Dawn collected a file folder full of information on Nighna. It contained Andrew’s ludicrously detailed descriptions of her in both human and demon forms. The file also held actual data, which she looked up by herself since Willow had to remain in Westbury with the coven for an equinox ritual of their own. Willow had assured them, though, that the wards on the Flat would keep them safe against anyone who meant to bring them harm.
Dawn’s readings and cross-references led her to believe that Nighna was a Kimaris demon, or one of Kimaris’s legions. She could take human form; in fact, preferred to do so. In some of the archive texts, Dawn learned that Kimaris demons operated in Africa around 300 B. C., where they sowed seeds of discontent among tribesmen there, causing a great and bloody tribal war that lasted for centuries.
Quite recently Dawn uncovered the important detail that Kimaris demons of today were regarded as political masterminds – the demonic equivalents of congressional spin-doctors. Dawn figured on sharing the tidbit with Buffy.
She opened the door to their rooms to find William attired in full on Spike wear. Torn jeans, shredded shirt full of safety pins, hair like a Rebel Yell...
“Whoa,” was all she managed to say.
William looked pleased with himself.
“Are you wearing eyeliner?” she asked.
“Part of the part, Niblet,” he said. “What you got there?”
“Nighna notes. Thought you might like a peek before heading into the fray. Know thy enemies and stuff,”
Dawn said. Then, “Eyeliner?”
He snatched the file folder. “Kimaris, eh? Worked with them before. Diamond cufflinks crowd. Spiteful buggers, the lot of them.”
Buffy came in, searching for something, still wearing her training clothes.
“Hey,” Dawn said. “You’re gonna be late.”
“Yeah, and you never want to be late for a ritual sacrifice,” Buffy said, distracted. “Have you seen my crystal earrings? The ones from...”
“Your boyfriend wears make-up,” Dawn said.
“Hey...” William said.
“He’s not my...” Buffy began. She stopped her hunt to look at them both. “You’ve gone punk? I thought this was a formal thing. And you really are wearing make-up.”
“Hello? Icon,” he said. “I’m supposed to be a vampire. Since I can’t make my scary face anymore, the costume will have to do. Furthermore, since I’m not your boyfriend, I’ll just be taking your attractive younger and much taller sister...”
William spun Dawn and unexpectedly dipped her, tango style. Dawn squealed. Buffy grabbed his arm.
“Hey, Lady Madonna! Unhand my sister,” Buffy said, laughing.
Xander, on his way down from Giles’ room, chose that moment to travel past the open door to witness the tableau of the Summers girls rassling with Spike.
“Oh my God,” Xander said. Shaking his head, he wandered away, looking lost.
William righted Dawn. She smoothed her hair back into place. “Wackiness ensues,” Dawn said. “I love it when that happens. Oh, but. I have stuff. Informative stuff, about Nighna.”
“Oh, good. Gimme,” Buffy said. She took the file from Dawn, flipped through it.
“So, um,” William said. “How is Andrew? Off suicide watch yet?”
“Oh,” Dawn said, hands fluttering. “That whole Spiderman thing on the roof. That was just a blip. We’ve since stepped up his therapy. Tonight: all Girl Power movies. You know, Ever After, Xanadu...”
“Little Women,” William said, not serious.
“Oh, he loves that one,” Dawn said. “The Winona Ryder-Susan Sarandon version, not the Katherine Hepburn...”
Buffy interrupted, “Hey, did you find any references to the rose thingy Willow mentioned?”
Dawn rolled her eyes. “Only a gillion. The rose is one of the most frequently occurring symbols in history. I’ve got everything from the Priory of Scion to The Yellow Rose of Texas. It’ll take a while to narrow down the search.”
Buffy handed the folder back. “Good, good. Keep up the excellent work,” Buffy said. She looked around, confused. “I know I came in for something...”
“Earrings,” Dawn said. “Last I saw they were in my jewelry box, where I put them after taking them without permission. Sorry for that and I’ll go get them.”
“Do that,” Buffy said, severely. “Now.”
Dawn left them. For a moment, William and Buffy were awkwardly quiet.
“What?” William asked.
“You tell me. With the gardening and the make-up, I’m thinking the Sisters may have shared more than just blood. Like maybe estrogen,” she said.
“At least I’m dressed,” he returned. “You’re still in sweats. Which would be fine if your intent is to offend everyone to death.”
“Hey, I need my earrings...”
“Yeah, those must be from your other icon,” he said.
“Stop it,” she said. “I didn’t mean...”
“Forget it,” he said.
Dawn came back in, the Austrian crystal drops in her palm. “I lost the back-y things,” she said.
Buffy swiped them from Dawn’s hand. “I’ll just go shower. Wouldn’t want to offend anyone to death.” She left the room, slamming the door behind her.
“Yeah, she gets that way when I take her stuff. When will I ever learn?” Dawn said. She left the file folder on the writing desk.
William flicked sullenly through the pages in the file, but said nothing.
Dawn said, “Okay. Well, I’m going to check on my patient. You kids have fun.” She made a quick exit from the room.
~*~
Andrew sat on the stairs, staring through the rails at the empty dining room. Dawn came down and took a seat beside him.
“So,” she said. “We have drama on Floor 2.”
Andrew made a strangled sighing sound.
Dawn tried again. “Get this. If you change the letter ‘v’ in the word lover to an ‘s’, you get loser.”
Without looking up, Andrew said, “That’s me. Big looo-ser.”
Dawn touched his shoulder. “I meant her,” she said.
Andrew flinched. “I mean me. All that time I spent with her, I didn’t see. How did I miss the whole evil alter ego? I’ll tell you how. I just...” he sighed again, deeper this time. “I just really thought she liked me.”
“I say, too bad for her if she didn’t,” Dawn said. “Besides, Spike and Buffy will give her a what-for. They’re just itching to slam something.”
Andrew turned to Dawn. “Yeah?” he said.
“Oh yeah. That’s the plan. Pound of two-faced demon flesh,” Dawn said.
Andrew nodded. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“I’m down with that.”
“Good. So, you wanna get some take away fish and chips? You’re fish, I’m chips,” Dawn asked.
Andrew got sluggishly to his feet. “Guess I’m down with that, too.”
~*~
The little black dress Buffy chose to wear defied logic. It was at once high-necked, sleeveless and backless, with an uneven fluttering hemline longer in back than it was in the front. Garmently-speaking, it was an impractical choice going in to a fight. Otherwise, it was the most beguiling thing William had ever seen cut from cloth.
Though they were subdued for in the taxi ride over to Triumvirate, the rancor had gone out of him to the point that he’d forgotten what upset him in the first place. Buffy sat all prim, hair upswept and crystal earrings sparkling, with the invitation clasped beneath her folded hands. They instructed the cab driver to avoid the whole red carpet scene by dropping them at the corner. Buffy was surprised and annoyed that there was an actual red carpet scene.
“We should have hired a limo,” Buffy whispered as they worked their way through the crowd to the door. “I’ve never been in a limo.”
William scanned over the crowd, keeping a sharp eye for Nighna.
“It may have been more difficult to blend in that way,” William said. He looked over at her. “By the way, that dress is...”
Buffy grimaced. “You wanna go there, Robert Smith?”
“Stunning,” he said, wholly unabashed. “You look stunning, Summers.”
Buffy felt herself blushing. She smoothed a hand over the silky bodice. “Yeah?” she said.
William took the invitation from her. He cut through the crowd to a podium where a wall-eyed possibly half-demon man stood. He presented the invitation, and they were ushered inside without incident.
They moved into the elegantly tiled foyer where people milled about to talk and drink tall cocktails in slender fluted goblets. There were humans mostly, with a smattering of various demons in the mix. So far, none of them were ones they recognized.
Buffy hesitated on the threshold of the main room. “Wow,” she said. “Swank.”
“Told you.”
The walls gleamed like they were made of hematite. They diffused the topaz lighting in a subtle, very tasteful manner. The floors were of polished inlaid marble in deep blues and mauves, with veins of ivory and gold. Probably real gold. The main room was open to the second floor, with a loft that overlooked the dance floor. Lush flowering plants streamed over the edge in a classy 1940s lounge kind of way.
Buffy and William followed along the outer edge of the dance floor, avoiding fellow guests, to a bank of plush booths that faced outward to the main room. A towering silver fountain dominated the back corner gurgling gouts of red wine. At least, Buffy thought it was wine...
“Is that blood?” she leaned in to ask.
William inhaled deeply, then shook his head. “Might well be corn syrup for all I know.” He dredged the tip of a finger in the lower-most basin. Tasted it.
“Nope. Real blood,” he said. “Good year.”
“Oh. These guys are so going down,” Buffy said.
Across the room, someone struck up light jazz on a baby grand piano. Couples wandered out onto the dance floor. Others mingled, chatting over glasses of champagne. She saw a lack of evil-doing going on and no sign of ritual sacrifice anywhere.
“Is this the face of modern demoning?” Buffy asked. “I mean, where do we start?”
A husky dark chocolate voice responded from over their shoulders. “You might start right here,” she said.
William and Buffy turned. Nighna stood behind them in a gown of flowing silver. Her black curling hair fell around her dark shoulders. She dangled a glass of blood from the fountain between her trim fingers.
She said, “Hello, Spike.”
Spike ran his tongue over his teeth. “Nina. I might have known,” he said.
“You know him?” Buffy asked. Then, “You know her?”
“We were associates,” she said. “It’s Nighna now. Though you must also know that. Spike, I thought we were quite clear on your never returning here again.”
“Big surprise of the evening: I rebel,” William said. “Not like I wanted to belong to your nancy club anyway. Regulation chanting and unionization? You’re supposed to be demons.”
Nighna laughed in a condescending way that made Buffy really dislike her. “You were exiled from England, Spike. Did he not tell you?”
This did shock. “He failed to mention,” Buffy said, annunciating each word. She turned to him. “You were voted off the island? Of England?”
“It was a long time ago, pet,” he said.
“Thing with immortals, Spike. We have long memories,” Nighna said.
Buffy stepped closer to Nighna. “This isn’t about Spike. This is about a boy, name of Andrew Wells.”
Nighna did not appear threatened. “Ah, Mr. Wells. Poor darling. How is he?” she asked. She pursed her broad burgundy lips in mock sympathy.
Buffy shoved her backward. “What did you want with him?”
Nighna held her ground, losing only a few steps. The blood in her glass barely swirled.
“Now, now,” Nighna said, tongue clicking. “Let us not be uncivilized. I am in my castle, after all.”
William gripped Nighna’s arm just above the elbow and twisted. “Castle or not, you will talk. What were you after...?”
Nighna attempted to shrug free, but William held fast.
“Isn’t this a sticky situation?” Nighna asked quietly. Her smug, simpering smile never left her eyes. “You want something from me. You think force will get it?”
William wrenched harder. Nighna seemed to enjoy it. She said, “The Slayer and a vampire, come to help out their little friend. Valiant to the end. But your egos have blinded you. Andrew Wells was my target all along.”
“What?” Buffy said. “Again, what? You are kidding. Aren’t you?”
“Not a bit. Andrew was... smart and funny. He does this thing,” Nighna smiled to herself.
“Not needing description,” William said.
“More to the point, then,” Nighna said. “Mr. Wells holds knowledge about dimensional technology and demonology that my kind find especially enticing. It is... was... a great disappointment that he had to discover my true form before I had a chance to explain and recruit him.”
“You wanted Andrew?” Buffy said.
“I did,” Nighna answered. “Of course, now I have much more useful information. Who would have guessed that mild-mannered anthropology student Andrew Wells roomed with the Slayer and all her pals?”
“We’ve heard enough,” William said. He flung Nighna backward full force into the fountain. Blood, everywhere. Also, shattered glass and lots of noise. The crowd halted as Nighna, spluttering and spitting, clawed her way from the wreckage. She switched into to scaly scary demon form.
Buffy got set for a fight. Nighna stuck her forefingers into the corners of her mouth and whistled. On command vampires popped out from everywhere, flanking them on all sides.
“Really should’ve seen that coming,” Buffy said.
William tossed a stake to Buffy. She attacked the nearest vampire. It was an easy dust, given that he didn’t expect her Slayer swiftness. The second one, not so simple. As she figured, also extra with the vampire voltage.
The fight lasted all of two minutes, resulting in two staked and two more with bruises, before someone brought in shackles and chains. She and William were clapped in irons and dragged out to the dance floor.
Nighna recovered rapidly, her dignity restored by the quickness of their capture.
“Now this is embarrassing. Yet... gratifying,” she said. She paced in front of them. Demons and vampires all gathered around to witness the spectacle.
“And here we thought we weren’t going to have a floor show tonight,” Nighna went on.
Buffy looked over at William. He sported a gouge over his brow, but looked ready to brawl.
“How’s that eye, Will?” she asked.
“It’ll heal,” he said. He leveled his gaze on Nighna. “And there it goes.”
“Look at you,” she said, clapping her hands. “Not a vampire after all. Pity. Now is not a good time to not be a vampire.”
Nighna pranced about in true villainous fashion. “Triumvirate planned this evening as a celebration of the changing times. How fitting it is that you have blundered your way here. You will make the perfect commemoration sacrifice. Out with the Old Order. In with the New.”
“Preachify all you want, Nighna. The Old Order will remain. Killing us won’t change that,” Buffy said. She made what she hoped was a really strong show of not being afraid.
Nighna cocked her head to the side. “Kill you? Oh no. Not kill you. Spike here doesn’t look the type for dying. We prefer torture. It makes a far more lasting impression.”
Nighna turned to the assembled crowd, arms outstretched. She cried, “Do you want to see how much she can take? How long before we see the Slayer cry?”
The crowd let them know that they wanted nothing less.
“Stop it,” William yelled. He strained against the chains. “Just... stop.”
“Or you’ll what?” Nighna said. She slunk beside him, cradling his face with her hands. “You’ll watch like a good little boy. I seem to recall you like to watch...”
A green skinned demon pushed his face in close to Nighna’s face, grinning like a mad man. The hulkingly handsome demon seemed slightly tipsy with his apple red fedora and sloshing cocktail.
“What’re we watching?” he said. “Looks as though I’ve missed all the fun.”
“Lorne, it is so nice as always,” Nighna said. She stepped away from William.
“What do we have here, Nines? Have you started the bloodshed without me?” Lorne asked.
“It’s a Slayer and Spike,” Nighna said, waving her hand. “Just a little pre-Equinox slaughter to get the party started.”
“A Slayer?” Lorne said. He glanced at Buffy, but gave no flicker of recognition. In a conspiring tone, he said to Nighna, “You can’t harm a Slayer. Not here. They’ve got protection. They can shut us down.”
Nighna chuckled. “That was then, Lorne. They can’t shut the Triumvirate down...”
“Still,” Lorne said. “Bad idea provoking their collective wrath, Sugar Beets. And Spike... from what I hear he has connections that run all the way to,” he lowered his tone to barely audible, “Wolfram & Hart.”
Spike, playing along, menacingly rattled his chains.
Nighna glanced up, impressed. And also, luckily, deterred. But she said, “My boys want blood, Lorne. They had their palettes set for Slayer.”
Lorne considered for a moment. He said, “They’ll just have to settle for flank steak of lion, Nines. The arena’s all set for them downstairs. You just shoo the guests along. I’ll take care of these two.”
Nighna held out, unresolved.
“Nines,” Lorne said, nudging. “She’s THE Slayer. You had her bound in chains. How many of your contemporaries can say that and live to tell of it. Am I right? Huh?”
Nighna showed her rows of white teeth again. “Fine. This show is over.”
There was much grumbling among the ranks. Nighna turned to them, arms out once more. “Let us convene downstairs where the real ritual will take place.”
She looked over her shoulder at Buffy. “After all, it is likely we’ll see this pair again.”
Lorne stood between the beshackled Buffy and William until the entire crowd ambled out. One of the vampire henchmen passed the keys to Lorne as he left.
Buffy was entirely shamed. She stood in utter bewilderment. William was incensed and raving about catching up to them, killing them to the last, and how dare they even dare?
Lorne stepped in. “Let’s us just get out of here, while we have a chance. Shall we?”
Once they were outside, Lorne hailed them a taxi. He took William to the side. Buffy remained on the curb, massaging kinks from her wrists where the cuffs had chafed her.
“Look,” Lorne said, going grave. “You have to be more careful.”
“More careful? Lorne, we fight demons. It’s not a safe line of work...”
Lorne cut him off, “All the same, things have changed. And don’t bring her around to places like this. Creatures here... they sense things. You copy?”
William shut up. He tilted his head to the side. He had questions, but kept them all down. “Yeah. All right,” he said.
The taxi sidled up to the sidewalk. Lorne put them in and sent them on their way.
~*~
Angel observed everything from his balcony seat. The tension that twisted in his body felt like a screw tightening into solid rock. Every time he made a move to make to stand, Luxe caught his arm and cautioned him to just watch.
When Lorne swooped in to save the day, Luxe sat back wearing a satisfied smile on his fine-featured face.
“You see,” Luxe said. “They are clueless. Lost and utterly useless.”
“Why do you show me this, Luxe? You know I want to help them out. Give them the edge,” Angel said.
“As I have said before, Monsieur Angel. We are not on opposite sides here,” Luxe said.
“That’s doublespeak for we are on opposite sides. You are Wolfram & Hart,” Angel growled.
“Just as you are,” Luxe said.
Angel sat back uncomfortably in his seat. After a moment’s reconsideration, Angel said, “You told me I was to meet the ones responsible for the global vampire spell. Yet here we are, alone. Where is this so-called mastermind?”
Luxe nibbled at an olive from his plate. “In a sense, you were looking at her just now.”
“Nighna?” Angel asked, doubtful.
“Not her,” Luxe said.
Angel sat still for a while before speaking. “Buffy,” he said at last.
“She and her witch created the imbalance that made the spell possible. Before the Slayer’s bloodline was unlocked, no one could harvest the strength of the Well,” Luxe explained.
“Yes, but... she was not the one harvesting.”
Luxe rolled his eyes. “Hardly. She seems far too inept for such magics.”
Angel’s eyes flashed. “You have no idea of what she is capable...”
Luxe reclined. He drummed his fingers on the tablecloth. He watched Angel with a kind of removed interest. “Your regard for her is obvious. It must sting, seeing her with the other...”
Angel clamped down his jaw. “Let’s get back to the topic, shall we? Who is responsible for tapping the Well?”
Luxe tapped the edge of his plate, lazily. “Fine,” he said. “No more games.” He pulled a thick manila envelope from the briefcase in the chair beside him.
“This document contains information on the spell itself. Components. Chants. Timelines. Key players... all of it. I understand there is a witch among the Slayer’s people, one of great power. No doubt she will find this information quite helpful,” Luxe said.
Angel placed a hand on the file. Luxe held on to it a moment longer.
“The person responsible for this spell is one with whom you are acquainted, Angel. It is Thellian Ventrusca,” Luxe said. He waited while the realization of his words made their way home for Angel.
“Thellian,” Angel repeated.
“Oui,” Luxe said.
“I thought that zealot self-destructed in 1782,” Angel said. But he sat back in his chair and thoughtfully chewed on his thumb.
“It was then that he learned his true strength,” Luxe said. “Thellian is no fool. Nor is he impatient. I think you begin to grasp what this spell means to your kind.”
Angel nodded his head, slowly beginning to see. “I get it. Not just another apocalypse. That’s too small,” Angel said. “But I still don’t get why you’re handing this to me.”
Luxe patted the paperwork, almost affectionately. “Wolfram & Hart seeks to preserve what has always been, Angel. We profit from human suffering. Torture and death, grim though they may be, they keep us in penthouse suites and luxury sedans. We keep disorder in our pockets. Save it for a rainy day. You know this song by now. Thellian represents a threat to all that we hold dear. And, to all those you hold dear. Here we find ourselves, on the same side. We need you. You need us...”
Angel swept the envelope from the table. He was up and walking away. Over his shoulder, he called back, “I do not need you. And I’ll be the one to determine whether or not this will be of any use.”
~*~
Xander stepped in to the doorway of Go Ask Alice before dusk. He chose to go on foot since the evenings still felt nice but verged on nippy. He didn’t know how long the fair weather would hold out.
Before going inside, Xander looked through the grimy windows at the young woman inside. Through the gloom, he watched as she intently built a fort and a teepee out of plastic forks and knives on her sales counter. By the time he worked up the nerve to go inside, she was constructing a fence, presumably for paper cows and horses.
“Plastic Ware Olympics? Can I play?” Xander called to her from across the room.
Maya, startled, sent plastic spoons skittering. She recovered quickly, though. She tucked one behind her ear. She said, “I don’t know, Xander. I’m pro. My plan is to take down the entire British Empire with my cunning use of disposable cutlery.”
“I could assist with that plan,” Xander said. He moved across the room, into gathering dark. “Is this lighting meant to convey a certain mood? Say... foreboding?”
Maya returned her attention to her wrecked plastic fort. “Here it is Wednesday,” she said. “Wednesday evening and here you are.”
“Um. Yes I am,” Xander said. He peered up into the darkened ceiling. He saw the broken bulbs in the fixture and a ribbon of apprehension went through him.
Maya saw him looking. She said, “Did you bring the Vendregills?”
“I did. Giles copied out the passages he thought he might need. Look, Maya, I have a ladder. I could fix those,” Xander said, pointing.
“No!” Maya said, urgently. “I mean. It’s too dangerous.”
“They’re light bulbs...” Xander said.
“Dangerous ones,” Maya said.
“What do you know about vampires?”
“Interesting segue,” she said. “I have a whole section in back about vampires. Vampire mythology. Vampire symbols. Vampire history. Vampire romanticism.”
“I don’t mean book stuff. I mean, real stuff,” Xander said.
Maya eyed him sidelong. “They don’t exist, of course. They are literary metaphors for homosexuality and drug addiction.”
Xander exploded with laughter. Then stopped, seeing that she didn’t catch the joke. “I’m sorry. It’s just, I haven’t heard that one before. How about witches?”
“Oh. Um. Lesbianism, and drug addiction,” she said.
“Huh,” Xander said.
“Yep,” Maya said. She tucked her tousled hair behind her ear. When she did, Xander caught a glimpse of the gash on her forehead.
He reached for it. She grappled his hand.
“Don’t,” she said. Her wide eyes darted around the shop, as though she worried something might have seen.
“What is going on?” Xander said.
“Thanks a bunch for returning my book,” Maya said. She backed away from the counter. “I’m closed now. Bye.”
“What about demons? What do you know of those?” Xander shouted.
Maya’s shoulders went rigid. “You should really go,” she said.
“I am not going anywhere. You invited me here,” Xander said.
“It was business...” Maya said.
“Are you a vampire?”
“What? No.”
“A witch, then?” Xander said.
“I beg your pardon?” she said.
“Possessed by a demon? Have you now or have you ever been affiliated with demonhood?”
“Xander, what are you going on about?” Maya asked.
Xander’s shoulders raised. “Look, you live in a haunted book shop. Your lights are busted. You have mysterious cuts and build things from sporks. Certain conclusions must be drawn,” he said.
Maya’s face lost its usual warming pertness. Genuine fear took its place. “You have the wrong idea, Xander Harris. You’re looking at me like I could be the answer to a lot of your questions. But I am quite happy here. Quite happy.”
Xander knew she was lying. He knew she knew as well. But she was on the other side of her counter. Hauling her out might result in arrest and imprisonment if he was wrong. So he held up his hands.
“Fine. I think you’re wrong, but fine. I’ll go,” he said. And there he left her, alone.
~*~
“I thought I was pretty clear about it not being an all-out brawl,” Buffy shouted.
“You might have said something...” William shot back.
“I did say something. Right before we got into the taxi, I said ‘Let’s not have an all-out brawl,’” she said.
William squinted at her. “I was distracted, by the dress and the bloody fountain. And it’s not like it was a total loss.”
“But it was total loss, Will. We sold ourselves out to the demon society in London. Which, by the way Giles, we didn’t even know about,” Buffy said.
“I did know about them,” Giles said, weakly.
Giles was sitting in the dining room chair between Buffy and William, who were squared off at one another. He tried very hard to keep still, partly because he was afraid one or the other might accidentally strike him aiming at each other, and partly because they might strike him on purpose.
“Would have been useful knowledge,” Buffy snipped. “Hey, let’s go into a fight unawares. Let’s get chained up and humiliated in front of all of demonkind. The shackle bracelets didn’t exactly go with my dress…”
“It wasn’t all of demonkind. And how else might we have prepared?” William asked. “Make up flashcards? Know your demons and vampires? Could we have guessed little Andy was the one they were after all along?”
Buffy planted her hands on her hips. “It was supposed to be undercover. What part of tossing her into the hors d’oeuvres was covert?”
“We were getting nowhere. I thought a little muscle...”
“Oh, you thought,” Buffy bit out. “Giles, did you know he’s been excommunicated from the United Kingdom? Bit of information he might have shared. Not only is he supposed to be in hiding from one of the largest corporate entities on the planet, he’s also been evicted from his homeland. Way to go, William the Bloody.”
“News flash, Princess. I’m not the passport toting type. And why would Wolfram & Hart be hunting me? Hmmm? Refresh my memory, I’ve been dead since then,” William said.
Giles covered his ears, which had begun to ring. “If you will both please stop shouting. I think I have gone deaf. Or would rather like to.”
“Oh, but that’s not even the best part,” Buffy said. “No, we learned nada about the super vamps. We got nothing. Not one scrap about what has made them such powerful pains in my...”
A fat legal-sized envelope slid with a smack across the dining room table. Its sudden arrival got everyone’s attention.
“They have backing,” Angel said.
Buffy, William and Giles stared across the table at Angel, who enjoyed a private moment of personal triumph.
“Angel,” William said. “So nice of you to stop by. You can go now. We'll take it from here.”
“Will...” Buffy said.
Angel came forward into the dining room. He rested both hands on the back of the chair. “I saw you take it, back in Triumvirate. It was quite a show.”
“You were there?” Buffy said, incredulous.
“Front row seats. You guys should tour,” Angel said.
“Enough,” Giles said firmly. “Angel, what is this about?”
“It’s about an enemy you aren’t ready to face,” Angel said.
Giles opened the envelope. He shook the contents out onto the table, fanning through them and reading at random various paragraphs.
“Where did you get this?” Giles asked.
“Not important,” Angel said. “The file contains the vampire juggernaut spell you’ve come to know and love so well. But that’s incidental, too. The real deal is the name attached to the spell. A vampire named Thellian.”
“Thellian?” William said. “Never heard of him.”
“I have. And I can tell you he’s not like anyone you’ve come up against. Power means nothing to a creature like Thellian,” Angel said.
Buffy pulled out some of the pages, too. As she skimmed, she asked, “What does he want, then?”
“I don’t know yet, but you can guess it’ll be big. Thellian is not some fly-by-night vampire with a penchant for destruction. He’s a visionary. Oh, and the best part, he’s over 2,000 years old,” Angel said.
Giles looked up from the pages of the spell. “Good God. That would make him...”
“The oldest vampire alive,” Angel said.
William was thinking, taking it all in. “So,” he said. “You swan in here with your ‘saving the day’ and sweeping revelations and we’re supposed to what? Believe that you just tripped over this highly relevant document while traipsing through Kensington Park?”
“What are getting at, Spike?” Angel said.
“I’m getting at Wolfram and bleeding Hart, is what I’m getting at,” William said.
“I have loyal sources. Some of them do have ties...”
“They still have their hooks in you, don’t they?” William asked. “And you’ve got a share in the vampire stock. You must have...”
Buffy rapped her knuckles on the table. “Can it be undone?” she asked, talking over both of them.
Angel shook his head. “What?”
“The spell. Can we undo it?”
“That’s why I brought it here. Obviously,” Angel said. “I thought Willow might have a look.”
Buffy scrubbed her forehead. “Good. Willow will be home soon. I think. I’m...” she swayed a little.
“Tired, pet?” William said, quietly.
“Really am,” she said. Fatigue draped over her like a sodden velvet curtain. She was weak, too, and more drained than usual.
“Go on up,” he said. “We’ll close shop down here.”
Buffy felt she didn’t have much choice. If she didn’t get to bed soon, she would drop.
Before she left, she stopped beside Angel.
“Thanks, Angel,” she said. “For the information. We won’t forget it. And we need all the help we can get.”
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Author's Chapter Notes:
This is one of my favorite chapters... I love Buffy and Spike getting all dressed up.