Title: You Forgot to Mention Hell, Horatio (16a/?)
Author: JR
Email: JRR42@yahoo.com
Previous parts available at: www.angelfire.com/de/theparlor/buffy.html
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

	“Madre de dios,” the dark-haired vampiress swore in
Spanish.   Together with Tonio, Eleni was undertaking one final
check that all the preparations for the evening were complete.   The
five centuries of her existence were going to come to fruition in just
a few hours, and the cunning Spaniard was not about to take any
chances that some lack of planning might jeopardize the power that
was so near to being hers.

	“The stench is overwhelming,” Tonio agreed.   Like his
mistress, the male vampire wrinkled his nose at the cloying scent
hanging stagnantly in the air.

	“You!” Eleni spoke sharply to one of her minions.   There
were almost a dozen vampires loitering uselessly in the large hall. 
“Find something to cover that bowl before the smell attracts every
rat in this pitiful excuse for a town.”

	“Yes, Mistress,” the frightened male responded before
scuttling out one of the room’s two exits.

	“Is it prepared properly?” Eleni asked Tonio.  Together the
longtime companions wandered over to the natural formation of
rock that comprised the ‘stage’.   Once they reached the large
ceremonial bowl on the end of the waist-high stone altar, the
vampiress dipped a single, elegant finger into the wet, sticky
substance it held.

	“The spell calls for a paste made of passion fruit, Mistress,”
Tonio reassured.   “I doubt that even these local idiots could ruin
something so simple.   Forgive me, Mistress, for I would never
doubt your judgement, but I believe the real question is: will it be
enough?”

	“You have heard something, my old friend?” Eleni quizzed,
her eyes narrowing suspiciously.

	“I...I had hoped to surprise you, Mistress,” Tonio said shyly,
currying the vampiress’ favour.  

	“Tonight is *not* a night for surprises,” she retorted, her
voice rising sharply.  

	“Your pardon, Mistress!” he groveled, realizing his error in
judgement.  “I only...the news...”

	“Speak, you fool!  What about the news?” 

	“It is good news, Mistress!   I have heard from many that
vampires from far and wide are coming tonight!   Perhaps hundreds
more than we anticipated.   They have been arriving all day, wrapped
from head to foot in heavy clothing, traveling in cars with the
windows darkened over.”   His voice trailed away as a smug
expression crossed his mistress’s face.

	“Of course they come!” Eleni exclaimed.  “They come to
serve me, to be a part of my army that will bring about the beginning
of the end of the world!   And you, Tonio,” she whispered huskily,
trailing a finger across her minion’s cheek.  “You will stand at the
head of my forces.  With you by my side and Angelus in my bed,
there is nothing that will stop me.”

	“Yes, Mistress,” Tonio replied, his eyes glazed over at the
promise of the power Eleni offered him.   

	“Now then,” she commented, abruptly bringing the topic
back to more practical matters.  “See to it that guards are posted
there and there,” she pointed towards the two egresses that led away
from the main chamber.

	“What about the tunnels themselves?” Tonio inquired
cautiously.

	“Do not be a fool!  If you station guards *in* the tunnels,
they will not be able to witness the ceremony,” Eleni replied
impatiently, unable to believe that any of her minions would want to
miss her moment of glory.   “I would not deny any of them the
opportunity to witness such a glorious occasion.   Centuries from
now, they will still be telling their fledglings that they were here
on this night.” 	

	“As you wish, Mistress.”

	“I must go prepare.” Eleni proclaimed.   “Make sure that all
are here before midnight.   If stragglers arrive late, tell the guards
to kill them -- quietly.   I will not tolerate any interruptions during

my ceremony.”

	With those words, she regally swept out of the chamber.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

	They arrived at the warehouse just minutes before eleven
o’clock.  Getting straight to work, Giles was busy distributing
weapons to all the teenagers.   Aside from accepting two stakes,
Adam had declined any of the other pieces from the Watcher’s
mobile arsenal.   Although he was well versed in the use of
quarter-staffs, crossbows, and the myriad of other weapons
available, the Immortal preferred to stick with that which he knew
best: a sword.  From the depths of his infamous trench coat, he
produced a short sword, which would be conducive to fighting
within a limited amount of space.  Besides, as Adam pointed out to
Giles, whether by a stake through the heart or a beheading, either
one would prove to be effectively fatal to vampires.

	While the others were reviewing Adam’s plan aloud, the
Immortal was busy with another matter.   Retrieving a butane lighter
from the pocket of his new black jeans, he flipped the top open and
struck the flint.   Kneeling down, Adam picked up the corner of a
large, empty sack and proceeded to wave the flame underneath it. 
He made several passes against the black material until he was
satisfied that it was, as he suspected, fireproof. 

	Adam remained unaware that the others had ceased talking
and were observing him closely, until Cordelia asked if the object he
was holding was what she thought it was.

	“Yes,” the Immortal replied calmly.  “It’s a body bag.”

	“Eeee,” Xander shivered.  “Is anybody else getting the
heebie-jeebies right about now?”

	“Big time,” Cordelia assured, backed by nods of agreement
from Willow and Amy.

	“I’m pretty sure I’m going to be sorry for asking this, but
just where in the hell did you find that thing?” Xander demanded.

	“Oh, please,” Adam responded automatically.  “Oz stumbled
across it when we were looking for something to hold all the
equipment we were in the process of...borrowing...from the fire
house.”  

	“Oz!” Willow chided.

	“Hey,” the werewolf replied, holding up his hands in protest. 
“I didn’t know what it was when I grabbed it!   We just kinda
needed something to hold all the little stuff so we could get out of
there faster.  We *were* robbing the place, remember?”   

	“Are you like a pyro, or what?” Cordelia addressed Adam,
annoyed by his constant triggering of the lighter in his hand.   

	“Actually, I was just curious as to whether or not this is
fire-retardant,” Adam explained.

	“Why?” Xander questioned.  “I mean -- and I don’t want to
be the bearer of bad karma here -- but if any of us end up needing
that thing, what harm would a little fire do to us by that point?”

	“It’s not for you -- at least, I sincerely hope not,” Adam said
emphatically.  “It’s for Angel.”

	“Angel?” Willow repeated.  “I thought we were going to suit
him up in this other stuff,” she questioned, pointing to the bright
yellow equipment laid out on the floor.

	“Well, I’ve been thinking about it and, as you’ll see in a few
minutes, it may take too much time to get him into the proper gear.  
Things tonight are going to happen much faster than you anticipate. 
Using this will be much simpler, yet just as effective.”

	There was a moment of silence as they all pondered Adam’s
suggestion until, looking at the county-issue body bag in the
Immortal’s hands, Oz found himself unable to prevent his wry
chortle from escaping his throat.

	“What?”  Willow demanded, spying the grin on her
ex-boyfriend’s face.

	“C’mon, Will,” he commented.  “Even you gotta see the
funny in this.”

	“It *is* somewhat ironic, isn’t it?” Giles noted, adding a
chuckle of his own.  “A vampire in a body bag?”

	“I’ll make sure to call Alanis just as soon as we get back,”
Willow said sourly, her nervousness about their upcoming battle
igniting a rare show of temper.  “Can we just finish getting ready
now?”

	“Let’s have at it then,” Adam agreed pleasantly.  “Now, you
will all need to remember that the gear is heavy and, more
importantly, your movements will be impeded...”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

	The hours had passed with slow cruelty for Angel.   It
seemed like an eternity since Eleni’s minions had finished cleaning
him up and dressing him for the upcoming ceremony.   Worse yet, he
was still stuck in his demon form, a side-effect from the enforced
hunger that the vampiress had ordered on her last visit.

	It would be soon, that much Angel knew without a doubt.  
With no strength left for even the simplest action -- like lifting his
head away from the recently flipped mattress -- the vampire was
reduced to rolling his yellow eyes downward in order to catch a
glimpse of the clothing in which he had been attired.

	At least someone -- Eleni, he guessed -- had good taste.  
From the petal-soft smoothness of the tight, black velvet pants to the
fine imported silk of the long-sleeved midnight black shirt, Angel
could have sworn he was hundred years back in time, being dressed
in goods from the finest clothiers in Paris.  Even the style was
somewhat old-fashioned, a mix between turn-of-the-century finery
and modern goth.   In all actuality, it reminded him of a male version
of the kind of clothing Drusilla favoured.

	Angel knew from the grayness that was dimming his vision
that he was about to pass out again.   It had been happening to him
on and off over the past few hours.  Instead of fighting it, Angel
simply allowed the darkness to overtake him, conserving his strength
for the time being.   He would need it later if he had any hope of
enacting his plan to stop the Legion single-handedly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

	Xander’s hands were shaking badly as he picked up the
receiver of the pay phone.   In fact, between his nerves working
overtime and the plastic medical gloves covering his hands, he
misdialed the three-digit number twice.   Slamming down on the
disconnect bar, he looked out into the deserted parking lot.   Of
course it was deserted, how many retail employees stick around the
mall after hours, he mused silently.

	Taking a deep breath, he let up on the bar and heard the
familiar flat hum of a dial tone.  Pushing 9-1-1, Xander fumbled with
the tape recorder that was already queued to the proper mark.  
After only one ring, a calm, pleasant female voice carried through
the line.

	“9-1-1.”

	Holding the recorder up to the mouth-piece, Xander pressed
the play button.  The gravel-filled voice of the man Adam only
referred to as ‘Joe’ spun off the recorder.

	“Listen carefully to what I’m about to say.  It will be your
only warning.”

	“I beg your pardon?  Sir, this is 9-1...,” the operator
attempted to interrupt, but the tape continued playing.

	“Your fire-boys were a little slow during their test run this
afternoon, so let’s see if they can do better when it comes to the real
thing.  There is a bomb planted in the Sunnydale Eight Movie
Theater on Hoya Street.  This isn’t a prank.  It’s set to go off in
exactly ninety minutes.   That’s the Sunnydale Eight on Hoya.”

	“Sir, can you tell me where the device is located?  Sir?  Sir! 
Can you tell me what kind...,” her voice continued to rise, already at
a screaming pitch by the time Xander pressed the stop button.

	Having already listened to the tape twice, Xander knew that
there would be no other forthcoming information.   As it was, the
teen already felt guilty, knowing that the theater would be filled with
people taking advantage of the $3.00 Late-night Sunday discount
screenings the theater offered.

	The teen could hear the operator’s continued shouts as he
slammed the receiver down into its cradle.   Even though he was
certain he was alone, Xander sprinted -- as best he could in the
heavy protective gear he was wearing at any rate -- back to the
still-running rental car.  Fortunately, it was only a few feet away
from the pay phone.  Gunning the gas, the tires of the abused vehicle
squealed as he pealed out of the parking lot.

	He had a rendezvous to make.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

	Back at the warehouse, the rest of the Slayerettes were busy
gathering the last of their things together.   Giles and Oz would be
traveling together in one of the tanker trucks.   Opening the doors
simultaneously, they nodded at the other members of the group
before getting into the vehicle.  They were all very much aware that
there was a good chance this would be the last time they would see
each other in this world.   Sparing one last look at his former
girlfriend, Oz impulsively blew her a tender kiss.  Smiling as she
blushed prettily, the werewolf winked at her before sliding into the
truck’s driver seat.

	Adam’s eyes were not the only pair following the taillights of
the truck as it pulled out of the warehouse.   Although they said
nothing, even amongst each other, they were all thinking along the
same lines.     Silently they all prayed for a miracle to happen, and
that somehow, they would all manage to live through this night.

	“C’mon, kids,” Adam began.  “Time to g…”

	The rest of whatever he had been about to say would forever
remained unspoken as the familiar – and totally unwelcome – buzz
of another Immortal reverberated through Adam’s head.   

	‘Shit!Shit!Shit!’ Pierson swore madly to himself.   ‘Of all 
the rotten timing!  Not now!  I don’t have time for this now!’’ he
thought.  Biting back a groan, Adam quickly assessed the potential
threat.   The buzz was relatively weak, which led to one of two
possibilities: either the other Immortal was relatively young and new
to the game, or he or she was still a bit of a distance away from
Adam’s current position.  Either way, the new Immortal’s presence
was both unexpected and unwelcome.

	Wasn’t it always the way, though?   No matter how careful
the preparation, how perfect the plan, something unexpected always
popped up to throw a wrench into the works.   It never failed, and
Adam was more aware than most that bad luck had been around a
lot longer than the ridiculous law named after an Irishman. 

	The fact that there was another Ahriman-sent Immortal in
town had not been forgotten by Adam.   Since sensing his potential
challenger in the vicinity of his hotel the night before, Adam had
avoided going back to the rented room.   He had even gone as far as
having Willow pick up some new clothing for him that afternoon,
rather than taking any unnecessary risks.   Adam had hoped that the
other Immortal would keep a vigilant watch over the room, simply
waiting until his quarry returned instead of actually going out and
hunting Adam down.   

	‘So much for Plan A,’ the Immortal thought with a sigh.  
But the Immortal calling himself Adam Pierson was never without a
Plan B…or C, for that matter.   For the moment, Adam’s next
option was to get the hell out of the warehouse as fast as possible.  
With any luck at all, he would lose the other Immortal before he or
she could get a solid fix on Adam’s location.

	“Get it together!”  Adam ordered sharply to the teenaged
girls.  “We’re already running behind schedule.”

	Snapping to at the commanding tone, Willow hastily climbed
into Amy’s car.  Cordelia was already in the cab of the truck waiting
for Adam.  Because the plan would later require it, the former May
Queen was about to have a crash course in driving a heavy vehicle. 
Without further ado, the young witch followed the large tanker truck
out into the otherwise-silent streets of Sunnydale.
	
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

	Ten minutes to go and already the chamber known as the
‘Vampire Arena’ was filled to capacity.   Between their own blatant
curiosity and the dire warnings of what fate awaited any stragglers,
there were very few of the walking-dead willing to miss the
beginning of what promised to be a very exciting night.

	“...there’s gotta be a thousand of us down here...”

	“...heard we’re gonna become invincible...”

	“...what in the hell is that *stench*?...”

	“...said she’s gorgeous...”

	“...doesn’t this town have a Slayer?  My sire told me to stay
away...”

	“...heard she’s gonna finally dust that traitor, Angelus...”
	
	Tonio listened half-heartedly as he made his way slowly to
the far entrance of the room.   Already filled wall to wall with cold
bodies, it was difficult even for Eleni’s second in command to weave
his way through the throngs that had gathered at the promise of
being granted some kind of special power.   As he pushed his way
through a small cluster of local vampires, Tonio couldn’t help but
wish that the last statement he overheard were true.

	He had been bitterly disappointed when his Mistress
informed him of her choice in consorts.   After all, Tonio had been
Eleni’s companion for over three hundred years.   Even though he
hadn’t seen his own reflection for centuries, Tonio knew that he was
not hard on the eyes.  If he had been, he was quite certain that Eleni
would have dispatched him years ago -- one way or another.   

	Still, he was not overly concerned.   Although his Mistress
was beautiful, Tonio was well aware that she possessed a very
limited span of attention.   Eleni had either taken or turned countless
lovers over the years; yet she quickly grew bored with her choices of
playmates.   Only Tonio proved to be the exception to the rule.  
After so many years of having him as her subordinate, Eleni had not
only come to depend upon him, she had also grown use to his
company.

	More often than not, Eleni left the task of eliminating her
cast-offs to Tonio, a duty that the Spanish vampire looked forward
to with great relish.  Knowing that she never asked any questions as
to his methods, Tonio took great pleasure in dispatching her past
paramours.  Of course, any excuse to exercise his vast knowledge of
Inquisition torture techniques was only an added bonus in his mind.
 
	Soon, he thought to himself, his Mistress would grow tired
of this…Angelus…as well.  Not that it mattered.   For if there was
one thing he had learned in his unnaturally long existence, it was the
fact that while passion quickly faded, power was the true key to
happiness.

	And it was power he was about to receive.

	While Angelus might share her bed for a time, it was Tonio
that would, in fact, be the ‘field commander’ of the Army of the
Legion.   In the future, as in the present, he would only answer to
one person, his Mistress in all things.  Not even the upstart that
Eleni was about to take as consort would be in a position to usurp 
Tonio’s authority.

	Shaking himself away from his stray thoughts, the vampire
focused on the matter at hand.  At the moment, his primary concern
was ensuring that the ceremony that would be the source of the
Army of Legion would be begin on time and without any hitches.   A
few more steps and Tonio would *finally* reach the vampires with
whom he needed to speak.  Sparing a glance down the tunnel
beyond the guards, the Spaniard was glad to see that it was deserted.

	“All inside, are they?” Tonio addressed the closest sentry.

	“A few came in about five minutes ago, but most of them
were early enough.   Guess that ‘be dead or be on time’ warning got
their attention,” the guard grinned evilly.   After a moment, he
continued.  “There are a couple of our guys up top rounding up the
last minute arrivals, but they should be down pretty soon.” 

	“Good, good,” the Spaniard murmured.  “All will begin
shortly.  Ensure that the Mistress’s orders are followed or I’ll see
that you suffer the consequences.”

	All four of the guards blanched at the sadistic gleam in
Tonio’s eyes.   Word had already spread throughout the local
community about the foreigner’s penchant for torture and cruelty. 
Quickly nodding their assent, Tonio glared once more to reinforce
his point before heading back through the crowded room.  His
mistress would soon need him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

	After successfully evading the other Immortal, Adam’s team
was actually the first to arrive at their designated position, just a
short distance from Sunnydale Hospital.   To prevent premature
detection of the Immortal’s presence, they were at a manhole over a
hundred yards from the location of the underground arena.   When
the time came, it would be up to Cordelia to drive the truck the last
fifty or so feet.

	Climbing out of the truck, Adam waited for Amy to shift into
park before approaching the car.  The witch steadfastly refused to
leave her vehicle, a choice for which the Immortal could hardly fault
her.   After all, had their positions been reversed, he would never
have agreed to come this far in the first place.  Even now, Adam was
hard-pressed not to give into his own ‘flight’ instinct.   Damn
MacLeod for always getting him into these scrapes, even when the
Scot was nowhere to be seen.  

	“Okay, ladies,” he began as the girls piled out of the car. 
“We have a lot to do and not much time to do it in, so I suggest we
get right to it.” 

	“O..okay,” Willow’s voice trembled, betraying a latent case
of nervousness.

	“Alright then, if we read the maps correctly, we should be
slightly behind those antechambers right off the main part of the
Arena.”

	“What if there are guards or something?” Cordelia protested,
her fear getting the better of her.  “What if they come after me?  
How do I always get messed up in these things?   What was I
thinking?   Being May Queen isn’t enough?  I have to hang out with
‘the geeks that fight yucky demons’ club?  Like I need another
activity picture in the yearbook...that badly.”

	“Quiet!”  Adam ordered in a commanding tone.  “I doubt
that we’ll stumble into trouble this early on.    And you needn’t
worry, I’ll be going in first.   My presence should drive off any
vampires they may be lurking around.”

	“Oh, right,” Cordelia admitted.  “I...uh...forgot about that.”

	“Now then,” the Immortal reached into the cab of the truck
and pulled out a crowbar.   “So, who here wants to pull up the
manhole cover?  What, no volunteers?  Why am I not surprised.”

	Stifling a grumble, the Immortal set to work.  It was
precisely midnight, and things were just about to get very interesting.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

	On the other side of the hospital, an identical truck was
slowing down to a complete stop.   Providence had smiled upon Oz
and Giles, as Xander happened to drive up behind them just a few
blocks back.   Now they were waiting for the teen to park the rental
car he was driving before executing the first stage of their part of
Adam’s grand scheme.

	Jogging up to the truck, Xander stepped on the side-runner
beneath the door in order to peer clearly through the open driver’s
side window.  

	“Hey man, how’d it go?” Oz questioned.

	“Piece of cake,” Xander replied, hoping the pair in the truck
would not hear the fear-driven shaking in his voice.

	“Excellent,” the Watcher commented before he reached for
the door handle.   “We should, however, begin.”

	“Saddle ‘em up, Apone,” Xander quipped.

	“Apone?” Giles questioned.  “Whom or what is an ‘apone’?”

	“Just...get your stuff,” the dark-haired teenager shook his
head woefully.  This was not the time for drawn-out explanations.

	“Right,” the librarian agreed before turning to the driver of
the truck.  “Oz, I believe you know what to do?  Wait for our
signal.” 

	“No problem,” the young werewolf insisted.   “Good luck.”

	“And to you,” Giles replied, reaching for the crowbar and
heavy quilt that rested on the truck’s floorboards.   Nodding to
Xander, the pair set off at an easy jog, counting manhole covers in
the street to measure the proper distance.
	
	They came to a stop simultaneous at the third one, having
reached their ultimate destination.   Tossing the dirty, thick blanket
to Xander, the teen hastily refolded it before laying it precisely to
one side of the iron manhole.   Finding the proper end of the
crowbar, the librarian carefully wedged the wrapped tip of the metal
rod into the seam of the sewer cover.  Wrapping the end of the
crowbar in surgical tape had been Oz’s idea -- a way to muffle the
distinctive sound of metal against metal in order to keep their
approach as stealthy as possible.

	Once the bar was in position, Giles nodded to Xander.  The
teen then turned around, waving his arms broadly to signal Oz to
proceed.   The werewolf saw the sign and put the truck into gear.  
Moving slowly, the blond-haired teenager drove forward toward his
friends.

	Timing, in this case, was everything.   Forcing himself to
wait, Giles held his position until the truck was only yards away
from where he stood.  Finally, the librarian heaved forward on the
bar, levering the manhole cover upwards.   Xander was there to grab
the heavy slab of iron, and together they forced the cover up and
over onto the waiting blanket.   The sound of it falling was reduced
to a ‘thud’, muffled both by the quilt and by the truck as it rambled
past them.

	Both Giles and Xander reached to their belts, each
withdrawing a stake for protection.   Unbeknownst to each other,
both men were having visions of dozens of vampires pouring out of
the just-opened sewer entrance, which made the uncertainty of
climbing down into the tunnel more than a little daunting.   If they
were to fail now, all hope for defeating the Legion would be lost.  
Frozen in defensive crouches, the student and the librarian waited to
see what, if anything, would rise up out of the hole in the ground.

	After a long moment, it became apparent that their activities
had gone undetected.   Mutually breathing sighs of relief, both men
took a moment to calm themselves from their sudden rushes of
adrenaline.  Once their nerves were as close to steady as they were
going to get given the circumstances, Xander gave Giles a nod
before heading off to assist Oz, who was struggling with a heavy
length of fire hose.   The librarian kept an eye on the sewer outlet
until the teenagers returned with their burden.

	“We all know what to do, so let’s have at it,” Giles
whispered, foregoing any last minute farewells.

	“Take care, Oz,” Xander whispered.

	“You too.  Both of you,” Oz replied just as softly.

	That said, the werewolf ran back in the direction of the
waiting truck, keeping his eyes on the vehicle in front of him the
entire way.   Knowing full good and well that he might never see
either of his friends alive again, it was all Oz could do not to look
back as Giles and Xander descended down into the sewer.   	
	
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

	The steady thrum of voices echoed through the chamber at
an eardrum-bursting level as the vampires waited impatiently for
something to happen.   They were crammed wall-to-wall in the
natural cave formation.  The space was, however, woefully
inadequate for the actual number of vampires who had arrived for
this special event.  Had anyone bothered to take a tally, they would
have found the final head count to be just shy of 650.

	The painfully loud sound of a gong ringing brought the
room to instant silence.  Craning their necks – some even standing
on their toes -- all eyes turned to the far entrance of the room. 
There was an air of excitement in the chamber as they all awaited
the arrival of the vampiress, wondering if all the rumors they had
heard over the past few weeks were, in fact, true.

	But, to their collective disappointment, the only vampires
that appeared were male.  The only thing interesting about them
was that they were dragging someone forcefully behind them.  Two
of the guards stepped away from their position by the entrance in
order to clear a corridor through the impossibly thick crowd. 
Vampire pressed hard into vampire in order to afford the
procession room to pass to their intended destination.

	Finally, lead by Tonio, the group reached the stage, where
the two local vampires went to work.   Using the chains that had
been hung from roof of the cave earlier, they locked manacles
around the wrists of their captive.   Pulling the iron links taut to
hoops on opposite walls – they strung up their prisoner until his
feet dangled inches above the ground.  

	“Isn’t that Angelus?” a local vampire in the crowd
stage-whispered.  Given the magnifying acoustics of the room, the
voice carried much further than it normally would.   Unfortunately,
proceeded by reputation, the name ‘Angelus’ was known to many,
both locals and visitors alike.  Those who were unaware of the
chained vampire’s past listened raptly to the cursory explanations
offered by those in the know.

	The volume of noise in the room rose significantly as
rumors, legends, and all-out fallacies were swapped among those in
attendance.  Impressed by seeing such a prominent vampire so
humbled and helpless, the crowd was beginning to regain some of
the air of anticipation that had dissipated during the long wait.  It
seemed as though the night might not be a complete waste after all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

	‘Thank providence for universal couplings,’ Adam thought
as he connected one of their ill-gotten fire hoses to the proper valve
on the water-bearing truck.   

	Like earthquakes and mudslides, California also frequently
experienced out of control brush fires.   As in many cities and
towns in the State, Sunnydale had equipped its heavy tank vehicles
to be of use in case of such natural disasters.   Of course, if Adam’s
plan ended up not working, Sunnydale would be in store for a lot
worse than what Mother Nature could throw at it.

	“Okay, it’s ready,” the Immortal called.  

	Hearing his words, Willow and Cordelia grabbed the nozzle
end of the fire hose, gradually unfolding the carefully coiled
heavy-duty canvas.   Once they reached the open manhole cover,
they lowered their burden to the ground.   It was only then that the
Immortal started the built-in compressor that would force the water
from the tank of the truck.  

	All they could do now was wait for the other team’s signal.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

	‘They’ll be all right.  They’ll be all right,’ Oz chanted to
himself as he waited for *any* sign that his two teammates had not
just become vampire cocktails.

	Determined not to just sit and stare at the manhole, the
werewolf forced himself to keep busy while his friends were facing
the unknown.    Staggering under the weight of the second fire
hose, the teenager tugged it halfway to the open sewer outlet.  
That finished, he returned to the truck in order to start the
compressor.   As he continued to work, Oz kept a close eye on the
manhole.

	It might have interested some to know that while Oz
appeared cool, calm and collected to anyone who happened to be
walking by at that moment, in truth, he was scared out of his mind. 
Surely he should have seen or heard from either Giles or Xander by
that point.  He tried not to think about the fact that Adam had
designed this part of the plan with a backup in the event of a
worst-case scenario, because if it did come down to that, the fate of
the world would rest solely upon Oz’s slender shoulders.

	He didn’t want that kind of pressure in his life.

	As it was, the logical, practical part of the teenager’s mind
was already losing ground to the fear-driven, ‘oh shit!’ portion of
his brain.   The seconds seemed to stretch into hours as they ticked
away with infuriating slowness.   It was definitely taking *way* too
long.

	Catching a flicker of brightness out of the corner of his eye,
Oz whirled around to witness one of the most joyous events of his
entire young life.   For rising steadily out of the sewer was Xander,
decked out in full fireman regalia.   The dark-haired teen waved
once, the ‘all-clear’ signal that they had established earlier in the
evening.   Releasing a long breath that he was not aware that he
had been holding, Oz offered up a prayer of relief, not only that his
friends were alive and well for the moment, but for their continued
safety as the events of the evening started underway.

	Xander continued up and out of the manhole, jogging over
to retrieve the nozzle-end of the fire hose before descending once
again into the sewers.   Only seconds later, Oz felt a slight slug tug
on the hose.    Taking his queue, he fired up the truck’s
compressor, wincing at the loud, steady thrum the machine made as
it pumped the thick, viscous liquid held in the tank through the
connected fire hose.   

	Stifling another silent prayer to any force of good willing to
listen, the werewolf headed towards the cab of the truck.   
Reaching for the CB radio, he pressed his thumb down twice on the
talk-bar, sending word to the other team that his group had, so far,
been successful.  He was answered by a similar reply, thankfully
letting him know that everything was go with Willow’s group as
well.

	Despite the fact that the major portion of Oz’s job for the
evening was finished, the werewolf was more anxious than ever.   
He was on his own now, with no backup in sight.  All he had to do
from this point on was keep an eye out for any vampires that might
attempt to halt the flow of the deadly liquid being pumped out of
the tanker truck.

	For some insane reason, Oz found himself wishing that *he*
could descend down into the tunnels as well.    At least there, he
would not know the terrible sense of loneliness that was
overwhelming him at that moment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

	The constant murmuring of the crowd came to an abrupt
silence as the sound of the gong once again rang out through the
chamber.    An unnatural silence fell over the room as those
gathered waited to catch a glimpse of the elusive vampiress that
had brought  them all together with her promise of power for the
taking.

	There was a stir in the entrance from which the group
carrying Angel had emerged minutes earlier.    Vampires twisted
and turned, each seeking a better view of this new group to enter
the chamber.   There was, however, precious little to see -- nothing
more than the same guards escorting a petite figure shrouded in a
long, black cloak made of pure silk.

	With sensual, feline-like grace, the hooded figure made her
way up the four, carved into the natural stone, steps that led up to
the altar.   Moving slowly in order to work up a sense of
anticipation, the vampiress first crossed to stand directly in front of
her second-in-command.    As she had previously ordered, Tonio
sank dramatically down on one knee, bowing his head even as he
reached for her hand to kiss.

	Once the gesture was complete, Eleni pivoted as stalked
away, this time stopping once she reached her chained captive.  
Raising her hand up towards his face, the vampiress ran a smooth
hand along one of Angel’s high cheekbones.    With an elegant
touch, she allowed her fingers to flow down his jaw, pausing
slightly over his sluggishly-pulsing jugular vein.    

	Bring her other hand upwards, Eleni dug her fingers under
the edges of collar of Angel’s silken shirt.    There was a moment’s
pause before she tugged harshly.   Succumbing under her vampiric
strength, the buttons easily gave way, showering down upon the
stone ground in a shower of little ‘clicks’.    The ripped garment
hung open loosely, exposing the vampire’s pale, broad chest for all
to see.

	As if examining her captive’s flawless skin for the first time,
Eleni’s hands reassumed their downward journey.   Using only her
fingertips, the vampiress let her hands drift over Angel’s
collarbones and across his pectoral muscles.    Slowing her descent,
Eleni lingered almost imperceptibly over Angel’s nipples, taking
delight as the tender flesh puckered under her cold, teasing touch
before continuing down across the muscles of his abdomen.    

	Once  she reached the waistline of his trousers, Eleni’s
hands reversed their course.   Only this time, the vampiress used the
back of her fingers.   She could feel Angel tremble involuntarily
from her stimulating touch, but that simply added to her own
pleasure.   He was her captive, hers to do with as she pleased.

	As her eyes had been focused solely on her own hands,
Eleni was taken by surprised when she glanced upward and found
Angel glaring back at her.   How dare he defy her, she thought
furiously.   He would suffer for his insolence.

	Narrowing her eyes in anger, Eleni flexed her hands.   
Without so much as a thought, the vampiress sunk her nails into
Angel’s chest and ripped downward, leaving ten deep, bleeding
gouges in his flesh.    Unable to help himself, Angel’s head flew
backward as he hissed in obvious pain.

	Seeing the tiny woman assert her dominance over the once
feared Angelus, the crowd roared in approval.   Amid a sea of
cheers, laughter, and applause, Eleni turned to face her audience for
the first time that evening.   It was time to begin her era of glory.

	With great care, Eleni raised her delicate hands to the edges
of the silk that dipped low enough to completely obscure her face.  
The vampiress waited a long beat before throwing back the hood
with a dramatic flourish.   Keeping her head raised high, Eleni’s
cold, brown eyes swept over the crowd with more than trace of
defiance.   She could sense them studying her, some fascinated by
her beauty while others more cautiously waited to see if she could,
indeed, control a crowd such as this.

	Fortunately for Eleni, only a few of the faces she saw
appeared to be openly hostile.  She would, of course, speak to
Tonio about it at a later time.   Anyone the vampiress suspected
might dare to challenge her authority would be weeded out of the
Legion.   Besides, giving Tonio fresh victims for his particular
penchants would only be an added bonus.

	Most of the gathered vampires, both male and female alike,
were openly staring at Eleni.  The vampiress could *feel* the lust --
the admiration -- pouring off the crowd in waves.   Her nose was
fairly tingling as pheromones filled the air.    *This* was what she
had spent 500 years working towards, and tonight, Eleni was finally
going to meet her destiny.

	“Hear me as I speak!” she cried out in a loud-but-sultry
tone of voice.    With a deft florish of her wrist, Eleni unfastened
the clip that had been holding her cloak in place.   The flowing
black fabric rippled to the floor like a dark wave, revealing the
skin-tight, red-leather bodysuit that had been concealed beneath the
black layer of silk.    Cut low enough to be considered indecent, the
outfit left little of the vampiress’ Playmate-like figure to the
imagination.

	“I am Eleni Vasqeria Goya y Garcia, and after tonight, my
friends, we are going to conquer the world!”  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

	Back above ground, Adam was busy watching the two
young witches preparing to cast Willow’s protection spell.    In all
truth, the Immortal was a tad bit...unsettled.    He had just heard
the burst of static that Oz sent every five minutes over the CB radio
in the cab of the truck.    Fearing that their cell phones might give
away their positions were they to ring, it had been mutually decided
by the entire group not to use the mobile devices during the
implementation of Adam’s plan.   

	What was troubling Adam the most was the success they
seemed to have experienced thus far.   Everything was going
exactly as Adam had planned, and while the Immortal was more
than confident in his strategic abilities, centuries of experience had
– sometimes rather painfully – taught him that this in itself was
cause for worry.    No matter how perfect and precise the plan,
something *always* went wrong.  It was just a matter or what it
would be and how detrimental it would prove to be.

	“Do I *have* to wear this thing?” Cordelia complained,
hefting the mask that would provide her with precious oxygen.

	“No, of course not.   Unless, of course, you don’t care
about breathing while you’re down there,” Adam commented.  
Seeing the brunette struggle to put the awkward contraption on, he
reached over and plucked it out of her hands.   “Allow me,” he said
with a flirtatious smile.

	As was her nature, Cordelia instantly reacted to the
Immortal’s attention.   That’s not to say that she ceased her
grumbling.

	“I’m gonna look like such a dork!” 

	“Oh, stop,” Adam insisted, adjusting the collar of her heavy
coat to completely cover her neck.   “Haven’t you heard?   Oxygen
masks are going to be the next big fashion trend.   All the major
designers are adding them to their spring shows.   Trust me, I was
just in Paris last month.” 

	In spite of – or maybe because of – her nervousness,
Cordelia rewarded the Immortal with a short snort.   Granted, it
was based in disbelief, but it was laughter nonetheless.   

     Adam was about to join her when the sound of cheering
echoed up from the open manhole.    The Immortal felt a brief
flicker of apprehension at the sound.   They were over a hundred
yards away from the main chamber.   Even taking into
consideration the way the tunnels amplified all sounds, it required a
hell of a lot of bad guys to make *that* much noise.

     No, the Immortal decided silently, this wasn’t going to be easy at
all.
	
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
	
	“I stand before you now, ready to share with you the dark
power.   Together, we will unite to become the most powerful
army this world has ever known.    After tonight, every creature --
both living and dead -- will bow down before you!”  Eleni vowed,
her voice rising as her excitement grew.

	Another cheer rose up from the crowd, only this time it
lacked the volume of the previous applause.   While almost all of
those in attendance were intrigue by the vampiress’ promises, there
were more than a few skeptics among them, a fact which did not
escape Eleni’s attention.  It was time to re-enforce her words with
actions.

	“I can sense that some of you are not yet convinced that I
speak the truth, that I am simply making empty promises.”   
Turning to face her chained captive, Eleni gestured toward Angel
while continuing to address her potential followers.   “I am sure
that many of you have heard of this one, the once-favourite of the
Sunnydale Master, one who once claimed the title of Master 
himself.   It is such a shame that he has since become the great
traitor, one who hunts his own kind, one who has been known to
assist the *Slayer* herself!”

	“Well,” the vampiress continued, her beautiful features
melting away into her true, demon visage. “Behold the once mighty
Angelus,” she sneered before leaning forward and sinking her fangs
deeply into his neck.

	Behind her, the crowd roared in approval as she drained
away what little blood still flowed through Angel’s veins.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

	A shiver crept up Xander’s spine each time the sound of
applause drifted down the corridor.   Trying not to think about his
fear, the teenager concentrated on the fire hose in his hands.   He
was pointing it at the floor while Giles stood nearby, keeping an
eye out for vampires.    The Watcher didn’t actually have to look
far, however.   Just around the corner and out of sight from where
they stood was the archway that opened into the Vampire Arena.  
The short distance and a curve in the tunnel were the only things
separating them from the five-hundred-plus vampires that were
quickly working themselves up into a frenzy.

	Right then, Xander would have given anything to be
anywhere else on earth rather than where he stood at that moment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

	Not surprisingly, Angel was experiencing similar thoughts
at that same point in time.   The exquisite white hot agony of
Eleni’s teeth sinking into his neck both revolted him and excited
him at the same time.   While his soul shuddered at the very idea of
what was happening to him, the demon residing within considered
the bite to be a prelude -- foreplay into sensuous world only
vampires could appreciate.

	And it had been a *long* time since Angel had indulged in
those kind of pleasures.    Fighting his demon every second of the
way, it took all of Angel’s Herculean control not to lose himself in
the eroticism of what was happening.   Unfortunately for his
demon, the vampiric version of sex was *not* on the menu this
evening.

	Not if Angel could help it.

	Soon, he told himself.   Soon the bite would be over.   It
was mostly symbolic, anyway, since Angel had very little blood to
lose in the first place.   Eleni was working very hard to abscond
with the precious few drops that welled up in the twin puncture
marks she had inflicted upon her prisoner.

	All he needed to do was wait for his opportunity to put a
stop to all this madness. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

	“Alright, then,” Adam proclaimed before lowering himself
into the open manhole.    Even as he descended down the ladder,
the Immortal kept a watchful eye out for any vampires or other
threats that might cause problems.    This was it -- the critical stage
of the plan -- and surprises definitely had no place in the paradigm
he had created.

	“All clear,” he whispered, tilting his head back to peer up
the ladder.   Cordelia would be the next one coming down,
followed shortly by Willow, who would wait topside in order to
turn on the truck’s compressor pump.    Amy had departed shortly
after she assisted the redhead with her protection spell.   

	“Hey, Immortal-guy,” Cordelia said in a tone just a little too
loud to be considered a whisper.  “How ‘bout giving a hand here.  
C’mon, this thing is heavy.”

	“Feed it down,” Adam ordered, stretching up a hand to
grasp the fire hose that Cordelia was guiding down.   

	“Oh sure, take the hose but don’t help me,” the former May
Queen protested.   “I figured you of all people would grasp the
concept of chivalry.”

	“After my time,” he informed her with a roll of his eyes.  
Unlike MacLeod, who followed the seventeenth-century code as if
it was some kind of holy text, Adam had little use for the entire
concept.   Romantic drivel and nonsense -- all of it, or so he
believed.

	A harsh tug on the fire hose ended any further debate on the
subject.   Within seconds of Adam’s action, the heavy canvas was
filled with water.    Only moments later, Willow descended down
the old, rusted-metal ladder.   Once the redhead stood beside them,
the Immortal turned to Cordelia in order to issue some last minute
instructions.

	“All right.   Now you remember how this works, correct?” 
Adam was rewarded with a sharp look from the brunette.

	“The words are ‘May Queen’, not ‘totally ignorant’,” she
retorted, tracing her fingers over the mechanism that would control
the flow of water from the hose.

	“Willow?  Are you all...,” the Adam’s words were
interrupted by the haunting wail of pain the echoed along the
underground tunnel.   It resonated within the Immortal, sending
him unwilling back into memories of countless war-zones,
disasters, and other atrocities to the human flesh that had been his
misfortune to witness.

	While the sound cry itself was awful, a testament to true, 
agony-filled suffering, it was nothing in comparison to the pasty,
shaken look on Willow’s face as she forced herself to voice her
suspicions.   	

	“That sounded like...”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

	“Angel?” Oz whispered, unsuccessfully trying to control the
involuntary shiver that ran down his spine.    Even above ground,
the werewolf’s extremely powerful hearing easily identified the
familiar voice.    Slowly closing his eyes, Oz found himself doing
something he usually avoided for the second time that night.   

	He prayed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

	Hearing the scream from the nearby chamber, Xander and
Giles shared a horror-filled glance.   Although Angel would
probably never grace the top of either of their respective Christmas
lists, both were truly frightened for the vampire.   If only they knew
what was happening!

	In a reversal of their normal roles, it had been Giles who
almost gave into impulse, actually fingering the stake he held in his
gloved hand as he took a step in the direction of the chamber.   The
Watcher, however, was stopped by a hand grabbing his arm.  
Turning to face the teenager holding him back, the librarian’s wild
eyes met Xander’s through the polymer plastic masks covering
both their faces.

	There was not even the slightest trace of indecision as
Xander slowly, determinedly shook his head.   It was definitely
*not* the time to go running off half-cocked.   The moment of
hesitation was all Giles needed to regain the sense of purpose that
had given way to blind panic.   Nodding to the teenager that he
understood, the Watcher stepped back to his previous position,
guarding the ladder that led up to the street.

	As Giles moved away, Xander allowed his shoulders to
slump forward ever so slightly.   Swallowing down against this
latest rush of adrenaline, he focused his attention on the fire hose in
his hands.   The way the thick liquid poured quietly out of it was
almost hypnotic.   With nothing else to do for the moment, the
teenager watched as thick substance oozed to the floor, then inched
its way down the natural incline leading towards the larger
chamber.   Muffling a curse that it was taking far too long, the
teenager silently urged gravity to do its work a little faster.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

	Thanks to the naturally descending slope of the
ground, the  thick fluid being pumped into the
tunnels gradually seeped across the floor of the
cavern.    Between the crowding of the vampires
caused by the lack of space and the natural tendency
of the below-ground stone to stay damp, none of the
occupants in the room took notice of the deadly tide
spreading underneath their collective feet. Besides, 
looking down would have been a waste of time,
especially with such an entertaining drama unfolding
on the stage before them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

	Almost completely drained of blood, it was
only a minute before Angel’s cries ended.  Only when
her consort-to-be slumped forward unconscious did
Eleni pry her fangs out of Angel’s neck. Overall, the
vampiress was left frowning in disappointment.  It
had ended all too quickly in her not-so-humble
opinion.   

	‘Typical of these Americans,” she grimaced
to herself.  ‘They are always in a hurry.’   But what
else could one expect from a country whose general
populous had the maturity and attention span of a
group of three year olds?  ‘The New World,’ the
vampiress mentally scoffed at the nickname.   ‘How
apropos for a nation filled with savages who
wouldn’t know true culture if it bit them on the
neck.’   

	Hoping that the unensouled version of her
future consort would have more stamina than the
‘kinder, gentler’ Angel before her, the vampiress
stepped away from her captive.    Stopping directly
behind the altar, Eleni reached for the ceremonial
knife that rested there.   Holding it up high in the
air, she showed the weapon to her soon-to-be 
followers.

	“Let this blade,” she proudly proclaimed,
“banish the soul that contaminates this weak, pathetic
creature.”   Assured of the crowd’s rapt attention,
the vampiress forged onward.   Bringing the
sharpened edge of the razor to her own exposed
wrist, Eleni dragged the knife from the very bottom
edge of her palm to the middle of her inner arm.   

	“Let my blood flow freely!”  Eleni exclaimed
in profound reverence.   “Let it free the demon held
in bondage by his soul!  I know that you are trapped
in this frail body, Angelus.   Drink, Angelus.   Drink
and be free!”  

	Raising her bleeding arm up to Angel’s face,
Eleni pressed her blood-covered wrist to Angel’s lips
and waited.   Only a moment or so later, the
vampiress cried out in victory as she felt the slight
pressure of one of Angel’s fangs involuntarily
brushing against the tender skin of her inner-wrist.  
Like most of the vampires in the room, Eleni knew
all too well that, even unconscious, the demon within
Angelus would force its host to feed.

	And feed it did, much to the delight of the
crowd.

	Knowing what he had to do, the demon
prodded Angel to pool his slowly rejuvenating
strength in order to move.   Too weak and unaware
to defy the demon’s impulses, the souled vampire
twitched his head, hungrily burying both of his fangs
deeply into his captor’s flesh.   A large spurt of
blood struck the roof of his mouth, as his elongated 
canine teeth nicked a vein.
	
	Happy with his unexpected bounty, the
demon within growled and forced its host’s body to
drink for all he was worth.   It wouldn’t be long now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

	“This is taking way too long,” Xander
protested.   For the third time in less than a minute,
the teenager’s eyes once again drifted to the watch
loosely attached to one of the fastenings on Giles’
fire-protective coat.   

	Realizing that the intense moment of calm
Xander had experienced during Angel’s first screams
was past, the librarian fought the urge to roll his
eyes at his companion.  So much for their temporary
roll-reversal.   Once again, Xander was back to his
normal, impatient, teenaged state of jumpiness.

	“Isn’t it time, yet?” Xander’s question was
muffled by the mask over his face.   “I mean, you
haven’t even checked your watch lately.   If you
don’t check, how will you know if it’s time?”

	“I’d venture to guess that the moment several
hundred vampires start pouring out of that archway
we will, indeed, know it’s time,” Giles whispered
sharply in exasperation.   “Now show some patience
and do shut up before they hear you.”

	Recoiling from the normally mild-mannered
librarian’s tirade, Xander lowered his head.   A brief
wave of anger swept over the teen at the harshness
of Giles’ reproach, but the knowledge that the older
man did have a point quickly stifled Xander’s flaring
temper.    It was only then that the teenager realized
something.  Watcher or no, Giles was as nervous as
Xander was at that moment.
 
	Somehow, the teenager found that thought
both comforting and disturbing at the same time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

	All too quickly, a set of deceptively slender
fingers wove themselves deeply into Angel’s hair.  
With a strength that betrayed her vampiric nature,
Eleni tugged harshly on the hundreds of strands
intertwined within her digits, forcing her
consort-to-be’s mouth away from her bleeding
forearm.	

	With his captor’s stolen blood flowing freely
through Angel’s veins, the vampire became more and
more aware of his surroundings.   Fostered by a
century’s worth of instinct, the part of Angel that
was still a man began wresting control back from the
demon within himself.   It was a difficult struggle,
but eventually the souled-part of him managed to 
prevail.

	 Exhausted, still hungry and wracked with
pain, it took a moment for Angel to put together the
pieces of where he was and what had happened to
him.   His eyes followed the long, slender arm he was
feeding from in order to see the face of his
benefactor.  

	As soon as he saw the long dark tresses of
flowing black hair, all of Angel’s memories of the
past twenty-four hours came back in a blurred rush.   

	‘Damn it all to hell!”  Angel raged in his
mind.   ‘It wasn’t supposed to happen like this!’

	 He had planned it all so perfectly -- a scheme
that was almost elegant in the simplicity of its
design.  Angel had been so careful as he laid the 
groundwork, convincing Eleni that she needed to 
‘re-sire’ him as a vampire in order to rid him, 
once again, of his soul. 

	His endurance was supposed to pay off in the 
end, for in order to ‘re-make’ him, Angel would need 
to drink directly from the Spanish vampiress.    

	It should have been so easy.   When the time
came, all he needed to do was simply drain the bitch
dry when she offered her blood to him.   In fact,
Angel even had a back-up plan.   In the event of a
worst case scenario, he could use the sharp edges of
his fangs to rip her throat out -- a wound so severe,
not even the most powerful of vampires could
recover from it.

	It was foolproof, Angel had told himself
earlier that morning.   At least, that was the way his
plan looked on paper, so to speak.   At the moment,
though, it appeared that the only fool in the room
was Angel himself.

	For it was only now that Angel realized his
incredible strategic error.    Like a novice, he had
made a  stupid mistake -- he had greatly
underestimated the intelligence of his adversary.   
And now, because of his own arrogance, the chances
were great that he would be unable to prevent the
spell that would create the Army of Legion from
being cast.

	Of course, Eleni had been wise -- or
suspicious -- enough to anticipate just the kind of
treachery Angel had planned.    That was,
undoubtedly, why she gave him her wrist to drink
from, rather than her neck.   That decision, of
course, in turn effectively thwarted Angel’s 
plan A.

	‘Guess it’s time for plan B,’ Angel grimaced.

	Pooling all of what little strength he had left,
the souled vampire took a moment to compose
himself.   Then, without so much as a warning, he
threw back his head and began to once again scream.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

	Fumbling with the cheap digital watch
attached to the front of his own jacket, Adam
checked the time.   As he suspected, the moment of
truth had arrived.   Taking a deep breath, he turned
to his two female companions.

	“Ladies?” Adam questioned.  “Are you
ready?” 

	“Like we have a choice now?”  Cordelia
questioned.

	“Let’s just do this,” Willow said
determinedly.   Both Adam and Cordy looked at her
with raised eyebrows, surprised by her
uncharacteristic ‘take-no-prisoners’ attitude.	
	
	“You go, Sigouney Weaver,” Cordelia stated
frankly.  Willow and Adam were already taking a few 
steps toward their intended destination when their
companion called to them one last time.   “Good
luck, you guys.”

	The note of true sincerity in Cordelia’s tone
stopped Willow in her tracks.   Pivoting back to face
the girl who had treated her so poorly for most of her
life, the red-head paused for a moment to stare at her
the former May Queen.   

	“Be careful, Cordy,” Willow cautioned.

	“Me?” Cordelia asked, taken aback by the
suggestion.  “I’m not the one psycho enough to walk
into a stadium full of the living dead.  Now, will you
please go so we can get this over with?    If I have
to stay in this fashion nightmare a minute longer, 
even my hairdresser won’t be able to fix the damage 
from the hat-ring that will form in my hair....”

	As they walked away from the still-grumbling
cheerleader, the Immortal and the witch shared a
long look.   While Adam may have rolled his eyes at
their companion’s self-centered comments, Willow
found Cordelia’s comments strangely comforting.   It
was good to know that, even on the Hellmouth,
some things never changed.  

	With every step taking them closer to the
danger ahead, all thoughts of the dark-haired girl
behind them were abruptly banished from their
minds.    The time for humour had passed.   Now it
was time to kick a little vampire ass.

	Unfortunately, it was also the time that
Angel’s new screams of pain began echoing through
the tunnels.

	As the sound reached their ears, Adam and
Willow both involuntarily tensed.   With practiced
ease, the Immortal reached down and slid his heavy
broadsword from its make-shift sheath in the belt of
his jacket.   At the same time, the redhead tightly
clutched the wickedly sharpened stake she was
holding in her hands.

	Armed and ready, the pair broke into a run as
they flew down the remaining fifty yards to the main
chamber.   

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

	Total silence descended upon the room the
moment Angel’s last cry mutated into a desperate
gasp of air. As he released the unnecessary breath
from his useless lungs, the vampire’s head slowly
returned from its thrown-back position.   With an
amazing level of sensuousness, Angel parted his lips
before lazily opening his eyes for the first time
since his ‘reversion’.

	Starting at one side of the room, those rich,
brown orbs meandered across the crowd.   Turning
his head slowly, he viewed the assembly with an
expression that resembled apathy.   The nonchalance
he was exuding gave off the impression that he often
awoke suspended from chains in front of an
audience.

	In fact, it was only when his gaze happened
across Eleni that he began showing any real interest
in his present situation.   Turning to face the
vampiress directly, one side of Angel’s mouth
quirked up into an evil smirk.    Making a show of it,
Angel eyes traveled thoroughly up and down Eleni’s
body like a predator hungry for its next meal.

	“Well, well, well,” he drawled slowly.  
Settling his eyes on the generous swell of the
vampiress’ breasts, he continued his thought.   “Look
what we have here.    All dressed up...,”  he began,
finally raising his eyes upwards to stare straight
into those of his captor.   “...and isn’t that a 
damned shame?”

	Even the Spanish vampiress could not miss
the meaning behind Angelus’ lust-filled leer as he
spoke.    Eleni, however, remained silent, biding her
time.    Her lack of reaction was noted by her
captive, but he ignored it with a remarkable amount
of aplomb.

	“So what’s the story here?” Angel
questioned, seeming to notice the chains binding him
for the first time.   “Oh, don’t tell me that the
little soul-boy, Angel, went and did something 
naughty,” he sneered.   “Did he have his wicked way 
with you?  Is this gonna be a stake-gun wedding?  If 
it is, I’d like to suggest we skip the vows and cut 
right to the reception, ‘cause I’m a little hungry 
right now...,”  Angel’s eyes once again settled 
somewhere in the vicinity of Eleni’s cleavage, but 
shot back up as he completed his thought, “...and I 
could eat, too.”   

	Finally, a triumphant smile spread across the
vampiress’ face.    Turning to the crowd, she made a
sweeping gesture in her captive’s direction.   

	“I give you, Angelus!” she proclaimed.   
	
	And the crowd cheered.
	
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

	With the noise from the main chamber
masking the sounds of their rapid footsteps, the
witch and the Immortal finally crossed the invisible
fifty-foot line of demarcation.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

	The first sign Eleni had that anything was
wrong came from the corner by the left tunnel.    Her
followers had practically been frozen in place,
enraptured, she believed, by the greatness of her
presence.   Then, seemingly out of nowhere, it
appeared that a fight had broken out in the back of
the room.

	Before she could gesture to her guards, a
ferocious spike of pain almost sent her mentally
reeling.   Using both hands, Eleni clutched at the
sides of her head, desperately fighting for control
over her panicked inner-demon.   Even with her
advanced age and sheer determination, the vampiress
was barely able to keep from capitulating to her
demon’s demands to flee.

	“What is happening?”  Eleni screamed.  Her
cry was not in fear, but rather in pure rage at this
disruption of her night of triumph.

	No one answered, her cry lost amidst
hundreds of shrieks of terror.

	Had she looked behind her, Eleni might have
noticed the grim smile of satisfaction on Angel’s
face.

	The cavalry had just arrived.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

	The effect of the Immortal’s approach spread
through the room like a blast wave from an
explosion.  Not surprisingly, the vampires nearest to
the left tunnel were the first to be affected.   One
minute they were busy celebrating the successful
conversion of Angelus, and the next they were
overwhelmed by blinding pain in their heads.    As
the demons within each individual vampire fell into a
state of absolute terror, they gave only one
overwhelming order to their hosts --  escape!

	But it was not that simple.

	Packed shoulder-to-shoulder into the stone
auditorium, there was little room to move, let alone
to flee.    Instinctively sensing that the source of
their pain was coming from the nearby tunnel, they 
began pushing and shoving at the vampires who
unknowingly blocked the way to the only other
available egress.    
	
	It took only seconds for every undead
creature in the room to feel the effect.    All
determined to escape the encroaching threat, they
began turning on each other.   Blindly they fought
against one another, clawing, biting -- anything that
would clear a path away from the impending danger.   

	Those on the opposite side of the chamber
immediately ran for the unblocked exit.   A few
skidded on the suddenly slick floor, tumbling
ungracefully to the ground.   Unfortunately, those
who followed behind them cared little for their fallen
comrades.   In their own hurry to escape the coming
danger, they trampled over any and all impediments
in their way.   Once they cleared the main archway,
dozens upon dozens of vampires poured into the
tunnel that they believed would lead them to safety.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

	“Here they come!” Giles shouted needlessly.

	Having spent the last five minutes anticipating
this very moment, Xander was already prepared for
what was about to happen next.   Squatting down
beside the large puddle on the floor, the teenager
looked at the small household item he held in his
right hand.

	“Don’t wait for them,” the Watcher
instructed as the squishing sounds of approaching
footsteps grew louder.

	Xander, however, needed no instructions.  
Flexing his finger to press the ‘trigger’ to strike
the flint of placed the long, plastic fireplace 
‘Clicker’, the teen brought the open flame to the 
viscous substance on the floor.   

	As usual, Xander showed an eerie amount of
calm in the face of danger.  It was only before and
after tough situations that he tended to fall apart.  
Such were the joys of growing up on a Hellmouth.

	Nevertheless, at the sight of a dozen or so
panicked vampires running directly at him, Xander
flinched.   Swallowing hard, he attempted to cover
his nervousness with his normal defense:  humour.

	“Hey G-man,” he called as he waited what
seemed like forever for the fluid to ignite.  “How
do you like your vampires?   Regular...” 

	Even as he spoke, the thick liquid finally
erupted in fire.  With a muffled ‘whoosh’, the fire
slowly spread across the flammable trail laid out 
for it.  Just in the nick of time, too, since the
incoming vampires had closed the distance down 
to about twenty feet.

	“...or extra crispy?”

	The student and librarian were able to watch
with satisfaction as the tunnel quickly mutated into a
vampiric holocaust.    As the flames continued to
spread down the passageway, they consumed  most
of the vampires as well.

	Only the three closest to Xander made it out
of the inferno.  Protected by their fire-gear, Giles
and the teen quickly and efficiently dispatched two of
the burning vampires with stakes.  The third, already
aflame from head to toe, managed to slip past them.  
By the time he made it another ten feet down the
corridor, the fire overwhelmed him completely.    As
his body failed, what little flesh remained of the
vampire abruptly collapsed into a pile of ash.   The
same thing happened to the other burning vampires
that had been closing in on the two Slayerettes.

	“Son of a bitch,” Xander exclaimed in awe.  
“It’s working!”

	And so it was.   Who would have thought
that the key to the world’s salvation would rest with
something as common as run-of-the-mill cooking oil?  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

	As soon as he saw the ghostly orange flicker
of flames in the mouth of the manhole, Oz took off
running in the direction of the other tanker truck.  
Phase two of their plan had obliviously begun.   It
was time for him to get to his position for phase
three.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

	Back under the ground it was, to put it
simply, total chaos.

	From his suspended position over the altar,
Angel was too weak to do anything other than watch
the events unfold before him with a kind of detached
fascination.    The blinding pain of Adam’s
approaching presence thundered in his head like a
jackhammer cutting through pavement.   As if that
weren’t enough, only moments later a slow rush of
flames came creeping from one of the room’s exits,
consuming everything...and everyone in its path.

	As the fire spread through the room, the
already terrified vampires suddenly swayed and
switched course like a school of fish threatened by a
predator.   Those nearest to the fire were more than
willing to take their chances with whatever was
approaching from the other tunnel, while those closer
to the threat of the Immortal would rather be
scorched by the flames.   As for the rest, they were
simply stuck in the middle.   

	Then, as if out of nowhere, Angel saw them.  
There was no mistaking the pair as they stood out in
their heavy fire gear, even if he couldn’t directly
see their faces.  If Angel needed any confirmation 
that they were on his side, the sword in Adam’s 
hands was the clincher.   It was the identity of the
Immortal’s companion that gave Angel pause.   With
a sickening sense of dread, the suspended vampire
noted the petite stature of the second person.   It
wasn’t, however, until he saw one of the panicked
vampires turn to dust after blindly attacking the
figure that Angel knew her identity without a doubt.

	“No,” he pleaded softly to himself, closing his
eyes in useless denial.   When he opened them again,
the tableau had shifted.   With the fire stalled about
half-way across the room, the gathered brethren
closest to the Immortal had seemingly decided to
fight their way to the tunnel.   Watching helplessly
as the combat switched to hand-to-hand, Angel was
unable to prevent the cry that escaped his lips.

	“Willow!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

	Angel’s cry, however, did not reach across
the din of the room.   Standing directly in the
archway that led to the tunnel, Adam was busy
hacking and slicing anything that approached him. 
Only a few feet away, Willow blindly held her arms
out, allowing her protective spell to do her dirty
work for her.

	Once she overcame her shock and despair at
her first sight of Angel, Willow joined the battle
with a ferocity that would have startled many.  Not 
the Immortal, however.   Her determination was
something that Adam had, quite frankly, counted
upon.

	“Go, Willow!” Adam commanded, cognizant
of the fact that her protection spell was running on a
clock.

	Nodding in acknowledgement, the redhead
began making her way toward the altar, taking out
any vampire that happened to have the misfortune of
being in her path.   As she crossed through the chaos
surrounding her, Willow’s eyes never left Angel's
suspended figure.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

	Once he hurried Willow on her way, Adam
forgot all about her.   In fact, as the battle
thickened and as minutes passed by, the Immortal 
began slipping away from the present-day holocaust
surrounding him.   Instead of the here and now,
Adam Pierson was mentally revisiting a distance time
and place.

	Instead of the heat of the fire, the Immortal’s
mind registered the hot, dry sun beating down upon
the desert sands.    The odd taste in his mouth came
not from the oxygen coming from the tank on his
back, but from the indigo dye he used to decorate
half of his face.   His sword wasn’t cutting through
the undead, but rather through the flesh of the
inhabitants of another of the caravans and villages
that he brought wholesale slaughter upon.   In that
time, his own name had no meaning -- only the title
bestowed upon him by the few who saw him and
lived to tell the tale.   

	In his mind, the Immortal was once again the
living personification of Death.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~