Author’s note: This chapter assumes that the reader is familiar with the Angel season four episode entitled, “The House Always Wins.” The episode is the framework for the chapter in question, and it may be confusing to anyone who’s never seen it. While I have included several quotes, I felt no great urge to type up the episode script word for word. With that in mind, enjoy!
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PREVIOUSLY, ON ANGEL AND BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER
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Lorne: “I thought I’d stop by and say arrivederci, Angel hair. I’m leaving for Vegas tomorrow night.”
Angel: “You’re really going?”
Lorne: “I’m really going.”
Dawn: “Buffy died in the hospital.”
Giles, cleaning his glasses: “Oh dear. Oh dear.”
Anya: “Congratulations, Buffy. You’re immortal.”
Buffy: “Are you saying... that I really did come back wrong?”
Cordelia, on the phone with Angel: “I sort of need to talk to you – in person.”
Cordy, driving in her car: “I’m late. I’m late.”
Skip: “What you’re being called to do transcends love. You’ve become a higher being.”
Cordy: “Me?”
Cordy, ascending: “I know somehow it’s all going to be all right.”
Dawn: “Buffy, what are we going to do now?”
Buffy: “I’m trying not to think about it.”
James, lying on the ground: “...do it.”
Buffy, holding a broadsword: “Do what? Listen, Jim. You’re going to explain to me EXACTLY why you tried to kill me just now.”
James: “Now is the time of the Gathering, when those of us who are left fight until the last for the Prize. In the end, there can be only one.”
Buffy: “WHAT!?”
Wesley: “I have no idea where Angel is, Lilah, and I really couldn’t care.”
Wesley: “It’s time. Let’s go for a boat ride.”
James: “You can’t escape from the game, Miss Summers. The Gathering is upon us. Even if I go, others will come. Some of them won’t be above using your friends and loved ones to get to you.”
Buffy: “I won’t allow that to happen.”
James: “You really think you can stop it? You think you can stand against the Gathering? Who do you think you are?”
Buffy “I’m the Slayer.”
Wesley: “I believe you’re looking for this.”
Fred: “Angel...”
Buffy: “Long time no see.”
Angel, not quite believing his eyes: “Buffy?”
Buffy: “I’m here.”
Angel: "What you did to me was unbelievable, Connor. But three months under the ocean actually gave me perspective. Kind of a M. C. Esher perspective - but I did get time to think. About us, about the world. Nothing in the world is the way it ought to be. It's harsh, and cruel. But that's why there's us. Champions. It doesn't matter where we come from, what we've done or suffered, or even if we make a difference. We live as though the world was what it should be, to show it what it can be. You're not a part of that yet. - I hope you will be.” Angel moved to stand in front of Conner. “I love you, Connor,” he said. He waited a beat, and then finished quietly. “Now get out of my house."
Angel: “I need Cordy. Now.”
Lorne: “If I miracle ear anything, I’ll send up a smoke signal. Take care of yourself and, ah, and make sure fluffy is getting enough love.”
Wesley: “There is someone who may know where Cordy is.”
Dinza: “She is far from you, champion, and needs you no longer.”
Angel: “I need her.”
Dinza: “What you seek can only be found inside the axis of Pythia.”
Fred: “It’s an ancient relic said to be able to find souls or entities across dimensions.”
Angel: “Entities like...”
Gunn: “Cordelia.”
Fred: “Do you think he found her?”
Angel: “There was all this light around her, and the light seemed to be made up of pure joy. Finally I find her, and I realize she’s already home.”
Cordy: “What are you, deficient? Get me out of here!”
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AND NOW...
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It was dark, and she was cold, and alone - or worse than alone. Dawn opened her eyes and glanced about in horror. She was suspended in a black, gooey sludge that bore no small resemblance to a mixture of motor oil and toxic waste. Its smell, its taste, assaulted her senses. Battery acid mixed with rotting food mixed with vomit. It suffused her, and everywhere she looked were hints of shapes that she couldn’t quite make out. Life bubbled up within the rot, half-decayed even as it was born. A mass of teeth, an inky foot with mouths where its toes should be - A gibbering mass of feelers, corpulent half formed bodies that collapsed into corpse-rot even as they formed.
She tried to scream, but no sound passed her throat.
Panic and horror rising within her in equal parts, she tried to flee from the sea of blackness. She couldn’t tell which way was up, and which way was down. A sickly green glow grew around her as she swam frantically, searching for some relief. “BUFFY!” she shrieked, and this time a torrent of bubbles came streaming out of her mouth.
Suddenly, just as she was reaching total hysteria, she fell from the sea of blackness and landed on solid ground with a noise like vomit hitting pavement. A congeries of iridescent globes hung suspended around her, stupendous in their malign suggestiveness. Dawn peered up at the lake of filth above her, and then at the iridescent globes around her. And then she looked down at her own body.
She woke up screaming.
“DAWN!” came a voice from near at hand. Her eyes shot open. Her throat felt raw. There. Buffy. Her sister was peering down at her with concern in her eyes. Dawn’s head spun as she struggled to orient herself. Nothing looked familiar. Nothing looked right. She focused on Buffy’s eyes.
Slowly, the room stopped spinning, and she curled up into a foetal ball. Buffy gathered her up into her arms. “It was just a dream, Dawn. You’re safe. I’m here.”
Dawn began to cry.
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Quickened
by P.H. Wise
A Buffy crossover fanfic
Chapter 4: The Key, the Vampire, and the Karaoke Demon
Disclaimer: I don’t own Buffy. I don’t own Highlander. Please don’t sue me. I’m only a poor starving writer. I have no money.
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Early the next evening, Buffy closed the door to Angel’s office and sat down on the chair in front of his desk. He looked up at her.
“Angel, we need to talk.”
“About?”
“The reason we came here.”
Angel nodded faintly.
“I didn’t want to bother you with this while you were still recovering, but now that you’re on your feet again - well, on your feet enough to be stealing the axis of Pythea, that is – it’s time. I need information.
“I need to know everything you have on a creature called ‘The Immortal.”
Angel’s expression darkened considerably.
Buffy smiled hopefully. “I take it the name rings a bell?”
“You could say that.”
“Well, don’t keep me all suspense-girl here. Who is he?”
“The foulest evil hell ever vomited forth.
Buffy waited for Angel to continue. After a moment, she asked, “Care to elaborate?”
“... I don’t like to talk about it.”
“What, did he nail a puppy to the door... oh wait, that was you. Come on. Tell me. What did he do? You’ve got me all curious.”
Angel mumbled something under his breath.
Buffy raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t quite catch that.
“Darla and Drusilla. Concurrently.”
Buffy stared at him for a long moment. Slowly, understanding sank in to her awareness. “Oh.” Full comprehension bloomed in her eyes. “OH!”
She paused. “Both of them?”
Angel nodded, and his expression darkened.
“Simultaneously?”
“He’s evil.”
“Well, can you tell me how to get in touch with him?”
Angel looked at Buffy suspiciously. “Why would you want to touch...” he paused, “GET in touch with him?”
“Well, he and I have something in common.”
Angel’s eye began to twitch. “What could you POSSIBLY have in common with the foulest spawn that ever crawled out of hell?”
“Gee, I don’t know. Maybe... immortality?”
Angel glowered at the Slayer for a long moment. “... wait, what?”
“Long story short: I died again.” She waited a beat. “But then I got better.”
Angel pouted. “Dead, not dead, you really need to make up your mind.”
“Just tell me how to get in touch with the Immortal.”
“Hey, I’m immortal too!”
“Yeah, but you’re immortal in the living-dead kind of way. This guy, from what I’ve heard, is immortal in the immortaly kind of way.”
“Huh?”
Buffy nodded. “Exactly.”
Silence hung between them for a long moment.
“So you’re an immortal now?”
Buffy nodded.
“Hmm.”
Buffy nodded yet again.
Silence.
...
“So what can you tell me about immortal society?”
“There IS no immortal society.”
Buffy frowned. “Care to explain?”
“The immortals have been fighting each other for thousands of years. There IS no immortal society. If they were to gather in numbers, it would only make them targets for their enemies. I’m sure you’ve heard the saying, ‘there can be only one?’”
Buffy sighed, the sinking feeling now returning to the pit of her stomach in full force.
“They’ve got rules, I think. I never learned what they were, but there are rules concerning their war. Buffy, some of these guys are deadly. Even to you.”
Buffy nodded. “I don’t like it any more than you do. It gives me the wiggins just thinking about it.”
They looked at each other for another long moment in silence, old feelings swelling within them. At length, Angel spoke.
“Buffy... there’s someone new in my life. Or at least, there might be.”
“I see.”
“I have to find her. I don’t know if Cordy and I really had anything, but...”
Buffy spluttered. “You and CORDELIA!?”
Angel flushed red.
“What? It’s not that bad, is it? When two people work together, sometimes feelings, um, develop...”
“You know, for a dead guy, you blush pretty well.”
His cheeks burning, Angel turned away and started to sulk.
“Don’t pout, Angel,” said Buffy with a wry grin. “It’s not very dark and broodingish of you.”
Angel turned towards the door. “I know you’re there,” he called.
Fred, Gunn and Dawn came walking into the office.
“We weren’t spying,” said Fred.
Dawn nodded her agreement.
“Well, actually, we were,” said Gunn.
“How much did you hear?” asked Angel, a resigned look on his face.
“Not much,” said Fred.
“So did the Immortal really do it with both Darla and Drusilla concurrently?” Dawn asked.
Angel pouted (though he would deny such a charge).
Gunn’s lips twitched as he struggled to suppress his grin.
“OK, come on. We’re getting out of here.” said Angel, rising to his feet and heading into the hotel lobby.
The others followed him.
“Not that I mind going out, but where ARE we going?” asked Dawn.
Fred nodded.
“Between Buffy’s situation and our search for Cordelia... we’re all majorly stressed out. We’re going on a little retreat – the six of us.”
“Oh, like a spiritual journey?” asked Fred.
“Woah,” said Gunn, “You mean like that monastery you went to in Tibet?”
“Exactly.”
“Are you sure this isn’t just some lame attempt on your part to distract you from the fact that this Immortal guy cuckolded you in a major way?”
“...”
“Actually,” said Xander as he walked into the lobby, “Make that the five of you. I have to go.”
“Back to Sunnydale?” asked Buffy.
Xander nodded. “If I want to keep my job, yes. Stupid job. When you’re ready to come back home, give me a call, and I’ll come pick you up. If you can’t get a ride from bumpy-forehead boy, that is.”
Buffy nodded. “Dawn, go with Xander.”
“No way! I’m going to Vegas! Besides, I’ve got another week before school starts. It’s no biggie.”
Xander shrugged.
Buffy considered that for a moment. “... Fine.”
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Angel’s car raced down the desert highway, with Buffy at his side, and Dawn, Gunn and Fred in the back seat. In the distance, and rapidly approaching, was the brightly lit ‘Welcome to Las Vegas’ sign.
“This is so cool!” Dawn squealed. “Hey, can I gamble? I bet I’d be a good gambler!”
Buffy and Angel responded simultaneously. “NO!”
Glittering lights flashed all around them as they entered the Strip - neon upon neon upon neon. They passed the Mirage, the Riviera, the Stardust. Which was odd because not all of these were actually ON the Strip.
“Now this is my kind of spiritual retreat,” said Gunn with a silly grin.
“But we’re here to see Lorne, right? So he can do a reading on you and Buffy?”
“Absolutely,” said Angel. “And maybe after that, we can check out that Danny Gans guy I keep seeing billboards for.”
“Lorne?” asked Buffy.
“You’ve never met?” asked Gunn. “Well he’s this demon guy who can read your future. But only if you sing Karaoke for him.”
Buffy and Dawn exchanged incredulous looks.
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Apparently,” Fred began, “The place he’s singing at is called the Tropicana.”
“Wait, that can’t be right...” said Gunn.
Angel nodded his agreement. “Looking the way Lorne does, he’d have to be a little more... discreet than that.”
“Umm... how discreet, exactly?” asked Fred.
Angel slammed on the brakes, and the car skidded to a stop on the side of the road... right in front of a huge billboard advertising Lorne, green, horns, velvet and all, in his exclusive engagement at the Tropicana.
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Applause thundered through the room as scantily clad girls with green makeup and little red horns danced across the stage holding huge, feathery white fans. From the center of the stage, concealed by the fluttering fans, the green-skinned, velvet-suited demon rose, and began to croon.
“~It’s not easy being green...~”
Buffy and Dawn, sitting at a table immediately to the right of the table shared by the fang gang, exchanged glances. “OK,” said Buffy. “NOW I’ve seen everything.”
Dawn nodded faintly.
They didn’t catch much of the conversation going on at the other table – something about the blue man group and demons – but Buffy soon found herself drawn in by the performance. Demon or no, he was pretty darn good.
As the demon in velvet finished his first song, the crowd applauded wildly.
“Thank you!” said Lorne as he smiled out at the crowd. “Thank you so much! You know, I got to tell you folks, you are by far the kickingest crowd that I had the privilege of performing to here at the Tropicana.” The crowd applauded. “Yes! Yes that’s right. Give it up for your sweet selves. Alright! Now, you know what? Just for you guys, I think it’s time we cranked things up a notch. What do you say?” More cheers. “Here you go, honey,” he said as he dropped his tie into the crowd. “Yeah. Maestro, give me some drums, si’l vous plait. Ah, that’s it! That’s it! Paco, give me a little bass! Ah, merci, merci! Now all I need is a little help from my Lornettes!”
The stage curtain opened, the girls in green came dancing out onto the stage, and Lorne launched into “Lady Marmalade.”
Dawn and Buffy let their voices join the crowd as they screamed and clapped wildly. And the show went on.
Through the crowd he went, singing his heart out, and occasionally holding out the mic for a member of the audience to sing the next line into. The energy in the room built to a fever pitch as the demon performed, and even tall dark and brooding began to enjoy the show. Lorne sang his heart out, and the crowd loved every second of it. At one point, he held out the mic for Dawn. As she sang, poorly, into the mic, he staggered, and his eyes widened for a split second before he managed a graceful recovery and moved on. And on it went, finally ending in deafening applause.
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Lorne sank into the chair at his dressing room table and downed his drink in one swallow. There came a knock at the door, and Spencer – one of the guards – went to answer it, admitting Lorne’s boss, one Lee DeMarco.
Lorne, still shaken up from what he had seen in his performance, had no patience for the inevitable small talk. “Look, can’t we do this later?”
The guard produced a seating chart and handed it to Lee.
“Ah, gee, I’d love to, Lorne, but you’ve got another show to prepare for, and I’m a busy man.”
“Later would be so much better...”
Spencer punched Lorne full force in the stomach. The green demon dropped his glass and fell back in his chair, gasping for breath.
“I think now is a good time,” said Lee. “Or do you want me to pink-slip another girl from your act?”
Lorne sighed.
“The guy in the striped die down front on the end – two-term Nevada senator-ship in twelve years. Ah, green sweater boy, table twelve, is going to write himself into a Pulitzer. Ah, the girl over here in the blue? Vivian, chef of the future, is gonna have three five-star restaurants in the next decade.”
“Anything else?”
Lorne paled. “N-no. Nothing.”
Lee looked at him for a long moment. “Tell me.”
Lorne shook his head. “There was nothing else.”
“Lorne, I WILL have another one of your girls called in of you fail to cooperate,” said Lee.
Lorne swallowed, and there was fear in his eyes – but it wasn’t fear of Lee. “You REALLY don’t want to be messing with that kind of dark mojo.”
Lee laughed. “Why don’t you let me worry about that?”
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Some fifteen minutes later, as Dawn and Buffy made their way into the hotel lobby. Dawn wanted to see the Casino, but Buffy was determined to keep her well away from it. One of the Lornettes approached them as soon as they entered the lobby and pressed a green chip into Dawn’s hands, on which was written, ‘play to win.’
Dawn blinked. “I won something?”
Buffy frowned. “She’s a little too young for gambling.”
The Lornette shrugged at Buffy. “Don’t ask me. I just work here.” She turned to Dawn. “Yep. You’ve won the chance to play our million dollar spin-to-win. It’s an exclusive game we have here as a promotion. Just talk to the security guard over by the Casino entrance, and he’ll show you into the game room.”
The Lornette went on her merry way.
“Dawn, don’t even think about it.”
Dawn pouted. “A million dollars!”
“Dawn...”
“Right, right. Not thinking about it.”
Dawn glanced around. “So when are we going to meet this Lorne guy?”
Buffy shrugged. “Whenever Angel and his crew can get past security to see him, I guess.”
Buffy’s eyes suddenly widened. That feeling that she had come to dread – the telltale sign that another immortal was near – swept over her in a wave. She glanced about, an alarmed look on her face. Her eyes met the gaze of a thirty-something man – thin, tuxedo-clad, with dark brown hair and eyes like chips of ice. He immediately turned and went down the corridor towards the ballrooms. As he turned, Buffy noticed a peculiar tattoo on his wrist.
“Dawn, go back to the hotel room and wait for me there.”
“Buffy, wait!”
But Buffy was gone.
She followed him down the corridors of the hotel, and gradually they left the more populated areas behind them. He never got so far ahead that she couldn’t tell where he was going, but never allowed her to catch up to him. He pushed open the double-doors of an unused ballroom and walked through.
Buffy glanced about to see if anyone was looking before following, and he stood waiting for her within, sword in hand.
“So how many of you do I need to beat the hell out of before you stop coming after me, anyways?” Buffy asked.
The man looked at her blankly.
“Ballpark figure?”
He stood there for a long moment, uncertain of what exactly to do in this situation. Buffy felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end as he watched her, and she got the strangest feeling that he was almost dissecting her with his eyes.
At length, the man lowered his blade. “You don’t have a sword,” he said.
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Dawn walked into the casino, staring down at the token in her hand for the free game. Fred, Gunn, and Lorne came racing by, but she was far too engrossed in deciding whether or not to disobey her sister that she didn’t actually notice. She spotted Angel at the slot machines and stopped short. If he saw her, he’d probably tell Buffy, and then she’d be in loads of trouble... She turned and walked back towards the hotel lobby.
A man in a business suit stepped in front of her. “Aren’t you going to play?” he asked. “It’s on the house!”
Dawn looked at him and shook her head, obviously annoyed. “I can’t gamble. I’m not old enough.”
The well-dressed man laughed. “We won’t tell if you won’t. Or haven’t you heard? What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.”
Dawn brightened at that. “Well...”
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“Nope,” said Buffy. “No sword. I’m not much for the head-cutting-off.”
“It’s very dangerous for an Immortal to go around without a sword.”
Buffy gave him an odd look. “OK. I know you weren’t carrying it when you came in here. So where could you possibly have been keeping that thing? And how to you hide a sword in a tuxedo, anyways?”
The immortal laughed. “Very carefully.”
“Right. So then, are you going to attack me? Because if so, let’s just get this over with.”
The man shrugged. “Are you going to attack me?”
Buffy shook her head. That seemed to satisfy the man, as he then replaced his sword in his Tuxedo (somehow).
“You REALLY got to tell me how you do that.”
“Perhaps some other time,” he said, folding his arms. “If you’re not here to challenge me, then what DO you want?”
“Answers.”
“Oh?”
“Your name, for starters. Who are you?”
The man smiled and shrugged.
“Right. Not important anyways. Not important anyways. Better question: what the hell is going on? I know that immortals are supposed to be cutting off each other’s heads. I’ve learned that much. But what I want to know is WHY? How did this start? Who decided that we should go around killing each other?”
The man’s expression softened. “You’re really just a newborn, aren’t you?”
“Yup. Newborn Buffy, that’s me.”
The man raised an eyebrow. “Buffy?” he asked incredulously.
Buffy nodded.
“That’s your name?”
Buffy nodded again, her expression darkening slightly.
He raised an eyebrow. “Did your parents hate you, or what?”
Buffy’s face darkened further, her anger becoming obvious even to the most clueless.
“Right then,” the man began, “I can’t answer your questions, kid. Not really. We’re fighting for the prize, certainly. And there are rules. No fights on holy ground. Duels are one on one. No dueling in public. But if you’re looking for answers on how this started and why, then you’re looking in the wrong place. It’s always been this way.”
“How about this one, then? What IS the prize?”
“Some say it’s absolute power. Others, the collected knowledge and power of every immortal who ever lived. The latter seems more likely than the former, but no one really knows for certain.”
Buffy grew distressed. “So we’ve been fighting each other, what, since time began? Is that the history of the Immortals? An endless parade of death and horror?” She shook her head. “It isn’t right.”
The man shrugged. “Mortal history isn’t much different. But some people try to look at it in terms of right and wrong. They fight with the hope of preventing an evil immortal from gaining the Prize. But me, I know better. It’s not about right. Not about wrong.” He waited a beat. “It’s about power.”
Buffy stared at the man in stunned silence, and he walked past her and opened the double doors.
“Get yourself a sword, ‘Buffy,’” he said as he left the room, closing the double doors behind him.
Buffy stared at the doors for a long time.
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Gunn frowned. “You said this DeMarco guy is destroying lives. How?”
“By taking them,” Lorne replied.
“By killing people?”
“No, worse muchacho. He’s been using me to read members of the audience, find those with what he calls ‘valuable destinies’ – power, wealth, fame, yada yada yada. Then the ones I pick they get chosen to play this spin-to-win game. Only ah, it’s not a game. It’s a big scamola. Then their destinies are imprinted on the chips. And that old black magic wheel is tricked out to never pay off. The house always wins, and everybody loses.
“Their futures, their destinies, they get offered up to an extremely black global market, sold to anyone willing to pay big money to change his or her life.”
“Futures trading,” said Fred.
“Can’t get any more literal than that, crumb cake.”
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Dawn entered the “Million Dollar Spin-to-Win” room to find four other people already present, sitting around a table with a spinning roulette wheel. The croupier gave her a strange look. He opened his mouth to protest the presence of a minor in a gambling establishment, but the man in the suit shook his head, and the croupier remained silent.
“Here,” said the well-dressed man. “Place your token on any of these squares.”
Dawn smiled. “OK! Here goes nothing.” She placed her chip in one of the empty game spots on the table. A moment later, the wheel began to spin.
Dawn watched it, fascinated. Slowly, ever so slowly, it came to a halt. It rested briefly on her square... and then moved one click more.
“House wins!” the Croupier called.
Dawn stared at the table, frowning ever so slightly as the croupier tried to push a bucketful of quarters into her arms (On the house! Gotta play to win!). The bucket dropped to the floor and spilled noisily. As she turned and walked listlessly out of the room, a sickly green glow erupted from her body like flames.
The croupier took the chips and ran.
The casino-goers screamed as she walked among them, each fleeing in a different direction. Panic spread throughout the casino as Dawn walked calmly towards a door near the back of the establishment.
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Monitors showing different security camera feeds from all across the casino lined the walls of the back room. Just above them, a readout displayed various messages. One read, ‘deal with Disney new ABC series,’ and another proclaimed ‘fortune 500 Restauranteur.’
This was the heart of the operation, where the destinies stolen in the spin-to-win game were collected, correlated, and sold. Technicians sat at the security terminals that lined the walls, and in the center of the room rested a glowing sphere, resting over the collected chips from the spin-to-win game.
For a moment, all was well.
For a moment.
Suddenly, sickly green energy arced across the monitors, sending showers of sparks down onto the operators. The screams began a moment later. The readout went blank for a split second... and then it displayed its new message:
‘The Old Ones were, the Old Ones are, and the Old Ones shall be, not in the spaces we know, but between them. They walk serene and primal, undimensioned, and to us unseen. She knows the gate. She is the gate. She is the Key and the guardian of the gate. Past, present, future, all are one in Her. She knows where the Old Ones broke through of old, and where They shall break through again. She knows where They have trod earth’s fields, and where They still tread them, and why no one can behold Them as they tread. They walk unseen and foul in lonely places where Words have been spoken and Rites howled through their Seasons. The wind gibbers with their voices and the earth mutters with their consciousness. She knows the gate. She is the gate. She is the Key.’
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Meanwhile, in Lee’s office – just past the back room – Lee DeMarco snarled. “I want answers, and they better be the right ones, or you’re dead.”
Lorne, Gunn and Fred stood close at hand, with several guns pointed at each of them. Angel glanced about half-listlessly.
“I know this room,” he said.
One of the guards struck the vampire across the chin.
“Now, I’ll start again,” said Lee. “How do you win on that slot machine?”
“I put a quarter in the slot and I pulled the little lever,” said Angel, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Lee looked at Angel for a moment before strutting imperiously to stand directly in front of him. “Are you playing games with me, vampire?”
“I have to play to win.”
Lee glared at Angel, and silence hung heavily in the air.
The silence was shattered a second later as the door swung open and a panicked man rushed into the room. “Sir, we have a problem!”
The door dividing the back room from the casino proper shattered like glass. Dawn Summers walked calmly through the wreck, sickly green energy curling around her body like flames. A small chip glowing with the same energy rested in the receptacle for the stolen destinies.
Lee stared wide-eyed at the chaotic mess that his casino had become. “What the hell is going on!?” His eyes traveled up to read the message being displayed above the security monitors, and his eyes widened in shock. “SHOOT HER!”
His guards opened fire, spraying Dawn with a hail of bullets... all of which splashed into little bits of liquid and dropped to the floor about five feet in front of her. Pistols dropped from nerveless fingers.
Gunn slammed into a guard from behind, and Fred and Lorne soon followed his example. One of the guards struck Angel, and in short order, an all-out brawl had begun.
A brawl that excluded Dawn and Lee.
Dawn approached the cowering little man like the footsteps of doom. When she spoke, her voice rumbled like thunder. “I know what you did. I can smell it on your hands. Did you think you could get away with it? Did you think it would never reach you? Stupid child.”
Lee backed away from the girl, his eyes wide with horror even as Lorne separated himself from the brawl and approached the glowing sphere that presided over the destiny chips.
“Did you think I wouldn’t see?” Dawn asked, “Wouldn’t know? You are stained. I can see it rotting you from the inside.”
“Oh God,” Lee whimpered, “Oh please God have mercy...”
“God can’t help you now.” She reached for Lee DeMarco’s face.
At that moment, Lorne smashed the glowing sphere, and it exploded with bright light. Lorne stumbled backwards, but Fred and Gunn caught him before he could fall over. Streams of bright light shot out from the remains of the sphere, most of them flying out into the Casino. One went into Angel, and a stream of sickly green energy went into Dawn. She came to with a gasp, and the glow around her winked out. Her eyes rolled back, and she fainted.
DeMarco whimpered.
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Dawn awoke some time later in Angel’s car. Her head hurt, and she couldn’t remember how she had got there. She was lying half in Buffy’s lap, half on the seat. Lorne, Angel, Gunn and Fred were in the car with them as the glittering lights of Las Vegas slowly faded in the distance behind them.
“How did I get here?”
The fang gang exchanged uncomfortable looks, but Buffy smiled reassuringly at her sister. They hadn’t explained to her exactly what had happened, but if the fearful looks they’d been giving Dawn were any indication, it probably wasn’t good. “You fainted. Don’t worry, though – you’ll be fine. How are you feeling?”
“Tired.”
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When Darkness comes to Sunnydale, he doesn’t come alone. Beneath the clouded night sky, a fel company passed – black upon the deep shadows. A shifting. The clouds parted. The moon shone out clearly for a moment, revealing the Lady Alisoun standing before the newly completed Sunnydale High School, with several vampiric minions at her side. She grinned, and her fangs gleamed in the moonlight. “Here we are at last. Hello, Hellmouth.”
She entered the empty school and wended her way to the Principal’s office – the spot that lay directly above the very mouth of hell. She stared down at a spot on the floor that seemed to pulse with dark energies.
“Lady Alisoun,” one of her flunkies began, “don’t we need the blood of the Slayer for this?”
Alisoun smiled wickedly. “We do. I’d have preferred to use the heart’s blood of the current slayer, but lacking that...”
She slashed her own wrist open with a talon-like fingernail, and dark blood gushed from the wound to splatter onto the floor. It sizzled there for a few seconds before sinking into the floor without a trace.
“There we are.”
A mist began to rise from the floor, gradually taking on a vaguely humanoid shape.
Alisoun bowed deeply, and all of her flunkies did likewise.
“Master, I have come.” Alisoun’s eyes took on an unearthly glow. “The time of prophecy is at hand. A voice cries out in the wilderness – prepare ye the way. Now let your harbinger arise. Let the mountains be made low, and the valleys be raised up.”
The humanoid figure seemed to smile. Slowly it gained a measure of solidity, shaping itself into the spectral form of the disembodied First.
(End Chapter 4)
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