South
America. Summer, 1999
At that moment, the vampires Spike and Drusilla were in the midst of a
heated argument.
It had all started with Dru leaving her boyfriend and childe for a
Chaos demon, about a year before. Spike had gone to Sunnydale in order to get a
love spell to win her back; but that had fallen through, so after he’d found
her again William the Bloody had just tried to tie her up and torture her until
she liked him again.
For a time, it had seemed to work; until the fickle Drusilla had gotten
bored again, and was about to take up with a fungus demon.
And the long-suffering Spike would have just let her, except the spell
of the Ra-tet kicked in and they both became boiling mad.
The bleached-blonde vamp yelled, “Look, Dru, I-I’m at the end of my
bleedin’ tether! Understand? I don’t even know why I bother anymore!” He
pointed at his sire, “This is all your fault, if ya want the truth. You’re the
one to blame for all this!”
Drusilla purred dangerously, “Am I? And why’s that?”
Spike kept shouting, “Cor blimey, I 'ave to spell it out? If you hadn’t
left me for that damn Chaos demon, I’d have never returned to bloody SunnyHell,
tried to get you back and ended up standin’ here lookin’ like an absolute idiot
right now!” He then reached out for the fungus demon and broke its neck, killing
out of sheer frustration.
The dark-haired female vampire looked shocked for a moment. Then she
growled, “Grrr! Bad dog!” Dru subsequently slashed at his face with her nails,
raking three bloody scratches down Spike’s cheek. “You still taste like ashes!
I’m gonna tell my Daddy on you, right after I find my Angel...” Then she
flounced away childishly.
The 119-year-old British vampire groaned. “Great. Fine. Run away, then!
Let the magnificent poof have you! See if I care!” he called out after her.
Spike then shouted to the heavens, “Gaaah! What the bleeding hell is
wrong with my unlife? What in Satan’s name is it gonna take, for things to go
right for me for once? And why do I let that bitch torture me like this?!”
~~~~~~
Part
II: A Life Less Ordinary
Sunnydale,
California. Late September, 1999
The blonde Slayer Buffy Summers had had a very Slay-heavy summer, but
now that fall had arrived things were looking much better. Walking with her
best friend, the redheaded amateur witch known as Willow Rosenberg, Buffy was
finally starting to relax for the evening.
“So, heard anything from Xander lately?” the Chosen One asked.
“Nope, nada. Not even a postcard,” Willow said grumpily. “I mean, I
know he said he was gonna do the whole Jack Kerouac thing and visit all 50
states...but he don’t write, he don’t call?”
Buffy laughed. “Well, he’ll be back eventually. And I’ll bet Xand’ll
have lots of good stories to tell us about his travels! What with the whole
Bohemian anti-establishment attitude he left with, back in August...”
The laughter echoed along the street, as Drusilla stepped out from
behind the trees and stared at the departing duo, with her game face on.
The vampiress was not in a good mood. She had arrived back to the
Hellmouth not long ago, and learned that her sire had left town – given how
there was no trace of Angel anymore, at his old mansion. So she had decided to
find the Slayer and get the information on where he was out of her, after a
quick trip to the local snitch Willy had proven fruitless.
But just as she had been about to leap out and attack, Dru was reminded
of the Slayer’s male friend, that she had once tried to turn while under the
influence of a love spell...
A group of three masked commandos then came out of the shadows behind
her. Two darts from a taser hit the 139-year-old creature in the back; the
vampiress convulsed and then fell down, still conscious. The figures stepped
forward, one having a coil of rope, another having a pistol and the third
possessing a rifle. Quickly tying Drusilla up, they took her away – to a fate
worse than staking.
~~~~~~
Underneath a fraternity house located within UC Sunnydale California, a
demon-hunting outfit called the Initiative was busy setting up shop. The
operation was still relatively new, but quickly getting organized; it basically
consisted of military teams capturing vampires and demons for study, by the
scientific personnel stationed at the base.
Their secret aim was weapons research, but the fact was that they had
no idea what they were about to tangle with...
The person in charge, one Professor Maggie Walsh, started talking to
one of her colleagues called Dr. Angleman. “What’s the latest?” the blonde,
40-year-old woman demanded, as they walked along one of the underground
corridors.
“Alpha Team’s captured some more hostile sub-terrestrials. One of
them’s atypical, she appears to be a British female...”
Walsh stopped, and turned to stare at the man. “How does that make her atypical?”
Angleman shrugged. “It’s not her nationality, but after she drank the
blood and was fitted with the behavior-modification implant, she started
ranting and raving. Initially we thought the chip had malfunctioned, but...”
“You should know better than to keep me waiting. Get on with it,” Walsh
hissed in a low voice.
Her companion gulped. “Right. Well, she kept on talking about someone
she called her “kitten”. The sub-T provided enough details to check it out
though, and apparently the guy really does exist. High school graduate named
Alexander Harris, last known address 17619 White Oak Drive in Sunnydale.”
Walsh narrowed her eyes. “Another HST?”
Angleman shrugged. “Doubtful. We have a name, a picture ID and history.
He’s listed in the Sunnydale PD database as a troublemaker; something about
gang members on PCP...”
“Have the residence staked out, and the man in question brought in as
soon as possible. And use men that won’t care whether he’s a sub-T hostile or
not.”
~~~~~~
Some days later, at the same time as Willow and Buffy were sitting
around in a graveyard at night and chatting about what they were going to do
when college started the next day, Xander Harris finally came home.
The guy had had the ultimate nightmare of a so-called road trip.
Basically he’d gotten as far as Oxnard, and then the engine had literally
fallen out of his car. He’d ended up washing dishes at ‘The Fabulous Ladies
Night Club’ for about a month and a half, while trying to pay for the repairs;
and one night when one of the male strippers had called in sick, he’d been
bullied into going up on stage and making a complete fool of himself.
Luckily though Xander had finally managed to make enough dough to trade
in the car for one that wasn’t entirely made of rust, and had now arrived back
at his house to recuperate from all the humiliations he’d suffered lately.
But just when the youth was about to go through the front gate, three
Initiative soldiers blasted him with a taser – and set about making his summer
vacation look like an all-expenses-paid trip to Hawaii.
~~~~~~
In the classified area of the Initiative known as “314”, Xander had
been strapped to a gurney and talking for hours under the influence of a truth
serum. Professor Walsh and Dr. Angleman finally left the room after the boy had
started repeating himself during his babbling, and decided to compare notes.
“Well, what do you think?” Walsh asked her colleague.
Angleman shrugged. “I don’t know how much of his story I’m willing to
believe. There have been reports
about a possible bogeyman amongst the HSTs, that match his description of this
“Slayer” – but what the guy said about being possessed by a hyena? Being a real
soldier for one night during Halloween? Stopping a bunch of zombies from
blowing up his high school? Come on!”
The blonde who worked undercover as a psych professor nodded. “He’s
obviously a liar or mistaken about that last one, as I’ve seen that high school
with my own two eyes. It was obliterated a few months ago, due to a gas leak
and not some whale-sized snake demon...yes, upon further consideration, I think
we should disregard practically everything he said.”
“Right. So, what do we do about this Buffy Summers that Harris
mentioned, that’s supposedly this Slayer?”
“Have her put under surveillance, just in case. Tell Agent Riley Finn
to get close to her, but don’t tell him why; just that it’s a special
assignment, and that he should report only to me about it.”
Angleman made a note on his clipboard. “And what about him?” the doctor
gestured towards Xander.
Walsh smiled coldly. “We can’t just let him go and have the man start
spreading stories about how he was abducted by a bunch of mad scientists, now,
can we? He’s seen too much, so as far as I’m concerned we can pretty much do
whatever we want with him. Set him up for a series of tests...”
The male researcher was slightly worried about that. “He may be crazy,
but he’s still a U.S. citizen. Technically, we’re not allowed-”
He was silenced with a glare. “Set up plausible deniability. Postcards
to friends and family, that sort of thing. And don’t ever question my orders again,” Walsh slitted her eyes, and
wondered whether Angleman was worthy of his position as her assistant.
The guy just nodded though, concealing his emotions well. “As you
wish...”
~~~~~~
Sunnydale,
California. Late November, 1999
One night a few months later, Spike headed for town in his black 1959
Dodge DeSoto, and spied the ‘Welcome To Sunnydale’ sign. With a huge grin, the
undead killer gunned the engine, pointed the vehicle straight at it and quickly
slammed into the signpost with his car.
The vampire then got out, stared at the mess, then looked around and
announced, “Yeah, now this is tradition!” With another grin, Spike then got
back into his pride and joy and headed for the old mansion.
Later, the blonde demon had lost his happy smile. He had missed
Drusilla, much more than he wanted to admit to himself; and after months of
hearing nothing, Spike had finally swallowed his pride and come home in order
to find her.
The problem was, there was no sign of Dru or her sire anywhere.
Making his way to Willy’s Alibi Room, Spike learned from the
snitch/bartender that no one had seen Drusilla and Angel for months. And the
platinum-blonde Englishman was just about to leave, when he heard a fellow
vampire babbling excitedly...
“I’m telling you, it’s there! I saw it! There’s a whole bunch of
soldier guys in town now, that abduct us for doing some sort of experiments.
But that’s not the worst part – before I escaped, I had to listen to some nut
job raving in the cell next door about the moon and the stars and whatnot...”
Spike froze. < Drusilla? Somebody’s kidnapped my sweet, sick, evil
Dru? >
The former Master vamp of Sunnydale in the good old pre-Angelus days
wasted no time in grabbing the loudmouth, and forcing his undead comrade to
guide him to the hidden entrance of the Initiative from where he had escaped.
And as thanks, Spike staked his fellow demon and cautiously made his way in to
find his wayward sire.
Not that far but deep within the area known as the 314 project, Walsh
and Angleman were conversing in low tones, despite the fact that Xander was
completely out cold on the gurney in front of them. “What’s the next sample to
be trialed?” Walsh said, looking down at her notes.
Angleman glanced up, “X-21. This one is a bit different than the
others, actually; it’s a hormone-like compound, extracted from the non-hostile
creature denoted as Species 57. Something that calls itself a “prescient
demon”, as I recall,” he shrugged. Then the doctor looked excited, “It’s a long
shot I know, but what if the creature really is that? Just imagine the
implications this might have for the ADAM prototype...”
“Patience, doctor,” Walsh forced herself not to smile at her
colleague’s enthusiasm, and also congratulating herself for not getting rid of
him earlier in the year. “Let’s just see what happens first...”
Angleman nodded, calming down and putting on a pair of plastic earmuff
protectors. Walsh saw this and asked, “What are
you doing?”
Angleman shrugged, barely making out the words. “I think I’m starting to
go deaf, having to listen to his screams whenever we do this. No harm in having
some protection for once...”
Walsh looked at her watch and then said, “It’s time; the counteragent
to the anaesthetic must have done its job by now. He’s clean of the drugs.” She
gestured, “Do it...”
He nodded, and injected a sickly yellow solution into Xander’s IV drip.
A few minutes later, all hell broke loose.
Xander went completely berserk, as his eyes snapped open and he became
part-demon – thanks to the compound unexpectedly integrating itself into his
DNA, all throughout his body. Thanks to his thrashing around, the restraints on
his arms and legs were then snapped away, and the guy managed to get up to
animalistically punch Walsh in the face – before Angleman grabbed a hand taser,
and the prongs shocked the teenager back into unconsciousness.
“Well, I think it’s obvious we can cross this one off the list for the
314 project,” the scientist grunted, as he set the weapon down and tore off the
earmuffs.
“Not necessarily,” Walsh disagreed, as despite the physical pain her
brain was still firmly focused on the results just in. “The enhanced strength
it engenders should prove very useful, once ADAM is up and running...”
Then she gestured dismissively, “Put him in a holding cell, till we get
those restraints repaired. And get me some ice for my nose, will you?”
Angleman nodded, as he slowly started to drag Xander away.
~~~~~~
Xander Harris woke up in an antiseptic white chamber, but nonetheless
was sure he was in Hell.
The boy had lost track of how long he had been in here, wherever ‘here’
was. He also didn’t know why they were doing this to him, or even who ‘they’
were. All Xander did know, was that he had been wrong about demons always being
the bad guys in the equation...
It seemed that some human individuals, who supposedly had a soul, could
be a whole lot worse than any vampire he had ever met.
“Run and catch, run and catch, the lamb is caught in the blackberry
patch...”
The young man froze. The voice coming from next door – he knew it. “Drusilla?”
The insane undead that was responsible for bringing him here was almost
catatonic, but still managed to reply, “Kitten?”
Xander had never thought he would be so glad to ever hear the crazy
female vampire’s voice in his life. Granted, she was evil, but at least she was
something familiar... “Are you okay?
Where the hell are we? How long have you-”
“Shh, kitten, can’t you feel it? Help’s on the way...”
And just then, Spike blasted his way into the containment area.
The male vamp had only had the vaguest of hints on how to find his
creator; the smell of her was almost nonexistent, as Dru had been kept locked
up in the special detention area for months. But then Spike could also almost feel where she was, the sire-childe bond
linking them in a special, mystical way.
“DRU!!” William the Bloody hissed, as he saw her. “Bloody hell, what
'ave these wankers done to you?”
The female vampire did indeed look a mess; emaciated, worn, unable even
to stand up on her own anymore. Spike snarled in rage, his bloodlust soaring,
until he heard a vaguely familiar voice.
“Spike?”
The vampire looked at the cell next door, and squinted. “I know you,
don’t I? Where-” Then the memory came back clearly, and Spike groaned. “Oh,
balls, you’re the idiot Angelus offered to me back during that bloody
Parent-Teacher Night! And Red’s sidekick during that thing with my sodding love
spell...what the hell are you doin’
here?”
“How should I know? These bastards kidnapped me, then decided to use as
some sorta lab rat...”
Spike just shrugged, as he didn’t care. He quickly smashed down the
barrier separating him from his sire, and ignoring the alarms tried to get her
up. “Come on, luv, we gotta get up and movin’...”
But it was obvious Dru didn’t have the strength for them to get outta
there fast. Making a quick decision, Spike put her down and then quickly
released Xander the same way.
The vampire was briefly surprised when he realized the guy didn’t smell
like a human being anymore – and abandoning his original plan to feed the kid
to his companion, quickly yelled, “You want out of here? Help me with Drusilla,
whelp – I won’t be able to get us out, if I have to support her all by
meself...”
And then, of course, Walsh and the commandos came in.
The ensuing fight was quick, ugly and brutal. The soldiers were
well-trained, and had a pride and esprit
de corps that was second to none in the U.S. armed services.
On the other hand, Spike and Xander were pissed and finally had a
target upon which to vent their anger. And when you’re fighting for your life,
not only is everything fair – but you’re always
sure to have a higher motivation to win.
By luck or design the blaster bolts constantly missed, as the
demi-human and soulless demon moved against their opponents; and soon enough,
all the troops lay dead at their feet.
Xander glared at Walsh. “She’s the one in charge,” he said to his
companion.
The psych professor babbled in fear, as she had never anticipated being
at the mercy of her prisoners, “Don’t hurt me, or you’ll never get out of here
alive...”
Spike just snapped her neck, much in the same way his grandsire Angelus
had murdered the woman called Jenny Calendar, and went to gather up Drusilla.
Xander went over to examine the corpse, just as William the Bloody snapped out,
“Come on, you idiot! Gimme a hand 'ere...”
And that was when Riley Finn came in.
A tall, handsome-looking lad from Iowa, he was the Alpha Team leader of
the Initiative – as well as masquerading as Walsh’s TA in her Psych 101 class.
He was just in time to see the bodies, and Xander leave Maggie to help Spike
drag Drusilla out of the cell block.
Riley got out his sidearm, and opened fire; one of the bullets hit
Spike, but unluckily for the army man something like that couldn’t slow down a
vampire for long.
Xander had time only to turn his head, and get the briefest glimpse
possible of the soldier in question before the door closed. A man who now
wanted him, Spike and Dru dead more than anything.
~~~~~~
Somehow, the trio managed to get out of the Initiative – Spike left
Xander to carry his sire, and relentlessly cleared the way of anyone who got in
their path. Under other circumstances, the guy that had been the heart of the
so-called Scooby gang would have been sickened by the carnage; but now, he felt
only numb at all the death he witnessed.
As soon as they were out and headed for the streets of Sunnydale, the
vampire whose look had been stolen by Billy Idol started to help carry Drusilla
again. But just by being outside, Angel’s childe seemed to perk up somewhat,
and finally was able to start walking under her own power.
Spike then ordered Xander, “Don’t even think about trying anything now
that we’re out, ya understand me Droopy Boy? Or I’ll kill you – dead.”
Xander shrugged, it wasn’t like he’d been expecting gratitude or
anything. < Oh yeah, a vamp is a vamp is a vamp... > “So what now? We
could try going to Giles’ house...”
“Will you shut up?! And we’re not goin’ anywhere near your mates – odds
are them nancy-boy soldiers already have 'em all under surveillance. Maybe even
got their phones tapped! I’m-”
Then Spike stopped, and sniffed the night air. He then ran off, leaving
Dru with Xander; and a few moments later returned with his hand clamped around
the mouth of a struggling blonde girl.
A Wicca named Tara Maclay...
“What the hell are you doing?!” Xander asked, shocked. Then he mentally
kicked himself, < Duh! What do you think
they’re gonna do with her? Hey, wait a sec, why bother going to all the fuss?
How come they haven’t already tried to feed, on your own finger-lickin’ tasty
self? >
Spike bared Tara’s neck, as Drusilla came forward hungrily. “Come on,
pet, time to eat up – get your strength back...”
“Oh, 'ow nice...” the former London native purred as she went into game
face.
Just as Xander moved forward to stop her, the chip kicked in and the
female vampire screamed in pain. Spike instantly dropped Tara, and went to
check on his beloved. “Dru? Poodle, what’s wrong?”
Xander yelled to Tara, “RUN!!” And needless to say, she did so without
looking back.
The undead couple ignored them. “Tin soldiers put a funny little
knick-knack in my brain, my precious Spike. Can’t hunt! Can’t hurt! Can’t
kill!” Drusilla screamed, clutching her head. “I can feel it. Little bit
of...plastic, spider-webbin’ out nasty blue shocks if I get naughty...”
Xander figured it out. “They put some sort of anti-violence chip in her
head?” The two British vamps looked at him, and he shrugged. “Just a
thought...”
Spike started to rant about how he’d let Tara get away, and now he had
to find someone else to feed to Dru. “So, I take it visiting the local blood
bank is totally outta the question?” the former class clown then quipped as
they started moving along, his humor defense mechanism surfacing for a moment.
“One more word out of you, ya dumb git, and I’ll rip your damn head
off!!! I’m just sorry neither of us can feed on you...”
“Huh? Why’d ya say that?”
Spike was almost amused as he told the guy, “What, you still think
you’re one o’ the nummy treats? I got news for you, chump, you don’t smell
human no more! Whatever them bastards did to you, you’re safe now from anyone
like Drusilla 'n me drinkin’ you dry. I mean, why’d ya think you’re still
alive? I’m not gonna eat you, and I’m
not exactly a vamp who’s picky about his Happy Meals! Not gonna subject Dru to
whatever demon crap is in your blood now, either...”
“It’s true, kitten,” the former London girl spoke up, as they stopped
and she stroked his cheek. “But don’t worry though, you’re still my brave White
Knight...”
Spike growled in displeasure at seeing this, and Xander backed off,
looking freaked and in denial. “No way. You’re both lying! Undead...liar guys!”
The male vamp just laughed, in true amusement. Then out of nowhere a
fleet of military Humvees showed up, trying to locate the escaped trio.
“Bollocks!” the peroxide one shouted, spotting them. Spike then quickly
located the nearest car, and smashed open a window. Xander stuffed Drusilla
into the back seat, as her childe started to hot-wire the vehicle; Harris got
behind the wheel as his companion lay on the floor and finally got the engine
to catch, then the mortal drove off with the convoy hot on his heels.
Now normally, Xander was not what you’d call a reckless driver. In
fact, there would one day be a girl who couldn’t drive, that would claim to be
able to drive faster than he could! But here and now, the term ‘high speed car
chase live on Fox’ definitely applied.
“Watch out for over there, ya stupid-!” Spike shouted at him, pointing
at one of the trucks trying to sideswipe him.
The former prisoner reacted on instinct; slamming his foot down, he
accelerated past the Humvee, then swerved violently – causing the car to slam
against the other vehicle.
The military transport turned, and swiftly collided against a wall –
whereupon it exploded, instantly killing its passengers.
This freaked Xander out even more, and not looking where he was going –
it was too late for him to avoid smashing into a pole, despite the warning
shouts from both his soulless passengers. The trio got out and Spike started
shouting at the driver, “What the bloody hell is the matter with you? Are ya
blind, or what?”
The headlights from the other Humvees hit them, as the escapees hid
behind the wreck. William the Bloody then made a decision, “Look, Dru – we
gotta split up. I’ll lead them away, and you get to somewhere safe, all right?
I’ll find you...” Then he got up and ran off, with the soldiers right behind
him.
Dru started to babble, as she started hearing the moon and the stars
whispering to her, “Daddy. My Angel...I got to find 'im...”
Xander tried to resist rolling his eyes. “You think Dead Boy’s actually
gonna help you? Not that I care, Dru,
but the odds are he’s gonna stake you on sight!”
The dark-haired vampiress just looked at her companion, and the former
geek suddenly had the nasty feeling he’d finally pushed his luck too far. But
all that the female demon said was, “You’ve gotta come too, kitten, or the
nasty soldiers will kill you...”
The only son of Anthony and Jessica Harris wasn’t sure if this was one
of her psychic predictions, or just a general assessment after he’d gotten the
people in the Humvee dead; but either way, Xander decided it would be a good
idea to come back to town later when things had settled down, and allowed Dru
to lead him away.
~~~~~~
Los
Angeles, California. Late November, 1999
The one and only vampire with a soul known as Angel was talking to his
messenger from the Powers-That-Be; a half-Brachen demon/half-Irish seer, named
Allen Francis Doyle. They were at the safehouse of a bunch of half-demon
refugees, and were talking about the past and the present.
Doyle said, “When I got the visions for the first time, I thought I was
having a stroke. I didn’t know what the images meant. But I had to know if what
they showed me was a dream – or real. It wasn’t a dream," the man finished
up, remembering the corpses he had found of the Brachen refugees who had died,
because he hadn’t helped them.
Angel tried to supportive. “You couldn’t have known...”
Doyle dismissed the past, gesturing to the crowd of half-human Lister
demons. “These people are going to need more than their mythic Promised One.
The contractually-obligated 500 might be a start! You can't fight the Scourge,
Angel...” referring to the army of pureblooded demons who had a big hate-on for
the mixed heritage types, fanatics who hunted down and killed demon half-breeds
like animals.
Angel looked around confidently. “It won’t come to that, because we’re
going to get them out of here.”
All of a sudden a truck pulled up outside, and Xander and Drusilla
jumped out. Angel saw them at the door and his jaw dropped to the floor,
“Drusilla? Xander?”
The vampiress quickly threw herself into her sire’s arms, starting to
weep uncontrollably. Angel was confused and just said, “What the heck are you
two doing here? And, together?”
Xander scowled, “Yeah, good to see you too, Dead Boy...”
Doyle quickly picked up on the hostility. “Hi there. Name’s Doyle, man,
good ta meetcha,” he said in his thick Irish brogue.
“Hey. Xander Harris...”
All of a sudden, Angel let Drusilla go as he came forward to sniff at
Xander in amazement. “Xander? What the hell have you done to yourself? Why
don’t you smell human now?”
The teenager didn’t deal well with Angel confirming Spike and Dru’s
story, but unfortunately there was no time to coddle his feelings. “You should
know we got problems, buddy boy,” Doyle quickly said to Xander, after his new
acquaintance’s shouting and/or explanations had died down. “There’s a whole
bunch o’ scary demons out there, that’s aimin’ to kill us all...”
Angel quickly filled both the newcomers on the situation with the
half-breeds, and then looked outside at the truck they had arrived in. “That
truck – it’s exactly what we need to move the refugees. How did you-?”
Xander shrugged. “It was the first available thing we could find...”
Then he wilted under Angel’s disbelieving stare, “Fine, I had this...funny
feeling I was gonna need it. Dru somehow knew where you were, and so now here
we are...”
Angel looked deep in thought. “Doyle, you got your cell phone?”
The half-demon patted his pocket. “Yeah?”
“Good. Stay here with the truck, and wait for our signal. Xander, I
want you and Dru to go down to the L.A. harbor; Pier 12, Slip 4, a ship called
the Quintessa. Use my name; I know the captain. Tell him he’s gonna have
passengers on this cargo trip. I’m gonna secure the documents needed, to get
these people out of the country...”
Doyle frowned, “What about Cordy? Shouldn’t we get her in on the
action?” Xander quickly whirled his head around at hearing that, surprised that
his ex-girlfriend was also involved with these two.
Angel shook his head. “You heard her attitude towards demons the other
day. And besides, we don’t need her now for something like this...”
~~~~~~
A short time later, after a series of almost-comic misadventures, the
refugees were all aboard the ship. Unfortunately, the Scourge had also arrived,
and managed to lock everyone in the hold – along with a bomb.
A beacon of death, whose light meant annihilation to any creature with
any trace of human blood.
Doyle and Xander climbed onto a platform alongside Angel, who was
staring at the giant, crystal-shaped light suspended in its metal frame. The
half-Irishman asked, “What does that thing do?”
Having witnessed it in operation before arriving at the seagoing
vessel, the vampire said solemnly, “Its light kills anything with human blood.”
Both his companions looked uneasy as Doyle muttered, “Well, it’s
getting brighter and that doohickey – it’s fully armed, isn’t it?”
The Champion for the Powers-That-Be answered, “Almost. If I pull the
cable, I think I can still shut it off...”
Doyle still didn’t get it. “How’re you gonna do that, without touching
the light?”
Xander shook his head, understanding the plan before his companion.
“Angel, that’s suicide!”
Doyle agreed, “There’s got to be another way...”
Angel looked at the terrified refugees and Drusilla below in the hold,
then at his companions. “It’s all right.” The vampire then put a hand on
Doyle’s shoulder, as if it say goodbye.
The half-demon messenger put his own hand on Angel’s arm, unable to let
him do this. “The good fight, yeah? You never know until you’ve been tested. I
get that now.” To Xander’s complete astonishment, Doyle then hauled back and
hit Angel with a hard right to the chin, knocking him down into the cargo hold.
Then Doyle turned to Xander. “Please, tell Cordelia that I love her...”
Overcome with emotion, he hugged his new friend, and a strange blue light
seemed to envelop Xander’s body for a moment.
Doyle quickly morphed into his Brachen demon face and jumped for the
weapon, as Angel started screaming, “Doyle! Doyle! Doyle! Doyle! NO!”
But it was too late; the young hero ignored him and quickly managed to
deactivate the bomb, pulling the cable away just before he burned to ashes –
and saving all of their lives in the process.
~~~~~~
The next day, Angel was in a sacred temple called 'The Gateway for Lost
Souls', located underneath the local post office; and he was arguing with the
two mystical beings in there he had met once before, called the Oracles.
The male Oracle said scathingly, “You try our patience. What is
done...”
Angel interrupted, “Can not be undone, you keep saying that. But I need
Doyle. You can fold time, you’ve done it before. Bring him back.”
The female Oracle stared at him. “To what end? To nullify his noble
death? To leave his atonement unfulfilled?”
The black-clad vampire remained unmoved. “If it means he lives.”