Title: You Forgot to Mention Hell, Horatio (16d-f/?) Author: JR Email: JRR42@yahoo.com Previous parts available at: www.angelfire.com/de/theparlor/buffy.html ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Protected by their suits, Giles and Xander had traversed the flame-filled corridor. It wasn’t so bad, once they overcame their initial fear of being burned despite the fire gear. Bursting through the archway into the main chamber, the Watcher and the teenager came to a halt as they got their first look at the lair of their foes. Truth be told, Giles was more than a little dismayed by what he saw. The destruction was nowhere near what they had hoped for earlier that morning. Only now did the Watcher see the basic flaws in their grand scheme. The fire itself was not as fierce as they had intended. As they had suspected, the poor ventilation in the cavern created a lack of necessary oxygen to feed the flames. What they did not anticipate, however, was the high concentration of ash left behind by the dusted vampires. Clumped in places, the residue acted like a blanket, smothering the flames and preventing their spread. While the fire had wiped out what Giles assumed to be the majority of the vampires in the room, there were still well over a hundred of their number left frightened and fighting amongst each other. Through the crowd, the librarian caught a quick flash of metal and realized that it was probably Adam brandishing his sword. He could not, however, find any trace of Willow. Apparently, neither could Xander. Before Giles could react, his teen-aged companion ran off shouting his friend’s name. With a berserker’s fury, Xander dove into the fray, using the wooden stake he had so carefully protected against the flames to clear a path. In his haste, Xander misstepped. Unable to recover his balance, the teen’s heel slid off in one direction while his upper body went in the other. As a result, he ended up flat on his back amidst the flaming puddles of oil on the floor. Shaking his head to clear away the disorientation and pain from his hard impact with the ground, Xander managed to pull himself together. Giles was unable to prevent the instinctive gasp that escaped his lips as he spied Xander sprawled on the ground. As it happened, the teenager had fallen into a pool of oil that was still burning. Although the teenager’s flesh was protected by the fire gear, the flickering orange and yellow flames licked upwards around Xander’s prone figure. “Xander, you’re on fire!” Giles called out over the din of the fray. While the teenager’s heavy coat and fireman’s overalls provided protection from the danger, seeing the student on fire was nevertheless unsettling. Looking down, an expression of horrific surprise appeared on the young man’s face as he realized his situation. Before he could think twice, Xander heard two vampires snarling loudly as they fought each other not three feet away from him. The teenager’s arms and legs flailed as he desperately attempted to scuttle out of their oncoming path. More by accident than by design, Xander’s foot slipped on the slick ground. However unintentionally, his boot kicked up a few fat droplets of smoldering oil -- right onto the leg of one of the nearby vamps. Even as he backed away from the pair, Xander’s eyes were fixated on the spot were super-heated oil caused the denim of the vamp’s jeans to smolder and smoke. It gave him an idea. Skimming his hand through one of the still-burning patches of oil, Xander gathered some of the flaming substance into his cupped palm. Even with the thick gloves he was wearing, the heat quickly reached an uncomfortable temperature for the skin underneath. In an effort to expunge the unpleasant sensation, the teenager tossed the super-hot contents in the direction of the nearest vampire. Unaware of his own impending doom, the vampire kept struggling against his brethren as he burst into flames. Due to their near-wrestling hold upon each other, the first vamp ignited his sparring partner, too. Seeing the devastating effects of Xander’s dumb-luck, the teen and the librarian stared at each other across the distance that separated them. As if of one mind, both men leaned forward to collect more of the deadly ammunition from the ground. With their transformation into living, walking catapults, the stalled battle slowly began to turn in the Slayerettes’ favour. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Although the ingestion of Eleni’s blood was slowly returning some of Angel’s strength, he was nowhere near recovered enough to even think of trying to break free from the chain binding him. That fact was enough to leave the vampire with little else to do but watch helplessly as Willow approached the stage with a determination he had only witnessed once before in his long years. In fact, seeing the trail of dusted combatants she left in her wake, Angel experienced a sharp sensation of deja vú. It was just like the time when Willow had ventured into Hell itself to come to his rescue. Only when the teenager neared the stage did her emerald eyes finally break away from her friend’s haggard face. Turning her gaze off to his right, Willow finally got her first up-close look at the vampiress responsible for Angel’s torment. A cold expression appeared on Willow’s normally friendly face. The pain she was experiencing from Adam’s nearby presence was shunted aside by pure hatred as Eleni recognized the girl beneath the mask. “You!” she hissed. “Get him down,” Willow ordered. Although her voice was muffled by the oxygen mask, her words were, nevertheless, understandable. “And who are you, child, to threaten me? In just a few moments, you will be bowing before me, begging to serve me,” Eleni countered haughtily, only to draw a snort of disbelief from her teenaged opponent. “And what’s the weather like on your planet?” Willow questioned incredulously . “You haven’t looked around much lately, have you? The only reason I’m gonna be bowing in a few minutes is to look through your ashes for loose change. Now let him go.” Now it was Angel’s turn to look on in shock. The vampire was left wondering if Willow had somehow been possessed in the time he’d been held captive, because the witty retorts the redhead was tossing out were very unusual for her. Not that Angel lacked respect for his friend’s sometimes off-the-wall humour, but at that moment, Willow sounded more like she was channeling Buffy -- or Xander for that matter -- than her normal self. “If you won’t kneel before me,” Eleni growled, despite the fact that she was unable to slip into her game face, “then you will *die* where you stand!” Like Willow, Angel thought that the vampiress was either unaware or uncaring of the protection spell that surrounded the young witch. Almost too late, he caught a glimpse of the ceremonial dagger Eleni was holding in the hand out of his line of sight. “Willow, look out!” Angel shouted, trying to warn his friend of the danger. Instinctively reacting to his cry, Willow’s eyes flew up in Angel’s direction. At that same moment, Eleni pulled back her arm and thrust the knife towards her enemy’s stomach. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Surprisingly enough, only one small thing halted Adam’s rapid descent into insanity. Through the smoke and partially visible bodies in his line of vision, the Immortal caught sight of something shiny and glimmering in the near distance. Curious as to what was brilliant enough to be visible through the din in the room, Adam switched his body to fight on ‘auto-pilot’ while taking a more focused look on the bright object. As he did so, he became aware that the light was attached to a person rather than just a simple object, and that the person was actually coming closer to Adam’s position. Only when the oddly dressed figure had almost reached his side did the Immortal’s memory return from the long-distant past. “Where’s Willow?” Xander questioned. His words drew Adam’s attention away from the reflective stripe on his fire-retardant jacket that so fascinated the Immortal. It was only then that Adam remembered who Xander was and, more importantly, what they were there for in the first place. It was a struggle, but eventually Adam dredged up his last conscious memories of the battle. He cursed silently to himself, having lost all track of time while he was out of it. Giving the smoke-filled chamber as much of a once over as possible in the current conditions, the Immortal ventured to guess that it must have been more than a few minutes. ‘What did the boy ask?’ Adam struggled to recall. ‘Willow. She should have been back long before now. ‘Damn,’ he reckoned. ‘She must be in trouble.’ “Willow?” Xander’s muffled voice queried again as the teenager efficiently set a vampire on fire by brushing against it. The much older man gestured first toward the stage, then to himself before pointing back at the stage. Nodding his understanding, Xander took a step to follow the Immortal, but Adam quickly nixed the idea. Holding up a hand to halt the teen, Adam pantomimed a staking motion to clarify what he expected the young man to do. Even partially concealed by the mask, Adam did not miss the unhappy, almost defiant expression on Xander’s face. Nevertheless, the teenager did as he was told, punching the closest vampire before plunging his now-flaming wooden stake through the undead woman’s heart. Seconds later, Giles appeared at Xander’s side. Satisfied that the pair were holding their own, Adam ran off through the smoke in search of Willow. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ It was, ultimately, Angel’s cry that saved Willow’s life. Although her eyes sought out those of her bound friend, the terrified tone in his voice made the witch take an involuntary step in his direction. As a result, the knife Eleni thrust at Willow’s midsection only grazed the teenager’s side, rather than burying itself in her stomach. Still, the cut was deep enough to wrench a cry from Willow’s lips as one hand automatically flew up to cover the throbbing gash at her waist. The redhead reeled backwards as the icy-hot agony of a deep cut raced through her nervous system. Disoriented by the pain, Willow lost her footing, falling rather ungracefully on her backside. Despite the smoke and the distance, Angel could clearly make out the rich crimson of Willow’s blood as it seeped through her fingers. The knowledge that she was wounded terrified the hanging vampire. ‘Get up, Will!’ he prayed silently, helpless to do anything else. Eleni smiled coldly in the knowledge that she had injured her foe. She smelled blood -- albeit more figuratively than literally given the smoke in the chamber. With all of her grand visions of ultimate power in smoldering ruin, the vampiress was hell bent on making sure that she would at least have the small satisfaction of killing both Angel and his mortal paramour. “And now, puta, you die,” Eleni sneered, pulling the dagger back to make another thrust with the knife. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Xander was everywhere, flying against his opponents like a man possessed. Whether by stake or by using his fists to back his opponents into the waning flames of the fire, he was determined that not one of the remaining vampires would escape from the room. It was a lofty goal, but sadly, an unrealistic one. When Adam left his key position by the entrance to the tunnel to go after Willow, it became simply impossible for Giles and Xander to keep all of their undead foes contained within the confines of the arena. Nevertheless, the librarian and the teenager gave their all as they attacked with every means at their disposal. Already giving a hundred and ten percent, Xander kept going, trying to coax an even better performance out of his bruised and battered body. Out of the corner of his eye, however, the teenager caught sight of a handful of vampires fleeing down the corridor. It was so much of a distraction that the vampire he was currently fighting managed to land a clean right hook to Xander’s face. Not only did the punch stun the teen, but it also knocked his oxygen mask askew as well. Momentarily denied the compressed air he had been breathing, Xander’s eyes watered over. The heavy scent of smoke and burnt passion fruit was overwhelming. Choking and gasping from the unbreathable air, Xander struggled to re-adjust his mask while simultaneously holding off the vampire one-handed. It was no easy feat. He only hoped that Cordelia was having an easier time of it than he was. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ‘Damndamndamndamndamn!’ Cordelia thought nervously. For the hundredth time since she entered the sewer, the beautiful teenager wondered just what in the hell she was doing in the dank, dark tunnel. Drugs. It had to be drugs. Not herself, of course, since Cordelia would never consider taking anything recreational. But, she considered, her mother must have taken something while she was pregnant -- something that was legal back then that had since proven to cause temporary bouts of insanity in kids that made Cordy willingly put herself in immediate danger... The sound of loud footsteps pounding against the slick, stone ground of the tunnel dragged the cheerleader out of her mental musings. Fumbling with the fire hose she held in her hands, she barely managed to find the ringed pressure valve on the edge of the nozzle. “Oh shit!!” Cordy squealed out loud as half a dozen panicked and angry vampires bore down upon her. With more luck than skill, the heavy rubber of the gloves on Cordelia’s hands caught on the metal surface, providing enough traction for her to twist the value open. Hit with the full force of the hose’s spray, the vampires stumbled backwards for just a moment. They did, however, recover enough to regain their forward momentum. At least until their skin began to smoke and burn. “Oh, that’s so gross,” Cordelia winced. Nevertheless, she was still pleased to have the upper hand for once while fighting vampires. As she watched the creatures of the night twist and writhe under her assault, she had to wonder just where in the hell this cute Adam Pierson guy had come up with an entire truckful of holy water? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Seeing the telegraph of the blow Eleni was about to deliver to Willow, Angel cried out again. There was little else he could do but look on in total horror. The redhead, however, was simply too stunned to move. Just as Eleni was about to shift her weight forward to make the strike that would end the young witch’s life, the throbbing in Angel’s head intensified. ‘Pierson!’ Angel choked in relief. The Immortal had to be moving towards them, but there was no way of knowing whether or not he would arrive in time to save Willow. At the moment, however, it didn’t seem to matter. For if Angel was discomforted by the Immortal’s closing presence, then Eleni was bowled over by it. Not prepared for the onslaught of pain that attacked her from within, the vampiress instinctively stepped backward, away from the coming danger. Although she managed to stay on her feet, the small retreat provided Angel the opportunity for which he had been praying. Even though he had his soul, Angel was still a vampire, and therefore, just as greatly affected by the Immortal’s presence. He, however, had a distinct advantage over the others of his kind in the chamber. Unlike the rest of them, Angel knew the source of the pain, having experienced it often enough by that point in time to retain some semblance of control over the terrified demon within himself. Pulling together every scrap of willpower in his two-and-a-half-century-old body, Angel reached upward, wrapping his hands around the chains that held him suspended above the floor for support. Rocking his legs back to gain momentum, he then contracted his powerful abs, swinging his lower body forward. In a fraction of a second, Angel managed to wrap his long legs around Eleni’s upper body. The souled vampire managed to pin the vampiress’ arms against her sides by locking his ankles against each other. The shrieks of outrage that poured forth from her lips were inhuman, pounding against Angel’s ears like nails on a chalkboard. Furious that her captive had suddenly become her captor, Eleni struggled with every ounce of her vampiric strength at her disposal. It was, however, not enough. Although Angel was weak, he more than made up for his physical shortcomings with sheer determination. Dually motivated by both his need for revenge and his burning desire to protect Willow at all costs, he somehow managed to hang on to his prisoner. “Now Willow!” Angel bellowed. Barely aware of the mortal danger she had just been in, the commanding tone in Angel’s voice implored the witch to set aside the painful throbbing in her side that literally stole her breath. Willow immediately grasped the situation with a single upward glance. For the first time, Willow’s piercing gaze left Eleni’s face. Her sharp emerald eyes roved upward for a quick inspection of Angel’s battered body. As her line of sight wandered up and down his still-chained form, the redhead made a haphazard inventory of his visible injuries. The cuts in his wrists were horrifying. In fact, Willow was certain that if not for the blood oozing out of the wounds, she would be able to see the very bones of his lower arms. Even with the thick smoke obstructing her view, the witch could clearly see the gashes and bruises marking her friend’s chest. Above all, however, it was the tortured, exhausted expression on Angel’s face that caused Willow’s prior uncertainty to rapidly fade. Angel had suffered far too much at Eleni’s command. To Willow’s way of thinking, it was long past time for her to settle the score -- on her friend’s behalf. Once she had fortified herself with that justification, the tremors running through Willow’s hands completely ceased. Dropping her gaze to meet that of the beautiful vampiress, the witch’s normally warm green eyes narrowed in anger. Up until that point, Angel had been too concerned with containing Eleni to give Willow more than a cursory glance. He watched in trepidation as Willow took a few steps forward, placing herself directly in front of the vampiress. Moving slowly, as if to draw out the tension of the moment, the witch’s slender right hand began the long, upwards journey. As soon as it was about halfway to her waist, Angel noticed something unexpected. Willow’s fingers were trembling like leaves in an autumn breeze -- not from hesitation or fear, but in outrage on Angel’s behalf. As if suddenly aware of the shift in the teenager’s temperament, Eleni began to struggle in earnest. As she peered into the unforgiving green eyes, the vampiress experienced an emotion that she had not known in centuries. For the first time in five hundred years, Eleni was afraid. Eleni, however, was not the only one affected by the change in the redhead. Tightening his leg muscles, Angel did his best to keep Eleni immobile while stealing a glance at Willow’s face. As soon as he did, the cool, stolen blood in his veins turned to ice. For the first time in the two-and-a-half years he’d known her, Angel could not find a single trace of compassion in Willow. Sure, he’d seen her take out demons and vampires alike in the past. However, in the heat of the fiercest battle, despite the fact that she was killing creatures of pure evil, there had always been the slightest signs of remorse over her actions. It was the one thing that separated her from and -- in Angel’s opinion -- raised her above all the other Slayerettes. But at that moment, he saw nothing but cold fury. There was no spark in Willow’s eyes, no trepidation over the inevitable ending of their current situation. The only thing he saw in her narrowed eyes was determination. His shy, compassionate little Willow had at some point transformed into an instrument of vengeance. Angel felt lost, somehow, and adrift at the thought, cursing both himself and Fate for putting them all in their respective positions. Knowing that Angel could not hold on to Eleni forever, Willow decided to bring their little scenario to an end. By the time her hand finally resumed its upward journey, it was as steady as a rock. In fact, Willow’s hand almost seemed to float upwards as if caught in some kind of bizarre slow motion. And through it all, those piercing green eyes stayed focused solely on Angel’s. The warm chocolate orbs not only provided her with strength, but also with the support and solidarity she hadn’t even realized that she needed. And then it was time. It was only at the last possible moment that Willow’s line of sight flicked rapidly from Angel to Eleni. With a menacing tilt of her head, the witch took one last look at the hissing vampiress. Then, as calmly as she pleased, Willow none-too-gently pressed the palm of her hand against the exposed skin of Eleni’s right shoulder. Mindful of getting caught in the backlash of Willow’s protection spell, Angel quickly unwrapped his legs from around the vampiress. The vampire knew that there would be no danger to his friend, at least not anymore. It took only a fraction of a second for Eleni to begin succumbing to the effects. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “Nooooo!” The gut-wrenching cry echoed through the hallway. All over the room, vampires and humans alike paused at the sound, uselessly attempting to find its source through the heavy haze of smoke. But the man who bellowed cared nothing for the other people in the arena sans one -- his beloved mistress. The first wave of pain caused by Adam’s Immortal presence had sent the Spanish vampire straight to his knees. It was only when Tonio caught sight of the subsequent random violence breaking out among the assembled crowd that the native Castillian shunted aside his own pain in favour of his duty to Eleni. When fire began sweeping through the great hall, dozens of his frightened brethren had attempted to storm the altar, seeking the higher ground for shelter from the encroaching flames. Pulling a ceremonial dagger similar to the one his Mistress had used out of his belt, Tonio joined some of the other, more loyal, guards as they jumped to the floor proper. From there, they challenged all comers in a deadly version of ‘king of the mountain’. The Spaniard kept a close eye on his Mistress, despite the never-ending line of opponents and the obscuring smoke and fire. In fact, when last he looked, Eleni was about to stab the little redhead. Less than a minute passed, however, before he heard the absolute terror in her voice as his Mistress screamed aloud. Viciously backhanding his current opponent, Tonio took off at a run for the stage. With the fire starting to peter out, there were suddenly breaks in the thick haze that clouded the chamber. The smoke rolled through in waves, parting just in time for the Spaniard to see Angelus’ mortal girlfriend inflicting great pain on his Mistress. Yet even at his best speed, he was too far away to prevent the incomprehensible action taking place less than ten feet from his position. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Eleni’s cry continued for a long moment before the magic began to do its work. Then, as if someone had simply thrown a switch, the flesh underneath Willow’s hand began to deteriorate. The effect spread through the vampiress’ body rapidly, until the five-hundred-year-old body simply collapsed into a pile of dust. Both the ensouled vampire and the witch watched the ashy remains settle to the ground at Willow’s feet. Although neither knew it at the time, they were both having the same thought. With all the build-up of the evening, Eleni’s demise was so simple, it seemed almost...anti-climatic at best. Now that they were out of immediate danger, the two friend’s eyes met once again. The emotions were different, though. Their mutual relief over each others’ safety was almost palpable. In fact, with the excess adrenaline flowing through their veins, they were both almost giddy, a fact which left them smiling at each other in celebration of their successful team-effort survival. The moment, however, was broken by a menacing growl. Not surprisingly, Angel’s vampiric sense of hearing registered the noise first. Willow’s gaze followed Angel’s as his head turned sharply to one side. But the smoke had shifted once again, the tendrils of the latest cloud weaving in between them. Despite the lack of visual reference, both of them were experiencing a sense of impending danger strong enough to make the hair on the backs of both their necks stand up. Willow heard Angel gasp, but there was no time for either of them to do anything but gasp in horror as the growling grew closer. Then, out of nowhere, an eerie ‘whooshing’ sound came from the thick bank of smoke. It was followed immediately by something that flew out directly towards Willow. Angel watched with sick fascination as Tonio’s severed head burst into ash at almost the same time it impacted with the teenager’s chest. “Wha...,” Willow began, unmindful of Angel‘s sudden, agonized writhing. What had just happened had occurred so quickly that even her powerful intellect could not process it just yet. All the pieces snapped into place as Adam Pierson majestically emerged from the smoke with his sword in hand. The relief on his face at seeing his new-found allies relatively safe was plainly evident, even through his heavy oxygen mask. Although he would never admit it, finding Tonio in the thick haze of smoke had simply been a random stroke of good fortune. Immediately noticing Angel’s discomfort, Adam moved quickly towards the vampire. Reaching upward with his free hand, the Immortal grasped Angel’s strong jaw, forcing the visual connection that would end the vampire’s pain. That done, Adam took a step back in order to assess his companions’ condition. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Back in the outer tunnel, Cordelia found her initial advantage slowly diminishing as the minutes ticked away. What had begun as a slow trickle of vampires from the main chamber quickly turned into a flood of panicked -- and deadly -- refugees. Unlike the fire, which had come up from under their very feet, the spray of holy water came at them head on, leaving the vampires in the front of the mob to suffer the full effect of its power. Thus, the undead that followed behind were unwittingly shielded from the deadly liquid by their less-fortunate brethren. Most of those that made it past the Slayerette’s last planned line of defense just kept on running. They were all too happy to have escaped from the diabolical with their unlives. All but one, that is. He was, in fact, huge. Although Cordelia was above average in height, she was dwarfed by the six-foot-four, build-like-a-refrigerator vampire that hauled ass past her. Because of his size, however, the massive vampire did not escape the holy water spray unscathed. The vampire pivoted suddenly, snarling in pain as the holy water ate through his skin like acid. The agony his was in was all-consuming. Pulling back a meaty, weightlifter-sized arm, the undead creature struck out blindly at the cause of his torment. The wild blow struck Cordelia squarely in the back. It hit the cheerleader with the same impact of a hard-swung baseball bat. Unprepared for the assault, the brunette was physically launched into the air by the force of it. A sickening crack echoed through the cavern as the brunette’s airborne flight was abruptly ended by one of the tunnel walls. Somehow, that horrific crunch of broken bones managed to rise above even the caterwauling of the holy-water burned vampires. Too concerned with escaping the acid-like substance, none of the other fleeing undead creatures paid any attention to the mortal girl. Not bothering with so much as a backwards glance, the vampire that attacked her also continued on his way. Cordelia’s open but sightless eyes stared in his direction even as her limp body slid down the wall, crumpling lifelessly to the ground. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “How bad is it?” Adam asked simply. It would have been impossible for him to miss the blood on Willow’s fingers as she attempted to staunch the flow from the wound in her side. “I’m...okay,” the teenager replied bravely, although it was clear that she was anything but. Acknowledging her courage with a single nod of his head, the Immortal turned to focus his attention on the suspended vampire. The vestiges of a strangled cry escaped Willow’s throat as she watched Adam raise his sword in Angel’s direction. Before she could move, the heavy blade swung forward, slicing not at the vampire, but rather the heavy chains that held him. Pulled taut by Angel’s weight, the razor-sharp steel of the Ivanhoe cut through the rusted iron links with amazing ease. With nothing to hold him up, Angel’s body made a loud ‘thud’ as he crumpled helplessly to the ground. Willow was at his side before the vampire could even attempt to sit upright. Wanting to clasp the vampire in a tight embrace to reassure herself of his safety, the young witch began reciting the words that would end her protection spell. “Don’t do that,” Adam cautioned, clasping a warning hand on her shoulder. “Don’t what...oh, the spell? I thought that was part of the plan?” Willow questioned in confusion. “Call it a field revision,” the Immortal smiled. “You can hug him all you want to once we get out of here.” “We should get moving,” Adam cautioned. While probably wise, his words served as a painful reminder that they weren’t quite out of danger just yet. Reluctantly taking a step away from Angel, Willow began to shrug the ‘backpack’ she was wearing off her shoulders. While her burden may have appeared to be a normal schoolbag, it was in fact the body bag Adam had tested earlier -- folded and carefully jury-rigged to be unencumbering for the young redhead. “Just leave it,” Adam ordered as he watched her struggle with it. One of Willow’s elegant eyebrows rose in an unspoken question. “The fire is almost out. He’ll be all right as long as we’re careful.” “Angel?” Willow asked cautiously. “Do you think you can, like, stand up?” Nodding in lieu of a verbal response, the vampire took a moment to focus before making an attempt to rise. As much as he may have wanted to, though, Angel’s abused body wasn’t yet up to the task. In fact his arms were completely numb from being strung up so long, which made it difficult for him to lever himself into a position to stand. “Oh bloody hell,” the Immortal cursed with a roll of his eyes. Shifting his grip on his sword, Adam bent down and pulled the lethargic vampire into a fireman’s carry. Turning back to Willow, he spoke in his most serious tone. “Clear a path for us and keep alert. Angel?” Hearing a weak ‘huh?’ from over his shoulder, the Immortal continued. “Try to keep your eyes open. Let me know if there’s anything coming up from behind.” Orders given, the odd trio set off into the smoke. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Oz was still above-ground guarding the second, holy water filled pump truck when he noticed something odd. A burst of water erupted from the open manhole for a duration of less than a second. The werewolf greeted the sight with his usual aplomb -- just a raised eyebrow at the oddity of it. Then it happened again. And again. Torn between investigating and maintaining the position that the overall plan required from him, the teenager pondered his choices. Granted, it was important to make sure that the supply of holy water was uninterrupted, but Oz had yet to see a single vampire that night. Giving in to his curiosity, the werewolf set off at a slow run to check out what was happening. Two more geyser-like eruptions occurred as he made his way to the opening. When he finally reached the hole in the ground, the teenager was careful to keep as much distance as he could, lest the powerful flow of water hit him full-on in the face. “Cordy?” Oz called as loudly as he dared. A creepy feeling ran down his spine when he heard no reply. Then again, the thunder of rapidly flowing water tended to muffle most others sounds, anyway. Leaning in a bit closer, the werewolf pulled out the flashlight secured to the belt of his jacket and switched it on. Shining the light down into the tunnel, he moved the beam around to find out what was taking place. Less than a second later he found his answer. Spot-lighted by the tiny beam, the unattended fire hose was still spewing out holy water at its most open setting. The power of the flow was so great that it actually forced -- and kept -- the nozzle completely vertical, so that the water hit the ceiling of the tunnel. Without somebody to keep it under control, the hose was slithering about like a snake being charmed out of a basket. As it danced about the floor of the tunnel, the spray would occasionally pass under the open manhole cover. Hence, the ‘geysers’. While that may have been interesting to some, Oz had a more important question on his mind. What exactly had happened to the operator of the hose? “Cordelia!” he shouted uselessly. His call, however, was swallowed by the sound of rushing water. Throwing himself backward, Oz barely missed being nailed by a torrent of water. As soon as it moved on, he yelled again. “Cordy? Can you hear me?” Still nothing. Praying like hell that the erstwhile hose would stay out of his way, Oz traded his flashlight for a stake and proceeded to climb down into the sewer. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ As Willow, Adam and Angel made their way towards the predetermined exit, they happened across Xander, more by accident than by design. Although still standing, the dark-haired teenager was slumped forward. His hands rested on his thighs in an effort to steady himself as his body was wracked with a deep, painful-sounding cough. “Xander, are you okay?” Willow questioned, her eyes going wide at the sight of all the rips and tears in her friend’s heavy coat. Placing a gloved hand on Xander’s back, the young witch winced as she felt the strength of the spasms tearing through his chest. “Got...my mask...knocked off...,” he explained through his coughing. “Be...okay...some...fresh air.” “Let’s find Giles and get the hell out of here,” Adam prompted. They found the man in question only moments later, on the ground, his back propped up against the archway that led to their exit tunnel. The librarian’s protective coat and pants were in even worse condition than Xander’s, a telltale sign of just how valiantly he must have fought. He held a large metal cross in one gloved hand, obviously using it to ward off any further attacks. “Giles!” Willow and Xander cried out simultaneously. Together, the pair ran over to the fallen man. Remaining a few steps behind, Adam took immediate note of the Watcher’s most noticeable injuries. “Don’t jostle his arm!” Adam cautioned. From the way the limb dangled uselessly at his side, the Immortal had no doubt that the librarian’s shoulder was badly dislocated. Deftly avoiding the injured area, the two teens carefully helped the librarian to his feet. Knowing that Xander was better suited to support Giles’ weight, Willow stepped out of the way after helping to position the Watcher’s good arm around Xander’s shoulder. Ready to move on, the group nevertheless took a moment to look back over the carnage they had created. Having reached the chamber first, the effects were perhaps more noticeable to Willow, Adam, and of course, Angel. Despite the heavy clouds of smoke that still hung in the air, they could still see patches of orange and yellow flames flickering close to the ground in the distance. Of the six hundred plus vampires that had occupied the hall, there were only a half-dozen or so still left. Those that remained lay helplessly on the ground, either unconscious or too injured to flee to safety. Seeing those scattered bodies prompted Willow to move. With calm deliberation, she traveled from vampire to vampire, gently using her protection spell to reduce them to dust. Her actions, however, were not out of spite, but rather out of mercy. The serene gentleness she exuded as she went about her work did not go unnoticed by the four men waiting for her by the exit. No one said anything to her when she returned, but for that, Willow was grateful. Only Giles gave her a small smile and a slight nod to signify his approval. The witch returned the silent communication before walking first past Adam and Angel, then Xander and Giles to take the point position for their withdrawal. They were almost home-free. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ A hundred yards further down the same tunnel, Oz was busy grappling with the out of control firehose. Temporarily stanching the flow of holy water was the first order of business, necessary so that he could move on to his second, more important concern. It was like wrestling with a big, wet fish, but finally, the werewolf managed to get a firm grasp on the nozzle and close the valve. That done, he used his free hand to reach for his flashlight, turning it on at the same time as he pulled it from his belt. It only took a moment before the beam of light bounced brightly off of one of the reflective strips on her fireman’s jacket. But in that short span of time, Oz felt his heart stop beating. “Cordelia,” he whispered, the strangled sound barely making it out of his tightening throat. “Oh God, Cordy.” There on the ground, less than five feet away, lay the unmoving form of the former May Queen. Oz had never been a man of many words, but it really didn’t matter at that point in time. There simply weren’t any that could appropriately describe the emotions the werewolf was experiencing. Nevertheless, the teenager forced himself to take the few steps necessary in order to close the distance between them. Of all the nightmares, all the fears that the group known as the Slayerettes experienced on the Hellmouth, this was by far the worst. The death of one of their own. It was, in fact, so horrific, it was a subject that not one of them would discuss aloud. Hell, most of them did their best simply *not* to think about it at all. Not seriously, at any rate. A stray thought came to Oz as he stood directly over Cordelia’s body. It was on a conversation he’d had months ago with Willow, the night after Angel disappeared and Buffy ran away. They’d been sitting on a tombstone in the Restside Cemetery when, out of nowhere, Willow stated that she hoped she wouldn’t be the first of their group to go. The way she said the words left no doubts in Oz’s mind as to what she was referring. Distinctly uncomfortable with the subject, the werewolf made an attempt to change it, but to no avail. His girlfriend would not let herself be distracted from her train of thought. He’d never let himself think about it before, who was the most likely of them to...go...first. In the deepest recesses of his mind, however, Oz realized that he’d just naturally assumed it would be Buffy. After all, she was the Slayer, the one most exposed and at risk from the demonic forces that constantly surrounded them. “I sorta hope that I’m not the first,” Willow continued, but was quick to expunge the guilt she felt over her wish. “Not that I want to put...bad karma...on anybody else. I mean, you gotta understand, I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to any of us. The guilt...the guilt would be too much, y’know?” “I know,” Oz replied with sincerity. “But I don’t want to be the last, either,” she added in a soft, plaintive whisper. “I...I always thought that Angel...would...I don’t know...be around. That he’d be there to remember us after we’re gone. But if I’m right about...where he is...well...I don’t think that I could go on, knowing that I was the last, y’know?” Oz kissed her then, as tenderly as he could manage. Although he knew it was childish, he secretly hoped that, somehow, it would take both their minds off her morose thoughts. What he wouldn’t have given at that moment to have someone there to provide a similar distraction when he most needed it. With his body numbed with shock and a lump in his throat the size of Delaware, the werewolf slowly lowered himself, crouching but not touching the fire gear-covered girl. A part of him wanted to disbelieve what his eyes were telling him. It had to be some kind of mistake, right? He found himself both wanting and dreading to check for any signs of life. Moving with the kind of slowness one experiences in the worst nightmare, Oz reached out and pulled off one of the thick gloves covering his hands. Once that was accomplished, the werewolf was uncertain how to proceed. The upturned collar of the heavy jacket Cordelia was wearing precluded Oz from checking her neck for a pulse. Her covered wrists posed a similar problem. Finally, the teenager found an awkward solution. With great trepidation, he placed his bare hand over Cordelia’s upper chest -- the flat portion that began at the juncture of her neck and torso. Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, the guitarist closed his eyes and pressed his palm against the cool surface of her jacket. Oz’s eyes closed in sorrow, for he felt nothing -- no rise and fall of respiration, no heartbeat signifying life, and worst of all no typical, sarcastic Cordy comment, demanding that he remove his ‘furry little hands from her person before she had him made into a wolf-skin rug’. He would have given most anything to be able to hear one of her snide comments again. Leaving his hand to rest right where it was, Oz sat there motionless -- just simply thinking until he heard the sound of approaching footsteps. What was he going to tell the others, he wondered? It was a question that took on new meaning, for at that moment, something strange happened. Something that would haunt the young werewolf for the rest of his days. Such a small event, but nevertheless, one of the most miraculous Oz had ever witnessed, even after a lifetime of living on a Hellmouth. His hand moved. Or, more appropriately, the chest *under* his hand moved. “Cordelia?” Oz whispered, wondering if what he thought just happened was a hopeful figment of his imagination. But it wasn’t. His uncovered hand rose and fell again, this time more sharply as the cheerleader suffered a coughing spell. “Gram?” Cordelia asked weakly once her throat and lungs cleared. “Cordelia, can you hear me? Are you okay?” Oz persisted. “Huh?” Cordy asked groggily. The werewolf’s chance to question her further was lost with the arrival of the other Slayerettes. That, however, didn’t mean the incident was entirely forgotten. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “Are we...there yet?” Xander joked in between coughing spasms. The good news was that his cough was actually settling down. Only half-kidding with his question, the dark-haired teenager let out a sigh of relief only seconds later. “Cordelia! Oz?” Willow called out. Her lead position gave the young witch the opportunity of being the first to spot her friends. At least, she was pretty sure they were her friends -- unless some vampires appropriated Oz and Cordy’s fire gear. “We’re over here,” Oz called out, unknowingly absolving his ex-girlfriend’s sudden fears. Pivoting around slightly, the werewolf took a quick head count of the survivors. Seeing them all present -- albeit somewhat worse for wear -- the teen allowed himself a long sigh of relief. “Xander?” Cordelia called. Her voice was shaky but growing stronger. Raising a hand, she placed it against the werewolf’s shoulder and pushed none too gently. “You know you’re father wasn’t a glassmaker.” Only then did he realize that he was blocking the cheerleader’s view of their friends. Oz stepped back, but not before giving Cordelia a rare smile. Although she was puzzled by the happiness she saw in his face, Cordy gave him a hesitant one in return before looking away to search for her current boyfriend. “Cordy!” Xander cried out at his first joyful sight of her. In fact, he was so happy, the teenager tried to run over to her, wrenching a cry out of the Watcher he was still supporting. Moving simultaneously, Willow and Oz stepped forward to relieve Xander of his burden. “Xander, you’re okay,” Cordy whispered. Her boyfriend had quickly fallen to his knees to scoop her up into a tight hug. The embrace pulled a gasping hiss of pain from the cheerleader -- one that Oz quietly observed from a distance. “I’m okay,” Xander replied, his voice still more than a little wheezy from the smoke-residue in his lungs. “Did we win?” Cordelia asked uncertainly. “We came, we saw...we burned and plundered,” he reassured. “Good,” Cordy responded. Ever the blunt one of the group, she was quick to pose her next question. “In that case, I don’t suppose we can finally *get the hell out of here*?” Seeing as how her words echoed the thought on all of their minds, four pairs of teen-aged eyes turned on the two adults of their party. “How about it?” Xander asked, his eyes trained on Adam. “Chaos, panic, and disorder...I think it’s safe to say that our work here...is done. Whatdaya say guys? Is it...Miller time or what?” Xander’s increasingly raspy words were met with two exhausted -- and unamused -- looks of disbelief. “Oookay...how about...mocha-cino’s instead? And maybe...some of those...little English tea... cookie/biscuit...thingies...you limeys...like...so much?” Not only did the expressions on Adam and Giles’ faces remain exactly the same, but this time, Willow, Oz and Cordelia joined in as well. Once again, it was the latter who spoke up for all of them. “I don’t know about you guys, but personally, I’m thinking a week-long coma sounds good,” Cordy suggested. “Who votes for comas?” Had it come down to a show of hands, the decision would have been unanimously in favour of Cordelia’s idea. Just the reminder, however, was enough to get them all moving once again. The hard part now was going to be getting the injured up the ladder and out of the sewers. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ End Chapter 16 (thank God ;-)